nonsacrifice (![]() ![]() @ 2022-03-19 20:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | azazel, charles, lane, roxie |
The Unthinkable
Who: Charles, Roxie, Azazel, and Lane
Where: The Boudreaux Estate
When Roxie woke, she didn’t make a move to leave the bed yet. In the dim light shining through the curtains of Charles’ room, she moved her right arm and watched the way the lines of branches and blue petals of flowers moved around her scar in the daylight. It felt a little surreal to see it there in the daylight but not feel the extra energy she’d had in the dream after Caleb had marked her but if she had to choose she’d rather have the boost of it in dreams and not the real world anyway.
She took a breath and exhaled slowly, hoping she hadn’t woken either of the men who occupied the body next to her just yet because she needed to get her thoughts together. It wasn’t a decision she’d made lightly, but she hoped her reasons for accepting the offer and the immediate benefits she felt from it would help ease their reactions a little.
Another moment passed before Roxie shifted closer to him, nudging her head onto his chest as she waited, letting her head rise and fall as she tried to figure out the odds of who would wake up first.
Charles was exhausted. He could feel that Azael was anxious, like someone was pacing in his head when he wasn’t in the driver’s seat for their body, or whatever it was that was going on with him. He knew something was happening, something about the end of the world, but more than anything there was concern running through him, mostly because of Roxie. He got that at least. He loved her as much as Azazel did, though he did distantly wonder if she loved him as well as his friend.
He shifted when he felt her against him, having already started to wake up a little, but it wasn’t enough to have him open his eyes until she rested against his chest. He raised a hand to run it through her hair, twisting his fingers in the blonde locks before he finally roused himself. “Is it morning?”
Roxie could have lived in that moment of peace, her head on his chest and his fingers in her hair, for ages. It was safe here and outside of the fact that she was starting to feel very at home in the Boudreaux estate, it had become a sort of sanctuary for her. The house and him. Both of them. So when he woke up, she didn’t move immediately. She just wanted to drag that moment out a little longer.
At the sound of his voice, she shifted only enough to see his face. She wanted to reach up and touch his jaw, but she was lying on her right arm and her left still didn’t have its full range of movement back so she settled for placing her hand on his chest. “I think so, but we don’t have to get up yet. Go back to sleep.”
It wasn’t like the mark was going to fade anytime soon. He sounded so tired and she treasured sleep about as much as anyone could, so there wasn’t a big rush.
Charles yawned, blinking up at her for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I’m awake,” he said, reaching up to run his fingers along her jaw then down her neck. She looked good in his clothes, an old worn t-shirt that dipped down her shoulder when he brushed his fingers along her skin. He was content to just lay there, but something caught the edge of his eye and he frowned, sitting up more to pull at the shirt away from her shoulder to show the marks along her skin. “What the hell?” he asked, but something raged louder in him, the monster inside him wide awake.
Although totally understandable, his response made Roxie wince just a bit. Of course this was a completely new thing to see, something she hadn’t had just hours ago, but she wasn’t entirely sure which of them had spoken at that point. Maybe both.
It was clearly time to push away the thought of just snuggling into him and letting him pet her back to sleep, so she sat up beside him and rolled the sleeve of his worn, college tshirt up to her shoulder so she could show him the new mark more completely. “Had a big night,” She started. “So…Caleb is Death. As in the Horseman,” She added, unsure what Azazel had shared with Charles. “And this is his mark, which I know looks scary and sounds scary and I’m sure you have a ton of questions about but just…go with me, for a minute.”
“I meant it when I said I’m not trying to be the hero here, and I’m not trying to put myself or you in any more danger. I still have a ton of healing to do, more than just my arm, and this wasn’t a choice I made lightly. I don’t know all the specifics yet but instead of sitting every day in fear and anxiety about the next massive attack on us or our town, it’s like…I can feel his energy. I can tell if he’s calm or not, which is a good indicator of when my help is needed. So I can focus on healing and help when I’m needed instead of pushing myself into the middle of everything all the time. Plus it was like…it was like I wasn’t even hurt in the dream, after I got this. Almost like my whole arm had healed up and my energy was all back to normal… It doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
Finally she exhaled, looking up into his eyes. “Okay, questions now.”
Charles stared at her for a long, hard minute. He could feel Azazel raging, angry and wanting to take over, but he pushed it back. “There’s a very real chance that Azazel attempts to kill Caleb for this,” he said, letting her know what was going on in his head. “He certainly wants to.” He shook his head to try and clear it, but Azazel was not going to be ignored. If he wasn’t going to take over, then he was going to feed Charles a long list of reasons why this is a bad idea. “Roxie, this seems exactly like putting yourself in more danger. And the definition of not knowing all the specifics of something is making a choice lightly. Like, those are two completely contradictory statements.” He got up, not able to stay in bed and paced, trying to soothe the monster inside him, but Azazel was pushing for something, something far more than just his normal urge to take over. He wanted something more and Charles was afraid of what that might mean.
“You’ve been marked by Death and you’re acting like…it’s healing. What if it’s taking your soul?” he asked, turning to her.
She assumed some negativity in their reactions but this was far beyond what she'd thought. The stakes felt so much bigger as she watched him pace, more and more unsure of which one of them was talking. Or maybe they both finally agreed on something.
Roxie kept quiet, really taking in the words, his actions, all of it because this was important. But for all they said, they'd missed out on one part. This was Caleb, and he wouldn't hurt her. He had another title now, but he was still Caleb too.
She stayed in the bed for now, legs curled up under her as she shifted down to the foot of it. Her voice was somber; serious. "I'll never have all the answers. I've never had them. All any of us can do is try our hardest to make the right decisions. I know Caleb. I also know he's Death now. I can't expect him to have all the answers either but I can lean on a very important person in my life and know that he'll do the best he can to keep me here and alive as long as possible. And somehow he has the actual ability to do it now."
She cleared her throat, blinking a little quicker than before. This felt like Azazel but she still couldn't be sure. "I'll admit, I didn't give much thought to my soul. I guess I don't normally because I don't feel like I'm losing it?" She tried to catch their eyes. "Also human, so… I don't really know what a soul feels like but I can tell you that my heart still feels the same way it did before I got this mark. I know I still love you and I imagine if my soul was in trouble it'd probably lose that first because it takes up so much space in me."
“Roxie, I know you love him and you care about him, but he’s not…he’s Death for a reason.” That much Azazel was clear in Charles’ head about. “He threatened to kill me when he met me. And he could have done the same thing, keep you alive if he wanted, before, he didn’t have to Mark you.” He ran a hand through his hair, and closed his eyes. The internal war with Azazel was giving him a headache. “This just feels wrong on so many levels.” He opened his eyes, then reached for some clothes, pulling them on. “I need a moment before he literally rips my skull apart trying to get out,” he said.
Rather than push it, Roxie just nodded and watched Charles walk off. It was hard to do because she wanted to keep talking about this but she could see he needed the time. They both did. And she was secure enough with them to feel like she could give it and still keep the gnawing anxiety it gave her to a minimum.
For a while she just stayed there, plopped onto her back on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. Then she tried to busy herself upstairs until she finally pulled on a pair of pajama shorts under his college shirt and padded down the stairs and to his study, knocking on the door frame as she peeked her head inside. "Can I come in?"
She hadn’t given him a ton of time, but she’d given him enough. When she came down to the study, he looked at her, waving her into the room. He was behind the usually neat desk, but now it was cluttered, items pulled from the shelves, from the walls, scattered across it. A copper bowl, looking like it was hand beaten in the shape it was in, shined by years of care. A sword, one that was usually on the wall, broad sword style, and etching like flame running up the blade. A few old texts, looking centuries old, and a wrapped bit of velvet, old and in a deep, deep hunter green.
“We may need the hedge witch,” he said, standing and resting his hands on his desk. He flipped one of the books open and through a few pages. His voice was different, Azazel, not Charles. “I can’t do this ritual and it’s likely best to do it with someone who is prone to managing obscure things.” Lane would do a good job, if his ritual to remove that evil god girl were an indicator of his talents. “I wanted to wait, see what was really going to happen, but this choice of yours…” he shook his head. “I can’t do this in this body. I won’t. I won’t risk you both by being so fucking human.”
It was like she’d walked into a totally different house. Maybe even a different time altogether. Roxie stared at him, realizing quickly that Charles wasn’t on the surface anymore. She stared at the items surrounding Azazel, confusion and panic causing her heart to kick up and her chest to tighten.
“Woah, hang on,” She crossed the space, trying not to get stuck on what the hell might be inside that weird green velvet bundle, and tried to wedge herself in between him and the table. “Slow down, let me catch up. Please.” She’d need to come back to the choice, how it made her feel when he phrased it that way, and how the choice in itself was probably a good indicator of how real things were getting, but there were bigger issues at hand right now and she didn’t want to get lost in the wake of this manic energy or the panic it set off in her.
“Azazel, what are you doing? If you’re really doing this…splitting… what’s going to happen?” What did that mean for them?
He gave her a look and shifted her to the side with a hand on either shoulder. “There’s nothing to catch up with. It’s time this happens. I’ve been playing at hiding for centuries and apparently wasn’t even doing a good job at that. So we do this now.” As for what was going to happen? He had a few guesses, but had no idea that any of them would come true. “I’m going to call the witch and get him over here. Then we will do this.”
Her body scrambled to follow his movement but she wouldn't let this drop yet. "There is so much to catch up on!" Roxie protested, but she knew what his intention was.
She'd been in denial about it the night before, in the heaven of their bathtub together. In how it has felt so different than any time before, more somber, more solemn than ever. "Az, please. Just…" She reached for his arm but she didn't even know what she was pleading for.
It was his choice, just like this mark had been hers. After a moment, she sighed. "I'll call Lane," Roxie said, already pressing the speaker phone button as it dialed.
Lane picked up just as it was about to pick up the voicemail, and he sounded less than awake. Potentially less than sober, too, considering he’d definitely drank himself to sleep, so yeah, that pounding in his head and the swim his vision did before it righted itself was a good indication that he wasn’t exactly clear of the booze. “...yeah?” he asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Roxie?” he asked, finally pulling the phone away enough to see who was calling. “Everything okay?” he asked, sitting up, voice getting clearer by the second. Her calling him probably meant Not Great Things.
"Hey, sorry," she said instantly, wishing she hadn't woken him. Wishing they all had more time. "Uh, that's hard to answer. We need your help. Azazel is trying to separate from Charles…" She trailed off, needing Azazel to fill in the blanks of the details, but the waver in her voice indicated that everything was definitely not okay.
He rolled his eyes after a moment and just pulled the phone from her to talk to Lane himself. “How good are you with rituals that you’ve never done before? I’m going with just fine, but I’d like confirmation. The unbinding should be easier than the binding was, but nonetheless.”
“Who?” Lane asked, though the sleep was quickly ripped from his voice. At the new question, he frowned. “...probably the best in the area…” he admitted, not trying to brag, but it was what he did, after all. “Wanna back up just a smidge and tell me what the fuck you’re on about? Separation? Binding? You’ve skipped like a million steps in telling me what you actually need.”
Frustrated, Roxie reached out to snatch the phone back from Azazel. He was going so quickly and she could feel his impatience like a fog in the room but that wasn't going to help them right now.
"So… this is a long story, but the short version is that Azazel is bound to Charles and he's trying to not be, but I think I can speak for both of us when I say that the important part is that we don't want either of them getting hurt in the process… Probably easiest if you come here or we come to you to explain. Please," she added, softer than when she started.
“No one is going to get hurt if the hedge witch knows what he’s doing,” he said because he’d heard that confidence in his voice. “Just come,” he said towards the phone. “Is he drunk?” he asked Roxie, but it didn’t really matter. Honestly, he was pretty sure the person who’d done the original binding was drunk. And he knew the original brother he’d been bound to was. No way he would have agreed to it otherwise.
“...’kay…” Lane drew in a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “I’ll be there soon. Biggest place in town, right?” he asked, already getting up and pulling pants on off the floor of the Sundown where he was staying. His duffel was all he really needed, he was guessing that he’d have to grab a few things here and there, but nothing he couldn’t pick up on the way, or they wouldn’t have on hand there. Plus, if this was a ritual they were reversing, there were probably components that they had that he couldn’t provide himself. Probably. He hung up, splashed water onto his face, brushed his teeth and grabbed his bag, out the door inside ten minutes.
Roxie confirmed Lane’s assumption and quickly shot off a text with the actual address, but she hadn’t realized she’d been clutching the phone or that when she tossed it with a little too much force onto the desk her hands were shaking. She gritted her teeth and walked past Azazel, going to press her forehead on the cool floor-to-ceiling windows in Charles’ study.
“We call him up out of nowhere and basically demand he comes over here to do something he hasn’t officially signed on for yet and you’re pinpointing he might be drunk? He’s dealing with his own shit right now too so yeah, he’s probably drunk!” She wished, for the first time in a really long time, that she could get drunk. Exhaling, she closed her eyes and tried to let the cool glass on her forehead calm her down.
“What shit?” Azazel asked, watching her for a moment before abandoning the text he was looking at and heading to her side, ducking to brush a kiss against her shoulder. “Don’t fret,” he said, because he could feel her fretting. “It will be fine and you and Charles will be safe to live your lives. And I can make sure that you don’t die earlier than you should.”
She could feel the frustration melt a little and the worry inside her take its place when he came over to her side. Exhaling, Roxie wiped angrily at her eyes with the back of her good hand. "Then what happens to you? You'll be free to leave. And what if it doesn't work and I lose you both…" She trailed off, still avoiding his eyes. Plus she needed to deal with this immediate reaction between Caleb and Azazel to want to murder each other but she couldn't yet. One life-altering issue at a time.
"We weren't supposed to have to figure this out yet…
“We weren’t supposed to be dealing with the end of days creeping up on us a lot faster than I expected.” She’d said she had engaged her horsemen, but Azazel had stupidly assumed they wouldn’t be people this close to Roxie. That she’d have some damn sense and not bind herself to one of them. He shook his head. “It will work fine. I’m a lot harder to kill than you think,” he reminded her, fingers running over the new mark on her arm with a shake of his head.
He was going to say more, but he heard the bell ring and moved away from her with just a squeeze to her arm. Lane was here and they could get to work.
Lane had rushed over, because in his experience, people tended to call him after it was already kinda too late, so he never had much time to meander around. So, he was there. He got led through the house by a staff member who looked friendly enough but he didn’t ask them what was up because he was guessing they didn’t know, and then he was in the room with Charles and Roxie. He gave a little half wave. He looked disheveled, with deep, dark circles under his eyes and his hair was crazier than usual, but he was present, and alert. He’d cracked a simple spell vial he’d created for just such occasions on the way over, that cleared the remnants of alcohol out of his system and gave him a huge jolt of magical caffeine. “Who wants to give me the short, short version?”
"The short, short version is Charles isn't just Charles. And Charles isn't the one in charge right now, Azazel is. Original Fallen angel," Roxie confirmed, coming to stand in front of the desk.
He looked rough and she hated seeing him like that. She needed to talk to him about it but she'd seen this look before, in the mirror, and she knew better than others how sometimes a task was all that was keeping you afloat. "Lane… thank you."
Azazel made a face at the witch then shook his head. It would have to do. It wasn’t the kind of spell Marie could break, regardless of how powerful she was, too rooted in magic that was too different from her own.
“It was a binding ritual,” he said. “I was bound to his family a century and a half ago or so. I get a free ride and they get some successful side benefits that give them places like this one.” He waved around them. “The witch that did it was barely a proper witch, and looked about as horrible as you do right now, but that’s fine. All I need you to do is break it.” He undid the velvet parcel on the desk, which held four vials, glass wrapped in twine to keep them from breaking, a leather pouch, a heavy looking gold ring, and a single feather, white and glossy, a century and a half old and still pristine.
“These are mine,” he said, setting two vials down, magic keeping them properly sealed. “Hair and blood from, well before I had a host. And these, the same for Charles’ great, great, grand uncle or whatever he was. The ring was his, the feather, obviously, mine.”
To Lane’s credit, he didn’t freak out. He was kind of all out of freak outs at this point, he’d spent it all on his family arriving in town and turning it into a fucking war zone. So he was still recovering from that, on top of the shit with Marie, so yeah. He just kind of paused, then nodded, taking it all in. “I’m here doing you a favor, you could maybe not be an asshole,” he said, sounding exhausted, and he scrubbed his hands over his face.
He walked over to observe the items. “...Okay, so for starters - I don’t kick entities out of people just for them to wander back in, call it a rule. So, if I manage to pull this off, you’re out. Maybe Charles’ family made a deal with you, but that doesn't necessarily mean anyone else consented to that, and so that’s a non-starter. Second, you just need your spirit untethered, or you’re looking for another form to occupy or build, or what is it you’re looking to do from the break point?”
“It’s a default setting,” Azazel said with a shrug. “When did you last sleep?” The question was pointed, but he asked because he was curious. What had broken this guy so hard?
He rolled his eyes and rubbed at the space between his forehead. “I am not an entity,” he said. “Every generation of these men have been through exorcisms in all religions and this is not like this. It’s a binding.” He laced his fingers together. “Our souls are twisted up in one another. But no, I have no intention of going back. My whole original reason for doing so went out the window recently and there’s no point in continuing to hide. I might as well be myself again.” He ran a hand through his hair, then grabbed one of the books he had and showed it to Lane. “The original ritual was like this one. There were two, then there were one. Theoretically when it breaks, there should be two again.”
"Doesn't matter, I'm fine," Lane said, which was blatantly untrue, but he was good enough. He looked at the book, reading over some of the material, and he started nodding as he did so. Then he grabbed his bag, pulled out a thick, battered grimoire he had put together himself and he flipped through til he found what he was looking for. "Okay...alright…." He muttered to himself, then sat down at the desk, grabbing a fresh sheet of paper to start scribbling things down on. He frowned in concentration, but was on a roll, getting things rolling quickly, his mind geared toward organizing magical chaos into the order he wanted functioning just fine.
At some point in their back and forth, Roxie had decided caffeine was critical for at least two of the three bodies in the room. She slipped out to the kitchen, silent even though Margaret was there helping set up a tray of items for them, and convinced the other woman she could bring it into the study on her own.
When she came back, she placed a tray of coffee and accoutrements on a side table, poured herself and Lane two cups of black coffee, and handed off his before she went to sit on the couch again.
Fine was the opposite of what this guy was, but that grimoire was enough to shut Azazel up for the moment. He was insane, probably still a little drunk, but he had his wits about him, and he knew a thing or two. Azazel distantly wondered if the original witch had been related to Lane, somewhere down the line. He didn’t bother with the coffee, too awake to even consider it for the moment. Instead he just watched Lane work, not close enough to be annoying, but taking in how he looked at the things in hand and what he was writing.
Lane absently took the coffee and killed half of it in big swallows, still wrapped up in the work he was doing. He murmured a ‘thank you’, even as he got a new sheet of paper, drawing out symbols in several different languages and stemming from four different cultures just for the outside rim, spiraling inward in the circle he wasn plotting out.
In Lane’s estimation, if you looked hard enough, through enough history and culture, there was an answer for everything. A legend here, a myth there, a practice that people had long forgot the origin of yet still held a sway on a people - they were all points of power to draw from. That was how he worked his mishmash of magic - he understood that different things had different power to them but there was zero reason it couldn’t be called forth together. Belief played a huge part in things too. Something with history held weight, and that weight could pendulum in the right direction if you understood it well enough.
He drank the rest of his coffee, then scribbled down a few more things before looking up. “Okay,” he said firmly, with a confident nod. He stared at the diagram for another long moment, then nodded again, messy hair bouncing with the motion. “I think I have something that’ll work.” He glanced around. “...we need a lot of room, and I need sparklers.”
“On it,” Roxie answered, an automatic reaction. It was almost practiced the way she shut her eyes, dropped her shoulders, and let the warmth and aroma of coffee hone her attentions into a singular state of mind. The study shifted ever so slightly - coffee blending with the smoky, comforting scent of barbeque and fresh cut grass; echoes of distant fireworks popping into the study from the corners of the high ceiling, and moments later a multipack of sparklers dropped into her lap.
And as reflexively as she’d started, Roxie simply rolled her shoulders, opened her eyes, and held out the box to Lane with a smile. It was so different this time, just like Caleb theorized. The blowback she'd felt before was nearly imperceptible now.
“We can use the--Roxanne!” Azazel reacted to what she was doing, stepping towards her, worried it would hurt her, but then she was fine, holding the box of sparklers, and while he was irritated that it had something to do with that idiot boy Star had given Death to, he was also quite proud of her. She was something to behold power wise. He moved closer to her, kissing her temple. “I was going to say we could use the yard out back.”
Lane blinked. “Woah,” he said, because holy shit, that was impressive. “Well that was awesome,” he said, taking the sparklers. “The yard out back have a water feature?” he asked, grabbing his bag, the ritual he’d written up and the sparklers. He also gathered the few items that Azazel had showed him, being careful with them by default because they were y’know. Ancient.
Roxie tried not to beam because now wasn’t really the time, but damn was she proud of herself. The ease with which she had procured those sparklers was a bright light in the middle of all these storm clouds and she was thrilled to know she could accomplish this now without getting knocked on her ass for ages. She gave Azazel’s arm a squeeze at the kiss, then used it to pull herself up off the couch. “Still not playing hero,” She promised him. "Plus there definitely weren't any sparklers here." Then she looked toward Lane again and nodded.
“Yup, there’s a couple actually,” Roxie answered. She downed the rest of her coffee and placed the cup back on the tray she’d brought it. There was one item she'd wanted to take a closer look at so she was grateful to see Azazel's feather still on the desk. She took it gently in her hand, feeling its sleekness, and looked back up at Azazel. "Let's do this."
“I have a feeling you are always going to play the hero,” Azazel said with a shake of his head. That was why he was doing this. She wasn’t going to stop and now that he’d made a decision he was feeling a lot less helpless about it. “Do you have a preference to a fountain or a supposedly peaceful koi pond?” he asked Lane, picking up the sword and turning it in his hands with ease. He started moving though, leading the way to the courtyard he was referencing.
“Either one works, let me look at the space,” Lane said, as they were headed there, he half muttered under his breath, working things out in his head like he was doing complicated math. Which he kind of was, in a way. Just magical mathematics. When they got outside, he surveyed the space, then nodded. Then he got to work. Dropping his duffel off to the side on a bench, he pulled out a little unimportant looking drawstring bag. He murmured an incantation over it, tracing a symbol on a side of it which glowed briefly then disappeared. He opened it up and started pouring black sand out of it. It was clear as he started to draw out a huge complicated set of circles that it’s capacity far exceeded its size.
He included the pond in the design, set two large circles into the center, connected at a single point. Almost an infinity symbol, but less elongated. Opposite the pond he put another circle inside the largest one. Then there were a lot of symbols he drew out around everything, nearly filling the space. He glanced around when he’d finished up, making sure everything was right. He adjusted a symbol or two, then nodded. “Okay, Ch–Azazel, you stand here,” he said, gesturing to the left conjoined circle. “All I’m gonna need you to do when she does her thing, is to let go. To want to let go.”
Lane then took the feather from Roxie, and placed it into the right one. Then he smiled at Roxie, and brought her toward the third one. “Need your help,” he said, voice gentle.
He got her to sit cross legged in that circle, and then crouched down in front of her, sparklers in hand. “So, fireworks were originally invented in times that we tack ‘BC’ onto the year. That’s like, over a thousand years before doorknobs almost two thousand, we didn’t have doorknobs til ridiculously late in the game. Anyway…they were originally thought to ward off evil spirits. There’s power in fireworks. Centuries of people looking at the pretty lights, hearing the hard boom, seeing controlled explosions of a riot of energy, on display. Doesn’t matter how many times people have seen them, they still show up on the fourth to watch the sky, and you always hear the gasps and ‘oohs’ when those first lights streak the sky.” He lit the sparkler, holding it out to her. “I want you to think about the first time you held one of these as a kid, Roxie. I want you to remember what it was like to hold it in your hands, to feel that wonder, to feel that power. Every kid who holds a sparkler feels a rush of wonder, it’s magic, isn’t it? It’s fire, but beautiful, and there are sparks and they light up the night, and leave afterimage trails in your vision. You could be a witch, or wizard, or anything in the world, a fairy princess, anything is possible. Bring us wonder, Roxie. Yours, and every kid who’s ever held one of these and knew the world was different now because this is amazing.”
As if it wasn't magical enough to watch Lane transform the courtyard, Roxie settled where Lane had lead her and listened, enrapt, by his tale of fireworks. She could feel it, the surge of crackling anticipation, the pops of light, the sizzle of descending glittery matter that filled the night sky.
Taking the sparkler from Lane, she nodded to him before she looked up and over at Azazel. She needed to cement the way he looked now, the difference in the way his eyes were rather than Charles', and took a deep breath before she closed her eyes and calmed her breathing.
And as she focused, the courtyard began to crackle around them, an anticipation that poured from the central spot where she sat, and with a loud pop, ribbons of ink black permeated from her body, up into the air above them, and blotted out the sky and sun above them, plunging the yard into pitch blackness. Then, finally and all at once, a massive burst of color shot from the crown of her head up into that dark sky above them. It fanned out, filling the space, and fizzled down around them, landing on their skin like snowflakes. If they wanted to, they could touch the flames.
Lane looked up, smiling at the display, then he looked at her again. “Beautiful,” he said, because it was, and fucking impressive, too. Good lord she was powerful. But he needed that energy she was putting into the display put into the spell. “Focus in, remember that feeling of wonder, really hold it close. Live in that feeling. Fireworks are just the conduit, it’s the wonder and joy we need. You got this.” The thing they were unbinding had been in place for generations, it was going to take a ton of energy to actually fuel this, which was why he was tapping into literally millions of people, maybe Billions over the centuries, had experienced. That feeling with everyone else’s behind it would do the trick. The black sand on the ground started to flicker a cyan sort of light as she started powering the spellwork, the flickers at first just around the circle she sat in, then it started spiderwebbing outwards from there, to eventually light the whole thing. Then - it was just on Azazel. If it worked when he let go, his physical form would appear in the circle with the feather, leaving Charles’ body where it was.
Lane's words echoed in Roxie's mind and she followed the thread they supplied. As she did, the courtyard changed again - the fizzling sounds and loud pops silenced, the bright sparks of light and inky black sky dissolved away, and there sat Roxie in the middle of her cyan circle, beaming. Literally; all the bright flashes that had before been all around them now contained inside her body and glowed independently as if the fireworks she imagined before were dancing with each other. Like fireflies on a summer evening backlighting her wide, wonderous smile. At some point she abandoned the sparkler in favor of covering the cyan grit with her palms.
Azazel wondered if her power was what Death wanted. What Star wanted. He’d done a shit job of hiding himself from her, but maybe he could hide Roxie. Not that she’d let him, but he also wasn’t the best at taking no for an answer when someone’s safety was at risk.
He’d taken Lane’s advice, focusing inward, feeling Charles murmuring beneath the surface. He let him up more, more than usually did, slowly shifting his grip on the sword in his hand. It was a familiar hilt, but in the wrong hand. He’d not had cause to use in human form,
You’re sure this won’t kill us? Charles’ voice a whisper, quiet. He could see the spell coming to form as easily as Azazel could.
Never sure of that. But getting up might kill us, so why not try? You tried everything else
There was a quiet in their shared heads, then Charles spoke. Because you didn’t want to leave before. It’s different now.
Azazel nodded, which to Lane and Roxie probably seemed like nothing. It’s different now
The spell reached his circle, lighting up as if the color was being poured into the symbols that Lane had drawn and Azazel felt the pull. It wasn’t like the exorcisms, the meditating, or anything else Charles had tried. It felt like that night, the night he’d made the deal. In an instant he could smell the burning, fields a few properties over, houses. They’d convinced themselves they were better people, these southern folk; that the people they’d enslaved were less than themselves. They were wrong, Azazel had known that, but they weren’t the first. Nor would they be the last.
The stink of booze on the second brother, like he might light up himself if a rare spark headed their way. The sweat, the desperation, both his and the humans. Making a deal with the devil. For the good of future generations. What a load of bullshit. But it didn’t matter. Azazel had a feeling of what might be coming and he didn’t want to be a part of it, this had been a way to hide.
It was different now, the crackle of that night fading to something else, something pulling him elsewhere. He thought he heard a murmured goodbye, but a rip, not painful, but still at the same time. Jarring. Like being yanked out a pool. Like missing a step. There one moment and gone the next. He gasped a breath and suddenly was on a knee, one hand pressed against the ground, head spinning. A wave of nausea followed, but he shook it off, looking down at his hands, and nodding. The hands were different, but oh so familiar. He glanced up at Roxie, giving her a smile. “See? Absolutely hideous.”
Off to his side Charles wavered, only upright because of the sword still in his hand, point down in the grass. “What the…fuck?” he gasped, holding his chest, then his head. His blissfully silent head. Nothing, no voices. No, the voice was…he looked at Azazel next to him, the voice coming out of the man’s mouth, the one that Charles was so intimately familiar with. His real voice. “I think I need to sit down,” he said, then did just that, landing on the ground, sword falling away from him.
As the spell completed, the light soloed to Azazel's, and then a wind burst out from there, the black sand gone. Lane saw Charles waver, and he got to him fast, helping get him to the ground. He quickly branded him, on the outside of his wrist, then just stayed near, just in case.
Azazel’s focus was on getting his feet under him, but when Lane branded Charles and Charles let out a yelp in pain, he moved, out of his circle and into Charles’. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, clearly unamused at the idea of hurting Charles.
Among all the activity, Roxie kept herself focused. She was too far in her mind to be able to pull away from the wonder, the excitement, the sparks flooding her vision, easily. She could hear, distantly, a new voice and it began to draw her back toward it; away from the sound of cracking, popping fireworks, but not completely away from it. She’d been holding her palms down so hard on the grit beneath them that when it disappeared, she could still feel the millions of micro-indentations on her skin, but really what she couldn’t shake was her dancing vision. She’d poured all of her energy into this, feeling it in the shaking of her arms, the sweat on her skin, but she just couldn’t quite get her eyes to focus right. She didn’t know that her own eyes were glittering, a hold-over from the endless fireworks she’d conjured up over the last few minutes.
She saw there were two now where there had once been one and if she blinked hard and long enough, she could start to push away those specks of color and light in her eyes to take in the new man beside Charles. She heard Azazel describe himself as ugly and it brought a giggly laugh to her throat, like she was champagne drunk, and then she decided she needed to get closer to them both.
Awkwardly, Roxie tried to stand and make her way over to them but her legs just sort of collapsed and she ended up on her knees in the grass again, forcefully blinking to try and clear her mind. “It worked?” She asked, hope in her voice.
"It worked," Lane said, to Roxie, but he was looking at Az. "I did. You made a huge, comfy hole in this man to live in for who knows how long. If you think that doesn't leave him massively vulnerable to something else lookin for a free ride without doing the work, you're very naive. So yeah, I had to do that. No one else gets to use him, he's free." He looked at Charles. "You’re free."
“You didn’t have to hurt him,” Azazel said, frowning as he knelt, looking at Charles, who blinked back at him. “You’re okay,” he added.
Charles was quiet, rubbing his temples and shaking his head at both of them. After a long moment he looked at Azazel, head to the side. “I thought you’d be taller.”
Azazel laughed. “I’m still taller than you,” he said, reaching out to cup Charles’ cheek before looking back at Roxie. Then he was reaching for her, shifting towards where she was. “Roxanne, are you okay?”
Roxie was, at best, overwhelmed. The residual energy pumping through her had no place to go now and she wasn't adept enough to completely turn it off right away. She felt like her body and her mind hadn't reconnected on this plane yet, struggling to find that perfect snap, but it was the relief that caused her tears. And those tears became a pathway for that energy's release, proven by the glittering tear tracks on her cheeks. The more they flowed, the more those sparks in her eyes poured into her cheeks and when she finally saw Azazel she grabbed his arm and pulled herself up so she could cling to him in a hug, stuck somewhere between laughing and crying.
"It worked - you're both okay… "
Lane didn't argue. It was the fastest, most efficient method of protection and Charles was at huge risk. Obviously this guy didn't respect his knowledge or expertise despite pulling off the damn near impossible on zero fucking notice, so, whatever. Roxie was busy. Charles hadn't answered him or acknowledged him at all, busy watching the hitchhiker he had just unloaded wondering about the guy's height, so he quietly stepped back, melted into the background and left the trio to their own devices. His part here was clearly done, and he needed a drink. Or to go visit an old friend and get something a little chiller. Either way he left without another word.
Azazel watched Lane go, but didn’t stop him. Not when he had his two people to take care of. He held tight to Roxie, one hand in her hair, whispering soft words to her, reassuring her. “I told you we would be.” He kissed the top of her head, feeling different, but better in his own skin.
Charles managed to get to his feet, even if he was a little unsteady. He watched Roxie with Azazel, who was far better looking than Charles wanted to admit and he felt empty and lacking. It took too long for him to realize that Lane had left, only when he looked for him, help for feeling like a third wheel, that he realized the guy was gone. “I think…” he said, then nodded to himself, taking a step back towards the house, then a few more. She had what she wanted and it broke his heart, but it was for the best. At least his head was clearer, although incredibly quiet in his own thoughts.
As Roxie’s heart slowed back to a normal pace and her breathing calmed down, she pulled back to look up at Azazel for just a moment before looking for Charles. She’d have time later to get lost in the way he looked, the way Charles looked, and compare the two, but right now she needed to confirm for herself that Charles was all right too.
Things were happening so fast; one moment Lane was there and now he was just gone. She knew she needed to find him, to thank him, but… One moment Charles was on the ground and now he was up. When she saw him stepping toward the house, Roxie squeezed Azazel’s hand and started off after him, body still shaky from the effort she’d poured into the spell. “Hey! I did all this and I don’t even get a hug?”
Charles took two more steps before he realized she was speaking to him and he turned around, looking at the two of them, at her. “You got your hug,” he said, clearly confused. She got what she wanted, what she clinged to when it was all over. It hurt, but he loved her too damn much to be cruel or get in the way.
She tried to process his words but all they did were twist her expression into shock, trying to quell the betrayal she felt but doing a piss poor job at it. The sparkle all gone from her eyes, Roxie felt her tears start again though now they were just normal, typical. Hurt rather than relief. “That’s not what I mean…”
Her legs pushed her toward him and she clenched them to keep herself from tipping over. “Why are you running?”
“Running where? I’m not running. I don’t think I could run.” His legs were a little shaky under him, but he did hold out a hand to her when she got closer. “What did you mean? Why are you crying?” He hated to see her cry and was more than confused as to why she would be.
Azazel had the benefit of well, no longer being human, which meant he was far steadier on his feet than either of them and made it to them in a few small steps. “He thinks you’re done with him,” he told her, hand on her lower back to help her steady as well. “He’s thought it for a while, which of us you’d choose.” Charles shot him a glare, but Azazel just shrugged. “You weren’t going to say it and you should. Let her make her own choices.”
It was notable the calm that settled into her frame once Charles had her hand and Azazel had her back, but the reality of their words made her nauseated. Sniffling, she lifted her injured arm to wipe away at her tears and just spoke, too tired to live in the worry right now.
"I don't know how to choose," She answered honestly. "Which is not fair to either of you. All I know is I don't see a future that doesn't include you both somehow. And this is heavy. It's so much heavier than I was prepared for today."
She swallowed hard and finally exhaled. "I think I should go back to my place for the night..." Maybe what they all needed was some time to think, though all she could think of was the promises they'd made to each other. Until the end.
Charles shook his head. “You don’t have to go,” he said plainly, hating that it might seem like he was kicking her out. “If you want to stay you can I just…Need a minute.”
“And I have some things to take care of,” Azazel said, not giving more than that. “Go. Both of you. Rest. You especially,” he told Charles. “Same rooms, separate rooms. I’ll find you when I get back.” He waved them towards the house then started off on his own, snagging the sword from where it had been left.