Law -- Logs

Bella comes out to the forge one day after checking the mailbox. She looks slightly perplexed as she examines a heavy parchment envelope that has been lettered in a very carefully legible calligraphy. There's no return address. It's addressed to Slate and is sealed with a heavy seal of actual red sealing wax. "Lover... you've got..." She turns the envelope back and forth as if trying to decide what might be in it, "Mail. Of some kind..."

Shateishael pauses in his hammering to look up and smile at Bella... then an eyebrow raises at the envelope. "Mmhmm, tha's diff'rent..." He looks down at his sweaty vessel and leather-gloved hands -- hammer in one and the other firmly holding the clamp for the molten metal he's working -- then he looks up at Bella again and grins ruefully, "Dunno who it's from, sweetheart, but c'd I trouble ya t'open it f'me? Don' wanna get sumpin' tha' nice all icky." He adds curiously, "Wha' name'd they use?" He ponders as he sets down the hammer and settles the molten bar back in the forge, then strips off the battered leather gloves and the old, spark-scarred leather apron. He sighs, pulling off the twisted bandana he'd been using as a headband to hold back his bright gold hair, then wipes his forehead with the back of his forearm. "Wouldn' be from David -- he'd jus' summon me." He sounds a touch perplexed, "Maybe... Novalis?"

The Bright peers at it, "Uhm... they used just Slate." She shows him the seal, which is a Celtic knotwork animal of some sort, before she breaks it to open the envelope. Another sheet of parchment is inside. She smiles at the thought, "She could just send you a message, I think. She's sent Rosie messages by singing Tongues..."

Shateishael studies the knotwork animal curiously, carefully not touching it with his sweaty hands, trying to figure out what it is while he waits for Bella to read to him. He huhs puzzledly, "Maybe jus' from 'nother angel then? 'R-" he blinks, then laughs, "Could it be from Gaelach?!" He mutters amusedly, "Formal 'nuff f'him..." Then he pauses, looking around, "Whut time a' year is it? He still Thorne, 'r's he Gaelach 'gain yet?"

Bella unfolds the letter inside and starts reading, "Shatei..." She blinks as she realizes the letter is addressed to Slate's True Name, but then continues on, "Shateishael: I have a prospect to discuss with you that would benefit us both. Please call at your earliest convenience. I enclose my card. Affectionately..." She stops, blinking mutely at the signature.

Shateishael nods at his True Name, rumbling amusedly, "'Nother angel... then...?" His voice trails off inquiringly at Bella's sudden silence. "Um... lover? Sumpin'?"

The Bright is already digging into the envelope, muttering, "Oh. Oh, no you don't..."

Shateishael looks puzzled, but wipes his hands on the bandana as he steps around the anvil, "Whussup?" The letter's signature is in a large, elaborate calligraphy. The writer has used her formal name. Lilith, Princess of Freedom. There is another seal beneath it, this a picture of an apple. Shateishael gets a startled look, studying it for a while... then he looks at Bella confusedly, "This a joke, sweetheart?"

Bella pulls out a tastefully done business card that simply states a name: Lilith, and a ten-digit phone number, "No, it's not a fucking joke." There's more venom in her voice than Slate has probably ever heard.

Shateishael frowns thoughtfully, slowly sinking down onto one of the big chunks of wood he has scattered around the front of the forge for seats. He pats it absently, "Uhm... 'kay, why don'tcha c'mere 'n siddown wi'me, 'n tell me whussup here, please? 'M not sure whut she's up to, 'n I c'd really use y'r help in this, beautiful?"

Bella takes a deep breath and shakes her head, "I think I want to stand right now, love." She turns the letter over and examines the back of it as if looking for some secret message, "Well, let's see. She's using your True Name, and she's saying she has something that could be mutually beneficial. Slate, she's going to offer you a deal of some sort."

Shateishael nods a bit glumly, "She got m'Name when I looked at her, once't." He sighs, resting his chin on one fist, and his elbow on his knee, "So, 's it smartest t'jus' turn her down p'litely, 'r not call 'tall?"

The Bright shakes her head, "No. No fucking way am I going to let her get to you." She spins on her heel and heads toward the forge itself, looking like she's starting to tear the letter up.

Shateishael blinks, then rises worriedly, "Uhm, sweetheart? Whut'cha doin'?" He's not sure whether to intervene or not -- "Bellisima, don' want'cha t'get inta trouble 'r nuthin'...?"

Bella spins around again and holds the half-torn letter and the card up, "I'm going to tear these into little bitty bits and throw them in the fire and we're going to do our best to pretend this letter never came to us." Her voice sounds angry, but the expression in her eyes is more heavily laced with fear.

Shateishael steps forward, putting an arm around Bella and lightly twitching the paperwork out of her fingers, dropping it behind him without looking -- he's more worried about Bella just now. He hugs her gently close, rumbling quietly to her, "Sweetheart, why're y'so scared? Tell me, please?"

Bella wraps her arms tightly around Slate and presses her face against him, "Because I can deal with her having a hold over me, but I don't want her deciding she needs you too." Her voice is a little muffled, "Saying you're going to turn her down is easy right now, but if she looked close enough to get your name, she's got something she knows you need. That makes even talking to her dangerous, love."

Shateishael sighs quietly, then gently strokes Bella's back as he rumbles calmingly to her, "Awright then, sweetheart, I won' call 'er. 'S okay... jus' r'lax, 'kay, lover? 'S okay..."

Bella relaxes slightly and nods, taking a deep breath. She's still shaking just a little bit, "I'm just... scared for you."

Shateishael softly kisses the top of Bella's head, smiling, "Don' worry 'bout me, sweetheart... I'll do m'best t'continue persuadin' y'r mom I'm dull 'n borin'." He continues to hold Bella close and gently stroke her back until she's not shaking any more. It takes a while for Bella to relax enough to pull away from Slate and even longer for her to want to leave him alone at the forge. Shateishael is happy to cuddle Bella until she feels better -- he feels a bit guilty himself for doing, however indirectly, something that scared her so. There's nothing in progress just now in the forge which he considers more important than making sure his beloved is relaxed again... he's in no rush.

Eventually Bella does wander off, after giving Slate a kiss that seems designed to melt his knees into goo. Shateishael sighs after she's left, smiling ruefully to himself and taking a moment to pull his head together before he tries playing with molten metal again. Just being around Bella makes him so happy! He grins and has a bucket of cold, fresh water from the well before he heads back into his forge.

Before he can really get started on the metalwork again, Slate's cell phone rings, showing an unfamiliar number -- or at least not one that he has saved with a name in his phone. Shateishael sighs again, wiping his hands off before flipping the phone open. He's already considering his metalwork as he rumbles, "Slate," into the cell.

An amused voice says on the other end of the line, "I just realized that writing was perhaps a little too indirect a way of contacting you."

Shateishael almost drops the phone completely, although he reflexively snatches it out of the air, with a snarled, "Fuck!" He stares at it for a moment, taking several deep breaths... then slowly puts it to his ear again.

Lilith is laughing very quietly, "Mmm, that wasn't what I was going to propose, but I wouldn't be averse to it."

Shateishael is silent a moment, then growls under his breath. At the last moment he bites back on his immediate response. He wonders how she got his cell number... then mentally shrugs that thought away as irrelevant. Instead he takes another deep breath, then rumbles slowly, "Why're you innerested in me? Y'jus' like yankin' Bella's chain, 'r whut?" He can feel the anger starting to slowly build inside, and he's not sure if that's a good thing or not... yet.

There's a smile in the Princess' voice as she answers, "Because, Slate, you're an interesting kind of person. Useful too. And because I have something you want. If you're useful for me, I can give it to you. Part of it, anyway."

Shateishael is silent for a long, long moment, staring off into nothing... then he rumbles quietly, "Don' think so, ma'am. You seem t'like hurtin' folks too much f'my taste... 'n y'r makin' folks I care lot 'bout real unhappy." He stoops to pick up the pieces of paper on the beaten dirt floor of the forge, and tosses them expressionlessly into the forge fire. The flames leap up greedily, and he finds himself suddenly reminded of poor mad Gabriel... "Sorry t'disappoint'cha, ma'am."

Lilith's voice is very serious, "Even if what I'm offering is to erase half of Belofte's remaining geasa?"

Shateishael sighs quietly, sitting down suddenly against the anvil. Finally he speaks again, although his voice is obviously strained, "I... would love t'do that, 'n you damn well know it... but it don' do either a' us much good t'do so if'n we jus' get ourselves tangled up wi'you 'n y'r... machinations... 'n I'm pretty da- nah, I'm fuckin' sure you'll manage t'pull sumpin' on me if'n I agree."

The Princess continues talking, hearing the sigh and hesitation, "She owes me eight favors, Slate. Eight is an awful lot. I'd be willing to release her from four of them. Are you really going to say no, flat no, to that?"

Shateishael snarls in sudden anger, "That ain't flat no, dammit! I jus' don' trust you 'far's I c'n throw you!" He angrily snaps, "Fuck, why'm I even both'rin' t'torture myself talkin' t'you!?" then takes a moment to breath deeply and remind himself not to crush his cell.

Lilith doesn't sound offended at the anger; in fact, she sounds almost impressed, "Not even that far? I suspect there's a lot of strength in your upper body, Slate. And you're doing it because you want to get Belofte's debt paid off. And you know you'd rather do it like this than wonder what I might ask her for."

Shateishael rumbles more calmly, "Dayum. You enjoy turnin' th'knife, 'r is this jus' pr'fessional-" he cuts himself off, growling quietly, "moment..." then sets the phone down with extreme care on his wooden countertop for jewelry. He turns to the forge, draws a breath -- then with both hands grabs hold of the colder end of the molten bar of metal in the fire -- and in one swift motion whirls, swinging it up over his head and slamming it furiously down as hard as he can against the solid, heavy end of the anvil. At the same time he lets loose a roar of blind fury -- and molten metal splatters outward in glowing, arcing droplets, sizzling for only a few seconds as they hit grass and dirt.

Shateishael stands there panting for a moment, trying to pull his head together enough to talk to this vicious wo- thing... then winces as the heat of the metal bar he's holding starts impinging on his consciousness even through his rage. He drops the bar, not looking at his hands as he thrusts them both into the bucket of water he always has nearby. His face is stonily expressionless through the pain... then, a moment later, he straightens and shakes the water off his hands, using an old rag to wipe one of them dry enough to pick up the phone again. His voice is utterly flat, "Talk."

The teasing has left Lilith's voice, leaving a flat, businesslike tone, "I need an escort. I need an escort that will be imposing, impressive, and shocking. You fit the bill better than any other being I could think of."

Shateishael growls quietly, "Right. Whut's th'catch?"

The Princess sounds as if she's starting to smile, "The place is going to be crawling with demons."

Shateishael rolls his eyes and sighs quietly, then rumbles, "You tryin' t'get me killed, 'r whut? 'Th fuck you need wi'a bodyguard, anyway?"

Lilith laughs, "No, I'm not trying to get you killed. If I thought there was a chance of you getting killed, I wouldn't be making this offer. It's mostly going to be stupid little Impudites. I'm there because I have a deal to make with someone very important. A lot of my... contemporaries are going to be watching very closely. If I show up with one of David's Seraphs on my arm, they're going to have to wonder just what kind of hold I have over you or your boss. And it will make them think twice before trying to interfere."

Shateishael growls under his breath again, then sighs, "Y'ever realize th'reason y'r always 'lone 'motionally is on 'ccounta how hard y'work at bein' unlikeable?" He rubs his face with his free hand and sighs again, "Ah, fuckit, not m'problem. Where 'n when." He adds in sudden heat, "An' I got some other thin's I'm gonna need 'fore I 'gree t'this, dammit!"

The Princess chuckles quietly, "No, Slate, I actually work at being likable, but there's not much way to bribe a Seraph and do it nicely. Two weeks. You'll need to wear a tux. I'll pay for it. Tell me what shop in Phoenix and I'll arrange it. I'll get in touch with you with the details of where. We'll have to travel there and I'm going to have to figure out how to do it." Lilith pauses, "What are you going to need?"

Shateishael snorts at Lilith's comment, "Bullshit. Y'ever ask a Seraph? They'd likely tell ya, if'n y'din' have such a rep." He closes his eyes for a moment, snarling, [Focus, dickhead!] internally at himself... then rumbles into the phone, "If'n I get hurt keepin' ya safe, you gonna help out wi'a Song a' Healin' wi'no strings 'ttached? 'N I cain't lie t'no one f'you, 'n that includes any cops that might turn up. You gonna handle that too if'n it happens?" He thinks, then irritably adds, "I want th' geasa b'fore this, too -- don' want Bella t'not get th'benefit a' any good this clusterfuck might bring..." he sounds rather dubious at the possibility of 'any good,' but continues, "'N I'll 'gree t'this if'n y'r willin' t'also 'gree t'uphold th'spirit, not jus' th'word a' our agreement." Bitterly he adds, "Don' doubt 'tall y'already got sumpin' in mind t'try screwin' someone in this 'rrangement over wi'." A second later he blinks, then adds in an appalled tone of voice, "Wait, whut?! A tux?! I dunno how t'wear one a'them!"

Lilith listens to Slate's list of demands, hmming quietly, "I'll agree to Heal you if you need it. I don't expect you to lie, Slate. I don't really expect you to speak much. I expect you to show up looking large, blond, built, and scary. And believe me, the police are not going to be a concern. As for screwing, I think I'd get turned down there, even if I offered to knock another of her geasa off the tally. I'll forgive the geasa when we reach the party. I don't want some emergency getting in the way." At Slate's reaction to the tux she chuckles slightly, "Ask Rosie; I'm certain he can help you get dressed just wonderfully."

Shateishael sighs, laying back on one of the large chunks of wood by the front of the forge and staring up into the ancient oak tree spreading its branches over the small forge. He waits silently for her agreement -- or not -- with his last request, using the time to internally repeat to himself several times how much this will help Bella. Lilith releases her breath with a sigh, "And I agree to abide by the spirit of our original agreement. You escort me to the party. I forgive half of Belofte's remaining geasa."

Shateishael sighs again, closing his eyes and relaxing slightly -- although not completely. He breathes once, twice, taking a moment to pull himself together... then rumbles quietly, "Okay. Thank you." He sighs again, wondering how he's going to tell Bella and Rosie about this... but later. For now, he's got to get his hands healed, and clean up the mess he made. "That it?"

"Good," Lilith responds. "So, we have a deal? You, in a tux, by my side in two weeks. I'll call you back about transportation. You'll call me and let me know what shop to pay for the tux. You might have to look a bit to find one willing to accommodate such a large guy on such short notice."

Shateishael says, "Umm... need y'r number 'gain. Burned th' paperwork b'fore."

Lilith laughs quietly, "I sent a second letter. It should get to you tomorrow. If that doesn't work, check your caller ID. Till then, mon ami." The line goes dead in Slate's hand.

Shateishael grimaces slightly, glancing at the phone with distaste and muttering, "Ain't y'r mon ami, chickie..." Then he sighs again, letting his hand flop down and continuing to stare up at the oak tree above him. Absurdly, the lyrics from a movie he saw once come to mind, [Welp... here's another nice mess you've gotten me into!]

It's about an hour or two later that Slate paces grim-faced into the house, having done his necessary cleaning up in the forge. He's carrying his hands a bit oddly, half curled into fists and slightly tucked behind his back, and Thea's following him with her ears tilted back, halfway between irritation and real anger. Slate calls out, "Rosebud, Bellisima? Y'all gotta moment?"

Rosenstern pokes his head out of the kitchen, blinking and carrying a plate of sandwiches. "I thought you would be done in the forge half an hour ago?" he asks. "Thought you'd gotten caught up in doing something, but... I guess that wasn't it? What's wrong?"

Shateishael settles a bit heavily on the couch, Thea leaning her head over it and swishing her tail vexedly as she half-glares at Slate. Perhaps for the first time ever they see Slate not automatically scritching the ears of the kitty that looks up and purrs sleepily at him... instead he reaches out and expressionlessly strokes its head a touch awkwardly with the back of his hand. "Need t'talk t'you'n Bellisima, Rosebud. Need y'r help on sumpin'... 'n 'm 'fraid y'may not wanna help, but cain't blame y'for it if'n y'd rather not."

Bella has been locked in her work room, but when she comes out her hands aren't clay-spattered like normal. She's looking, in fact, like she's either been drinking or crying -- possibly both. Shateishael glances up tiredly at Bella, then looks stricken at her expression, "'M so sorry, sweetheart. I truly din' know this'd happen." He looks down at his hands, mumbling unhappily, "Guess 'm jus' kinda dense 'bout stuff like this..."

The Bright sits down on the couch with Slate, looking at his hands, and asks quietly, "Did you call her?"

Rosenstern looks between the two, then sets the sandwiches on the table in front of Slate, heading back to the kitchen. "Let me get some water," he says.

Shateishael shakes his head, "Nope. She called me." He tries not to show his hands to the Bright, curling them up a bit so the bloody blisters don't show as much. He hesitates, then tries to put his arms around Bella, both because he doesn't want her to see what he's done to his hands, and because he suspects they both could really use the comfort. Rosenstern listens even from the kitchen, his mind racing with questions about who this 'her' is. Shortly he comes out with glasses and a pitcher of water.

Bella shakes her head, hugging Slate tightly in return, "No. You're not dense. You're just optimistic." When Rosie comes in with the water, she smiles at the Mercurian, "Thank you, love."

Shateishael sighs in relief that Bella's not angry with him, and hugs her tightly, resting his cheek against her head for a moment. He also smiles ruefully at Rosenstern, not moving yet as he rumbles, "Um... c'n I ask a favor, pretty flow'r? Need a bit a' Healin' on m'hands?"

Rosenstern smiles to Bella, then nods to Slate. "Of course, Slate. It's not often you get a scratch or a bruise on your hand. Let me see them." He holds out his hands to take Slate's in his.

Shateishael is hugging Bella a bit oddly, not touching her with his hands at all. He considers... then carefully disengages from Bella and holds his hands out, palms down, to Rosie. Bella blinks and tries to turn one of Slate's hands over. The fact that he's being so careful not to show his palms is making the Bright just a little nervous. Rosenstern, if Slate doesn't turn his hands up, will turn his hands palm-up for him once he takes Slate's hands. Shateishael mutters uncomfortably, "Uhm, you guys don' really wann-ah!" He winces sharply as some of the more sensitive bits of damage get accidentally touched by his lovers' fingers.

Rosenstern blinks, glancing at his hand and seeing... blood? What the...? "Slate, what the heck- oh my god! Slate, these are second-degree burns!" Bella winces and automatically gets up to go after something to clean up the blood. Rosie can heal the flesh, but the blood that's already escaped doesn't go away.

Shateishael looks away guiltily, reflexively starting to lift one hand to rub the back of his head in embarrassment -- then checking himself as he remembers that'd be a bad idea. "Um. I, uh... burned m'self..." He pauses, then adds with bleak amusement, "Okay, I know that wuz dumb." He sighs, hunching his shoulders, "I, uh, kinda lost m'temper at Lilith, 'n she wuzn't t'hand... so I, um, grabbed piece 'a hot metal..." He looks away again, mumbling, "Sorry t'bother ya wi'this..." and Rosie can feel some of Slate's Essence flow to him.

Rosenstern sings the Song of Healing quietly. "Don't worry about it, love," he says gently. Shortly, Slate's wounds are healed though his hands are still a bit of a bloody mess. "You seemed to get along decently well with Lilith at Burning Man."

Shateishael snarls at Rosie's comment about getting along with Lilith, then mutters under his breath, "Sorry, sweetheart... ain't pissed at you..."

Bella returns with hot washcloths, offering one to Slate and one to Rosie, who doubtless got a little of Slate's blood on his hands during the Singing, "She didn't want to make a deal with him at Burning Man."

Shateishael sighs, looking tiredly at both lovers as he cleans his hands up, then rumbles, "I wanna be sure y'both know whut's up, 'cause I don' wan' either a' ya t'get caught unawares. That okay wi'y'all?" Bella is looking wary, but mostly seems concerned about Slate after seeing his hands. She licks her lips nervously and just nods, holding her breath without even thinking about it. She knows Lilith, and some very nasty scenarios are running through her head. Rosenstern nods slowly as he wipes his hands with the cloth. He looks a little wary, but more worried than anything.

Shateishael sighs again, curling his hands open and closed into fists as he works them to get the tension out of them now they're healed. "She..." he pauses, then puts his arms around Bella again before continuing, "She offered t'trade half a' Bellisima's geasa f'me 'scortin' her t'some kinda formal shindig she's goin' to." He looks guilty again, but continues, "I... if'n y'r willin', 'm gonna need y'all's help. 'Pparently I need a tux, 'n I dunno 'bout gettin' one 'r how t'wear it 'r nuthin'."

Rosenstern's voice drops. "What kind of formal thing? Why would she need a Most Holy to go with her?" He pauses. "Why in the world a tux?"

Bella stiffens in the hug, breath catching, "Fuck. The fucking goddamn nerve of her!" She's starting to shake a little, taking a couple of breaths. "Fuck," she says again, rather eloquently.

Shateishael bites his lip, trying to remember the conversation clearly through the haze of rage and pain he'd been in, "She's makin' some kinda deal wi'someone, 'n wanted one a' David's Seraphim there t'cause 'em t' do a double take, I think... dunno why it's so formal, but she said she'd pay f'th'tux, 'n 'pparently there's some kinda transportation... uh, stuff she's gotta work out..." He gives Bella a faintly startled look, then reflexively starts gently stroking her back, "Whut, sweetheart? This sumpin' she does 'lot?"

Rosenstern makes a quiet sound. "There's a place that'll do custom tailoring of tuxedos -- that's the only way you'd get one in your size. And you'd... well, Lilith rather -- will be paying out the nose for it. Which is some small comfort."

Bella laughs shakily, "It's all she ever does. She gathers up information and then she figures out when she can use it to ream someone to her best advantage." She laughs again and nods tiredly, "It's about all she ever does when she's not just off amusing herself."

Shateishael listens silently to both his lovers, then nods once to Rosenstern, "C'n you 'rrange f'them t'make one f'me then, sweetheart?" He muses quietly, after Bella's finished speaking, "Wonder why she insists she works hard at bein' likeable then, if'n all she ever does is ream folks 'r play wi' 'em?"

Bella snorts through her nose, "I say you get the most expensive thing you can, and since it's my geasa that got you into this, it's only fair I help." She stomps one foot on the floor suddenly and says again, "Fuck! She's not fucking supposed to use my fucking geasa on someone else!" The Bright seems mightily offended by this.

Rosenstern says wryly to Bella, "If he wants a custom-tailored tuxedo in less than two weeks, that'll be really expensive, plus some."

Shateishael looks puzzled, "She's not? Y'all got rules 'bout this're sumpin'?" He looks suddenly wary, "Uhhh... help how, Bellisima?"

Bella shakes her head, "No, no rules. It just doesn't seem fair, does it? I'm the one all geased up and you're the one playing arm-candy."

Shateishael nods to Rosenstern, "'At's whut I need, please, Rosebud? Lemme know if'n there's anythin' I need t'do, 'kay? Cain't be that much to it, right?" He grins a bit ruefully at Bella, adding, "Um... she noted f'her fairness, though, sweetheart?"

The Bright actually looks a little sheepish at Rosenstern's tone, "True... true... I don't know, Slate. However you need help with it. Just... fuck." Fuck seems to be quickly becoming Bella's favorite word.

Shateishael looks suddenly relieved, "Oh! Help wi'th'tux, got it -- sure, please!" He adds a bit trepidatiously, "Um... c'n we ask f'one that's cut so's I c'n ac'sh'ly move in it, too? Seen some 'a them monkey suits, 'n don' think I'll be much good at mincin' 'roun' in 'em otherwise?"

Rosenstern says, "Besides wearing it? No, not much. I'll take you to the place in the next couple of days; they'll need to take your measurements. Just makes sure it goes on Lilith's tab. Oh... and don't ask how much it'll cost. You don't want to know how much formal suits can cost. Bodyguard-cut tuxedo? High quality materials, custom fit... if this doesn't break Lilith's bank account, I don't want to know how much she has."

Shateishael blinks, "My... measurements? Uh... cain't we jus' pick out th'right size, like jeans 'n stuff?"

Rosenstern adds thoughtfully, "For that matter, she probably has several accounts... anyway, no, that won't work, Slate. Especially if you need it cut so that you can move and fight and function and run in one. On the plus side, you'll hardly notice it's there if it's tailored right. It'll fit like a second skin." Pause. "Well... okay, maybe not like a 'second skin.'" He coughs a little.

Shateishael is starting to look a bit startled, "This's... lot more bother'n I realized...?" He gnaws absently on a knuckle, then mumbles bemusedly, "Why's she goin' t'all this effort jus' t'get me there...?"

Bella puts her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. After a moment she laughs wryly, "You know what really chaps my ass about this? He's probably going to look like a dream in a tux -- and she's the one that talked him into it." The Bright glances up at Slate, "I'm guessing you'll find out why she wants you there so bad when you get there."

Shateishael is slowly stroking Bella's hair, but he looks more startled at her comment... then grins in spite of himself, drawling lazily, "Waaall now, I might jus' need t'practice movin' 'roun' in it ahead a' time... guess you c'n tell me if'n it'sa dream 'r a nightmare then?" He grins encouragingly at Bella.

Rosenstern grins wanly to Bella as well. "For what it's worth I think he will too, but I can't see him enjoying it."

Shateishael laughs at Rosie's comment, his eyes starting to sparkle, "Yeah? Okay, so guess I should have th'both a' ya there t'test it out?"

Rosenstern says, "Oh... and no hanky-panky in the tux -- at least before this affair. We'd need to get it dry-cleaned properly and those cost almost as much as a new tux."

Shateishael tosses his head back and laughs again, then grins at Rosie, "Awww! Y'never let me have no fun!"

Rosenstern rubs his head and sighs. "Formal affairs were always so much easier in the Middle Ages...."

Shateishael snorts amusedly at that, "Yeah, y'jus' said y'might have th'flux 'n missed 'em!" He grins, then adds thoughtfully, "Well, lemme think... she said mosta th'folks there'd be stupid li'l Impudites, 'n she needed t'make a deal wi' someone real important, 'n lotta her... c'ntemporaries'd be watchin' real close, 'n she wanted 'em t'think twice 'bout inteferin'." He pauses, then adds with disgust, "Bet it's that slime Andrealphus."

Rosenstern grimaces, "Well, at least you won't have to worry about having an appetite."

Shateishael snorts amusedly at that, "Oh, yeah, won' be puttin' anythin' in m'hands there, 'xcept maybe m'sword." He mutters amusedly, "Arm candy... yeah, like I believe tha's all it'll be..."

Bella shudders, "If it's Andrealphus, just... oh, fuck, just hope it's not."

Rosenstern says, "It's... not likely that he'd want to... okay, Andre -- sure, maybe it would, but... uhm..."

Shateishael decides not to mention Lilith's comment about screwing, though. He tilts his head inquiringly at Bella, rumbling in a half amused tone, "D' I wanna know?" He thinks about it, then adds musingly, "Ac'sh'ly, from whut she said, think she really is thinkin' 'bout this as nuthin' more'n escortin'... so I won' worry 'bout bodyguardin'." He glances at Rosenstern, adding firmly, "Go 'head 'n get th'tux done up so's I c'n move proper innit anyways, though. An' want whut, Rosebud?"

Bella smiles lopsidedly, "Prince of Lust, lover. What Andrealphus wants usually has to do with exchanging bodily fluids."

Shateishael looks curious, "Yeah, so? Not like I'm gonna be innerested -- oh!" He sighs, "Y'mean I'm gonna hafta wait 'roun' while he'n Lilith..." he waves a hand vaguely, a slightly disgusted look on his face... then sighs, "Well, guess I c'd take a book'r sumpin'..."

Bella smiles crookedly, "You might not be interested, lover, but he almost always is."

Shateishael shrugs indifferently, "Eeh, whuddever." He hesitates, then adds a touch diffidently, "'M more innerested in learnin' more 'bout geasa, ac'sh'ly, sweetheart. C'd I, uh, trouble ya t'tell me how they work 'n stuff?"

Rosenstern remains somewhat quiet as he tends to Slate's hands, cleaning the blood from them as he listens. Bella hugs her knees to her chest and shrugs, though there's not a lot of real indifference to it, "I'll do my best. But it might be a little weird. It's like trying to explain how you make the muscles in your arm flex."

Shateishael nods thoughtfully, "Well... mostly, 'guess, I wanna know how t'toss 'em, y'know? When she hands 'em t'me, I wanna be able t'make 'em go 'way right away."

Bella tips her head and looks confused for a moment, "They aren't something she can hand to you, Slate. They're promises. Oaths. I'll know when they're forgiven..." She shifts in her seat slightly, "Have you ever been Dissonant?"

Shateishael looks a bit worried, "Uh, how's she gonna -- oh, she'll jus' f'give 'em?" At her query he shakes his head silently.

Bella nods, "She'll forgive them and I'll owe her a little less of myself."

Shateishael sighs thoughtfully, "'Kay... how'll I know, though?"

The Bright shrugs, "Call me? I'll know when they're gone."

Shateishael nods, "Okay, that'll work." He pauses, considering a bit, then nods, "C'n y'go 'head 'n tell me 'bout geasa anyways, lover, so's I gotta better idea whut's up wi' 'em?" He fishes out his cell phone, tapping at it a moment, then holds it out to Rosenstern and adds, "'N Rosebud, c'n y'tell me whut state this area code's fer?" He's showing the little Mercurian the number Lilith called him from. Rosenstern blinks, and nods, taking a look at the cell phone and looking at it. The cell phone shows a 312 area code.

Bella scowls and nods, "Sure. They're an obligation -- a promise. I was a Free Lilim. I didn't actually follow any of the Princes directly, but the way you buy your so-called Freedom is by owing Her Nibs nine favors."

Shateishael nods, listening intently. This is all new information to him, and he suspects it may be critically important at some point. "'N currently y'got eight y'owe t'her?"

Bella nods, looking glum, "Yeah. And that's down considerably. It sounds really tempting. Just nine favors and then you go your own way. But it never quite seems to work out that way. No sooner do you start working off the debt than there's something you need, and she's happy to help out -- if you'll accept one more geas."

Shateishael nods thoughtfully, "'Kay. 'N how'zit work 'bout lookin' in folks' eyes t'know whut they want?" He's silent a moment, thinking, then slowly adds, "An'... how c'd we turn this back on herself?"

Bella shrugs, "It's just something we can do. You can tell when someone's Truthful. I can tell what someone really, truly needs or really, truly wants. I can tell what they'd sell their soul for. She can, too. And once she gives it to you, she can lay a geas on you. An oath. And if you don't fulfill the oath, it harms you. You gather discord for not fulfilling it."

Shateishael frowns consideringly, then rumbles, "Any'un ever manage not t'do it?"

The Bright is resting her chin on her knees, "Not to do what, Slate?"

Shateishael says, "Whutever th'geas wuz?"

Bella smiles crookedly, "Yeah. But it's not common. I only got away with it because you found me and you and Ian got me over to Dad."

Shateishael nods slowly, "Okay... so it is doable." He smiles quietly at Bella, stroking her hair back from her face, "Anythin' else y'think I sh'd know 'forehand?"

Bella sighs, "You're probably under a geas yourself right now, love. Did she mention any specific time frame?" The Bright thinks about it for a moment, "Though she's not come through with her part of things, so she can't have..."

Shateishael rumbles, "Nope, jus' 'bout two weeks time. But I did promise t' fulfill my part a'th'bargain." He scowls, muttering, "Despite her frequent 'llusions t'my not bein' truthful, dammit... startin' t'really piss me off..."

Rosenstern looks up from where he's reading and says, "It's in Central Chicago, Slate. Though that might not be where this affair is being held."

Bella smirks, "She may well have been trying to put you off balance. Negotiations go better when the other party is off their game."

Shateishael nods slowly to both lovers, still glowering a bit, "'Kay... we know anyone who knows anythin' 'bout Chicago?" He mutters, "Gonna keep that in mind 'bout her bein' a shit deliberate..." then hms thoughtfully. "Peony, mebbe?"

The Bright leans herself against Slate tiredly, "Huh? Peony?"

Shateishael gently strokes Bella's arm, cuddling her close, and his demeanor softens as he smiles down at her, "Someone who knows anythin' 'bout Chicago, sweetheart." He glances up at Rosie, adding, "Rosebud, 'm s'pposeta call 'er t'morra wi'th'shop f'r th'tux. C'n y'set up 'rrangements f'me wi' it, please?" He adds, "'N she's gonna call me 'bout transp'tation. Dunno how she intends t'get me there, but sure's hell ain't gonna be usin' no Hell Tethers."

Rosenstern nods to Slate, smiling quietly, "I'll take care of it, sure, Slate. Let me give the store a call."

Shateishael says, "Thanks, sweetheart."

Bella nods, "I know she's worked up there before, so she might be someone to ask." The former demon snorts at the thought of Slate going through Hell's Tethers, "I don't see that happening, with the Tethers. Maybe a helicopter, but not a Tether."

Shateishael looks faintly relieved -- then raises an eyebrow, "Chopper, mm? Hmm... guess I c'd take th'bike t'wherever t'meet it. Sure don' wan' it here though." He rumbles thoughtfully, "Wonder if'n that's where she's Rita..."

Bella shrugs, "No telling who she is where." Shateishael nods amusedly to Bella.

The calls around finally find a local bespoke tailor who has enough slack in his schedule to work on a custom-tailored tux for someone so far out of the physical norm. A price for the finished suit isn't quoted, but several very gentle hints are made that this will be expensive and the deposit alone is four figures. An appointment is made to take Slate in for his first fitting the next day. Rosenstern is, frankly, stunned about the deposit. He doesn't think he paid that whole amount for an entire suit, let alone as a deposit. However, he hopes that Lilith's bank account feels this -- at least a little.

Shateishael too is initially utterly appalled at the news of the potential price for the deposit alone -- but then at some point he simply shrugs, rumbling amusedly, "She asked for it, she's gettin' it. Ain't no skin offa my nose!" He eyes Rosenstern a touch warily, "So... whut're they needin' me t'do that's gonna cost s'much?" and then grins, "Gimme th'contact info, Rosebud, 'n I'll drop it on herselfishness!" He seems almost cheerful about that.

Rosenstern says, "Mostly it's the material and labor, Slate. We're looking at a tailoring job that could let a martial artist do his thing."

Shateishael nods, "'Kay, 'long's I c'n move 'kay in it."

Rosenstern nods, smiling to Slate. "That's the plan! I don't want you being unable to kick ass when you need to!"

Shateishael laughs aloud! -then cheerfully calls Lilith's number. If he's lucky, he can just leave a message. Unluckily, Lilith answers the phone, sounding cheerful, "Slate! That's a quick call back."

Shateishael sighs with rueful amusement, then rumbles, "Contact info onna tux -- here y'go..." He reads off the information, then adds, "Guy wuz hintin', 'ccordin' t'Rosie, we're lookin' at four digits jus' f'th'deposit. Just so's y'know."

Lilith chuckles wryly, "Well, it isn't like I expected you to get a tux off the rack -- not with you being nearly a foot taller than average. But this thing better make people drool when you wear it." There's the sound of a pen scratching at paper as she takes the information down, "I've almost got transportation worked out. I hope you don't get carsick easily." And with that, she ends the call.

Shateishael raises an eyebrow, looking at the phone... then he grins, relieved, "Whoa! That wuz easier'n I thought!"

Bella has wriggled her way around until she can put her head in Slate's lap. She chuckles at his reaction, "Mmm... With Herself, easy makes me nervous."

Shateishael grins, gently stroking Bella's hair, "Well, sooner it's over, th'better. 'N fortunately I don' get carsick."

Shateishael is slightly irritable but polite through what seem like, to him, endless fittings. He's still not quite grasped the need for them -- jeans and a T-shirt work just fine as far as he's concerned! He does ask Rosie and Bella for their help in making sure he knows how to put it all on, though, once he finds out it's not just a simple three-piece suit. He's a little startled again, in fact, to discover how many pieces there are to it -- proper shoes, proper handkerchiefs, correct cufflinks, blah blah blah... he does a lot of exasperated sighing in the next few days.

The irritation and aggravation end up paying off spectacularly. The suit that Slate ends up with is tailored so exquisitely that it does indeed fit almost as well as his favorite jeans. The tailor denounced cummerbunds as passé from the beginning and insisted the ensemble would have a waistcoat. Bowties were excluded for much the same reason. The final outfit is a perfectly fitted pair of trousers and dinner coat of deep black with a notched lapel faced in matching satin. The waistcoat is made of rich burgundy brocade, and fits Slate snugly without binding. If the Seraph tries, he finds he can easily bend and twist any way he wishes in it. The pocket square matches the waistcoat. The cravat is matched to the waistcoat, but made of silk. The shoes are traditional tuxedo shoes, but fit the big angel nicely and, as per Rosenstern's instructions, have a discreet rubberized sole.

Shateishael is a bit startled (again) at the excellence of the suit's fit. The tailor gets a half-grudgingly mumbled, "Huh... not bad..." when Slate realizes he can smoothly do both a sidekick and a forward roll in the suit. The big Seraph, of course, has no idea he nearly gave the man a coronary at that... the poor tailor, who is as prim an Englishman as one could wish to find, is too polite to actually say anything about Slate's method of testing the suit. However, it looks as if he may be close to apoplexy when the Seraph comes up from his forward roll. To his credit, he simply takes the suit back and says he'll have it pressed and ready for Slate to pick up in time for the affair. Shateishael nods amiably to the tailor, "Thanks." He grins at Rosie and Bella as they're walking out, adding, "Thanks t'you too, Rosie." He's silent a moment, then muses to the two of them, "So, y'think it'll meet her criterion a' makin' folks drool?" He adds wryly, "Think I'm glad I dunno how much it cost, though..."

Bella's reaction to the tux is wordless astonishment. Later, however, she pulls Slate aside and tells him in no uncertain terms that he will be taking herself and Rosenstern out for a very swanky dinner sometime in the near future, and he will wear that tux. At least until she can get him home. Shateishael chuckles, hugging her happily close, "Yes'm! Jus' tell me where we're goin', 'kay?" He's in a very contented mood after that!

Not long after the angels get home, Slate gets a call from Lilith. Shateishael had been laughing and gently teasing his beloveds. When he glances at the phone, though, they can see the abrupt change. The glow washes out of his demeanor, his face goes stony, and his gaze flicks away from them as he answers flatly, "Slate."

Lilith's voice sounds vaguely amused, "The tailor just called. For the amount I'm paying for this suit, you had better be causing rivers of drool at the party."

Shateishael shrugs, not realizing she can't see it, and rumbles, "Dunno how much it was. Jus' ordered whatcha said y'wanted. Y'got th'when 'n where yet?"

Lilith's smile is still audible in her voice, "Mmm, I have. It's going to take a bit. A friend of mine is going to pick you up at the Phoenix airport. He's a limo driver and he moves fairly quick. He'll bring you to Carson City and we'll get in a helicopter there. The chopper will take us to the party."

Shateishael says, "Uh-huh." He sounds frankly dubious as he types on the computer, "Mmm... 'n how'm I s'pposeta know this 'frien' a' y'rs? 'N I'm gonna be stuck inna car wi'some demon f'r... lessee..." he gives a short bark of laughter, "oh, yeah, 'bout 12 hours!" He kicks back in the computer chair, snorting exasperatedly, "Soun's like jus' th'recipe f'a real kickass night!" He mutters under his breath, scribbling notes, "Better bring change a' clo's... 'n three-four books..." He thinks a moment, then adds, "'N coupla bottles a' hydr'gen p'roxide..."

The Princess chuckles, "The limo's cherry red with black flames on it. He mostly specializes in moving celebrities around in a hurry. And yes, he's a demon, but it's not exactly his main characteristic. That seems to be that he drives fast and doesn't talk much."

Shateishael growls under his breath, then rumbles grouchily, "Whuddever. Whut else y'gotta say?" He adds grumpily, "There a place t'stash stuff there?" He's clearly making no effort whatsoever to be courteous any more.

Lilith asks, "By 'there' do you mean at the party? There will be a coat check. If you have something valuable you want to keep safe, you can put it in the safe in my hotel room."

Shateishael frowns, considering... then rumbles, "C'n change at th'airport b'fore th'chopper then. 'N I jus' don' wanna lose m'change a' clo's 'n books's all." Then he adds in slow curiosity, despite his efforts to not be interested, "So... where's this party bein' held?"

Lilith hmms, "I'd suggest waiting to change until we get there. I do have the room, after all. It's at a cozy little thirty-room mansion."

Shateishael is silent for a moment, weighing changing anywhere near Lilith against being able to change in a leisurely fashion. Finally he rumbles, "How long 're ya 'xpectin' me t'hang 'roun', if'n folks have overnight rooms?"

There's another quiet chuckle, "There's a room available for you if you want to stay overnight, but I'll buy you a plane ticket if you want to get home before that."

Shateishael snarls flatly, "Yes." He draws a slow breath, then adds in a calmer tone of voice, "So why're you sending a car f'twelve hours a' drivin', 'stead a' jus' havin' me take a Tether nearer?" Then he frowns, thinking aloud, "Even if he's damn fast... that's still lotta hours...?"

Lilith answers in what sounds like a sincere voice, "Because I want you to be a surprise."

Shateishael sighs tiredly, "Yeah, right. Y'c'n jus' say y're not gonna answer, y'know." He scowls, trying to think of something useful and relaxing he can do in a car for six to twelve hours. Unfortunately most of them are either prohibitively destructive, or require equipment he can't load into a limo. He growls under his breath again, then shrugs irritably, "Yeah, whuddever. You got anythin' else, 'r c'n I hang up on you now?"

Lilith laughs again, "Seriously. I want you to be a surprise, Slate. If I move you around commercially, there are people that would get wind of my name associated with a traveling angel. I don't want that."

Shateishael raises an eyebrow, "There are heavenly tethers closer t'Carson City than six t'twelve hours 'way... but you did say y'wanted me f'my vessel, not m'sparklin' wit."

The Princess sounds genuinely curious when she asks, "Would you have been this surly if I'd simply asked you instead of trying to bribe you?"

Shateishael says, "Nope. If'n y'd asked, 'n it'd been real, not blackmail, I'd be workin' wi'ya." He adds just as curiously, "Y'ever tried askin' anyone?"

Lilith sounds intrigued, "Would you have actually said yes?"

Shateishael thinks a bit, slightly surprised at the question... then answers slowly, "I... might have, dependin' on how y'asked. Why?" He adds crankily, "An' you din' try t'bribe me -- this's blackmail, plain 'n simple!"

The Princess hmms thoughtfully, "So, you might do it, even if I didn't offer half of Belofte's geasa? Or would you have asked for a favor in return?"

Shateishael sounds distinctly startled now, "Wait, whut?!"

Lilith repeats herself, "You might have done it, even if I hadn't offered your lover's geasa in return? Or would you have asked for a favor?"

Shateishael is silent a moment, considering again... then he says slowly, "I... no, I'da wanted Bella's geasa so she's free a' ya... but you din' ask really. Y'threatened her. Y'still are, 'n I've been remindin' m'self repeatedly t'keep m'temper ev'ry time y'do." His voice, at this point, is very quiet. He pauses, then slowly adds, "Are you... tryin' t'ask me how t'ask me?"

Lilith's voice still sounds curious, "I'm just trying to understand your motivations."

Shateishael doesn't know how to answer that... so after a moment he just rumbles, "Oh." A moment later he adds puzzledly, "Why? You don' care 'bout an- oh. This's so you c'n better m'nipulate folks later?" He thinks for several heartbeats, considering... then slowly adds, "You... don' really get it, do ya? Bein' a Seraph, 'r bein' a' Stone... they don' mean anythin' to ya, do they?" He sounds more like understanding is slowly dawning, than that he's upset.

Lilith chuckles quietly, "Maybe not... but do you really get what it means to be me?"

Shateishael says, "Nope, but I know that."

There's another of those quiet laughs, "We'll have to talk about this again sometime. Gerry will pick you up at 2:00 tomorrow. You can be back safe and snug in your own little bed no more than thirty six hours later." Shateishael snarls frustratedly, slamming the phone shut -- for a moment he'd almost thought a connection was about to be made! He stalks outside and chops wood for several hours to work off his anger.

After the first couple of those hours, Bella wanders outside and sits nearby enough to watch, but not close enough to be in danger of flying woodchips or a misplaced axe blow. Shateishael has gotten rid of his first blind fury, and is now simply grimly and methodically chopping wood, more to work out and tire himself than anything else. He's stripped to the waist and handling the axe with easy familiarity... and after he finishes the cord he stops, slams the axe into the stump, and sighs, wiping his forehead with his bandana. He smiles a bit bleakly at Bella, "Hey, sweetheart. Mind if'n I sit wi'ya f'a bit?"

Bella shifts herself around so that her legs are open in a V and pats the ground between them, "Don't mind a bit, sugar. Come relax."

Shateishael sighs, settling down on the ground where Bella's inviting him to sit, and leans back a bit against her. His voice is a bit melancholy, "'M I really that hard t'unnerstan', sweetheart?"

The Bright wraps her arms loosely around Slate. She enjoys the times when she's the one getting to do the holding, as they're relatively rare, "Mmm, no, not really. Not now, anyway. I admit you confused the living fuck out of me at first."

Shateishael sighs, starting to relax in Bella's arms as he lightly strokes one of them, "How'd I do that? Y'mind remem'brin' bit f'me?" He adds in bleak explanation, "Tryin' t'unnerstan' y'mom..."

Bella rests her chin on Slate's shoulder and hrms, "Well, you're just unthinkingly generous. You only haggle if you think other people seem to expect it, or if you think you need to to protect someone. That's a startlement to someone whose very life is bargaining."

Shateishael nods slowly, listening very carefully to try to finally get it. "'Kay, I guess I c'd see that... anythin' else?"

Bella chuckles quietly and nuzzles her cheek against Slate, "That's pretty much the basis of it. You don't play mind games. You don't bargain unless you need to. You're casual in odd ways and very conservative in strange ways. You don't seem to have casual lusts or addictions."

Shateishael looks puzzled... then carefully asks, "Um... c'n you 'xplain more 'bout casually odd 'n strangely conservative, please?"

Bella laughs, "I didn't say you were casually odd. I said you were casual in odd ways. Like your clothes. If it wouldn't get you arrested, you'd walk naked down the high street. But you won't sleep with someone just because you find them attractive."

Shateishael says, "Um... that... jus' makes sense?" He pauses, then laughs softly in spite of himself, "'Kay, I guess thassa dumb thing t'say, consid'rin'... but..." he growls frustratedly, grabbing his hair, "I jus' wanna strangle y'r mom sometimes!" He grits his teeth, "It's like she almos' wants t'know -- then she backs off, 'n I don' have any idea a'whut she wants!"

Bella shrugs and smiles wryly, "Beloved, you'll have to get in line behind a whole lot of people and wait your turn to strangle Her Nibs."

Shateishael chuckles lazily, trying to relax again, "Eh, well, she's th'one lettin' me close t'her. I'm gonna get those geasa f'given, but after that," he shrugs, "'s up t'her whut happens. She's d'rectly threatened someone I care 'bout, so I don' have any issue wi' 'ttackin' her if'n she tries t'break th' agreement we have."

Bella smiles again and leans her head against Slate's, "She's not likely to welsh on it. She can be trusted once she's given her word."

Shateishael sighs and reaches up to gently cup his large hand along Bella's cheek, closing his eyes and reminding himself of why he's putting up with this aggravation. He rumbles quietly, "Mebbe... still dunno whut her game is in this, though. Still... she kept sayin' escort, so hopefully won' be much more'n stalkin' 'roun' lookin' cranky next t'her... 'n then I c'n c'mon home, 'n we'll be done wi'her." His lips twitch up into a rueful smile as he adds, "Doubt she's gonna wanna work wi' me 'gain. She said I wuz surly." He adds quietly, "Do me favor, lovely? Soon's y' feel th' geasa f'given, call me 'bout it, so's I know it's done?"

Bella turns her head to kiss Slate's palm, "I planned on doing just that, sugar. And I wouldn't say we're shut of her yet. She's giving you four out of eight."

Shateishael's smile is more sincere as he leans his head enough to see his lovely Bright lover... he sighs in quiet contentment, watching her, then rumbles puzzledly, "Yeah? That significant?"

Bella smiles and nuzzles her cheek against Slate, "It means that she's not freeing me completely, Slate. She's still got leverage."

Shateishael nods, "Figger'd that, lovely. Jus' figger'd she'd be sick a' me after this, y'know?" He adds a bit hopefully, "Um... y'are happy t'get rid a' half a'them, yeah? Y'r not mad at me 'r nuthin' f'r... well, f'r doin' this?"

The Bright smiles bleakly, "I'm a little overwhelmed actually, that you'd do it. I'm a little pissed that it's happening at all, but being mad at you about it would be like being mad at water for being wet."

Shateishael looks deeply relieved, leaning a bit to reach back and hug Bella one-armed, "Oh, good. 'Kay -- jus' wanted t'be sure, y'know?" He's silent a moment, then muses aloud, "Y'know, I really don' think she gets it either... if'n she'd jus' asked whut I wanted, tried workin' wi'me 'nsteada blackmail..." He falls silent again, thinking intently... then finally says slowly, "She... cain't, can she? She don' know how t'ask wi'out geasa any more, does she?!"

Bella smirks, "I'm not sure she ever knew how."

Shateishael says, "Huh. If'n I wuzn't so pissed at 'er right now I'd feel sorry f' her." He ponders a minute more, then adds, "Y'think she'd b'lieve me if'n I tole her?"

Bella laughs tiredly, "No, probably not." Shateishael nods slowly, just relaxing in Bella's arms and gently stroking what he can reach of her... he's silent, but he's still thinking intensely. Demons are so confusing sometimes!

The time comes for Slate to go meet his ride at the airport and Bella insists on helping him pack, even if he doesn't plan on staying the night. These things, she insists, have a way of running much longer than you would expect. She also very seriously insists on him packing condoms of all things. Shateishael gives her an odd look, then ah!s, "Y'want me t'be able t'call y'r S'perior?" He grins and hugs her gently, "Dunno why he'd lissen t'me, but thanks f'th'thought!"

The condoms along with the books on philosophy and the several bottles of peroxide would probably raise a lot of eyebrows if anyone were going to search Slate's bags. Bella hugs back and smiles tightly, "No, they're because we all seem to suspect this little 'do has Andrealphus written all over it. Servitors of Lust can do some strange things to your brain. And your body."

Shateishael gives Bella another odd look, then rumbles quietly, "That'd be... bad, if'n he did that t'me, sweetheart." He's deadly serious as he adds, "I... dunno if I'd s'rvive that."

The Bright reaches up and takes a double fistful of Slate's shirt in her hands and looks him square in the face, "You had better fucking well come back to us from this."

Shateishael smiles quietly down at Bella as if he's memorizing her face. Finally he reaches up and gently puts his large hands over hers, rumbling, "Gonna do m'best, lover."

Outside the ranch house, the sound of Rosie's lime-green Beetle trundles into the driveway, returning the Novalite home from a quick errand at the Phoenix Botanical Gardens at the request of the Angel of Sunflowers. Shortly, Rosie is scrambling into the house, calling out, "Slate? Bella? Please tell me he hasn't left yet...!"

Shateishael smiles, returning Rosie's call, "Still here, pretty flow'r! Whutcha need?"

Bella does her best to shake Slate by his shirt, though mostly she ends up stretching the t-shirt, "I mean it. I don't care if you end up fucking every demon there including Herself. You just bring yourself back here and we'll deal with the aftermath. If there is any."

Shateishael winces at her comment about fucking everyone, then draws a slow breath, "I... cain't do that, sweetheart." He tries to imagine it, to see if he could handle it for Bella's sake -- and leans back for a second, shaking his head vigorously several times as if he'd just tasted something horrible. The only reason he doesn't throw his arms out to physically clear the thought away is because Bella would be struck. He takes another shaky breath, then repeats, "...cain't. 'M sorry, sweetheart... if'n I c'd do it f'anyone, it'd be f'y'all..."

Rosenstern is up the short stairs in a bound, and is in the doorway to catch that. He comes in and hugs Slate from behind. "Exactly what she says, Slate," he says, muffled by Slate's back. "Just get back here, no matter what it takes."

Shateishael sighs, starting to worry a bit -- do demons think of anything but sex, he wonders? -but he shifts enough so he can wrap an arm about each of them, "I promise, guys, I promise I'll do m'best." He sighs unhappily, adding, "I cain't do more'n that 'n still be truthful, beloveds... 'm sorry."

Bella hugs Slate from the other side, sandwiching him between his lovers, face set, "I guess we can't ask more."

Rosenstern murmurs, "No... I understand...."

Shateishael gives each of them a gentle kiss, then rumbles, "Now, c'mon... don' be sad, 'kay? I'll be back sooner'n y'all 'xpect, I 'magine, 'n Bella'll be that much more free. Gimme smile, please?" He sounds a bit wistful.

Bella musters up a smile and stretches up as far as she needs to kiss Slate's cheek, "I'm still pissed at her."

Shateishael laughs softly, his eyes brightening a bit at the kiss, "Yeah, me too -- we all c'n be, how'zat?"

Shateishael will load up his duffel and the suit bag containing the tux onto the bike, pull on his leathers, share a tight hug with the very disapproving Thea, then give each lover one more hug and a kiss. Then he swings onto the big old bike and heads off for the Phoenix airport, quietly chanting prayers to Stone and Light to himself to keep his spirits up, to ask for blessings on his endeavor, and to petition for protection and shelter. Once at the airport, the limo isn't hard to spot. Waiting at the arrivals terminal is a cherry red super-stretch limo with black flames pinstriped along the front half of it. The driver leaning against it is fidgeting like he's in the midst of a three-day meth binge. He's built much like a whippet and sports a sunshine yellow and scarlet mohawk and a somewhat disconcerting number of facial piercings.

Shateishael raises a curious eyebrow... then shrugs, shouldering his baggage, and strides over. It doesn't occur to him what a contrast they present, with his burly form clad in black leather. "Hey. Gerry?"

The demon's multiply-pierced eyebrow arches as Slate approaches and he takes a drag from a cigarette that smells heavily of cloves, "Goddamn, she said you were kinda big, but I didn't expect Andre the fuckin' Giant."

Shateishael shrugs, then holds up the suit bag, "Gotta safe place f'this?" He nods politely, adding almost as an afterthought, "Slate."

Gerry pulls open one of the back doors of the limo and indicates a hook up near the roof, "Hang it there. Keep it from wrinkling." He makes a vague waving motion inside the car, "Gotta minibar an' some snacks back there. Lemme know if you need somethin' else and we'll find it for ya."

Shateishael nods, hanging the bag as he rumbles, "Thanks. Gotta ETA?"

The demon nods, smirking with every evidence of enjoyment, "S'posed to meet the chopper around seven-or-eight o'clock."

Shateishael looks relieved, "Oh, good. Wuz worried we'd be like 12 hours onna road." He thinks a moment, then shrugs, "Welp, le's hit th'road." He slides into the limo and starts removing the leathers, staying out of Gerry's way.

Gerry laughs and shakes his head, "Day it takes me twelve hours from here to Carson's the day I give it up and discorporate for good." Once Slate's settled, the driver pulls smoothly out of the airport and gets to the interstate. On the surface streets, he drives almost sedately. Once he's on the open highway, however, he opens the car up and the scenery starts to whip by in a speed-induced blur. Shateishael rolls up his leathers, packs them into his overnight bag, and pulls out the book on Jung. Soon he's contentedly lost in reading, and the miles pass without notice. Once he finishes the book he sits for about an hour, staring out the window without really seeing anything as he mentally digests the book. After that he smiles quietly... then pulls out the next book and starts in on it.

As the miles roll by, Gerry has music playing. Strangely, what he's playing is mostly Mozart, Dvorak, and what sounds like it might be Beethoven. The demon drives in what can only be called a blissful trance. He never seems to slow below a hundred and fifteen miles an hour and is often moving in excess of 120. The amazing thing isn't really how fast the car is usually going, but the way he seems to slide through any traffic as if it wasn't there. Shateishael is quietly relieved at the music choices -- the ride could have been truly hellish otherwise. He finds himself humming along in a few places, in fact.

The limo does eventually slow down to a relatively sedate sixty miles per hour as the demon and his angelic passenger hit Carson City and start making their way toward the airport. The distinctive car is waved through the charter entrance and rolls across the tarmac to a helicopter waiting with its rotors already going. Shateishael looks up and sighs, putting a finger in the book to mark his place. He'd almost managed to put this entire distasteful affair out of his mind over the past surprisingly peaceful six hours. He shoulders the duffel while the limo is still moving, and gets ready to disembark.

Gerry pulls to a smooth stop and turns over his shoulder, grinning, "You ain't a bad passenger, man. Didn't even yelp once." He nods toward the chopper, "Boss Lady'll be waiting for you in there." There's no one actually around the helicopter, but the boarding door is open.

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "No worries. This's nuthin' c'mpared t'Nam." He picks up the suitbag, then adds, "Nice music. Thanks, dude."

The demon sketches a little salute and laughs, "Hey, you don't want none of that punk shit when you're dodging semis and idiots in Porsches. Take care, big man." Once Slate is out of the car, it pulls away and disappears into the maze of the airport.

Shateishael waves to the strange demon driver, then turns and studies the helicopter for a moment. Finally he sighs quietly again, thinking, [Keep moving... eventually it'll be finished and I can go home again.] The thought gives him an almost painful pang of desire to be home, and he has to shake his head once to clear it. Before he can woolgather any more, he heads over at a rapid trot, head ducked against the heavy push and growl of the wind as the rotors whip rhythmically overhead. He pulls himself swiftly aboard, glancing around to see layout on where to sit and put stuff.

The copter is a somewhat customized Agusta 109 Power with three of the passenger seats removed. There is a bar for hanging the suit across the back of the passenger cabin. Already occupying the bar is another bag that is long enough to accommodate an evening gown. Sitting in one of the seats is the familiar form of Lilith, with her feet tucked beneath herself and a book in her hands. She glances up and smiles as Slate boards, "Mmm, that man never fails to deliver on time."

Shateishael looks faintly relieved at seeing a book in Lilith's hands. He nods once, then moves to hang up the suit bag and set down his duffel. Then he carefully sits in the furthest seat diagonal from Lilith, giving himself both as much leg room and distance from her as he can. He looks around with interest -- this is by far the nicest chopper he's ever been in! He grins ruefully to himself at that thought, quite aware militaries aren't renown for their designer vehicles, so it's not really a fair comparison. The Princess watches Slate settle himself in and look around. She smiles quietly, "I'm borrowing it. The owner owed me a favor for me giving him some hints on where to invest some money. Actually, he owes me several favors, but he never seems to mind paying up."

Shateishael nods silently, getting a faintly curious look on his face. He wonders why someone would not want to pay off their debts to Lilith as quickly as possible... maybe they don't know what she really is? He glances at the book in Lilith's hands, to see if he can see the title. He's still holding his old, leather-bound volume of Freud.

Smiling, Lilith says, "I've been thinking about something you said..." As she talks, the pilot closes the door to the passenger cabin and starts preparing for takeoff, "I thought I should explain something." The book is Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass and has the look of a book that has been well thumbed. Shateishael's gaze rises slightly (although not much) at Lilith's words, and he listens quietly. The Princess smiles lopsidedly and there's another of those moments when the resemblance to Bella is almost surreal, "I offered you Belofte's geasa... and all I did was ask for your word. That's... not my usual M.O."

Shateishael looks a bit puzzled, but just nods silently, still listening. He wishes Lilith would quit casually tossing Bella's True Name around... but doubts she'll listen to him. Lilith looks at him and asks seriously, "You realize that I could have forgiven the geasa and then bound you to me, right?"

Shateishael shakes his head. He considers, then adds, "Wouldn' that ha'broken th'spirit a'th'agreement?"

Lilith continues to smile, "I didn't have to offer an agreement, Slate. I could have given them to you up front and because it's one of the things you want most in the world, I could have laid a geas on you."

Shateishael folds his arms and rumbles, "I wouldn'ta 'ccepted anythin' from ya wi'out some idea a'whutcha wanted in return."

Lilith shakes her head, "Slate, you don't understand. You don't have to accept it. Once I fulfill what you need, I can bind you. Your agreement isn't required." She takes a deep breath, "I don't have to negotiate. But I did."

Shateishael can't help himself -- for a moment his muscles tense up slightly and his eyes narrow as he reflexively gauges the distance between Lilith and he. Then he regains control of himself and rumbles quietly, "Why?"

The Princess smiles and shrugs, "You intrigue me."

Shateishael shakes his head and looks away, "Soun's nice... but I don' have any way t'tell if'n y'r jus' bullshittin' me 'r not, 'n I'm not really innerested in findin' out th'hard way."

Lilith smiles and shrugs, "Suit yourself. We should be there in about an hour and a half. There's drinks in the little galley over there and I think there's something food-like. I didn't check too much."

Shateishael sighs, then shakes his head again, "Why're you tellin' me this? You don' make any sense."

Lilith smiles enigmatically, "Why not?"

Shateishael nods grimly, "Got it. Shoulda known better'n t'rise t'th'bait a' tryin' t'talk t'ya... more fool I." He glances at the book in her hands, then growls quietly, "You read 'Old War-Dreams'?"

Lilith smiles and nods, "Mmm, a time or two, yes. You ever read Magister Ludi?"

Shateishael growls quietly, "Y'ever dream 'bout th'ruins y'leave b'hind you?" then adds sharply, "An' I may not be suited t'this world, but 'least I'm tryin' t'build, not destroy!"

Lilith asks, "I think everyone does. I suspect you have nightmares of your own, Slate. You don't get battle scars from planting flowers."

Shateishael sighs, looking away, then looks back at Lilith and irritably asks, "What d'you want from me?! Y'said 'riginally y'jus' wanted big, buff, 'n blonde, 'n I c'n do that 'n still not like you much. Now..." he shakes his head in frustration, "y'r actin' like I owe you sumpin' still, an' I dunno whut 'r why!"

Lilith smiles enigmatically, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes, "No, I'm acting like I'm trying to learn something from you. There's a difference." As she finishes the chopper starts to lift off, making the inside of the cabin extremely noisy. The Princess raises her voice and points toward the ceiling, "This is why I bring a book. It's quick and it's private, but it's not great for deep conversations unless you're sitting on someone's lap."

Shateishael shudders in spite of himself at that thought, then easily raises his voice over the noise to snap, "Whut?! Whut d' ya wanna learn?" The thought occurs to him, [And can I go home once you've learned it?!] but he doesn't say that aloud.

Lilith smiles and says, "I'll let you know once I've figured it out!" And with that she turns contentedly to her book.

Shateishael shakes his head, utterly disgusted, and determinedly shuts out the world around him to read his own book. Unfortunately the current mental turmoil swirling around in his head is not well suited to quiet philosophical study, let alone dealing with Freud! After fifteen minutes or so of fruitlessly attempting to cudgel his brain into thinking what he wants it to think, he finally gives up, tossing the old book irritably onto the seat next to him. He stares at the inwardly-reflecting windows for a few minutes, wishing he could see outside despite the on-coming night... then looks around, still frowning, to find something else to occupy himself for the next hour and a half or so.

It's... a little helicopter. Effectively it consists of only this room, and by its very nature it feels too close and cramped for someone of his size. There's no space to prowl around in the tiny passenger compartment -- he can change seats and end up closer to Lilith (not a viable option to him at this point), or lean over one of the tall chairs to try and reach the back luggage compartment -- and that's it. So instead he sighs, drumming his fingers absently on the armrest and making a mental note to just not look at Lilith any more -- he'll look to her side, or above her, but not at her. He's starting to feel cranky enough that he's not sure, in a violently explosive situation, he'd remember to keep from meeting her eyes. Plus it's easier to remember to look at the Symphony around her, rather than seeing shades of his beloved Bella in Lilith's vessel, which allows him to tell them apart easily. Around the Bright the Symphony practically sings with joy! Around Lilith, though... all Slate can hear is that it simply is.

Shateishael unhappily studies his reflection in the window next to him. After a few heartbeats he lays one large hand against the glass, fingers spread, and presses gently. For a moment -- just for a moment -- he lets himself savor how delightful it would be to explosively vent all his growing anger and frustration into this tiny little enclosure. He wonders thoughtfully if his Stone form would survive the inevitable fall, or if he could successfully change to his Celestial form before impact... and then he sighs, carefully and deliberately setting his hand back on the armrest. [Must focus. Doing this for Bellisima. Won't work if she doesn't get her four geasa forgiven.] He stares around restlessly, wondering if this growing, incredibly enraging, trapped feeling is what his beloved subs feel. He'd guess not, since they seem happy with him, whereas he's currently struggling just to contain himself.

Lilith looks up after a few minutes and watches Slate squirming. It's not exactly what he's doing, but it's the best description she can come up with at the moment. Raising her voice enough to be heard but still sound mild, "You can go home if you want, Slate. You're not bound by anything but your own word."

Shateishael grits his teeth and glances sideways at Lilith, giving his head one angry shake, "Dammit, I cain't be th'on'y person you know that b'lieves in keepin' their word!"

Shateishael frustratedly runs both hands through his hair, then simply starts talking, "You f'miliar wi'th'Prisoner's Dilemma? If y'are, y'prolly r'member th'usual optimum strategy is t'reflect back whutever th'other guy did last." He sighs, looking away for a moment, then looks back near Lilith, "So... 'm not sure, but I think y'were tryin' t'be nice earlier, tellin' me 'bout negotiatin' 'n how geasa work 'n all. So not sure 'bout this neither, but... b'fore, y'sorta seemed t'be curious 'bout m'motivations 'n whut'd work 'bout askin' me t'do stuff like this, so..." he takes a deep breath, reminding himself to remain calm -- not just lash out physically at Lilith, "so don' think y'll ac'sh'ly be innerested in doin' this, but here 'tis."

Another deep breath, then Slate continues, "If y' really wanna work with me 'steada just blackmailin' 'r compellin' wi'a geas, I'd do m'best under th'followin' circumstances: if'n y'promised not t'harm any a'my b'loveds in any way; if'n y'promised t'be truthful wi'me, same's I am wi'you -- 'n that includes not usin' truth t'deceive; 'n if'n y'r willin' t'keep workin' within th'spirit a'our 'greements, 'steada jus' th'wordin' a'them." He thinks, then adds, "Th'bits 'bout support that we've got currently'd needta stand too, if'n y'wanted bodyguardin'... an' 'm sorry, but 'less I want Dominic rightfully on m'case, I'd hafta ask f'geasa each time y'wanted me t'work wi'ya. I'd be happy t'keep freein' Bellisima 'n other Brights, though."

Shateishael falls silent, studying the far wall a bit glumly and wondering if she'll be insulted, or just laugh aloud incredulously at him. Still... to the best of his understanding of this selfishly annoying and frustrating person, that is what she seemed to be asking him earlier... and his own sense of rightness compels him to at least try to return courtesy with courtesy.

The Princess blinks slowly, digesting the big angel's outburst. She looked mildly surprised as the words started pouring, but carefully doesn't show just how impressive Slate on a tear appeared. Finally, she says, "Let me paraphrase to make sure what I'm hearing... you'd work with me, if I deal straight with you. And you'd accept a geas, but only so Nicky doesn't get his ass in a knot."

Shateishael thinks, carefully clasping his hands in his lap so he doesn't start making origami out of the armrest or something equally inappropriate... "Um. Think so? Never done this b'fore, so still workin' it out in m'head. An' I meant acceptin' you f'givin' geasa -- that whutcha meant? An', um, guess I sh'd state up front I cain't pr'tectcha from other angels, if'n y'want bodyguardin'... an' m'family 'n Heaven have first call on m'time..." He sighs, looking away and muttering, "Hell... this's harder'n workin' out multiple lovers!"

Lilith's voice is as dry as it can be at the raised volume, "Very little is harder than juggling people's emotions. So, you were saying any time you agree to help me, you'd not let me lay a geas on you, but you'd have to have someone else's obligation removed..." Shateishael nods tightly once, still not sure if Lilith's going to laugh at him or not. The Princess' voice sounds a little abstracted, as if she's deep in thought, even as she answers, "That's actually how I pay for a lot of things, you know. Trading other people's obligations."

Shateishael's gaze flicks sideways at Lilith again. He's pretty sure this would qualify as strengthening the Heavenly community, and he'd dearly love to help more Brights -- or other angels -- be free of geasa they were under. From the little he's seen and experienced so far, he suspects he'd rather not have anyone he cares about have to struggle with it. Lilith shifts, tucking her feet beneath herself as she thinks, "Usually I only trade that way with someone who can give me something unique."

Shateishael watches Lilith silently, not exactly sure where she's going with this... and not willing to open his mouth and potentially say something stupid that will make her back up into being irritatingly obscure again. He considers a moment, then rumbles very carefully, "Context, please?'

Lilith hms? then realizes what Slate is asking. She laughs and shrugs, "Usually I trade someone else's geasa for someone that can give me something unique. Something I couldn't get any other way."

Shateishael nods slowly. He's not sure he's unique, so he doesn't say anything. Admittedly, Lilith did say she wanted him to be a surprise, but he supposes it won't be a surprise after this. He wonders if that means he won't be unique then... and wishes a bit frustratedly (for not the first, or doubtless the last time) that Lilith would just say what she... wait... he hesitates, then carefully rumbles, "Y'said one time t'me y'd f'gotten whut dealin' wi'Seraphim wuz like, 'n I said y' sh'd jus' ask. I, uh, I'm not sure whutcha gettin' at here, so... couldja jus' say so, please?" His voice is very carefully polite, despite his confusion.

Lilith smiles, "I'm just trying to decide how much of an advantage having people see you doing my errands would be."

Shateishael nods again, relaxing slightly. At least she's considering it. "Um, whutcha mean by errands?"

Lilith shrugs and casually moves to sit across from Slate to make actually having a conversation easier, "I mean odd jobs. Favors."

Shateishael warily watches Lilith moving, shifting just enough so his long legs aren't in her way, and rumbles even more warily, "Y'do realize sometimes I'm gonna say no t'whutcher askin' for, right?"

Lilith grins and there's another of those strange moments where she and Bella could be twins, "I haven't said this is a strategy I'd be willing to use yet. And I'd be surprised if you didn't stand up to me at all." Shateishael nods once again, continuing to silently study the Symphony around Lilith, to remain calm and centered in it -- and very aware that this is not Bella! As Lilith studies Slate and his words, there's the distinct feeling of the copter starting to decrease altitude. The Princess raises her head and smiles, "Ahh, we're almost there."

Shateishael sighs quietly in relief... he'd not looked forward to getting more and more riled up in this claustrophobically small room with Lilith. He wonders if she realizes he'd be relaxed around her -- as much as one could be with a Demon Prince, at least -- with the agreements he'd stipulated... then he sighs quietly, admitting to himself that he really has no idea at all what she'd consider unique. He thinks about it, then rumbles slowly, "Ma'am, I cain't helpya figger out whether'r not I'm off'rin' sumpin' unique... 'cuz I dunno whutcha think is unique. Sorry."

Lilith reaches out and, if Slate doesn't move out of the way, pats him on the knee. It's almost an affectionate gesture, "Well, you're being unique right now." The helicopter sets down with a slight thump and the rotors start to wind down. Shateishael raises a mental eyebrow, a bit surprised at himself for calling Lilith "ma'am" again... and then he gets it -- if she's willing to work with him, rather than just use him, it makes him feel like there's something to respect there. He goes very still at Lilith reaching out, but doesn't shift away. She didn't laugh at him, and she is considering it... so he sees no reason to go back to being surly again... so far, at least.

The pilot opens the passenger compartment door and starts unloading Lilith's luggage. Lilith herself is out of the vehicle as soon as the door is fully open. Shateishael is a bit surprised at Lilith's haste -- he'd thought to step out and offer her a hand out -- but instead he politely waits until she's completely out before he disembarks. He casually scoops up his luggage, then glances inquiringly at Lilith, wondering if she'll take it wrong if he picks hers up too. The pilot is already piling Lilith's luggage (and how long does she plan on staying here to have that many bags?) onto one of the wheeled carts many hotels provide. In fact, from the perspective Slate realizes (once he's out of the helicopter) that they're atop a building somewhere. In the middle distance is a building that looks somewhat like an obelisk with short stubby wings.

Shateishael raises a slightly surprised eyebrow at the amount of luggage, then just grins faintly and shakes his head once. He turns and looks around with interest... then looks a bit surprised. This is San Francisco! He'd thought it was a primarily angelic city...? How very interesting! He paces over towards one side of the building, smiling as he sees the Bay and the famous Bridge... and wondering a bit, inside of himself, what Lilith is up to. He sure hopes she doesn't intend to 'flaunt' him during the negotiations... that would make him really twitchy about being potentially hushed up later.

Lilith and a bellboy are already headed across the tarmac. Shateishael glances at the view again, then sighs quietly. He can sightsee later. For now, though, he should probably keep up with Lilith, so he lengthens his stride to catch up. He wonders thoughtfully if he'll have time to pick up a present for his sweethearts... then grins ruefully at himself.

Slate catches up just as the Princess and the bellhop are waiting for what looks like a pair of oversized elevator doors to open. Lilith is chatting and laughing with the rather bashful-looking boy in his classic red and gold uniform. Shateishael smiles quietly, watching... then wonders a bit ruefully if the poor boy's going to get a truly nasty surprise later on from Lilith. He abruptly looks away, drawing a deep breath. Focus! Must get through this for Bella. He reminds himself to speak to Lilith about forgiving the geasa once they're in whatever rooms they're being shown to.

Instead of going to the front desk, the bellhop takes them directly to the suite Lilith has booked. The Princess discreetly slips the young man an unknown amount of money once he's pointed out all the amenities. From the way the kid's face lights up, however, it must have been a nice tip. Shateishael grins quietly in spite of himself at that... then shakes his head once amusedly and looks away. He holds the door open for Lilith, then (unless he was shown to a different room) he follows her in, looking around curiously.

The suite is an odd U-shaped room, but seems extremely spacious. On one leg of the U is a large bedroom with a door that leads into what looks like a bathroom that would make the Bright and Mercurian drool. The other is a large sitting area with windows that face onto the Bay. Shateishael hangs up the suit bag in the closet, then paces slowly through the suite, giving it a look-over, much like a large cat -- or horse, truth be told -- might check out a new place. He wonders what's in the center of the U-shape... and once he's done he looks around curiously to see what Lilith's doing.

Lilith is starting to unpack and tuck things away into the drawers in the bedroom area of the suite. She moves like she does the unpacking thing quite a bit, "The limo to the party will be here in about an hour. If you want to get dressed first, it'll give me time to get my things together to get dressed."

Shateishael nods, "'Kay." He pauses, then asks almost diffidently, "Is... this 'there' yet?"

Lilith pauses and grins, "Almost. We have to get in a limo and drive out to the big house, but we're staying within fifty miles of this spot."

Shateishael nods slowly, looking a bit like he's not sure what to say. Finally he rumbles, "So... not yet on Bellisima's geasa?"

Lilith smiles and tips her head, pausing in her unpacking, "I have your word that you'll continue escorting me through the party tonight?" She doesn't sound suspicious, just like she's reaffirming something she's fairly sure of.

Shateishael somehow manages without moving at all to get that intensely, almost quiveringly alert, focused look of a hunter that's just caught scent of its prey. Cautiously he rumbles, "Yes'm...?"

Lilith nods and makes an almost negligent motion with her hand, "Sure. This way I won't forget it." And then she goes back to putting things away in the drawers and cabinets of the bedroom.

Shateishael blinks once and goes still for a second... then yanks out his cell and stares at it hopefully. Almost before Slate is finished pulling the phone out of his pocket, it's starting to ring. Shateishael draws a slow breath, starting to light up, and hastily paces into the bathroom as he's answering it, "Bellisima?" There's a very quiet chuckle from the unpacking Princess as Slate strides out of the room.

Bella is on the other line, "Yes! Are you already there? Jesus, I thought it would take longer to drive to Carson City!" The Bright is almost babbling, sounding breathless.

Shateishael leans against the wall after he's closed the door, grinning like a fool and just enjoying listening to Bella's voice. He remembers to talk after a moment, though, his voice heartfelt, "Stone 'n Light, it's good t'hear y'r voice, beautiful!" He can't seem to stop grinning as he adds, "D'it work? Didja feel it?"

Bella laughs and sounds like she wants to hug Slate through the phone, "Why the hell do you think I'm calling?" She giggles quietly, the sobers a little, "Seriously, though, I thought it wouldn't be for hours yet... what's she up to?"

Shateishael sighs happily, then rumbles a bit wistfully, "Wish't I c'd be there t'see y'r face 'n touchya, sweetheart... but yeah, we're here'n San Francisco now. Wuz a Fallen Ofanite driver t'Carson City, 'm thinkin', then a chopper t'here. She's jus' unpackin' now... an' man I ain't never seen s'many boxes 'n bags f'one person!" He laughs, his mood rising at hearing Bella's ebullience, "How're y'all doin', beautiful?"

Bella laughs again, sounding both elated and a little jangled, like some huge strain has just eased, "Well, Rosie's been cooking all evening. I think he plans to bury you in lasagna and cookies when you get back. I keep trying to work on my wheel, but everything is coming out lopsided because I kept eyeing the phone."

Shateishael laughs again, feeling warmer and calmer inside already. He doesn't know what to say, but he doesn't want Bella to stop talking... "You c'n tell him I'll do m'best t'try t'heroically dig m'way out then, 'kay? An'..." he sighs again, relaxing a bit, "man, I jus' cain't tell y' how good it feels t'hear ya, sweetheart."

Bella sighs and the sound of her feet pattering on the bare floors can be heard as she apparently hurries from one room of the ranch house to another, "Probably as good as it felt to feel those lift...."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, then sings softly to Bella,

"I think about the morning
and it warms my heart
because tonight I'm going back
to the one I love
and by tomorrow with the dawn
I'll be there and she'll be beside me...
I look at the stars and I pray for morning
counting the hours till morning
thinking about her smile, her sweet smile.
Sunlight, oh sunlight
bring me the love I need to guide me
shine it deep inside of me
sunlight, oh sunlight show me the way..."

Bella laughs softly and sighs, "You really are just the sweetest thing on two legs, sugar."

Shateishael grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, "'S easy wi'you, lover." He pauses, then adds in a slightly different tone of voice, "Hey, sweetheart, c'n I askya question 'bout geasa, though?"

There's the sound of rustling cloth as the Bright settles in somewhere. Slate can easily imagine her sitting at the head of her bed with her feet tucked under her, as she sometimes likes to sit when they're just talking, "Sure. What do you want to know?"

Shateishael thinks how to phrase it, then rumbles carefully, "If y'r mom knew whut someone most wanted, 'n made it happen for 'em... c'd she jus' lay a geas on th'person right 'way? 'R would she still need t'negotiate wi' 'em?"

Bella hmms as she thinks about that, "Well..." she hesitates, "I've not heard of her not negotiating, but I think she likes that part."

Shateishael sounds puzzled, "Huh. 'Kay... cuz she said th' negotiatin', like she did wi'me, wuzn't her usual MO...? That she coulda just slapped a geas on me?"

Bella huhs? "Uhm... no, she negotiates. But normally her negotiation is 'I'll give you this, but you have to give me a little favor.' Then she slaps a geas on you." There's a moment of silence, "But she didn't geas you..."

Shateishael rumbles thoughtfully, "Yeah... still hasn't, far's I c'n tell -- how d'y'tell? -'n she f'gave y'r geasa early, 'm thinkin'." He pauses, then asks, "Y'ever heard a' her doin' that b'fore? This common f'her, 'r whut?" He still sounds more puzzled than not.

Bella hesitates again, "It's... not usual, no. Usually trading geasa is what she does for people she considers her equals. Or who help her out in a sticky situation. Like that doctor that put that geas on me that got me in trouble. He saved someone she liked when she wasn't there to Sing Healing for them. So she paid him by giving him one of my Favors."

Shateishael repeats himself, "Huh." A moment later he muses puzzledly aloud, "Wonder whut I'm doin' that's a way outta sticky sit'cha'shun t'her, then?"

Bella shrugs, then realizes that Slate can't see it, "Wish I knew, lover. She plays her cards close to her chest, and I think she sometimes makes the rules up as she goes along."

Shateishael is silent a moment, thinking, then adds, "Wuz gettin' real cranky onna way over, 'n 'm not sure but I think she was askin' 'bout whut motivated her, so I s'ggested 'n alternative on how t'work wi' her, 'steada jus' gettin' dragged 'long 'n bein' surly 'bout it. Dunno if'n she's gonna do it 'r not, but 'least I tried, y'know?"

Lilith's voice calls from the other room, "Do you want to let me get in there and get dressed so we're not late?" She sounds halfway amused.

Shateishael laughs, calling, "Sorry, moment!" It doesn't quite register to him how much his mood has changed as he scoops up his duffel and heads out of the bathroom, cheerfully adding on the phone, "Hey, y'mind talkin' t'me while I get dressed, sweetheart?"

Bella laughs and sighs melodramatically, "You mean I only get to hear you put on that tux?" Lilith slips by Slate carrying a make-up case and the full-length garment bag she had on the helicopter.

Shateishael nods politely to Lilith, getting out of her way, then grins at Bella's comment, "Y'seen it once't already, 'n y'know perfectly well barrin' any accidents y'gonna getta see it 'gain, sweetheart!" He puts on the headset, sets the phone down, and happily chats with Bella as he swiftly dresses. He makes a point to ask Bella to thank Rosie for the printout of the steps he should take to be sure he's correctly dressed, as well -- it was quite helpful for someone who's used to just slipping on jeans and a shirt! Bella happily chats with Slate as he changes, making sure to hand the phone over to Rosie for at least part of it and to clarify any questions Slate might have about getting dressed in the formal clothes.

Shateishael is almost glowingly happy by the time he's dressed -- he'd not realized what an enormous relief even just hearing his lovers' voices would give him! He'd not actually realized just how tightly wired he'd been getting either, actually... he amusedly makes a mental note to himself to remember how happy Bella and Rosie sound, should people be annoying at the party tonight.

It takes Lilith quite a while to get ready and Slate probably notices that it's getting close to time for the car to arrive with the Princess still in the bathroom. Shateishael glances at the bathroom door, then shrugs -- she's the Princess, she can take as long as she wants, he supposes. If the car's driver comes knocking then he'll bother Lilith, but past that he thinks it might be rude to pester her. He takes a moment to review himself in the mirror, making sure everything is smooth and tidy, front and back, and looks as neat as he remembers it looking at the tailor's. He sighs a bit, not really sure if he's gotten everything right -- to Slate, he looks like himself in a weird set of clothing -- but crossing his fingers that he's succeeded. Then, although a bit reluctantly, he bids his beloveds a fond adieu, promising to be home (barring any complications) within the next 24 or 36 hours, as he was promised.

Eventually Lilith does emerge from the bathroom, and it looks like she possibly really needed all the time she took to get herself ready. The dress she's wearing is a simple and elegant sheath style with a slit in the right side of the skirt that's just over the edge into daring without being trashy. Most of her wealth of hair is piled atop her head in a mass of curls, but a wave of ringlets cascades down the back of her neck to between her shoulder blades as well. She must have had quite a bit of consultation with the tailor, that she didn't mention, because the velvet of the dress matches the burgundy hue of Slate's waistcoat to a T. She wears a necklace with a teardrop pendant that looks like it is a nearly thumb-sized ruby surrounded by diamonds. The earrings are the same setting, done small. She wears heels, but the pumps are again a tasteful height. In all, the Princess looks as if she's going to a royal reception.

Shateishael looks a bit surprised, then smiles and gives a small, courteous half bow, "Ma'am. Y'look-" he cuts off what he'd been about to say, even though it was the most sincere compliment he could think of, and rumbles, "very strikin' t'night." He offers her his arm, adding, "Y'want me t'call y'ma'am, 'r Lady, 'r sumpin' else? Dunno whut's c'rrect f'this?"

Lilith slides one opera-gloved hand through Slate's arm, resting her fingers lightly on the sleeve of his jacket, "I think I like ma'am from you. It's charming with that accent." She grins broadly and looks him over carefully from head to foot, "I take back any moment of grumpiness I had about that suit."

Shateishael chuckles quietly, "Wuz tole it wuz okay by Rosie'n Bella, so wuz hopin' y'd like it too." He holds the door for her, adding quietly, "Thank you f' f'givin' Bella's geasa early."

Lilith picks up a small evening clutch on the way to the door. She laughs softly and shrugs, the thin straps of the dress showing every bit of the motion to best advantage. "You're a Seraph. You get cranky any time there's a hint of dishonesty... I suppose I can trust your word. And if I can't, I trust myself to be able to enforce the deal." She smiles almost disarmingly, "Somehow, I don't think I'll have to be an enforcer tonight."

Shateishael rumbles a touch grimly, "As you said, ma'am, 'm a Seraph. I keep my promises, best I can." He's silent a moment as he paces along beside her, slowly enough so she can walk easily in the heels, and so he can regain his good mood from earlier... then amusedly adds, "So, whut're house rules here? No smackin' anyone, 'r I c'n smack anyone that gets stupid 'nuff?"

Lilith chuckles quietly, the heels giving her a walk that Slate's most often seen on his lovers when they're playing dress-up together. "Well, you can slap anyone that I seem mortally offended by. If anyone tries to attack you, you can defend yourself. Be careful what you drink and who you let touch you."

Shateishael nods, "Won' be drinkin', 'n don' intend t' 'llow anyone t' touch me anyways. Er, 'xcept y'self." He's silent for another moment, then curiously asks, "So... y'given any thought t'whut I said earlier, 'r 'm I not unique 'nuff?" He wonders idly what 'mortally offended' looks like on Lilith... but figures he'll mostly likely be able to figure it out if it happens. He grins dryly to himself.

Lilith leads Slate down the hallway subtly enough that it looks like he's the one doing the steering, "I'm still thinking about it." She smiles up at him and pats his arm. Shateishael nods silently -- he figures he can be patient for this, and at the very least he's quite willing to be un-surly for the party for her, considering she's apparently trying to be nice. He's not entirely sure it's truly niceness, as opposed to manipulativeness... but he's going to hope it is, and give her the benefit of the doubt.

[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]

Last modified: 2006-Aug-27 20:09:50

All material on this site is
Copyright © 2006-2024 Reality Fault
unless specifically indicated on each document.
All Rights Reserved.
Administrated by Reality Fault Webmaster