impudentsongbird: (i can fly)
Gabriel ([personal profile] impudentsongbird) wrote2012-08-20 08:38 pm

let me be the one you call / if you jump I'll break your fall

Book Four: Dark Days
1 | into the breach
2 | finding skulduggery
3 | retreat to the tunnels
4 | into the cacophony
5 | sanctuary in the cathedral
6 | reuniting old friends
7 | kenspeckle's new patient
8 | holy water and disinfectant
9 | objecting to china sorrows
10 | the roadtrip
11 | baffling guild
12 | shenanigans at the safehouse
13 | reassuring fletcher
14 | valkyrie's intervention
15 | solomon's revelation
16 | visiting the edgleys
17 | recalled to the sanctuary
18 | guild's confusion
19 | gabe is busted
20 | the psychic tattoist
21 | envisioning the cacophony
22 | angel's first migraine
23 | the morning after
24 | china and solomon
25 | detectives' council of war
26 | china's foolishness
27 | the collector dethroned
28 | finding crux
29 | skulduggery's vileness revealed
30 | sorrows in aftermath
31 | finding equilibrium
32 | the devil's number
33 | at the carnival
34 | meeting authorities
35 | solomon's confession
36 | the stray soul
37 | sanguine unsettled
38 | solomon's choice
39 | a cowboy underground
40 | in scarab's basement
41 | striking midnight
42 | craven contested
43 | emergency services
44 | on your feet
45 | and don't stop moving
46 | easy recognition
47 | a deuce of an evening
48 | engines roaring
49 | compromising judgements
50 | solomon's conflict
51 | axis turning
52 | thinking circular
53 | blasting the past
54 | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil
55 | sanctuary unsanctified
56 | shudder unravelling
57 | catching an angel
58 | layering dimensions
59 | dead men meeting
60 | when it rains
61 | power plays
62 | sing on gold
63 | the valley of death
64 | grand aspersions
65 | no evil feared
66 | new days rising
67 | angelic neuroses
68 | step-brothers working
69 | the many sorrows of china
70 | peacefully wreathed
71 | tarnished gold
72 | the secret in darkness
73 | magical intent
74 | scars worth keeping
75 | benefits of a beau
76 | grand magery
77 | lighting the darkness
78 | old dogs and new tricks
79 | flouting traditions
80 | drawing lines
81 | brothers and sisters in arms
82 | channelling angels
83 | return of the carnies
84 | the death bringers
85 | meriting agelessness
86 | knick knack, paddy
87 | give a dog a bone
88 | americans propheteering
89 | the right side of honour
90 | tailored shocks
91 | hosting angels
92 | elders anonymous
93 | rediscovered strays
94 | changings and changelings
95 | a state of reflection
96 | adding hope
97 | the devil's truth
98 | dead mens' hospitality
99 | lives half lived
100 | next to godliness
101 | devilish plans
102 | beached angels
103 | lights of revelation
104 | heroes worshipped
105 | new devilries
106 | angels under the yoke
107 | brains frozen
108 | father, mother, daughter
109 | parental guidance recommended
110 | driven round the bend
111 | ongoing training
112 | privileged information
113 | reasonable men
114 | passing the buck
115 | gifting magicks
116 | strengths and weaknesses
117 | immaturity's perks
118 | priests and prophets
119 | scaling evil
120 | blowing covers
121 | marring an afternoon
122 | lie detection
123 | five-dimensional pain
124 | reliving nightmares
125 | taking stock
126 | sampling spices
127 | sleeping prophets lying
128 | rueful returns
129 | dead men reunion
130 | medically-approved hugs


The life of an angel was a contradiction in changes and stability. On one hand, they understood very well the way the cosmos was shaped by events within it. On the other, they stood at one step apart from it—or at least had, for a very long time, up until their Master's recent wager with Lucifer. Changes in the recent past had, even for angels, been fast and turbulent, but there were none that concerned Raphael more than Gabriel's abrupt reserve.

In the aftermath of the wager Gabriel had been almost the only one to know where their Lord was at any given time, a fact which had put the Archangel very firmly under Lucifer's radar. Raphael had joked that Gabriel ought to arm himself with more jokes or worse clothes to drive the fallen angel away; Michael had offered the peace of the Garden Coast. (Rafe thought his idea was better.)

Either way, even though their Master was fair hidden, every angel knew that they had only to ask Gabriel and the Archangel would pass on a message.

Then Gabriel had simply blipped off the radar himself. Poof! Gone! No one had noticed at first, because, well, they weren't exactly in constant connection. It was just when Raphael had taken a whim to seek out his younger brother that he'd noticed it, and let it be, because there was absolutely a reason for it. Gabe did not just off and vanish, except that once with his self-exile, and that didn’t count.

But when Gabriel had come back, he had been strangely agitated and yet close-mouthed. The younger Archangel had vanished off to wherever their Master was hidden for a long chat Raphael was dying to have listened into, and yet couldn't (but only partly because it would have been rude). Now he was here, floating among the stars and examining a black hole with unnerving intensity.

For a time Raphael watched without letting on that he was there, but eventually Gabriel spoke. “I’d rather you came to join me instead of lurking, brother.”

Absolutely refusing to feel chagrined, Raphael let himself manifest with an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders and ruffled the younger angel’s hair. Gabriel threw a fond, longsuffering glance up at him, but there was something in his eyes, something distracted and sharp, which indicated that Gabriel still wasn’t truly present. Raphael only wished he knew where the other Archangel was.

“Just wondering what you’re doin’ all the way out here,” he said teasingly. “There’s a party going on down there on Earth, Gabe.” There was always a party going on down on Earth. “You oughta be down there bobbin’ for apples and switching up party-hats!”

“I can’t,” Gabriel said quietly, with a sort of seriousness Raphael had, for all Gabriel’s literalness, rarely heard from him. So Raphael fell into the same seriousness, lost his playful accent, and spoke directly.

“Why not, brother? You’ve been reserved of late. I conf—I’m worried for you.”

For a very long time Gabriel said nothing and stared into the slow-turning swirl of the black hole. Raphael waited patiently, his arm still companionably across the other Archangel’s shoulders. Eventually Gabriel spoke. “Did you know, Raphael,” he said, “that the universe you see around you here isn’t the only one our Master has created?”

Raphael was so startled that he couldn’t answer. That wasn’t what he was imagining. He hadn’t been sure what he’d been imagining, but that wasn’t it. “I’m not sure what you mean, Gabriel,” he said after a moment. “Our Lord told me the story of Creation not all that long ago, and he never mentioned anything of the kind.”

Gabriel nodded. “He told me that story as well. And then He asked if I really wanted to know details.” He hesitated. “I … admit, I declined. It’s something He said—about faith. I decided I didn’t need to know details. But it’s true, nevertheless. Just beyond this …” The Archangel reached out his hand and touched that gossamer and unbreakable fabric that supported reality. “There are other universes, even with different versions of us.”

“Different versions of us?” Raphael repeated, appalled and uncertain and entirely confused. How could that be possible? What could their Master want with more than one of any of them? What was going on? Where had Gabriel gone in that time he’d vanished? Then something occurred to him and he smiled with relief. “This is a joke, right?”

Gabriel looked up at him and smiled back with such a gentle understanding that for a moment Raphael felt very small indeed. “No, Rafe. I’m not joking. It was a shock to me too. That isn’t the point, though.”

“Isn’t it?” Raphael asked, feeling as dazed as an angel possibly could, especially when he wasn’t even inhabiting an actual physical body.

“No.” Gabriel returned to watching the black hole intently. “I met some people from other realities. One of them is in a kind of Hell, and he very much does not deserve it. I promised him that, if I could, I would save him from it.”

Which did not in the least explain why Gabe was staring at a black hole, let alone a million other questions Raphael would have liked to ask and for which he couldn’t find the words. Finally he found one. “How?”

“First,” Gabriel said with a sort of tranquillity Raphael had heard in his brother’s voice a million times but never after delivering so turbulent a piece of news, “I’m going to jimmy open a crack in the door through this hole.”

Raphael stared at Gabe, and then at the black hole, and then back at Gabe. He opened his mouth to ask whether their Master knew he was planning this and then closed it, because that was a stupid question. He opened it again to query if Gabriel had asked whether he could go around lifting the sheets and then realised that was also a stupid question, because whether he had or not, their Master probably would have told him to do what he felt was best.

It was equally clear that Gabriel very much planned to go through with this, no matter what Raphael said, and really, did Raphael have the right to object? Surely if this carried a risk, their Master would have already forbidden Gabriel from making the attempt?

“I’ll come with,” Raphael said at last, and this time when Gabriel glanced back the younger Archangel’s expression was startled. A moment later that expression shifted into grateful apology.

“I’m sorry, Rafe, but I’m not entirely certain I’ll make it through, and we can hardly leave Michael here alone.” He grinned. “Did you see what he was wearing last festival day on the Garden Coast? He hasn’t moved out of the eighteenth century yet. How would he possibly handle the rest of the world?”

Raphael laughed out loud, warm but startled, and the sound of it rang through space. Gabriel chuckled quietly beside him, and for a few minutes there was just companionable humour that faded into an equally comfortable silence.

Still, Raphael had a lot of questions. How did Gabriel plan to find his friend, let alone the universe he was in? How was he going to get back? What would he do if he met another version of himself? Or, worse, Lucifer? Finally the Archangel just asked, “Have you figured out how to crack open the door?”

“I think so,” Gabriel said, considering the black hole. “Once I figured out what to look for. I wouldn’t have gotten even that far if it weren’t for some things our Master said.”

Which meant that, in some fashion, this expedition was sanctioned by their Master, Raphael translated, and something tense in him relaxed. “Something do to with this drain here, I’ll bet,” he said, falling into his casual accent once more. “Gonna rip out the kitchen sink, li’l brother?”

“Just to see what’s hiding underneath,” Gabriel said with a grin.

“I’ll try’n keep it open for ya,” Raphael promised, and Gabriel sent him a smile which lit up the very space around them with its brilliance.

“Thank you, Rafe,” he said, and straightened. Raphael took his arm away as Gabriel lifted his hands, not exactly stepping back so much as giving Gabriel space. The youngest Archangel didn’t often reveal his power, but it was always a sight to see, a song to hear, when he did.

As it was now. Gabriel’s voice started deep, lifted high, split and wove and became more melodies than one would think a single being could possibly sing at once. The sound of it made Raphael’s heart soar, made him want to fly and laugh. It was so deep, so light, so resonating that it was physical; it touched the slow turn of the black hole and made it, for just the briefest of moments, still. In that moment Gabriel sent a carefully-aimed bolt of energy into the heart of it.

It was the kind of sight Raphael hadn’t seen in thousands of years, a play of physics and metaphysics which he hadn’t thought possible, let alone imagined. There was an eruption in the centre of the black hole, where gravity was condensed; the cascade of energy plumed upward and was dragged back down as quick, a tear in the fabric of the reality not allowed the time to widen or become a danger.

Raphael didn’t even know Gabe had moved until the younger Archangel was gone, he was so busy staring in awe. With a start the Archangel stretched out his senses and just barely managed to catch a glimpse of his brother shooting toward the hole at speeds few angels could have achieved through such a gravity well. Raphael certainly couldn’t have.

How, he suddenly wondered, was he meant to keep that open if he didn’t even have the speed of thought to track Gabriel’s movements through it?

Desperately the Archangel cast about for something to jam in the door, as it were. There was some dark matter nearby and with a thought he fashioned it into a spear and pitched it toward the centre of the black hole. It struck just as Gabriel flitted through the crack nearly wholly collapsed in on itself; the star’s gravity caught it, pulled it in, and plugged the opening like a metaphysical sink.

Slowly Raphael made every part of himself relax. For good or ill, Gabe was gone on this quest of his, and now Raphael should probably go and round up some of their younger siblings to guard the area. Just in case.


Book Four: Dark Days

into the breach | finding skulduggery | retreat to the tunnels | into the cacophony | sanctuary in the cathedral | reuniting old friends | kenspeckle's new patient | holy water and disinfectant | objecting to china sorrows | the roadtrip | baffling guild | shenanigans at the safehouse | reassuring fletcher | valkyrie's intervention | solomon's revelation | visiting the edgleys | recalled to the sanctuary | guild's confusion | gabe is busted | the psychic tattoist | envisioning the cacophony | angel's first migraine | the morning after | china and solomon | detectives' council of war | china's foolishness | the collector dethroned | finding crux | skulduggery's vileness revealed | sorrows in aftermath | finding equilibrium | the devil's number | at the carnival | meeting authorities | solomon's confession | the stray soul | sanguine unsettled | solomon's choice | a cowboy underground | in scarab's basement | striking midnight | craven contested | emergency services | on your feet | and don't stop moving | easy recognition | a deuce of an evening | engines roaring | compromising judgements | solomon's conflict | axis turning | thinking circular | blasting the past | reviling vile

Book Five: Mortal Coil

sanctuary unsanctified | shudder unravelling | catching an angel | layering dimensions | dead men meeting | when it rains | power plays | sing on gold | the valley of death | grand aspersions | no evil feared | new days rising | angelic neuroses | step-brothers working | the many sorrows of china | peacefully wreathed | tarnished gold | the secret in darkness | magical intent | scars worth keeping | benefits of a beau | grand magery | lighting the darkness | old dogs and new tricks | flouting traditions | drawing lines | brothers and sisters in arms | channelling angels | return of the carnies | the death bringers | meriting agelessness | knick knack, paddy | give a dog a bone | americans propheteering | the right side of honour | tailored shocks | hosting angels | elders anonymous | rediscovered strays | changings and changelings | a state of reflection | adding hope | the devil's truth | dead mens' hospitality | lives half lived | next to godliness | devilish plans | beached angels | lights of revelation | heroes worshipped | new devilries | angels under the yoke | brains frozen | father, mother, daughter | parental guidance recommended | driven round the bend | ongoing training | privileged information | reasonable men | passing the buck | gifting magicks | strengths and weaknesses | immaturity's perks | priests and prophets | scaling evil | blowing covers | marring an afternoon | lie detection | five-dimensional pain | reliving nightmares | taking stock | sampling spices | sleeping prophets lying | rueful returns | dead men reunion | medically-approved hugs
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-13 02:23 pm (UTC)(link)
"Cherubs have - " Paddy cut himself off before he could finish the thought and solidify the joke. Because it was a joke. Had to be. Sorcerers were long-lived and probably had an open-mindedness about things because of that fact, but Paddy was pretty sure that a couple of centuries ago, even the magical community would have frowned on... all-male orgies. For multiple reasons. So, with a nervous cough and a conscious swallow, he smiled. "If that were true, I'm sure the priest of that church would have helped you. Burn it down," he added hastily when he realised what he'd said. "Christians haven't always been the most understanding of people."

Still, the mental image of a priest 'helping' them got stuck, and Paddy had to snap himself out of it. He didn't even know who this man was, for goodness's sake.

"No, it's fine." Paddy ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the young woman. She didn't have a cane, but Solomon had said the actual channeling object could be anything. It wasn't as if Paddy would recognise it. Or perhaps she'd already destroyed it somehow, and now the Temple was after her. Either way, dinner with family Paddy saw all the time paled in comparison to the problem Solomon would be bringing him. "Go ahead into the church, I'll be out in a minute."

Paddy's sister, well-meaning though she was, tended to be a busybody. Paddy would have to head her off right away, as gently as he could. His nephew, on the other hand... Paddy's nephew was just starting high school, firmly in the phase of life where everything was new, and not quite yet out of the phase where he needed to explore it all. He'd be curious in a way Paddy's sister wouldn't be, and kids were very persistent. That would take a lot more finesse, unless... "Is there an age restriction on knowledge of sorcery?"
peacefullywreathed: (cos you seem like an orchard of mines)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-05-14 10:42 am (UTC)(link)
Dexter bent inward laughing, so hard that Solomon knew that he had been heard from inside. He gripped the jamb to prop himself up, and didn't seem at all concerned with actually stopping. Solomon sighed and declined to introduce him just yet. Not until they were properly away from Paddy's family.

Saffron's soul was a mixture of fascination and consternation. Solomon could almost feel her staring. Paddy wasn't exactly the sort one imagined for a priest.

"Not really," he said. "Both my companions here were born into magic. They grew up with it. And you know I discovered it early." The day he ordered a boy to hang himself and he did. Not one of Solomon's crowning achievements.

Nor was this, he felt. Paddy was intending something, for certain. Given what he'd asked and the boy's face swimming across the crystalline surface of his oasis's waters, Solomon could well guess. He said nothing. That was Paddy's choice. He knew the boy, whoever he was, better.

"We'll meet you in the kitchen," he repeated, and turned, dragging Dexter along just as the man straightened. He yelped and exchanged grips, so he was the one leading, and guided them both down the garden path.

"Ruin my fun," he grumbled without heat. "Just inside?"

"The kitchen," Solomon said again, more pointedly. He didn't particularly want to dwell in the main chapel without Archangels dimming the Son of God's presence. Not that they could dim Him, exactly, but they'd done something to keep the image from being nearly as unnerving. He'd have no such barriers this time.

"No need to get pushy."

Within a few moments they were inside the kitchen. Saffron said nothing, but the tumult in her soul hadn't eased. Solomon sat at the table. So did Saffron. Dexter went poking about, exclaiming and making up stories in his tour-guide's voice. Solomon ignored him. "Yes?"

Embarrassment. "Are you sure he's a Christian priest?"

In spite of everything, Solomon smiled. "I'm sure."

"But he's so ..." She groped for a word. Solomon saw one rise, stay, remain unuttered.

"Weak," he finished for her. "The Temple would see him so, yes. I imagine any number of priests from a century or two ago would think the same."

"Why would he help me?" There was a faint catch just before 'me', as if Saffron wasn't sure whether she should be saying 'us' or 'you'.

"Because he wants to," Solomon said simply.
skeletonenigma: (skulblue)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-15 11:42 pm (UTC)(link)
It wasn't a definitive answer, but Paddy probably shouldn't have been expecting one. Non-sorcerers weren't supposed to know about magic, and Solomon had implied that Paddy would have to watch his own step around the governing body - the Sanctuary - from now on. Sean was still too young to have to deal with that, or with the implied consequences of telling anyone else.

But on the other hand, Sean would find out eventually. Especially if Paddy remained as involved in the world of magic as he was. And Sean, unlike his mother, wouldn't feel the need to tell anyone else, much less actually do so. Best to tell him now, when accompanying the revelation with a warning might actually have some sort of effect.

"Sean?" Paddy hesitated in the doorway of his dining room, trying to phrase things as truthfully as possible. "I need your help in the church, please."

"Who was that at the door?" Erin, Paddy's sister, quite reasonably asked.

"Friends of mine." Paddy grimaced with what he hoped was a considerable amount of self-embarrassment and apology. It wasn't all fake. "I'm sorry about dinner, but I should be back before too long. Please, Erin, don't clean up without me."

It was the perfect thing to say to make her forget about her curiosity, because of course, she would clean up without him. Not out of gratitude or niceties, but because Erin was the sort of person who did the exact opposite of what she was told. Not a bad trait, exactly, since it wasn't out of spite either, and it worked nicely in Paddy's favour when he knew how to manipulate it.

"Why do you need my help?" Sean asked on their way over into the chapel.

"You'll see."

"I don't want to see, I want to know."

"Patience is a virtue," Paddy reminded him with a smile. "It'll be worth it, I promise. Now, when we go into the kitchen, you need to promise me that you won't say anything, no matter what you might hear."

"Why can't I?"

"Because you're going to want to. And normally, I'm sure you could." The empty chapel echoed with his words, as Paddy led Sean almost immediately into the lower hallways. "But there's someone who needs my help, and that has to take priority over any of your questions. For now, just listen. I'll explain as much as I can later."

"He didn't sound like he needed any help," Sean pointed out. "He was laughing."

"Yes, he was, wasn't he? I can't imagine why." Paddy pushed open the kitchen door before his nephew could ask any more questions, just in time to hear the man he didn't know pointing at a coffee mug in the sink and saying something about the great Coffee Grind Panic of the late 1970's.
peacefullywreathed: (tread careful one step at a time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-05-15 11:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"Really?" Solomon asked dryly, lifting his eyebrow at Paddy. "You can't imagine? I thought priests weren't allowed to lie. Then again, I thought they weren't supposed to imagine, either, and look where that's gotten me."

"And this!" Dexter whirled and, given his propensities, probably pointed dramatically at Paddy. "And this, lady and gentleman, is a very rare, nay freak occurrence--a priest who lies. And this is ... actually I have no idea who that is."

'That' was the intensely curious and vibrant young soul in the doorway, swirling with confusion and amusement.

"Dexter," Solomon said longsufferingly, "this is Father Paddy Steadfast and, I assume, his nephew, whose name I unfortunately don't know. Paddy and his-nephew-whose-name-I-unfortunately-don't-know, this is my new minion Dexter Vex, and a ... former associate of my former associates, Saffron Sweetgrass."

"Hello," Saffron murmured. Her soul had pulled in, withdrawn and contained, uncertain. The only grounding she had right now was Solomon himself. He chose to ignore the fact that that meant there were lines arcing out from her to him. That would change. It surely had to.
skeletonenigma: (pencilskul)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-16 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
"It wasn't a lie." Not really. Paddy couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine, and didn't have to try very hard not to, thankfully. Dexter Vex was the one who didn't seem to have any trouble.

Saffron Sweetgrass was scared. Not as badly as Solomon had been, but she knew what the consequences of defying such powerful people were. "Hello," came Paddy's simple reply to her greeting, along with an encouraging smile. 'Former' associate. He had, unfortunately, seen that coming, even before meeting her. He'd wondered before if Solomon might start something within the Temple without even trying. On the bright side, however, his predicting it meant he already had a few ideas about how to keep her safe. "Has there been trouble already?"

"Steadfast?" Sean asked. "That's not your name."

"Actually, it is, as of about a week ago. You're right, Solomon, this is my nephew, Sean. Sean, this is Solomon Wreath."

"What, is there some special club for weird names?" Sean said with a laugh, even as he nodded politely towards Solomon. He said what he thought, but at least he was polite while doing so.

"In a way, yes, there is. Sean, remember what we discussed outside?"

"What we - oh." Sean's mouth snapped shut, and he looked down at the ground. "Sorry."
peacefullywreathed: (cos you seem like an orchard of mines)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-05-16 02:14 am (UTC)(link)
"A lack of desire to imagine doesn't equal a lack of ability to imagine," Solomon observed. The priest could very well imagine. He just refused to. There was a big, and rather amusing, difference. Less so because of how Paddy simply accepted the propensity of others to imagine, rather than condemned it, like most other priests would have, but at the same time that only made the amusement genuine and not petty.

"Some," Saffron said, still quietly.

Solomon hesitated for only a moment, his gaze resting on Sean's soul. The boy was bright and eager in that fashion of someone who had never actually, truly had to struggle for anything, but who hadn't been raised spoiled either. He was still young enough to be malleable, though. To be able to accept oddities in the world he knew. To pursue them. That was probably why Paddy had brought him along; he looked the sort of person who wouldn't stop asking questions.

Which was, Solomon could see, what their discussion had been about.

"Tenebrae's put the Temple on lockdown," he said, as matter-of-factly as if Sean already knew magic existed, "but the nature of my departure has raised a few eyebrows. Saffron is a true-healer, not a Necromancer, so she has no withdrawal to undertake--"

"Withdrawal?" she asked, startled into interrupting. Immediately her soul flushed and she muttered, "Your pardon, Cl--s- sir."

"--and never rose high enough to be aware of most of the Temple's secrets," Solomon went on without missing a beat or showing any sign he'd noticed the interruption. In the Temple, it was the best possible reaction to such an interruption. "All those like her are born and raised in the Temple, so they're properly conditioned without the addiction to keep them in line. She was one of the nurses who tended me after my--illness. One of my, uh, peers managed to get Saffron out in the guise of getting medical supplies."

He said 'peers' in a manner he'd said before when referring to those who had witnessed his torture, with no intention to actually mention the torture. Sean was a child, after all. "She should have returned by now. They'll be looking for her, highly ranked or not, and they'll know to look for her near me. She needs somewhere safe to go, somewhere they wouldn't think to look."

In the mortal world, with a mortal priest, with people most sorcerers, let alone Necromancers, would never think of even once.
Edited 2013-05-16 02:33 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (writtenname)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-16 02:54 am (UTC)(link)
Ah, yes. The Temple's secrets. Saffron didn't even know about most of them, and yet the Temple would still come after her? A brainwashing cult if Paddy ever saw one.

But someone inside the Temple, apparently, had gotten her out. That was interesting. Interesting, and worthy of some hope. It meant the Temple's hold and reach weren't nearly as strong or widespread as Tenebrae hoped it was, and with a bit of luck, they could save even more people this way.

If Saffron wouldn't even have a withdrawal period to go through, Paddy knew exactly where she'd be safest. He'd known about sorcerers for all of a few weeks, and already he knew enough to understand exactly how arrogant they were, and what sorts of places they would never think of. Or at least places the Temple would never think of. Would Solomon himself ever have thought of a church, were he not looking for those exact religious answers?

"You would be safe here," Paddy told her. "For a few days, at least. But I'm... not exactly the best person to help you." For one thing, it wasn't just safety or refuge she needed - it was healing. And Necromancer or no, her upbringing had pretty much guaranteed God and Christian faith would be the very last thing to help do that. Somewhere sorcerers would never look, never even think of, and where she could learn proper self-reliance? "There's a shelter not very far from here, a safe haven for abused women. You'd be looked after by everyone there, and they'd be able to help you far more than I can. No sorcerers involved at all, as far as I know. Would that work?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from his nephew at the word 'sorcerers.' For the moment, Paddy ignored it.
peacefullywreathed: (like weights strapped around my feet)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-05-16 03:24 am (UTC)(link)
Dexter made a sound Solomon wouldn't have quite been able to identify if not for the ripple in the banner of his soul, the sort that spoke of disgust and anger both. Not at the women who needed the help, but at the men who must have put them in that position. Dexter was nobleborn, and from far enough back to have a true sense of chivalry. The Adept said nothing, however.

Solomon felt Saffron's gaze on him, as if waiting for permission or guidance, and when he said nothing either she spoke up. "I don't understand," she said tentatively. "A ... shelter? How would I be hidden there?"

Because, of course, in her mind a place like that was for the weak. Actually, she probably hadn't really imagined that places like that existed, especially for women in particular. Magic was something of an equaliser. If you couldn't rely on yourself, then you were dead. There were temporary allies and nothing more. Necromancers didn't tend to look at the facets of the mortal world which focussed on actually helping people, because needing help was alien.

"Mortals put great stock in helping people who need the help," Solomon said.

"But--"

That's just because they're weak, she was going to say, and stopped in deference to the fact they were actually asking mortals for help. But her confusion swirled more densely.

"The Temple teaches that weakness is bad, Saffron," Solomon said patiently. "Some mortals are like that too, but not all. They don't see helping others, or needing help, as weakness. Just as a state of circumstance to be remedied. The women in this shelter will be people like you: those in need of a place to go, to protect them from people who would hurt them."

"But will it?" Dexter asked. "The Temple isn't going to care about a bunch of mortals in their way. All her protection is going to be under the assumption they won't know she's there. If they find out, they'll take her back, no matter how many mortals are in the way."

Solomon laughed bitterly. "Believe me, Vex, no one in the Temple who would actually mean to bring her back would ever dream I've hidden her in an abused womens' home on the recommendation of a Christian priest. My reputation and the general perception of mortals will ensure that. Tenebrae might consider that I've visited a church, but he won't know which or how, or consider that I'd use a mortal to protect someone magical. He just won't. He isn't capable of changing his manner of thought to that degree. He's made of stone."

"Oh."

Saffron still didn't look happy, relatively speaking, at being lumped in with weakness, let alone weak mortals, but she was desperate enough not to actually object. At least, Solomon preferred to believe it was desperation and not that misplaced hero-worship. (He was deluding himself and he knew it.)

"We'll have our own people keep watch," Solomon said, turning back to Paddy, "but Dexter does have a point. Who heads the shelter? If odd things happen, how would she react?"
skeletonenigma: (darkfirewind)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-16 04:17 am (UTC)(link)
There was that word again. Mortals. Solomon may have been using it just because it was a term Saffron would recognise, but more likely he was just as used to it as she was. That propensity was another indication of the arrogance and entitlement of sorcerers, since it wasn't as if any of them were actually immortal. At least, as far as Paddy knew.

But he let the term slide without a word, because it wasn't the issue at stake here. "Her name is Janet," he answered. "Incredible woman with a big heart, and fiercely protective of everyone there. There's no main list of occupants in the shelter, so in order to know that Saffron is there, they'd have to either see her there, or ask Janet in person." Seeing Saffron there wouldn't be possible without already suspecting it as Saffron's safehouse, and Janet... Janet would never give out personal information like that in a million years. The thought of her saying something to mysterious men was laughable enough to show in Paddy's tone of voice as he spoke. "As to oddities, I... wouldn't be surprised if she's already seen a few in her lifetime. I doubt any sort of wanton display of magic would keep her from helping anyone who needed it."

No, Janet would put herself in harm's way for the girls in that shelter. That, Paddy was confident, would be enough. And if Solomon's own people would be keeping watch... people like Skulduggery Pleasant, if not actually the skeleton detective himself? That would be more than enough. The problem, then, was what to do if and when more Necromancers followed in Solomon's footsteps. Paddy's church could only be a safe place for so long.

"Magic!?" Sean blurted before catching himself, staring wide-eyed from Solomon to Saffron and back to his uncle. Paddy put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I'll explain everything later," he promised once again. "For now, just know that you can't tell anyone else. Not even your mother."
peacefullywreathed: (don't taint this ground)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-05-16 04:35 am (UTC)(link)
Somehow, Sean's outburst broke any tension in the room. Or it did for Dexter, who laughed, though not so much for Saffron, whose soul turned with shock and consternation.

"Of course magic!" Dexter told the boy gleefully before Saffron could say anything. Within a moment Solomon saw the glow of an impending conjuration, and prodded the man with his cane. Dexter yelped and the glow faded.

"Let's not break the priest's nephew just yet, shall we?" he said mildly.

"Why? That's half the fun. Besides, he's young enough to roll with the news."

"But that's illegal," Saffron blurted out, her consternation finally overcoming her natural propensity for submission. "I mean, not even members of the Temple would do that!"

"Because they'd be more likely to vanish anyone who saw something wrong," Dexter muttered. Solomon didn't answer. He was right.

"I have that authority," Solomon reminded her instead. And he did. Corrival might object ... then again, given his reaction to Erskine and Ghastly telling Barney, maybe not. Solomon would just have to be prepared for the consequences. His voice wasn't exactly censuring, but it was mild in a way most of his underlings would have taken as a reprimand. Saffron's soul withdrew, harder and sharper than before.

"Your pardon, Cleric Wreath."

"And you can stop that 'Cleric' nonsense at any moment."

"Yes ... um. Sir."

Solomon sighed and looked to Paddy. "We weren't followed, but it would still be prudent for Saffron to join the shelter tonight," he said. "How would you recommend we proceed? Janet won't know us."
Edited 2013-05-16 04:47 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (noimagination)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-16 05:06 am (UTC)(link)
"Janet knows me." If Sean had been wide-eyed before, his eyes were almost half the size of his head now, and Paddy got the distinct impression it was best to leave him alone for the time being. He would have anyway, but it was nice to have that affirmation. People needed time to work things out after a large shock. It was how much time they needed that varied from person to person. "I've pointed people in her direction before. She trusts me. If I take Saffron there, she won't think twice about making up a bed for her."

It was strange, how new all this magic business was at first, and how used to it Paddy now was. So used to it, in fact, that when Solomon claimed they weren't followed, Paddy could guess how he knew that so certainly. Maybe, given time, he wouldn't even need to think it over. Paddy was looking forward to that day, honestly; trying to think logically through magic all the time could not be good for one's mental health.

Paddy turned to Sean, and his voice became gentle. "Do you need some time?"

Sean nodded mutely. He was still trying to look everywhere at once, and his eyes still seemed to be trying to enlarge themselves to allow for that. Paddy nodded knowingly. "I'll go stop your mother from cleaning up, then. You stay here. Solomon, if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on him for a few minutes, please? And..." He paused, gaze flickering towards Vex. "Try not to show him anything? I'll be back with his mother before long." And having Erin walk in on someone waving magical fire about the place was the worst thing Paddy could think of to happen, barring the Temple or anything magic-related.
peacefullywreathed: (just take one step at a time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-05-16 05:21 am (UTC)(link)
Somehow Paddy's request was a bit of a shock. Enough that it made Solomon blink and tilt his head at the man. It shouldn't have been, but it was. The priest honestly wanted Solomon to watch after a child of his own family, after knowing what he'd done to Valkyrie? The unthinking show of trust in Paddy's soul stunned the ex-Necromancer long enough that he couldn't do anything but nod silently.

"So is the biggest problem here the kid or his mum?" Dexter called after the priest before turning to Sean with mischief rippling his banner. "Because I can be discreet. Really. I promise. Besides, you look like you need to sit down on something more comfortable than hard wooden chairs."

"Vex--" Solomon began, but it was too late. Dexter had carved a chair out of mid-air, one with a timber frame like the others so as not to alert Sean's mother that it shouldn't be in the kitchen, but with a cushioned seat and back. It looked very comfortable, and Solomon glanced at it with exasperation. "I thought you minions were meant to obey my commands."

"What, all the time? Where's the fun? Take a seat, Seany. It won't collapse, I promise. I pride myself on the integrity of my conjurations."

Saffron, Solomon was fairly sure, was choking quietly in the corner.
skeletonenigma: (skeletondetective)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-16 05:52 am (UTC)(link)
"Just because one is the biggest problem - " Paddy started to say, then turned back in time to see that it really wouldn't have mattered what he said. It didn't seem to matter what Solomon said, either. He shook his head on his way back out into the chapel. Sorcerers. Children, the lot of them. A small smile crept onto Paddy's face, and refused to leave.

Sean, meanwhile, had leaped backwards at the appearance of the chair, and only moved forward again at Dexter's invitation. Even then, he moved slowly, glancing towards Dexter the whole time like he was looking for any sort of warning that a large and elaborate prank was being played on him. He wouldn't have put it past his uncle. Father Patrick had been known to play a few jokes at Sean's expense.

He reached out and touched the top of the chair, then drew his hand quickly back, like an attacking snake. Nothing zapped him, nothing sparked, and nothing fell apart. Confidence slightly bolstered, Sean rested his hand gently on the back of the chair, the fear on his face replaced by awe. "What else can you do?" he asked, fully back in his earlier wide-eyed and awestruck phase, still staring at the chair.
peacefullywreathed: (tread careful one step at a time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-05-16 06:07 am (UTC)(link)
"Did you really have to ask?" Solomon began, and then shook his head. "Of course you did. You're a thirteen-year-old who just discovered magic is real. Thank God I didn't have to deal with that stage when Valkyrie found out."

"There's nothing wrong with questions," Dexter said, and Solomon didn't need to see his face to know he was wearing a huge, smug grin.

"You only say that because he asked you to show off."

"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I? Hold on to your head, Seany-boy. Anything you want me to make--well, maybe not everything. This is the seventh chair I've made tonight, so I'm not going to go around building bridges. But suggest me something smallish ... like maybe a motorcycle ... and sure!" Solomon heard the cracked of knuckles and the rustle of sleeves. "I can make you a star!"

"Dexter is a conjurer," Solomon explained. "One of the few who can create inanimate objects of this size purely out of magic. We all know how incredible you are, Vex. There's no need to show off."

"What's the point in being incredible if you can't show off?"

"Is this ... is this always what it's like outside the Temple?" Saffron asked incredulously and disbelievingly.

"Only if you have the good taste to hang around us, pretty lady. Well, around me, anyway. I don't know about Sol."
Edited 2013-05-16 06:21 (UTC)
skeletonenigma: (greenfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-16 10:42 am (UTC)(link)
"I don't know how incredible he is," Sean objected, having pulled his hand away for a second when Solomon said the chair was made out of pure magic. His hand was back on it now, and Sean himself was slipping around the side so he could sit down on it. The chair felt as solid as a real chair, wood varnish and cushion material and all. "There's a definite need to show off. Can you really make a motorcycle? Or a bridge? Just like that? How come no one else in the world knows about it?"

And how come you're coming to my uncle for help? would have been Sean's next question, if he was even the slightest bit capable of thinking of it. As things stood, all Sean could really think about was magic. It existed. If he'd ever doubted his uncle's intentions, making that chair out of thin air had banished them. Sorcerers, Father Patrick said. Paddy Steadfast, they called him. Sean was stepping on the edge of a precipice here. He could feel it. He'd never disliked his uncle, but before this, coming to visit him was usually so boring.
vexingshieldbearer: (for satellites)

[personal profile] vexingshieldbearer 2013-05-16 11:03 am (UTC)(link)
"Well, I am pretty incredible." Dexter grinned. It wasn't often he got to genuinely show off with someone with whom he was allowed--sort-of--to be open. "Of course I can! I mean, not that I do often. Depending on how big the bridge is. And motorbikes would get my suit dusty, so there's not much point in making them if I'm not gonna use them. A car, though ..."

He shrugged, throwing himself down into the only spare chair, stretching out and putting his hands behind his head. "I don't actually own a car, let me put it that way." The blonde made a face, wiggling his fingers. "Of course, none of my cars are sophisticated enough to have things like air-conditioning or radio, buuuut I think I can be excused for that given how complicated the actual mechanics are. Besides, I'm still practising."

"Other people in the world do know about it," Solomon added. "It's just that most of them can also perform magic. People who can't, mortals, are ..." He hesitated and then shrugged. "Most sorcerers don't think too much of them. Most of those that do tend to think they should be protected. And those few who do and recognise that technology is powerful on its own simply don't want to have the whole mortal world up in arms and demanding help for every little problem or, worse, attacking us out of fear."

Either was a possibility, really, but this was a very boring topic of conversation. More boring than the subject of Dexter, anyway. Which was why he was showing off anyway, by moulding tiny little figurines out of nothing--little figurines like he hadn't seen in a century. Little figurines like Rover had used to make. A little skeleton. A little angel. A little ugly tailor. A little pretty-boy weaver. A little peasant. A little bee-keeper monk. A little charming shieldbearer. A little puppet-maker. A little general in a patchwork coat. A little lady in leather. A little teen in black. A little teen with awesome hair. A little chocolate lab. A little wizard in star-spangled clothes.

One by one they appeared in his hands as he looked down with faux concentration, set in rows on the table as Solomon spoke.
skeletonenigma: (headtilt)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-16 11:29 am (UTC)(link)
Sean barely heard what Solomon said, he was so busy staring at Dexter's work. The figurines were appearing out of nowhere - out of thin air - and it was all he could do not to gasp with excitement each time a new one joined its fellows in existence. Sean wondered how long they would last. If they were made out of pure magic, probably forever. But he didn't know anything about magic, and he had no idea how to tell if someone was grossly exaggerating their ability or not. Solomon wasn't helping. All he was doing was explaining things, and sure, Sean had asked, and sure, the answer was actually sort of interesting, but it wasn't magic.

Sean sat back and crossed his arms, smiling for the first time since coming into the kitchen. "I don't believe you can really make a car. Those little puppet things are easy. A car's a... well, it's a car. It's like a bridge. It's even more complicated than a bridge is."

Partly a deliberate goad, partly a genuine query. Sean had only just discovered magic was real, and he was still feeling out the boundaries of this new world. Everything had to stop somewhere. Even Father Patrick's sense of humour stopped, around about the time Sean accidentally permanently damaged the church by splashing paint on one of the pews. Years of covering the paint over had faded the bright pink colour, but it had never gone away completely.
vexingshieldbearer: (if everyone cared)

[personal profile] vexingshieldbearer 2013-05-16 11:47 am (UTC)(link)
"You don't believe--" Dexter spluttered, putting down the little blind man in black with the halo and pointing an accusing finger at the kid. "Well, then, bucko, I'm going to have to prove you wrong, aren't I? Not a car. A car won't fit inside this kitchen. But I'll make you a real, working dirt-bike and then you tell me you don't believe."

He bounded to his feet, shook out his hands, and with his tongue stuck between his teeth moulded a shape in the air. This one was slower than the chair and the figurines, the space between his hands and the floor fizzling with power while he visualised every single little piece of a very complex machine. It needed to last, too. That always took a bit of extra effort.

The thought occurred that he was probably being a little bit foolish, but dammit, his honour had been impugned! And he wanted to show off. Even now he could feel that slight tingle of warning exhaustion, but he knew that the completion of this construct would take a little more than that. He wouldn't feel it until it was done. That was always the problem with constructs. He didn't lose the energy until it was actually released, so it was easy to over-exert himself.

Then, with a snap of energy, it was. It was a sleek dirt-bike suitable for a boy Sean's age, dark green and gleaming. Dexter managed not to sag against the table or show his knees were trembling, and gave Sean his best reckless grin. "There you go. Try her out."

"That was stupid," Solomon muttered. "My bodyguard should know better than to go around exhausting himself."

Dexter waved a dismissive hand, hoping the movement concealed the fact that it was shaking slightly. "This was more important."
skeletonenigma: (yes?)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-16 12:40 pm (UTC)(link)
It was a dirt-bike. It was a real, working motorbike, and Sean's legs shot up into the chair as he watched it slowly fizzle into view. The smile vanished, to be replaced by a slackjawed look of pure and utter astonishment, only slightly tinged with excitement. The excitement grew when Sean realised exactly what had just happened, and what he just now had, and that he had it because he'd basically insulted a sorcerer. True, he couldn't tell anyone about the last part, but he'd know it himself, and that's what counted. It felt like an extra in a video game, a side quest you could do that handed you a powerful reward if you knew exactly what to say and to who. In this case, an insult to a sorcerer.

It was a real, working dirt-bike.

His mum, Sean remembered with a sinking heart, was never going to let him keep it.

His mum, speaking of the devil, chose that exact moment to appear in the kitchen doorway, and her cry of shock at the sight of the motorbike made Sean scramble to his feet and start searching for some kind of excuse or apology, as was his usual modus operandi in situations like this. "Mum, it's not - it's not what you - "

"Oh, I'm sorry." Paddy appeared behind his mother, wearing an impressively chagrined look. "I meant to tell you earlier. Sean was a big help to me last month with all the spring cleaning, and I thought I'd surprise him with a present."

Erin spun towards him. "A present?"

"I should have asked you about it first, I know. I'm sorry about that. I can always take it back if you - "

"No!" Sean interrupted without thinking. "I mean... I really, really like it, Mum. Can I please keep it? Please?"

"How," Erin asked faintly, "did you even manage to get the bike down here? Not to mention why?"

Paddy faltered at the question, and Sean noticed he looked towards Dexter. Like the sorcerer would be able to offer some plausible explanation other than magic. "Um."
vexingshieldbearer: (if everyone shared)

[personal profile] vexingshieldbearer 2013-05-16 12:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Dexter couldn't deny it--he was impressed by the speed with which Paddy Steadfast had come up with an excuse for something he hadn't even known had happened two seconds ago. Then again, he'd left knowing Dexter wasn't about to restrain himself, so there was that. He was a smart man.

But not quite attuned enough to lying on his feet to wrap up the prank. "Well, where else was he going to put it that Seany-boy wouldn't see it by accident?" he said innocently, spreading his hands in that odd way he did. "I mean, somewhere that's not obvious? Who'd expect to see a dirt-bike in a church kitchen? You probably hide his surprise gifts in the linen closet, don't you?"

"Vex," Solomon said, exasperation written in his tone, "please don't insult the priest's family."

"Insult? Me? I'm too charming to be insulting. It was an honest question. Who hides presents in the linen closet? It's the first place you look."

"Perhaps it's because everyone knows it's the first place people look?" Saffron suggested uncertainly, starting out strong and then trailing off a little as if she was surprised to hear herself speaking. "I mean, if everyone knows it then people will have stopped looking in them, so it's safe to hide things in them again."

"She's certainly smarter than you, Dex," Solomon observed. "But then again, that's not terrible difficult, is it?"

"Don't make me get out the chainmail glove, blind man," Dexter grumbled, pulling out the chair into which he'd flopped just earlier and bowing slightly at Erin. "Your seat, madam."
skeletonenigma: (pencilskul)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-16 01:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Paddy decided that Dexter's explanation was really as far as they could possibly explain it, and gave Erin a sheepish shrug. "Well, there you have it."

"Is that what your friends were for? Getting the bike in here?"

"Among other things," Paddy not-quite-lied, "yes."

Erin rounded on Dexter. "You still haven't explained how you - "

"Erin." Paddy took her arm and steered her towards the chair Dexter had just pulled out for her. "I should have asked you first, I know, but you can't very well take the bike away from Sean now. That would just be cruel."

Sean nodded in bright agreement, but stopped just short of verbally agreeing. He knew his mother well enough not to add to the dangerous waters.

"You should have asked me first." Erin glared at Paddy before she sat down, and while the looks she shot Paddy's friends weren't exactly glares, they certainly weren't pleasant. Her gaze ended up on Sean with one of the long, faintly dramatic sighs she was so good at. "Oh, I suppose one... large... present isn't going to hurt him too much. You can consider it an early birthday present, Sean, and you can expect far less than normal on your birthday."

Sean, in that dismissive way of teenagers who were getting their immediate satisfaction and didn't much care what the price would end up being, nodded happily. "Thanks, Mum!"

Paddy, meanwhile, shot Dexter a look over Erin's shoulder that said, quite plainly for anyone else in the room who was paying attention, how on Earth did you manage to stay hidden for centuries?
vexingshieldbearer: (confusing stars)

[personal profile] vexingshieldbearer 2013-05-16 01:42 pm (UTC)(link)
"I dragged her," Dexter said with a shrug, pushing the chair in under her and then stepping back to pat the bike's handlebars. "She's a lightweight little thing. I pride myself in knowing my vehicles." Especially when said vehicles didn't exactly exist as any particular brand in the the world. What? If he had to engineer his own cars all the time, why not dabble with a few improvements?

"Just don't crash her," he added after a moment. "I mean, she'll hold up well under slight dings and so forth, but like all vehicles, crashing ..." He shrugged. "Eh. Not a good idea."

Especially since a blow hard enough to be classed as a proper crash would break the construct entirely, and then Sean wouldn't have a bike. Sean might not get the implication right away, but Paddy probably would, even though he'd never met Dexter before tonight.

He met the priest's expression with an innocent, eyebrows-raised one of his own, spreading his hands and shrugging again. What? Is it my fault that people are so gullible?

Solomon, meanwhile, was busy studying the construct itself. He could see it and it was bound, as they always were; they had to be, after all, to have any kind of physicality. But at the same time he could see that it wasn't quite real. It was just a construct.

And yet.

"What are you going to name her?" he asked mildly, as if out of curiosity. "A lady needs to have a proper name."

It was a construct. It was also a magical gift, freely given, to a specific person. There was intent in its creation. Intent had power, and before long, he suspected, even a construct like this would wind up with a connection. If it had a name, maybe it would last longer under 'dings' than without one.
skeletonenigma: (welltailoredsuit)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-17 12:20 am (UTC)(link)
Sean was already trying to come up with a name. If he'd learned anything from racing games, it was that you had to name your motorbike. It was only polite. Polite, and it could become a source of luck, if you were already lucky. The moment Sean's mother gave her reluctant approval for the bike, Sean had stepped forwards and lightly touched the handlebars, half-expecting the magic to crumble. Or maybe to wake up, and discover that this was all a dream. A magical motorbike. His magical dirt-bike, all because he'd questioned a sorcerer's ability to make it.

Sheila.

"Sheila," he told Solomon with a grin when he was asked. "Elegant, but fierce."

He was burning with the desire to ask more questions, so many more questions, but he couldn't. Not with his mother there. He'd just have to come back and ask Paddy later, because he wasn't going to find the answers in a quick internet search. If there were any answers that way, Sean would have found them long before now.

He gripped the handles of his new motorbike, smiling at the thought that he might actually crash it. He was far too skilled for that. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
peacefullywreathed: (just take one step at a time)

[personal profile] peacefullywreathed 2013-05-17 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
The boy didn't even hesitate. It was as if he didn't even need the encouragement. His soul was already reaching for the construct, and while the construct didn't exactly have the capacity to reach back, that same untapped potential Solomon had seen in his own cane took a sharper edge. Like something in the process of being forged.

A name was only the means by which it was being forged. A name which made a cold chill run down Solomon's back. He stared, his eyebrows rising. Sheila, from Síle, from Latin caecus, meant 'blind'.

"You chose a name that means 'blind'," he said, and couldn't keep the note of incredulity out of his tone. He wished the boy's mother wasn't there. He wished he could talk more freely than this. A name like that, given in his presence and in this particular circumstance, could have many, many meanings. And from the reaction in the construct ...

Was the boy magical? Paddy wasn't. His mother probably wasn't either. But that didn't mean Sean wasn't.

"Eh, no problem," Dexter said dismissively. "We just delivered it. Oh yeah, Paddy, I brought a little puppet-collection for you too. You know, just because."
skeletonenigma: (fightfire)

[personal profile] skeletonenigma 2013-05-17 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
Sean didn't understand the significance of Solomon's words. He hadn't seen Solomon being led anywhere, and the ex-Necromancer's ability to perceive souls was keeping his eyes fixed directly on people's faces. It was only when the observant person looked closer that they saw how blank his eyes were. Sean, understandably, wasn't observant. He'd just been given one of the best presents of his life, and he was only thirteen.

Paddy understood it. Paddy glanced questioningly towards Solomon, then remembered Solomon wouldn't actually see the expression. Then he remembered that didn't matter, of course. The conveniences of magic. With Erin there, he wouldn't get an answer, but Paddy wasn't entirely sure he wanted one. Knowing what surprises the future might hold... that was one aspect of magic he'd gladly have nothing to do with.

Dexter Vex probably hadn't 'brought' the little puppet-collection anywhere, but Paddy smiled in response nevertheless. "Thank you." He recognised a few of them - Solomon, Valkyrie, and Skulduggery were the obvious ones, followed closely by Fletcher and Ghastly and Vex himself. They were surprisingly good. Or maybe not surprisingly, given their method of origin, but still. How long would they last? Vex's lifetime? What was that, another six hundred years?

Sean shrugged. "It doesn't really matter if she's blind or not. She's not going to be the one deciding where we go."

Maybe Sean was more observant than even Sean realised. "Thank you for coming to dinner tonight, Erin," Paddy said, partly to take attention off Solomon. "Same time next week, both you and Sean?"

"Not if you're going to surprise with another 'present' again," Erin replied, but the good humour was creeping back into her voice.

"I'll do my best to restrain myself," Paddy promised her. "Was there anything else, Solomon?"