The Rising - Ennead 2

Scene 13.2 - Sleeping with the Enemy

The blood shows them a spacious loft in Amsterdam. The pulsing of EDM bass far below is almost soothing. It gladly dampens the strength of the silence in the almost-soundproof habitat.

A barely clothed female figure lies, belly-down, on a minimalistic divan. She is surrounded by litter of many sorts: candy wrappers; greasy take-out boxes; a discarded neon-pink bralette, a pizza box with a single uneaten slice; an onyx black powder compact and sprinkling of spent latex condoms.

Her hair changes, morphing from wavy brunette tresses to a short blond pixie cut. She oozes sexuality that any human would be hard pressed to resist. Even without the benefit of lipstick, her lips are plump berries that pout without meaning to.

It's not too surprising when you think about it actually. This is Lilly, Archdaemon of Gluttony and Lust.

A man slowly fades into the room, a Faerie of the First Society. He's a giant of a man, at least seven feet tall, with a pale blond buzz cut and craggy Norse features and a bulbous nose.

The dark blue sleeves of the Faerie's sleeves are darkened. It becomes clear what causes the darkening when he raises his right hand to present a gift: a severed head.

"You said you wanted a head, I got you a head. Does this work?"

Lilly ignores the giant, still focused on cuticle care. He grunts and continues, "This is the head of one of the men the Lord First values. We call him 'the Chechnyan'."

He lobs the head and it rolls till it lands at the foot of Lilly's bed. The act almost catches the daemon's attention. Only just.

"Boris darling," she chastises in a lazy Louisiana drawl, "The man's blood will be a terror to get out of these carpets you know?"

The giant puts his hands together and tenses. Regardless of his fear, he reminds her, as respectfully as possible that, "No one calls me that besides The Mother."

Lilly chuckles, "I am your boss now Boris. You swore away your allegiance to that child for the promise of glory in the coming world. Remember?"

The giant's lips tighten but he says nothing. After an awkward silence he steps forward, rolls his shoulders and clears his throat.

"Lucy sends a message."

Lilly's nonchalance is murdered in a moment. She tosses the nail file to the side and sits up. "You met Lucy?" she gasps.

Boris averts his gaze. Besides lace thongs, the Archdaemon is clad in nothing but air.

She snorts, annoyed his prudishness and pulls on the neon-pink bralette. "Look at me Scryer! I'll read the truth in your eyes myself."

The faerie reluctantly turns back to Lilly and bows slightly in apology.

"Lucy was the one who severed the head. To be honest, the man proved to be more trouble than I expected." He rumbled.

"I don't care for that, idiot. Tell me what she said."

"She knows you have a few of us working with you. She says you should stay out of her way if you value your current body."

Lilly scowls, rather like a spoiled toddler. "She doesn't change does she?" her voice rises into a whiny caricature of what I suppose is meant to be Lucy, "don't be stupid Lilly. Stay out of my way Lilly. I will do what I want Lilly. Don't play with my toys Lilly. Urgh!"

She hurls the file at Boris. He sidesteps, unfazed. The tool continues to fly till it lodges into a brick wall.

Lilly sighs and pouts. "That snake ruins my mood even when she's not here. Is everything else on course?"

"Indeed. The Socialists are making the Conservatives push back even harder. Most Societies are as brittle as frozen blackiron. They will shatter with the Rising, then we can reform them as they should be."

She nods distractedly, and he continues.

"Henry Gaines' self-regard has risen. Soon, perhaps he will notice that the child Fae is unfit to rule. One more tragedy should bring him close to the edge." The giant's biting tone speaks volumes of how much he respects the man, Henry Gaines.

Lilly snorts, "I don't like to deal with 'perhaps' scryer, give me something concrete."

The giant clears his throat and shuffles his feet. "I have found a lead to the Eldest. As you suspected, there has been a Magus with that..."

The Archdaemon's eyes light up. "What is this lead exactly?"

"A man, Pathless, I believe the term is conspiracy theorist. I will report back to you as soon as I can."

The Archdaemon nods. Now her attention flits around the room. "The smell of blood on you is making me hungry for real food. Leave me. Unless you want to fill me up... in other ways?"

She curves her spine seductively and sucks on her index finger. Her eyes eat in his figure as they move down until they zero in on the giant's groin. His face reddens and he stumbles back before stuttering and excuse and fading away in a dreamshift.