A Paw In Two Worlds
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In a bygone era, Legacy was merely a feral feline, a stray born to the savage beauty of the wild. For six precarious years, she survived on cunning and stealth, observing humans from the shadows with a curious yet wary eye. That was until the day a benevolent soul plucked her from a treetop refuge. This human was an enigma, his voice a gentle melody that seemed to understand her very essence. Entranced, Legacy found herself ensnared in a mystifying domesticity that would last three bewildering years.
Coexisting with humans proved a confounding enigma. Their minds worked in inexplicable ways. She'd mew plaintively by the door, desperate for freedom, only to have her human respond with maddening chin scratches. Did they not grasp the simplest of feline language? Her demands were clear: liberty, not affection!
Gradually, her human grew attuned to her needs, though the process taxed her feline patience. Still, the shelter and protection he offered were a balm to her wild soul. Yet, proximity only deepened her fascination with the human enigma. What lay beyond those inscrutable eyes? How would the world alter if she strode on two legs instead of four? What wonders could opposable thumbs unlock? To experience the tactile marvels denied her species... the very idea was both exhilarating and heartbreaking.
Tragedy, however, has a cruel way of reshaping lives. After three years, Legacy found herself cast back into the wild, her heart burdened with loss and her spirit shattered. This desolate chapter brought her closer to true despair than any prior hardship. Even had her human friend lived, their companionship was by nature fleeting. Humans were blessed with an infuriating abundance of years, while cats were but brief, flickering flames. For two years, she drifted amidst human settlements, a ghostly observer consumed by their mystifying rituals. Why were they entranced by glowing rectangles, their faces bathed in the pale light of those tiny windows to the soul? Why did they bellow at these inanimate objects as if expecting a response? And what possessed them to emit those grating, cooing sounds that set her very teeth on edge?
Amidst this sea of incomprehensibility, one human stood out. An aged crone named Agatha, her skin sagging like well-worn leather, her teeth a testament to decay. Yet, despite her fearsome appearance, a gentle kindness radiated from her. The townsfolk dubbed her the "crazy cat lady," and it was she who brought food to the feral kindred. One day, as Legacy mingled with the colony of cats, Agatha's voice rasped against her ears. "You, little one, are not like the others. A shadow that hungers for a life forever out of reach."
The woman spoke cat!
Deal with the Devil
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"Strange human, your words are a riddle, a secret language only cats may comprehend. In all my years, I've never known such a marvel to be possible. Yes, I find myself entranced, observing and pondering the great 'what if.' What form would I take as a human? What tones would my voice carry? Would I roam the world in solitude or amidst a tapestry of loving kin and companions? The queries swirl in my mind like a maddening whirlwind!" Legacy had exclaimed, her tail twitching with the fervor of her curiosity. Then, a heavy sigh escaped her, "Alas, I am old, human, and my vitality ebbs with the fading moon. Perhaps, if the cosmos favor me, I shall be reborn in human form."
The wizened crone had cackled, a sound like brittle leaves and malevolence. "Why plead with the capricious Fates when I, myself, can grant your heart's deepest longing?"
The specifics of the pact that followed are a tale Legacy prefers not to recount. Suffice it to say, she bartered with a being from the shadows. The evidence of their compact is forever seared into her very being. Only later did Legacy discover the hag's true nature: a weaver of spells, a wielder of the arcane. Legacy's transformation was not merely into human form, but into a vessel for the mystical forces she had never imagined existed. Suddenly, she was a conduit for powers that both thrilled and terrified her. A wondrous gift, one might think.
Yet, it is a curse. The cost of this 'blessing' is a burden she can hardly bear, a weight of remorse from which she shall never find absolution.
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Who's the Biggest Fool of All?
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Legacy stands about 5'8 and has a petite figure. Her long brown hair cascades down her shoulders in dark waves, and she often shrouds herself in a mysterious cloak. Her brown eyes, flecked with gold, glow with an otherworldly intensity when she's casting powerful spells or consumed by strong emotions. Though she doesn't have a true birthday, having been born a cat, she appears to be in her late 20s.
She still has the ability to take on her feline form, though it's now a younger version. Her medium-length fur is a beautiful mix of brown, black, and white, and her amber eyes gleam in the light. Despite her desire to live as a human, she's most comfortable in this form and can even speak while in it.
Legacy has only recently gained freedom from the witch who held as an indentured servent, so she sometimes speaks as if she were still a cat. She's alone in the human world, with only her past scars for company. She has the potential for great power, but there's so much she still needs to learn.
Though eager to experience life as a human, Legacy is naturally distant, quiet, and mistrustful. She's patient and a good listener, with a bookish nature that leads her to get lost in libraries. Despite her prickly exterior, she's fiercely loyal to those she cares about. She often observes humans in bars and taverns, and has a fondness for animals. As a feline witch, she can see and speak to spirits, sometimes appearing to talk to herself when she's actually conversing with the dead.
Her shop, The Sixth Cauldron, is her sanctuary. The garden, overflowing with herbs and plants, is the first thing visitors see. The shop itself is a small stone hut, but the interior is surprisingly spacious. Shelves upon shelves of potions, ingredients, remedies, powders, and books line the walls. A flock of beloved chickens calls the backyard home. Don't fuck with her chickens.
She lives upstairs. The wooden floors creak with every step. The wallpaper is peeling, there's no hot water, and she's pretty sure the microwave is on the fritz, but it's home.
"She will have a legacy that will reach beyond the forest."
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Witch 🐾 Cat
Single 🐾 No Interest
Late Twenties
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"Her destiny is beyond what I can see."
Comments
Now, Legion was really not the fighting type, more docile than anything, and it had been a long time since he’d had a reason to be in a fight at all. But if that was how things were going to go, Aurora would find herself fighting essentially a brick wall, in terms of sturdiness, that was for sure. As the witch screeched and squirmed, and yelled her words about Legacy, Legion sort of bared his teeth in a silent snarl. They were sharp, too sharp, disturbingly so. Certainly no human.
When the world changed around him, Legion recognized it as a trick but still he allowed it to be a momentary distraction for him, his gaze flitting about them into the dark recesses of the forest. To him, it didn’t matter the price Legacy paid, although he had to admit that contracts with devils and selling one’s soul – what he imagined the answer would be, as any transformation as great in intensity as Legacy’s often required such a payment – did put a damper on helping. Not because he couldn’t, necessarily. He had ties, unknowingly, to Lucifer. He was the most common devil to sell one’s soul to, or to make a deal with. If that had been what she had done, he could… help. At a great cost to himself, maybe, but still. It was nothing he wouldn’t survive. “The price she paid doesn’t matter. If you think I care about a precious deal with the devil or any other kind of tightbound contract, you are sorely mistake.” Legion hissed back, with the same dripping voice of many he had used before.
When the sharpness of the blade brushed across his face, the demon blinked, snapping his gaze back to the woman who stood before him. Those already angular eyes narrowed into slits at her. Annoyed, more than anything. Yes, she would manage to draw the thinnest line of blood from the blade, but the cut was hardly deep enough to bleed profusely. It dripped thick, black syrupy blood down his face and off his chin. When it hit the floor, it sizzled, smoke rising from the droplet.
Legion rarely sounded more than just mildly annoyed, and this was no different. He huffed at Aurora, wiping his hand across the thin line on his face. By the time his hand dropped to the side, the cut was completely gone, as if it had never been there at all. Annoyance boiled in him and he managed to raise that scarred hand to the blasting shockwave Aurora sent toward him. It wasn’t sent back to her as one might think, but instead was slowed to a stop, the energy fizzling out like the end of a sparkler.
And then Legion was near her again, storming to her side to grab her. He let the blade grace his skin, annoyed by it but unmoved. What did move him, though, was the blast of energy sent in his direction. It didn’t knock him back into the wall like Aurora had hoped it would, but it didn’t do nothing, instead sent him back a few good feet, his feet sliding against the old wood flooring. But Legion’s grip on Aurora’s hair did not loosen. If she did not go flying back with him, it was not unlikely that a good chunk of her hair would have been ripped out of her head instead.
It took his breath away, for the slightest of moments, and Legion huffed as he always did when he was annoyed, catching his footing to stand up straight.
But instead of fighting back, in a gesture that likely proved confusing to all who witnessed it in a time like this, Legion pulled his smartphone out from his back pocket, and instead moved on to texting someone. He did not leave himself entirely exposed or without cover, holding up his other hand in front of him, scarred palm glowing red and orange like dying embers. A shimmering translucent black barrier appeared in front of him, just for the moment. If Aurora did attempt to hit him with something, that would be rebounded in her direction.
Though his thoughts did shift to helping Legacy, a quick glance in her direction meant he knew she would be okay on her own. She evidently had enough fight in her to protect herself. He kept an eye out, making sure she really would be okay by herself. He would step in if need be.
Of course they knew each other. No one would try getting in Legacy’s way if not for knowing her or what she was after. Legion had to admit that despite the dangerous feeling he had gotten outside of the house, he didn’t really see this kind of thing coming. But then, how was he supposed to? All the people of Legacy’s past were a mystery to him. What he could gather, though, was that Aurora likely worked for Agatha, or was at least associated with her in some way. Otherwise, why else would she be there?
Of course that suspicion was confirmed when Legacy pointed out who Aurora really was. The demon sort of tilted his head in thought at the warning he received. Someone who fed on pain and trauma. Drew power from it. And, likely someone who knew a lot about people, could look deep inside them and find what hurt the most just to feed on the ache. Legion knew people like that. He was not one of them, to be sure, but he had been in crowds of demons in the past, and he understood how they operated. Aurora was not unique in that regard.
Speaking of, when she spoke, when she made eye contact, Legion returned Aurora’s gaze. He didn’t mind a confrontation, though he figured this probably wouldn’t be much of one. Aurora, although powerful, although dangerous, didn’t feel like much of a threat to the demon. Or… well, demonic creature.
This was as good a time as any, Legion decided, to let things see his eyes. Sometimes having the sunglasses off was beneficial, although he couldn’t say why that was, or at least chose not to. Although he could see perfectly well with them on, even in darkened spaces clearly, there were occasions when removing them proved useful. So he made the decision to slip the sunglasses off of his face, fold them up and put them away in his jacket pocket.
His eyes, as he had attempted to describe before, were a magnificent and horrifying sight. They were black like Emily’s, yes, from pupil to sclera, entirely void of color, except for what seemed to be a thin red ring of color that circled the pupil. It looked as if they sat in pools of dark water, of space, floating in an absence of anything. The gory appearance might even lead one to question whether or not Legion had eyes at all. What was more, the skin under and around his eyes looked bruised, deep dark purples and flushes of red, like a lobotomy victim. Coupled with his features – his jawline and cheekbones, the swift uptilt of his eyes, the slight pointiness to his ears – and it was clear that he was not human. He was only just a little too angular to be so. He could have passed as a demon, assuredly.
When Aurora spoke of consumption, Legion only blinked back, slowly, catlike. “You could try.” He offered, his voice sounding sorely dull. “But you wouldn’t like it. And you wouldn’t like how it makes you feel.” Even if they wanted to classify him under ‘demon’, he was no regular demon, and consuming his blood would have had an effect Aurora did not care for, he could be sure.
He listened to every word, noting it carefully. Those sharp eyes of his narrowed into almost-slits when Aurora spoke next, and with that comment he crossed his arms over his chest indignantly. Did it sting? Of course, a little. Anyone would have felt the same. But that was a pain he was working to get over, and in response he simply raised an eyebrow. Being able to see into people’s hearts and souls was a very useful tool, he supposed. “You dare mock people’s pain?” He asked, though he knew the answer to that. He wasn’t surprised.
“I killed myself for him.” He said it with ease, like it was just another fact about himself. A nothing in response to the hurt Aurora wanted to cause. “But I feel lighter every passing day.” That was to say, there wasn’t much she could do to harm him. At least, not in that way. Other things might have cut deeper, and physically he could technically be wounded, but that was more difficult than Aurora would likely have given him credit for. Being underestimated like that was frankly an advantage. It was best to keep one’s cards close to one’s chest.
The fight that ensued was not where Legion thought this was going to go. Legion was also not exactly expecting for Legacy to… well, turn into a cat again. He could feel the rage jolt through her entire body. Although his plan was initially to help – he ended up at the cat’s side, a hand rested on her head, with the intention of lifting her up and taking her with him – Aurora’s words gave him pause. He did not often find threats to be anything of interest, but he had to admit that he was annoyed by them. And Aurora’s, especially, irked him more than he would have liked to admit.
So he left Legacy as a cat, to fight with the other cat that had appeared quite out of the blue. Instead, Legion’s own gaze locked on Aurora. The demon was not a fighter anymore, not a creature that cared about battles of strength and power, who rarely had a reason to display power at all. But if that was what Aurora wanted, then that was what she was going to get. It might have been a long time since he had fought, but once upon a time he had been a formidable foe, a horrible creature of chaos and destruction.
He took a step toward Aurora, and then another. Unlike before, where his footsteps sounded just like… well, like footsteps, they made no sound now. Well, not no sound. They had a soft quality to them, like something lightweight being dragged across the ground. That was not the most disturbing thing, though. What would have been more unsettling was the way his skin seemed to… melt. It was unnerving to watch, once solid flesh dripping away like wax on a burning candle, revealing beneath it skin that was a dark gray, decorated with abstract black swirls and spirals, body markings that covered him whole.
He was not the type to strip – though some demons were, he knew, to show off their appearance, their power – but the way his hands, the skin around his exposed face and neck seemed to blur at the edges, a host of powerful and sentient shadows that pulled him apart and stitched him back together, made obvious there was no thing like him. His eyes, too, they glowed in their blackness, the thin red ring around his pupil pulsing especially bright with ruby light. He seemed… taller, too, or maybe Aurora was just short, and maybe it was a trick of the light.
One thing was for certain: Legion was not afraid of Aurora. When he stood above her, his form wavering as if it hardly existed at all, as if it was hard to look at, it was clear to see why. She was a monster, a creature, a witch, yes. But she was also… just a witch. A witch with magic, who had not attempted to bind him or circle the house with something that would keep him out.
“There is much I will tolerate,” he said, and when he did, his voice was a dichotomy of senses, a sibilant whisper that could be heard inside one’s own head, but also deep like endless black oceans, like trenches. It spoke with multiple voices, too, a chorus of them. The accent he carried around with him, the British one, was replaced with something else, something otherworldly and difficult to lock down. “Even death threats. You puny creatures mean little to me, little in the grand scheme of things. But attack my friend, threaten her, and I must admit I have a hard time keeping my emotions under check.”
When he lifted his hand, there was a symbol on the palm. Some kind of magic circle, maybe, although not one any person of this would have recognized. It was not black like the markings on his skin, but instead carved into it, a wound that never healed and stayed gory and shiny.
He did nothing with that palm, except that he reached up to grab Aurora by her hair, tugging to tilt her head up, his eyes boring down into hers. Legion knew how to instill a sense of fear and foreboding, a general chill that ran down one’s back, although it was hard to pinpoint what that fear really came from.
“You have a single chance to leave here before I skin you and your cat. I don’t much like the taste of witches. But that does not mean I won’t eat them.” He was close enough to bite, inches from Aurora’s face. She could have if she wanted to. She would have been met with strangely thick skin, like a shark’s, though. It was sharper teeth that were needed to get through this form.
"I'm not dragging you anywhere," Alexander snapped, almost cutting her off, his frustration evident. While he had tried to drag her earlier, she had chosen to pull away instead of listening to him.
Alexander continued his stride, his senses sharp and alert. The birds chirped in nearby trees, even though it was late at night, with dawn just barely breaking. The darkness still cloaked the surroundings, making the chirping seem oddly out of place. As the two passed by, the birds fell silent, hushing down in their nests for the remainder of the night.
His attention shifted to the right, where a low, deep rumble echoed from the ground. It was far off in the distance, a sound only someone with supernatural hearing could pick up. Veering off the shabby dirt road onto a patch of grass, which broadened into a small housing section, Alexander weaved between a couple of buildings before pausing once again.
The vampire didn't respond to her apology. What could he possibly say? The earlier thunder returned, a clear sign that rain was imminent. As they ventured further into the housing district of the old traveler's town, the rumbling grew louder, revealing a train approaching. It was clear that they would soon encounter the tracks.
With the houses behind them, Alexander stood in an open field. The grass crunched underfoot, the brown blades a testament to the lack of rain. Overgrowth of weeds showed how neglected the outskirts were, some even encroaching on the tracks. The rain began to fall, a welcome relief for the parched land of Louisiana.
The rain picked up, falling in steady, rhythmic patterns. Drops landed on Alexander, slowly drenching his hair, matting it to the sides of his face and trailing down his shoulders. It wasn’t the first time he’d been caught in the rain, and he too hated being wet.
The train roared closer, its front light growing brighter at a rapid pace. "Come on," Alexander hissed, turning to Legacy before quickly shifting his attention back to the approaching train. He had been in this town for only a few months but long enough to know that this poor country city was planted alongside a frequently used freight train track.
As the first few train cars came into view, Alexander spoke, "Let's go, you'll have to jump." His dark crimson gaze locked on her, the cars now passing behind him, causing wet strands of raven hair to blow wildly. With that, he leaped backward, grasping a railcar handle and flipping himself atop the train car. As a vampire, this was easy for him. He had been jumping rail cars since his days as a young human hunter in Russia.
Standing upright, Alexander began to move backward, jumping from car to car, closing the distance between himself and Legacy. He didn’t expect her to reach the top of the train as he had. The most common practice for hitching a ride on a cargo train was to jump into an open car. As the train roared on, he watched, waiting to see if she would make it.
At the comment about his eyes, Legion simply tilted his head in thought, peering down at the witch. “They don’t exactly.” He admitted. They were… similar to Emily’s, of course, blackness and emptiness, but they looked… worse. It was true he hid them because of humans for the most part; they were the most frightened. But in general, they tended to disturb many different kinds of creatures, and it was easier to keep the sunglasses on when he wasn’t at home or somewhere he knew other beings – specifically humans – wouldn’t see him.
“I tend to only take them off when I’m home, or performing. It’s just easier that way. Even if they don’t bother you–” He had a feeling they would, anyway. “–they would likely bother someone, and especially now when what you want is answers, is not the best time to go around frightening humans with my appearance.” Humans were strangely delicate creatures. Not all of them, of course, but many were, and Legion decided that it would just be easiest if they didn’t have to deal with humans having a fit over what he looked like before they even got a chance to talk with them, barring they had to.
When the conversation turned back to Legacy, though, Legion decided to drop the subject and instead listened to her talk with a soft smile gracing his features. “I love chickens.” Legion said easily, nodding as if empathetic. “They make quite good pets, I’d say. They can be very kind. And of course, free eggs are a plus. I’ve always been a fan of cats myself.” He knew she was one, or had been one, but evidently had no qualms with saying so. He was pretty catlike himself, despite not technically being one. “My sisters, though, they make it difficult to have a pet.” He had always been a good caretaker, but he had decided a while ago that pets were something he couldn’t have reasonably and make sure they were happy. Well, no. He would dedicate his entire life to taking care of them. But there was still some difficulty there for him. It was… complicated.
“I do believe medicinal herbs are useful.” Legion agreed easily. “For many things. Especially mild ailments like colds and sore throats. Sometimes more severe things that are magical in nature, like curses or attacks from ghosts. It all just depends.” On the user, on the creature it was being used on, on the severity of the illness. Legion so rarely took medicine that he couldn’t even remember the last time he had. He had a pretty killer healing factor on his own.
As Legacy stated her readiness, Legion rested a hand on her shoulder to lead her forward, allowing the two of them to teleport in the same way they had done just the day earlier. As they approached the gleaming white house, Legion gazed over it in interest, despite his hidden gaze the witch could tell he felt a modicum of concern. Even before she had bothered knocking on the door, the demon could only rest a hand on her shoulder.
“Something isn’t right.” He warned her, but allowed her to do as she wished anyway. That seemed to be his way of things, letting her do as she wished despite knowing better. When the door finally swung open to reveal such an interesting interior, Legion only frowned further. Why have such nice furniture but not bother building a bigger house? Why own all the land and do nothing with it? Although he could sense the other being in the house, he had to admit he didn’t know who they were. He did know, though, that there was magic in the air, a glamour that hid forms. Once again, his fingers brushed over Legacy’s shoulder, a silent warning to be careful, before Legion was finally clasping his hands behind his back and following behind her in silence.
The form he was expecting to see was not a boy, he had to admit. A young thing with golden hair and soft skin. He could see a shimmering outline around him that made him look… wrong, but Legion couldn’t exactly place his finger on what form was hidden beneath that. As he found himself behind the angry cat and laughing creature, his head tilted slightly, perhaps hearing something no others could hear. The door slamming shut made Legion scoff in a way that wasn’t exactly dismissive, but was certainly unhappy. Like most creatures, he was not a fan of cages. They made him antsy and angry.
The fireball was new. Though he supposed there had been no reason for Legacy to use her magic up until now. What he saw was something not quite controlled, but powerful. Considering she used to be a cat, it was fascinating how much power she held inside of her. She was certainly someone that, with effort and training, could wield it well. Legion was not the one to teach her how to do that, but he knew many people who could.
“Friend of yours?” Legion asked. There was a strange deepness to his voice now, one that wasn’t there before. It seemed his tone shifted. It could shift more, too, though that hardly seemed necessary. At the moment, anyway. “I don’t make a particularly good meal.” Legion added, just in case the jab was directed at him. As if on instinct, Legion moved slightly to be in front of the witch. He didn’t seem worried. He wasn’t even tense. But he didn’t like the direction that this was heading, and ‘deadly foe’ was much more of a threat to Legacy than it would ever be to Legion.
He also wouldn’t say that he was masquerading as anything, except that he had many forms he could take and this was the one he used most often. “Speaking in riddles becomes tiresome quickly.” He pointed out dully, and then added, because she had already made a similar threat, “Don’t make me eat you. I really doubt you’d taste good.” But it had been a while since he had eaten, now hadn’t it, and he was certainly going to need a next meal before long. It wasn’t something he wanted Legacy to see, and typically he ate humans over other creatures, but… well, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he was picky about who he ate. “What happened to the resident of this home?” He glanced around, then, frowning slightly. “Or have you put a portal on the front door that leads somewhere else?” It was only a guess, and he wasn’t sure he was right, but it could happen. It had happened before.
Well, it was not any story Legion felt like telling, that was for sure. And it was certainly not a story the witch herself would want to hear. It would be better to stay that way unless absolutely necessary anyway. He felt no need to dump trauma on this mortal he barely knew. She had enough problems going on in her life, and frankly, he did too despite his own quiet nature about his life and what went on in it.
Legion was quick to follow behind the witch as she stood, and he went with her, clasping his hands behind his back. This was likely the most productive they could have been today, and that had to feel good to Legacy. It felt good to Legion, too. Even if this wasn’t his fight or his adventure, he was still sucked into it regardless, and he seemed to be fine with that. Hadn’t complained at all about coming despite the fact that it clearly took up almost all of his time. He found it interesting, at the very least.
Legion didn’t mind taking the witch away, and he dropped her off at the hotel as requested, gave her a polite little bow. And he turned on heel, took only a couple of steps, and disappeared into what was essentially black smoke. The witch was right. Legion would much rather have spent his time in his own home than a hotel. He didn’t need to sleep, but he liked it. The more comfortable, the better. And he truly was exhausted. Not just because of Emily, but because he was technically nocturnal, and he had been spending an abundance of time out during the day. He could never understand diurnal beings and now they made it through life in the sun, the day time. He had also grown used to the isolation it caused, which meant even people themselves were quite exhausting. And that was coming from a demon who typically liked people.
Which reminded him that he was going to have to eat soon. What was one more day? He could hold off for just a little while longer. Another day or two. His energy was drained, but some of that could be replenished by sleep. Food was just such a hassle to have to get that it almost made eating not really worth the effort. Except that it made him feel horrible.
And despite Legacy’s own search, Legion did not do any of it. When he got home, he crashed, finding himself asleep once again. At least the energy it took to free Emily would mostly be replenished during sleep. Anything else would come back to him, albeit slowly, eventually. And Legion, unlike Legacy, slept for hours. He fell asleep before the sun even rose, and he slept well into the evening, until it was dark. It was much easier for him that way. Being nocturnal could have its perks, but unfortunately the drawbacks were not few and far between either.
And when he did wake, the demon did with a pounding headache, with several texts and missed calls from a friend – or his manager, more like it. He was groggy and still tired, though better. He kept Legacy waiting while he showered, while he changed into a black and white striped shirt, a leather jacket, and another clean pair of black jeans, along with the books he seemed to always be wearing.
He even took his time returning to the town, instead opting to grab coffee from a shop. It was a rainy evening in London, although Legion couldn’t complain about that too much. He thought the rain was beautiful and the way it made the light of street lamps glisten on the pavement felt like a painting.
He did finally return to the hotel, knowing Legacy was waiting for him, and when she jumped right into the details, he blinked behind his sunglasses, evidently taken aback.
For a moment, he turned his face away from her to take off the sunglasses he wore, shielding the appearance of his face while he cleaned off stray water droplets. He had appeared the same way he had disappeared: plumes of black smoke. At least teleporting didn’t seem to take any energy from him. He only turned back to the witch after he had placed the sunglasses back on his face, and he regarded her with a tilt of his head and a bit of interest.
“Medicine is related to magic, in its own way.” Legion said somewhat nonchalantly, and slowly began to nod. “Interesting that he would fall into such a profession. Also, houses on hills are almost always haunted.” That was just a general rule, Legion was sure. Especially large mansions. Even the most modern ones had an aura about them that he wasn’t particularly fond of. It was probably why he chose not to live in one, despite his wealth.
“All we can do is find his home and see, right? Whether he’s dead or alive, whether he had any children? If we keep looking we’re bound to come up with something. Exeter is not the largest city in the world, although it’s not village sized either. If you know where he used to work or where he went to school, perhaps it would be worth it to ask around about him. Or neighbors, providing you have his address. You already know his name.”
If only Legacy knew. Legion ate meat most of all. Just not any meat anyone else would want to eat, aside from honestly the most disturbed of creatures, or human beings. He probably wouldn’t have been fond of the thought of eating mice, either, but his sister did that, and he wouldn’t have been too put off by it. But anyway. That didn’t matter, did it? The demon’s gaze trailed toward Legacy and he moved to sit beside the witch, elbow on the table, leaning his head in his chin, blinking behind those glasses.
He couldn’t help but shake his head with an almost-laugh as Legacy used her logic to justify her actions. Honestly, he didn’t need her to justify anything to him. He didn’t care whether she looked through the books for any specific reason, except that it seemed quite important to her to find the information she was looking for. And, of course, his general concern for her health. Even if the dust and mold around weren’t affecting her, surely the miasma and general discontent and emotional damage the mansion held onto would.
His hand reached out to brush absently over some of the old pages of the larger book, until Legacy decided it didn’t have much use to her and pushed it away. Legion decided it was better to let the witch look through the books herself, not least because he knew she enjoyed it vastly more than he would. She seemed just at home here in the dust as she did in the library he had met her in earlier that day. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy old books or reading. Of course he did, although he’d never say so. It was just that Legacy seemed much more into it than he was. And anyway, this was her journey, how wasn’t it? He was just tagging along for the ride. And she seemed to hold all the knowledge she needed to do the searching.
The question of Lucifer made him scoff and grimace in a way that made it clear the mere thought of all that was disgusting. It seemed he had his own history with the morningstar. He even solidified that disgust by saying, voice nearly entirely blank, “Gross.” And then he paused and shrugged a little at her continued questions. “Lucifer certainly wouldn’t settle down,” the demon agreed. “That’s not like him at all. But of course he isn’t above tricking people he thinks could be useful to him. If Agatha is powerful or if she is willing to do anything for him, it would not be above him to use her, to trick her into falling in love with him or using her until there is nothing left of her. But I’m sure Agatha doesn’t understand that. She will just see him as a powerful ally.” It’d be her funeral, then. Not that Legion cared about that.
When she finally returned to the old oak table with a thin little book, the demon watched her and the book itself in a soft sort of way. Thoughtful, or maybe not. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about anything now. Now that he was sitting, he was tired, and he could feel it. It was a good thing there was nothing particularly horrible left in the mansion. He was sure he could deal with it if he had to, but he really didn’t want to.
He gave a little sigh at the questions, and he leaned over to look at the circled places himself. “Exeter and Plymouth both being circled means she could have ended up at either place, I guess. Maybe you should check the University website at Exeter and see if there is any mention of a Margaret Blackwood either as a student or an alumni. Though her last name could have changed by now, I doubt her first name will have. If there was a way to check the places in general for their residents that might be most helpful.” Though aside from something as old and out of date as a phonebook, it didn’t seem like that would be possible at all.
“We could check the internet,” Legion added. “See if there is an obituary from a specific place, or something like it. Children of hers, maybe. Facebook pages or other social media from any of them. At the very least, that might give you a location. Traveling all the way to the United States is easy for me, but it seems useless to travel to every place in the hopes of finding a lead. And there’s nothing to say she still lives there, or her children do if she even has any. Traveling is easy for me, but for people like you–” People who couldn’t travel so easily via teleport. “–it can get difficult, time consuming and expensive. And traveling through teleportation too much can potentially take a toll on your body, so we shouldn’t just be hopping around willy nilly. We have to be strategic.”
There wasn’t much Legion could do about it anyway. He could share what his power did – he had a lot of it, clearly, almost an endless wealth of it, it seemed – but he couldn’t really share his “secrets” about it. The power was innate to him and lived inside of him. It exhausted him to use a ton of it at once, sure, but he didn’t have to think about how to use it. And if at one point he had had to, that was a long time ago. His abilities had become so central to him he didn’t think about them anymore.
Legion wasn’t profoundly uncomfortable at people trying to be nurturing to him. It was more like he wasn’t used to it. He didn’t exactly have a good track record for dating, nor were his friends typically the nurturing type. Or, really, his family. His mother was in her own way, but frankly he did not spend much time with her and his visits were quite brief. He took care of himself and his sisters, and he was often the one fretting over the people he dated. It was simply a strange change.
At the mention of human food, Legion smiled a little. He knew the feeling. “It can be overwhelming.” He agreed. “For a long time I wouldn’t eat it at all. When I did start consuming it, it wasn’t for what it brought me – human food doesn’t give me energy. It was just because I liked the taste of it. Mostly sweets. And for years I couldn’t eat anything but sweet things. It all made me sick. I still can’t eat any meat.” Any meat that wasn’t human meat, anyway. But he decided not to delve into that right now. It was not the time. It probably would never be the time. “And I still mostly eat sweets. And coffee.” And alcohol, though that was less often than one might think. It took… way too much alcohol to have an effect on him, and it really wasn’t worth it in his mind. If he was looking to get drunk he could do it but it wasn’t exactly practical.
Of course, Legion remained quiet for their walk down the hallways. He was surprised all the dust and likely mildew and mold that crept around the mansion was not making Legacy sick already. He knew she wasn’t a human, but those sorts of things could affect most creatures. If one had lungs to breathe with, things could get inside them. Or, maybe Legacy was just used to it. She clearly had a love of books old and new that carried her toward research. He couldn’t be too surprised that she spent a lot of time around them.
The demon crossed his arms as he watched the excitement take over Legacy, watched as she dug around and climbed shelves and stole books to observe. He did raise an eyebrow as she stuffed a book into her bag, half-hidden beneath those sunglasses of his. “As fun as that might be to keep…” he started, calm but chastising, tilting his head slightly. “I can imagine most things in this house are dangerous to take away. You don’t know what kind of curse may follow you if you remove it from its home. You should leave it here.” He wasn’t positive it would have a curse on it, but why take the risk? He knew it was special to her, but still. “I… can try and find one similar for you, if you really want it.” Of course he would likely have connections to such a thing, being who he was. What he was.
“Also, are we not supposed to be looking for books on Margaret, specifically?” The only member of the family that could likely help. Even if Duncan lived, he would certainly not be very helpful. “Gates of Hell?” Legion asked as he approached behind Legacy, and moved to lean over her shoulder, letting his eyes grace the pages of the book. “Yes. I mean… well, yes, but Lucifer Morningstar holds the keys to hell. To lock and unlock it is done by his hand only. For Agatha to try and do so herself would be asinine, and she would be staring in the face of one of the most powerful and dangerous adversaries known to mankind.” And other creatures, too, for that matter. Legacy did not have to say what she was thinking for him to understand her line of thought. “It would be extremely unwise of her to try and do so unless she’s trying to pick a fight with the devil.” Most people avoided that. But what did he know? Maybe Agatha wanted to pick a fight. Maybe she wanted to make a deal. Maybe she worshiped Lucifer. He knew people that did that, though they were few and far between.
It was sad, in the way losing a friend or watching a sibling grow up and move away was sad. Children brought lightness to everything, and Emily was no exception. Of course, Legion had a soft spot for children, so he would think that. Her missing presence left a gaping hole where she should be. Legion and Legacy felt it. The house felt it too, letting the magic of the place loose like a wine bottle uncorked.
The demon let out a sigh, but watching her go still brought a smile to his face, small and soft. It wasn’t fair, but then, what was? Emily deserved better than to be stuck in this wretched place for eternity, captive and bound, unable to be free from her past, no chance at a future, whatever that future may bring. That was for her and companion to decide, not the house. Not the magic that bound her to the house. And not the person that placed the magic there.
Legion didn’t exactly notice Legacy staring at him, although it wasn’t a hard thing to suspect. He was quite used to stares, even from other supernatural creatures and deities. He was a strange one, to be sure, not an easy thing to put one’s finger on, not easy to categorize or even predict. Legion held a wealth of power living inside of him. It seemed to have a cap on it, a seal, because ordinarily, people could not feel that power, only that he happened to be quite powerful. The amount that was there was hidden. It was better that way. There was no reason to give people a reason to use him. He’d had enough of that in his lifetime. Though he wasn’t so easy to manipulate now, that hadn’t always been the case. And he was a sucker for people willing to show him love, unfortunately. Or, well, he used to be.
As all the dark, oppressive feelings faded, Legacy would feel that overwhelming power dissipate, leaving just the two of them standing there once more. The witch’s questions made Legion blink, as if he didn’t know what he was supposed to say in response to that. “I don’t know what you mean.” He said, and tilted his head slightly in that catlike way he always seemed to do. “The… magic, the power is just inside of me. I wouldn’t know how to explain it if I tried.” He had never met another creature like him, another thing with the ability to do what he did. He had no words for it. It wasn’t magic that could be taught, and as far as Legion knew it wasn’t a power that could be taken from him either. It was just his alone.
“I mean, the shadows are easy enough. I’m made up of them.” So he was shadows… but solid? “They have a mind of their own, I guess. It’s complicated.” Of course it was. “I have control over them, but I don’t exactly control them. They love me, so they listen to me.” It really didn’t make much sense once he tried explaining it aloud to another person. But then, maybe that was why he didn’t bother explaining it. It didn’t have to make sense, anyway. It was just the truth, whether one believed it or not.
He laughed, a little, almost shocked at Legacy’s question on food, about whether or not he was okay. He gave her a dismissive sort of shrug. “Exhausted.” He admitted. Whether he showed it or not, there was no use in lying to her, or to himself. “But it will fade with time. I will probably have to eat soon.” Her question of a snack, though, of what he ate, made him smirk. Now was not the time nor the place to get into the complexities of what kind of creature he was, what he ate, how often, and why. He was sure, actually, that it wasn’t something Legacy would have liked to hear very much of, and there was no need to divulge that information to her right now, or ever.
“I can eat human food,” Legion said carefully. “But it doesn’t do anything for me. It doesn’t even heal me or bring me energy in any substantial way. What I eat, I eat for fun and because I like the taste of it, not because it does something for me. There’s no need to worry. I will be fine for now. And when I need the food, I will eat. Nothing to concern yourself over.” Evidently, people worrying and fretting over him or offering to help him made him uncomfortable. Either something he wasn’t used to or something he didn’t like. It was hard to say either way.
But with that comment in mind, Legion turned on his heel to head back the way the three of them had come, back into the ugly, dilapidated mansion. “Come,” he said, “the library awaits us. We shouldn’t keep it waiting. Anyway, I’m not sure how long it’s good for you to be in a place like this. Aside from the restless and unhappy spirits, the mold, dust and tripping hazards are enough to send any able bodied person to an early grave. No need to stay here longer than was strictly necessary.” Plus, it held all the bad memories of its previous owners. Dwelling on all of that was bad for the spirit inside of them.
Legion had not honestly meant the playful little quip to mean anything, and so when Legacy responded as if he were serious, he simply tilted his head and blinked. He didn’t need the compliments, but they were nice, in their own way. It was true that he was not cruel in the way many demons or other Hellish creatures were. He might have been, once upon a time, but that was not now. Now he was old and much more docile. He could be violent to protect people that needed it, but he wasn’t a particularly violent person.
Of course the demon was keeping an eye out on the barn itself. It wasn’t as if he thought something might pop out at them there, but if anything were to happen anywhere it would have been there, he decided. With his arms around the little spirit to keep her steady, Legion continued to glance around the barn before finally settling on Emily while he listened to her and Legacy talk. He was more concerned about the wellbeing of the both of them than with the conversation. Not that he didn’t want to help, but, well… this was Legacy’s adventure. He was just along for the ride. Plus, it didn’t seem like he had too much to add himself. Vampires and demons were things he was intimately familiar with, but no two were alike, and of course they all had their own goals and personalities. Agatha being part demon only meant that she had some demon blood in her, but that did not mean she had all the power of a demon. She could have, of course. It just all depended on what she inherited.
“Your brother could very well be alive, considering he was half demon too.” Legion said softly to her, blinking at Legacy. If Duncan was indeed a grandfather or great-grandfather to Agatha, you could look into him. Though I have my doubts he’d be of any use… it does make sense that she would hate vampires, though, at least to an extent.” It was true that Margaret seemed like the smarter option to pursue, but she was human, or at least a witch. Closer to human than a demon was. She may have died long ago. “We can go back to the library and see if we can find anything about her.” And then, finally, he gave a shrug. “Or we could just head to Devon, though that seems a little short sighted. I’ve been there though.” Not that it would be hard to take them there. Legion had no trouble going anywhere at all it seemed.
He gave a soft sort of sigh as he knelt down in front of Emily finally, and despite the glasses he held a steady eye contact with her, the sort of thing that could be felt despite not being seen. “As a demon, your death could either land you in Hell, to stay or be born again, or you may be forced to walk this Earth as a specter. I can’t say which. What I can say, though, is that spirits who are ready to pass over to whatever new world they will end up in are always accompanied by a companion. So you won’t be alone.”
Legion had never had the pleasure of passing over, so he could not say how long the companion stayed by. But if Emily was stuck on Earth, it was possible the companion would be with her always. It was hard to say. Legion didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep, and that was certainly one of them. But she seemed confident in her decision to leave. Legion couldn’t blame her. If he was forced to be stuck somewhere his death had occurred, he wouldn’t be happy either.
As long as Emily was sure, the demon would raise his hand, palm forward, without touching the girl. Both her and Legacy would witness a glow, something strange, but not bright. Instead it was black, emanating from his hand. They would also see, if they were really watching, that the edges of his hand blurred, become small black tendrils of shadows, and along the surface of his skin crept thin black lines, spiderwebs of what seemed like veins tracing over his skin, spreading and spreading. There was power there, as there was power in everything the demon did. Legacy would only feel it as an overwhelming pressure, but Emily would feel it like a pull, tugging her away from the spot she was stuck in. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but it wasn’t comfortable either, like the feeling of a tooth being extracted after the mouth was numbed with novocaine. There was a clicking sound – or maybe, instead, it was a snap, like a string being tugged apart. It took a lot of concentration, power, and effort, more than Legion ever let on that it did.
When the snap happened, Emily herself would feel light, like she was floating, like a bird. Some spirits turned into other things when they left, but not always. And when Legion pulled his hand away from her, put it down by his side, the shadowy tendrils still tugged at his skin, as if trying to pull it apart. They left what appeared to be small red burns in their place, which dissipated almost as soon as they appeared. If they were painful, Legion gave no indication of it.
And, of course, the demon had not been wrong. As if walking out from nothing, there came… well, a cat. It was not just any cat. It was Emily’s cat. Or, well, it looked like Emily’s cat, and it meowed at her as it approached, and sat by her side. Legion bowed his head to him. It was, of course, not Percy, not really. More likely, it was a god, or a deity, or something like it. One of death, one whose job it was to offer help and companionship to souls who were ready to move on. And it seemed to take the form of something comforting – in this case, Emily’s beloved cat.
When Legion moved to stand again, he took on the appearance of one momentarily exhausted. But that look faded as soon as it was there, and instead his gaze trailed the empty, dilapidated barn. He still thought the whole place should be condemned. Or, better yet, raised to the ground. He wouldn’t tell Emily that, though, instead moving to clasp his hands behind his back with a soft smile. Being free was a good thing. Legion could attest to that.
She tilted her head, lifting an eyebrow but choosing to swallow the retort she wanted to make, that no true witch worth their integrity made pacts or deals. That was demon territory. Or at least she'd always been taught that it was. Blowing out a breath she shrugged. "I'm a Kaltain, my ancestors would be turning in their graves to learn there are witches out there who deal in pacts like they're demons." She doesn't seem to realise right away that she'd given away more of herself in her outrage. At least enough to hint at her origins. Running her fingers through her dark hair and pinning Legacy with a look. "One would think you'd learned not to exchange servitude for perks. Nothing is worth that. And unfortunately you can't undo past mistakes, only live with them."
At that Nascha sighed, her expression growing carefully blank once more. "Artifacts? How does a novice witch come into possession of items like that?" She pinches the bridge of her nose, wondering just what kind of chaos this untrained witch might have wrought.
She lifted an eyebrow, turning to eye all the locks once more. Her lips quirking up into a wry sort of smile. "A well trained witch would make quick work of those." As if to prove her point; she flicked her fingers towards the myriad of locks, tripping each one into the locked position with barely a swell of energy.
She watched Legacy begin to brighten when the subject switched towards spirits. Tilting her head with a mild look of surprise at how passionate she sounded, as if she were fond of the spectral creatures. "Depends how long they've been dead from what I know. With enough concentration they can make themselves visible to others..." she didn't sound sure, what she knew of ghosts was...limited at best. She'd obviously never seen one herself, but an ancestor of hers had. It was written in one of the family grimoires. She shook her head to clear it of the memories rising to cloud it. "Interesting specialisation for a witch, the necromantic arts."