Pluma is there to welcome them home with watery blue eyes and clinging fingers.

He demands that he gets to go with them the next they leave, and the guilt he has been forcing down opens harshly like a badly healed wound. He makes no promises (he doesn’t think his conscience will be able to take another false promise he will have to break), but he does his best to say he will do his best to bring the little angel next time.

It has been a long night, and nothing is better than finally being home. The remaining tension slowly bleeds out of him as he assures Pluma everything is alright. The little star angels happily circle around his head, coating all of them in a thin layer of stardust.

Cadeyrn sighs, and gives Pluma a little nudge, pushing him slightly out of Asterius's arms, “Your master needs to rest, let him go to sleep seraphim.”

Pluma puffs up, his little six wings fluttering behind him, “I have a name demon!” he protests glaring up at Cadeyrn, before shifting to a more sheepish look as he turns to Asterius, “I’m-I’m not being a bother am I master?”

“Not a bother no,” he quickly soothes, giving Cadeyrn a look, the demon doesn’t even look the least bit chastised, as he raises a challenging eyebrow back, Asterius decides wisely that maybe whatever this is should be a probably for another day and he returns his attention to Pluma, “I thank you for caring about us, but I would like to head to bed.”

“We can sleep!” he agrees quickly, almost happily. ‘What kid wants to go to bed?’ But Asterius is far too tired to worry about the OOC nature of that. Besides OOC warnings are the System’s business not his.

[System would like to remind Host, that “System’s business” only extends to Host.]

He waves the System off with a humorless snort, as he walks up the stairs to his room. Pluma is ahead of him taking the steps two at a time, as if racing to the bedroom.

“Master?”

He pauses on the top step, glancing back down at Cadeyrn. Red eyes watch him in the dark of the living room, and there’s something in his gaze that Asterius can’t fully place, “Sleep well.”

Asterius smiles, chest bubbling with warmth, the demon always knew the perfect moment to make Asterius truly melt, “You too.”

Cadeyrn’s face shifts into a softer look, one Asterius has the pleasure of knowing well after all these years, happiness.

“I will see you tomorrow,” it is spoken like a promise, with so much certainty it could be a godly vow.

Strangely Asterius finds himself having no problems accepting this promise, “Tomorrow,” he agrees, letting the bedroom door close softly behind him.

Pluma is quick to tug him into the bed, shifting into his griffin form and snuggling up into his arms. Asterius can’t help but chuckle, giving the seraphim a good scratch behind his lion ears. Really this little ball of white feathers and fluff is far too cute.

“Night master!” He chirps happily, ruffling his feathers and squirming around till he finds a comfortable spot.

“Goodnight Pluma,” he says back closing his eyes and letting sleep easily claim him. Everything else may be falling apart, but at least he still has this.

….

Asterius wakes slowly, sleep slipping away from him as the urge to sneeze overwhelms him.

He sharply turns to his side, whole body shaking with a violent sneeze. For a second he’s confused why, until he noticed the pile of stray feathers scattered around him. He forgot Pluma was in molting season, shedding only wing feathers for new ones, Pluma has been complaining about the itchy feeling the shifting feathers cause for the past week.

“Pluma,” he grumbles gathering up the feathers to dispose of later. The feathers would dissolve on their own with time, returning back into the weave of creation in the same way dead gods return their essence back.

Turning to scold the seraphim into being a tiny bit more aware about leaving feathers everywhere he pauses, slightly confused. Pluma isn’t in the bed.

Asterius glances around, and yet Pluma doesn’t seem to be in the room at all. Odd, very odd. Pluma was like a sticky excitable dog, happy to follow Asterius around all day if allowed. And there are few things that Pluma loves more than morning cuddle time.

Stolen novel; please report.

“System?” he calls softly, testing his voice and finding it perfectly normal. He even flexes a few of his fingers and toes, making sure everything works and doesn’t hurt, he doesn’t remember something bad happening last night, and he feels fine, so most likely he isn’t injured again.

[Yes Host?]

‘Where’s Pluma?’ he asks pushing himself out of bed and quickly getting dressed, slipping on a simple light green robe at the System’s insistence and only running his fingers through his hair quickly as he exits the bedroom.

[System can detect that the seraphim of the stars is within 100 feet.]

He lets out a soft sigh, relief flooding him. ‘So he’s okay.'

[System never said that.]

‘Please,’ he begs, moving down the stairs a tad faster, ‘please stop saying things like that.’

[But it is the truth!] the little System defends.

Asterius just shakes his head, moving to push open the kitchen door and pausing in his tracks as the sound of hushed voices fills his ears. Familiar hushed voices.

“Come on feathers,” Cadeyrn whispers, annoyance leaking into his tone, “I’m not asking the impossible here.”

“But it feels wrong,” Pluma protests with a soft high-pitched whine, “I don’t like going behind master’s back.”

Cadeyrn sighs, long and drawn out, likes he’s suffering some personal injustice. “It’s either we do this, or we have a repeat of last time,” Cadeyrn warns tone dark and forbidding. “I’m sure neither of us wants that to happen.”

“Of course, I don’t!” Pluma protests and Asterius can see in his mind’s eye how the angel’s feathers ruffle at that, “I won’t let master do that ever again!”

And oh, they were talking about him. He should step in, right? Or back away and pretend he didn’t hear anything?

Before he can make up his mind of what to do Cadeyrn speaks, “and that’s why we have to do this.”

Pluma whines again, distressed and high, “Do we really? Can’t we just talk to master-,”

“You know he won’t listen.”

And ouch- did Cadeyrn really think he wouldn’t listen to him about something? That hurt probably way more then it should.

He decides quickly that he doesn’t want to hear any more of this, so he makes no move to hide his presence as he pushes open the door.

Cadeyrn looks the same as always, patchwork apron tied overtop his work clothes, leaning over a pot hanging from the fireplace and stirring it slowly. He’s making breakfast, and he’s not even tense, if Asterius hadn’t heard him talking behind his back, he would think it was just another normal day. Pluma on the other hand, looks like a man caught holding the murder weapon at a crime scene. His face covered in his guilt.

For a second, he ponders calling them out on it but decides that whatever grievance they have with him, isn’t worth him risking their happy life. So, he walks in and takes a seat, ignoring the sharp stab of hurt that pierces him as Pluma sighs, obviously relieved he didn’t ask.

“M-Morning Master!” Pluma greets, wings ruffling and folding against his back, Asterius has known the little angel long enough to know that’s what he does when he’s feeling uncomfortable. The dark sour thing in his gut tightens.

“Good Morning,” he greets back, thoughts distracted by what exactly the two were talking about. Had he done something big enough to earn a conspiracy meeting?

[Maybe they are worried about Host hurting himself again.]

‘You aren’t good at jokes System.’

[System is being serious!] it protests, screen darkening to an emerald color, [Host is an idiot sometimes!]

He takes a deep calming breath, trying to remind himself that the System is a ball of code and he cannot start yelling at it, because he is the only one who can see it.

“Dose master have any special plans for today?” Cadeyrn inquires as he sets a bowl of buttery warm oatmeal down in front of him. It’s seasoned with some sort of bright pink herb he can’t recognize, but he’s learned over the years to trust Cadeyrn’s cooking.

He glances over at the System, shoulders untensing at the amazing taste, Cadeyrn wasn’t much of a chief, he made simple meals, but he has had hundreds of years of experience to perfect those few simple recipes.

[Host’s 4th mission will begin in two days. Until then Host can spend time in any manor (that is no OOC!) until the mission start time.]

“No,” he answers honestly, finding he can’t quite look the demon in the eyes. Gosh, he really is as bad at hiding things as Beth always claimed.

He’s tempted to pull up Maria’s string in the Weave, just to have something familiar to do, but with her ascent to godhood he’s not sure that is a good idea. Maria is a powerful goddess in her own right, she would be able to feel him watching. And at this point, it felt like an invasion of her privacy. He would have no control over what part of her future the Weave showed him, best to play it safe, even if he did want to see her.

“Then would Master like to accompany me in the garden today?”

That was random, Asterius had been helping with the garden work, but Cadeyrn never asked him to help, Asterius would just follow him outside and stand around useless till Cadeyrn took pity and gave him something easy to do, like watering or handing Cadeyrn tools as he trimmed back vines and bushes.

“I suppose I can,” he agrees softly, unsure if he really should agree, but he’s never had a hard time saying no to Cadeyrn about anything. Just add this one to his never-ending list or terrible love-driven decisions.

Cadeyrn smiles, giving him a little bow before he’s back to the port of oatmeal and serving Pluma a bowl.

The angel really doesn’t look like he wants to eat it, but he slowly spoons a little into his mouth, face scrunching at the taste. Pluma hated the texture of oatmeal, but he always ate it, even as he sat through the meal with a harsh frown on his young face. Normally Asterius would it cute (he still finds it cute), but he’s too distracted by the conversation he overheard. He really should have let them talk more huh?

He might not want to hear it, but at least he would be far less confused.

[System would like to reiterate; Host is an idiot.]