𝐁Ⓧ𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

it's momentarily pleased that it finally has seemed to say something that doesn't upset her, but... that moment is short-lived. everything is so prone to changing in reality that it threatens to make their head spin! "i don't know enough about anything to make one. i think i'd need help. i don't know what a vampire is. i don't think i'm a ghost... maybe that's one i can cross off? i met with someone who knew ghosts. they didn't think i was one either. at first they did... but for some reason they changed their mind." it frowns, brow creasing. "i don't remember why they changed their mind." so caught up in the idea of that list are they that they don't immediately recognize the question. when it does hit... that actually doesn't clear up anything at all. "ummm..." trailing off, it admits. "sort of? i have someone researching me to figure it out. does that count?"

Martha raised an eyebrow so high it practically disappeared into her hairline, her scowl somehow deepening as she crossed her arms over her chest. ❝ Well, at least we know you're not a ghost, ❞ she muttered with enough sarcasm to poison a river. ❝ Because I can see you. And I've never been able to see ghosts. Not since... ❞ she stopped herself, jaw tightening before she looked away. Then he mentioned someone changing their mind about him not being a ghost, and Martha let out a long, suffering sigh that sounded like her patience finally snapping. Without another word, she vanished in a blink. A second later, she reappeared just as suddenly, now holding a pen and a crumpled sheet of paper. ❝ Move, ❞ she grumbled, immediately starting to scribble furiously across it. ❝ Possible demon. Possible vampire. Not a ghost. Maybe human. Maybe alien. Maybe mutant. Unknown cryptid bullshit, ❞ the pen scratched violently as she added more items. ❝ You don't even know your mutation? Great. Just great... ❞ she shook her head, still writing. ❝ Who the hell gets someone to research what they are before figuring out the basics? You giving them the best head of their life or something? ❞

"that's a good point." not that other points of hers haven't been good, but this feels like an actionable step. at the very least, something will be crossed out. even if that leaves an innumerable amount of answers in its wake, there will still be one less. that's something! that only makes the idea of a list seem more pertinent... but where to start? how in the world would anyone be able to help them fill something like that out? "no, i don't have a list," it admits, sheepish. "should i? i... i wouldn't know what to even put on it."

Martha immediately straightened a little, looking entirely too pleased that he'd agreed with her. ❝ Oh, I know it's a good point, ❞ she said with a small nod, taking full ownership of the victory and completely ignoring every other part of the conversation. Then her expression soured again as she processed the rest of what he'd said. ❝ Wait, you don't have a list? ❞ A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head, staring at him like he'd just admitted he didn't know how to tie his own shoes. ❝ How are you supposed to figure out what you are if you don't keep track of what you aren't? That's basic process of elimination! ❞ She waved a hand through the air as though the solution was obvious. ❝ Start with demon. Then vampire. Then human. Probably ghost somewhere in there. Maybe alien. Write them all down. Cross them off one at a time, ❞ her eyes narrowed thoughtfully before she abruptly pointed at him. ❝ Actually, what's your confirmed mutation? You do know that one, right? ❞

something just beyond a polite smile curls onto his face, not unlike a cat sheathing its claws. elias is cautious when dealing with mutants and has been for over half a century—old habits die hard, even when the troublesome ones are mostly outside of the city by now. "that's exactly what i was hoping you would say, my friend." clasping his hands together, he continues, "now, of course i don't expect you to arrange the whole affair by yourself. i'll have soldiers at your disposal from both one and six." one hand comes down on the map, tracing wavy line between the canyon that runs to his chosen location. "this man pathway will require the most of your attention. a scout picked up an old worm tunnel nearby. old, but you can never be too careful."

Isaiah listened without interrupting, though the subtle narrowing of his eyes at the mention of the worm tunnel betrayed exactly where his attention settled. Elias’ caution toward mutants was not difficult to recognize. Men who spent decades surviving fear rarely learned how to fully hide it, no matter how polished their smiles became. Still, Isaiah remained composed, one hand resting lightly against the edge of the table as he studied the winding canyon route across the map. ❝ An old tunnel is still a tunnel, ❞ he said calmly. ❝ If the ground remembers the creatures that carved through it, then we proceed as though they may return at any moment. ❞ His gaze lifted from the marked pathway to Elias himself, steady and discerning. ❝ I recommend positioning Sector One soldiers along the canyon ridges and have Six reinforce the lower approach. If something emerges, civilians will have time to evacuate before panic spreads through the procession. ❞ A brief silence followed before Isaiah added, quieter but firmer, ❝ But if there is additional risk you have not yet disclosed to me, Councilor Carver, now would be the time. ❞

"...oh." the more things go on, the less sense it all makes. it isn't certain what it's supposed to take seriously and what is meant as some kind of irony. irony and iron and iron-y are completely different. someone with some concept of earthly materials would have been able to make more sense of that too. if they aren't a demon, what are they? "so maybe they wouldn't be able to help me after all." pain is another concept that is foreign, just shy of unfamiliar... but the lessons there are easier to pick up. everything seems to avoid it. "i don't know what i am, either. do you think i should go and ask anyways?"

Martha rolled her eyes immediately, waving one hand dismissively like she was already tired of how complicated this conversation had gotten. ❝ I mean, maybe it’d at least check something off your list, ❞ she muttered with a shrug. ❝ If the priest starts screaming and throwing holy water at you, then congratulations, mystery solved. ❞ Her scowl lingered, but curiosity had started creeping in around the edges now, reluctant and suspicious. She looked him over again, slower this time, before tilting her head slightly. ❝ Actually... Do you even have a list? Like, of what you could be? More importantly, what you already know you aren’t? ❞

"very good, very good." his eyes linger over the cat-like gaze that isaiah shares before he continues. "i'm holding a special event. something that's... once in a life time, you could say. for that reason, i'll be holding it outside of the city." elias turns a chart of that section of the wastes around so that they can see it too. the site is well known, but abandoned. "as you know, that carries with it a certain amount of risk. i want to minimize that as much as i can... which is where you'll come in."

Isaiah’s eyes lowered briefly to the map Elias turned toward him, studying the abandoned stretch of wasteland with the same quiet focus of a predator gauging unstable ground before the hunt. The location was familiar, too familiar, and the fact Elias intended to hold a gathering there spoke either of confidence or dangerous optimism. He straightened slowly, folding his hands behind his back as his gaze returned to the councilor, unreadable but sharp beneath the dim lights of the room. ❝ A once-in-a-lifetime event held beyond the city walls is not the kind of thing men forget, Councilor Carver, especially not in territory the wastes have already claimed, ❞ his eyes flicked once more to the chart before settling on Elias again, calm and assessing. ❝ You wish for me to keep order, or to prepare for the possibility that order will fail. ❞ Though phrased as a statement rather than a question, there was no challenge in his tone, only the measured gravity of a man already considering every outcome before agreeing to step into it. ❝ Your wish, as per Councilor Stokes, will be my command. ❞

"...all of who? demons?" frowning, they wonder if that confirms it that they are some kind of demon. whatever a demon is. that part is still yet to be figured out, but someone will know and maybe then, finally, someone will be able to help. without much knowledge of emotion, the display of distrust by martha is a curiosity, but not something to dwell on. there are more important things at stake. "....confess something? no, i thought you said—" uncertain now, its frown deepens. "i thought you said they could help me. is that what an exorcism is?"

Martha just stared at him for a long second, eyebrow slowly climbing higher the more he talked, until a disbelieving scoff finally escaped her. She shook her head, almost laughing under her breath as she looked him over from head to toe again like she was reassessing the entire situation. ❝ Wait, are you actually serious right now? ❞ she asked, squinting at him with open suspicion. ❝ You’re standing here calmly asking what an exorcism is like it’s some doctor’s appointment. ❞ Another scoff, quieter this time, though the edge in her expression had shifted into something more confused than hostile. ❝ Yeah, a priest would probably help if you really were a demon, but exorcisms are supposed to hurt like hell. No demon would willingly walk into that, ❞ she frowned slightly after saying it, gaze lingering on him with growing uncertainty. ❝ So now I’m not even sure what the hell you are anymore. ❞

"yes, yes, come in," elias greets, pulling himself up from his seat with a soft grunt. "i was told to expect you. mr. king, am i correct?" of course he is, as per the messages exchanged by him and his ex-wife. there's some brief curiosity as to the nature of that relationship, how things could possibly work professionally if not through marriage... but it's not his business. he's never been married, himself. in either case, there are more important issues to discuss. "should i trust you've been informed about the nature of our meeting?" mostly in terms of discretion, but also in terms of scouting. nothing else is pertinent and he trusts that simone kept it that way. "or do i need to catch you up to speed?"

Isaiah stepped in with a measured calm, acknowledging the space before fully committing to it, his gaze settling on Elias with steady intent. ❝ You’re correct. Isaiah King, ❞ he replied evenly, neither rushed nor guarded, simply present. ❝ I’ve been briefed on the nature of this meeting and the discretion it requires. ❞ A brief pause followed, his expression thoughtful rather than doubtful. ❝ That said, I’d prefer to hear it from you as well. Context changes depending on the voice that carries it. ❞

something unpleasant coils in its stomach. do something weird. that seems completely possible, since they have little in the way of education about normalcy. the rest... it all seems more like it would be a terrible accident. "i don't want to hurt people," they admit, grimacing. "sometimes i do... but not on purpose." its presence is sometimes enough, less now, to cause headaches in physical beings. is that what she means? what else could there be? the concept of sadism is as alien a thought as pure benevolence... but the latter is much closer to what it aims to do. after a pause, it asks, "do you know any priests?"

Martha went still for a moment, watching him like he’d just confirmed something she didn’t fully like the shape of. Her eyes narrowed, not softened by his admission, if anything, more guarded now, like she was trying to decide whether not on purpose mattered in a world that didn’t really care about intent. ❝ Yeah, sure, ❞ she muttered after a beat, tone flat, almost tired. ❝ That’s what they all say. ❞ Her gaze drifted briefly away, jaw tight, then snapped back to him with a sharper edge. ❝ And yeah, I know priests. Plenty of them around here if you count the ones who pretend they’ve got answers while everything’s falling apart. ❞ She exhaled through her nose, skeptical but not entirely dismissive anymore. ❝ Why? You planning to confess something? Or actually get exorcised? ❞

"Shadow Snot might be a better name for him." Scotty said grabbing the beans and the remaining pantry items. There was hum. "Is, can you get the ground beef. 85% fat not that 55% percent one that's heart healthy." He joked as he began opening the canned beans.

Iselin remained still at first, a sculpture of frost and quiet disdain as thin veins of ice crept along the floor from where she sat, her wings giving a slow, deliberate shift that sent a faint chill through the air. Sumida’s clattering drew a glance, brief, assessing, unimpressed. ❝ If you’re about to freeze to death in my presence, do try to make it dignified, ❞ she said coolly, though her gaze lingered a fraction longer than necessary as he spoke, his awkward sincerity pressing in where sharper words might have failed. At his attempt to reframe fault, her lips curved, just slightly, something wry and almost self-aware. She murmured, ice at her fingertips thinning, retreating as if conceding ground, ❝ Grace is a luxury I rarely extend, especially to myself… But how quaint of you to suggest it. ❞ Then came the request, and the shift was immediate, delicate but undeniable. Her expression softened, frost receding fully now as she rose with a quiet flutter, brushing past him with a faint sigh, to take care of the ground beef. ❝ You should have led with that, ❞ she admitted, tone lighter despite herself, finding a cooler head when it came to showing off her usefulness as well as the promised reward of a good meal. ❝ ...though if this secret recipe fails to impress me, I will ensure it never thaws again. ❞

its brows crease, considering the suggestion deeply. "...maybe? i don't know. i don't know anything about demons. i think i recognize the word." err—not them. the memories that occupy its current form, sure. but none of them actually belong to null. "it's hard to remember it all at once. i have—i have to go in pieces." lest they lose focus and vanish into the aether all over again. "if i was a demon, is there some way to know? is it possible i could be one and... just have forgotten, somehow?"

Martha blinked at him, slow and sharp, like his answer had actually surprised her instead of just annoyed her. Her brow lifted, skeptical in a way that almost bordered on disbelief that he was entertaining it at all. ❝ You’re actually considering that? ❞ she muttered, eyes narrowing as she studied him harder, like she was trying to spot horns or something obvious she’d missed. The idea that she might be standing in front of something else entirely didn’t seem to comfort her: It just made her more suspicious. ❝ So what, you don’t remember anything and now it’s maybe I’m a demon? ❞ She leaned back slightly, arms folding as her gaze stayed locked on him. ❝ If you were one, wouldn’t you... I don’t know, feel it? Do something weird? Hurt people or whisper in their heads or whatever the hell demons do? ❞ She let a beat pass, her expression tightening, before a thought came to her not unlike a divine enlightenment, ❝ Have you ever tried consulting a priest? ❞

"ummm..." they trail off, confused. not for the first time. that term is entirely new to it, something unencountered thus far in the painfully slow combing of david krane's memory archives. "i don't know, i don't know anything about what that word means. but i don't see the point in... not... believing?" maybe that's not the answer she wants to her, but it's the one that they've decided to give. lies are something entirely alien to them, let alone the concepts beyond that... like fiction. "...yes?"

Martha stared at him like she was trying to decide whether he was stupid, lying, or something worse, her eyes narrowing into something sharp and unimpressed. The hesitation alone was enough to irritate her, but she didn’t push further into the demons question, didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her get laughed at for it. Instead, her gaze lingered, colder now, like she was recalculating what he even was. ❝ Right… ❞ she muttered, dragging the word out with clear disbelief before shifting her weight. ❝ So you don’t know anything, but you’re still answering like you do. Great. ❞ Her eyes flicked over him again, slower this time, suspicious rather than angry. ❝ Ever think maybe you don’t have to believe in demons because you might already be one and just don’t know it yet? ❞

"i don't pretend that you're desperate for anything." but they both know that his word means a lot as far as city politics go. elias is the oldest person on the council and his father before them was part of the founding of the city itself... at least in an organized way. the underground caverns is testament enough that someone ( if not something ) had existed post-meteor and also pre-sol city. that isn't his concern. it's for others to worry about the past and his burden to concern himself with the plight of real, literal people dependent on his work. "but i think it would be lucrative if we could work together." nodding, elias takes another sip of his drink. she isn't bristling anymore and that reassures him that his current path, now that it's been explained, is true. "i knew you would. you of all people have exactly the information i need to make this happen. and the resources, at that. i trust you'll send me their files for my own perusal? i hate to be old fashioned, but i've always enjoyed being able to vet for myself."

Simone’s expression tightened just slightly at that, more a flicker of disapproval than offense, as if she’d caught the underlying assumption that trust still needed proving between them, her gaze holding on him a moment longer than necessary before she let it go. ❝ Of course, ❞ she replied smoothly, the word carrying just enough weight to make clear she wasn’t indulging the implication. ❝ I’ll send the files before the day is done. ❞ She took a measured breath, settling back into her usual composure, though her eyes remained sharp as they studied him over the rim of her glass. ❝ But Elias, ❞ she added lightly, though the edge never left her voice. ❝ If you’re going to vet my people, you might want to remember: I don’t send you anything I haven’t already vetted twice myself. ❞