Once again, the need to write has produced something with far too many awkward gaps. It could use more polishing, but whatever. It's retcon with kittens, it doesn't need anything more than that.
This negates the bit I wrote for December, because I'm incapable of killing Silverlock unless it's metaphorically. And it introduces something vaguely like a plot for the aftermath of Stella Matin; up until now, it's all just been so much soap opera. There will probably be follow-up bits to this because, obviously, Theron doesn't get offed in a public execution, even though he totally deserves it.
Takes place a month or so after Theron and Co arrive in Shaivhen.
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There were times when Theron felt incredibly fond of his companions; he might almost go so far as to say that he cared about their well-being. Sometimes, he even thought he would be upset if anything untoward were to happen to them.
"BOSS! WE HAVE A SITUATION DOWN HERE!"
"Get it away get it away brain stalker wall walker unforgiveable monstrous, monstrous things..."
"Stella, come on, calm down, don't- shit, Stella!"
"It's evil kill it kill it kill it rip its head off devour the soul the heart the liver the brain sliced lengthwise unforgiven no matter what-"
"BOSS, SERIOUSLY."
This was not one of those times. Theron stared at the closed door of his office and pressed his thumbs against the headache pounding in his temples. "Shut up, all of you. For five minutes. That's all I want. That's all I've ever wanted, just five fucking minutes of peace," he muttered. They couldn't hear him, of course, and if they could, it was unlikely they'd listen.
Stella's shrieks rose in volume and pitch until she went right through screaming into hissing- which Theron could still hear through the door. And Solneki- Solneki, the only halfway sane and reasonably quiet one of the lot- was still shouting for him.
He punched the button on the intercom. "Shut up, Sol. And tell Mordant to stop doing whatever he's doing. I'll be down in a minute."
Solneki's voice was crackly and apologetic through the speaker. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
He opened the door to his office, half expecting to see Stella beset by demons, or zombies, or possibly rats and locusts- and instead found her cowering at the end of the hallway, staring in sightless, abject terror, at a tiny gray and white kitten sitting at the top of the stairs.
The kitten's fur was standing on end, and it was hissing like a tea kettle. Brenon was wrapped around Stella, trying to calm her.
"What the hell is that, and how did it get here?"
"I have no idea. It just showed up on the stairs and Stella started screaming." Bren had wrestled Stella's cane away, and was stroking her hair with one hand. He held her wrists with the other; there were shadows on his face that would have been bruises, on anyone else. "Go see what Sol's bitching about, would you? He's only making things worse."
Theron rested his head against the door. "Aren't you supposed to be good at dealing with crazy women and small animals?"
Bren gave him one of Walker's glares- a look of pure venom with just the hint of promised violence. Being on the receiving end of those glares was a new thing- neither Bren nor Walker would have ever dared before. He couldn't decide if this was good or bad, but the look made his chest clench in ways that should have hurt, but didn't.
"Fuck off, Theron."
"Get her to shut up, first. Gag her if you have to." The kitten stopped hissing when he approached the stairs and began calmly washing its ears. Cats. Go figure. "Stop terrorizing the crazy woman," he said to it. "You're making my headache worse."
The kitten looked up at him with bright yellow eyes, and then latched itself to his pantleg, purring loudly. It ignored him when he tried to shake it off.
Theron stomped down the stairs, and failed to dislodge the kitten. He could vaguely remember a time when he was respected, feared and obeyed- but only vaguely.
Downstairs, Solneki had his gun out and a man in a cloak had Mordant up against the wall with a hand around his throat. Theron sighed. The kitten purred. "Sol, stand down. Mordant, what do I pay you for?"
"Nothing, boss. We haven't gotten paid in months."
"Details. I hired you to look threatening, Mordant. To engage in acts of general thuggery. To protect my person and my interests. But I'm seeing a picture in front of me, Mordant. And there's something wrong with it." Theron crossed his arms to keep his hands from twitching towards the threads of magic in the air.
"Fuck, really? Thuggery? I thought that was Walker's job. Figured I was here for comic relief." Mordant grinned, but his voice was strained.
"Put my body guard down, sir. I apologize for whatever he said or did to offend you. He can't help being an idiot." The kitten climbed Theron's pants and ended up in his pocket. Theron thought of cat hair and black clothes, and grimaced.
"I know it is rather difficult to find good help these days." Mordant dropped like a sack of potatoes, and the stranger pulled back his hood as he turned. "But I expected better of you, my dear. Can't imagine why, but I did."
For a few moments, he could only gape, until a little voice in the back of his head reminded him that showing weakness in front of Mordant and Solneki would undoubtedly end badly. The kitten purred like something three times its size.
"You cut your hair," he blurted at last.
Silverlock laughed and brushed a hand through his chin length hair. "Oh, my dear. One must keep up with the times, after all. It has been too, too long since I last saw you."
"It has." He was surprised to find that he meant it.
"Boss? Who the hell is this decrepit old queen?" Mordant picked himself up off the floor and compulsively fixed his hair.
"Mordant, shut up," Theron snapped reflexively.
"I really prefer the term distinguished. Or demented, I've found that's an acceptable adjective as well." His tone was mocking, but his expression was grave as he took a sealed document out of his cloak. "As far as you are concerned, I am the acting head of the Aetherial Anomaly Investigative Board, here on behalf of Parliament and the Lady DeLavrey. Theron Shanretha, you are accused of five counts of genocide in the first degree and are summoned to stand before the Parliamentary Court and answer to your crimes."
Theron's heart stopped for a short eternity while the room tilted on its axis, until he remembered to maintain the pretense again. He swallowed heavily and took the document, but didn't open it.
Five counts was lowballing it, and he was sure Silverlock knew that.
"You're a government stooge now?" he asked lightly. He kept up the pretense of indifference for appearance's sake, the same reason he manufactured something like a heartbeat.
"Independent contractor, actually. But the money is good."
"Once a whore, always a whore, I suppose."
"My dear, you have no idea." He held out his hand and gestured to the door. "But come. We can insult each other in the car. Parliament will take tardiness as admission of guilt and, more importantly, they'll dock my pay."
Solneki clasped his arms behind his back. "Boss?"
"You and Mordant will stay here. Take care of the others; you take your orders from Walker while I'm gone." Not Bren. Bren was loyal and stupidly noble and would probably try to turn himself in; Walker, on the other hand, had a sense of self-preservation that was second to none. Theron tugged the kitten out of his pocket; it gnawed on the stumps of his missing fingers with tiny, sharp teeth. "And one of you should find a home for this- just keep it away from Stella."
"Bring him with you- if he wants to be there, he will. Cats walk where they will, and that one has already decided to keep you." Silverlock smiled, but failed to look properly amused. "Parliament will take you under custody until the end of the trial. If there's anyone else you'd like to say goodbye to, do it now."
Theron glanced at the stairs. "No. There isn't." He nodded to Mordant and Solneki; they nodded back, cool and professional. "Let's go."
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Mrr. Dunno if I'll actually write the trial, but now there's almost a plot. *sigh* It's still mostly soap opera drama, though. S'all I'm good for, really. :)
I'm going to have to write a proper confrontation between Brenon and Theron, beyond what got written in this bit, because while they could just be avoidant idiots, that wouldn't be any fun. I also need to write more of Stella being sane, because she really is most of the time, when she's not being confronted with extraplanar creatures. And, of course, I need to write the part that immediately follows this piece, where Silverlock gets to interrogate Theron in the car and mock him mercilessly.
Brenon, Stella, and Mihonil are no longer zombies the way they used to be- they have fully functioning nervous systems (though Stella is still physically blind and psychically disjunct) and a full set of working internal organs. They eat and sleep and do all the other things living people do, but the only way to kill them and keep them dead is to remove their heads.
Theron is more alive than he was as Voyance, but Walker did rip out his heart- and he didn't exactly have an extra lying around. So Theron fakes a heartbeat and breathes to keep the air in his lungs from going stale, but he's more like a Ghoul or a Revenant than anything living. (Other things I need to write: Theron tripping on misteltoe.) Theron's mage powers are severely limited, because his soul has been fractured and is no longer completely connected to his body; his magicrafting skills, however, are still intact, as are Brenon's. Magicrafting uses the manipulation of purely physical elements, rather than relying on aether.
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