| Logs |
2006 September 08
| Law |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: Law Logs |
Difficult Decisions.
Phoenix, AZ, late September 1978
The evening air is still warm, but without the painful heat that baked the city at noon. The weather makes a motorcyle ride downright pleasant, even if the surroundings are less than ideal. The warehouse and industrial district where the business is has a few corner skulkers and a few obvious ladies of the night. But it's not known for violence.
Shateishael is enjoying himself, savoring the cool passing wind, the quiet roar and power of the bike under him, and the feel of his vessel's muscles shifting and reacting in order to manage his bike. It's not quite as nice as a ride with Aletheia, but his well-maintained old BMW is an acceptable substitute.
One section of warehouses is darker than those surrounding it, the street lights and even the lights on the buildings are only half-working. The shadows between one warehouse and the small factory next door are so deep that they seem almost to be alive, but sound escapes quite easily and a woman scream pierces the gloom.
Shateishael's head jerks around. A moment later the bike spins back and roars down the alleyway -- Slate couldn't ignore that clear a call for help if he wanted to! He studies the shadows warily as he slowly drives forward. He leaves his reflective faceplate down -- a motorcycle helmet makes good armor in a pinch.
The Symphony is as calm as it ever is in this neighborhood, the universe's music sounding only slightly out of time, and that can be attributed to the way the humans around here tend to treat one another. Once he's down the alley, he can see a large male figure half hidden behind a Dumpster, struggling with someone. And that scream comes again, accompanied by a glimpseof a much smaller arm as it flies up, nails scoring the man's stubbled cheek.
Shateishael glances around warily, checking to see if there's anyone else around as the bike rumbles closer. Looks clear... so he brings the bike to a halt and puts his boots down. His voice is sharp and clear, to draw attention to himself and away from the smaller person. "Hey!" He's not even sure this is a real fight yet, or just an unpleasant 'domestic violence' scenario.
The shout doesn't even faze the man, who pulls back one hand, curling it into a fist before smashing it forward again. There's the solid thud of a punch striking home and Slate can hear a grunt before the woman shrieks, "No! Leave!" And as she screams it, there's a ripple in the Symphony and a brick comes hurtling toward the thug's temple. He jerks his head and snarls as the brick flies past his head, missing by a matter of centimeters, "Oh, you are going to regret that, whore!"
Shateishael's eyebrow goes up, and he grins. Looks like he can get involved in this now! He hastily turns off the bike, jumps off, and strides over, reaching to hook an arm around the attacker's neck.
The unexpected intervention seems to just enrage the man further and he tries to rip Slate's arm from around his neck, "That was stupid, boy." He's got a heavy drawl, and the last word comes out like the vilest of insults. The woman uses the distraction to scramble to her feet, but she doesn't try to run away, "Jesus! Don't you know what's good for you?" She snarls at Slate.
Shateishael grins but says nothing -- he'd be almost incomprehensible behind the helmet anyway. He's pleased to hear the woman say that, though -- that means she's likely an angel. He gives a sharp, violent, and damaging yank with his arm on the demon's neck -- it must be a demon, to be attacking an angel, after all.
It proves itself to be a Celestial of some sort just a moment later. A howl of rage escapes its throat as he rakes at Slate's arm around his neck and the Symphony is split by a huge disturbance as claws erupt from its fingertips, trying to rip through the big Seraph's jacket. nThe demon's claws scrabble at the leather of Slate's jacket, just barely piercing through to the flesh underneath, leaving just enough of a score to be felt. While her assailant is distracted, the woman picks up the brick she tried to use earlier and swings it at the big male's head again, this time using main force.
The brick not only contacts the big demon's temple, there is a sickening crunch as it shatters bone and caves in the temple of his Vessel. The roaring and clawing abruptly ceases as the thug goes abruptly limp in Slate's grip.
Shateishael blinks, rather surprised at the effectiveness of the blow... but he's warrior enough to make sure to snap the neck before dropping the body. He studies the woman curiously... then nods once politely. "Ma'am. You all right?"
When her attacker collapses, the woman flops back against the wall she'd been trapped against before, sliding to the ground with a relieved groan. The look she gives Slate is pure venom, "You, sir, are the stupidest son of a bitch I think I've ever met." She pushes her hair out of her face, revealing some rather spectacular bruises forming on pale skin, "Do you have any idea what he could have done to you?"
Shateishael grins, "I'll take that as a 'yes, thank you' then." He studies the sleeve of his jacket, then nods. It'll mend. He looks up at the woman and adds amusedly, "Need a lift anywhere, or are you having fun yelling at me and braining demons?"
Shateishael flips up the reflective faceplate, once again curiously studying the woman. He wonders what Choir she's from.
Slate: big human male; looks about 20 to 25 years old; bright blonde hair tied back in a long, shaggy ponytail. Slightly sardonic grin most of the time; narrowed, sharply blue eyes and heavily tanned skin. Broad shouldered, with the strong, muscular arms and torso of a blacksmith. Moves deliberately, tends to wear pragmatic, sturdy clothing: heavy leather boots, jeans, flannel
shirts if he must, stuff like that.
She blinks at the big blonde, his casual comment making her re-evaluate her rescuer, "If you think I was having fun trying to keep from getting my head ripped off, you've got a twisted view of the world, mister." She grunts as she pushes back to her feet, scooping up an oversized canvas duffel, "And the only place I want to get is out of the city."
Shateishael nods amiably, "All right, I can do that." He turns back to his bike, adding, "Bus or airport? And what did you do to attract his attention?" He flips down the faceplate, starts up the bike, and sits with his booted feet on the ground to steady it for her when she mounts up.
Shateishael considers a moment, then leans and opens one of the saddlebags, "Hey, gimme the brick, wouldja?"
It takes her a moment to decide to accept the ride, but she eventually shrugs to herself and grabs the brick, dumping it into the saddlebag. She secures the duffel over her shoulders as best she can and mounts the bike behind Slate, putting her hands on his waist, "Don't happen to know any local caves, do you?" She glances over at the fallen body of the demon, "I told his boss no. He didn't like my answer."
A moment later, she adds, "I'm Bella, by the way."
Shaeishael hands her a helmet, showing her the mike so they can talk easily while riding. Once she's got it on he starts the bike forward slowly, testing to see how good her balance is. "Sure, what kinda cave you need? Call me Slate. Pleasure to meet you."
Bella pulls her feet up and seems to know how to lean to help the bike balance, "The deep and isolated kind." She says into the microphone in the helmet, "His boss has just a few too many eyes around here right now."
Shateishael chuckles, "Okay. On our way." He heads the bike in a slightly different direction, adding, "Who was his boss? And... who's yours?"
Shateishael disconnects the mike for a moment from the other helmet in order to call the house. He'll ask Rosie to call his business appointment and tell the guy something came up and Slate will have to reschedule.
Bella scoots just a little closer to Slate's back, arms sliding around his waist more securely as the bike picks up a little speed. "His boss is a big bad critter with a taste for fighting. Mine, she's not exactly the violent type."
Shateishael shifts slightly to accommodate the woman, without really thinking about it, and re-connects the mike, "Hm... War? Shoot, woman, why's War pestering one of..." His voice trails off as he thinks about that.
A moment later he says slowly, "Do you know who my boss is?"
Shateishael keeps the bike steady on the highway, considering. He's not going to be pleased if he's got a demon at his back! Although, he wryly notes, he kinda brought it on himself by not checking first... no, wait. She could be one of Novalis's flower children.
Bella shakes her head, then realizes that Slate can't see it and says into the mike, "Not the slightest clue. Right now, all I know is...." She sighs as she says it, "I think I owe you one."
Shateishael rumbles automatically, "Don't sweat it, girl." He's silent a moment, then smiles, taking a guess, "You're only the second Lilim I've met."
When her offer of a Favor owed is brushed off, Slate can feel the girl relax against his back, only to feel her jerk to attention again. She may have no clue who his boss is, but only a Celestial would have stepped in like that, "Fuck..." she mutters almost too quietly to be heard even over the mic, "Uhm... maybe you ought to just let me off at the Greyhound station..."
Shateishael leans slightly into the tug of the wind as the bike roars effortlessly down the highway, enjoying the feeling of power. He laughs at her words, then says cheerfully, "Why? If I were gonna kill you I'd have done it already, right? Uh, wait... I guess that's not really reassuring, is it. Lemme think." He considers a moment, then adds, "How's this? You don't attack me, I won't attack you. Better?"
She doesn't answer for several long minutes, saying eventually, "You're one of Stone's people, aren't you?" The tension is still there in her body, but her tone of voice is thoughtful. She knows enough to realize that if she doesn't start anything that Slate won't be able to harm her. Not directly.
Shateishael says, "Yep! You want caves, you came to the right guy." He chuckles again, adding, "Would be polite to tell you up front, I think, that I'll get real cranky if you try one of those geas things on me, though." He thinks that's the politest way he knows to tell her he'll consider a geas an attack. He grins to himself, wondering how she'll react.
Bella smirks to herself slightly, "I may be stubborn, but stupid I'm not." She takes a deep breath, "Truce, then. I won't try to get you to promise me anything, and you won't turn me into hamburger." Her body fits back against Slate's back, relaxing into the movement of the bike and letting herself just enjoy the feeling of freedom riding in the desert gives. Eventually, she does say, "Baal. His boss was Baal. I owed him a Favor. But I couldn't do it."
"I guess I technically still owe him a favor.. but I have this feeling that he'd rather have me dead than helping him out right now."
Shateishael nods, "Truce it is." He's silent a moment, then says slowly, "What was it, if you don't mind my askin'? Was it something he's likely to try tracking... ah, got it."
Shateishael thinks a moment, then curiously says, "What can't Lilim do?"
Bella turns her head to the side and rests it between Slate's shoulders, taking a deep breath, "One of his Servants defected. I was supposed to lead a couple of Calabim to him. I couldn't. The guy's dying. Cancer. Eating his guts. Couldn't do it."
Shateishael murmurs softly, "Holy crow. Why don't they just heal him if they want him as a Servant? What good are Calabim for that?"
She snorts bitter laughter, "He doesn't want him back. He wants him hurt. He turned on Baal and fucked up some big plan he had for some cathedral out east. Then he ran. I found him here."
Shateishael says, "Oh. Wait, I'm thinking the wrong way for a demon, aren't I? The Calabim were for punishment for defecting, right?" He's silent a moment, then adds, "Di-" He falls silent, considering... then nods, "You helped the Servant hide? Does he need more help?"
Slate can feel her shake her head no, "I didn't help him hide. I'm just not telling Baal where he's at. He'll be dead in days, anyway. But I couldn't turn him over the Baal's thugs." She shudders and involuntarily hugs the Seraph around the waist.
Shateishael reaches down with one gloved hand and gently pats the woman's hands, where they're clasped around his waist, "Hey, you did good. But won't he be in Hell once he dies? Tell me where he's hidden, and I can send some folks out that can help him, and maybe we can help him avoid Baal entirely."
There's another shake of Bella's head, "No. That Calabite will go back to Baal. You'll be in enough danger for helping me get away. The Servant converted... Baal isn't going to be able to touch his soul. That's why he wants his body."
Shateishael blinks, "Whoa, he converted?! That took guts. Good for him." He's grins then, adding, "How'm I gonna be in trouble, girl? Far as I know Calabites still can't read the past or see behind them. He never looked at me."
Shateishael grins again, adding, "Unless you tell him."
Bella takes another deep breath, "I'm not likely to tell him. I want to stay away from him and his ilk. I'm just lucky I'm too young to be very caught up yet."
Shateishael says, "How do you mean 'too young'?"
Bella says, "I mean too young. I still owe Lilith a lot, but I've only got a few other obligations. Most of my sisters have enough Promises holding them that they'll never get untangled."
Shateishael chuckles, "Well, why not get out while you're ahead, girl? Redeem and quit worrying about that Calabite, 'cause of having backup. It worked for the Servant, after all."
Shateishael wonders idly if she'll laugh in his face (metaphorically speaking), or if she'll be at all receptive to the idea.
Bella snorts, "Not that easy, big guy. I may only have a few Favors out there, but they are still out there and they can hurt me even if I do have back-up."
Shateishael shrugs easily, "Well, as I understand it they have to tell you to your face to force the geas on you, yeah? So... don't let 'em get near." He pauses, then adds, "Hey, I forgot to check -- you take any damage aside from that punch to the face I saw?"
There's silence for a few minutes as the Lilim considers that. Ignoring the first part, she answers the second, "He was just getting started. You missed him telling me he was going to give me plenty of time to regret telling his boss no."
Shateishael nods, "Okay, good -- you're not gonna collapse on me or anything." He grins, adding, "Tough to catch someone behind me on the bike. So, how bad you want to be free, girl? Only other Lilim I've met was a Bright who chose to be remade by her Archangel rather than leave old Favors chaining her to Hell." He smiles, adding quietly, "She's free now. Good folks, too."
There's more silence as she considers that. Freedom is very nearly a magic word with any of the Lilim. Lilith herself is the Princess of Freedom, after all. "I have to think about it, Slate." Her voice is quiet, serious and very pensive.
Shateishael nods, "S'cool. We're about to the caves."
Shateishael whirls the bike smoothly down an exit ramp, and some 30 or so minutes later they're picking their way slowly and bumpily down a dirt road. Slate explains, "There's a cave in this upcoming canyon. You have to crawl in, but in about 20 or so feet you can stand up and walk in a ways. Unless you have the tools for it, though, don't go exploring past the first big room you find. You can get lost in the maze, and some of the tunnels drop abruptly -- you can break your neck if you're not careful."
Shateishael adds, "Whatcha got in the duffel? Any good camping gear?"
The laugh this time isn't bitter, just amused and it's a rather nice laugh, "Oh, you're funny. Makeup I've got, camping gear I'm a little short on." Bella takes a deep breath, "I'll be OK for a day or two, though. It's not like I'm going to expire of exposure."
Shateishael says bemusedly, "You stuffed your duffel full... of makeup?!"
Shateishael adds perplexedly, "How much can one woman wear?!"
Bella laughs again, even more amused, "It was a figure of speech, man. It's clothes and money and a couple of little special items. And as to how much one woman can wear, you have obviously never been around strippers."
Shateishael says, "Oh, got it." He considers a moment, then grins, "Strippers -- no, sorry. Couple of two-spirits, yes, though. Does that count?"
The Lilim blinks at that, "Two-spirits?" She asks, taking her turn at sounding perplexed.
Shateishael considers, adding, "Been to a Cyprians' house too." He chuckles, explaining, "Men with women's spirits in them. They're often shamans. Er, were." There is a hint of bitterness at the word 'were.'
Bella nods, "Usually that's called a drag queen around here." She lapses into silence, feeling her Vessel ache from the beating.
Shateishael shakes his head, "Um... don't think that's quite the same. Two spirits were respected, and from what I've heard drag queens aren't, in this culture." He finally slows and stops the bike, ending the interminable jouncing on the rutty path. In the sudden silence he pulls off his helmet and listens carefully for any pursuit. He looks around as well, in the dim twilight.
No one seems to be following. At least no one that can be seen or heard. Bella climbs off the bike and drops the duffel on the ground, stretching with a little groan. There's a sound of her back crackling, vertebrae realigning.
Shateishael swings off the bike and easily shoulders the duffel, then pushes the bike behind some large boulders. He climbs up some scree and looks back, holding out a hand, "C'mon, Bella. Almost there -- you can rest once you're hidden."
Shateishael leaves both helmets on the bike.
Bella nods and takes the offered hand. She was intelligent enough to put on hiking boots before she started her run from Baal's heavies. The climb taxes her a little, nonetheless, "Rest sounds good. Quiet and alone sounds even better."
Shateishael chuckles quietly, "Well, this is the most hidden cave I know of." He helps her along, arouund behind some sheltering outcroppings, and leads her into a low cave mouth. They have to crawl on all fours for a short while (Slate pushing the duffel ahead of him), then emerge into a pitch black opening. Slate guides Bella in by touch, settling her next to him and making sure she's got one hand on the duffel so she knows where it is.
Shateishael pulls a tiny flashlight from his pocket. A moment later the faint light shows Bella a small half-sphere of a cave with perhaps a 10' radius. He sets the flashlight down so the light aims upward, then rumbles quietly, "Okay, let's have a look at you." He reaches for her chin, to examine her bruised face.
Bella lets her face be examined, actually grinning a little bit. Being touched is something she's used to and she's not afraid of Slate, knowing he can't hurt her, "It's nothing a little rest and some Essence won't cure." The bruises say that the Calabite had been wanting to make her ugly as well as hurt her.
Shateishael frowns thoughtfully, checking carefully, then nods, sitting back. "Yeah, you should be fine. Okay. You got anything warmer in that duffel, or is this T-shirt and jeans the warmest clothes you got?"
Shateishael amends, "Warmest practical clothes?"
Bella nods and opens the duffel, digging around in it, "I've got a couple of sweatshirts in here." The deep brown of her hair looks black in the dim light, but the green of her eyes is faintly visible. She looks like she's taken decent care of the vessel, keeping it in athletic shape. The Lilim looks like she could either look like the girl next door or something more suited to a street corner. She's attractive without being stunning. There's something almost unfinished about her.
Shateishael nods, "Okay, good; I won't leave my jacket then. You need anything else? Want me to come back in a day or two and give you a lift into town?"
Shateishael pushes his bangs out of his face and grins ruefully to himself. How's he going to explain this to Thea and Elli?
Bella nods and smiles quietly, "Please. By then, I might have a real idea where to go."
Shateishael nods, "'kay." He considers a bit, then shakes his head, "Dunno what to tell you if trouble shows up." He thinks a bit, then pulls out a business card, "Here. Worst comes to worst, you can turn up here for help -- that's where I live. Don't go annoucing what you are unless you want a Malakite glaring at you, though -- consider this a last resort thing, y'know?"
The girl takes the card and tucks it into the back pocket of her jeans, "I'm not eager to meet any Malakim. I've seen what happens if you run afoul of them."
Shateishael chuckles, "Hey, ain't nothin' better at your back in a fight, if you can't find Stone to stand with you." He grins cheerfully -- almost teasingly -- then adds, "'kay, I'm off then. See you in about two days, Allah willing."
Bella nods and starts pulling out sweatshirts to keep herself warm.
Shateishael sighs quietly as he turns onto the property about an hour later. His bike's headlight illuminates several white clumps near the drive -- sleeping geese, he knows, and the best and most territorial guards one could ever want, even better than the dogs. He pets them, ruffling their ears as he paces into the house. "Yo, anyone home?"
Shateishael sheds leathers, then boots, then everything down to jeans, padding silently around the house contentedly barefoot as he helps himself to some of Rosie's marvelous lasagna.
Elisheba wanders into the livingroom a moment after the boots hit the floor. She grins quietly to Slate, fresh out of the shower and dressed for the evening's shift at Fat Charlie's. "How's the bad old world?"
Shateishael grins, rumbling around a mouthful, "Improving -- Rosie made lasagna again!" He finishes the bite, then adds happily, "Helped off a Calabite tonight -- that was satisfying -- and got the stone used to beat the demon to death as well. The Architect likes that kinda thing."
Shateishael says, "How 'bout you?"
Elisheba nods. "Well, the late shift at Fat Charlie's. One never knows what will turn up of an evening in that bar. And offing a Calabite sounds like a great way to start off the evening. What was he up to in town?"
Shateishael says, "Tryin' to beat the crap outta a Lilim for refusing him a favor. Apparently there's a Servant of Baal who's about to die from cancer, who converted -- more power to him -- and she wasn't going to tell the Calabite where to find the Servant." He grins, his blue eyes dancing, "Might bring her here in a few days, Elli -- I think she might Redeem!""
Elisheba winces. "She might redeem?" She pauses, and takes a deep breath, one of the cleansing variety. "What is it that makes you think she'd change sides?"
Shateishael grins at Elisheba again, "Oh, c'mon, girl! I'm Stone -- of course I'm gonna hold out Freedom to her if she Redeems!"
Elisheba flicks her eyes to the heavens a moment, then, "And what makes you so sure she'll come over?"
Shateishael smiles serenely, "I'm not sure. I'm giving her the space to realize it's the smart thing to do. She's not hopeless yet, Elli -- we can still say a prayer for her."
Elisheba drums her fingers, considering. "And send her back to Hell to reconsider if she doesn't decide to change?"
Shateishael says, "Maybe. Depends on what happens, Elli. You know that." He has a bit more lasagna, then cheerfully adds, "Want someone else at Fat Charlie's tonight again, or are you gonna keep all the fun to yourself?"
Elisheba looks a bit relieved at the change of subject. She looks up to Slate and grins, "Now, when have I ever been greedy about pounding demons and keeping the righteous safe in their skins? Finish your dinner, then kit up, I'm leaving shortly."
Shateishael laughs, then shovels the rest of the lasagna into his mouth with a cheerful disdain for table manners that would leave Rosenstern shuddering! He chews madly as he collects up enough clothing to be presentable at the bar, ending up ready enough as Elisheba's about to leave.
Elisheba doesn't hurry too much, not wanting Slate to choke. She collects a bat from the side of the door, and tucks a few goodies into her pockets for the more determinedly rambunctious. With a final check on her fade, she tucks in her work shirt and leaves the house, straddling her motorcycle, she fires it up, waiting for Slate to be ready to go.
Moments later Slate kicks his bike into life, and the two angels roar off for Fat Charlie's.
[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]