Lazrenaias is in a quandary. Here he has so much more power than all these mortals walking about him here in Times Square, he could call things into being that would set the populace screaming for their lives. He could do whatever he liked and fear nothing of the consequences. But still, he holds his hand, there is no need for that, and he IS here to meet with a pet of his. In fact, lately she has become his only pet. And he finds himself looking forward to seeing her physically again.
     "Hmph." He grumbles slightly to himself, he only looks forward to seeing the look on her face for making her travel across an ocean for a meeting. Too bad this is 1954 instead of 1754, or better yet 1654. He chuckles to himself, wishing he'd thought of that back then. Called her to meet him someplace that had only barely been discovered! His grin is malicious as he looks up at this Giant Coke sign. Nybbas must have been dancing on the roof when that thing was built.
     His vessel is young, barely 23, and in great shape. He always enjoyed being in good shape, though the look on Karoly's face the few times he's been obese was priceless. Dressed in jeans and a decent pull-over shirt and his hair tucked up under a baseball cap, he stands out in Times Square like a sore thumb. Still, he doesn't care. He seems quite lost in his contemplation of this huge sign.

     The young-seeming woman is dressed chicly, by the standards of the age - post-World War II, after all, and my, wasn't that an exciting time in many ways. She wears a rich purple pencil-skirt paired with white silk blouse, and matching purple jacket and shoes, and atop her head, a whimsical purple hat with a long quail feather tucked into the black band of it.
     She's a brunette again, this time - long black hair bound back in an elegant knot tied on the nape of her neck, terribly severe, paired with pearl necklace and pearl earrings. She always did like pearls...
     Karoly looks almost American - the clothing must have been recently purchased. She makes her way through the crowd along the way from one side of Times Square to the other, ignoring those around her as if they were lesser creatures. Perhaps to her they are. She can look any age - though she prefers to look young; female vanity, and all that. And how many of them, truly, would be proof against her manipulations or her powers, if she chose to wield them?
     She comes to a halt, pausing to look up at the Coke sign, keeping her voice properly low. "Good day, my lord."

     The demon in man's clothing takes a deep breath and glances to her with a grin, "Amazing the things they can do in this modern age isn't it?" His grin is sly, and his American accent, strangely enough, suits him to an absolute tee. He glances her over once, then again, "Foxy... isn�t that the proper term?" He asks, apparently in a playful mood.
     Those around her and him walk past as if they are unseen, even the gestures he makes towards the sign at his opening greeting were completely avoided by the passing throng.
     He glances her over again, and his grin grows just a bit more sly as he looks to her eyes.

     "I am uncertain of the correct modern American idiom," Karoly answers gravely, unemotionally not rising to react to the remark. "But if it is a compliment, then my lord, you have my thanks, of course. It is ever my hope to be pleasing."
     "The modern age - I do not know if I prefer it," Karoly adds, tilting her head back to regard the sign again, hands folded on her purse in front of her. "But it is different. There are new things, and new uses. Europe has changed very much, this century. You would hardly recognize it, in some ways - and yet people do remain people."
     It is almost more than she says in these conversations in a decade. However, she lowers her head again, turning to watch very cautiously through lowered thick eyelashes, pupils as coal-dark as the lashes they guard. "To what purpose have you summoned me, my lord?"

     "Europe is forever ahead of times, and behind the times." He waves off the comment as if it were no matter. Lazrenaias looks about again, smiling widely at the shops and traffic, "Seems like only yesterday this was undeveloped forest and swamp..." He chuckles yet again, though a bit more darkly this time. And his silence lasts for quite some time.
     Finally, Karoly's question breaks his silence. Eyebrows raised he glances to her, "Why, is seeing the Big Apple not enough milady?" He laughs. Milady sounds so odd coming from American lips, does it not?" He looks at her, "I wished to congratulate you on a job well done in Italy. Benito was quite shocked the populace turned on him quite so strongly. I have you to thank for that."
     Thanks? From him? But he seems to have nothing more to add.

     It certainly gives one pause for thought, doesn't it? However, Karoly knows better than to react too directly to this taunt. "One hopes that my actions give you pleasure, then. I imagine that much of your time must be spent in considerable boredom if you watch me so assiduously as that. But if I am so important when I have considered myself the least of your creatures, I must only be flattered, must I not?"
     Looking over at the storefront, Karoly seems rather disinterested in her surroundings by and large. "They are Americans," she pronounces with mild disdain. "Perhaps in three or four hundred years they will be of more interest."
     Said as only someone who has been alive nearly a thousand years might say...
     Turning to regard the demon, Karoly's lips remain closed, pressed tightly for a moment and then releasing. "I have seen many things since our contract was first formulated, my lord. It is different. But I thank you for your compliment." Karoly states it unsmilingly, as if she takes no pleasure in it - or perhaps no pleasure in the task which she achieved. On the other hand, she does not seem angry or pained by the memory...
     "The experimental new government is picking up speed, but I do not believe that they shall succeed in ousting the Church."

     Lazrenaias could really care less if it succeeds or not, though he will certainly be the demon to beat if it does. He does however, enjoy finding seemingly impossible tasks for Karoly to complete, the only reason being to see her fail.
     She's yet to fail, and, oddly enough, it does not seem to bother him overmuch.
     He remembers the look on her face when her little summoning of a demon actually worked, so many centuries ago. And again when she was first sent to kill her first man. Good times -- good times.
      The smallest of sighs escape him as he wonders how he can get that flash of emotion back from her... and he frowns at her, wondering where those thoughts came from. And he frowns again, realizing he's been staring all this time.
     He looks away quickly and clenches a fist, but he's managed to hold his temper for two hundred years now he'll not let her see his frustration.
     "I have another assignment for you... and it is here in the United States. The drug counterculture is just getting underway. I want it to explode in the next few decades. And I want you to do it."

     "America." Karoly's voice resonates with distaste for a moment, but she nods. It's clear she doesn't like America, or Americans, very much. "I will, of course, endeavor to do so, my lord. Do you have a preference for an outlet?"
     Karoly absently lifts one hand to pat at the knot on the nape of her neck, then opens her purse to pull out a compact, examining her reflection. "I would imagine that as usual excess may best be achieved through traditional breaking of certain key points. That is, after all, how it usually works - but if you have preferences, my lord, it would be foolish for me to overlook them. I trust that your power continues to rise."

     And as usual in the past century or so, her compliments on his power puffs him up noticeably. "As always my Dear Karoly." He bows with a smile, "I trust you will know what to do, but you have several years to become involved. Perhaps..." He glances about the skyscrapers, "..you will find something to like about this country." His chuckle resonates in her chest.
     And about then he glances down to his hand as he holds it up to the light, examining a new ring, with a rather large multifaceted sapphire set in it. "Have I shown you this before Karoly? This was a gift from my Prince..." And as he holds his ring over to her his eyes travel down his arm, attach to hers and travel up to her eyes yet again. His own eyes are half lidded, but it is obvious he is watching her closely.
Idling
     The skeptical look on the woman's face says it all : I doubt it. She is very disaffected, and particularly when it comes to America - she'll do it, but she'll not linger longer than she must, that much is plain.
     Closing the compact, Karoly places it back into her purse and closes the compartment up again. "I will do my best, my lord," she answers simply. "As I always do. As I always must." Her loyalty is not bought out of personal desire but personal ambition, her motivation at least as much to avoid pain as for any personal gain. "Whether or not I find things to like about America."
     The dark gaze moves from the mortal shell's face to the ring, pupils briefly twitching as if at a change in lighting. "It is a lovely ring," she answers dutifully, but with a guarded undertone to her voice. "However, the ring does not tell the entirety of the tale, my lord. What is it that you would have me say?"

     "Karoly, if I would want to give you your words, I would kill you and play your corpse as a puppet." Again, said so off-handedly, one would wonder if he's done that before. His smile does not fade however, "I thought you might appreciate the stone..." And as he gestures to it, it fades from a blue sapphire color, to a dark green, just before all color bleeds out to clear as diamond. "You have a certain connection to it, whether you know it or not."

     "While you may not wish for my words to be placed by you, my lord," Karoly answers steadily, with the careful gaze of someone who knows her life to potentially be forfeit even if only by indirection, "that does not mean that all I say would be welcomed by you. As such, I do hold much in reserve..."
     As if she were not reserved enough!
     She regards the gem with renewed suspicion, though attempting not to allow it to show in her expression, lifting her purse in both hands as if a squirrel holding a nut. "A connection, my lord?"

     Even as her suspicion grows, the stone grows slightly gray. And to her response concerning her words and reservations he says simply, "Trust me Dear Karoly, your silence on things will anger me much more than your words." He raises an eyebrow to her, "I find myself curious to hear your opinions..."
      And just like that he drops the subject, changing it to his ring, "Yes ma'am, a connection." His smile shows a million tiny pleasures as he shows it to her, "This, my dear Karoly, is your Soul Stone." And by his voice, the capitalization is quite apparent.

     There is a moment of silence, Karoly's eyes widening for just a moment as her gaze remains caught on the stone. Her voice is slightly harsh as she speaks. "I see." Bitterness, perhaps; panic, perhaps; regret, anger, fear - all of them, shoved below the icy surface of her skin.
     "One wonders if it was a reward or a punishment, my lord, that your master," and there is a very faint sweetness in the satisfaction of knowing that just as she is owned, so is her own owner, "would place this in your hands. However, I do not presume to know even your own mind, my lord, let alone his, so far above me as you yourself are."
     She is no celestial being, after all. Only a human witch...
     The dark gaze lifts for just a moment from the stone to the male face and voice, then drops back to staring intently at the gem and all it represents. "I am sure that it is flawed," Karoly adds, woodenly.

     Lazrenaias laughs aloud as her hidden emotions make the stone swirl from gray to red to black to green again.
     "I could find no punishment in this... in fact, I would say it is a great reward!" He lowers his hand after one last look, "After all, it means I now have total control over your soul." He smiles as if that is quite pleasing... no doubt it is.
     "And with this I can know your moods, your place in the world.. so many things." He tilts his head towards her, "If you do well, someday I may even allow you to hold it." He chuckles again to himself.
     "Flawed?" he asks. "Well, as gems are measured there is no more perfect stone in the world." His eyes drink in her form once again, and he actually licks his lips. He sniffs once and looks her in the eye, "And in fact, there are only very few soul stones this old in all of existence. You have outlived many of your sisters..."

     "Indubitably, my lord," Karoly murmurs, "but for every ounce of power given you, that you gain, on your own or otherwise, do you not become that much more of a threat to your master? I would be wary, myself, if I were given such control... Or perhaps he simply does not consider it to be of so very much value as all that. One or the other - does anything of value get given without a price, my lord?"
     And now the dark gaze does lift, to meet his own, briefly direct before the dark gaze slides to the side and down, back to the gem at his side.
     "I am aware that I am old, my lord, and the last of a set. No doubt soon you will need to replace me to match your new acquisitions..."

     Lazrenaias' expression is unreadable. So many thoughts, possible responses go through his mind. And finally he just decides to incline his head. "Well, even amongst my fellow demons, I have a notoriously short attention span." He chuckles, "No doubt you will find a way to do yourself in before long."
     A dramatic sigh follows that however, and simultaneously a frigid breeze flows through this urban jungle, and tens of thousands of people clutch their coats more tightly. But no doubt that was just coincidence.
     "I have spent quite a lot of resources training you properly however. In fact, you are one of the more sought after prizes on this plane." He grins to himself as he looks down at his new ring, "My lord knows I have no patience for bossing around my fellow demons, I am no threat to him." He shrugs, "I could care less about power." He looks up to her with a viciously cruel wink, "I rather enjoy what I've been doing the past few centuries?..." A tilt to his head, "Haven't you?"

     "Am I, my lord?" Karoly lifts her gaze from her hands on the edge of her purse. "Ah, then I suppose that I must be flattered, must I not. And no doubt you are correct - I cannot count on my streak of luck holding. Sooner or later, someone will be faster and smarter than I, and I will surely die." She seems to accept this with stoic fatalism - it must be that Germanic origin.
      There is a glance off to the side at the ongoing press of people, and she then looks back to the demon, features as expressionless as marble. "You have no interest in power, my lord? I find that surprising; but very well. If it has gained you what you most desire beyond all else, and you are fulfilled, why, then - I as your humblest and the least of your servants can do little to criticize or advise. I know well that my fragile mortal mind is ill equipped to comprehend the truth of your nature and duties. I had not thought you had the desire, however, to be leashed to a master, as you have me leashed; but no matter. Is it your will that I take enjoyment in what we do? There have been enjoyable aspects. And there have been things which I have loathed, as you know."
     Her words are all delivered in the same quiet, distant tone of voice, with the European nonchalance.

     Lazrenaias just listens in silence to her little speech, so subservient, so humble. And something inside him grinds against itself at that. His eyes narrow, but she has spoken, and he is no angel to tell the difference between truth and lie so easily. Something she says takes hold of his demon's soul and won't let go.
     'No wish to be leashed as she is...' She dares compare herself to him eh? Even in her supposed humbleness she would try to plant seeds of rebellion in him, as if he cared which master he served. As if Lucifer himself would fall before him someday...
     Lazrenaias' silence stretches on and on. And his eyes are on the ground, completely oblivious to either the people around them, or Karoly herself....

     Whether or not that is Karoly's intent, of course, is immaterial; she has spoken, and she comes to a halt, waiting. Her posture is certainly humble enough, the (presently dark) eyes downcast, the delicate hands clasped. There is no apparent attempt, however, to pass herself off as innocent; not in the presence of a demon. The corners of her mouth are tucked inwards in conservation of energy or emotion, the gaze half-lidded; her head is heavy upon her neck, the angle of it almost lopsided, a too heavy flower upon its stalk.
     After a long while, she murmurs, "Is there more which you would have me say, my lord?" Karoly is aware at all times that anything she says -might- be the wrong thing. When dealing with someone as capricious as a Demon Count, one may not, after all, take anything for granted...

     His head tilts towards her, and he takes a step in her direction getting right up to her. The noise of Times Square all but fades as his demon's voice whispers briefly in her ear. His aura, which he never seems to try to hide, is all seduction and physicality. His voice drips with demonic lust and infernal heat. Her hair is blown ever so slightly by his vessel's breath.

     "You've said more than you know already."

     And like that he has been swept away by the passing crowds, disappearing as easily as if he had left in a puff of smoke and brimstone. And the greatest witch who has walked this earth is left alone, surrounded by people, under a giant Coca-Cola sign, in the city by which every other is measured.

Posted by rowan at March 21, 2004 01:07 AM