The long stretch of putting things together in the vast small talk these undertakers were Intel in. The dream worlds were clashing into the human world, spilling more creatures in human densities such as towns in closed of landscapes. Undertakers try to keep discrepancies of rippled time and the existence of these monsters out of humanity reach. The demigods are meddling in undertakers, making false mircales in the work of undertakers - these are the requests they hire undertakers on. There the whole time events erased and made thing, rose petals that constantly falling from a evergreen stem. A bloom always fed by the changes of laying dying tomes.
She taps listen on how someone among the shades of the monarch order are using a tap system to communication some very key arguements. The transport between the undertaker kingdoms are far stretched or are blocked by human curiosity. Especially Mages and SCP foundation. The attempts to make contact with society like Damned and the Small demon lords are having constant failures. Especially since they need humans to intermediate between undertakers and damned. The only few that do speak damned can't see or find them. As they been outcast to shadows of damned. To undertaker to be fully damned.
"Whats the difference between a damned, a hollow and a clothus?"
"Soul densities, material and society law." She replies quick at that, "The damned and the clothus have enough soul for tome recognition. Hollows are those that lost their soul. The skin of a damned burns into ashes when within pressure of divine and UV. Skin of a clothus can exist in the living realm regardless of sourced light. Hollow speak of light and darkness as temperature. Hollow have no sense of touch. No sense of distance. It's as if lacking that instinct to not break things between fingers." They nod collective of needing that perspective. It has uses as they are able to formulate a sort of test to work out the difference.
"There is a fourth type that you mistake a lot." She continues and they tilt in not finding this helpful, "You can't see them as you are. But in some realms they are a presense to not ignore. They can be mistske for hollows. But really they a type of god eater or dementor. They aren't affected by light. They stand to irritate you. If they win the game of mental fortitude, they eat you. They will use your body parts to make themselves irritating to other path walkers. They particularly do interesting things to invite you close. They been called snatchers to any locals or skin walkers. They arent clothus in term of breaking laws but they have that same vibe about them. That wanting to torture you thing. They aren't the same smarts either. So simple traps to fool them works even on repeat." The undertakers stare at her a lot.
"Where do you find these things?" She gives a business smile, but they all were in talk of never encountering this fourth type. She spoke of it as this was the one universe that have the highest sighting of them around any found broken realms. Soulless folks that become victims of the break of laws. Or that their soul type isn't registered in the active law. That's a whole different but same can of worms they don't know. It's actually what the sleeping problem is for them too. Folks with souls not registered. Hollows are a grey law area of soul and soulless.
"I need your opinion on this." They pulled a canvas to a table surface and posed in being fusterated with the pocket gate. She stares at it.
"I think I was looking for someone like that." She pulled it up and better stares at the inhabitants of the room, "38, 92 and 107." She tilts about the painting gate.
"The sleeping are related?" Riddle asked.
"Souls go somewhere, Riddle. They tend to go where they last felt strongest or safe." She softly puts the painting down, "I have to make some negotiations with them when possible." She sees they are confused, "The person speaking often is sensible and with rational idea of logical behavior. But a soul without restrained law or body. They tend to be annoying. Fickle like cats."
"Why do we learn new stuff with you?" She smiles more human in that comment.
"I have been hired for a reason, and I hope this all shows well of the kings order. The crown has grown concern of these discrepancies. To hire a being with soul speciality will have its reward. It didn't have to be me, but here I am." She sees Omens having a strange frown at the painting, "Stop it, dude. Don't frighten the flock. I am not playing chase." He at eased off but then the paper version stomps itself into the painting. She blinked a long moment, eyes altered very quickly and with a change of lean to give off her disapproving glare. The elf Omens posed open palms at this being not his fault. She tilted away even more, plenty vib of being really mad.
"Well at least we will see how pissed they are." She huffed in a sad lower and watching the painting, "I might have to break the god tome out." She clicked tongue, "Fricking death will be mad too. He wanted time off." She crossed her arms tightly in just waiting. The undertakers pose in the strange Language alternative moment and Riddle stares to Omens in hoping for some answer.
"My paper puppet might become paper shards and this will upset a lot of things. It was very stupid of it to dive in. Souls are unstable without vessels, unpredictable to handle." Omens then lifted are her, "You can't access the god titles. You are part clothus."
"Core tome keeper." She corrected, "Why else would death consult me?" The stare at her as she gave a nerve twitch, "You really are a terror to them. Them poor souls don't need that."
"And what you just pick them up and baby them?" Omens posed open palm of his left hand.
"Pampering cute things is the luck of my hobby." She stands up and picked up the frame. She drops it around her, with flinging her at force through the gateway. She had time to unclick her arm joints and grapple souls from hurting the paper Omens vessel. Once she gave each one a temporary shape and offers loving warmth. The souls settled down and collected into her torso. She clicked arms back in and man handled paper vessel back to his feet. The undertakers reached through the frame collecting her and omens paper vessel. Once out of the frame and seated on the cafeteria seats. She lets Omens go. The two bodies of omens joint as one.
"You're crazy!" She smiled at that in a business way. She barely gets herself standing, feeling the sin and regert of these souls she taken hold of. She half waved with her left in a nonverbal - 'I'm fine'. She leaves them behind. She was half way leaving the cafeteria when she froze up at what seems a random undertaker. She stares at them in having singled them out. They waved her to move on. She turned facing away, keeping calm. Taking the corner, his advisor hovered at the entry. She studies the glasses undertaker deeply.
"Welcome among us."
"How's the index?" She asked and he squared her darkly, "I just wanted to know it it's condition will spread on others."
"Inaccurate." She smiled at that and continued to carry the souls. He tilts in not being sure why she smiled, "Someone lost the angel tome." He voiced. She paused with thinking about that and shurgs.
"It's safe wherever it been left. If we were dire attention for it, there is ways of finding it." She soften a short step, "Leave the rational assumptions behind." Onwards she strides. She short cuts through several paintings and took a unused corridor of dusted walls. She stares in how this was the remains of erased time, locked in time stop. As she thought, more ashed left souls. She plucked them too. Exiting to the ponds and through the coal drawing into the catacombs. The rise of each step to the corroliated bodies was heavy of sin chains and threads that pulled her down. A soul at a time to be put back in, left to wake at their own pace. At reaching the top cliff, she has four spare. She knows there aren't bodies for them here. She locked them into the time stop in crystal decoration, improving the looks of the gate to here. Four new gargoyle figures to stand watch the royal sleeping. They are accountable in the tome, so she isn't without proof.
"Those aren't of the kings approval!" She turned facing a kid that seems to ha e a problem with her. In stare, department uniform... this was a Darkwood. Culty deco is within thier knowledge.
"Break them because they aren't approval and I will hunt you instead." She warns, "I have enough work without your opinions." She turns facing the gaurds here, "These souls are in the books, but aren't with vessels. I will have put them to the pond but I worry we will find them sleeping in one the painting or something."
"It's only temporary until you find their sleeping vessels." She nods at that, "They arent those in the catacomb."
"Not in the catacomb. Just souls left without vessels. In the accounts." They nods at her and face back forwards. The darkwood went to speak things but Pride collars them. The gaurds nod to Pride in being the nonverbal state of 'all is without problem'. She did stare at the gargoyles but moved on.
"There has been body parts returned, not the full clay form." A gaurd voiced, "The crafter will know."
"Any thrown to be forgotten?" She asked and they nod at this, "I will not worry of this yet then. There a lot in there." She stares that way, "I don't have permissions for that." She straighten properly, "It does matter a lot." They look at each other as she back through the crystal without unlocking the gate. They stare in her abilities of walking stopped area of time. They didn't see her into here and have proof she able to enter the catacombs at another place.
"Is she?" Riddle asked them and they nod. He unlocked the gate and closed it behind. She stands looking downwards of the Catacombs and watching those waking up. She sees they can't see well, crawling on all fours or touch of the wall. Three found each other and they're discussing their past memories of how they ended up here. By the time Riddle was looking with her, ten were just now making it to this light visible level.
"This is the kingdom crests of Dragonflies. You are all in Nuteralized ground and are expected to follow the rules." 7 of them nod and pose agreeing in some way to this truce. One isn't changed in the slightest. The two of thier side is Kneeling to the unchanged one.
"King of a fallen crest. Your crown was passed to the next available. In the time you have had been resting, a duel passed your crowns claim. You will have to accept truce as a lower standard to this crest or take duel. Preferably to duel back your original nicknames." She voiced and the two in service watch for what command to follow.
"What has the crest of Dolphins become?" She stares in guessing they are testing her, maybe a joke or that this is an altered crest.
"Mai Mai?" She tilts in her lips speaking her mind and this king nods, "The Clothus black markets. It will be dangerous to carry yourselves to the living realm. They hide among humans in Americas, Asian lands and the ocean islands. The Antarctica ice lands has a human research base. There is held the gateway." This lost king pose now of truce and his men too.
"Whose side are you on?" One of them at doesn't know her.
"A hired Cog oath tome keeper. I bow to the dragonfly monarch. But there isn't any extension of undying loyalty for now. Besides, you need his majesty to help you. Appeasement of Clothus laws and negotiations will need several crown backings. So the given information can satisfy the current conditions of the Mai Mai crest to this former king, no power to take back or change events." The ex-monarch nods at her and his servants are displeased.
"It's plenty enough to speak to his majesty in good time." She tilts to how Riddle stares at her.
"Nicknames." He hissed.
"I have none to give and they have none to have. They just have to duel for those in the public training grounds. Or one from the galleries." He can accept that much. They stand to be answering other similar things about realm concepts and gossip. This all abruptly stopped with the monarch opening the gate. Riddle kneels for his king and she courtesy. Left hand posed these folks as a sort of gift. The king nods to the gaurds as they each take a new awakened and carry them to take a nickname and other formality. He posed hand at her and she lowered to at the same level as Riddle. In fact, she lowered even more then that.
"Leana Eliza Fallown Seer." He voiced over her and she unwavering of not finding this to surprising, "Teixeira Trickster. Penheart. Tome core Cog oath. Holder of the unknown materials." She more confused of what his getting to. Is she being rewarded or punished? "Eater of soul names." She doesn't deny that, lowered further in fact.
"You're resulting god testimony. All related cases." She soften off the tension as the was ready for whatever this is to be, "You have already taken the steps of falling and raised back up. You were exiled and yet welcomed back. Even your clothus court files have already been Nuteralized." A hand posed over, the patterns he had empowerment over her to access this gate was now sealed from her use. Given she this side of the gate, her clay shape was by thier realms rule imprisoned here. There is clearly only two options; vow or to be thrown into the forgotten prison. She held steady in accepting this lawful judgment.
"Mattu." The King empowered over him, the matching mark of her seal. His given her key. But his also given restrictions that she has access for. Nothing is being out spoken but it's likely a telepathic link. The kings hand fells slower then it was for her. There a last gaze at these two and thr steps of his majesty moving out of here.
"Tied again." She voiced with watching the kings back as the gate has locked. Riddle slides to sit on the floor, staring the leave of the king. She sits at the floor too, as best the dress can strain to. She wants to lean on him, but finds this situation not suitable for such thing. Besides, he hates her - she knows that. His discontent has been clear from the beginning. Envious of his sister Pride for easier brats to look after. Trixie has seen this all herself. The way he looks at a crowd, his nerve eye twitch when she's watching his expression off gaurd and his dislike of her actions on his god. Particularly the handling the gods bird form as she does other fragile souls.
"What is tied?" He asked.
"Fate." She puts shadow energy into making the threads visible. Seeing that they are indeed tied again, "But we have Omens to cut it if you like." She definitely held a little sorrow around 'cut'. She makes this thread disappear as he got the picture. She was temped to break it herself - she doesn't want to but it crossed her mind to.
"How long will it take to convince you to stop doing unnecessary things?" She at least puts her hands away from breaking the bond.
"I can't connect to the telepathic link of thoughts among undertakers. So I haven't been able to hear anything." She shurgs, "since we are on topic. I am legally blind. I have been using my shadow and my hollow scent to see. So maybe I walked through walls occasionally. I can't see them. I am not afraid of the god eaters because I can't see their true shapes. I only really see dream states. Those are few and far between among a race that doesn't exist among dreams." He must be confused in how that lip trembling.
"Actually, that fits." She heard Omens and was well aware of the bird perched on Riddles shoulder.
"Stop it." Riddle fussed in getting Omens off and with both his hands all over her face. She gives plenty of patience, wondering what his achievements to messing with the binds. The ribbon binds that block her senses from breaking some laws. Once he made some arrangements, it was loud around them. She flinched in them being to loud and he seems to put a veil over her - limiting to a personal bubble of just them.
There. Maybe you should have told me sooner.
She felt tired of this sudden strain from these changes, energy changes that made her damned side nauseated. Drowning in the densities of energy.
That felt to much for a little. She able to retort back and there is that shoulder jiggle. He held some sort of relief and mostly in being the same wavelength. She captures his inner voice easy as fast as she can return her own.
"I can finally tie you down." You promised to accept my ring of vow. Now you can hear me, you can't take back that word.
I was more concerned of dragging you into the Trickster limelight if I reverted human while tied. But now I am removed from the reverts of time, that concern was changed to other ones. I couldn't let my soul status send you into a melt down. You find my fragments in everything strange and you blame me for things not of my fate. I had even went to so much trouble to court order against my family of psychopaths. Those tome breaking soul snatching piss heads. They are aggravating enough.
"You can't change who made you but you can choose the family you belong to." The way his voice wavered would meant it was something he learned from his human years.
"If being loved by monsters is your intention, then you have the number one guarantee to attract them." She takes hands in holding the bird Omens to her lap, petting it softly with care, "I am a little sad you changed to a pure god, Omens. I loved poking that jaw back." He stans her hand with a hiss, "look at you tough bird. You make the flock proud." He really went for it and was removed form her. She felt the sense of this being the abyss one and the paper mesh.
"Stop." Riddle pulls inspecting her hands. He eventually was clearly inspecting her arms in closer detail. Particularly in fidgeting the hidden features. She obviously prevents these triggers hurting him.
Don't. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hear your soul screaming from being stabbed. I have been so gentle. So careful. I can't let you.
"But I need your hands." She may have turned stiffen in realizing the the vow does need her hands. Had even blushed. He got up and pulls her to, "It be better we aren't in the way."
"126 is empty." She offered. He understood that being a catacomb space.
"Well I am more prepared then that." He held her hand the whole way and down to the exact 126 space. He takes only a moment to shadow pull a canvas over the surface of the wall. He picked her up and through the painting. She can tell from her hollow senses that this was a shortcut to his flat. This is the lock room with ritual religious items. Omens climbs through, but his bird side collected the canvas and flies the long way to carry it back here.
He sat her on a chair with making sure this room is plenty locked. He paced about with tools and with artifacts. This will not do. There isn't really a suitable one for shaping. Where is that one? She smirks in wondering why she put here and what now he had looking up his sleeve. He was staring at her arms intently so maybe it was something about her joints he wants to do something. The room is full of wavelength of energies. Some hell worlds, some mid-realms and there a few items from god interacting worlds. Such as that jug from the eating hall of the gods. It's empty and being used for a crystal flower vase. She recognized the crystal for being another soul trapped in time stop material. It looked like a grown from some garden in quatrz pink. The rose seems content of its place here.
"Hand." She questioned it but hands her left hand over first. He uses the tool to pick at her hand joints, the improperly embedded gemstone stuck through. She minds not that he picking through what seems skin. It's not a feeling for surface touch. Proximity is figured by thread tensions and soul aura. These a lot of these similar mistakes around her body, that she wasn't treated correctly during her clay craft. He snapped something of the tool but she able to flex this hand with full use in her abilities.
"I wasn't expecting such improvements." She voiced, "Here. To replace that tool." She shadow lifted a matching thin knife. He takes it to care. He continues flicking any excessive clay blockages. She stays patient in seated. Arm posed open or swapping hands. He kneels in picking at clay flaking off around her shoulders. Smoothing the rough lack of finish touches.
"Why are you such a mess?" He asked.
"They struggled with my full shape." She minds not with having her dress slipping down. He was working at her back anyway. The knife chipping excessive left material. He slowed in being confused of her lower back. Staring harshly of the gaping hole.
"Whats with your torso half removed?" He carving the edge smooth and she stays still.
"Adapt from path walking. I lack a stomach and other lower parts: well as a always half dying human I did. Now it manifested as just a hole. I was always hurt there. Always dying that way. Sometimes I survive but with missing or replacing things." She softly flexed her claws to open through to removed the accumulated clay dust. He sees something to peck on how she flexed this pose. The rotation of the elbow at the back.
"I guess you just scared them from finishing to a higher level." He doesn't mind it, "Can I wear your cloak?" He meant her clothus skin.
"That will feel strange but sure. Just don't go to total light or dark. I can't help twitching." He freezes up in that being her response, "I will also get very protective. You likely find it stealing things or fixing some what seems random. As a Cog ranker, this is the sort of thing expected of me. The requests I take are just on route to other things. Fixing inconvenience or abnormal rips."
He softly pulls her material off her. He also removed all her belts she been hiding underneath with thousands of pouches. He helped her into uniform shirt. Fixed her hair back neater, the hair pin back as the fastener. The chain of gemstones he softly paused in how they matcher her body stones. Some glow in this realm, others were clear stones and there was several blacken. He shook our of the trance and is back to clay pecking. Omens bird is heard in the main flat flustering about. Omens stared into nothingness with deep thoughts and eventually was a standing empty shell. Left there while his souls shuffled else where.
"Almost there to the worst of the joints being better." He was at her feet, trying to wrap his head around what system of joint was this trying to be. She softly slips out of his hands and stood up. She able to free her nightmare shape easer now, which was what confused him about her feet. She extended to the full height, pulling to floating construct parts as now made more sense. He stared dazed and mindlessly continues finding parts to flick rough clay off.
Well now you look as you do as Penheart. This is that shape used around the god eaters.
The sound of flick scraping and the brief moment to touch the surface for smooth surfacing. He was at her outer tigh as she was now getting twitchy. She was sensitive around her front and lower torso areas. She plenty bashful in knowing this was being naked in the chair.
Her cloth flicked in how he irritated something sore. He stops in letting her flex hold the pain. It was physically painful. It's that she mentally finds this spot a bother and it always hurts. It annoyed her enough to make a metallic slip hiss.
"Often something like that is the cause of why you lost your human life. Many undertakers have that one spot." He stands and leans as she takes her time to stop reacting with it, "But yours is different. It's a real wound of black blood." She sees her hand slick of the liquid. She shakes the dazed feeling and shadow reached her storage. A medical box with her cocktails of path walker remedies and patches. He comes forward in helping her. Gloves on and taking a more gentle approach to use her kit.
"It will never heal. Its the place that my soul was shattered from." She tries hard to be patient and understands he better veiw to see how to plug it. There was points that she had it drooling at her mouth too. Hazed her mind in feeling pain.