[Game 18] Endgame

[arsgoetia]

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."

Comments

[psychopompous]

. . .

[exhales slowly, stepping over to her and putting a hand on her shoulder]

[troublebrewing]

[glances up at him, surprised]

[psychopompous]

[gathers her into his arms, wings unfolding and wrapping around her as well—there's a very steady, sudden warmth, like drinking coffee when it's cold]

[troublebrewing]

[she gasps, and holds onto him tightly, going rigid]

...!

[psychopompous]

I love you. Don't be afraid.

[troublebrewing]

[she bursts into tears]

[psychopompous]

[this is normal]

[I don't even have like ten eyes though so shhh shhh quiet]

[troublebrewing]

[well then I guess you have a witch crying on your shoulder and clinging to you until she's out of tears]

[psychopompous]

[folds his wings around them so. so you have privacy.]

[troublebrewing]

[weakly mumbles]

Thank you.

[psychopompous]

. . . well. That's fine, I suppose.

[troublebrewing]

[laughs through her tears, wiping at the corners of her eyes]

[psychopompous]

[pats her shoulder, suddenly awkward]

You should . . . go have waffles.

[troublebrewing]

I should. Do you like waffles, Sariel?

[psychopompous]

I don't like sweet food.

[troublebrewing]

No sweet food... got it. Is meat alright?

[psychopompous]

Yes, obviously.

[some angels may not like death I AM A PSYCHOPOMP]

[troublebrewing]

Okay. We'll be back later, then. Happy New Year.

[she's going to return from Denny's later with a container of bacon and eggs and toast for him]