Within A Year of the Summoning

"Geez, I'm cold," Sinbad moaned, clumsily pushing the door behind him shut with his shoulder as he rubbed his arms. "I mean, it's not so bad when you're out running around and staying active. But stop for a minute, and whew!"

"Ironic coming from someone skipping around with his arms bare," sniffed the demon who had slunk in after him, tail brushing Sin's leg before padding cautiously into the room, panning his head side to side. "I really can't help you if you were expecting anything else after coming this far north."

"Look at you - you bundled up too!" Ja'far flicked his tail but otherwise ignored him. They had agreed that a cat would be Ja'far's usual guise around people they knew (for now, since Sinbad wasn't sure how to properly reveal hey, I have a somewhat-friendly demon with me, don't be nervous, he's totally under control! without Ja'far trying to weasel his way around the contract somehow), but shortly after they had drifted into colder latitudes Ja'far had morphed into a long-haired fluffy cat, pale grey with jags of darker-colored stripes across his back. "And I mean - they gave me these clothes and walk around like this themselves, it'd be rude to ask for anything more at this point." Sinbad rubbed the back of his head as he saw his pack sitting in the far end of the room. "Couldn't you use fire magic or something to warm me up?"

"If you desire it, Sinbad, I will gladly set you on fire," Ja'far supplied, leaping on top of the table. His tail flicked as he sat down near the edge, looking across the discarded papers and unlit lanterns.

Sin heaved forth a sigh as he crouched down beside his pack, opening up the side pouch to rummage through. "On second thought, I'll pass." He brought up his compass, cursed quietly, the stuck his hand back inside. "I gotta say, though, I like these people. They are all very friendly, even if I feel tiny even next to the kids... Oh, man, and these clothes are warmer than you'd think, you know? It's really only my arms and face that are frozen."

There was a soft whistling sound and Sinbad turned around, eyebrows raised - then had to sit back and stare for a second at his demon. Ja'far had pushed a lamp in front of him and lit the wick so that long shadows hid his face, save for his eyes that glowed slightly under mostly shut lids - mysterious and ridiculous in equal measure when the noise of purring reached Sin's ears.

"I..." He turned back, grateful at the least for the light, theatrics notwithstanding. "You know, I'm going to keep my mouth shut on this one." With a sound of triumph he finally pulled a leather-bound notebook out of his bag, snapping the side shut again.

"May I transform?" Sinbad shot Ja'far a look as he joined him at the table, pulling out a stool so he could sit and prop the paper against his knee as he wrote. The demon stretched a paw across the table, claws unsheathing from furry paws and angling towards Sin's face. "I'm bored, stupid human, let me do something fun. No magic, no transformation..."

"Plenty of tricks, though," Sin observed around the pencil in his mouth, flicking through the pages to find where he'd left off. "Keep digging your claws into me at bad moments and I'll order you to transform into a camel." Finding his page, he rolled the charcoal pencil in his hand, then eyed Ja'far for a second. "Do you really want to transform that badly?"

Grey eyes met and studied his. "I would appreciate it, yes."

I'm glad I got him to stop calling me master, that was a bit creepy. All his tricks today were for the most part in private, and he's been almost... passive the past couple days. Well, it should be alright for a bit - no one should be coming in anytime soon, and I sincerely do want to get him to like me. Sinbad let his eyes drift back down. "As long as it isn't inherently destructive and you take care if someone were to come in, then that's fine. Just don't bother me while I write, okay?"

Ja'far didn't reply but Sin heard the soft whump of his feet hitting the floor off to the right. Sinbad wrote the date and a few preliminary words, trying to cast his mind over the events of the day so he could faithfully transcribe them, but under his lashes he somehow couldn't help but watch the demon pace around, wondering what form he would take.

It would seem Ja'far wasn't sure either, as though he had been expecting Sin to refuse. (For some reason, this thought stung in the back of his mind.) He strode the length of the room back, ears twitching, then halfway through his second lap he expanded, becoming a black star-speckled panther many times the feline form's size. Another two steps and his spine compacted and his dimensions narrowed, muzzle becoming sleek and limbs thinning until a greyhound strode where the cat had. Mist rose around his feet and engulfed his body, twisting and Sin bit down hard on his tongue as a plumed serpent reared its head out of the smoke, curving dark wings beating the remains away with one flap. The demon stilled, head tilting, then it arched backwards and collapsed onto itself, a human form taking its place.

Ja'far looked now as he usually did, save for his hair - now, in place of the short, scruffy haircut of before his hair was long, cascading down his back and nearly dragging along the floor at its longest. The smallest tip of his tongue peaked out of his lips as he arched his arms above his head before brushing long strands aside. Sinbad hastily looked down before he was caught staring, feeling oddly as though he'd almost been caught gaping at something private. He wrote down a few more lines, mind wandering as he listened to the soft cadence of feet across the floor, and when shook his head (and mind) back into focus he looked down in surprise to realize he'd been idly sketching the curve of the serpent that had risen twice his height yet curled back into itself without a second glance.

Sinbad stared at his work, fingers lightly tracing thin pencil marks, before his cheeks reddened and he resolutely pressed forward with his writing, blocking out any other sounds. He always tried to write as much as possible (when possible) at the end of the day, and he'd found that usually it was a relaxing venture, giving him time to set emotions in check and repose for the next day. By the time he finished the candle was guttering, casting fitful light across the messy table, and he rubbed his sore fingers over his neck before pushing up and away from the table, tucking the pencil next to the notebook's spine as he looked around for his subordinate.

Ja'far was sitting back against the wall, a pallet spread open between him and Sin's pack. Ja'far's hair was twisted over his chest in a messy plait - Sinbad realized that must have been what he was doing while Sin himself was engaged in writing. (Somehow, imagining Ja'far sitting crosslegged, threading his hair down his back seemed oddly... intimate, and he pushed away the thought before he could dwell and it showed on his face.) As Sinbad stepped toward him Ja'far looked up, eyes soft and distant. He gazed thoughtfully at Sinbad for a second, then gestured beside him. "Someone left bedding for you, so I took the liberty of setting it out."

"Ah... Well, thank you." Sinbad blinked (probably like a fool) for a second or two, then hunkered down so he could stow his journal back in the pack. His stiff hands slowly worked around the clasps, double-checking that everything was secure and in its place. Finally, satisfied, he slapped a hand on top of it, eying the spread Ja'far had set out. It was a cozy-looking setup, the sheets dyed a deep indigo with small - what Sinbad guessed were constellations embroidered down one side. He reached out to smooth his hand down over the top of the fabric, finding it soft and cool to the touch. Knowing that by now it was definitely very late, he sat back on the floor, reaching around to pull his shoes off and set them next to the bag.

When Sin was done he paused, staring across the length of the bed at Ja'far. The demon was sitting slumped against the wall, head propped against it and eyes closed, tail curled neatly across his (bare, Sinbad noticed with a shiver) feet. Ja'far must have caught hint of Sin's look, though, for he opened his eyes, cocking his head sideways in a wordless question.

Sinbad waved his hand, clumsily rising to his feet and padding over to the table so he could blow out the fitful candle light. In the dark, he made his way back by memory, kneeling down so that he could push back the blanket. Pausing before he made to swing his legs under the covers, he said, "Ja'far, keep watch, alright? Only wake me up if it's urgent or if someone's about to die."

A soft sigh greeted this order. Then: "As you wish." Sinbad couldn't quite see him, but he could sense the demon sitting more fully upright, watching the room with half-shut eyelids. Comforting, in its way - even though he did genuinely like his hosts, after the past months it was could to have a failsafe. Sinbad gave a soft hum and flopped into the pallet.

Then he jumped right back out with a yelp. "Ja'far!"

"Yes?" Came the mild voice from the darkness.

"Care to tell me why you put ice chucks in my bed?!"

A soft chuckle. "Stay sharp, Sinbad." Unfortunately, Sinbad could practically see the demon grinning toothily at his own cunning.

"Damn you." Sinbad wrapped his arms around his body, shivering. "And after I let you do your thing -"

"That was you, not me."

You piece of - Sinbad pushed that aside. He wanted to make friends with the demon, right, he had to overcome things like this. He blew out that spark of annoyance in a sigh. "Just - could you please remove it? And dry my bed?"

Silence. Then, before Sinbad could speak or lash a spark across their contract-bonds, Ja'far made a little rumble, half chuckle, half growl. "I suppose." A sharp clicking echoed around the room. "There."

Sinbad reached out and cautiously patted the area before him, and was gratified to feel that the bed was no longer cold and wet. He climbed under the sheets (carefully, this time) and burrowed into the sheets. He was cold, but he should warm up soon, at least. After a pause, as he listened to the sharp whistle of the wind around the eves of the house, he murmured, "Thank you, Ja'far. Goodnight."

"... Goodnight." Sinbad tucked his limbs close to his body, trying to conserve heat. Fortunately, he was tired enough that his eyes soon started drooping, and just as sleep was about to overtake his body it seemed that he heard another click and was surrounded by warmth, like someone had lit a fireplace next to his bed. So warm... and comfy...

He must have fallen into a deep sleep, for he woke suddenly, with a start. Blinking his eyes heavily (with the sense that several hours had to have passed, he felt more refreshed) before he realized that a heavy weight was pressing against his legs and chest. He must have opened his mouth to yell, but suddenly a heavy paw landed against his face. "Hst!"

Ja'far?

Sinbad shook his head free, wishing that he could see more. "What are you doing?" He whispered fiercely, both bewildered and disgruntled at being woken in such a manner. He freed a hand and reached over the blanket, only to encounter soft fur.

"Shh. I believe you asked me to wake you if something happened, which I am doing," Ja'far hissed back, indistinct except for a shapeless blob above Sin. "Is this the kind of gratitude I get?"

Sinbad blinked rapidly. "No, I - what's going on?" he breathed back, now much more conscious.

"Stay still. With your permission, I will cast a spell so your puny eyes can see, but listen to me. There are two people on top of the roof. They radiate ill-intent like a putrid corpse."

Assassins, here? "Are they from the village, can you tell?" Whispered Sinbad, half-wishing he had kept a blade at closer hand... no, but that could be seen as discourtesy as well. "And you have my permission. Let me see, Ja'far."

"I cannot be sure, but I don't think so." A lower rumble, one that Sinbad could not make out and suddenly Sin's eyes stung, but after holding them shut to starbursts for a couple of seconds and opened his eyes to see a silver-ruffed snow leopard lying on top of him, dark spots like freckles tumbling down its nose. No wonder his legs ached.

"Is there a reason you woke me up like this?" He whispered, casting his eyes around the room. Nothing seemed out of place, as far as he could tell.

"I... I think they sense my presence. I'm not sure. But I wanted to ensure you wouldn't yell - " Ja'far cut off mid-sentence, eyes suddenly flashing up to a spot on the ceiling toward the far wall. Sinbad remained frozen, straining with all his might, and he heard it too - soft whump whump sounds like someone stepping a floor above them. Had he not been on guard, he wouldn't have heard them.

"Let me move," Sinbad breathed, palms itching. Ja'far got to his feet but remained above Sinbad, feet heavy on either side and eyes still pinned toward the ceiling. Sinbad twisted and reached for his bag, groping for the biggest pocket, and pulled out the skinning knife he usually reserved for cooking, not fighting. His sword, he lamented, was at the far side of the room - and if this wasn't a lesson in preparation, but who on earth would be desperate enough to send assassins after him?

The softest of rustling, then silence. Sinbad elbowed Ja'far in the chest - nothing hard, just a nudge - and Ja'far backed up, placing each paw carefully. Moving as quietly as possible, Sinbad rotated his body, kneeling with one hand on the ground and the blade poised in front of him, glancing carefully from side to side. His own breathing seemed to echo, extra-loud in his ears. Briefly, he considered yelling for help - surely someone wasn't too far away - but, then again, most everyone within hearing distance was probably asleep, and who was to say whether these assassins wouldn't fight of flee - and Sinbad shuddered to think of what could happen if, gods forbid, a kid heard. He could feel Ja'far crouching down, muscles bunching - although he couldn't see it, it could almost sense the tiniest twitch of his tail.

"Ja'far," he blended the words into his breathing, straining into preparation, "Do your best to immobilize, not kill." He knew full well what the demon's first inclination would be, judging from past experience. "I would like to know who would send trained killers after me."

One heartbeat.

Two.

Then there was a crack above their heads and they both simultaneously leapt forward, Sinbad ducking into a somersault and bracing his weight with a hand against the floor as he spun even as Ja'far twisted his body in midair to land several feet away. They had moved just in time - a heavy weight rammed into where Sin's body had been, cracking the floorboards. A curse and Ja'far yowled, barreling past Sinbad in one swift movement to hurl his weight at the mid-sized figure who had shattered the small window to his right, blades flashing in the dim light.

Sinbad registered all this peripherally as a larger figure loomed forward, charging at him. He had a brief moment to breathe and they were on him and he ducked and dodged huge fists, whistling past his head. He jumped back once, twice, and then there was a screech from the other end and Sinbad and his opponent both hesitated by instinct, turning toward the sound - and Sinbad gasped as plant roots suddenly snaked past his vision, wrapping and clutching at their enemies.

Sinbad didn't even stop to think - as a large root swept past his shoulder, ramming into the other figure he ducked and ran toward the door, seeking not escape but the sword propped against it. A skinning knife, after all, wouldn't work for what he was planning - and then he jerked back heavily, mid-run, as a blade flashed past his torso to embed itself in the wall. The momentum caused him to skid and he slid heavily across the floor for a moment, scrabbling for balance and burning his palms.

Loud creaking noises behind him and he turned his head, even while in the midst of scrambling over roots the thickness of his legs. Dully, he could see a figure with its arms upraised in the center, trembling with concentration even as the shapeless form across from it lashed out, striking multiple times with a wooden thwack each time. Icy fear and adrenaline shocked through Sinbad's system and he bodily vaulted over the last obstacle to the door, scrabbling for the sword hit. The first time he grabbed the blade near the hilt, a sharp pain slicing at his fingers, but at the second swipe the leather-wrapped hilt nestled snuggly into his palm.

Sinbad sucked all the breath he could into his lungs in one gasp, searching deep within him for that nub of power that had appeared deep within Baal's dungeon. He found it and pried into it, magoi thrumming through his body, vibrating across his skin. He bared his teeth then whipped the sword up, imagining the fathomless sky far above them, imagining the churning of clouds and furious storms.

"LIGHTNING!"

And as that power burst forth, for a moment everything was still and he could see everything - the tiniest ridges in the grains of wood beneath his feet, the fluttering of papers smashed off the tables, and the liquidy flow of electricity bursting from his swordpoint to arc away in glowing rivers, forking down many paths in a radius before him. A sharp boom and time resumed, the pulse of lightning flooding through and shaking the room.

In the aftermath Sinbad stood poised, heart hammering as he peered through the dust. Dimly, the thought that the noise must have woken someone filtered through his head, but it was overshadowed in light of did I get them? And where is Ja'far?

A shivering whisper seemed to rumble through the room, and suddenly all of the lamps at hadn't been crushed by the melee flickered into life - followed, almost instantaneously, by pounding on the door. "Sinbad! Hey, kid, are you alright?"

Shocked into action, Sinbad yelled back, "Hang on a moment, don't come in!" He plunged toward the center of the room, dodging odd twisting roots, and came face to face with a peculiar sight - the two attackers, pressed motionless to the floor, with an oddly humanlike shape hovering over them. It turned and Sinbad almost bit his tongue as the figure looked at him - a humanoid figure, but with vines trailing down from its head over its body, and (Sin perceived quickly) - with its limbs extending into the root system that had burst through the room.

Sinbad blinked. "... Ja'far?"

Ja'far stared back, clearly unpleased. "Wake up, Sinbad, have you not heard of a dryad before?" He looked down to glower at the attackers. "What do you want me to do with them, if I can't kill them? They are unconscious - their pulses are weak."

"Um." Sinbad made a quick gesture. "If they are out, you can let go. And change back, quickly, before they pound the door down." Indeed, the drumming at the door was growing more and more violent.

"Gladly. I hate being a plant - it makes me too sleepy." With that interesting tidbit of information Ja'far seemed to pull back, the roots winding back into his body, compressing into nothing in an instant. He landed lightly on his feet and folded his arms tight against his body, falling forward - but even as Sinbad moved to catch him his body shrunk, condensing into a cat just in time for the door to come crashing in off its hinges.

Feeling sheepish for some inexplicable reason, Sinbad turned to face the people piling into his room, confusion warring with concern on many faces. "Um. I think we have a problem here - what do you guys think I should do?"