Meet the Author [Goody + incendo]

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Here was where it ended. Finally, the ages old struggle between good and evil would see the Light triumph.

Holding his sword, Claw, in a strong grip, Mahon faced off against the most vile, malevolent being in all the land of Pas: the Demon Lord, Gammon. For years, he'd been battling the armies of darkness to reach this fortress, to stand here in this spot, for the satisfaction of looking the insane tyrant in the eye. Gammon's were yellow and black now, irises glowing with a golden, predatory gleam...but they hadn't always. Mahon remembered a time when his brother's eyes were green and human, like his own. All traces of that young, spirited man were gone, buried beneath layers of corded muscle, covered with twisted, spiked black armor and robes of blood red. There was nothing left to mourn of the young man he used to know, as Gammon cackled spitefully at the heroic warrior facing off against him.

And truly, Mahon was done mourning. His family had fallen to the previous tyrant, mother and sister killed, brother and father enslaved. Then as Gammon grew up, moving from slavery to become apprentice to the dark king, eventually filling his shoes once the great Master, Death, had taken him, becoming even more evil than his predecessor, he'd sent his demonic, monstrous hordes to silence any oppression within the continent, obliterating light wherever he found it. Mahon's woman, the sweet Lily, and the son she'd bore him, had been consumed by the hideous monster warriors in Gammon's armies, when they came tearing through the peaceful countryside, renting the land. Their village had been gutted, burned to the ground, blood of the innocents soaking the earth and Mahon was left alone having missed his opportunity to protect the ones he loved the most.

There was no one left in the world that he cared about. And guilt for being alive amidst all the carnage definitely made him an enemy to himself when it came to the desire to live. The only thing that kept him going was the feast of promised vengeance. The only thing left to define him was pure hate. His destiny, becoming a monster, created by the demon lord, in order to fulfill his grand desire to destroy the evil tyrant.

"It ends now," Mahon growled in a deep, rugged voice, glowering through the arched noseguard on his helmet.

Gammon laughed in a silken voice, flashing a charming smile, made sanguine by the pronounced canines. "My brother... It's only begun. Join me. Rule by my side. All nations will fall under the bootheels of our armies."

"Never!" Mahon roared, a grimace of rage distorting his features as he tensed and charged across the throne room.

Just then, blue and white light pulsed into the room, a vibrant, electric blossom, vibrating and flexing in the air beside them. Wind from nowhere tossed Gammon's cloak and Mahon turned to face the strange light bloom , shielding his eyes from the brightness of its fires. "What have you done?" Gammon asked in guttural horror, glaring balefully at the flowering blue and white tunnel individual hovering in his throne room. "What strange magic is this?"

Mahon turned to look at his brother, blinking in confusion. Him? This...this wasn't Gammon's sorcery? In all his years of training and killing men and monsters in battles, Mahon had not once touched any of the mystical arts. He fucking hated magic, all kinds, Light and Dark. And he'd certainly seen enough of the Dark to know how it could corrupt men's souls, how it changed them, infecting their very core.

He didn't get a chance to refute blame for the sudden appearance of the magic now present in the room with them before a crack and sizzle like thunder hitting ground sounded from the electric tunnel behind him. Mahon held up his arm, blinking and squinting at the spiraling light tunnel as it increased the speed at which it blossomed and flexed, wind dragging at his heavy armored body. Mahon struggled to keep his feet from sliding across the gleaming black floor but it was futile, his leather boots scraping softly as he was pulled towards the vortex of light. The thought to run occurred to him a second too late, his feet yanked from the ground as the rest of him was pulled violently into the air, barreling straight for the swirling light.

All around him, light surrounded him. When it wasn't a blinding show of color, blues, indigos, and aqua greens, he could see that the light blossom was a tunnel, rounded edges giving the feel of a cloud-like form to his surroundings, even as he fell through it, sliding up, down, and around curves at impossible speeds. A sound behind him caused him to look over his shoulder, only to find Gammon floating behind him. From the feral insanity in his brother's eyes, Mahon could guess that the same force that had pulled him through had also captured Gammon against his will, the arrogant Demon King just as vulnerable to the whims of the magic that now carried them.

Gammon let out one last guttural growl before suddenly, as Mahon watched, the demon lord was shoved violently sideways, through the ethereal cloud wall. Mahon blinked, swallowing his heart to watch his foe disappear to some unknown place, vengeance stolen from him. A shout of rage and despair tore through his throat as a second later, he felt himself burst from the lighted magic vortex.

It was like...waking up. Blinking his eyes, sunlight dappling his face through huge trees with low swooping branches, and strange foliage draped over them, Mahon slowly sat up with a soft grunt. His head was pounding but he pushed it aside, especially as he looked around and realized...this was not Pas. At least, not any location he had as of yet journeyed to. The light blossom... Had it been some sort magical pathway of some kind? Where had it taken him? And...where was Gammon?

Fierce green eyes searched the lush green lawn, looking between the strange trees for some sign of his evil brother. When he found none, he didn't relax. Gammon was cunning. If he were transported to this same place, it wouldn't take long for the demon lord to start working his magic to build his armies of abominations again. Mahon had been so close! He needed to find him and stop him before it was too late. Which, begged the question: if it hadn't been magic unleashed by Gammon in order to escape, then who or what had done such a thing? For what purpose had he been brought here?

Standing from the odd metal bench he'd been laying, Mahon frowned in either direction, glancing down as his boots crinkled and scuffed over a path of pretty tan stones. Was he in the garden of some palace? The lawn was lush and vibrantly green, too well tended to be wild countryside. That was when Mahon became aware of some sort of music, wavering unevenly on the air through the trees. Turning in that direction, he followed it with resolute purpose, not bothering to sheath his sword until he knew more of this strange kingdom and it's artful magic tunnels.

The closer he got to the source of the music, the more tension seeped into Mahon's bones and muscles. The country gardens he traversed soon disappeared, revealing a road of some kind, yet it and the carriages which populated it were unlike any he'd ever seen. Smooth gravel, black as night in the shining sun, went in a straight line from right to left before him. And upon it rumbled armored carriages, people sitting inside them directing them as if by magic, without a creature or horse in sight to pull them. As each one passed with deep thunder in its belly, Mahon tensed, glaring after them in paranoid horror. As soon as he'd left the cover of the trees, Mahon had begun to sweat under the heavy glare of the sun, his face and hair dripping under his shining helmet. Slipping it off of his head, Mahon rubbed the sweat from his brow with the back of his steel gauntlet, interrupted as another thunderous sound came from above. Looking up with a penetrating glare, Mahon found himself shocked again as he watched the small, white form speed across the soggy heat of the bright blue sky. The roar that came from it was chilling and Mahon stood his ground, even as his breathing picked up with the realization of the creatures this land possessed.

"Dragon..." he muttered with an exhale of dread. Pas no longer possessed such large creatures of unbelievable intelligence and magic, having killed them ages ago. Legends and songs were the only evidence of them now, and Mahon felt both a secret terror and exhilarating daring to know such beasts roamed this land freely. Looking around, the carriages never stopped, nor did the people who walked alongside the road stop to look at the gorgeous beast that cried out above them, smalled by distance it was so high up. Did dragons not eat people here?

Looking across the traffic of the road at the buildings on the other side, once again, Mahon found himself drawn to the music that spilled from the open doors. Replacing his helmet on his head, Mahon walked out into the black road, his eyes on the open doorway, so much so, that when one of the rumbling magic-propelled carriages came barreling towards him, it was forced to halt with a sharp screeching of its wheels. The occupants exclaimed and gruffly rebuked him, but Mahon had sense enough to realize he was not well versed in how the road worked. He'd seen plenty of others pass over it with no problem, so, he wasn't sure why he should be chided so roughly. Maybe something about his armor made him hard for the magic carriages to see? He noticed, nobody else wore any, all of them in unfamiliar clothes besides. Did this city not have any soldiers? How did they protect themselves? It didn't make any sense. Unless...the dragon protected them? They were supposedly just as wise as they were ferocious according to the tales.

Still wondering about this, Mahon walked up to the open doorway, entering the shaded establishment. Some part of him delighted in understanding as he took in the bar and tables placed around the open tiled floor. Of course! A tavern. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and he couldn't discern where the minstrel was, but it at least was familiar with the barkeep behind the long, curved counter, and the patrons sitting about enjoying food and drink together.

Walking up to the bar, Mahon patted his shield arm on the bartop, waiting with a patient, surly frown for the man to come to him, as he continued to search for the bard that sounded so close, singing songs of esoteric meaning with strange, coaxing beats. "What can I get ya, pal?" the barkeep asked him in an unfamiliar accent, looking him up and down with curious interest. "You in some sort of Renaissance Faire?"

Mahon narrowed his eyes at the man but shook his head dismissively. "I do not know what that is," he said gruffly. "I'm looking for my brother, the Demon Lord, Gammon. Have you seen him?"

The barkeep snorted softly and shook his head. "Okay buddy. Save it for the stage. Can I get you anything?"

"You will tell me what you know," Mahon said, lowering his voice, glowering menacingly at the man. "You are all in danger if my brother is loose in this city. It won't take him long to amass his army of demons and--"

"Seriously," the barkeep interrupted with a belabored sigh. "If you're not going to order anything, I'm gonna ask you to leave. Go peddle this act somewhere else."

"It is not an act!" Mahon growled angrily, stepping back to raise his sword. "I am no entertainer, you Light-dulled fool! I will have my vengeance against my brother and you will tell me what I want to know!"

"Easy! Take it outside, King Arthur!" the barkeep chided him lazily, waving a hand at him to try to calm him down. "I don't wanna go see your play."

"I am not an actor!" Mahon roared furiously, incensed by the bizarre confusion of him being some sort of minstrel himself. Enraged, he stepped back and raised his sword, slamming it upon the bar, Claw, the deathly sharp blade biting through the bar all the way down to knee height. Wrenching it free in an explosion of splinters, the barkeep having jumped back several feet, blinking at him in astonishment, Mahon grimaced in savage aggression. "Where is Gammon, you fool?!" Behind him, shocked patrons cowered, some even dashing for the doors, screaming in terror.

 

[incendonocturne]

-with a beleaguered sigh, she stripped the glasses from her face and dropped them haphazardly against the desk. She stared at the blinking line at the end of the block of text she’d typed out. Her lips pursing in thought.-

“Oh Moe. What are ya doing to me?”

-she murmured to the laptops screen. She had Mahon charging across the throne room but the actual defeat of Gammon and how Mahon would do so, was eluding her completely at the moment.

She pushed her chair back, unfolding her left leg from beneath her and stood. Stretching, she sighed. She’d been sitting at the desk, working on the final installment of the Land of Pas series, for several hours now. Writing had been going fairly smoothly, a few printed pages sat waiting for collection in the printer dock behind her and she had a general sense of where she wanted it to go and how she wanted it to end but for some reason, that true end was just not wanting to come. It needed to be epic, satisfying and honorable for her Moe. He deserved to defeat his brother, to save the land and return it to its previous glory. Mahon deserved that peace after everything she’d put him through in the previous three books. The fans deserved it to be epic and satisfying as well. And at the same time, she hated to see it end. She hated to lose Mahon. Her handsome warrior.

She was always attached to one or two of her characters in her other stories but there was something about Mahon that she absolutely treasured. Probably because she’d molded him after her ideal man. Strong, smart and sexy. A domineering force to be reckoned with when he set his mind to anything.

Again she sighed, her foot steps echoing softly in the wide open space of the loft apartment as she retrieved the printed pages and returned with them to the rest of the pile on the corner of her desk. Lifting the glittering, multi-hued stone she used as a paper weight, she set them atop the rest and put it back in place atop the manuscript. It was a gift she’d received from a fan, according to his letter, meant to depict one of the many magical stones in Pas. She felt it only logical to use it to keep the final adventures of Mahon and devious actions of Gammon in place until the end. A hand patted the rock and she chuckled to herself.-

“Ah, Mahon, how I wish you were here.”

-she tsked at herself. Making her way toward the kitchen, she failed to see the soft pulsating glow coming from the stone upon her desk as she muttered to herself.-

“Mara Seward, you really need to get out more, maybe find your real Moe somewhere out there in the real world, yeah?”

-chuckling at herself, she set to work, brewing some coffee and making herself some lunch. Perhaps it would help her think more clearly and be able to finish the book at some point today.

Speaking of the real world, once she was finished making her meal, she settled onto the couch and flicked the television set across the room on, turning it to a local news station, she listened as she ate, to the goings on in and around New Orleans.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Hot spot music played over the screen, the local news channel intro graphics sweeping through for a "Breaking Story." As the graphics cleared, the lead newscaster, Chase Madigan, sat behind a desk, hands placed upon the desk, wearing a purple blazer and seagreen toned undershirt. As the music finally dwindled down, the charming newscaster looked into the camera with professional determination. "Hello, my name is Chase Madigan, for NOLA News Channel 4, bringing you all the important news here first," he said, giving the camera a stout nod and then dashing grin before continuing. "Breaking story of the afternoon, police have been called to the scene of Antoine's bar and grill in the French District, where a delusional man dressed in armor has become irate and started threatening the business owners and patrons. We have our best field reporter, Jenna Jameson, on the scene to give us the details and keep us abreast of the escalating situation. Jenna?"

"Thank you, Chase," a middle-aged, gorgeous blonde woman in a leisure suit said into a microphone as she appeared on screen. Standing across the street from the bar and grill, with full view of it behind her, it was clear from the way the police had cordoned off the street that the situation was still developing. It appeared that one of the front windows had been busted out, crushed glass carpeting the outdoor tables and sidewalk. "So far, authorities have not been able to ascertain much about the armored man, except that he is not from here. Police were called when he walked into the bar and grill, threatening the bar tender on staff, and then using what appears to be an authentic steel sword to damage property. He appears very confused and aggressive, having tossed the Antoine's bar tender out of the front window before NOLA police arrived on the scene. He was rushed to the hospital moments ago but other than a few minor injuries, he seems no worse for wear."

"Sounds like someone got a little too drunk during Mardi Gras," Chase huffed a laugh. "Anybody know what he wants?"

"All the witnesses have said that he began asking questions about some devil king or something," she said with a shrug and faint shake of her head. "And he's apparently looking for his brother. He grew agitated when no one was able to answer his questions."

"Sounds like someone had one too many sazeracs while marathoning old seasons of Game of Thrones," Chase chuckled again.

Jenna huffed a laugh herself, "It appears so, Chase. As you can see, authorities have him somewhat calm now and are trying to talk to him."

It was true. Through the busted window, the NOLA police were standing tense in the bar, defensive hands held out in placating gestures to calm the man down. In front of the bar, a man in full armor, looking authentic and heavy-duty, paced tensely like a caged tiger, occasionally responding to the officers that spoke to him. His sword, a distinctive alabaster metal that seemed to shine with an inner, deadly glow, was held firmly in hand as he paced, but down by his side as well. His face was hard to see through the helmet, his chin and lips shown clearly in the brief moments that he faced the windows and the camera across the street. But his shield, strapped to his left arm, held a very distinctive crest and seal. Unknown to the onlookers and most people who saw it, it was the falcon and fleur de lis of the Holmgren family line. The line that ended with Mahon since his brother had taken up the colors and seals of the Demons he served.

"We'll be sure to keep you abreast of the situation as it develops," Jenna said into her microphone with a professional nod. "For now, we will wait to see if the police negotiations are successful. Back to you, Chase."

 

[incendonocturne]

-the soft jingle of a bell signaled the calico’s approach, as did the ‘meow’. She was surprised that Bear hadn’t made her appearance sooner actually but the smell of the turkey meat must have permeated whatever sweet kitty dreams she was having up in the loft bedroom.-

“You hear this, Bear?”

-she murmured to the cat as it rubbed up against her leg. Drawing her attention from the breaking news alert to her pet as little white paws popped up on the edge of the coffee table and a little pink nose sniffed relentlessly at her plate. Tearing a small bite of the meat from her sandwich, she held it out to Bear, reaching down to pet her when she dropped back to the floor to eat the tasty treat she’d been given.-

“Mardi Gras brings out the crazies sometimes, yeah?”

-dropping another small bite to the floor for the cat, she was lifting the sandwich to her lips when she heard that the delusional man in question was looking for the demon king and his brother. She blinked, her eyes shooting back to the tv screen. Her attention solely on the story unfolding. She lowered the sandwich back to the plate and stood.

Slowly she made her way closer toward the television. Watching as the camera panned closer to the bar. Closer to the man in question. Fingers traced the line of his jaw as the camera zeroed in a little closer on him.-

“Impossible....”

-she whispered, her eyes tracing over the curves of his lips before moving to stare at the eyes peering from the helmet, though barely seen, she could tell they were green.

This had to be some kind of joke. Some fan that had gotten out of hand, partied to hard during Mardi Gras and was indeed shit faced drunk and what? Cosplaying a character from her books? Stranger things had happened and it was better than the alternative, because that would be incredibly strange....and just....-

”Impossible...”

-she repeated breathlessly. No cosplayer or jokester for that matter could possibly nail her own personal imagining of Mahon’s features so accurately.

Her gaze dropped to Claw, watching the blade glint and shine as he paced before the bar and then shifted to the shield. Fingers tracing over the crest incredulously. Again, without a picture, in the books, which were never added to her pages.....how could anyone so accurately recreate any of this.

She took a step back as his image disappeared from the screen, returning to Chase in the news studio. She blinked rapidly and turned to see Bear happily sitting on the coffee table, munching away at the forgotten sandwich.-

“Incredibly.....impossible.”

-she muttered, a finger scratching softly at her temple as she stalked through the apartment with a confused and disbelieving huff. She snatched her keys and purse from the hook by the door and hurried to her car.

She needed to get to Antoine’s. She needed to see this shit for herself. This could turn out to be bad press for her books if this was some jackass playing around, taking it to this extreme and if....if....if it really was Mahon...-

“But...how? How could it be? It’s just not....there is no way.”

-it took her all of fifteen minutes to get to the French District and she had to walk a block just to get to Antoine’s with all the chaos from what was going on. Weaving through the crowd, she made a beeline for the yellow tape stretched across the scene. Her eyes searching until she found Chief Mendelssohn.-

“Chief....Chief!”

-she shouted above the noise. She’d worked with the man extensively on another book she’d written, a noir detective novel. The lead Detective that she ended up basing off of Mendelssohn.-

”Not now, Mara. This isn’t going in one of your books.”

-the man sighed gruffly as he approached.-

“No. That’s not what I’m here for. I know that man. He’s...he’s a friend of mine, from out of town. He got a little drunk last night and crashed at my place.”

-Mendelssohn stared at her and snorted-

”Then why isn’t he still there instead of causing trouble in my District?”

“Because he’s an idiot but he’s my idiot?”

-she flashed him a dimpled, cheeky smile. She had no real answer for him. She didn’t even know how Moe could possibly even be here, herself.-

”Yeah, well your idiot has caused a lot of damage and put a man in the fuckin’ hospital, Mara! If he hurts one of my officers, I’m going to tase his ass and toss him in the tank. And who’s gonna pay for all this shit?”

“I will. You’ve still got my info, right? Give it to the owners and the bar tender, I’ll pay for the damage and the hospital bills, just let me in there to talk to him. Give me five minutes, Rob. If I can’t get him to settle down and come back home with me, then you can tase him all you want.”

-Mendelssohn sighed and glanced back toward the bar, clenching his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, he lifted the yellow tape.-

“I already got too many assholes in the damn tank today.”

-he grumbled and grabbed her arm as he walked with her toward the smashed out window. Glass crunching under their feet as he waved one of his men aside.-

”Sir?”

-the man questioned, a couple of the others looking in their direction as well.-

”She knows him. She gets five minutes to talk him down, if he’s still uncooperative, he gets tased and tossed.”

-his men nodded acknowledgement and Mendelssohn gave her a gentle shove past his men and pointed a finger at her.-

”Five fuckin’ minutes, Mara.”

-Mara nodded and saluted him, that cheeky grin curling the corner of her lips again.-

“Ay, Captain.”

-he huffed and scowled at her, moving back out of the way with a shake of his head.

Mara turned, her eyes dancing over the man pacing the floor, taking in everything she had before on the television. In absolute awe to see him up close. Again, ’Impossible’ rang through her thoughts before she finally took a cautious step closer.-

“Mahon?”

-she said softly. Her stance solid and her gaze steady, albeit, curious upon him.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Everything felt strange. Not only did the locals talk strangely but when the royal guards arrived, they had no weapons, and rather than taking him into custody, they spoke to him like an infant. ...probably because he had a sword and they had nothing to defend against him with. It felt odd but the only thing Mahon could figure was that this city was extremely peaceful, possibly depending upon the dragon that circled above for safety, and so, the soldiers and everyone else didn't feel the need to carry around weapons. Was his the only sword in the entire city?

Despite the guards being obviously nervous and distressed by his presence, they conversed with him willingly enough. Mahon kept his sword unsheathed, not putting it down or handing it over when they asked him to, simply because intuitively, he knew it was the only thing that gave him power right now. Still, as they asked him about his brother, asking what they could do to help him, Mahon asked them questions about their strange city. No one seemed to understand what he meant about the dragon - did they not realize the beast kept them safe? Or were they simply not allowed to speak of it? Maybe he had it wrong. Maybe they weren't kept safe by the ancient creature. Maybe they were its prisoners?

"Who is the king of this land?" Mahon huffed, turning in another tight circuit in front of the wooden bar, passing the splintered rent his sword had made.

"We don't have one," one of the guards said, shaking his head. "We live in the United States of America, remember? We have a president. His name is Donald Trump."

America? Was that the name of this nation? Mahon gave the man a narrowed look, not liking the assumption that he should be aware of these things. Were there never any strangers in this place? Did everyone just assume anyone they encountered knew about their nation without having to be told? ....How far had the vortex transported him?

"Do you know what year it is?" the guard asked.

Mahon exhaled in exasperation. That was the second time he'd been asked. "It is the 25th century in the day of our fathers, the Entels, the first men of Pas. The 14th year of the reign of the Demon Lord, Gammon."

"Ok. It's actually 2018," the guard said, nodding slowly.

"Meaningless," Mahon scoffed in irritation. "What is that number? It isn't attached to anything! Two thousand years of what? Since what? Is your presider immortal? Has he been ruling for that long? Have you no history at all? Or do you just mindlessly count the days until death and someone else picks up where you left off?" Turning again in a tight circuit, Mahon panted in agitation, growling softly. He became aware of the guards retreating, but he was still wrapped up in his wild thoughts about this ephemeral place, its strange numbers, and its lack of king. What was America? Where was the dragon? Was a presider a name given to the beast? Was 'Trump' the beast that flew overhead?

He was still pacing along the bar, his shoulders tense, when he heard his name. Stopping, he turned to look with an expectant light in his green gaze. Warily, he looked around, continuously focusing on the woman who now occupied the space. His first impression was that she was wealthy and beautiful. Her clothes were lovely colors, well-made, and her waist line was plump and full of healthy curves. And her facial features popped with clear, plush skin, a healthy, rosy glow in her cheeks, her eyes popping with a dramatic, seductive shadow around them. There was also...something else... Something he couldn't put his finger on. He knew her yet trying to bring up from where or how, Mahon came up blank. Still, she knew his name, so, obviously there was something to remember.

Tipping his head slightly, he pulled his helmet off, sweat drenched hair curling and clinging to his forehead. Getting a better look at her did not help him remember and he cocked his head softly in confusion. It was a ticklish feeling, pleasant and disturbing, not knowing, yet feeling it hovering just out of reach. Who was she? So far, everyone he'd encountered had at least been willing to converse, even if their answers hadn't made a whole lot of sense. So, he figured he'd ask.

"Who are you? How do you know me?" With sword lowered by his side, his helmet held loose in his other hand, Mahon approached her, his brows furrowed with innocent perplexity, eyes tracing over her features, trying to unearth the memories. "I feel...like I should know you...but I can't..." His voice faded as he tried to put into words the sensation of hidden connection between them.

 

[incendonocturne]

-her lips pursed inward on themselves. She could feel eyes weighting upon her from behind. Frustrated and unsettled eyes of the officers. Frustrated at the progress they hadn’t made with Mahon and uncertain that she would be able to do much better. She could feel their tension as well and it nestled against her shoulders.

She drew in a deep breath, her tongue whetting her lips as she released it. She could feel the heavy beat of her heart as his eyes found her and she was struck again by the thought of how all of this was absolutely impossible. She knew that glint but she also recognized the confusion. She knew him but he didn’t, he couldn’t know her.

As he stripped his helmet from his head, she blinked and a breath huffed from her chest.-

”Wow.”

-the word escaped in an awestruck and unbidden whisper as she blinked and the beat of her heart stopped, skipped, before continuing its solid and awe struck thud. As impossible as it was, her creation, her ideal was standing before her. She was struck silent for several minutes as she watched him trying to process things himself. Her head tipped softly.

As he stepped closer, she heard movement behind her, the faintest shuffle of material against material as hands dropped to their sides, hovering and at the ready to grab their weapons. Stances changing, becoming more rigid. A glance over her shoulder told her the officers were on higher alert, watching Mahon closely. Her hand patted the air softly at her side, quietly begging them to relax.

Turning her attention back to Mahon, she offered him a smile, cheeks dimpling softly. Bright and wondering eyes dancing over his handsome face.-

“Mara and we are old friends, Mahon.”

-as of to accentuate her answer, to prove or try to prove that answer, she took a step forward, closer to him. A hand lifting to rest comfortingly against the right of his chest. It was also for the simple fact that she needed to touch him, to make sure he wasn’t some figment of her own imagination. To make sure he was solid....and boy was he. As solid as she’d created him.-

“I know you’re confused....”

-Hell! She was freaking confused herself and if she were, surely he had to be twice as much so.-

“But I need you to trust me. I need you....you need to put Claw away and I need you to come with me. If you don’t, you’ll end up somewhere that you don’t want to be or worse. These men can’t help you and if you try to battle them, they will win. They will hurt you.”

-she’d lowered her voice, not quite a whisper but soothing. Though a sense of urgency laced her words.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Mara. The name was just as frustrating as the look of her; no memories but it niggled at him as familiar. Mahon felt like he should know it. Her familiarity as well bolstered this odd sensation of connection between them, the touch of her hand upon his armored chest, like that of a lover. On the one hand, he was offended by her assumption in the gesture. On the other, there was the pesky feeling of closeness and a sexual tension already crackling between them. Whether he knew her really or not, Mara had caught his eye, and with the way her startling emerald eyes stroked him, just as her hand subtly did, Mahon knew she was attracted to him as well.

He did trust her. Without much push or shove but she especially forced him to flinch and gape at her as she named the blade at his side. Glancing down, Claw glistened with a cocky, white glow, almost as if it recognized her too. Further, Mara's threat of the guards taking him away - where did she mean? Did this peaceful place have no trial system? Did aggressors automatically get thrown into a dungeon? ...well, he supposed an element of that made sense. Low tolerance for trouble might just be the true key to the peace and prosperity(and lack of weapons) that he saw around him - forced Mahon to shoot a look towards them behind her, assessing their tension and readiness. He'd been treated fairly so far, but looking at them now, Mahon understood: he'd run out of time. Not that he was scared of men who held no weapons, but he believed Mara when she impressed upon him the damage they could do. He'd not come here to fight and Mara clearly had the answers he needed and knew him enough to extend him this help.

"As you wish it, m'lady," he said respectfully, nodding at her. Holding his scabbard, Mahon slipped Claw away with a beautiful, triumphant hissing shriek as it slid home in its sheath. Looking up at each of the men still watching, Mahon inclined his head in respect to them, gracious for their patience with this foreigner.

"You can help me, though," Mahon said to Mara, confident in this, even as it subtly held a threat. She would give him answers. "If you promise to answer all of my questions, then I will go with you." Putting his helmet back on, he looked at her expectantly, chest puffed out and head held high, ready to follow her to her manor or castle or wherever she resided.

 

[incendonocturne]

-she felt the collective tensing behind her again as he lifted the sword to sheath it. But her attention was on Mahon and it stayed there, hoping Mendelssohn’s men didn’t get trigger happy.

Ok. Her composure had been steady, if not a little tense herself. Not so certain that she could talk him down before her time was up. When he acquiesced her request, a smile began to form but it was him calling her ‘mi’lady’ that finally broke her and a giggle escaped her unbidden and unexpectedly. Her free hand rising to tuck her hair behind her ear as her cheeks flushed softly. She heard the collective sighs of relief as the sharp and distinct sound echoed vaguely in the otherwise emptied bar.

She glanced over her shoulder, a soft pursing of her lips as a quiet ‘whew’ huffed from her lips. She found Mendelssohn standing at the opened tavern door, straightening from his relaxed lean, a perplexed wrinkle of his brow before one rose in disbelief. He toyed with the toothpick between his teeth. He hadn’t thought she’d accomplish what his men hadn’t been able to do. The man in question had seemed unstable at best, friend or not of hers, he’d seen far too many go sideways. He glanced down at his watch and huffed with a shake of his head. Less than five minutes.

She just flashed the Chief a dimpled grin and turned back to Mahon. Softly widened, doe like eyes gazed at him a moment before she nodded softly.-

“I promise I will answer your questions as best as I can, Mahon. Shall we?”

-she was a little disappointed that he’d put his helmet back on but in the same thought, considered it best. There were news cameras out there, just waiting for the rest of the juicy story. To get a full glimpse of the man that was causing so much trouble. If they hadn’t already gotten a shot of his full face, it was best to keep it out of the lime light.

She turned, letting her hand drop from his chest. Warm fingers slid against his forearm, stopping at his wrist. Only to guide him through the officers as they stepped back out of the way. She led him over the glass and back out into the shine of the day.

Mendelssohn approached and snorted, casting Mara a sideways glance.-

”How about you keep a leash on him and don’t let him wander anymore until he’s sober, Mara, yeah?”

-and then he looked at Mahon with a stern pinch of his brow.-

”And don’t let me catch you tearing up anywhere else in my city. We’ll toss you in the tank without a second thought next time.”

-he said gruffly, holding his gaze steady on Mahon a second before dropping back and making his way toward his officers and an older dark skinned gentleman that had appeared. He needed to talk to the bars owner and give him Mara’s information.

Mara nodded at Mendelssohn and breathed a sigh of relief as he turned and left them. She glanced briefly at Mahon before she led him back in the direction she’d come from, back toward her car a block down.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Mahon frowned deeply in thoughtful confusion as he and Mara turned away from the captain of the guard and started to leave the tavern. "I am not drunk," Mahon said to her in a low voice, following her closely as they walked alongside the road. The shops and other taverns had him perplexed, glancing through large windows at wares he didn't understand the usage of, or into dining areas where rich people ate strange foods.

"Where are we? One of those guards told me this is America and that you are not led by a king but a presider," he said, keeping up with her as they rounded a corner. "I do not understand what that means. Also, what is the currency here? No one carries any weapons, not even your guards. Is it because of the dragon? Does it protect you? I have only ever heard legends of such creatures." Illustratively, Mahon glanced up to the sky, warily searching but the blue was clear for now. "How far are we from the continent Pas?" Briefly, he thought about asking her how to secure passage home but to be honest, Mahon was in no hurry. He needed to find out exactly where Gammon was and finish him off and also...it was kind of nice being in this alien place. He was no stranger to traveling to distant lands and experiencing different cultures, although, they'd all been on his own continent. If these people were unfamiliar with travelers from Pas, maybe he could secure some sort of connection between the two nations. Speaking of connections...

"How do you know me?" Mahon asked her again, giving her an interested, penetrating look. "If I had ever made a friend such as you, I would have remembered."

"You mean, you don't know each other?"

Mahon stopped and tensed defensively as he turned to regard the woman hurrying up to them. The man beside her had a black, sinister looking cannon mounted on his shoulder. Claw was out in a single graceful movement, muscles rippling as he pointed the blade at the woman and her companion, stopping them in their tracks.

"Oh!" Jenna said with rapid, nervous blinking at the gorgeous sword aimed at her. But she was no new lily on the streets; a seasoned reporter, she'd been involved in everything from food fights and active shooter situations. She'd been groped on camera, been elbowed in the ribs, and even had her hair pulled during a fierce encounter with an interview subject. It was why the news station loved her. She held her own in the face of anything, got there on the spot when shit was going down, and didn't flinch when drama exploded and shit hit the fan. And all the while, she was a professional. "Please, put your weapon down."

"Tell your man to put his down first," Mahon said in low, threatening tones.

Jenna blinked but supposed that she understood at least partly the act the man was putting on. Turning to Greg, she gave him a nod and her cameraman slowly turned off his camera and lowered it off his shoulder, holding it by the strap at his side. Mahon did not resheath his sword but lowered the weapon as well, watching the pair with a practiced air. When the blonde woman reached forward with her hand, offering it to him, Mahon regarded her with a steely indifference.

"Jenna Jameson, Channel 4 news," she said cheerily. There was nothing in her hand being offered to him, held sideways even, like a blade, so, Mahon regarded her with an impassivity that soon made Jenna feel awkward and uncomfortable. Turning to offer it to Mara, after shaking her hand, Jenna shook a thoughtful finger and narrowed her eyes with a grin. "I thought I recognized you. Mara Seward. We had you on for an interview a few years ago. You did an interview with one of our morning hosts to promote your latest book in some fantasy series, right?" Jenna's eyes annoyingly fluttered to Mahon with a smug knowingness. "My first thought was some publicity stunt but if you don't know each other... Just a fan, then? Trying to get the attention of your fav? I'd love to have a few minutes of your time to interview you both."

 

[incendonocturne]

“I know, but just go with it for now.”

-she murmured softly in return. At least until she could explain to him....explain to him what? How the hell was she going to explain any of this to him? Especially when she didn’t understand how he was here. She could explain some things of course, as best she could anyways.

Listening to his questions, she held gently to his wrist as she tried to hurry them to the car. People of course were watching, some steering clear. Others just perplexed or fascinated.-

“The guards or police officers rather, are correct. This is America. More specifically, we are in New Orleans, Louisiana. It’s part of America. And yes, we have a President. President Trump. He....sort of....rules over America. If you want to call it that.”

-she muttered the last even as he rushed to ask more questions. Her mind trying to work through answers sufficient enough until she could try to explain in more detail. Instinctively she knew, even her answers now weren’t going to make a lot of sense to Mahon. Even as a writer, she worried about failing in this. How do you explain to someone from a world that you created, a world that doesn’t exist outside of the pages of your books....how did you explain and make him understand?

Her free hand rose, fingers sweeping softly over her forehead as her eyes pinched closed in thought. His question about the dragon brought her attention to him, confused. How long had he been here before.....had he seen some sort of remnant from last nights celebrations? They didn’t exist and they were only a myth even in Pas.

When he looked up, she did as well, her eyes squinting against the bright of the barren sky. Did he mean...birds? They were small, surely he didn’t think they were dragons.-

“What color was it?”

-she asked in return. The only other thing she could think of that he could feasibly mean was a plane. Her eyes fluttered down to him, soft and sympathetic.-

“You are quite a ways from home, Mahon. And....”

-she looked down, watching the cement of the sidewalk disappear beneath their feet. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here, she didn’t know how to send him back. She didn’t know she wanted to. She whet her lips, briefly sucking her bottom lip between her teeth before she glanced back up at Mahon, a kind smile curling the corners of her lips, a soft blush rosing the apples of her dimpled cheeks.-

“That’s som.....”

-something a little more complicated to explain and something she would have to do once they were back at her loft. She cringed and groaned, interrupted by the voice behind them. She turned to face Jenna. She really had no issue with the woman herself but the news and reporting media as a whole grated her nerves. And even worse so, right now I’m this moment.-

“Mahon.....”

-her voice quiet but clear and just a little too late. As they’d turned, she’d seen every muscle in him tensing and she watched as if in slow motion, his hand reaching for Claw.

Even as Jenna requested he put it down, she stepped closer and into him, her hand coming to rest against his forearm as she peered up at him, in agreeance with the blond. This was bad, this could be very bad, especially if Mendelssohn caught wind of it before she could de-escalate it. Her eyes flickered to the cameraman, realizing what Mahon was referring to. She waited, watching him closely, making sure he had really turned the camera off before lowering it and before stepping back herself.

Shaking the reporters hand, albeit tentatively, she nodded. Wordlessly answering the woman’s question about both the interview and its nature.-

“We do know each other, Jenna and no, no interview. Like I told Mendelssohn, he’s a friend from out of town, had a little too much fun last night and I lost track of him this morning. I just want to get him home, sober and out of my costume, ok?”

-she huffed in irritation, turning away from the woman. Her hand curled around Mahon’s bicep, encouraging him to turn and follow her again.-

“Come on, Moe.”

-she murmured as she dug her keys from her purse. They weren’t but less than half a block from the car when Jenna had stopped them. Pointing the keys toward the car, she hit the button. The soft chirp of the car and flashing of its lights signaling that it was unlocked and all they’d have to do was get in and close the doors if Jenna decided to press further.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

The blonde woman sighed heavily, narrowing her gaze at Mara again. "Come on, Mara. I already wasted time on this story this afternoon," she said in exasperation. "I've got you on camera talking to him in the bar and calming him down when the police couldn't. Which, by the way, is another fun little nugget, so, thanks for telling me that the Chief let you through the line. All sorts of juicy, fun things happening around you today."

Mahon did nothing to refute Mara's lies, already getting the feeling from his own interaction with the blonde that there was something inherently manipulative and unlikable about her. Of course, as he turned with Mara further down the street and Jenna continued her pitch, although Mahon did not understand the context of the things she said, he at least caught the tone of it, a protective ire rising within him to see the curvaceous lady being threatened in some way.

Still, a moment later, he was distracted as they walked towards one of the carriages, sitting still beside the road, its eyes flashing with a supernatural brightness and a bird-like honking coming from within. It stopped Mahon briefly, his back stiffening and his eyes searching the creature for aggression. But Mara went along its side, opening one of the contraptions doors, and he realized, it wasn't living. Maybe it was operated by magic like he'd originally suspected? That made him wary but he looked to Mara with trust as she started to climb into the glass and strange armored coach. Standing beside the door on the other side, Mahon stroked searchingly over the door. He could detect the outline but there was no handle that he could see, his gloved hand sliding over shiny metal and glass, his frown deepening in vague disgruntled confusion. Through the glass, he saw Mara, her hand touching his door from the inside and suddenly it popped open and he let out a rumbled bark of pleasure at it.

Opening the door wide, Mahon bent low to tuck his head inside to look around, an airy smile on his face as amazed eyes swept over everything. It was just a carriage, except instead of the seats facing each other, they all faced the same direction, he assumed the front. And they were covered in a soft fur-like fabric patterned like no creature he'd ever seen. When he was urged to get in, Mahon blinked at Mara and finally obeyed, stepping gingerly sideways into the seat. Claw was last to enter, sitting beside him with point stuck into the floor of the carriage beside his feet. He'd completely forgotten about his door until he was told to close it but suddenly he couldn't because Jenna had appeared and stood holding it open.

Leaning down to look across at Mara and meet her eyes, she nodded and said, "Listen, I don't care if this is some publicity thing. It's an interesting story. We can run the narrative how ever you want, even play up the excited fan angle in preparation for your next book or something. It doesn't have to reflect badly on you at all. But like I said, I already have footage of you coming in to retrieve your "friend" and walking away with him. People are gonna have questions. You can control what answers they get." Mahon tensed and drew away from her as Jenna reached inside and slapped a card on the dashboard. "In case you change your mind. Contact me before 5 p.m. tonight or that footage is getting a spot on the 6 o'clock news. And I'll be asking my questions on air without answers." Pressing her lips together in a smug grin, Jenna withdrew from the car, walking away with her cameraman.

Mahon blinked after her but reached and pulled the door shut, glancing at Mara with a raised eyebrow. "You have lied a lot..." he wasn't sure really what he was trying to say with that, because he got the feeling that she spouted these untrue things in attempts to protect him. But still, she was a lady and he disapproved of her blatant dishonesty to those around them. Then again, things were so different here, maybe the ethics were different. Women wore pants for Light's sake.

Eyes brightening, Mahon looked at the odd designs in the front of the carriage right beside him, blinking curiously at it all. "How does this carriage function without a beast to pull it? Is it magic? Are you a witch? Does it live? It made a noise when we approached. I think it recognized you as its Master." Touching his door and the frame around the window, he said, "Is America a wealthy place? How are you able to use so much steel and glass for everything?"

Then he blinked and gave her a flash of a genuine grin. "You called me "Mo." My mentor, Jais Rezpion used to call me that when he trained me to be a warrior." And Lily, he did not say, his smile dampening just slightly to remember her.

 

[incendonocturne]

“Sounds like a personal problem, Jen.”

-she smiled broadly and waved back at the scrawny blond. Though her shoulders were tense as she turned back to lead the rest of the way to the car. She glanced gratefully toward Mahon, glad he hadn’t felt the need to speak up as she’d spoken. To refute that he in fact hadn’t been drunk. Or that he didn’t know her. Fingers squeezed softly against his arm before she let him loose as she started toward the drivers side door.

Just before she fully climbed in, she stopped, leaning against the open door, her eyes pinning Jenna in her stare.-

“You’ve got me on camera, talking him down rather than them. Of course you do, because he’s a friend. And how else would you think I was able to get through, Jenna? Who else would have allowed it, Lucky the Leprachan?”

-her hands flopped against the frame of the door and roof of the car before she swiped a finger across the end of her nose and smirked, batting her eyes.-

“Not really all that juicy when you think about it. Now if you truly don’t mind, I have to get him taken care of.”

-she ducked into the car. Glancing out the passsenger window, realizing that Mahon was having trouble finding the handle. She had no time to help and instruct him properly, so she leaned over and grabbed the inner handle and pulled, her fingers stretching to push the door open a bit.

She glanced upward at him as she stretched across the seat, chuckling at his pleased bark that rumbled from his chest. She straightened as his head ducked in, her eyes watching him with adoration and curiosity as he gaze around the car. It was spacious and still fairly new. Fabric interior and that new car smell still lingered.

She found herself wanting to reach out and touch the square and stubble of his jawline, enjoying the curve of his smiling lips. She almost did too. Her hand half way there before she realized and instead she curled her fingers into her palm and forced it to curl around the steering wheel instead.

She watched as Jenna stood talking heatedly to her camera man and she waved her hand toward Mahon urgently.-

“Come on, Moe. You can enjoy it better from in here.”

-she twisted the key in the ignition and it faintly purred to life as he settles into his seat. She saw the news woman stalking toward them, close and she frowned.-

“Door.”

-she prompted but again, she was too late as the vulturous woman clamped her hand around the frame and leaned in.-

“I’ve already told you....woman that shares her name with a freakin’ porn star....how is me coming to rescue a friend from the drunk tank and vultures like you an interesting story? He was still a bit drunk from Mardi Gras last night, happens every freakin’ year somewhere around the city. People are used to it. Borrowed one of my inspiration costumes and snuck out while I was sleeping. There’s your answers Jenna, what more do you want? I’m not the media, I’m not going to blatantly lie.”

-she peered out the window, spotting two other news vans as well as a local paper reporter or two. She huffed a snort and pointed out the window, turning her gaze to the smug smile. Her right cheek dimpling as she rolled down her window and leaned out of it, calling out to the retreating woman.-

“Or maybe I’ll just give the story as I’ve told it to you, to your competitors, so they can run it and make you look like an ass. I’ve already given you what you want, your choice, Jen.”

-she shrugged, dropped back into her seat and angrily hit the button to roll the window back up. Releasing a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her eyes blinking open and turning to Mahon.-

“Yes. I have. To protect you, Moe. The people would be just as confused by your sudden appearance and to learn where you’ve come from as you are about being here. You....I can explain things to you. The World....that’s a whole different ballgame. Considering I don’t even know how you got here.”

-her words, truthful and tinged with a heavy air of frustration. Not at him, just at the situation as a whole. With the doors closed, she hit the button to lock them. Turning to watch his awestruck gaze moving over the interior of the car again. A chuckle escaped at his questions.-

“There’s a lot of horsepower under the hood, it is not magic though. It’s called an engine. No, I’m not a witch, although sometimes I wish I were. No, it’s not alive, I promise. The noise it made....was this....”

-she reached to the keys as they dangled from the ignition. Pushing the button again, he’d hear it beep and the the locks disengaged. She pressed it a second time, a different beep sounded around them and the locks clicked shut again.-

“As long as I have this and the key, I kind of am it’s master.”

-she chuckled and glanced at him again. Her lips pursing in thought. Considering how to answer his last questions.-

“America does alright for itself but there are people that aren’t rich. There are others that are obscenely rich and there are others still that are somewhere in the middle. It’s....hard to explain. But I’ll try to figure out how to, eventually. For now, let’s get you back to my apartment and out of the chaos, yeah?”

-she turned toward the steering wheel, reaching for the gearshift. Her hand hovered against it as his words hit her.-

“I know. Because I....made him. And Lily, too.”

-she said quietly. She seemed to intuitively know that’s what the dampening of his smile had been about. And she felt horrible. She’d killed the woman off and their son. She’d had a moment of weakness when she’d been writing, she didn’t know why but Mara Lillian Seward had promised herself she’d never be so vain as to write herself into a story and.....she kind of had. And as the story progressed, as Mahon’s story had progressed, she’d struggled with adding them in in the first place. It had taken her longer to write that part, killing them off. But it had served as a greater motivator for her warrior.

What’s done was done but she still felt bad, seeing his reaction. Quietly she shifted the car into drive, turning to make sure it was clear, she pulled away from the curb and headed home.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

There was a lot Mahon didn't quite get and he struggled hard to make sense of it. The carriage explanation was the hardest. He didn't know what she meant by "engine", wondering curiously if the carriage was armored because it was a machine of war. And the way she spoke of it having the power of horses definitely made it sound magic especially the fact that the entire thing responded to and obeyed the key she held. As far as Mahon knew, keys unlocked doors, chests, lockets, and other locked items. And the carriage made noise and moved on command but he couldn't see the mechanisms by which she was forcing it to do so. He decided that for now, it was the easiest thing to drop, being the least pressing and most confusing thing.

Mara had his attention when she explained lying to other people about him and the fact that her motives were to protect him weren't necessarily the highlight. She knew of him, mysteriously but she was unaware of his journey. He was all too willing to help her if it helped her also clear up things for him as well. "I am not sure exactly what it was but I know how I got here at least," he said, shrugging softly, the metal plates of his shoulder armor clinking as they slid together with the motion. "I was fighting the Demon Lord in his castle, ready to kill him when a bright bloom of light appeared in the throne room with us. At first, it just hovered there, throbbing with power but a tunnel of light appeared in its center and sucked us both in. I do not think it was Gammon's magic. He accused me of creating it and when we were in the tunnel together, he was screaming just as fearful as I. I do not know where he is, if he's even in America too. He was not in the gardens with me when I woke."

When Mara spoke low, Mahon still caught what she said, and he removed his helmet, having grown hot again with it on and feeling safer now that danger had passed. Incredibly tall, even in the seat, he had to tip his head forward to remove it, his knuckles an inch or two away from the ceiling as he ran a gloved hand over his sweaty, disheveled curls. "I do not know what that means," he sighed softly, mildly frustrated but accepting that his learning in this strange land would take time. He was willing to put in the effort.

As the carriage moved, Mahon tensed, his hand reaching out to brace against the dashboard, absently knocking Jenna's card to the floor between his knees. His breathing grew shallow and rapid, his green eyes wide as he watched them move quickly along the road. More carriages appeared and Mahon grimaced in agitation, feeling trapped, his other hand releasing his helmet to reach out and grab Mara protectively across the front, unknowingly cupping her breasts. The carriage stopped before it hit anything and he relaxed, his gloved thumb getting caught in her top, accidentally stroking her nipple before he pulled away, panting softly but smiling in amazement as he watched the complex dance of the carriages moving along the roadway in concert. Looking out his own window, Mahon began flinching harshly every time they passed other carriages parked beside the road, his perspective putting them awfully close to the door by which he sat. In his eyes, they were speeding faster than any carriage he'd ever ridden in, almost as fast as a horse, indeed. But they were contained within the safety of the armored shell, passing things very closely, almost making him feel like they were bearing down on them. And people and other carriages were often in the pathways, the carriage stopping of its own accord, avoiding them with efficient precision.

Coming to a stop finally, Mahon whipped his head around to look at her in question, bereft that the exhilarating ride had come to an end. Looking out the windows, he didn't understand where they were, everything looking very much the same as elsewhere in the city he'd been. "Where have we arrived, m'lady?" he asked warily, his fingers stroking idly over his helmet, debating putting it back on.

 

[incendonocturne]

-she was still stuck back on his words that he’d been in Gammon’s castle, she almost missed the part about the blinding light and the fact that it had sucked both of them in didn’t register immediately.-

“You were in his throne room. Charging him.”

-she gasped the words from her lips. Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. She shifted in her seat, leaning forward a second before settling back. Trying to relax. But this was just....bizarre. Unbelievable.-

“Impossible”

-she whispered to herself. Shaking her head before her eyes widened and her head whipped around to look at him.-

“Wait....Gammon is here? You’re brother came through too? But not with you?”

-she blinked, a frown stitching her lips. Her brow furrowed softly and she stared out the window a second, eyes searching it seemed frantically. He hadn’t come through with Mahon though. So where the hell could he be? She groaned and slumped for a second.-

“Ohhhh, this isn’t good, at all.”

-she sighed. She had to get back to the house. Needed to check news reports, watch the news, see if anyone, anywhere else had experienced the same thing as had happened with Mahon. Though, it could likely be far worse, given it was the Demon Lord. She groaned again as she pulled out and into the lane.

Her lips pursed inwardly together and she cast the briefest of glances at him. Turning her eyes back to the road quickly.-

“I know. Not yet but....we’ll get to that.”

-her chest rose and fell softly. Her mind swirling with....a lot. Trying to compartmentalize it all in her head. She understood on a deep level how he must be feeling at the moment. She glanced to his hand as it hit the dashboard, her eyes flickering to the odometer, checking her speed. Though she supposed it would be a little odd for him riding in a car for the first time.

She braked gently at a stop and felt his arm across her chest. She blinked and glanced down, licking her lips. Realizing suddenly that she hadn’t put her seatbelt on, nor his. She blinked and glanced at him, realizing the seat belt likely wouldn't fit across his armor and everything.

As he began withdrawing, she gave a surprised squeak as his thumb swept against her nipple. Her breathing jerked in her chest.-

“Well....lets just....”

-she helped him release the snag of his thumb with a nervous chuckle as she guided his hand back toward him. Patting the back of his hand.-

“....keep that there. I’ll be fine, Mahon. Thank you.”

-she said softly, plucking her shirt straight again, trying to adjust it to hide her tightened nipples. Her ‘breastplates’ weren’t quite as thick as his, so it didn’t quite work the way she’d hoped. A horn honked behind her and she jerked, looking up to see that it was safe for her to continue their trek back to her place.

When she pulled into the space in front of her apartment, she turned the car off and sat back with a heavy sigh passing her lips. His question brought her attention to him. Falling first to his hands as they gripped his helmet, then up to the inquisitive look he gave her.-

“We are at my home, Mahon. All we have to do is get through that door and you’ll be alright.”

-she nodded to the front door, then turned and pointed across his midsection, to the door handle.-

“Just pull that, like I did earlier and you’ll be able to get out.”

-she herself reached and pulled her own door handle, as if to visually show him. Pulling the keys from the ignition, she reached into the back seat for her purse and then stepped out of the car.-

“Come on, I’ll make us something to eat and we’ll try to figure this all out.”

-she waved her hand as she circled the front of the car and waited for him before she made her way to the front door, unlocking it and stepping in and back for him to come through.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Following her lead after watching her open her door, Mahon pulled the small lever and another pleased bark came from him as the door popped open. He shot her a glance, delighted with himself for getting the hang of this technology, also pleased with the efficiency and simple beauty of the construction. All carriages he'd seen in Pas had been very ornate, richly decorated, with golden handles sticking out on either sides of the doors for opening. Not only that but their wooden wheels allowed the riders to feel every bump in the road, the inward facing seats creating a cramped space inside, especially for him, with his long, muscular legs. He was fascinated by the sophistication and power of these carriages, wanting one for himself.

Stepping from the door, shield and sword held in one hand, his helmet in the other, Mahon looked up at the building with curious interest, his eyes finding Mara standing beside the open door. It felt odd to be offered the way first but chalking it up to the customs of this place, Mahon entered the building, warily glancing around the bright, open space within. Ever the soldier, he first processed that they were alone, then let his eyes pick out strategic points of defense should he need to fight in a moment's notice. Slipping Claw back into his scabbard, Mahon finished his assessment of the main room and turned to Mara with a sigh.

"Do you have a wash basin or indoor pump?" he asked, now inside the clean and rich manorhouse, feeling the dust clinging to his armor and the sweat and grime sticking to his neck and face. "I would like to clean up before we eat."

He followed her obediently to a room with amenities, blinking in awe at the cleanliness of it all. The pristine basin - a sink, she said - and an indoor tub for bathing, curtained off for privacy of use. There was a latrine in the corner - a toilet, she called it, but making sure to equate it with what he was familiar with - and she briefly showed him the silver lever on it that took the waste and water away. She also explained the function of the shower, assuming he wished to use it but he didn't, so, he merely filed it away. Truly...this place was wealthy if they could afford transporting and using so much water. Water that was clear as if fresh from a brook, clean and he assumed, safe.

Left alone in the room, Mahon stripped off his scabbard belt, setting that, his shield, and helmet aside on a rug by the corner. Claw hummed a deep, melodious tone as it was propped against the wall and Mahon murmured reassuringly, "Easy, old friend. You'll not be left behind, I promise you." It throbbed again, like a beautiful, deep sound in his bones, and Mahon cringed softly to be reminded. "I have not forgotten... We will have our vengeance sated. The blood of Gammon will be in both of our teeth soon enough. Trust me. I will find him and put you right through his black heart." Leaning down, he stroked the hilt and pommel, rubbing his thumb against the white silver, moonstone eye in the middle of the cross, as Claw hummed in satisfaction, growing still and quiet from his reassuring promises. Somberly, Mahon drew back, looking at the loyal, spirited blade, wondering if he would be able to keep them. Determined to try his best, Mahon sighed heavily and turned to the sink basin, removing his gloves and setting them aside.

Turning the water on was not hard to figure out, the silver lever ushering forth water pouring from places unknown, not even the sound of a pump being heard above the beautiful, gushing flow. Cupping his hands under the faucet, Mahon filled them and got to cleaning his face of dirt and sweat. The water was crisp and cold, exactly like from a stream, refreshing as it touched his skin. Rubbing it through his hair and on the back of his neck, Mahon closed his eyes as the coolness dripped over his tanned neck, down his back under his armor, cooling him.

Water dripping from his dark beard, Mahon sat on the edge of the bathing tub, and began to remove and unbuckle his layers of armor. He had no idea if Mara and himself would be leaving again soon, but he'd been given the directive to "make himself at home" so, for now, he decided to relax and get out of his gear. First, the metal plates were removed from his shoulders and shins. Then he unbuckled the heavy leather jerkin, woven through with chain mail, setting it all aside with his weapons. In the end, he was left with a sand colored loose fitting shirt, tucked into his high-waisted, multiple buckled brown pants, with his boots still on, and a leather bracer on his sword arm. Glancing at himself in the looking glass, he sniffed stoutly and turned to the alien latrine. Pulling his long length from his trousers, he stood at the bowl and relieved himself, groaning softly in rumbling satisfaction, his urine hitting the water like a pressurized hose for at least a minute or two. With great fascination and delight, Mahon used the lever on the side, watching the swirling water take his urine away, tucking himself away with a smug smirk as water filled the bowl again, clear and clean once more.

Reentering the room where Mara was, Mahon walked out, observing the space with a less threat-determinant eye, taking in the luxuries of the place. Finding Mara, he asked her curiously, "Do you live here with your father's family, or do you have a husband?" It didn't even occur to him that she could own this entire place herself, nor that she would be the only occupant.

A small bell rang nearby and a soft pressure stroked at his lower leg, forcing him to flinch as he shot a look down. A spotted feline rubbed at him for affection and a derisive sneer contorted his features as he shoved it forcefully away with his boot. Not a kick but a very pushy, sideways shove with his shin. Immediately, the cat stumbled and turned to hiss violently at him in offense, swiping at him with a rapid triple pat of her paw on his boot.

"Hey!" Mahon shouted, incensed. "Get away, you presumptuous harlequin beast! I do not know thee! Be gone!" She hissed again and Mahon lunged a stomp at her, roaring in anger at her challenge, daring to stand her ground to him. "I will skin you and eat you!"

 

[incendonocturne]

-she closed the bathroom door behind her but lingered a moment, hand pressed against the door as she leaned close. Listening quietly, curiously to his conversation, realizing he was speaking to Claw. After a moment, she straightened and made her way the short distance to main room.

Spying her forgotten sandwich, she noticed it had been picked free of most of the turkey meat. Some of the bread had been bitten through but the top piece laid askew, having provided Bear the ability to get at what she’d really wanted.-

“Well at least someone enjoyed it.”

-she murmured to herself as she picked the plate and cold coffee up from the table and headed toward the kitchen. She dumped what as left of the sandwich into the trash and rinsed it and the mug and set them into the dishwasher.

Then she turned to the cupboards, opening them as she took inventory of what she had. What he might like. Nothing there caught her eye. The fridge was next. She was leaning into it, looking to see what sort of left overs she might have. Again, nothing that he would much care for. A premade salad. Some homemade soup. Turkey lunch meat. Bologna. Nothing substantial enough to feed a man his size. To feed a warrior. She knew how much he could eat.

His voice booming behind her caused her to jerk and she cracked her head on the edge of the freezer door.-

“Ow! Son of a Bi..........”

-she straightened, rubbing the back of her head as she turned to face him. Her nose crinkling, eyes squinting against the shot of pain that rocketed through her skull.-

“What? No. No, no husband. I live here alone. No other family either. Just me and....”

-her hand swept down from her head, pointing at Bear as she approached and rubbed up against his shin.-

“B.....oh, whoa...whoa....hey!”

-she frowned and skirted around Mahon, scooping Bear up from the floor. She hissed at him again, this time at eye level....or closer to it anyways before burying her little pink nose against Mara’s neck and trying to climb up onto her shoulder and over it. She hit the floor gracefully behind her and skittered off to hide from the unfamiliar man she’d tried to make friends with.

Mara turned on him and drew closer, brow pinched together as she shook a finger at him.-

“You will do no such thing, Moe! Bear is not a beast and she’s is not food! She’s my pet.”

-she huffed, her hands dropping to her thick hips and stared at him.-

“Now. To find you something to eat....other than my cat.”

-she was quiet and contemplative a moment before she smirked.-

“Oh....I’m gonna blow your mind. Pizza. Whew....and while I’m at it, I’ll order you some clothes.”

-she wrinkled her nose lightly and waved her hand at him. Ok, he didn’t smell that bad, actually she didn’t mind it. He smelled like a man and it was sexy. She chuckled as she turned and made her way to her desk. She tapped the mousepad of her laptop, waking it up. Grabbing her phone with her other hand. She settled into the desk chair, dialing the pizza place a few blocks down and clasping the phone between her ear and shoulder as she typed on the laptop. Bringing up shopt.com.-

“Yeah, hello. I’d like to place an order for delivery. Mmhmm. Two large, all meats and a Cajun bread basket......yep. Yes. Ok, thanks.”

-she pulled the phone from her ear and set it on the desk and went back to the laptop. Ordering a couple pairs of jeans, shirts.....she looked over at him, her lips pursing in thought. She threw on a package of briefs and a couple pairs of boxers, she’d never gone into that sort of detail in her books about him but she did know what sizes he’d need. He could decide which ones were more comfortable for him. A pack of socks. And a case of beer. She paid for the order, and snapped the laptop closed for the time being.-

“Pizza will be here in 45 minutes. And the rest right around the same time.”

-she told him as she rose from the chair. Moving toward the coffee table, she picked up the tv remote and nodded to the couch.-

“You can sit down, Mahon. Relax.”

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Balking at the sudden reprimand from his host, Mahon watched with a surly, uptight frown as the little creature was lifted and clambered away self-righteously. "It is a tiny demon," he corrected in a low grumble, sniffing stoutly, watching the furry critter disappear from sight. Still, he couldn't help but smirk at Mara's quip over his threat to eat the animal, the expression faltering when she smiled herself, talking of oddly named delicacies. "I do enjoy peas in stew and gruel," he said with a nod, growing semi-serious as he cleared his throat. "Lily's was always the best with a sumptuous heel of warm bread. If you are able to improve upon it, I will indeed be impressed. Also, I already have clothes. Thank you."

It was odd to have this unmarried, untethered woman offering to care for him and Mahon wasn't sure how to take it. Especially when the customs were so outlandish, it had him questioning what would be appropriate or not. It didn't help matters that she wore pants like a man but it did everything but put him in mind of anything masculine about her. The fabric was strange, clinging to her legs and rear end, so, every time she bent, or put her hands at waist level, Mahon's eyes dipped to the voluptuous "v" between her thighs or licked over her rounded backside. He was glad of having removed his armor, his blood heating against his better judgement to think of her thick, childbearing hips and how soft she would be...

Looking away from the way her supple breasts curved plumply, Mahon tried to focus his mind on the question of who she was. She'd said they were friends but Mahon did not know her and she seemed at a loss to explain it as well. So...did he pay her for her services? As Mahon watched her talk aloud to herself while tapping at her different metal stone boxes, he wondered if she were possibly insane. An insane witch? Maybe he'd made a mistake coming with her? A stranger in a strange land who knew his name, his sword, and his brother's name. What if this wasn't what he thought it was? What if this were some elaborate spell by Gammon? He decided to warily hold off judgement and trust for now until he had more concrete answers.

Mahon blinked over the time frame, not understanding how these things would arrive or why. Watching her warily as she moved to the seating area, Mahon forced his eyes away from her plump and pert backside when she bent to retrieve some small trinket from the table. "I will stand. Thank you," he said warily, trying to keep from looking at her beautiful smile that had him feeling stirrings that made his resolve weaken.

"How do you know my brother?" he asked, giving her a sideways look, watching her for any signs of deceit. "And you promised to explain what you meant from the carriage ride. How did you make Jais, my mentor? And Lily? What did you mean by such words? Is it a custom here? Did you know them both? Neither spoke of you to me." Head tilted softly, Mahon let his eyes stroke over her breasts gently, trying not to get distracted. The wounds of Lily and Tiger's deaths still ran deep within him but aside from his quest to avenge them, Mahon had found ways to occasionally soothe the ache of the loss. So much so that habit had him giving in to the urge momentarily, even as the painful subject was brought up, his body responding softly to the tempting comfort right in front of him.

 

[incendonocturne]

-she murmured something about Bear indeed being a tiny little demon at times.-

“Especially when strange men shoo her away when she’s trying to make friends.”

-she said pointedly and then nodded at his preferred meal of choice. She knew, she just didn’t have any of those things to really make for him. She wanted to, to give him at least some symbolence of normalcy here in this strange situation. A hand pat against his chest once and she smiled brightly as she chuckled.-

“Well, prepare to be impressed but later I will get the things needed to make the other as well, ok? I’ll make it for you later this week. As for your clothes, yes you do but here, clothes are a little different and most people wear different clothes each day and if we have to go out again at any point, you’ll need clothes to....blend in.”

-and she’d have to work on a few other things with him, to try to help him blend in while he was here, though...she loathed the idea of trying to change him at all. Plus, what if he wasn’t here for that long? She hated that thought as much as she hated the idea of trying to make him fit in in this day and age. However, she recognized that....he could disappear as suddenly as he’d appeared.

Her brow furrowed softly, the happy expression falling sadly and she quickly turned her attention to the blank tv screen, her thumb hovering over the ‘on’ button, nodding at his simple declaration that he’d prefer to stay standing.

When he asked again how she knew of Gammon and Jais and Lily, she bit her bottom lip. A soft sigh escaping her, her tongue darting out to press against her top lip briefly.-

“I did promise and I’m still trying to figure out how to explain it without thoroughly confusing you even more. Also, it’s called a ‘Car’, Moe. We don’t call them carriages here. Not those anyways. We do have carriages, drawn by horses still but most people drive cars. Anyways....if you’ll come sit down, I’ll try to explain how I know all of you and Tiger too.”

-she herself settled down onto the couch, turning the tv on as she did. Even if they were talking, she wanted it on to see if there were any news reports of another....surprise visitor. Setting the remote back onto the coffee table, she turned her attention toward Mahon again and pat the cushion next to her.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

That was certainly true. Everyone here dressed in strange, short tunics and pants made out of odd, blue material. And no one carried around any form of weaponry or armor, the only one being the man with that pestering woman who threatened them. So, even though it was odd, Mahon was willing to allow her to purchase whatever was necessary to help him fit in among their people, especially if it kept them from showing undue interest in him.

Mahon was still wary as Mara continued to dance around the subject of her knowledge of him and the people in his life. But he could tell she was trying and that there was a genuine struggle for her in making sense of it all. Maybe it was as incomprehensible as him trying to explain the vortex that had captured himself and Gammon? When his son's name passed from her lips, Mahon gave her a look, blinking hesitantly. Really, he wanted to remain standing, to demand these answers from her. But Tiger was his precious one, the light of his life, taken too early from him. Hardly ever did he speak of the boy, the pain too great from having lost him, and usually he never spoke aloud the lads name, giving it a sacred status in his own mind. This woman...she knew too much.

Giving Mara a penetrating look, Mahon came over to the seat she offered him beside her, hesitating a final moment before slowly sinking down to sit perched on the cushion. He'd hardly been paying attention to her fiddling with the tiny black box as it was, completely dismissing it once the dreaded, hurtful name passed her lips. So, he wasn't really aware of the other voices coming through the window until they interrupted him.

"Tell me. What do you know of my--"

"Are you tired of the same old eggs?"

Mahon blinked and turned to the disembodied voice, his eyes searching for the origin. "Pardon?"

"Are you looking for a way to spice up your breakfast?" Finally, Mahon's attention drifted to the large black window on the wall. But...it was strange. The people he saw through it moved too quickly, blinking in and out of existence in a strange way. A woman in a gray room stood frustrated with some pans on the counter, cooking what appeared to be eggs, although Mahon could not see the fire, so, had no idea how she was doing that. Then she suddenly vanished, her pan shown through the window, the eggs she was cooking looking unappealing for some reason. Mahon shook his head softly, brow furrowed in consternation, not understanding how he was seeing this.

"Then you need the Morning Eggsecuter!" the voice through the window said. Suddenly color blossomed outside and the frustrated woman from before reappeared, much happier now, using a complex contraption to cook eggs in some mysterious, fantastical way.

"I don't... I don't want that..." Mahon said in complaint, even as the voice continued to describe the benefits of the machine to him. "I said 'no'! We're trying to talk. Please, leave us." It felt so invasive to have these people interrupting their private conversation through the window, and Mahon glanced at Mara, disturbed by the obscene rudeness of her other guests.

 

[incendonocturne]

-inwardly, she flinched at the look she received at the mention of his sons name. She shifted on the couch cushion under the penetrating look, her free hand sliding beneath her thigh to keep herself from fidgeting and to keep her palm from sweating.

Her lips pursed inward, her mind rolling over what she should say to him. How she should explain it. With those thoughts came the worry of how he would take it once he understood the implications of what she was telling him. He was smart. She’d made him that way after all. She gave him those feelings.

She took a deep breath, her lips falling open in a soft sigh as she prepared to answer the question that he was asking before his attention was drawn to the television. It took her a second to realize he was in fact talking to the tv, to the commercial but she watched a moment longer, her head tipping as a soft smile curled against her lips.

He was so innocent but not. He’d seen so much. She’s put him through it all but he was so innocent to this world. To the world outside of the pages she’d created. After a moment, she lifted the remote again and turned the volume down on it.-

“It’s just the television, Moe. It’s a commercial. Moving pictures with sound, there’s no one else here but you and I. I have it on so that I can see if there’s any news stories concerning Gammon. If there are, then we’ll know where he landed. Much the same way I knew where to come find you. I can turn it off for now though, if it bothers you.”

-she explained softly. She held the remote in her hand, if he wanted her to shut it off while they talked, she would. She could scour the internet for recent news stories too if she needed to. While she waited for his answer concerning that, she continued to mull over her approach to this discussion.

Licking her lips, she drew in a breath and decided that the straight forward truth would be best and she would answer his questions further from there.-

“I know you and everyone you know because....I created all of you. I’m a writer, Moe. And you are my characters, in my books.”

-she fell silent, watching him in curiousity and fascination. Confusion as there as well, buried just beneath the other. Her words were sure but what shebwasnt sure about was still....how her creations, her characters in ink and on page, had....come to life outside of that medium.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

Television. Another thing like the explanation of the armored carriage, or car rather, and how it worked, that was frustrating in the way he couldn't grasp what she was talking about. The gist Mahon understood, at least realizing as she pressed buttons on the tiny black box and the voices dwindled to a murmur, that the people who spoke through the window were somehow not really in the room with them. And he also understood what she was saying about watching the window for signs of Gammon. Mahon didn't know how or why the window would tell her where Gammon was but he trusted her to use it that way after the way she'd come to discover him at the tavern. And he wanted to be aware of that knowledge as soon as they could have access to it as well.

"Leave it," Mahon nodded, giving the murmuring window an intrigued, furrowed brow look before looking back at her. "As soon as it tells you where Gammon is, we must take the carriage car to him and I must kill him. Before he amasses any power in this world. He mustn't be allowed to breed his demonic armies or gain access to your dragons. No doubt, his magic will corrupt them and the peace you all know will be consumed within a fortnight."

He was completely serious. Even getting accosted himself for merely having a sword in public, Mahon could see the weakness and vulnerabilities in this beautiful kingdom. It would be a feast for the Demon Lord who thrilled to slaughter innocents and corrupt the Light. Plus, Mahon had his own vengeance to unleash upon the evil king, blood lust curling in his gut to think of the final battle now, finding Gammon, vulnerable and confused, helpless in this strange land with no monstrous soldiers or demons to protect him. A low tone sounded from the washing room, Claw feeling his intense desire to kill the Demon Lord flaring up like a burst of flames within him. Mahon glanced to the side at the hall that led to that room, taking in deep, calming breaths to reassure the bonded blade, eventually the low chiming sound growing silent as Claw gleefully settled down to patiently wait to rejoin him in battle again.

Looking back at Mara as she started to explain her knowledge of things, Mahon cocked his head slightly at the words she used. "I do not know what that means," he said dismissively, glancing at the television window as faces came and went through it, his eyes scanning for any he recognized. The truth was...he did understand. Sort of. Like everything else, he got the gist of it. He knew what writers were, he knew what characters were, and what books were. The word "created" tripped him up because it was absolutely ridiculous as a concept and Mahon felt himself outright rejecting the mere thought that she had told a tale and he was somehow a part of it.

"I don't believe you," he finally said, looking back at her with a shake of his head, sneering derisively at her. "I am not a story. My Lily, my son, they were not a story. We're real. They lived. I loved them and they have died. It is not a book. No. I will not take this. Tell me the truth. How do you know about us? Did you see us? Did you watch us through the vision window?" It was the only explanation he could think of to replace her absurd lie.

 

[incendonocturne]

-she nodded softly and set the remote back down onto the coffee table. She turned slightly to face him. Knees and thighs pressing together as she settled her hands in her lap.-

“Luckily, we do not have dragons. So he will just have to do without those. And if we find him, we can’t just go charging in, swords unsheathed. Bad things will happen. We’d need to.....get him some place without people like Jenna around, without people around period.”

-a hand rose, finger scratching against the curve of her eyebrow. While there was no thought out plan of just how to do any of that, she knew without a doubt it couldn’t happen in public. The battle would be great, people would die. People wouldn’t understand what was going on. It would be chaos.

Her lips pursed softly when he said again that he didn’t know what she meant. Her mind working over other ways to explain it to him. Her lips falling open to try to do so when he looked back at her. She flinched, noticeably at the sneer. A frown etching her pretty features.

She sighed and glanced down at her hands. Fingers fidgeting with each other. Her shoulders rolled softly.-

“But you are, Mahon. You are a story. You’re my story. I’m sorry but that is the truth.”

-she started quietly. She avoided mention of Lily and Tiger again this time. The pain and conviction in his voice hurt her heart. Clearing her throat, she glanced back up at him, her brow stitched sadly.-

“You are real, now. I don’t know how but you are that too. And everything you’ve experienced, everything......everything I’ve put you through, is real to you. I’m sorry”

-she finished quietly before she stood. Her lips pursing inward. He didn’t believe her, she really hadn’t expected him to. It sounded crazy, even to her and she was looking right at him. Interacting with him. Unless she was dreaming. She pinched herself, a small hiss escaping at the sharp bite. Nope, not dreaming. Alright then. She had to make him believe her.

Pointing at the tv briefly, she glanced at him and shook her head.-

“It would be no less true if I’d seen it through there, trust me. Most of the time, that’s just a visual representation of the written word. Here......”

-she turned away from him, moving past her desk to the small book case that nestled against the wall on the other side of it. It took her a minute to find the set of three, she’d buried them near the bottom of the book case. Not that she didn’t enjoy reading them but she already knew what happened in each of them. Pulling the first book of the Pas series from its spot, she straightened and made her way back over to Mahon. A hand sweeping over the cover as she stopped beside him. She offered him a soft smile before she turned the book around to face him.

An image of Pas in the background nestled beneath the words atop and below. As well as a rendering of Mahon’s handsome face. It was the book he was introduced in of course. It was his story from the beginning.

Holding it out toward him, she tapped the bottom of the cover.-

“By Mara L. Seward. This is how I know you, Moe. I promise. I may have lied to Jenna and Mendelssohn, but I have not lied to you. Read some of it, you’ll see.”

-she said quietly, waiting until he took the book before stepping back. Her hands brushing down over her hips as she drew in a nervous breath.

A bell chimed through the entry way. Saved by the bell, for now. She lifted a calming hand toward Mahon.-

“It’s just one of the deliveries. I’ll be right back.”

-she explained as she made her way toward the door, grabbing her wallet from her purse on the way.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

It was reassuring to plot with Mara about how to best go about killing Gammon and not incite the ire of the locals. Finally, Mahon was starting to accept that Mara was on his side and not actually an ally of the Demon Lord in disguise, although he did wish to argue with her about the presence of dragons. Did she not know? What if he'd misunderstood the flight of the white and silver creature up above? At the time, no one had been looking up to regard the thunderous growling beast, making Mahon think this was an ordinary occurrence for the people here. But maybe they simply weren't observant? Maybe nobody else knew of the dragon? It would be something Mahon would have to address at a later time when he knew more about what he'd witnessed.

When Mara insisted upon her ridiculous explanation, Mahon shook his head faintly, rejecting this "truth." Fine, she might not be working with Gammon but for some reason, she was trying to deceive him about his origins. His determination was shaken somewhat as she apologized for "what she put him through", the responsibility weighing heavily with guilt in her voice and her brows contorted with sorrow for him. It was unnerving how resolute she was, how much ownership she was taking for this "creation" tale she was weaving and Mahon shifted in discomfort. Not that he resented his life or had any bitterness towards the tragedy and grief that had happened to him. But it felt odd for her to take responsibility for it, as if he might blame her.

He didn't expect her to be able to prove this tale of hers, so, he blinked with a frown of interested curiosity as Mara left his side to approach the shelves of books. With an air of expectation, Mahon blinked at the book she brought to him, his eyes taking in each detail as she stroked a hand on the cover with her name on it. First, of course, he recognized a map of Pas in the background, a strange tingling in his limbs and back as he read the title Defeat the Shadows, Book One of the Pas series. The warrior's face in the foreground was not his own but...it looked very similar to him and there was a chill on the back of his neck as he looked at the green eyes and the firmed gaze of brave determination, feeling a kinship with the face despite not recognizing it.

He almost didn't take it from her, reluctant to cross the bridge into knowing. But Mahon had never been a coward and his desire to understand what had happened to him pushed him to grasp the tome in sure hands, opening the cover and turning the pages to discover the truth she was trying to get him to see. Glancing up at the chime, Mahon watched Mara leave his side to answer the door, absently turning back to the book and the promise of understanding. Opening it to a few dozen pages in, Mahon traced his eyes over the neatly written, uniform text, settling in to read the narrative,

Some days, he tried not to think too long or hard about the loss he'd suffered. Other days, like today, it was inescapable. She wished to wed him, yet there was no one from his side to invite. He was without history, everything beginning the day he met her. It felt a little odd too that she would demand this now, Tiger being almost 4 years old

Abruptly, Mahon stopped reading, ice lancing through him, his knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the book. What...what was this??? This was... These were his thoughts. His private thoughts. Things he'd contemplated and considered one of the frequent days Lily teased him about making her his wife finally. It hadn't mattered much, their dedication and love for each other going beyond the bounds of any local lawmaker or status symbol, the town they'd settled in small and unconcerned with such things. Yet she'd grown up in a feudal city where her parents had wed and she had an idealized idea of it. Despite the decorum usually dictating the man in the role of asking, with Tiger already 3 years old, it seemed like Mahon would never get to it. So, Lily had brought it up brazenly, as was her way, bold and teasing. And it had brought to the surface a bunch of considerations regarding family and lost connections since he'd been a man tormented by loss long before she and Tiger were eventually taken from him.

Licking his lips and panting softly, Mahon looked at the cover again, his eyes searching the unknown warrior's face before he turned back to the pages and flipped further into the book. Stopping to read again, Mahon gritted his teeth over a low groan of denial as once again his own internal, private thoughts blazed upon the page, as if he'd printed them himself by merely thinking them.

"Nooo..." he growled through clenched jaws as the realization hit him: it was true. Mara was telling the truth. Horrified and a flash of rage bursting within him, Mahon released another ragged growl before chucking the book away from him, pages fluttering violently before it hit the book shelf and settled on the floor. Panting, Mahon ran a disturbed hand through his hair, shuddering slightly as it settled upon him with a calming certainty.

In Pas...he had lived his life exactly as he remembered it. But somehow, here, in this America, Mara Seward was a writer of stories and tales and she'd connected to his memories and his life, putting them down to paper as he lived thoze events. He refused to admit that she actually created him, that going a bit beyond him as far as what he was willing to stomach with acceptance; he might just go insane if he had to accept that reality. But he did accept that somehow his life, his "story" had reached Mara and that she believed she had created it, without knowing that he was a real life being somewhere else in another time and place.

As such realizations settled upon him, Mahon grew calmer, his frown softening as he glanced to Mara, waiting her return to the place where he sat. When she did, he nodded pensively as he said, "We definitely have a deep connection across our worlds. I see now that you have knowledge of me that no one else could possibly have and it is quite possibly why I was brought here to this place. In any case...I thank you for showing me my book." He wasn't quite sure what else to say. It was deflating to have his anger burn so hotly and bright one moment, only to have it dissipate as he was forced to reconcile her possibility for having access to such knowledge.

Standing from the cushioned seat, Mahon faced her, his gaze searching her plump, pretty face, really seeing her as someone connected to him for the first time. "I thank you for finding me and helping me. It'll be a struggle since things seem so different here but I am willing to do whatever it takes to defeat Gammon. I do not know why we are connected as we are but it is quite possibly for the purpose of destroying the Demon Lord once and for all."

 

[incendonocturne]

-from the door, she heard the growled denial. Glancing over her shoulder, her brow furrowed softly. She turned back to see the pizza delivery kid leaning slightly forward to look around her at the sound as well.-

”Everything ok?”

-she nodded and hummed softly that it was. Then she heard the second, followed by the thunk of the book as it hit the shelves she’d pulled it from.-

“Everything is fine. He’s a little....hangry.”

-she murmured, jokingly. The kid chuckled and nodded, taking the money Mara held out toward him. She told him to keep the change. As he turned to head back to his car, another pulled into the drive behind hers. The driver hopping out with a handled paper bag, advertising shopt.com. He grabbed the beer from the back seat before passing the other kid on his way to the door.

Taking the handled bag, she held it and the pizza in one hand as she gave him some money as well. Then took the case of beer and closed the door with her foot as she turned and headed back toward Mahon.

She listened as she set the beer onto the coffee table and the pizza next to it. She knew he didn’t quite get it or maybe he didn’t want to. It was a lot. It was hard to process even for her. Yet, here she was, standing in front of Mahon. And he was as real as she was. As real, as taut and strong as she’d always imagined him.

She sighed but did not correct him in anything he’d said. Maybe he wasn’t wrong? If it was possible for him to be here after all, why couldn’t his version of what he thought, be a logical explanation?-

“It will be a struggle but you’re adaptable. You’ll get by just fine, Moe, as long as you trust me. Here. This is all yours. You...don’t have to change into any of it now, not here, you’re fine in what you’re wearing.”

-she nodded and offered him a soft smile, cheeks dimpling cutely. Clearing her throat she turned and started toward the kitchen.-

“Just so you know, you were always going to defeat him. You were meant to. You deserve it....after everything....else.”

-she said over her shoulder as she grabbed a couple of plates from the cabinet and a couple paper towels and started back toward him.-

 

[Jericho Z. Barrons]

With interest, Mahon looked at the large flat box, bag, and metal containers Mara brought over for him, blinking at the strange items with little to no idea what they contained. As they were pushed forward to being "his", Mahon glanced at them again, noting the smell of meat and bread from within the box and bending to look into the stiff bag with a curved finger and curious lean to crane his neck. Despite her reassurance that he was fine wearing his own clothes, that seemed silly to him. Here, she'd gotten him attire for his stay in this strange land and she was setting it in front of him while trying to convince him not to put any of it on.

Glancing after her as she drifted to the other side of the room, Mahon reached into the bag and brought out a fistful of strange feeling fabrics, running the fingers of his other hand over the blue, tough fabric of the trousers. Intrigued, Mahon set that and the clumped shirt he'd removed onto the table, pulling his own shirt out of his waistband before lifting it easily off and over his head. Tossing it lightly onto the cushioned seat, his muscular back facing Mara, Mahon picked up the shirt, a light gray, the fabric softer than the tough, weathered fabric he'd been wearing. Lightly sniffing it, finding it to smell a very neutral way, Mahon found the hole for his head and slipped it on, then inserting his arms one at a time. Turning slightly, Mahon gave Mara an expectant look as he tugged the hem down over his scarred, muscled stomach. It was tight on him but fit him well, the clothing clinging to his broad shoulders and his thick biceps, ending just above his elbows in an odd way that made his arms feel bare and unprotected. His leather bracers on both forearms at least afforded him some armor.

As what Mara said finally came back to him, Mahon snorted softly, a frown contorting his brows in irritation as she continued to push for her ridiculous theory. Toeing off his boots and unlacing his leather trousers casually, Mahon huffed a soft breath as he said, "You didn't create me. You're basically saying that you're my God, if that were true. And you speak as if you had control over the events in my life." Pushing his loosened pants down his slender hips, baring his tight, muscular ass and flaccid, thick, 8" cock dangling loose and inert between his thick, muscular thighs, Mahon shook his head in denial again, unbothered by undressing in front of her. In fact, it didn't even occur to him that it was inappropriate; he was a man, a warrior. Surely she'd seen a man's body before. It would have been rude and given him pause if she were to get undressed in front of him, being an unwed lady, after all.

Thinking about her curvy body getting naked stirred him, Mahon's slumbering, droopy length stiffening and bobbing with sudden heat. As his trousers were removed, his dick stood at half-mast between his thighs, his eyes of their own accord going to the obscene cleft between her legs in her own version of the pants she'd brought him to wear. Embarrassed by the inappropriate response to her, Mahon looked away with a stout sniff, ignoring his arousal as he picked up the new trousers and set about pulling them on, hunching slightly as he slipped them up, one leg at a time. Obscuring his erection, tucking it forcefully into the pants, Mahon buttoned them, unaware of the zipper he left undone as he looked down and assessed the feel of them. It...would take some getting used to. They fit him tight on his thighs and hips, yet low on his slender waist, and the legs were loose past the knees, the hems resting on the tops of his bare feet in a disturbing fashion.

"These will hinder me in battle," he murmured in mild complaint, quirking his lips in a disgruntled frown. Then he took in a deep breath, eyebrows raising to his hairline as he looked at Mara, embarrassed again. "Thank you for the outfits," he said, correcting his earlier complaint with mild humility now, cocking his head sideways and giving her a nod. "I am sure that I will fit in well with the other warriors of America."

Heaving a sigh, Mahon itched at the scruff on his cheek, again frowning as he returned to the subject at hand. "If you truly were my Creator, Mara, and you wrote everything into existence, telling the tale of my life, then answer me this," he said, giving her a steady frown. "Why did you allow Gammon's demon monster armies to kill my son and the woman I loved?" Not that he believed her. But he was making a point. She wished to take responsibility for the things that had happened to him, then she needed to explain what had possessed her to do that to him. Why, if she were so powerful, would she ruin his life? It just didn't make sense and no one in their right mind would dare take the weight of that responsibility.