A Paw In Two Worlds
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In a bygone era, Legacy was merely a feral feline, a stray born to the savage beauty of the wild. For six precarious years, she survived on cunning and stealth, observing humans from the shadows with a curious yet wary eye. That was until the day a benevolent soul plucked her from a treetop refuge. This human was an enigma, his voice a gentle melody that seemed to understand her very essence. Entranced, Legacy found herself ensnared in a mystifying domesticity that would last three bewildering years.
Coexisting with humans proved a confounding enigma. Their minds worked in inexplicable ways. She'd mew plaintively by the door, desperate for freedom, only to have her human respond with maddening chin scratches. Did they not grasp the simplest of feline language? Her demands were clear: liberty, not affection!
Gradually, her human grew attuned to her needs, though the process taxed her feline patience. Still, the shelter and protection he offered were a balm to her wild soul. Yet, proximity only deepened her fascination with the human enigma. What lay beyond those inscrutable eyes? How would the world alter if she strode on two legs instead of four? What wonders could opposable thumbs unlock? To experience the tactile marvels denied her species... the very idea was both exhilarating and heartbreaking.
Tragedy, however, has a cruel way of reshaping lives. After three years, Legacy found herself cast back into the wild, her heart burdened with loss and her spirit shattered. This desolate chapter brought her closer to true despair than any prior hardship. Even had her human friend lived, their companionship was by nature fleeting. Humans were blessed with an infuriating abundance of years, while cats were but brief, flickering flames. For two years, she drifted amidst human settlements, a ghostly observer consumed by their mystifying rituals. Why were they entranced by glowing rectangles, their faces bathed in the pale light of those tiny windows to the soul? Why did they bellow at these inanimate objects as if expecting a response? And what possessed them to emit those grating, cooing sounds that set her very teeth on edge?
Amidst this sea of incomprehensibility, one human stood out. An aged crone named Agatha, her skin sagging like well-worn leather, her teeth a testament to decay. Yet, despite her fearsome appearance, a gentle kindness radiated from her. The townsfolk dubbed her the "crazy cat lady," and it was she who brought food to the feral kindred. One day, as Legacy mingled with the colony of cats, Agatha's voice rasped against her ears. "You, little one, are not like the others. A shadow that hungers for a life forever out of reach."
The woman spoke cat!
Deal with the Devil
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"Strange human, your words are a riddle, a secret language only cats may comprehend. In all my years, I've never known such a marvel to be possible. Yes, I find myself entranced, observing and pondering the great 'what if.' What form would I take as a human? What tones would my voice carry? Would I roam the world in solitude or amidst a tapestry of loving kin and companions? The queries swirl in my mind like a maddening whirlwind!" Legacy had exclaimed, her tail twitching with the fervor of her curiosity. Then, a heavy sigh escaped her, "Alas, I am old, human, and my vitality ebbs with the fading moon. Perhaps, if the cosmos favor me, I shall be reborn in human form."
The wizened crone had cackled, a sound like brittle leaves and malevolence. "Why plead with the capricious Fates when I, myself, can grant your heart's deepest longing?"
The specifics of the pact that followed are a tale Legacy prefers not to recount. Suffice it to say, she bartered with a being from the shadows. The evidence of their compact is forever seared into her very being. Only later did Legacy discover the hag's true nature: a weaver of spells, a wielder of the arcane. Legacy's transformation was not merely into human form, but into a vessel for the mystical forces she had never imagined existed. Suddenly, she was a conduit for powers that both thrilled and terrified her. A wondrous gift, one might think.
Yet, it is a curse. The cost of this 'blessing' is a burden she can hardly bear, a weight of remorse from which she shall never find absolution.
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Who's the Biggest Fool of All?
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Legacy stands about 5'8 and has a petite figure. Her long brown hair cascades down her shoulders in dark waves, and she often shrouds herself in a mysterious cloak. Her brown eyes, flecked with gold, glow with an otherworldly intensity when she's casting powerful spells or consumed by strong emotions. Though she doesn't have a true birthday, having been born a cat, she appears to be in her late 20s.
She still has the ability to take on her feline form, though it's now a younger version. Her medium-length fur is a beautiful mix of brown, black, and white, and her amber eyes gleam in the light. Despite her desire to live as a human, she's most comfortable in this form and can even speak while in it.
Legacy has only recently gained freedom from the witch who held as an indentured servent, so she sometimes speaks as if she were still a cat. She's alone in the human world, with only her past scars for company. She has the potential for great power, but there's so much she still needs to learn.
Though eager to experience life as a human, Legacy is naturally distant, quiet, and mistrustful. She's patient and a good listener, with a bookish nature that leads her to get lost in libraries. Despite her prickly exterior, she's fiercely loyal to those she cares about. She often observes humans in bars and taverns, and has a fondness for animals. As a feline witch, she can see and speak to spirits, sometimes appearing to talk to herself when she's actually conversing with the dead.
Her shop, The Sixth Cauldron, is her sanctuary. The garden, overflowing with herbs and plants, is the first thing visitors see. The shop itself is a small stone hut, but the interior is surprisingly spacious. Shelves upon shelves of potions, ingredients, remedies, powders, and books line the walls. A flock of beloved chickens calls the backyard home. Don't fuck with her chickens.
She lives upstairs. The wooden floors creak with every step. The wallpaper is peeling, there's no hot water, and she's pretty sure the microwave is on the fritz, but it's home.
"She will have a legacy that will reach beyond the forest."
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Witch 🐾 Cat
Single 🐾 No Interest
Late Twenties
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"Her destiny is beyond what I can see."
Comments
Well, whatever damage had been done was done. Legion seemed hardly affected by it, though it had been made clear earlier that that was just who Legion was. He didn’t show pain, ever. He held a stoic and apathetic face that sometimes twisted with anger, and sometimes settled into something softer and more genuine. But he was not the type to show what he was feeling aside from emotions that hardly mattered, and pain was the same for him. He could ignore pain until he couldn’t. And he would.
As Legion watched the witch woman fall to nothingness before him, there was a slight twitch in his features, like he was satisfied with the reaction. Slowly, Legion bent down, picking up the knife she once held, studying the glint of the blade, the bloody shine that dripped off of it and began to pool around them.
What Legacy was feeling was understandable. The adrenaline from a fight felt nearly like chaotic magic, a building of stress compressed so tightly before it was released, leaving one shaky, nearly unstable. When Legion had fought a lot, when he used to use magic, that was one of the best things about it. The adrenaline release, the pleasure that came with it. He had adored those feelings. They were quickly addictive, and so short lived that they required so much more, over and over. A dangerous habit to get into. Maybe that was why he had stopped. He knew what addiction felt like, and he despised it, the feeling of having to rely on something else for his own happiness.
He did not seem to notice Legacy rushing toward him until she was yelling, and he turned to blink at her, almost startled from whatever little world he had let himself fall into while he measured the consequences of his actions. He tilted his head slightly, before offering an amused smirk in her direction. It seemed likely that Legacy would be the type to fret over others, how didn’t it?
“Demons actually tend to do quite well in fire. I’m fine.” He said easily, shaking his head. “I’ll heal.” And it was true. He would heal on his own, and it would be easy for him to do so, being made up of a thousand, a million little pieces all coming together with intention to make him whole again, all sentient in his body. “Now, look away, little cat.” He gave her a moment to do as he asked before he reached down to grab the dead body by its hair, lifting Aurora by her hair once again. And with a swift movement that made an admittedly disturbing squelching sound, Legion dug the knife right into the side of her neck, and used the strength in him he didn’t look like he should have to cut her head clean off.
Powerful witches should never be left intact unless one wanted them to come back to life. The demon was just making sure he’d covered all his bases. He’d eat her, but he didn’t have the stomach for beings wielding so much magic at the moment. Maybe another time. Instead, he’d just leave her dismembered. It was better for everyone that way.
He put the head down for the time being, and laid the knife on the table, turning to look at Legacy fully. The raw magic had left a sizable burn in the center of his chest, one that was red and blistered now, skin oozing and dripping in a way only candle wax really should. But he seemed… unencumbered. Legacy would be able to recognize the way, slowly, tiny black tendrils had begun to slither about the surface of his skin and beneath it, began to rid its fleshy body of the ruined pieces and reshape itself as it should have been. Unlike minor scars like the one on his cheek, this was a slower process and would take much longer. But it would get done eventually.
Without asking much permission, Legion reached out to pick up the now cat version of Legacy, cradling her body in his arms the way he would have with just about any animal he’d come across. “Don’t worry about the staring. It doesn’t bother me.” He added, thinking it best to pick up the knife and slide it into a pocket, where it disappeared into essentially a separate dimension, never to be seen again unless he wanted to.
“Let’s get you somewhere to heal you, too. I know just the person.” He didn’t leave quite yet, instead moving to pick up the dead body of Jupiter that also lay on the floor. This disappeared into the void the knife had gone into. And after kneeling to pick up his own jacket, he turned, simply, and walked out the front door. It was locked, yes, but it unlocked with a touch of his hand. With the soft click sound, he slipped outside and closed the door behind him. Dripping in blood, skin slightly gray tinted, the darkness of his face and angular features revealed, he barely looked human. He almost looked like he should have wings and horns and a tail. Maybe he did. Maybe those just stayed hidden. They could return to the house for clues after they had both been taken care of. It was probably best they leave well enough alone for now.
Legion did, in fact, seem just a little too nonchalant for the situation at hand. Ordinarily, he would not seem so dismissive. But it seemed something had come over him, and Aurora’s rage did nothing to evade Legion’s attention away from what he was doing. When the witch moved to attack him from all sides, it seemed as if the barrier moved with her, tracked her movements and attacks.
It would certainly be frustrating. Luckily for her, perhaps, the protective spell – if that’s what it even was – was not something he could hold onto forever. It was only a temporary solution to the problem. But it worked for whatever task it was Legion had been hoping to complete. Soon enough, Aurora would find the demon slipping his phone away again, and dropping his hand, the protective barrier fading away like it had never been there.
This also, probably to Aurora’s delight, allowed quite an intense ball of energy to hit right in the center of his chest. It didn’t send him down, but he did stumble, an impressive feat. It left a gaping hole in his black shirt, exposing pale skin otherwise decorated with just the very edge of a tiger’s paw on a black background, just a hint of a tattoo the demon never showed, or at least had yet to show to Legacy, considering he wore long sleeves all the time. The pale, ghostly skin that was exposed was now tinted red and scarred, as if that energy had left a severe burn behind. Or maybe it had always been there, the scar, and no one had seen it yet.
Either way. It did not fell the demon. He was like a tree, strong and heavy, and it would take a lot more than that to fully take him down. As Legion watched Aurora’s attention turn to Legacy and Jupiter, his gaze sparked. A blinding flash of white light where those empty dark pools had been. It was like a camera flash, there for just a second, and then gone. Judging by how distracted everyone was, they may not have even noticed it. Legion’s own gaze settled on the two cats, watching on how this death match would inevitably turn out. Legion was a bit sad for it. Even though he objectively understood that Jupiter was the bad guy, he hated to see any animal get hurt, really. Even evil ones. Especially cats. Not that Legion would say that though.
And when the limp body of the cat fell to the floor, growing colder by the second, Legion knew he had only one chance to act before Aurora’s rage was turned on anything that wasn’t Legacy’s cat form. And so he did move, at a speed that was thankfully quicker than most humans would have been able to, to intercept the fire thrown at the cat.
Legion could lie and say that it didn’t hurt. He could say that this only was a scar, a mere flesh wound that would heal. And it would heal. But it did also hurt. Contrary to popular belief, and even to his own ability to play with fire, a targeted attack of concentrated energy pushed together to make a ball of fire hitting him squarely was painful. It caught the fabric of his shirt and spread. He had enough sense to drop his jacket to the floor before the flames took that with it. His skin burned, sizzled and began to turn black, began to melt into something else. The pain was written on his face.
But it did not stop him. If Aurora, blinded by rage and her sadness, was distracted enough, Legion would reach her without struggle. His fingers, his nails, much sharper than they ever should have been, dug into her throat. If she was quick enough to pull away from that at least, it would leave sharp cuts in her flesh, ribbons of skin pulled away to gush blood. If she wasn’t, though… Aurora would find her throat ripped out, without a second thought from the demon. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Legacy, it was something Legion likely would have done much sooner. It was not a pretty sight either way.
||You're very welcome and thank you for accepting and also I must say that you have quite the interesting character here, I hope you have room for another thread? If not than I understand but if you do, I would be more than happy to plot a storyline out with you ^^
She turned over the information Legacy provided, a small frown marring her brow. "Did you actually see this museum with your own eyes? Beyond looking it up online?" As she spoke she began to pace, as if movement helped her to puzzle through a situation. "And where did you meet this Ryan?" It was a long shot at best, but if she went to the place where the other witch met with her human contact, perhaps she could pick out a scent that Legacy might have missed. Not to say the feline's nose wasn't keen enough, simply that in her experience wolven noses were keener still. She snorted softly at the mention of the Salem Witch Trials, as far as she was aware most of the victims of that atrocity weren't even witches. Human hysteria knew no bounds; sometimes they even turned on each other.
Shaking her head to clear it, she paused; turning to pin a look upon Legacy. "Wait...he blew up a bar?" That gave her pause, but she ultimately setting it aside in favour of her next question. "Also... who is Agatha?" She chuckled ruefully. "I know. Instincts are something we hone over time..." she couldn't truly blame the girl for being duped. Especially if she lacked any kind of formal training.
"Indeed, I was." A wistfulness entered her tone, gaze dropping to the floor in an effort to hide the sadness glimmering within her gaze. Wait...clan cat? Her pacing footsteps faltered and her lips parted as if she were about to question that when the rest of Legacy's words hit her. She said little to nothing when she spoke of the darkness this Agatha chose to dabble in, filing away the tidbit of knowledge that it was to that witch she was bound in servitude. "Well that explains a lot..." she mumbled almost to herself, part demon; she knew no true witch worth their salt would deal in pacts.
She bobbed her head as the other witch listed the magic she could do, it was a solid foundation; one that could easily be built upon with the right teacher. Her footsteps stumbling to a stop as the status of her coven was questioned, a very lupine whine passing her lips. "They're dead. Killed by witch hunters. I alone survived." Well...as far as she knew...
Alexander watched her, his speed and agility as he hurtled from one railcar to another effortless. She leaped, but his dark eyes zoned in on her struggle. He honestly thought she’d be better than this. What kind of supernatural was she? Even a fairy could have leaped a train; or, well, flown a train.
The vampire followed soon after, whisking himself into the train car. By this time, his clothes were saturated, rain dripping from his frame as he stood in the doorway. His crimson hues flared to life from their typical dark state, adjusting to the darkness. "First time?" Alexander questioned, running his slender fingers through his hair in an attempt to flush it backward in its soaking wet state.
He watched her move to the back of the train and soon joined her, his back leaning against the metal wall. Her heart was pulsing a mile a minute, something he couldn’t help but pick up on. It had taken him a long time to learn to tune out the heartbeats around him, but with the adrenaline coursing through her and the calm inside the train car, it was basically the only noise breaking the tension; besides the rumbling of the tracks, of course.
Alexander let out a sigh, indicating the ordeal was basically over. "So," he started, his voice echoing in the empty container. His silhouette went dark for a moment before his eyes reopened with their crimson glow. "Tell me about this Talisman."
Nascha lifted a single eyebrow in response to the other witch's tirade, her lips twisting into a rueful grimace. "Of course I'm no stranger to regret. I simply believe one shouldn't make the same mistake twice. It was making deals that got you into whatever mess you've come to regret, making another to get out of it wouldn't be the right move." She shrugged, each word had been uttered calmly without a hint of growl. Even her pose remained relaxed in the face of being shouted at.
No she supposed it didn't truly matter how she'd come into possession of said artifacts, beyond her own inate curiosity on the matter, but that was a question for another day she supposed. Nascha could agree that it was of more import to find these dangerous objects, lest chaos be unleashed. She blew out a breath. "Now, where did you last see these...artifacts?" Her lips press together, whilst her thoughts spun to imagining the devastation that could be unleashed. Only to shake her head and force herself to refocus.
Her lips twitched as she heard the grumble, and she could just imagine the possibly violent thoughts being aimed her way. She didn't let it show on her face though, choosing to focus upon the topic of spirits instead. "Wrenching a soul back from rest would be rather rude, yes. Whole other ball game then. Wouldn't wish to dabble with spirits myself, but we each must play to our strengths."
The question brought her up short, stalling anything else she might have said on that topic as she pinned a narrow eyed look upon the feline witch. Why was she asking? She supposed there was only one way to find out. "I was something of a prodigy during my training, I mastered many forms of offensive and defensive magic." It might have seemed vague; but she wasn't going to delve deeper whilst she wasn't sure she could trust the other witch.
Now, Legion was really not the fighting type, more docile than anything, and it had been a long time since he’d had a reason to be in a fight at all. But if that was how things were going to go, Aurora would find herself fighting essentially a brick wall, in terms of sturdiness, that was for sure. As the witch screeched and squirmed, and yelled her words about Legacy, Legion sort of bared his teeth in a silent snarl. They were sharp, too sharp, disturbingly so. Certainly no human.
When the world changed around him, Legion recognized it as a trick but still he allowed it to be a momentary distraction for him, his gaze flitting about them into the dark recesses of the forest. To him, it didn’t matter the price Legacy paid, although he had to admit that contracts with devils and selling one’s soul – what he imagined the answer would be, as any transformation as great in intensity as Legacy’s often required such a payment – did put a damper on helping. Not because he couldn’t, necessarily. He had ties, unknowingly, to Lucifer. He was the most common devil to sell one’s soul to, or to make a deal with. If that had been what she had done, he could… help. At a great cost to himself, maybe, but still. It was nothing he wouldn’t survive. “The price she paid doesn’t matter. If you think I care about a precious deal with the devil or any other kind of tightbound contract, you are sorely mistake.” Legion hissed back, with the same dripping voice of many he had used before.
When the sharpness of the blade brushed across his face, the demon blinked, snapping his gaze back to the woman who stood before him. Those already angular eyes narrowed into slits at her. Annoyed, more than anything. Yes, she would manage to draw the thinnest line of blood from the blade, but the cut was hardly deep enough to bleed profusely. It dripped thick, black syrupy blood down his face and off his chin. When it hit the floor, it sizzled, smoke rising from the droplet.
Legion rarely sounded more than just mildly annoyed, and this was no different. He huffed at Aurora, wiping his hand across the thin line on his face. By the time his hand dropped to the side, the cut was completely gone, as if it had never been there at all. Annoyance boiled in him and he managed to raise that scarred hand to the blasting shockwave Aurora sent toward him. It wasn’t sent back to her as one might think, but instead was slowed to a stop, the energy fizzling out like the end of a sparkler.
And then Legion was near her again, storming to her side to grab her. He let the blade grace his skin, annoyed by it but unmoved. What did move him, though, was the blast of energy sent in his direction. It didn’t knock him back into the wall like Aurora had hoped it would, but it didn’t do nothing, instead sent him back a few good feet, his feet sliding against the old wood flooring. But Legion’s grip on Aurora’s hair did not loosen. If she did not go flying back with him, it was not unlikely that a good chunk of her hair would have been ripped out of her head instead.
It took his breath away, for the slightest of moments, and Legion huffed as he always did when he was annoyed, catching his footing to stand up straight.
But instead of fighting back, in a gesture that likely proved confusing to all who witnessed it in a time like this, Legion pulled his smartphone out from his back pocket, and instead moved on to texting someone. He did not leave himself entirely exposed or without cover, holding up his other hand in front of him, scarred palm glowing red and orange like dying embers. A shimmering translucent black barrier appeared in front of him, just for the moment. If Aurora did attempt to hit him with something, that would be rebounded in her direction.
Though his thoughts did shift to helping Legacy, a quick glance in her direction meant he knew she would be okay on her own. She evidently had enough fight in her to protect herself. He kept an eye out, making sure she really would be okay by herself. He would step in if need be.
Of course they knew each other. No one would try getting in Legacy’s way if not for knowing her or what she was after. Legion had to admit that despite the dangerous feeling he had gotten outside of the house, he didn’t really see this kind of thing coming. But then, how was he supposed to? All the people of Legacy’s past were a mystery to him. What he could gather, though, was that Aurora likely worked for Agatha, or was at least associated with her in some way. Otherwise, why else would she be there?
Of course that suspicion was confirmed when Legacy pointed out who Aurora really was. The demon sort of tilted his head in thought at the warning he received. Someone who fed on pain and trauma. Drew power from it. And, likely someone who knew a lot about people, could look deep inside them and find what hurt the most just to feed on the ache. Legion knew people like that. He was not one of them, to be sure, but he had been in crowds of demons in the past, and he understood how they operated. Aurora was not unique in that regard.
Speaking of, when she spoke, when she made eye contact, Legion returned Aurora’s gaze. He didn’t mind a confrontation, though he figured this probably wouldn’t be much of one. Aurora, although powerful, although dangerous, didn’t feel like much of a threat to the demon. Or… well, demonic creature.
This was as good a time as any, Legion decided, to let things see his eyes. Sometimes having the sunglasses off was beneficial, although he couldn’t say why that was, or at least chose not to. Although he could see perfectly well with them on, even in darkened spaces clearly, there were occasions when removing them proved useful. So he made the decision to slip the sunglasses off of his face, fold them up and put them away in his jacket pocket.
His eyes, as he had attempted to describe before, were a magnificent and horrifying sight. They were black like Emily’s, yes, from pupil to sclera, entirely void of color, except for what seemed to be a thin red ring of color that circled the pupil. It looked as if they sat in pools of dark water, of space, floating in an absence of anything. The gory appearance might even lead one to question whether or not Legion had eyes at all. What was more, the skin under and around his eyes looked bruised, deep dark purples and flushes of red, like a lobotomy victim. Coupled with his features – his jawline and cheekbones, the swift uptilt of his eyes, the slight pointiness to his ears – and it was clear that he was not human. He was only just a little too angular to be so. He could have passed as a demon, assuredly.
When Aurora spoke of consumption, Legion only blinked back, slowly, catlike. “You could try.” He offered, his voice sounding sorely dull. “But you wouldn’t like it. And you wouldn’t like how it makes you feel.” Even if they wanted to classify him under ‘demon’, he was no regular demon, and consuming his blood would have had an effect Aurora did not care for, he could be sure.
He listened to every word, noting it carefully. Those sharp eyes of his narrowed into almost-slits when Aurora spoke next, and with that comment he crossed his arms over his chest indignantly. Did it sting? Of course, a little. Anyone would have felt the same. But that was a pain he was working to get over, and in response he simply raised an eyebrow. Being able to see into people’s hearts and souls was a very useful tool, he supposed. “You dare mock people’s pain?” He asked, though he knew the answer to that. He wasn’t surprised.
“I killed myself for him.” He said it with ease, like it was just another fact about himself. A nothing in response to the hurt Aurora wanted to cause. “But I feel lighter every passing day.” That was to say, there wasn’t much she could do to harm him. At least, not in that way. Other things might have cut deeper, and physically he could technically be wounded, but that was more difficult than Aurora would likely have given him credit for. Being underestimated like that was frankly an advantage. It was best to keep one’s cards close to one’s chest.
The fight that ensued was not where Legion thought this was going to go. Legion was also not exactly expecting for Legacy to… well, turn into a cat again. He could feel the rage jolt through her entire body. Although his plan was initially to help – he ended up at the cat’s side, a hand rested on her head, with the intention of lifting her up and taking her with him – Aurora’s words gave him pause. He did not often find threats to be anything of interest, but he had to admit that he was annoyed by them. And Aurora’s, especially, irked him more than he would have liked to admit.
So he left Legacy as a cat, to fight with the other cat that had appeared quite out of the blue. Instead, Legion’s own gaze locked on Aurora. The demon was not a fighter anymore, not a creature that cared about battles of strength and power, who rarely had a reason to display power at all. But if that was what Aurora wanted, then that was what she was going to get. It might have been a long time since he had fought, but once upon a time he had been a formidable foe, a horrible creature of chaos and destruction.
He took a step toward Aurora, and then another. Unlike before, where his footsteps sounded just like… well, like footsteps, they made no sound now. Well, not no sound. They had a soft quality to them, like something lightweight being dragged across the ground. That was not the most disturbing thing, though. What would have been more unsettling was the way his skin seemed to… melt. It was unnerving to watch, once solid flesh dripping away like wax on a burning candle, revealing beneath it skin that was a dark gray, decorated with abstract black swirls and spirals, body markings that covered him whole.
He was not the type to strip – though some demons were, he knew, to show off their appearance, their power – but the way his hands, the skin around his exposed face and neck seemed to blur at the edges, a host of powerful and sentient shadows that pulled him apart and stitched him back together, made obvious there was no thing like him. His eyes, too, they glowed in their blackness, the thin red ring around his pupil pulsing especially bright with ruby light. He seemed… taller, too, or maybe Aurora was just short, and maybe it was a trick of the light.
One thing was for certain: Legion was not afraid of Aurora. When he stood above her, his form wavering as if it hardly existed at all, as if it was hard to look at, it was clear to see why. She was a monster, a creature, a witch, yes. But she was also… just a witch. A witch with magic, who had not attempted to bind him or circle the house with something that would keep him out.
“There is much I will tolerate,” he said, and when he did, his voice was a dichotomy of senses, a sibilant whisper that could be heard inside one’s own head, but also deep like endless black oceans, like trenches. It spoke with multiple voices, too, a chorus of them. The accent he carried around with him, the British one, was replaced with something else, something otherworldly and difficult to lock down. “Even death threats. You puny creatures mean little to me, little in the grand scheme of things. But attack my friend, threaten her, and I must admit I have a hard time keeping my emotions under check.”
When he lifted his hand, there was a symbol on the palm. Some kind of magic circle, maybe, although not one any person of this would have recognized. It was not black like the markings on his skin, but instead carved into it, a wound that never healed and stayed gory and shiny.
He did nothing with that palm, except that he reached up to grab Aurora by her hair, tugging to tilt her head up, his eyes boring down into hers. Legion knew how to instill a sense of fear and foreboding, a general chill that ran down one’s back, although it was hard to pinpoint what that fear really came from.
“You have a single chance to leave here before I skin you and your cat. I don’t much like the taste of witches. But that does not mean I won’t eat them.” He was close enough to bite, inches from Aurora’s face. She could have if she wanted to. She would have been met with strangely thick skin, like a shark’s, though. It was sharper teeth that were needed to get through this form.
"I'm not dragging you anywhere," Alexander snapped, almost cutting her off, his frustration evident. While he had tried to drag her earlier, she had chosen to pull away instead of listening to him.
Alexander continued his stride, his senses sharp and alert. The birds chirped in nearby trees, even though it was late at night, with dawn just barely breaking. The darkness still cloaked the surroundings, making the chirping seem oddly out of place. As the two passed by, the birds fell silent, hushing down in their nests for the remainder of the night.
His attention shifted to the right, where a low, deep rumble echoed from the ground. It was far off in the distance, a sound only someone with supernatural hearing could pick up. Veering off the shabby dirt road onto a patch of grass, which broadened into a small housing section, Alexander weaved between a couple of buildings before pausing once again.
The vampire didn't respond to her apology. What could he possibly say? The earlier thunder returned, a clear sign that rain was imminent. As they ventured further into the housing district of the old traveler's town, the rumbling grew louder, revealing a train approaching. It was clear that they would soon encounter the tracks.
With the houses behind them, Alexander stood in an open field. The grass crunched underfoot, the brown blades a testament to the lack of rain. Overgrowth of weeds showed how neglected the outskirts were, some even encroaching on the tracks. The rain began to fall, a welcome relief for the parched land of Louisiana.
The rain picked up, falling in steady, rhythmic patterns. Drops landed on Alexander, slowly drenching his hair, matting it to the sides of his face and trailing down his shoulders. It wasn’t the first time he’d been caught in the rain, and he too hated being wet.
The train roared closer, its front light growing brighter at a rapid pace. "Come on," Alexander hissed, turning to Legacy before quickly shifting his attention back to the approaching train. He had been in this town for only a few months but long enough to know that this poor country city was planted alongside a frequently used freight train track.
As the first few train cars came into view, Alexander spoke, "Let's go, you'll have to jump." His dark crimson gaze locked on her, the cars now passing behind him, causing wet strands of raven hair to blow wildly. With that, he leaped backward, grasping a railcar handle and flipping himself atop the train car. As a vampire, this was easy for him. He had been jumping rail cars since his days as a young human hunter in Russia.
Standing upright, Alexander began to move backward, jumping from car to car, closing the distance between himself and Legacy. He didn’t expect her to reach the top of the train as he had. The most common practice for hitching a ride on a cargo train was to jump into an open car. As the train roared on, he watched, waiting to see if she would make it.
At the comment about his eyes, Legion simply tilted his head in thought, peering down at the witch. “They don’t exactly.” He admitted. They were… similar to Emily’s, of course, blackness and emptiness, but they looked… worse. It was true he hid them because of humans for the most part; they were the most frightened. But in general, they tended to disturb many different kinds of creatures, and it was easier to keep the sunglasses on when he wasn’t at home or somewhere he knew other beings – specifically humans – wouldn’t see him.
“I tend to only take them off when I’m home, or performing. It’s just easier that way. Even if they don’t bother you–” He had a feeling they would, anyway. “–they would likely bother someone, and especially now when what you want is answers, is not the best time to go around frightening humans with my appearance.” Humans were strangely delicate creatures. Not all of them, of course, but many were, and Legion decided that it would just be easiest if they didn’t have to deal with humans having a fit over what he looked like before they even got a chance to talk with them, barring they had to.
When the conversation turned back to Legacy, though, Legion decided to drop the subject and instead listened to her talk with a soft smile gracing his features. “I love chickens.” Legion said easily, nodding as if empathetic. “They make quite good pets, I’d say. They can be very kind. And of course, free eggs are a plus. I’ve always been a fan of cats myself.” He knew she was one, or had been one, but evidently had no qualms with saying so. He was pretty catlike himself, despite not technically being one. “My sisters, though, they make it difficult to have a pet.” He had always been a good caretaker, but he had decided a while ago that pets were something he couldn’t have reasonably and make sure they were happy. Well, no. He would dedicate his entire life to taking care of them. But there was still some difficulty there for him. It was… complicated.
“I do believe medicinal herbs are useful.” Legion agreed easily. “For many things. Especially mild ailments like colds and sore throats. Sometimes more severe things that are magical in nature, like curses or attacks from ghosts. It all just depends.” On the user, on the creature it was being used on, on the severity of the illness. Legion so rarely took medicine that he couldn’t even remember the last time he had. He had a pretty killer healing factor on his own.
As Legacy stated her readiness, Legion rested a hand on her shoulder to lead her forward, allowing the two of them to teleport in the same way they had done just the day earlier. As they approached the gleaming white house, Legion gazed over it in interest, despite his hidden gaze the witch could tell he felt a modicum of concern. Even before she had bothered knocking on the door, the demon could only rest a hand on her shoulder.
“Something isn’t right.” He warned her, but allowed her to do as she wished anyway. That seemed to be his way of things, letting her do as she wished despite knowing better. When the door finally swung open to reveal such an interesting interior, Legion only frowned further. Why have such nice furniture but not bother building a bigger house? Why own all the land and do nothing with it? Although he could sense the other being in the house, he had to admit he didn’t know who they were. He did know, though, that there was magic in the air, a glamour that hid forms. Once again, his fingers brushed over Legacy’s shoulder, a silent warning to be careful, before Legion was finally clasping his hands behind his back and following behind her in silence.
The form he was expecting to see was not a boy, he had to admit. A young thing with golden hair and soft skin. He could see a shimmering outline around him that made him look… wrong, but Legion couldn’t exactly place his finger on what form was hidden beneath that. As he found himself behind the angry cat and laughing creature, his head tilted slightly, perhaps hearing something no others could hear. The door slamming shut made Legion scoff in a way that wasn’t exactly dismissive, but was certainly unhappy. Like most creatures, he was not a fan of cages. They made him antsy and angry.
The fireball was new. Though he supposed there had been no reason for Legacy to use her magic up until now. What he saw was something not quite controlled, but powerful. Considering she used to be a cat, it was fascinating how much power she held inside of her. She was certainly someone that, with effort and training, could wield it well. Legion was not the one to teach her how to do that, but he knew many people who could.
“Friend of yours?” Legion asked. There was a strange deepness to his voice now, one that wasn’t there before. It seemed his tone shifted. It could shift more, too, though that hardly seemed necessary. At the moment, anyway. “I don’t make a particularly good meal.” Legion added, just in case the jab was directed at him. As if on instinct, Legion moved slightly to be in front of the witch. He didn’t seem worried. He wasn’t even tense. But he didn’t like the direction that this was heading, and ‘deadly foe’ was much more of a threat to Legacy than it would ever be to Legion.
He also wouldn’t say that he was masquerading as anything, except that he had many forms he could take and this was the one he used most often. “Speaking in riddles becomes tiresome quickly.” He pointed out dully, and then added, because she had already made a similar threat, “Don’t make me eat you. I really doubt you’d taste good.” But it had been a while since he had eaten, now hadn’t it, and he was certainly going to need a next meal before long. It wasn’t something he wanted Legacy to see, and typically he ate humans over other creatures, but… well, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he was picky about who he ate. “What happened to the resident of this home?” He glanced around, then, frowning slightly. “Or have you put a portal on the front door that leads somewhere else?” It was only a guess, and he wasn’t sure he was right, but it could happen. It had happened before.
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