Page is a WIP
All around me darkness gathers; fading is the sun that shone.
We must speak of other matters; you can be me when I’m gone.
Flowers gathered in the morning, afternoon they blossom on.
Still are withered in the evening; you can be me when I’m gone.
Legion
ˈlējən
a vast host, multitude, or number of people or things.
great in number.
A man known by many names, seen as many entities, existing in many places.
But also, a man.
Legion does not know when he began. If asked, he could not tell you who (what) he is. Legion is a plaything to the devil. He is an older brother to twin demons. He is an (ex)lover of the god Apep. He is the best friend of Time itself; immortal, to a point. He can die. He just won’t stay dead.
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Where do you begin with a man who has no history? Or, rather, with a man who has no beginning?
Legion was not really… ‘born.’ One could say he was created, but it is more accurate to say he just appeared one day, bursting through the shadows like bats from a cave. He was probably around at the very crest of time, although no one could say for sure – not even himself, as he has no memory of his early life. Sometimes he remembers little things during quiet, lonely nights, like the vast, empty feeling of stillness before there was wind, or the feeling of endless wind before there were trees and land and water to disrupt it. His memories escape him, though. There’s so much to remember when you’re so old.
He knows he had made a home in Hell, before there was a devil. He believes, perhaps wrongly, that Hell once belonged to him, that he created it to live in when there was nowhere else to exist. He had been a ruler, once. A creator of things and places. An amorphous creature with powers beyond comprehension.
But now, he is just a man.
He knows also that he became a favorite toy of Lucifer’s when the angel fell from Heaven and stole Hell from him, guided by the power of a god Legion didn’t worship. He lived and he died. He reincarnated. He was at the mercy of the whims of the Lightbringer. That is, until Legion made the decision to adopt two unbearably annoying, mischievous, obnoxious little twin demons as his sisters. Creatures so exhausting and so unwilling to die and stay dead that they were banished from Hell to walk the Earth, Legion with them. Of course, he was welcome back any time. Without them.
Legion’s time on earth, some might say, has been rocky. Though his sisters were by his side for some of it, he was more often alone, and preferred it that way. Having no place to go, he wandered the earth for millenia. It’s hard to kill a creature like him, and he simply kept on living, never aging. Falling in love and out of it. The thing about living so much life for so long, is that you often become bitter. And if you don’t become bitter, you love more deeply than anyone you could ever know. Legion has been both of these people.
There is a lot of life to fit into the story of him. His most recent escapade ended, like most of the others, in tragedy. Deeply, madly, painfully in love with Apep, the god of chaos, he had chosen a life for himself at the side of the snake, against the Sun God, desperate for the life they could build together. No one had done for him what Apep had. He had felt rescued. Hell, the god had eaten Lucifer. For him.
And then, Apep died.
Or, rather, he was killed. Destroyed by his own family, murdered for his plot against the Sun. Legion fell into disrepair. He grieved in the only way he knew how: withering away. A catatonic state. Becoming one with the shadows. Starving to death.
Oh, death. Oh, what bliss.
When Legion dies, he changes. Over time, over many deaths, his memory fades away, until he remembers only a couple of his past lives. He takes a new name, a new appearance, and begins life anew. Sometimes with the memories and personality of his previous self. Often, there are alterations. He remembers Apep. Remembers the muscle of arms around him while they stood upon the beach. Remembers the elation he felt when Apep asked him if they shouldn’t live together, in a towering castle in the middle of the Irish moors, away from each of their troubles. Remembers the fear and exhilaration he felt as the god pressed a knife to his neck in a playful, sadistic manner. He remembers that their love burned quick and fast and hot, not like a candle but like a struck match. Knows that now, it’s over. Now, his name has changed. His face, too. Knows he is no longer the same.
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Legion Lucifai
He doesn’t know what he is, but he calls himself a demon. After all, he is not the devil, and he is from hell. With no other words to describe him, and with striking similarities to other creatures of the same name, this is how he prefers to identify. After all, Legion eats humans to survive. Blood, bones, skin, soul and all. What is more demonic than that?
Legion can go a very long time without food, if he trains for it. Typically, he prefers to eat every couple of weeks. In previous lives, when he was stronger and when he had more power, he could live for years, even decades at a time without consuming anything. These days, he is not the same creature he was then, and he simply must have nourishment, or he becomes ravenous and weak. When not consuming food for sustenance, however, Legion prefers sweet things to eat. Human food does nothing for him, except that he likes the taste of it. Ice cream is his favorite.
In the same vein, human vices do nothing for him except act as a comfort. Legion smokes because it hurts his lungs. He drinks because it burns. If he does enough of one drug, he will begin to feel something.
Legion appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He stands at a moderate 6’3 when he looks like a human. Sometimes, he appears to be shorter. Though he does have a demonic form, he has found very little reason to actually use it, and so it remains essentially useless to him. His hair is the deepest brown; without direct sunlight, it appears black. His skin is ghostly pale, and his nails are often black and mildly pointed. He prefers the aesthetics of black clothing to almost all else, though he will sport a white shirt now and again, if the vibe calls for it. The only thing about his appearance that doesn’t change with his reincarnations are his eyes. They are black through and through, from pupil to sclera, with only a thin red ring around his iris. He sports deep bruising beneath his eyes, dark purple and blue, the bruising of a lobotomy victim. He hides his eyes beneath sunglasses for the part. Once upon a time, he had wings.
Legion is a playful and somewhat sarcastic character. Most often, he comes off as aloof and flirtatious (both things he actually is) but with a temper. He tries very hard to keep his cool, but it is in his demonic nature to run hot. He is exceptionally kind until he isn’t, playful to an alarming degree, and enjoys spending time with animals.
Legion is a musician. Actually, the better description of him would probably be a singer. He fell into the job after giving up his position in a large local drug ring, realizing that the high of performing on a stage for an enraptured crowd vastly outweighed selling drugs to rich snobs. Legion craves the attention of an enamored audience. His pop-punk style of both music and clothing earns him plenty of fans, and the tabloid stories of his rendezvous with both men and women keep them interested. His fanbase is small, and though he is considered more underground than mainstream, the fans are loyal. He has gained a cult following over the years. It is said that his music can change lives. People leave the concerts feeling more pleasured than when they came in. The feeling, they say, is addicting.
He lives in a London flat by himself. When not preparing for a performance, Legion often sleeps his days away and stalks out into the dark for the London nightlife. His natural way of consuming food is very conducive to night owl behavior.
Fun Facts:
Likes
Cats, flowers, sharp things, ice cream, shitty Chinese food, most men, fierce and powerful women, arguably bad animated movies, rain, the cold, cigarettes, bonfire smoke, iced coffee, scalding hot showers, blatant flirting, the taste of Vampire blood
Dislikes
Most dogs, most animal meat, hot coffee, yelling matches, vibrant colors, licorice, bitter foods, loneliness, injustice
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NPCs that often show up in Legion’s stories. Some of these characters I have written separately and others are only ever written with the purpose of advancing plot for Legion.
Anna
Legion’s manager and a siren. Anna has been around for as long as Legion has been making music. He saved her once, and since then they have been close friends. When he decided to quit his drug business and pursue music instead, Anna was the first to support his decision and help him grow his presence in the music industry. He doesn’t make any career decisions without her input. She manages all of his appointments, from modeling to interviews to concerts. Although she is a strict manager, she would never put Legion in a position that is too uncomfortable for him. She loves him dearly and would give her life for him. Anna is married to a gorgon woman, Navy.
Aki
Legion’s little sister. Aki presents herself as a thirteen year old girl with white skin, long black hair (picture The Ring), and a thin, emaciated body. She has fascinating eyes – silver most of the time, but opalescent when she’s using powers. She has no interest in love, relationships, or even, really, friendships. She is as creepy as a child can get, and although she appears as a teenager, her behavior often makes her seem much younger. It is important to note that despite this appearance, Aki is almost as old as her brother. She is the definition of evil and annoying. She loves causing mischief, murdering people (and animals!), and terrorizing humans. She carries around a puppet-like doll with her who holds a scythe called Mr. Happy. Some people say Mr. Happy is alive.
Aki is the twin sister of Keller, a beautiful blond-haired banshee. Aki loves her sister and her brother more than anything else in the world. Unlike Legion, she will kill upon the slightest inconvenience.
(Aki is my own character, but Keller is not, so she is not available to write or play at all.)
Lucifer
The devil. The lightbringer. The morningstar. Lucifer has always had an obsession with the demon. Their relationship is complicated. Legion is branded with Lucifer’s sigil, although what the angel really wants with him is hard to say for sure. Once upon a time, Legion was stronger than Lucifer, held more power over him. Now? Well, now it’s the other way around. Legion is Lucifer’s slave. Lucifer uses him as a toy, a sexual release, a punching bag.
Apep did eat him. Although Lucifer can regenerate and is immortal, it will take a while for him to return.
Uriel
In the 1980s, Legion (who went by a different name, Cassius) was considered a growing rockstar to rival other large bands at the time. He had the stage presence, the appearance, and gave just enough of a glance into his life that tabloids and fans thought he was scandalous and fascinating. However, all of that changed after he met Uriel. A man who had come to his shows, wormed his way into the demon’s life, and eventually into his heart. But Uriel’s intentions were cruel. Slowly, he dismantled everything Cassius had worked for, including his house, his job, and his friends. Uriel wanted the man all to himself, and he succeeded. After this, the tables turned. The sweet man Cassius thought he knew shed his skin to show a monster beneath it. Everything about him was swift, abusive, vicious. Cassius had never been more terrified of an angel.
Their break up was hard and left him with nothing. It almost ended his life. Uriel, being an angel, is equally as immortal as Legion, though the demon hasn’t seen Uriel since their relationship ended. Some pieces of it still haunt him, especially knowing that, somewhere, Uriel is lurking.
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About the Writer:
Hi! My name is Micajah (they/them). I'm 28 and a grad student in Library Science. I've been writing since 2007 (16 years!!!) but have had a rocky last few years. I haven't consistently written since 2020ish. You might know me from Rolepages or Faeries and Vampires (if you're OG)!
This is my second account :) Other account: https://wrealms.com/members/themoon
I am open to new roleplay threads
Threads are Open
Writer's Writing Style (OOC)
Paragraph, Multi-Para
Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)
Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Rated R, 18+, Gore, Action, Adventure
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The smell of desperation, sex, sweaty bodies, and alcohol. A perfect melting pot for sin and debauchery. The Devil's Angels was a place where no one was judged from their past mistakes, which was a perfect place for young women with no advantages in life to work.
Red everything.
Red carpet, red counters. Everything was scarlet, to show that this was truly the work of the devil. The stage area was fairly clean, but a few strays wrappers from a pack of gum lay on the floor. Seems one of the other strippers were here, chewing to destress before their turn up on the stage, or to simply dress up their breath with something minty and alluring.
Drifting from the foyer into the two golden and black doors, the sit down section of the club was made aware to the many guests that were coming in for the night's performances. Plush crimson chairs were scattered about along the floor, decorating around the stage that rested amongst the middle.
Among one of the people entering the club was one of the dancers. A stark contrast to most of the women here, who were all bombshell blonds, and fiesty redheads. No, this woman was different. Black curly hair that touched the middle of her back, striking blue eyes, and pale skin. Her nickname from the other girls Snow White didn't seem to far off from her description.
Her fingertips tapped against the punch in clock on the wall near the changing room. Her beat up leather jacket hung across her shoulders, partnered with faded jeans and scuffed sneakers. The ticket was spat back out, punching a hole in her ticket, before she placed it in an empty slot beside the machine. Ryan it read at the top, not that she could tell.
Drifting into the back room, the jacket glided across the woman's pale shoulders, and down by the locker she was given in the corner of the room. No one dared even look at her, or each other for that matter. Seemed that beauty was more important here, even if it was fake. The smell of perfume, foundation, and cigarettes permeated the air thickly. One could get lost in its familiarity.
-/-
Porcelain palms collected up the curtains behind the stage, peeking out betwixt the fabric to see the audience. Tilting head head back, the black haired beauty forced herself to take in a deep inhale of that permeating scented air.
The bass of the song started, and Ryan tilted her head back forward, brushing the bridge of her nose across the curtain...before she exhaled. Here we go...
Sliding past them into the open air, the crowd seemed to cheer at the woman, despite her being mostly covered by her lingerie. Ebony heels clicked across the less than polished stage floor, right up to the silver pole that rested in the center. She felt like she was a caged animal, being watched in the zoo, and eyed up by beings that appeared to be better than her.
Her thick hips swivel, lowering themselves while her hands held the pole close to her breasts. A deep squat she had put herself in, motioning them forward in a grinding movement before repeating it as she stood up.
Not many, if any, men would be looking in her face during that dance. But, the dull, lifeless look she had in her gaze was evident to those who did. She wished she was anywhere else, doing anything else...
However....one man seemed to catch her gaze. It was one of the mysterious types in the front, wearing a pair of glasses to hide his eyes. There was..something off about him...and she wasn't sure where to put her tongue in the matter. Nevertheless, she kept dancing...
The song didn't last too long, however. It soon ended with the soft words of the artist, which left the black haired beauty on her hands and knees in front of the hungry gaze of the men in front of her. Hands reached upwards, and stuffed bills happily into her top, fingertips brushing along her large breasts. Her back tensed a bit, trying to put off the distaste in her mouth for them. The scent of alcohol staining their tongues and minds...ergh...
Standing up, the woman collected up her earnings and stuffed it where she could. The rest would be swept off stage by someone paid to do so, so she can collect it when she was ready to clock out for the night. Slipping back to her locker, she was stuffing the cash in, so she could go out about on the floor for her duty before her next duty.
Back out on to the club's floor, gliding past the bar to give a gentle welcome to those who are regulars who were decent to her. Motioning her hand to the bartender to give her something sweet. He knew what she meant, raising a can of Coca-Cola and sliding it in her direction. Using her finger once she caught it, she cracked the tab, and immediately put her lips down to capture the foam that was spilling over. . .
Aurora was busy watching the cat fight with sick fascination, obviously enjoying the brutality that it wrought. She did not immediately notice the threat Legion possessed until she detected a shift in the air, unnatural and unnerving.
When Legion stood before her, a scream of rage tore from Aurora. She turned her frantic gaze on Legion. “How dare you! You know not what you do! I gave you the choice, freedom's open gate. Yet here you stay. Do you even know, do you even see, the person you protect, the secrets there be? The price she paid, the desires she's gained, Are you aware, or are you but feigned?” If she feared him and his terrifying form, she didn't show it. Magic crackled, causing a buzz to fill the air.
Legion found himself suddenly in a lush, green forest. Ferns shivered in the gentle breeze. Trees stretched for the sky, sheltering the grounds below in dappled light.
“See for yourself!” A harsh whisper broke the peaceful calm of the forest. He could hear voices, but they were muddled. He couldn't make out the words nor could he see them. He did hear the rumbling crack of the earth, followed by a yowl of bone chilling fear. The green of the forest blacked, as if diseased. Plants and flowers shriveled, becoming nothing but death and decay. The vision began to fade, the real world leeching in.
“Ask her the price she paid!”
Aurora's taunt broke the vision. Something cold and sharp sliced along the skin of his cheek — or perhaps it didn't, if he could see it coming. She had used the vision to momentarily blind him, daring to dance closer and strike. Time would tell if she landed the blow. She laughed with mad glee as she darted out of reach, sending a shockwave of energy out towards him in an effort to knock him off his feet. Pictures were yanked off the wall from the force. Her jagged movements made it clear she had no idea on handle a creature like Legion. If her blade did cut, she would be shocked at how much resistance the blade made against his skin.
Legacy battled Jupiter with a vicious ferocity. Where she was a novice in many things, she was holding her own quite well. Muscles rippled along her pelt with every move. She slashed at Jupiter with a forepaw, slicing open his cheek. Jupiter hissed with fury and launched himself forward. The two cats rolled together, locked in a screeching ball of claws and teeth. Legacy rolled, savagely kicking at Jupiter's belly with her back claws. Teeth closed over her throat and for a heartbeat, terror gripped her. Legacy rasped out a growl as the teeth locked tighter. She hooked claws into his shoulders and using her back legs, she heaved him off of her. Jupiter landed with a huff; before he could recover, she was on him again. Blood splattered the walls and seeped onto the floor.
Legion grasped Aurora by the hair. She had been focused on his hand, trying to decipher the meaning of the mark. She bared her teeth — despite her young age, they were yellowed and misshapen. A shame too, since she had such a pretty face. His voice rattled her, as did his form, but she did not voice it. Instead of answering in her riddles and rhymes, Aurora used one hand to raise her blade, aiming for his throat. The witch focused all her energy, feeling the familiar tingle of magic at her fingertips. With her other hand she let out a burst of dark energy. The blast hit Legion with the force of a sledgehammer. It should send flying across the room. But would her dark powers hold against him?
// Want to plot in PMs? :)
Roger & Legion
Roger was slightly intrigued to see that his question seemed to prompt Legion to leave the table. His attention trailed after the man in that moment and he'd considered if he could have offended him. Though, as it turned out the other was simply grabbing himself another drink. As he returned, Roger sort of smiled lazily and sipped from his own. It was relieving that the strange fellow hadn't been insulted by the quip about his eyes.
It was far less relieving to hear what Legion himself had to say in regards to them. In fact, it was a little unnerving. Roger nearly spat out his drink at the remark about his supposedly not being human. He swallowed hard and let out a nervous chuckle. "You're not human? W-well, I suppose anyone could claim they're made up of smaller things." Like organs, muscle and bone. But Roger wasn't wholly getting the impression that his acquaintance meant his statement that way. He wasn't going to suggest otherwise. It was too unsettling to think about.
He groaned and rested his head and arms on the table, not only because he was beginning to feel groggy from all the beer but also due to the way Legion had interpreted the explanation he'd given about his visions. "Ah, God. I hope they're not true. I've seen no evidence that they are and yet I get the most horrible feeling that it's going to happen one day. To me. T-to all of us." Roger's expression went sour. "So much war. Lies and false promises." His gaze shifted to Legion. "It's what I see. Day in and day out. Makes me sick. Or at least unable to sleep. I feel so...helpless."
He slurred a tad on the last word he spoke. Maybe he was in need of a catnap, even if he didn't particularly desire it. For now, Roger would settle with closing his eyes all while hoping he wouldn't drift back into the nuclear apocalypse he'd witnessed time and time again.
Legion spoke of interesting things; his eyes were different from Emily's, somehow he believed them to be more frightening. And he preformed? Preformed what? Music, art? She had questions. She always had questions. But for now she tucked them close to her chest. There would be plenty of time, later, to inquire. She hoped at some point the two of them could actually have a normal conversation that didn't include demons and witches and magic.
But for now her focus on the home, of the inside, and later, of the mysterious witch that resided within the walls.
“Not exactly,” she rasped, her mind trying to comprehend what had happened. Her heart warmed a little when Legion placed himself slightly in front of her. "Aurora." The name echoed through Legacy's mind like a haunting whisper, sucking the color from her cheeks. A chill ran down her spine as memories of this woman flooded back.
"Be careful around her," Legacy warned. "She's Agatha's plaything – a witch warped and twisted into something otherworldly by Agatha's own hand. She senses emotional pain and trauma and feeds from it, draws power from it."
"Demon blood I do consume," Aurora taunted, her voice dripping with malice. Well, that would certainly explain the wild look in her eye. Legacy had known Aurora for her insanity, but this was vastly different. Something had changed.
Aurora twisted her head to the left as she blinked at Legion.
“The person who lived here is no longer near. Dead they have been for many a year.” Aurora's nails bit into the wood of the bookshelf of which she sat. She stared right at Legion when she spoke her next verse,
“Tell me, tell me, how does one lose a heart's desire?
A love as deep as the Egyptian pyre.
With passion so great, and a soul so bright,
How could one bear to face the endless night?”
Her head tilted, twisting to an almost unnatural degree. She had stressed the Egyptian part, though Legacy had no clue as to why. Before Legacy could press for more information, Aurora slithered from the bookshelf like a snake, a glint of something shiny in her hand. A necklace dangled from her fingers, a large pendant hanging from the worn leather cord. But it was the two small vials beside it that truly captured Legacy's attention. One was empty, a hollow shell that seemed to scream for fulfillment. The other glowed with a liquid as red as rubies. Blood?
With a shriek of rage, Legacy hurled a ball of pure, crackling magic at the other witch. Aurora danced aside with inhuman grace, her lips moving in a silent chant. Thin threads of light began to peel away from Legacy's very being, making her skin prickle. She recoiled, but the strands wrapped around her like ethereal chains. Shadows swirled in, a cool counterpoint to the burning magic. The light ripped through the air, a blinding arc that filled the empty vial to bursting. The transformation happened in mere heartbeats. Where Legacy once stood in pride and fury, now sat a cat. Her fur was a dizzying whirl of browns, with a smattering of white and black mixed through. Her eyes, though, still burned with a witch's fire.
"Well, this is humiliating," the cat spat, her voice low and rough. “Change me back, right now!” Her words were sharp, but undeniably feline. Legacy let out a hiss of frustration, her tail twitching with agitation. This was not how she'd envisioned the encounter would go.
It was the talisman Legacy had wanted back. She had said it could still be used to control her. Apparently, it could also strip her of her mortal self. Aurora's face twisted into a wicked grin as she corked the tiny vial.
Something heavy dropped onto a nearby end table, right above where Legacy now stood. A huge gray cat stood menacingly on the top.
“Ah, my sweet familiar, I'm glad you've come.” Aurora reached out and stroked the feline with sharpened nails. She slipped the talisman over her head. “His name is Jupiter, so you see.” Jupiter only had eyes for Legacy. Malice oozed from every inch of his ruffled pelt. Legacy thought this to be quite unfair. No magic? This was just the sort of disgusting game Aurora liked to play.
"You can't use magic, my dear Legacy. This battle shall be your last. But to your acquaintance I offer a choice. Leave now, or dead you shall be."
With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed Legion. She seemed to think him nothing more than a bug on the wall. Instead, her shrewd gaze fixated on the cats.
As if willed telepathically, Jupiter launched his massive body towards Legacy. A blood-curdling yowl ripped from her throat, her muscles twitching with a whispered memory. With inhuman agility, she darted aside just as he landed, his claws tearing into the the hardwood floor with a loud thud. In a flash of tawny fur, she twisted and sprang onto his back, her claws sinking deep into his pelt like knives. Her teeth fastened onto the back of his neck, the points digging painfully into his skin.
Aurora watched the unfolding battle with gross fascination, her eyes leering and enjoying the bloodshed. Jupiter hissed with fury, his body rolling and bucking to detach himself from Legacy's deadly grip. Her attacks were a savage blur of claws and teeth, each strike aimed with lethal precision. Yet despite his larger size, Legacy held her own, her movements a graceful dance of violence. She had clearly fought before, her feline form a natural extension of the warrior that lay beneath.
Her claws raked across Jupiter's ears, eliciting a pained yowl as blood welled up. Undeterred, he spun around, his jaws wide open in a snarling snap that narrowly missed her face. Legacy leapt back just in time, her tail twitching. With a low growl, she launched herself at him, the two cats crashing together in a flurry of fur and claws. They rolled across the ground, their snarls and yowls echoing through the room. Each was a force of nature, their battle a testament to the savage beauty of the wild.
Some would argue werewolves, being children of the moon were less likely to be seen roaming the streets whilst the sun burned in the sky. But Nascha found such arguments to be flawed, yes she was only half werewolf and it could be argued that her witch blood diluted things in some ways. But she'd always been something of an equal opportunity roamer, wandering at all hours of the day. Not to mention she frowned upon stereotyping.
It was for that reason that on this dreary midafternoon in England, a country she'd never visited before this; that she could be found sauntering along the high street. One hand shoved into the pocket of her battered leather whilst the other clutched a half empty to-go cup of coffee. Her scuffed boots thumping against the pavement as she lazily watched the locals milling about around her. Inhaling the myriad of scents and sorting though them instinctively, a natural wariness that was born of her experiences. A frown furrowing her brow as her gaze skipped over a group of rowdy teens taunting each other, to fall upon a man dressed entirely in black; whom was wearing shades even on this overcast day. Not only did he physically stick out like a sore thumb with his choice of attire, his scent rang alarm bells to her more wolven nature. Screaming nonhuman.
With flecks of gold bleeding into her gaze, she slunk through the crowd headed in his direction. Stopping a few feet away and arching an eyebrow. "Shades on an overcast day?"
She watched as he turned to dab the water droplets from his glasses before slipping them back on. “Your eyes don't bother me, by the way.” She shrugged. “Just a guess, but I imagined they resembled Emily's.” That hadn't bothered her either. She understood why he hid them; humans always feared what they didn't understand. “I've seen stranger things — like dead cats with stars in their fur, for instance. Black eyes are hardly the oddest thing I've encountered.” Of course, she had no real idea if he covered them for her sake, his own, or for mundane reasons. Perhaps it was all three.
Dead cats with stars in their pelts? What was that about?
“I've always been interested in medicine. I used to be — oh, never mind. It's kind of weird to discuss, being human now. At any rate, I still study medicinal herbs. I know it's not as potent as modern medicine — antibiotics, surgeries, and so forth — but I believe herbs and natural remedies have merit as well. They simply aren't studied as much. Most of my shop caters to medicinal remedies. And chicken eggs. Ah, I miss my chickens.” Her feathered companions. How odd a choice, given her history with cats.
At his mention of houses, hills, and hauntings, a chuckle escaped her. “I looked up the address on Google Maps. It's actually fairly small — suitable for a family of three or four. It lacked the luxuries you'd expect; no jacuzzi, no pool…just a substantial plot of land. Seven acres, I believe? I didn't see that it had ever been listed for sale. Perhaps good news?” She secured her backpack and gave him a nod to ensue with the teleportation once he felt ready. She wondered how that really worked — did he need to visualize the home or was the address enough? The latter seemed to be true, given she had only ever given him the written addresses. By now, she was used to the sensation. When they arrived, she barely flinched as the world settled around her.
Before her stretched a long, rocky driveway. The only illumination came from the silver glow of the moon overhead, casting long, ominous shadows across the property. The grass had grown wild and untamed, a sure sign that the home had stood abandoned for some time – or the yard work, at least, neglected. Despite this, the house itself looked surprisingly well-maintained. It was a simple, single-story affair, painted a crisp white that seemed to gleam in the moonlight. Except for a smudge of algae here, a streak of dirt there, the exterior appeared clean, the structure standing proud upon its brick foundation. A deck extended from the front door all the way down to the ground, forming a gentle ramp. It was a sturdy construction, clearly well-made, but there was a rough-hewn quality to it that suggested the hand of an amateur craftsman, perhaps the owner themselves. The shades were all pulled tight, shutting the world out, and its curiosity in. The interior remained a mystery, concealed behind those blank, unyielding panes of glass.
Legacy climbed up the ramp. With a final glance at Legion, she knocked.
Nothing. She knocked again. Same deal. She pressed her ear against the door, hearing nothing inside. She tried the handle. Locked.
“Maybe no one is home? The yard looks overgrown, but maybe the mowing got away from him…” She tried the knob again, flinching with it clicked open. She could have sworn it was locked just a moment ago.
Legacy narrowed her gaze. She reached out with her magical sense, surprised to find something…familiar.
“There is definitely someone in there,” she murmured. “It feels…familiar. But I can't place it. It's not Agatha,” she was quick to reassure. She could sense that horrid woman a mile away. She let the door swing open, revealing the maw of darkness. On edge, Legacy slipped her arm inside, hands fumbling for the light switch.
The lights came on. Interesting. Someone was paying the bills.
“Hello?” She called, not quite willing to pass the threshold yet. She waited for a few heartbeats before she took a step inside.
Before Legacy stood a breathtaking abode. Elegant, sleek furniture adorned the space, complemented by soothing light blue walls that seemed to whisper tranquility. The rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock echoed through the room, its steady pulse a counterpoint to the sudden stillness of her heart. The space was unmistakably a living room; a modest bookshelf, its wooden surface bearing the scars of time, stood sentinel against the right wall. Nearby rested a faded gray couch; it told the tale of countless conversations and shared laughter. Doorways led to unseen rooms, their secrets and stories waiting to be unearthed. To the left, the metallic glint of appliances hinted at a kitchen. Footfalls resonated from the right, growing louder with each passing moment. A door, once a barrier, now creaked open, revealing the intimate sanctuary of a bedroom.
Legacy's breath hitched, her lungs burning as if she'd been punched. She flinched, the mere sight of the figure before her sending ripples of shock through her very being. Her body betrayed her, stumbling back as if repelled by an unseen force. Her head shook, a silent plea to deny the reality unfolding before her eyes.
There, framed by the doorway, stood a boy. His frame was slight, a mere whisper of a man. His age danced between the innocence of sixteen and the promise of eighteen, yet his eyes... his eyes held the weight of centuries. Blond hair, like spun gold, fell across his face as he tilted his head, his gaze accessing, probing. Those eyes, a mesmerizing blend of light blue and gray, bore into Legacy and the figure beside her.
“Legacy, is that you?” His voice, a soft breeze on a summer's day, held a timbre of sincerity. “Where have you been?” The calmness of his tone belied the turmoil brewing within Legacy.
Something in his words, a hidden barb, set her ablaze. Rage, pure and molten, erupted from her very core. It crackled in the air, a living, breathing entity, hungry for destruction.
“I see through your lie!” The words tore from her throat in a venomous hiss. Her body, now a weapon, stalked forward, each step a promise of retribution.
“Whatever do you mean?” His features softened, his brow furrowing in genuine concern. “Are you alright? You're looking a little pale.”
“Alex never saw my human face,” Legacy rasped, her voice a raw whisper that seemed to hold the weight of her very soul. Was this declaration meant for the boy, for Legion, or for herself? It could not be said. Yet the boy, this enigmatic stranger, heard her. He heard the pain, the betrayal, the dawning realization.
The air crackled, heavy with electricity. Magic, a maelstrom of swirling power, built within her. It grew, a tempest yearning to be unleashed, until she could hold it no more. A fireball, a blazing orb of fury, shot from her outstretched hand. It soared across the room, seconds from incinerating the figure... yet never reaching its mark. An invisible barrier, a shield of shadow and deceit, halted its destructive path. The heat of the deflected spell filled the room, a harsh reminder of the magic that crackled through her veins.
The boy's head flung back, his throat working as a sound, a laugh, tore from his lips. It began as the light, carefree chuckle of a young man, but swelled, growing in pitch and madness until it became the manic cackle of a woman. His form, once solid, now rippled, his flesh flowing like molten wax. Shadows, dark and malevolent, swirled around him, a living shroud. The boy, the illusion, dissolved, only to coalesce atop the bookshelf. It had moved with inhumane speed. No longer a boy, but something far, far more sinister. Magic swirled around the figure, daunting and deadly.
The front door slammed shut
“My my…look what the cat dragged in.” Red, bouncing curls framed a bronze face. Her blue-green eyes were crazed as they flicked from Legion to Legacy, back and forth.
“Little cat, you shall see, your searching reveals a deadly foe.” She tisked,
“I know you…” Legacy frowned, anger still darkening her tone. The voice, the way she spoke, was eerily familiar.
The woman cackled. “So you should, and look who you've brought! A man masquerading as a demon, what a delightful thought. Blood and agony, I shall feast with glee, How much resides in you? Only time will see.”
oh thank you so much! If your up for a story please let me know, one of the goddesses or one of the syreen's?
“Maybe she is using him; or thinks she's using him.” Her lips twitched, fighting a smile at Legion's obvious distaste for the very idea of Lucifer's love life. There was a story there, she reckoned, but she didn't ask.
At this point, it was getting late. Sunrise was a few hours away. Legion was right; they needed to narrow down an address or something more. She shoved away from the desk, coughing a bit. They had all the clue they could get. Now it was time to leave this terrible place behind. “You’re right. I think we have what we need at least. Let's get out of here.” When she stood, she dusted herself off with her hands. As they left the library, she snuffed the lights with a mere thought. Once outside, she took in a deep breath of fresh air.
“I have a hotel in mind that's near here. Why don’t you return home to recoup and meet me in town tomorrow night?” As soon as she stepped off the desecrated grounds of the manor, she felt emotionally lighter. The heaviness finally vanished completely, along with all the whispering memories of torment and anger. She raised a finger and pointed off in the distance. Lights twinkled ahead, barely viewable. “If you can get me there, I'll be set for tonight. You can stay too, if you'd like, but you'd probably be more comfortable in your own bed rather than some dingy hotel.” Legacy, however, could rest anywhere. Heck, she could spend her night right here in the forest, so long as she was away from this mansion. “The hotel has wifi, I'm sure, and I have an old tablet I can use to scour the internet.” Which she planned to do until sunrise at least. She strung her backpack over her shoulders.
“If you're tired, I can walk.” She had walked longer distances in her life. A few miles would be nothing to her.
However she came to the hotel, she would find herself in a dinky little hotel room with peeling wallpaper. She dropped herself onto the rickety bed, head propped up on a stack of pillows, and quickly connected her tablet to the hotel's wifi. She stared at the cracked screen for hours, fingers deftly skimming through page after page until her eyes grew heavy. Light slithered through the plastic blinds of the window, warning that dawn was fast approaching. The tablet slipped from her hands as she drifted off to sleep.
When she woke, her room was dark. She sat up slowly, blinking. An unfamiliar scent hung in the air. She couldn't place it; a maid must have peaked in to check on the room at some point during the day. She rolled over, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Her hands searched for the tablet she'd dropped. Once retrieved, she opened the browser. She had found access to library records online. From there, she had searched for the Blackwood name.
Now awake, she continued her dutiful search until she came across a nugget of information; marriage license. Specifically, one Margaret Blackwood to a rich aristocrat Leanard Graham. The society papers had been in awe of the match and been quick to judge. Legacy searched further, deeper, delving into the mystery. As the hour ticked by, she was able to make a few key notes on Margaret's life.
She came across an obituary, which listed several grandchildren of Margaret. So she was dead. That sucked. What luck she had finding this much information though! She searched the records for each name, following the family line until she ended with a great-great-great grandchild named Lucius Graham. He had attended the universe and was a protege among his peers. An article was written about him, noting the address he lived in. A quaint home in Exeter, where the good physician practices his medicinal art, the article read, followed by the address.
It was almost…too easy. Maybe I should have turned to the internet long ago! If everything was going to be available digitally…well, she would still visit a library. Nothing could replace the warm scent of books and the quiet peace quite like it.
Two hours had passed. She quickly readied herself for the day and exited the hotel. If Legion was waiting, she'd apologize for her delay. If he wasn't there, she'd wait patiently.
As soon as he appeared, she couldn't hold herself back.
“Margaret married into a wealthy family. She became a Graham and had five children. Five! She's dead, though. She's been dead for a good hundred years or so. She married a human though, not a witch. At least, nothing points to him being a witch. He died early in their marriage and she inherited his wealth. They owned several banks, apparently. Anyway, she had quite a few grandchildren! When she became elderly, she sold the business to her children and retired to a “quiet house on the hill”. I couldn't find an address, so I followed the family line.” She was rambling. She skipped to the point; “The home fell to one of her great great great grandchildren — he attended the college and was reportedly very smart. He studied medicine and wrote an article. From what I could glean, he practiced medicine in his home. I have the address!” She presented him with a slip of paper with said address. “I was able to access digital records from the library. The tricky part? If he is alive, he's human. At least, I'm certain he is. I couldn't find information on his age or if he had children. He could be dead — he's not practicing anymore because I could not find his name posted in any of the local hospitals or doctor offices.”
Legacy's face contorted in a grimace. She couldn't imagine being unable to consume meat. Of course, as an obligate carnivore herself, this fact followed her into her human life as well. She would never admit that she sometimes still craved a mouse or two. That fact would likely seem tame to him, but for most others, even the thought of consuming mice and rats was enough to turn a face green.
Disappointment creased her forehead at Legion's worries. She supposed he was right, but surely, all evidence pointed to the family having left in a hurry. This book was fascinating; she'd never seen a tome like it. Such things were hard to find in the twenty-first century. The world had moved away from magic a long time ago. She wondered if she'd have time to make notes, but quickly dismissed the idea. No, they did not have time. Legion was correct in that staying here for too long would have consequences for her health, though she showed little of that now.
With a resigned sigh, she carefully removed the tome from the confines of her bag and replaced it where it had originally sat. She smiled slightly at his promise in trying to find something similar. She didn't have much confidence that he would, but she greatly appreciated the gesture all the same.
A sly smile played on her lips at the reminder that they were supposed to be focusing on Margaret. “Yes, but shouldn't we figure out Agatha's end goal to prevent it?” She thumbed through the book's pages.
"Her arrogance is boundless. If we believe the blade was indeed 'dipped into the rivers of heaven', it could potentially unlock the gates. In every story, Heaven always trumps Hell. And I could easily see her picking a fight with Lucifer.” A chill ran down her spine. She certainly did not want to be involved in that. “She might think Alistair tangled with one of Lucifer's demons, making him the culprit. I couldn't say if she worships him. But as a half-demon, the possibility is there. And this could be her way to impress him. Maybe she aspires to be Hell's queen, ruling alongside Lucifer.” It was a stretch, but she mentioned it anyway. They had to explore all possibilities, no matter how fruitless they appeared.
“Would Lucifer even settle down?" It seems highly unlikely, but Agatha doesn't know the Devil's personal workings. If there was one being that thought herself perfect enough to win the Devil's affections, it would be Agatha.
Legacy flipped through the old pages but found nothing else useful. She returned the book, then began searching the shelves for clues about Margaret's whereabouts. After twenty minutes, Legacy found something that might provide answers. The ladder creaked as she descended, a slim paperback in hand. “This is a book on various worldwide locations.” Some pages were dog-eared. She flipped to those pages until she found one detailing Devon. “Emily mentioned Devon, right? There are two circled locations here: Plymouth and Exeter.” Legacy's eyes scanned the script feverishly. It seemed Margaret had narrowed it down to two locations.
"Plymouth is a port city, but it has local urban areas. Exeter, though, has a university and numerous business opportunities. It makes sense to choose a place with good education and opportunities when building a family. At the very least, they'll have a library with census information. We could check there. It's entirely possible Margaret left the UK for the New World.” However, if she wanted to escape her family's legacy, crossing the ocean would be an obvious choice.
“Or...could Plymouth be referencing Massachusetts?" An interesting theory. “If she wanted to escape her father, she could have easily done so. If he were ever to look for her, he might assume she meant the Plymouth in England, not America."
But would she have a reason to escape? Alistair had his heir. He no longer needed Margaret, unless he planned total control over the family.
Legacy pondered for a long moment before she turned to Legion for advice. “What do you think?”
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