"Aw, I'm sorry. Apparently it's not, like, classical hell or anything, but it's not all that fun. You get one object, the thing you valued most in your life, and the rest is just an infinite plane of beigey dust. People who got houses and stuff get all the contents, which is handy, and there's some stuff you can do with, like, mud bricks made from the soil and water from someone's sink, but overall it's kind of bizarre and terrible. I'd have been alright, I'm more about people than things, but I'm definitely glad I got my summon in. Even though it led to, you know, unpleasantness."
"I would like that to not happen to people. I was thinking the humanitarian benefits of publicizing daeva would be enormous, but apparently I will also have improved thing things for a subset of dead people, go me."
"Yeah, improving things for dead people winds up being more important than doing it for living people a lot of the time. We spend more time this way. Hell does its collective best to make Limbo as livable as possible, every time there's a concordance we send through necessary goods. I imagine the klen-takk do the same, to whatever extent they can do that with their fiddly little powers."
"You're going to have to translate me that word. Angels, I assume, but...?"
"Oh. Yeah, it means- eh, it's nuanced. Sort of a fusion of words that implies that half the time they set their halos to shine our of their asses instead. It's a pretty recent construction, the slang gets shifted around periodically as people think of new nasty things to call them."
"I did detect racism when I mentioned demons around angels and vice-versa."
"Yep! Racism is merited, they're prissy little bastards and you have joined the winning team. I mean, I've known decent angels, but for the most part- ech. Plus, when they're nasty, they're nasty. Belinda was not a lone case."
"Because we're better than them? And I believe I mentioned that they're prissy little bastards."
"But some summoners turn into angels. Or fairies. How does the sorting work?"
"Yeah, I think prissy bastardry or an unhealthy preoccupation with neatness leads to becoming an angel and coolness and/or rampant egotism gets you demonhood. And people who are generally alright but kind of boring end up as fairies. Fairies are alright."
"I don't mind if you don't agree with me on the angels thing," Ari reassures him hastily. "You got more summoning in, you're friends with a bunch and all. I just talk about them like that because it's fun. It's like with the French, back on Earth."
"Filthy treaty-breaking land-stealing snobs is what they are. Or were, back when I was around. Possible they've changed by now, though I'd doubt it."
"I believe these days they are principally famous for food, and there are lingering jokes about their surrender during World War Two."
"Hah. They have changed, then. Their food was vile, but their soldiers would keep coming at you after you'd damn well buried them. Which we did, of course."
"What? We made the cheese! French cheese was- agh. You people willingly eat M&Ms, I shouldn't even be surprised."
(As an afterthought, Ari's other hand contains a similar cracker, which is happily consumed.)
(Ari makes pleased noises.)
"Huh," says Cam, who likes brie and honey but not ale. "It's all right."
"I'll take it. The French made horrible-smelling mold-cheeses which I would not allow in my home, so I'll spare you that."