| Logs |
2007 March 13
| Law |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Law Logs |
The Party
The limo that takes them out into the hills surrounding the Bay is a very sedate black, and the driver -- while competent -- doesn't guide it through traffic with near the finesse of Slate's last driver. He pulls the car up in front of a sprawling mansion with a set of marble steps leading up to the front that look worthy of a museum. As they're on their way up the steps, Lilith holding the hem of the dress up just enough so her toes don't catch on it as she steps up each stair, "So, that was Belofte calling to confirm I didn't welsh?"
Shateishael nods, then politely adds, "Ma'am, c'd you not use her True Name quite s'freely, please? Bella works jus' fine as well."
Lilith inclines her head, "As you wish, Slate." Shateishael gives Lilith an almost incredulous look at her calm agreement with his request -- then hastily smoothes his face out into stony expressionlessness. Internally he's quite startled, though. If this is manipulation from Lilith, it's the nicest manipulation he's ever seen! As they near the top of the stairs, Lilith turns on a smile that looks like it has the wattage of a Klieg light. There's a pair of usher/bodyguards at the door that very discreetly wait for Lilith to produce an invitation. Just as discreetly, they pat Slate down. It's very professionally done. Slate frowns at the pat down, but remains silent. It's a bit late now, he realizes, to ask Lilith about his katana. Well... hopefully it won't even come up at all.
The room they enter is awash with bright lights, the sounds of laughter, and what might be a string quartet playing something soothing and classical. Most of the people mingling are dressed in exquisite taste, though the majority of the tuxes are less individual than Slate's own. The women mostly look like they could have stepped straight out of the society pages; in fact were Rosie or Bella here they would very likely recognize a few of the faces. Shateishael is quite aware he doesn't really belong here amongst demons, and flashily dressed folk which he suspects are high society. Nevertheless, he straightens with a warrior's hard pride, pacing with careful and impassive correctness next to Lilith, his ice blue gaze taking in the room and the people there. His assessment is more that of someone checking to see what the tone of the crowd is, and if he's going to need to hurt anyone... but fortunately that sort of gaze can easily be mistaken by the not-so-perceptive as his being as curious as they about who's wearing what and who's there with whom.
Lilith stops now and then to greet someone, showing every evidence of delight at seeing whoever happens to catch her eye. Several times she introduces Slate as a new friend. One or two of those that get that introduction smile and make some not-quite-catty comment about Lilith misusing the term friend. Shateishael remains utterly unsmilingly inscrutable, and says not a word unless Lilith speaks to him directly. He's not sure his brand of bluntness would go over so well... although he does laugh inside at the first of the catty comments! [Little do they know how right they are...] he amusedly muses to himself. He's careful to remain a dark-suited foil to Lilith's diamond-hard brilliance, though -- he'd far rather they focus on her than he!
Eventually Lilith steers Slate (while still letting it seem that he's the one mostly in the lead) toward a stylish young man and his slightly-less-stylish-but-still-lovely date. The young man has completely forgone a tie with his tux, wearing a simple, colored band of cloth that looks almost like a clerical collar. His date is wearing a simple black dress that hits just at her knees. The young man steps forward, opening his arms and laughing delightedly, "Ahh, the grande dame herself... I was beginning to think you were going to snub our oh-so-picky host."
The Princess and the boy with the just barely too-long hair embrace and do air-kisses beside one another's cheeks. By Lilith's wicked grin, there's something she enjoys about the slightly silly gesture, "Oh, not in a million years. He and I have several things to discuss tonight."
Shateishael remains back a bit so Lilith can sweep forward into the hug if she wishes. He stands silently and relaxedly, watching carefully. Is this the 'oh-so-picky host'? ...and could it be Andrealphus? Ah, must not be the host. He glances around thoughtfully, wondering how many of them are demons, and curiously lets the Symphony run through his mental fingers, to see if he can tell anything. Up until that point he'd been holding his Resonance tightly reined in, worried that insincere and flattering greetings would cause him a steady series of winces.
The moment Slate lets his Resonance slide through the room, the whole place goes from being a cheerful cacophony to the angry jangling and screeching of a slightly out of tune orchestra. Shateishael stiffens, closing his eyes for a moment to will the Resonance up and gathered tightly in once more. Then he carefully opens his eyes again, giving a small sigh of relief at the relative silence. He sighs silently again, looking back at the Lady he's escorting and the couple she's talking to. Hopefully no one noticed that... and even if they did, likely they wouldn't guess what caused it.
While Slate was gathering himself up from listening to the low-level bullshit that goes on at any huge society party, Lilith had been introduced to her friend's date. She motions Slate forward, "Andy, dear, I'd like you to meet someone. This is Slate; he's a friend of David's." Shateishael raises an eyebrow at Lilith's introduction, but steps forward and gives a small, militarily correct half bow. He carefully remains on very, very proper body language, even as he studies the man before him. Hm... maybe this is Andrealphus? Then... who's the host?
The elegant young man puts his hand over his mouth as if surprised, "Wait... are we talking the David? He of the stony countenance?" It's as if the man and Lilith are speaking half in code. The young blonde girl with Lilith's companion is looking perhaps a bit miffed that she's not the center of attention, arms crossed over her chest and one hip thrust out in the classic pouty pose. Shateishael studies the man with icy correctness, even as he thinks, [Don't -- just don't try slandering my Architect, or I am so putting a fist in your pretty little nose...] He doesn't even think to look at the girl, although there's no malice in his missing her.
Lilith mmms and half-strokes Slate's arm. The gesture isn't quite intimate, "Yes, that David." She looks for a moment like a cream-sated cat lying in a sunbeam, "But Slate and I have known one another a good while." Shateishael goes very still at being stroked, his eyes narrowing... then he gives an amused sideways glance at Lilith, thinking, [Now that's the most creative use of that phrase I've ever heard!] He silently reminds himself of Bella's excitement on the phone earlier... and then it's not quite so annoying to have Lilith (in effect) petting him. He hopes she doesn't make a habit of it all night, though. Well... at least it's just on his arm...
Andy turns to his date and says in a mildly sweet tone, "Darling, I think we could all use a drink. Why don't you see if you can hunt down one of those pretty little waiters with the trays of wine, hm?" The girl gives the young man a look that would melt glass and stalks off her in her slightly-too-high heels. Once she's gone, the young man steps closer to the Princess and the Seraph and lowers his voice, "He's going to have a fit if he realizes you've brought... what? A Malakite? -into his party, you know." Rather than concerned, he seems almost gleeful. Shateishael raises a disdainful eyebrow at that. Mistaken for one of the brutal Virtues?! He's not sure if he should be insulted or not! He keeps a cold eye on the young man's closeness as well.
Lilith laughs delightedly and shakes her head, "Do you think I'm utterly suicidal, Andrealphus? No, Slate isn't a Malakite. He's just big enough to be one." Shateishael snorts under his breath at that, and quietly adds Andrealphus to the (unfortunately rather short) list of folks he's got so far where he can match a face to a name, due to overhearing introductions. He's bristling slightly, still vaguely offended at being mistaken for a Malakite -- and a bit twitchy at being stroked. Lilith's smile broadens even further, "No, I think Slate's going to make him even twitchier than if I'd brought one of David's warriors into the party." Shateishael tilts his head to study Lilith sideways, and frowns, suddenly suspecting why Lilith's saying that... is she going to expect him to run his Resonance on negotiations or somesuch? He suppresses a small shudder of distaste. She'd better not want that... because he's going to get extremely cranky extremely fast if he's got to listen to all the horrific caterwauling going on in the Symphony here!
The Demon Prince of Lust steps even closer, lowering his voice to just above a whisper and saying in the same tone of delight as a teenager getting the news that her least favorite teacher was caught fucking the town priest, "You didn't bring a Seraph in here, you wicked thing!" Of course, Slate continues to muse, if all she wants is to offend her host... he suspects his increasingly less polite commentary would do it. Still... no sense in borrowing trouble- he sighs internally at the young man's comment. Well, crap -- maybe his guess was right. He glares down at the young man -- he's really not happy with how close this guy is, Demon Prince or not!
Rather than answer with words, Lilith just smiles more widely and looks up (and up) at Slate's coldly impassive profile. "Would I do something like that?" Shateishael just stares silently at Andrealphus, contenting himself with picking out pressure points... if he struck right there, it'd be so satisfying... ah, well. Maybe later things will get messy, and he can let off some of this emotional steam.
The Prince of Lust does eventually step back, eyes twinkling like he wants to burst out in peals of laughter, "Ooo... just let me know when you're going to go see him. I want to be a fly on the wall... or, well, a demon in the hallway... when it happens." Shateishael rolls his eyes at that, although he does let his breath out in a small sigh of relief. Having demons that close is just damn uncomfortable! Andrealphus lets his eyes wander appreciatively up and down Slate in a disconcertingly intimate way. It's close to the look Bella sometimes get before she grabs him by a belt-loop and drags him off somewhere quiet. "And then you and I will have to have a much longer talk once you've sent him home."
Shateishael's eyes get, if anything, even icier and more forbidding... then he looks away almost disdainfully. Still frowning, he glances around, wondering where the young girl got to, and adding to his mental map of the room. If there's a bar, he wants to know where it is -- being able to walk off and get a drink for Lilith might be a helpful thing to do later on. Lilith quirks a smile at Andre and leans toward Slate just far enough that it looks intimate to someone else, but Slate can tell she's carefully touching as little of him as she can, "Nuh-uh. A girl can't give away all her secrets..." She gently tries to steer Slate away from the other demon, leaving Lust chuckling to himself.
Shateishael draws a slow breath as Lilith guides him away, and dips his head just enough to rumble very quietly to her, "Thank you." He resists the urge to shake himself, as if that could clear away the disgusting emotional miasma of being near Andrealphus. Instead he makes a mental note of the bar locations -- there seem to be not one but two bars in different corners of the enormous room, and there are waiters circulating with trays of drinks as well -- then glances thoughtfully at Lilith. Curious... she really does seem to be being nice. Hard to tell. Still, he should know more later, when it's clear who the host is, and how she behaves around that entity.
Lilith smiles with a bit of wryness, "I didn't want to get into the discussion with him about just what my relationship with you is, because there's no way he's going to believe I'm not bedding you."
Shateishael snorts amusedly, "'S Lust... a' course he's gonna believe that." He grins tightly, "Even I know that."
Lilith pats Slate's arm absently, as one might a kitten that has wandered into petting distance while one was distracted, "We have a few more appearances to make and greetings to get through, and then we're going to have to go say hello to the host."
Shateishael nods silently, glancing around, then rumbles curiously to Lilith, "Who'sa host?" He's slightly surprised to realize Lilith seems to believe his thanks to her was due to her guiding him away from Andrealphus; he'd actually wished to thank her for not rubbing herself against him. He finds her occasional rather distracted petting of him far, far less objectionable than when she strokes him in those disturbing attempts at sensuousness.
The Princess chuckles, "I honestly think it's best you don't find out until we meet him."
Shateishael gives her a curious look, "Howcum?"
Lilith smiles up at Slate and pats his arm again, then gives it a gentle squeeze, "Because I don't want your growling warning him off."
Shateishael gives her a slightly concerned look, but just nods once, then pulls on the stony-faced look again. He's not entirely sure what she means, but he's going to continue doing his best to completely and satisfactorily fulfill his part of the bargain. He does quietly murmur one last thing, though, "Umm... 'm I doin' this right s'far?"
Lilith laughs and actually winks, and there's Bella's face again, "Oh, you're playing your part perfectly, Slate. I couldn't be more pleased. Let's go find some champagne and see if that little pischer Nybbas is anywhere to be found." Shateishael looks relieved for a moment -- there's even perhaps the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips... and then the stony face comes back on. He continues to occasionally stare coldly around while standing or stalking along next to Lilith.
It's while they're moving from one greeting to another that he catches sight out of the corner of his eye of a particularly striking couple. In the split second of assessment his hindbrain notices them more for their body language than anything else, as he reflexively (and appreciatively!) notes the woman's particularly sensual, gliding movements -- she reminds him pleasurably, almost longingly, of Bella. The man seems quite arresting also, his prowling tread hinting dangerously at martial skill which Slate would love to match himself against for the sheer pleasure of the challenge -- and then, as Slate's head turns to see them more clearly, he realizes who they are. The elegantly dressed, alluringly dangerous looking couple... are a mirror's reflection of he and Lilith!
Shateishael abruptly stops in place and stares, a quietly surprised, "Huh!" escaping him. Is that really him -- he and Lilith? He'd expected Lilith would look elegantly stylish, of course, but does he really look that powerfully striking as well?! Lilith pauses as Slate abruptly stop, turning and raising her brows in a silent question.
Shateishael considers their reflection thoughtfully. Yes, Lilith's vessel does look really nice, even to his socially untutored eye. He gets a faintly amused look, murmuring quietly, "'She looked 'pproachable -- 'n regal. She wuz limber, 'n she wuz wicked. She had th' gift a' lookin' jus' this side a' musc'lar, 'n yet quite feminine. Dancin' onstage, she c'd be a blur. It's's if there were mercury in 'er shoulders, somethin' that c'd lift her up 'n spin her 'roun'. Her act wuz a taunt an' a tease. 'T wuz also a celebration a' h'self. She knew sex, 'n she knew th' lit 'n unlit dreams a' men. 'N she played wi' those dreams as th' li'ness does the fawn.'" He glances down at the woman next to him, almost smiling, and murmurs, "Wuz written 'bout Josephine Baker, th' 'Meric'n dancer in France, coupla years ago. 'M guessin' y'coulda been her muse."
Lilith laughs and strokes Slate's forearm, "Her muse? No. A fan, yes. She was fabulous. I almost wish I could claim she was one of mine. But she was very, very human. And good at it."
Shateishael nods slowly as he once again studies them both in the mirror -- their body language vibrates, it practically sings, with the aesthetic tension between the two of them. For him it's the passion of tightly-reined-in violence -- he knows he's surrounded by demons, which means he's working hard to suppress the ecstatic memory of raging ablaze through his enemies like razor-edged steel, his teeth bared in savage sensuali- he abruptly shuts that enticing thought down with a shiver of effort, and turns his gaze to Lilith.
Shateishael's not socially skilled enough to recognize what her tension is -- but he'd guess it has to do with sex and power. Her gracile body shimmers like flame to his gaze: the form-fitting burgundy velvet dress drinking in the light and pouring out smooth, bared shoulders; the ruby like a blood red kiss accentuating her pale, slender throat; every swirl and artistic tumble of shining hair designed to arouse and inflame... her sexuality and confidence is palpable in the implicit promise of her knowing smile.
She wears the menacing man behind her like an enticingly dangerous adornment, her slender, silk-gloved hand resting lightly on his strong forearm. The sleek, elegant lines of his black tux barely camouflage his hard musculature, and his carefully controlled movements betray his martial training. His tanned face is all craggy, weather-beaten planes and hard lines framed in glowing golden hair; his saturnine demeanor is as stone-cold as his icy gaze. In the midnight-dark suit he looms forbiddingly over her shining brilliance, and they almost look as if they belong together... but for his disquieting sense of carefully suppressed internal ferocity.
The Princess lets her escort examine the sight of the pair of them in the mirror for long moments before she murmurs, "I think you just figured out part of why I chose you as an escort, hm?"
Shateishael shakes his head amusedly, although he carefully holds his grim expression should anyone else be watching, and rumbles, "Ma'am, y'know whut I usually see when I look inna mirror? I see if'n m'clo's 're straight 'n tidy 'nuff t' be p'radin' 'roun' in public. Don' really see m'self -- no need." He considers a moment, then slowly smiles, his eyes alight with silent internal joy as he murmurs, "If'n I wanna see how I look, I check m'reflection in th'eyes a'm'lovers. Ain't no better nor truer mirror 'n that'n."
Lilith laughs quietly and shifts her body language so that it looks much cozier than it actually is when seen from afar... or in the mirror, "Appearance is important at things like this. If I wanted just muscle, I could call in Favors from any of dozens of Calabim. I wanted someone who looked like dangerous beauty." She smiles crookedly, "I also wanted someone that would make our host pissy enough to be off balance but not pissy enough to want to hurt me."
Shateishael's gaze flicks to Lilith in the mirror again, and his expression slides into its former saturnine glower. He murmurs thoughtfully, "Dangerous beauty? Hm... not whut I'da said, but 's 'kay wi' me." He ponders a moment more, then his teeth flash in a tightly humorless grin as he locks his gaze with hers in the mirror, "More like pity, I'd think." He tilts his head slightly to murmur just to her, although his gaze stays on her reflection, "'Pity is a rebel passion. Its hand's 'gainst th' strong, 'gainst th' organized force a' society, 'gainst conventional sanctions 'n accepted Gods. It is th' Light a' Heaven within us fightin' 'gainst th' brute powers a' th' world; 'n it is apt t' have those qualities a' unreason, a' contempt f' th' countin' a' costs 'n th' balance a' sacrifices, a' recklessness, 'n even -- in th' last resort -- a' ruthlessness, which so often mark th' paths a' heavenly things 'n th' doin's a' th' Children a' Light. It brings not peace, but a sword.'"
The scarred fingers of Slate's free hand run lightly over Lilith's slender fingers resting on his arm. His eyes flash like his teeth for just a second... then he looks away from her in the mirror, grimly studying the room around him, masked in expressionlessness again. The Princess looks like she's about to say something else, when there's movement behind them in the mirror. Moving toward them is the tackiest thing in the room -- in fact, he may be the tackiest thing Slate has seen in months. The other beautiful people in the room are dressed impeccably; this guy looks like he bought his tux in 1972. It's powder blue and has an enormously frilly shirt. Shateishael raises an eyebrow, impressed. When even he can tell someone's out of place, it must be pretty bad. He makes a guess -- Nybbas?
Lilith follows Slate's gaze and laughs, "Ahh... and here comes the party planner." She turns around and opens her arms, inviting the crushing hug from the man in the leisure suit tux. He's wearing tortoiseshell glasses that make his head look too large and out of proportion to his body. His hair is slicked over in the most obvious comb-over on the face of the planet. The voice that comes from his mouth is an ass-like bray, but sounds genuinely cheerful, "Lil! You gorgeous piece of ass! Glad to see you here... and who is this you've got decorating your oh-so-lickable arm?"
Shateishael draws a slow breath and concentrates on not growling... noticeably, at least. He's glad Bella's not here -- he'd be tempted to just clobber someone that referred to her so disparagingly. Lilith smirks and hugs him back, "Nybbas, this is my escort, Slate." Shateishael scowls and nods curtly.
Nybbas examines Slate somewhat like one might look over a rump roast and makes a half-impressed sound, halfway between huh and a snort, "Looks like you picked him up at the local Badasses 'R Us... is he local?" The Demon Prince moves around Slate as if assessing a used car he's thinking of buying.
Shateishael's smoldering eyes narrow, and he turns slowly to keep the annoying Demon Prince before him. Lilith smirks again, and her hand tightens slightly on Slate's arm, "No, he's not local. He's from very, very far out of town. Very uptown, you might say." Shateishael's arm is starting to tense up noticeably under Lilith's hand. He's trying to distract himself, but this little popinjay is really irritating him. Lilith doesn't prevent Slate's movements, but she does keep her hand on him as he turns to watch the louder-than-life Prince.
Nybbas makes it full-circle, ignoring Slate's glowering the whole way. He brays his laughter again at Lilith's words, "You brought a goddamned angel to Baal's party? I take it back -- you're not only a gorgeous piece of ass, you're ballsy as well. There's a big market for that kind of thing."
Shateishael blinks as it registers -- Baal is the host?! He stiffens, his head turning abruptly to glare at Lilith -- then he bites his tongue and manages to stifle his words into a low growl. Lilith smiles sweetly, "The secret to great ratings is being unpredictable." With a lascivious wink, she starts to guide Slate across the room, saying, "But now Slate and I are going to go find a drink before I closet myself with our host."
Shateishael is so rigidly reining himself in that he has to be discreetly tugged on before he takes another breath and forces himself to move next to Lilith again. [Breathe... deep breaths... think of something else -- Bella! Bella's happier now. I can get through this... just got to remember Bella...] His face is as dark as thunder as he paces almost stiffly next to Lilith, staring ahead of himself and repeating his internal mantra. He manages to find a note of bleak humor in the situation as he muses, [Well, at least I didn't have to break anyone's arms to keep them from touching me...]
To every appearance Lilith is still gliding with her sensuous strut, still smiling brightly, eyes still flashing insouciantly. However, Slate at her side can feel the tension that's crept into her body language. She does indeed grab a pair of champagne flutes from a passing waiter and makes her way out onto a small patio that is, thank Heaven, deserted. The Princess stands at the patio railing and tosses back both of the glasses of champagne, letting Slate stalk along in her wake. Shateishael remains rigidly silent, although he's tense enough by now that he quietly puts his back to something large and solid, like the stone outer wall, once they're outside. The only thing that's keeping him from blowing up at this point is thinking about Bella. After several moments of silence Lilith speaks without turning around, "I can practically hear the steam coming out of your ears."
Shateishael glares at Lilith's back, and forces himself to not mentally map out strike patterns on her. Instead he leans back against the wall and folds his arms. He is Stone... he is patient and solid and steady and he doesn't know what Lilith's up to... but he's going to do his damnedest to go home safely to his beloveds! He sighs softly, wondering what sort of death wish Lilith has... and if he should try to protect her or not. Well... presumably she knows Baal better than he.
Still without turning around, Lilith asks, "Trying to decide if you could break my neck and get out before anyone noticed the body?"
Shateishael growls quietly, "Nope."
There's something, almost a smile in her voice, "What are you thinking, then?"
Shateishael raises an eyebrow, wondering if he should bother answering... he rumbles coldly, "D'you really care whut I'm thinkin'?"
Lilith finally turns around and her face is as serious as Slate has seen it, turning her dazzling presence into something heavier and more solid, "Yes."
Shateishael is silent a moment, wondering if she's telling the truth... then he mentally shrugs and, as always, speaks the truth, "Wuz thinkin' I got folks who care deeply 'bout me, 'n I promised t'do m'best t'come home t' 'em safe 'n sound... 'n wuz feelin' sorry f'you not havin' anyone who feels that way 'bout you -- really you, not one a' y'r masks -- 'n wond'rin' if'n I sh'd try t' pr'tect ya if'n thin's get ugly, cuz 'm thinkin' nobody else cares." He waits silently for her reaction -- it's going to deeply shape his behavior towards her in the next few hours, he suspects.
It's a moment or two before Lilith speaks. Her voice is solemn, "Things aren't going to get that ugly. But if they did, you've discharged your promise to me by simply coming. I wouldn't expect you to get your Vessel wrecked protecting me." She considers the other questions for a moment and says with very little inflection, "The last person that knew the real me is long ago dust, Shateishael. Dust and memories and moonlight. And good riddance to him." She takes a step or two toward the glowering angel, lowering her voice just slightly, "I thought you might like a chance to help best him, you know. I know who she was running from when she found you."
Shateishael raises an eyebrow, "She wuz runnin' from Fire, not th'War."
Lilith's brows go up slightly, "That's not who I traded her geas to."
Shateishael's lips quirk slightly, "Mebbe y'shoulda tried talkin' t'her 'fore y'set this up, ma'am." His tone is calmly amused, "'S whut I heard healthy fam'lies do... c'mmunicate, 'n care 'bout each other."
Lilith smirks, "Who ever said this family was healthy, Slate?" She taps her chin slightly, eyes narrowing, "I traded the favor to Baal, but she was running from Belial?"
Shateishael rumbles dryly, "I w'd never 'ccuse y'all a' healthiness, ma'am." He considers a moment, studying his folded arms over his chest -- and an affectionate chuckle escapes him. He looks up, grinning broadly, "Well, dunno now. She wuz terrified a'Fire, but'cher right, now I'm 'memb'rin'... she said she wuz fleein' Baal's goons."
Lilith's confused expression gets even more confused, "That was funny?"
Shateishael covers his grin with one large hand, "No'm. Wuz jus' rememb'rin' some a' her first words t'me." He leans his head back against the wall, still grinning with quiet happiness, "She said I wuz th' stupidest sonova bitch she thought she'd ever met!"
Lilith laughs quietly and shakes her head, "That does sound like Belo... Bella." She takes a deep breath and releases it; some of her tension slips away, "And I'm glad to hear this little prick didn't give away a favor to that pile of charcoal."
Shateishael smiles quietly, tilting his head at Lilith, "Thank you, ma'am. So, whutcha want from me in this?" He wonders with silent internal interest if Lilith is doing this deliberately or not... being straight and apparently sincere with him really helps him calm down and work with her. Does she realize that?
Lilith smiles a little more widely, "What I said before. I want him off-balance. He's going to hate having a Seraph here. He's going to hate even more that there's a Seraph here under my protection. It's something like diplomatic immunity. If he even thinks of making a move to harm either one of us, he owes me restitution. He's all about his rules. Because if he doesn't follow his rules, that careful little inner world of his falls apart."
Shateishael nods, shifting slightly as he focuses on her words, making sure he doesn't miss anything. He suspects she's underestimating the depths of rage within warriors who are ancient, implacable foes -- curiously, civilians often do -- but he'll stick by her instructions as long as he can. When the diplomacy collapses, he'll do his best to survive... and he thinks now that if he can, he'll make sure she does too.
The Princess moves closer, close enough that she has to tip her head back to look at Slate, leaning toward him. To anyone inside, it will look very much like she's whispering seductively to her leonine escort, an impression she adds to by reaching up to straighten his cravat. "If I can divert the least bit of his energy from the negotiations," she purrs, "it gives me that much more advantage. And I really, really want the advantage here."
Shateishael nods thoughtfully as he listens, "'Kay. So th' 'ccasional growl's 'kay? He's a Liar -- gonna be hard t'stifle it otherwise, y'know?" He's occupied with tactical thoughts... even looking almost directly down at Lilith, he doesn't notice the marvelous cleavage.
Lilith smiles amusedly, "The occasional growl will be lovely. It will make him have to work harder to keep his internal structures in place when he's reminded what he's saying might not strictly agree with what's going on outside his head." She leans into Slate, hands resting on his chest, "And he's coming this direction..." She's whispering in a voice that sounds like she ought to be murmuring delicious wickedness, knowing that until Baal gets into earshot, it will appear like she's discussing something private and lascivious with the big angel. Shateishael stiffens, and without consciously realizing it one large hand comes up to rest on Lilith's hip, so he can if necessary push her swiftly behind him. The other hand clenches into a fist, then carefully and deliberately opens, and Slate takes a slow, grounding breath.
Lilith's eyes twinkle for a moment, knowing the gesture from Slate will seem far from protective given her own body language. She licks her lips and makes as if to rise up on tiptoes just as a smooth, cultured voice says with cold humor, "Ahh... I see Andrealphus has been plying his charms around the room already. He normally waits until people have had a little more alcohol to try to induce rutting on the balconies." There's a part of Slate which is quite well aware Baal would squash him like a bug were there actual conflict between them... but another part of him almost eagerly welcomes a chance for battle with one of his Superior's most-hated enemies. His head raises slowly and he stares coldly at the approaching Demon Prince. [So... this is Baal.]
The Princess takes a quick step back and, amazingly, actually blushes. It's a remarkably good imitation of being caught being inappropriately affectionate in public. She laughs, a half-rueful, half-amused sound, hands moving to straighten her dress and touch her hair as if tidying up from the heat of passion, "Oh, it's nothing more than my own nature and a taste for forbidden fruit. Andy has been behaving himself." Shateishael continues to stare icily at Baal, not moving at all... although anyone with a lick of martial training can tell he's well balanced to shift abruptly wherever is necessary. He finds himself suddenly wondering what on earth or hell is being negotiated between these two... then he pushes the irrelevant thought aside and continues to analytically study the Demon Prince.
Baal is dressed impeccably and he has manifested as a distinguished gentleman of later middle age. Dark hair shows deep tracks of silver at the temples and a neatly trimmed goatee outlines his half-grin. His build is like an aging warrior, broad shouldered but comfortable. He examines Slate curiously for a moment and asks in a light tone, "Forbidden fruit? Who would forbid you anything, lovely lady?" He takes one of Lilith's hands and lays a kiss on the back of her gloved knuckles.
Shateishael raises a thoughtful eyebrow -- Baal can't tell he's a Seraph? Interesting. Carefully, quickly, he lets his Resonance sing softly across the Demon Prince, braced for mental squealing -- but where the party before was a screeching cacophony, Baal seems like silence. Slate hms thoughtfully. He should have warned Lilith about this... no, she must know he can't successfully use his Resonance on Superior-level entities. He gently tucks his Resonance away, and simply watches expressionlessly. However, Baal stiffens almost imperceptibly as it washes over him. Wrinkle-nested eyes narrow slightly and he straightens up, offering his hand to Slate, "I don't believe I've seen you with the lovely Ninlil before; are you a new conquest?"
Shateishael silently half bows with military correctness, not offering his hands to the demon. He's a bit surprised. He's never had anyone notice Resonance before. Baal's eyes narrow further as his handshake is refused. Glancing toward Lilith, he asks coolly, "Strong and silent?" Shateishael just stares, his body language remaining icily correct. He's quite interested in how Baal's going to react to the news... and he doesn't want to be at all off balance when it happens.
Lilith smiles and turns herself so that her back is to Slate, leaning back against the glowering Seraph, "He's an old friend, Baal. We met out in the desert and I wanted to show him off." She reaches back and rests a hand against Slate's side, "I've always had a weakness for blonds, after all." Shateishael's large left hand again comes up to rest on Lilith's hip, for the same reason as before, and he continues to glower silently at Baal over her head. He's absolutely appalled at Baal's choice of names for Lilith, though -- Ninlil?! The repeatedly raped wife of Enlil? What a horrible thing to call her!
Baal smirks at the protective gesture, apparently misinterpreting it. He drops his hand, covering the motion by sliding both hands into his trouser pockets and chuckling, "Ahh... and the jealous type, I see."
Shateishael's expression doesn't change at all... he simply makes mental notes at Baal's apparent inability to recognize protectiveness. Fascinating... but unfortunately not surprising in a demon. Lilith chuckles softly and pats Slate's hand where it rests on her hip, shifting into the angel's hand, "I like him because he keeps me honest." She smiles wickedly and glances up and back at Slate, "Or at least he tries." Shateishael hmfs softly, but doesn't look away from Baal. He's quite aware what the most immediately dangerous thing here is, after all.
Fury flashes across Baal's face almost too quick to be seen, but with Slate's intense concentration the emotion is clear as day. The Prince of the War's mouth narrows, "Is that so?" Each word is clipped -- an obviously failed attempt to sound lightly sarcastic that comes out angry and perhaps offended. Shateishael's eyes narrow -- and then, slowly and deliberately... he grins maliciously. He's almost relaxedly holding position now, shifting into the intense 'no mind' of incipient combat, and his eyes starting to smolder with repressed, eager ferocity. "You'll have to tell me how you managed to get one of Heaven's to follow you into the lion's den, Ninlil. It could be useful to know such effective tactics." Baal takes in Slate's apparent ease in being nestled against by the Princess and smiles back maliciously, "Though I suspect that it's the same tactic you've used for eons, little one."
Shateishael's wicked grin broadens slightly, although it's more a baring of teeth than anything else, as he rumbles, "You'd be wrong, then. Again."
Baal's eyes flash to Slate and a snarl starts to form on his face, shoulders tightening, but then he abruptly relaxes, laughing broadly, "Oh, and training him so very well." The malicious smile returns, "You must be... paying... him very well to keep him on a leash here."
Shateishael falls silent, his smoldering eyes still on Baal, giving Lilith a heartbeat to reply or cue him if she wishes. Lilith laughs quietly and snuggles back against Slate, smirking, "What I pay or don't pay him is between the sweet little Seraph and myself, Baal." Shateishael growls quietly, but bites back on his reply. He so wants Baal to attack! He can feel it almost viscerally inside, churning and surging up such that he strains towards Baal despite the slender woman leaning against his front -- like a starving predator.
Baal snorts as the two of them seem to lean into one another, letting his eyes roam over Lilith in a way that would insult anyone that actually was having a romance with the Princess, "Perhaps we should put off our negotiations until you've had time to pay him thoroughly."
Shateishael whispers tightly, "How d' y' know you ain't th'payment... Prince of Li-aaars?!" He drawls the word 'liars,' drawing it out insultingly.
Baal's voice snaps out like the crack of a whip, "You will keep a civil tongue in my house, errand-boy. Indiscreet as our little succubus may be, she isn't delusional." He turns his furious gaze on the shapely Princess where she seems to be cuddling against the Seraph, "Though I am beginning to think she may be suicidal. Is that it, Ninlil? Have you finally grown tired of your little games and petty tortures? Feel like you've gotten back at Daddy and want to shuffle loose this immortal coil?"
Lilith's laugh truly sounds amused at Baal's little tirade, "Oh, you should know me better than that, Baal. If I were ready for nothingness, I'd choose someone I liked better than you to help me attain it. And I wouldn't leave unfinished business behind. Speaking of which, I believe we have a discussion pending best had in private." Shateishael sighs quietly internally, with mixed feelings. He got a raise out of Baal, and that was delightful! -but it looks like Baal's not going to do anything drastic. His tightly focused stare doesn't waver, but there is a slight shade of disappointment in it now.
The Prince of War is all but vibrating and he leans in close to Slate and Lilith, voice dangerously silky, "We will finish our business, courtesan, and then you will answer for bringing this into my house. You will answer at length."
Lilith smiles sweetly, "Perhaps someday I will, Baal, but this isn't that day. Shall we go have our talk?" Shateishael smiles slowly and humorlessly again, pleased at how angry Baal seems to be. He does wonder what he's supposed to do in the interim... he hopes Lilith makes it quietly clear where he's supposed to wait. He does not want to have to 'mingle' with demons -- especially right now, when he feels almost quiveringly eager to kill them all. Plus he doubts Baal will consent to him remaining by Lilith's side... although there is a part of him which would deeply enjoy watching the Demon Prince practically incinerate himself with fury!
The Prince of War looks as if he could burst into flame, but his posture is icily formal as he offers his arm to Lilith. The Princess takes the proffered arm and smiles to Slate, reaching up with her free hand to smooth his lapel as she purrs, "Wait here for me, Slate. This shouldn't take long." Shateishael nods tightly once, still glowering at Baal. He draws a slow breath, hoping their discussion is someplace close by. He finds himself oddly disturbed at the thought of Lilith being led deep within the house, where no one could hear any cries for help. Because he's who he is, it doesn't immediately occur to him that he also would be in deep trouble were something to happen to her.
The Prince and Princess move off through the crowd, disappearing into a door Slate can easily see from the balcony where he stands. The pair of them have barely disappeared when the almost-too-pretty form of the Prince of Lust glides out onto the patio to join Slate. Shateishael growls quietly, folding his arms and ignoring Andrealphus, who laughs and hops up to sit on the patio's railing, swinging his legs slowly, "Don't growl at me, little guard-dog. I'm not the danger here. I just like being where the pretty people are."
Shateishael leans back against the stone wall and takes slow, deep breaths, not bothering to reply. He completely misses the inference that he's one of the pretty people -- he's busy turning his focus, listening as carefully as he can, for anything coming from the door Lilith and Baal just walked through. Andrealphus grins at Slate's intense attention to the door inside the building, "Wondering what they'll get up to all alone in a cozy little study, Slate?"
Shateishael's gaze flicks once incuriously to the Demon Prince of Lust -- then back to the doorway. Unless Andrealphus moves towards him or changes his current non-threatening body language, Slate's not interested in him. He's faintly bemused for a second at how... utterly clueless demons seem to be sometimes, though! Does no one here see Lilith as a person, rather than sex on the hoof? Are sex and violence the only valid currency for them?
Andrealphus is very interested in Slate, smiling to himself as the Seraph nearly quivers with anxiety. "Mmm... why do I think I could stage an orgy right here and you'd still be watching that door." Shateishael snorts with faint amusement at that, although his focus does not shift from the door. The Impudite Prince slides off his seat on the railing and moves toward Slate, "I could, of course, offer a more immediate and personal entertainment." His eyes are twinkling slightly, "But I fear my own escort would pout tiresomely at me were she to find me with my mouth around an angel's cock. Or, well, any cock at all. She seems threatened by pretty men."
Shateishael's cold gaze shifts abruptly to Andrealphus; he growls low, "Not. Interested."
Andrealphus laughs delightedly, smiling broadly, "Oh, I love hard to get." He glides back toward the door, reaching out to slide a hand along Slate's arm if the Seraph doesn't move away, "But it would be rude to distract a guard dog at work."
Shateishael flicks one hand to block the Demon Prince's touch, rumbling, "Don't touch me."
Andrealphus pauses as he's blocked, still smiling, "Or what? You'll hurt me?" Shateishael doesn't answer, his hand going back to its previous position and the faintly repulsed look still on his face. The Prince laughs quietly, clucking his tongue, "Oh, and here I was hoping you were more rough trade." He lets his gaze slide over Slate regretfully, "But as I said, Justine would make my life unpleasant for days. Have fun watching a closed door." He disappears back into the crowd inside the house.
Shateishael sighs softly, relaxing slightly. Andrealphus makes his skin crawl... he's not sure what 'rough trade' is, but he's pretty sure he wouldn't like it! He wonders amusedly what conniptions Lust would have, though, if he knew Slate was someone's dom... then shudders slightly. [Don't even think about that! Be like trying to scrape off a scorpion...] The balcony stays blessedly empty for quite a while and there are no sounds of Lilith in distress from behind the door. Eventually, however, a rather inebriated young woman wobbles her way out, looking extremely put out. Shateishael sighs quietly, remaining very still. In his dark suit, against the wall, perhaps she'll miss him. He's starting to worry a little at the passage of time, considering Lilith said it wouldn't take long at all.
The girl has dark hair smoothed back into an intricate braid down the center of her back. Her dress is a confection of cream-colored lace and satin and her heels are high enough to be a danger in her obviously drunken state. She weaves her way over to the railing and throws something out into the gardens, slurring, "Fuck him. Fuck him and his diamonds and his slutty little secretary. He can... can go straight to hell..." She tries to spin on her heel and puts herself so completely off balance that she's in imminent danger of landing hard on the stones of the patio.
Shateishael steps forward and catches her easily, straightening and setting her on her feet again. He keeps a hand on her so she doesn't tip over in surprise, rumbling quietly, "Y'okay, ma'am?"
The girl pushes Slate away indignantly when he straightens her up, slurring, "Getcher fuckin' hands off me... what the hell d'you think you're doin', touching a strange woman!" This close, the scent of strong liquor is almost overwhelming.
Shateishael smiles, stepping back to his previous position and rumbling politely, "Yes'm." He suspects telling her she nearly killed herself wouldn't impress her at all in her current state.
The girl leans against the railing, glaring at Slate and then through the door, trying to stare daggers at someone inside. After a moment, she snaps, "Whyn't you just fuck off? Can't you tell when a lady wants some priv'cy?"
Shateishael raises an eyebrow and rumbles in a mild tone of voice, "I wuz here first, ma'am, 'n all I did wuz keep y'from falling over th'edge there." He glances thoughtfully towards the door again... if he left her out here would he be able to get any closer to the study door?
As Slate looks toward the doorway, Lilith emerges with Baal. The Prince of War looks, if possible, even more irate than when they entered; Lilith, on the other hand, almost glows. Shateishael sighs quietly, deeply relieved, and relaxes a bit. He adds quietly to the poor drunken girl, "But 'm happy t' 'blige, ma'am." He touches his fingers lightly to his temple in salute to her, rumbling, "Hope y'night gets better," and slides silently through the entryway and back into the room, where he waits for Lilith to notice him.
The girl shouts something so slurred as to be completely incoherent as Slate escapes back into the party. Baal has melted back into the sea of humanity and Infernals. Lilith captures another pair of champagne flutes and carries them toward Slate, offering the big angel one with a triumphant smile, "Have a drink with me."
Shateishael raises an eyebrow, politely accepting the flute and murmuring quietly, "Don' think y'wanna go outside jus' now, ma'am..." He doesn't really want to drink anything, but he'll at least go through the gestures with her.
Lilith's eyes are bright and excited as she sips at her champagne, catching a glimpse of the young woman with the braid being violently ill over the balcony. She whistles quietly through her teeth, "Oh, dear... Andy's already stirring up problems, I see."
Shateishael wonders a bit worriedly just what Baal's up to -- he can't imagine the War being that angry and not exacting revenge. It's starting to worry him... it takes him a moment to register who Lilith is talking about, since he's looking warily about the room at that moment... he sighs, looking over at the poor woman, then murmurs, "Dunno why... he seems t'think Justine'll give 'im hell if'n he's wi' anyone else." He casually puts his free hand in his pants pocket, and lightly holds the little flute of champagne between slightly scarred fingers so he doesn't have to drink it, as he continues to study the room's general emotional tone. He wonders if he can talk Lilith into leaving early, now she's gotten her negotiations successfully concluded -- he doubts a party like this will have any dinner or dancing offered... at least if the ill young woman outside is any indication.
Lilith shakes her head and indicates a couple being cozy in a corner, the standard-issue pretty young man whispering into the ear of a standard-issue pretty blonde girl. The Princess murmurs, "He was with the vomiting girl earlier... Andre can't help stirring up trouble sometimes."
Shateishael rolls his eyes in exasperation, "'M I th'on'y person here that don't think everyone here's nuthin' more'n sex onna hoof?"
Lilith smiles mysteriously, "Not quite, but close." She finishes off her champagne and slides her hand through Slate's elbow, "I do believe I've had just about enough of this. There's too many of my co-workers here for this to feel like a real party."
Shateishael murmurs in relief, "Oh, good. Time t'go?" He casually sets the untouched flute of champagne on the tray of a passing waiter and turns for the door.
Lilith does likewise with her empty flute and nods, "I prefer pretty people wearing nothing but paint and sweat around a bonfire any day of the week." The Princess grins brightly, looking open and quite happy, "Let's go find the limo." She stalks off through the crowd, no longer the elegantly swaying socialite of earlier. This is much more the body language of "Electra" at the Burn. Shateishael looks a bit surprised -- then grins and paces easily along after Lilith, watching the crowd around her. If he can just get her safely out to the car... it should all be fine then, he hopes.
There are a few admiring glances from the crowd as Lilith glides through, and a few jealous ones. One or two sets of eyes look quite hostile, however. The owner of one of those pairs of eyes waits until Lilith is by him, then starts to follow her out the door. Shateishael raises an eyebrow, his pace going prowlingly silent as he follows along right behind the individual.
The person following the Princess might as well have "goon" tattooed across his forehead. His shoulders are slightly too wide for the tux he's wearing, stretching it enough that the seams look strained. His close-buzzed hair looks like a military cut and he carries himself as if his own footsteps thunder in his ears. Slate has seen the type before -- mostly right before he threw them out of Fat Charlie's on their ear for starting a fight.
He wonders a bit bemusedly why this guy's angry with Lilith. He doesn't remember her greeting the thug tonight. Could this be an old antagonism -- or perhaps he's one of Baal's? Hardly looks the type, though... he shrugs mentally and makes sure he can easily flip the guy away if necessary. He wishes a little wistfully his old friend Nick were here, with his chrome-plated .45s. Good old Nick would just shoot a demon and get a rumble nicely started for Slate to play in! ...and then Slate blinks -- he knows this goon! This is the guy who tried to kill Bella -- the moron just recreated his old Vessel! Slate grins, his eyes lighting up. This should be fun!
As the Calabite and Lilith clear the door, the demon reaches under his jacket in a gesture that's impossible to mistake for anything except reaching for a gun in a shoulder holster. He's bellowing toward the apparently unaware Princess, "No half-mortal whore humiliates Lord Baal!"
Enraged the demon may be, but he's still just as lumberingly slow as he was decades ago. Shateishael grins and whips his right hand forward, the katana materializing in a gleaming ribbon of steel that passes effortlessly through the demon's thick neck. He snaps the blood free of the blade and, as the body collapses to the marble floor, re-sheathes his sword. He's caught the demon flat-footed once again -- he doubts it even knew he's there, let alone saw anything coming. A moment to nudge the body slightly so the blood spouts away from the elegant Princess, and he trots down the stairs to open the limo's door for her with a polite, "Ma'am?"
Lilith turns at the shout, just in time to see the Calabite's head being separated from its thick neck. Her eyes are a bit wide at the speed and apparent joy Slate displays in dispatching the fanatical demon. She blinks for a moment, then throws her head back in a full-throated laugh as Slate opens the door for her. The shouting has drawn the attention of a few of the onlookers, and a moment later Baal comes storming out the doors. The security guards start herding everyone back inside as the Prince of the War howls, "What have you done, you impudent whelp? Raising a hand against one of my own in my house?!" The Prince's eyes are almost glowing with rage.
Shateishael looks up, still holding the door. His eyes are alight with battle-joy as he rumbles, "He wuz 'bout t' shoot th' Lady." He pauses, then grins tightly, "Guess her trainin's better'n y'rs."
Lilith finishes laughing and steps toward Baal, smirking, "He was protecting me from yet another of your thugs with more muscle than brain, Baal." The Princess steps close enough that she could kiss the quivering Demon Prince and murmurs, "The next time you try to have me assassinated, remember to have him do it when I'm not under protection of hospitality." She reaches up and pats the furious Baal on the cheek before turning and sashaying down the steps and pouring herself into the limo, saying in an exaggeratedly bored voice, "Let's go home, dear; this is getting tedious."
Shateishael has to bite down on his malicious grin, simply nodding and sliding into the car after her. He's still watching Baal through the window, though, part of him almost hoping further conflict will break out -- even as his small common-sense inner voice yells at him to get out now with Lilith while the getting's still good! As the limo pulls away Baal is still standing on the steps of the mansion, seething. As soon as the car is out of sight of the enormous house, Lilith sighs and flops back into her seat, kicking off her shoes and smiling beatifically, "Oh, that was worth every single ounce of geas I gave away tonight."
Shateishael sighs, settling back in the limo seat and working his hands restlessly; taking deep, slow breaths to help dispel the adrenaline surging through his system. After a moment he grins again, glancing sideways at Lilith, "Glad t'help. Y'okay?"He hesitates, then rumbles, "Didja know th'demon? Wuz th'one tried t'kill Bellisima." He sighs happily, adding contentedly, "Man, that wuz so satisfyin'!"
Lilith kicks her feet up onto the seat across from her, smiling as she wiggles her toes inside her stockings, "I'm sure he's just one of several that have tried at one time or another, Slate. I didn't realize you knew him personally or anything."
Shateishael says, "No'm, I mean tha's th'one Bella'n me dispatched when we firs' met." He barks a laugh at her last comment, adding, "Nope, don' know 'im 'tall -- I wuz b'hind him then too!" He rumbles amusedly, "He ain't too bright, I guess."
The Princess of Freedom reaches up and starts pulling hairpins out of her elaborate coif, letting it fall down around her mostly bare shoulders, still grinning broadly, "I got what I wanted out of the negotiations. I got seen by three different Princes with an angel on my arm, and I got to watch a beautiful man kick the shit out of one of Baal's blockheads. I'd say I'm more than OK."
Shateishael chuckles, flushing self-consciously, "Thanks, ma'am." He sighs and stretches out as well, putting his long legs up on the far seat as well, and resting his head back on the seat, half watching Lilith next to him. He's visibly relaxing, shedding tension and slouching comfortably, although he's careful to politely not stretch into Lilith's space.
Lilith combs her fingers through her hair and grins over at Slate, "The only thing that could make the night better is a chocolate sundae and a romp under the sheets. But since I don't want to go out trolling and I don't have a taste for professionals, I get one out of two." She reaches for the phone built into the car, "Should I call and get you plane tickets home tonight? I'm sure there's a red-eye."
Shateishael looks curious, "Whut's trollin', ma'am? An'... d'ya not want me t' jus' use a Tether 'n save ya th'cost?" He adds suddenly, "Hey, an' d'y'know whut 'rough trade' is?"
The Princess is relaxing, shedding the sex kitten pose for the easy grace she wore as Electra at the Burn. She arches a brow, "Do you want to explain to a Seneschal what you're doing so far from home?" She starts to giggle a bit at the question about trolling and throws her head back again into a joyous laugh at the question about rough trade. Shateishael grins a bit bemusedly, tilting his head and waiting for her to explain. He's oddly pleased at her laugh... it's nice. He wonders if she gets a chance to laugh freely like that very often. Hanging up the phone without making the call, Lilith half-turns to grin at Slate, "Trolling... you know... going out to a bar and looking for someone to take home. And rough trade, well... first, who said something about it?"
Shateishael looks a bit taken aback at the explanation of trolling, "Ew! No, don' do that... y'end up wi' folks that don' care 'boutcha." As he's speaking, his attention is caught by the ruby pendant, which has swung slightly to one side. He reaches out with one large, slightly scarred hand, and gently shifts it back to hang properly, then grins a touch ruefully at the second question, rumbling, "Andrealphus. Think he wan'ed some 'ttenshun, but I tole him flat out wuzn't innerested, 'n t'not touch me."
Lilith doesn't flinch when Slate reaches for her, just glances down to watch him correct the hang of the pendant with a smile, "Ahh... Andrealphus always wants attention. Rough trade... I think he was implying you might be the type to be all toppy and rough with someone." She pauses and then can't resist the question, "Are you? Rough trade, I mean?"
Shateishael looks a bit surprised, "Don' hafta be rough t'be a dom, I thought?"
Lilith continues smiling, "You don't. But you look like the sort who could be. And the way you were glowering, you looked like you might enjoy hurting someone. But no, I watched you with your boy. You treated him like porcelain."
Shateishael rumbles unselfconsciously, "Well, he's jus' a sweet li'l Flowerchile... kinda delicate, y'know? 'N I take best care I can wi'alla m'lovely Hearthfolk." He adds thoughtfully, "Sure din' mind hurtin' th'thug... but not hurtin' folks I care 'bout."
Lilith smiles and reaches over, patting Slate on the leg, "And a lovely little thing he is. And that thug needed hurting."
Shateishael glances out the back window, adding a bit wistfully, "Woulda loved t'rumble bit more... but din' wanna getcha inta trouble." Then her words register and he nods with a touch of pride, "Rosebud's pretty 'mazin', yeah, 'n so's Bellisima." He sighs softly once, then takes a deep breath and pulls his thoughts together, "So you wanna chocl'te sundae, 'kay. Um... one las' bit from th'party, if'n y'don' mind? Should I be watchin' over m'shoulder f'while now, 'r whut? Figger Baal's vindictive, sure 'nuff, but is Andrealphus too?" He pauses, then adds a bit diffidently, "Um... wan'ed t'thank you, ma'am, f'keepin' th'Burn demon-free, too."
Lilith smiles slightly, "It wouldn't hurt to watch, but I doubt he's going to look too hard. It's me he'd be more likely to try to get back at. Andy isn't so much vindictive as just curious and persistent." Then the Princess arches a brow and smiles, "What makes you think I have thing one to do with that?"
Shateishael nods, reassured, "'Kay. Thanks, ma'am," then hesitates. He knows because of the Ethereals... but he's not entirely sure she's aware of them. Finally he says carefully, "Ma'am, it's bit a' 'ssumption on my part, an' if'n I'm wrong feel free t'c'rrect me... but if'n I'm right, then th'thanks is d'served... 'n I'm bettin' nobody else's said that t'ya yet, so figger'd y'wouldn' min'."
Lilith smiles quietly, "Don't assume too much, Slate. There are a lot of things at work around the playa. A lot." She stretches again, catlike, and leans her cheek against the back of the seat. Once again she's turned facing him; she seems to like to look directly at people when she talks. She crosses her arms across herself as if she's slightly chilly.
Shateishael nods quietly and remains silent for a heartbeat. He's not sure he's wrong yet... but he's not going to push it. Instead he murmurs in quiet inquiry, "Ninlil?" Old training kicks in at her posture, and he unbuttons his jacket, sliding out of it and leaning to tuck it around the smaller woman, "Y'warm 'nuff?"
Lilith smiles wryly and wraps the jacket around herself, shrugging at the question, "I've worn a lot of faces. Baal just thinks he's being insulting."
Shateishael nods a touch grimly, "Tacky thin' t'call someone." He settles back, glancing around and curiously rumbling, "Where we headed to, ma'am?"
Lilith doesn't bother looking out the car windows as she replies, "The hotel. Your things are still there, whether you want to fly out or take a Tether." Snuggled up in Slate's tux jacket and smiling, she looks as if she should have a cat curled up in her lap.
Shateishael nods, "'Kay. Um... think mebbe y'r better at this discretion thin' than me... so I'll take y'r advice 'n take a flight, if'n y'don' mind?" He grins ruefully, adding, "Y'min' if'n I change clo's 'fore th'chocl'te sundae, though? Managed t'keep th'suit clean 'n unripped so far... 'd feel a right fool if'n I got chocl'te on it 'r sumpin'."
Lilith blinks and looks pleasantly surprised, "Wait... you want to have a sundae with me? I thought you'd want to get back home as quick as possible?"
Shateishael gives her a curious look, "Um... I promised t'stay by y'r side t'night, ma'am, 'n t'..." his voice trails off as he thinks a bit -- then he looks embarrassed, "I'm sorry, ma'am -- 'm happy t'take off if'n y'r done 'n I've misunnerstood?"
Lilith shakes her head and smiles, "No, I'm glad to have company for my sundae. And you're welcome to change clothes first. But our deal was for you to escort me to that little to-do. That's over, so I figured you'd want to get home."
Shateishael murmurs, "Oh," then thinks a bit -- he really wants to get home. On the other hand, there is a small, suspicious part of him that remembers Lilith's clear instructions to Baal -- send assassins after her outside his house. Slate ruminates on that, then rumbles, "Moment," and brings out his cell phone to call home. He stares at it for a few seconds, wishing he felt like it would be right to ask Lilith for another forgiven geas for doing that little bit of body-guarding... then he looks up curiously at her, "Hey, didja know th'thug wuz follerin' ya?"
Lilith smiles and shakes her head no, "Nope. Careless probably, but I don't actually think Baal sent him. The War has a few fanatics."
Shateishael nods, "Figger'd 's much too." He hesitates -- he really wants another geas, but it wasn't truly part of the agreement. Finally he compromises, rubbing the back of his head as he diffidently rumbles, "Um... ma'am, I know it's not part a' th' 'riginal 'greement, so if'n y'say no I'll unnerstan'... but, um, mightcha feel 'tall like f'givin' 'nother geas f'that?"
Lilith smirks, but it's an amused rather than mocking one, "Well, you did go outside the bounds of what I asked, which could have gotten you torn apart..." Shateishael brightens hopefully, watching her sideways from under his blonde bangs. Lilith leans forward and impulsively tries to kiss Slate on the cheek, "For saving me from having to recreate my favorite Vessel." There's another of those negligent waves and she grins impishly, "It'll take a lot more than that to get the other three, though."
Shateishael blinks, then flushes a bit at the kiss, smiling a touch sheepishly, "Well... din' think it'd hurt t'jus' ask, ma'am. Thanks." Before the phone rings he curiously asks, "Whut d'y'want f'th'other three?"
Lilith leans back against the side of the limo, eyes twinkling, "You don't want to ask, Slate." Before she has finished speaking, the phone is ringing.
Shateishael is easily distracted by the phone -- his face lights up and he answers happily, "Hey, beautiful!"
Bella is breathless, "Do I want to know what you traded her for that, Slate?" She sounds like she's trying to be teasing, but is too startled to do a good job of it.
Shateishael laughs aloud, slouching relaxedly in the seat and teasing gently, "Dunno, sweetheart... you tell me!" He sighs happily, adding, "Thanks f'callin' 'gain, lover... 's really nice t'hear y'voice!"
There is the distinct sound of Bella rustling around in her covers as she laughs, "Mmm... it's good to hear yours. So what did you trade her?"
Shateishael grins a bit proudly, "Well, y'know th'demon that wuz chasin' ya when we first met? Guess who wuz gonna be a hotshot 'n off Lilith f'embarrassin' Baal at th'party?"
Bella sits in stunned silence for a moment, then asks in an almost reverent tone, "Are you shitting me?"
Shateishael answers promptly, a big grin on his face, "No'm! 'N guess who din' have any idea whut wuz b'hin' him neither?"
Bella snorts, "Well, we already knew he wasn't quite half-bright."
Shateishael chuckles, "Yeah. So I cut 'is head off, 'n we left quick 'fore Baal 'sploded from fury." He sighs happily, adding, "On'y three t'go, yeah? So, I'm gonna getta red-eye flight home inna bit. Should be home near 'bouts dawn-ish, 'm thinkin'. That 'kay wi'you, sweetheart?"
Bella smiles, "Get a lot of sleep on the flight, love. I think Rosie and I will want to welcome you home thoroughly."
Shateishael's eyes light up with happiness and he rumbles, "Cain't wait, beautiful. Tell th'li'l Rosebud 'n Thea I'll be home soon 'n I miss y'all bunches, 'kay?"
Bella's smile is audible in her voice, "We miss you, too. We love you. Hurry home." Lilith watches Slate talk with Bella, smiling almost wistfully as the Seraph that was stalking around like a barely trained attack dog not half an hour earlier acts like a large, eager puppy with her estranged daughter.
Shateishael reluctantly bids Bella goodbye, then closes up his cell and leans over Lilith to tuck it back into the jacket pocket. He's politely careful not to touch her if he can help it, although when he's this close to her she can see he's almost glowing with happiness. Lilith moves as if she wants to lean toward Slate, but then catches herself and just settles into the seat, tucking her feet beneath herself as best she can in the dress. Shateishael is still glowing as he absently tucks her dress under her bare feet, then leans back in the seat again, arms behind his head and beaming up at the ceiling. He rumbles dreamily a moment later, "Sure, ma'am, be happy t'hava sundae wi'ya, if'n y'want. Might be smart t'jus' be sure ev'rythin's okay anyways, y'know?"
Lilith carefully doesn't move as Slate tucks the dress in. "Sundaes it is, then." She spends the rest of the ride back to the hotel in companionable silence. Once there, she demonstrates the joys of a four-star hotel by calling room service and ordering the sundaes brought up. By the time they arrive, she's peeled out of the dress and stockings and has put on a pair of flannel pajamas that look like they've been washed a couple hundred times.
Shateishael has carefully packed the tux away according to the directions Rosie'd written up for him, and is now back in his usual neatly patched, slightly threadbare jeans -- and far more relaxed looking now! Aside from them he's wearing only his ubiquitous silver ring and Thor's Hammer. He answers the door a touch warily when the sundaes arrive, then brings the sundaes over to Lilith, "Where y'wanna eat, ma'am?" He glances around, then adds, "Y'wanna get tucked in wi'a blanket first, 'r whut?"
Lilith declares the chocolate sundaes must be eaten in bed, but then give Slate an out by mentioning that there is a chair in the bedroom. Shateishael chuckles, setting the tray aside and picking up a few extra pillows to tuck behind her, "'Kay. Get comfy, 'n then I'll hand ya th'sundae, 'kay?" At mention of the chair he rumbles with a touch of surprise, "Y'wan' me t'keep m'distance, ma'am?"
Lilith is smiling quietly the whole time Slate is tucking her in with the pillows and blankets, nestling herself in comfortably before accepting the sundae from the big angel, "No, I just don't want to make you feel like you need to snuggle up in bed with me."
Shateishael chuckles quietly again, reaching to pick up the tray as he rumbles, "No'm, I figger'd t'sit on th'bed next t'ya after y'were tucked in, if'n y'wan'ed -- 's okay?"
Lilith examines Slate and then nods, smiling, "Works for me."
Shateishael tilts his head a touch curiously at her before moving, not sure if she's really pleased with this or not -- and not wanting to be a pest after she's been nice to him, "Sumpin'?"
The Princess laughs and shakes her head, "No. Just still filing things away. Sorry."
Shateishael nods, handing her the tray before settling in next to her, very carefully so the neatly tucked covers and arranged pillows aren't messed up. Then he'll wait until she's got her sundae before he takes his and sets the tray aside. He grins, gently tapping the edge of the sundae glass against hers, "T'th' successful c'mpletion a' alla our goals, ma'am!"
Lilith clinks her sundae glass (and they're definitely real glass, and the spoons look to be actual silver) against Slate's and smiles brightly, "Amen."
Shateishael chuckles, then savors ice cream and chocolaty goodness for a while. Mostly, however, he watches her sensuously savoring hers, smiling a bit at her obvious pleasure. It's when she's slowed down a bit that he rumbles thoughtfully, "C'n I ask ya question, ma'am? Wuz wond'rin'... howcum y'din' hit me wi' a geas like usual?"
Sensually savoring might actually be putting it a little mildly. The way she wriggles and makes happy noises, she might as well have been having very good sex. When she's gotten halfway through the sundae, Slate asks his question, catching her with her spoon still in her mouth. She carefully pulls it out and smiles, "I didn't need to."
Shateishael grins, watching her very obvious pleasure, and is careful not to get in her way. At her reply he curiously asks, "Then why keep th'last three a' Bellisima's geasa?"
Lilith smiles again, not quite as brightly, "Because I could no more give them away that easily than you could tell a lie even for a good cause."
Shateishael huhs thoughtfully, "Really? Y'jus' cain't, even if'n y'wan'ed to?" He idly licks his spoon, considering that interesting thought.
Lilith is surprisingly subtle in watching Slate lick his spoon. "Mmm. And if word got out it could be bad."
Shateishael takes the spoon out of his mouth to scoop up another bit of chocolate and ice cream, rumbling curiously, "Howcum? Oh... cuz folks'd 'xpect ya t'let 'em off easy 'r sumpin'?"
Despite the slightly awkward question, Lilith is snuggled into the little nest that Slate made for her, smiling and looking like nothing could be more comfy than where she is right now. She does cant slightly toward the Seraph, but she's well aware than less than twelve hours ago he practically had steam coming out of his ears, "Because the world I live in is not an easy one."
Shateishael sighs softly, rumbling with complete sincerity, "'M sorry y'feel stuck innit, ma'am. I know y'think it's silly a' me, but m'offer stan's." He puts his spoon in his mouth and absently tucks in a pillow behind her a bit more, then takes the spoon again and adds thoughtfully, "Ac'sh'ly, both a' 'em are. Didja d'cide if'n I got sumpin' unique 'r not?"
The Princess smiles, "Oh, you've got something unique, all right." She glances at the clock and sounds almost wistful, "You should get going if you're going to get to the airport."
Shateishael glances up alertly, "Yeah? Figger'd I'd jus' fly there, cuz I got ev'rthin' packed up -- it that time a'ready?" Then he blinks, realizing how smoothly he'd been distracted, and laughs, "Hey now, no fair, ma'am! Is that a yes 'r no?" He pauses in swinging his legs off the bed to curiously rumble half under his breath, "I got sumpin' unique?"
Lilith smiles up at Slate from her nest of pillows, looking almost mundane for a moment, "Yes, you have something unique, Slate. I just don't know yet how it will come in handy." She makes a shooing motion, "Get to the airport; go home. Kiss your lovers and be happy. You'll hear from me again."
Shateishael grins at Lilith at her reply, then sets the sundae aside, striding around the room as he quickly pulls on socks, boots, shirt, then his leather jacket. He sets the suit bag and duffel over by the door and returns to the bedside, leaning to gently take one of her small hands in his large, calloused ones, and rumbles sincerely, "Ma'am, thanks ver'much f' f'givin' so many a' Bella's geasa." He bows courteously over her hand, then lays it gently back on the bedspread. Then he grins, "Thanks f'th' sundae too. Y'c'n have th'resta mine if'n y'want, ma'am."
Lilith smiles up at Slate as he doesn't quite kiss her hand, "You're welcome. And thank you. I'm probably going to take you up on that." Shateishael turns and swiftly scoops up the two bags, and then, with a cheerful wave... he's gone. He paces swiftly through the hotel to a secluded spot, beaming and humming happily to himself as he goes. Once he finds a good place, there's a slight trill in the Symphony -- and a moment later a large, very happy Seraph beats its wings powerfully, heading for the airport.
The flight home is as uneventful as a commercial flight can be. There are the normal murmuring stewardesses, but there's not as much hustling about and offering of sodas and snacks, as more than half the plane is sleeping through the flight. Shateishael stares eagerly out the window, even though he knows it'll be at least two or three hours before he gets home. He's unwittingly charmingly polite to the waitresses, his obvious happiness at going home glowing within him. The flight attendants are, unsurprisingly, quite nice to Slate through the flight. He does remember his books before he gets too fidgety, and manages to work through the rest of Freud and part of James before the plane sets down in the Phoenix airport.
The landing goes smoothly and Slate is able to debark and get back to his bike with no problem. He doesn't quite bound off the plane, his eyes alight with excitement, but it's close! Once he's gotten his helmet and the rest of his leathers on, he's soon astride the big old bike and roaring as swiftly down the highway as a non-Ofanite angel dares.
The ranch is pre-dawn sleepy, but there's been a small lamp set into the front window and turned on; it's not something that's normally there. Shateishael slows the bike down to a much quieter, low throbbing growl as he rides onto the land, but Thea catches him anyway, looming up in the headlights and glaring with a mix of relief and annoyance at him like a worried mother after prom. He happily hugs her tightly, murmuring quiet endearments to her and stroking her mane until she relaxes and gently punches him in the shoulder, urging him to go in to Bella and Rosie.
Shateishael beams at the lamp in the window, touched -- then leaves a trail behind himself through the house: bags tossed aside just inside the door, leathers and boots and clothes stripped off and dropped carelessly one after the other on the floor behind him... then he carefully and quietly opens Bella's bedroom door and peeks in. He finds Bella and Rosie curled up together in Bella's big sleigh bed, and a moment later he's kneeling next to the bed, alight with happiness as he gently strokes their faces with his fingertips, whispering softly, "Hey, sweethearts!"
Rosenstern rouses slowly, almost purring happily in sleepiness, but making himself awaken, if sleepily, as he reaches out and embraces Slate in slow motion. Bella flutters her eyes open and smiles over at Slate, reaching out to touch his face in turn, whispering, "Welcome home, love." She smiles at Rosie's greeting and wriggles around until there's room between herself and the Mercurian in the bed, "Climb in, sweetie. I'm sure you could use a hug or two."
Shateishael sighs happily, leaning to wrap his arms about them both, nuzzling gently against Bella's hair for a moment, just breathing in the lovely scent of them both... then he sighs in quiet joy again, shifting to carefully slide between them both and cuddle down under the covers with them. He snuggles them both up against him, if they let him, and his breath escapes him in a long, heartfelt rumble of contentment as the last of the tension slowly leaks out of him. He whispers quietly, "Man, I am so glad t'be home...!"
Rosenstern is holding on to Slate with surprising strength considering how sleepy he is, his arms wrapped tightly around Slate's waist as the little Mercurian slips back to sleep. "So'm us," he murmurs.
Bella is cuddled in just as fiercely from the other side, "Mmm... back and safe." She burrows in with her head against Slate's shoulder and drifts off, one arm slung over him and touching Rosie as well.
Shateishael chuckles quietly, stroking Rosie's side as he holds him close, leaning his head down to gently kiss the top of the little angel's head. Then he turns to whisper softly to Bella, "Jus' like I promised, yeah. Love y'both, beautiful." He kisses her forehead gently, then closes his eyes and lets himself drift off with his family of the heart.
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