Common is the liqueur of blue and grey. Red, less so, with gold grown rare and green rare still. Ebon liqueur is but myth and legend, in the earliest days from the shaping of masks and the wielding of names.
Yet rarest of all, most impossible of all things, is a devil’s tear. The devil is stone and fire, formless chaos twisted into impulse and desire. For what does the devil weep? To whom does the devil care for beyond itself? For the tear is born of Aesma’s mortal gift, waters shed in mourning for time forever ill spent.
Should you ever see such a wonder, hold it close. Bottle it in the finest trueglass, and bring it to the Reformed Archivists’ Guild, Shades Branch, in exchange for no less than five gilded saint’s skulls, jeweled inlaids and in pristine condition.
Price negotiable upon amount gathered and caliber of devil.
Once while I was training in the arts of combat I spied a blue devil watching me, and I swear on my shield I saw their eyes grow wet. For what reason I can’t imagine, maybe they thought me a delicious morsel they could never eat, or some other reason, but I never gave it thought. I’ve not seen them since I’d left my mentor’s house.
Had I known a devil’s tears were of value, I would’ve decked her in the chest and freed her tears from her eyes. Likely a mistake, I probably would’ve been fatally mauled, and perhaps the teary sheen was only a trick of the light, but the reward measures fairly worth the risk if that bounty can be vouched for.
Oh, good. They’ve made up. Maybe they can find Allison’s friend and get out of here alive. (Especially if they don’t try to take anything they didn’t bring in with them.)
I must admit I feel quite sorry for that long-suffering Servant who took the blade in Allison’s defense. Paper does not heal quite so readily as flesh, nor does it shrug off injury so well as the flesh of devils.
I will have it known that I am most emphatically *not* pleased by this turn of events. While it is preferable that the Key not fall into the hands of a demon, I would not sacrifice my kin to prevent that from coming to pass. They are both culpable in this murder, and by my hand they will both answer for it.
Gundhram the Reader, Belligerent Knight and Amateur Historian
Although I do request that you not try to murder the nascent King of Kings or her Chronicler. I am rather fond of both, and the reason for my joining of the Knights Belligerent rests squarely on a metahistorical text that tells a fragment of Alice-Un’s rise to infinite prominence.
lol wut?
>.<
I was wondering why it wasn't coming out her back…
I see the backpack now.
THE BOOK! IA!IA!!
PRAISE THE BOOK!! IA!
As a well-read individual, Same.
Dying on a pile of gold is how I would wish to go.
On an unrelated note, does that book appear exceptionally heavy to any of you?
I take it you’ve never moved boxes of large books.
I used to own a few hundred books. Movers hated me. Hell, I even hated my own book collection when I had to actually lift it.
Oh yeah, moving with books. It’s unhealthy, but you can’t throw them away. Throwing books away is like destroying the soul of their writer, piecemeal.
Sure, the book may look heavy, but that’s what the backpack was for. Where is the backpack, anyway?
I hope they didn’t need that book for anything.
They needed it for this.
Ah, the little woman remembers who she is.
And the Flesh-Eating Monster forgets.
It’s all a matter of perspective, aye…
Common is the liqueur of blue and grey. Red, less so, with gold grown rare and green rare still. Ebon liqueur is but myth and legend, in the earliest days from the shaping of masks and the wielding of names.
Yet rarest of all, most impossible of all things, is a devil’s tear. The devil is stone and fire, formless chaos twisted into impulse and desire. For what does the devil weep? To whom does the devil care for beyond itself? For the tear is born of Aesma’s mortal gift, waters shed in mourning for time forever ill spent.
Should you ever see such a wonder, hold it close. Bottle it in the finest trueglass, and bring it to the Reformed Archivists’ Guild, Shades Branch, in exchange for no less than five gilded saint’s skulls, jeweled inlaids and in pristine condition.
Price negotiable upon amount gathered and caliber of devil.
Wait are you serious
You’re serious aren’t you
GODS DAMMIT
Once while I was training in the arts of combat I spied a blue devil watching me, and I swear on my shield I saw their eyes grow wet. For what reason I can’t imagine, maybe they thought me a delicious morsel they could never eat, or some other reason, but I never gave it thought. I’ve not seen them since I’d left my mentor’s house.
Had I known a devil’s tears were of value, I would’ve decked her in the chest and freed her tears from her eyes. Likely a mistake, I probably would’ve been fatally mauled, and perhaps the teary sheen was only a trick of the light, but the reward measures fairly worth the risk if that bounty can be vouched for.
Your making me …..FEEEEEEEEEL
It seems that Devils too can shed tears.
oh thank god
i needed this page in my life
Backpacks are *not* stupid.
This is axiomatic.
What, no rhymes? Tsk, tsk, tsk…
An axiom will stand alone
without a court before it’s throne.
It finds worth in just being known.
Redemption is offered. Loyalty is won.
Oh, good. They’ve made up. Maybe they can find Allison’s friend and get out of here alive. (Especially if they don’t try to take anything they didn’t bring in with them.)
Too bad about Lucky Felicia though.
“Okay, let’s go get my boyfriend.”
“EX-boyfriend.”
“Right.”
Zaid will not tell this tale with joy. Doesn’t get to be king, much less ‘get the girl.’
If he’s wise, he won’t tell this tale at all. How would that even go?
Scene: The locker room. Zaid is bantering with some jock heads.
Jock Head #1: Zaid, Brah! Did you score with that ditz Alice?
Jock Head #2: Heh heh! You know blondes put out!
Zaid: Actually, when I started to take her bra off, hordes of demons poured out of the walls and dragged me to Hell.
[Long beat]
Jock Head #2: Wait, so… You mean, like… she has VD?
Zaid: No. Like, I actually got dragged into an alternate plane of existence by fallen angels, and met the dragon god of evil.
Jock Head #1: Whoa! You gotta get me the name of your weed guy, brah!
Book confirmed for main protagonist, true hero of the story.
Complete with Heroic Sacrifice. It died, so the girl could live.
R.I.P. in peace
It died on the sword for her sins!
Died and Reborn!
I must admit I feel quite sorry for that long-suffering Servant who took the blade in Allison’s defense. Paper does not heal quite so readily as flesh, nor does it shrug off injury so well as the flesh of devils.
INGSVLD, wherever he abides, will not be pleased.
I will have it known that I am most emphatically *not* pleased by this turn of events. While it is preferable that the Key not fall into the hands of a demon, I would not sacrifice my kin to prevent that from coming to pass. They are both culpable in this murder, and by my hand they will both answer for it.
It’s good to see you again, Geas Knight.
Although I do request that you not try to murder the nascent King of Kings or her Chronicler. I am rather fond of both, and the reason for my joining of the Knights Belligerent rests squarely on a metahistorical text that tells a fragment of Alice-Un’s rise to infinite prominence.
This is a very touching scene and all, but I’m just impressed with Allison’s reflexes.
At least her sense of humor isn’t damaged… >_<
Tender heartwood endures where timeworn bark fails.
Good books save lives.
And now kiss ôuô
The ship ain’t sinking yet!
God dammit Ab you fucker
I almost had a moment there! Almost…
A Cio-AL-YIS -N straddle moment wasn’t supposed to go down this way. Unless it was!
Mayhaps the king needed an angry blade to the gut to bring her back to reality?
Ha! I suspected Alice would reconcile with Cio over their mutual love of fan fiction!
Not the poor eye book!!!!!
Truly Cio is her own worst critic and has taken “kill your darlings” to heart.
For once I am glad to acknowledge the pleasure I take in seeing her fate not unwound, like some sort of Shaggy Dog.
This is heartwarming, almost…