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A Dangling Golden Thread (Naochan and Zombies Galore)

The former angel made that same nodding motion combined with uh-huh, uh-huh as he listened to Jorja's directions. He placed his foot on the Brannock Device, coming to find his shoe size was twelve and a half. He carefully went through the row of boxes until he found one his size, opened it, promptly tossed the brown paper out from inside the shoes and tried them on, casually breaking the plastic that bound them. It took a few moments of trying before he got the knot down right and then experimentally walked a few paces. "They're kind of stiff. Will that go away?"
 
Jorja nodded her head at him as she bent down in front of him on one knee to fix his laces a little bit. "There and the stiffness will go away after walking in them for a while," she said, getting back to her feet and picked up all the stuff she needed to pay for. The shoe box and the tags and bags of boxers and socks. "I think we are all set now. You look good," she said with a grin, giving him another hot look over and nodded her head. "Food and then we can go walk around and I can show you things."
 
"Thank you," the demon replied, smiling at her compliment. He fell into step with her once again, arm looping around her waist with the casual ease of someone aware of their territory. His head ducked down to absentmindedly kiss her ear, hyper aware of the sensation of the stiff shoes. That awareness faded in a little while as they approached the check out. When Jorja was on the verge of paying there was a confused look that crossed Razael's face. "You don't need to do that."

He looked into the cashier's eyes, "She doesn't need to pay." He calmly escorted Jorja past the cashier after exchanging thanks and well wishes, "Where to now, beautiful?"
 
"And you don't need to do that," Jorja said softly as they walked out of the store, glancing up at him and shook her head. "I'm a scientist. A mage. I'm not poor," she said, looking up at him. She hoped no one else noticed that she didn't pay for what he was wearing. She walked with him back to the car and put his things in the back. "Let's see. Do you know what kind of food you like?" she asked, glancing over at him as they got into the car.
 
"The last time I ate was during the Wei Dynasty of the Middle Kingdom," Razael admitted with a shrug. It had been over two thousand years since he walked the Earth, by that estimation. Not that he knew the current date or would be able to easily compute it to the current Auto Domini system that was employed by the West. "It was quite good."

After a moment's pause in the car he leaned over, took Jorja's chin in his hand and kissed her deeply. When he parted from her, stealing another quick kiss, "It was my way of repaying a favor with a favor. I do not care whether or not you are poor or rich. You released me, quite literally, from Hell. It is the least I can do."
 
"The Wei Dynasty...chinese then. Well, there is a very yummy Chinese buffet not--" Jorja was caught off guard with his kiss and kissed him back with a small moan of happiness that he had kissed her. When he pulled back, she nodded at his words with a blush. "Okay," she whispered softly and kissed him one more time. "There's a Chinese buffet not far from here. It won't be the same as what you had then. But it's kind of close...kind of. But it's good. I promise," she said, nodding at him with a small smile. She then drove toward their new destination.
 
Razael was engrossed by the cars and shops they passed, regretting his distraction when they had driven out of Jorja's neighborhood. Oh, this was perfect. He couldn't have escaped from the Pit at a better time. Clearly a lot of people were being easily taken off the path of righteousness--the amount of graven images alone were astounding. So perfect. So ripe. "Tell me, is magic still considered a sin?"
 
"Only by the churches," Jorja said, nodding her head at him. "I don't possess a lot of magic and I have to have circles like the one in my lab to help me with it," she said and shrugged her shoulders. "People like me are rare and I don't go around making it know I know magic. It's not a sin, but it's fear sometimes," she said, pulling into the parking lot and getting out of the car. The building was white bricked with windows all around. The inside was dimly light. She grabbed his hand when he was out of the car and walked with him inside. "It's a buffet. So we pay once and you can eat as much as you like."
 
This time Razael let Jorja pay, taking a moment to let his eyes linger on the paper currency. He knew that something like it would come, but it was interesting to see. In a way he found the small little imperfections and watermarks cute, the same way you would find a small child's attempt to portray their family with stick figures cute. The food was certainly different, definitely more plentiful--it was a feast by the standards of the last time he had been unleashed upon the Earth. Beef and broccoli was followed by pork fried rice and won tons, with a healthy side of sesame chicken. When he sat down at a table across from Jorja, chop sticks in hand, he curiously ate, before he started to shovel food into his mouth. Unlike the mortals he was surrounded by weight gain was not something Razael had to worry himself with, as the things he used for sustenance were not corporeal in nature. It made food a luxury, a pleasure, and it was definitely refreshing, the pleasures the Logos had bequeathed upon man.

"This is definitely different. Sweeter, I would say," he told her after he finished his plate. He stood up and piled it with another selection of food, then proceeded to repeat the process a few more times. "How did you come by the Veneficus?" Latin for magic, what he assumed to be a safe word to use.
 
Jorja's plate was only half as full as Razael's and she had only gotten up once to refill it. She watched in amusement as he seemed to shovel it into his mouth. It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. "My whole family. Generations of them were," she said, nodding her head. "It was only proper that me and my siblings were to be taught. I was the only one with the talent though," she explained to him, taking a drink of her green tea.
 
"Interesting," Razael said, very clearly paying attention to her. That was one of the demon's most notable skills--being able to listen. Really listen. When someone spoke he did not think about what he was going to say next, rather he listened with intent, as if he could absorb everything someone was saying through his skin. He absently reached out with his foot and caressed the young summoner's leg, "So how did you come to combine the Veneficus and science?"
 
"My grandfather tried to do what I was doing," Jorja said, smiling at him when he started to rub against her leg. "My grandfather is the one that taught me everything I know. Gave me all the books he had on that," she said carefully, her eyes glancing around. But people rarely eavesdropped, but it was still a good idea to be careful what she said. If people where to find out she had been trying to get a demon, they would lock her up in a ward of some sort. She looked over at the demon across from her. Well, she had done it, but he didn't look like a demon at all.
 
"Tell me," the demon leaned forward, looking furtive, almost as though he was asking a naughty question, "what's the party line on the Logos?"

There were a million questions he had for Jorja, for all the things she knew that he wanted to knew. That he needed to know. "Also, has information storage moved beyond paper yet?"
 
Jorja tilted her head at him. She didn't not understand his first question. "The party line on the Logos?" she asked softly, blinking a little bit at him. She shook her head. "Oh no. All my findings and all my grandfather's work is all on paper. I am forbidden to put it online. Or anywhere else. All of it is in my lab, in a safe. No one is allowed to touch it but me."
 
"The Logos. The Word," he searched his mind for an appropriate word to describe what had been debased with the inclusion of the Roman Catholic church and a plethora of other religious organizations. What one would call God, YHWH, Brahman, Allah; all of them failed to convey the vastness of that being. "Primary Mover."

There were a few blinks, "On line?" He got a look as though he were looking inwards, "You have networked information storage over electrons already?"
 
"I still don't understand what you are saying," Jorja said, blinking a few times at him. "Online. The internet," she said, nodding at his last comment, but his first still troubled her. "Maybe this conversation should be finished at my house so you don't have to dance around what you say," she said, nodding her head a little bit at him.
 
"Yes, it should," Razael looked troubled. When he got up he took Jorja's hand, fingers lacing through her's. He was oddly silent, inward drawn. Things were not going to the Plan and people were clearly unaware of the origins of the incorporeal metastructure of the universe. Clearly they had made strides in understanding the practical, material aspects of it, which was certainly interesting, though disturbing. The others who had escaped and run rampant, Mammon among them, had clearly had an effect on the overall nature and development of mankind. He could smell it, feel it, taste in the air; the rest of his senses, the ones ethereal, were far more acclimated to this environment than he had expected, though he was still coming to grips with incorporating those with his corporeal form.
 
Jorja frowned at the way he looked, but she got up and walked with him out of the building. She was full and happy, but he looked troubled and she wondered why. She got in the car and waited for him before she started home. "What's wrong?" she asked curiously, glancing over at him as she drove.
 
"I will . . . explain, when we get back to your home," Razael reached over and put a comforting hand on the back of Jorja's neck, giving a small squeeze. His expression was still troubled, and then thoughtful, as he looked up into the sky, quietly, his hands now folded in his lap.
 
Jorja nodded her head and the rest of the car ride was quiet as she wondered what was bothering him. She pulled to a stop in front of her home and got out. She grabbed his extra boxers and socks and her coat from the back and motioned him to follow her inside. "I got you another kind of underwear. They are tighter around your legs. I don't know what one you would prefer," she told him as she went to her lab to hang her coat. Then she went into her bedroom to set his things on the dresser.
 
By the time Jorja got to her bedroom, Razael was waiting there. Once she had set the demon's clothing on her dresser he stripped out the articles he was wearing and that transformation came in reverse, his skin becoming alabaster white, eyes losing color, growing taller, wings tesseracting from out of his back. He reached forward and gripped Jorja's shoulders, playfully pushing her onto the bed so that she was staring up at the ceiling. The demon climbed onto the bed and leaned down, covering the summoner's mouth with his own, slipping his tongue into her mouth, sliding against her's. "Do you trust me?"
 
She smiled as she watched him turn back to his normal form. She smiled as he crawled over her and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back deeply. When he asked her if she trusted him, she had to think about it. Honestly, she didn't even know him. But he had never once lashed out at her yet and she gave and would not give him any reason to hurt her. So, slowly, she nodded her head, wondering what he was going to do. "Yes."
 
The demon smiled at her response and drew one of his fingers across her moist, warm lips. "Look into my eyes," he whispered. Those orbs began to glow.

They glowed not white, nor silver or gold, neither did they shine red or blue or black or green, or any other color at all. The light was not light, it was something more than light, the Platonic ideal of light, light at its purest form. That ideal light pierced through Jorja's eyes, through her pupils, the aptly named windows to the soul, and shot directly into her neocortex, the part of the brain that governed higher thought. What blossomed in Jorja's brain was a nothing as profound as the Pit from before the Morningstar had descended, a microcosm of the nothing that had existed before the Logos came. He communicated with a method that lacked words or even concept, a direct line of experience.

There was a city, a city of primordial proportion, so beautiful it could make you weep. A presence filled the sky, was the sky, was beneath the city as well, it was all surrounding, it pierced everything, tied everything together. The presence was love and knowledge and pride, the presence was reality and fantasy and the possibility that tied the two together, the presence was fate and chance, the presence was compulsion and free will, all bundled into one incredible package. That presence was the Logos, the Word; Allah, God, Brahman, YHWH, the Primary Mover, the Architect, Optimus Omnipotens.

In the city flew creatures of pure energy--the angels. The angels moved with purpose, perfecting a masterpiece, a work of art that was itself representative of a greater whole, one that was still being worked on. Each of those beings of pure energy were specialists that focused on one aspect of the Plan, that masterwork that represented the greater working whole of the developing universe, always in touch with the Logos. Once Razael had been one of those creatures as once had the Morningstar.

With that the ideal light faded, with that single snapshot, Razael parted from Jorja. "You see now? Do people understand the Logos?"
 
She swallowed and shook her head a little bit. "That world...is too perfect for my race," she whispered softly, nodding her head at him as she watched him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close to her. "Logos...no one understands Logos. No one can even imagine the perfectness of it, the beauty," she whispered as she ran her hand over his cheek slowly and leaned up to kiss his lips softly. "The churches can only guess," she said softly against his lips, wrapping her legs around his waist.
 
"For all that Logos is perfect," a kiss to intersperse his bitter words, "it is a complete and utter bastard." He did not show her what the Logos did, pitting angel against angel, like against like, casting them down into the Pit. That would be cruel and Razael was only cruel to his enemies, something he and his fellows had learned from the Logos and spent eons perfecting. Those thoughts were cast from his head as he leaned down to kiss Jorja once more, his tongue slowly describing the outline of her lips, the sweet taste of her mouth hauntingly pleasant. One of his large hands slid up the woman's side, riding up her flesh beneath her shirt, until her grasped one of her breasts in his hand.
 
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