Part 33 -The Iron Republic(2)

Numerical AnalysisToday at 1:38 AM

The deacon had led Able through the Iron Republic, which was a lot more difficult than it seemed; the roads themselves seemed to shift, and more than once they ended back at the piers. Only with persistence (and a small huff of frustration) did they end up at the Brass Embassy. Not a separate embassy, but the Brass Embassy(?). Whatever the building was, the deacon led Able inside and, after dealing with the front desk, took them upstairs. The room they're staying in is rather luxurious; while not as large the bandaged man's spire, there is enough space to comfortably lounge, with a circular rug (it was square earlier) and a window out towards the streets of the Iron Republic (there were five, but they melted off of the walls). In the center of the room, hanging from the ceiling, is a small glass sphere, filled with a hazy maroon clouds and water, keeping the room together. In the corner, where a bed currently exists, the deacon is lying across it, sighing.

Virgil: Ah, god, that took too long.

The boyToday at 1:52 AM

Able sets down their bag, feeling a bit odd about sitting or laying or relaxing anywhere. He didn't know why exactly. He sat anyway, next to his bag and goes to their tins.

Able: Well you look comfortable.

Able pulls out one, and stares at it. It looked a bit odd, and the inside sounded... dry? He shakes it. It sounds like it was mostly empty. He takes out his small opener and pries the top open. He was confused. It looked like small sprouted peas.

Able: Ah..?

Able sets the tin down and moves to another, and another. He opens them all and they all seem to show the same thing. Nothing edible. His bread turned into a bundle of fresh wheat and a small sprinkle of yeast on the bottom, and the meat into whole pieces of hooves or feet. The beans just dried out and turned small and hard. Able groans.

Able: Well... That's annoying.

Able finds the honey at the bottom of the bag, and tucks it into his pocket without much thought. He then scoops the tins back into the bag, bothered.

Numerical AnalysisToday at 1:54 AM

Virgil: -Sitting their head up.- Hm? What is it?

The boyToday at 1:56 AM

Able: I suppose I will have to eat the food here after all.

Able stands, annoyed.

Able: Or I can fast for a few days, I'm sure I will live.

Numerical AnalysisToday at 2:05 AM

Virgil: Oh, I wouldn't advise that. If you think about food because you're hungry, and you don't temper your thoughts. . .well, who knows what might happen.

The deacon sits up on the edge of their bed (which is slowly drifting towards the opposite wall) and hop off.

Virgil: This is a good opportunity to go to the market, however. We could visit the House of Harvests; it's usually a quaint market for produce, but oh, every so often, it becomes a restaurant. The food is infernally delicious..

The boyToday at 2:11 AM

Able: I suppose I ought to then. I'm sure you will delight in seeing me struggle.

Able snickers a bit.

Able: Though I will let you lead...

Able stares at the deacon, raising his eyebrows. He seemed different. He did like this a bit, but it was a little surprising.

Numerical AnalysisToday at 2:17 AM

Virgil: Oh, come now, I'm not cruel. I merely find your confusion amusing.

The deacon stretches, sighing.

Virgil: It'll be an excellent opportunity for you to broaden your tastes, too. Your palate needs expansion, Able; you should take the opportunity while you're here.

The boyToday at 2:21 AM

Able: Ah, I'm sure. Even if you seem more relaxed, you're still not just any devil are you. How did Agatha put it....? you're..... soft. Able: Ah I will take your advice under consideration, but I would like to not stray too far from the normal. Though that being said I should eat, being terrified tends to starve a man.

Numerical AnalysisToday at 2:57 AM

Virgil: -Muttering.- . . .is that what they said. . .well, Agatha is an unreliable source, I'll have you know. Virgil: In any case, I'll make sure to get you meat that's no more dubious than what you have in London. I can assure you, though, that you'll enjoy the cuisine here. . .

The deacon picks up their Safe-Conduct, heading out towards the front door.

Virgil: -Sighing.- . . .even without any spices..

[

2:59 AM

]

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Numerical AnalysisToday at 3:34 AM

The deacon and Able headed along the paved brick streets of the Iron Republic (currently, there was water flowing in-between the bricks) as the deacon led Able along a winding path. At the end, there was a large recessed dugout covered by a glass ceiling; much to the deacon's delight, the House of Harvests was currently a restaurant ("Hurry; we don't know how much longer it'll be around."). They're seated at a table made of stone. On the deacon's side, there's a tureen filled with an extraordinarily fragrant curry (just looking at it makes Able's eyes sting) and a glass of oily amanita sherry. On Able's side, there's a plain cut of meat with whole mushrooms placed around it ("It's horse," the deacon insisted), and a cup of clear water. The table is askew, but the dishes are skewed as well, the tilts perfectly cancelling each other out. The deacon spoons the maroon curry into their mouth.

Virgil: -Picking up a glass of sherry.- Mh. Mh. I haven't had this in so long.

The deacon pauses; their glass turned into water, and Able's into sherry.

Virgil: -Exchanging their glass.- . . .are you sure you're not interested?.

The boyToday at 3:42 AM

Able sighs, taking a whole mushroom into his mouth. It was warm, and it was food, and for that Able seemed to relax, his stomach stopping its complaints. He swallows, a little relieved.

Able: I do not think that will go over well with my tongue.

Able then blinks. Well, he figured he could, and if it was painful, maybe he'd hear the deacon be amused. That was always nice. Able tries not to think deeper than that.

Able: But if you insist.. Perhaps only a small amount.

Numerical AnalysisToday at 3:49 AM

Virgil: . . .I wasn't expecting that answer.

The deacon pushes their bowl forward, tipping their sherry back.

Virgil: Mh. Use your fork; I'd rather you not feel like your dying and then make it happen when you burst into flames by pure thought alone..

The boyToday at 3:53 AM

Able: Tsk. I can be surprising too.

Able raises an eyebrow, and dips his fork into the curry, before trying it. He instantly regrets it. Wheezing, he quickly eats another mushroom and downs his water. Able looks up at the deacon, coughing into his elbow.

Numerical AnalysisToday at 3:57 AM

The deacon is chuckling into their cup, the glass of sherry raised to their lips. . . .well, mandibles; the deacon has the head of a bee (specifically, it looks as if they had shed their head), but their hands and body seem to be intact.

Virgil: -Laughing into their cup.- Heh. I warned you.

The boyToday at 4:02 AM

Able wheezes harder. He looks surprised, and if he wasn't coughing he'd probably move back a bit. Ah, but he did laugh.

Able: -Wheezing- Seems you've gotten more infernal since the last I looked.

Able tries to laugh, but his throat burns, he tries to cover it up with the meat, and the fat seems to settle it a bit better than the water.

Numerical AnalysisToday at 4:27 AM

The deacon sits back, unfazed.

Virgil: -Drinking from their cup.- Mh. You ought to get used to that; it was bound to happen sooner or later. Virgil: -Setting down their glass.- Make sure you don't stain your fur, while you're choking down there.

The boyToday at 4:32 AM

Able: ..Er?

Able tilts his head. He was confused enough to ignore his burning. His head had been morphed into an opossum head, which seemed to reflect his concern too well when he touched his muzzle. Able makes a worried face, but that was hard to distinguish much from his new face. He tries to drink some more water, still a bit warm.

Able: ...Er....Erm... Hm.

Able fiddles with his cup before he just settles on sticking his whole muzzle into the cup. He figured this would work, but now his face was a little wet.

Able: Mh.. This is a bit troublesome..

Numerical AnalysisToday at 4:34 AM

Virgil: Try to not think about it. Virgil: -Spooning more curry into their mandibles.- I know that's not apt, but the harder you try to work around it, the more it'll work against you.

The deacon chuckles sensibly, raising their glass to their lips again.

Virgil: -Amused.- . . .I'm sure there's some lesson in there about having faith or something ecclesiastical like that..

The boyToday at 4:40 AM

Able tries to eat some meat, finding it a bit easier to tear up into his mouth. Though, it is fairly ungraceful.

Able: -Sarcastically- Oh god give me the strength to eat this whole meal.

Able seems to fiddle with where to put his fork before making it to his maw, it is a little awkward. Able wondered impulsively if he could eat that whole piece of meat in one bite with his new face, but decided against it, merely taking larger bites. He found out that the change reached down to his chest before being merely human. He was a bit uncomfortable as the food slid down his throat the last few seconds.

Able: Alright normal bites then..

Numerical AnalysisToday at 4:48 AM

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Numerical AnalysisToday at 5:01 AM

Able and the deacon, after chastely drinking through ten glasses ("I have a higher tolerance after years with the bandaged man.") finished their filling meal and headed up the stairs, which was just as well since the diner seems to be melting into the ground again as soon as they left. It's been a while as they walked along; the floor underneath has curved sharply several times, and there was a riot nearby as the brick archways making up the lampposts started flying and hitting people, but otherwise it's been a quiet walk. . .vaguely towards the pier, but surely towards home. . ?

The boyToday at 5:08 AM

Able looks around a bit, keeping a sort of eye on the deacon, looking away occasionally. He seems to be more focused on what was happening around him, or touching his new very sharp teeth. It was interesting, and he saw on several occasions someone moving between a seen obstacle only to appear different on the other side. He'd seen several other devils, presumably with their own bee head walking about. They certainly didn't look as well as the deacon, Able mused. He looks back towards where the deacon was.

Able: -Muttering- This is a long walk.

Numerical AnalysisToday at 5:15 AM

The deacon pauses, turning around. They have the head of a bee, the neck trimmed with stiff fur and streaked in patterns of spotty black and gold. Most importantly, however, this person doesn't have the deacon's titular chitinous plate of amber between the eyes. The infernal stranger speaks, their mandibles chittering as they stare at Able intently.

A Devil: . . .well, I was heading home, but if you'd like to come. . ?

The boyToday at 5:20 AM

Able stops, blinking.

Able: You're not him.

Able turns around and walks very fast away.

The boyLast Friday at 5:20 AM

Able stops, blinking.

Able: You're not him.

Able turns around and walks very fast away.

March 21, 2020

Numerical AnalysisLast Saturday at 12:37 AM

The Iron Republic, without the deacon around, seems much more chaotic; overhead, a section of building falls, careening to the streets below before suddenly scattering into a flock of pigeons. The roads below, as Able walks, suddenly become murky and waterlogged; it looks like he's stepping into a knee-deep river, yet it feels like a heavy breeze around his shins. Behind, the infernal stranger is walking along leisurely, following Able from a fair distance away.

The boyLast Saturday at 12:42 AM

Able tries to roll with whatever the Iron Republic was throwing at him, sometimes literally. He couldn't deny however that he was fairly bothered, and the new attention wasn't helping him. Able wheezes a bit, his panic rising the longer he walks. The roads seem to take him nowhere, or at least nowhere he could recognize. It was a bit stressful, but he had to either find the deacon, or where he was staying.

Numerical AnalysisLast Saturday at 12:55 AM

As Able walks along, the roads sharply curve right. A nearby lamppost sprouts eyes before they fall off of the glass and fly into the sky as butterflies. The road underneath is made of what looks like carved facsimiles of giant teeth, clay binding it together like mortar in a brick road. Behind, the infernal stranger is advancing on Able, their gaze lingering on him. Literally; on Able's left palm, there is suddenly a pair of unfamiliar insectoid eyes, staring up at Able as he hurries along. Overhead, the buildings are twisting and coiling; people are walking on balconies, waving to their neighbors before standing and walking across the clotheslines (which are drying umbrellas like one would dry shirts) for a conversation. A tiger-headed person, or perhaps a person-bodied tiger, bumps into Able and knocking them askew, the road turning with him as he is made to stumble.

.

The boyLast Saturday at 1:03 AM

He turns and twists and moves through the streets with a bit more calmness than he expected. Still, he felt a panic in him. Even when he's knocked to the side he steadies himself as best he could. He needed to find the deacon, this devil wasn't going to quit, and Able didn't particularly feel like pressing his luck and telling him off. Able felt that a bit more and more as he walked, though he seemed to get angrier than concerned. He tightens his fist, wishing that Virgil was here at the very least, he could pretend to already be spoken for. Perhaps that would work. Ah, though the deacon did seem a bit off after all that drink, he wondered if he was tempering himself or if he was over indulging.

Numerical AnalysisLast Saturday at 1:24 AM

The floor cracks; between the gaps of floor-teeth, fire crackles outwards and lightning curls up in tongues, sending an electrifying feeling across Able's ankles. Overhead, there is a maroon cloud raining streaks of warming sunlight like raindrops, the crowd below scattering instinctually from the terror of Surface light (though those that notice don't seem to be injured at all). Around, the lampposts begin hopping along, staying along Able's left and right flank and keeping the portion of the street he's wandering along well-illuminated. Behind, the infernal stranger gets behind Able, resting a hand on his shoulder; their face is melting vaguely, like a wax figurine left a little too close to a fireplace.

A Devil: Why, you seem to be lost, Londoner; how about I show you a more sensible place to rest, mh?

The boyLast Saturday at 1:33 AM

Able nearly falls over in surprise, and throws his arms up before bolting. He vaults over obstacles, now a bit desperate to find the deacon, the roads shifting under his feet and go from stone to gravel to mud to dirt in just three steps. He could see a shift next to him, and certainly the devil hadn't given up chase. He curses, turning suddenly without his direct consent and passing through two shops before he almost crashes into the deacon. He looks up. It's him, he see's him, hopefully, right?

Able: O-Oy... You..

Able wheezes, realizing he'd exhausted himself a bit. He tries to sound angry but it just comes off as winded.

Numerical AnalysisLast Saturday at 1:47 AM

The deacon is standing at a market stall, cradling what looks to be a miniature mahogany coffin in the crook of their right arm. Their cheeks are a little flush, a sign of their slight tipsiness.

Virgil: . . .mh? Ah, Able. Good to see you. . . Virgil: -Turning; looking at Able.- . . .is. . .is the curry still disagreeing with you? You're still wheezing. . ..

The boyLast Saturday at 1:50 AM

Able looks up at Virgil, sighing in relief.

Able: I'm tired. How are you.

Able seems a lot more relaxed now.

Able: ... What's that?

Numerical AnalysisLast Saturday at 2:07 AM

The deacon holds up the little coffin, the wood cracking.

Virgil: Why, it's a delightful little souvenir from the Iron Republic. A miniature machine that shifts and changes, so you can bring a piece of the Iron Republic home with you!

The wood splinters, shedding like butterfly scales; underneath, there is a small replica lamppost, bent and tilted askew.

Virgil: Dreadfully tacky. So, of course, I thought it'd be perfect for you.

The boyLast Saturday at 2:11 AM

He tilts his head before laughing.

Able: -Snickering- Hey that's a long way around to insult me. At least if you're going to be a twat insult me directly.

Able looks extremely amused regardless, trying to keep his laugh down. H isn't very successful.

Numerical AnalysisLast Saturday at 2:16 AM

Virgil: Come now, this is the sort of stuff Londoners love. Taking bits of territories home to gawk at behind glass; it's practically the height of the British lifestyle. . .hm? A Devil: Why, good stranger, you didn't tell me you had company.

The infernal stranger from earlier is standing a bit too closely behind Able (how'd he got there without making a noise?); their apian eyes are dilated wide, shuttering as they stare at Able.

.

The boyLast Saturday at 2:20 AM

Able: Ah.

Able turns around, their face making a weird surprised opossum face that Able doesn't seem to notice. His mouth open wide with a great look of concern. He doesn't say much, though he does quickly move behind the deacon.

Able: Yes I've got company, so you aren't needed anymore.

Numerical AnalysisLast Saturday at 2:47 AM

The infernal stranger looks up at the deacon, giving a slightly too warm smile.

A Devil: . . .ah. . .claimed?

The deacon pauses, their mandibles closing as they hand the lamppost (now curling into a tiny metal brolley) to Able.

Virgil: -Aloof.- . . .no, he isn't. A Devil: Oh, I see.

The infernal stranger rifles through their pockets.

A Devil: A fresh abstraction, then? How much? Virgil: Pardon?

The deacon scoffs, wrapping a shoulder around Able and pulling him closer into his side, chuckling.

Virgil: -Aloof.- I'm sorry, but I rather like this one, and would like to have this one around for a little while longer. A Devil: -Raising their hand in a handshake.- Ah, an investment? I promise I can exchange for a higher quality target. Virgil: -Unimpressed.- Come now, really? Either you've admitted you have a better target, or you're desperate.

The infernal stranger pauses, their hand raised for a handshake that never came, before they lower, their mandibles curling sweetly.

A Devil: Ah. . .of course. A Devil: -Turning on the spot.- I'll leave you be then, deacon.

The devil saunters back off onto the road, phasing through several lampposts and eventually into the crowd as they leave. The deacon chuckles, letting go of Able.

Virgil: -Bemused.- Well now, looks like you're popular. How'd you end up getting his attention, anyhow?

The boyLast Saturday at 2:59 AM

Able's flush was thankfully covered by fur, well, Able was thankful.

Able: Same thing I always do, absolutely nothing. And you, like me? Ohhh how scandalous, the deacon showing emotion in public.

Able teases, mostly to ignore his own internal flustering.

Numerical AnalysisLast Saturday at 3:14 AM

The deacon elbows Able's arm, chuckling.

Virgil: Come now, this isn't London, this is Hell's territory. Can't I have this small smile?

The brolly opens up in Able's hand before melting (feeling as scalding as liquid wax) as it turns into a small angel figurine.

Virgil: . . .don't drop that statue. It was expensive, mind you.

The boyLast Saturday at 3:21 AM

Able: If you weren't currently looking so infernal, I'd warn you about cracking your husk like that. It's certainly good to see you so pleased.

He laughs, nudging into the deacon. Able tries to hold the statue well enough, but a little bothered by how hot it had gotten.

Able: Ah, we should probably head back and put it away then? I don't think I'll be capable of that if it keeps shifting.

Numerical AnalysisLast Saturday at 3:53 AM

Virgil: Ah, you're a sap. Virgil: If you wish to head back, then we can, though you should walk ahead. I'm sure it'll be very interesting seeing how you get around. Perhaps we'll run into your infernal acquaintance on the way.

The boyLast Saturday at 3:57 AM

Able: Oh so you can watch me squirm? How cruel.

Able grabs the deacon's arm with his free hand, looking smug.

Able: Well this time if I'm getting lost, you're getting lost with me. At least then we can suffer together.