Saddled with information that she had no honest idea how she was going to dispense with in a way that didn't stir up additional drama, Jillian returned to the city of Truce, clearly troubled and unable to hide it as best as she normally would. Erim's plight weighed the heaviest on her shoulders, and their shared past only made the situation that much harder; the information given to her didn't hurt things any further, but the source of this information is what was going to cause the most trouble, and she was looking forward to the discussion with Haut about as much as consuming a vial of holy water (which would be borderline lethal for her, if it wasn't too obvious, given what she was).

At the moment, she merely hung back at the northern gate of the city, trying to determine what steps needed to be taken from here. She felt like she knew better, but a lingering paranoia reminded her of how hot-blooded Haut was with regards for the Sinistrals; knowing that she had not only convened with the one responsible for bringing the others back, but then letting her willingly leave, gave her slight fear of being branded as some sort of traitor or conspiracist against... well, everyone. It probably was just her fear being overactive in light of the situation, but it didn't drive that concern away any further. Haut was frightening, at times, and even if it hadn't ever been directed at her, there were plenty of times when she, quite literally, did not know what he was capable of, in his worst moments. And it scared her to think of being the one on the receiving end of it.

"That is exactly my point, witch. If you don't actively pursue greater heights, what is exactly the point to gaining more pacts?"

"I have explained this before - I do not have a clear reason. I simply hunger for it. It is a drive, for which I do not know the purpose or origin. It simply is."

"This sounds suspiciously like a logical fallacy. Did you not say you despised dishonesty?"

"Must we revisit this again? I-"

The conversation between the odd pair, a pumkinhead walking alongside a lean, tall being comprising of reptile and insectoid traits at once, all four arms held behind his back, came to an abrupt stop. They had been heading out north to the canyons, but on seeing the familiar woman from a few days past, the summoner froze. It remembered the sheer power she displayed and the curious phenomenon that followed...but that didn't seem to be an issue now. What was more apparant was the clear anxiety and conflict about her.

"Hm? You what?"

"Never mind. I simply see someone I recognize."

"Ah, that one...that one?
...I see."

"Do you know her, Lord Asmodeus?"

"No...no, I don't believe so. Though there is a familiar aura to her. A demon, for sure, but I doubt she's one of mine."

"...Please refrain from what you have been doing with the last few residents we've met."

The demon chuckled as if the previous near-banworthy incidents of the day were harmless pranks.

"Ahahaha, of course not. Those were mortals, after all...demons deserve more respect. Even if they aren't of my station, such as it is in this situation."

Merciviant drummed its boney fingers against the side of its head in irritation. While Asmodeus had more or less been behaving himself since the pact was forged, and seemed to be accepting of his current situation to the point that he was being friendly with the summoner, he was enough of a social liability that it wasn't clear if it should approach the lady from before, despite its concerns.

The succubus seemed relatively passive in her stance regarding those that passed her by, and the Pumpkinhead-demon pairing that approached her weren't likely to encourage any difference in her demeanor. Her vertical green eyes were both here, and not; the worries on her mind took center stage even before any physical visuals before and around her, and one of her bare feet placed itself idly behind the other one in a balanced pose as she leaned slightly against one side of the interior gate. For all the power and visual bravado she had exercised before, and despite her outside features that granted her the visual aspects of her demonic heritage, she was, for all accounts, a normal woman with normal concerns not unlike anyone else.

Upon her shoulder, as ever he was, the bat-winged mana spirit of darkness hovered roughly an inch overhead from actual contact, its large silvery eye peering off in whatever direction his charge happened to be, as well.

(Canon) Arachne — Yesterday at 2:18 AM
The pair come to a slow stop near the stressed woman, with the summoner uncertain how to start. Asmodeus seemed annoyed by this, lightly tapping his clawed talon on the road.

Finally, it spoke.

"I know that we have not had a chance to speak, but I saw you the other day at the fountain, before the strange occurence involving that shadowy figure. I do not mean to pry, but you look pained. Are you perhaps injured after all of it?"

"You haven't even introduced yourself, witch."

The pumpkinhead ignores its ally's quip, though its eye-light does flick in his direction for a moment.

At the notion of being spoken to, Jillian's attention is acquired, though the time it takes her to actually lay her eyes upon the duo is just a bit longer than it ought to be. She smiles faintly, both at the question and the quip that followed, at least mildly amused by the banter. "I remember you," she said, conversationally. "You protected the little one. Your friend is right, I'm not aware of who you are, but you have no less of my thanks for his safety. Of everyone's lives that could have been ended that day, his death would have pained me the greatest." Perhaps frustratingly, she makes no mention of her own pain or predicament, contrary to what she was specifically asked.

The shade turns to glance at Merciviant and Asmodeus as they arrive closer, seemingly scrutinizing them momentarily to determine if there is, actually, a threat to be determined. The lack of movement seems to imply that he finds no such thing, and merely continues to hover over Jillian's shoulder, a watcher and naught else.

Merciviant's light meets the shade's gaze, going back to Jillian after seeing him settle down. It was still largely unfamiliar with mana spirits specifically, but all of its experiences with them have so far been positive.

"I am glad I could help, however much it may have made a difference. The last I saw him, he was on his way home...so I believe him to be well. As for me, I am Merciviant. We were heading in search of certain materials beyond the gates, but I saw you seemed to be distressed...if I may ask, does this mean the danger has not passed?"

Asmodeus, waiting with surprising patience, takes an exaggerated bow.

"Asmodeus, Demon King of Desire. A pleasure to meet a fellow fallen one emerged from the Abyss."

She looks like she isn't really sure how to respond. To either of them. A corner of her mouth upturns in a transition from faint smile to faint smirk, and she is silent for a moment longer before speaking. "I am well, there is no further worry that I may lash out unexpectedly," she said, assuming Merciviant was referring to her actions and not the shadow that followed, as she wasn't inherently aware of much that followed after her possession at the time. Her eyes switch from the Pumpkinhead to its accomplice, her expression flickering briefly on both the name and title. "I feel like I may have known you, at some point, in another time and place," she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "Given that I was a mere concubine in the era before the Cleft claimed me, if I had, I likely wouldn't have been immediately aware of it, which is unfortunate." She pauses, only to offer a small chuckle. "'Fallen one' feels appropriate, too, for all that it means anymore."

She returned her attention to Merciviant, standing up on her own two feet and away from the gate's leverage. "My distress is my own, at this time," she admits. "I have a troubling conundrum, the likes of which date back many millenia and has followed me across time and space for as far back as I can remember. It just so happens to have chosen this time and place to be more of a thorn in my side than I'd like." She hesitates for a moment, but then appears to shrug mildly, looking away from Merciviant and toward the north. "When your sister is also a considerable enemy of the world you live in, this sort of 'thorn' tends to be more painful than it ought to."

"A concubine? My, how exhilarating. To this day, I've yet to decide whether it is more laudable to pursue one's desires or grant another's. Whether they be of the flesh, of survival, of payback...such a virtue indeed..."

Merciviant's annoyance at Asmodeus's likely inappropriate enthusiasm was almost audible in its low voice. Speaking calmly, it kept its eye on the direction Jillian looked to.

"We may ignore him for the time being, if that is alright. You say your sister is this world's enemy...what exactly does that mean? What sort of being could she be? A fellow demon, or...something outside of that?"

This specific question wasn't quite where she was hoping it would go, and in truth, telling literally anyone about what she knew could have disastrous, backfiring results if it happened to fall on the wrong ears before she, herself, was ready for those ears to hear of it. This hesitation is evident in the length of time it takes for her to offer a response. "She is one that comes and goes with the generations," she said, again being extensively careful with her word choice. "A 'fellow demon' is both appropriate... and not." She stops again, her eyes searching as her mind tries to best filter what should be said versus what can be said. "She brings with her a group of... warmongers, every century, in order to subjugate mankind, if you'll forgive the term's unintended exclusivity. In every era I've been apart of, she has not yet emerged victorious. Her abilities are uncanny, but they are also undesired." She frowns, turning back around so that she can look upon Merciviant and Asmodeus. "She is locked into a fate that she does not want or desire, and there is nothing that can be done, for either her predicament or the fact that she cannot be apart of this world without endangering it." She reaches up to brush a lock of white hair behind one ear. "As a sibling, you can understand where my frustration lies, thus."

Her explanation seems to have a few... glaring gaps in it, and is tenuous at best. But she doesn't elaborate any further than this.

Asmodeus suddenly adopts a more serious posture and stares at Jillian.

"...You speak of gods, miss."

Merciviant notably bristled at this mention, yet did not add to it.

"This cycle, it is something those of the divine realms are locked into. It is required of them, the 'order' that binds them. Something that is anathema to most of us, above and below. They, as manifestations of the world and beyond it, cannot easily break free of that fate."

Merciviant stays silent at this, but seems to be incredibly tense. Something about this has clearly struck a chord with it, but it continues to listen to the two of them.

Jillian's eyelids drop halfway as she regards Asmodeus' words. "You know of them, then," she states, plainly. "The problem is that three of the four are more than willing to continue the cycle for as long as it takes to eventually succeed. And it is those three, specifically, that I couldn't care less about. You're not incorrect in your assessment, but it does little to sate my frustration."

"I wonder then, good lady...what do you intend to do? Your anguish is quite palpable, your irritation surging through these currents...yet it would seem you know as well as I that this is a situation that calls for action over indecision. Myself, I have only recently arrived here, much like my odd little witch who seems to be having some sort of attack over this. I may not care much for mundane mortals, but this is a fascinating realm...and one of theirs, besides. Would it not do to act to protect it, as a resident of it?"

Asmodeus spoke this in a gentle yet stern voice, apparently trying to convey sympahty and authority at once.

Merciviant speaks in a quiet voice, apparently more to itself. Its light is a stark white.

"Everywhere. They truly are inescapable, is that it? Even if it is a different pantheon, I had hoped I would not be bothered with this again."

"Naught," she said, suddenly. "The situation is not entirely identical, in this instance. Therein is why my frustration truly lies, because while she has returned, she does not possess the capacity for my--" she stops, then rephrases, "for her brothers to return. This is not to say that they will not, at some point in the future, but that time is not now. If it comes to that, I will do what is necessary, as ever I have. But when she is not a threat, I will not raise a hand against her. I simply don't understand why she is not a threat, and that fact, along with the confusion involved, is testing my ability to think rationally. I believe that she shadow that surfaced on that day, from what little I recall of it, may have some part to play in the overall picture, but that is the extent of my knowledge."

Jillian looks decidedly sad in the few silent moments that follow, and she again averts her eyes. "Beyond that, I am the one to blame for the eternal recurrence she now finds herself in. Indirectly, yes, but the fault still lies upon me in enough of a way that the guilt is not easily mollified. When..." Again a hesitation, as the name she intended to use is instead averted. "...the one in charge sounded His call, I abstained, and she claimed my place among the others. Thus was she subjected to the fate that binds her thus, instead of myself. I was subjected to another life, in other places, and while I did not take up arms against her through many of those centuries, there were times when I did, and it was a painful experience that I kept to myself, each time. For my part, I served others and was put under the heel of most, both willingly and not. Lord Dracula was my most recent master, in the time and space before this one. Much has happened since then, both good and bad, but they always return, and whether I am involved directly or not, I am forced to watch my sister's failure, my failure, time and time again. It is vexing beyond words."

"Immortality is not... the blessing mortals think it is, truly," she said, with no small amount of rue.

Asmodeus folds his arms and leans back, his eyes closed in thought, giving a single nod.

"And so you are torn and powerless. I myself have many siblings and many offspring, many followers and apprentices - but I will not do them the disservice to lie and claim that they all mean the world to me. But there are a few that do. And should I find myself in a similar situation...well, I dare say I would be in a similar rut as well. And to that final point, we agree. They have no idea how to utilize it, to find the true joy in this endless revelry...but that is chains they are bound in. 'Tis not for everyone, to be sure."

Merciviant's voice seems to be its normal tone as it speaks up. Its body language has become more relaxed and its light has returned to normal.

"If I may: to what pantheon do these gods belong? My studies often lead me to the faiths of many...whether I desire it or not. It is possible I have or will come across something relevant. If nothing else, we could cross-reference such findings with yours and Lord Asmodeus's knowledge on such things...it sounds to me that if there is any possibility of breaking her connection with them, that would be the ideal solution."

She considers briefly, then shakes her head. "The problem is that they think they are gods, but they have not quite risen to such heights," she offers as an explanation. "While they are powerful and, arguably, have the capacity, with that power, to bring the world under their thumbs, the fact that mortals can rise to the challenge and destroy them, time after time, means that they have not truly aspired to the realm of 'godhood' that they might claim they have." She stops short of mentioning certain other, arguably important, aspects between said mortal interceptions and their adversaries. "To my understanding, there is no 'pantheon'; they are of their own. ...to an extent. But I cannot go into details further, and I apologize for it. There is much I am not at leave to divulge at this time, for fear that it reaches the wrong set of ears at the wrong time and comes back to cause me further dilemma, down the road."

After a moment, though, she adds, "The issue at hand that separates my sister from her brethren is that, unlike the other three, she did not divest herself of emotional attachments, whereas they wasted no time in doing so, for the sake of their own conquest. This leaves her at odds, because of the hesitation she occasionally invokes when it comes time to pull certain triggers and act. Her hesitation has led to their undoing more times than I can count on both hands, and you must remember that this only takes place once every hundred years or so."

"You see, witch? This is what I meant. You see someone struggling and immediately trip over yourself trying to 'help'. I don't disapprove of your wanton enthusiasm to achieve that desire, but it is embarassing how you often think that you can solve everything for those apparently in need...even strangers, I might add."

Merciviant is clearly stung by Asmodeus's words, but doesn't deny them.

"...You are right. It is a bad habit that needs breaking. My apologies."

"Oh, enough with that. You asked me to be your advisor and I am doing as you wanted. Simply take my words in and make an effort. Then see about what can be done, if action is possible or even necessary."

Merciviant falls silent, in thought. It's true that it has tried to overcompensate for its lack of social understanding and previous reputation back home by attempting to do good by those around it in this realm, but as the demon king says, they are indeed strangers.
It is the case that it frequently has made offers that it cannot deliver on, or even needed to make to begin with.

"...even so, I do hope the way of things takes a peaceful route. I will make no dishonest claim that I understand what family is like, but I know full well what severence with one you care for feels like. And so, a proposition:
At present, I am making the effort to gain pacts with many demons. I have the means to do so and only lack the training and strength, which according to Lord Asmodeus is proceeding apace. Should things become dire, if my powers at that time are needed - please consider us available. If for no other reason than ensuring our new home is just a bit safer, and our acquaintances who have been kind to us less pained."

Around the banter between the two of them, Merciviant's last words seem to hit on something, and the flicker of changing expression between her eyes is evidence enough of this. The pumpkinhead was right, before anything else; it was their home as much as it was hers, and obligations were still obligations, pained or otherwise. Perhaps their ability to 'befriend', if the term could be so-loosely used, demons and their like could provide a benefit to her and hers, sometime down the road. "If... it came to that," she spoke hesitantly, "where would I find you?" It's too early to say that she sounded less vexed, but, at the very least, Jillian did seem more encouraged. The appreciation, if nothing else, was noticeable.

Merciviant gestures towards the town's west gate.

"Are you familiar with the tower a ways from Truce in that direction? When I am not here, or out searching, I have a room there that I have taken for myself. The owner finds me amusing and some of his underlings seem to fear me. Apparently I resemble a living toy to them. Fittingly, said room is within a toychest. Seek me there, and I shall know."

At the mention of the tower, Jillian does find her eyes peering westward, as if trying to envision the location as she may have seen it before. "I think I recall such a thing, yes," she admits, looking back toward the two. "And if I don't, the fact that it is in a solid direction outward from Truce means that it likely won't be hard to find." She exhales through her nose, looking like she actually feels a little better just by having someone to converse with about these things. "I appreciate your outside perspectives." She makes a point to make sure this word is plural, so that Asmodeus knows he is included. "Sometimes we take on more than we probably should, but only having two eyes makes it difficult to see all of what needs to be seen, during those times."

"Oh, indeed. Like having only two arms. Imagine such a debilitating restriction!"

The smirk and wild gesture with all four of his arms implied this was an attempt by Asmodeus at a joke, to which Merciviant simply pulled the rim of its hat down in (feigned?) embarrassment.

"Very good. Often I find that is exactly the key to understanding a theory or method that eludes me - that we could have a hand in turning that lock for another is a satisfying feeling."

It raised its hat back up and looked at Jillian again.

"So then, what shall you do now? It seems to me that you have much to decide on, if such a thing is even necessary at this time. We ourselves are heading out to seek more-"

"Enslavement materials."

"-PACT OFFERINGS, if you please. I have no intentions of resorting to your methods of recruitment." Merciviant's response to Asmodeus's quip was both oddly higher and louder.

"...but other than that, we shall likely be around for a while yet."

Jillian actually smirks at Asmodeus's initial comment, and looks like she is about to say something on the interim, but his remark about the nature of the materials they seek actually brings out a laugh, which is whole and genuine. You couldn't find a better comedy routine if you were actually going to the theatre on Dryad's Day night. "I do have things I need to consider, yes," she eventually said, still amused. "And yet, I don't know what my next course of action is. I think that maybe I will just wait a while long and attempt to gather my thoughts, and maybe that solution will come to me, sooner or later. At the moment, at least, there is no reason for impatience." She leans back against the gateway arch again, one of her bare feet lifting and pushing flatly against it with the bottom of that foot, bracing herself between the remaining leg and her weight against the stone pillar.

As if mocking that statement and sentiment, the sound of a distant explosion washes in from the residential section of Truce's northern neighborhood.

She cranes her neck around the side of the arch, squinting just slightly in the direction of the explosion, and it's hard to tell what her expression is supposed to be. "...Oh," is all she says, for all the unhelpfulness that it affords.

"Ah. Perhaps our excursion may be on hold."

"Nonsense, witch. That sounded like hardly more than a misfired spell. Don't let such an inconsequence interrupt your goals."

"Did you disregard what that conversation was about in its entirety? We should at least check on it."

"Feh. Such distractions only serve to-"

Asmodeus continues on an impassioned rant about not allowing the accidents of others interrupt the pursuit of one's desire as Merciviant looks back to Jillian.

"Would you say that sounded particularly dangerous? I do admit such things don't seem all that uncommon here."

Mixed of expressions, Jillian does once more alleviate herself from the brace she was propped upon, standing once more on her own two feet. "Yes and no, I suspect," she said. "I have a pretty good idea, and while I'm not worried at this time, such concern may be raised once I see for myself." She thinks for a second, then regards Merciviant and Asmodeus. "However, I would not concern yourselves with it. If my suspicions are correct, it is likely a domestic issue, and one that can be resolved easily enough."

Asmodeus, having finished his rant, looks to his summoner and shrugs. "There you have it. It isn't our business and should not be. Let us move on."

Merciviant seems to be ready to retort, but reflects on what was said earlier. "...I suppose so. But we will aid if we are asked. Agreed?"

"Very well. If that is your desire, witch."

Merciviant looks back to Jillian.

"Then, unless we can be of service - we shall be off. We will likely be near town for much of the day, should you need us. Otherwise, you know where to find me - even if it is not for the previous matter."

She offers a small smile, her attention clearly still tugged elsewhere at that moment. "Of course," she said. "Be well in your endeavors, and I will not forget your offer. You have my word."

Merciviant nods and Asmodeus gives another bow, before the two take off to the north. Almost immediately they're discussing something while the summoner has its tome open, with a polite argument about the methodology of working your way up versus going straight for the top already forming.

Jillian hesitates briefly, some of the anxiety falling back onto her as Merciviant and its cohort depart. Problems were easier to keep low when in the presence of company, apparently, but didn't hesitate to rear their heads again as soon as the only companion she had left was her own thought wheel. And, also... "Some things never change, I guess," she said, but with an ounce of amusement as she set off toward the residential district, feet padding softly against the otherwise-rough stone of Truce's streets.

Haut's house is strange, given who he is. Through sheer force of being an early adopter of the concept of home ownership, the small building is actually in a neighborhood fairly close. It is however, brutalist and small. On Jillian's approach, she'd find a smouldering hole through the rolling garage door, as well as what seems to be a piston head lying on the ground outside.

Inside, a string of muttered curses continues unabated. It's almost like he had another lung just for air to be used on obscenities.

Jillian stopped just outside the scene, tilting her head slightly as the crispy exterior filled her nose with the smell of hot metal, a scent she was, arguably, not unfamiliar with. If anything, it was a familiar-enough smell that it brought a small smirk to her face, and accompanied with the low cursing that resulted just before, it was... home. That alone meant a great deal to her, in and of itself, as obnoxious as it could easily be to anyone else but the two of them. Only giving herself a moment more, she made her way up toward the unintentional new entrance to the garage, and did kind of an around-the-corner peek inside, her white tresses falling to one side as she poked her face around the corner, but did not yet say anything.

Past the singed metal and paint is the picture of a man who is probably out of his depths. Haut is shirtless still, with all the hallmarks of a man who hasn't slept present. He's also actively standing in front of the remains of a V-8 engine with his head pressed against the metal. It, much like Haut, is what someone could call 'completely fucked' instead of just being out of depths. The floor, additionally, is coated in black oil with glittering fragments of metal in it, which is probably bad for everyone involved.

There's also the beginnings of some kind of- frame? nearby. Crisscrossing metal pipes, tubes, supports, and wires that very very roughly form the shape of a man, with the plate that should cover the back currently raised up on hydraulic supports. He really hasn't stopped cursing yet, it's getting to be a little impressive.

She analyzes the situation for a moment, but since Haut was still cursing, that meant he was still alive, which was really her only concern, beyond everything else. Jillian left herself in the smoldering entryway for a moment or so, taking in the bits, pieces, C-words, parts, F-words, and other assembly that made the garage what it currently was, before speaking up. "Sounds like I got back just in time," she said, a little loudly so that she'd carry over Haut's cursing, attempting to force some pleasantry in her words despite yet feeling a little stomach-knotty on the inside.

Haut freezes for a moment, before his shoulders relax. He looks over at Jill with a small smile. "Any time you show up is the right time." Standing up and away from the explosive failure of the engine, Haut leans back against the workbench, which creaks ominously before one weakened leg gives way and it cracks. He flails a little, before shoving the entire thing back against the wall with his butt to keep it from falling down.

The effect does not look comfortable or cool. He folds his arms across his chest which only brings attention to the fresh scars on it. "So, find what you needed? You, don't gotta tell me, I know it's something hush hush but." He shrugs a little. "Wanted to hear how your day went."

The guilt rises fresh and anew just on the simple phrase of "you don't gotta tell me," and she has real difficulty keeping that guilt from showing on her face. In fact, she fails pretty spectacularly, and it is immediately clear that something is bothering her, try as she might to keep it off her features. Nevertheless, she speaks up otherwise, attempting to leave it in the background for now. "Yes, I think everything went well," she said. "I'm sorry it took me an extra day to come back, figuring everything out before I was satisfied enough to call my trip 'successful' removed quite a bit of the hastened return I had initially planned." It was not a complete lie, but it was a decided stretch of the actual truth. She really was not actually good at lying; she used to be, but that had somehow been one of the things she lost along the way, somewhere. She regards the new scars upon Haut's chest, which also wasn't something really all that new to her, but she did wonder if, one day, she was going to come home and just find him with an empty cavity in his gut because there wasn't any flesh left to injure.

Haut's support of the table falters for a moment, and he slips at the moment Jillian's face twists with guilt. By the time he looks back up to meet her face, he beams a grin at her. "Hey, I'm glad things worked out!" He proceeds to follow her eyes and take the look on her face for a reaction to the absolute state of himself, which he clears his throat over. "So, uh look I got stuff done yesterday too. And-"

He pauses for a moment, not really sure how exactly to word it all, actually. "I might have gotten us support from the Mana Tribe? Kinda?"

Her guilt disappears immediately upon hearing that last part, her eyes widening slightly and her vertical irises contracting a little bit, as well. "What?" she asks, taking a step forward. "Did you find him!?" This question falls out of her mouth almost by accident, in the heat of the moment.

Haut raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side. "If by 'him' you mean some guy named Jules, who's being followed around by the kid's Mana Spirit." He's not sure if Jillian had been referencing the kid or not, but he did feel bad to spike her hope there a little bit. "Sylvan got really excited about the Gem. So, y'know."

This information isn't what she was hoping for, and even though it wasn't specifically bad, it did take her excitement down a couple notches. She takes a second to reorient herself, letting what he actually said register. "Oh," she said. "So that means there are... wait." She stops, her brow furrowing. "So there is someone else from the Mana Tribe running around, you mean? Which means they came from the Holyland? Which means it isn't closed? Then why isn't..." She trails off, running over herself with the sudden entourage of questions that stemmed from Haut's simple remark. "I'm... I mean that's good. But it definitely raises a whole lot more other questions, all of a sudden." She frowns a little bit, actually.

A dark little bat-winged spirit comes floating into the garage from around the corner after a moment, just kind of... hanging there, in the not-quite-as-smoldering circle of what used to be the garage door, its big silver eye scanning the mess and the people residing in it.

"Definitely Mana Tribe. Sent by Aura herself to find the Kid. Other than that, all I know is he's kind of a fucking asshole and he's shacked up with a centaur." Haut shrugs again, before standing up and away from the table. It rocks for a moment, before settling still standing. With that, he steps forward and starts shoving the engine hoist off to the side, taking the ruined machine with it.

"Him and Sylvan are going to remain separate, doing their own investigations. But I got Sylvan to agree to report to you if they find anything. More eyes, better communication." A half-full container of kitty litter is spread out over the oil on the floor, clay chunks working to trap and absorb the black mess. "I would have asked you first but my cell was out of battery."

She kind of stands there in silence, letting all of this sink in for a second time. "...Why aren't they reaching out to me, then?" she asks, despite knowing there's no way Haut could answer that question. "If they're sending people from the Holyland to search for him, why are they keeping silent about the fact that we haven't heard from anything or anyone in almost five years?" She sounds... very upset.

The shade spirit floats the rest of the way into the room, taking up a spot on Jillian's shoulder and training its eye on her with a silent gaze.

"What the fuck is Lillian doing, this whole time!?" she suddenly lets out, her frustration boiling over.

Haut watches this buildup with a sort of clawing, sinking feeling. That, was not what he wanted. Actually the opposite of all of it. But, at the same time his mouth opens for a moment and he hesitates. What is he supposed to say? He doesn't know what game the immortals are playing, much less the mana tribe.

Dropping the litter container, Haut chooses his clean hand to reach up and settle on Jillian's shoulder. "Might not be her. Might just be Aura looking for her kid. Jules said 'Oracle' after all, not 'Goddess'." He tries to keep a steady gaze on Jillian, his features as soft as they can be for someone as tired and frayed at the edges as he was. "A mom holding onto hope and spending resources to try and follow up."

She looks back into Haut's eyes, her frustration not waning. "I don't care so much what the Oracle is or isn't doing, right now," she said, lowering her voice with regards to Haut's proximity, but no less upset. "I want to know what the person I spent centuries being part of is doing in all this, to where she hasn't said a gods-damned word to anyone in almost half a decade! Especially when all of this bullshit is going on around us. You'd think they'd have something to say about it, and if the Holyland is sending out scouts, then that means she has a perfectly-viable way to reach out." It's kind of apparent that she's just lashing out with nothing but errant emotion as fuel, knowing Haut can't help her.

Haut doesn't wither in the face of the emotional outburst, he told a man to get a stepladder the other day, he's been through worse. Even if it is uniquely frustrating that it's something happening to someone he cares about and there's not much he can do to assist. "What's five years to people who have lived for centuries? What's half a decade in immortality? There's another side to this page anyways. Maybe she's just been trying to give you a break. Maybe we were never meant to actually be involved in this."

Saying that last sentence leaves Haut standing on the verbal equivalent of a sheer cliffside. He's well aware of his position in all this. The outsider. Someone who wasn't even supposed to be involved at all, someone who kind of just bungled in and fucked things up before calling it a good job. He inhales after a moment, and looks up to Jillian once more.

"We can put this down and walk away, if that's what you'd prefer. Take a trip out to Shrike or something."

Maybe we were never meant to actually be involved in this.

Those words strike deep into Jillian's immortal heart, pulling at something she didn't know could actually be pulled at. She's not mad. She's not hurt. But the prospect of being a part of someone for close to three-hundred years and then just... kicked aside and told "not your problem anymore" just felt wrong on so many levels, and she didn't know why. And it wasn't anyone's fault, because she asked for this. She asked for a normal life. She asked to be separated from Lillian, to be with Haut, to live as a normal person would. So why did this suggestion bother her as much as it did?

No, she knew why. She'd just had this conversation; fate, destiny, lack of personal will to avoid either. Her own sister was stuck in an endless loop of the same making, desperately wanting out, to have the same freedom that she, herself, now possessed. And even Haut had expressed his disgust, over and over, lately, about how it seemed like it was just borderline impossible to escape from it all. The similarities between them all were there, even amongst the gross differences that kept them separate. And beyond all this, how was she supposed to have a 'normal life' when it was obvious that something residual was still clawing at them from the shadows, both literal and otherwise?

There wasn't an escape from it. They could run, take a trip, move away. It would still come for them. As long as the pieces remained unattached to the puzzle they belonged to, they would remain apart of... this. All of this. The Mana Tribe. The Sinistrals. They had gotten involved, and there was no backing out now, even this long after they had done their parts.

And Ambience was out there, somewhere. He probably held the key to all of this, so unless they found him, there wouldn't be any rest, for any of them. There wasn't really a choice in the matter.

Jillian sighed, raising a hand up and placing it over the top of Haut's, on her shoulder. "No," she said, sounding a bit calmer. "We'll stay here, and we'll figure out what's going on. One hour at a time, one day at a time, whatever it takes." She stops talking, but the look on her face makes it clear that that's not all she has to say. Momentarily, she averts her eyes from Haut's face. "Haut, you might want to sit down for a minute. Now that all of this is out, I think there's a few things you need to know, too."

Haut watches Jillian's face as she processes all this. He never actually thought she'd say yes, of course. It, just wasn't who she was. For everything that she had been in the past, she never struck him as the kind to just say 'alright let's fuck off'. Was there some part of him that wanted to? Yes. He said so to Jules, he had meant it. A chance to break away, to be lost again for another half decade and never come back to this place that makes him feel like he's being pulled under the waves of fate to drown.

But here they stood. Both of them, having to deal with the fact that they were involved in it. Her hand laying over top of his own gains a small smile, but the pregnant pause keeps him from relaxing fully. As always though, when Jillian asks something from him, he does it. Today's seat of choice is a small stool set nearby the framework he's been working on most recently. It's not exactly designed for comfort, but he's not about to make her wait for him to drag something else into the room.

Once situated, Haut looks up once again, idly trying to wipe his other hand clean on his pants. "Alright, what's up?"

She doesn't speak right away. In fact, it's at least a good ten seconds or so before she finds her voice, apparently using that time to put her shit together and find the best 'layout' for all of this to come out of her, in a way that wouldn't cause the most harm, emotional or otherwise. "Okay, so," she said, glancing behind her to see where she was, and opting to lift one bare foot up and place it flat against the wall behind her, taking on that same one-legged weight-bracing posture she'd had earlier. "Let's start with this. Ambience is here, somewhere, in the Middle Realm. I don't know where, but I have confirmation that he is alive and we--" she stops, not able to really confirm that part. "Okay, he's alive, at least. I don't know any details, such as how long, or what he's doing, just that he's out there somewhere. So that at least means that this isn't all a fruitless gesture on our parts."

"Right, I figured the kid's been on the ground since-" Haut's words fail for a moment as he processes what Jillian said a little better. 'have confirmation'? She had just said that Lillian at least wasn't talking to her. Ah, that's why she had stepped off. Some oracle shit, or something. "Ok. So he's alive, cool. We're right on that part. No word on if he's being puppeted by a Sinistral or something still, but we know he's out there. But, that's not why you sat me down." His eye searches her face, trying to suss out what's going on.

Okay, that was the easy part. She hadn't figured that this information would have put him out at all, and Haut's reaction was pretty much what she'd expected, more or less. Two more things, minimal, still needed to come out, and she wasn't sure which one was going to cause the most trouble. "I don't think he's being puppeted by anything," she said, taking obvious care in her word choice. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he's not. Like I said, I don't know where he is or what he's doing, but it was made pretty clear that he's out there somewhere, doing his own thing with whatever intent or purpose he's doing it for or toward. If I had to guess, I'd say he's probably just lost in the aftermath and trying to figure out what's going on. It's been roughly a year or so, from what I have been made to understand." She was beating around the bush. Why didn't she just tell him? Fucking hell, she knew better than this. He wasn't going to jump on her with a knife to her throat just because she told him that the fucking Sinistral of Death was up and walking around again, that she was where this information came from, and that Jillian had willingly let her walk free instead of acing her, right?

...Right?

Her inferiority complex was starting to surface again, and it was difficult to hide it. She was the stronger being, and she could defend herself if attacked for any reason. But deep inside, she couldn't tell herself she didn't belong to him, on some primal level. It was... that was just how it was. This was her place, her reason for being. She didn't want to think of him being angry or vengeful with her. She didn't like... causing problems.

Haut's brow furrows a little bit as Jillian lays things out more. The content of her words was; welcome. More than that it was good! But, that didn't change the fact that she was tapdancing all over a line right now and afraid of it. "Alright." She had specifically warned him away from following her, and come back with information that no one should be able to know. Not when some Mana Tribe tracker had been on the same case, not when the Sprites themselves had no clue what was up.

A thought strikes him. Information like this, things that specific, if she had sought it from a source it might have cost her. What? What did it cost her? Was that why she's so afraid? He wouldn't have thought it except for that breakdown earlier. Tension starts to creep up within him like a spring being wound. "So, he's lost and confused. But not a puppet. That still means we need to find him, and see if he's the source of these shadows." Pushing through the dread was difficult, but she trusted him so far, he wasn't going to betray it.

"So, all that's left is finding him, still. No problem. Was there anything else to throw down or?"

She averts her eyes... both only for a moment, then she looks back up again. These last five years hadn't been for nothing, and he didn't deserve to be deceived. But whether that was she, herself, saying that out of her humane fondness for him, or the 'fearful underling' part of her that just didn't want to be ground under his heel in the event he reacted harshly, she wasn't completely sure. But either way, it didn't matter, and he deserved to know what was really going on. All of it, not just most. "I received word that someone was in Mandala, and I went to see her," she said, pushing off the wall and placing both feet on the floor of the garage. "She had all this information, because she was apparently apart of the same situation, in similar circumstances, that brought Ambience back to the Middle Realm." She hesitates, but brings one hand up to her chest, loosely closing her fingers into a fist thereupon. "It was Erim. She's back, along with Ambience, and apparently there's something going on in the Underworld that doesn't want either of them there, for whatever reason. That was why they were returned here." She exhales through her nose, a breath that had been held the entire time.

She had way more she could add to that, but even as she tries to offer a "but..." or a "however" or even a "just so you know...", the words wouldn't form. It was like she had to wait for the first part to come out, first, before she could do damage control.

As Jillian restarts her explanation of the events, Haut relaxes a little. It followed his expectations for a bit, but things felt like they came to a crashing halt when that name comes out. In the time she's known Haut, he's had few physical tells. Plenty of verbal ones, Jillian could maybe even write a book psychoanalyzing his usage of cursewords and other vulgarities and be fairly accurate.

Erim's name locks him in place. The words afterwards aren't even fully processed. He inhales. Both hands raise to his face, the slightest of trembles evident in them as he covers his face. His exhale, had he been a dragon, would have been fire. Instead, the words that come out with them carry a similar destructive tone.

"You're telling me that you went out, solo, to hunt down the Sinistral of Death. By yourself. After forbidding me from following you. After you had been thrown around every which way by some shadow ripping out part of your-" In his momentary groping for words, Haut rakes his fingers down his face before he drops his hands into his lap. His single eye locks to the woman before him, a maelstrom of emotions across his face and in his voice now. "What would you have done if you couldn't defend yourself Jill? Was the last thing I was going to hear from you 'Alright, don't follow me, I'll be back in a day'?"

Incredulity, hurt, some anger, worry. The facade broken, all of it flows out. "Erim? Okay, the secrecy, sure- but, no I mean-." He closes his mouth, but it opens almost immediately, words flowing as a sort of train of thought escapes them, fully off the rails. "I get that I'm not always trustworthy but- I've been trying and- every time you've asked something of me." It's hard to rationalize. To understand even. She was one of the worst ones, but Jill had just gone up to her?

"Why?" The word stands as a question for the hundred of thoughts screaming through his mind, all of them refusing to make sense.

She's silent. She knew this wasn't going to be easy, but actually seeing the results of her admission, firsthand, was a different beast altogether. The fear of what he could do next, at any moment, paralyzed her where she stood, and it took all the amount of courage and confidence she'd attained just from those years of living with Haut, as a normal person, under normal circumstances, in a normal life, to break free from that paralysis and defend her actions. It... helped, that most of his disbelief lay in the direction of his fear for what could've happened to her, rather than most anything else, but still... "I knew she would have something that could help us," she said, hardly believing that sentence that she just spoke, and knowing Haut would believe it even less. "If I brought you with me, her head would have hit the floor before a single word had been able to leave her mouth." Her eyes are blatant reflections of the fear she was feeling as she attempted to salvage the fallout of her decision to open up, and for a moment, she wondered why she hadn't just kept it to herself. He hadn't pressed her. She could've just...

...addressed it later. How much worse would it have been then than it was, now?

The silence overtakes her again, and she hated every second of it. This wasn't her fault. Why was she on trial for something she thought would help them? "... Something stripped her of her powers," she offers, after another few agonizing moments. "She's no more powerful than a farmer in the field, at the moment."

Tell him she's your sister, you stupid bitch.

How would that help things? How in any realm of any world would that rectify any of this? Then he would just distrust her, too. More than he probably already did. So she retained her silence thereafter, not allowing her eyes to leave his face, be it from fear or determination, but likely some odd mix of both in varying amounts.

Through all of the explanation, Haut remains still, sitting as he had been requested. Hearing she had some kind of angle, knowing Jill had known something that would help her out was one thing. And her rationalization for why she couldn't bring him. He hadn't done anything to prove her wrong. Days ago he was cursing the idea of having to deal with Erim again. Of course she couldn't have trusted him. Anything he told himself now would probably be bullshit anyways, considering how easily it flowed out of his mouth.

Hearing that she was powerless now, hearing that she could do nothing. It meant Jillian hadn't killed her. It meant that she was still there, in Mandala. It meant that she was still loose.

It meant that Jill had decided it was better that way.

Haut takes a ragged breath in, holds it for a moment, and then releases it. "Right. Ok." He tries to force the knee-jerk hurt and pain down. She was terrified, and he hadn't done enough still to give her reason to trust him. Reaching up, he tugs at his head to crack his neck and try and relieve a little stress, the lancing momentary pain helping temper him some.

"Ok. So, she's back. She's unable to defend herself, much less hurt anyone else. She's not the cause." This- hardly helped. His brain tried to spool up and consider who could be doing what, but it felt like a gear with broken teeth. Instead, he just looks at Jill, assuming she had some other revelation to help them.

She doesn't, actually; as soon as Haut's hand reaches up to crack his neck, a black aura envelopes her body in a familiar silhouette; her eyes go wide with enhanced fear already there, looking very much like an animal that was ready to bolt, and, in fact, the magic surrounding her body at the moment was, one and the same, the magic she employed each time she traveled through the shadows.

She was ready to flee, but... hesitated. Just on the briefest of moments, in the smallest amount of holding out, she hesitated. She didn't offer anything else, but just watched his face, not hearing the words that followed, simply... waiting to see if her life was actually in danger or not, if she had a reason to run away and not come back.

In that moment that she looks at him, there isn't a sense of anger left in Haut. There's hurt. Sadness. Haut sets his hand back into his lap, the motion slow and deliberate. "Dont." Unlike the last single word statement, this wasn't fully a question. It was a request, a hope. He knew this was a lot for her, just as it was for him. But more than anything he didn't want to see her run away like that. Not from him.

There is still obvious hesitation in her eyes, but the fact that he did not act in any sort of follow-up retaliation told her that, likely, he wasn't planning to. It takes a few moments, but her aura flickers and fades away, and she takes a breath, remaining where she is. Where did that leave them? Should she just be kept on a tether, at this point, so she didn't do stupid shit like that anymore?

She didn't want to tell him. She couldn't; the fear of what Haut might see in that association with Erim, as her sister, was too much. Not yet. Not right now. She could feel, at least, that he wasn't going to be aggressive with her over this, but she also knew he wasn't taking it well, in whatever other ways that things could be 'not taken well.' And she didn't want that any more than any other emotion he could be feeling at the moment.

And then she spoke. "I just... wanted to help," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "I know you're... working a lot. You've got a lot on your plate, and I'm just sitting here, nodding my head and going along with whatever you're doing. All I've been is a liability, lately, especially after what happened at the fountain. I'm just... one more thing for you to have to spend your time worrying about. I found a chance to help, to get us somewhere, to get us past this, eventually, hopefully. And I took it, even if there were risks. I just... I just wanted to help, Haut. I'm sorry." She has all the temperament of a scared dog that is trying not to be hit with a newspaper, at that moment.

And there were tears, because of course there was. Immortal, succubus, female; it didn't matter. She had emotions like anyone else, and in that moment, they crumbled, and she hung her head in equal parts fear, shame, and regret, as wet lines saturated her cheeks on their way down.

Once Jillian's head hangs, Haut slowly rises up off the stool. It takes a few steps to cross the gap between them, but when he does he opens his arms and then wraps her in a hug. The entire time, he hopes that he doesn't close his arms around the fleeting form of a shadow, and it's only when he pulls her properly close does the thought leave his head.

"You have never been something I considered a liability." When he speaks, he makes his words as clear as possible, enunciating to put and importance on each one that could still never approach her own importance to him. "I have never thought that I would be better without you. I have never thought that you are a burden to me. And any time I spend thinking about you is time I think of more fondly than any other moment I spend."

He breathes in, words and feelings swirling around in him but refusing to come out orderly in the moment. So he simply closes his mouth, and separates from Jill just barely so he can look up to her once more. His clean hand comes up, working to try and wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I love you, Jill." Once more, she's brought into that hug, one bereft of anything but the simple attempt to comfort her.

"It's been a rough last couple of days, hasn't it?"

She barely hears the sound of Haut leaving his stool, at that moment, not really caring about what happens to her. In her mind, she'd just taken one mess and traded it for another, without actually cleaning up the first mess, in the first place. But then she feels his arms embrace her, and though she is startled, it is for all the right reasons, and is enough to at least bring her sorrow to a pause, at least temporarily. She listens, having heard this before; the praise, the approval, the promise of only devotion and hope for the lives they both have yet to lead. She'd heard this before, and though it comforted her, she also knew that there were still times waiting between them that she would do something else that was stupid or thoughtless, and then they'd be right back here again. Why did he tolerate--

And then, there it was. She felt his hand on her cheek, clearing the residual sadness from her pale skin. The feel of that hand was... different. It was his hand, the same hand that had guided her over the last five years in everything they'd done, everywhere they'd gone, but there was something else there, and when she realized what it was, even before those four words came out of his mouth, she knew. It shot through her like an arrow made of silver, but in the best possible way, at the best possible time. She stood there as he brought his arms back around her, letting everything fall into place, all the reasoning he ever gave her for why he did what he did, the reason he tolerated her, and the reason he showed fear, anytime she implied he, himself, was better off without her. She closed her eyes as her arms drew themselves back around him, holding him as closely as he was holding her, if not tighter.

She really... wasn't a pet, after all. She never had been, except in her own eyes. And she was an idiot for needing to take this long to finally understand it. "I..." she starts, her voice a little strained from her lingering silence and the sobs she'd been inundated with just a short while prior. "I love you... too, Haut." She opened her eyes even as she held him, blinking once as she looked out across the messy garage floor, at all the sheer and utter crap he constantly engaged himself, on a regular basis... for her sake, as well as his own. She didn't even hear his last words, her mind too busy at that moment to afford her ears the ability to actually function properly for that moment in time.

This was where she belonged, and where she needed to stay.

No matter what.

He held that moment. Those words. It was a whirlwind of emotions, but it hardly mattered how they had gotten here. A feeling that's been there for five years, covered up and hidden for the fear of it. The last time he had loved someone she had carved him open and left him bleeding out. That had been the end of everything, and the start of it all. It had been the box-

But this had been different. There was no reason for her to be lying to him. Not like this. Not after so long. He laughs, softly, hardly believing it at first even. "Fuck, that's good, or else this was gonna be really, really awkward." He holds the hug for a few moments extra before pulling away, offering only a sheepish smile. "Damn it feels good to finally say it though."

Her thoughts are almost too inundating for her to realize that his grip had loosened slightly, and only snapped back to a measure of local awareness when he spoke, and, of course, it was his own brand of tension-easing, in a way that only he could deliver. But that was okay, and she was okay with it, too. "As..." she starts again, but hesitates before continuing. "As a succubus, something like this is not... really something we're capable of feeling. Not truly." She looks at him, her eyes still thoughtful, as if she were trying, still, to piece some things together that she hadn't quite wrapped her head around, yet. "And while I can't eschew my heritage, I can understand that five years is a long time for someone to... evolve. Including me. And this feeling, I think, is a result of that evolution I've gone through. I... felt it, at some point, and I didn't truly know what it was, for the longest time. But the longer I stuck around, the more I got to see what you did, how you went about your day... the things you said to me, the hesitation you showed when I was even in the slightest amount of danger or peril..." She trails off, a stupid little grin showing on her face. "It just continued to grow. The result of having a 'normal life,' as I always wanted."

She lifts her eyes away from Haut, for the moment, only to glance behind her, out the massive hole still present against the garage door. "But we're not done, yet, either," she said.

Haut's a simple man, he's not really up to date on all the rules of demons and whatnot. But even he knows that making a joke about 'evolution' here would be in bad taste. She's no pokemon. So, he lets the sweet sentiments just wash over him as he gets lost in that grin. The glance at the hole does remind him of where he was at in his process though. "Right. I was trying to retrofit it for a new power source. I'll uh-" It, probably wasn't the right time to tell her that he had shoved radioactive materials into his chest cavity.

"I know we've got work to do, with the kid. I'll be able to get things running soon, but it might be time for a little bit of a break." He frankly just wanted to go sit down some more after all that, the emotional high after such a low making it equally hard to wrap his head around the engineering issues in the project. "You uh, wanna hear about it over lunch?"

She considers for a moment, hearing all of this but without taking her eyes away from the space beyond that hole, though it wasn't clear what she was looking at, if it was even anything at all. "Actually," she said, "I don't... have much of an appetite, at the moment. Kind of feels like my stomach is a little twisted, sort of. I'm not sure why, it's a weird feeling that I'm not familiar with, but I think it'll go away eventually." She smirks, just a little bit. "But I would, definitely, like to ease back for a little bit, even..." She pauses, eyes lighting up as she looks back at Haut. "Actually, can we go sit by the river again? I was rather fond of that, honestly."

"Hah, alright. Wet butts down by the river, sounds good to me." Had he just been down that way? Sure, but business and pleasure were two different things and he was much happier to be making this walk as opposed to the last one. "Let's go just enjoy the day for a little, that sounds good." A chance to get his mindset back in the right place was a welcome one and, more than anything else-

He just couldn't say no to her when her eyes lit up like that.

---------------------------

Within her study, behind the wards deeply layered into the very tower stones, Aelys Lilith deMalfue frowned thoughtfully as the paper linked to the business card began to be filled with writing. Hardly suspicious nor worth consideration in itself, given she had given the card because the demon was looking for someone, likely it had merely been activated upon one of the preset key-words and it would turn out to be filled with nothing more then a recounting of the personage she had admitted to having located already. It was only later, as she absentmindedly checked the recordings made before the simple spell had burned itself out, that she found out just what a treasure trove she had accidentally stumbled upon. 'Well now..this does rather change things.'


A simple gesture and another tome flew to her hand from its place amongst many others like it lining the walls of her study. Turning the pages, she atlast came upon a page related to the things she had thusfar discovered about the little upjumped Dryad seemingly in charge of this most peculiar Planar Demesne. Taking up a quill, she soon filled the page further, before deciding to try a little..experiment with this new information. It was fragmented and incomplete, but given what she had in mind should prove sufficient for the task. Names held considerable powers, something few if any thusfar seemed to realise in this strange world. Holding up a hand, she ritually intoned, trying out the syllables as her mystical senses extended themselves. 'Aura.' It took several repetitions to find that if she Thought 'Aurora', and yet said aloud 'Aura', the partial name resonated best, which further confirmed her suspicions regarding the Mantles involved.


Scribbling further annotations, she proceeding to the next phase of her little Experiment. 'Aura, Oracle of Tribes.' The first Name and Title resonated successfully, and she continued. 'Aura, Mother of Ambience', whilest the second was rougher due to lacking more details about this, newest information, the connection was firm enough on its own she nearly felt it ring as it locked into place. Thinking in the brief time before the required third invocation, the Warlock hesitated, instinctively, given the links thusfar found, it was clear that this Dryad fulfilled the role of Queen to Be, thus Lady was the correct term, yet for all they were of Summer, these odd Fae did not identify as such. 'Aura, Lady..of the Tree' despite her slightest hesitation, the link was forged, and above her palm, formed a small stilled image, a merest fragment of the Lady in question taking form as an illusion. 'Thrice conjured, well now, isnt this nice. A face to go with the name.'