Fate - First Reply Sale On Ale

[Mathalla]

The Biting Pony

It wasn't a name that she would have chosen, but the sign was at least funny. One of those strange four-legged beasts the mortals enjoyed hopping onto so much chomping it's mouth onto the bottom of a particularly buxom elven woman. At least Mathalla guessed that she was supposed to be an Elf, she found it rather difficult to tell the mortals apart at times. It helped that some of them were green and different colors at times, but from what she could tell the only distinction elves had were their pointy ears.

Which didn't make much sense to her, because why were they pointy in the first place?

Some centuries ago she had made a deal with a man who had claimed all life 'evolved' in some way, adapting themselves to better suit their purpose. The notion was utterly ridiculous, obviously. Mathalla had been spawned from the depths of depravity, sin, and the temptations of mortals. She hadn't evolved in millenia! Ridiculous notion, besides, what purpose would pointy ears serve anyway?

Could they stab someone with them?

Unfortunately, Mathalla hadn't yet had the chance to ask. Strangely enough, the elf folk tended to avoid her, though she had no idea why. "Ah well."

The Devil said, shaking her head and turning away from the sign as she stepped inside her newly acquired tavern.

It was empty, of course, since she intended on serving only one customer at a time. The man who had named the place was now gone, having found the terms of his deal more than acceptable. He'd been a cute little thing, apparently madly in love with some foreign mortal who had once traipsed across his dance floor. Her hand and heart were all that he had asked for, and the poor wretch had given far too much for something of so little worth.

Not that it bothered Mathalla; she had more deals to make, and now the perfect place to make them in.

She only hoped her first customer was a more interesting one.

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

He certainly hoped the ale in this shithole was more tasteful than the ugly sign above the door. It was unfortunate that he wasn't afforded much of a choice tonight: The sheets of rain cascading down overhead in the waning light of dusk didn't encourage him to wander about to seek an alternative, and the only thing that was going to dull this hellish ache in his skull was a pint. Perhaps two or three, if the brew was tolerable.

As the doors swung open, one would have been forgiven for thinking the figure walking through them was a shadow come to life, a figure in black, discernable as a mortal only by the blue of one of his single eye that was uncovered by the pitch-black hood and mask ensemble that covered his head and face, cascading down his body like a curtain of the night.

That eye scanned the empty tavern, narrowing at the lack of life within the walls. He wouldn't complain about having the place to himself, less chance he'd end up having to introduce an unruly drunk to the edge of his knife. It didn't inspire confidence about the product here, though.

It was too strenuous to worry much, however. The moment he paid a thought to the oddity of it all that awful ache returned, and his hand raised to the side of his face with a muffled growl of frustration.

A drink, it could have been the filthiest of grog at this point. Anything to numb him.

If Rhenn Willowood noticed the unusual proprietor of the establishment, he didn't show it. If he did, her unusual appearance didn't seem to faze him. He walked, limping slightly, to the bar, before rapping his fist on the wooden surface with a rather authoritative bark. "A pint of your finest, before I die of thirst, preferably."

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

Mathalla whipped around in an instant, one hand holding a large stein like glass while the other rubbed the outside of it with a rag.

She had seen bartenders in many taverns do this over the years, though she had absolutely no idea why they did it. As far as she could tell, it didn't make the glasses any sharper, nor did it really seem to help with anything else.

Mortals were very strange though, and enjoyed their rituals. Mathalla assumed this was simply another one of those. "Well, we can certainly do that for you!"

The Devil said cheerily, taking a step over to the side and frowning for a moment as she stared at the strange sticks that had been set up behind the bar. They were each labeled with a name; 'Godricks Ale', 'Laughin Larry's Lager', and something called an "ipa?" How did you even pronounce that?

Mathalla frowned for a moment, staring at the stick in confusion and trying her best to remember how the tavern keepers made the liquid come out of them. For a moment more she puzzled, and then shook her horned head. Instead simply placing the glass she'd been holding in front of her customer. A loud snap of her fingers ringing out a second later.

The glass shone for a brief moment, an odd fire rushing through it's inside and then suddenly began to fill with ice cold beer.

"There." The Devil said, quite pleased with herself as she leaned over the bar. "Best brew in the house."

Mathalla insisted, pushing the glass towards the man as she leaned onto the bar. Planting her chin in the palm of her hand as her eyes danced over the stranger. "You're a little different than the mortals I've seen."

She mused, making no effort to hide her nature.

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

There was no way a place with a name and sign so juvenile as this one didn't have an experienced barkeep on hand, regardless of how business was going. Normal people looking for a job would steer well clear of an establishment like this. So why was it this woman didn't seem to have a clue what the hell she was doing?

She only took a couple extra seconds to fiddle around with the taps in a vain attempt to draw liquor from them, but in a bar with only one patron, those few seconds may as well have been an eternity. By the time she gave up and presented him with an empty glass and a paltry display of magic, Willowood's attention was directed more towards her than the fire that had formed beer in his cup.

"Really?" His icy blue stare narrowed, as though her lack of experience on the tap was more suspicious than her words, or Ancients forbid, her appearance. "You're just the same as every other bright red, horned woman I've ever met." Rhenn deadpanned, lifting his glass with one hand as his other lowered the mask covering him up to the bridge of his nose.

As Willowood brought the rim of the glass to his exposed lips, one could now see the odd scaring on the right side of his face, lines of distorted flesh, twisting in on itself like the knot of a tree and shimmering with a strange, blue glow.

"Mm." A hum left his mouth as he set his drink back down and swirled the beer around in his cheeks for a second, before swallowing. "Figures, the first good brew I have in a while, and it's magically conjured by some..." His attention returns to Mathalla, "...What are you then? A Demon?"

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

Mathalla let out a bright, chirpy laugh at the human's jest. Her smile breaking into a wide grin, sharp canines threatening to pierce into her lower lip as she chuckled. ”Well, my sisters do get around.”

The devil mused, her tone filled with a cryptic mirth. As though she had told some great joke herself.

She seemed to perk up even more as she contemplated the beer. Mathalla smiling as she drew back from the bar and glanced over towards the taps, making a face at the sticks as though she were gloating over them with her success.

Human taste buds were so strange. She didn't quite understand the reason they drank anything at all.

”A demon?” Mathalla echoed, drawing her attention back to her customer. Face twisting with no small amount of disgust. ”Ew.”

She tried not to blame the little human. Most mortals lacked for knowledge, something she found infinitely adorable. ”No. Demons are disgusting, wretched little chaotic things.”

Scholars still debated, of course, whether she and her kind were the same as though discordant beasts of the Abyss. But Mathalla and her sisters more than knew the truth of the matter. A demon was out only for frenzy, blood, and disruption. They were anarchy made manifest. Sure, some had greater designs, but by and large even the Lords of the Nether were too thick to understand a truly delectable scheme.

”I'm a Devil, Sweetheart.” She explained quite happily. Unaware that declaring herself so to the wrong person would have been like sending up a beacon to a thousand different Templars, Knightly Orders, and Witch Hunters.

”We're much more sophisticated.” She aggrandized, placing her hands behind her back as she leaned against the shelf of liquor bottles behind her. ”Not to mention capable of spelling.”

Mathalla said, as suddenly her hand withdrew out from the small of her back. A small coin now cradled within her palm. It shifted slightly as she turned her hand, drawing between her index and thumb before slipping into the back of her knuckles. It rolled over them slowly, drawing the eye. The Devil letting the coin dance, knowing that a single glance from her guest was all that it would need.

One look, and he would hear the whisper of his own desires.

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

Not a Demon, but a Devil. Funny, he'd always figured there just the one. If there wasn't such a pounding pain in Rhenn's temple, he might have choked out a laugh at the idea there was much of a difference between the two. Instead, all she got was the slightest smirk on his scarred lips.

"Duly noted. If you being a Devil is why I got my beer, I'll count my blessings. Pardon my choice of phrase." Willowood closed his eyes and brought the glass to his lips for another long drink. "I'll admit I didn't come here for a crash course on which creature of the unholy does what."

Rhenn finished his drink and tapped his finger on the surface of the bar next to it, signaling for another. While his cup was empty, though Mathalla finally had his full and undivided attention. "And I find it hard to believe a Devil is serving drinks to mortals just to educate them and serve up some crimson eye candy."

Willowood had been the Guardian of Disease, one of only Sixteen capable of wielding a core component of existence itself. He'd dealt with almost every kind of creature of the night one could think of. That included a few run-ins with succubi, vampires and even a few lesser demons.

Granted, this was the first devil on his punch card, but if she was anything like the other highly intelligent breeds of predator, he was being baited into something.

Unfortunately, it was just his nature to take the bait.

So when he saw her arms move to retrieve something from behind her, he didn't look down to see what it was immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on Mathalla's own. A defiance roared behind his pupil like a restless flame, his brow knitting tight as he accepted her challenge without a word.

Rhenn allowed himself to look down at the coin, glimmering in the dim light of the tavern. In less than a second a hand shot back up to his temple as a voice echoed in his head.

No, not you! You can't be he--

Wait... this voice... it wasn't the whispers of the Disease Stone, beckoning him to madness again after he'd endured nine years of suffering its tempting calls. This was another voice, sultry and seductive. The words it spoke into his ear were sweet reminders, pleas to himself, from himself.

Willowood scowled up at the Devil.

"Have a lot of experience dealing with whispers in my head, lady." He continued to press a hand to one side of his face. "Not used to having them try and kiss my ass."

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

A toothy smile pulled upon her lips.

”Well we all have our purposes, don't we, darling?” Mathalla cooed in answer to his accusation. Though, he was right of course, she did not take this bar to serve drinks and flash her skin. There was something fun about it, but she could no more pull away from her purpose as he could stop sucking breath into his lungs.

Despite her curiosity of mortal kind, Mathalla would always need to make a deal.

It was her anchor within this world, and without a bargain she could not exist. At least not for long. Right now the tavern was her waypoint, but that would change as she collected the soul on which it was weighed against. ”Mine is to give you the chance to get what you want.”

She purred as the coin continued to roll across the back of her knuckles. Her gaze flickering down to the slip of metal for just a brief moment, musing, before her eyes pulled back to him.

”So you see, the whispers aren't me.” Mathalla contended as she flipped the coin.

The Devil said as the coin clanked down onto the counter, slowly rolling until it stopped and fell in front of him.

It's face only familiar to him. ”They're you.”

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

Of course, Rhenn hadn't figured she was the one in his ear. He was hardheaded, maybe a bit egotistical and self-absorbed, but he wasn't a fool. The desires these whispers spoke to him, they weren't things that anybody but Rhenn Willowood himself would say.

"At some point, yes, we all have reasons for being." His eye followed the coin as it rolled back and forth across her slender red fingers. "But a purpose and a reason aren't the same thing." Rhenn had allowed people to give him purposes; directives to follow, and objectives to put his skills towards completing. But his reason? The goal he sought by tolerating those little side chapters in his wretched life? That was his own to know and to keep.

"You say you can give me what I want, but it's not so simple." As the coin tumbled from her knuckles and spun to a stop in front of him, he only briefly snarled at the visage on its face. Oh, that picture had been him once, long before Valenntenia had dug its claws into his flesh.

But that boy was dead. The Tower had killed him. Rhenn reached out and pressed a finger over the face of the coin, looking back up at the Devil herself. "I'm not above signing a deal with the Devil, but unfortunately, I'm one to read the fine print."

He knew exactly what this deal would do for him, were she a Devil of her word. There was always a catch though. If her end of the deal meant losing any amount of his freedom, he'd sooner take his chances granting his own wishes.

"So humor me. What's in it for you?"

Rhenn Willowood

 

[Mathalla]

The cheshire grin on her face remained as they spoke, a spark flickering through the Devil's eyes as he mentioned reading the fine print. She so loved negotiating with someone who had a modicum of intelligence. The weight of words was a precious thing, and it was rare that a mortal took true care to parse a contract.


It was why she had grown so bored with her works.


Fooling a drunken lout of over a game of cards was only fun so many times, and as the millenia had turned Mathalla found herself more and more…bored. She wanted excitement, something new, and in these last weeks she had loved far more than the centuries before. ”Me?”


The devil mused.


”It used to be a soul, or two, or even a dozen.” She answered truthfully, never once having lied in all her years of life. ”The weight and cost commensurate with the gift desired.”


Slowly she leaned forward again, perching her elbow upon the bar top. ”But in truth, I've grown bored with bandying for the essence of mortals.”


Her hand came up to settle on the bar, finger idly drawing on the wood.


”I enjoy your little lives.” Mathalla cooed. ”How short and volatile they can truly be.”


She took a breath through her teeth, as if savoring a taste. ”But I do rarely get to see.”


The devil mourned.


”The price still has to be paid, a soul, a life, whatever you bargain it to be. Even I most pay the cost of my magic on this world.” She explained. ”But I have no interest in binding you to the planes of torment, nor the hallowed halls of agony. So my deal is simple, pay the cost, and allow me to see your life play itself out, and there will be no tricks from me.”


Mathalla smiled her tooth grin again. ”I might even be your friend.”

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

It was all honeyed words, dripping in saccharine sweetness designed to lure him in, to drop his guard and accept her cost whatever it may be. This creature claimed to have no desire to watch him suffer or agonize, even dangling the idea of friendship in front of his face as though it were some carrot to a swine. All of this, he would expect from somebody of her title, of her kind.

So why was it that he so briefly considered her offer?

"The word of a Devil is still only her word." He pinched the coin between his fingers, lifting it from the bar and tilting it so the light shined upon its surface, illuminating the image on its face of what had once been. "Those who would even pay you a moment of time are either desperate or foolish. Likely why you're posted up in a shithole like this, am I right?"

It begged the question, which was he? As his eye raked over the coin, it slowly rose to instead take in the portrait of temptation before him. Was he a fool? No, he understood exactly what this was, knew the trap that he was about to spring. Desperate then? For what? He'd gotten everything a man could want, and then some.

But therein lay the answer.

Rhenn wanted more.

"Listen closely, Devil..." Rhenn gently placed the coin down and brought his hands up to his head. "The station that I was given in life, the purpose that fate so rudely thrust upon me, was to bear the suffering of thousands upon my own shoulders." Willowood slid the mask from his weathered and scarred face, and lowered his hood. Only now, the damage that had been inflicted on the former Guardian could truly be seen; the entire right half of his face was twisted and malformed, his cheek knotted like that of a tree, his eye blue and milky, and his mouth jagged and misshapen.

"Even after I was relieved of my duty, this corruption still eats at me, slowly killing me from the inside. These talents that I possess, the abilities I hold... They mean nothing for me now, as I creep towards a young demise. Restore my health to me, and what you loose upon this world will bring you fools and desperate men aplenty."

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

"No, actually, I just thought it would be fun." The Devil countered, to his accusations.

Once there was a time where Mathalla had preyed upon the desperate, had played her tricks and collected a dozen souls for the simply fun of it. But those antics had long since grown stale, boring. Doing the same thing for millenia as the ages turned and turned again had simply become; tiresome.

She wanted something new. Exciting.

Which was exactly what she received as Rhenn continued to speak.

The curious little mortal peeling back his hood and revealing the horrific fate of his flesh. The odd twist of his mouth and sunken nature of his eyes receiving no marked reaction from the Devil at all. She did not recoil as others might, she did not show disgust as some would. Instead she looked at him as though he were any other man.

For to her, that was exactly what she was. "A desire that I have heard before."

The Devil whispered.

"But this is not the same." She mused, slowly letting her hand lift from the bar as she reached out and touched his face. The heat of her skin apparent as her knuckles gently drifted over his cheek. "A great piece of magic, terrible and beautiful all the same."

Mathalla cooed. "It will be a wonderful challenge to unmake it.

That toothy grin appeared upon her lips once more.

"I can grant you what you seek." She said softly. "But it will not come from a mug of ale or even my magic."

The Devil let go, drawing back from him. "I have no interest in fools or desperate men."

Not anymore, anyway.

"I will help you find your health." She said. "And in return, all you have to do is let me come along."

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

It was a strange sensation, being touched by a devil; Her hand was soft and gentle like a lover's caress as her palm slid carefully across his marred features, and yet her presence triggered every instinct his body to flee from this place, to put as much distance between himself and her as was physically possible. The animal within him knew the danger this woman brought.

A shame, then, that the human he'd become had long since learned to ignore such urges. Instead, he leaned into her touch, his sullen eyes lingering on hers as they glimmered with that raw deviousness he would expect from one of her kind. Yet she claimed to seek not foolishness or desperation, as he'd suspected...

"Then perhaps you're more interesting than I've given you credit for, Devil."

In truth, Rhenn cared not what she wanted out of this deal. He'd no intention to haggle with a Devil, not when she so temptingly dangled what she could achieve and how she would achieve it before him like a sweet to a child. If she so truly believed herself capable of undoing the magic of Ancients themselves... Well, he'd be a sorry soul to miss a show like that.

"So perhaps it is best that you pack up shop and close for the night." Rhenn kept an eye trained on her hand as she drew it away, his hand moving back to the coin sitting on the bar between them. "We both have work to do. Rewinding the acts of The Ancients is a feat not insignificant, even for you I'd wager. And as for me..."

Willowood picked up the coin and tucked it in his palm, before taking one final swig of the magically conjured beer he'd quickly found himself attached to. He'd planned to bunk here for the night, but how could a man sleep with such an opportunity lying spread before them? No, this dusk would be restless.

"...If I'm going to have your eyes on me, I must prepare to put on a good showing."

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

The moment the little coin was swiped from the table, something in the air seemed to change. An intensity? A purpose? It was difficult to say. The Devil herself appeared no different, nor did anything in the room, but the second Rhenn had taken the coin, something had fallen into place.

A pact sealed.

"Pack?" Mathalla said, as though she did not quite understand the meaning of the word. Her gaze leaving her newfound companion and slowly sweeping around the room instead. A frown pulled at his lips, and then turned almost immediately as the rest of his words suddenly illuminated the earlier meanings.

"Oh!" The Devil said. "Of course."

Mathalla said, her fingers echoing in a snap.

In an instant, the fire within the hearth seemed to burst upward and out. Casting along the brick stonework and crawling towards the wooden floorboards. Catching upon the ale soaked wood and drawing quickly over the tables. Spreading faster than any ordinary flames had a right to. "I believe we should venture...what is it you mortals call it?"

The Devil mused as she slowly walked behind the counter, meandering her way towards the opening where she could step into the tavern proper. "North?"

Her lips thinned. "Where the snows lay."

Ugh.

She hated snow.

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

Rhenn felt the change in the atmosphere; It would have been impossible not too, so silent and yet deafening in his ears as the agreement was sealed between them. He no longer considered whether he'd just made a mistake or not; this endeavor was one he could not afford to look back on.

The choice had been made.

As the cloaked man turned to stand from the stool, the rumbling flames reached out from the hearth in angry orange tongues, reaching out to lap and scorch every inch of The Biting Pony. If Willowood hadn't believed Mathalla's claims of being a Devil, watching Hell itself engulf this building in the span of a few moments would have convinced him.

"I was being rhetorical." His eye flicked to the scarlet temptress as she emerged from behind the bar. He paid no mind to the fire creeping towards his heels; it was doubtful she would allow any harm to come to him when her fun had only just begun. "But this place was a dump anyway. Maybe they'll build something half-decent on the ashes."

Doubtful.

Rhenn flared his cloak as he turned towards the door, feeling no desire to stand in a burning building regardless of risk to himself. The Devil had set their course, if vaguely, and every second idle was one wasted. Stepping through the flames to the exit, he turned back to watch her as she followed.

"North it is. Don't suppose you care to elaborate, after all."

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

"I would." The Devil said as she stepped outside and followed behind Rhenn. "But I can't."

That was the trouble with bargains like these.

Her magic was powerful, stronger than most Mortals, but even it was not all knowing. This plane bound her with it's own laws and rules, and though try as she might, something like this could not be achieved with a snap of her finger. The bargain they had struck would ring true, but only after they found the piece they needed to see it done.

"What we need to make you whole is to the north." The Devil explained as she began to walk over towards the stables. Waving her hand to throw the barn doors open to reveal rows of waiting horses.

"As we get closer, I will point our way." Mathalla explained as she wandered over towards a dread black mount. "For now, we who where it is cold."

A shrug rolled over her shoulders. "More than that, the magic has not revealed."

The Devil smiled her toothy grin. Clearly enjoying the thought of the time ahead.

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

Tch, only a few minutes in and there was already small print on the deal. He supposed it didn't matter when he'd already sealed the contract and placed his fate at least partially into this Devil's hands. What else was there to do but to follow her words?

"A journey between strangers towards an unknown and unseen goal amongst the icy snowdrifts. It's almost romantic." Rhenn quipped, smirking beneath the cloth of his mask. "Like some of the fluff written in the Book of Blessings back home." Valenntenia was so hopelessly starry-eyed about their history that even their Ancients had tales of love and loss. Willowood had always thought it ridiculous.

His new companion mounted a black beast, one he'd not noticed in the dark of the night around them.Rhenn still couldn't tell what it was, or whether it was of this world or hers, but it was both beautiful and haunting at the same time, befitting the Devil who rode it.

Pulling himself up onto his own horse, who seemed rather discontent in the presence of the black mount they now traveled with, Willowood gave a kick and sent them on their way; No particular destination in mind save for the road that took them northward.

"So, Devil." He spoke once the small village was left as only dimming lights behind them. "You've yet to tell me your name. There a reason for that too? Your sister never talked about you much." Willowood smirked over at the red-skinned lass. "It feels a bit derogatory to continue referring to you by your breed."

Not that he cared an ounce about offending her. She had toyed about with the word 'friend', but Rhenn hadn't made a genuine friend in the last twenty years. He saw no reason to break that tradition now.

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

She smiled wide. "Romance? Now that would really be new."

The Devil mused cryptically, though offered only a wink before she shifted upon her saddle and moved the horses reigns around. Frowning for a moment as she considered the beast beneath her, a click echoing from her lips a second later. The mount beneath her nickering, and then slowly trotting forward.

Easily, as though she had been born in the saddle, the Devil followed after Rhenn.

"Well, my true name would burn your ears and eyes." She mused, as if bathing in a memory of the sight of such a thing happening. Eyes closing for just a moment as her teeth sunk into her lower lips. "But in the old days, written of in books you may now read, they called me the Sabletongue."

She let the words ring on, as though proud of them. "Mathalla at other times."

Eyes popped open as she shrugged her shoulders.

"It works as well as any other name I've had." They had called her many in her time.

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

For once, Rhenn was thankful for the mask covering most of his face. He'd certainly meant romantic in a literary sense, the kind of sappy setting that would be painted with words on a page for the lovelorn and daydreaming. Trying to court this Devil wasn't particularly high on his list of priorities, though she didn't seemed displeased by the possible change of pace.

The night around them was nearly as black and cloudy as the thoughts that had brought Rhenn to the point of meeting this strange being, as ominous and foreboding as the grim steed she rode behind him. The moon was concealed by cloud cover, and the road ahead of them, leading through a dense patch of forest, enshrouded in a dense fog.

"The Sabletongue... Can't say I'm familiar, but it's a fitting enough name." Rhenn stole books for profit, if they were rare enough. He didn't waste much time reading them. "Though I think I'll stick to Mathalla. Less formal, isn't it?" He looked over his shoulder back towards Mathalla, noting the fond recollection on her attractive features. No doubt, that face was one meant to allure.

It hadn't been her looks that had driven him to take the deal, though.

"I suppose I haven't made introductions myself. My name is Rhenn Willowood. At one time, I was known as The Darkwalker. That said time has passed." He'd already shared with her the duty that had granted him his deformities, and he'd not bore her further. "Officially, I'm a Commander of my home's military, but..." One could see the smirk, even through his mask. "Obviously I prefer to work outside my given role."

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

"A Commander?" Mathalla knew the meaning of war well, or at least, what it drove men to.

Many of her bargains had been made during, at the start, or towards the end of wars. She had never been in the midst of one, no, she had always avoided those her father had waged on the hosts of Heaven. But she knew well enough what the roles of war were to understand the meaning of her new friends title.

"Outside indeed." The Devil mused, peering at her companion. "Are you far from home?"

The land was always changed when she returned to the mortal realm. Countries that were once flourishing had usually turned to dust. Emperors who had stood near Immortal were all but forgotten. Time worked differently in her home, she had long ago figured out.

Did that make it more or less distant?

Mathalla had no idea, but she couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

Normally, Rhenn would think it unwise to give the Devil so much information so freely. He wasn't a trusting type, especially towards those he knew to hold power beyond his. On the other hand, he knew that Mathalla would likely find out that which she sought to know one way or another. There was no benefit to wasted time.

"Far enough." He replied, eyes forward on the shrouded road ahead of him. "Valenntenia, City of the Runestones. Rhenn felt his lips tighten at the notion of the city being called his 'home' though. If anything, it was where he'd happened to be born. Rhenn's home was wherever he saw fit to lay his body for the night. "Like to fancy themselves an ancient place, no idea if that's fact or fiction, though."

A gentle poke, perhaps, into the knowledge of the past Mathalla must have. As uncommitted as he felt towards his birthplace, some curious worm in his brain did wonder how much validity there was to the claim of the Tower being built by the Gods themselves.

"That doesn't matter, though." Willowood continued. "Once I've been restored, I don't intend to hold allegiance to any banner. My loyalty will remain with myself, as well as whatever debt I'll owe to you."

Rhenn didn't plan on being chained to this bargain for longer than needed. Mathalla was still too unknown, too unpredictable. He couldn't trust her, not with the full extent of his motives.

"And you? Lingering in this realm out of boredom? Certainly, Devils have some means of entertainment beyond meddling?"

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

"Valenntenia." Mathalla let the name roll off her tongue, more than getting the hint which had slipped from Rhenn's. He'd not outright said it, but there'd been a curiosity to his tone the Devil would have found difficult to ignore.

Curiosity, after all, is what so often lead to her. "Yes..."

She seemed to muse.

"I've been there before, summoned to a crossroad just outside..." Her lips seemed to purse together. The bargain had been a very complex one, made when she had still been in earnest while serving her father. She could not remember how it'd turned out, but then, father had rarely told her that sort of thing. "There are worse places in this world to be beholden to."

Mathalla commented to her new friend, thinking of true pits of society that had existed both then and now. Her head shook for a moment, and she mused on the questions that he pressed her with. "You would think so, wouldn't you?"

The Devil said, half sounding as though she were whining.

"Problem is, that is what we were made for." Bargains, deals, enticements. "Do you know how many millenia I've spent making bargain after bargain. It gets very old."

She complained. "It took me quite a while to break free of what I was made for, longer still to disobey father."

The Devil shook her head.

"This bargain of ours? If my father knew? We would be in very serious trouble." Mathallas mused, almost innocently.

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

Rhenn wasn't certain what the Father of The Devil was, in title or nature, but it was something he'd usually try not to piss off. Maybe it spoke to how his short time with Mathalla had set his mind racing, then, that the idea of whatever had spawned her seething at their little pact made a self-satisfied smirk pull at his lips.

"You tempt me to pry further." Willowood admits to her, looking back with that singular, glassy eye thrumming brightly with some ancient energies. "If bargains are indeed in your nature, how is this deal a disobedience? Seems to imply you held a different role. Or maybe, you were constrained to a particular kind of deal." Speculation was dangerous, especially when spoken aloud, but the nature of the deal they'd made lent Rhenn a bit of leeway with how hard he pushed.

Mathalla didn't seem the type to break her new toy so quickly.

"So, you break free of a lifetime of repetition and find yourself returning to that which you ran from regardless." Rhenn could almost taste the bitterness in his own voice, pulling on the reigns and hunching himself down to let the northern wind rush under his hood and cool his face. "Perhaps we're more alike than I care to admit."

Just keep riding north. Rhenn reminded himself of the vague goal that Mathalla had set for them. Eventually, they'd be closer to restoring his body. Then, he could truly break free. This pain that had become his life would ebb, and his thoughts would be solely his own once more.

"It's hard then, even for a devil. To fight your own nature."

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

"My father cares only for the weight of souls we bring to him." The Devil admitted quite freely, shrugging her shoulders.

It wasn't as though that were any secret. Dig deep enough in most Cathedrals and one would find some legend or rumor about her and her sisters. Not much more digging was needed then to make the step to her father. The Infernal Lord who held them all within the palm of their hands.

If she were human, a shiver would have run up her spine at the thought of the Archdevil. Not that she would ever admit to such a thing. "I cannot help but make the bargains."

The Devil admitted, clicking her tongue.

"But I take so much more from them now." Mathalla said, sounding pleased as punch with herself. "Not a soul, for what is that really worth?"

Yellow eyes flickered to him for just a brief moment, a toothy smile grasping at her lips. "But experience."

She seemed to savor the word, as though it brought her a spark of pleasure. "I've lived a thousand of your life times, more, maybe."

Mathalla wasn't really sure, time was an odd thing for her.

"And this." She said, pointing down to the horse beneath her rump. "Is the first time I've ever ridden a horse."

 

[Rhenn Willowood]

Rhenn couldn't ever bring himself to care enough about the beliefs of others to know of any stories spoken of Mathalla's kind. The Valenntenians believed that demons and devils were dark embodiments of sin, left behind as any other by their makers and twisted by evil. The gravity of a Devil's dealing, the whims of an infernal lord, and the weight of a soul? They meant nothing to him, purely for the fact that he'd no basis to go off of.

But even if he did, it wouldn't likely have made much difference.

"Really?" Rhenn felt his brow raise looking behind him as she straddled the mount that had carried her thus far without an ounce of complaint. "You could have fooled me. Quite a natural at riding, then..." Rhenn sniffed at the air, catching a hint of smoke in his nostrils. They were coming up on another settlement, the size he couldn't yet tell. "For all that time you've existed, you must be running low on new experiences by now."

What truly piqued Rhenn's interest was Mathalla as an individual: Her motives, methods and desires were obviously independent of the rest of her kind. The way she spoke, the pleasure trilling off her tongue as she spoke of the new motivator she'd found for herself, the new fuel for her bargains.. It was nearly jealousy that panged in his gut.

"My tasks were always sold to me as fighting for a greater good." Rhenn snapped forward again, lest his eyes linger on this strange woman and deliver messages not meant for sending. "But I've never cared about that. Serving as a Guardian gave me power, and I used that power to suit myself. So long as I did what they asked of me as well, they turned a blind eye." There was a bitterness in his voice as he snapped the reins. "So much for their greater good. When I became too corrupted for them, they merely passed on my duty to another."

He could see it now, Lights of a village in the distance. They'd not been travelling too long, but the northern winds did bite enough to make Rhenn consider stopping for a rest. Although, with a being like Mathalla at his side, the eyes they would draw were not insignificant in number.

Then, an idea.

"Tell me, Mathalla." Rhenn slowed on his horse as they neared the village. "Are you interested in another new experience?"

Mathalla

 

[Mathalla]

"I'm a natural at everything, darling." Mathalla said, though didn't bother elaborating on why. For years and centuries she had been...skimming off the top. The souls she'd dealt to her father had not been diminished, but their minds and memories had been hers to play with.

It was a delightful trick, and one she'd actually learned from a mortal of all things.

That particular bargain had been an interesting one. Mostly because the man she had made it with had ended his life being called the 'Whispering Tyrant'. A lich lord, of some sort she understood. Mathalla had only learned of it centuries later, long after some men in shiny armor had brought him to his end.

Good memories though. "Do you wish vengeance upon them?"

The Devil asked, wondering if that was why he was so desperately seeking to be whole.

Though the question was almost instantly forgotten as Rhenn pushed her own interests forward. A new experience was not something that she would ever deny herself, not when time could be so thin.

"Of course." The Devil practically purred. "It is the only thing I want."

She continued. "You mortals don't know how lucky you have it."