... you can sharpen your knife [SET&TATTER]

[Niklas]

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

An overgrown wolf. A closer look reveals six unblinking eyes, a deep red, nearly black. She stalks the afterlife, a shaggy black hellhound, silent and not nearly as frightening at first glance as one might imagine such a beast. You shudder to look closer. Back and forth, back and forth she paces, great head swinging between rolling shoulder blades. The source of her restlessness is unclear to any onlookers and, despite their current state which make it impossible for them to die again, the dead give her a wide berth. The grass here is brown and dry; it crushes beneath her heavy footfalls with a soft sigh, lifeless, forgotten motes. She finally settles into a sitting position, groaning quietly under her breath, short claws treading the earth absentmindedly. Her master would be along soon ...

The air around her begins to leak black smoke. She rises quickly, whining softly, ears pinned to her skull. Like ink drifting at the will of a watery current, the darkness spreads; suddenly gathering together and then shifting away to accommodate the demon's presence. Yipping excitedly, she bounds to his side, cold muzzle pressed tight into the soft spot behind his elbow in greeting.

Drawn just as so many others - from the depths of the underworld to the far reaches of the universe - he had hardly made it to the outer reaches of the Chamber before his magician father had redirected him. Find his brother - pah! - in the Afterlife and bring him back. An unearthly mist clings to the trunks of the trees in his immediate vicinity; it's damp and somehow slimy, clinging to his lower legs. Hell. He'd thought that he was free from this place, at least for the remainder of this body's lifetime. He had returned, as a child, only to search for his grandmother, the infamous Starlace, but when he had returned empty-handed, Set had let him be. Until now. Stretching his neck and shaking out his mane, he signals Set mentally, his she-wolf lingering at his feet.

Niklas

Set x Anaxarete

[Set]

He can see almost immediately that his distraction has little effect on the rampaging Yael. Somehow, despite her fury and intentions on making Straia and the Chamber pay for their transgressions, she was able to circumvent his mental defenses and see he and Eight coming. To add insult to insult, she had disappeared, taking the chances of a skyborne brawl with her. Screeching in annoyance, the three other dragons disappear, melting into the atmosphere from whence they'd come, leaving a magical char on the air before fading away. It's then that his link to Niklas gives a little tug. The demon-boy was in place. One corner of his mouth curves upward as he shifts back to horse form, retaining the great, leathery dragon wings on his descent to solid ground. At some point Evrae appears, dousing the fire, refacing the Chamber, but he pays her little mind. The trees have been laid on rather thick and with a huff of annoyance, he crushes several, striped hooves touching down on a small hill of fresh pine chips. He shields his thoughts and actions from any onlookers, limbs jigging with the anticipation of rejoining the bedlam. Well done, Niklas, he whispers, though his lips remain unmoving, yellow eyes trained on his surroundings. The low din of battle is somewhere off to the north and east, the smell of burnt forest and singed flesh thick on the air. His son's mind is different than the others -- the quiet is eerie, the thoughts alien, the memories endless. Set curls into it, not without caution, for the creature that he calls son is perhaps the most ancient being he's ever encountered. "Tatter," Niklas says in Set's voice. "Tatter, my son, it's time to rejoin the living." A ghostly footstep. The hellhound at Niklas' feet whines and shifts to a standing position, ears pricked in the direction of the sound. The demon's mouth tightens as shadows begin to eke from his body. They drift close to one another, gathering together to form a shapeless entity, low, anguished screams echoing from their unseen depths. A few seconds pass as they shift before forming a body. A new body in its prime, perfectly detailed to Tatter's long gone and rotting flesh. Niklas regards it with a blank expression, white eyes narrowing as Set once again speaks through him. "Follow your brother through the portal and both of you come find me." Not dreaming that either will disobey, Set withdraws from Niklas' mind, severing the link but leaving in place an anonymous protection, impenetrable by mind or matter. skin to bone, steel to rust