A long-fingered hand, dripping that same darkness from needle-like fingertips, extends toward her, gripping a thin, oblong package wrapped in fabric.
"A gift," he informs her almost blithely. "I thought it fitting, considering your familial attachments. I'm almost certain you won't believe me when I say there is no cost, but truly, the thing is worthless to me. It holds more value in your hands than mine."
She reaches to take it, even as suspicion grows in her heart. Of course she doesn't believe it's free, but...there's no way to refuse, to doubt without seeming utterly ungrateful.
"What did I do to earn such a present?"
Her familial connections? It will depend, then, on what it is. For safety's sake, she tells herself, she'll open it here and now, to make sure it's something that won't cause problems in the apartment.
"Well," Eligos begins, ever so faintly bemused, "I would very much enjoy seeing you use that to help my granddaughter kill my son."
Within the wrapping is a stunning, candy-colored rapier last seen at the Gala in September. In the hands of Mendel, the Prince of Fools, a demon whose domain presided over madness and lies.
"I did think it odd, that Agent Jean, Miss Dyer, and Mr. Keay left it behind, considering its usefulness, and unique functionality. But it did give me the opportunity to choose who might wield it."
Mendel's sword. For a second, she's completely stunned - she'd only caught a glimpse of it, and yet, it pulls its way from her memory like one extracts shrapnel from a wound. But it makes sense - Aster had his hands in the killing of his brothers, and the goddesses repel the demons like oil and water do.
This is something powerful. This is something that Aster cannot be allowed to get his hands on. It needs to live in the altar until its time, hidden along with her Page. But she needs to get used to it as well, and that means...
Her hand closes around the hilt, turning to the side to give it a test swing for the weight in her hand. And it shifts on the second one, metal falling limp in the curve and weight of something infinitely more familiar. Oh. Oh, this is going to be wonderful, and she can't help but think that it'll feel like walking out into a beautiful day to slide this between Aster's ribs. Like the first touch of grass under her heels when she landed on the shore.
Yet...
"I thank you for your generosity, and rest assured, it will be used to that end." A beat. "If you can trust my word enough on that. It'll be a glorious display."
There's a look in her eyes, a thought in her mind. We both know you won't live to see his end. Aster has not been subtle in his ambitions, after all, and she hasn't forgotten how he tried to recruit her.
There is a deep, crackling chuckle. A brief sound that does not suit the voice nor the figure. "My dear," Eligos says slowly, as if each word is wading through mud, "I am not a thing of glory. Whatever poetic justice you create will be for your own satisfaction, which I shan't deprive you of. But I am my nature and nothing but my nature. I am a creature of ruin. And from the moment I saw the pieces slot together in Aster's gluttonous head, his magnificent vision of his perfect victory, I knew only that I wanted to seize it from him. At any cost."
Those pinprick red eyes meet Fever's. He fully understands what cost that is, just as Fever does. And it does not bother him.
"He will not go down easily. Even your doting mother has been picking some... inevitabilities for me, among your colorful cast. A surprisingly practical move from one of the tender-hearted goddesses."
How convenient that he should make a remark like this on the brink of Summer, far too late to call upon Mortanne for answers. But he is his nature, and nothing but his nature, and any opportunity to create some small discontent is a welcome snack.
"Do not let Aster or his cronies get their hands on that blade. And do not, under any circumstances, deal with his debt collector. If Claunthe decides she wants collateral, that is indeed the most valuable thing you own."
It is...strange. The more she speaks to him, the less she wants to run, though Fever is still all too aware of how easily she could be slain. Perhaps it is an acceptance of the circumstance, or certainty that if she is willing and ready to slay Aster, they have no quarrel. No need to deceive her, when their goals are already aligned. Or it's how something in that gaze is reminiscent of Dahlia in the full flower of her rage, and Fever knows who she's thrown her lot in with. For good or for ill, she'll have to live with the choices.
Still. The unease and confusion that his words have seeded in her wind around a few roots, unsettled in knowing that (your doting mother) is too far to call to. A letter would take too long, and dreaming is a gamble.
"If they try, I'll rip them to shreds. I don't care how stubborn they are, how hard they want to hang on - they'll wish they never even thought of the idea."
Strong words, yet Fever would see them through. If there was a way to carry it on her person, that would be preferable, but her corset was made to hold daggers, not rapier-whips.
Even those closest can't know, if she can help it. The less this is talked of, the better. It's collaboration, she knows, but this isn't making a deal. This is simply a promise that runs counter to some plans and aligns with others.
At no point has he stopped Fever from doing anything she'd like. He did not force her to sit and stay the way Aster has--- he asked politely. He did not shove the blade into her hands, demanding she take it. Did not trick her into accepting it from another nor specifically target her for a vengeance-driven mindset. He just offered. Eligos does not police the way she speaks to him, nor does he seem to have any expectation of etiquette, does not punish her for insolence or cow her into submission. He just talks, and listens. Between the two of them, there is a silent contract that Fever can say whatever she likes without fear. Because unlike his sons with their fragile egos, words cannot hurt the King of Treason. Anything Fever could say is nothing to him.
Though he may choose not to answer. But it cannot hurt to ask.
"Twice now your son has stepped into my mind with intent to chain me in place and keep me from raising a hand against him. Twice now has he succeeded. If this is to be used against him, I cannot allow a third time. And he will try, emboldened by his past victories."
In this has all her desperation to block out the Urge done her harm - a mind savaged by multiple forces and dwelling in Madness cannot uphold iron walls to block out an intruder of its own volition. If she leaves the door open for kinder forces to step in, others use the same passageway.
"Is there a way I can stop him from trying again? Or a way to take his intrusion and strike back?"
Fever doubts the answer will be given to her, and nor is she asking for an easy solution. But if the possibility exists, she has to try. If Aster steps into her mind when she has the sword, ready to put out his eyes, she can see herself being made to hand it over instead.
"Aster does not speak," Eligos points out. "His communication is entirely telepathic. And that blade is of the Court of Fools. Misdirection, madness, confusion and lies. With it in your hand, you likely won't be able to hear a word he says. You won't be able to obey his orders if you cannot comprehend them."
Eligos lets out a rumbling chuckle.
"Aster used to hate when Mendel pulled that trick. Ah, children. Never have any."
She'd make a shit mother, anyway, disregarding any worries about bloodline. But the words are said in amazement, and she looks down at the blade again. It'd be curious to experiment, see if it blocked other kinds of influence - if only there was a way to test without somehow betraying the secret to another.
"I'd say it's almost a shame that we have to kill you, but that'd insult us both."
The next time they meet, it will probably be on the field of battle, drawn into some manipulation or another. The next time, there will be no peaceful negotiation, no gifts. And all the same, they both know she'll be fighting in the name of the king they'd both place on the throne.
"I will go to oblivion laughing," Eligos intones, utterly without worry. "I'd say I won't make it easy for you, but if I know my son, that won't be for you to concern yourself with."
Failing to elaborate on this, Eligos' eyes close and his jagged ribcage swallows his beating heart, the remaining shadow twisting itself like a wrung out rag and swallowing itself, leaving Fever on her own.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Very good."
A long-fingered hand, dripping that same darkness from needle-like fingertips, extends toward her, gripping a thin, oblong package wrapped in fabric.
"A gift," he informs her almost blithely. "I thought it fitting, considering your familial attachments. I'm almost certain you won't believe me when I say there is no cost, but truly, the thing is worthless to me. It holds more value in your hands than mine."
no subject
"What did I do to earn such a present?"
Her familial connections? It will depend, then, on what it is. For safety's sake, she tells herself, she'll open it here and now, to make sure it's something that won't cause problems in the apartment.
no subject
"Well," Eligos begins, ever so faintly bemused, "I would very much enjoy seeing you use that to help my granddaughter kill my son."
Within the wrapping is a stunning, candy-colored rapier last seen at the Gala in September. In the hands of Mendel, the Prince of Fools, a demon whose domain presided over madness and lies.
"I did think it odd, that Agent Jean, Miss Dyer, and Mr. Keay left it behind, considering its usefulness, and unique functionality. But it did give me the opportunity to choose who might wield it."
no subject
This is something powerful. This is something that Aster cannot be allowed to get his hands on. It needs to live in the altar until its time, hidden along with her Page. But she needs to get used to it as well, and that means...
Her hand closes around the hilt, turning to the side to give it a test swing for the weight in her hand. And it shifts on the second one, metal falling limp in the curve and weight of something infinitely more familiar. Oh. Oh, this is going to be wonderful, and she can't help but think that it'll feel like walking out into a beautiful day to slide this between Aster's ribs. Like the first touch of grass under her heels when she landed on the shore.
Yet...
"I thank you for your generosity, and rest assured, it will be used to that end." A beat. "If you can trust my word enough on that. It'll be a glorious display."
There's a look in her eyes, a thought in her mind. We both know you won't live to see his end. Aster has not been subtle in his ambitions, after all, and she hasn't forgotten how he tried to recruit her.
no subject
There is a deep, crackling chuckle. A brief sound that does not suit the voice nor the figure. "My dear," Eligos says slowly, as if each word is wading through mud, "I am not a thing of glory. Whatever poetic justice you create will be for your own satisfaction, which I shan't deprive you of. But I am my nature and nothing but my nature. I am a creature of ruin. And from the moment I saw the pieces slot together in Aster's gluttonous head, his magnificent vision of his perfect victory, I knew only that I wanted to seize it from him. At any cost."
Those pinprick red eyes meet Fever's. He fully understands what cost that is, just as Fever does. And it does not bother him.
"He will not go down easily. Even your doting mother has been picking some... inevitabilities for me, among your colorful cast. A surprisingly practical move from one of the tender-hearted goddesses."
How convenient that he should make a remark like this on the brink of Summer, far too late to call upon Mortanne for answers. But he is his nature, and nothing but his nature, and any opportunity to create some small discontent is a welcome snack.
"Do not let Aster or his cronies get their hands on that blade. And do not, under any circumstances, deal with his debt collector. If Claunthe decides she wants collateral, that is indeed the most valuable thing you own."
no subject
Still. The unease and confusion that his words have seeded in her wind around a few roots, unsettled in knowing that (your doting mother) is too far to call to. A letter would take too long, and dreaming is a gamble.
"If they try, I'll rip them to shreds. I don't care how stubborn they are, how hard they want to hang on - they'll wish they never even thought of the idea."
Strong words, yet Fever would see them through. If there was a way to carry it on her person, that would be preferable, but her corset was made to hold daggers, not rapier-whips.
Even those closest can't know, if she can help it. The less this is talked of, the better. It's collaboration, she knows, but this isn't making a deal. This is simply a promise that runs counter to some plans and aligns with others.
There's a small pause, before:
"Can I ask one more question?"
no subject
"If you desire," Eligos replies.
At no point has he stopped Fever from doing anything she'd like. He did not force her to sit and stay the way Aster has--- he asked politely. He did not shove the blade into her hands, demanding she take it. Did not trick her into accepting it from another nor specifically target her for a vengeance-driven mindset. He just offered. Eligos does not police the way she speaks to him, nor does he seem to have any expectation of etiquette, does not punish her for insolence or cow her into submission. He just talks, and listens. Between the two of them, there is a silent contract that Fever can say whatever she likes without fear. Because unlike his sons with their fragile egos, words cannot hurt the King of Treason. Anything Fever could say is nothing to him.
Though he may choose not to answer. But it cannot hurt to ask.
no subject
In this has all her desperation to block out the Urge done her harm - a mind savaged by multiple forces and dwelling in Madness cannot uphold iron walls to block out an intruder of its own volition. If she leaves the door open for kinder forces to step in, others use the same passageway.
"Is there a way I can stop him from trying again? Or a way to take his intrusion and strike back?"
Fever doubts the answer will be given to her, and nor is she asking for an easy solution. But if the possibility exists, she has to try. If Aster steps into her mind when she has the sword, ready to put out his eyes, she can see herself being made to hand it over instead.
no subject
"Aster does not speak," Eligos points out. "His communication is entirely telepathic. And that blade is of the Court of Fools. Misdirection, madness, confusion and lies. With it in your hand, you likely won't be able to hear a word he says. You won't be able to obey his orders if you cannot comprehend them."
Eligos lets out a rumbling chuckle.
"Aster used to hate when Mendel pulled that trick. Ah, children. Never have any."
no subject
She'd make a shit mother, anyway, disregarding any worries about bloodline. But the words are said in amazement, and she looks down at the blade again. It'd be curious to experiment, see if it blocked other kinds of influence - if only there was a way to test without somehow betraying the secret to another.
"I'd say it's almost a shame that we have to kill you, but that'd insult us both."
The next time they meet, it will probably be on the field of battle, drawn into some manipulation or another. The next time, there will be no peaceful negotiation, no gifts. And all the same, they both know she'll be fighting in the name of the king they'd both place on the throne.
no subject
"I will go to oblivion laughing," Eligos intones, utterly without worry. "I'd say I won't make it easy for you, but if I know my son, that won't be for you to concern yourself with."
Failing to elaborate on this, Eligos' eyes close and his jagged ribcage swallows his beating heart, the remaining shadow twisting itself like a wrung out rag and swallowing itself, leaving Fever on her own.