Mark and Horan stumbled through yet another hallway, looking for a sign to point them to a place they could get directions from. Almost without either of them noticing, a hole appeared in the floor in front of them.
Zaratos rose out of the hole on top of a pillar of marble, identical to the rest of the floor. His jet-black eyes were fixed on the two people in front of him, and his bared arms were folded disdainfully. When the marble pillar he was standing on top of was perfectly level with the surrounding floor, masking the fact that there was ever a hole there, Zaratos spoke.
“Alright, it’s been-“ He stepped forward, but a corner of his black cloak was still stuck inside the floor at the edge of where the pillar had been. As Zaratos stepped forward towards Mark and Horan, he heard the corner of his cape rip and stopped. He turned around, saw the scrap of fabric lodged in the floor, and sighed. “I really don’t need this right now…” He turned back to Mark and Horan. “It’s been two hours and Orsinus is starting to eye my snack stash. I guess I shouldn’t have expected you two to magically know where you were supposed to go, but I’m still annoyed.”
Horan swallowed. “Why, what did we do?”
Zaratos pointed at the piece of black fabric in the floor.
Horan nodded. “Right, yeah. Is that velvet? Must’ve been hard to get, do you have a place to conjure that kind of stuff?”
“Oh yeah, I visit it on- No! Orsinus is probably already digging into my stuff, and I’m not getting distracted. Get in the hole.”
Mark sighed in relief. “Oh, thanks, I really didn’t want to be around for that conversation. Wait, what hole?”
Zaratos pointed exasperatedly at a large, pitch-black hole in the floor between the three of them. “That hole.”
Mark and Horan peered down the hole. Even when attempting to light it up with his eye, Horan still couldn’t see the bottom. “So where does it-“
Zaratos shoved both Mark and Horan into the hole before jumping in himself.
As Mark and Horan fell into the abyss, the space outside the hole dissolved into indistinct white light. After a split-second of falling, the three landed on what felt like shag carpeting. When they looked back up at the hole’s entrance, they saw the hazy exterior reforming into an unfamiliar room.
Zaratos stood nonchalantly while Mark and Horan struggled to find their feet. The carpet they were all standing on rose up to meet the rim of the hole, revealing that the exterior was now somebody’s bedroom.
The floor of the hole connected to the surrounding floor, leaving Mark, Horan and Zaratos standing in the middle of, based on the black carpet and wallpaper matching his aesthetic, Zaratos’. Orsinus was crouched next to an ajar cabinet, gobbling down a packet of pretzels. When he noticed the three people standing in the room with him, he shoved the packet back into the cabinet, slammed the cabinet door shut and bolted to his feet. Crumbs still filled his scraggly beard. “Oh, hey, guys. Didn’t hear you come in.”
Zaratos pressed his lips together. “How much of it did you eat?”
Orsinus leaned down, opened the cabinet door and looked inside briefly before closing it again. “About a third.”
“I was gone for two…“ Zaratos pinched the bridge of his nose. “Whatever. You talk to them about the stuff, I’m getting my cape fixed.” He checked to make sure his cloak was free from the floor, then stepped away and hopped into another, smaller hole.
Orsinus looked at Mark and Horan, then sat down on the floor. “So, you two ready to get to work?”
“Yes, sirree!” Horan took a seat on an armchair in a corner of the room. Mark awkwardly propped himself against the wall and prepared to contribute absolutely nothing to the conversation.
“So…” Horan looked around the room. “How exactly do you get to the Down Below here?”
“Oh, right, that’s why you’re here.” Orsinus chuckled. “Yeah, my brother Zaratos knows how to get there. He’s got this whole hole-y, portal thing going. Of course, that’s his second trick, the first is being a total wet blanket!” He spread his arms out as if waiting for a laugh, before dropping them when he got none.
“Yeah, I’m not sure exactly how he does it, but he likes to spend some time down there when the rest of us ‘get a bit too much to handle’, whatever that means. But one thing of note is, that plan of yours to get a bunch of dead human souls to drive away the monsters outside? You’re not the first one here to have the idea.”
Mark nodded. “Makes sense. If Horan thought of it, it can’t take much brainpower to come up with.”
Horan turned to face Mark, fist raised. “I will hit you.” He turned back to Orsinus. “Sorry. You were saying?”
Orsinus continued. “Zaratos had the same idea after we wiped out their army the first time, a few weeks ago. Our normal defenses did most of the work that time, but most of them are out of commission until Gratast can scrounge up what he needs to fix them. But in the meantime, the monsters are still around, and Zaratos doesn’t think he can muster up enough souls to do them in for good. But if your dad can help boost Zaratos’ numbers, he has hope that we can finish the job.”
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Horan took in the information. “Great, that’s going to make this a lot easier for us. But like I asked, how are we going to get to my dad?”
“Oh, right, that. Zaratos said he had a way down. All I know is, he wanted to bring you in a little early. Apparently, he needs a body part of yours to something-something resonance. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Mark pulled a scraggly hair from his head and placed it on Zaratos’ desk. “Will that work?”
Orsinus shrugged. “Ask Zar. He’s the guy who actually knows how this works.”
Horan shrugged. “Well, he’s fixing up his cloak that he calls a cape for some reason, so I guess I’ll just do what Mark did.” He shifted into a bird, pulled a feather from his wing with his beak and shifted back, pulling the feather from his mouth. “I hope that works, because I’m not messing up my hair in a place like this. Wait, is my hair okay?” He turned to Mark. “I haven’t cleaned myself up yet, how do I look?”
Mark thought for a moment before tilting his hand.
“Oh no.” Horan looked himself over. “I’ve been running around this place for a full day looking so-so?!” He looked at Orsinus. “Do you have a changing room?”
Orsinus looked at Mark nervously, who held his hands up defensively. He looked reluctantly back at Horan. “Actually, we don’t really pay attention to things like that here, you can probably just-“
“DO YOU HAVE A CHANGING ROOM?!”
“Fifty-seventh floor.”
“THANK YOU!” Horan spun on his heel and stormed off towards the door, grabbing Mark by one outstretched hand. “C’mon, we’re making ourselves presentable.”
Mark struggled half-heartedly. “Shouldn’t we wait here until Zaratos gets back? It might be important for us to be here for that.”
“Wow, really?” Horan sped up. “We look like a mess, and you’re worried about standing around doing nothing? Priorities, Mark, geez!”
“Help.” Mark mouthed to Orsinus as he was dragged out of the front door.
-
Horan arrived at the changing room as per Orsinus’ directions, followed shortly thereafter by Mark. Opening the door, Horan could not believe his eye. Not only had he found a changing room, but he had found a changing room/hair salon/communal wardrobe. Half a dozen Primoi were trying on a selection of clothes conjured out of nowhere, a few were looking at possible hairstyles for themselves, and a couple were just watching everyone else do their own thing, occasionally giving pointers.
Mark looked at the room over Horan’s shoulders. “What the…”
“I’m home.” Horan pulled Mark inside. “I have to say, there are a lot of people in here considering the size of the Domain.” He strode over to one of the Primoi watching everyone else. “Say, are these people getting ready for something?”
The Primus looked Horan up and down. “Oh, right, you’re the new arrival. Yeah, they’re all preparing for this tonight’s Friday Soiree.”
Horan’s hands leapt to his cheeks. “Soiree? As in party?”
“’Party’ is probably the more fitting word, yes. ‘Soiree’ is a little too formal to accurately describe what ends up happening every week. I assume you’ll need our services to make yourselves presentable. Because…” She looked at Mark’s ensemble. “Yeah, you definitely need it.”
Horan grabbed Mark by the shoulders and started steering him towards the fitting rooms. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about us. I’m the only consultant this guy needs.” He patted Mark on the shoulder.
Mark, who had previously been only partially paying attention, jerked upright. “Wait, me?”
Horan pulled Mark into one of the curtained booths. “Yes, you. If there’s going to be a party, I am absolutely bringing you along. This could be your chance to talk to someone besides me, step outside your comfort zone. Who knows, you might even meet someone.” He gave Mark a mockingly flirty glance. “I’ve been around the block a few times myself, human/immortal romance is a rollercoaster, even compared to the stuff you see in those telenovelas. Okay, no, that’s giving it too much credit. I still can’t think of anything to top that dolphin trainer.”
Mark reluctantly sat down on the bench inside the booth. “Not to be mean to the guys here, but none of them are the kind of person that I would want to talk to for more than absolutely necessary. That’s the case for pretty much everyone, but my point still stands.”
“Well, that’s one thing to cross off, but I’m still making you make more than one friend. That’s the most important part of all this.” Horan stretched out a hand, and a measuring tape winked into existence in his grip. “Nice.”
“My ideal friend count is zero, I’m being very generous by letting you hang around with me.” Mark rolled his eyes as he lifted an arm for Horan to measure.
“It must be so sad to be as lonely as you. What shoe size are you?”
“I’m quite fine being alone, I’ll have you know.” Mark took off his boot and checked the bottom. “I’m a 9.”
Horan held out his offhand in a pincer shape and a pair of dress shoes materialized between his fingers. “Oh, we’ll see about that, won’t we? Just give it a shot, mingle with the locals a little, and you can call it a day. Sound like a deal?” He extended a hand towards Mark while kneeling down and testing out the shoes.
Mark hesitantly shook Horan’s hand. “Deals with me don’t work out so well for you, remember?”
“Yeah, but now we’re making it on my terms. Plus, you’ll feel awful if you betray me now.”
“Fine, you got me there. Can we just get this part over with?”
Horan held up a finger. “You can’t rush art, dude. Do you prefer leather or textile shoes?”