First conversation with a Fallen Angel, go!

Beta'd by Sesparra

As if on cue, the pedestals in the workshop started to glitter with soft light, drawing my attention first to them and then, when none of them changed, to the pit that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, dug into the floor.

It was relatively shallow, more like a saucer or a particularly shallow bowl, and the edges were smooth, almost as if it had been shaped that way from the beginning. I remembered the state of the workshop before it had arrived and a mere five minutes ago, when the model house had assembled itself, it wasn't there, but if someone lacked my experience with the space, the assumption would be forgivable.

There was no warning as the bowl filled itself in. Between one heartbeat and the next, a gently curved expanse of empty floor found itself filled with what vaguely resembled a bird's nest crossed with a fancy studio apartment, if it had been designed and carved by hand by a TMNT show's worth of Renaissance masters. There was a circle of what looked like sticks and twigs, woven together to almost a foot in thickness and maybe fifteen in internal diameter, picked out painstakingly from pale marble, shot through with dark veins that in turns seemed to both fade into the natural shadows of the nestlike construction and stand out starkly, putting me in mind of that method of repairing things with gold that had caught on in Japan that Yuki had mentioned a time or two, Kint-something or other.

Within the circle was an odd mix of creature comforts- there was a vanity and a round bed, white accented with gold with the exception of the bedframe, which was made of dark mahogany, both seeming pristine, as if straight from some high-end showroom, but there was a corner of the nest that I could only describe as a painter's studio, similarly unused, and another place that was… well, let's just say that "fun-time handcuffs" were the least of the tools there and leave it at that.

So, all in all, fairly discongruous with the rest of the workshop, all corruption of purity and pristine items as compared to the firelit warmth of the workshop that I'd learned much of my magic in.

With exactly as much ceremony as the appearance of the nest, a woman appeared, standing dead center in the middle of the encircled area, and I took my first look at the Fallen that had taken up residence in my head.

She was statuesque, pale skin with just enough pink undertones to distinguish herself from the marble she found herself surrounded by and emphasize the shine of her lustrous blonde hair. She wore a simple toga over one shoulder, belted at the waist with a length of what appeared to be rope if not for the golden sheen, and it was revealing enough to be worthy of the title "Seducer", if that's who she was, while being tantalizing enough that, if my libido was stronger or my wariness over having, you know, a shard of a fallen angel living in my head rent free was less strident in my thoughts, I would have found myself quite tempted by. As it was, I could appreciate the aesthetic appeal of her lithely muscled form while also noting the almost diaphanous, there-but-not-there suggestion of a massive pair of wings extending from her back, the faint scent of ozone wafting towards me overpowered by the stench of Hellfire.

"Greetings, my host," she said, opening eyes greener than Dad's lawn at its most verdant, and as she spoke, a sigil flickered to violet light on her forehead, looking like an L that someone had run through first italics and then enough calligraphers to turn it into an hourglass, only confirming my suspicions of who I'd ended up being a pack mule for.

"Hello, Lasciel," I said, pressing my lips into a thin line. "Fancy meeting you here."

She smiled, a gentle expression that nonetheless had nervous chills running down my spine. "Ah, I see you are familiar with me."

"By reputation," I said tersely. Something about what she had just said struck me as odd, and while it took a moment to puzzle out what it was, I came up with it before she continued speaking.

She didn't have access to my memories.

From what I'd heard from Sanya, in the future-that-wasn't, Magog had been more than willing to ransack his past memories and take advantage of them to more adroitly browbeat him into staying with Tessa and Rosanna, so clearly there was some sort of protection that kept Lasciel from just picking up on what experience I'd had with her hosts in the future-that-wasn't, but…

No, wait, I knew what it was. Somehow, this place was insulating my memories of the future that I'd lived through from Lasciel, restricting her knowledge of my knowledge and capabilities to just what I'd said and done since returning to this time.

There was no way to be sure, short of hunting down wherever the protection came from and examining that, but the newly begun slight glow of the wand that I knew signified both the memories and magic that I'd earned in the future, off to the side of Lasciel's nest, was close enough to vindication that I'd take it.

My train of thought screeched to a halt as the pedestals of the Forge glowed, and though none of them changed, the fact that they did so in clear view of Lasciel set me on edge.

The foreboding feeling only grew stronger as she cast her gaze around, taking in the entirety of the workshop with fresh eyes, before a smile grew onto her face, small but unnerving. "Oho," she said, turning her gaze back to me. "A new chosen of the Celestial Forge? Mmm, you are going to be a good host. Better, perhaps, than Dresden, despite what Nicodemus thinks."

I found myself very tempted to ask more about that. I knew some things about Margaret LeFay, but not nearly as much as Nicodemus, who'd been someone who could call himself a contemporary (if not a friend) of the woman, and getting the information Lasciel had from him about Margaret and how Harry took after her would be easier than squeezing it out of Nicodemus or hunting down Lord Raith and maneuvering him into disclosing secrets. On the other hand, bargaining with any of the Fallen, especially the fucking Webweaver, was a phenomenally stupid idea and I was liable to fuck myself over hard by doing so.

"Right," I said, rolling my eyes (and then wondering how the fuck that worked when I was sitting with my eyes closed in the car and projecting my awareness into my own soul). "Like I'd give someone like you to a Starborn who's even more emotionally vulnerable than I am. The poor man has no support system, what makes you think I'd let you have a free shot at him?"

Lasciel met my eye-roll with her own. "I do not, my host. In fact, I do expect you to keep me to yourself out of a desire to protect the people around you from the burden of containing a fallen angel and maintain whatever path it is that you end up choosing for yourself. I will say that Anduriel has asked me for some help in preserving his favorite host, not that he can't find one better suited for him, but I am by no means obligated to do so and in fact believe that he can really do better."

"Give thanks for small mercies, I guess," I said, finding it a little funny how catty Lasciel was being.

"Yes, and speaking of small mercies, I do believe that you're the most prepared host I've had in centuries." Lasciel's assessing gaze moved a shade to the approving, sending a shudder racing down my spine.

My hackles snapped right back the fuck up at that. "Ah, so that's it, huh? You're trying to compliment me into giving in to your charms so I give over all my free will to the pretty lady living in my soul?" I made an effort to insert a mocking edge into my "voice" for a moment.

Lasciel's eyes flashed with an ugly bruise-purple light for just a moment as her face seemed to solidify, seeming more like a statue than flesh, and her voice seemed to sour in a way that I couldn't identify in the actual "sound" of the thing. "Do you honestly think so poorly of me, my host?"

"You're literally living rent-free in my head, so you tell me," I shot back.

She made eye contact for a moment, and for a brief, irrational moment, I was terrified of the prospect of a Soulgaze with a malevolent entity that counted its age in eons, before managing to remember that Lasciel couldn't be a direct participant of a Soulgaze. I let out a relieved breath- seeing the way that Ursiel had rebuilt his host from the ground up was one thing, but experiencing the innermost self of a literal fallen angel was likely beyond what I could handle even if it wasn't liable to piss her right the hell off and get her to try and kill me, good host or no.

Then, the moment passed, and Lasciel made a moue, transforming from an unimpressed Greek statue to a baby-faced teenager who just got told that her favorite show got cancelled. "My host is so mean to me," she sing-songed, turning her nose up at me in a way that seemed almost playful. "Woe is me, for I am forsaken by my most generous host!"

If she was trying to throw me off by being so melodramatic, then it was working, especially when she'd pulled out the expression that I could swear I've seen on Hope's face at least once when she was trying to convince Dad to give her extra dessert or something like that. I found myself rolling my eyes, fondly this time, before I remembered who exactly was in front of me and got all riled up again.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, disdain worthy of Harry in my voice. "The owner of the soul you decided to squat in isn't impressed with you, what else is new."

"I have never before been hosted by one of the Chosen of the Celestials, be they Forge or Grimoire. I cannot say any of us has even come close, save perhaps Namshiel. He had the opportunity to ensnare Merlin, before he began to build his legend, but… well, he made a judgement call based on the information he had, and there was no way to know that an up-and-coming Imperial Mage would have been an inferior choice to some child from the wilds of Brittania." Lasciel very deliberately shrugged one shoulder, nonchalance incarnate save for the smirk on her face.

Of course, she had good fucking reason to be that fucking smug. The nature of this thing I'd been saddled with was… kind of worrying, now that I thought about it, if for no other reason than power had purpose and I'd been given one hell of a lot of power. The fact that she was the only source of information I had on this thing was… well, it was the kind of leverage anyone would jump at.

My train of thought was, once again, interrupted by the Forge (and wasn't it nice to actually have a name to put to it), although this time the glittery lights didn't die out unceremoniously.

One of the pillars rose, taking on an almost plastic-y appearance, and atop it appeared a gun. Not a real gun, naturally, but a plastic one, shaped like someone had told a six-year-old about the idea of a revolver and had them draw it out. The abnormally long cylinder was out front, shiny and black with a band of neon orange around the front, surrounded by a yellow frame with more orange forming a quarter inch's worth of barrel. The trigger matched the barrel in color, and the section above it and the grip both were the kind of shiny gray that gets used on injection molded plastics when they want to pretend that it's metal. On the top gray section were four letters picked out in yellow, and then it all clicked.

None of us had ever been keen to get Nerf guns, in either this time or the future-that-wasn't, but I was aware of the basic concept of the things.

More importantly, I was aware of the fact that the Forge had just dropped the ability to pick up anything (well, anything that couldn't move of its own accord, which was a lot less restrictive than it sounded) and turn it into a gun with just a thought.

The pocket-sized purple book with metal clasps almost seemed unimportant in comparison, but given the fact that the Forge was insistent that I know that it would update itself with every weapon that I picked up, every foe I'd ever faced, and every significant item I'd ever interacted with, plus a side order of prophetic vagueness at times, it was probably a big deal, and after a moment, I got it- this was the kind of information-gathering ability that would defeat every means of obfuscation save for its own restrictions, the kind that would let people defeat the kinds of protections that, say, prevent the Oblivion War from blowing itself way the fuck open. Again.

Fuck.

Lasciel turned her head to me, a curiously birdlike gesture. "Oh? Is something troubling you, my host?"

She appeared genuinely curious, but I couldn't trust that. "Okay, so. I'm assuming you're aware of the Archive's purpose?"

"Prosecute the Oblivion War, yes." Her eyes narrowed. "What is that?"

"The kind of item that would, if used carelessly, cause us to lose." With that, I opened my eyes in the real world, shoving my sense of the Forge to the back of my head just in time to pull in to the driveway.

And that's that!

Perks Earned:

Cult of the Gun (Enter the Gungeon, 100CP): What makes The Gungeon work? Magic. Duh. But, it's a specific type of magic: Gun magic, magic that makes objects more gun-like, or that accentuates the gun-like traits of non-gun objects. Unrestrained, it can turn a gun-like non-gun object, like a mailbox, into a gun, granting it a projectile and a firing method. The Gungeon does this passively, but you know how to direct this ability and use it to your advantage, taking any kind of object, and making it into a "gun," complete with the same perks that any gun-like object might gain. It's still fairly uncontrolled, with little if any say on your part as to what kind of weapon you get. How else do you explain, "guns," like a mailbox that fires letters and packages; a banana that fires explosive bananas; a bee hive that fires bees (duh) ; a camera that deals room-wide damage, knockback, and slowing; a guzheng that fires arrows when played; a pillow that fires zippers and stuns nearby enemies when reloaded; a crate that fires anvils; or a compressed air tank that fires homing sharks?

Ammonomicon (Enter the Gungeon, Free): An ancient book supplied to all those who enter The Gungeon. It provides you with a cryptic hint as to the special effect of any weapon you pick up, and some measure of lore on it, if such should apply. Also collects information on any enemies, bosses included, guns, and items you've seen in the past, and see in the future, though this is often cryptic, and/or heavily summarized.

Oblivion War? What Oblivion War?

If you want to support me as a writer, I got me a Ko (fi) (https (:/) (/) ko (-) fi (/) lucifra) and a Pa tre on (https (:/) pa tre on .com (/) Lucifra), and you can see chapters a week early if you become a patron. (remove spaces and parentheses)

Speaking of which, my thanks to NotableRonin, Mtron, AntaeusTheGiant, Starfall20, Danielle, Ultama Omega, Asuran Fun, KOOLAID, Journeyman_Mike, Josef Haerle, Freddie Capps, James, Allen Baker, Bailey Matutine, Mr Phantom, Thomas Vernet, Maleficarum, Conor Cooney and Ember for being patrons!

I also have a discord sir ver for author stuff now (as in as of like right now it's going live)- if you have questions or comments that you'd like a more direct, that's another option: https (:/) (/) dis co rd dot com (/) NHRUKz8jyy (remove spaces and parentheses, dot to period)

That's about it, so read, review, enjoy, and have a nice day!