It is here that he and Isabella are hanging out, unprotected by any wards, when someone back in New Kystle thinks to check.
"Darling!" exclaims Yerena Liandril. "I've found Adarin! That liar Antelier said he was nowhere to be found but I just double-checked, and he's with that extraplanar hussy in her plane. Holding her hand. Those odd birds they have are practically on top of each other. How is your mana supply, darling?"
He goes to go get the kids.
It takes a bit of coordination and Gervail has to raise his voice to get one of their kids to pay attention, but they manage. Within half an hour, the couple arrives in the parking garage, looking around for Adarin and Isabella.
Of course, they weren't aware of the effects of traveling to this plane. Once they arrive, a small penguin appears near Gervail.
"I'm prrretty sure if we duck through the portal and they chase us my security aren't equipped to handle mages," mutters Isabella. "But if you want to try scramming you could maybe magic their daemons to the floor and let them be confused that they can't just walk away from them for a while, we could go through and get on warded property and bust the portal? I haven't announced this one, we can just redo it later." She has her bow off her pine and strung now, and one hand on an arrow.
"It's certainly an option. I'm not sure how much I like running, however. I want none of them to ever come after me, not - hide in a warded location for the next century until they're all dead or have given up," he says quietly. "But if this goes badly we can do that."
Her cat licks his forepaw, still confused about existing but not enough to distract him from the desire to be tidy.
Isabella doesn't put down her bow. She looks with unimpressed, chin-raised arrogance at the intruders.
It is in his very best frigidly polite tone. He's had a while to practice it, it's pretty good.
"You think I slipped him something or cast something on him and it worked where all your... relatives... failed because I'm working with different stuff," says Isabella bluntly in their language. "It's actually not a ridiculous thing to wonder from your perspective of not being close enough to the situation to have gotten any details since we are not friends... but the answer is no."
"Outfit," sniffs the cat.
"Yes, that," she says, blinking in approving puzzlement at her new daemon. "Are suggestive."
"I am," mutters Isabella, "tempted to throw my outfit at her head."
"Inelegant. I see. A different style of dress does not mean she will fling herself at me like a back-alley whore. Perhaps," he says, angry and deciding to go on the offensive, "you are merely culture-shocked by the both of us being near the same age? I assume if she were twelve this entire situation would be much more amenable to you."
"Pish tosh," says Yerena. "We mentioned Elasali to you early to give you time to get used to the idea. There would be no reason to expect it to be more than an idea, maybe a prolonged engagement, until there could have been children. Are you expecting us to believe that she instigated nothing whatever? That you suddenly adopted the inclination to press suit against all the trends of your history with no intervention of drug, magic, or seduction? It isn't as though there were no mages whatsoever in your age bracket if that was the problem; we'd have been delighted to have you for a son-in-law but there are plenty of cousins about if it's completely intractable."
"And Isabella was careful with my Adarin," pipes up Vern. "She didn't just care about getting something she wanted from him, she liked him."
"She could be an extremely capable actress," points out Gervail. "And it's all an act to get what she wants out of you."
Adarin pauses, then he laughs. "If you knew anything about how we met, you would understand how utterly absurd that is. Not to mention knowing her. But that's the entire problem, isn't it, you don't know her and you're trying to pass judgement from afar because I made a choice that doesn't benefit you."
"Aren't they?" mutters Path, in English.
"Thank you for your concern, but I would like to ask you a question, Mrs. Liandril. Where were you in this crusade of protecting my personal choice when I was getting drugs in my food and drink regularly? When Lenora would drape herself over me because she liked seeing me try not to squirm? Did you hunt someone down then? Maybe get them to stop? Or is the idea that I would find 'my own people' so utterly devoid of anything I can admire that I gave up trying and decide to look elsewhere utterly foreign?"
"And I - I mean - Yerena," says the cat, stumbling over the question of his identity with his memories, "did make a remark to Lenora, once, but she ignored - it."
Yerena picks up her cat and pets him.
Vern is picked up. She buries her head into Adarin's chest and he pets her. His face is an emotionless mask that Isabella would recognize quite well.
"You are new to your daemons, so let me give you advice. Do not let anyone touch them. It will be worse than anything else in the world. It will be like the person is everywhere, too close, in your soul, in your head, and there's no escape no matter how much you want to get away. You try and distract yourself from it, but you can't. You try to think, but you can't, you try to breathe but all you can feel is that they're there, that's it, that's all you have. Every second feels like an eternity of desperate attempts to do something to get it to stop, but every - single - moment you are reminded that there is nothing you can do. There is no escape, there is no getting away, there is no stopping it, it's agony of the very worst kind and it just goes on and on."
Pensive kagu pet.
"For reference, it was the most wretched experience of my life. That includes the invasion, mana deprivation, and the loss of all members of my immediate family but my sister. So don't you dare sit there and play your petty little games of bloodlines and politics, trying to manipulate me into thinking you are on my side, not after that. I know better. I don't give a damn about your false concerns and your worries for the fate of magic everywhere, I will not go back. You can try to blame it on Isabella, but if I'm perfectly honest she's barely got anything to do with why I left. She is a reason to be here, not a reason to not be there."
"But that wasn't us, that was Enathira," says the cat. "She's only one person."
"It was," says Isabella, "but she wasn't the only person to try it that day. I'd recommend you be very, very careful with your cat and your penguin, when you go home."
"Hang all the goddesses from their favored stars, is this what you had to tolerate seven days a week back there?" mutters Isabella in English.
"I do not think that is any of your concern," he sighs in Saratese.
"It is, it's everyone's concern - you're the only member of your bloodline that's cooperative, your sister doesn't care at all, magic will be lost for centuries and if a fourth half-blood shows up there will be no one powerful enough to even try to stop them, it'll be another coming of the first half-blood," argues Gervail. "You have a responsibility."
"She destroyed a city," says Vern, pained.
"The first half-blood destroyed nations, we got off lucky."
Gervail nods along to his penguin.
"In comparison to Zeviana, he is incredibly cooperative. She's -" Gervail looks at Adarin, and switches the word he was going to use. "- unwilling to even be with a man, at least Adarin has proven to like women, even if I don't approve of his preferences of them." He motions to Isabella.
"That only makes me like her more," says Adarin dryly. "Because I am feeling contrary."
"Well, it might, if you were going to use your obvious hold on Adarin - wherever it may have come from - to convince him to be reasonable," sniffs Yerena.
"I am being entirely reasonable. I do not want to go back to a place with people that hurt me for most of my life and I do not want to have sex with people I don't like."
"So it's a better idea to go to another strange plane with strange... animal things and going with another girl you barely know that's probably manipulating you and possibly damning all of our magic to dwindle until we have the first half-blood, part two?"
Adarin looks at him. "You do not want me to answer that," he replies delicately.
"Do you think this is a game, young man?" demands Gervail.
"People could get hurt," says the penguin. "This is serious."
"Of course it is. But so is my ability to make choices, and you are continually making a mockery of that, I thought I should return the favor."
"You are making bad choices, and have been ignoring all of the best-intentioned advice, and the fact that you are capable of abandoning your every responsibility does not mean that we ought to stand idly by and tolerate this - squandering of potential safety and value," entreats Yerena. "And my suspicions about what this woman here may have done to you to prompt this - this personal upheaval of yours most certainly remain."
Gervail snorts. "Fine, what are your counter-arguments?"
"One exercise in futility it is then," he replies dryly. "You realize, that if I do everything you want me to do, if I go back, find a random mage girl, impregnate her, raise a huge family of lots of little mages with lots and lots of power - things stay exactly the same. The millennia long game just keeps going on and on. Another bloodline will get started once mine starts dwindling, probably by killing lots of innocent people, and in the mean time - everyone that's not at the top of the struggle will get stepped on, abused, and mistreated. Nothing will change. Maybe that sounds good to you, maybe you like that you're a refugee from a horrific near-extinction of an entire world because of a lust for power, but I don't think so. I think scrabbling for more power is futile if you don't use it with care.
"So I'm cheating. Alternative options, rather than the same, tired old ones used over and over again. Because this? The society? Isn't working. I don't think it ever has."
Adarin considers. "I am not sure if it's in my best interests to tell you, honestly. If you react badly then you can use the explanation as evidence against me to round up mages to try and stop me. You could maybe help, but honestly your motivations are utterly different to mine and I'm no longer desperate for help. Rest assured, you'll find out eventually."
"Adarin, all this secrecy and sudden erratic behavior and making grandiose vague statements about the future has me very concerned that it might not only be half-bloods that have... issues," says Yerena nervously. "And - our motivations differ? Are you not interested in preventing more mass slaughter?"
"I'm not insane, at least I don't think so, but if I am then it's possibly the second best thing to happen to me. The 'sudden' erratic behavior is actually not very sudden, I've just stopped caring about playing politics with you. Not to worry, I am entirely interested in preventing mass slaughter. It's one of my major goals, actually. But I've got some others that I'm pretty sure you don't have."
Adarin sighs. "Because I am so paranoid due to my childhood at your family's hands that I can only bring myself to trust two living people, one of which is my sister, the other is standing right next to me. I am not used to people being genuinely concerned, I'm used to people trying to use me because they want magic grandchildren. Case in point." He motions to them both. "Your first train of thought when you got here? My girlfriend is a number of nasty things and that I must be out of my mind, along with ignoring all of my arguments for why I do not want to go back. Yes, you have legitimate concerns, and I would address them, but you have done nothing to make me think that you are not trying to do exactly what you accused Isabella of. Manipulation, not the seduction."
"She's organized, and she's not - doing things because I like them. She plans new things herself, plots out new potential angles, and goes for goals she wants while stepping on as little toes as she can. When I offered her various problems that New Kystle has, she started proposing solutions, not 'Let's run away together where those problems will never bother you again.' In fact - how she handled our whole relationship in general was absolutely wonderful, she did not rush me. I took ages to kiss her and she didn't blame me once, didn't get snippy or demanding, or anything. When I was basically broken she never lost patience, or threw me aside, or tried to steer me towards a goal she wanted - she waited for me to get better and did everything she could to help.
"Before you get all insinuating, no it's not because she's pretty, or because she batted her eyelashes at me or some other nonsense. It is pretty blatantly obvious how badly those tactics worked on me in New Kystle. She's reasonable, she's systematic, and she's brilliant. I took a chance and trusted her, and she has yet to betray that trust."
He fixed the mage couple with a look. "So it's actually kind of annoying that you keep insinuating that she's something she is very obviously not."
"... Not really? It's not a, 'I will do this plan because Isabella said so,' it's - 'This is a good plan that will do good things and I want the results, so I will help with it.' I don't really have outside peers to judge, but - my sister has pronounced us 'cute.' If you have ever spoken to her for more than five seconds you would understand how... Protective she can get. If there's manipulation going on I am so far out of my league that it's not even funny."
"You're being annoyingly cryptic and unhelpful," says Gervail. "If you would come clean and tell us your plan we might be inclined to help."
Adarin sighs. In English, he mutters, "Such an exercise in futility..."
"It's rude to speak in another language in front of people who don't understand it," says Gervail's penguin.
Adarin continues in English, "Furthermore, I'm not sure what they could do aside from speeding up the process. It's a useful thing to have, and if they weren't from New Kystle I would explain it to them in a heartbeat, but they are."
"So they're not that useful even if they wholeheartedly want to help," says Isabella in Saratese, glancing at the visitors with a look that says look how polite I am, aren't you pleased?, "and unlikely to do anything more than get in the way anyway."
"That's what it sounds like," agrees Path.
"And so the only likely advantage of being more talkative is that they start being annoying in a different way. Am I missing anything?"
"I have a mom. Woo, scary." She turns to Adarin. "Do you think she'll scream and run away if I let on that I have a father too?" she asks in a stage whisper.
"Actually I stuck around after she showed up, knowing full well I could have just gone to a better place to live and then never come back. I stuck around for civil duty and all that. Then Enathira did her thing and that is what broke me. I thought that was clear? It's not Isabella's fault, please stop blaming her," corrects Adarin.
"Mm," says Gervail noncommittally.
"You sound like a megalomaniac," says Yevena. "Occupying yourself."
"I assure you it's purely an aesthetic I put on."
"It's a nice bonus. I was always a little concerned about what would happen in two centuries when everyone but my sister was gone. Now it's not as much of an issue!"
(Also because they're making everyone immortal. They can share the love.)
"The others live normal-length lives," informs Adarin.
(Indeed it would be. Though if they don't manage it by the time they start talking about having children, if they ever do, Adarin would prefer to have girls. Immortality for his kids, and all.)
"Does this help?" inquires Isabella.
"Only if the children are any more helpful than you!"
"...I would be worried," says Isabella. "If we had children more helpful than us. Would they sleep?"
"Uh huh."
Gervail is kind of really, really concerned about them, now. They could destroy the world. This could be extremely bad. He glances at his wife.
"I'm a little concerned," he says quietly.
It is an understatement.
(She's not holding her bow anymore, but it's still strung.)
"What are you getting at?" Yerena asks.
"I'm getting at: I'm not impressed with you. I don't think you can help me or Adarin with anything we want to do in any ways we need, in the form of practical help or advice. Including needs like 'charming conversation'. You're not charming, you're not useful, and I'd really rather be getting on with my afternoon than talking to you, so now I'm getting increasingly uncharming myself in case I can get you to go away. Since I'm not planning to shoot you just for being irritants. If you would like any reasonable demonstration of my general harmlessness we can talk about that. Otherwise I'm willing to give you up to half an hour spent checking you into a hotel, as a courtesy and since I don't want you bivouacking on top of my garage, and writing up a little phrasebook so you can order room service until you have enough mana to go home, and then I'm done."
He gives a brief explanation of some of the specifics - they wouldn't know what hotels or room service are - and then says, "That being said, I agree with Isabella in that neither of us would like to make nice."
"We haven't been rude," points out Gervail.
"Actually, you really, really have been. We are being extremely reasonable, though maybe not personable. You've spent most of your time here commenting on my choices in women, or how we've been incredibly unhelpful when you've been just as unhelpful to us. We don't owe you anything, and you only showed up because I was inconvenient. Let's not pretend it's anything more. I will not stop being inconvenient to you because you ask me to," he says icily. "Also it is really quite rude to insult someone's girlfriend. I don't know where you thought otherwise."
"I acknowledged earlier," says Isabella, "that from the outside it probably does look kind of like I did something to him. But you have yet to make the corresponding acknowledgment: you are not entitled to a look from the inside. You have my statement that I didn't do anything and his statement that I didn't do anything and plenty of new information about what happened to him the last time he was on New Kystle to go on for explaining what changed his tune. That's what you get. Do you want a hotel room or do you have the mana to go home now or do you want to wander the streets of a strange city with daemons you don't know how to handle and a language you don't know how to speak?"
Path hops forward a few steps towards the penguin, since she's still on the ground and the cat is in Yerena's arms.
"Crash course on how to be a daemon. Don't touch other people besides your person - really really don't. Daemons are fine, though, you can touch the cat. You should get your own name. You can't get too far away from him or it hurts. If you can't be around him all the time for some reason, especially if people try to grab you, you need to get a few hundred yards away even though it hurts, but teleporting will work to cheat it out of taking too long. You don't have to eat but you can if you want. You sleep when he does. I think you're an Adelie penguin but I don't know what it means about you. Questions?"
Soon enough he's done. He rips out the page and hands it to Gervail. "There you are. Please tell anyone who asks that I have not gone the way of my mother. Also that I would prefer not to have visitors."
"No," says the penguin quietly. "Thank you."
Isabella finds a hotel. She hops on her cloud-pine, kisses Adarin goodbye, and leads the couple out of the parking garage at walking pace. She gets them a room: "Charge my card. They don't speak a lick of English - no, nor Spanish. You have someone who speaks Tagalog on staff, really? Well, it's not that either, sorry. If they make trouble, call me. They have a phrasebook but if they're incomprehensible also call me. They'll probably leave without formally checking out. They're from far away and might need the amenities demonstrated for them - key card, plumbing, lamps."
The hotel person swipes her card and shows the visiting mages to a room, where he does indeed demonstrate the key card, plumbing, and lamps.
Gervail is curious about lots of things in the hotel, but obviously he can't ask questions. He doesn't have the drive to try working through lots of hand motions, so he doesn't. He assumes it's all magic and leaves it at that. At least it's a nice place to stay while they wait for their mana to regenerate.
"I will admit this along with my other experiences of your world puts your past offer to build me a house there in a somewhat unflattering light. I just hope they don't wreck the aircon unit in their hotel room or something and cost me a few hundred bucks, that would be irritating." Snuggle. "How did you grow up marinating in that and come out so great?"
"I was going to put it deep in the night side where no one goes because of the cold. Probably next to the portal at same. So you'd be far away from them," he says. "I think you have my father to blame, mostly. He was good at fathering, kept me sane with lots of stories. You would have liked him."
... Snuggle.
"I didn't know those existed, but I'm pretty certain that I'm not being mind-controlled. I mean - what are the effects of some of them? Are they subtle or really obvious? I'm not getting suspicious of you, I am just paranoid and would like to keep an eye out for them. Because... Ick."
"I have a birth-blessing immunity, for which I'm very thankful, because, yeah, ick. I don't actually know much about them - and wards ward them off as well as they do other things so they'd have to aim at you while you were away from home and not on the clan lands either. I can write Metis if you want to know more. I don't think they're impossible to fight, any of them, if that helps? But I'm not sure how subtle they get."
"That helps, it's just a little - disturbing," he says. He stops to think. "Nothing I've done has been particularly - strange or completely unlike me. I see a logical train of events that leads to a conclusion that's not - absurdly perfect or something. It's nice, better than I could have hoped, but if it were perfect we would be finished helping everyone in a weekend. So I stand by my earlier analysis and say there was no strange magic involved."
Actually, now that he thinks about it, he should probably get on that anyway. To be safe.
"I could put them on clothes, I think that would work. Maybe reinforcing your silks to be like body armor. If I run out of places to put tattoos I will be extremely surprised. There's a lot of room on my back left already, if that runs out then I suppose we can move on to creative things, like the bottom of my feet or something."