FATE\Deus Decipit

Chapter 53: The Way it Burns

10:45pm, The Alghul Villa

Xander stepped out of the odd cab and closed the door behind him. He moved to the front of the car in order to discuss payment, but the cabby just pulled away without a word otherwise, nearly running over his foot in the process.

Not long after his confrontation with Chauncey, the car appeared from nowhere and without warning, offering to take him the rest of the way to his destination. Though the whole situation was strange, in his long career he'd experienced things far stranger than a mystery cabbie, and so chose not to question it. Instead, he pushed that strangeness aside and moved to the front door of the mountain villa for his first meeting with Aisha and her elusive Caster.

After rapping on the door, it took only a few moments for it to open- Aisha on the other side.

This- this was more strange to him than the car. Aisha, to put it mildly, was the kind of person for whom doors were opened, not the sort that opened them herself. She was more likely to call to the person behind the door to have him let himself in, or else to establish some mechanism that would open the door through magical means- even something as simple as having a skeleton do it for her. But, for whatever reason, there she was. Something in her tired, purple eyes told him that a change had occurred within her, but what he couldn't say.

'Had her eyes always been purple?

...

'Must be a trick of the light.'

Dressed in a men's red velvet button-up, sleeves rolled, and suit pants with a bloodied rag hung from her waist, the necromancer grunted with acknowledgement, "Ah, there you are. Come in."

Following her inside, he found an open-floor cabin with general spaces reserved for the kitchen, dining and relaxing rather than individual rooms. There was also, notably, a large diorama in the center of the space: a model of Athens almost certainly either used for or the product of magecraft. But, rather than the quaintness of the cabin or the strangeness of the model, there was something first and foremost that caught his eye: Caster.

Sitting in a dining chair set parallel to the far wall, which was nothing but a window, his bare chest was exposed. Bandages were wrapped across much of his upper chest and lower neck and Xander could make out the pink and black marks of burns around their edges. On a side table set behind the chair, the remnants of gauze and cloth could be seen surrounding a small blue box. It was plainly obvious from her rolled up sleeves and the slight, reddish moisture on the tips of Aisha's fingers that she'd been performing some sort of first aid, though, from his limited observation, she'd likely completed dressing the wounds not long ago, perhaps just before he entered.

It was another sort of menial labor she'd never ordinarily bother herself with, but then again he didn't know the nature of their relationship, though acts such as these made him think that perhaps they were closer than he'd imagined.

She paid no attention to him as she crossed the room, rubbing her hands on that bloodied towel hung from her waist, "There's wine on the counter, help yourself if you like."

Looking to the bar that separated the kitchenette from the rest of the space, there was indeed a bottle of red wine with three glasses beside it. It did worry him that the bottle was unmarked. Caster's true identity was Dionysus, correct? While drinking wine made from the hands of its inventor would surely be a story to tell later, he wasn't sure it was proper for the occasion. Things were much too serious to go around experimenting like a teenager at a college party.

Instead, he turned his eyes to Caster, who sat leaning towards the window and looking out, his left arm perched like a vulture on the chair's arm. This was his first time meeting the man face-to-face, this was true, but, even so, he was caught somewhat off-guard. From the initial sketch they'd received, as well as the impression he received of the man when he'd appeared to him in his dreams the previous night, though this impression was more empathic than visual, it could be plainly seen that Caster was a man of charisma. He exuded a sort of confidence that could only ever be found among gods and fools, a rare confidence that inspires equal parts loyalty and passion in those who follow him. He was not one to be taken lightly: his tongue was silvered and his eyes were sharp.