Wing City Gardens

Liam had a strange headache for a moment, like there was something wrong but he was incapable of realizing it. He took a step back towards Tayrn, trying to nod in agreeance, but it was like something didn't want him to stand down. He didn't want to stand down either, even if he knew it was the smart move. And so instead of walking backwards, he suddenly turned around and began walking away casually towards a direction, hoping the woman holding his arm wouldn't just keep him from doing so.

His body language, if analyzed, would indicate he isn't running away. It would be more accurate to say he thought that Zelsane wasn't worth his time, and he therefore decided to spend his time on something more important. He essentially ignored Zelsane as a whole, as if he was an insignificant bug that didn't even deserve the energy to stomp.

Something deep inside him was festering as well. His demonic energy could sense the artificial Sin inside of him. Like antibodies to a virus. It would eventually eat away at it until it was gone or absorbed into his own energy. Liam's false pride would go away eventually, but so long as it existed in him his demonic energy would thrive off it. After all, most Demons are known for pride.

The Boy had made a grand mistake on epic levels as Zelsane's corruption seemingly began to fester under the pavement bellow. The Dark thing simply looked up and pushed its corruption with it as a dark glob of swampy life seemingly erupted from the streets sending the muck in all directions . It would slowly pool around the two and Zelsane would emerge before them with his blade held high up in the air as if threatening to end their very lives. The figure simply smiled under its own mask and looked down at the soul before him.

"You are the spirit of covetous nature though your sin does not claim to be the same boy. I shall take what is rightfully mine." Zelsane spoke in what almost seemed a guttural language to most but as clear as the night sky to the young man who had brought the woman back from the dead. The Decayed God brought his blade down swiftly upon the young man in an attempt to end his life and take the ever burning fire that swelled within.

That blade seared a path. Quite suddenly there was that feeling of being watched, every action scrutinized. Those present of a divine or cosmic power would feel it surely for it was those entities who were being watched and weighed. Whispers in a female tone from the shadows and the sounds of chains unspooling rang out a catophony but only for the senses of Zelsane and Shabot-Urn. These words were spoken as the blade decended. 'Duillíní an t-iarmhéid. The balance shifts. Beidh saor in aisce agus cinniúint cónaí ar an dá thaobh le marc tanaí. Free will and fate reside on either side of a thin mark.'

The blade had yet to strike. A male voice spoke at a whisper. 'An bhfuil a roghnaíonn tú a ghoid sin uaidh mar gheall ar a foghail agus trí do lámh féin? Do you choose to steal this from him because of his trespass and through your own hand? Stad. Halt. Beidh iarmhairt ní ba chóir duit fanacht ar do lámh. There will be a consequence should you not stay your hand.'

The blade was moving just as fast as the Decayed God had sent it, screaming swiftly down upon the young man but all this had been said and heard by the two from which it was spoke and the two to which it was directed.

Liam felt....weird. The spark of Ancestral magic in him stirred, and he could feel it as he was walking away with Tayrn. it sparked and that alone caused a strange light to eminate from Liam. The light was his Ancestral magic, shielding him from any future attack as well as purging the false sin within him. It had fed his Demonic energy enough to become more powerful, but early enough so it was not even halfway done. The sin became visible for a short while, floating in the air, and looking at it alone would make you know it was artificial and that it was pride, before dissipating.

Liam was now fully at his senses. Enough to know he just probably pissed off a force powerful enough to crush the both of them if he wasn't ready. He didn't actually know the power level of either presence, and was barely able to get a read on it, when he realized an attack was incoming. And at this moment, Liam went on the defensive.

Should the attack go through towards him, it would be met by a Protective Ward that would repel the attack. If the attack was physical, it would use that physical energy, absorb it into itself, and then the Ward would detonate back towards the attacker with its own force plus the strong magics infused in the ward. Should it be magical in nature, the Ward would absorb its magic, and create a magical pulse that would backlash at the attacker. And should it be anything else, his Ancestral Magic would find some way to prevent a lethal blow, if not prevent all damage completely or as much as it could at least.

As well, he brought up a magical barrier around himself and Tayrn. But this wasn't Liam's normal magical barrier. Demonic Magic had leaked into the spell, fortifying it. Even his Spark was contributing, reinforcing the barrier with its own magic. As a result, any attack on the barrier would burn the attacker with Demonic Magic, while the Ancestral Magic, being some of the oldest known magic ever, would make it so that even a Decayed God could not break through it.

Liam made a mental note to thank whoever used Ancestral Magic in the original binding spell, as once it had been broken Liam ever since was able to access it. And once again, it appeared to be very useful.

The blade hit the shield and the shadowy decaying man felt the whiplash of his own energy as a gust of wind made it take a step back. Zelsane almost seemed confounded as to what happened but Shabot-Urn smiled as he remained seated.

'Does it speak to us with words Shabot-Urn?! Does it speak in the old tongue?!" Zelsane spoke up in a guttural tone. The Crystal Lord simply waited in his seat to see if something more would happen.

"No Zelsane it does not speak to us. Warning are not for those who defy what fate is. You are the decaying swamp that will one day devour the world as I am the eternal light of crystals that will shine my benevolence upon this realm." The Shadow Lord spoke up from his crystal throne all the while enjoying the show. "Zelsane the boy is weak but his guardians are not. In due time his spark will be ours and that flame will grow like that of the old tree who binds us."

It was with that said that the corrupt God tightened his grip upon his dark blade and held it high above his head with both hands upon the hilt. The corruption of the swamp bellow would gurgle and churn as the divines energies seemed to ripple throughout the landscape like a wave. "Your sparks hall be mine to devour child!" Zelsane began to laugh madly as he began to call upon his swamp that was sitting bellow.

There were no more warnings...

Whispers were uttered from every shadow. "Cumhacht rud, cruthaitheoir de gach rud brionnaithe ó aon rud agus a bhí riamh a ordú cíor thuathail síoraí... Omnipotent power, creator of all things, forged from nothing, and ever ordering eternal chaos..." The male and female voices mixed as they spoke together.

Dark existential chains shot from every shadow and every dark place in the garden. Each length and every link posses the strength to bind a god. Six planes of force collapsed in on Zelsane from each direction, at speeds rivaling the photon. The outside of the prison, a plane of complete darkness and the inside a barrier that not even light could escape. Once the cage collapsed the chains would encircle. A shimmering pike like a fallen star drawn to Terra crashed into the barrier's highest point and would drive through it to impale Zelsane and pin him and everything within the prison to the freshly formed pocket plane. The inside would form a mirror, an impassible barrier that permitted no escape and severed connections to the dimensions of space-time and up onto the tenth dimension. It was cut from any other planar connections upon this part of the tapestry and would rend a temporary tear.

The all knowing did not know them. The all seeing could not see them. The all powerful could not over power them. Equal terms and they were within their right and within their calling. This was their purpose. This was why they existed and the tools and technique at their disposal gave entities such as Zelsane precious little ability to resist despite his power or his title if their warnings were not headed. To interfere so directly as a cosmic being in the affairs of mortals for malicious or benevolent ends was a violation of freewill. Be freewill illusion or reality none of them had a right unless it fell so heavily upon their purpose and within their domains that it threatened balance.

If Zelsane could not resist his avatar would be yanked from Terra and caged, an act that could be compared to getting your hands severed and then stolen from you.

Salazar wasn't entirely done here. The boy somehow ejected Pride, that was strange. But he was not letting them leave. He wanted to see what would happen. This boy seemed to have a power even he didn't know of. And that interested him, since he was one of the oldest demons. He gave the apple to Eve.

Salazar placed a barrier around them all, but kept himself inside. It would keep them from leaving, though he could escape whenever he wanted. He just wanted to watch. Additionally, he cloaked the barrier, so that no one outside it but him could see what was happening. To them, it would be like a dome of light appeared over them. A light similar to the boy's.

Liam, quite litterally, walked right into the barrier. Face first. It pushed him backward and onto his ass again. He looked over at Tayrn. He secretly used some of his healing magic on her, to make sure she would last long enough to at least give Renee a chance to say goodbye. At the very least. He just hoped the magic would hold.

Then he turned toward the other two, and he was attacked. However, his shield defended both him and Tayrn. He looked at her, and simply said calmly. "Hold on a second. I will explain everything in a bit. But, short story, I am a Wiccan, I revived you, don't know for how long, your daughter adopted me, and I am a Wiccan and am very irritated by taht...thing...decaying this Garden. Its a Wiccan thing".

He then blasted the ground with pure Wiccan magic and a bit of unintended Ancestral, causing it to grow and flourish with life and repel decay. Roses grey, the grass and leaves grew greener, flowers seemed to pop up, and it even fractured the barrier keeping him and Renee in here, before dispelling completely. Liam then looked back at Tayrn. "Alright, lets go. I don't feel like getting inbetween a battle between two powerful forces today. I am kind of exaughsted and sick after reviving you, no offence".

Tayrn honestly had no idea what was going on. There were nerferious beings trying to hurt the boy and her, well, probably just the boy and then there was someone else fighting against the evil things. It was way over her head and the only thing the brunette wanted was to get home to her girls and her husband. Shaking her head, she just glanced towards the boy, blinking when he walked into a barrier of some kind. Tugging on her hair in slight despair, she walked over to the barrier and placed a hand upon it, frowning heavily.

“Hnn…” She started to say something further, but when Liam protected the two of them from attack from one of the evil things, she just arched her brow. How was it that a kid was able to do something like that? Well, in all honesty, she wasn’t all that surprised considering everything she had seen, but being dead made her forget for an instant just how life was in Wing City. She returned her attention towards the boy, listening to his explanation.

“Wait. Did you just say one of my daughters adopted you? Oh what in the hell is going on…?” She muttered softly, shaking her head in disbelief. Neither of her daughters seemed the type to adopt a Wiccan child, but obviously one had. Or he was lying to her… Shaking her head for the millionth time, she just followed behind the child, figuring if he was lying, the truth would come to light sooner or later. Either way, she wanted away from the other figures.

“Right, let’s go.” She walked away, heading towards Gambit’s bar, it’s location engrained into her mind.

Zelsane was imprissoned and Shabot-Urn simply closed his viewing for the day. He knew the boy existed and that was all that mattered to prove the young man was not safe. However even though the loss of a comrade weighed heavily on the Shadow Lords heart it only seemed to compare to that of a feather that helplessly falls to the earth bellow from a passing bird in distress and in need of aid.

"We will see if you can hide from me forever boy. Your help has only prolonged your sparks survival on this realm."

The cage containing Zelsane constricted and crushed in on itself. A male figure stepped from the shadows cloaked, hooded, and cowled in absolute darkness. His cloak and mantel coiled and flowed, jagged lines of terrible void. He touched upon the cage and vanished with it.

Behind him was left a jagged scar of dazzling rainbow hue, an open wound of the multiverse. From the darkness stepped a womanly figure cloaked and cowled in dazzling white. Her mantle shone like brilliant starlight. She appeared to be the opposite of the man who had went before her in everyway.

She lowered the hood and pulled the cowl from her lips. Her scarlet hair cast far behind her like a trailing ribbon of fire. She did not look to the boy or his party as they started to step away. Her eyes were fully upon the tear. Here she waited for only a brief moment. The universe responded as she moved her hands, her wrists, her arms. Her hips were set to motion and her legs pivoted. She slowly spun in a dance about where the cage had previously been. The universe vibrated a song in response to her movement and as the seconds crept by the tear slowly mended the that which was cut with divine and cosmic power. A god had been caged and the damage had been done. Now the great warden repaired the hurt their combined power had caused.

Liam acted as if nothing had happened. As if, what happened to him today was, or formerly was, a daily occurrence for him. Especially considering he continued talking. "Technically its not official because no paperwork was done, but yeah. They were also some of the only people ever to show me and kindness...." his voice momentarily stopped when he mentioned that, but he shook it off.

"Oh, I am not sure exactly how long it has been. Cant be more then a year or two if I got you back at all. I was surprised it even worked, to be honest. Anyways, so I don't know for a fact, but its possible they changed things. If it makes you feel better, last time I checked, they were both alive and well" he said. He didn't know about Gabby yet.

As they walked, he felt sick to his stomach again. He felt something drip from his nose, and he wiped it away, It was blood. Maybe it was just a residual affect from the spell, or it could be his Demonic Sickness. It got worse when he was stressed. He suprressed his desire to vomit, and continue onwards. "You know, in terms of presents I could give, this is probably the best present I could ever give them. A chance to talk with you again".

He made sure they were headed towards Gambit's.

---

Salazar meanwhile sunk off into the shadows. The boy, and his power, interested him. He beat pride. He was the first Salazar had seen.

But he had other things to deal with first.

It had been several weeks since Arien had last contacted Lucian.

The vampire had seemingly dropped off of the radar. He'd been nowhere to be found at any of his usual haunts, his phone went direct to voicemail, and his apartment was seemingly empty.

And so, it was likely a surprise when Lucian's phone was lit up with a text from the absent teenager earlier that morning. It read simply: "Meet me in the gardens. Please."

It was still early in the morning, and the gardens were largely empty aside from a few joggers and people walking pets. The sky was grey and overcast, and a chill breeze claimed the air. Arien was sat near the edge of a large pond, jacket pulled tightly around himself with the hood up and pulled low to cast a shadow over his face that kept it from view. He was staring at his reflection in the water, and waiting.

He was more than aware of how badly he'd fucked up. He'd pushed Casper too far, threatened him with violence. The boy had been an in to strike at the Detente, but his bitch of a mother had thwarted his attempts to get close. He'd been angry, and lashed out. He never would have actually hurt him... or at least that's what he told himself. He hadn't had a choice in the matter, in the end. He was lucky he'd survived the elysium.

Not so lucky that the boy had a guardian angel. A vengeful one.

'I didn't deserve this.' He thought to himself. 'I fucked up, but things got out of my control. If that angel kid hadn't barged in, I'd have just cooled off and left.'

Would he have, though? The truth was, Arien wasn't sure. There was no doubting that he was far from the most genuine and 'good' person out there. He used people, drove them out of their comfortable lives and into excess and often regret. But he justified it by the fact that they always wanted it. There was always at least a part of them that wanted what he offered. Sometimes that was a big part, and sometimes it had to be coaxed out.

He saw it as giving them release, an excuse to abandon normality and preconceived notions of what they should and shouldn't do. Nothing bad, not at the heart of it. Just ... a little anarchist.

He wasn't a murderer. Not one to kill in cold blood, anyway. The only times he'd killed? They'd deserved it. They'd made him suffer, wanted to hurt him, so he'd struck back. He could justify that, much as many would disagree with him. But he was having a hard time justifying what had been going through his head back in the house.

Arien looked down at his phone. He wasn't sure why he'd contacted Lucian instead of Varia, Viktor or one of the others. Partly it was embarrassment. Turning up at their doors like this would be showing himself weak, unworthy of their family - he already knew some of them thought that of him. He just wasn't that close to them. Or to anyone, really. He could have called Darren, but he had a feeling that the musician wouldn't be much help.

He found himself in an uncomfortable position. He was always the one with the power, the one who decided what the rules of the game were. But now he'd been taken down a peg. He needed help. He had to rely on someone else.

But if Lucian saw through his story to explain the burn? What then? Would the paladin reject him?

Would he deserve it?

"Uhg!" Arien growled in frustration, lashing out and punching at the water. His reflection vanished amongst the ripples that blossomed out from the impact.

For the first time since he'd acquired his new powers, Arien felt helpless. It was an all-too familiar feeling. An old companion from years past. And it scared him.

"Did I come at a bad time?" said Lucian, who'd quietly come up to the other young man. Without his armor, dressed in more modern clothes, he would have been easy to look over. Jeans and a button down. Like a guy in his college years.

He slid his phone into his pocket and approached Arien, brow furrowed. Their last meeting hadn't been the most cheery of them all, but he didn't think it had ended on such a note that Arien would have cut off connections.

"You know, this is quite sudden, after going dead for however many weeks."

"You came." Arien said without looking up. His voice was different - the everpresent bordering-on-sultry tone was absent. The only word that fit was weak. Weakness was something that Arien had never displayed before, not openly. "Thanks. I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I ... something happened."

The ripples stilled somewhat, and Arien stared into his own eyes again. "I haven't been ready to face anyone since then. You're the first person I've spoken to in over a fortnight."

He chuckled, as though darkly amused at himself. He kept his face concealed beneath his hood.

Lucian took a step towards Arien, brows angled downward in concern. "Hunters again?" he asked him, sitting down. "Are you alright? Injured?" He tried to peer into the hood to see his face. With his head down so low, Lucian wondered how much shame he must have been feeling. Or, perhaps, it was horror. That tone of voice, from Arien? A new thing to Lucian.

He brought his hand up to the vampire's shoulder, gripping it firmly. "Tell me what happened."

"I fucked up. I tried to mess with the wrong person, to get at the Vankoryth, that clan I was telling you about. It was... stupid. And I paid for it." Arien said, grimacing. "Not a hunter, worse. Some sort of ... vengeful angel." He laughed darkly again at the absurdity of it. "It sounds insane."

He took a long breath, then sighed. His hands went up to his hood, and slowly pulled it back, before he turned to look at the paladin.

His face was a mess. A horrific burn scar in the shape of a handprint was emblazoned across it, distorting his lips, nose and brow and sealing his left eye almost fully closed. The skin on the burn was coarse and darkened.

"And he did ... this, to me." The teenager's voice cracked slightly, "I thought he was going to kill me."

His expression sank and he lowered his face again, covering it over with one hand. "It might have been better if he had."

Lucian's eyes shot open. He didn't gape, but the shock he felt hit him like a hammer to the face. An angel burned him. The paladin's pulse quickened. "He just let you go?" he asked. "What did you do... why was this done?"

Already, Lucian was going through the possibilities. What they called angels here were the iasur enra that his people worshiped so devoutly. It must not have been his guardian, but there were many from Sozo within Terra. Had it been his fault? It had been a while since he was able to hold the hilt of his sword, but he had thought it was getting better.

Well, they must have known that nothing they did to him was going to be enough.

Lucian paled.

No, there were so many things in this world. It... couldn't have been...

"I told you. I messed with the wrong person. I tried to use one of the Detente's human agents to get an in with them, but he figured me out. I came close to forcing the issue, against my better judgement, then things exploded." Arien grimaced, "There was a substance involved called Elysium, that if it comes into contact with a magic-user, fills them to beyond breaking point with magic. That nearly killed me. The only way I survived was sending all that energy outwards."

He shook his head. "It wasn't pretty. I crawled out of there barely alive. I was stumbling home when this ... guy, I don't know if he was a proper angel or what. He found me. Apparently he had a personal tie to the guy I threatened. And he took revenge on his behalf, even though I never laid a finger on him."

Arien sighed. "I never meant for things to go the way they did." he said quietly.

Lucien ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath through pursed lips. He let his hands drop over his knees in a flop. "And you... had no one else to tell? Don't get me wrong, I'm very glad you came to me, but is there any specific reason? I just..." He forced his eyes up to meet Arien's, if he could find them. "What if that wasn't just some random guy?"

He reached out for Arien's arm, to try and turn the vampire towards him. "What... what can I do for you? You know that my affiliation isn't... quite... on your side, still, even though I've accepted you."

"I don't ..." Arien hesitated, "I don't ... have anyone else." he said after a long moment. "Not more than superficially. I have friends but... they're not the sort of people I'm comfortable with seeing me like this."

He shook his head. "I know we're mostly just ... I know we aren't that close. But you're one of the first people who I've been honest with about what I am. I don't know why I told you what I did. At the time, it was easier than trying to come up with a believable lie after what you'd seen. I figured that it didn't matter too much if you turned me away because of it. But then you didn't. Like I said, I didn't really think about it at the time, but I've... had a lot of time to think in the last week or so."

The vampire finally turned to face Lucian again. "I don't know what you can do. Not about ... this," he lifted a hand to the scar, "anyway. I just ... feel like the powerless child I used to be." He spat venomously, obviously derisive of his past self, "And I didn't want ... to be alone."

Lucian reached for Arien's hand, gently prying it away from the scar. He reached his other hand up to take Arien's chin between his fingers. His eyes carefully ran across the scar, and his thumb gently feathered over it. "There's not much I can do about this," he told his friend. "I'm not a healer. I don't know what my powers would do to you. But I know people. I can find someone who can. You're not alone."

"I..." Arien started to speak, but trailed off. He took a moment's pause, blinking slowly before laughing - a small but genuine chuckle. The beginnings of a smile teased at the corners of his mouth.

Now this was a funny thing, wasn't it. It was so easy to play the game of romance, with nary a care nor a thought spared for if any of it meant anything. How many times had he flitted into someone's life, turned it upside down and then jumped ship when it became more effort than fun? He'd lost count.

And he'd had the gall to hope that someone else did differently.

And they had.

And now he wasn't sure what to do. He shouldn't let it go any further. Who he was, what he was - it wasn't compatible with that sort of emotion. It would only prove to be a weakness. It would weigh him down. It was stupid.

All of those thoughts and more went through his mind as he leaned into Lucian, breathed a heavy sigh into the paladin's chest and whispered. "Thank you."

Lucian's arm stretched around Arien's shoulder, and a smile came to his face. He didn't say anything, just held him close. Everything was coming to fruition. It was all in the plans of the enra.

It was his job to save Arien. It was his job to show him the way.

On the advice of questionable people, Joshua had found himself wandering a secluded part of the gardens. Looking around, he sees nobody in this particular area and sighs "I could have sworn they said there were plenty of people here to ask about the city...maybe it's the wrong time of day?" he wonders to himself. He hears a slight noise from behind him and quickly leans to the side, narrowly avoiding being stabbed by a knife. In response he swiftly grabs the assailant's shoulder and elbow before locking his arm. He looks in confusion when it's one of the people he spoke to when he first arrived "I'm...not sure what I've done to earn this. If I offended you earlier I'm sorry." he said. Twisting his arm slightly made the attacker drop the knife, which Joshua kicked away. Suddenly he's grabbed from behind, but he simply bends his knees and launches the other attacker over him and onto the other one. Sighing, Joshua realizes he's been a poor judge of character...again. He was always known to be too trusting, even back home.

Leaving the two attackers, he makes his way to the center of the gardens where more people seem to be walking around. Deciding to rest for a while, he sits down on a bench, hand rubbing his chin in thought "Let's see...I heard there was a dojo here...maybe I can learn something there...maybe they'll even let me teach! No...no I'm no master yet." he contemplates further on where to go. He brought some money from his home world which should be enough to sustain him for a while, so he was in no hurry to find a job.

Chal nodded,"That sounds awful. I hope they start to feel better." ,she stopped them at an intersection."Okay, so to get to the garden, we need to take a taxi here". Chal whistled and a taxi drove up. They both got in, and in a few minuets they were dropped off at the opening of the garden. Chal looked at the mass of trees, flowers, and bushes before her, "I like this place. It reminds me of home", she said softly, and then took The Mechanics hand, leading him into the garden. "Cmon, lets walk"