The real hell is inside your head [Neal]

”Michael, was that…necessary?” Raziel chimed in as the door to Valhalla’s throne room slammed shut with a resounding slam, leaving King alone with his councilor. He looked like a simple vagrant human, dressed in casual clothing that could only be described as drab: faded blue jeans, white t-shirt and a dark grey beanie cap upon his mop of blonde hair. Seemingly an opposite to the male upon the throne within the demonic red armor, a coat tail like protrusion of material the same color as the armor that slightly fell from the throne. Annoyed was the expression that could be placed upon the face of the male, blood shot silver eyes flecked with neon green narrowing upon the male. Looking as if questioning why he had done what he had done.

”Of course it’s necessary. If I remember, it was you that requested that I began using more….stringent methods.” Michael said rolling the term about for a moment before spitting it out, though Raziel did not flinch when it was spoken to him. ”I did what was required.”

”Supposed treachery is grounds for an execution? Aren’t you just creating a martyr?” He would question, Michael growling lightly in response retrieving a cigarette from a pocket within space and clenching it between his lips. With a snap, pale grey flames would dance along his right index finger and lap up at the cigarettes end, lighting it with the usual burning red end. ”I know their leaving must be hard bu..” before the male had time to finish a blade materialized within Michael’s hand, the blade itself made of a glowing black material, pulsing with red. The edge rested against Raziel’s throat, causing the ethereal to flinch for a moment, looking down upon the weapon with controlled bemusement.

It was as if the weapon itself was no threat to him, yet he controlled himself as the weapon would mold back into one of the two necklaces dangling around Michael’s throat. The ethereal calmed himself and reclined upon the throne once again, taking a drag of the cigarette and then letting the cloud hiss through his lips slowly. Carcinogen laden smoke would dissipate within the air and fade away. ”Don’t mention them.” He added harshly, his voice sounding dull and humorless, eyes seeming duller than normal and hair normally meticulously kept now messy. What was once a proud looking being was now nothing but disheveled.  

A singular foot tapped against the floor as someone walked through the throne room door, a blonde ethereal, one of his new councilors though he did not deign to really remember his name. One of the traditionalists or whatever it was that they called them. One half of a division that was created when he had taken his pace as king, once Ouroboros had been revealed. The old king was very much alive and that meant that he would have to only step things up a notch, perhaps put a little fear in the people, if that was required. It was at this point that the male truly did not care, he would simply beat them down if nothing else worked. In the end his only ally was more than powerful enough to tip the scales within his favor, as well as the loyal pets that he had accrued.

A large black figure lurked along the fringe of the shadows that now cloaked the throne room, an imperfect and  one that he always kept at his side. This councilor would speak about something, but all Michael got was a dull droning within his ears, something that he did not quite care about but would pretend that he did. He would nod when nodding was required and say all that was required, yet the male did not quite feel into it. It had fallen upon the back burner, like a lot of things. Soon enough the male was done and with a dismissive gesture Michael sent him away, running fingers through his now greasy feeling hair.

”You should go out some, perhaps clear your mind. Conflict is inevitable and you cannot afford to be any less than 100%.” Raziel suggested, though it felt more like a command, and even the Lord of two realms could not deny it. Michael sighed, shrugging as he rose from his throne, the armor molding to the usual clothing that the kign would wear when out and about in the mortal world. A simple white polo shirt with a dark colored jacket over it and khaki colored cargo pants, shorts perhaps too short for where he was planning to go. Prepping to transport, Michael took a drag of his cigarette, and within an instant he was gone, stepping through a dark portal, one that reeked of nether and within an instant he was standing in a London Alleyway.

Neal was in a London cafe, the days classes had ended, and Neal had finished his lectures. He was sipping a coffee, being too young to drink any alcohol and not feeling like tea. Being an ethereal now, he no longer needed sleep or food, but still enjoyed good food and beverage. The English coffee here was actually quite good, and Neal enjoyed being able to enjoy it without needing to worry about sleep later on. It was dark in the cafe, and his eyes were glowing with a faint white glow. The green of his eyes was visible, but it was obviously tainted by the white ethereal glow.

'It has been a few weeks now since I have become an ethereal, and I am still trying to get used to this. It is such a unique feeling and lifestyle, with such incredible differences from that of my mortal human life.' He looked about, viewing the world through eyes that saw far more than the human eyes did. It was his first time in England, and London in particular, since before he had become an ethereal. The sights and the sounds were incredible, the heightened sensitivity of his senses making everything seem so much more amazing. The city was already an incredible place, with Big Ben and other monumental and unique landmarks. To be in this place with such a livid perspective of the world, it was truly awe-inspiring.

For now, Neal would sit back, the coffee resting in his hands, looking out the window. There was an alleyway directly next to the small shop, but Neal did not look out that window. His eyes were fixed on the front window, watching cars drive by, the faint glow in his eyes able to be attributed to the glare from the window to most onlookers. He didn't know what to do, as he no longer needed sleep, it felt strange to be sitting at the cafe and not needing to think about heading back to any hotel and sleep.

It was dark within the city, yet people still milled about without a care in the world. As if darker things did not shift around within the shadows, and one of those dark things were Michael, though even now he was still rather handsome, greasy hair and bloodshot eyes aside. Now it made him only appear to be fragile, as if the smallest touch would shatter him to pieces but that was far from the case, he was powerful. Exhaling lightly, a cloud of mist and smoke issued from his mouth as a light cold gust blew across his ear, sending a chilled shudder down Michael’s spine. None of his family were likely prowling this area, this was a place that Michael could enjoy without the threat of having someone attempt to end the little civil war with one quick stroke, one quick decisive blow.

Pulling the hood closer to his neck, Michael stepped from the alleyway, silver eyes looking side to side. No one really gave him a second look and that was perfect, he would go mostly unnoticed amongst this crowd. Perhaps he could do some unwinding like Raziel had suggested, shed away this stress that was weighing heavily upon him, like a burden fart too great for any to bear. So many memories ran through his mind with nauseating speed, Michael cringing lightly as they flooded in. Rubbing the bridge of his nose Michael took notice of a small café, perhaps a place where he could get himself that chai drink or whatever it was called. Stepping across the street, Michael walked through the café door and let the warm air hit him.

His looks alone drew a small amount of attention, but it was nothing that really mattered. They would perhaps notice how unnatural his eyes were, but then again they would just try to rationalize it. A birth defect or something along those lines. Ordering a frozen blended chai, Michael took his seat, the cold drink within his hand as he sipped on it, seemingly ignoring the fact that the weather did not call for such a cold drink. He hummed lightly to himself and then caught it, the small amount of ethereal energy within the café and then turned upon the person exuding it. "Well this is...interesting."

Neal was wearing his black suit, the green shirt matching his eyes. He was relaxing his appearance slightly, the tie loosened and top button undone. The jacket was still fully buttoned, and the cuff links on his shirt likely made him look wealthier than he was. That did not bother him though, as he was always dressed in such a manner. Before long, Neal could feel a massive level of ethereal energy enter the cafe. It was like an ethereal of great power had just stepped across the threshold, and the energy called to Neal like a signal light. 'I wonder who this person is, I have never seen them before. Could they be family? I had better not say anything until I know for certain, especially since I promised Zell to not say anything in regards to this.'

Neal was curious as to what this encounter would be like, the first encounter he would have after Silus. Getting to meet another ethereal, even the prospect, intrigued Neal. He took his vow very seriously, and the secrecy he needed to maintain still felt strange. Loneliness was the only thing he felt now that he hadn't felt before, being an Ethereal meant that he couldn't be himself with most people. He may be able to act like normal, but there was so much that would need to be kept secret now. He spoke out loud to himself, using the Ethersong to do so. It was only a whisper, but it would be done to see if this person was ethereal or not. "Hello, who are you?" It was a peculiar language, but it was amazing to be able to speak in a tongue that only the elect understood.

Neal would need to find out if this man was an ethereal, and then if he was talk and see what the rest of his new family was like. His respect for the rules was absolute, he valued them as the things that transcended him from the mortal rabble. He needed to learn about the other people in his realm and life now, and this may be a good way.

The ethereal that he had set his sights upon took notice of him as soon as he had walked through the threshold of the place, yet did not male any moves until Michael had taken his seat. He looked rather strange really, or perhaps it was that Michael had never seen the ethereal before. Not that he was expected to keep record of every being that existed on the isles, but maybe he was the opposition, the…loyalists as they had come to calling themselves. It was the use of ethersong that really gave this male away, gave him away of what h was. Yet the question that came along with it was slightly unexpected, as if the male would not know who he of all people was. ”Who am I?” Michael would ask within the same language, yet his words were strangely dark and lilting, quizzical and alluring in the way they were spoken.

”That’s new, an ethereal that doesn’t know me.” Michael wondered outloud within the same language, smirking and shaking his head. ”I’m Michael, The Ethereal King as the most have come to know me.” He noted sipping lightly on the frozen caffeinated beverage, considering this male for a moment. Why would he not know the usurper to the throne, one that any ethereal with half a mind would know of. If anything he would try to learn more of this male and then act based upon that. If they were indeed an enemy, he would have no problem snuffing him out or atleast having someone else do it for him. Motioning to the seat that was across the table of his, Michael bid the male to sit and yet he did not leave him much room to refuse.

If he wanted to learn anything, there was no better way to do so than to ask questions and perhaps then move on from there. That was of course if he did not react negatively from finding out who he was in the first place, as so many loyalists would have. A pleasant guise was kept up either way, nothing but a welcoming demeanor being projected from Michael.

Neal listened to this man, hearing him speak as if Neal should know who he is. This made Neal curious, until he said that he was Michael, the ethereal king. Neal knew then that this was his nephew, and the son of Ouroboros. He needed to be careful not to use the true king's name, and not tell him that even godsbane, the grimoire was against Michael. Whatever it was, Neal would keep calm and collected. He walked over to the man, whom had invited Neal over with a wave. Neal would not refuse, the chance to meet another ethereal was something he looked forward to. He would be honest with this person, telling him why he didn't know who he was. It seemed prudent that the person know that Neal was an ally, so he would bring up how he valued the oath he took with absolute reverence.

"My name is Neal... Neal Atterrius. I do not know you yet, because I have only been an ethereal for a few weeks now. The entire scope of the realm is still new and foreign to me, but I value the oath I took with pure respect. I would do nothing to break it, and view it as the code by which I need to live. I apologize for the inconvenience, I know it must be frustrating to not know my own king. If you would let me, I'd like to ask you a few more questions. The realm of the ethereal has only just opened its vast wealth to me, and I wish to learn all the traditions of the race I have entered." Neal spoke with respect, a deep understanding that this person was the man he needed to show the most respect for now. The reason being, that he didn't want this man to attack himself, as the usurper likely had great power. All of this was spoken in the ethersong, exuding purity and benevolence just with the sound.

Neal hoped that what he asked was not too much, and also that this man would understand the value he held for the contract he made. For a person as powerful as he seemed to be, Neal wanted to be on as good a side as possible with this man. He did not want to risk the wrath of this king, especially if the received punishment was what most kings would do to a traitor of the throne. Neal likes this new life, and would honor the wishes of this man. However, Neal would also need to respect Ouroboros above this prince, since he was now his brother, and the true king. He would bring up Ouroboros' name, only if this man asked how Neal had become an Ethereal, and tell him that he had no allegiance to any side of this power struggle. At least, that is what he would tell this phony king, in truth, he would have complete reverence for Ouroboros. Neal just did not want to jeopardize his life to this man so soon.

So this Neal was an Atterrius? Michael cocked his head to the side and considered him more carefully now, considering that he was a member of his own family. Why had Michael not heard of this Atterrius? He made sure to know everyone within his family, and this abnormality appears out of nowhere, speaking their name as if he knew it and even used it as his own. He looked a little old to be a few weeks, so there was no way that he was an ethereal born from his siblings, so that only offered one conclusion; that someone had offered him the power of the ethereal. Michael issued a low growling sound, lips curling into a slight frown as he adjusted his sitting posture, looking at the male with a certain…dangerous expression.

”So you’re an elect?” He would ask dully, raising a brow as if the question that he was figuring out was too simple. Who could offer him such power anyway? It was likely only one person, and Michael was more than aware who that was, his dear father it would seem. So he was just handing the power of the ethereal out to anyone that asked for it now? ”So, who made you as you were? Don’t try lying to me either…at this point I would have no problem ending you.” he said dully within etheresong, even with the lilting and rhythmic tones, it sounded of malic and killing intent. Silver eyes bore upon the male in question, the green flecks within the silver eyes growing more prominent than ever. Sipping lightly on his drink, Michael issued a content sigh before containing the death stare waiting for an answer.

Neal took the expression at face value, this person was very irritated or angry about something. What that was, was likely to do with Neal's presence and him being what was called an "elect". Which is exactly what this Micahel, son of Ouroboros asked first. Neal would speak in the standard human langauge now, knowing that what he would say next was not exactly privy information. "Yes, I have become an elect." In just a moment after Neal's response, this man asked who made him an elect, and threatened Neal not to lie. Neal was uncertain of whether this man could truly end him, but he did not want to find out. 'Well, I will tell him who made me an elect, but I will give him a partial lie.'

Neal would come up with what to say only a second after Michael had finished speaking, and would begin speaking with little time gap. "Ouroboros made me who I am, but he told me nothing of the Ethereal history or royalty except that he was the resurrector. I assume that made him the king before he stepped down from the throne. Or whatever he did that he isn't king any longer, which I take to be something rather bad for an Ethereal." Neal would avoid mentioning the grimoire, and would not tell Michael anything about having met Silus or the last bit of the conversation he had with Ouroboros. He found it unimportant and potentially dangerous to tell Michael that he agreed with Michael and godsbane, the grimoire, about Michael's ascension to the throne being wrong.

For now though, Neal would simply await a response from this "king" of the ethereal. He would want to see what he would need to do next.

Michael would have laughed out loud, had it not been so pathetic. His father, the former ethereal king had brought this thing into the power of the ethereal? Instead of chuckling, all he could do with smirk wryly, the smirk seeming dry and humorless within execution. ”So he made you as you were?” Michael asked rather annoyed not changing from the etherspeak, a small amount of amusement seeping into his voice. ”Well….he didn’t step down, he died.” Michael stated simply raising a brow either not believing his story or testing him to see if he were lying. ”I simply took my rightful place as king, the eldest son being incompetent and the one after…..was deceased.” Michael slowly cleaned his finger nails, looking up to Neal with seemingly blank eyes.

”I do not however believe that you are completely ignorant on the situation of the race as a whole, as I’m sure Ouroboros would have informed an Atterrius of his perceived right as Ethereal King.”It just seemed to convenient that Ouroboros would make him and not inform him of his stance upon things. ” So, do you want to try that again?”

Neal felt that the first question was more rhetoric than an actual statement of curiosity. This Michael seemed to know already that Neal was an ethereal because of Ouroboros, so it would be redundant just to reassure him that it was the case. Neal feigned great shock when Michael told him about Ouroboros' death, and acted as if he had no idea about it. In truth, godsbane had told him that shortly after being mad an ethereal. This Michael seemed unafraid of fighting, and did not seem to hold the ethereal code in high regard. It would be best to stay on his good side, especially if Neal did not want to be a fugitive from the real of the ethereal. "Well, I am sorry to hear that you were forced upon the throne, I am sure that it is a heavy burden to bear." It seemed though that Michael had not bought the entire story, claiming that Neal would know of Ouroboros' place as the ethereal king. It was quite true, Neal had been told, by both Ouroboros and godsbane that Ouro was the king. So, the problem would be finding a way to lie without it seeming over the top.

'Well, I can't tell him a lie again, but I can tell him a bent truth perhaps. One that will keep him undisturbed and that will allow me to keep a decent standing. I know that this will not be easy, but perhaps there is something I can say that will not upset him.' Quickly, Neal would speak, speaking in an honest voice, hoping that this new story would keep Michael off of him. "As I told you, Ouroboros did inform me of being the resurrector of the race. That did make him the ethereal king as far as I knew. It would have been redundant to have repeated it. Although, I will admit that he did call himself king, he said that one of his children had taken control of the throne in his absence." Neal would avoid as much as he could, not telling a specific lie anymore, but hoping that Michael would not ask anymore questions.

(Dead thread is dead)