Completed Moonlit Debauchery.

[Emery Thatcher]

The air was thick with stars that seemed to judge Emery from the heavens. They taunted him for his lust and greed and offered no escape from his sins. He spit into the sky from the store front sign he laid atop of leisurely and it came plummeting back to hit him in the face. He flipped out and fell the twenty feet back to the ground but landed on his feet. Gracelessly, but still somewhat cat like.

He scratched at the back of his head, likely from the lack of wash, and wiped his face clean of his own saliva. Onlooker stares felt like daggers no matter how much they happened to him. The sneers, the laughter, all of it. He couldn't forgive it. How nobody aimed to assist him since childhood. The horrible mess his life has been. He'd given up on asking people for help since to him... All others were just scum.

Tonight would be a typical night for the young thief. Empty some aristocrats pockets, pay for a courtesan and a bottle with the stolen coin. Emery'd likely even find himself in a scuffle, who knows?

The night was deep. The moon hanged heavy.

He wondered who would be so unfortunate to catch his thieving eyes.

 

[Harrier]

Haruspicy said there was a Being around, an unusually lethal one. The spirit that possessed Harrier's jade pen refused to write about it, and that took some doing.

Just an average middle-class woman to the eye, she walked the streets of Vel Anir incognito. Her rucksack rattled a little. Otherwise, the only sign that she might be anything else was a ghostglass, a rounded, palm-sized lens of mottled and cloudy quartz. From time to time she found a private corner and looked through the glass. Any city had its share of wispy dead things, but she'd caught a glimpse or two of something Else from a distance. After an evening's walk, back and forth through the less reputable parts of Vel Anir, she was getting close.

Emery Thatcher

 

[Emery Thatcher]

Emery could not have possibly known what was to come of his evening but it would be uncharacteristic of him to be prepared for anything. His exploits led him back to the rooftops of Vel Anir's slums, specifically a lone small tavern that he used to gain access to the surrounding tops of buildings. There he dragged heavy on a cigarette and scoured for a target.

The one who caught his eyes had him intrigued for reasons beyond his own comprehension. Yet their pull was inescapable. He looked down at Harrier as she peered into the windows of the back alley shops. She was kinda pretty, he guessed. Didn't look as though she'd be much of a lay, really. But when it came to what she had on her his violet eyes couldn't help but notice the little sack she had. She seemed dreary enough to concern herself with magic. It was very possible that whatever was inside was worth a pretty penny.

Emery began making his way across the tops of buildings and tried his best to remain in the shadows. He waited patiently. She'd drop her guard eventually and he could make off with whatever trinkets she was hiding.

 

[Harrier]

Emery Thatcher

All things considered, Harrier wasn't especially protective of the bag slung over her shoulder. In an emergency, the dead things inside were meant to protect her, not the other way around. And while its contents could feasibly get her in trouble, it wasn't like they were human in origin.

She slid into an ominously quiet alley and held up the ghostglass. The quartz lens showed...nothing. She turned around two, three, four times and saw only the normal background noise of a city's constant deaths. The Being she hunted wasn't on any of the streets around.

Maybe on the rooftops...?

She raised the glass and looked around again, higher this time.

 

[Emery Thatcher]

He traced the footsteps of his newfound target as best he could. The air began to grow thicker as he approached her, it seemed. Something was off. But that was never enough to deter the thief.
As he stalked he watched her dip into an alleyway by herself. This was unusual. Was he being led? Or was he just being paranoid. Whatever. He thought himself far too bad ass for it to matter.

As Harrier lifted the odd stone into the air higher he snapped to his opportunity. He leapt with insane ferocity from the neighboring building and snatched the bag from Harrier, rolling out of his jump and turning to face her with a shit eating grin. He tossed the bag once in the air and swiped it cockily from it's descent.

"Sorry, love. Sometimes luck jus' ain't on our side." He turned and waved to her while moseying to the end of the alley full of himself and chipper.

 

[Harrier]

Harrier stumbled against the alley wall when Emery Thatcher ripped the rucksack off her shoulder. She dropped the ghostglass and scrambled to catch it before it shattered on the cobblestones. The thief was getting away, but the quartz lens was priceless and the bag's contents were replaceable.

Replaceable and capable of defending themselves, given permission.

An undead secruyu lizard scuttled out the flap and did its level best to bite the thief somewhere in the face area.

 

[Emery Thatcher]

As the thief was so busy being happy with himself it took him a bit too long to realize a creature had crawled out of his spoiled goods and it managed to chomp his face. Emery cried out in pain and threw the thing against the nearest wall with surprising strength. He turned back, glaring at the necromancer with fury in his eyes.

"T'fuck y'tryna pull, eh? Who t'fuck are ya?!" That off feeling he'd gotten from looking at her not only didn't fade but grew stronger as the situation escalated. His eyes peering through the darkness shone bright, revealing their beautiful, violet nature. One may say it was even unnatural for him to have such eyes.

He clenched his fist tight pining for this mysterious character to answer him, despite he being the one to initiate such questionable actions.

 

[Harrier]

Between Emery Thatcher's vibrant eyes and the fact that he wasn't partially paralyzed right now, Harrier put two and two together. She looked at the angry thief through the ghostglass and flinched.

"I'm the necromancer Harrier Wren," she said flatly, tucking away the quartz lens in a soft but rigid leather pouch. "What are you, or what do you have inside you? Some kind of twisted god?"

 

[Emery Thatcher]

All Harrier's words did was further confuse the young man. What the hell was she talking about? What was he? He patted himself boastfully in the chest and spread his arms out. A necromancer in this area was an uncommon presence but it didn't seem to strike any chord with the thief. He spit to the ground in front of him.

"T'fcuk you mean what am I? I'm Emery fucking Thatcher. Ain't nothin' inside me but a bit'o booze n' a pissy attitude thanks to th'likes of you, wench." Whatever it may be that Harrier is referencing Emery seemed to be completely oblivious to it. He genuinely seemed lost as to what she meant.

 

[Harrier]

Emery Thatcher

"I'll go out on a limb and guess that's your real middle name."

Harrier pulled out the quartz lens again and conjured a small hand mirror with a cantrip of traditional college magic. Putting the ghostglass flat against the mirror, she took a bracing look at herself. Still human, albeit with a few ghosts over her shoulder. The clearest was al-Kaateb, the scholar who lived in her jade pen.

She turned the ghostglass and mirror so.the young man could see himself. Or rather, some indication that all was Not Right with him.

"This is you through a ghostglass."

 

[Emery Thatcher]

He lowered his hands into his pockets and cocked his head at the necromancer with a look of utter loss of mental functionality struck across his face. His lack of intellect was becoming more and more apparent as the conversation went on. He squinted roughly at whatever it was Harrier was trying to show him.

His face changed quickly from confusion to horror as a small pale, eyeless face breathed a puff of smoke by Emery's ear. He swatted at that area and turned around immensely fast to see there was nothing there. Even when he looked back at the ghostglass, there remained nothing.

His horror turned to anger. He drew a knife from his coat and pointed it at Harrier.

"Y'have about two seconds before yer holdin' yer own entrails, fuck wit. Tell me what t'fuck that was!"

 

[Harrier]

Emery Thatcher

Harrier's lips compressed to a thin line. She warred with the temptation to make something nastier than the secruyu climb out of the bag he held. The conjured mirror vanished, and she tucked the ghostglass away.

"I don't know, and apparently you don't either."

She eyed the knife and pondered the best course of action should he try to use it. Traditional college magic offered plenty of options, from wards to conjured transmogrifications. The less magic she used in this city, though, the better.

"You're at least halfway possessed, boy. Ever have...blackouts? Wake up with your memory gone and blood under your fingernails?"

 

[Emery Thatcher]

"Pizzessed?" He clearly knew not what she was talking about even still. Yet the mention of blackouts made him visibly think. He of course had quite the issue with drinking so blacking out wasn't exactly uncommon. He put a hand to his chest as if he was feeling something that existed under his shirt. His memory took him somewhere dark, it showed on his face. He shook his head though as if dismissing the reality of something.

He regained posture and kept the knife pointed at Harrier. Whoever this woman was was started to frustrate him with all her scholarly concepts and magic rocks. "There ain't nothin' wrong with me or the amount that I drink, and why should'it matter? I'm out here tryna survive like the rest of the nobodies and the bottle helps me stay sane."

He'd clearly missed the point entirely. However the air in the alley seemed to howl louder and grow crisper. An echo would ring. Something meant only for the ears of this woman.

"Break him. Don't kill. Just break. Then perhaps we may converse." The wind then subsided.

 

[Harrier]

Emery Thatcher

Ahhh. So she'd been right about what she glimpsed in the lens. And now, for better or worse, she had the Being's attention.

"I don't kick puppies," she said, knowing the boy wouldn't understand. She closed her fist and drained away the power she'd painstakingly invested in the secruyu and another couple of minor undead in the bag.

The spell she wove with that power was traditional college magic, a cantrip to compel deep sleep. Maesters used it to come down from spells that amplified their focus and memory - or to knock out rowdy young mages.

 

[Emery Thatcher]

"What're yo-" He started to retort again but felt his head go faint. The spell she conjured was taking effect quickly and Emery stumbled towards the wall, dropping his knife to the ground. What may surprise the necromancer was Emery's apparent unbending willpower. How hard he was able to force himself to stay awake through the spell despite the intervention of whatever may lay dormant in him.

However, it was not long before he collapsed and hit the ground with a thud, his arm narrowly preventing his head from cracking open.

All was silent for but a moment.

What followed was a nightmarish chuckle that seemed to echo through the avenues of the whole city. Emery's arm twisted backwards in a manner that no human man could muster. He rose himself from the ground with his contorted appendage and his head jerked to stare into the eyes of Harrier.

No violet remained. All she would see is blackness. And a flicker of the beast that dwelled inside:

It spoke in a low, droning tone. "Aren't we a curious one, caster? Hath rustling the dead grown boring? Must you now mettle into the affairs of what you could never comprehend?"

 

[Harrier]

Emery Thatcher

A thrill of satisfaction rushed through her despite the gruesome ways the boy moved. Unearthing unusual beings was always a rush.

"I'm not here to talk about me," she said flatly. A smile sneaked out and she couldn't hold it back. She closed all the distance between them in half a heartbeat, gripped the strap of the bag he'd stolen, and sandwiched the ghostglass between her right eye and his left. She peered through with absolute delight.

"Hello in there."

 

[Xiahael The Unforgivable]

The unconscious body of Emery Thatcher allowed her to peer for a moment into what lay beneath. After a few seconds of her uninterrupted staring, the wrist of the boy twisted three times over and gripped the hand of the necromancer, pushing it aside and snapping staring into her eyes with the pits of black that remained for pupils.

The cat was out of the bag though and it was likely that Harrier would not soon forget the face of what she saw. She was speaking to Xiahael, the Unforgivable now.

"Oh, child of decrepit magic." Emery's hand stroked her cheek with his contorted hand, the flesh seemingly undamaged from Xiahael's twisting of it. "Tell me then what it is you came to speak of? It must be I, no? I see a childlike wonder in your soul. Something that drives you to the arms of darkness. I wonder what it could be."

Emery's mouth twitched from a wide smile to a low frown, as if his face was both a tragedy and comedy mask worn by the beast.

"I am Xiahael, The Unforgivable, precious. Who might you be?"

 

[Harrier]

If anything, her smile grew wider despite all of it. The ghostglass disappeared again.

"I am that which absolutely loves meeting things like you, Xiahael The Unforgivable. Thank you for the name, by the way." She'd introduced herself by name to Emery Thatcher only minutes ago, which implied interesting things about just how aware Xiahael might be on a moment-to-moment basis while concealed inside the boy.

And speaking of the boy, she watched in fascination as his face and body continued to twist without apparent harm or pain. He wasn't made of rubber, clearly enough. No, this was magic as art, altering the spatial relationships of the underlying reality. She had no doubt that even the most powerful magnifying lens would pronounce his flesh identical and unchanged afterwards.

"What brings you to Vel Anir, friend? Dreadlords to eat? Or are you content playing the tapeworm inside a barely-verbal adolescent?"

 

[Xiahael The Unforgivable]

"You mistake me for someone with a grand scheme, Harrier. I am but a voyager. Maybe you should ask those who opened the gateway for me." Emery's hand moved to lift his shirt up and revealed a very unsightly looking scar upon the boys chest. The scar seemed to be symbolic of some ankh or relic, clearly infused with magic allowing this beast to possess the downtrodden young man.

He let go of his shirt and cackled quietly. "It is likely they are party to some plot but to its details I cannot speak. As for me, I only wish to see how colorful mortal life can be. I have been trapped so long in oblivion and the passed six years with this broken child have been very informational. His descent into a person of nothing brings me untold joy.

It is hard to say how much longer the boy will last. Only two years ago this communication would have been impossible via his consciousness. Yet now here we are. I believe that one day I will become him and his mind will be erased."

It is difficult to say which parts of his story are truth and which are deceit. Though it would feel as if he was definitely lying about something.

 

[Harrier]

Harrier's eyes drank in the ritual scar. She squinted in the alley's dim light and murmured a standard college cantrip to fix details in one's memory.

"So Xiahael The Unforgivable lacks ambition. Now that's fascinating in and of itself. Have you considered that your summoners picked a nobody to keep you blind to mortal life's real possibilities?" She gestured around. "Consider the Noble Houses of Vel Anir..."

 

[Xiahael The Unforgivable]

The comment of lacking ambition festered quite the smile on the Emery's puppet.
"Ah a demon without the goal of conquering or doom, what a quandry I am." It raised Emery's eyebrow. "You speak of riches? Monetary climax? Renown, name?" He could not help but offer another cackle. He snapped all off Emery's limbs back into place and could hardly contain his laughter at the idea.

"You very much misunderstand me, my dear caster. Those are the cravings of fools. To find purpose and sense of self in the world of materialism is shallow. It is true meaninglessness." It pointed at Emery and smiled.

"This boy knows so much more of how the world runs than those who have the facade of royalty or power. Life as I've seen for six years beyond he and I is unwittingly boring." It cocked Emery's head.

"Misery. Mortal suffering. That is what intrigues me. The changes you creatures go through due to loss or panic. How weary your minds and your bodies are in all reality piques the utmost of my curiosity. What makes you tick? Why must you attach yourself to such petty nonsensical emotions? To watch this boy grow through his trepidation..." It closed his eyes.

"THAT is the treasure of mortality."

 

[Harrier]

An entirely alien system of priorities, then. As Xiahael The Unforgivable spoke, Harrier nodded along, even took out a small graphite marker and began jotting notes on a crumpled sheet of looseleaf. She didn't need the notes, but taking them helped in all sorts of ways.

"How long had you been trapped before the possession ritual? What was the world like before you last left it?"

 

[Xiahael The Unforgivable]

The string-attached body lost its smile upon her questioning. It peered down at her notes and rushed up to her in a flurry of spider like movements. "What exactly do you intend to do with such information? Are you aiming to make a mockery of me?" It didn't sound pleased with her inquiring and came off very demanding. The tone was much more hostile than before, as if she had touched a nerve.

 

[Harrier]

Xiahael The Unforgivable

"I only mock what deserves it. That doesn't include you. I've needled you a little, but no more. No, Xiahael, I'm studying you. You're clearly old, and history is a rotten thing. Beings of your permanence are eyewitnesses to things no human or elf has seen first-, second- or third-hand. If that answer pleases you, tell me more. If not, then I have other things to do tonight."

 

[Xiahael The Unforgivable]

The beast used Emery's eyes to shift his gaze all over Harrier. This human did indeed intrigue it. He had somewhat of a disappointing response to offer the necromancer however. His stance softened a bit.

"Why you do offer me great company as I have found no way to converse with the boy. I must be a let down to you; at least in one way. All I have seen from mortal life is the time I have spent with this Emery creature. Some of what flesh loves and craves, as well as what drives you all to your desires. Most of what I see is two things: fear and love. That is your worlds greatest coercion.

Now, if it is the world I come from you'd like to speak on, I may be of more assistance. It would be foolish of me to not leave some sort of legacy. Despite my own apathy towards the concept."