adrasian

[adrasian]

Adrasia couldn't say he didn't expect that mask the younger man so swiftly tried to put into place. It didn't matter. He could feel everything leaking out from beneath it, wounded and raw. For a moment, he simply let Gabriel make his excuses, offering no outward reaction beyond a quiet, expectant look. "Councilman de Rochefort allows me whatever is within my desire to pursue," He said finally, head tilting slightly as he held out the glass to the warlock, not yet rebuffed, "When it comes to following men, at least." Would Gabriel know of him? Adrasia supposed not. Raphael was so frequent and banal in his cruelty, he would not be surprised if stories of how he'd abused the angel (and how Adrasia, on one occasion, had fought back) had faded into irrelevance so far as recounting them to a son. He had a brief moment of wondering after the fate of his old wings, painful and sudden, before forcing himself to focus on what was more important in that moment.

"I am not here to judge you. Or interrogate you," Adrasia continued, his voice level and certain, "But you're afraid. I would not want to be alone, if I felt so vulnerable." He thought it would be unproductive to make the other feel as if he was being babied or pitied. Adrasia would not do either, in fact. His nature simply compelled him to help. He considered Gabriel for a long moment, considered his own abilities. "Would you like me to soothe it?" He offered finally, quiet. It was well within the boundaries of his empathy to ease an emotion, old and practiced as the angel was, and Gabriel's were so vivid as to be painful. When he had in the past, he had done so with a light touch over a mortal mind, unnoticed. But Gabriel would be intelligent enough to notice, later on if not in the exact moment. That would be no proper foundation for trust between them, if such a thing was possible. "I will not make you feel anything you don't want. But I can at least give you the time to catch your breath."

Dr. Gabriel Gaudet-De Luca was okay. Really, he was. After his near-death experience that spring night, he had gone back to work the very next day, a smile plastered on his face and his usual laser-sharp focus intact. He kept up his pleasant conversations, flirted with coworkers during downtime, and saw patient after patient when on duty. As soon as he left the clinic, he threw himself into his research under Lucien’s supervision. To the outside world, the fact that Ransom had almost killed him was just a minor, forgettable incident, on par with a night of heavy drinking with friends. What no one else knew, however, was that this hangover was far worse than anything alcohol-induced.

Gabriel still woke up with a start at least three nights a week, forehead slick with cold sweat, breath caught in his throat. For a few moments—even after clawing his way out of sleep—he would still see the cold, dead smile on Ransom’s lips and feel the searing heat of the cop’s gun barrel pressed against his forehead. But the phantom of that dragon’s presence didn’t haunt him only during his sleepless nights. A few weeks ago, he had nearly incinerated Ravi with a sphere of blue, superheated fire just because he had appeared behind him without warning while Gabriel was distracted by a particularly complex patient chart, waiting for his coffee at the vending machine. Every sudden noise, every flicker of movement at the edge of his vision made him tense, triggering his fight-or-flight response. And the aftermath of the shooting didn’t help soothe his growing unrest. He could’ve handled the humiliation of being saved by Cairo and Kaden—though, come on. Nearly seven billion people in the world, and the only two who came to his aid were the last ones he’d ever want to owe anything to.

But what truly hurt was his fathers’ reactions. Lucien barely acknowledged what had happened to him, even after seeing him nearly bleed out in his suite. Gabriel had the distinct feeling the doctor had been more concerned about the state of his snow-white carpet than the fact his son had ended up looking like a piece of Swiss cheese. Raphael, on the other hand, had seemed more interested—at least on the surface—but hadn’t even waited a full week before claiming Ransom as his own slave, parading him around like a prized new toy. Somehow, Gabriel doubted this was purely due to the paternal instinct to avenge him. He already knew the truth: he had been born from nothing, a whim of Lucien’s, and if someone eventually succeeded in ending his existence, that’s where he’d return—nothingness. No photo, no article, no memory would remain. He knew that, to the family he had sworn an eternal pledge of fealty to, he was little more than a stranger. And if you were a Gaudet-De Luca, love wasn’t unconditional. It had to be earned. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he was almost able to separate his rational side—the one with a degree in Psychiatry—from his emotional one, and put a name to what he was going through. But Gabriel couldn’t allow himself to use words like "depression," "anxiety disorder," or "PTSD" when it came to himself.

Instead, he focused on something his kin found more acceptable: rage. Quite frankly, it was the only thing that had kept him going those past three months—a constant, blinding, roaring fury that gave him the strength to get up every day, put on his mask of flawless perfection, and throw himself into his work with even more brilliance and dedication than before. Work kept him grounded. But it would also be the key to solving all his problems. He would become so incredibly powerful that no one would ever again have the opportunity—or the desire—to oppose him, either physically or emotionally. He would become a monster, most likely, but a monster with thick, armor-plated, iron-coated skin. But he wasn’t there yet.

So, on the night of the ball, he had done everything in his power to stay distracted: approached two Councilmen, hit on Magnai shamelessly, tormented his brother a little, and wooed both Dair and Briar. And yet, his gaze kept wandering restlessly around the ballroom—until it landed on the one person he had dreaded seeing: Ransom. He had hoped their last encounter—when Gabriel had used every weapon at his disposal to push the slave’s mind and body close to the breaking point—would have brought him some closure, somehow. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. Seeing Ransom, dressed like a true gentleman, drinking and chatting at the ball like any other guest, dragged Gabriel straight back to the moment when, crawling on the floor like a worm and on the brink of death, he had begged for his life.

Frozen in place, Gabriel was suddenly flooded with everything he had spent a quarter of a year suppressing—rage, fear, sadness, betrayal and pain all crashed down on him at once, like an iron grip squeezing the air from his lungs.

A voice in his mind told him to strike. He was the predator again, the one holding the knife. He could torment Ransom all he wanted now, as long as he stayed within the limits of what Raphael considered acceptable. Another voice screamed at him to run—to teleport back to his bedroom, protected by so many wards and enchantments it was probably safer than a nuclear bunker. Instead, he stayed there, paralyzed by two completely opposing instincts, his heart likely beating at a rate that would have been lethal for an ordinary human. No. He couldn’t just stand there and watch Ransom stroll around the ballroom without a care in the world. He had to get out.

He turned on his heel and made his way quickly toward the corridor, the lively noise of the party behind him reduced to a muffled hum. His head started spinning, and he had to lean against the wall for support before hastily running toward one of the bathrooms as his stomach began to twist violently. Inside the empty washroom, Gabriel rushed to the sink, gripping the edges so hard his knuckles turned white. His stomach gave one final spasm before emptying its contents into the white ceramic basin. Panting for breath, he tried to pull himself together—and when he finally looked up at the mirror, he saw a man behind his pale, sweat-covered reflection. Shit.

"Yup, it’s me," the man said, smiling pleasantly as he turned. Immediately, the warlock scrambled to put up his usual perfect façade, but it was less convincing than usual. His eyes were wide, his voice a little distant. "Don’t worry, I just drank too much. You know how these parties are, right?" he lied shamelessly, praying to every infernal creature ever conceived that the newcomer would buy it. But Gabriel’s mind had been through too much, had taken too many hits in the last few minutes, and his magic was beginning to fail him. The mental shields that usually kept his thoughts safe were starting to falter, flickering like a dying lightbulb.

He had become a pulsating star, radiating waves of terror, fury, and regret—and projecting them involuntarily onto anyone capable of perceiving them. "I told you I’m fine. You can go," he insisted as the stranger asked him if he wanted some water, his tone somewhere between cheerful and impatient. He just wanted to be left alone in that moment, because maybe –just maybe– Doctor Gabriel Gaudet-De Luca was not okay. "I see from your collar that you're not an unclaimed slave, so I’m sure your master won’t be pleased to hear you’re following men into bathrooms. Bye!"

[adrasian]

Adrasia didn't startle when that hand landed on him, but he did straighten up quickly, his chin jutting up a bit like he expected Bastion to rebuke him for something. "I know that," He retorted, finally jolted out of his puzzlement by the statement's frankness, "And you don't have to apologize for swearing in my presence. I will not faint." Heavens knew Finnegan had said far worse things within earshot of the celestial for years. He paused. "But the sentiment is appreciated, I suppose."

Maybe he should've left that line of thinking alone, but the celestial felt he could hardly help it. "I mean that it doesn't matter in terms of feeling shame for previous behaviors. Even a demon can repent. Honesty is what is of real importance. All the proper confession in the world doesn't matter if you don't truly want to be better." And most demons couldn't care less, he didn't add.

Bastion knew that Adrasia was a slave as much as he was a slave but he couldn't imagine him servicing any of the masters. He was sure that he must have had to but he seemed higher than that. Was it just because Bastion knew he was an angel? Maybe he was a freak in bed or maybe he provided Roland intellectual conversation. These things were above Bastion and also he didn't much care.

"Oh no, I was just trying to say sorry for cussing in front of you," Bastion said. He was guileless, honest. His blue eyes started to glaze over ever so slightly as Adrasia spoke of the Maker and contrition. He spoke so fancy, it was almost too hard for Bastion to parse through. He had spoken Italian for most of his two hundred some-odd years and though he was fluent in English, the fancy shit went over his head. There was a language barrier that made him seem stupider than he actually was and boy, did he feel stupid right now. The hellhound blinked hard and reached out to put a big, warm hand on Adrasia's shoulder to squeeze gently.

"If you're trying to say that it doesn't matter if I'm a demon or not, it really does. If I go into a church, I could set on fire."

[adrasian]

This time, Adrasia found it much easier to follow Manny's pace, thoroughly relaxing once they'd done a full lap without wobbling. It was a welcome moment of peace, of gentle focus as they skated side by side and the sounds of the other festival goers hummed around them. For a little while, the celestial could almost pretend they were somewhere else entirely. The feeling was just as melancholy as it was welcome. After a while, he lightly touched Manny's arm, inclining his head back out towards the benches where they'd changed. "Let's go. I believe I owe you something to eat for that cocoa."

Manny met Adrasia's grin with one of his own, green eyes bright underneath the string lights shining down on the manmade ice rink. "And you're a quick learner," he complimented back. He pushed forward again, casually drifting down the ice in line with the rest of the crowd circling around. "How 'bout a few more laps and then we can check out the rest of the village, yeah?" he suggested, glancing over at Adrasia again.

[adrasian]

If Adrasia had been back in his body with his empathy, perhaps he would've picked up more of Finn's tangled emotions. As it was, he noticed enough in reading his old friend's body language through the celestial's own face. Strange, how much those different mannerisms made his body seem like another's. Adrasia turned to catch Finn's eyes directly rather than through the mirror. "I mean that," He insisted, "We will see it done. One day." It would not even cross his mind that Finn might have his own alien reasons to think again. Adrasia might finish the job himself in that moment, given the opportunity.

His gaze dropped at the change of subject, all that conviction flickering in this situation in which the celestial felt so totally out of his depth. "More of this is probably safest. We can hide away here, hope that Roland doesn't try to impose..." Adrasia didn't think he would. "It will last for days, won't it?" The lightest hint of despair snuck into his voice.

Finn blinked once at Adrasia, mouth opening and closing immediately in the shape of a frown. He gripped at his own bicep for a moment and relaxed. He didn't have the heart to tell his friend he held doubts of ever getting freed from Bradbury. Not unless one of them killed the other. The thought of killing Gareth still lingered in his mind, the hate behind it so strong he could taste it, however... there was also that small part of him that craved the rough and sometimes violent sex with his master as it also fed his vice's appetite. He'd never fucking say that out loud to anyone because even he didn't want to admit to the possible hesitation to end the life of the man who deserved nothing more.

Instead his lips curved into a rueful smile he hoped was convincing enough for his friend. Maybe there was a chance Gareth would grow bored of him and let him go. Slimmest fucking chance but still a chance. "Aye, we should. I'll look forward to that day," he said. "Until then, we should focus on what we're doin' with this body swap situation."

[adrasian]

Adrasia couldn't help a small smile at that. "How wise you are, Finnegan," He teased, "I will be sure to give the councilman your opinion." Not that it would do much, even if the angel actually did. Roland was ancient as Adrasia was and few their age were capable of uprooting such deeply ingrained behaviors, personalities. That might not stop Adrasia from trying though, in the celestial's own subtle way.

He slid out from his seat to follow in Finn's footsteps once he was finished, passing the familiar the rinsed plate and waiting idly by the sink as if anticipating another task. "Ah, I was allowed a car down from the castle. I expect another can be sent if I asked on Roland's behalf. I would not mind that, or another ride, if you're offering?" Adrasia gave Finn a curious look. The teleportation was a nifty trick, but even when he'd been free to use it for himself, Adrasia had preferred travel the long way. It gave him time to think, to observe the area around the castle. If nothing else, it gave them both a little more time were nothing was expected of them by their masters.

"Those who feel too much, in my opinion, often tend to let their emotions dictate their actions," Finn stated possibly speaking from personal experience. He possessed centuries worth of anger that drove him to impulsivity and stupid decisions. Something he was still working on and would probably always be a work in progress. Sometimes he envied those who could think first and then act or not act.

He snorted and nodded in agreement to Adrasia's statement. "You're absolutely bang on there," he said. He knew Adrasia was strong enough to handle someone like Roland physically though he sometimes worried about his old friend's empathy and kindness getting taken advantage of by people who didn't deserve it. Finn's worldview shifted drastically to the point he didn't believe in goodness for the sake of goodness until he saw it. Everyone was neutral until the first act. He should've learned to listen to his gut sooner, it might've saved him a lot of trouble.

A few more bites and his plate was cleared. He was back on his feet to rinse it off and tuck it into the dishwasher. "Not that I'm kickin' you out now, but how'd you get down 'ere?" he wondered. "D'you need a ride back up to the castle or I can teleport you when we're done 'ere."

[adrasian]

Adrasia blinked in surprise at the statement, but his smile widened softly, appreciating its sincerity. "I believe he is not a cruel man," He allowed, "And I thank you for the sentiment." Beauty, the angel had witnessed much of in his travels across the earth. Kindness, too, in much greater amounts than might be expected. He let Ric get lost in his thoughts at the question, infinitely patient (even if that was not exactly his primary virtue). The answer that finally came only had Adrasia's brow furrowing in tender sympathy. "It's not so strange. I understand completely; at times, even, I have wondered the same myself. But there are ways." How could he not wonder, when captivity was so antithetical to Adrasia's mission, his being? He wasn't so sure he'd perfectly answered that question, but for this young man? He could offer enough. "It's most certainly possible. We can go now, if you like." He was about to protest the notion of repayment until Ric described what he had in mind and to that Adrasia could only nod. He had the feeling music would be just as good for the other to provide as it would be for himself to hear, if the enthusiasm radiating from Ric was anything to go by. "I would be delighted to hear you play," Adrasia responded, utterly truthful.

There was another flicker of nervousness he sensed from the other, but the question that came past Ric's lips surprised the celestial momentarily out of springing to immediately soothe it. The rest of the words that followed had him no less surprised, though perhaps he had known, somehow, beneath his conscious mind. There was always a particular resonance Adrasia felt with those blessed by divine blood. And this one was blessed. There was so much fearful hope brimming in Ric's eyes, Adrasia knew he had no option but to be honest with him. He felt his own fear, hope, gladness - even grief, to have the kresnik trapped there. It pained him any of their kind was taken by a place such as this. But perhaps this was the reason Adrasia had found himself imprisoned, for those like him, without the certainty of the Father behind them. "We are," He replied gently, holding Ric's eyes, trying to channel as much reassurance as he could muster, "You have been touched by the same divine power that created me. It is a marvelous blessing. Your mother's guardian must have seen something great in you to bestow it." Had he known this strange angel? Brushed past her in her mission? Adrasia could not help but think of his own wards and wonder what had happened to Ric's mother in the end.

After only a few minutes of conversation, Ric was becoming increasingly certain that Adrasia and Amara were, in some way, kindred spirits. And yet, the more the other spoke, the more Ric came to appreciate the differences between them. Adrasia was like the flame of a candle—calm and steady—while his mother's guardian was more erratic and emotional. Both seemed capable of giving off the same warmth and light, making it impossible for Ric not to smile wistfully. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said softly when Adrasia confirmed he had been claimed and was now at his master's disposal. "Or maybe not—if you believe he's a good man? I…" He faltered, once again struggling to find the right words. "I just hope nothing bad happens to you. You seem like someone who deserves only beauty and kindness in life." He continued, offering an embarrassed but sincere smile. When the celestial asked what he wanted to know, Ric found himself unable to settle on a single question. They stormed through his mind like a hurricane, now that he had finally found someone he felt comfortable with. How can I survive, knowing the people I love are suffering because of me? Is there any hope for us, or should we just give up? Am I really the monster my father says I am? "I want to know how to survive in this castle without losing myself. Which is easier said than done, to be honest—especially since I don’t even know who I really am.” He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head with a sad smile. “I’m sorry if I keep asking strange things. It’s just that… somehow, it feels like you might understand,” he added, lowering his gaze in embarrassment. His eyes lit up at the mention of the guest patio, his excitement shooting skyward. “Are you serious? You can take me to see sunlight?” he asked in a hushed, eager tone, unable to contain his emotions at the thought. “Are you sure it's allowed? If it breaks the rules, then I don't want to. You've already been too kind to me—I couldn’t let you get in trouble on my account. But if it really is possible, then…” He let the sentence hang in the air, feeling vaguely guilty for accepting an invitation Adrasia had probably only extended out of politeness. “But you have to let me repay you. I heard there’s a huge music room somewhere in the castle. I’d be honored to play for you—if I can get my hands on a violin! That is… if you’d like that, of course,” he added quickly, unable to hide an excitement so pure it bordered on childlike. But there was one thing he needed to know first. “Adrasia… I hope I’m not overstepping by asking, but… is there any chance that you’re at least partly celestial?” he asked, hesitating, eyes wide and throat tight with nerves. “The friend I told you about… she’s not just a friend. She’s my mother’s guardian, and… she made me like her. A little. My parents are witches, but I’m… different.” He hoped Adrasia would understand what he couldn’t quite put into words. Kresniks were abominations, according to his father. And even though the man in front of him couldn’t have been more different from Jupiter, Ric was still terrified that he might be repulsed by what he was. “And I wanted to know if… maybe… you and I are… alike. Even just a little.”

[adrasian]

Water was easy enough. Adrasia had the glass full and ready by the time Manny made himself known again, holding it out stoically to the shifter as the other crossed to him. He was very sure he had composed himself properly until Manny commented on it, blinking rapidly as his wings flinched a little closer to his back, which straightened as if he was under far more grave inspection. It was silly. He keep thinking himself beyond such embarrassing, idle feelings. He knew he could not wholly blame them on magic. "Me? Oh, yes. Yes, as right as we can be, with these enchantments over us. Is it this bad every year?" He quickly took another sip from his own cup, an anxious pinch between his brows.

"Just some water, if you wouldn't mind," Manny called out through the soft breaths of mildest exertion hiking up his fresh pair of jeans. "Please and thank you." He trusted Adrasia in his space to know where things were and that he wouldn't do anything he shouldn't. He also knew how the celestial liked to be helpful, even in the smallest ways like pouring a glass of water for the suite's owner.

As he promised, he came back out of his bedroom shortly with clean underwear and pants that he finished buttoning up. He adjusted his t-shirt up briefly flashing a sliver of toned stomach underneath before the soft fabric fell over hem again. He took the glass of water poured for him with another thanks and leaned back against the kitchen counter as he sipped it.

His gaze fell on Adrasia properly now, studying him with wings on display and looking rather heavenly, though his green eyes lingered longer on the slave's facial features. "Are you sure you're all right?" Manny asked. "You seem a bit flushed. You've not been hit with that common cold spell going around, have you?"

[adrasian]

Adrasia's eyes widened at the mention of a fiancé, his smile dimming ever so slightly as he watched Briar eat in the wake of the words. He found his own share of the meal unappetizing all of the sudden. So much future had been robbed from this one. "You are soon to be married, then?" The celestial asked softly, "Or are already?" Oh, how he hoped the Seelie's beloved wasn't planning to do anything rash to get Briar back. But how could he blame them if they were? It would be far from the first such instance.

He smiled when Adrasia agreed, not minding sharing, he had always been a generous person and really, the celestial was being twice as generous by letting him just relax with him. He waited till he was set up at the island with him before handing him a half of the sandwich, taking a bite and humming appreciatively with a nod of his head. He was quick to another bite, and another, realizing just how hungry he had been when he was ignoring it from the intensity of his emotions. He nodded, covering his mouth to finish chewing before he was replying. "Oh, no i'm actually an only child. I just babysat a lot of neighborhood kids when I was younger and then kind of for a job when I moved to England so my fiance didn't have to buy me everything I wanted," He explained, grabbing the spoon to shift it over and dip the unbitten corner of his sandwich in, "The kids all really liked me so it just made it easier, I enjoyed it."

[adrasian]

"Fair payment, yes. I agree." Adrasia's smile lingered, happy both with the sentiment and the energy of the dance, the good company he'd had to execute it with. The expression turned a little sheepish at Manny's next comment and the celestial laughed a bit, shaking his head. "Few who will be such an excellent partner, I'm sure. But I appreciate your indulging me all the same." Yes, Roland, without a doubt. But that would be an entirely different dynamic, Adrasia already knew. He held Manny's eyes for a moment longer, his own full of warmth and gratitude. "I look forward to it. Have a wonderful night, my friend."

Manny hummed, knowing quite a few older films that had that same sentiment between the main characters. His mother enjoyed watching them back home, how they were simple and meant to entertain without overly complicated plot lines. His curiosity always got the better of him and before he knew it Manny was also drawn into the movie he had no plans on watching or enjoying.

His brows rose at Adrasia's sudden warning and he did indeed follow along with the celestial's patient guidance through the last of it. He laughed lightly and returned the bow with a quick one of his own. "All thanks to you," he said. "Seems a fair payment for skating lessons." Manny's tongue swept over his bottom lip as he glanced over the older man once more. "I suppose I should let you dance with others this evening. I'm sure there's a fair few interested." Like Adrasia's master, for one. Course there was still plenty of time in the evening. "I'll find you later for another dance."

[adrasian]

for @councillor-roland

It was quite late by the time Roland took him aside to return to the suite, but Adrasia had barely noticed. His mind was full with parsing the events of the night, retreated into his thoughts the whole journey back to the councilman's rooms - their rooms. Roland had required a dance or two from his slave, of course, but the vast portion of the ball they had spent apart. By the time they were behind closed doors and Adrasia was slowly working off his cufflinks, he felt he'd still barely brushed the surface of his considerations. His encounter with Gabriel still loomed at the forefront, along with the things Adrasia and Manny had discussed. Indeed, the somber awareness of just how long the celestial had been trapped at Krovs flared up all the more strongly as he stepped into the sitting room, eyes roving up at all the finery that had dazzled him that first night Roland had summoned him there.

The vampire in question seemed to be in a good mood, by contrast. It truly had been Roland's style of celebration. Adrasia knew there was no bringing up the reason behind the angel's melancholy with his master, who would surely take it as a personal slight - to think that Bastion had been the main subject of his musings at the beginning of the night. Perhaps it was safest to return to that point, which he was none the less confused by than his other conundrums. "I could not help but notice," Adrasia began lightly, folding his coat carefully over one arm, fingers trailing idly over the back of a plush loveseat, "That I was not the only one you deigned to dress tonight. Has the hellhound made so strong an impression on you?"

[adrasian]

Adrasia's shoulder lifted in a gentle shrug. "Perhaps. But I could be trapped here for your whole lifespan and still have thousands of years after to live freely as my nature directs me." He felt he had not expressed himself properly even as he said it, struggling a moment with the words. "I am capable of enduring. I do not brood out of pity for myself. I am..." He blew out a short breath, head bumping back against the tree as he looked up into its branches. "Well. I suppose it is as you say. Frustrated." Idling, yes. That was the worst part. Not even his hopeful overtures to the other slaves seemed able to cure that restlessness.

His eyes rested on the shifter as Manny thought over his answer. "Five years..." Adrasia echoed wonderingly. The pause lingered as he considered this, imagined Manny amongst the others in the Undercroft for that amount of time, at the mercy of the same masters. It was a queasy, unpleasant image. "You have borne it well," He finally said. There was one more question that yet remained in the angel's mind. They had never discussed it; the right moment didn't ever seen to come in their encounters. Perhaps there was no right moment, only the now. Adrasia would not do Manny the discredit of avoiding his eyes when he asked it, voice still soft, unaccusatory. "Was that when you became a demon?"

"Some would say that having more time to live makes the situation feel worse," Manny said. Thinking of one's foreseeable immortal future spent entirely in slavery chipped away at hope rather quickly. At least the mortal ones had an expiration date to look forward to finding freedom in death when a kind master and a hefty check wasn't coming their way. "A year feels like way more or less than that to anyone in this place. It seems to go by faster when it's spent idling in the Undercroft for more than half of it."

He turned to look out at the guests enjoying the outdoors while he mentally counted backwards. Now it felt like ages ago he'd been a slave himself, a memory lost until remembered. "I was in and out of the Undercroft a few times, actually," he replied as he turned back to Adrasia. "Two masters came and went twice. I was a slave for four, almost five years total."

[adrasian]

for @ggaudetmd

After years of suppression, there was a strange chaos in observing festivities such as this one with his empathy unrestrained. Adrasia had quickly learned to draw back from the emotional imprints of the past within the castle walls, where too many painful stories had come to a sudden end. The surface level emotions were easier to sort through, lingering in the back of his mind like the gentle whisper of waves. For so long the celestial had been deprived of what was essentially another sense for him and now that it had been returned the world seemed far more vivid than before and its inhabitants far less strange. Finding an advantageous spot and letting the party flow around him, Adrasia took many long moments to appreciate that renewal and to scrutinize those in the castle who had confused and angered him the most.

Some minds were as shallow and brutal as he'd imagined. Some Adrasia dared not focus on with intent, lest he draw unwanted attention. He scowled only a moment at the Italian councilman in profile across the room, skated his attention lightly over Alasdair's prickling frustration with a sympathetic twist of his mouth. Perhaps it would be worth it to try and distract the young man. Then came the discordant note: panic, so sudden and sharp that the angel's head whipped towards it as if he'd heard a gunshot.

Adrasia recognized that dark head. Gabriel, the warlock, the third son. In idle observation, the celestial had merely taken him for one of Dair's leering audience. But Gabriel was not looking at the nephilim now, no, whatever he had seen had his face taut and waxy with anger. Without realizing it Adrasia had taken a few steps in the other's direction, instinctively moving towards the source of so vivid a fear. The urge to protect was a powerful one, but from what? Before he could begin to answer that question and consider if it was even right to move to protect this particular individual, the councilmen's child was moving. In the end, it took only a second for Adrasia to decide to follow.

The intensity of that emotion was the only way he managed to track him and the celestial hesitated with his hand on the washroom door. His intercession would likely not be welcome and Gabriel was not a man to flippantly offend, if he was anything like his fathers. But the panic had been real and the look in his eyes... Adrasia's own hardened with certainty and the slave slipped carefully inside after his quarry. The air within smelled sour; he could hear a shaky breath inside the stall. He closed the door behind him near-silently and gave the other a long moment while the celestial deliberated internally. Quietly, Adrasia poured the contents of his glass down the sink and filled it up again from the tap. "It's Gabriel, isn't it?" He said softly once the faucet had turned off, "There's no one else. Would you like some water to rinse your mouth?"

[adrasian]

Adrasia's eyes widened a fraction at Bastion's straightforwardness, but he really shouldn't have been surprised by that either, should he? "I - yes. I understand the strain of being 'cooped up', as you say. Any distraction from the idleness of the Undercroft is surely welcome," He managed. He tried to imagine what on earth the councilman and the hellhound would talk about. Roland and Bastion seemed... vastly different. Perhaps that was exactly what Roland enjoyed about him.

Adrasia found himself thoroughly bemused as the younger slave went on, perfectly still in his puzzlement. He'd encountered many half-demons, as Bastion put it, before. He knew the underhanded behaviors to look out for, considered his instincts finely trained. Bastion's affable bumbling was far from the mark. "In nomine Patris, you mean?" Adrasia offered eventually, "Not... quite. Unless you were intending to confess?" His head tilted slowly. Surely not. The celestial himself had spent a vanishingly small amount of time inside of the walls of cathedrals, he felt a sudden pang of alarm that he would not be equipped to perform such rigid mortal rituals. "The composition of your blood hardly matters, though," Adrasia was quick to add, "Any prayer of contrition is heard by our Maker, if it is said in sincerity." His voice lifted slightly at the end of the statement, holding back on making it a true question. They were diverting a bit from questions of Roland, but to the celestial's ear, this was much more important.

His eyes followed Adrasia's as they lingered on his pants and his mouth twitched into a small grin. He didn't know what to think of angels, really. He had pre... Preco... Precognitiated notions about them but all of the scenes he'd been in before being enslaved didn't really invite creatures from above. He'd been heavy into music, drugs, and sex. He doubted any angel would be interested in that if they were a good kind of angel.

"I'm happy for that," he replied. He did think his tits were big enough to fill out a dress but he kept his mouth shut on that front. He didn't want to offend the celestial in any way when he had no reason to. He could play nice. "Roland? No, not grating at all. We have sex, we talk. He helps get a lot of my energy out from being cooped up so much." Bastion rolled a shoulder in a shrug. He paused, though, at the second part.

"What do you mean 'caught his eye'?" he asked curiously. "He's interested in me? I mean aside from how I look and fuck. Oops, sorry. Uhhh. Gnomari patricia spiritual sancti. Is that how you say it? I think it means 'I'm sorry, God' in Latin, no? I'm half demon so I don't know that stuff. I don't know if angels cuss or anything like that."

[adrasian]

Adrasia bit back a soft sigh, mirroring the shifter as he leaned sideways against the tree, pressing his shoulder into the bark. "I know. I know you're right. I have spent thousands of years free on this earth and a small fraction of those captive, when I weigh them against one another. Compared to many of those imprisoned here, I have... time." Time for what, though? The celestial's eyes still looked a little misty with consideration. A year was still a year, no matter how many one had at their disposal. It didn't feel right to spend it carelessly, like a coin tossed away into a fountain. He was quiet a moment, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. Slowly, his gaze drifted back to Manny once more. "You never told me how long you were in the Undercroft before you were freed," Adrasia murmured, "May I ask?"

Manny waited patiently amid the silence, wondering what was going on behind those dark eyes. Or if Adrasia even wanted to share. He was okay standing with him in the quiet too if that was preferable to talking about it.

Oh.

His features softened to neutrality. "I see," he said at first, mainly to acknowledge and indicate he was processing a response. He moved to stand beside the older man with his back and one foot pressed against the tree trunk. "That must be, um..." He pressed his lips together and scrunched his nose as he considered the most appropriate feeling and word for this. There were so many to choose from that he could recall from his own experience as a slave approaching the first anniversary. One stood out the most. "Well, it must be frustrating to realize. I'm sorry." He refrained from point out that Adrasia had made it out of the Undercroft and was in the care of one of the better masters, but he quickly realized that wasn't particularly comforting. It wasn't a big change. Claimed didn't mean freed from this place as indicated by the new, fancier collar around the celestial's neck. "Sometimes... these things take more time to see actual changes," he added, turning his head so he could look at Adrasia with a small smile. "Doesn't mean you're not allowed to have a minute, of course. But don't give up hope so easily."

[adrasian]

The hellhound's demeanor was friendly immediately, which was about what Adrasia had expected from all he'd observed of him. His gaze dropped to take in all of Bastion's outfit like the pose was an invitation, looking at the tight pants for only a second before his eyes skated away again demurely. "No, I daresay Roland would not waste you on a dress." It did not seem to be the councilman's taste. After what Adrasia had been forced into at the hands of Roland's eldest fledgling, he was glad. "I hope his attention has not been grating to you. He can be very... fixed, once something has caught his eye." Adrasia sounded painfully level even to his own ears. Something told him Bastion was not protesting the appointments Roland kept with him. Was it the hellhound's fiendish nature encouraging such luxuriating in sin? That had to be the simplest explanation, but Adrasia was keeping himself primed for any hint of something darker in the younger man beyond an appetite for fleshly delights which seemed almost commonplace in these surroundings.

Bastion had been facing Adrasia's way when the celestial spotted him and decided to approach. He stayed where he was, watching him with interest in sky blue eyes. He knew who the other was. Of course he did. He was up in Roland's suite often enough to recognize his claimed slave. Although, he didn't quite know Adrasia for anything else. He usually disappeared when he saw Bastion entering, made himself scarce while he and Roland enjoyed each other. The hellhound find him handsome though and wouldn't mind at all if he joined.

He raised a glass of champagne to his lips and took a sip as Adrasia got close enough to speak to him. Bastion grinned and drew the champagne away, stance relaxed as he beheld the other slave. He looked good in his own outfit and he couldn't help but give him a quick once over as he spoke.

"I am comfortable actually," Bastion hummed. He held his arms out so Adrasia could get the full effect of his poofy sleeves, his form-fitting waistcoat, and the second skin of his leather trousers. "I look a little bit like a fancy pirate but I'm not complaining. I'm just glad I'm not in a dress, so he saved me from that."

[adrasian]

Adrasia's smile widened a little at Manny's expression, glad to be able to see the other's eyes. There was a flicker of some emotion he couldn't quite catch drifting off the shifter, but before he could think to pursue it, Manny was asking after his own. He didn't answer at once, eyes skating off over the lawn again. It was a beautiful day. Adrasia only wished he could enjoy it. Was it wrong of him to rob Manny of that enjoyment too? "Two weeks from now..." The celestial started slowly, still gazing off past the other as if he could see right into the mire of his own thoughts, "It will have been a year since I was brought to this place. A year with very little change."

"A little bit," Manny answered with a sheepish grin. Now that they were in the shade and he faced away from the sun he took them off and tucked them away in his pocket. Now he could properly take in the bright colors of Adrasia's outfit now that everything wasn't so dark, the white and gold a solid if perhaps a bit cliche for a celestial. Still, the scheme worked for Adrasia's skin tone and the tight-fitting waistcoat properly showed off his figure beneath the tailcoat and the sneak peak of chest... Not important right now. Back to the topic. "What are you thinking about if it's all right for me to ask?"

[adrasian]

Summer had fully arrived, at least within the shell of magic over Krovs. Usually Adrasia would have been glad of it, welcoming the season's change, but this June arrived with solemnity for the celestial. This was the month he'd been brought Krovs nearly a year before -- exactly a year before, in two weeks' time. What did he have to show for it? Friendships, he could not fault and indeed he treasured. Taliesin was gone but it was a bittersweet loss, imagining as Adrasia did that he was in a far better place, out of the castle's grasp. He was no closer to escape, though, and no closer to aiding in anyone else's. The life he led in Roland's charge was a quiet, pampered one. A year was nothing to a creature with over a thousand of them under his belt. And yet...

"Oh! Hullo, Manny." Adrasia straightened from his lean against the tree trunk, self-conscious that he'd been too deep in his thoughts to recognize the shifter's approach. The attire fit the guard well; he looked handsome, noble, even. Still, the celestial's smile did not quite reach his eyes, sensing the other's faint confusion, the slightest wisp of concern. That would not do. "Just... thinking. While there was a little quiet to spare." A bit of real amusement touched his face as he noted the dark shades over Manny's eyes. "Has the sun gotten to you, my friend?"

Manny snatched a glass of champagne off a passing tray as he traversed outside from the ballroom to get a little fresh air. The glare of the afternoon sun made him squint though fortunately he came prepared with sunglasses to protect his sensitive eyes. He wasn't sure if that was just him or part of being a daeva since those demons thrived in the night and darkness. Good thing he'd always been a night owl he supposed.

Regardless, he was at the point of wandering through the party in search of anyone he knew. His shielded gaze landed on a familiar figure dressed in white and gold barely hidden away from everyone else underneath the shade of the large trees in the grove.

"Adrasia," he greeted the celestial slave as he approached withe a smile, already feeling some relief from the sun within shadows. His gaze briefly drifted over the other's ensemble and then back up. Manny's joyful expression faded a little noting the lack of it in Adrasia's features. "Everything all right? You seem a bit... off."

@adrasian