Chapter Text
"You are… exhausted, stressed perhaps? And yet, you busy yourself."
The Commander- no, that title had long since lost its meaning. The denizens of this tower had begun using the term "Wayfarer". Whatever that's supposed to entail. For now, it's acceptable.
A name change is the least distressing thing the once-Commander has dealt with within the past few days. Pulled into another dimension, narrowly escaping, stumbling upon an entire clandestine organization hiding right over Tyria's nose, getting a front-row seat in an interdimensional war, and-
Somehow managing to bring back a souvenir from their brief escapade in Fayos; the voice.
Their supply of weary sighs was growing dangerously low.
At least they got a nice room to set up shop within the Wizard's Tower.
The Wayfarer thumbed the pages of the worn book. If they were going to be here for a while, then they might as well educate themselves as best they can on all of.. this, "You're not wrong, though it's still bizarre to have someone who can.. "read" my emotional state."
"Bizarre… and yet, you do not appear very unsettled. A good sign, I take it?"
"I suppose you can say that. You seem trustworthy, despite how little I know you." She had directly saved them twice now, along with generally offering helpful insights in between.
That was worth something at least.
Her voice tingled down the Wayfarer's spine with each syllable that fell from unseen lips. "Then I look forward to… getting to know each other better."
They shifted uncomfortably in their seat, "..How exactly do Mythids normally.. do that? You already know my emotions, apparently."
"Are you… concerned what that answer may be?"
"After meeting your brothers, can you blame me if I am?" Other Mythids seemed more than happy to dissect Tyrians for fun, or simply eat them as is.
She hummed, a whisper following suit, "I may have no desire to… eat you, but I do enjoy a feast of the senses."
The Wayfarer's breath cut off in their neck, finding it difficult to swallow. An attempt was made to clear their throat, "Is.. that so? I take it it benefits you to sweet talk your, pardon the term, "victims" before preying on their emotions..?"
"I do have… experience seasoning my meals, you might say." With a purr she elaborated, "Of course, I didn't… expect that I could fan the flames so… intimately with you."
It was really hard to keep up an air of prudence when she was exceptionally good at evoking feelings of infatuation, and she being plenty aware of the fact too.
The voice continued, "Most of your kind don't… mm, take well to hearing the thoughts of another, alongside their own."
"It's happened more often than I'd like, but at least you're polite about it, in comparison."
A giggle echoed in the back of the Wayfarer's mind, "And you make for quite the entertainment… You're amusing in multiple ways. But," the voice spoke with a smile embellishing her words "I'm not so selfish as my kin; I'm more than happy to return the favour."
"Oh?" the Wayfarer asked with just as much curiosity as hesitation.
"We Mythids are very effective at weaving our ways around the canvas of the mind, delicately poking at loose threads, but…"
The Wayfarer knew she was doing it on purpose, but they decided to bite anyway, "But…?"
"A few well-played tongues and talons along the flesh, and things can get very… lethal…" her final word caressing directly within their mind's ear.
They were mildly annoyed at themselves for all too gladly walking into what could be an obvious trap. "..Are you sure "lethal" is the right word for it..?"
"It's not, usually, though I can't help but enjoy seeing you squirm sometimes."
Another attempt was made to focus on the book in front of them, "Sometimes I'm not sure if you want me dead or worse, but you certainly know how to keep a person interested."
"Oh, I know…"
The Wayfarer glanced to the window, dusk having long since passed by this point, "Though.. I guess we'll just have to both be content with witty banter and ominous warnings for the time being," they said with a mild mix of relief and resignation.
A moment passed before they heard her again, "Are you so sure…?"
There was something different about the demon's voice this time. The Wayfarer still heard the sultry words among their thoughts, but there was an extra layer of vibration. The words were permeating their mind, and now, their eardrums.
They spun in their seat just in time to see the golden doors swing wide open.
They have no idea how, but there was no mistaking it was her.
The first time, she was but a ghost in the corner of their eye, and the brief moment the two met in her home was during a struggled battle with one of her brothers; no time to stop and truly register her.
But now, there was no fighting.
And the Wayfarer could admire her for all that she was in this moment.
The demoness easily dwarfed the Tyrian standing at her full, regal height. A crown of spikes and thorns crested her pale moon-like eyes, and similar protrusions accentuating the joints in her limbs. Hints of red cascaded down her body as though past kills left permanent trophies on her gracefully grotesque form. She strode towards the awe-filled Wayfarer with an otherworldly confidence, a smile playing on her mouth.
She did not forget to close the doors behind her.
"...I.. well I guess not."
The smile reached her lidding eyes, "Allow me to make a… proper introduction," she swung an arm to the side while bending forward. Her bow was low, practiced, inviting, "I am Pheita. Of House Sephun. But there's no need for such formalities, is there?"
The closer she approached, the more the Wayfarer had to tilt their head up, "Pheita, ah.. you're.. wow."
A surreal chuckle left her carapaced throat, "Likewise."
The Wayfarer regained a crumb of composure in this moment, "But why are you here? If someone sees that a Mythid is in the tower then-" They didn't want to think about what the Zestral Ward might do to her.
Pheita's talons clicked against the marble floor as she found her place beside the Wayfarer, "Hmm, my… betrayal means that, presently, I'm not taken kindly to in my home. But I'm sure the wizards will be more than happy to hear my proposal to aid them… in the morning."
"That.. does make sense that Fayos would be hostile towards you now. I guess we'll have to see about the wizards though." They looked back at her momentarily, "I should probably ask; do Mythids need sleep? I can probably get some extra blankets if I complain about the draft." Suspicions might arise if they requested an extra mattress, or two.
"We do not, but… there's no need to trouble yourself. I'm more than willing to simply share a bed for the night…"
They looked between the aforementioned piece of furniture and the archfiend trailing a clawed hand on the back of their chair, "...Do you even know if you'll fit?"
Pheita pursed her lips, annoyed less so at the notion she wouldn't, but rather by the implication she'd be the only occupant, "Are you not planning to sleep tonight?"
"I'm not entirely sure if I could. It's been a long few days," they said truthfully.
The Wayfarer hadn't realized she'd leaned all the way down to hover just over their shoulder, "Good, I can help relax you. "
"..come again?"
"Your mortality may be …debatable… but you still must take your chances for rest."
"I suppose.."
Pheita glanced back at the pile of books the once-Commander had collected from around the tower, "Shall I aid you now, or wait for the conclusion of your studies?"
The Wayfarer sighed, pleading to the Gods, the Legions, the Spirits, the Pale Tree and science itself this would be the ONE time in history that buckling to the temptations of a demon didn't turn sour.
They closed their book.
"Assuming I'm not looking at strange Mythids clothing, I guess I'm overdressed, aren't I."
She brushed a clawed hand over some of the armour covering their shoulder, "I'd say I don't mind but… I'd much rather see you in a more natural state, my Wayfarer."
They blinked, ""My" Wayfarer..?"
That same hand came around to cup at their chin, "Is it wrong of me to have a favourite?"