Among Demons

"[THREAD TITLE]" is a [SEASON NUMBER] thread started on [IRL DATE] and finished on [IRL DATE].
==Summary==
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== Full Text ==
Shaxurohm the Weaver: Oh, how boring. She’s gotten herself stuck in limbo. That won’t be any fun to put on the tapestry.
Shaxurohm was working on his tapestry, in limbo, simply because he could. It wasn’t a terrible place, although it could use a little less water. And perhaps, a little more . . chaos.
As he was contemplating playing with his magic, he became aware of the Warden’s presence drawing nearer.
Hello, dearest Nala.
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: Something shook her out of her pensive daze, and she lifted her head, noticing a figure sitting with his back to her, his fingers brushing over a loom that spread before him. With a sinking feeling and a flicker of annoyance, she recognized him on the spot and pinned her ears back, eyes flashing.
Well-met, Weaver, she growled, dripping with insincerity. Why did you come here?
Shaxurohm the Weaver: Am I not allowed to seek out my dear, dear cousin in such a trying time?His eyes never left the loom as he worked, creating a scene not very long past. He turns the loom so she can see the scene as it unfolded. It depicted several scenes from that day, Stonegit crying over Gareth Haddock’s dead body at the very center. Do you recognize this, Nala? Isn’t this the death of that human who caused you to be trapped here?
Shaxurohm smirks, turning the loom away from her again as he continues to work. Such a silly thing, caring for mortals. Why is it that you continue to do so?
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: The Warden shifted her gaze from the tapestry and stared into the distance, the agonizing pain from earlier still needling at her essence. I do not need a reminder. She flicked her black-and-scarlet eyes back to glare at him, thrashing her tufted tail. And I don’t carefor them. How dare you insinuate that.
Shaxurohm the Weaver: It is quite clear that you do, though. Or, at the very least, you care about something. Your conversation with Skaimaru and the Empress made that extremely clear.
 The Weaver turns to face Warden for the first time, his red eyes glinting as he watches her reactions to his statement.
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: I don’t. She snapped her teeth together, infuriated. And even if I did, I wouldn’t care about all of those dirty brats, it’d only b—
But she bit off her words and whirled around with her back towards him, folding her arms tightly and clamping her mouth shut. There was no way on Midgard she’d tell him that. Not a chance.
Shaxurohm the Weaver: It would only . . what? Shaxurohm raises an eyebrow, a casual smirk still resting upon his face. His amusement is plain on his face, and he makes no attempt to hide it. He then turns back to his tapestry, continuing to create the scenes of what had happened. No, nevermind that. Tell me, Nala, what would this little toy of yours think of my tapestry?
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: He would likely think it another work of drab art, just as I do. Her voice quivered, however; she knew the importance of the Weaver’s role and she disliked being in such close proximity to someone who recorded fate itself. She continued not to face him, staring angrily upwards as his words crawled beneath her insubstantial skin.
Shaxurohm the Weaver: What a … pity. I would like to meet him, you know. I can’t seem to get the feeling right, perhaps speaking to him would help. The Weaver laughed softly to himself, clearly finding something quite funny. I must be letting the years get to my mind. I highly doubt speaking to a mere mortal could help my piece any.
The Weaver did not believe the words he was telling the Warden, although they sounded sincere enough that she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. He figured speaking to the dead King would help his piece a great deal, but playing with the Warden was far too much fun.
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: So THAT’S what he’s playing at.
I’m afraid you’re out of luck, she mumbled, turning to face him halfway again. Taking a blow to the chest is no small thing to recover from…I am barely keeping him here as it is. He is in no fit state for an interview.
Lifting her hands to waist-height, palms upward, she focused and there was a slight rushing, hissing noise, the sound of wind playing over desert hills and through dead leaves. An indistinct form began to gather into her arms, someone long and limp, arms draped towards the ground and head lolling. Matter coalesced into her claws until the semiconscious form of the king dropped into her arms. His chest was a nauseating mix of burned fabric and charred flesh, and it rose and feel ever so slightly, indicating that life still coursed through his veins.
The Warden gazed at his pale, relaxed face, eyebrows tightening almost imperceptibly. He looked as though he were merely asleep, and yet she knew that he was fighting a fierce battle with death. She let the barest trace of emotion flash through her eyes.
The Weaver turned to the Warden at the sound, just in time to catch the Warden’s flash of . . was that . . concern?Shaxurohm would have laughed, were it not such a rare occurrence from a demon, especially this one. He turned his attention to the King, taking in his features before glancing to his tapestry, making a mental note that he had to adjust the center part of the tapestry. Ah. I see. Will he be awaking before you leave this place?
Shaxurohm the Weaver: The Weaver turned to the Warden at the sound, just in time to catch the Warden’s flash of . . was that . . concern? Shaxurohm would have laughed, were it not such a rare occurrence from a demon, especially this one. He turned his attention to the King, taking in his features before glancing to his tapestry, making a mental note that he had to adjust the center part of the tapestry. Ah. I see. Will he be awaking before you leave this place?
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: He’ll have to, she replied, adjusting her grip so that she cradled the back of his head. You’re not speaking to him, she added curtly, throwing him an irritated glance. He’ll be disoriented enough and doesn’t need the likes of you giving him knowledge that he cannot handle. Mortals knowing about the tapestries is never a good thing. You of all demons should know this. Enough things have occurred in the past to deter you, I should think?
The Warden closed her eyes and channeled her energy into mending the king’s mangled chest, creating a slight luminescence around the wound but otherwise doing very little in the way of healing. She snarled and stomped her foot, causing his hands to sway gently. I am no medic. It will be long before I can return.
Shaxurohm the Weaver: Oh, Nala, a little chaos and mental instability is fun. And even if he tried to tell another, who would believe him? The Weaver moved away from his tapestry, walking to the Warden and the King. He traced a long finger around the edge of the wound, closing his eyes and murmuring under his breath for a long moment before he opened them again. When he looked, the wound seems to have healed a little, although maybe not as much as he would like. That seems a little better, don’t you think? 
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: She withdrew a step when he approached, but when she saw him working over Haddock’s wound, her eyes grew wide and she simply watched. Why would you do that? she whispered when he had finished. 
Shaxurohm the Weaver: Why wouldn’t I? You forget, I’m not Skaimaru. I don’t go out of my way to cause suffering. Especially if it wouldn’t exactly be helpful to my efforts. The Weaver tilts his head, observing the King. Do you think he needs more healing, or should that suffice for now?
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: The Warden was loathe to ask help from him, but she needed him fixed so she could return to the mortal realm. More, if you will, she murmured. I will give you my energy as well.
Together they bowed their heads over him; the Weaver worked his healing song and the Warden fed him energy and slowly, very slowly, the wound began to heal until it was a just series of red blotches and dark scabs splattered over his ribs. She laid him on the ground, exhausted with her efforts, and peered at him as he began to stir, eyelids flickering.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: He must be hallucinating.
Or… wait. No. No, it couldn’t be that. It couldn’t be that at all. He had taken a blow to the chest. It had been such a brief flash of light, but he remembered it. Hard to forget, really, when he had watched one close to his own heart advance against him wielding fire magic. It had been a killing blow - could have done nothing but kill him.
So this must be Valhalla.
Or…
What was he seeing? These ominous beings hovering over him could not be the Aesir and great fallen heroes of Midgard.
Horror coursed over his body, making him shake for a brief moment as Haddock thought, I must be in Helheim. I must have displeased the gods.
Shaxurohm the Weaver: Hello, Gareth Haddock. The Weaver smirked at the mortal, his eyes glinting. I would say welcome, but I doubt you’re going to feel very welcome, despite our best efforts.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: "Thunderbolts of Thor," the king hissed, attempting to reposition himself so this being was not leaning over him. The result was him crying in pain and falling back down on his back, body one step short of convulsing from the impossible burning sensation shooting through his muscles. Gritting his teeth and attempting to ignore the pain of his half-healed chest, Haddock growled, "If these are your best efforts to act accommodatingly, then you must not be very powerful. Or intelligent. Or either."
Stop moving, imbecile.
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: The Warden put a hand on either of his shoulders, making him lie back on the ground. You only just died. It will take a long time to return to normal.
She glared up at the other demon.And what did I tell you about speaking to him? You’ll only confuse him.
Shaxurohm the Weaver: Causing confusion is in my nature, dearest cousin. He smiled at the Warden, before returning his attention to the King. And these are hardly our best efforts. I was simply stating that no matter how much effort we put in, you seem the type who will still feel unwelcome. The Weaver ignores the slight amount of annoyance he was feeling towards the Warden - it did not matter at this moment.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: "And who are you to know anything of who I am?" Haddock snapped back, not even recognizing the voice of the Warden in the background. Everything around him… swirled. He tried to concentrate. "How do you know my name?"
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: She sighed. Nearly as bad as dark-eyes…come now, Your Majesty, that fireball struck your heart, not your head. She stood and walked around him, standing behind Shax and joining him in leaning over the King. You’re in, ah… The Warden glanced briefly at the Weaver for help before shrugging and turning to look at Haddock once more. Well, I doubt it matters too much. And you need not know who I am at the moment.
Shaxurohm the Weaver: Dark-eyes? Does she have pet names for her toys now?Shaxurohm entertained the thought for a moment before shaking his head to dismiss it. Your Majesty, we just saved your life. It should hardly be of any concern to you if we know your name.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: It was amazing how much temperamental fire could shoot out of a body lying supine, chest heaving ragged, pained gasps for breath. "Well, the fact that you’re not mentioning your Odin-cursed names is one ominous indication I should know what they are! And what’s going on! If you are so good-willed, I demand to you that you explain to me exactly where I am, who you are, and what I’m doing here.” 
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: The Warden’s eyes flared, and although she knew it was a bad idea, especially considering that he was on the other side of death, she stormed forward and grabbed him by his singed tunic, heaving him halfway upright and baring her teeth. So be it, you ungrateful failure of a monarch! Look me in the eye, Gareth! You know who I am!!
Shaxurohm the Weaver: Now now, dear cousin, we just revived him. Don’t go killing him again just yet. The Weaver looked at the younger cousin, shaking his head. So very childish.
He sat down next to the King, and decided to make an effort at changing the subject. Would you perhaps be in less pain if I healed your chest a little more?
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock spat straight in the face of the Warden, a glob of blood and saliva splatting on her face just below the eye. "You," he snarled with pure venom. A hand weakly reached toward his hip, as though to pull out his sword and stab her straight there. Furious eyes bore straight at her. “Get your unclean feline paws off my shirt before you dirty it.” Of course the shirt already had an enormous hole in the center from the fire magic, yet Haddock seemed rather serious in his threat. “Leave now and let me alone. I am in no mood to listen to your manipulative, truth-twisted farces of allegedly saving my life. I see no purpose to you sparing me, lest it be to torture me more with your ungodly voice.”
His eyes snapped to the other being in the room. “And I will slice up every tendon in that hand of yours if you so much consider using magic to heal me. I trust not your offer, cousin of this demonic filth. Away!”
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: The Warden completely froze in place, locking his gaze with her own. With one hand, she slowly reached up and wiped the spit off of her cheekbone, not breaking eye contact with him. Her ears slowly, slowly turned backwards. Then her jaw locked. But of course, Your Majesty. And she roughly dropped him.
Standing back up and dusting her hands off, she looked down disdainfully at the King. How thick must you be to realize you are dead no longer? You are obviously inside of your own body. Were you dead, your soul would be completely intact. Her eyes slid up and down the length of his ragged, worn body. And if the Weaver hadn’t healed you, we would not be having this conversation and you would be very much dead. I don’t recall you wantingto die, by the way. She cocked her head mockingly. Am I truly that horrible, that unchangeable, that you’d rather spend eternity in Hel? For that’s where you would have gone. The Valkyrie was out for your soul. I saved your sorry rear from eternal damnation. Or, rather, dark-eyes did, in transferring me to you. 
Shaxurohm the Weaver: You have yet to tell me, dear cousin, who this dark-eyesis. Would you be so kind as to tell me? Or at least point him out in my tapestry, if I have already woven him into it? Shaxurohm was trying to distract himself. He could feel his temper bubbling beneath the surface, set off by this ungrateful mortal. In an attempt to keep his calm exterior, he changed his focus to his work instead, deciding to completely ignore the King. He gets to his feet and walks over to the tapestry, sitting down and continuing to work on it.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: "As far as I am concerned, Warden, any place with you is worse than Helheim," Haddock intoned. "And… what do you mean regarding Stonegit? Transferring you to me?"
Haddock suddenly felt an itch on his hand where he had been marked. Gods, no. No. He knew the answer to his own inquiry already yet refused to believe it.
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: Congratulations, Your Majesty. She turned away from him, casually tossing over her shoulder, You have just become my new vessel. I’ll enjoy my stay. Walking over to the Weaver’s tapestry with her hands diplomatically tucked behind her back, she reached out and tapped a claw over Stonegit’s grief-stricken face. Him. He’s the one who speared me on his way to Hel and dragged me back into this Rebellion business.
Shaxurohm the Weaver: Ah. That one. I do believe he’s in some other tapestries that I have made.  Shaxurohm snapped his fingers, and another tapestry of his appeared, displaying what happened at the lake. Yes, here he is. Didn’t he sacrifice himself for the life of one of your vessels? The vessel’s lover? Yes, that was it. Dark-eyes sacrificed himself in exchange for the . . cat-child’s lover. The Weaver deliberately angled the tapestry so that the mortal could see it as he looked over it, although he didn’t directly invite him to look.
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock glared at the image of the lake. “That’s abominable,” he said. “All of this. Quit speaking of us. Get me out of here. And I am by Odin’s holy name not your vessel.” He was beginning to feel queasy in the stomach. 
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: The Warden slowly rolled her head back to watch him with a stony expression. He is merely the keeper of time, my liege. She swept up to him and knelt down. Everyone has their purpose in life, demons especially…his is to weave history, mine is to destroy…and yours…yours, as of right now, is to be my vessel. She slid a hand under his chin and pulled it upward, watching him intensely. You want to get out of here? Very well. Your wish is my command.
Her hand dropped from his jaw to his wrist and she seized her fingers around his arm, dragging it upright to look at the new seal on the back of his hand. Mm, yes, everything seems to be in order, she mused, glancing up at Haddock with a smirk. Shaxurohm, would you do us the honor of escorting us out?
Shaxurohm the Weaver: Shaxurohm snapped his fingers again, causing the lake tapestry to vanish. Of course, Nalaagura Ep’ha. He began to move his hand across the wall in a circular motion, muttering to himself as he did so. He watched as the portal began to form. You know ways of contacting me if you need me. 
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: Haddock tried to pull himself away from the Warden’s grasp. That attempt, of course, failed in his weak state. “Let go of me,” he said, sounding both defensive and uncertain. “No. I will fight you every step of the way. You won’t win your mind over mine.”
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: Silly king. Keeping her grip on his arm, she hauled him upright, with her other hand on the back of his cape and tunic like she was holding the scruff of a dog. The toes of his boots barely brushed the ground. Looking deep into his eyes, pupils flaring brighter, she slowly curled her mouth into a grin, showing her fangs.
And what are you going to do about it. Do you really, reallythink you can stand against me, runt?
Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second: "I can, pussy cat," he snapped back. He tried to keep his eyes steady, but knew they were wide, and he desperately hoped the Warden could not detect the rising tempo of his heavy-beating heart. It was difficult to appear dignified in such a restraint, but he held himself best he could. Glaring out from under his eyebrows, he challenged her, "Give it your worst."
Nalaagura Ep'ha the Warden: Everything came to a standstill as the two glared at each other, green into red. Even the swishing of the portal seemed to be deafened in the wake of the tension sparking between king and demon. Then the Warden began to laugh, a hair-raising chuckle that filled the dead space in limbo with a wild, lunatic cadence.
You’re cute.
Collecting her consciousness into a collection of needle-like shards, she shoved into Haddock at the same time that both of them fell into the waiting arms of the portal home, falling deeper…and deeper…the cold darkness eventually giving way into freezing liquid, her form being stripped away until she was nothing but an insubstantial, disembodied mind, clutching tightly to Haddock’s mind as he emerged, coughing and spluttering, out of a body of water and into the freezing night air.
And the battle began.Category:Season 3Category:Events
Category:BOTGD
Category:Shaxurohm the Weaver
Category:The Warden
Category:Gareth Ragnar Haddock the Second