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It did not bode well for the universe when the Head of the Council grew restless. The Vetales kept the Ifrit most occupied with a variety of tasks ranging from giving it their menial riddles to taking over the Reaper’s teachings while the Lord of Time was away. And, in Iblîs’ not-so-humble opinion, that was happening far too often in preparation for what was to come. Iblîs was prone to restlessness, and running an entire species almost single-handedly got tedious after a few million years of doing so.
What Iblîs needed was something to keep its attention — something a little more interesting than the Vetales provided for it. Something that could eventually serve a purpose. Or someone - someone that had experience with the Lords of Time. A different perspective from Iblîs’ own. The Reaper did not seem to possess the quick temper and fits of passion as it had seen so clearly in the other Lords that it had the distinct displeasure of meeting.
Iblîs would have preferred to venture into the human’s world to grab such a person, though the Vetales demurred. Iblîs supposed it couldn’t fault their worry — each time Iblîs ventured out, death on a grand scale normally followed. Iblîs did not often disobey the Vetales directly; they were younger and weaker, but they were also infinitely wiser, and Iblîs begrudgingly respected them.
Iblîs was crouched on the ceiling, not unlike a bat, staring quietly at the lesson hovering in front of the Ifrit. A Vetala — this one haven stolen the corpse of an elderly woman (the Vetala, for all of their wisdom, could not produce a corporeal form or possess a human, only their empty shell; it made for disgusting company) — appeared in its chambers, their energy leaving shimmery golden trails after it. A human emerged from the golden energy. “This human is the best fit for you, Head of the Council,” the old woman’s corpse spoke, raspy and rotten.
Iblîs scampered off the ceiling to the human’s side, feet not quite touching the ground as it circled her before planting its feet firmly on the ground. “You may leave,” it said to the corpse abruptly. “And change your body before you make the whole of the Council evacuate from that stench,” Iblîs scrunched its nose. The Vetala bowed lowly, the corpse’s spine crunching from the sudden motion.
It scowled at the old woman until it left, and then turned to the human, a warm grin replacing the cold expression with alarming speed. “You may sit if you feel unwell from the travel,” it offered, gesturing towards the rather useless seating as it drifted back towards the ceiling. “I wouldn’t blame you. You had to be broken down to the atomic level to pass the barrier. It can be disorienting. I am Iblîs — I would shake your hand, but I don’t particularly want to.”
@lucyinthesky | Note: Lemme know if I should change anything!😍
Lucy's life hadn't made sense in a long, long time Not since she assisted Harold Saxon's autobiography release. She'd been so intrigued by the way he spoke, the nuanced emphases and meter, that she'd tapped along to them. When Lucy had felt the man's eyes on her, she had ceased immediately, certain that the writer - and, apparently, soldier of some sort? - would feel that she was being rude. She'd met that sort of man plenty of times, after all.
Instead, Harold had asked her on a date. They'd had jelly babies and sat under the stars as he told her their names. They talked about the snow that hadn't been snow after the Sycorax, and about so many alien worlds. Harry had opened up the universe to her, brought her to the threshold between sensibility and possibility.
A threshold she'd crossed with him and couldn't cross back.
So no, Lucy's life didn't much make sense, but being kidnapped by a zombie woman was a new low. Being slowly kidnapped, piece by piece, was a level of horror to try to comprehend that she only associated with her husband. With the Utopia that wasn't, the end, and surviving him like a cockroach. Her legs felt shaky, all of her felt shaky. She was a tree buffeted by a poorly timed windstorm as the ground gave way beneath her.
“This human is the best fit for you, Head of the Council."
Were her eyes acting up? Or had she just seen a young boy - well, boy sized person - run down from the ceiling? Lucy focused on the floor, spotting herself as if she had been dancing a particularly long time, as her faculties came back to her. The person was floating, examining her like a horse at auction.
Lucy refrained from saying anything at all as the corpse was dismissed. She had no desire to direct that familiar brand of power and disgust her way. She waited and watched as the being's mood did a complete 180 degree turn. Not that she had any complaints about being spared that displeasure, if only for the moment.
“You may sit if you feel unwell from the travel.
Permission was such a lovely thing in an unfamiliar situation. As was the explanation for how she'd gotten here in the first place. Not that she had any idea why.
"Thank you," Lucy said politely. She wasn't sure that she actually wanted to avail herself of the seating until the being went right back to the ceiling.
You should always stand when first meeting someone. To sit is to imply they are above you and thus in a position of power over you.
Slowly, deliberately, she took a seat. There was no 'implication' here. Lucy might not fathom the reason, but she had been brought here for a purpose. She wasn't in the business of making pointless, idiotic power plays.
"I am Iblîs — I would shake your hand, but I don’t particularly want to.”
"Please, there's no need to make yourself uncomfortable." Lucy said charitably. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Iblîs, I"m sure."
If there had been any indicator that she was a human exposed to otherworldly shenanigans, Iblîs supposed it was relative lack of outward reaction at her circumstances. The vast majority of humans that had been brought to the Council had never reacted as calmly as she did. It was a welcome change - although, Iblîs supposed that the other humans had been brought to the chambers to die, so perhaps the intent had to do with the levels of fear. “You’re quite welcome,” Iblîs replied. The human had manners — another welcome change.
Iblîs grinned, positively delighted with her attitude. It came down from the ceiling restlessly, coming to stand in front of her. With her sitting and the Ifrit standing, they were finally at eye-level. “I’m not a mister,” it corrected, not unkindly. “Nor a miss.” To explain its point, Iblîs’ humanoid form splintered apart until it was a shimmering green mass with an immense heat radiating from the bright core. Iblîs put its form together again, masking the heat again. It was a creature made of fire — being too close was like putting a hand over a burning candle. “Just Iblîs. No honorifics necessary.”
It crouched on the floor, putting its chin on its knees as it stared up at her. “My brother did not tell me your name,” it said, tilting its head to gesture to the door the woman's corpse had left through. “Nor anything else about you. I can tell you’re human.” One that had been through not a lot of human things - and those were its favorite humans. “Although I can assume you’ve had contact with a Lord of Time,” Iblîs explained, gesturing idly to the Gallifreyan lesson still hovering by the ceiling. “I’m curious about them.”
It paused, and then allowed a sheepish smile to cross its face. “I’m easily bored by lessons. I prefer holding conversations. Most of the Lords of Time are…” Iblîs puffed out its cheeks childishly, raising its eyes to the ceiling in an expression of exaggerated annoyance. And Iblîs could not very well discuss its plans with the Reaper — there were too many personal emotions attached for an objective discourse. “Well. I was hoping we could talk. Exchange knowledge. And then we can return you. Tea?”
Can't believe Lucy and the devil are gonna have tea.
Sitting meant that Lucy could be as shaky as she wanted about experiencing spaciotemporal travel again. The zombie woman's method had been even less pleasant than travel by Harry's ring, which she hadn't previously expected to be possible. Unlike when Harry was sending her on errands, the person she spoke to now was nothing but pleasant. There hadn't been any threats, only simple niceties.
Then Iblîs turned into a hot, green mess in front of her eyes, and Lucy laced her hands tightly in response. That certainly wasn't something you saw everyday. She took a deep breath of the blissfully once again cool air when the being returned to a humanoid appearance.
"Iblîs then," Lucy said politely, blinking a few times as she recovered. A slight moue of confusion crossed her expression as Iblîs rested his chin on her knees. It was a simultaneously adorable and terrifying image that Lucy wasn't entirely sure how to deal with, so it was fortunate that they kept speaking. Even if hearing the zombie woman be called a 'brother' had her re-evaluating her mental pronouns yet again.
She waited patiently throughout his explanation. In Lucy's experience, it wasn't a good idea to interrupt people with power over you. Besides which, it was rude. And if she was going to die, she wasn't going to die rude. Not that it seemed like her death was particularly what Iblîs had in mind, something that Lucy found infinitely reassuring.
"My apologies for not introducing myself. My name is Lucy, and I would be delighted to accept your offer. Tea would be lovely, thank you."
Not that denying them would have done all that much good, but what social or business call didn't involve gossip over drinks of some sort?
"As for 'Lords of Time', I've only met two, that I understand aren't entirely representative of their culture, but if you'd rather talk to a person than your... lessons, you said? I've no compunction against assisting you." She smiled slightly. "They can be a trial."
And really, a discussion over tea didn't sound so bad at all. Lucy just wasn't sure what sort of information that she'd want in exchange. She didn't know, well, what it was she didn't know. Other than almost everything.
Iblîs grinned widely — unnervingly wide, perhaps, as Iblîs had little concept of unthreatening facial ratios. It snapped its fingers, more for show than was strictly required for the action, and a tea set rattled onto the table in front of her. “There you are,” it offered, turning to pour her a cup. A little clumsily as Iblîs wasn’t used to using the humanoid form beyond appearances, but the liquid managed to find its way mostly inside the cup. “I hope you like jasmine,” Iblîs said, setting it down beside her. “It’s the only kind I know how to make.”
And by “make”, Iblîs meant ‘how to replicate the scent, taste, and sight’. It was more like Iblîs’ ‘blood’ she would be drinking rather than actual tea, but Iblîs supposed that it would be better for her mental health if she did not think through it too deeply. “I’m sure two is enough for a lifetime,” Iblîs smiled, crossing its arms. Anyway, the Ifrit’s understanding was that conforming Time Lords were dead — it had very little use for the Lords of Time that represented that majority. “Yes, lessons. Their language and history mostly.” It was quite long, very conflicting, and overwhelmingly boring.
Though Iblîs had known she’d agreed — not many people dared to tell the creature ‘no’, even when it did its best to appear unassuming — a wider, far more genuine smile curled its lips. “I’ll ask you a question first then. The two Lords of Time that you know - who are they to you?” Iblîs asked curiously.
Lucy's fingers tapped against her side in the only visible indication she might be uncomfortable. Perhaps she was merely thinking, and not put off by her companion's face splitting smile at all. (It wasn't as horrifying as seeing the future of your race become hysterical floating skulls. Small favors.) The fact that physical laws as she understood them were violated by the instantaneous creation of a tea set was certainly not the most disturbing thing she'd seen either.
Who said Iblîs' realm functioned by the rules she was accustomed to, Lucy reminded herself quietly. She'd never known an amorphous being might don a human suit. Maybe it was simply a type of magic. Even if Harry had always been dismissive of that. She didn't have to understand.
That was almost as comforting as the tea itself, which she accepted from them gently as soon as the cup had been placed next to her.
"Jasmine is lovely," she assured them, a smile twitching across her face. Two had indeed been enough for a lifetime, and she nodded slightly to indicate they weren't wrong. She hadn't had much in the way of formal training on Gallifreyan history - just bits of stories she'd picked up. Mostly from Harry in a good mood, although not exclusively from him. The hummingbird hadn't been the worst conversationalist, Lucy could acknowledge.
“I’ll ask you a question first then. The two Lords of Time that you know - who are they to you?”
Lucy took a sip of tea as she considered that question. It wasn't as simple to answer as the woman knew it should be.
"Harry - the Master - is my husband, although heaven and hell knows I've done my best to put some distance between us." And there was a slight glimmer of amusement in the fact being here and answering these questions, in a manner she could never have predicted or sought out, was doing a far more admirable job at providing space than any of her own attempts. "The other... well I hated him at first, but I suppose on some days we're more... acquaintances. When I first met him, I don't think I registered on his radar at all. I still might not." But she didn't want him dead quite as much as she used to.
She wondered if it would be rude to ask Iblîs what he was, or where she was for that matter. And then she wondered if she'd understand it enough for it to matter anyway.
But first, she'd wait and see if she'd answered their question sufficiently.
Iblîs’ lips pressed together in a frown at the term ‘Master’, and its head tilted as she continued the explanation. The Ifrit supposed that its relationship with the Reaper would be just as baffling to a third party observer — and with the same vocabulary, although Iblîs did not think it would willingly put distance between it and the Reaper. “In normal circumstances, I’d suggest murdering him. But the Lords of Time make that tediously drawn-out. It’s inconsiderate.”
“I think the worst mistake any sentient creature can make is ignoring clever humans,” the Ifrit said, smiling ruefully. It had learned that lesson rather painfully, and at the cost of much of the Jinn population. The Ifrit hated the humans as much as the next arrogant species, but Iblîs never made the same mistake twice. For all their ignorance, humans were undeniably adaptable, clever, and determined. The worst combination in the entire universe, if anyone were to ask the Ifrit — but given its admittedly tiny exposure to the universe as a whole, it was doubtful anyone would.
Her explanations raised more questions, but the Ifrit held its tongue, waiting for either more explanation or questions of her own. “So you avoid your husband in favor of the one you have an uneasy alliance with?” Iblîs asked, amusement lining its tone. “That’s great.”
Lucy's lips stretched into something more of a baring of teeth than a smile. Then she took a sip of the tea, and allowed it to soothe her complexion once more.
"He rather refuses to stay dead."
'Isn't it awful, the lack of decorum?' Her tone asked as she took another careful drink.
Lucy politely didn't address her stance on clever humans. She wasn't clever herself, more desperate. Somehow, that didn't seem relevant to bring up to a being who'd had her summoned from... another dimension?
"I believe he considered our marriage more a convenience."
True, there might have been some slight doubt when he spoke of missing her right after his resurrection. But overall....
"Your...", zombie woman, "brother... they said you were Head of the Council. May I ask what the council is of? Or for, as the case may be."
Convenience? The word perturbed Iblîs in a way the creature couldn’t place. It hadn’t given much thought to marriage or love — which was perhaps bizarre, as Iblîs was both married and felt a fondness for the Reaper that maybe it would classify as love, even if never aloud for fear the circumstances would immediately change. It opened its mouth to say that a marriage of convenience wasn’t a real marriage, and no one deserved to be caught in something like that, but Iblîs figured that its role was an antagonistic creature who just kidnapped this human. She probably wasn’t too interested in hearing its ideals or opinions. “That’s unfortunate.”
Iblîs’ lips, which were pulled into a thoughtful frown as it kept ruminating miserably on Lucy’s previous commentary on her husband, sneered slightly at the term ‘Head of the Council’. It carefully schooled its expression. “The Council was created after the humans destroyed most of our population and enslaved us,” it said carefully, trying to keep its voice neutral. “Every Jinn is part of the council. The Ummaar are our public relations. They know the humans most intimately. The Shayteen are our warriors. The Marids and Ifrits mostly stay in the Council. Our decision makers. There are two types of Vetales — the retrograde and anterograde. Retrograde can see everything that has ever happened in the past. Anterograde see everything that will, or can, ever happen. There are only a few left. Most are driven to madness very shortly in life.”
“Before the Council was formed, we were ruled by the Drevnemi. Our founders. My… parents, you could call them. They kept us safe. They made our decisions for us. The humans killed them due to an error in judgment I made,” Iblîs explained, tapping its fingers on its chin. “After the fall of the Drevnemi, we decided that working together would lower our chances of extinction. I’m the Head of the Council because I made a mistake that necessitated a Council. It’s not a title I wear proudly, but it’s mine.”
Unfortunate.... yes. Yes it was. For a year and a half, Lucy had thought she'd found someone she could love. Who didn't see her as small and useless as everyone else did. The woman blinked hard but kept silent as she listened.
Lucy wished she had a notepad to ensure she wouldn't forget the names Iblis' gave her, but you couldn't have everything. She did have the general gist at least.
"My condolences for your loss," she spoke quietly. Lucy thought to apologize on behalf of the human race, but it would be nought but empty words. Her apology wouldn't make the human race any less destructive and murderous. They'd done so for fun even at the end of the universe itself. "And my apologies for the reminder." That, at least, she could account for.
Iblîs looked down at its hands, unsure how to respond to the offer of condolences. It was times like this that Iblîs needed the Reaper’s directions for social cues — certainly the Ifrit was diplomatic but when the emotions actually involved it, Iblîs was hopeless. “It’s not an experience I’d wish to repeat,” Iblîs said, and then: “Not that I could, as they are very dead. It was an ordeal getting the corpses gathered. Once was enough for that.”
Never mind. Iblîs was content that the Reaper was not being exposed to that particular turn of phrase.
“It isn’t your fault you didn’t know, but I appreciate the apology,” Iblîs smiled. “I expect it was the Vetales’ intention you question my title; my brothers are of the opinion I can stand to be knocked down a peg or twelve from time to time.”
If being around Fitz and that sappy mallard of his had done nothing else, it had helped Lucy get a slightly better grasp over how to identify with someone. Mostly, it was a thought exercise for Lucy, a way to more easily interact with those they needed something from or needed to help. Lucy wasn't sure if either were the case here, but she felt indignant on Iblîs behalf all the same.
She had a very sudden, pressing desire to watch the Vetala that had brought her here burn. She'd watched her own people die horribly and danced, this would be no hardship. It wasn't just uncouth; it felt like petty torture for a past act Lucy could very much relate to.
What a pity that they could see the future.
No, wait. They'd said all of the seers died young, hadn't they? Which meant... anterograde.
"I'd be happy to ensure they never forget the day I burned them alive for such a manipulation. It won't kill them, just that corpse, correct?"
So what if she was a bit protective over a virtual stranger. She'd made far worse choices in her life.
Iblîs had sensed a disturbance in the mood — it’d spent its life feeding off human despair and anger, and although now it was trying to cut back from wreaking havoc for food, the Ifrit had never really lost the taste. It’d not expected that the cause of Lucy’s ire had been its treatment by the Vetales. Iblîs stared at her, eyes widened in a mixture of confusion and amusement. There weren’t a lot of sentient beings brave enough to threaten the livelihood of one of Iblîs’ family — the humans who did so were ruthlessly disposed of, the Jinn who threatened each other were decommissioned, and most other species could sense patterns well enough to know to stay away.
But the Vetales were different. For all their talk of Iblîs betraying the Jinn, their absence from the war and their freedom spoke more than Iblîs’ title and position in the Council. “I like you,” Iblîs said fondly, a grin forcing its way to its lips. “You’re correct. It would disconnect their bond to the corpse. It’s not necessary to avenge me, though — I wouldn’t want them to try to retaliate against you. I’d have to decommission them, and they’re already in such short supply.”
Lucy was quiet, contemplating the being's face in front of her seriously. After a moment, she dipped her head in acquiescence, releasing her personal ire over it. If they weren't upset about it, then there was no need to dwell.
"Of course." The muscles in her neck and shoulders relaxed slightly. "I wouldn't want to create more work for you."
She took a breath, then sat in a polite, receptive silence because it was their turn to ask a question. That, and she didn't want to overstep too far after having threatened one of the jinn' family, on their own behalf.
“Thank you,” Iblîs said, watching her relax with an air of mirth. The Ifrit was used to the Reaper leaping to its defense with weapons bared, but a human defending Iblîs — a human that it’d only just met — was… delightful. “And I do mean that. I don’t deserve to be treated with any kindness by a human, but it’s nice when it happens.”
Iblîs’ fingers curled in the silence — it’d really not anticipated getting this far in a conversation. “Do you have experience in burning people alive?” the Ifrit asked conversationally — she’d seemed quite comfortable with the topic.
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