Chapter Text
[ Emet-Selch - Puppet. ]
When Varis shot his grandfather square between the eyes, the white lioness at his side didn’t so much as flinch.
Varis’ own daemon shied from the sight – Theodora, a golden tiger that backed down only from the world’s strangest horrors. She crouched behind his legs as if she was in fact a kitten, her ears pressed flat and teeth bared at the abomination sitting, placid, next to Solus’ cooling body.
“The rudeness of some people… Interrupting your elder when he’s in the middle of asking you such important questions!”
Though his grandfather’s voice came from behind him, Varis kept his gaze pinned on the white lion. It blinked back at him, slow and unconcerned, then shifted its attention to Theodora. She responded with a rumbled warning, her countenance enough to strike fear into anything living. But, of course, the thing masquerading as a daemon had no such limitations; just like its creator, it simply wouldn’t. Stay. Dead.
Steps slow and dragging, the Ascian that called itself his grandfather walked back to his dead body upon the throne’s steps.
He paused only when Theodora’s rumbling grew to a snarl.
Glancing over his shoulder, expression vaguely confused and primarily annoyed, he stared her down.
After a pause, he asked, “Does it still unnerve you? I’d thought you’d grow used to the sight after all this time.”
Varis didn’t know if he spoke to Theodora or him. Horrifically rude though it was to ever directly address another’s daemon, he supposed (with wry amusement) that the Ascian didn’t have a choice.
Too well-mannered and disciplined to directly answer a man, Theodora’s back rippled with tension as she sank lower onto her haunches. It seemed to Varis that she was deciding whether she’d lower herself to attacking a man, considering that said man hadn’t a daemon to answer for his slights.
Before she could debase herself so, Varis turned on a heel and strode away.
Reluctant, body low with distrust and displeasure, Theodora followed him.
Behind them, the Ascian tsked. “I wonder. Was it something I said, Victoria?”
In response, ‘Victoria’ sighed, then yawned. She always had been the perfect mirror of his grandfather. But of course - she had no soul or her own. She had no choice.
Varis continued out of the palace throne room. Despite what he once wished in his naive youth, the mad Emperor with his aether-packed puppet were not worth their time.
[ Elidibus - Uncomfortable. ]
On the surface of another Star’s moon, Ardbert struck a deal with a white-robed Ascian to save his own home and right his many wrongs.
Once he had, the Ascian moved to teleport him back to his friends to begin their newest, hardest adventure. Before he did, Ardbert stuck up a hand and bid him pause.
The Ascian stilled, his head tilting impeccably to the left.
“Yes?”
For one brief moment, Ardbert faltered. “It’s just– one thing’s still unclear.”
A whole lot was unclear, actually, including whether their latest gamble would pay off. But Ardbert’s job had never been to doubt his hope or his friends, and he wasn’t about to start when such doubt threatened to paralyze him.
Perched on his shoulder, Hannah arced her back, bristled her prickly fur, and dug her pinprick claw into his shoulder. She knew what he wanted to ask, because she desired to know the same thing.
Were the Ascian any normal person, he would have understood the question immediately. It wasn’t as if anyone ever left a deal without laying their hearts on the table – not if they wanted it to go well, anyway.
But, of course, Elidibus was no normal person. He stared, undaunted, at Ardbert. As the silence mounted into discomforting awkwardness, he almost seemed confused.
Not even ten seconds into their stare-off, Hannah couldn’t take it. She broke, shook herself, and stood tall, demanding - louder than her tiny, lanky body should’ve been capable of -, “Well? Where’s your daemon? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Ah. I see.” Elidibus returned to his usual, ramrod-straight posture, his confusion evaporating so fast Ardbert wondered if he’d imagined it. “I haven’t one.”
“What?” Hannah squeaked.
“I’ve no reason to lie to you.” A pause. “I will conjure one, if it would make you feel better.”
“Er.” Hannah bristled again, discomfort loud and obvious as she stepped to-and-fro on Ardbert’s shoulder. Fortunately, she was on the smaller side for a mongoose. “No. That’s okay. Thanks, though?”
Ardbert crossed his arms and squinted with suspicion, burying his own discomfort as fast as possible.
“Is it true, then?” he asked, voice severe because he felt– mean, honestly, to pry into this, but he couldn’t help it. Even the worst of the worst villains had daemons, warped and twisted though they might’ve become through their person’s awful decisions. Elidibus clearly was no hero, but he wasn’t the worst. Certainly, he wasn’t a monster - he had rational thought. He’d known to seek Ardbert and his team out, after all.
Another small pause.
Then, neutral as ever: “You’ll have to elaborate. I’m not sure what you refer to.”
Ardbert cleared his throat, but kept his gaze and tone steady. Gods, this felt… cruel. Like bursting into a stranger’s home and ripping open a locked closet, then dragging the contents out to the town square. “It’s true, then. Paragon Ascians haven’t any souls.”
The corner of his mouth twitched down.
“I believe that you misunderstand what constitutes a soul.”
Something about that sounded almost sad. It was the most honest emotion Ardbert had seen out of him. That made him feel worse.
“Right,” he said, and decided to leave the matter alone. It didn’t really make a difference for his goal. “Never mind. Let’s get on with what we’ve discussed.”
Lifting a hand to settle - for his own assurance - on Hannah’s claws, he turned away and set his attention determinedly on the blue Star below.
To his back, almost hesitantly, Elidibus murmured: “If you wish. Let us be on with it.”