Jan. 4th, 2015

[You find yourselves in an enclosed, metallic box—the walls on all side appear to be glass, though they are looking out into inky blackness. The walls and ceiling are metallic . . . It seems to be an elevator of some kind, since there is a panel on the wall, with buttons. The elevator gives a lurch, beginning to move. Up, at first, then sideways, zooming forward, though you can't see where.]

[You find that you are not alone.]
After successfully talking Zan into waking up—the world around you starts to dissolve and break apart. There's a lurch, like the sensation of abruptly falling into sleep, but backwards; and all around you, the glass begins to crack apart, splintering and sending ocean water splashing everywhere, gushing forward, a cascade of blue and black, alternating between starfish and actual stars, suspended in liquid sky.

. . . reality seems to bleed in overtop of it and, sluggishly, you find yourselves waking up all over a suburban basement in New Jersey. There is a lamp on near the bed, where someone is still asleep, though fitfully beginning to wake up.

More noticeably, there is a woman sitting up in bed with him, arms wrapped around her bare knees as she watches them with amusement, extremely beautiful and . . . extremely familiar.

"Wow." One hand drops to Zan's hair. "I don't even know where to start with you guys."
It's early morning by the time they tidy up the house and fix the windows—leaving it as neat as they'd entered it, Tristan promises—and head out. Tristan seems to be itching to just get away from the place, though they can't return to the church, and it's now New Year's Day—so they head back across the border to the house in New York. Even Sariel comes along—albeit reluctantly—at Tristan's suggestion.

"To my understanding," Tristan says, "the kid's with Sera right now, which I'm cool with. I was a bit rough on him, so he might be sleeping it off for another little while—and like you all said, he might be a bit freaked out to see a dozen people staring at him. So let's leave him there for now. I can send you all home." He pauses.

"But if you want to come back soon . . . I can bring you back. No agenda necessary. If you don't want to come—well, let me know, and I'll try not to bring you."

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Ars Goetia

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