Mine

From Greenthings

Lingering Smoke was depressed.

Not in the way he usually was. Usually what he was was sad, or mildly irritated, or bored, or something, and overreacting wildly in an attempt to cheer himself up. It wasn't hard, after all, to start feeling down in the Underworld, where most of the people you met could only vaguely recall what an emotion was, portals to eternal unnatural nothingness dotted the landscape, and in a stunning display of physical laws confusing the symbolic for the literal, color was sucked out of everything that wasn't living flesh. There didn't seem to be much point to life if you didn't ramp things up a few notches- not that living in Creation would have stopped him, really.

He didn't feel much like overacting lately. Or much else.

The lion left. The butterfly and the little bird left with him, and while he'd given some reason that sounded less embarassing, he'd been too damn stubborn to accept the offer to go with. Everyone else he'd had any contact with had either moved on or thought of him as that creepy blue-haired Anathema whom they tolerated out of fear.

So he made himself useful, like he always had, (to people who didn't want to have anything to do with him, which had never mattered before) because if nothing else, he knew that if he didn't, somehow the great God of the Underworld would have nothing better to do than show up somewhere and make him feel even more guilty about the whole not-dead-yet massive-magical-power thing. Jerk.

Until one day, he saw something.

There were forests outside of Sijan in the daytime, and the rare bit of light came through there. They weren't the nicest forests in Creation, but they were beautiful in the way life sort of inherently is. Occasionally, one could even hear birds singing there, or squirrels, or a dumb rabbit or something. Smoke had gotten sick of being depressed and gone birdwatching that day, tromping through the forest, hoping to find a few signs of life.

Including- he could've sworn- something out of the corner of his eye that flashed silver.

He turned to look (halfway expecting someone had returned) to see a crow. It was damnable big for a crow, black and dreadful-looking, and it was staring straight at him with something in its beak.

He stared right back at it, his eyes narrowing, and it shook the thing in its beak and swallowed. Crunch, crunch. Drip.

Ew, thought Smoke. He squinted and shook his finger at it in mock offense.

It continued to stare. He continued to stare back. This continued for several minutes.

"If you are a Lunar..." he smirked at it, "you'd better not be making any trouble in my city, bird."

The bird shook its wings a little, but said nothing. Smoke turned back around and started walking.

By the time he was back to the city proper, he was whistling happily.

---

The next few days were relatively quiet, if a bit weird. Smoke's dreams (inasmuch as they were ever dreams) had been different; they weren't the boring dreams of other people's daily affairs long past, and they weren't about the butterfly. It was a little thing, and he forgot quite what it was when he woke up, but it left the world with a soft white haze to it. He still felt like shit, but there was something else there as well. A bit of hope, or the walk cheered him up, or just becoming bored with feeling like he had; he didn't much care.

There were fresh apples in the market. He snatched a couple of them and sat on a rooftop overlooking the city.

Little lantern-lights flickered around the streets, white and pale red and green, new ones that still had the bright shining color of light. He stared off unfocused into the distance, and the light softened into what passed for a horizon; he smiled and bit into one of the apples.

A bald little man was looking fearfully at him from a window. Smoke waved cheerily.

"M... Mister Abyssal? C- could I, ah- ah- there's a message for you, please?"

His eyes widened a bit. That was interesting. "Do tell, then, my good man. Who sent it?"

"Ahhh, he- he didn't say." The ghost bit his lip. "A Western guy, in white robes. He said he needed to- to talk to the- to the Abyssal with the blue hair. About a spear. He thought you lived over here."

"Huh." About a spear? Either that was a threat, or someone was interested in that Dire Lance he'd picked up. "Well, I don't believe there are that many blue-haired Abyssals around, so that's probably me. Good job, man."

He tittered nervously, unsure whether that was sarcasm. "Y- yes, ah. Should I be telling him anything if he returns, Mister Anathema sir?"

Smoke looked briefly hurt at that last comment. "If he wants to talk to me, I'm still taking care of that old brothel."

"The... House of Sanguine Pleasure, you mean?"

What a horrible name. "Uh, yeah. That."

"Yes, all right, yes." The little man went away, muttering more fearful apologies and prayers to the Dragons under his breath. Smoke went back to eating his apple.

After a while, he brushed off and returned home. The place had seemed even bigger since Sarien left; he'd never taken up much space (the lion's fucking army had had trouble looking like they took up space there) but it was still his Manse, and the place echoed without the little guy. The door creaked open, and the Midnight made his way to the upper rooms.

There was a man sitting in a chair in the living room, reading one of Smoke's playbooks in the dirty light from the window.

He blinked slowly and digested this.

"You know, I am aware this place has terrible security, but it's still rude not to knock."

The man looked up from behind the book and eyed the Abyssal. "That's rich, given your reputation." They exchanged glares, and he put the thing down and walked over.

Red hair, tan, white and silver robes... "Mmhmm. So I have something you want?" Smoke smirked playfully.

"Yes. I would like to have that spear."

"Okay..." The man's glare was terrible. "Well, it's mine, so what are-"

"That is not yours." Glare. Glare glare. Eesh. "How did you get it?"

He sighed. "Look, whoever was buried with it had long since moved on; I made sure of that. I understand the- the symbolism and everything, but really, it's just something someone threw in a tomb. It wasn't even a Lunar's tomb, if that's what you're worried about."

"You have not answered the question."

"Haven't I?"

"I asked you how you got it, not why it was taken from the tomb."

"Hey. You think I don't have skills?" he snorted. "I have skills, man, that's just low."

There was another icy silence, longer this time. Smoke cleared his throat. "Look, do you want the damn thing or not? I don't want to fight you for it."

His glare softened a bit, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "I suppose you were a Solar once."

"Ah. Someone was," he went back to smirking. "You're a bit well-read, to know that."

"More than a bit, but not to know that." He began walking towards Smoke.

"Uh," Smoke said. He didn't think the man was a threat (for whatever reason, part of him thought), but...

"You may keep the spear," the probably-a-Lunar grinned.

It was not the sort of grin that could have been called happy, but it wasn't a snarl or a grimace, either. He stepped slowly closer, and Smoke backed away in confusion until he hit the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He kept grinning. Ah, the right word was 'predatory'. "You're not very perceptive, are you."

"That doesn't-"

Whatever he was about to say was lost, along with every other rational thought. The guy in the robes came right up to him and grabbed his wrist. Smoke tried to dodge but- not very hard and-

All of a sudden, a brief light of comprehension dawned on him. A nice familiar cold light that was pinning him to the wall and sliding its tongue into his mouth. For a moment, he abandoned all concerns that he should've had and happily allowed himself to be pawed at.

When his mind caught up with himself, he bolted.

The man leaned against the wall where another person had just been, cringing and covering his ear (oops?) as the Abyssal skittered off to one side.

"What is wrong?"

"Just- hold on." Smoke held up his hands. "What the hell?"

"You are disturbingly unperceptive."

Searching for words, he came up with little. His conscious mind was busy damming up the flood-gates keeping the knowledge of exactly who that guy must be out to think of anything witty to say to that, but his pride's response, at least, was only slightly damp. "Not," he wavered slightly, "that, the... damnit, I don't even know your name!"

"Oh. Yes." The definitely-a-Lunar inclined his head and smiled wistfully. "I am Michael Vanguard, the White Crow. I've actually heard of you."

"Heard of me." Oh splendid, something he knew how to deal with. "Well, I would hope it's one of the more flattering reputations; I do have several."

"I believe you spent a bit of time gaining one as a mortal. Some minor scavenger, preying on the dead?"

The guy looked slightly amused; Smoke glared icily at him. Okay, he wasn't the best Midnight Caste in the world, but that just wasn't on. That was also the second insult, and getting old quickly.

"You're cute when you're angry," Michael purred.

And there went that train of thought, along with all remaining vestige of ignorance, as the flood rolled in. He hid his face in his hand.

"So. You are..."

"...Michael."

"Damnit, not that-"

"Then what-"

"I... but it, I-"

"What? Just say it."

Smoke sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm not attracted to men."

That got him a blank stare. He tried smiling and shrugging cutely in apology before realizing that was probably not the best response in the given context and in fact kind of really creepy to have been the first thing that entered his mind. The next attempt was brushing at his sleeve absently and looking seriously into his eyes. Still a blank stare.

"You certainly didn't seem... Er."

"Yes, well, I..." Isn't this nice and awkward. "I guess the... bond, thing..."

"But it doesn't do that, generally." Michael looked lost. "It enhances emotional attachment within boundaries previously existing within the affected parties."

"Well, the other thing..."

Watching the expression on the Abyssal's face, Michael began to understand. He was uncomfortable and embarrassed, not confused- and not that embarrassed, either. There was obviously a story in this, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. "The Eternal Vow is powerful enough to incite affection without cause, but it can't- it is not that you seem to be bothered by, however."

Smoke sighed again nervously and glanced away. The light outside the window was getting very slowly brighter, as the night ended and the Sun considered beginning to rise. "I'm not bothered, I just... really wasn't expecting this."

There was a strained silence.

"Then what is it you feel like doing about this, exactly?"

Running away. Touching you again. Punching you in the face for doing this to me. Whatever you want me to do.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and slowly pulled itself into a sheepish grin. "Well, ah- how long will you be in town?"