Not in the least fatigued after five hours of restless sleep, Damian inhaled the last few bites of toast-positively ravenous. Swallowing his mouthful of bread, the teen leaned over his not-friend's shoulder.
"Light magic?", his forehead creased. "Common, human felons were in possession of Light Magical contraptions? Tt. Absurd!"
Raven set the object down, turning in her seat to face the ex-assassin, "And yet, despite the absurdity, that is the situation at hand.", massaging her temples, the demoness said (mostly to herself), "A large group of unremarkable individuals attempts to rob a bank, only to be found with advanced magical technology- Magic of the Light, even. It-it just doesn't make sense!", she huffed, her eyes throwing daggers at the offending item.
"We ought to direct our attention towards this particular tool before attempting to understand the entire situation,", Damian slid in to the seat opposite her, their legs almost touching beneath the small table, "let's find the purpose of this object then draw conclusions as to how the criminals acquired it and for what purpose."
Acknowledging the wisdom behind his words, the demoness resigned herself to dismantling the...thing: an evidently non-human piece of technology, easily fitting in to a person's hand, and a generally cylindrical shape adorned with several gemstones. Almost overbearingly Light- in both the colour sense of the word, and the preternatural meaning-the main body wasn't dissimilar to the tone of Raven's pale skin and the metallic band crossing its middle coloured innocently platinum, not forgetting the exhaustingly bright stones dotting the object (positively radiating Light magic).
It was despicable.
Well, to Dark creatures- such as demons.
Positively nauseating.
The Light did so desperately love to flaunt their...brand, if you will. Their...purity. But for all their shows of righteousness, a tool of theirs had ended up not only in the hands of humans, but in the hands of human criminals.
Raven's inner self cackled at the thought of shoving this in the face of a pompous ruler of the preternatural Light - for they were all, by her judgment, stuck up bastards.
Ooh, they'd be reeling!
"There are runes at the bottom,", Raven beat the glee out of her voice, "If I'm not mistaken, these are runes for transportation- to be specific, portals."
Her eyes, pinkish with excitement flew up to Damian's, both minds sprinting along the same track of thought.
Voice cool, he asked to see the potential transportation device. A finger skimming along the device's smooth surface, Damian held it at an angle so that the equally bright light lit the circular face at the end.
As though two bulbs had been switched on in his sockets, the boy's eyes widened, his lips making way for pointed teeth.
"Well, well.", a satisfied chuckle echoed in the side-room of the Batcave, "The Council will be thrilled."
The malicious undertone as Damian all but growled the last word struck a chord within the demoness, her breath escaping her at his tone.
Well Azar damn me, smug Damian is apparently a turn-on. Okay then. Shit.
ISSUES.
Attempting a discreet exhalation, Raven managed to heave a heavy sigh. How very subtle. Redirecting her attention, the demoness' teeth flashed, gaze hungrily taking in every tell-tale stroke marked on the bottom of the device.
Oh no, they wouldn't be taking this to any rulers. No, no. For, stamped on one of the circular ends of (what Raven now knew to be) the portal-summoner, lay the smug seal of the infamous organisation of the Light. The 'protectors' of humanity from the Dark. The do-gooders of the preternatural on Earth.
The Council.
A worldwide collection of millions of Mages, Elemental Manipulators, Shifters, etc, all of the Light orientation.
To put a long story short, thousands of years before, when the gods and various immortals had decided to take a step back from the realms, Light preternaturals of Earth, and those who continued crossing over (from their realms and planets) realised something: 'Oh fuck. Humans are pretty useless in defending themselves. A handful of demons could wipe them out. We should protect the poor sods!'.
The creatures of the Dark, however didn't give a shit.
Humans, being a key -and often only- source of food for the Dark, it wouldn't bode well if that supply was under Light protection.
But all was well..ish.
...Until the Council's actions against demonfolk, Dark shifters, Necromancers etc brought forth tensions so high, the Great War broke out.
But that's a story for another time, when it's actually relevant.
Returning to our lovebirds.
"I'll presume you want to find out the exact events surrounding this device?", Damian's head tipped in the portal-creator's general direction.
Before Raven had the opportunity of offer a suitable response, who would burst through the doors like Snow White spring cleaning?
"Little D! Raven! It's Boxing Day! Get your sorry asses out of there and come watch The Lion King!", Dick chirruped, yanking his brother's arm of and causing the younger boy's head to almost meet the floor. "ITS DISNEY YOU WILL LOVE IT!", Dick's smile was positively manic.
Not wishing to meet the same fate as the teen currently threatening his older adopted-brother, Raven slid the transport device off the table- in to a plate sized portal to her pocket dimension- then exited her chair. And the room. And the Batcave. And the fifteenth corridor. And the ground floor. And the planet. But maybe not the last one.
Whilst Damian was hauled behind her via the nuisance named Richard Grayson, in that moment, he had an odd surge of sympathy for a sack of potatoes: now that the ex-assassin knew of the vegetables' suffering.
Next on Damian's agenda (after rescuing the animals of Earth), liberate potatoes.
A truly noble goal.
Deposited on the carpeted floor at the end of a row of seats (in the Manor's private cinema) Damian allowed his thoughts to wander in to be realm of dry humour, entertaining the ideas of death via Disney. Or Dreamworks. Or *gasp* Dick chanting unholy renditions of Disney, Dreamworks, and Britney Spears songs.
Oh, the horror.
*Enter Damian's Soul*
*Exit Damian's Soul*
An agonisingly prolonged period of time later(during which Dick belted his heart out; the others released cries of dismay and his animated enthusiasm; and Damian noted the heavy Shakespearean influence to the movie)the credits rolled.
The Lion King?
Pah!- Hamlet with Lions.
Nevertheless, the film ended, leaving Raven and Damian with throbbing skulls humming an enraging, relentless tune from the movie. A headache that would no doubt nest in their minds for a painstaking amount of time.
Free from the tyranny of the Disney fanatic, both part-demons made it their business to be the first out of the cinema double-doors: ahead of the other Titans, Adyn, Vic, Bart and Barry. Oh, and the evidence that the gods fucked up at least thrice, Tim, Stephanie and Jason- Babs and Cassie wouldn't be included in that description, nor in their shambolic affairs.
A set plan in mind, Damian and Raven came upon her room, entering with equal vigour. Rummaging through her bedside drawer, the demoness retrieved a handful of trinkets, dropping a few in to Damian's palm.
Not having exchanged a word, she continued her scavenger hunt for items, clawing beneath her bed. Handing finding purchase, Raven tugged the box towards her, unveiling its contents with a sinister turning of the lips.
Smirking, her amethyst eyes flared carmine as they met Damian's, before she redirected her line of sight. With seamless fluidity, the demoness rose to her feet, the dagger of Pride secured in her right hand, it's pommel funnelling comfort through its leather-wrapped grip.
The amber glow issuing through Raven's uncovered window set Damian's green eyes ablaze with colour, just like it shone off the white gracing the world outside. In spite of the sun, the temperature remained in the sub-zeroes, though no flakes had fallen from the heavens so far.
"Do you have a place in mind?", Raven shattered the silence.
Shrugging, Damian replied, "I have contacts. The Blue Dragon is an acceptable place to begin."
The Blue Dragon was one of Gotham's preternatural hideouts, anyone who'd ever set foot near the preternatural black market had been at least once. Under the guise of a dingy nightclub, The Blue Dragon had escaped detection from the Council for decades.
"Good. If there's been any news of the Council selling tech, it'd be all over there.", Raven appraised, adding, "I know some Dark witches in the area, I'll see what I can find out from them."
Plan set, the demoness twirled her wrist, summoning a portal for Damian -leading to an alleyway by the 'nightclub'- which he duly crossed. Disappearing in to a swirling gaze of purple, Raven dismissed any thoughts of what the others would think: they knew Damian and Raven to be private people, a few hours away wouldn't kill anyone, not raise extreme suspicion.
***
Contemplating getting on her knees and thanking the rune-masters of old for their ingenuity, the demoness drew her cloak tighter around her, relishing in the warmth brought via insulation runes. Azar bless those rune-masters, Azar bless them indeed.
Heels announcing her entrance in to the establishment before her, the demoness flicked back her hood, grazing her eyes around the room.
Jingling meeting her ears, Raven's lips lifted at the decor: atop an ashy counter made of some wood like substance, empty portraits haunted dull frames, as though the people had been snatched away; her boots sank in to one of many rugs strewn about the floor (all in dark colours with 'mysterious' symbols); topped by dim lighting; and hangings of everything from jarringly humanlike voodoo dolls -that one on the far right looked an awful lot like a man who'd been reported missing last month, how odd- and tapestries depicting the most morbid of preternatural occurrences (Great Wars, the slaughter of the last Lady of the Trees, the Night Children's revolt of 1150AD etc) forcing the demoness to quell tremors at the mere sight of them.
Made to entertain the foolish humans who spent their lives chasing after the 'supernatural', yet it was a witch's shop nonetheless. And her wares were deadly useful, one simply needed to know the way of the trade.
As it were, Raven knew more than simply 'the way of the trade', she had this business down to a tee.
Opposite Raven (who hadn't moved an inch besides her eyes) the doors leading to the back room creaked open, an inhalation sounding in the incense-ridden air.
Pointed teeth flashing, the demoness drawled, "Hello Marlena"
A.N:
Hello!
In all honesty, there isn't anything much to say other than-
Thank youuuuuu!
-Bats :3