Ferryman's Telling
13th of January 2007 A.D.
"Yes, yes I could use some help," you speak with far more confidence than you feel, perhaps with more speed than is wise. The dragon's treason and Sandra's purges had made a right mess of Vegas and God only knows how the Red Court, still smarting from Duchess' Arianna's death would take a full purge. But on the other hand... What would Dad do? There is a reason the Knights did not sign the Accords. Sometimes doing the right thing means taking a risk and not just the kind that involves being wreathed in blood-flame. "There are more loose ends..." you sigh, realizing you are using euphemisms on the phone. "Vampires, Red Court, I do not think the survivors are directly involved but they are disorganized and leaderless."
"Ah..." she breathes. "Let is not be said that fortune does not smile from time to time. Madame Silk the proprietor of the Xanadu has agreed to shift her allegiance to a more worthy cause, ours. The removal of her former patron would be most appreciated." For a moment you are surprised to hear 'madame', she had always used 'Miss' or 'Ms' before. Then you realize she's being technical about Silk's former job which makes you very glad it's hard to notice a blush on cheeks made of brass.
"I'll be in touch," you say in parting before before raising your eyes back to the patiently waiting still not as stone, but shadow. Should one pass him on a dimly lit alley the eye light slip away mistaking the cloak of a coat and the hood belonging to a hoodie. So it might have been on busy London streets when the ships went out on all the oceans of the world, or in the alleyways of Venice when the Black Plague still roamed in verminous form so indeed it might have been in Athens before Rome was a pasture. Whatever this being is he is mightier than any specter, he does not cower before your burning gaze, nor Lydia's lantern-bright eyes.
Is this then a god, or something that had once been worshiped of old with coins weighing down the eyes of the dead. It would not surprise you as much as it might once have done, but it does make you wary. Essence you took back at the point of the sword, but you're tired. Your bones feel like lead and all you want to do is
sleep.
"What did you mean a price was asked of you, by whom?" you ask, pleasantly enough, though making it clear you're in no mood for chitchat.
"If I say fate again then you will not believe it, for what does a bird in the mountains know of the currents of the ocean?" the spectral voice answered. "I had my place and my time to act, this was the place but not the time."
"When was the time then?" Lydia presses before you can . "What more atrocity must be commit?"
"Midnight," the specter answered plainly.
"When the gate burst open and and Those Beyond could march to the howling of desert winds?" you ask, as much in shock that he would admit to that as horror at the thing itself.
"Many would seek to parse time, like the thresher separating the good seed from the ill, but as in all such instances the apportioning is in the eye of the beholder. This sundering rite was aligned with the march of stars seen and unseen to the witching hour. Yet when Samuel bargained that my hand and my will could not move against him he did so by what was nearest, the hands of a watch, old and much beloved, but lacking precision. In those liminal moments I would have been free to act against him and his confederate as they approached the paroxysm of their rite."
"Why would be let you in to his sanctum?" you ask, fighting the urge to grind your teeth. Trying to read him was like trying to wring emotions from a still of film reel exposed until all one could see was the shape of the actors.
"A desire to gloat is common among those who think they are upon the cusp of avoiding fate," comes the answer, no different in tone and inflection from anything he has said before.
Tiffany's wings ruffle as she looks up from examining Harry's wounds. "Mayhap that was the reason of his heart Ferryman, but I have known many a damned and those quick to listen to their heart over their heads did not grow so mighty as your Samuel. Why did he judge that it was safe to have you here in the place of his power, in the moment of his treachery."
The hooded head moves, it can't have been more than half an inch, but so still had the spectral figure been before that this might as well have been snapping his head towards her in surprise.
"Sharp pierce the eyes of the Seducer, even when they are borrowed." A gust of cold air passes though the room, the winter winds over waters almost-frozen. "He knew that I had played host to the Hollow One you slew in the temple of the Sun and thought me aligned with those... akin to his masters, by trickery or treachery."
"You aided the vampire in order to get the Dragon and Sandra to lower their guard?" you cut in more sharply than before.
"Without the leverage of the moment I had not the might to see their working undone and I was the last with any hope of doing so."
He could have rallied the others, Arlene, Big Corey, he could have summoned winter, the recriminations almost slip out, but looking now at the dark shape against the backdrop of your light whom even the Agents of the Hand don't want to get to close to you have to admit he doesn't seem like a leader or a messenger. Perhaps he could not, perhaps the thought had never crossed his mind. And he has saved Harry, at least a great deal of pain, at most his life. Is that enough to take him at his word?
[] Yes, you believe Charon...
-[] ...and you are thankful for his aid, perhaps he will offer more counsel on how to deal with the aftermath
-[] ...but you would rather he leave now, your business is done
[] No, press for more answers
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: Enjoy