Losing My Religion; tag {Dean & Evelyn}

The last weeks had been troublesome ones for Illyria. Between the disquiet in the city that had finally seemed to draw to a climax, she had been occupied for much of the last days, keeping herself busy hunting down those that wished a violent end, and allowing them their wish. Those in Angel’s thrall had been continuously busy as well, their own conflict with the demonic creatures and those whom fell under the sway of Eve had kept them well occupied, and though she had aided them in several such conflicts, her contact with them remained in lessening quantities. She suspected this was due to the conflicted allegiances that many of them still held, and believed her to hold, though she held no allegiance to any creature, person or thing on this world and she had made that clear to all of those around her on many occasions. Still, the divide between those that Winifred Burkle had held in high esteem worried at Illyria, fretting at already frayed nerves, and as she saw more and more anger and resentment building between those under Angel’s rule and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, it served onto to agitated her further. The fact that she had concealed the nature of Wesley’s alter-ego from them had not served her well, but she had suspected that there would be little to gain from such a truth and thus far she had been proven correct.

She had known that the humans possessed a small mind, but she had thought that the concept of ‘him’ and ‘not him’ would have been clear to them, especially after her possession and reincarnation of Fred – Fred was Fred, and Illyria, was not. Still, they struggled with the concept, incapable of separating their anger at Cain’s actions from those of Wesley. She had been forced to reconcile the distinction early on, after the brutal beating that she had sustained at Cain’s hands – a shock, but one that she had recovered from, severing those memories from those that aligned with Wesley in her thoughts, and allocating them into the part of her memories that acquainted themselves with the servants of the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart. She had continued to tally reasons with which to wage war with the firm, and their ‘Senior Partners’. Their latest excursion into the realm of demonic possession was not surprising, but their cruel use of Wesley was not something that she would merely… abide. She had hoped that with the demon-mother’s power fluctuating the control of even the most powerful of demons such as those that ruled the firm she might have found an opportunity with which to use this to her advantage, to find a weakness in the firm’s safe holdings and attack them while their guard was down, but she had been unable to make such circumstances occur.

So it was, that she paced, restless and uneasy, staring at the boxes half-packed and scattered about her sanctum, eyeing the dispersed items with a frustration that bordered on homicidal, or would have, if they had been animate. As it was, she could merely stare at them and wish they were someone, or something that she could shatter without remorse. She missed the days when there were worlds at her disposal, worlds of things and creatures that she could ravish, ravage and decimate without a second thought except for her own pleasure. She was weary of this confinement. She was weary of being alone.

The once God-King found her thoughts turning, then, veering, even as her gaze turned to focus onto the sarcophagus, the contents within it for once not the first blazing thought to cross her mind as she stared at it, and pondered what it was, and what it represented. There was one, that could understand, that held at least some small degree of potential of understanding what it was that Illyria felt, and experienced, and suffered, but since the first encounter between herself and Onyx – the one otherwise called Evelyn Mercer – the self proclaimed High Priestess had not spoken with Illyria. Illyria had followed her, often, almost entirely and exclusively that first week, to ensure that the human was whom she claimed, and what she claimed. Illyria may have once been no more concerned about betrayal than she was the breeze – but things had changed much since those lifetimes past, and Illyria had been more than a little suspicious about the girl’s story and her words, her pledge of loyalty and faith. She had found nothing to disprove the girl’s words, and she had nearly approached her again a half a dozen times since their first violent encounter, but she anticipated that there would be some false expectation of words, of some form of recompense for the violence that Illyria had done to the human the last time that they had met, and Illyria had not been prepared to offer such things.

Still, the girl had been in Illyria’s thoughts, more than she might have wished to admit. There were so few in the age that Illyria had felt any degree of kinship, however small, with. Her gaze snapped upwards, turning towards the catwalk between the roof and the room in the center of the warehouse that she occupied, her head tilting curious to study the figure that dropped along the metal railings, tinted purple and blue through the plexiglass ceiling above her. Dean. Her frosted blue lips were touched with a faint smile, as she turned, facing the frame that served as doors where he would most likely enter, a brow tilting upwards as she waited for his approach. ”Have you been again injured, Warrior?” She questioned, with something that approached a glint of humor, if she was possessed of such a thing as she waited for him.

With Eve dead, monsters resumed their average killing sprees. There were no more rabid monsters and out of control vampires. While vampires still proved to be a problem (because they always would be) it wasn’t half as bad as before. There was no more thrall for them to be pulled under; no more baser instincts to be driven into. It was better now and one success for the good guys, which, frankly, didn’t happen often enough. He missed it when they were able to set out on a hunt, come back with a few bruises and a success under their belt. This was one of those times. It took out a piece of the big picture and left the rest. Of course the fighting wasn’t even close to over. But, at least the monsters were more tolerable than they had been before. Their worries were less and at the end of the day, that was all he could really hope for. They had to take every victory that they could. Dean thought it was worth the effort to feel good about it and he had celebrated, absolutely. He kicked back with his friends, set back a few beers and it felt good. For a long time, the whole Eve mess had him under an intense amount of pressure. The weight of it had been drilling into him, especially since a lot of his research had been leading them nowhere at first. It wasn’t until he met Illyria and that trip to Wolfram & Hart that they had started to make headway and managed to finish it completely. One trip in the past, then to Eve later and the monsters were back to normal and Dean felt like they had finally accomplished something that should give them a little hope. In times like this, every little bit counted for something.

There were days where it didn’t look like anything good was going to happen again. Sometimes, he forgot what precisely he was supposed to hang onto and it was in his family and in whatever success they could grab that he remembered it. They saved lives and helped people who would otherwise suffer horrific deaths at the hands of the supernatural. While he might not be in line to really save the world and while he couldn’t save everyone, a few lives was more than enough. And when they stopped Eve, that was more than just a few lives. They saved a lot more than that by bringing the creatures back down to normal levels. They were still dangerous and he still wanted to kill all of those sons of bitches, but at least they weren’t out of control. The less people that wound up dead, the better. To think that that could have stayed that way longer left him unsettled. The idea of monsters running the Earth, taking out as many humans as they could and being virtually unstoppable was one of his worst nightmares. And Dean Winchester really wasn’t lacking for nightmares. It was half a wonder when he didn’t have one when he fell to bed. It was a lucky night when he slept peacefully, with dreams that weren’t filled with his fears or the monsters that lurked in the shadows, practically counting down the days until he finally screwed up once in for all and it was light’s out for the oldest Winchester. But, those monsters could keep dreaming because he wasn’t counted out yet. And if he could help it, he would be in the game a lot longer now. Dean had a lot of fight left in him.

If it wasn’t for Illyria though, he didn’t think that they would have made it this far. She was the one who gave him a name. No, he wasn’t blind to the fact that she wasn’t human and was more than aware that it brought some degree of appal when he confessed his connection to Illyria. And while she was strange, naturally, and seemed to live in some kind of villainous lair, she helped their side. And after you slept with someone, human or not, the quirkiness of the other person couldn’t really be that bad. He dropped down and through the entrance in time to hear her greeting. He couldn’t help the smirk that appeared at it, accompanied with a quick chuckle. “Not this time, Blue. I’m not half bad.” He continued his way in before he paused. “I figured you should know we finished the job. Eve’s dead.” Naturally, he was proud of that and he didn’t know if she had already noticed. Probably. He was sure he wasn’t telling her something that she didn’t already know, but it wasn’t the full reason for him showing up. Thanking someone was never easy, however. It wasn’t something that Dean did very often, actually. Especially not to someone that he knew was in the grey area somewhere. “Also, y’know, you pretty much gave us that opening to get her,” he began, hoping that it insinuated that he was leading into a thank you. She helped them out and Dean gave credit where it was due. With that whole thing, they could have used all the help that they could have gotten. Alone, they hadn’t been doing too well. It had been touch and go for a bit, so he obviously had to appreciate the help they were given.

Illyria was pleased, as such things went, to see that the human had come through his encounter unscathed or perhaps more accurately, not scathed enough to have left any permanent damage, dismemberment or death. Their previous encounter has been a pleasant one, from the violence to the finish, and she had felt no small sense of satisfaction at having been successful in her ventures, and in the fact that she had passed along the information that those acquainted with the demon-induced frenzy may have been able to use to bring the demon-mother to an end. She had not offered any more aide than a name, and a suggestion on where to begin. She had no desire to confront the demon creator herself – she had been able, after much effort, to resist the urges of violence and bloodlust and utter and sheer destruction that had come from Eve at a distance, but if she had been in such proximity as it would have taken to destroy the queen… the power fluctuations she had experienced when under the influence of the creator of the demon breeds had been enough to tear through time and space without effort. With the weakened form that she now possessed, if she had come into her full glory in Eve’s presence, she may well have ended the world in the destruction that followed, and even if that was not such a concern at times, her own life and sanctity of self was.

Her gaze, metallic and neon in hue settled upon the human as he made his way into her Sanctum, her lips curling into a faint smile as he greeted her, a quirk of a brow and head simultaneous at the name that he gave her. If she had been in a fouler mood, or displeased by his presence, she would have made a point of ensuring that he had greeted her with a proper respect, but she was feeling something akin to lenient at his unexpected arrival. ”This pleases me,” she spoke, her head tilting back slightly as she watched him, though whether it was of his health or the demon-mother’s destruction she did not clarify. It was good that the demoness was put down, or at least returned to a resting state. She did not like being pushed to the extremes of her control. She had reigned supreme for millennia – she was not inclined to bow to the will of another. Her lips curled further upwards, at the next words that he spoke, her expression pleased, or at the very least satisfied. All too often, the humans fled from her, or as in the instance of those whom she had dismembered their attackers, from the scene in entirety without so much as a stammered attempt at appreciation for her interference.

”Yes,” she acknowledged, with a half prowling step and a cant of her head and unconscious lift and fall of a shoulder that might have been, in another species, a preemptive movement to a full on preen, though she fell still again before falling into any such overt sign of her satisfaction at his words. ”I felt the shift, the… cessation of the pull of her in my thoughts, after those moments of a shared… shock, at her ending. I would not expect her to remain so, though I do not suspect that there will be any stirring of her again in your lifetime, or your descendents,” she mused, her gaze turning up towards the purple and blue tinted ceiling over them, watching the filter of light through the painted plexiglass. ”There are always those that would seek to raise that which has been defeated,” she surmised, with a faint upward twist of one edge of her lips, an unconscious flicker of her gaze towards the sarcophagus that stood atop the palettes in the middle of the room, before turning back towards him. ”Was it a death worth recounting?” She questioned, her tone oddly distant, for a moment, her thoughts reflecting inwards, backwards, to her own betrayal and death.

With everything that Dean faced, it was often a surprise that he was still up and kicking. If natural order had anything to say about it, he would have been out of the game years ago. He wasn’t supposed to be upright now, but he didn’t want to be dead either. And with everything that he stood against, it was sometimes a little surreal that he was standing on the other side with his life still in his hands and his heart still beating steadily. To go up against the Mother of all monsters was a task that sounded impossible in theory. But, it wasn’t the first crazy notion that they came up with to save the world. And while the world might not have looked like it was in direct imminent danger, he thought for sure it was. Eventually, the monsters would wind up overrunning the humans. They were crazy, killing machines and he had no doubt that it would have turned into a monster’s world, rather than one that was run by humans—as it should have been. Dean had no doubt that the world was supposed to be theirs. Even thought they were physically weaker and didn’t live as long as a lot of the monsters, they were still entitled to keep the planet as theirs. As far as he was concerned, humans shouldn’t even have to be aware of what lurked in the dark. He liked the thought of a world where people could continue on with their lives without ever having to think about the paranormal. That was the way it had been before and still, most people didn’t know even close to what was out there aside from vampires. They didn’t know how many threats were around them or what was lurking, ready to take a bite out of them. Vampires were public, however, and he would never agree that it was a good idea. Hell, it turned out to be even worse than he thought it would be. He would have appreciated a mass panic over support and sympathy. Whoever decided that blood-thirsty creatures deserved sympathy was out of their minds. Dean would say it out loud too. Even though he did his best not to have these conversations publically (to keep himself protected from reveal and also to not want to physically shake someone for being an idiot), he wouldn’t deny that vampire sympathizers were idiots, at best.

Okay, so maybe not idiots, all of them. But, they were extremely ignorant and naïve and that was just as bad. He didn’t think that they deserved the fate that usually befell them because of it, but they were still not acting smart. That was a problem. He didn’t think any human deserved to be killed, especially not by a monster. And he would kill any son of a bitch that hurt humanity. It wasn’t that he was unaware that people killed other people. Dean knew enough history and he could turn on the news easy enough. But, that wasn’t his business. He wasn’t a cop or a fed. He was a hunter, so his job remained with the supernatural and saving people from those threats, rather than anything else. And he had no business going after a human that hurt people. There was no way in hell that he was going to chase down a criminal to try to bring them to justice. It wasn’t his business. There had been cases in the past that part way through, he realized it wasn’t his thing and had to drop it. Sometimes, what looked horrible enough to be done by demons was done by another person. And as sick as it was, it wasn’t his business. And it didn’t change that as a whole, humanity was generally good. They weren’t supposed to be wired to hurt others. Whereas the supernatural, oftentimes was. A lot of monsters were meant to kill and that’s where the difference was. Vampires, for instance, were built to feed off of humans. Those weren’t creatures that you just wanted to cozy up next to. And he especially didn’t while they were rabid and out of control. “Then whoever’s out there hunting then can take care of her,” Dean replied, because he wasn’t worried about what the future hunters were going to have to deal with. By then, he would have done his job and hopefully would have found some kind of peace. And hopefully not a one way trip back to Hell.

“I think so. Not every day you take out the mother-of-all, right?” He asked, with a bit of a smirk. There was pride in the victory, naturally. "I think it definitely made the highlight reel.” It was one of their better movies and it didn’t always look promising. The idea of going back in the past to get what killed her, then to facing her down, they weren’t small tasks. They weren’t even tasks that they could have a lot of hope in. But, at the end of the day, they managed to pull through and she was gone with the vampires and other monsters returning to normal. That’s what mattered, but he couldn’t help but be proud of their success too. It was those victories that helped keep him going and refreshed him when everything else was a weight on his shoulders. “You all right?” There was a curious furrow to his brow with the question, noting the distance in her tone.

Giving up... It was a position in which Evelyn really didn't think she'd find herself in any time soon. Well, at least that's what she had thought up until a couple of weeks ago, before she set foot in Illyria's hideout for the first time. For years, she had been stubbornly clung to the self-set purpose in her life: finding the God-King of the Primordium era and becoming its Qwa'ha Xahn, drawn by some completely unexplained rush of power, somewhat familiar and yet so strange, which coursed through her in the brief second when she touched the gems inside Knox' chest. When everyone, beginning with her parents and going through her boyfriend and all of her friends, insisted that she was completely mad and that she'll come to her sense some day, Evelyn had assured them that it was not a problem of coming to her senses or not, that she would not return and admit that she had done something stupid. Even as the days lapsed and she had no luck in locating Illyria in the not-so-small New York city, Evelyn refused to give up on the idea of looking for her. More often than not, the young woman admitted to herself that she could have made a mule jealous with her stubbornness when it came down to this particular aspect of her life. She really hadn't wanted to have “giving up” in her vocabulary because of her ambition to achieve something through her own efforts.

During the past weeks, however, “giving up” slowly crept her away into her vocabulary, becoming a verb which she was thinking of more often than she would have liked to. Pathetic, wasn't it? Being so stubborn to go on when she couldn't find Illyria and then thinking about giving up after she found her... Evelyn simply felt exhausted, as if, all of the sudden, all of the efforts of the past years came crashing down upon her, overwhelming her. She had so much hopes about her first encounter with Illyria and she managed to turn it into a disaster by doing something she was not supposed to do. The God-King hated her, there was no other way in which Evelyn could explain the fact that she had been ignoring her ever since that night. No matter how many times she had returned to the warehouse, no matter the hour, Illyria was not there. It was just... In a way, Evelyn would have preferred Illyria waiting for her one night and telling her that she wanted her to get lost, because she was not worthy of being a Priestess. That would have spared Evelyn the humiliation of being avoided the way she was.

There was only so much Evelyn could take and, after a couple of sleepless nights and a day she spent pacing her apartment, she made up her mind and headed for the industrial area of the town, for a final time. She found her way to the warehouse very easily, knowing it by heart by now, but she didn't go in immediately. Evelyn paced, thinking things through for a second time, a third time, her heart aching a little when she saw the glow of the sacraments which gave away the fact that Illyria was very close, her eyes filling with tears. Wiping at them almost furiously, she made her way around the building and to the roof, from where she let herself down on the catwalk as quietly as she could. Evelyn heard voices inside – Illyria's and someone else's, a familiar one but which she couldn't immediately pinpoint. So then... Illyria was there for everyone else but her. Maybe she just didn't have time to realize she was coming and leave before she could be there? Evelyn fought the urge to sigh and she could feel the sting of tears again. Slowly reaching into her bag, she drew out the sacraments and set them on the catwalk. She had thought about leaving a note with them but then she reconsidered it: Ilyria would understand, no doubt. Standing from her crouched position, Evelyn turned to slip back outside as quietly as she had come in.

”Perhaps.” Illyria conceded, with a stuttered rise and fall of a single shoulder as she contemplated his response. Would there be another hope at defeating the creature, if she was born again, if she was brought back into existence in the world? Would Illyria herself be present, or strong enough to stand alone and defy her, then? Would Illyria even be concerned with such a thing, when that next time came? A hundred years. A thousand years. A million? Perhaps she was wrong, perhaps the destruction of the … ‘mother-of-all’ as he had phrased it had been final. Why did it concern her? It should not. Perhaps it did not, at all. ”Yes. For most all it would be a once within a lifetime achievement, and when it is not the last of the successes, even more so should it be relished.” She acknowledged, with a faint smile. ”Your pride is well earned, Warrior,” she spoke, her tone still indolent with pleasure. She did relish the idea of the death of one that could have threatened her, though it should have been at her own hands, as well, and it was a disappointment that she could not have been involved in such a feat even if it was one that she had chosen to avoid – the fact that she had been forced to refrain was an irksome one in and of itself. Her gaze turned towards him, as he spoke, his tone cautious but curious, and she felt the edge of a frown pull at the corners of her mouth as she tried to determine what it was that he had read the signs of her distress.

She was unaccustomed to those around her seeing through her mask of arrogance and contempt for the creatures that surrounded her and into anything that might lay beneath it but he had proven in many ways that he was an exception to… many things that she would have preconceived for a human. ”I envy your conquest.” She said, the words low, and quiet, simpler than she would have usually offered them in, her agitation and melancholy showing more perhaps than she would have liked. Her weight shifted, a half step turning her half away from him, her neon blue gaze snapping towards the sarcophagus that took up the central point of the room before her head ducked down towards her chest slightly. ”And I wonder, now, if there were those that dared boast that they had slain the God-King,” She mused, her shoulders tilting upwards, her arms curling in to cross over her stomach at awkward angles. ”I wish to hear this story –“ She began, after a slight pause, her form stiffening in that next instant, her eyes flaring wide as her gaze tilted upwards, close to where she had pinpointed the arrival of Dean, before her brows tilted inwards, her gaze narrowing as she tilted her head to focus in on the sound.

Her senses flared, tingling with the familiar, the holy, the prickle of those remannts of her power that had remained, external, symbols of her faithful that she had sensed twice, now since her return – once within the body of the one called Knox, and once within the presence of the girl, dark haired and jade-eyed who had pledged her allegiance and pleaded for leniency. ”Onyx.” She breathed, slipping past the human within her inner sanctum and moving with alacrity towards the iron wrought stairs that led upwards to the catwalks above where she could see the wraith like form of the Priestess who seemed to have been intent upon leaving her offering and retreating. ”Qwa’ha xahn.” She spoke, she called, her voice authoritative and echoing slightly within the walls of the warehouse. ”You will remain.” It was a mandate, and yet perhaps something more, or rather… perhaps something less than that? She wished to speak to the girl, to assure her of her understanding of the Priestess’ loyalty, now, and with the effects of the demon mother no longer pulsing through her, she had no fears of destroying the fragile creature – too fragile, in fact, and after no small amount of inner dissention, she had finally discerned the best way to rectify all of those concerns, at least as much as she could, given the limitations of her own state, her own form. ”I would… “ There was a hesitation, unwilling to ask the girl to stay, when she already owed Illyria her respect and obedience by position and proximity alone, much less her own pledge, but there was a fragility that resounded within the human that was more than just the paper thin skin and fragile sticks that crafted her. ”Speak with you, of what is to pass.” She settled upon, then.

This wasn’t going to be the last fight of Dean’s life, nor would it be the biggest that he had yet to face. There would be more, undoubtedly. It wasn’t always a comforting thought, but there were still worries out there. Whether it was the vampires or the Devil himself and the war between the angels, Dean had his plate full. But, one success was good enough. Knowing that he put that bitch back where she belonged felt satisfying. And if someone found a way to resurrect her in the future, then he only hoped there were hunters there to take care of it. Because, Dean wouldn’t be there. If it was beyond his lifetime then it wasn’t his problem. He couldn’t be there to worry about the distant future. Because, hopefully, at that juncture he would have been able to have some form of peace. While he didn’t know where he was going when the lights finally went out, he could hope for that right? He could hope that his soul wasn’t going to go straight into Hell again, because he gave up his chances for Heaven and his soul was just plain damned. The less he thought about that, the better. Because no matter what happened, there was no changing it. And he wasn’t looking to die anytime soon anyway. He had every intention of living and continuing the fight. Hunters might not have lived long, but he was still young and as far as he was concerned, he still had a lot of years left in him. Maybe not as much as a normal thirty-three year old man would have, but enough. He wasn’t taking off anytime soon, not if he could help it and Dean fought hard enough that that wasn’t often an issue. And right now, there was more reason for a celebration of life, not death.

“Thanks.” Dean flashed a grin, because he was glad that she thought it was worth the pride. Hell yes, it was. Even if she said otherwise, he would still have carried it with him. The envy, however, caused him to give a small narrow of his eyes, inquisitive. “Surely you’ve got the mojo to have your own conquests.” Dean offered, and as she made her query, he offered a shrug in response. Honestly, he believed they probably did. Who didn’t boast when they killed something powerful and capable of slaughtering them with ease. Dean didn’t think of himself the type that bragged often about hunting, but now and then it was okay to be proud. It wasn’t as if he felt it genuinely all that often. He might have offered bravado, but Dean was far from secure. He had his share of confidence, but it was mostly an act. It was often a way of showing people who he wanted to be seen, rather than the guilt-ridden hunter that didn’t always feel up to par. The one who would have sacrificed himself for another person without a second thought because they were always worth more. It didn’t matter how well they knew him or what he thought of them. Most of humanity was worth more than him. There were boundaries to it, of course, and if it was family, he would have touched extremes that most people wouldn’t have dreamt of. Before he could say anything about how it happened, Illyria was on the move. He followed her gaze questioningly and raised an eyebrow at the name. Onyx? At first, he thought maybe it was some other monster or maybe a demon, even, given that they tended to call themselves something strange.

Quietly, Dean stood there, his arms coming to fold across his chest comfortably. He didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t interrupt it. The last thing he wanted was to get in between something that was barely his business. He would keep watch though, listening to Illyria. But when she moved to the staircase, Dean followed because he wanted to see. From his position, he hadn’t been able to see who or what it was. And as he arrived behind Illyria, he frowned. He knew her. And that was a complete coincidence, wasn’t it? Instead of making any sort of comment, he was letting the two have their moment and whatever decision came to pass. He didn’t want to speak up too quickly or step on anyone here. Especially not when one of the creatures in the room was so much stronger than he was. Not looking at all on edge, he seemed completely comfortable where he was. Though there was some hesitation to him being there all of a sudden. It just didn’t show in his position or the way that he carried himself. As long as he wasn’t told he was intruding, he would figure that he wasn’t.

To be completely honest, Evelyn had been hoping that her presence in the warehouse would go completely unnoticed, that she could slip out quietly and return to her apartment, cry a little (because she was going to cry, she was sure about it, no matter how much she forced herself not to crack) and then, come tomorrow, that she would be simply Evelyn Mercer, the assistant librarian that used all of her free time to prepare herself for admission to college. Why would Illyria notice her anyway? Well... maybe she was going to realize that she was present in the building – Evelyn had first hand experience with Illyria's capacity of detecting unwanted visitors after all – but why would she actually acknowledge her? If she had ignored her for weeks, since that first meeting, then why would she suddenly talk to her? Evelyn couldn't think of any reasons why the God-King would do that, especially not now, that she was busy with someone else. This had to be quick, Evelyn kept telling herself, just like removing a band aid: the quicker the move, the less it hurt. As if she could close this chapter of her life so easily...

She had to do this. In spite of the fact that the ones that knew her seventeen year old self that left home in order to pursue an unusual goal in life would have claimed that she was completely irrational and downright insane, Evelyn wasn't anywhere close to that. She didn't think that what she did for the past years was insanity: she merely trained to become something, just like she had trained to become a doctor before that, and then she tried to find a particular person in New York city with the help of ancient artifacts. Yes, that second part wasn't exactly the most normal thing someone could have done but that was besides the point. That wasn't crazy. Evelyn thought that it would have been completely crazy to insist in going to Illyria when she was making it so clear that she didn't want her around – crazy and somewhat suicidal. She had the bad luck of seeing how Illyria reacted when someone stepped on her nerves so she was pretty convinced that she never wanted to be in that position again. She didn't think she risked getting back in that place. In a matter of moments Evelyn was going to be outside of the warehouse and that was going to mark the moment when all of her ties with Illyria would be severed.

”Qwa’ha xahn. You will remain.”

The words, the tone on which they were spoken, made Evelyn freeze into place, her cheeks losing a shade or two of colour. Evelyn felt like a deer caught in the headlights. A part of her screamed that she should get out as quickly as possible, before she felt Illyria's wrath for a second time, while another part of her felt somewhat... compelled to obey the order. To a very small extent, it seemed normal that she would feel that, after she pledged her allegiance to the God-King, but the sacraments had been set aside – she had quit. At least she thought she did. When Illyria spoke again, claiming that she only wanted to talk, Evelyn let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Talking... That didn't sound like something violent was going to happen. As for what was to come – Evelyn didn't really know how she was going to find the words to tell Illyria why she was quitting and how she was feeling about what had happened. The Old One intimidated and scared her and Evelyn didn't know if the presence of another person was going to help her be more collected or make her more nervous than she would have otherwise been. After taking a deep breath – apparently she had forgotten to breathe for a couple of moments – Evelyn turned again, this time descending the metal stairs, slowly, her hand holding the railing and her eyes gazing down at the stairs, so she avoided tripping out of nervousness and making a fool of herself in front of Illyria. Once she arrived to the ground level and lifted her eyes to the Old One and her visitor, a look of surprise crept its way on Evelyn's expression: ”Dean?” The guy who loved his car as if it was a person and that came so close to discovering her secret actually knew Illyria? What were the odds? She rushed to incline her body in a small, nervous bow towards Illyria. ”I apologize for my intrusion”, she offered. Her gaze shifted between Dean and Illyria a couple of times, uncertain about his presence there and about what she should say in his presence – if she should say anything at all. Then again, Illyria called her Qwa'ha Xahn. He was bound to ask questions and she didn't think Illyria would sugar coat the truth. ”We don't have to talk. I... I hope you find someone more worthy than I am.”

”I conquered this world, and all those that surround it, I was the ruler of all of the Primordium.” Illyria replied, her head tilting to watch him over her shoulder, her chin half tucked into the curve of her armored skin, her gaze distant and glittering, her lips curling into a low smile that radiated pride and arrogance in one. ”There was no creature that my shadow touched that did not tremble in fear, or ecstasy,” She spoke, her neon blue gaze coming to settle on his then, her smile taking on a slightly more familiar tint as she watched him. ”What is this… ‘mojo’,” She questioned, before her attention had been diverted, her movements carrying her past him and to the stairs above them with fluid and powerful strides. She heard his footsteps, pursuing her at a more sedate pace, the edge of curiosity lingering in his essence, but he showed no signs of interfering. For that, she was somewhat grateful. She would have been displeased at having to quiet him for an act of insolence. Her gaze, and the majority of her focus and attention however remained upon the dark haired, green eyed girl that was attempting a hasty retreat from Illyria’s sanctum. She paused, however, at Illyria’s command, which was also appeasing. With the flare of the pull of the Mother of All dissipated, she was less inclined to lash out – at least, any more so than she often was. She had no desire to harm the girl. Evelyn had proven her subservience the last time that they had met, and there had been no sign of betrayal evident in the weeks between. Her head tilted back slightly, looking down at Evelyn as she offered a hasty sign of submission.

”I have no need to search for anyone else.” Illyria stated simply, after Evelyn’s attempt to dissuade her, to allow her to flee. ”Unless you are rescinding your pledge.” She spoke, her brows angling upwards slightly, the tone of her words cool, but she was certain the girl was astute enough to guess that she would be less than pleased if the Priestess attempted to withdraw from her swearing of allegiance and fealty. ”You are not displeasing to my sight, and you have proven no disloyalty since you petitioned me, you are intelligent, for your species. You have given me no further cause for displeasure – if you wish to serve, than all that must remain is the accepting of the sacraments, as they are intended to be given.” She spoke, her gaze turning back to the stone that Evelyn had left as an offering. ”A sealing of your vow, binding you to me, and I, to you – to make you stronger, and less…. Fragile, as your species is wont to be. To elevate you, to what you are meant to be, as my Priestess. “ She indicated, her gaze focused still upon Evelyn, the crystal settling into her palm as she raised from her slight crouch, the stone pulsing quietly in its nearness to her, its original power source. ”Will you stay, Qwa’ha xahn?” She questioned, these last words spoken in the ancient language that had been exclusively spoken by her species during the age of her reign.

In a peculiar way, she reminded him of the hunters that sat around talking of their glory days. Of course, no hunter’s glory days consisted of ruling the Primordium. And comparing her to that nearly caused an amused smile to touch the corners of his lips, but he had enough control to stop himself. Explaining his amusement would have caused a strange conversation to develop. Though at her question, he chuckled. “Y’know, power, magic, in your case your god strength or whatever.” It wouldn’t be the first time that he dealt with a creature older and less inclined to his way of speech. What had his attention now, however, was the new arrival and Illyria’s sudden interest in that. Dean didn’t pretend to know every matter that Illyria was a part of. It was a strange relationship he had with her, if it could be called a friendship, he didn’t know. But, he didn’t know everything that she was a part of or how she spent her time. He couldn’t even come close to that. And so Evelyn’s arrival came as a complete surprise to the hunter. Until he saw her, he wasn’t too concerned, but the surprise etched into him as soon as he saw who the woman was. Now, it was one hell of a coincidence, but in NYC lately, he didn’t know if he should be completely surprised. Nothing was quite what it seemed when it came down to it. But, like always, Dean felt it. Even though he probably told himself all the time that nothing could surprise him, he was pretty much constantly thrown off by new information. And everyone seemed to have some kind of secret. That wasn’t abnormal though, because he figured even the normal Joe’s walking around had something more to them than they put on. But, nothing as weird as this. Anyone who had a connection with Illyria probably didn’t have a normal story.

“Funny seeing you here,” Dean tried to brush off the surprise, acting nonchalant despite it and even going as far as to lift a hand in a wave. Yeah, this was a little weird. He wasn’t going to deny that internally. But on the outside, he seemed as casual as ever. Even if he wondered if it wasn’t time to start moving out of their way. He stuck around though, since he figured if Illyria wanted him gone she wouldn’t beat around the bush. He didn’t think that politeness in telling someone that they should go was anything that the blue Old One obeyed. If she wanted him gone, he was positive she’d say it quickly and without hesitation. And if he thought that his own welcome was close to expiring, he could take it on himself to walk out. For now, however, it didn’t look like that was going to be a problem in the least bit. Instead, he stood there. Besides, if anything could hold him firm in his place, it was curiosity. No one could blame him at this juncture, because it wasn’t everyday that you met a girl that threw sais at vampires and scratched up cars that just happened to be involved in something as powerful as Illyria. And it looked like she was pretty damn close to her. This was interesting enough to have his attention for as long as he could stick around as a witness to it. Besides, he couldn’t know enough when it came down to what went on in the city. It was the words that they used that caused him to quirk a brow. Priestess. Qwa’ha xahn. And sacraments, which apparently were those gems that he had fished out of Evelyn’s bag when he first met her. Maybe he should have stressed that line of questioning further when he met her. He was busy trying to add up the numbers in the conversation, to put two and two together so that he could better understand what it was they were going on about. It wasn’t the easiest conversation to keep up with. “Wait, what are you, some kind of minion—er—Priestess?” He asked out loud, addressing Evelyn from where he stood. Naturally, he was going to have his questions and with that he looked at Illyria. There was a lot of questioning just in the expression that was plastered onto his face. “What’s a qwaxi…cauhn?” No, that didn’t sound right. And the uncertainty in his tone proved that the word was one that hadn’t stuck even after hearing it more than once now. But come on, Qua’ha xhan didn’t roll off the tongue in the least bit. No one should fault him on that.

“Funny seeing you here”

”Yeah, I can say the same”, Evelyn muttered in response to Dean's comment. Maybe “funny” was a bit of an underestimation though. It was just... Wait, was it really a coincidence? Probably the past weeks had gotten to her and made her a little paranoid but Evelyn wondered if this was a coincidence – or, better said, if her meeting Dean that night had been random or Illyria had something to do with it. No, no, no. That was ridiculous. Why would Illyria have something to do with it? Hadn't she ignored her for the past weeks and made her feel completely worthless of being what she had hoped to become? It was really weird, though, to find Dean there and to notice that he actually seemed at ease around Illyria. In retrospect, Evelyn guessed that he would have understood her that night if she told him the truth about the sacraments – from a purely hypothetical point of view, of course, because she would have never said something like that to a random stranger whom she never imagined that she might meet again.

The young woman tried to push her thoughts away from Dean and from the questions related to his presence in the hideout and focus on the Old One from which she expected nothing good. “Tried” was a key word. She was feeling a combination of sadness, anxiousness and fear and it made it pretty hard for her mind to focus on one single thing at a time – not on everything at once. She was expecting Illyria to respond to her words with a nod or a small gesture of her hands in order to dismiss her, possibly to say something about her lacking what it took to be a good High Priestess – the fact that Illyria said that she didn't need to search for someone else was ambiguous and it didn't serve to build her hopes back up. Illyria's next words made the young woman lower her gaze to the ground. After a couple of moments, she opened her mouth to say something but words refused to come out. How did she reply to that? Technically, she was rescinding her pledge but she was only doing it because she was convinced that Illyria wanted her to be gone. Was it... not what the God-King wanted? ”I... thought you wanted me gone”, Evelyn admitted after another couple of moments of silence. For a second time, she tried to say something, only to change her mind before any words left her lips – she had wanted to utter another apology but she wasn't even sure what she would have been apologizing for. All Evelyn knew was that she didn't want Illyria to get so angry again over this so as to throw her around one more time.

When the blue-skinned Old One addressed her again, Evelyn could feel her heart thump loudly in her chest. She lifted her gaze towards Illyria – hesitant and shocked at first, her eyes widening as the God-King kept speaking, Evelyn's skin visibly turning a couple of shades paler than it usually was, her heart skipping a beat. Illyria... wanted her to be her High Priestess? That was... unexpected, although it was the moment which she had been expecting for the past years. It was everything she could have hoped for, happening right at the very moment when she had abandoned hope and it scared Evelyn more than she could have ever imagined it would. ”Accept... the sacraments?”, she breathed out, then swallowed almost audibly, her words half spoken over Illyria's following explanations. Somehow her hand managed to find the railing of the stairs she descended and gripped it tightly. A Qwa'ha Xahn was supposed to keep the sacraments close to their heart. Literally. Illyria was expecting her to... Evelyn forced herself to take a deep breath. While she loved medicine and she had never been squeamish at the sight of blood or other internal organs of the human body, the thought of her own body being subject to medical intervention made her completely sick.

”Will you stay, Qwa’ha xahn?”

Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut for a couple of moments and drew in another deep breath. ”I...” She couldn't say no, even if it was because she didn't want her body to be mutilated by the gems inserted under the skin of her chest. She didn't have the courage to ask Illyria if there was any other way of accepting the sacraments either. Opening her eyes again, Evelyn gave a nod of her head. ”I will stay. I... I will accept the sacraments, if that is your will”, she murmured and then glanced at Dean when he spoke. ”I'm not a minion”, she protested, although it was obvious that her heart was not really in it. Evelyn decided to let Illyria explain what a Qwa'ha Xahn was and use those moments to build more courage for what was to come.

”Qwa’ha xahn,” Illyria echoed, to clarify the attempt at a pronunciation by the human tongue of the warrior. ”It is a title to be revered, an honor amongst my kingdom, and those that would serve me. It is a position as my Priest – Priestess. An advisor and a guide. The one meant to protect me, and my essence. Her predecessor is the one who summoned me to this world again, who guaranteed my return. He was killed… almost immediately.” She observed, a casual and unemotional statement, dismissive. ”She has survived, but she will not for long unless she completed the binding ritual.” She stated, glancing down to the crystals that she clasped in her hand. ”The elements of the star that birthed us, retaining the essence of my power, bound to me and me to it – through it she will know my power and I will know her.” She explained. ”The stones upon my sarcophagus, they retain other portions of my essence, echoes of the powers I held when I ruled, faded shadows now, simple remnants of what was absorbed upon my awakening. This, the sacraments of the God-King, they are pure, if only fragments.” She indicated.

”They are meant to be kept close. Literally, to the heart of the one most loyal.” She observed, her gaze turning from the crystal that throbbed with power and a dull glow in her presence. ”The most revered. The right hand, and the counterpart, the wisdom to my strength, the strength to my grace, the grace to my power.” She spoke, a faint smile drifting to touch her lips as she deciphered the ancient words into the words that could not even begin to convey the true meaning of the connection, of the bond between Priestess and God-King. ”I had to be certain that you were true.” She said, after a moment, her gaze settling on Evelyn, then, an edge of somberness creeping into her expression as she watched the petite figure. ”I had to be certain that you could be trusted. There are those amongst my enemies that would use one such as you as a weapon, to wound and weaken me. And…” There was a slight hesitation, her gaze dropping slightly down and towards Dean, her brows furrowing a little. ”I have not been… myself.” She settled on, after a moment, some part of her hoping that perhaps the hunter would be able to utter the words that she was not quite willing to. ”Come, then, if you intend to keep your word, and we may begin.” She indicated, with a gesture, her hand offered out to the girl in hopes that the frail thing might gain some… semblance of courage or trust from the gesture which was, she had gathered from her observation of the species, intended to indicate some attempt at aide.

There were times where Dean had to take a step back and realize just how weird some of the situations he got himself into were. And this was coming from the man who’d been to Heaven and Hell and had been learning about werewolves, ghouls and ghosts long before he was even legal to drive. Actually, he’d also learned to drive long before he was legal, but that was beside the point. His life was, to say the least, weird as hell. That probably was the understatement of the day. He’d met angels, fought gods and had killed his share of demons. So, to be standing there, well aware that he was yet again in a strange situation was saying something. It was one of those times where he was taking in every bit of information he could to try to piece together what was happening here. He wasn’t even sure it was his business to know. Because, at the end of the day, there was a lot about Illyria he didn’t know and didn’t ask about. If only he had a penny for every time that he saw something that he didn’t expect. He’d be a rich man and credit card fraud would no longer be an issue. Evelyn wasn’t someone he expected to show up and yet it looked like they had a close relationship—or something. Dean wasn’t sure what it was. That was where it got a little blurry for him. So, he was going to let them explain rather than bombarding them with questions or assumptions. Because, one, he wasn’t necessarily a part of this conversation and two, he didn’t want to look like a total idiot because he couldn’t put two and two together. In this case, he figured the equation was more advanced than simple addition.

“Right, that,” Dean wasn’t going to try to reattempt that word just yet. It couldn’t be too hard eventually, but better to keep himself from botching the hell out of it yet again. Her explanation though was one that he understood well enough. Now, he could have asked a dozen questions, probably, but instead, he nodded. It made enough sense without one thousand details to accompany it. It was weird that was for damn sure. And it put Evelyn in a different light. He wasn’t sure why anyone would want to be the priest or priestess of an old God-King. That wasn’t something that he could ever see himself doing or anyone, really. But hey, to each his own. If she wasn’t hurting anyone, that wasn’t his business. “So, that’s what those are,” he noted though, since he’d seen those gems before. At the time, it seemed weird for someone to be carrying around those in their purse. Then again, it still was strange. And he wasn’t sure if it made more or less sense than a jewel heist, but he wasn’t about to let his mind go down that path. “Literally? Like you’re gonna put ‘em in her chest?” He inquired out loud, because it sounded a little gruesome to him. As she continued though, he glanced to Illyria, then back to Evelyn. “There was another force at work, known as the mother; basically she had control over a creatures base instincts. Illyria, here, was affected by her too.” He explained as simply as he could about Illyria not quite being herself. He thought that it made some sense, without getting into the details about Eve. That was more of a complicated discussion that didn’t need to be had here and it didn’t look like Illyria would be appreciative towards it.

Man, did Evelyn feel like standing and running back the way she arrived to the warehouse! She was well-aware that only a complete coward could think something like that but, then again, Evelyn never claimed to be as brave as someone would have expected her to be for choosing to become the priestess of an ancient demon. She was Evelyn Mercer, the twenty-five year old woman that left her home years ago in order to pursue her own path in life – a path which many would have deemed completely insane but it was her own, not the one which her mother had chosen for her. Choosing to become a Qwa'ha Xahn didn't automatically make her courageous. Evelyn thought that time and the trials she would be put through would help her build up this particular trait. To think like a complete coward, though... it didn't sit too well with the young woman's recent insecurities. Could Illyria read thoughts? Evelyn couldn't remember, on the spot, but she hoped that she didn't. She didn't think she could stand the Goddess laughing about her cowardice in Dean's presence.

Her gaze shifted between the Goddess and Dead while the first tried to explain to the later how to pronounce the title and what the words stood for. Evelyn tried not to swallow too audibly when she noticed the indifference with which Illyria noted how fast the previous Priest had passed away, as if it meant nothing to her that the man had died for her. It was going to be the same in her case if she died one day, wasn't it? The thought was bitter and Evelyn tried to chase it away towards the back of her mind. She was still young and she could keep herself out of harm's way – or, at least, so she thought. Her gaze followed Illyria's towards the sacraments which the Goddess held in her hand, listening to the explanation which she had read before, in texts which many thought to be as lost as Old Ones were. ”Yeah, that's what they were”, Evelyn replied to Dean, finding it unnecessary to add something else to what Illyria had said – no one could explain the sacraments better than the one whose power they contained. ”Now you understand why I couldn't tell you what they were?”, she asked Dean. Maybe now he thought her a little less crazy than she did that night when she scratched his car by accident.

Illyria declared that the sacraments were meant to be kept close to the heart of the Qwa'ha Xahn and Dean, apparently, needed to make sure that he understood her right, so Evelyn gave him a small nod of her head, the colour still not having returned to her cheeks. Her chest was going to be cut open and those gems put inside her... Evelyn rushed to drawn in a couple of deep breaths, for fear that the nausea that crept in the pit of her stomach would manifest in an unpleasant way. She looked down, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes when Illyria described what she expected out of her Priestess: wisdom, strength, grace? Maybe she had a little wisdom and grace but strength? Couldn't Illyria see how absolutely terrified she was with the idea that she was going to have through that implant procedure (if it could be called that)? The following words made Evelyn frown and she looked up at Illyria. ”Is that why you avoided me? To make sure you could trust me?” That didn't make much sense, unless... ”You followed me all this time?”, Evelyn questioned for a conclusion. Her gaze turned from Illyria to Dean as the man explained what had caused Illyria to act unlike herself, a thoughtful look on her face. ”Is that why you were so... angry when you found me here that day?”, she hesitantly questioned, her gaze returning to Illyria. Evelyn made a mental note to ask Dean if this explained why so many creatures tried to attack her too – in case she was still composed enough to ask any questions by the time Illyria would be done with her.

”Come, then, if you intend to keep your word, and we may begin.”

Once again, the feeling of sickness was becoming overwhelming. Evelyn forced herself to ignore it and reached to take Illyria's hand and help herself up to her feet. ”I...” The young Priestess stopped, trying to find the right words for what she wanted to say. ”Does “close to the heart” have to be literal?”, she managed to ask after a long hesitation. ”I am not rescinding my pledge...”, she hurried to explain, ”... but is there no other way?”

”These sacraments are the last that remain, in this world or most likely any other. My species fell into civil war after I was struck done, those loyal to me fighting against those that had attempted to usurp me. And then, when they were at their weakest, they met their deaths at the ones which you call now, angels, and demons. The Old Ones were cast from the firmaments, routed from their worlds, their homes, our nests and offspring burned and left to turn to ash and dust, to be forgotten. My world. My kingdom, Vah’lha’nesh, was all that remained in the end, our kind entombed within the center of this earth, of all earths, tombs beyond number. My army and those loyal that I could protect before the end were bound in my kingdom, taken out of sync with time, to be protected and preserved until the day of my awakening… only the ones that are called now the Wolf, Ram and Hart – they snatched that world from me, til all that there was to be saved were ashes and dust. What is here, in this room…” She glanced towards the crystals, and then to Evelyn, and then back to Dean. ”This is all that remains.” Her tone was stiff, and distant, though perhaps an acute ear might catch the ache buried in her chest that the words bled past.

Her gaze darkened, somewhat, her jaw jutting outwards as her shoulder twitched briefly, pulling her focus back to those that she led into the chamber that served as her home, her seat of power, what little it was. ”Until I was able to sever the link to the mother-of-all I was… “ Her lips pursed, briefly. ”Volatile. My emotions were… running to the extremes.” Her gaze settled upon Dean, then, a faint smile touching the frosted blue lips for a mere moment or two. ”All things that the one they call Eve had spawned were… dangerous. She wished the extinction of all things that were not hers. It was… only with great effort that I wrested my will from hers. Most were not so fortunate.” She mused.

”The ritual is intended not only to serve as a proof of intent… what you might say as… “ Illyria paused, her brows drawing together briefly as she searched her thoughts for the proper phrase. ”Signing upon the dotted line – but it is the completion of the bonding between God and Priestess. It serves to induce a tangible connection, your essence to mine and mine to yours. The energy within the crystal will become one with you, it will imbue you with properties that will make you more than what you are now. Stronger, faster, more resilient to harm, allow you to recover from injuries, protect you from illnesses that might fell a lesser being.” She glanced between the two, even as she drew to a stop in front of her sarcophagus, her hand resting against the edge of its stone surface, allowing herself a moment of inner thought and musing. ”Those Qwa’ha’Xhan that came before were much larger in dimension. My natural state, my true form would dwarf even the tallest of the buildings within this city. Perhaps, then, a fragment would suffice. Placement at the base of the spine or the nape of the neck would allow for the most direct influence over the central nervous system and allow for the quickest assimilation.” She conceded, her electric blue eyes turning to focus upon Evelyn then, weighing the girl and her reactions. ”Make your choice, little one.”