Chapter Text
Across the room a golden light fell. The Militia stood frozen, as if Medusa herself had stared them in the eyes. As the light retreated and dimmed, it became possible again to move and Martyn felt as if his limbs, having been frozen in place for too long, would suddenly give out now that he has gained control over them. His eyes scanned room and area from which the light had come, and his body took on a readying stance.
Upon the floor, in the middle of the room, lay the spellbook that had just fell out of Sausage’s hand. Its slight and dying shimmer spoke that it would not be able to be used again. The book had spoken something about a chance of warning, a final barrier between them and the terror that was inevitable to come from this fighting between humans and vampires.
Martyn regarded the rest of the room in case of any dangerous situations; it was always important to keep your head in the game. As silence stretched on for what possibly could have been just a few seconds but felt all the longer, Martyn’s head filled with a plethora of swirling thoughts. He was in the same breath considering the other members’ readiness to fight and the quickest route to which he could flee. But then, the storm in his mind dissipated as fast as it had arrived, and just a single thought remained. An angel.
The thing - a figure - stood out against the dark room like a nobleman in a poor man’s quarter. Its hair was of a blonde tone, and its clothing old fashioned and seemingly well-used. But this wasn’t what Martyn’s gaze was locked onto. Instead it was the wings sprouting from the creature’s back, extending as far as possible in the cramped room. They uncurled and layers upon layers of golden feathers revealed themselves to his eyes. Were Martyn a dragon, he’s sure he would have already thrown himself forward to take the golden limbs.
Now, he stood uncertain. They were up three against one, and furthermore, it wasn’t probable that this creature was hostile. After all, the spellbook had read that it would summon something to help them. Still, an unknown variable was a dangerous one. Should they make a run for it? Sighing, he decided on the third option-
“Oh, hey uhm- man? Me and my friends were just on a trip through the forest, but we’ve gotten lost. Have you any idea as to where we are? We hope to be back to our home before the day’s end – you see, we’re quite important people, whom have a many responsibilities to take care of. May you help us?”
-bluffing his way out of the situation.
Martyn isn’t a stranger to lying, rather he would say he has quite the close bond with deceit. In what he said, the creature will know him an innocent and well meaning man, important enough that people would go searching for him if he were to go missing.
Now, one would hope his companions had understood that which he was trying to accomplish, and lower their weapons just as he has done. The lie won’t be at all as convincing were they to look too threatening.
And- what relief! It seems that Lady Luck is smiling down on him for just a moment. May it be so that she could continue to share her bountiful power such that this creature will fall for his lie?
“Oh- I see,”
Before he could let out a breath of relief, Martyn’s mind again turned paranoid. The room wasn’t very well lit, and in the shadows it was hard to make out the features of the creature. Still, the magnificent wings spoke of a being ethereal, to which the voice did not match. Now, in no way was the voice of the thing repulsive, but rather, it was much too normal. It threw Martyn slightly out of loop before he quickly steeled himself as to not let it show in the features of his face. The creature, without a hitch, continued.
“I actually haven’t a clue as to where we are either!”
The thing raised a hand in a sheepish motion. Again, Martyn reflected on the being’s voice. The accent wasn’t one he could place, even as far travelled as he was. It was highly unusual, but then again, he had never met an angel before and did not know their tongue.
“I- ah, I don’t think I’m supposed to be here… For we are indeed in the world of the living, yes?”
The otherworldliness that had extended from the creature, which had been somewhat lost in hearing it speak, then returned. The world of the living? So, was this being from some sort of afterlife then? Martyn feels as if he should have read more about angels, now he just feels silly! As luck would have it, he didn’t need to answer, as Sausage did so for him.
ཐིᗢཋྀ
Looking upon the angel, Sausage was filled with nerves. Such a majestic creature! Oh, lucky be he, whom may be granted the opportunity to experience the divine! Without hesitation, Sausage answered the angel’s question.
“Why, you are indeed in the world of the living! Perhaps, if you won’t mind it, we could accompany you? I assume that this world is not where you belong, yes?”
The angel nods and as Sausage speaks its posture loosens and wings lower to the ground.
“Then, let us be friends!”
Sausage walks the few steps across the room, stretching out his hand to the being, and ignoring the undignified look Martyn gives him as he does so.
“Yes, let’s!”
The angel grasps his hand, and Sausage thinks that its hand is more human than one would imagine. It’s certainly better than the grasp of a vampire.
“You can call me Jimmy.”
“While many call me M, you, my friend, can call me Sausage!”
Releasing his hand from Jimmy’s, the angel turns his head towards the rest of the room, and Sausage scrambles to introduce the rest of the Militia present.
“And this here is Martyn Woodhurst,”
He points to Martyn with one finger.
“while that is Renhardt Dogmourne!”
He turns again.
When Sausage’s eyes fall upon Jimmy’s face, his smile fades and is replaced by a feeling of anxiety bustling in the air and settling deep in his stomach. Jimmy’s face was hard to make out in the dim room, but one could still see the contours of a jaw and nose, and glimmering eyes of red beneath the blonde hair of the angel. While the red eyes were somewhat off putting, it didn’t hold a candle to the look of absolute terror which Sausage could just barely make out in the darkness surrounding them. What was easier to see, however, and what which Sausage had no doubt that both of his friends could see, was the tensing of the angel’s posture, and raising of its wings. It looked, for a second, as if it might spring up in an attack against them, or even to fly away into the sky; were that to be possible without being stopped by the ceiling of the crypt. Then, as quick as it came, it was mostly concealed, and left remaining was only the faint outline of contracted muscle and darting eyes.
“Renhardt Dogmourne, you say..?”
The voice that spoke was timid in the way that it was quiet, but not such that it was any less of a threat than a scream.
“Ay, but ye could call me only Renhardt, don’t ya know?”
It was said to break the tension, and as the quiet surrounded them, it seemed to work – to some extent. With a quick draw of breath and a nod Jimmy gathered himself.
“Right, so where might be the way out of here?”
ཐིᗢཋྀ
By the time they managed to leave the crypt, fumbling their way back to the town as to not oppose Martyn’s lie, the sun’s first rays were just about to touch the horizon. Sausage had found that although the sky sometimes was free from clouds, the sun could never reach the same warmth and exceed the same brightness as it would outside of Oakhurst’s boarders. When he first arrived, he had wondered wether the blame fell on some sort of ancient magic or curse, and later he figured it must be the vampires, but at last, he had now decided to just accept it as a fact.
Looking at Jimmy now in the morning light, the angel – was he an angel? – looked all the more human. His body was that of a human, and disregarding his piercing red eyes and the wings sprouting from his back, nothing seemed to point towards him being an otherworldly being. Perhaps he was simply of a undocumented species? But then, Sausage remembered what had been done and said in the crypt. At the very least, he did not belong in this place.
Weighing his chances of being beaten bloody for some question which he did not know could be considered offensive to Jimmy, Sausage decided that he most definitely could hold his own against this guy.
“So, friend, back in the crypt you mentioned something about the living world. What’s that about? Are you perchance from another place- another world!? I, as a writer, must of course know the answers to this question so that I may be able to write stories about it!”
ཐིᗢཋྀ
Jimmy looked up at the man before him. He knew that people often saw him naïve – but in actuality Jimmy felt that he had a good understanding of other people’s intentions. He will admit that he’s always been a smidge hot-headed and reactive, but he is in no way stupid.
These people, whoever they are, clearly have ulterior motives. They weren’t lost in that dark room, no, they knew exactly where they were. It was clear as day that they must be responsible for his being here. If not them, then the Watchers, who always had this distinct feeling about them – something you could feel in the air. No, this was clearly not the work of Them, but of these men before him. Still, they all seemed rather unknowledgeable about him, giving him glances just a second to long and keeping their stances ready.
Then, there was also the look-alike. Ren. Or Renhardt, as he had introduced himself. Jimmy gathered himself. This was no time to get lost in memories. These three couldn’t be all bad, at the very least. They had yet to attack him, although he was clearly a red name – atleast from what he had seen of his reflection in some puddle some distance away. The signature red eyes were still there, even after his apparent revival.
It is whatever, he supposes. If only someone else – Scott – had been reincarnated or whatever instead of Ren…
-Sausage again begins a conversation with him.
“So, friend, back in the crypt you mentioned something about the living world. What’s that about? Are you perchance from another place- another world!? I, as a writer, must of course know the answers to this question so that I may be able to write stories about it!”
“Yes, well-“
How much could he tell them about himself? He wouldn’t want a repeat of his screw up with Daisy! Regardless of what Scott told him he wasn’t stupid enough not to learn from his own mistakes!
“I- ah..”
Never mind. He should never doubt his husband — ex-husband? Does it count if he’s dead and hasn’t seen his husband for what must have been hundreds of years? — he has no skill in deceiving. Looking at Sausage who’s standing a few steps ahead and waiting for an answer, Jimmy can’t find himself saying anything but the truth.
“Before this I think I was in some kind of afterlife? I’m not sure for how long, but after losing my third life I’ve been kind of stuck in a world that never seems to age or change in any way. I’m not really sure how it works though…”
Sausage seems to take a few seconds to consider this information.
“How.. interesting! You simply must give me every detail! Do not leave anything out of your descriptions, for an author must make sure that their work is as authentic as possible!”
As their conversation fills the air around them, the party sets their first steps inside the walls of Oakhurst.