i am so impure

[Deja Aretusa]

Prompt List

• Darkness
• Sister
• Insane
• Water
• Whisper
• Sunlight
• Button
• Dreams
• Lie
• History

[Deja Aretusa]

H I S T O R Y

Sal knew that he'd need to enlist everyone who was in his good graces, and whose good graces he was in, in order to handle this little demon problem that had cropped up. The fact that the man had an ego so big as to consider Lucifer a "little demon problem" probably told anyone everything they'd need to know about Salvatore Godric, honestly. The problem with 'everyone' was that there were always bound to be entities that didn't necessarily get along with one another. Sal had discovered that part of the job that came with this undertaking was to ensure they didn't outright slaughter eachother before the end game had been achieved. Whatever they did after that - well, he'd be sure to place his bets, accordingly.

He spotted one of his more problematic 'everyones' sitting in his lounge, speaking with his daughter. Dahlia spotted him before Deja did, and as he approached he heard her chirping, "Oh, there he is, now."

"Darling, thank you for occupying my guest until I could free myself up," he said, placing a hand onto Dahlia's shoulder. She stiffened a little under his touch - Sal never called her darling, and he certainly didn't offer up physical affection to her. Hadn't since she was too big to hold comfortably at his hip. Fortunately for Dahlia, just because Sal hadn't been in the habit of doting on her in ways of affection like most fathers, what he did do was instill in her some fucking smarts, because his hand on her shoulder and warm greeting may have seemed like a common interaction, what he was actually telling his death-defying daughter was to get the fuck out of there Dahlia obliged.

"It was so nice to meet you, ah, I'm sorry, I didn't get your name," she said, tilting her head and smiling, doing her best to keep up the bubbly facade.

"Deja," another voice said. Marcus came up on the other side of Sal very suddenly, his expression dark.

"It was nice to meet you too, dear," Deja said, her amber eyes fixated on the girl for just a fraction of a second too long. Her voice was soft, and she had an accent, but it was hard to tell where it was from. She smiled, though, and reached up to warmly touch the arm that Sal was not at. She rubbed it once, a friendly, feminine gesture. "I look forward to seeing you again. You better go, though," she advised, still smiling. "These men don't like you talking to me." She gave her a wink.

"Alright, that's enough," Marcus said. Sal held his hand up to stop Marcus before he started in on the Elemental, and gave his daughter a look as she walked away as calmly as she could. Did he want to try and explaining this to her? No. He'd explain it to Tommy and the boy would parse down what was necessary to sate her curiosity. Fine lad, Tommy was. Idly, Sal wondered how many more aspects of him were hiding, waiting to break off of his main body. He could run a confusing, dangerous operation with that boy.

"Sal, darling," you didn't tell me that he'd be here," Deja said, her voice a purr. She sat when he gestured, not prepared to start any fights just yet. She looked at Marcus as Sal sat across from her, and held her hand out to the empty chair next to Sal. "Please, Boogeyman, have a seat. Don't stand at his heel like the beast we know you are," she added. She smiled again, something dark behind her eyes.

"Of course you two know eachother," Sal said, muttering to nobody in particular.

"We know eachother very well," Deja said, raising her brows. She flicked her gaze from Sal to Marcus, and then back to her host. "Lots of sordid history, in fact. Well, until she came around. Tell me, Marcus, do you still search from lifetime to lifetime for your soulmate? Is there truly no other who can satisfy you?"

To his credit, Marcus gave Deja little reaction. "You belong to the sea, Deja. Can you truly be satisfied by anything other than that?"

There was a tense moment of absolute silence, and Sal really thought they might be about to have a situation, but then Deja threw her head back and laughed. And true to the nature of the Mother of Sirens, her laugh was like a peal of bells, melodic, almost a sound you could be hypnotized by. "Still clever, my Hellhound. Still clever, after all this time," she mused, shaking her head at Marcus. She looked back to Sal, changing her posture to face him more fully; Marcus merely frowned.

"So, Mr. Godric - I received word from my daughters that you might be the man to talk to about a little problem by the name of Lucifer," she prompted him.

Sal considered this a moment, leaning back in his chair a little. Deja was trouble with a capital C for CRAZY, that much he knew. He could see the madness in her eyes, and hear it in her laugh. But she was powerful. "It's with him, but also with some eldritch things that have been rooted up from somewhere in the Fae realm - Sluagh. Do you know them?"

Deja thought for a moment, and Sal noticed that she was chewing on a piece of gum. She tilted her head, making a "Hm" sound, and let out a sigh. "I don't think I do," she admitted. "I try to stay away from Fae. I don't want any Queens cursing me - or trying to, at least," she added - it was a barb meant for Marcus, and he rolled his eyes a little, but said nothing. "But my children do. I don't want them involved in this, if it can be helped," she said seriously, looking directly at Sal again.

"Well, they don't need to be," Sal reassured her. "If your abilities can work on the creatures, we can greatly reduce the involvement of more people." He paused. Now would be the real test to see if she'd play ball. "What about that man of yours?" he asked. "I've heard he has a useful gift."

Deja's face darkened. "Lack of gift, more like." She leaned back, crossing her arms. Marcus noticed that she suddenly seemed protective - not like with her daughters, which was too be expected. No, it was more like...

"Do you not want to involve him?" Marcus guessed. "Deja..." he said, voice trailing off in a knowing fashion.

"No," she snapped, glaring at Marcus. "I don't. He's human. He'll just die."

Marcus pressed on, nodding to Sal ever so slightly to let him take this one. "He'll die, and? So what? You don't care about him."

She suddenly slammed her small fist down on the table. "I said NO!" she shouted.

Sal held his hand up, giving Marcus a look. Sure, he had that totally under control. All Sal needed was an old as dirt Elemental trying to drown everyone in his lounge by overloading his magical wards. One was bad, but her sister too? No, he was absolutely not picking that fight, and he wasn't letting Marcus do it, either. "It's okay, Deja, he doesn't have to be involved. It's just that, I've heard he repels magic. It could be useful," he trailed.

"No," she said again, and this time it was clear she was done playing around with them. "Tell me you need something else, and I can find it for you. You want an angel? I can bring you a fucking angel. But you don't touch my daughters, and you don't touch him," she said firmly.

There it was. That was what Sal had been hoping for this whole time. Truth was, having Aaron would have been nice, but he knew Deja knew bigger and badder and had them hidden in her arsenal. He didn't know who she was talking about, mostly because the fact that Gunnar was angelic was not common knowledge at this point, but Aaron told Deja things, and also he talked in his fucking sleep, so whether anyone wanted her to have an inside track on Diamond, she had one.

"An angel?" Sal asked, feigning intrigue. He was more than interested, but he didn't want to let her know that. "You can get one?"

"I can get you something," she assured him. If that demon doesn't get him first, she thought to herself, a specific Diamond in mind who might wrench her gears significantly.

"If you do, I can promise you, your companion, and all of your children, will never have to know this battle," Sal told her. He was absolutely serious about that. He watched her as she watched him, and she nodded and stood, seeming to have made up her mind about something.

"Okay, Sal," she said, her girlish and accented voice pleasant again. The way she switched between moods and emotions was enough to give the men whiplash. "Okay, I'll get you something you can use." She stood, pushing her chair back into its spot. "And I'll see you later," she added, winking to Marcus.

"See me never," he hissed hotly as she walked away from them. He looked at Sal, realizing Sal was staring at him. "What?" he challenged. The man held his hands up, laughter rumbling deep from his belly. Marcus got up too, muttering about loyalties, and stormed off, presumably to find a drink and decompress from the hurricane that was Deja.

[Deja Aretusa]

I N S A N E

Chad lay in the infirmary, staring at the ceiling. He had set his phone on the bedside table, disinterested in the texts asking if he was okay, what had happened, etc. He appreciated the concern from his friends, but he was still overwhelmed with - with everything: emotion, thought, energy, and most of all, the lingering taste of the Elemental.

  Almost like she'd been summoned, Deja appeared. She walked through the door, as radiant as ever; apparently the feed had done nothing to dull her vitality. She smiled that megawatt smile, coming to his bedside, grabbing a chair and taking a seat next to him. "Hi," she said, voice light and breathy. "How are you feeling?"

He couldn't help but smile a little, shaking off the nagging feeling that something was wrong with this - with her, with the energy humming in the room, with his sudden ease at her presence. "I should ask you the same thing," he replied. He paused for a second. "Can I ask you something?"

Deja had her hands folded neatly in her lap, but reached up to place them on the edge of the bed. "Of course, dearheart - but I know what you will ask me already," she informed him. "You want to know why you can still feel my essence, yes?" She tilted her head, golden eyes focused on his own blue ones.

He swallowed, throat suddenly very dry. "Yes," he said matter-of-factly. "Yes, I do."

"That's easy," she said smoothly, lifting her hand to flex her fingers a moment. "I fed back." When he furrowed his brow, she smiled more, but it was different somehow. It was no longer friendly, it was - it had too many teeth, it was aggressive. "Oh, you didn't think I needed to sustain myself also? Triste, you could have drained me. Let's not forget how similar you are to your blood-drinking counterparts." she reminded him. "But it's okay - I'm okay, you're okay - well, you will be, anyways," she added, making a face.

"When will it go away?" he asked bluntly. He couldn't take the feeling of madness trying to get in much longer, even with as old as he was. Madness was like dark water; wherever it got, it stained, it multiplied to infinity. Her brand of insanity was an infection, and he was sure he did not want the cure, which was most likely the Mother of Sirens who sat before him.

"No," she cooed. "No, you don't want it to go away, do you?" She leaned forward a little, trying to catch him back in her thrall. "I can still taste you," she whispered. "Can you still taste me?"

"Oh-okay, Deja, you need to go," he said, breath shaky.

"No one can make you feel like I do," she sang, tracing her finger up his muscular arm.

Chad jerked away from her, despite how much it pained him. He wanted to vomit. "Get out," he hissed. He felt her madness edging into his mind, the momentary flashes of insanity he'd gotten from feeding her creeping in the background - like when one had an idea on the tip of their tongue but couldn't get it out. It made an itch at the base of his skull that he wanted to scratch with a slab of concrete.

"But, baby, we have something special," she insisted, her accented voice still soft, lilting, enticing. "Don't be like that, please?" And she batted her thick black lashes at him, her gold eyes soft and sincere. She watched him relaxing a little, the tension leaving his shoulders. "That's better, hm? I would never hurt you," she added, placing her hand on his thigh.

He felt completely caught in her spell for a moment, barely feeling the warmth of her palm on his leg. But something inside of him was fighting it, and the urge grew stronger and stronger. What emotion was he feeling? Anger. He slapped her hand away, hard, sitting up more in the bed and drawing his knees up. He'd fucking kick her if he had to.

"Get OUT!" he shouted.

Her soft features changed, then, like a sudden storm just materializing over the ocean. Her lips curled in disgust as she moved out of range of his potential immediate attacks, and her voice dropped an octave.

"You fed on me, Triste," she growled, jerking her finger back and forth as she spoke. "You. YOU violated ME. Not the other way around. I still have bruises where you grabbed me. I still feel you in my head, in my body." Her voice was anguished, a mixture of pain and sadness. Fuck, Deja was a good actress.She was gaslighting the shit out of him - and it was working.

He felt himself mentally overloading, putting his hands to his face and scrubbing his eyes. He was breaking. "I'm sorry, I didn't - you were the only option, I couldn't risk killing humans," he cried, the suffering tangible in his voice.

"This is your fault," she hissed, walking slowly towards him. "Look at what you did to me. LOOK!" she demanded, holding her arms up. They were bruised heavily from where he'd grabbed her up, as were her neck and face. Had they been there before? He didn't remember.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please just go," he said. He repeated it over and over, like some sort of madness mantra. The door of his room swung open and slammed against the doorstop, a loud BANG causing the already fragile Chad to jump, instinctively pulling his arms up to guard himself.

"DEJA!" Aaron screamed.

The woman whipped around, eyes wide. "Aaron, what are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Get your ass over here," he commanded. "Right now".

Wordlessly, she spun on her heel, giving the triste who was sobbing in the bed one last disdainful look before exiting the room. Aaron stood there for a second, unsure of what to do, and knowing that whatever Deje had said or done (more likely) he couldn't undo.

"Look man, I - I don't know you that well," he confessed. He lingered in the doorway, struggling.

"It's - just please leave me alone," Chad said, finally getting himself under control. Fuck, that bitch messed his head up. Aaron's nullifying ability helped him a little, at least, to pull himself out of it and regain composure at least a little.

"Yeah, of course, just - don't listen to her, okay? She's fucking crazy. Trust me when I say that. She is not in touch with our reality. And - I know she tried to bond you, and thankfully it didn't work because of my ability. And it's a total mindfuck, because I experienced it - and I pretty much do on a daily basis. But you will get through it."

He turned to leave, then glanced over his shoulder. "I'm going to leave and take her with me. I have to tell Noelani about this. I'll keep her away from you, I promise."

Chad didn't say anything, just nodded in return.

"Is there anybody I can call?" Aaron asked, feeling guilty for just leaving him in the room alone.

"No, just - close the door on your way out, please," Chad said. He didn't want to see anyone right now, especially after that.

"Okay. Get some rest," Aaron offered, knowing it was totally cliche and not helpful at all, and exited the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

In the hall, Deja was fuming. "Listen to me, you motherfu-" Her rant was cut short with a yelp as a hand made contact with her face. She put a hand to her cheek instinctively, mouth open with shock. She could taste blood from where mouth had hit her tooth in the moment.

"If I could kill you right now, I would," Aaron seethed. He knew that he could leverage his bond with her against her; she was still some breed of Fae in the end, Elemental or otherwise, and she was bound to obey him, regardless of how many loopholes she found along the way. "Go."

Unwilling or unable to resist the order, Deja silently turned around and began walking towards the exit of the infirmary ward, still holding her face. She began to cry, mostly because Aaron had hit her and she couldn't rationalize why (fucking Fae logic), and he'd made her bleed.

  Aaron, though, was completely unaffected by her quiet weeping, following behind with a dark look on his face. He would have to take her somewhere and fucking isolate her, or she'd just keep coming back to Chad. She was like a shark who'd scented blood in the water. As it stood, she was about to be persona non grata with Diamond, so she didn't have a choice in the matter.

[Deja Aretusa]

S U N L I G H T

  The web-weaver had foretold their mother of his presence. That old crone, content to live in her home in the forest, who came calling only a few times a year to speak to who she was "called" to speak to, that spider-fae, She-Who-Consorts-With-The-Host-of-Dead, and any other number of names whispered by her or about her - she had told them, warned them, that he would come. That he would split open the ground beneath their bare feet and out would pour the darkness and he would claim (or, reclaim, she said - the story had changed a few times as it was retold every so often among the girls in their rooms at night) the "daughter of the earth" for his own. The story had circulated around their home and hearth and hung over them in the dark as they lay in bed whispering for as long as they could both remember. Their mother simply rolled her eyes as the girls grew, and fear gave way to laughter, with one teasing the other mercilessly about some underground dwelling beast destined to swallow her whole. It had turned into so much of a joke that, as they grew, it faded into a silly story, and faded further into something like a thought at the back of one's head that, on occasion, one would be reminded of when the wind blew just right or the sun fell a certain way behind the horizon.

Since the passage of time for Fae was so unlike the human world, it was hard to say at what point the fortune/prediction/story had completely gone from their memories, but it was enough time that Deja had grown from the size of a child-sprite into the body of a young woman. There, she would stay, for a time far longer than what she had already lived. She had no concept of eternity, or time, or anything else for that matter - they lived far away from the royal city, and that meant far from the war, the bloodshed, the politics, and the stress that the powers vying for control over Seelie and Unseelie courts had. She knew nothing of conflict, or pain, or fear, save what her own imagination could give her - and Deja was imaginative. But unfortunately, she was also naive, and her family waived off that silly web-fae and her worrisome words, not bothering to examine anything she said, or for that matter, interpret it.

"She's old, Arawn," their mother would say to their father, and she'd place a hand over his own, patting it.

"Yes, Arpazia, she's old - and that means she knows of things we do not," he'd insist.

Deja was never privy to any more of the argument than that, as she and Iloquil would both be ushered off to play. But that, again, was a long time past, and she had no strong memory of it. Pity - because that fae was old, and she did know things they did not. And so, she lay out in the field of sunflowers, eyes closed as she bathed in the warmth of the sun, and thought nothing of a dark man, a dark place, or a dark fate.

She sighed, the sweet scents of the earth around her filling her with delight. She wouldn't need to open her eyes to paint the picture she knew she was in - as far as the eyes could see, fields of flowers, some taller than she. A breeze pushed them, making them all wave in unison. There was one lone tree at the edge of the field, in full bloom and with a bounty of ripe, red fruit. Clouds danced overhead, birds sang, and if she pressed her palms against the ground, she could feel the swell of the earth as it breathed beneath her. Suddenly, she saw something that should not be in the portrait of her mind's eye. It was dark, like a stain. She opened her eyes abruptly, immediately bringing her hands up to shield them from the sudden exposure to the sunlight, and sat up. She looked left, then right, then left again. She seemed to be truly alone in the field, but she didn't feel that way. Why?

From behind the tree, he watched her. He'd never seen anything quite like her before - she was like, if someone had taken the sun, and poured it into feminine form. Even her eyes reminded him of its glow, the amber quite unlike anything his home had to offer. Most creatures in the underworld had eyes that were black, lacking depth and warmth. His own were green, pale and sickly. Like him, really - honestly, he thought it fitting that they both reflect their environments so completely; he, with his dark hair, pale skin, and lunar sort of look about him, stood in stark contrast to this ardent creature, blending in to the field around her. He wondered, should he try to talk to her? What would he say? In truth, he'd happened upon her by mistake, but here he was, and he couldn't help but think perhaps this was an opportunity to learn more about the above-world. After all, he seldom ventured there.

"Hello," came the friendly voice behind him. He whipped around, nearly leaping back in shock at how close she'd gotten to him. Did this place truly dull his senses so much? The look on his face must've said everything, because she stayed where she was, holding her hands up, trying to appear non-threatening. Gods, how could she even imagine she was?  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said.

Taranis noticed that she spoke the common language, and he was almost more surprised over that than anything else. She looked like the fae he'd seen in the Seelie courts, but her dialect was clearly not reflective of nobility. "No, he stammered. He took a moment to compose himself, and then smiled at her, straightening out more. "No, of course not. I just didn't expect anyone," he covered. He'd almost told her he didn't expect her to notice him, but that would have sounded awful, and he knew it right before it had escaped his mouth.

"Oh," she said, brows perking. "I can go, if you'd like to be alone with the tree," she said, gesturing back to the grass behind her.

"No, that's not necessary," he said, holding a hand up for her to stay where she was. He stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, smiling slightly. "It's just that your eyes - I've never seen anything quite like them before. Extraordinary," he murmured. "May I?" He was asking permission to step closer to her, and Deja nodded, hands behind her back in a manner that suggested a shyness he did not anticipate from how she'd sneaked up on him previously.

"I've never seen eyes like yours, if it helps," she offered, studying his as he studied hers. "I've seen green eyes, before," she clarified, realizing she'd made herself sound uneducated. "What I mean is, I've never seen them so clear. Like someone plucked gems from a crown and gave them to you to wear instead." She laughed at herself.

"I don't think anyone's ever said anything like that to me before," he said, and there was a thoughtfulness to his voice that Deja did not understand. Ruling the underworld was lonely; his creatures brought comfort, but they were barely corporeal at times, and the beasts wanted only to slumber in the pit lest they be awakened to feed on whatever had earned his enmity. Sometimes he graced the courts with his presence, and sometimes he walked with them to other planes where things were topsy-turvy enough to occupy his boredom. But in all of those suspended years in a timeless world, he'd never carried on a conversation such as this, and so, there had never been an opportunity for what she'd said to be said. At once, he realized that perhaps he had grown lonely. Perhaps it was time for him to find a companion.

"I'm Deja," she said, offering him a slight bow. He looked like a noble; he was dressed like one, at the very least. Or what she thought one might dress like - she'd never seen one. She'd only heard they were fancy, and well-groomed, and their beauty was ethereal and eternal. Royal fae thought way too highly of themselves. "Are you going somewhere in particular? You're not from here, of course," she added.

"Taranis," he replied. "I've never been here before, you're right," he said, nodding. "I don't really know what I'm doing. I just - saw a field of flowers, and thought it was worth stopping to look," he said. It was half-true. Deja didn't need to know that she had been the only flower he'd been keen to observing.

"Well," she said, grinning. "If you like flowers, I've got several more places that are even more beautiful than this. Do you mind water terribly?"

"Are you offering to show me around?" he asked. He was a little taken aback by her forwardness - he was so used to being feared and obeyed, and here she was, this radiant slip of a thing, offering him her hand and the world by proxy.

"Yes, of course," she replied, her brows raising again. "Will you come and see?"

He stared at her for a moment, then held out his hand to take hers. "I would love to," he admitted.

[Deja Aretusa]

D A R K N E S S

It had been months, easily, if not longer - Fae time ran strangely, and they didn't keep track like mortals did - since Deja had been visiting Taranis in the underworld. She had been enjoying her time there, and him, and she thought that she knew all there was to know. She was young, still, and so naive. She would learn this much later in her life, but by then, the damage would already be done. She sat by a pool of water, quietly relaxing, as Taranis had said he would be right back. She was getting drowsy, and laid back against the soft moss that surrounded the unnaturally dark water, sighing. Her amber eyes focused on the view above her, the soft glow of the natural fauna of the underworld illuminating the area. It bathed her in a strange sort of eerie green moonlight. Other places were more lit up, of course, with faelights and torches and whatnot, but this was the area where Taranis thought she would like the most - and he had been right. Her eyes were heavy, and she knew that if she didn't get up right then, she would fall asleep.

With a sigh, Deja climbed to her feet, brushing off the backside of her dress. She knew the immediate area of where she was, but there were tunnels and other elements of the realm she had either not been taken to yet or was told she wouldn't like (and Taranis didn't tell her why, either, because he didn't want to scare her away), and so she was working with only her limited knowledge to wander. She decided she'd go back to the Keep, to see if Taranis had gone there. It seemed that since he was the ruler of the land, it would be the smartest place to check.

Nobody knew that Deja had been coming here. Taranis had been explicit in his need for privacy, and she had agreed, because she understood. Fae feared what they didn't understand. Deja had always thought that whoever ruled the underworld was monstrous - it had taken a while before he'd even told her who he really was, but he assured her that he had only been waiting so that he could be sure he wouldn't scare her off. And he had - mostly. She had never known malevolence or harmful secrets, and so she had no reason to suspect that he was attempting to lull her into a sense of security. She had noticed, though, that he'd been wanting her to stay longer as of late - and the longer she stayed, the stranger she began to feel. Because she had nobody to tell this to, and nobody outside of him to whom she could inquire as to why, she said nothing on the matter, finding it best to figure it out on her own. Perhaps if she ignored it, it would go away.

She walked through the Keep, bare feet silent against the black floor. It was black - the blackest she'd ever seen. Even the faelights that lined the massive hall didn't reflect against it. Like everything else in this place, shadow prevailed, and was everywhere all the time. She had, upon occasion, even seen creatures made of shadow. Taranis never seemed to see them, and she began to wonder if perhaps the strange feeling she had and the shadows were related. She had finally brought it up to him, and - well, that was the conversation that had happened shortly before he'd told her he would be right back. When she said she felt strange, she couldn't quite articulate what strange meant. He'd asked her to try, and she'd just said, like she was attempting to form a thought but couldn't. It was like something always at the corner of her vision. Something shadowy. The longer she stayed, the more prevalent it became, though she wasn't really relating the two. Taranis, of course, had made the connection instantly, which was why he'd left her.

While she'd been sitting and daydreaming, he'd gone straight to his abode to consult with his advisor. And what he was hearing was troublesome, indeed.

"My Lord," the thing began - because it was a thing - "You are playing with your food, and it's beginning to grow self-aware," it warned.

"I'm not playing with my food," he snapped, voice petulant. "I have no intention of devouring her." He paused, thoughtful. "I did think the madness would take hold much more abruptly than it has, though," he mused. His grey-green eyes were bright, and he focused on the figure. "Why is it taking so long for her mind to rot?"

"I was getting to that," the advisor said darkly. "It's you. You're slowing it. It's your will - this entire realm is your will. So if you want her to stay, the best thing is to stop trying to slow down the natural order of the Underworld, and let it take her. This is your nature, Lord. This is why we advised not venturing too long to the Upworld. It corrupts," it hissed. "And typically, you don't become attached to a place you intend to conquer."

Taranis made a face. "Don't presume to tell me to what I've become attached, old man," he warned.

"Apologies, my Lord, but the fact still does not change. And anyways, after you take Upworld, everything there will be plunged into darkness - into madness. So even if you let her free, it wouldn't be for long." The advisor shifted in the chair, as if thoughtful. "There are other realms, Lord. More amazing. More delectable. Other creatures." It paused. "But I think we have another problem yet at hand."

Taranis tuned to where it had gestured with a greyed, clawed hand, and saw Deja standing in the doorway, looking absolutely stunned. "Deja," he said, unable to hide his surprise. "I'm sorry, I got caught up - just wait out in the hall, I'll be right behind."

"You knew?" Her voice trembled. She looked - heartbroken? "I told you about what I was feeling, and you made me feel like I was - crazy," she said, shaking her head. "And my home - you're going to take my home, too?"

Taranis walked away from the table, a hand behind him with the palm up at the figure to stay where it was. Not yet, let me try and salvage this, he thought. "Deja, you misunderstood - " he said, smiling. He approached her, hold his hands up, but she backed up immediately, and he could tell that she had been standing there long enough to glean more than he would have liked.

"Don't TOUCH me," she hissed, recoiling. "I want to know the truth!"

He dropped the act immediately, and was very suddenly in her space.

"Oh, love, you really don't," he said, and the expression on his face seemed to reflect his statement.

It was like everything about him.. changed, suddenly. She couldn't describe it. That charm that he'd always dazed her with was sucked out of the room along with all the air (she felt, because she couldn't breathe), and he stood before her, a monster. He looked the same, but the glamour he'd used, that curious, shy and mysterious personality - it was gone. She could feel the death and darkness rolling off of him in waves.

"Taranis?" She felt her eyes pool with tears. "But - I - no - NO!" She saw the shadows - the things she'd told herself she was imagining - unfurl from the ground at his feet, like loyal pets. They began to circle her, and she knew, KNEW that she could hear them now. Chittering.

"Don't cry, love," he said, his brows knitted as his face held up a mask of angst. "I promise, it will be over soon. You will know no pain, and no fear. You will come to love the darkness here - and me. I know it." His expression changed again, and he nodded to the shadows that were surrounding her, now forming massive figures. "Put her in the tower. Then forget about her for a while. She'll come around."

He ignored her screams as she was dragged away, looking back to the thing in the robes with a bright expression on his face. "All of this excitement has me invigorated. Let's destroy a realm, shall we?"

[Deja Aretusa]

B U T T O N

Deja heard the door of the home she and Aaron shared open, and got up from where she had been laying, as usual, by the pool. She saw him through the glass doors from the patio, and smiled at him - which was not usual. He smiled back, but she could see his head tilt and his expression change to one of curiosity, because Deja was typically in a moody sort of mood, not a good mood. In fact, he couldn't recall the last time she'd been happy to see him. It was incredibly fucking tiring being bound to her at times. When things were good, they were wonderful, but when they were bad, they were horrid.

"Hey," he called to her as she came inside, setting her sunglasses down on the counter and taking a position across from him as he unloaded the small selection of groceries. "You seem like you're in a good mood," he said, electing to hit it head on.

"I am," she confirmed. "I've had a good day. A good week, actually." She stopped, considering what she'd said, and then forming a surprised look on her face, nodding and looking back at Aaron. "I know, hard to believe. But... I am trying. I want you to know that. I want to get better. I will get better. For you - for us. Okay?"

The sudden confession robbed Aaron of any predetermined response he had in his index for her. He had (incorrectly) assumed she'd dig into him for pointing out that she was in a good mood NOW, which was language he'd learned that she could randomly consider inflammatory, but he used anyways. Oh, he'd seen therapists over Deja, and he was learning exactly how to deal with her little outbursts. She couldn't be bothered to see one, so he had to be the bigger person and see one for the BOTH of them. It had actually given him some pretty handy tools to cope with her outbursts. Honestly, he'd been thankful that Chad had suggested it to him. Unfortunately, Chad was the Diamond psychologist, and as such, he was a little too close to the situation, but he'd given Aaron several names to check, and Aaron had found one that worked well for him.

"That's good, hon," he stammered, unable to hide his surprise. He had learned to tell when she was being sincere and when she was fucking with him, and he assessed rather quickly that she was being sincere. He set the oranges he had in his hand onto the counter as she came around it, wrapping her arms around him unexpectedly.

He resisted the urge to ask if she was drunk, knowing that would be a genuinely shitty thing to do, but he was curious. "What - uh, what brought all this on?" he asked, pulling back from her. He couldn't help that he was stiff in her arms; Deja's volatility had caused him to build shields up that would take years of consistency to break back down, regardless of the highs. It wasn't the highs that his apprehension and walled-offness was for, it was the inevitable low that followed. Even bonded, he'd managed to negate some of that pull she had. She couldn't refuse his commands, but he'd learned to power over some of hers.

She didn't negatively react when he pulled away from her, which was good, and instead took up a casual posture, her arms still wrapped around him, but more loosely. "Well," she began, a thoughtful expression on her face. In truth, she'd had a pretty ragged conversation at the Excelsior with Sal and Marcus that had given her plenty of room for reflection. That had been a while ago, far before Lucifer had been placed into a new body, but still, the thoughts had lingered. When all was said and done, she realized that she was lucky to have found Aaron when she had, and that, especially given her sordid past, he was probably one of the better things that had happened to her. The things he brought to the table as a bonus, such as his impervious nature to outside magical influence, were just that - a bonus.

"Well?" he asked, and she realized she'd trailed off into silence. He laughed at her a little, the smile he had finally meeting his eyes. When she just smiled and shook her head at him, he nodded. "Alright then, keep your secrets," he said. Without thinking, he leaned forward, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "Now, off with you, unless you want to help me with dinner?" he asked, opening his arms to release her.

"No, I don't," she admitted, laughing. She let go of him, hand dragging across his hip as she stepped away; she didn't have to look back to confirm she'd given him a shiver, she knew him well enough by now to know that she had. She saw a shadow at the glass by the front door, and tilted her head. "Did you order something?" she asked, already walking that way.

Aaron thought nothing of it. "Maybe? I don't know. Amazon delivery has been really fucked up lately. I've been getting credits online if I get things delivered later, but my smooth brain can't keep track of it all. Maybe it's the new toaster?" he called, going right back to putting away the rest of the groceries. Cabinets opened and closed in succession as he put in item and pulled out cookware. He'd felt like stir fry tonight initially, but maybe he'd do tacos instead. Did he buy shells? He had, hadn't he? He went to the pantry, calling absently over his shoulder as he heard the door close and something being opened. "Is it the toaster?"

When he didn't hear anything from the hallway immediately, he didn't think anything of it, but then he heard Deja saying something. "What's that, love?" he called. He paused, hearing the sound repeat itself - quietly at first, but then it got louder, and he could finally understand it. She was saying, "No". He heard the sound of something connect with the wall in the foyer, and rushed in, thinking that someone was in the house - but all he saw was Deja sitting on the tile, a small box on its side on front of her, with something small and shiny on the ground. She clutched a piece of paper in her hand, and was rocking back and forth, her back brushing the wall as she moved.

"Deja!" he cried. There was audible alarm in his voice, because, as used to her mood swings as he was, he'd never seen this before, and Aaron had more or less seen it all from her. He dropped down in front of her, looking with adrenaline-fueled and jerky movements at the scene. Box? Note? He reached for the thing on the ground (a gold metal button?), but her quiet and subdued state CHANGED and suddenly she was screaming, grabbing at him and pulling him away from it like it was radioactive.

"NO! GET AWAY! HE CAN'T FIND YOU, HE CAN'T KNOW ABOUT YOU!" Her hand was fisted around the paper tightly as she swung her limbs at him, and the screaming stopped only when she'd gotten him what she felt was a safe distance from the object. She had been crawling, but rocked back on her knees, again she stopped, both hands now to her face as she began to rock back and forth again. "He can't know, he can't know where I am, he can't, he can't, no no no no..." She folded down on the ground, crying, and continued to chant.

Aaron was fucking unsettled. He didn't know what to do, but he damn sure didn't want to go near the metal thing on the ground again (he was pretty sure it was a button, but he couldn't tell fully) and he didn't want to touch Deja because he didn't know what the fuck was happening. He could see that she'd let the note go in favor of covering her face as she bent towards the tile, looking almost in agonizing prayer, and he reached out for it, thankful that he didn't hesitate. He snatched it up and turned it over.

He didn't know whose handwriting it was, and he definitely didn't understand the context of the quote, but fortunately, the note had been signed with an ornate J. That he did know - from having been at Chad's house and having seen a Christmas card on his counter that winter before. It had been from Gareth, Nicholas, and Jill. J. He got to his feet immediately, hating to leave Deja on the cold tile alone, but not knowing what else to do at the moment. He didn't understand anything that was happening right now, but he knew that someone would. First order of business, though, was to ask what the FUCK.

"Gareth - hi, sorry to bother you. Listen, I'll make this fast. Do you have any idea why Jill would send Deja a box with something in it that would make her go catatonic and then leave a note telling her that 'knowledge is gained through suffering so this gift is intended to remind her of her wisdom'? Does that make any sense to you?" He spoke quickly, panic just on the edges of his voice as he stalked through the house. He didn't know what any of it meant, but he wouldn't wait for Gareth to confirm the threat. He was grabbing go bags; they'd go to Diamond for the time being. He could figure it out later.

"Aaron, listen to me closely," the Triste said, his gravelly voice somehow more serious than it usually was. "Whatever was in that box, don't touch it. Get Deja, and get out of there. Go somewhere warded. Heavily warded. Fae wards. Do you understand me?"

Well, at least Aaron had guessed correctly. "What the fuck did Jill do?" he demanded. He had two bags on each shoulder as he rushed back to where Deja was, still on the floor. "Why would she do this?"

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, but then Gareth spoke. "I intend to find out."

Aaron didn't bother replying; he took the Triste's parting words and thanks for letting him know what was happening, and hung up. He slid the phone into his pocket, needing both hands to coax Deja up. "Come on, come on, we've got to go," he said gently, trying to move her without startling her. Christ, but she was practically dead weight. He got her to her feet, managing to get her by the chin so he could look at her directly. Her eyes were - dull. It was like she had retreated into herself, and only left the porch light on instead of keeping the entire house lit up.

"Okay, let's go, to the car, come on," he urged, guiding her outside. He stepped around the object still on the floor, leaving the box where it was, and stuffing the note into the same pocket the phone was in. It would be useful if he knew what the fuck was going on, but he'd manage. He texted ahead to Murphy and told him to be ready - when Murphy asked for what, Aaron just replied with, "Nothing good. Will explain when I get here." And that was enough for the Fae to get his ass moving. Aaron was thankful he knew Fae, as wards by them weren't super commonly come by - and honestly, he rarely worried about such things. Magic didn't work on him. He got the feeling, however, that whatever Deja was scared of, wouldn't be deterred by a pesky little thing like ineffective magic. He had a pit in his stomach that he hadn't felt for a long time, and backed out of the driveway, trying to mentally steel himself for whatever the way ahead was.

[Deja Aretusa]

W H I S P E R

Diamond was probably one of the most secure points on the plane that they currently existed, and yet even still, they had asked the Fae that they did employ to ward more, to give them every potential advantage. They hadn't told them why, because - well, to be honest, the Fae knew. They didn't outwardly know, but something in their magical bones said that darkness was on the horizon, and so they did the things they could, hoping that they would offer at least some defense against what might be to come.

During all this, Aaron tried to split his time between his own crash course education into old Fae history, courtesy of Eithne this time, not Nicolette, while Cory - the Seelie King's son, apparently (and recently claimed, which was scandalous he was told), sat in to catch himself up to speed. He knew the past and the current, but he didn't know the distant past, and he was expected to go back and inform his father and mother of it. Aaron was sure that all of the perplexed glances were his own, though.

"Why are you all so fucking complicated?" he asked, scrubbing his eyes. He stood up from his chair, reaching out quickly to stop a pile of books from falling. He'd accidentally jostled them when he'd scooted the chair out from the table, and he had a feeling they were expensive, because they were old and gross. Everything old and gross was expensive, according to the Therrayans.

"Because - " Eithne paused, trying to think of a way she hadn't explained it yet.

"Because we're like an alien civilization, man," Cory said. "Best way I can explain it. You can't apply your logic to us. It doesn't work."

"Yeah," Eithne shrugged. "I guess that's a good way to put it."

"Hm," Aaron said, scratching at the stubble on his neck thoughtfully. "Explains all the rampant and very open prejudice, I guess." He grabbed his notebook, which he slapped for good measure. "Alright, you two, this has been great, but I need to go and check on my - Deja," he said, stumbling a little over his words.

Unsurprisingly, Deja was exactly where he'd left her. She was in the bed, under the blankets, staring straight out into nothing. She didn't appear to have really moved, and he couldn't tell if she'd slept. He was going to bet not, given the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor to her features. Unfortunately, they'd had to place her in the strongest part of Diamond, and that meant that she was more or less in a heavily warded cell. Aaron had no issue going in or out, but he was the only one who really could. Anyone else would've gotten something that would have offered lasting damage - and that was the point. Deja wasn't trying to get out, either. She was, on some level, aware of where she was. The room was large, well-lit, and offered a clear viewing window where she could communicate with people outside of it clearly if she needed to.

"Hey Dej," he said softly. He set his notebook down on the table next to the bed and crouched in front of her, reaching a hand up to brush some of her hair from her face. "Still catatonic today, eh?" He wasn't shocked when she didn't give him any visual response. Could she even hear him? He tilted his head a little, checking her eyes more carefully. No, her pupils still dilated and contracted, so at least she had some functions. And, of course, she was breathing. It was like she'd just shut down all of her exterior mechanisms and retreated into her head. Lights were on, but nobody was home.

"Got pretty far today, I think I'm mostly up to speed on everything. Eithne wanted you to know that they are working hard to ensure this place is safe, okay?" He glanced up and around, always paranoid he'd find someone standing on the other side of the glass. "Not really a fan of your new aquarium setup, though," he admitted with a wry chuckle. "But it's the best they've got." When she was still not responsive, he sighed, and patted her hand a little.

"We're gonna figure it out, okay? Just a matter of time. Get some sleep," he advised. "I'll come back and check in you again in a while."

Deja had finally been unable to resist that sleep for much longer, and after Aaron left, she lay, thinking of all manner of things, until she slowly drifted into the great big nothing of her consciousness.

She had no idea how much time had passed when she awoke to a sensation that she was not alone.

"How long do you think you can hide?" Taranis asked softly. He was standing there, bent at the waist, with his hands behind his back. His face was right at her ear; she could smell the scent of dried leaves and coldness on him, and feel the warmth of his body. "And how long do you think you can hide him?" he asked. He smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile.

Deja tried to scream, but nothing came out. She found instead that she was completely paralyzed; she commanded her body to move, but it did not obey, instead leaving her there, motionless, prey for Taranis. She couldn't even turn her head, but she could see the figure of him in the dark, somehow darker against it. It was like the floors of his keep; shadows so dark that they ate the darkness up around them.

Suddenly, her eyes popped opens and she lurched forward, gasping for breath. Quickly, she clawed at the bed, getting up and out of it. Her body was sore and stiff and hard to control as she came out of the sleep paralysis nightmare, and she felt like she was swimming as she ran across the floor and to the glass. Her heart was racing, and she felt like she'd been screaming for years. Why was she hyperventilating? She was in a state of complete chaos and confusion, but the fear still rode her blood, and she began banging on the glass, screaming for anyone who could hear her.

She didn't recognize who responded, but she was still wild with adrenaline. "Get me a vampire, now!" she yelled, hitting the glass with her fist for emphasis. The hunter turned and ran out of the room, and Deja's hand slid off the glass with a sound. She began to pace, a tiger trapped in a cage, unsure if it was fear or rage that propelled her. She was so tired she could barely think; her mind was nothing but fog, and yet? She knew one thing very, very clearly.

The door to the main area opened again and the vampire she'd demanded walked in. Taro. She recognized him.

"Taro," she said, running to the glass.

He looked confused, but he didn't bother with the niceties. "What do you need?" he asked. He was aware of the situation, and he didn't want any part of it. By virtue of him being here, he was going to become part of it, and he didn't like that.

"I need you to find Alexander," she said. She didn't give him a last name, and she didn't have to, honestly. "Tell him - " she paused, leaning back a little to try and corral her madness into a single conscious effort. "Tell him he knows."

The look on Taro's face said everything. "He knows? That's it? That's kind vague, Deja," he told her, his hands up.

She hit the glass with her fist again, and though Taro didn't jump, she did have his attention. "Tell him that. Tell him I sent you. You need to go as quickly as possible, and don't - don't come back here right away. Go, I don't know, go to fucking Paris or something for a day or two. Just - tell him, would you please tell him?"

Deja really hit a full range of emotions there. She went from demanding to anger to pleading, and something told Taro that he didn't want to stand around and witness any more of that. He held his hand up again. "Alright. Consider it done," he said. He turned and walked out, shaking his head as he did so. He couldn't even teleport from inside the goddamn room there was so much magic in there. Honestly it was suffocating.

She turned and sat down on the floor under the glass, knees folded up to her chest. She'd never had a night terror like that before. Had he really been able to reach her in here? Or was it her own mind, betraying her? She didn't know. She heard Aaron's voice in the hall, and was mixed with fear and relief that he was coming to her. What was she going to do?