All Epilogue 19 - Born Again in Hell

Virgil moved around the side of the house to enter the gardens, rather than announcing himself at the door. He walked easily down the paths despite the late hour and lack of light; he knew his way intimately around the carefully-tended hedges that separated section after section of unique plants and trees, artfully and functionally grouped to compliment each other and to serve some sort of purpose, whether it was to attract butterflies, shelter birds, feed people or something else besides. He ended up at a bench overlooking a small pond; this was his sister’s garden, though Nuan hadn’t lived here for years, having moved out to live with her husband. She had children now; two? Maybe more; it had been a long time since he’d spoken to her. He hadn’t been around, and they had never really got along since secondary school.
He lowered his pack and put it on the ground as he sat on the bench. His current pet, a small green parrot with a red beak, hopped about on top of it, well-trained as to its place. Virgil could hear other birds calling, and recognized their crows and caws. Some were probably his other pets, moved here when he had left on his trip. That was good; better in the gardens than in cages. Minutes passed, and he wasn’t disturbed. Mako must be elsewhere, for this to be the case. 
Eventually, he slipped off the ring that was on his finger. Hey.
There was an almost immediate response in his mind, as the magic that had shielded himself from his father’s passive telepathy was dispelled. Good evening, Osamu said with a hint of surprise. Are you present?
Yeah, I just got here. I’m in the garden. There was no further response, but there wasn’t anything else that needed to be said. If he had wanted to go in the house, he would have. His father would be out in a minute. True to his expectation, he was soon joined by another man who easily looked his twin, albeit some decades older. It was a pleasant fiction kept up to satisfy neighbours; his father was hardly an aged half-elf. Virgil slipped his ring back on as Osamu sat down beside him, both men looking placidly into space in silence, a habit they shared. Virgil was the one who eventually spoke first, “I’m sick of this.”
Osamu turned to regard the younger man, “Of what?”
“Of all of this,” he said. “Of waiting. Of being limited. When are we going?” Osamu raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. When he didn’t get a response, Virgil looked over as well. “Well?”
Regarding him inscrutably for a long moment, he eventually replied, “I am contracted here until Lucca releases me; Mako and Junko will return when I do.”
“So, what’s Lucca waiting for?”
“The end of his life,” was Osamu’s response as he looked back into the distance. 
Virgil sighed through his nose and turned away again. After another long moment of silence, he replied, “This is pointless.”
“I would hardly refer to your life as pointless.”
“It is, though,” Virgil insisted. “Not overall, obviously. But right now is pointless. I’m sitting and waiting, getting older but not better. There’s nothing happening here; it's all goblins and ghosts and stupid little problems that any adventurer could deal with. At this rate, I’d be dead before anything of actual note happens on Materia, and I would have gotten powerful for ultimately nothing. And besides, the skills I have don’t even matter because I’ll have to start training from the beginning when I have a new body anyways. This is a waste of time.” Osamu looked at him with a slightly raised eyebrow; Virgil noted his expression and explained, “Both of them have told me how it works.”
“...Undoubtedly.” He turned away, paused and said, “You take your life for granted, assuming you’ll have another.”
This gave Virgil pause, and he looked at his father who stared into the distance, his expression holding the subtle hint of disbelief and fear. He composed himself as he turned away and said, “You wouldn’t leave without me.” Osamu didn’t reply. 
They let a few minutes pass in silence as they looked at the night. Eventually, Virgil reached into his pocket and pulled out a package of cigarettes. He took one and put it in his mouth before offering one to his father, who took it wordlessly. With a flick of his fingers, Virgil lit both of them with a small spell and slipped the pack back into his pocket. They sat in a comfortable silence, letting the night deepen around them.
A while later, Virgil leaned over to his bag. “I brought you something.” He pulled out an object that had been bound and wrapped in a cloth, though it was obviously a sword of some sort. “It was yours, from what I’ve heard. So think of it as tribute?” he grinned, “Or a lot of missed birthday presents.”
Osamu unwrapped it and drew the katana’s blade from its sheath, revealing its oil-black blade. A slight smile touched his lips, “I doubted I would see this resurface again.”
Virgil still smiled, “Well, just because Lucca couldn’t go back in didn’t mean I couldn’t. Now no one else can take it.” He made a shrugging expression, “Probably for the best. It’s not a *good* sword.”
Osamu sheathed it and tied it to his belt, replying, “That has always been the point, yes.”
Standing up, Virgil said, “I should go say hello to everyone else. How has everyone been?”
“As good as to be expected,” he replied, still sitting. As Virgil turned to leave, Osamu stopped him by saying, “It will not solve your problems, immortality.” The younger man looked at him, but Osamu still stared into the distance. “Your disquiet will follow you to Hell, and it will linger far worse than it ever could now, as a human.”
Virgil considered these words before replying, “My disquiet is the ceiling put on me by mortality. I can’t progress, I can only decay; I can’t do anything worthy because I’m not on Materia at the right time. I want to be better, and I can’t be here.” He looked at the back of Osamu’s head, “I’m not meant to be mortal. Not any more than you ever were.” The devil did not reply, and Virgil added, “I don’t have a court of wizards to help me become what I’m supposed to be. I can only implore my father.”
After a pause, Osamu replied, “I would never leave you behind.”
Bowing towards his father, Virgil said, “Thank you. I will be worthy.”
Osamu smiled slightly, though Virgil couldn’t see, “You are my greatest achievement, and your worth isn’t questioned. Though, I am afraid that the truly difficult part is yet to come.”
Virgil set his jaw, “I’m ready.”
Osamu stood and joined his son in heading towards the house. “You don’t even realize what I refer too,” he said, grinning subtly, “but nonetheless. You will persevere. I don’t doubt that you will find your happiness.” Virgil looked at him questioningly for a second, then snorted with a grin as the two walked towards the house.
----
“How can I put this delicately…?” Cohen said thoughtfully. Almost immediately, he continued bluntly, “I can’t: you’re old. You’re old, and macular degeneration isn’t something I can fix.”
"Bull. Shit." Lucca shot back, folding his arms and leveling a scowl in the other man's direction. "Like hell you can't fix it. I legitimately do not believe that. You are literally the best guy at fucking around with people's bodies and making them better. I've seen the shit you can do; why wouldn't you be able to fix this? What makes this different?"
"As flattering as that is, and as much as I would love to say I could reverse aging, that's not really something in my repertoire," Cohen replied. "I'll break it down: your eyes are degrading from the effects of age, not disease, not damage. I could fix damage. I could fix disease. Those are simple. I can prevent aging, to a degree, if I have time to work with a young subject. But fixing age? If everyone could reverse aging, no one would be old. There isn't much in the way of useful magic, and I wouldn't recommend any sort of surgical option, because that is actually more likely to hurt you more than help you." He became very serious suddenly, made all the more grave in contrast to his usual flippant attitude. Sitting straight and folding his hands, suddenly professional, he said, "There is one simple option: the spell Age Resistance. I can make that into potions; you would have to take one every 24 hours, and it restores the physical capacity lost to aging. But I would not recommend it. Not in the slightest, for you more than anyone else. Your body is telling you how much time is left on its clock. We both know your aging is erratic; if you start ignoring it with magic, you run a very real risk of dying without any warning. Normally, that wouldn't make a lot of difference, but I was under the impression that you had other plans that might be interfered with should you pass away prematurely."
"...So you're saying I'm outright screwed one way or another." Lucca said flatly. "If I try to do anything, it's just gonna be a worse gamble...definitely too big of a risk to fuck with magic, that is kinda why I came to you in the first place. And while I don't have a damn clue why surgery would be a worse choice than not being able to fucking see, you say it is, so I guess it is." He gave a sigh of equal parts frustration and resignation, "Essentially, I'm stuck with this 'till I'm done here, yeah? This fucking sucks."
"Being partially bind is better than complicated surgery. After you reach a certain age, the risk of not surviving surgery, even simple procedures, increases dramatically. Though you haven't reached that age numerically, I can guarantee that you've reached it physically." He sat back, "Why are you still waiting around, if you don't mind me asking? You're mostly blind, you're arthritic, you're tired; you only have one more of your erratic age spurts left at best, and that could come at any time. Your kids are grown; what are you waiting for, the stars to align? Because honestly, I'm not sure how much time you have left before you'll be bed-confined, and from what I heard from Osamu, the process is physically demanding.
Lucca looked up at the him with a wistful half-smile and said quietly, "Nothing. I'm not waiting for anything, doc. I guess you could say I'm trying to drag out every last bit of time I have here..." Looking distant and a bit sad, he added more to himself than Cohen, "...once I lose it, I'm never getting it back. It is foolish, but I can't really help myself..."
Cohen looked at him with all seriousness and said, "I would never judge anyone poorly for valuing their life and their humanity, and if that's the case, I don't blame you in the slightest. I'm more than willing to help, so long as it's a matter of caution and not of willful misdirection. Even if you're aging rapidly, you still have at least another few years, more if the pace doesn't pick up for a while; you just have to be very mindful of accidents and illness. If you want, I could move closer for the next little while to keep an eye on things, to make sure you keep healthy, and in case you start accelerating again." He couldn't help but smirk as he added, "I'm no stranger to geriatric care, after all."
"...Really?" The druid stared at him, caught completely off guard by his offer. "...You would do that?" After a beat he added, "I-...thank you...Do you think it's necessary?"
"What's a few years, really? It's no trouble. And it's probably not necessary, honestly: you're still healthy, after all. It's just that 'healthy' can disappear like that," he snapped his fingers, "at your age, so it really depends on the amount of chances you want to take. Whatever you think will maximize your twilight years." Shrugging, he continued, "Frankly, if I'm going to be observing you closely, you can go on an Age Resistance regime: get your eyesight and limberness back for what time you have left. Give me a few weeks, and I can get the stronger version for you, since you probably need it." He looked at him flatly, "But I will tell you now: I am going to be upset if I go out of my way to give you directions and you don't follow them. Triply so if you let yourself die." He rolled his eyes and muttered, "Bonus annoyance if the devils blame me for it."
"I...would really appreciate that. Thank you." He said earnestly, giving him a look of profound gratitude. "It'd be amazing to be able to actually see and move again..." He fell to looking thoughtful, eventually saying solemnly, "If we do this you won't have to worry, I'll follow your orders to a tee. I'm not about to fuck around. I'm not interested in dying anytime soon, that would totally defeat the purpose, to say nothing of fucking up the rest." He pursed his lips, "On that note, how much less of a risk is it to implement something like that if you're around to monitor?"
"Oh, this isn't so I worry," he said sarcastically. "It would just be frustrating to put in this amount of effort to be ignored. But, that's a doctor's curse. Anyways, the risk is small," he said. "I'm just not going to give you any potions until I've given you a daily cursory check-up. The risk is in ignoring the signs of aging, and hitting the end of your natural lifespan without warning. The second it appears that you're degrading further, I'm cutting you off. If we watch closely, though, it may actually prolong you somewhat, since your body won't be as frail and susceptible to damage and disease. You won't be as likely to break a hip, or blindly walk into the street, and die early that way. As long as you don't reach the end of your rope, you're fine." He stood up and walked over to another table, "Here, give me a blood sample. I can make a rough estimate of how long you have left in a few days. Then we'll have a baseline, combined with regular observation, which will let us make the most of our mystery timeframe." He waved a syringe around sarcastically, "Not that it will be particularly accurate, what with your random degradation, but at least I'll be able to make a better guess at how catastrophic an acceleration would be. And if I check regularly, I should be able to tell when you're accelerating, possibly before there are physical signs." He held out his hand as he sat down again, grinning, "Better to look at the milk than try to guess the expiration date from the bottle."
"Of course," He smiled slightly, pushing up his sleeve and proffering his arm. "You're in for a lot of work with this, by the sounds of it. Although I'd imagine you might be able get something useful out of it yourself, too; for your research or something. I hope so anyway." He added sincerely, dispelling his shift. The change was much less dramatic than it had been in the past; along with the usual degradations brought on by aging, his natural shifting ability was slowly breaking down, confining him ever closer to his true appearance.
"Eh," he said, taking his arm and earning a flinch and sigh from him in the process. "Probably not too much. I'm at a point where I'll learn more by putting your blood in other things than by taking it out of you, and I'm not going to set up a serum trial if I'm just going to be in Mirilarin for a few years. I wasn't doing too much at the moment anyways; I'll probably bother Webber and the devils, and use them to start looking for some permanent real estate somewhere." He smirked, "Renting is such a hassle, but it's hard to look into foreign property without a reliable means of getting there."
"Ah well, that works too, at least you'll get something accomplished." He shrugged, turning away as the doctor moved to acquire his sample. "It'll be good to find a place of your own, eh? Why haven't you bugged them to help before anyway?"
"Haven't needed a permanent place. Still don't, really," he replied, going through the familiar motions of blood sampling. "One of the issues with being a mad scientist is that your neighbors are never happy with you once they find out your profession. Real permanency is a fleeting dream," he said with heavy sarcasm. He moved to prepare the sample, leaving Lucca with a cotton swab.
"Mmmh, that would do it. Seems like a pain to keep moving all your shit though. What you need is to get rid of the neighbours entirely. Find yourself a secluded hideaway like a proper mad scientist." He flashed an impish grin, and continued teasingly, "Maybe we can find you an abandoned castle, really embrace the stereotype. Oooh! Or a haunted asylum, something like that'd do nicely! I'm sure a bunch of ghosts wouldn't give a damn."
"As long as they're the wailing sort and not the throwing kind," he said, returning the smile. "I'm going to go all kinds of murderous on them if they so much as nudge my glassware." Carrying on with his task, he added, "I've always been more fond of the hospital trope than the castle one. Is it better to use an abandoned hospital that hopefully no one gets the bright idea of exploring, or a perfectly normal hospital with hidden rooms, and where everyone is paid to cover up its real purpose?" His expression went flat as he added, "And hopefully without the religious overtones in the staff this time. One poorly-thought-out cult was enough." 
"Eh, hard saying. Potential for people who talk or get weird ideas or whatever other stupid shit people get up to, or potential for adventurers getting up in your stuff and making a mess...both have their problems." He shrugged, "Though I would think that an actual functional hospital would likely be a more comfortable place to hang out, generally."
"I think if I spend too much more time by myself I'll go even more insane than I already am," he said dryly, finishing storing the sample appropriately and returning to his original position. "It's not too bad if I'm busy enough, which is how I got by in solitary, but otherwise, I get desperate. You wouldn't believe the one-sided conversations I had with Annashil back in the day. Now I alternate between you, talking to the Share and Response I have in my possession, going to bars and talking to children, and Ryuji. That is how desperate I am for social interaction: I talk to Ryuji."
"Well see? You've got your answer right there: if its bad enough now that you have to talk to Ryu you'd best go with an actual hospital full of people. It'd probably be good for you. And really, let's be honest, despite how rarely you practice it compared to the mad science, you are a literal honest-to-the-gods doctor. So why not be in a proper hospital, you know? Might as well."
"Well, first I have to find a place to put it, followed by people to staff it with. I'm certainly not joining an established one. Ugh, that stint in the Cafeyete University was bad enough. If I'm going to be mired in bureaucracy, it's going to be my own. At any rate, no rush. Let's see you through your last few years, shall we?" 
Lucca nodded, "Yeah, one thing at a time."
----
"Cohen tells me that our time here is at an end," Osamu said to Lucca gently. He turned around from the window, where he had been looking out over the yard. The druid had taken his potion for the day, restoring his shifting ability and allowing him to look much younger than he did, and feel much younger than he was, but indeed, when the potion wore off each day, he wasn't feeling very well at all: tired, weak and blind. 
"Does he now? Heh, guess he beat me to it. Jerk." Lucca replied with the faintest wry smile. With a soft sigh he crossed the room to join the other man, his expression taking on a wistful cast as he continued, "Apparently I'm starting to go into another acceleration...and there's no way I can handle that, not at this point. One way or another, it's time; I'm done here."
Osamu slipped his arm around him. "I've been preparing for a while; the rest of us are ready. Collect anything you want to take with you, and visit whomever you'd like." He kissed him, "And then we will move onto forever."
----
"Hey," Cress said as he walked into the room. "How are you feeling?" The elf was just as old as Lucca was, but looked no more than a day over 25, a stark difference from his friend. He had a bit of a hesitance about him: the nervousness of someone visiting the terminally ill. Lucca had called him a few days ago, asking him to come visit, since he knew he didn't have too many days left on this world. While the two had remained friends over the years, they had drifted apart: Cress continued adventuring, while Lucca continued aging.
"At this moment? Eh, not half bad." The druid smiled, getting to his feet as he greeted his friend. "It's good to see you, been a while."
"Yeah, really. Sorry I haven't been around, I've been kicking around Dionisia for a while, seeing what people do there." He sat down and fell to story-telling, describing the people and places he had seen in the recent past. Lucca sat back and listened contentedly to his tales, as he always did, occasionally prodding for details or interjecting comments. Always a lover of stories, he greatly enjoyed hearing of his friend's adventures in the wider world.
A long time later, he digressed, "But man, I've been talking about myself long enough. How about you? What have you been doing? How are the kids?"
With a muted smile, Lucca replied, "They've both been well. Nuan's been taking care of her children; they're all great. Virgil's here; he's...been keeping occupied, since he got back from his trip a few months ago. Still don't think he's over it." He paused for a moment, a quiet, thoughtful look on his face. "Myself...I've been wrapping things up, I guess you could say. I finished up with my last couple students a month or so back. They'll be great urban druids; I'm proud of 'em. Talked to the Order, that sorta thing." After pausing once more, he looked up at his friend with a small, somewhat sad smile. "We're getting ready to leave...I'm done here. I've pushed it as long as I can but my body just ain't gonna hold up anymore. So that's kinda why I asked you to come..."
Cress looked at him sadly, then nodded. "Yeah...yeah, I guess...guess we kinda knew it was coming. Comes for everyone, eventually." He rubbed his thumb across his nose, and proceeded to fiddle with his hands, "Still sucks...but, I guess you had a pretty good run of it, right?"
"A pretty damn good run of it, if I do say so myself. I've been stupid lucky..." He gave a brief smile once more. As it faded, he said quietly, "I know we've kinda drifted a bit...but I can honestly say you're the best friend I've ever had, over all the years. Goddamn lucky there too." He took a deep breath,"I...I'm gonna miss the hell out of you, dude." He pursed his lips, "I need to ask you something...and I want you to answer honestly, no pressure either way...but...would you be okay if I...maybe dropped by sometime? Or would you rather I not?"
Blinking, with a look of shocked confusion on his face, Cress considered that for a long moment. Eventually, he replied, "I...I don't even know how to answer that. It's...that's such a weird thought." He sighed, looking up at the ceiling, "...I don't get it. Don't get...wanting to live forever. I don't think most people do. I mean, we know a fuckton of immortals, and who really chose to be? The doc, but he's pretty bananas on a good day. Mila, but only 'cause her husband wanted her to...but I guess that's your reason too." He shrugged widely, "I don't know. Like I told Percival. Not for me." He looked thoughtful still, "...I guess I'd be a bit of a prick to say I didn't want you to stop and say hi...but, I guess I'm thinking...would you even be the same person?" He turned his gaze back to his friend, "If you turn into a devil, are you still Lucca?"
Lucca held his gaze for a moment before looking away and saying quietly with a slight shake of his head. "I honestly don't know. Maybe? Maybe not. I'd like to think I will be, but I can't say for sure." He gave a small, sad smile, "All I can say is that I will be dropping by, and like I said, I'm gonna miss you..." He trailed off with a shrug.
"I'll miss you too," he said with a deep bittersweetness. "I guess...maybe we'll hang out again in the future. But...I guess, this is probably the last time I'll see you." He tacked on a last bit quickly, as an afterthought, "...for sure, I guess. ...Planar weirdness, 'n all that."
"Yeah...it very well could be..." Lucca nodded slightly, his expression mirroring his friend's.
----
Osamu stood in the attic, along with Junko, Mako, Lucca and Virgil. They had packed, sold or passed on their belongings; the property was Nuan's now. They were leaving. 
Virgil stood with an impatient air of excitement. He held a scroll: they would desummon the three devils, then he would resummon Junko, who could Plane Shift Lucca and Virgil to Osamu's province, where they would discard their humanity. He shifted his bag on his shoulder back and forth, a bag of holding that held all of the possessions he had cared to take with him. He had an almost hungered look in his eyes: the desire that made him look even more like his father. Osamu caught his gaze, and both grinned knowingly.
Mako and Junko stood about, the former in his true form, the latter still disguised as a human. Both had moved to stand in their summoning circles: they would desummon as soon as Osamu was banished. The lordly devil stood among them, the mythic black sword Virgil had gifted to him hanging at his waist, his Materian appearance discarded. He took a few steps to stand over Lucca, bringing his face into the shorter man's hair. "Are you ready?" he asked.
A solemn air hung about the druid. For him, their departure was bittersweet. While he was honestly ready to go and sincerely looking forward to starting the next chapter of their existence, there was still a part of him that was sad to be leaving Materia, and more importantly nature, to which he had so devoted his life. Closing his eyes briefly, he nodded. "Yeah...I am." Looking up at Osamu, he smiled slightly, "Let's get going."
Smiling, he took a few steps back into the summoning circle. "You are near death, and have stated that you are finished on this plane. I have fulfilled my end of the deal; now you will fulfill yours." Osamu spread his wings slightly; with a slight flash, he and the circle disappeared. Mako and Junko vanished behind him.
Almost immediately, Virgil began to cast the scroll. A few minutes later, Junko reappeared, now in her true demonic form. Virgil grinned, "Give us a ride, would you?"
She smiled, "What'cha paying?"
"I'll owe you." 
She snorted. Holding out her hands for Virgil and Lucca to take, she cast Plane Shift.
----
The pair found themselves standing with Junko on a stone rampart, on a snow-covered mountain side. The air was cold, certainly, but far worse was a strange bite to it, that burned and hurt the two Materians to their cores. Virgil had a twisted sort of grin, and he muttered, "You can feel the conflict here. You can feel the entire world trying to tear everything apart." He coughed a bit. "Do it then. Tear off my shell." He looked to Lucca, "What sort of monster do you think is hiding under your skin?"
"There isnt one," he replied quietly, his gaze roving slowly, taking in the landscape before them. There was a strange expression on his face, a sort of fierce defiance that hadn't sat there since his youth. "Not hiding anyway. It's always been in the open. We'll see if its any different when this is done." A faint twisted smile touched his lips, "Probably be less of one here, if anything."
Junko folded her hands as Osamu appeared behind them. "Shall we go inside?" he gestured. Junko went through the motions of teleporting, and the four were suddenly in a comfortable room, an interesting meld of Yeto and Hobgoblin aesthetics. Virgil paced somewhat, looking distracted; Lucca knew why, because he could feel the burning nature of the plane in him as well, unsettling him and driving him to move and fidget. It ate at him, like the Firehawk's fever so many years ago, but in a pervasive way that was so much worse. It was killing him, and he could tell his aged strength wouldn't last long. Taking a seat on the floor, he settled in for this final ordeal with the same defiance that he had met every challenge throughout his life with. Hell would have him, it was both inevitable and desired, but he was not about to give up the last of his humanity easily.
The pain grew, and he steeled himself admirably against it. Osamu waited nearby, watching protectively. He heard Virgil mutter something, and vaguely cognized him leaving, with Junko sent to follow behind him. Time passed, or it didn't, with nothing to mark it but the growing pain of his body tearing apart from the negative energy that pervaded Hell.
Eventually, he passed out.
----
Lucca's eyes flew open, and he sat bolt upright. He was in a different room now, laying on a bed; Osamu was beside him, and he realized his head must have been lying in his lap. His eyes darted about as he got his bearings, taking stock of the new sensations he was feeling. The first thing he noticed was that he no longer felt old and weary, but once again fit and strong, and that the pain of Hell that he had felt so acutely before losing consciousness was gone entirely.  The next thing to strike him was an odd comingling of emotion affecting him: there was a quiet contentment that was very out of place amidst his own disorientation and bewilderment. It took him a few moments to realize that it didn't belong to him at all. As he did, his gaze returned to Osamu and he smiled slightly. "It's done?" he said, half stating, half questioning.
Osamu nodded, smiling mutedly. "How do you feel?"
"...Different." He answered slowly, his attention still turned towards the new sensations he was feeling, "Good different...Better. I feel better...spirits do I ever. I think I forgot how shitty I was actually feeling and now that I don't anymore...frig." As he spoke, the familiar tinny ring to his voice gave him pause, and he looked down at his hands, beginning to take stock of his physical form. The sight of the familiar long, delicate fingers of his changeling form greeted him, unchanged save for his fingernails, now a set of small, glassy-looking claws. It seemed that perhaps he wasn't so different from how he had been. "And I think I can feel you, right now...like, what you're feeling?" He went on, smiling as his gaze moved up his arm. His eyes followed what had once been his druidic tattoo, its spiraling lines now appearing as a vine winding up his arm, the cryptic lettering replaced by leaves and small reddish flowers. "You're happy....and...maybe a bit surprised? Or that might still be me...I dunno, it's a bit hard to tell." As he relaxed, his hair, the same silken black river he had possessed in life, began to drift about him as if underwater in a gentle current. A few strands reached out to twine affectionately around Osamu, unnoticed by their owner as he studied his tattoos. While the druidic one had changed, the other, the wolf and moon Victor had drawn so long ago had not, save for the fact that it no longer showed its age, appearing as dark and crisp as the day it was inked. Smiling softly, Lucca traced his fingers lightly over the letters below it.
Osamu grinned, brushing his fingertips along the waving hair like one might drag their hand along the tips of long grass. "The surprise came from the somewhat unexpected reaction of the fire wings to your death. They exploded, and I fear that room might be on fire now. Permanently. There were no other casualties though."
"They what?" He stared up at him in shock, his small catlike ears flattening back against his head and giving him pause. Reaching up absently to feel them, he made a slight face as he continued. "Holy shit. I didn't know they'd do that...I wasn't even wearing the damn things...frig. I'm really sorry...it's really stuck that way?"
"Reasonably certain," he said, idly twisting Lucca's hair around his fingers. "Attempts to extinguish it have been futile, but it appears to be contained at least. It's not consuming fuel, so I think it's part of the ambiance now. A flaming room: I suppose it should be good for something. We luckily managed to get your pack out before it caught flame, and it obviously did you no harm, but it did ignite everything you were wearing, unfortunately. I'm sorry if you don't like your current outfit, but now that you're awake, you can get something else." His outfit was rather Yeto inspired, though it was worth noting that his pants were more closely tailored to his legs. 
"...Everything?" He asked, even as his hands moved about to confirm Osamu's words, first to his throat and then to his hip. Looking crestfallen, a picture only emphasized by the way his hair suddenly fell limply about him, he muttered. "...Fuck...that sucks..." After a moment he sighed and shrugged. "Oh well, no helping it now. I guess I could use different clothes...these aren't exactly my thing, but no rush. Where's Virgil? He's alright, yeah?"
"I will replace your jewelry," he assured, reaching out to playfully draw his finger along the fur in Lucca's ear, eliciting a series of flicks from it and a shiver from the other man. "And yes, he is well, though still asleep. He lingered far longer, thanks to his youth. I will step out when he begins to stir." Drawing his finger about Lucca's ear, he played with the striped fur.
Chuckling slightly at the ticklish sensation, Lucca ducked away slightly. "Okay, I'm gonna need a mirror or something...I need to know what the hell those stupid things are even all about. Since when do devils have furry ears?"
"Devils have all manner of things; you have only met five, after all. And most of that group are particularly strange, as we are converted Materians rather than true creations of Hell. We are products of our own self-perception." As he said this, he dropped his hand and ran it along Lucca's spotted tail, smoothing the fur. "I am going to assume you identify with cats in some fashion."
Lucca gave a small start at the touch, his attention drawn to the new appendage for the first time. With its soft grey fur and distinctive, heavy-tipped shape it was unmistakably reminiscent of a snow leopard's: by far his favorite wildshape. Chuckling softly, he swished it back along Osamu's hand, then flicked it up to tickle his chin. "Heh, I suppose you could say that."
"You see, my question is less about the feline motif; all of us seem to have picked something and run with it, as it were, even if it's just my theme of 'generic devil' and Mako's 'spikes'," he said, smiling, "but, I wonder more about your rather prominent additions that obviously don't belong to a cat."
"...Which are?" He twisted about to look at himself, his hands feeling about his face and head. Frowning slightly, he muttered "See, this is why I asked for a mirro-...oh, wow." He trailed off as his hands lit upon what could only be the 'additions' Osamu spoke of: a set of long, ridged horns running back along his head and curving wickedly downwards near their ends. Feeling his way down their length, he grinned, "I remember these! I must've got them because they're what I picked when we were goofing off and saying I looked like you, way back when we were fighting the All and that spell was breaking down, remember?...I guess the idea stuck." His grin took on a mischievous cast, "Can't complain; they were fun."
Victor chuckled, and ran his hand along Lucca's cheek. "I'm glad you think so." He stood up, and pulled from his wallet a hand mirror, "Here. If you'll give me a moment, Virgil is awaking. I'll be back, but feel free to explore if the mood strikes you. I'll know where you are." He grinned, "Perhaps see how much control you have over your hair." With that somewhat cryptic remark, he exited the room, leaving Lucca alone with his thoughts.
----
Virgil's eyes opened, and the first thing he noticed was how good he felt. It was an energy, a confidence, that couldn't ever possibly match what he had felt on Materia. Sitting up, he took in his surroundings: a bedroom, apparently. His father was standing nearby, watching. "How are you feeling?" he asked, now that he was awake.
Virgil grinned, "If this isn't what perfection feels like, I must be close." He snickered, "I had a terrible dream though: I was a human, and we lived on Materia leading boring, pointless lives."
Osamu snorted, "I'll warn you once, knowing that you aren't going to listen, but it will serve as my due diligence and hopefully serve to mitigate some of the ruin you threaten on yourself." He turned serious and said, "Devils feed on evil, it is their strength and weakness, and your pride is undoubtedly the source of your evil. I did a poor job of tempering your ego in your youth, and now it will be beyond anything it was in your past life. Do not forget or scorn Materia and your time there. Do not overestimate your worth and skill, particularly now, when you are at your weakest. You have lost your skills, and you will have to work hard to reattain them, regardless of how powerful you feel now. Do not let your pride lead you to rashness or cruelty."
"I know," Virgil said. "I'm not going to settle for less, and I'm excited to train. To get better. I haven't gotten better in a long time."
"Yes, I know that you know. I also know you don't understand, and you won't until you've been taught a lesson. But by telling you, you will think about it, and hopefully the lesson won't be as harsh as it could be." He smiled, "I'm sorry to preach, but I want your happiness and success, and we both aren't very good at not being rash and arrogant."
Virgil bowed his head, "I'll keep it in mind."
"That's all I ask."
Virgil stood, and took stock of himself, moving towards a mirror that hung on the wall. He was, much like Lucca, simultaneously the same and drastically different. Large feathered wings were on his back, and he had grown a feathered tail to match. Two long ornamental feathers were different from the others, and he found he could control them, not unlike his father's tail. A closer look revealed that all of his hair had been replaced by feathers green, white and red; those on his head didn't seem too unlike gelled-back hair, unless he puffed them up. His grey irises dilated along with his pupils, visually alternating between a human-like and bird-like appearance. His fingernails had turned a dark green, but seemed no sharper or different from human nails. The most striking difference to him was his face: it was still his, still human, but now had a distinctly Yetoman look to it. He looked very much like Osamu. He grinned and said, "I suppose growing up with all Yetomen stuck."
"It makes sense," Osamu added, smiling mutedly, matching the other man's expression. "You are my son."
----
Lucca followed the directions Osamu was giving him, eventually finding himself outside a large wooden door. Pushing it open, he saw the interior was a stark room, dominated by a panoramic balcony, open to the air and granting a view of much of the land within Osamu's mountainous domain. In an austere chair, facing towards the window and away from the door, Osamu sat looking out over the snow and rock. Already, it appeared that there were small settlements in the nooks and crannies in the range. He held out his hand, beckoning for Lucca to join him. He made his way over, the room quiet; despite the wind howling outside, something was dampening it, leaving the room comfortable. Osamu sat leisurely, his eyes closed. “Come here,” he said, gesturing again. When Lucca was close enough, he reached out and pulled him over to sit on top of him. He smiled subtly, “Can you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“Everything.” He hugged Lucca with one arm, and brushed through his hair with the other, leaning back against the chair with his eyes still closed. “My power is magnified here, in my domain. I can hear everything.” He drew his fingers along Lucca’s face, “Here. Listen.” Lucca could suddenly hear a murmur: a jumbled chorus of thoughts of all of the devils and figments within Osamu’s domain. It should have been overwhelming, but somehow Osamu was refining it for him, reducing it to a sort of hum, where Lucca could pick out individual voices if he so chose. “I can conduct it as well,” he said. “Here, I find this particularly...calming, I suppose.” As Lucca listened, the sound of the hum changed, as Osamu picked out a subset of people: only those who were happy. The archdevil focused on those individuals, while adding and influencing the thoughts of others so they could contribute to the contented chatter that Lucca was hearing. Osamu continued to hold him and whispered, “What do you think?”
"It's...beautiful, honestly." He replied, smiling softly, his voice a murmur. "I wouldn't have expected so many voices at once could be so...pleasant." Settling against Osamu, he closed his eyes as he savored the experience.
"Thank you," Osamu said quietly, holding Lucca. "Thank you for coming here, with me."
He gave a soft snort. "Don't thank me for that, you goof." He turned to kiss the other man and murmured. "There is literally no place in all of existence I'd rather be. I should be thanking you, for bringing me here and giving me forever with you."
Settling back, Osamu brushed his hand gently through Lucca's hair, "Forever is only any good because you're here."
Category:Advent of the All