we are not truly immortal

[dark_light]

After Glass's party is over with, Amariah and Kas go home.

Amariah fetches down their alethiometers.

"It's about time I took care of Alethia's afterlife, whatever it may be," she says quietly. "What can the alethiometer tell you about what I'll find?"

Comments

[lifes_sake]

Cam follows.

[endragoned]

Likewise the Jokers.

[dark_light]

The party ascends through the mist. Pattern's upgrade to the standard vision boost has propagated through the peal; both Bells can see through it if they want, which occurs to them after a few seconds of blind flight.

And this mountain -

Is definitely inhabited by angels.

[pythbox]

The very top of the mountain is still enclouded; apparently there is something magical about the mist there.

But they have another problem.

The first angel who sees their party squeaks and flees, beating insubstantial wings; a scant minute later, in a thunder of ghostly feathers, what seems like every angel in the mountain all come pouring out every available crevasse and make straight for Aianon, dragging at his wings and battering him with their misty limbs.

[endragoned]

...What am I to do? he wonders into the link, letting the celestial mob drag him slowly away from the mountain.

[dark_light]

If you can shake them off without killing them do it - can you? -

[endragoned]

I don't think I could so much as flap my wings without breaking one in half.

[dark_light]

Uuuuh. They're not hurting you, are they?

[endragoned]

It more sort of tickles, he snorts.

[dark_light]

Okay, then since they only attacked you in particular - I don't think we can assume they're hostile to the entire party, if you don't mind letting them carry you wherever they're going while we go try to talk to some others that would be good. You can try talking to them, if they'll listen.

[endragoned]

All right.

[dark_light]

And up flies everyone else.

[pythbox]

And out of the clouds at the very top of the mountain flies another angel, taller and brighter and more solid-looking than the rest.

He does not look pleased.

[dark_light]

"Hello," tries Amariah. "I am Isabella Amariah."

[pythbox]

"You are trespassing," thunders the angel. "Leave now."

[dark_light]

There weren't any signs, Amariah linkbounces but refrains from saying aloud. Instead she says, "Don't you want to know why we're here?"

[pythbox]

"No."

[dark_light]

"Well, I'm afraid it's very important, more so than trespassing, although I do apologize that this was called for," she says.

[pythbox]

"Leave," says the angel. He points down and away, out of the mist.

[dark_light]

"No. My errand isn't going to decrease in urgency until it is complete."

[pythbox]

"Your errand is meaningless," says the angel. "Go, now, and you will not be harmed."

[dark_light]

Amariah plants her hands on her hips, in a gesture that puts her hand near her dagger's hilt.

"My errand is not meaningless. I would like to talk it over peacefully, but if you escalate to violence I don't think I'll come out the worse for it."

[pythbox]

"Tell me of your errand, then," he says disdainfully.

[dark_light]

"How kind of you," says Amariah. "It's about the land of the dead. I don't like it. I'd like to redesign it without interference."

[pythbox]

"Impossible," the angel dismisses.

And he glows brighter.