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“Mandatory attendance. Not like we have volumes of work to do, let’s just ignore that to spend the entire night celebrating the same thing we already have six other holidays to celebrate it with. I almost regret that my application got accepted, you know.”
“Ooh, don’t let the peacekeepers hear you, Lily!” her companion stated brightly, nudging the grumbling woman with her hip. “Gerry got done in for just talking about how many work hours he has to do. Besides, you’re already like, five modules ahead of us! You, least of all, deserve a break.”
“Oh yes, heaven forbid I say something off-colour and lose a tooth on such a great night. Can’t sell my soul if I whistle every word I say, can I?”
Lily huffed quietly after saying that, but abidingly, silenced her complaints. In truth, there was credence to her companion’s – Yi’s – words. She was working ahead of the curve, but that was only because the less time she spent in ADVENT’s city centres, the easier it’ll be for her to get out in the long run.
Sure, earning her doctorate at unprecedented speeds was going to draw some scrutiny on her; especially given that Elder meet-and-greet she heard being whispered among the fourth years, but she’d planned for that.
Her plan didn’t consist more than hope for the best, unfortunately.
“Just. Try to relax, Lily.” Yi added, slipping her arm through the gap of Lily’s and entwining them, checking her phone briefly with her free hand as they awaited the transport. “ – It’s nothing more than a formal acknowledgement to all what the Elders have done for us. There’s food, there’s dancing, it’s a relaxed event.”
“There’s peacekeepers stationed every corner, Yi.” Lily noted. She could spot the brightly lit venue from their apartment window, and the shadowy blots of armoured vehicles or figures patrolling the upper layers. “ – And the Speaker is going to be there. Which means enduring another ‘hover around the students and constantly bug them about the future’ moment. I’m taking a shot everytime he mentions the Elders.”
“Yes, well.” Yi tugged Lily to follow once she saw their ride roll up outside. “For your own sake, just smile and nod, because I don’t think I can trust you to speak. All you engineering students are the same. You know there’s such thing as tact, right? And also not throwing your life away?”
“That’s exactly what an arts major would respond with. Anytime you want to live outside a painting, I, also known as the real world, are right here.”
In any case, Lily was not looking forward to the rest of the night.
Even though Lily knew that her work was sound and that she’d run through the identification process thousands of times – standing before the Officer as the red infralight ghosted over still froze her muscles solid.
A thick lump formed in her throat as it reached her feet and dragged back up to the top of her head. A few moments before the machine gave a quiet beep and the attitudes of the guards relaxed. A painfully forced smile was evident on all of their faces. If anything, it only unsettled Lily further.
“Have a good evening, ladies.” the doorman stated as she passed, Lily happily accepting Yi’s awaiting arm. It took all of her effort not to simply collapse at her side, but the reassuring squeeze from her gave her the second wind she needed.
“You need to relax.” Yi mentioned once more, though this time with a bit more degree of severity. Her face leaned close to her ear, making sure only Lily could hear her as they pass other attending guests. “ – They’ll single you out more if you show you’re getting antsy. You’ve got no reason to be nervous, right?”
“Easy for you to say.” Lily shot back instantly, sparing a moment to silence herself to smile at one of the people she recognized as a professor. Her gaze slid back to Yi. “I have every reason to be nervous. I’m a soon to be graduate in a room full of headhunters and the Speaker himself. How is that not nerve-wracking?”
“Look. Let me get you a drink, alright?” Reluctantly disengaging from her, Yi straightened her dress and offered a reassuring smile. “ – Try not to get lost.”
“I’ll try.”
Of course, only a fool would hope that the evening would proceed without incident. Lily’s gaze absorbed the grandiose ball-room having been retrofitted for this ceremony of the Elders. Banners and tapestries hung in Their adoration; the stark colouring of red, black and gold permeated every inch of the room, making her feel a little out of place with her white suit. Being here made her think of the haven she left behind to seek her higher education; and the nausea from the transit returned in full force.
“ – Miss Smith? How wonderful to see you this evening!”
That voice may as well have been the death toll for her. Lily felt that lump grow, almost stealing her voice. Through sheer will and stubborn determination alone; a faint smile was forced to her face as she turned to the Speaker Ishmael.
“Mr Speaker.” she politely returned. Rigid formality was an easy mask for her to use to hide her nervousness. ADVENT liked their docility, especially in the future scientists and engineers that would drive the Elders’ projects into a physical reality. “ – I’m flattered, really. Especially to have been invited in the first place. I see highly skilled and well educated folk as far as the eye can see; and well. I don’t have much of myself to offer.”
The Speaker laughed – the kind of tinkling sound that was as captivating as bait was to a fish – and invited himself closer, extending his hand. Lily figured she hadn’t a choice, and accepted to be drawn to his side.
“Oh, nonsense.” Ishmael dismissed, patting her hand. “The Elders take great care to notice each and every individual’s potential and ADVENT is here to help support our future generation in bloom. They’ve taken a particular note of your genius, my dear.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it ‘genius’ –”
“Don’t be so modest! You are the most consistent top student across all years you have been with us. That alone deserves some recognition, don’t you think?”
This is it. Lily thinks. This is where I die.
“Recognition?” Lily echoed quietly, holding that painfully forced smile as she gazed at Ishmael. Her grip on his arm had loosened considerably, but if the Speaker noticed, he didn’t pay any special attention to it. “O-Oh, no, no that is, q-quite alright, I needn’t –”
“Why, dear!” It was only through sheer determination that she didn’t let her wince slip through her facade at the Speaker’s scandalized tone. “ – Would you deny our beloved Elders the right to speak with their devoted and faithful? Should I return back to our master craftsman Elder Daedalus and tell Him that the apple of His eye does not even wish to meet Him?”
Every word was like honeyed poison injected straight into her and the alarming wave of nausea crashed into the pit of her stomach. Her face paled a little, and Lily momentarily lost her voice as the reality of the situation was starting to bear down on her.
Ishmael, either unaware or – perhaps, absolutely aware – continued, tutting accordingly. “Disappointment would not even begin to explain how He must feel. But, I understand, Miss Smith. Your modesty is not for fear of our wondrous leaders, is it?”
Lily swallowed thickly.
“O-Of course not.” She did not know how she managed to speak, but her instincts to survive drove her to navigate this expert trap carefully. “It’s just so, overwhelming – you understand, of course. I’ve not even graduated and the prospect of meeting the God of craft and creation Himself is – well, nerve-wracking, to say the least.”
She quickly added before Ishmael could spin further from that. “ – If you don’t mind, Mr. Speaker, I need to use the restroom.”
“Of course, of course.” he relinquished his hold on her. Lily did not spare him a second glance, even though she knew his gaze followed her.
Banging open the stall door, she let it swing half-shut by it’s hinges as she collapsed to her knees, lurched over the toilet bowl. The nausea churned irritated in her stomach and the stormy wave hitting her body prompted her to dry heave.
Lily didn’t know how long she really spent hunched over it, but as the sickly feeling remained, her senses begrudgingly admitting she wasn’t going to vomit, she pulled away and stumbled towards the sink and mirror.
Looking at herself in the reflection; a grim visage gloomily stared back. The sweat she’d worked up from her nerves and her general fussing habits had messed her makeup and frizzed her hair – to put it short, she looked a mess.
She pushed a hand through her fringe, letting it fall where it may. An Elder planned to meet her. An Elder had their eye on her. Whilst that information was fear-gripping in of itself, Ishmael inadvertently provided her with information. She was going to have to be a lot more careful attending the youth’s Resistance meetings.
“Just.. a few more hours.” she told herself. “You can do this. The night’s young, nothing seems to be happening that much. You lived through the conversation with the Speaker. What else can this night throw at me? The Chosen?”
Fixing her hair and generally touching up everything else, Lily had no idea how correct she was until she stepped out of the restroom and re-attended the gathering.
He was here.
Lily left the restroom confident that she could survive the rest of the night – but his presence standing atop the central stairway, conversing softly with the much shorter Speaker set a fear in the back of her throat like no other. A primal instinct that urged her to flee, to abandon social convention and dive for the nearest window.
He’d forgone the armour that the broadcasts of his visage so often shown, dressing down to something of cloth and more formal and to the occasion. Hair – stark white – was pulled up into a falling braid, with several strands spilling over broad shoulders. By his flanks two Priests docilely remained, hands clasped behind their backs and a third by the Warlock’s side, nursing a datapad close to her bosom.
Logically, she knew the Chosen likely didn’t know she existed. She was just another mortal face in the sea of others that crooned their adoration of him. But she’d heard stories about psionics. Heard stories from rumourmongering Resistance Youth about the Warlock’s vast and incomprehensible power – and how he used it. Some likened it to be reading minds – it was always so eerie how the Priests knew exactly what made people tick.
More importantly than the Warlock’s grand appearance was her wondering where the fuck Yi had gotten.
Forcing herself to tear her fear-ridden gaze away from the sight – and missing the one of the three Priests turn their head towards her – she surveyed the crowd to try and find her friend. The anxiety of scanning each unfamiliar facial features was like she was drowning and Lily grimaced as another wave of nausea threatened to rock her.
As she debated dipping back into the restroom and simply spending the rest of the night in there, she was elated to find Yi chatting animatedly to an older, portly gentleman that she vaguely recognized from articles. He was some professor of art – typical. Yi was likely hustling her paintings, though Lily doubted she’d find much traction.
After all, her portfolio consisted of portraits of her. Lily was certain her appearance was going to detract from her pitch, but Yi seemed confident that Lily was the ‘perfect muse’ – whatever that had meant at the time. Bowing her head to avoid being seen and taken aside for conversation, she darted and weaved through the crowd, making a bee-line towards her.
As her hand reached out for her arm, her name on the tip of her tongue, her arms were both accosted and Lily found her sides quickly flanked by two giggly Priests. Whatever lump in her throat dropped to her stomach like bedrock as she was yanked non-too-subtly back.
“Why, I do believe this is the guest of honour, Gabriel. Lily Smith.” the more soft-spoken one cooed, her other hand reaching to squeeze Lily’s upper arm.
“Do you think she plans to outshine our beloved divine? The Speaker has not stopped singing her praises to him, Uriel.” the Priest pursed her lips, letting her hand raise to pinch her cheeks. “ – And what a bare slip of a thing! I wonder what has their interests so caught?”
“Well, we simply HAVE to find out ourselves. We can hardly present some commoner to our pontiff. Mmhm.. what do our brethren call it? Screening?” Uriel shook her head. “No, no, perhaps just a chat, yes? A few questions and some guidance. Wouldn’t want you stumbling and saying the wrong thing. Do you even have proper etiquette to be in a place like this?”
Lily had little idea that Priests could be so.. catty. But whatever words she tried to say were swiftly silenced by their overpowering, cohesive presence.
“We only have your best interests in mind, of course.” Gabriel sung. “And, our Chosen’s, but, we are your Priests. You should feel honoured.”
“I,” Lily coughed. “Need to go –”
“Leaving? Without even meeting His Holiness? How.. unladylike.”
“Uncouth.” the older of the two agreed. “I dare say bordering on defiance. I will turn the other cheek and forgive your blatant insult to him if..”
“You agree to come willingly with us.” they finished in unison.
Lily was under no impression that she actually had a choice in the matter. But, if she complied as best as she can, she might get out unscathed – or earn a painless death, whichever came first.
Deflating in their grip, she murmured; “ – Alright.”
Each step felt like a growing concrete moulding to her legs, her accelerated heartbeat backing the track to her own funeral. Everything around her was but a blur; inconsequential to the pavilion she was none-too-kindly being guided towards by the twin Priests. Faces blended in nondescript details of hostility; the guards patrolling the staircases and upper floors all but standing out to her anxious eye.
She was morbidly surprised she hadn’t vomited on the Priests the moment their intentions became known. She barely managed to survive the Speaker accosting her. She had little idea how to navigate meeting the Chosen Warlock. With nothing but rumours and ADVENT propaganda to go from, he was purported as some kind of demi-god, second only to the Elders themselves.
Red silks and long velvet curtains lined the entrance of the quarter. The Warlock must have become too tired of mortal company from the last she’d saw him, and found some sanctuary deeper into the establishment. In her haze, Lily only starkly saw that little of the party gathered here – she’d all but passed by them now.
She was well and truly alone, with nothing but a company of wolves surrounding her.
Deeper within the chamber sat the Warlock himself, one clawed hand nursing his temple and massaging it, the other holding a data-pad clearly designed for his use. Some of his hair had loosened itself out of the thick braid, drifting and winding in the air like static kept it afloat. Psionic energy emanated from his very being, and though Lily did not possess the Gift, the sheer intensity of his power and energy was palpable; like small branches of electricity dancing on her tongue.
Up closer than she would ever want herself to be, Lily could make out the fine, alien detail of his thread, a material only known to tailors not of this world. The patterns wove and form complex imagery that dragged her vision down his front in order to decipher it’s eldritch meaning.
Lost in the intracity, she did also take note that despite his supposed title as a pontiff, a religious leader to preach the Elders’ word, he looked as though he could easily persuade those with brute force as well. His muscles were well defined with the suit snug tight against him, and she idly wondered the need for such physicality if he relied on psionics to do his dirty work.
The Warlock did not even need to turn his head to take note of her arrival. All humans bore with them a unique psionic signature. Typically, it reeked of foul pollutant to him, bombarding the Elders’ space with their wretched taint. Yet Lily, gold among filth, carried with her a different lilt. It was airy; wispy, the kind that was uninvasive like she kept everything to herself -- her secrets included. It tempted him to unravel the mystery of her; and he deigned to look at her.
Lily felt her blood run cold at the weight of his gaze, trying not to fidget on the spot as she felt it’s judgement rake over her very essence. In the presence of such power, and her true alignment, she felt incredibly small and ant-like in the grand scale of the universe. Her hands felt clammy, her throat constricted, though a forced smile was placatingly on her face, even as she could hear the dulcet tones of the Priests beside her speak to their Chosen.
“Ah, the prodigious guest,” the Warlock purred, his voice a gravelly rumble that wracked through her bones like deep bass. “-- You have become quite the centerpiece of conversation as of late; drawing interest from the very Elders themselves. You must feel greatly humbled to have attracted the great Master Craftsman’s attention.”
He gestured for her to sit close across him, and she had little choice but to accept, rigidly stepping towards the grandiose red seats and somewhat sinking in them when she lowered to sit. Face to face with the Warlock, Lily had to crane her head and angle it upwards in order to properly face him, and she hated the way it exposed her slender neck. An old predator-prey instinct about not wanting to expose oneself, similarly to flight-or-fight.
Her fingers digged into the material of her suit pants, back ramrod straight and hardly the picture of relaxed demure. She idly wondered if she would have preferred slumming it out on the outskirts of the city centre, fighting inhuman, alien monsters and gathering round dying fires in the dead of night to the sheer mental terror she had experienced since the beginning of the event.
“I find myself fascinated as well,” Dhag-Il continued, setting down the datapad to regard her once more, psionic-infused eyes lilting with a curious, curved squint. “A mere mortal, managing to impress the Crafter Himself, He who has designed a universe long before your ancestors were crawling out of the primordial ooze of this world. Many humans have come before you and have been nothing but forgotten in a second, yet your name is uttered time and time again when He considers those genius among you.”
She didn’t know what to do anything other than smile and laugh politely, quietly receding inside herself and praying that a sinkhole appear suddenly below her feet. He didn’t seem quite ready to let her answer yet, palm of his hand presented to let him rest his cheek upon it, eying her with the sheer intensity and scrutiny of a judge, juror and executioner. His own smile was shark-like, thin and cruel and hardly inviting.
“You have seemed to be blessed with a different kind of Their gift. You share not of their power, but of Their mind; a feat that elevates you beyond these other simple mortals.” he concludes, tone drifting on a captivated lilt. Lily did not like it one bit.
“My brother,” and Dhag-Il sneered as he mentioned him, no love lost there. “Would have enjoyed the opportunity to have met you. He is more mechanically inclined than I am and no doubt would spend countless hours picking your brain and depriving you of needed sleep. Alas, I will simply have the pleasure of your company myself, Lily Smith.”
It was a weak comfort that it seemed the Warlock’s interest in her was to spite his brother than actually her, though what she knew of the Hunter was practically near nothing. Hell, he was more or less a rumour among commonfolk, his broadcasts appearing sparse and in the late hours of the night, far past curfew. Finding this the moment she could say her piece, words died at the tip of her tongue of what she could say. The last thing she needed was an angry Chosen.
“I am… overwhelmed by your words, my Chosen.” she stated, strained, but passably good enough not to draw notice. It would have been far stranger if she was not anxious upon the meeting, as no human had the chance to really socialise with one of the Elders’ Chosen, let alone spend time with them alone.
“Humbled doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel towards this opportunity to meet yourself and the Master Craftsman Himself. I consider myself just a simple, honest engineering major with an ambitious end project for the betterment of ADVENT. To think it would go so far to reach their notice.” she tried to sound subdued rather than scared out of her mind.
“Indeed. You have proved yourself beyond what is expected of the common mortal, which is why you find yourself here today.” He gestured to someone outside of the room, and Lily’s breath hitched in her throat when he slid closer, feeling dwarfed by his sheer size when she found herself beside him. His arm reclined on the back of the sofa and she felt trapped between a chiselled, psionic wielding alien and a hard place.
“You would consent to some promotional images, wouldn’t you?” he asks as if it isn’t even a question worth sparing breath on, and Lily tore her gaze away to see the camera drone and it’s operator hovering out of view, from where the Warlock had gestured. She swallowed thickly at the idea of having her face plastered over the city centre, let alone sharing it with Dhag-Il.
She almost jumped out of her skin when his heavy hand rested on her shoulder; a politician’s touch to ease her into making the right decision. Never before had she wanted to scream so badly or swing something metal and hard around all around her to be rid of the constant flood of swirling anxiety following every moment and thought. Lily forced herself to let go of her knees, instead folding her hands in her lap. Not trusting herself to speak at the moment, she simply nodded and plastered on a passing smile.
The snap flashes of the camera rolled over her in brief intervals of blinding white, sealing her fate. The images would be considered for some broadcast or promotional material, no doubt sharing with humanity the image of the Chosen co-existing with mortals, their betters but not their enemies. She was acutely aware of the heat from the palm of his hand, the slight dig of nails into the fabric of her jacket and the unnatural, psi-tinged warmth that radiated from him.
Once an adequate amount of promotional material had been gathered, the pair were dismissed and Dhag-Il took it upon himself to distance from her, allowing Lily to breathe somewhat comfortably now that he’d done so. He seemed smug over something or another, as he no doubt could not wait to show the pre-images to his brother just to spite him.
“The Master Craftsman Daedalus will arrive shortly.” he announced rather suddenly, once he had glanced at a pinged message on his datapad. “-- It is a shame our time will have to be cut so short. My faithful servants will properly prepare you for His arrival, so that you may not insult Him with your presence.”
Feeling dismissed, Lily rose up from her seat and grimaced hiddenly at the sight of the two Priests’ seemingly omnipresence. They were all too happy to latch on either side of her, whisk her away from the Warlock and down even more hallways and rooms that she didn’t recognise.
It was going to be a long night.