Earth

Kamui bowed slightly as Lyra walked past him. He lingered at the base of the stairs between his mistress and their "guests."

He cast a glance in direction of the Lymand boy and his butler, eyes full of warning as he heard the two's conversation. He knew Delilah hadn't missed it either. He bowed to the two, voice even as always and betraying nothing regarding his emotions. "If you will excuse me... I must attend to my Mistress. We are very grateful to have had you visit our humble home."

Words.

Words.

And more words.

The standard meaningless almost robotic procedure to greet your guests and say farewell to them as well. "Forgive me for being unable to see you out." He said, straightening up again and disappearing up the wooden staircase after Lyra.

Delilah peered into the main room, her sharp eyes lighting on James and Soren. Something about the two of them did not sit right with her, and she knew her suspicions were confirmed when she heard their conversation. But Kamui got to them first, before the maid could stride over there and slap Soren across the face for even considering burning the place down. But then…that might taint the boy’s soul. As she struggled with this, Kamui passed her, heading back to Lyra. She put a hand on his arm, looking at him.

“The other demon dies,” she hissed. “And the boy’s soul, along with Lyra’s, will be mine.”

Kamui's eyes glinted dangerously at her declaration. "The mistress's soul is mine only. You can keep the Lymand boy's." He said, voice soft so that no other besides the two San'Drelon demons would hear. His eyes calmed, "Please see to it that they leave this house safely. We can discuss that at a later date..."
We can't let them out of our sight. Not even for a moment.

Lyra returned to residing in her chambers, sitting indian style on the edge of her bed. Her elbow propped on her thigh, she leaned her chin into her cupped hand and sighed. Getting along with Soren was exceptionally boring. But then again, fighting with him was equally as exhausting. It angered her that she even forced herself to put up with him. It angered her that he was probably feeling the exact same way as her. She closed her eyes and exhaled softly. Perhaps she'd try again tomorrow. No matter, this was only fall back in her game. Pawns could be thrown away as long as she remained standing.

As she opened her eyes, the redhead automatically tilted her head so she could see the headboard of the bed. It sat silently as always, untouched. Friedrich, she thought with another sigh. How did you ever live with this? Why must I do this? Being cold hearted was the last thing anyone had expected from the San'Drelon girl. Lyra had always been seen as some ungodly goddess - if I may - in the eyes of those who kept a close watch on the house. Undoubtedly charming and charismatic, the girl had been wanted to be wed by every young male.

But it all changed when the fire struck. Something had happened. Something had definately changed. But what that something was, nobody knew. When Friedrich had first died, Lyra had grown quiet and introverted, though still kind as always. It wasn't until the flames were fed that she'd changed for the worst. Truthfully, her cold ways weren't instinct and were always sharp to her touch. It was second-nature to be this way. But it worked. For now. Soren, she thought and closed her eyes once more. Who was Friedrich really? Why did I even love him? How could I love a traitor like that?

Delilah's smile was taut, strained. She usually didn't take orders from the butler, but for now....they had to work together. In a way. If the Lymand boy's butler wanted Lyra's soul, well, Delilah couldn't have that. Squaring her shoulders, she stood on her tiptoes, gracing Kamui's cheek with a small kiss. "I shall, dear butler," she murmured, her voice ghosting over his ear.

"And then, we shall discuss with our mistress what she wishes us to do about it."

She turned sharply, heading down the hall towards James and Soren.

"Please," she murmured, half-bowing. "The door is that way."

"Yeah, like I didn't bloody figure that out when I entered the bloody house," Soren snapped out an obligatory, acerbic response, as it probably would have pained him to go without doing otherwise. "Tell Lyra she looked especially ugly this evening and that I won't be seeking her hospitality again. Come on, James." Not even bothering to mask his frustration at this point, Soren pulled on his jacket, which had dried by this point, and left the mansion while slamming the door for good measure.

For once in his life, Soren held his bitter tongue for the entire carriage ride. Maybe it was because he was clenching his teeth shut to keep them from chattering- he could sense a cold coming on. But despite that, he was also lost in thought. What happened to Lyra? There was a time when she would have given him anything he asked for, providing he asked nicely. But then again, he wouldn't have asked in the first place, if they were really to go back in time. That was a long time ago. Before anything happened. Back when Soren was an angel-faced little toddler who looked up to Friedrich and thought Lyra was a goddess who was worth staring at for hours on end. Staring at the crackling thunder in the distance, Soren chuckled softly at the memory of his idiotic younger self.

Although...admittedly, life had been nice then. But there was always a tradeoff between knowledge and happiness. And Soren would rather know what he did now, know the truth behind the man he called a brother. But he didn't want to dwell on it. He just wanted to get home. And into warm clothes.

He woke up with a raging fever. Cursing and mumbling, he fumbled around on the bedside until he found his pocket-watch. The following stream of curses would have made a sailor blush.

"Eight? Eight, James? I was supposed to meet with the Earl at eight! Why the hell am I still in my- oh God, my head hurts..." Soren never got sick. But with the unhealthy combination of drugs and running about in thunderstorms, it probably couldn't have been avoided. Being sick was not something that Soren was accustomed to. As it was, it felt like he was dying. Which he probably wasn't, but still. "James, make my fever go away..." Probably impossible, but then one never knew what James was capable of.

James, standing in the far corner of Soren's room, crossed now and gently pushed the boy back into bed.
"Your meetings have been canceled," He told Soren calmly, turning to the bedstand and picked up a glass of water, which he held out to the boy in steady hands, "If you are to recover, then you must rest as much as you can."
His eyes burned lightly. His Master was sick. And whose fault was it?
Who had taken so incompetently long to open the door? That girl and her servants. Who had sent his Master back out into the rain? That girl and her servants.
Who had forced them to go out in the first place, by withholding precious information that he, James, had failed to secure?
The girl and her servants.
He was beginning to hate them even more than he had before.

Kamui's expression didn't change after Delilah's kiss on the cheek. Not even after the Lymand boy had left. It wasn't until the mistress had gone to bed and he was alone in his own quarters that he let slender fingers brush against that cheek. Was it a diversion?

The next morning, Kamui woke up bright and early as always, looking at the time after setting the table. Eight o' clock. The mistress should've had enough sleep by now... He looked around the dining hall, looking for the maid.

Soren took the glass of water and gulped it down gratefully, trying to cool the burning sensation in his lungs. Ughhh...that's annoying...and today of all days, too... Hadn't the Queen said something about a masquerade ball that evening? A ball at which his engagement with Lyra San'Drelon was to be announced? Damn those Italians and their need for partying...things wouldn't be so troubling if those dance-loving ambassadors weren't visiting. Even worse, Soren had been planning to conduct several crucial business conversations that day; he had only barely managed to squeeze them in his schedule before the ball.

All down the drain. And if he didn't attend the ball, the Queen would be on him like a rattlesnake- and Soren didn't think he could risk falling even further from favor. He sank back onto his pillow with a sigh, covering his eyes with a hand. "James," he mumbled, "you're supposed to know a lot. What are the chances that I make a miraculous recovery before seven tonight?"

James' lip twitched slightly, but he bit down on his soft chuckle.
These humans... really. They shouldn't rely so much on their demons.
Demons weren't always the most reliable source of protection... information... servitude... pretty much anything the humans expected from them.
"I would saw that there is no chance, Master," James answered quietly, "You are human, after all, however much you wish it were otherwise."

(Sorry for the short post... *brain is blocked 'cause of finals* )

"Yeah, like I didn't know that already. You're such an idiot, James, I don't even know why..." Soren trailed off in a string of meaningless insults, his default when he was simply upset. I can't miss the masquerade, it's the biggest political event of the season. Not to mention, there's a lot of work that has to be done for Lymand and Co., and I haven't even gotten to the part about Kafka...

He sat up with some difficulty, his head spinning like a carousel with twice the amount of flashing colors. "James, there are four crates of penicillin at the dock waiting from Ayers Shipping, I need you to pick it up and get it to East Fountain Hospital by four. Germanio should also be done with his new prototype for painkillers today, I want you to see if he is and bring the sample directly to me. Oh- and Reuben Slade wanted a copy of our new catalog. Actually, deliver the new Lymand and Co. catalog to all of our clients while you're at it." He rubbed his forehead, eyes scrunched shut as he tried to think. "Is that everything? God, my head hurts...why am I not dressed yet? I can't stay be in bed at this hour. Move to it, you worthless demon," he snapped.

Delilah was up, as usual, "cleaning". Rather, she was in the library, sitting with her back over one chair and her legs propped up over the other. A book lay on her stomach, spine facing the high arching ceiling. The maid was wide awake, and bored. Swinging her feet, she jumped lithely upright. Glancing outside, she noticed the sun already rather high over the horizon.

She headed down the hall, towards the kitchen.

Along the way, she spotted Kamui.

"Butler," she called out teasingly. "Is it time we awaken the mistress from her much desired beauty slumber?"

Kamui looked over at Delilah, finally locating her. He walked over to the maid, "Yes. Let's." He said, making is way up the stairs ahead of Delilah. Though he was loathe to admit it, his head was still in a bit of a jumble from the maid "surprise attack" the night before. Never had he experienced affection of any sorts unless when looking for souls on the street. And even then it was a only the meaningless affection of drunkards mistaking him for a woman in their haze.

He looked back at the maid from his place halfway up the stairs, face neutral as always. "Coming?"

[[ooc: I'll put up a post when I get back from school! I'm sorry I haven't been posting constantly, I've just gotten way busier because my teachers are cramming in lots of junk before spring break starts]]

((It's fine. Akai, Mittens, and I just all finished finals, so we were in the same boat. Or should have been... but clearly we were pretty much slacking.))

"Would you like your clothing, Master?" James murmured. He was loathe to let Soren get up; the boy was ill, and he could very easily do whatever it was that Soren needed done; but if his master wanted to get up, there really wasn't much James could do about it. That was one of the many downsides to a life of servitude.
His free will was dominated by the weaker will of a life-form generally considered inferior to demons. A life-form most demons looked at as prey.
In his head, he was running through a list of the things his Master had asked him to do.
Well... they would be fairly easy tasks to complete.
Unless Soren refused to stay put... in which case he had to keep an eye on his Master, at the same time...

"Was that not obvious? Yes, I want my clothing, you idiot." Soren said, exasperated. One couldn't exactly blame James. Soren wasn't exactly a cheerful soul in his normal state, and the presence of a raging headache only served to make him even more irritable.

Once he was dressed, Soren immediately headed out of the bedroom towards his study. There was so much to do...paperwork from yesterday had been totally neglected, thanks to Kafka's pill and the rather disastrous dinner with Lyra. Why is it that we can never spend more than an hour together without someone getting pissed? It's bloody ridiculous. Mumbling grumpily to himself, he sat down at his desk and pulled the first stack of sheets towards him.

A royal warrant for opening a new store in Shanghai...permission to transport a box of syringes using Lymand ships... It was all tedious, unimportant stuff, yet Soren was required to read through all of it, just in case someone was trying to fraud a permission slip by getting advantage of his lack of attention. And not only did Soren have to read and sign it, he also had to keep a record of it all. It'd be nice if he had some helpers. But Father and Friedrich were dead, and James was needed for other errands.

Ughh...I hate this.

[[yeah my post sucks -_- sorry, I couldn't think what to write]]

Lyra hadn't slept a wink, but then again she hadn't really tried. She sat beside the window with eyes half closed and shoulders slacking in a very unlady-like manner. Every now and then her little head would bob up and down as she struggled to stay awake. The moment she'd tried to fall asleep that night she'd almost begun to cry from the shock of the nightmares. Perhaps even if the effects from the visions had warn off the effects of her sleep were still corrupted. She was still shaking from the initial shock of the nightmare despite the fact that it'd been hours before. Every once in a while she could have sworn she'd seen flames licking at the furnature and drapery. But when she'd quickly look back there was nothing there. "I don't want to burn," she murmured to herself, rubbing her racoon eyes. "But everything burned. And everything will burn. Including me."

Kamui opened the door quietly, unsure of whether or not Lyra was already asleep. He peeked in, seeing her sitting by the window. He entered the room, calling to her softly, not wanting to startle her. "My lady..." His brow furrowed ever so slightly at the sight of the bags under her eyes. That hallucination before... "It's alright, my lady... You're safe... this house will not burn..." He tried to comfort her, knowing that it wasn't his forte.

"Perhaps you should hire some other servants, Master," James suggested lightly from where he stood in the doorway behind Soren. His tone was calm, light and joking. The sort of thing he knew Soren probably wouldn't tolerate well.
What did it matter? He hadn't been ordered not to do it.
Spotting a cobweb in the corner, James reached up and snatched it down, spider and all. He rolled the web into a tiny ball, tucking it into one of his pockets for later disposal.
"It would be easier to keep this mansion dusted, at least," He said so only he could hear.

If James's plan was to infuriate Soren, then it had worked.

"Shut up, James!" he yelled in frustration, hurling an ink bottle at him. Both he and James knew very well that Soren wasn't going to hire any new servants anytime soon. The idiotic maid and the chef were already enough to deal with. Even though James was the one contracted to eternal servitude- well, lifelong servitude, anyways- it often felt like the demon was merely mocking him, watching with interest as he ran around in circles chasing his own tail.

It pissed Soren off.

The little redhead peered through her locks as Kamui entered the room. She stared at him as he attempted comfort. "You sound stupid when you're trying to be nice," she said, voice groggy and quiet. Lyra's attention turned back out the window at the morning sky. I have to continue Friedrich's case tonight. The Party at the Markinson's tonight may prove useful for both. The Markinsons appear to be connected to both Friedrich's death and the recent rapes. Perhaps I'll get some good answers there. But the thought felt heavy and exhausting, and she suddenly found herself just wanting to curl up and sleep. "Make me some tea," she said quietly, heavily. "I need to talk to Soren about tonight."

"Yes, Master," James agreed calmly, bowing to the boy, a small smirk flicking across his lips. He had succeeded. Soren was irritated.
Ah, what wonderful vibes Soren gave off when he was angry...
But it might be best to leave before he ordered James to do something... unusually foolish.
"I shall go start on the chores, Master." He murmured, "I will return in time to prepare supper."
In his mind, he wasn't even considering the chores. He was thinking about what might be good for dinner that night; perhaps a roast, of some kind. Or a soup, since Soren was ill.
And hovering in the back of his mind, always present, always nagging, was that lingering order from the previous night. The order to find Soren's brother's letters.
The order to find out who had killed Soren's brother.

Kamui chuckled at the comment and request, letting his mask fall away for a moment. "As you wish. Will that be earl grey, duchess grey, jasmine, herbal, chamomile, or perhaps you prefer something else?"