Story, whether he was aware of it or not, seemed quite talented at masking outward displays of what was on his mind and in his heart. His soft crimson eyes did tell that his thoughts were a beehive of activity, but just what sort of activity was a mystery. He observed Dalanesca's tear fall in the short uncomfortable silence, and nodded solemnly when she at last voiced her promise of her end of the bargain.

As they walked from the garden and through the palace, Story had a full on laugh in his baritone that echoed through the halls. He gave the goddess a sidelong glance, still smiling. "As long as we are being frank, I think we are now on intimate enough terms to not throw up walls. Don't you think?"
The dragon made no indication that he could read minds. He was perhaps just very observant, and making reference to Dalanesca's rather sudden business-like tone with him…Something that apparently amused him past the point of his usual chuckle.
"Tit for tat hardly works without some level of trust. I thought the notion that I wandered here of my own volition alone might suffice," he teased.

Story paused, and closed his eyes. Gradually, two smaller, ethereal versions of the wings he possessed as a dragon protruded out from his back. They had the consistency of will-o-the-wisps, yet lent him the ability to take flight through the palace. He turned and tumbled through the air with grace and fluidity, and slowly circled around one of the massive silver and onyx pillars. Running his hand along the cool stone, he looked about at all of the various decor and tapestries in the palace, and seemed particularly fixated on any books that he could see lying about.

Resigning to hovering a short distance away from Dalanesca, Story tilted his hand, and twirled bits of his beard around his finger thoughtfully. "Freeing you is definitely no simple matter, but I've a good mind on where to start. I am perhaps getting ahead of myself, but as part of the agreement, could I perhaps keep a piece of the binding afterwards? As a memento."

She could tell, nearly instantly, that her change in demeanor had not fooled Story.  She was quickly realizing that he was quite perceptive, and this insight coupled with his words caused her to relax the tension in her shoulders slightly.  “You make a good point,” she said, giving him a sideways glance.   A hint of rose blushed her pale cheeks, and indication that she felt mildly embarrassed at the fact that her ruse had been foiled. His follow up statement gave her a bit of a laugh.  “You jest, but the majority of those who come to Porta Inferi barely make it past the River,” she said.  “Making it past that, as well as through the Circles… that shows some ambition,” she added.  Growing quiet for a moment, she found herself wondering if Story would have escaped the Circle that he had ended up in if she had not intervened.  For some reason, she thought the possibility was rather high.  

Amusement graced her visage as she watched him take flight once more, though she had to admit it was mildly disconcerting to see the ghostly wings sprout from his human form, something she was certainly not used to seeing.  Admittedly, it seemed like flying through the expanse of her own palace would be rather breathtaking, and she found herself envious of the ability.  Though her divinity gave her unmatched power, the gift of flight was not one of those things.  She noticed that his curiosity seemed particularly piqued by the few books that were scattered around the area - of course, something as ancient as he had to be coupled with the insight he carried… it would only make sense that books were an interest of his.  

As Story returned, hovering fairly near her, she watched him as he spoke.  Her eyes widened slightly, indicating that she was fully focused on what he was saying as soon as he spoke of freeing her.  He seemed rather confident that he would at least know where to begin, and his asking for a ‘momento’ seemed to further indicate that confidence.  “If you succeed in helping me break free of that which binds me here, you can - within reason - have whatever you want,” she said, the icy blue of her eyes shining brightly with her excitement.  “I will help you find this soul you seek, you can keep some of the binding, and you will be welcome to use Domus Tenebris as your home, for as long as you like, if you succeed in helping me,” she added, a promise to her words.  

“Perhaps we could head to the library, and you can fill me in on just what you think we need to get this process started?” she asked, gesturing towards the exit of the room that they were in.  She assumed that Story would accompany her, and made her way to the grand library that lay within her palace.  Large onyx tables were spread throughout, the shelved lined with an uncountable number of books.  A few of the Mutes, as she referred to them, milled about the room, and she called to the one nearest to bring them wine and whiskey, as well as tea, unsure of which Story preferred.  The Mute returned within minutes, placing the tray of beverages before them, and Dalanesca poured herself a small tumbler of the dark whiskey.  She gestured to Story to help himself, and sat down on one of the black silk upholstered chair.  

“So… where do we start?” she asked, as she took a sip.

"We have an accord," Story reiterated with a warm grin. As Dalanesca gestured in the direction of the library, he focused upon his ethereal wings, allowing them to dissipate and have his body drop the few feet that it hovered. He landed with poise, and paused before walking towards the corridor, clearly lingering on a thought. "Also…Anything?" he repeated. His eyes flashed with a myriad of mischiefs. "We may have to discuss what 'within reason' entails, at a later date," he coaxed, his tone suddenly very odd. Almost…venomous…and something else. If he was attempting at last to somewhat clumsily flirt back with her, he made no further indication of it in his demeanor.

Story observed the shambling familiars in the library with curiosity. He wasn't sure what he expected, here, of all places. Necromancy was not something he was unfamiliar with, but the sight of the bumbling things dug up still-fresh memories from their graves…of the sort that were none too pleasant. They reminded him somewhat of the thralls that Malchiah's court would enslave. Some of their master's requirements, however, dictated that the use of their mouth remained intact - unlike these hollows. He shivered at his thoughts, but still managed to very politely refuse either of the beverages offered to him. Despite the thing's state, he eccentrically spoke directly to the holder of the platter, rather than Dalanesca, and patted it on the shoulder.

"You must think me to be some sort of wandering ascetic," Story mused as he browsed the titles on the shelves before him. He removed two books on the subject of alchemy and laid them on the table before the goddess.
"In a sense, you would be correct. I indulge in nothing unless it suits me."
Story plucked a few more titles from Dalanesca's collection. One was on energy and vibration, and its relation to magic; another was on the creation of the worlds, and the last one was a collection of proverbs to live by.
"I've darker hungers than most can offer to satiate. I choose to ignore them for good reason."

Story paced around the library, and gestured at the books as the constructed his theories into sentences. "You can peruse those if you wish. No doubt you already have at some point. They are only for the purpose of illustrating and reinforcing my assertions."
He paced around to the front of her table, and regarded her for a few moments in silence, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Energy. Vibration," Story began. "Like many subtle forces, they are often overlooked in lieu of things that are much easier to understand. Alchemy, although it is a science, contains more of these concepts than most are aware of. In fact, all things can be understood if you know how to understand these two things. That is not what this is about, though. We are getting more specific."

He was quietly amused by the interplay of their constantly changing roles as he spoke. Here they were now, teacher and student, as Dalanesca listened with the utmost fascination and intensity. They had previously been goddess and lowly visiting wyrm. Then to a fantastic beast met with child-like wonder. There were surely many other dynamics between the lines that remained unacknowledged.

"Your bindings are not naturally occurring, to be sure. The metal is more than mere alloy-smithing to perfection so as to contain a Divine. There is magic at work as well. You already know this, but like my previous point, it is a fundamental that most overlook. The underlying force of magic is intent. It is will. There are emotions and offerings at play in things like this that have a certain vibration to them. Everything in the universe moves. It is a matter of knowing what plane or wavelength a thing exists in."

Story leaned on the table, closer to her. "You created an entire domain and forced the changing of the spheres with the energy you emanated. Now you must understand the pain that you caused, and place yourself in it in order to understand the bindings created to hold you."
He handed her the book of ancient cultural proverbs. "Understanding what constitutes a subtle body is just as important as discerning the physical elements it was crafted from. The latter is a far simpler process."

Although she found his possession of other-worldly wings even while in his human form to be rather interesting, Dalanesca was quite glad when Story returned to the ground.  Noticing his hesitation, she stopped when he did, cocking an eyebrow with the sudden change in his tone.  While the connotation behind his statement was welcome, it took her slightly by surprise.  However, being who she was, her surprise was only momentary as she fired back quickly.  “I look forward to that discussion,” she said, a dark glint in her eyes.  Such a simple phrase carried so much more meaning when coupled with the theme of their conversation, but to the untrained ear would sound no more than an expression of anticipation.  She eyed him for a moment, unsure of exactly what underlying meaning his words carried… but very curious to find out.

When they entered the library, she found herself rather interested in his examination of the Mutes.  She could not get a sense of what his thoughts were at that time, but it did not matter much to her, not at that moment at least.  What would one expect, travelling into the Underworld?  Those that served her were not bound to be the most pleasant of creatures.  

When Story laid his hand on the Mute carrying the platter of beverages, it jumped a bit, not being used to guests making physical contact with them.  They mostly moved rather silently, remaining fairly unnoticed by anyone in the realm.  Dalanesca let out a bit of a laugh at the Mute’s reaction, but then focused her attention fully on Story as he looked through the tomes on the shelves.  

“I would not go so far as to say that,” she said, taking another sip of her drink.  “What I think of you is irrelevant at this point, unless it has a direct effect on what we’re going to discuss,” she said rather simply.  If she had chosen to be honest with Story, she was not quite sure what she thought of him.  He was incredibly interesting, especially with his capabilities, but there was something that she could not quite place her finger on.  She parted her lips to make a quip at the latter half of his comment, about indulgences, but she thought the better of it, given the nature of their conversation.  She eyed him as he removed a few of the books from their shelves, as though they were going to be pertinent to their impending discussion.

She laid a hand on one of the volumes he set in front of her, but did not flip the pages open - he was correct in his assumption that she had read them already, and their knowledge was known to her.  However, what remained unknown was the benefit that this knowledge would have on what they were going to attempt - what Story was going to attempt to help her with.  

She listened intently for the next few minutes at his explanation, and it all seemed to make sense to her, after a moment of contemplation.  She found herself in turn leaning towards him, intensely focused on each syllable that he spoke, storing the words in her mind.  Essentially, the way she understood his explanation was that she needed to harness the same amount of emotional energy that had caused the changing of her spheres and the crafting of her realm, and use that energy to break free of the chains that now confined her to Inferos.  Of course, a simple understanding of his explanation was not enough to complete the act - but it was a start.  

Her hand reached out to take the book of proverbs from him, and she grasped it, pulling it towards her.  She did not thumb through the pages, but she understood the meaning behind his offering of the book.  She gazed at him for a few silent moments, before finally speaking, the first time throughout his explanation.  “What wonder, that a being such as yourself happens across the divine to offer insight and guidance,” she said softly, her eyes still showing their bright blue.  “Perhaps this partnership, you helping me, and I in turn helping you, will be much more beneficial than I thought,” she added.  She had, of course, gleaned from their discussion that he was an intelligent being, but the explanation he had offered furthered that thought to another level.  

Silence permeated the air between the two, with her eyes never leaving him, studying his intent.  She looked for something that would give away his ulterior motive, but she could not find any hints as to what it was, besides the obvious that had already been stated.  She finally spoke, her voice evenly breaking the silence between them.  “So, the question is - and perhaps it is one that needs to be asked of myself - what do I need to do to focus this energy, this magic?” she asked, thoughtfully.  “Having been brought to that climax of emotion from such a traumatic event, I find myself wondering what it would take to emulate that once more.”

"Loss can do much to shape a person," Story intoned with great conviction. His crimson gaze was unnervingly hollow, and pierced straight through Dalanesca, through to unspoken events - mind adrift in the flow of time, floating amidst the very cosmos from which the dragon was born. The memories…they stung, but he would not speak of them to her at length. The Goddess knew enough of him for now. What was relevant now was her own pain, and also the pain she had caused.

Story could sense the analytical nature of his host's icy stare, but he said nothing of it. So complete was his stoic emotional control that he did not even have a tell in his expression or mannerisms. If there were any other agenda at play in his presence here, it would not be known.

"You will need a memento…not one that signifies your own pain, but the pain that you caused…the lives you took in your transformation. It is empathy you will require. So much, until you feel you cannot possibly hold the burden without breaking, or even reversing the shifting of the spheres."

He turned from her, eyes closed, and hand to bearded chin in thought. "That is a start."

Story's thoughts swam in a sea of voices….

"Where will we go?" a soft, frightened voice tugged at his heart strongs. "Your brothers know what you've done…they will come for us."

He heard Malchiah's familiar obnoxious voice. He also heard his other brothers, condemning him. The mobs that were the vampiric courts of their creation.

…Screams of agony…


Story realized his nails had partially changed in his unpleasant recollections, and were digging into his palm as he unconsciously clenched his fist. Droplets of blood fell from his hand, and fumed and sizzled maliciously when they hit the ground. He opened his eyes, and they shifted from reptilian back to humanoid. Smoke wafted from his nostrils as he tensely exhaled and paced about the library.

"There is no reversing of what has been wrought," the dragon said bitterly. "You need only understand it, and make peace with it. This, along with the proper physical means will unravel your binding. The Earth Mother is a master alchemist. With some study, we might come to understand the methods that were used."

"Excusez-moi, s'il vous plait," Story spoke in the tongue he was taught, breaking his accented common. "I must step away, into the open air. I've memories on this subject that trouble me."

“Indeed,” she said, rather quietly.  His eyes upon her did not necessarily make her feel ill at ease, but there was a discomfort the look caused that she could not quite place.  Perhaps it was the foreboding tone to his voice, or the implications of what he had mentioned earlier.  She gleaned that perhaps he had shared more than he wished, and it seemed as though that aspect of their conversation had come to a head.  

She nodded, indicating her understanding of his directions.  It took her a moment of quiet contemplation, but the idea of what ‘memento’ to use came to her fairly easily.  It would not be difficult to acquire.  There had been a woman, when the madness had begun, who had braved the trip to Porta Inferi to beg Dalanesca’s mercy.  Her son, a small boy, had been mortally wounded, but with the absence of death he  faced unending suffering.  The woman had ultimately perished, but had dropped a small hair comb which Dalanesca had retrieved, and felt somewhat compelled to retain.   “Right,” she said, in acknowledgement that she understood his instruction.  

It became rather apparent to Dalanesca that something was internally distracting Story from their conversation, but she knew that pressing him on the matter would be unfruitful. She watched him for a moment, and it almost seemed as though he had become unaware of her presence.  His demeanor had shifted, and she heart the strange sizzling of the blood droplets as the fell to the floor.  It seemed that a few of his draconic qualities were appearing, and she found herself a bit concerned with the fact that she did not know what was causing his to seem so… bothered was not quite the word for it.

When he spoke again, she noted the harsher tone to his words.  His declaration that he needed to step outside, couple with the change in his actions and attitude, confused her slightly, but she drew no attention to that fact.  “By all means,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the exit to an outer courtyard of the library.  

She turned her attention away from Story for the time being, and left to retrieve the hair comb from her chambers, ultimately returning after a short while with the artifact in hand.  From there, she turned her attention to the several books he had removed from the shelves, revisiting their information until such time that Story returned and they could move along with what needed to be done.

Well as it may be that his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of the soul he wished to find in the near future, Story did not like dwelling on memories. As he had said, all memories to dragons are fresh, no matter their age. He paced the courtyard outside the library, then leaned over a twisted silver railing, placing his face in his hands.

"You chastised us for shaping mortal kind, and making servants of them, but you find it perfectly alright to take a lover from their midst? Your actions caused one of your own to die, and threw an entire court into upheaval. You know how to pick them."

Malchiah's golden glare cast judgement upon him, but his face did not carry the weight of his words. His mouth was curled up into a cruel sneer. He cared not for the events themselves…even the death of kin. He cared only for the promise of violence, especially wrought against blood he so despised.

Dalanesca's realm was fittingly silent - deathly so; however, the discord that played out in Story's mind was thunderous. Swords clashed rapidly as he saw a battle play out. It was unlike the skirmish that the devil here that masqueraded as his brother initiated. There was intensity, and a challenge to the encounter. Malchiah had never bested him, but he had come damn near close that day. Entities and magics here that drew on his memories could only offer a poor recreation. Anger, and the panic of a cornered animal set in upon him as the courts were summoned to aid in disabling him long enough to watch his lover suffer.

Story stood tall, and inhaling deeply, eyes closed. He exhaled slowly, then continued this rhythm as he worked at clearing his mind.

Confident that he had his composure back, Story made his way about the courtyard to return to Dalanesca, but stopped when he saw Malchiah standing there before him, blocking the entrance. This was not the same devil as before, but some sort of phantom, as he could see right through him to the mansion beyond. Story instinctively reached for the sword that would not be there, and shook his head. When he looked again, the aspect was gone. He could swear he could hear a faint whispering following him through the courtyard, but he could not make out any words. In the corners of his vision, dark tendrils swirled, and vanished when he turned to look. He was unnerved, to say the least - which was unusual for him.

There was no way to be sure if what he saw was some sort of vision trying to manifest, or Porta Inferi again meddling with his thoughts. Regardless, Story would not mention what he saw to the goddess.


"Have you made any progress towards understanding?" the dragon said as he returned to the library, pacing between the tables in an uncharacteristically anxious manner.
"I have no part of your recent history but…" he bit at his lip in thought. "I…have experienced tragedies similar to your own and to the ones you took part in. I will allow you to peer into them just this once, if it will help you empathize."

Her guest’s demeanor seemed a bit off when he returned to the library, but she brushed that detail from her mind as she answered his question.  “I have,” she said, and her words reflected the confidence that she felt.  She was certain that the trinket she procured for their use would work, as it fit the standards he had offered her for what the item needed to represent.  She pushed the hair comb across the table in his direction, and spoke rather softly.  

“At the beginning, when the spheres shifted and my realm changed forms, becoming this,” she said, with a broad wave of her hand. “A woman braved Dolor Fluvium to make it to Porta Inferi, and she found herself in the Fifth Circle… the circle of Anger,” she said.  Her voice remained solid, never wavering, as she wove the tale for Story about why the comb had significance.  “You see, the woman’s son had been injured beyond medical help, but he would not die - because I would not allow death any longer,” she said, flatly.  She took a breath, continuing on.  “She, of course, perished, becoming one with the fighters in the circle… as most do who travel here… but I found this,” she said, gesturing once more to the trinket.  “And for a brief moment, I felt responsible for the woman’s death,” she said.  “I still feel a tinge of guilt as I look at it now,” she said, her voice only now showing any hint of emotion.

She grabbed the comb once more and pushed her chair back from the table and stood, walking until she was fairly close to Story.  “Of anything, this will be strong enough,” she said, and reached forward, grasping his hand in her own and pressing the comb into his palm, her fingers closing his own around it.  “So now…,” she said, looking up at him as she dropped her hands from his own.  “What must we do next?” she asked, a sinister glint to the smile that had snaked its way onto her lips.

-

The chains had been broken, and Dalanesca was no longer confined to Porta Inferi.  In her rage, she had caused the death of the Goddess Angela Rose, but she had merely been shattered into crystalline pieces and resurrected into the form of a child - which Dalanesca had been tasked, along with Adraejen, Angela’s husband, to raise until she matured back to adulthood.  Due to his success in helping her, Dalanesca had offered Story a place to stay in Porta Inferi as long as he liked, and the ability to come and go from the realm without traversing the Circles or the River of Grief.  

Truth be told, a weight had been lifted from Dalanesca’s shoulders.  Though her spheres remained as Death and Darkness, her demeanor had changed slightly.  She still carried the same sultry tones, the same dark gazes, but there was a light to her personality that had not been there before.  She was, perhaps, finally beginning to accept the changes that had come to her life with the loss of both her husband and child, and that was enough to restore some of the humor that she had once carried.

Now that she was not burdened with the task of raising Angela, she was able to spend more time away from her realm, but she still found comfort in the familiarity of it.  This particular day, she was enjoying a tumbler of whiskey in Paraiso Venenum, the strange, blood red sunshine of her realm shining down on her with an odd warmth.  The amber liquid brought a warm, rosy tint to her otherwise pale visage, and she felt a sense of calm that she had not experienced in quite some time.  This was, of course, thanks to Angela - her fellow Triune goddess crafted a rather ‘special’ whiskey and kept her in a seemingly endless supply.  She had, since her ascension, missed inebriation, and she welcomed the ability to reach it - though that was not her intention at the present moment.

Her thoughts drifted to Story, and how he had successfully kept his end of the “deal” the two had struck - but she had yet to keep hers for him.  She knew he would ask it of her when the time came, but she could not help but find herself hoping that it would be a while yet - she was enjoying having the company around the realm.  Dalanesca had grown accustomed to having company, with Marth having been there before the change, and then Angela after things had settled down… but now Angela was gone and her conversations with her guest (when he was there) were rather sparse.

She leaned forward, reaching for the small decanter that contained more of the drink, and filled her tumbler once more.  She called to one of her staff, one of the few who could actually speak (which she had acquired after the events between herself and Angela had taken place).  “Head down to the quarters we’ve granted to Story,” she instructed.  “If he’s there, would you ask him to join me here?” she said.  She made it rather clear that it was optional, and if he was there and chose not to join her, she would not be offended.  The female nodded and took off into the palace, seeking out Dalanesca’s guest.

Dalanesca, of course, intended to thank Story once more for his success in assisting her - but she also wanted to subtly bring up the fact that she still owed him something, and that she intended to stay true to her word if he still wished for her to.  While she waited to see if she would receive his company or not, she reclined a bit in her chair, and let loose the plait that held her hair in, the waves falling around her shoulders as she took on a much more relaxed position than she had in quite some time, finally feeling at peace, if only briefly.  She took another sip of whiskey, and looked up towards the strange sky that covered her realm, a small smile on her lips. 

The familiar, metallic tinge reached Story's nostrils. The scent was mingled with panic…with fear. He could hear the man's labored breathing…the beat of his frantic heart. Story was giving chase, but he did not exactly know why. It was not hatred or violence that drove him. Was it longing? Curiosity? He couldn't be sure. The appearance of the one who fled was unknown to him. Everything else about him seemed so familiar, however. He wanted….no needed to possess them. The dragon was on the hunt.

Story wound through impossibly-angled alleys, where cobblestone mingled with leaf-covered grass, and hole-riddled pumice, among other, less identifiable surfaces. What city was this? Adeluna? Hoja Mesto? It looked like every place he had been, but also none of them.

Pursuit led him into a small, unfurnished house. Well, unfurnished, save for a small vanity in the center of the living area with a dusty mirror atop it. For whatever reason, Story felt instantly drawn to this piece, forgetting all about the thrill of the chase. He wiped the mirror with his sleeve, and was instantly taken aback by his own reflection.
In contrast to his bemused expression, his reflection stared back with a sinister smirk, eyes ablaze with fiery Autumn colors, burning into his dull crimson gaze. Story reached out to touch the mirror's surface, for it rippled like the surface of a quicksilver solution. Suddenly, a dark tendril shot out from the murky thing, wrapping about his neck…



Story awoke with a start, grabbing at the servant's clothes. Having only come to retrieve him, she gasped, eyes wide with terror as he violently pulled her down close to him. His eyes were crazed and his skin was cold. It strangely seemed to warm up as he came fully lucid.
Quickly letting go of the servant, Story shook his head and apologized profusely. She seemed understanding that he was subject to vivid nightmares, and only repeated what she had the entire time she was trying to wake him.
"My lady Dalanesca requests your presence in Paraiso Venenum," she said with a small bow of her head.

"…Allow me a few moments to gather my thoughts, but tell her I will be along shortly," Story stated distractedly, patting her hand.




More than willing to grant the goddess' request, Story made his way through the palace to the gardens. She seemed to grow disconcertingly comfortable with him in a very short time following her release from her binding. As always, in all things, the dragon was very measured in his reactions and his words. In truth, he wasn't really certain how he felt about the matter - the possibility that there could be something more between them than was openly admitted; thus, his casually guarded, neutral demeanor was not deceptive in the least. It was actually accurate.

"Ironic you would enjoy your freedom in the very place you were bound to," Story observed as he approached. "I'm one to talk, though. I've been too attached to your library to be anywhere else myself."

Despite the clothing that was offered to him, he still seemed keen on wearing the ragged trousers and religious robes from Arri he had acquired. It was what he had arrived in to her realm. One could always get the sense that more regal finery had at one time been his norm, by his poise. He spurned it now, though, for whatever reason.

He smoothed his hair and beard, still tousled from a fitful sleep. Cracking his neck, and rubbing out a knot, he yawned while reclining into a seat near Dalanesca's. "Is this about business, or pleasure?" he asked, still somewhat distracted in his mind by the odd dream he'd had earlier. "If it is the former, I am in no hurry. I have time, and all of it is…a very sensitive topic for me, as you no doubt understand."

Not long passed before her staff member returned, politely informing her that Story had accepted her offer and would be to the garden in a short amount of time.  She thanked the girl, noticing that she seemed rather jumpy.  ”Is everything alright?” she questioned, tilting her head to one side.  

The servant nodded.  ”Yes, forgive me… your guest was a bit startled by my arrival and gave me a fright is all,” she responded.  Dalanesca gave her a nod, and she took that as a sign to take her leave, hurrying out of the gardens and back towards the palace, where she waited at the entrance in case anything was needed of her further.

It was not long before she caught the sound of Story’s distinct voice.  Dalanesca turned her attention in the direction that Story approached her from, and a smile spread out across her ruby lips.  She set down the stone tumbler from which she had been drinking more of the dark whiskey that Angela had provided her with, and clapped her hands together, sitting forward on her lounge-style chair.  ”Ah!  He arrives!” she said, with a bit of a laugh.  ”Don’t you enjoy things more when you aren’t forced to enjoy them?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at her guest.  Nodding as he mentioned the amount of time he had been spending in the library, she leaned back on her chair again, allowing her bare legs to bask in the blood-red sun as they poke out from the side-slit of her skirt.

”This is the first I can remember feeling actual relaxation in the time since my realm shifted,” she admitted, closing her eyes as she felt the warmth on her skin.  Staying in her reclined position, she reached for her drink as Story sat down near her.  She glanced over at him as she took a drink, and chuckled slightly.  ”You know, if the clothes that have been made available to you aren’t to your liking, I can acquire something different for you,” she said, her eyes scanning his form up and down and taking in the sorry state of his attire.  It was not a phrase said in an insulting manner, but more in an effort to let him know that he was welcome to ask for things if he wished.

”Truth be told,” she said, propping herself forward a bit with her hands. ”My intention was originally to discuss business - but if you are not in the mood for that, fine with me,” she said, the simplicity of her speech a bit striking in comparison to her regular demeanor.  ”Which, I suppose, would make this about pleasure, then!  It’s about time you join me for a drink, anyway,” she said, springing forward to reach for the tray with the decanter of whiskey on it.  She pulled one of the empty tumblers towards her, moving to pour a bit of the liquid into it, pausing after a bit had gone into the tumbler.  ”On second thought,” she said, and drained the amber whiskey she had poured into the tumbler, drinking it herself.  ”Angela Rose gave me this… I’m pretty sure she made it,” she said.  ”That being said…. It’s very good - but probably too good, if you catch my drift,” she said, giving him an awkward yet playful wink.

“Better idea,” she said, waving her arm towards the servant standing near the palace entrance.  The girl looked at her and she pointed at the tray near them.  ”Could you bring a bit more of a selection for Story, here, please?” she asked.  The girl nodded, looking a bit shocked at the informal way the goddess had addressed her, and disappeared in Domus Tenebris, coming back out a short moment later with a tray carrying a few more decanters, each with liquids of varying hues.  ”Thank you!” she said, her voice uncharacteristically cheerful.  The girl nodded, looking as though she were holding in laughter at the Reaper’s odd behavior, and walked back to her post near the palace entrance.  ”I keep these around because I like the taste, but they don’t do much for me anymore,” she said, with a bit of a frown.

”Now, I’m not sure what you’re most fond of,” she said, sliding sideways on her chair as she fiddled with a few of the decanters.  She poured a small drop of the whiskey she had been enjoying into one of the tumblers and swirled it around, so the amber liquid coated it.  She then reached for another crystal decanter that sat on the newly arrived tray, pouring another amber liquid into the glass.  ”But this is an aged, time old favorite of mine,” she said.  ”That little drop of… whatever this is that Angela has given me, will just give it an extra kick for you,” she added, setting the glass on a small table near Story’s chosen seat, clearly meant for him to drink.

She twisted back to recline once more, pushing her dark hair off of her bare shoulders.  With another drink, she turned her head to face Story.  She did not say anything at first, only letting her gaze rest on him for a moment.  Her mind drifted back to when Angela had still been locked in her child-like stasis, when Story had walked in on the two of them conversing in her kitchen - partially about him.  Her cheeks reddened slightly at the thought, and she turned her gaze away from him, looking up towards the bright red sun in the sky.  ”It’s been awhile since I’ve just sat and made idle chatter with someone, you know?” she said, with a bit of a sigh.  ”If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate the company?” At that moment, it became clear that, although the goddess was ecstatic and a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders - she was rather lonely, as the visitors to her realm were few and far between - which was not unusual, given the stylistic choice she had made in crafting the underworld - but it did not change the fact that she craved interaction with another.