The blue was not uniform across her vision. Rather, a brilliant spectrum of colors threaded throughout the ethereal landscape around Vera. Upon realizing she was looking around, Vera attempted to look down, but found no support beneath her. It was only the swirling array of colors dominated by blue all the way around her. In fact, she started at the lack of a body beneath her gaze.
“Apologies for the disorientation. The child and his dog did not leave me the time for a more graceful introduction.” The orientation of her vision was a difficult thing for Vera to perceive without any discernible landmarks in the strange space. Without the organs she’d typical rely on for balance, she would not have been able to explain the distinct feeling of her vision being sharply turned upwards. Of course, her focus did not land on this irregularity as her eyeless gaze was forced to the towering demon drifting a few meters away.
His bearing was that of a ruler, but his face betrayed his reluctance to do so. The brilliant blue hair that made up the mop between his towering horns atop his head fell messily around his eyes. He wore robes so mesmerizingly blue, that Vera was left unsure if they were designed according to the surrounding landscape, or actually woven from it. There was an inaudible pop and the figure appeared much smaller before her. Scale was certainly odd with nothing to visually compare against, but a sense told Vera he was hardly a meter tall now.
“Ugh, much better. For a moment I felt like Luce, getting all grand like that.” Another pop and a hammock, suspended by nothing but the ether, appeared behind the smaller figure. “Gods know, we don’t need anymore Pride right now,” he said as he fell back into the hammock, his feet swinging up and over the lip soon after.
Vera attempted a response to the bizarre situation, but no sound escaped. For a moment she thought her tongue just couldn’t keep up with the chaotic storm in her mind. Then the lack of a body introduced the equally unnerving prospect of no head, and more to the point, no tongue.
“I don’t think I’ve ever done this before,” said the man now lounging lazily before her. “Of course, I don’t have too many descendants to do it with.” He waved a hand, an indigo trail following the movement. “That’s always been more the endeavor of my sibling. Which is part of the reason there are so many shape-changing pricks running around.”
Vera failed to respond. She could think, although in her current state the process was somewhat haphazard. Her ability to sense things, most notably her sight and hearing, meant she could interact with this world. She simply wasn’t managing to generate anything in response.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong. Changelings are certainly also a factor and I’m sure those Graezens have connected to worlds with one or two other types of shape-changers. It would take gods smarter than me to figure out the genetics of it all.” He wasn’t even looking at Vera now. Well, not at the spot her vision was perceiving from. “Maybe Gabby would know. I bet she’d be nerdy enough to have researched this.”
Pushing out with her thoughts, Vera felt a slippery sort of resistance from the azure around her. She gained little ground before the domain she’d started to form around herself snapped back and disrupted her perception of the scene.
“Good gods, are you really going to just keep shouting like that? Use your words or I’ll send you back to that pretentious little spawn of Pride.” Vera had been about to attempt to push out once more, but the reminder of Vladik and her situation before being pulled into this space forced her to pause. “That’s a little better.” With a gesture and one of those pops that Vera felt rather than heard, a frosty beverage in a crystalline glass appeared in the demon’s hand. One more and a straw was sticking out, which he bent so that he could slurp from the glass without craning his neck. “I would prefer if you’d actually speak though. I’d really rather not have to interpret those messy fluctuations of your soul.”
Vera tried to replicate the soundless pop the demon lounging before her had generated. Initially she attempted to create her body. The dysphoria of not being, well, a being was exacerbating the already deeply uncomfortable situation. Her first few attempts felt similar to when she’d aggressively pushed outward, gaining little traction with every failure stinging her perception of the ethereal plane. She gave up after realizing she had little ability to conceptualize her body. Vera had little idea what was required to pop things into existence, but she doubted a hazy understanding would result in anything ideal.
She turned to something more direct. Vera didn’t need an entire body to speak. In the odd environment here, she doubted she’d even need a mouth. Instead, she began trying to create a single Stone of Speech. The simple bit of artifice usually came in pairs and was used by the farmers on Vera’s home world to stay in contact as they worked the fields. The actual magics that went into the stone was beyond Vera’s very shallow magical education, but the form couldn’t be simpler and the function was easily understood. Vera still failed to create the plain-looking rock twice before it popped into existence, floating between the man in the hammock and Vera’s point of perception. Without a pair, Vera wasn’t sure how it was supposed to work, and instead relied on the strange magics this place was built on to bridge the gap in her understanding. Lazing before her, the demon’s eyes had lost their focus as his mind wandered, but they snapped to attention as Vera once more tried to speak, and a questioning voice emerged from the stone.
“Hello?”
“Hmm. A bit crude.” The demon’s face brightened. “I must commend the efficiency though.” The hammock and drink disappeared as the demon stood. “I’ve been thinking to big.”
“Wait, can you—”
“Sure, making a smaller version of myself is great. I save so much effort by not having to pump all that blood so high, and those lungs are so much more manageable. Don’t even get me started on the joint pains I avoid, I mean, if I let myself feel pain here.”
“Hang on, I don’t—”
“But why stop there. Matter of fact, why stop at your bit of artifice. Complements to the chef, but even that is too much. Why not create the sound wave directly?” The small demon popped out of existence and for a moment Vera was left silently sputtering before an earsplitting shriek caused a shiver to run down her non-existent back. The shriek slowly pitched down until it was recognizable as a humanoid wail and then calmed into what might have been grumbling.
“Oof, yeah, this is harder than I was expecting.” The voice was garbled as if the demon was speaking from underwater, syllables getting distorted as he spoke. “Maybe your way was better.” With a pop, a second Stone of Speech appeared where the man and his hammock had been.
“Please just stop!” The voice that emanated from Vera’s stone was hers, but it was much louder than what the stone should’ve been able to produce. It also had an unmistakable authority that seemed foreign in the azure area. Unfortunately, a voice crack drastically undercut that feeling of authority.
“Well. Yes, okay. I suppose you’re in a somewhat pressing situation.” Vera couldn’t be sure of what she saw, but the stone shrank nearly imperceptibly as the demon’s voice emitted. “Well, since you’re in such a rush, I’ll just give you a bit of a boost, and you can be off to deal with that child.”
A blue energy shone from a spot below Vera’s point of perception and spread to form a light blue silhouette that could have passed as an azure shadow of Vera’s body. She felt something reminiscent of a heart beat strengthen from the point where the light had begun. All of this was drowned out by the flood of worry that gripped her when the demon had mentioned sending her back. Everything had happened inconceivably fast after she’d climbed those steps. Vera still wasn’t even sure what Vladik had said about her contract was accurate. Demons of lore never lied, similar to the fae, but in reality they were not truly so attached to the truth. Her panic blinded her to the scarlet streaks that began competing with the azure that had dominated the surroundings.
“Bel, do you remember what we talked about a few moments ago?” The feminine voice was one of perfect amicability, making the undercurrent of exasperated fury only more terrifying.
“Asta,” said the demon through his stone. “Yes, of course. I was just about to send her back to kick some butt.”
“Bel, are you really speaking out of a rock?” Vera turned to where the voice was originating, subconsciously moving her stone as well. The looming woman wasn’t quite as large as the man had originally been but she could easily have had some relation to Titon. Her brilliant red hair made the demon that had been sleeping outside Vladik’s office a brunet, her horns towering high enough to add another head to her height.
“Yeah, isn’t it great—” The stone was cut off as the newcomer flicked a finger, shards of the stone scattering across an unseen floor. “—my cool new descendant thought of it.” A Stone of Speaking generally didn’t continue working after being so utterly shattered. It definitely didn’t start pitching up the speaker’s voice. The squeaking tone the demon had continued his thought in, may have been an affectation.
“Why do you insist on such ludicrous forms?” A pop resonated from where the stone had shattered, replacing the many shards with the man that had stood before Vera just recently, still at his shorter stature.
“Hey, there is absolutely nothing ludicrous about this one. It is objectively better. Do you know how rarely I bump my horns on doorways like this?” Another pop generated the frame of a door considered standard size in Graezhold. The shorter demon made a show of walking back and forth beneath the doorway with noticeable clearance while grinning and the far taller demoness. “You’d have to crouch like a loser.”
“And if I just hold your things out of reach?” There was a tug on Vera’s point of perception and after a quick drift towards the woman’s raised arm, she was looking down on the smaller demon.
“That would be very mean. Are you suggesting I go through life assuming everyone is going to be mean?”
“They generally are,” the woman grumbled, but she dropped Vera and the stone that had been pulled along with her.
“Admit it, this size is just better in every way.” The doorway had popped out of existence and the demon had fallen back into his reconjured hammock. The woman had her head down, massaging her brow.
“I don’t even know why I started this conversation.”
“I’d say jealousy, but that’s generally Levi’s field of expertise.” One of the ropes tethering the small demon’s hammock to the ether snapped and he tumbled to the floor before the taller red-haired demon turned to face Vera’s point of perception.
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“Let’s make you a proper body, instead of this rock he gave you.” She waved an arm, an oddly superfluous movement considering Vera had seen each of them conjure other things with no indication other than that pop. Regardless, the Stone of Speaking Vera had been using to communicate replaced by flesh, bone, and muscle expanding from the point that had previously pulsed with a phantom heartbeat. To say it was an unnerving experience would be an understatement. That it was being manipulated by someone else made the entire process all the more dysphoric.
“Um, thanks for that,” said Vera once her sensory organs had synced up and replaced her point of perception. Her mouth was decidedly the wrong flavor. The man still sprawled on the floor groaned as he rolled onto his stomach to stand.
“She gave herself that vessel, who was I to tell her how she had to appear?” He winced as he grabbed at his back. “You really did a number on my back. Maybe I should start assuming you specifically will be mean.”
“You didn’t even bother to give her a vessel?” asked the woman, the bewildered fury slowly becoming more evident as her exasperation grew. Vera was looking at the groaning man as he stood.
“I thought you said you didn’t have to feel pain here.” He flashed a grin as he straightened entirely, his pain forgotten, and bowed.
“Godhood is all about the theatrics.”
“No,” cut in the demoness as she walked to the shorter demon’s side. “It’s about taking care of your followers.”
“But she’s not a follower.” He held out a hand to gesture at Vera while turning to address the woman at his side. “I don’t have followers. I’m the Claimant of Sloth.”
“You could at least have priests. What is a god without priests?”
“Any priests of mine,” the man responded, lifting his palms to mimic weighing two options. “Would either be really bad at being priests, or really bad at being slothful?” The two had again fallen into what must be a routine argument. Likely one of many.
“Why not a little bad at both?” Vera’s voice cut off the derailing discussion. The two turned to look at her with confused expressions that made it evident that they’d forgotten she was there.
“Excellent idea.” A pop signaled the appearance of opulent robes on the short demon, excess fabric bunching around is ankles. A second created vaguely religious implements that wouldn’t look out of place in a temple, but neither would they in a kitchen. Vera was clothed in a matching set of much shorter robes, only now aware of her previous nudity. “Oops, other way around.” One finally pop and the two were each in properly fitting robes. “Now how does this work, Asta? Do I need to anoint her, or do I just send her forth to spread my gospel? Oh gods, I have to come up with gospel now.”
Vera had initially been overwhelmed by the small demon’s chaotic exuberance, but she had quickly been annealed by the excitement. “I think I have enough going on right now.”
“Very true,” answered the woman whose jaw had noticeably clenched at the demon’s continued antics. “Perhaps we should give you some semblance of an explanation, instead of his useless ramblings.” Despite the annealing, Vera’s knees began to give way at the thought of some sort of guidance. A pop pulsed as a hammock chair appeared to catch her. It was tethered to the nothingness above her, and Vera was hugged by the fabric wrapping up around her. Her opulent robes had also been replaced by a plain black tunic that draped comfortably and emphasized the ashen grey of her skin.
“Well, as you know, I’m Belphegor, Claimant of Sloth,” said the short demon as he picked up the snapped hammock string to re-affix it to the ether.
“How would I have known that?” asked Vera, distinctly not remembering any such name.
“Everyone knows me. I’m the cool god.”
“Not ringing a bell.”
“This is why you need priests,” said the taller woman. “It’s important to have the right image as a god. Or at least an image.”
“I thought you said being a god isn’t about the theatrics,” responded Belphegor as he failed to get the rope to reattach at the snapped point. “It’s about taking care of your followers, isn’t it?” He gave up and instead tied the two sections together in a mundane knot.
“Yes, well, sometimes theatrics play a part,” she conceded and turned to Vera. “I’m Astaroth, Claimant of Wrath. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I do apologize for my brother’s antics, present and future.
“You’re both gods?”
“Yup,” said Belphegor as he once more fell into his hammock.
“You don’t seem very godly.”
“We’re trying very hard not to melt your brain.”
“Bel, don’t put it that way. You’ll scare her.”
“She should be scared. She’s seconds away from having her soul enslaved and being forced into hard labor. On top of that, she now has the concerted attention from two beings of the divine plane. I’m far from the leading expert on divine-mortal relations, but I think that may be a scary position to be in.” Vera glanced between the two figures. The redheaded Astaroth was grimacing while her hands fidgeted. Belphegor had propped himself up in his hammock and was glaring at his taller counterpart.
“Couldn’t you just not send me back? To Vladik, I mean.” Vera didn’t know what awaited her in this bizarre realm, but she wasn’t particularly keen on being sent back to the loan sharks office.
“Technically, we won’t,” answered Belphegor, much to Vera’s short-lived relief.
“Are you being intentionally confusing?” asked Astaroth with her trademarked, politely restrained frustration saturating her tone.
“Gotta keep the conversation interesting somehow.”
“You really don’t,” responded Vera helpfully. She was beginning to empathize very deeply with the red-haired demoness. “Are you saying I have to go back?”
“Well, technically you never left,” answered Astaroth. “None of us are actually here. Really just a projection of our souls.”
“That’s why I didn’t have a body and had to create that Stone of Speaking?”
“You really created that yourself?” Astaroth was somewhat interested, but waved a hand as a dismissal. “Another time.”
“Wait, does that mean my body is vulnerable right now?” Vera had an unsettling image of that collar around her neck, magics puppeteering her abandoned body.
“I made sure to slow down the localized time, so we’d have time to talk.” Belphegor waved his hand from within his hammock and a replica of the clock tower in the center of the city appeared made from the same blue energy that was currently embattled with the red all around her. As she watched, the seconds hand of the clock tower ticked over slowly and stopped. “You do have a pretty goofy look on your face though. Nothing I could do about that.”
“Also,” cut in Astaroth, “While your soul in being forcibly projected here, it can’t be bound.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can stay here.”
“Yes. Our presences are being channeled back through your projection. Much longer and we’ll burn it to a crisp.”
“Plus the situation would only get worse if you did have a way of staying projected.” The back and forth of how and why Vera was screwed was quickly getting old.
“I didn’t even ask to stay projected,” she said defensively.
“Divine deductive reasoning is a burden on us all,” Belphegor said as he slid his hands behind his head on the hammock.
“For a god of Sloth, you’re rather energetic and engaged when it lets you be a prick.” At Vera’s words, Belphegor sat up with a serious expression and pointed at her.
“I am the Claimant of Sloth, not some embodiment.” He dropped his hand and his expression broke into a grin. “I’m a strong independent god who can be prick as he pleases.” He lay back in his hammock before continuing. “Besides, I could say you’re abnormally calm for someone who signed themselves up for slavery.”
“You two haven’t left a lot of processing power for worry.”
“See, Asta, my chaos has therapeutic effects.”
“Bel, I’m somewhat certain therapy is supposed to help resolve issues, not just kick them down the line.”
“I’m considering it a win.”
“I didn’t sign up for slavery,” said Vera before they could get going. “I just needed a loan for a down payment. You can’t just take someone’s soul for a bit of cash, right?” Astaroth shrugged helplessly, a grimace on her face.
“I’m not familiar with the legalities of it where you are, but that was a magically binding contract.” She fidgeted slightly, a nervous expression not expected from a god crossing her face. “I do have a favor to ask.”
“Your favor was just me awakening her heritage. You have no right to put anything more on her.” Belphegor did not rise from his hammock as he lambasted the taller demoness, but his tone left little room for debate.
“This would be a favor from her, not you,” she pressed on. “And I would repay it in kind, if she succeeds.” At that, Belphegor sat up.
“You’d promise a mortal the favor of a god?”
“He’s not just a random descendant, and it’s my fault he got locked up there. So, yes, but only a single favor, and my powers aren’t endless.” The demoness had begun smoothing the ethereal scarlet fabric of her robes, fidgeting with only her hands evidently no longer sufficient.
“But they are pretty godsdamned impressive,” said a starry-eyed Belphegor. “Kid, er, Vera, you should listen up, you’re gonna want that favor.”
“I thought we were trying to save me from having my soul enslaved? You still haven’t told me how to do that.” Vera could hardly keep up as these two failed to understand how much they were forcing her to process.
“Oh, that’s the easy part,” said Belphegor cheerily. “I’ll just whip out my claim on Sloth, and forcibly awaken the Sloth lying dormant in your heritage.”
“That sounds painful.”
“Won’t hurt a bit,” he said wiggling his fingers.
“It will take a lot out of you though, so try to find someplace safe to sleep.” The taller Astaroth reached over and shoved down Belphegor’s wiggling fingers without looking away from Vera. “I’ve had spawns be out for days after I’ve awoken their heritages.”
Vera rubbed her face. This was all too much. She wished for a sink or even just a basin of water. This entire sequence was bizarre enough that a splash to the face should wake her from what had to be a dream.
“So how do I actually use the Sloth you’re giving me?” She’d resigned to taking this all in stride until she was in a better position to reflect.
“I’m not giving you anything,” said the short demon. He grabbed a strand of his hair, a more vibrant version of Vera’s own. “The magic has been there. It’s just been dozing for the past few hundred generations.” Sitting in his hammock, he looked off into the middle distance, a contemplative expression appearing on his face. “How very slothful of it.”
“Okay,” said Vera, amused as anyone would be by pedantry. “How do I actually use the Sloth you’re awakening?” The two gods looked at each other and shrugged.
“Some figure it out immediately,” said Astaroth with a hopeful cheer.
“Others die before they can,” added Belphegor.
“Aren’t you two gods? Shouldn’t you be able to do more?” Vera was swiftly being given a disappointing opinion of divinity.
“Hey, we can only bend the rules of reality so far before it breaks.” It was Belphegor’s turn to get defensive. “Don’t blame us for not being able to solve every problem you created.”
“The difference between reality breaking actions and getting me out of an office has to exist.”
“Nope. Blame your stupidly fragile reality.”
“Bel, reel it in.” Astaroth had rested her hand on her counterpart’s shoulder as he’d continued to get more defensive. “Gods tend to empower mortals in order to work through them. Direct intervention is a delicate process.”
“Okay, whatever, so I’ve got to use the powers that I’ve always had, have never known about, and haven’t the faintest clue how to use,” Vera began. “To escape a man who technically owns me, and somehow get back the magical rights to my soul. Is that all?”
“And break out that redheaded demon,” added Belphegor as if it were an addendum to a shopping list.
“The one in the very secure looking chains? Who was passed out cold?”
“That was the favor I was going to ask,” said Astaroth.
“Great, any good news?”
“If you die while you don’t own your soul,” answered an unnervingly cheerful Belphegor, “You don’t have to worry about the afterlife. Spoilers, but it isn’t great.”
“I don’t even know if I should believe you.”
“Don’t worry too much about her spawn,” said the demon, veering back on topic for possibly the first time. “It’s great if you can free him, but you can’t cash in a god’s favor if your dead or enslaved.” The azure glow that had previously shown from an empty spot below her perception began to emanate from the center of her chest.
“Didn’t you already awaken her heritage?”
“Did I?” asked a hesitant Belphegor. “Well, can’t hurt to amp it up a bit more.”
“It most certainly can.” The demoness was as ageless as expected of divinity, but a part of her had aged tremendously in this short exchange. “Just send her back. We’ve done as much as we can for her.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I need to get out of here. We’re not supposed to feel pain here, and yet your form consistently puts a crick in my neck.”
The azure glow didn’t recede, but the man turned to his larger companion. “If you admitted the benefits of this height and tried it out, maybe you wouldn’t have to crane your neck so far.” Vera could tell her time with the two gods had come to an end. She wished they’d have done a bit more to help, but recognized she wasn’t in the greatest position to demand anything. It just would’ve been nice if, when her soul had finally retracted from that eerie realm of cerulean and scarlet, the two gods had been discussing anything other than how Belphegor would overcome a high countertop.