nexus_crossings | Mother always told me to never give away a story for free

Mother always told me to never give away a story for free

"Honestly, all this bare chest and he hits home right in the fabric..."

Did the demonic looking purple stranger look at all put out by the new locale? Not really, they'd been given a pamphlet that was currently tucked into their belt to be reviewed later. Their attention more focused on the bloody hole in their rather ostentatious coat, lips quirking on a frown as they fingered the damaged fabric lightly, tail twitching behind them in a clear hint of their annoyance.

Really, they're looking rather calm for someone that bloody. When they hear someone coming near they glance up with a jingle of jewelry both in skin and decorating their curved horns, red eyes brightening as their mouth spreads to a cheerfully hopeful smile.

"Well then!" They straighten, something of a showmanship in the shift from grumpy contemplation to sunny disposition but at the same time that shift didn't seem dishonest either. "Hello there darling, please tell me there's some manner of tailor to be found here? As you can likely see I'm in dire need of one."

Clearly this was some manner of weird afterlife, but Mollymauk would be dipped in Fuck No if anyone expected them to wander around with their coat in tatters.

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Aziraphale is wondering the same thing. It would explain why angels are a rare sight on Molly's world, as well. His contemplation is derailed by the compliment, however, and he blushes accordingly. "Oh, this old thing," he says, gesturing at himself modestly, a pleased little smile on his face. "Anyway, it's nothing to worry about, probably even less so for you, being attuned to the magical and all."

He waves off further compliments, chuckling softly and opening his paperback once Molly has entered the shop. Those fifteen minutes pass in the blink of an eye, and the angel is quite engrossed in Bilbo and the dwarves' trek to Lonely Mountain when Molly returns.

"That was hardly any time at all," he remarks, tucking his book away. He beams and takes the offered arm, admiring the embroidery on the sleeve. "Goodness, what lovely work," he remarks, making a mental note of the name of the tailor shop. Crowley might like a shirt like this -- in black, of course, or perhaps red. "Yes, let's be off, I know just the place, it has the most perfectly baked brioche outside of Paris."

He leads Molly away from the street lined with clothiers and down another. This one has restaurants interspersed with little groceries, bakeries, and other specialty food stores. It happens to be Aziraphale's favorite part of the Nexus, too, excepting the Grand Library. "Molly, I hope this isn't too gauche to ask, but what was happening that led to you ending up here?"

"I'll have to come back and see what they make of my poor coat after they get the blood out but they had this wonderful shirt to replace the ruined one, and how could I say no?" It might be amusing to note, with Aziraphale's thoughts on Crowley, that his companion had a tattoo peeking out from his shirt sleeve, a serpent's head up the back of his hand.

And while the clothiers have Molly's interest, he can happily admit his interest is yanked quite firmly by the wonderful smells the angel is leading him towards, tail twitching behind him not entirely unlike a cat who's attention is piqued.

"Ah. Yes well see there was a gang of slavers that decided to make off with some of our friends. As a general rule we dislike slavers anyways, awful people, but well then they made it personal. Unfortunately as you can see, I didn't come out of it in very good shape."

Aziraphale does a small double-take at the tattoo. Not that snakes are an uncommon tattoo motif, but with his mind already on Crowley, it's a funny coincidence. "You have a number of tattoos," he notes, "All very nicely done. Is there a story behind them?"

That seems a nicer topic than Molly's run in with slavers. He frowns, not a fan of such people, either -- a true dark side of humanity, enslaving one another -- and pats Molly's arm. "That sounds terrible, I'm sorry for you and your friends." Molly, especially, who he's beginning to suspect might have died on his own world.

In the Nexus, however, he's now whole and well, and Aziraphale intends to treat him to lunch. The angel's nose twitches, also captivated by the smells, and he follows it to a nice bistro at the end of the street. It's attached to a bakery, so that when they enter the establishment, a full display of breads and pastries are visible from the restaurant's side. Aziraphale finds a table by the large window so that Molly can people-watch if he likes. The staff appear human, although that isn't necessarily true of the customers.

"If anyone is equipped to put a stop to them, it's the Nein." Even if he'd died, he still was confident in the others. They'd handle things.

"A story indeed!" Not the one Molly was going to tell him, but he'd tell him a story about the tattoos. "An old myth about the creation of the moon- the world was swaddled in darkness whenever the sun went below the horizon, and monsters of course used that shadowy cloak to commit all sorts of awfulness. Seeing that, the clever snake decided there needed to be some way to bring light into the evening. Not the full sun, as creatures still needed to be able to sleep, but perhaps a mirror. The brightest, most perfectly polished mirror that ever existed, in the care of one very vain peacock who cared not for anyone's struggles, only that he could admire himself in his mirror."

Sue him he was having fun making up this story, and he was sure it was fun to hear anyways. "The snake had his clever disguises and in the darkness made himself up to be a monstrous version of the peacock, great and terrible enough that the frightened bird forgot himself and flung the mirror at him. Which of course that sassy serpent caught in his tail before he fled, carrying the mirror up to the heavens to reflect the sunlight as the moon. Sadly the peacock pecked off all of his lovely little feet in the process, but such is life sometimes."

Molly certainly did like that table Aziraphale found for them, settling in with a pleased little hum, relaxing back in his seat. "This place looks so cozy. You're here to get me utterly fat on breads and pastries aren't you?"

"The Nein?" he repeats. "Is that the name of your group of friends?"

Though it's a made-up story, Aziraphale has no clue, hanging on to every word as told so entertainingly by his new companion. The angel loves stories, and it's not often that he gets to hear a myth that's entirely new to him. He smiles, finding the tale very pleasing, not thinking to ask why Molly would choose to tattoo that myth onto his skin, as per his original question. "A clever snake indeed," he says once Molly is done. "I'll have to share that myth with my partner. He has a strong affinity for snakes."

The angel takes a seat across from Molly, sitting with perfect posture. A waiter comes over and drops off a pair of menus, and Aziraphale peruses his immediately. He already knows that he's going to order brioche, but shall he have it as the bread of a sandwich? Or perhaps a roll to eat along a nice cup of soup, or --

Molly's comment has him looking up from the menu and chuckling softly. "It is very tempting, isn't it? But you should eat your fill, dear. What sort of scoundrel would I be if I offered to take someone to lunch and then refused to treat them?"

"Indeed it is! The Mighty Nein, adventuring band extraordinaire!" Molly enthused lightly with a showy wave of his hand, ever so slightly tempered with the idea of being inside and in a more enclosed space in mind. Inside voices and flamboyance!

It might be a fabrication, but the clear delight from Aziraphale meant that the lie was definitely preferable in Molly's mind. The real story might be interesting, mysteries always were but they also touched on things that weren't nearly so fanciful and cheerful as the idea of a mischievous serpent turning a mirror into the moon.

Where the angel sat perfectly prim, the tiefling slouched with a languid air of comfortable lounging, accepting the menu with a warm murmur of appreciation to the waiter complete with a smile before he was skimming the options. He had no idea what some of this was- the descriptions were self-explanatory in a lot of them so he could suss out the idea of them and was honestly a bit intrigued to try this new sort of food out.

"A scoundrel of the highest order I'm sure," The tiefling hummed, with a soft mou as if considering if he was sitting across from such a person. "But no. Not you, while I'm sure you've got your own brand of fun tucked under that bowtie of yours, you hardly seem the sort to be that manner of ne're-do-well."

"The Mighty Nein," Aziraphale repeats to himself, a touch of wonder in his voice. From the way Molly speaks of them, they sound like a group whose exploits the angel would enjoy hearing about. "And what sorts of adventures would you go on?"

Delighted as he is by the moon myth, he would have been a good, compassionate listener for the real story behind the tattoos, no matter if it wasn't a happy one. But if Molly wants to keep the tone of their meal light, the angel can certainly oblige. While Molly pretends to consider his possible scoundrelness, he watches the tiefling with a fond smile. There must be something inherent in a demonic bloodline that prevents one from sitting in an upright manner.

"You're an excellent judge of character," he says with a small wiggle of his shoulders and a twinkle in his eyes. "Now then, I must insist that whatever you order, you save room for a pain au chocolat for dessert, they are simply divine here. I'm going to ask our server what the soup of the day is, and if it is any sort of bisque, order it immediately. You won't regret it."

"Many strange and wonderous adventures I can assure you," And from the tone the tiefling seemed entirely willing to share. He always extolled to never give a story away for free, but that never seemed to stop him from sharing regardless. And besides, Aziraphale healing him and buying him lunch would absolutely count as payment if he were actually the tit-for-tat sort. "We explored wherever we could stick our inquisitive little noses, did our very level best to leave every place better than we found it. I like to think we succeeded in that, but that may just be my massive ego talking."

Not really. He held that particular maxim close, ego or no, and for all he might cheat and scam and tell his fibs, he did his best to keep that idea at the heart of his shenanigans. He hoped he did as well as he thought he did.

The teasing shoulder wiggle earned a short laugh, Molly's brows lifting. "Chocolate? Well now you are speaking my language, I see no reason not to absolutely do exactly what you're suggesting. And I can't say I've ever had a bisque but no time like the present, hm?" At least from the conversation cues he knew it was some manner of soup.

Aziraphale has been a patron of many a storyteller (including the Bard himself), and knows better than to ask to be entertained for free. But Molly sounds eager to share, and so the angel sits there, curious and eager to hear more. He laughs at the ego comment. "I'm sure you and your friends made things for the better. Certainly if you're going after slavers and their ilk."

The angel considers himself a good judge of character (except for a couple times when he really missed the mark), and he likes Molly quite a bit. That impression extends to the rest of the Mighty Nein.

"You have chocolate on your world?" Aziraphale would have assumed the opposite, but he's pleased to hear Molly's enthusiasm over it. "You might be familiar with bisque under a different name. It's a very creamy sort of soup made with seafood, although they have a butternut squash bisque sometimes that isn't technically a bisque, but still very good and I wouldn't turn my nose up at it."

The finer points of soup versus bisque will have to wait, because the waiter is back to take their orders. It turns out that the soup of the day is tomato basil, not a bisque, but Aziraphale orders it anyway, along with a small savory tart and a brioche roll, and a pot of orange blossom tea for the table.

"Oh well in those situations it's easy to tell really, I mean who wouldn't agree that a place is better off without slavers about?" Molly mused, twiddling one of the rings he wore as he was skimming the menu. "It's the smaller situations where one can't quite be too certain. Just rolling into a town for a day or so and on again, hard to tell one way or the other, maybe a little harder to make that betterment without such an obvious thing needing fixing. Gotta trust in the little things then."

He considered the description, tilting his head with a hum. "Don't know that I have, most of my meals tended to be out of dive bars and such, or on the road. Stews and the like typically. It sounds delicious though, I'll have to try it sometime. And honestly I think if our world didn't have chocolate, Jester would be so very distraught as much as she adores her sweets and baked goods."

Molly has little to no clue what any of this is, but decides to give the soup a try, picking a crepe which he again barely knows how to pronounce off the menu but it has salmon and spinach and he's fairly certain he likes those things so this should be fine! A roll of his own as well, because goodness but the baked goods are tempting him with that wonderful scent.

Aziraphale thinks about all the times Heaven could have intervened in various slave trades and chose not to and decides to leave the question as rhetorical. There was that whole business with Moses, anyway, so the Almighty occasionally put Her metaphorical foot down. "Well, that is a good point. Small actions can have large, unintended consequences. But you really can't go wrong with kindness."

Lest Molly think that he's some sort of food snob, he gives him a reassuring smile. "Some of the best food comes out of little hole-in-the-wall establishments. Your friend Jester sounds like my type of person, although there are all manner of sweets. Honey, sugar, maple syrup, fresh fruit... but chocolate does scratch a particular itch when it comes to dessert."

A savory crepe is an excellent choice, in the angel's opinion. The waiter jots down their orders, then returns promptly with a small tea service that he leaves on their table. "I imagine magic must be used a lot on your world," he remarks as he pours them both a cup from an elegant glass teapot. "Is it only for fighting and healing, or do you use it for the little things, too?"

"I like to think we helped Kiri. Not the biggest thing we'd done at that point but... she was left better than we found her," He drew his brows lightly, the smile on his face unchanged but at the same time there was something a bit gentler to the tone. "Can't say I know what the consequences will be, she could grow up to be the next Great Conqueror or evil or something but wouldn't make me regret us doing right by the kid."

The tea definitely catches Molly's interest, accepting that cup, adding a small bit of sugar to his own with a chuckle.

"Most people think so! I mean it's the flashiest magic, so it's the stuff that gets the most attention, but there's spells for just about anything you can imagine. Jester likes her thaumaturgy. Lets her do little subtle things like make a wind pick up subtly, swing open unlocked windows and doors. Good for pranking. There's mending, which does exactly what it says on the tin, all manner of attention-grabbing spells that performers like, disguise spells, spells that let you comprehend languages or talk to animals, unlock things, coax plants to grow, the sky truly is the limit. And then you have artificers, they go more for technology fueled by magic if that makes sense? I've only seen a bit of that up close myself, but it's definitely impressive."

"You rescued a child?" The look Aziraphale bestows Molly is full of warmth. "My dear, that's one of the most selfless things one can do. I'm sure she's far better off after having met all of you."

The angel adds a heaping teaspoon of sugar to his own cup of tea, making his sweet tooth rather obvious. He sips it slowly while listening to Molly's answer. The fact that there are so many different types of spells has him fascinated. Most of those he can do himself with a miracle or well-placed application of his grace, but for mortals to have access to such magic sounds like something from a fairy tale.

"My goodness, such variety. No wonder your world is so full of magic. And what about yourself, Molly? Do you perform magic as well?"

"Well we weren't about to leave her alone to be eaten by a crocodile. She... have you ever met a kenku? Birdfolk of a sort, typically reminiscent of crows. They've no voice of their own, but they're perfect mimics of words and sounds, as well as excellent creators of duplications or forgeries. She'd been separated from her family while running from some fighting... she actually came with us for a time, feisty little thing that she was, but we found her a new home with a family we ended up reuniting by rescuing the parents from unjust imprisonment." Molly chuckled faintly, something reservedly fond in his tone. For all he'd kept the little kenku girl at arms length he had liked her.

The sight of the angel loading his tea earns a glimmer of amusement, reminding the tiefling of Jester's love of sweets. Clearly this angel and the boisterous cleric would have gotten on well- Molly thought he would certainly enjoy her tales at least, likely would be at least somewhat indulgent of her mischief.

"Of a sort. Nothing quite so lighthearted or useful outside more martial pursuits I'm afraid. And a bit unsettling for folk to watch. Unfortunate really, I always figured I'd make a halfway decent bard."

The only bird-like person that Aziraphale has met is skekGra, who is technically an alien and probably doesn't count, so he shakes his head, paying attention to Molly's description. It certainly changes the image in his mind of this little girl's appearance, but not his overall impression of her. "My goodness. Small children already have the tendency of repeating everything they hear, I can only imagine what sort of mischief she caused mimicking others. I'm glad you found a home for her, the rough and tumble world of adventuring is not a permanent place for a child."

For an angel, Aziraphale is surprisingly indulgent of a lot of things. He and Jester would definitely bonded over their love of sweets. He has another sip of tea, eyebrows rising at Molly's vague reply.

"Is it necromancy?" he asks cautiously. "Or, ah... do you shapeshift into something ferocious?" That's what Crowley does, although he only uses it to scare annoying humans. His expression softens, wishing that the tiefling had the opportunity. "You could always pursue that option here, you're an excellent storyteller. Can you play an instrument or sing?"

"Jester taught her a few things a four year old should know. You know, to say her name when asked, to tell people that she is very sweet when asked if she's nice," A faint beat as he took a sip of his tea. "To tell people to go fuck themselves if they say or do something she doesn't like."

He can't help but chuckle at the question, shaking his head.

"Oh no, nothing like that. I'm not sure entirely what it is, just that when I bleed I can make things happen. This place is a bit too nice to go demonstrating that though, I doubt they'd appreciate blood on their nice linens," A faint smile. "I don't have a lot of the magic you'd expect of a bard, and I've never quite had the patience to sit down and learn an instrument. I tend to earn coin with my readings, when not getting into all manner of trouble with the Nein."

Aziraphale makes a scandalized noise at the final phrase, but it seems mostly for show. "Well, I can't say I approve of the language, but it's important for children to have the proper words to protect themselves." His smile returns, a touch wistful as he adds, "You know, my partner and I once helped raise a child. That sounds like the sort of thing he would have taught Warlock. He's a fan of pranks, like your friend Jester."

Molly's answer has him breathing softly in relief before looking a touch concerned. "Yes, um... I imagine this wouldn't be the place for it." His mind is busy wrapping around the concept of a bard with magical powers when he catches the word readings.

"Fortune-telling, you mean? Like with tarot cards?" Ah-ha, now this is a magic that he's actually familiar with, via his witchy friend Anathema who always has a deck somewhere on her person. He's about to ask more, but their food arrives just then, and the angel is properly distracted by it all, particularly the fluffy and golden brioche rolls that come with both their meals.

"Well she had a knife for a while, that was probably more useful for her protection than swearing at someone." Molly sees that wistfulness and grins, finding it rather charming. "Jester loves pranks. It's almost literally a religious thing for her, she worships a god who's domain is literally mischief and spreading joy and when I say she's a natural I quite mean it."

The demonstration isn't happening but it likely does explain the myriad of small little scars decorating the front of Molly's chest, and up his throat though.

The food definitely distracts him though. When it's a place like this, the food definitely is something of an experience, so Molly takes his time to try things, from the crepe he'd ordered to that lovely roll, experimentally dipping a small bit into his soup as well, which goes over nicely.

"You've got lovely taste in dining, this is wonderful." He hums out finally, tail twitching in a pleased fashion against a chair leg. "But to your question, exactly like with tarot cards."

A child with a knife! Aziraphale fidgets with his teacup, knowing that fretting about something that already happened and was happily resolved is pointless, but does it anyway. At least until he's distracted by talk of Jester's god. "How curious. I've never heard of that sort of religious worship. Er... her god isn't named Loki, by any chance?"

Loki isn't the only god of mischief out there, of course, but he's the only one Aziraphale is friends with, and it doesn't hurt to check, doesn't it? The Nexus is full of strange coincidences.

Molly's blood magic does put the scars on his body into perspective. But that's a conversation for another time, as Aziraphale is busy having a spoonful of soup, followed by a bite of that buttery brioche. He makes a content sound and pats the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "I'm glad it's to your liking," he replies, smiling warmly. "We have tarot readers where I'm from, most are faking it, but I've known people over the years who have a true gift for it. You could probably do well for yourself here, with such a talent."

Molly doesn't entirely feel bad about making Aziraphale fidget. It's a little funny, kind of like when he'd poke at Fjord to watch him squirm in a similar manner, the corners of his eyes crinkling in understanding amusement. "No, she calls him the Traveller. He's not one I'm familiar with but then I'm not up on all the gods about, and given he's not on the Empire's approved worship list it's surprising to see a cleric of his quite so flamboyantly out about their faith."

Molly himself carried a talisman of Bahamut just in case. He had enough troubles as a tiefling, as a carnie before, that adding that to the fire would do nothing good. He just hoped his understanding of his actual goddess and her commandments was true enough that she would accept that.

"Oh most travelling fortune tellers where I'm from are cold readers rather than actual Seers, those sort tend to find a home in temples or academies or the sort. Not to say that a cold reader can't get the real thing. I've had my fair share of readings where I feel the Moonweaver whispering in my ear or giving a push towards a specific card. Not common enough to call myself the real deal but enough to make it interesting."

Molly is not the only infernal being who enjoys good-naturedly ruffling the angel's feathers, but at least Aziraphale is used to it, settling back into his sunny disposition easily. "Ah, I see. Her faith must be very strong to openly worship a god who isn't approved by the government." His eyebrows pull together and he asks, "But why aren't some approved? They make themselves known to clerics and others who call upon them. Are some bad?" The Traveller doesn't sound bad at all. Polytheism can be so confusing sometimes.

Aziraphale bites into his savory tart while Molly explains, lost for a moment in the crunch of the crust and the balanced flavor of the filling. "Oh... yes, I suppose that's true..." He thinks of Madame Tracy and her false seances, although she must have been attuned to the ethereal somehow, or he wouldn't have been able to successfully possess her. "Sometimes 'interesting' is what people are looking for. Who is the Moonweaver? Are they another god?"

"Control, mainly. None of the gods on either list are bad, but the Empire wants people to think and behave a certain way so there's some gods that might not be the best for encouraging that compliance." Molly disliked it.

"Sometimes people need direction," Molly hummed after another bite of his crepe. "They wouldn't go seeking someone to read their fortune otherwise. Most of the time the elements are all there in them anyways, but they can't quite see it until someone on the outside puts it into perspective. So, they come to me and my cards. Don't need to be a Seer to help with that."

"She is. Goddess of illusion and misdirection, as well as the one considered the patron of love and protector of lover's trysts," The tiefling explained lightly. "Given the moon offers the light for them to see their path by as well as casting the shadows to hide lovers from seeking eyes. Definitely not an approved deity either, the Empire isn't one to like her commandments for all they suit me just fine."

Aziraphale frowns, not liking the sound of that much, either. "It sounds ridiculous when the gods on your world are so much more present," he murmurs. "Humans on my world have a tendency to fight over which religion is the one true path, when all they really need to do is be kind to one another." The angel sighs. "Not a popular philosophy, unfortunately..."

He watches Molly for a moment and smiles fondly. "I wish I could introduce you to a friend of mine with a similar philosophy. You'd like her a great deal, and she would adore you." Perhaps inappropriately so, even though she's now inexplicably settled with Sergeant Shadwell. "You know, I ought to ask you for a reading some time. Now that I'm retired, I'm a bit at loose ends."

It's easier to suggest it knowing that Molly doesn't have the same level of prognostication as a true witch. Aziraphale has had enough of prophecies to last him several lifetimes. He eats more of his meal, enjoying every bite, enchanted by the goddess that Molly describes. "My, how terribly romantic. The moon has a similar symbolism on my world, at least for some. Is she only for true magical misdirection, or does she help with stage magic, too?"

"People find all sorts of shit to fight over, with or without religion unfortunately," Molly mused, with a faint flick of his fingers in emphasis to the light downward turn of his mouth. Brief though it was, the expression didn't suit the tiefling.

He perks up at the mention of a friend though, as well as the request, smile reappearing as easily as anything. "If your friend is as lovely as you are I'm sure to adore her as well." Whether appropriate or no, Molly would happily flirt. It was all in good fun after all. "And I'd be happy to do a reading for you. Maybe over after-dessert drinks we'll see what I can turn out for you?"

They were both here after all, and a post-lunch reading always had a sort of decadent air about it that appealed to Molly.

"Illusion and misdirection both- and stage magic is all about misdirection after all. If it's your passion then all the better, given one of her tenents is literally to seize your own destiny by pursuing your passions." He chuckled as he dipped another bit of roll in his soup. "You can likely imagine why I've found myself praying to her rather than some of the other options. And why the Empire isn't so fond of her."

Aziraphale wishes he could disagree, but he was there at humanity's beginning. It didn't take long for Cain to commit the first murder, a sibling rivalry gone terribly wrong. "Yes, but it doesn't help when governments exacerbate things," he notes, referring back to how they came upon this topic in the first place. "I do think that most people would prefer to live in peace, if given the opportunity."

Most mortals, anyway. He can't say that about his fellow angels or demons.

The compliment makes him smile shyly. "She doesn't know about the Nexus, but perhaps sometime I could have you over to my bookshop for tea." He's not certain if Madame Tracy could deal with the entire Nexus, but she probably wouldn't bat an eye at a solitary tiefling. "And yes, after dessert sounds perfect, thank you. I'm looking forward to it."

That might be a while yet, as Aziraphale is not one to hurry through a meal. "I think I would like your goddess very much, then, as I am something of an aficionado of stage magic. I find it fascinating that humans are able to use sleight-of-hand and other tricks to give the illusion of magic. I've been practicing off and on for some time now, it's jolly good fun."

Mother always told me to never give away a story for free

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