#satellitesbroken

“well said, young blue.” henry appreciates her PRACTICAL problem solving approach: he wants peace & quiet & tall grass? blue will find it for him. “now, where might we find it? i’m afraid my personal experience tends towards freshly mown golf courses & artificial tennis turf.”

        “I think the red one.” She’s laid out against Eva’s bed, waiting for her friend to get ready for the party they apparently ‘had’ to go to. Noora would actually have been fine sitting in Eva’s room sipping on cheap wine and watching stupid youtube videos, but she’s not opposed to going out. “And I have final say! You’ve been trying to decide for twenty minutes!”

      It was about time he’d met Gansey. He was the King after all. Well, he had been a King remade, from earth and magic, and time. Wound rightly like someone twisting the nob on a pocket watch the day following daylight savings.       Reset. R.e.m.a.d.e.              Zephaell was a small thing. Even smaller than a soon to be college freshman, as he appeared in the center of Monmouth Manufacturing. It was a quiet cool night for Georgia summers. The demon was red like burning lakes his family spawned from, he would have preferred hot weather.        He started at the boy for a long moment, his own eyes were painting of inverted colors, nearly pitch black were on a human they would be white. The pupils were a pale green, nearly iridescent.                  Richard Gansey III.             “You are the king.” This was a statement, and not a question as the small demon dropped to a knee, his arm left arm crossed over his chest. “And I have come to swear fealty to you.”

 ♞⊱⊱▬   "Boo!”           There was a kind of irony about saying that to a ghost. Even as a demon, Zephaell could appreciate that kind of irony. He hadn’t actually been attempting to startle the dead boy. Nor did he think such a thing were possible; certainly didn’t think on it passed the subtle appreciation of the  situation.        Noah looked nice for a dead boy. His visage was smudged in slight places around the eyes and cheeks, but he was corporal enough to not make one wonder if he had ever not been that way. The magic that tethered him felt old and Earthy and Zephaell had to restrain himself against the desire to pick apart the soul to find the source of that power.      “You know....I’ve never met a ghost before.” The little red demon stated, almost sweetly. “What is your name?”