Fool's Crowd

DATE | Friday the 22th of January 2021
TIME | It's getting a little late - 22:31
PLACE / AREA | Hope Garden no. 7 in Aston, Gaia - A grand historic mansion
WEATHER | Mostly clear night sky with the beginning of a waxing gibbous visibly and a temperature in the negative degrees.
ATTIRE | A gorgeous full-length red gown (Further descriptions in text below)


Yet another year the magnificent mansion in the lavish and rich Hope Garden held ground for the winter ball. Not to be confused with the Christmas ball or any other fancy gatherings. But of course those on the invitation lists would never be caught confusing those two celebrations. The Winter ball was in another class all together. It might not be organized by the royal family but it was not a place for just anyone to walk into. At the Winter ball only certain people were invited and only an invitation permitted attendance. Among those people were influential socialites, the elite in the cooperate world and the rich. Without knowing much about the little witch, one would think she didn’t belong although this definitely hadn’t been the first year she had received that golden inked invitation. Only the first year she had chosen to make and appearance.

The large hall, most likely build for the exact purpose of grand, rich parties as was the norm back in the days where the mansion had been build, was decorated with glimmer and glam. Warm lights filling the room from chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling and creating a such comfortable environment inside there that subconsciously prevented the guests from wandering either out into the dark outside or further into the more dimly lit corridors of the place where they possibly wasn’t allowed anyway. No one liked at snoop.
A long table filled with all kinds of delicious foods, beautifully arranged, was stationed along one of the walls with servants in crisp, freshly ironed uniforms who stood ready to serve up whatever a guest would be in the mood for. A large area on the middle were being occupied by dancing couples. And it was nothing of the likes of dancing there were to be found in bars and nightclubs. It was sophisticated dancing. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Perfect for the music that played. However, not everyone were dancing. Many guest had gathered in smaller groups and talked. Some loud and proudly with bellowing laughs while others whispered and were alert of unwanted listeners. There were talk about business, about alliances, about plans as well as bragging. This was what the Winter ball was for. All the dancing and casual socializing and partying as well as the pretty dresses and overdosing of glittering jewelry were simply an add on which a partner or family could enjoy in the meanwhile.

Saga had never had much of a strong presence, not in crowds like these at least. Unobservant eyes rarely seemed to notice her before she spoke or made herself known in other ways. And it wasn’t because she wasn’t eye-catching that evening. Adorning a ruby red dress, that although it was of a simple cut and no detailing still showcased the expenses of its material and perfected wide pleading. It reached high up to her neck, covering the five dark letters by her collarbone and then made up for the lack of exposure by being open back. And she carried the dress as if she was meant to wear it.  
Her face was powdered, yet her cheeks subtly reflected the lights that hit at the right angle. And her intense eyes were emphasized with dark liner. Her lips had been kept innocently blotted with a very neutral shade to not overwhelm. The same could be said about her hair; pulled back into a low bun in the back of her neck and the few tiny purposely placed fly-aways around her face were curled. The only jewelry she wore was a bronze arm cuff looping a few times around her left upper arm and a silver pin in the shape of a crescent moon resting in her hair just above the bun.
But atlas even a walking waiter with a full tray of bubbling pale wine in tall glasses didn’t stop up by the notion that she had no drink or hors d’oeuvres in either of her hands to therefore offer her a refreshment. The waiter passed her the same as she passed him, her gaze targeted forward. Then a couple of steps further along the large window-filled wall, she turned with the confidence of a resident of the mansion to the garden doors and without really stopping she gently grabbed the handle, twisted it and stepped through it. Closing it behind her again.

She then stood on the small platform with a short stone staircase leading down into the garden area. There were a lot quieter there. The music and chatter from the hall could still be heard but it was muffled. It was cold and she took a moment to breath out through her mouth to watch the icy mist form in the air before she slowly walked down the steps. It didn’t take long for her to scout a bench of pure marble not far which she carefully treaded over a well-kept green patch of grass to get to and sit down. Firstly she reached forward and down to her feet to remove the heels. One after another, and then she placed them a bit to the side. She sat op and stretched her legs a bit, just enough so her feet would come in contact with the grass. It was cold. It was winter after all. Snow hadn’t fallen but it probably would in the coming days with how crisp the air was. Hadn’t the she made do with a warming spell on her belly, she wouldn’t have been able to stay out. Not in her attire.
Gently, she started moving her bare feet over the grass, making it grow ever so slightly up around them. To feel the nature and calm her. For a moment she closed her eyes. She thrived in the moon light. She felt more at ease after the dark. She opened her eyes again, turning her head towards the mansion. She could still see through the large windows, saw the party going strong inside. She would have to return to it. But not yet. Not before her feet weren’t so sore from having walked and danced in heels for the past hours.

The amber liquid from an old vintage bottle got poured into a glass and was placed neatly on the marble table in front of Michael. His date, a blonde angel in a sparkling silver gown, sat beside him on the couch with a glass of champagne in her hand, having a conversation with the governor’s wife while Michael listened to the governor explain his political agenda. One that he supported because of its religious influence. It was always in his interest to spread God's law on Earth, so it was purely a good thing when strong believers made it into the political scene. Michael gave the waiter his gratitude before he leaned back in his seat with the glass, giving the governor an affirming nod as he asked him a question before he took a sip of the whiskey. Spiced apples, vanilla and cinnamon with gentle hints of smoke. Their conversation went on for a few more minutes before the governor excused himself to move on to another politician now that he'd acquired Michael's support. He shook his hand and thanked him for the conversation before he felt Céline’s hand on his knee. “I’ll go talk to the South African ambassador,” she said, his gaze meeting her eyes before they followed her gaze to the ambassador who seemed to be free at the moment. He’d asked her to be his date because she deserved to get in touch with these influentials more than most of the angels who’d asked to accompany him. She’d shown great promise in her work on Earth, creating many nonprofit organizations for humans in need, the latest being a project to help starving children in Africa. So, it was important for her to get an opportunity like this. “Of course,” he said, watching her leave before he moved his gaze to the crowd in the room. With his back against the wall, it was easy to observe most of the guests. There was a few staring back at him, but since nobody came up to him in that instance, he placed the empty glass on the table and got up to his feet. Deciding to head outside for some fresh air. “Champagne, sir?” a waiter asked, briefly stopping by Michael as he noticed that he didn’t have a drink in his hand. Michael politely declined before he continued to the double doors that led to the garden.

The cold air embraced him as he stepped outside and took the last few steps to the railing. He inhaled a deep breath, feeling the refreshing air fill his lungs as he overlooked the garden, noticing how the moonlight illuminated the water of a fountain below. It was peaceful and quiet out here, making way for him to collect his thoughts. He then turned his head to one side of the garden, noticing a familiar frame. A dark-haired witch in a red gown, sitting on a marble bench by herself. He placed his hand on the railing as he turned his body to face her, then looking around to see who else was nearby, but all he saw was a couple standing close to each other in one of the corners. He leaned away from the railing to walk down the steps of the stone staircase. “If it isn't Saga Rhyss,” he said as he stepped closer to her, glancing at her bare feet in the grass before it moved up her figure and stopped at her face. She didn’t seem affected by the cold, and if he didn’t know who she was, he’d probably assumed her to be a vampire for this reason. “I thought gatherings like these weren’t your scene.” He moved his gaze from her to the view of the garden that she was facing. And this was perhaps why she’d ventured outside in the first place. Michael knew that their last meeting might have left her with a negative impression of him, but as far as he was concerned, that was well in the past. “Did you receive the information I sent you?” he then asked before he took the last steps to the bench and sat down next to her, his black shoes reaching the same grass that she had her bare feet in. He’d sent her an envelope earlier that week with a few papers, all of which had information regarding her father's last whereabouts.

It was to be expected to have her little quiet sanctuary invaded, either by a curious guest or a servant reminding her that the garden areas weren’t accessible. What she hadn’t expected was for it to be him. She had already recognized him by his voice, however, when she calmly turned her head and her eyes caught his broad figure approaching her, she could not help but feel even more surprised. Not that she showed it all that clearly in her face but it was there nonetheless. Michael. This was not the first time she saw anything to this man that evening. Unlike her, he attracted and awful lot of attention. Eyes were drawn to him. And hers had been no exception. She glances him slowly up and down, not particularly trying to hide it, ending back at his valley green eyes with no problem. “That’s true, but an old client of mine convinced me to reconsider. I wouldn’t want to miss a ball this grand, now would I,” she replied with a smooth confident shortly looking from the arch angel and back toward the festivities inside, only to return her gaze to him as he decided to join her completely. Sitting down beside her. This confused her slightly but she didn’t mind it. Or at least she didn’t move to sit further from him her stood up to walk away. Instead, she sat as relaxed as she had before. Maybe with her back straightened a bit more to not be slouching.

Ah. The information. That she had indeed received. “I did, yes. Your angels are quite skilful and efficient with their time. I wasn’t expecting anything to come through that fast. Nor the amount.” It was true. Her agreement with Michael’s offer back in the late summer month hadn’t been based on much hope for anything to come up about her father, let alone more than a place and time. Let alone after the strains of their relation to each other. A strain that must only have been one-sided on her part. She lowered serenely her eyes from him and down at their feet like them, side by side in the grass. “Paris. And now Cuba. It does make you wonder what someone like him might be doing.” What he was searching for. What he was running from. What he was planning.
Elegantly she lifted one of her bare feet, the growing grass letting go and reversing back into the grown. Then with her toe she very gently tapped his dress shoes and as if she had transferred a slight of magic to him, the deep green straws started growing up his soles and a bit up around his shoes as well. It was nothing which would ruin anything. It was innocent magic.

Rather than putting her foot down on the grass again, she crossed it over her other leg and leaned forward to rest an arm over her knee and placing her elbow on her thigh to have her head supported unto the back of her hand at just the right angle for her to be looking back at Michael. “Is there perhaps something I’d do for you this evening, Michael?” she asked, curious as to why he had chosen to grace her with his company in the cold. He isn't here. She tried searching his sculptured face for some answers but as she had noticed the first time, she had conversed with him; he wasn’t as easily read as others. Difficult, yet not impossible…

His gaze stayed with her at the mention of the client who’d convinced her to reconsider attending. He knew better than to think that he was the reason she had come. A ball like this accommodated great opportunity for her to meet many influential clients. But even without that, it was one of the most extravagant parties of the year, making most people wish they’d be fortunate enough to receive the golden invitation. Except now she’d sought refuge out here. Most people spending but a few minutes on the patio before they ventured inside again. The sleeve of his tuxedo jacket brushed against her arm as he sat down before he turned his chest slightly and moved his arm to look at her. He slowly broke his relaxed expression with a prideful smile as she complimented his angels' efforts. Of course, angels were known for their diligence, always striving to satisfy God and the Archangels. And without that fundamental purpose, they became eminently lost. But to some extent their efficiency did depend on his commands and prioritization of tasks, so he was happy to hear that it had impressed her. “That’s good.” He had hoped that the information would help to re-establish their forming partnership, so he was pleased about her not seeming to harbor any ill feelings related to their last meeting.

“He’s been gone a long time, so for whatever reason he's traveling those distances, it must be crucial to him,” he said while keeping his gaze on her. “You don’t think there’s a chance he’s running from something?” he asked. He hadn’t gotten the impression that she knew much about why her father had left, but he couldn’t help but wonder that this was the reason someone would disappear for as long as he had. Not giving as much as a letter or a call back home. Because maybe he couldn’t risk someone using this to track him. Which also explained why she hadn’t been able to track him herself.

He lowered his gaze to his shoes as he felt a gentle tap from her foot, watching how the grass grew up their sides despite the unnatural conditions of it. The rest of the lawn being frozen from the negative degrees. He was slightly confused by this, raising a subtle brow before he straightened his head again and watched her as she crossed her leg and positioned herself. At her question he tilted his head forward to look into her eyes, the faintest smile appearing in his expression, revealing that there indeed was something she could do for him. He was going to come to it eventually, not minding conversing with her for a while before that. But of course, there was no need to wait either. “It’s more a matter of what we can do for each other.” He did see them meeting like this as a sign to act out on the considerations he’d had the past days. Ever since the angels delivered the folder of information on her father, they had given him an additional folder carrying information on a demon operation in Havana. “I want to propose an offer for us to go to Cuba together. I help find your father and you help me take down a demon operation that my angels discovered while undergoing their investigation there.”

Michael’ theory about her father apparent disappearance – or rather unannounced travel – did cross the same thought and speculations, she had done herself. What ever had made Reuben Rhyss leave his home and his family with not so much of a word bad to be of utmost importance. At least, she had been left without any farewells. Saga had for a long time now suspected her mother to know more than she told. Her mother hadn’t been as heartbroken, she was more just lonely. And anxious when ever she had brought the topic up. “The thought has passed me. But… I don’t quite know, I believe he might be searching. For what, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” She had no problems with sharing this with the archangel although it would seem like pretty personal information. He already knew about her father and what were there really to worry about? “My father wasn’t a collector.“ Not like her who would travel to get her hands on a wanted object if delivery wasn’t an option.

Upkeeping eye contact with the man beside her wasn’t difficult. Of course, eye contact had never been difficult for her, she didn’t understand the discomfort other people claimed to get and be reason for them to look away after a certain time. Hm? A hint of further intrigue smoothed out through her facial expression as he began his business proposal. Actually, her intrigue had already risen when she noticed that slight lift in his lips. Many wouldn’t think too much of it but even something so small made big differences to the feel of a person. Then the offer fell. And Saga gradually furrowed her dark, defined brows at him. The witch didn’t carry any hateful opinions about Michael or just straight up had chosen not to like the man anymore. He was still a very interesting man no matter what. But she had become quite indifferent towards him since that untorturable event in October which she now didn’t had any reason to hide.
“That’s a very optimistic offer for you to make me. I do, however, wonder how come you’d think I would take you up on it. Take the risk of dealing with demons, who I have no inborn quarrels with as yourself. Or more so the risk of you disappearing in the midst of danger.” She didn’t speak with any heavy judgment in her voice, while there couldn’t be any doubt that she was in fact judging the angel for his past mistakes. She slowly straightened herself up again, leaving her legs crossed under the dress’ shirt, her hands both being sat down against the cold marble. The hands nearest Michael was close enough for her pinkey finger to graze him.

Her eyes didn’t leave him before she seemingly abruptly took a controlled, deep breath in through her nose, filling her torso up like an air balloon and exhaled in much the same manner, turning her head to the mansion. The minimal change of light hitting her exposed a slight flush in her shimmering cheeks which didn’t come from the touches of rouge. “And leaving Gaia at the moment would be unfavourable.” However much Saga would like to not be involved with the brewing chaos that was starting to spread, she couldn’t deny that she was in some way or another and her she worried that not being present would end in larger obstacles for her. But then again.. this was about her father… Knowing where he was in this instance - hopefully - had pulled on her.

The possibility of Reuben Rhyss seeking something had crossed his mind, albeit fleetingly. Because he couldn’t see why a man would leave his family behind to never return for a reason so simple. There had to be more to it. “What makes you think he's searching for something?” He couldn’t know if her belief was based on something or whether it was a simple gut feeling. He looked at the garden, scanning his mind for any valuable objects that he could be searching for at the locations he'd been at. Then Saga said he wasn’t a collector, pointing more in a direction of it being a person he was looking for. At least, that’s how he perceived it. However, it was still too soon to exclude any possibility.

His expression remained calm as she blatantly stated his offer had been optimistic. He hadn’t thought that she needed much convincing. To him the advantages of working together far outweighed them going alone. However, she hadn’t explicitly declined his proposal either and he deemed her worries easily accounted for. “All I ask in return for my help is a few spells. You needn’t get your hands dirty if that's what you're concerned about,” he said, hoping to ease what he assumed to be her greatest concern. There would naturally be risks associated with accompanying him, but if she didn’t deal with the demons directly, there’d hardly be of major significance. Her aiding with a few spells wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was better than no magic. He exhaled slowly as he prepared to address her next concern. It wasn't something that she should have felt the need to mention. But he understood why she did. He remembered how disappointed she'd been in him that night, so he had anticipated this to show up in conversation sooner or later. “I can assure you that I won’t disappear amid danger. I only did so in October because my son prayed to me regarding a human's life. The one who was connected to Ajax… And hadn’t I answered, she’d possibly died. And you know what that would have meant for him,” he said in an unhurried voice. Surely, she should know that he wouldn’t have just left without a valid reason. And that it wasn’t because he’d considered her rude acts that night so detrimental to their relationship, that he could care less of what happened to her. If he had done that, he wouldn’t have continued the investigation on her father, nor would he be here proposing a deal to her.

His gaze lingered on her face for a moment as she looked towards the mansion before he followed suit. Looking at the warm light emanating from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The party inside still looked lively, more people had decided to join the couples on the dance floor and laughter could faintly be heard every time a guest opened the garden doors. He wondered why leaving Gaia was unfavorable. Perhaps he had misjudged her willingness in finding her father. Or else she had more important matters that required her presence. “You can take the night to consider it if you will. I'll first be leaving Monday,” he said as he returned his eyes to her.

A faint tension strung up in her jaw as she was reminded about the effects of the linking curse. She had not forgotten how vulnerable it left the demon, she had decided to care for. Only few of her private minutes didn’t get spent on figuring out how or break it, only for her subconscious to then blind her from the answer out of pure denial and left her looking for other more plausible ways. Saga didn’t comment further on his reassuring words on the matter of what, from the outside world, could have been taken as deep-seated concerns of hers and not simply excused to turn him down. It was likely her pride which kept her already silent self, silent this time. But a veil of distancing had lifted, whether it was something he’d sense or not. So when she then parted her lips once again to speak, it was as if inviting him back into the ordeals of her father, which she originally had chosen to keep to herself. “My mother knows more about the matter of my father’s disappearance than she lets on,” she simply said with a certainty in her neutral, soft voice before turning her head back to Michael, almost automatically meeting his eyes as she did. “77 years and she hasn’t ever tried finding him and whenever the topic was brought up she sparsely spoke. She might even have taken a vow. I do not like suspecting my own family, but I do not like not knowing either.” For some reason, she was sure that he would understand her on this. This discomfort of being kept in the dark. Even more so if there was a possibility that this dark revolved around yourself.
Nothing of what she said could actually be used as a proper reason for her to be convinced that her father was on a hunt and not be the hunted one because she truly had no concrete proof. Only theories and thoughts.

She removed her intense glance from him again, just as she lifted her crossed leg off its position over the other on and then pulled both her feet a bit more in under the marble bench, her toes reaching the colder, more solid platform where the bench had been placed on for an even surface. She bended forward, much farther than what she had done before and she had turned her body slightly to the side as well. This way she could reach her shoes from where she had set them aside and move them back in front of her. She didn’t really give him any explanation or warning that she clearly planned to get going, especially as she neatly and poised, one at a time, slid her small feet back into the shoes. Saga could talk in heels, it was just a very rare sight to see.
With the posh shoes secure and comfortably placed back where they were meant to be, she sat op again and found back to the angels face. Though, instead of standing all the way up, leaving him in the garden, she stayed. “I recall you once telling me that you quite like to dance. How would you like to have the next with me? I’m intrigued to see what it would be like.” She had not completely forgiven the man for his wrongdoings, his disappointing actions, but she would be a fool to cast aside his company entirely.

She turned markedly quiet, ignoring his every word in response to her concerns. He was bemused by this, his gaze staying with her for a few moments longer, expecting her to give him some sort of comeback, but… she didn’t. Nor did she ask more about the demon operation. He noticed the distant look in her eyes, but what she was thinking of, he couldn’t possibly know. And when she finally spoke, it wasn’t about that. It reversed back to the topic of her father’s disappearance. He had thought Saga and her mother were on the same page regarding his departure, but it seemed that this wasn’t the case. Either way, he was happy that she opened to him about it, because he saw it as a sign of her being likely to accept his invitation to go to Cuba. Even if it’d require a bit more convincing from his side.  

If her mother knew about his whereabouts, then what was keeping her from telling Saga about it? It brought the additional possibility of Saga being involved somehow. Or at least that they were trying to protect the knowledge from her. This further broke apart his initial theory relating the case, meaning they still had a long way to go in terms of deducing the clues. But it wasn’t something he wanted to think more about before he got a clear yes. After all, he had plenty of other things that concerned him far more than a missing witch. So, when she got dressed in her heels, he thought about the guests that he needed to speak to before the night ended, not thinking that Saga wanted to spend more of her time with him. However, she remained sitting after she’d put on her shoes, making him tilt his head slightly as he looked at her. He hadn’t expected her to invite him to dance, but he was pleasantly surprised when she did. Even if it was uncustomary for a lady to do so. A smile formed on his lips before he got up to his feet. “I would love to,” he replied and once she got up from her seat, he’d offer her his right arm with his elbow bent. “So, how have you been these past months?” he asked as they walked back towards the mansion. The last time they’d talked in a normal setting had been in August, so he was naturally curious to know how she’d been since then. Especially since she claimed that something was keeping her in Gaia.

Once they were inside the mansion, a dozen heads turned in their direction but instead of the usual stares that he received, they were all looking at the woman beside him. Most likely whispering about who she was. Which wasn’t so odd if she usually didn’t attend social events like this. Michael scanned the room for his escort, wanting to make sure that she wasn’t unaccompanied. But she was still talking to the ambassador, and once they caught each other's eye, she sent him a brief smile before looking to Saga. Her gaze staying with her for a few moments before she again returned her attention to the ambassador. Michael led Saga to the dance floor, watching as the quadrille ended before he walked into a position to replace a leaving couple. He moved his arm to position himself and face her like the rest of the couples around them. And as the first tune played, revealing a waltz, he bowed with his hands behind his back, holding the bow until she finished her curtsy. He then stepped forward, placing his right hand on her back, just below her left shoulder blade while the other hand grabbed hers and raised it to chest height. He then stepped forward, leading her into the classic steps of the waltz which were fairly easy for even the most inexperienced dancers. “Is this your first time attending the Winter's Ball?” he asked before he spun her around and resumed the waltz. If it was, he almost felt inclined to make some introductions for her, willing to help her business in any way he could.

Saga’s expression softened. As well as the unintentional stare in her eyes. She hadn’t really worried about whether or not he’d accept her request, thought it would surely have been a shame, had he declined. Her observation of him as well as what she knew from other people – even if that information always was to be taken with a bit of uncertainty – had given her quite the confidence that he would indeed ‘love to’ as he chose to phrase it. He was, after all, a gentleman. Both in the modern and the old sense. She stood as he did and didn’t hesitate to welcome his arm. She curved her own around his and gently rested her hand on his underarm, near the bent of his elbow before walking with him over the small garden area. The heels of her shows helped their height differences not be as awkward as when without. Michael wasn’t particularly a mountain but neither was Saga in any sense of the word.
However, just as they had reached the platform on top of the low stone staircase, Saga halted and glided her arm out of his, just for a moment, while she stepped in front of the angel, halting him too. “I have been occupied to say the least. Nothing I haven’t been able to grasp or handle, but I have had strange, almost reoccurring dreams which have been plaguing my mind as well,” she calmly replied just as she reached up to softly grab onto either side of his bowtie, which she carefully tugged at and rocked slightly to properly straighten it so it would be perfectly in place before she led him lead her inside. “Dreams of black ravens. Despite my origin I’m not one to be too superstition about omens – bad or good, though these dreams have stuck to be even after I wake up.” She let go of his bowtie, smoothing it out a bit and then finally looked back up at him for a short glance, before she returned to his arm. There had been more going on, not only in the past few months, more like in the past few weeks, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring it up. Although she, right now, at Michaels attention.

Having Michaels attention did have its side effects, which came to show itself clearly, as they stepped inside. The warmth hugging her immediately. The warming spell had made it so the cold outside was bearable but she couldn’t deny how it had been poking at her skin. But it wasn’t only the warmth she would feel. She noticed the eyes on her as soon as people noticed them walking side by side. She didn’t entertain the looks. Only the one seemingly more intense than the others. The silver-dressed angel, who she had seen Michael with for most of the evening. Luckily the saying looks between the two women didn’t hold for long as the angel turned back to her conversation and Saga got led to the dance floor.

One would describe the whole olden day tradition of classical dance as magical and romantic. Michael showed his experience from the time where it all started, by how naturally he bowed, and she followed suit, maybe with less noble finesse from her background of a working-class upbringing. Higher working-class, but still working-class. The feeling of his hand, chilled by having been outside, unto her bare skin on her back tickled and she placed her own hand elegantly on his shoulder, while their other hands joined to finish the stance.
And the waltz began. It had been a while since she had been dancing like this, however, as they moved it was as if it only had been yesterday. Her body remembered, and even with her deep-seated need for control she let him lead her steps as flowing as a harvest-ready field of wheat in the wind. He spun her around, and with the pledging of her dress’ skirt, it flew around her legs. She didn’t feel the watching eyes anymore. “It is,” she said with unapologetic honesty as his hand landed back on her back and hers on his shoulder. “Yet I’ve been an invite for the past 27 years. Many of my clients are not as eager to show our relation as you and I must admit I prefer the subdued focus of more intimate business.”
She knew many faces and names of the people who was at the ball that night. And some knew her. More knew her name rather than her face, she suspected. “Have you been attending the ball many times before?”

He stopped when she did, watching her as she stepped in front of him. He understood how a woman like her would be occupied with business, but something told him that it was more than that. Still, he had not expected her to share something as private as distressing dreams with him. At first, he thought the dreams were related to him from the way she’d decided to halt him, but instead she started to correct his bowtie. He glanced down at her hands as she did this before he looked at her face again. The mention of black ravens made his expression tenser as he thought back on his capture. How ravens had been circling his location. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he’d see them too. Haunting him as if they wouldn't disappear until he exiled Samael. But it couldn’t possibly be connected to her, could it? He’d surely know if she’d conducted business with Samael. “It does sound like there is a meaning behind them. That is if you haven’t had any traumatic experience with black ravens in the past,” he said, pausing for a moment as he looked at her. “I know this great fortune teller in London. Her name is Amélie Williquette. She excels at divination and interpretation of visions and dreams. I’d pay her a visit if I were you,” he gave his opinion. Although, doing this depended on just how worried she’d become of these dreams. Sometimes it was better to not know the future and other times it made the world of a difference. Even if the outcome inevitably remained more or less the same. Michael knew well of what it was like to have bad dreams at night, but most of those were of past terrors or people he'd failed to save. Not omens or symbols per se.

As the waltz began, she followed his movements gracefully, proving to be a much better dancer than he’d anticipated. And when she spun, he couldn’t help but admire how naturally she flowed with the music. Like poetry in motion. So, when she placed her hand on his shoulder again, he looked at her with a newfound glint in his eyes. For the first time really seeing her. Her face wasn’t hiding behind an excessive amount of make-up. The eyeliner enhanced her blue eyes, sparkling like sapphires underneath the chandeliers, and the lipstick wasn’t a bright red color like Céline's but a neutral gloss. It was all pleasantly balanced. “I had the feeling you weren’t… But should you wish to get introduced to anyone, do let me know.” He liked that her business was intimate, and it was what he preferred certain of his affairs to be. Like his addiction to Lenina. However, it was nearly impossible for him to stay out of the limelight entirely. People went to a great extent to learn more about him, and due to his fame, many also spread false rumors. He'd learned a long time ago that this was to be expected. Just like the mistaken interpretations of God and Jesus. A branch of Christians even believing that Michael had been Jesus himself. So, he hardly could avoid it altogether. “I have. I believe this is my seventh time,” he replied. He couldn't allow himself to attend every party, every year, so oftentimes other high-ranking angels would participate in his stead. Although, most major allies were discussed with Michael's presence. Him being the commander of God's army, after all. He removed the arm from her back to grab her left hand and extend it to the side, simultaneously letting go of their clasped hands to keep his left hand behind his back, and once she returned to the center he'd spin her around to the other side before lastly bringing her back to the middle, continuing the classic waltz box steps. Of course, he couldn't help but think that she attended this ball to get a chance to meet him again, especially now that she'd admitted to it being her first attendance. But if that was so, he assumed it meant she had business to discuss with him, in which she hadn't done so far. “Are you working on any charity initiatives?” he asked. A question he knew that Céline would be curious to know once he returned to her, so it seemed almost obligatory of him to ask.

Oh? ”I’ll keep that in mind,” she answered back, not because there was no one at the party who she would like to be introduced to but because the thought of needing a second-hand introduction hasn’t actually crossed her mind and then suddenly with his kind offer, she first had to filter through to whom it might benefit her more to be at Michael’s arm. Truth be told then she hadn’t even chosen to attend the Winter Ball for purely business..

There was a very short juncture of confusion as he got hold of her hand on his shoulder and switched their position to almost a mirror image, however, the moment that she felt herself being led out in a stretch, her body followed knowingly and as naturally as the simple act of walking. She swung her free arm out in a poised gesture before he circled her around once more. The whole time she seemingly forgot to breath and noticed only how she had held her breathe as they met in the stance, his hand on her back, and she silently gasped, her eyes locking up onto his face in an instant. This had not been the first time that night that she had danced but one even not as observant as she would be able to feel the difference from the archangel and anyone else less fortunate with time and practice. It… amazed her. She had still not expected him to move so smoothly. All her imaginations of him were of a rough and stiff man of authority. To think a man as known as Michael, would have
His question had her tilt her head a bit to one side, while they kept moving in sync to the music. Conversing with him at the same time almost reminded her of the time she had him on her table, fixing up his marking. “I can’t say I am, no. To be doing charity work one has to be, at the very least, charitable. Or just ridden with an empathetic conscious. Which I don’t think I can state that I am.” She was somewhat aware of how a reply like that could put a bad light on her, but somehow she still said it with nonchalant confidence. As if it was only objective facts rather than subjective and ill-fitted opinions. She didn’t wish to be veiled with Michael so instead she was blatant.

A joined turn thanks to well-placed feet, resulted in a faint touch of the sleeve of a fellow dancer upon her exposed back, drawing Saga’s attention more to their surroundings, which she had pushed a bit more into the back of her mind, as their dance had evolved. While eyes had been on them, as they had moved to the floor, and while the floor had given them plenty of space - obviously the cause of Michaels ability to be the center of a crowd - but as the song had played her own muted presence must have balanced it out and they had fallen more seamlessly into the waltzing attendees. She glided her hand off his shoulder and reached instead down to softly grab her dress’ shirt to hold. ”The demons, how much do you about them and this organization as of now?” she then finally asked, just as a step brought them almost chest to chest for a singular beat. “If I was to help out, getting my hands dirty or not, I’d like to not go in completely blindfolded.” And surely he was the same. He wouldn’t just waltz into threats without some thought. Or at least, that she had thought before she had witness him do something of that sort back in October…. Which she had been just as much a culprit of back then. She really couldn’t hold such against him, could she?

Michael was pleased to see that she’d effortlessly caught on to his move. Although he’d also danced with enough people to know how to cover up for a missed step or brief confusion. He curled his lips upwards once she returned to their stance and looked up at him. He didn’t know if he’d expected her to be one to support charities, but he certainly hadn’t foreseen her to be so frank about the fact that she wasn’t. This was a bit of a disappointment to him. Michael didn’t see why someone who had the resources would choose to not help those in need, or at the very least support projects that didn’t just concern themselves. However, he did appreciate that she was sincere in her reply, not trying to put herself in a better light than was the truth. “I see,” he replied in short, glancing towards the side of the room where Céline stood. Now he at least knew not to introduce the two.

In his slight distraction, he’d led them closer to another couple, the touch of a sleeve against his hand reverting his attention. At the next beat, he spun her around in a direction opposite of that couple, taking up a more spacious area on the floor. She then asked about the demon organization. Seemingly interested in taking him up on his offer. He’d much preferred telling her about this when they were in private, not quite understanding why she’d waited to ask until they were in public. He raised his gaze to look around them. He hadn't sensed any demons at the party, but he was still reluctant to disclose the information here. The closer position opted him to take her other hand in his, spinning her around so she'd have her back against his chest with one arm holding her hand by her right shoulder and their left hands in a lower position in front of him. “They own a casino hotel in Havana, and have been distributing a drug that supposedly leads people to let go of their virtues,” he said close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin. He then swiftly turned her around to face him before his right hand let go to place it on her back and presume the waltz. Except for this time, he leaned close to her ear as he spoke, hoping to eliminate any curious listeners of hearing him. “We suspect it’s primarily inducing greed and lust, as a way for them to sell more games and rooms, but we have recently discovered three bodies near the casino, indicating that it could be more serious. I've theorized that the drug in large doses is strong enough to lead people to murder, where the demons conveniently would be there to reap off their souls without being suspected of the crime.” At least, this made the most sense to him. Of course, he couldn’t be certain before more research. For all he knew, the murders could be the cause of something else entirely, but that was why he’d decided to initiate an investigation. Regardless of this, it was never in his interest to allow for demons to spread corruption on Earth, and he always had an incentive to send demons to Hell.

The music dimmed down as the waltz ended and all the couples stopped dancing. Michael removed his hands from her and presented his right arm to lead her away from the dance floor. It wasn’t wise of him to give her names or talk more about the operation considering where they were, so for now she’d have to suffice with what he’d given. A waiter came by them with a tray of champagne, stopping to offer them a glass, and this time he took one. This being the best champagne he'd tasted in a while. “Who accompanied you this evening?” he asked as they walked, glancing at her by his side before he looked around at the people present. He hadn’t noticed her earlier that night, so he hadn’t gotten a glimpse of her escort. The question was also a way for him to know whether she wanted to return to his company or stay with Michael.

They way Michael searched their surrounding told her what she needed to know about his paranoia. A small little trait, she had placed upon him even before they had officially met. And yet, he did not disappoint her with an answer then and there, as if he bit down on his cautious hesitation just for her. One would easily think that he didn’t want an opportunity to convince her to join him to the Caribbean coast such as this to go lost if he instead had waited to when he had her more privately again. She felt a tiny poke of satisfaction from this… But her before mentioned preference of more intimate interactions suddenly got a little different tone, as her hold in her shirt got removed and she was turned around again. Only halfway this time so that her view now looked out over the attendance of beautiful dressed men and women. His chest against her back felt warm like his hand had felt, just the warmth now covered over a larger area. And despite the warmth, his whispering breath had those tiny, invisible hairs in the back of her neck stand up. Partly hidden behind the low bun, luckily.
Her dark brows furrowed to the information. The framework for which his apparently felt he needed her help with. Of course, he could take care of it by himself just fine, and still he had offered her a deal with the prize of her companionship. “I’ve heard of such drugs,” she revealed in a lowered voice like his own, knowing full well that he would be able to hear her even though she was facing away from him. They were, after all, close enough to each other. The rapid half-turn back had her dress flutter around her legs once more, almost binding her up if not for the exceptional quality of its fabric and pattern work. She automatically arched her back, giving their newly developed closeness a more natural feel to not …worry the prying eye.
“Back in March a friend of mine talked about a try-out of drugs that was being distributed to a few at night clubs. Testing the waters of the night life of Gaia. Or at least Aston.” Now, thinking back, she wished she had done more to get her hands on the drugs at that time. The interest had been there then as it had come back now, but other things had taken priority. “I have no way of knowing if it’s the same substance or only a coincidence. It is almost a year past now. Though, I doubt it was any human-made drug.” She calmly turned her head a little to the side, to have a better chance of looking at him, since his head lingered closer around her ear and over her shoulder then in front of her as before. She looked at him with collected ease, just before the music – and by that also the dance – came to an end, and they pulled a step apart again, Saga’s eyes wandering for a moment towards the band, whom some dancers encored before a new song began, as well as Michael’s and her own departure from the dancefloor.

As she had done before this evening, she looped her arm into his and used her other hand to shush her dress as they walked off. And just in time as a waiter not only took note of Michael but her too. It might as well have been the question, which the arch angel chose to lead with, that made her grab a glass of the champagne after him, daintily holding it at the bade of the cup of the glass. She intentionally kept silent while she placed the glass to her lips and took a sip, either already feeling the buzz return or simply the fizziness of the drink. Her eyes were turned forward, although she could feel his lay on her. “I arrived with Ajax. But he’s not here right now,” she was both quick and calm to say, saving him the trouble of possibly looking around after the young demon. “He had to leave to take care of some sudden family affairs.”
Saga care about the demon. She did. Did she love him? No. At least she didn’t think so. Love didn’t come easily to her. But still she couldn’t hold back the feeling that someone like him didn’t fit into the world she was in. Maybe that was why she had gotten attached to him in the first place. The normalcy of being with him. “Your company doesn’t seem to be minding you mingling with me, I’m guessing.” One more sip of the champagne.

It wasn’t so odd that the witch had heard of similar drugs. They were abundant on Earth, and more so since the invention of planes, making it easier to distribute them on a more global scale. He leaned slightly back and turned his head to look at her once more, contemplating whether he’d heard of this drug last year. He very well might have received a letter with such information, and either dismissed it because it wasn’t of priority at the time or let the investigation be in the hands of a deputy or the human police. But it could be of relevance to ask around about this. Michael had many contacts in the police in Gaia, so it shouldn’t take them too long to search in their old files for this. Just in case the drugs were somehow connected. After all, there was a possibility of the drug in Aston to have been made by the same organization. But these were thoughts he kept in quiet. Because even though he wanted to talk more about it and work on the case that instance, it would have to wait for a more appropriate time and location.

She'd arrived with Ajax. The demon he’d held captive in October. He’d of course gotten the hunch that they were close, but it still threw him off to think that Ajax had been here amongst these people. He scanned the room, searching for his parents to see if they’d been invited as well. However, he felt slightly relieved as she added that he not only wasn’t here but that he’d had to leave the party altogether. Because what an awkward encounter that would have been. However, it did give more sense as to why she still seemed spiteful about that whole ordeal. “That’s a shame,” he said before he glanced down to her by his side. It was an obvious lie, but the polite answer, nonetheless. He pulled briefly in the crease of his mouth as she guessed that he didn’t mind her company. And she was correct. He’d been intrigued to learn more about her ever since their first meeting. And even though he easily could go to Cuba alone, he had an interest in bringing her along. “Not the faintest,” he admitted before he led her into a quieter living area with a lot of seats as well as a bar. He walked towards a free settee by one of the walls that had a coffee table and two chairs across of it, letting go of her arm before he sat down in the settee with his back against the wall. A quirk he’d acquired many years ago - to never have his back exposed if he could avoid it. At the same time getting the best overview of the room. Always more settled when he knew everything that happened around him. Michael held the glass by the stem, raising it to his lips to take his first sip before he leaned back and looked at Saga. “I truly am sorry if I targeted someone you love. But his family name is of notoriety, and I have worked well with Joseph for the past years. I guess I must have missed something, for him to lie to me in that manner.” He wasn’t one to apologize, especially not when it was regarding a demon, but he wanted to clear the air between them. And admittingly he had been wrong about Joseph, thinking that he wouldn’t go directly against him. Although they'd never exactly like each other, he'd deemed that they'd both seen a benefit in working together rather than against each other. Could he still have gotten plenty of valuable information out of Ajax? Yes. But if he was important to Saga and even knew his daughter, as he claimed. He didn’t see a reason to stir the waters more than he already had.

Saga glanced out through the corners of her eyes up at him. A shame. Hadn’t she already been sensitive enough to pick up on such small changes, she would still have been able to caught the sound of the polite lie in his voice. But even though he was not being sincere he was still, in a way, correct. It was a shame. She would be the one to throw lies around her if she didn’t admit to have enjoyed the company of the demon that evening. Or that she hadn’t looked forward to it. Funny how it was the same exact man, who had somehow planted the ideas in her head - while laying half-naked on her dining table, nevertheless – who now substituted for her actual partner. At least for the time being. And apparently his own official date didn’t mind it either, although it should turn out, he had simply misunderstood her question. The mistake wasn’t even something she herself took notice for, thinking his answer wasn’t for something else.
Calmly turning her head towards Michael, and then leaning forward, just enough as to sneak a discreet look in the directions of the silver-dressed angel. Occupied by chatter with a gentleman very keen on upkeeping her attention, it seemed. She moved back again a second later, her blues finding up to him once more before a singular soft word passed over her blotted lips which almost hid a vague smile with their movement. “Perfect.”

The atmosphere of the area, he led them both into, was quite different from the grand hall. It was smaller and more compact with furniture spread about. The banquet hall had been ridded of most of this to have the entirety of the floor free for roaming. And, of course, dancing. The little witch immediately caught the grazing scent of luxurious tobacco as guest surely had allowed themselves to light a cigar. How befitting as the possibility of it being a Havana, reminding her slightly how taking a trip to the Cuban isles would benefit from a bit more than hopefully finding her lost relative. As well as honing her skills in aiding the archangel. Not all herbs grow in Gaia.
She had not thought that following him, would have resulted in an apology. Not from him. Michael was most likely a righteous man, but she had sensed a pridefulness in him ever since she had been in his personal company. Rumours even talked about such a side to this man of God. Love. “As have I,” she nonchalantly revealed. She hadn’t really been hiding her relation to the siphoner, just not been clear cut. However, she was positive that Michael had figured out by now that he wasn’t the only one with background involving Joseph. Elegantly she moved over and sat down on the arm of the couch rather than sitting down on the soft upholstered seating pillow next to him. But yet, not quite sitting like a proper lady, she didn’t slouch. Her back remain straight. And by the way she supported her position with a stretched arm placed behind her, brought forward her shoulder blade’s curves. Her eyes on him. Leg crossed. “But I doubt you crossed him in any way. That man doesn’t care about anyone but himself and what he can achieve. Trusting his words blindly was your first mistake.” She rested her glass in her lap, Twirling it gently with a just as gentle hold of the stem by only three fingers.
“Tell me. If your son’s prayer hadn’t reached you, would you have allowed me to further stand in your way? You apologize now, something I must confess wasn’t what I had expected. Demanded, but not expected. Not from the look on your eyes the last time.” She had intentionally not given any comments on how he had phrased that he had hurt someone she loved, it not being a necessary part of the topic.

Her reply filled in the blank space as to why they knew each other. It had sounded more than just a working relationship from Joseph, telling Michael that he wasn’t fond of him visiting ‘his’ witch. But regardless, it seemed that their relationship wasn’t what it once was. With Joseph wanting Michael to hurt a demon she cared for. He tilted his head as she decided to sit on top of the armrest of the settee. It wasn’t very lady-like of her. Yet she somehow managed to pull it off as the most befitting thing as she confidently sat there. He didn’t worry about whether he’d crossed Joseph or not. More so, that the humans or the people he cared about didn’t fall victim to his plans. Michael didn’t even think he’d crossed him prior to his dishonesty. Quite the contrary, as he’d helped him expropriate valuables from a coven. But it seemed that Joseph’s determination to succeed in his plans had overtaken.

Michael clenched his jaw as she stated that trusting him was his first mistake. Unamused by this comment. However, he had apologized with hopes of them putting that night behind them, so he didn’t want to start an argument with her about why he did as he had. Nonetheless, he couldn't quite pass the opportunity to give her a sarcastic remark. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” Saga had seen how upset he’d been once he’d discovered the lie. And of course, he was aware of the chance of him lying. Much less, would he ever trust a man like Joseph blindly. Saga clearly got him wrong for thinking that he would. He just couldn’t risk the possibility of what he’d said to be true. So, he would rather make the mistake than suffer the alternative. He assumed that Saga had wanted him to research into the case more than he had. And perhaps he would have, had Ajax not been a demon.

At her next question, he moved his gaze ahead of him again, taking another sip of his drink. From the way that things had played out, she ought to know the answer herself. Because she couldn’t possibly think that he would have allowed the continuance of her nuisance. Could she? “No.” He wouldn’t have allowed her to stand in his way. He’d been so close to forcing her out of his way from the moment she entered the facility. The prospect of business with her being the only factor preventing him from doing so. “But fate didn’t will it so,” he added as he moved his eyes back to her. If Pandora, the lie, and the prayer hadn’t shown up when they did, things could have gone in that direction. He would never have let her get away with breaking the trap without those things. In fact, she’d already tested him plenty by standing in his way as much as she had. Now, he was only glad that it hadn't turned out that way. “As far as I'm concerned it's a matter of the past. Now, all I want is to prevent Joseph from hurting anyone else.”

When looking back and giving that kind of situation more after thought, Saga could see how some – if not must – of her blunt comments would automatically be taken as something hash and rude and over all judgemental. But while she had put some blame on Michael for trusting on Joseph her words intentions weren’t actually there to purposely pick and nag at him. If anything, they were simple facts. That she maybe didn’t have to blurt out such obvious fact was a… flaw in her logic. A prejudge that people might not be aware of them.
However the sarcastic addition, which he chose instead of beginning to pick further at her choices of words, amused her. Even if the signs of it were all faint on her face. A small lift in the one corner of her mouth as well as an elegant raise of her chin. Smoothly joining with the tall-necked glass, that she held back up to her lips for another rather large sip of the bubbling champagne. She sat there confidently, yes, but the stirring alcohol in her body did remove the option for smaller, more controlled sips. Partly unconsciously.

With her eyes having look away from the angel as part of the drink passing through her blotted lips and over her tongue and down her throat, they calmly found there way back to him shortly thereafter. The room they were in held a few interesting characters and such, and yet her attention did not hesitate to turn to Michael whenever he spoke. He was, after all, the most interesting figure present. Her face softened and she tilted her head ever so slightly, lowering the now two thirds empty glass back to her lap. “You make it sound as if destiny wanted us on the same side.” Not that a fight against this man would have left her with a hatred for him. She hadn’t been entirely oblivious to her challenging attitude that evening. But she suspected it could have ended in her death, and by that logic; how would they ever fight on the same side? She slowly leaned forward, still not taking her eyes off of him or turning her head away. “I’ll have to give my thanks to your son, then,” she said, hinting at why she had asked. Except for out of curiosity, of course. Just before she let out a sigh and lowered her gaze to her lap for at moment, before looking straight forward out into the room. There was one very specific thing about Joseph, that was getting on her nerves. One other than him making thing difficult for her. “You and so many others, I’m sure. You might be able to but the man has close to no weaknesses. None that can really do anything to holt his hobbies completely. Anger him, frustrate him, and he’ll become less calculated.” But then there’d be countless other backup plans stocked up in the trigger-happy hybrid.

“Mr. Sanctius.”
Saga had had more words laying on her tongue as new company came to their little corner of the lounge and instead, she firstly looked up, followed by sitting up. Straightening her back properly. Another man. Looking to be a tad bit taller than Michael but definitely slimmer. His dark blue suit was clearly tailored perfectly to his body and his hair was stylishly slicked back. No beard of any kind, a babyface had it not been for a pair of strong brows and a charismatic face over all. He was smiling politely down at the angel in the settee. A smile of businessmen. “I had heard rumours that you’d show up this year. How are you?” The man turned his head and looked vaguely surprised to see the little witch sitting there on the armrest. But rather than it being because of her seating it felt more like he hadn’t taken note of her before then. But the smile didn’t falter. “And who do we have here?” Saga could have answered but the man had turned to Michael while he had asked, expecting the archangel to introduce him. “Where did you hide her? I’d say she’s almost a waste on your arm. I can understand you brought her to be enjoyed in more privacy in here.” He laughed at his own joke before finally pulling his hands from his pants pockets and turning more direct attention to Saga. Holding out a hand to greet her. Wanting to introduce himself to her despite not wanting her to have done the same.
But, like this man seemed to know Michael, Saga knew the man. So, before he even opened his mouth, she gracefully stood up from the armrest and gently took his ham as she said: “Mr. Hugo Riggs.” This caught him off guard, making him loose a bit of that smile in favour of signs of alert. She knew him. A prestige business mand, a siren who had found wealth in the oil market. He hadn’t been invited to the gala by accident, that was for sure.

His belief on how things had turned out was exactly that. Or at least, that they weren’t meant to be on opposing sides. “I know it did.” He spoke as if destiny had personally confided this to him. There were so many ways that night could have gone terribly wrong. But providentially it hadn’t. If that wasn’t a clear sign of destiny’s intentions, he didn’t know what was. It didn’t signify that the night had been without its flaws, nor that he could blame her for feeling vexed with him. So, when she leaned forward to say that she’d have to thank his son for the timely prayer, he knew that his apology hadn’t been in vain. He looked into her eyes and nodded vaguely, and when she looked away his gaze remained fixed on her face as he downed a sip of the champagne. “Mm,” he muttered at her comments about Joseph, swallowing the champagne before he looked out at the crowd. If there was one topic he didn’t want to dive further into tonight, it was that. No, this was supposed to be a relaxing evening. The first good one he’d had this year. The last thing he wanted was to waste it on the thoughts of his rivals.

He placed the glass on the table when one of his acquaintances approached them. It was only a matter of time before someone would. They’d already been disposed to a couple of curious glances since their arrival in the lounge. It didn’t surprise him that he’d heard rumors of his attendance either. Plans like these were usually set for months in advance and gossip was unavoidable. “Mr. Riggs. It’s nice to see you,” he said politely. The moment the siren set his eyes on Saga, he anticipated him to make an introduction. Instead, he looked to Michael for this. Being rather used to the old-fashioned manners, he didn't hesitate to answer. “This is Ms. Saga Rhyss,” he presented. He didn’t think to further encourage a conversation between them. And he figured that if she wished to speak of business, then she would initiate that conversation herself. However, from the time he’d spent with her tonight, and from the way she hadn’t taken him up on his offer to make introductions, he’d gotten the impression that she hadn’t attended the party with much business in mind.

A waste on his arm? Michael arched a brow at his comment. It was clear that the siren had gotten a sudden interest in the witch. And perhaps it wouldn’t be long before he invited her to dance or wished to further converse with her, in which case Michael would take his leave. “Is it so obvious?” He grinned. However, being reminded of it, he admittingly had spent quite some time with her tonight. More than he usually would at a gathering of this caliber. He convinced himself that he’d done it because he’d needed to. That she wouldn’t have accepted to come with him, had he not. But why he was so set on this… that had him puzzled.
The siren’s full name was said, but to both men’s surprise, it was Saga’s voice who’d said it. His eyes landed on Mr. Riggs and as his smile faded, his only got wider. “I see she’s heard about you,” he stated, still with the white grin on his face. He had wondered just how many of the attendees she knew. Now starting to gather that it was the majority of them.

Ms. Saga Rhyss. Her revealing that she already knew about him had left him surprised and from the small cracks in his smooth face one could get glimpses of a feeling of displeasure. Hugo Riggs was still stuck in the decades before. The time were men were in their prime and women were prettiest when not speaking too much, nor knew too much. The witch had caught his eye as an elegant beauty, but that image had crumbled by her opening her mouth and even interrupting him mid introduction, which he surely enjoyed doing. But the while that little setback brought forward those cracks it was hearing her name, that made him pale in front of the two as he immediately recognized it. What before only had been a slight damper on the smile and the cocky charisma, had now let to the smile to totally disappear. A half a step back with one foot subconsciously increased the space between him and her - by all means not anything drastic or upright offensive to her but still enough to sort of make a statement. Was it discomfort that flashed in this face. He knew her. But only by name and by voice. He had never had the chance of seeing what she looked like. And he had had a very different picture of the witch in his head before now.

Saga noticed this but also knew very well the reason behind. Also, the siren really wasn’t good at hiding his feelings, now was he. “Of course. Mr. Riggs is a customer of mine. However this is first time we actually meet face to face,” Saga all too calmly explained. Her voice was soft as ever, but stoic as well. From the words she used and the feeling Hugo emitted himself it wouldn’t be hard to automatically assume she would be speaking with malice or arrogance, but there was none of that. To her, there wasn’t anything for the man to properly fear, was that the case. As she had spoken she had for at moment looked to the side and down at Michael, as she was speaking to him after all, but by the end the intense eyes had returned to the tall male figure. A faint kind smile appeared on her blotted lips. “How do yo-…“
“Indeed! What a pleasure to finally meet you, ms. Rhyss. Who would have thought I’d find you in the company of Mr. Sanctus of all. Considering.” Huge had been suspiciously quick to speak over her, pretending to not have heard her attempt to ask further into what certainly revolved around the business the two of them had done together. The high-nosed smile was back again but the outlines of the cracks were difficult to hinder from observers.

This was quite a good example on why Saga had yet to take Michael up on the offer of introducing her to people - other than the fact that she in actuality hadn’t attended purely for business, not as he was used to anyway. Her business was always of the one-sided side of things. She provided a service which people took as needed. That she had accepted the partnership with Michael - if one could say that her hinting agreement was a cut-in-stone agreement - was outside of the norm for her. And besides, her service, as she had told him beforehand, wasn’t always something people wished to be open about. Hugo suddenly didn’t like that she knew what she knew. That was for sure.
But he couldn’t lose face! That was devastating for a man such as him; a man of power but insecurities. And as if luck shined over him that evening, his pocket vibrated and he pulled a touch screen phone as big as his hand - the expense was noticeable by the lack of both a protective cover and scratches. Very new. “Ah, I am very sorry for the short-lived talk but this one is one I’ll have to deal with,” he proclaimed, looking back up from the phone at Saga and Michael with that fake politeness, Michael had used earlier when speaking of what shame it was for Ajax to not be present. “Hopefully I’ll be able to catch you again later in the evening, Mr. Sanctius. Again, a pleasure, Ms. Rhyss.”
And he was off. Phone up to his ear as soon as he had turned his back to them and moved up to the bar to order something to wash down the unwanted taste of unease out of his mouth so he could better get through he call.

For a moment Saga just watch the siren make his adieu before taking her eyes away from him and instead moved over to place her empty glass on the provided table.

Mr. Riggs suddenly looked as if all blood had disappeared from his face, and Michael knew it must mean he’d heard her name before. The scene playing out in front of him amused him immensely, but eventually, he composed himself. Relaxing his face as was only appropriate. The siren took a step back as if it wasn’t already blatantly clear that he hadn’t wished to run into her. Whatever business he had with her; it wasn’t something he wanted others to know about. Michael raised his chin, an indistinct acknowledgment to her explanation. It was quite a coincidence that he was her customer. He shifted between them, seeing a stark contrast in expressions. Saga looking calm and collected and Hugo mostly... uncomfortable. He could practically see the way his mind searched for an excuse to leave. It became even more apparent when he decided to brush over Saga’s words. Ones he was certain were there as he'd looked at her face just then. Considering. Considering, what? The unfished sentence piqued his curiosity. Even if he very well knew that he wouldn’t want to know what it was. It hinted awfully a lot of something unholy and dark. Something the archangel surely wouldn’t approve of. Besides, it really wasn’t in his place to pry into such matters.

Fortunately for the siren, he needn't find a shallow excuse as his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. And shortly thereafter he declared that it was something he had to deal with immediately. “Of course. I'll see you around, Mr. Riggs.” Michael’s eyes followed his departure to the bar. Now, he’d had his fair share of strange meetings, but this. He suddenly realized why Saga hadn’t asked him to introduce her to anyone. After all, it was easy to imagine why someone would want their business with her to be handled with the utmost discretion. He should know. Yes, some things were better left between oneself and God. “Do you scare all men away with such haste?” He smiled wickedly before he finally let his gaze return to her. There was something comical about how quick he’d left after being presented with her name, and how Ajax similarly had to leave the party early. He raised his left arm to check the time on his wrist-watch. Two minutes at most, he reckoned.

The very first words leaving Michael’s tongue as they once again were left in only each other’s company, had her automatically raise her eyes up to him even before she straightened herself up, looking at him with a vaguely boggling look as if the teasing question hadn’t been expected. Yet it hadn’t been enough to really pull any rugs from under her feet. She caught his smile and the remainders of the amusement he had had by the scene which had just played out in front of him. Had she actually seen him smile as visibly before? Of course, she had seen him smile, both when spending time with him but also from a far. But not quite like that.
It was a shame, that he then looked down and turned his attention elsewhere. The smile, while it hadn’t been of the most charming type, it had interested her. Tweaked at that constantly developing image she had of him. “Not all,” she nimbly revealed in the end while still keeping her eyes lock onto him until he decided to look back at her, being sure to look him confidently in the eye. She hadn’t scared him off. The way he had looked at his watch had definitely not passed her by, but she hadn’t gotten the feeling that it was a sign of him looking for an escape like the dear Mr. Riggs had done. Still… was he expecting someone? Expected somewhere else? And in that case; whom expected him? She watched him some more, searched his overall frame for clues as she always did. Michael Sanctius was the kind of story, the kind of book she didn’t wish to put down immediately. There was so much to discover. She had noticed that feeling before and it had ultimately had a name to play in her so quickly feeling disappointed in him…

“Excuse me, ms? Are you Ms. Saga Rhyss?” It was as if them moving to the lounge in reality had ended up giving them much less privacy than if they had stayed in the grand hall, since they had barely been alone for a moment or two before someone else approached them. This time seemingly for the little witch. “Hm?” Diverting her eyes away from Michael and looking to the direction of the new stranger’s voice, her eyes fell one of the very polished walking-waiters. Hair slicked back even more than Michael and a stiffness in his straight posture which was comparable to the ones of the Nutcracker. “Yes. That’s me,” she answered stoically, awaiting whatever a waiter would want with her. He did carry a tray but there were no drinks balanced on it. Neither was it filled up with small finger food – a bit of a shame, actually. Hunger had started creeping up on her. “I was told to deliver a message to you.” He then reached the tray out in front of him towards Saga where a folded piece of paper laid waiting. Naturally, Saga didn’t hesitate to grab it and opened it up. Reading it and furrowing her brows by the message.

“I’d like to have a taxi called to the manor. Would that be possible?” Saga then asked, looking back up from the note, folding it closed with one hand. “Certainly. Right away.” One would have expected the waiter to stand waiting for a little something for his trouble but with a light bow with his head he was off again. While slowly turning back around to front Michael, she threw the folded paper onto the table, where it fluttered in the air and landed, still closed. “I’m sorry to say that it’s time for me to take my leave as well.” The frown was gone from her face and instead she showcased a sweet little smile. “Will you walk me out? Then perhaps you can fill me in on what to prepare for our excursion on the way.”

He had expected her to come back with a witty remark. Especially as he only looked at the watch to further tease her, empathizing his statement of it being a hasty leave. But all she gave him was a short reply, hinting at the fact that he for one hadn’t fled. He raised his gaze to her face, meeting her assertive expression. Not sensing even the slightest hint of a bad emotion, although he was secretly thinking that she at least must have thought to kick him across the shin for saying such unmannerly things. No, she looked quite serene. He then noticed that she was watching him, perhaps pondering something, because he couldn’t think of why else she’d be staring at him in that way. “Is-” The question barely made its way out of his mouth when a new voice interrupted him. He closed the gap between his lips and looked at the waiter. This time, the person was addressing Saga. There to deliver a message. He waited patiently for her to read the note, in the meantime downing the last bit of champagne in his glass. And for someone who was surprised at her sudden will to leave, he contained it well. Because he should care less for why she had to leave. Whatever that note said, it wasn’t his business. And he did have many other attendees that would be more than willing to take up his time in her absence.

He rose to his feet once the waiter went on his way. Not resisting to give the falling note a glance, but it hadn’t landed in any favorable position for him to read what it said, so he quickly looked back at her. She didn’t wait for him to ask what any gentleman would, but with her last words, his face suddenly lit up. She was going to come with him to Cuba. His plan had paid off. “Certainly,” he said firmly. Reaching her side to offer his arm for the last time that evening. And when he started walking, when he thought her not to be looking, his lips curved into a satisfied smile. Once they passed the loud music, he thought of where to start. He usually traveled alone, and so for this journey, he’d already dealt with most of the preparations. He’d of course need to book a separate room for her at the hotel, but that wasn’t something she needed to take care of. And most other things he could easily fix up once they were there. “Let’s see,” he mused. “I’ll pick you up at three o’clock Monday. We’ll be staying at the five-star hotel where my investigation takes place, so you should be sure to bring an evening dress.” He wasn’t sure how many nights they’d have to stay there. It all depended on how both investigations progressed. But with how long these cases usually took, he figured a few days ought to do it. It went without saying that they needed a cover identity, which at the bare minimum meant she'd need to use a fake surname. “And if you could research into possible points of interest for us in either investigation, that would be great.” He paused as they reached the entrance hall and a butler opened the door for them, the cool air welcoming them as they headed out. “But frankly, I’ve already got everything taken care of.” He stopped near the curb of the rounded driveway, made for the kind of drop-offs that could host a long line of cars. And in the middle of the circle was a botanic array. He turned to look at her, simultaneously lowering his arm from its bent position as they’d now arrived at her destination. “Do you have any inquiries?” he asked. He’d already decided to wait with her until the taxi arrived, so if she had any questions or last words, she'd have some time to express them now.

At this point of the evening, taking the archangels arms when offered had become as natural as walking. It happened without much thought. Over many, many years, she thought just as she noticed this occurrence, he must have perfected the arch, the bend. The confidence presenting. And the firmness of his arm made for a surprisingly comfortable placement of her own hand. And after taken a second or two to properly maneuver her dress’ skirt to not accidently wrap and trap her legs, as she would start walking, they left the lounge. A shame, almost. At least she could help but caught on to such thoughts as they strolled, side by side, back into and then through the large party hall.

While her eyes had been looking slightly around them as they had passed countless of grouping people of different stature, they automatically found their way to Michael the moment he saw it befitting to let her in on their future in devours. The mentioning of an evening dress had her faintly cringe and glancing down at the red dress she was wearing at the moment. She wasn’t one to deny that she indeed felt beautiful that night - dressed up and pinned in place - however, this wasn’t the norm of her lifestyle in any way. Especially the heels were a thing she looked rather fondly forward to take off for good. Perhaps that was part of her abrupt decision to go even if the actual reason wasn’t because she was immediately required elsewhere. Surely part of it. “I’ll see what I can acquire in that sense before Monday. But surely a dress like this one would meet the requirements of an evening dress?” she stated questioningly after a brief notion down at her attire.
Entering the entrance hall, a coat waiter came fast on her toes, careful not to seem in a distasteful hurry as she was trained to avoid, up to them, while they moved to the main door. Saga only saw her approaching out of the corner of her eye when she had nearly caught up to them. Matching it perfectly with the little with and archangel halting and waiting for the door to be opened for them not long after. Here Saga lifted her other hand and with a twirl of her wrist, like a magician a small ticket appeared in between her thumb and index finger which was then given to the coat waiter who by then had reached them. In a short anticipation, she looked over at Michael after having taken the ticket from Saga. But as it didn’t seem he’d need his coat back, the waiter backed a few steps and returned to the coat room.
The outside was as refreshing as it had been for the short while she had escaped the party and sneaked out into the gardens and as an instinct she breathed out a little more heavily to create a huff of white fog. A light, but somewhat silent giggle left her throat. “You can truly always trust the efficiency of angels. Having everything ready and taken care of,” she commented, entertained by it. Entertained by the thought of how they were alike even if they almost couldn’t be more different on a surface level. Like him she was used to having thing done herself. This collaboration should show to be interesting nonetheless.

The coat waiter reappeared after a short while, a thick black wool coat in her arms which she handed Saga before going back inside to the warmth of the party. “Yes, actually,” Saga replied before in one tame swoop throw the coat over her shoulders, revealing that more than it being a coat, it resembled a cape instead. It fell heavy over her body, hiding most of the dress, only down from past her knees, the red fabric shown through. “Your number. I realize I still don’t have it. I had expected you to make use of a phone call when you had heard something about my father, or if you were in need of something but to my surprise I received a letter.” After buttoning the few large buttons at the top of the cape, she reached up behind her neck and started pulling some bobby pins out of her perfectly formed hair style, ending up loosening it enough that when she shook her head, the black hair unfolded and fell around her face with a bit of wave at the ends.
A car pulled up in front of them in the curved drive through. Saga glanced towards it and then swiftly back at Michael. “Monday, three o’clock.” She nodded confirming and was about to get into the car, but stopped to return her attention to the angel one last time. “It was a pleasure dancing with you tonight. I can guess why you like it. Auf Wiedersehen, Michael.” She then slidered into the back seat of the car, the door closing shut and the car slowly drove around the display of flora and then out on the road to take her to where she wished to go.

// out

He looked to her as she remarked on the evening attire and it occurred to him that she didn’t own many dresses. A shame, he thought, because she looked manifestly endearing tonight. “No, something semi-formal will do. This gown will draw all too much attention at a place like that.” It was best if they blended in with the crowd when the hotel was owned by the very demons that ran the illegal side-business. “If not, we’ll have some time the first day to shop for a dress,” he added, not wanting her to stress about that of all things.

Outside, as she commented upon the efficiency of angels, a faint smile appeared on his lips. Because she seemed very much the same way. To prefer when things were planned out and controlled for. He turned his attention to the woman as she handed Saga her coat. But it was quickly returned to the witch once she expressed that she did have an inquiry. She wanted his number. Michael rarely gave out his number for two reasons. The first being the risk of it ending in the wrong hands, the second that he for security measures changed it quite often. Besides that, he had about four different numbers. And so even if she’d asked that night, he might not have granted her it. But it was only reasonable of her to want to get in contact with him during the weekend, should any more questions come to mind. “Of course.” He reached his hand inside his tuxedo jacket to get a hold of a business card that he’d received the help of a fairy to magically alter, so it would update the number to his most recent one. He hesitantly reached it out towards her, hardly ever handing it to people. Only to supernatural’s - and only to ones he thought he could trust. And he couldn't say that Saga fulfilled that criteria. Of course, if they lost or misused it, he’d break the spell, but he hadn't needed to do that thus far and he certainly didn't want her to be the reason for it. On the card was written his full name in cursive black, and underneath it, his official titles as Archangel and Commander of The Heavenly Host. The phone number appeared just below that. “You might want to hold on to it.”

The sound of a car approaching made him turn his head. A taxi. He took a step back as it pulled up to the curb. And when she repeated the agreement upon when they’d meet, he gave an affirmative nod. “The pleasure was all mine.” He smiled, coming to the realization that he, much to his surprise, had enjoyed her company that evening. He watched as the car drove into the distance before he turned on his heel and went back inside to the festivities. 

//Out