[ he stills utterly, simply watching her, taking in the steps, the procedure, how she goes about it. he's pliant, anyway, because it's not as though he can die, honestly, so he may as well try everything.
and the burning is not unfamiliar--he hisses air through his teeth but not in pain, in recognition, because something is happening, which is rare when someone works on the seals, and--
--it feels strange but not in a way that alarms him (and boy, does he know alarming strange) so he doesn't say anything, doesn't stop her, just.
( words repeat, a little more intensity to her voice, the spell requiring power not solely in terms of magical strength but in how it was cast.
it lasts perhaps thirty more seconds, burning intensifying, his skin even hot to lilith's touch before the effects can be seen, sigils almost fizzling away as if burned off, light scaring where they'd been that lilith expects won't remain for long.
though she holds his wrist a little longer the hand that hovered above moves away, allowing them both to look at his hand )
[ he's had worse pain. he's fine. but god he doesn't even have to see it happen, he can feel it happen, a low shaking breath he hadn't needed to take shuddering out of him before he can bite it back.
there's something roiling under his skin, dark but joyful, sharp and vicious and hungry. it's as though his form is barely containing his mass, like his being is flickering because something holding it back just isn't there anymore. while he's always had a powerful air, this is different, this is dangerous, this is overwhelming for probably most anyone but her.
he looks at his hand only when she moves hers, then rips the glove off of his other to check it as well, and--nothing. they're both clear.
he lets out a sharp and crackling laugh that's wicked if nothing else, and his hair, always its own being, never sitting still, coils in on itself happily like it doesn't even have to pretend to be normal hair any longer. ]
( lilith nods, a satisfied expression that comes from having freed him rather than the acceptance of his words, his remembered promise. considering what she now knows of him she could assume that he might be more willing to perform friendlier favours, as she also may, but having a promised one tucked away never hurts )
I'm Lilith. ( though her name isn't necessary it comes for a reason ) In case you need a witch for anything more.
( only the best, she'd assume, not something light. there's also the possibility that he could know more, a leaped guess at connecting her name with the brief information she gave him about her religious practice. but also lilith isn't the strangest of names )
( and honestly given who he'd turned to, the things that he'd done and what he was it would just be rude if what she was bothered him. she's a demon, it's just a fact of life. but it was never as the stories went )
I expect there's much you have planned to do.
( if he'd been bound so long, of course, he'd have a list of things to do once free )
[ honestly, he should be worried about what someone like lilith will eventually ask of him. he's not, though, both because he has no self preservation and because he just doesn't care. it is what it is, and he's free, now.
he shrugs noncommittally, but all the same she's not wrong. ]
There are... many things I have planned. Not least of which is a fight I was promised.
[ he was also promised a fuck, but he's not going to hold the priest to that straightaway. he wants the burn of his bayonets, right now. ]
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and the burning is not unfamiliar--he hisses air through his teeth but not in pain, in recognition, because something is happening, which is rare when someone works on the seals, and--
--it feels strange but not in a way that alarms him (and boy, does he know alarming strange) so he doesn't say anything, doesn't stop her, just.
waits. ]
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it lasts perhaps thirty more seconds, burning intensifying, his skin even hot to lilith's touch before the effects can be seen, sigils almost fizzling away as if burned off, light scaring where they'd been that lilith expects won't remain for long.
though she holds his wrist a little longer the hand that hovered above moves away, allowing them both to look at his hand )
Check the other.
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there's something roiling under his skin, dark but joyful, sharp and vicious and hungry. it's as though his form is barely containing his mass, like his being is flickering because something holding it back just isn't there anymore. while he's always had a powerful air, this is different, this is dangerous, this is overwhelming for probably most anyone but her.
he looks at his hand only when she moves hers, then rips the glove off of his other to check it as well, and--nothing. they're both clear.
he lets out a sharp and crackling laugh that's wicked if nothing else, and his hair, always its own being, never sitting still, coils in on itself happily like it doesn't even have to pretend to be normal hair any longer. ]
You have your favor from me, when you require it.
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I'm Lilith. ( though her name isn't necessary it comes for a reason ) In case you need a witch for anything more.
( only the best, she'd assume, not something light. there's also the possibility that he could know more, a leaped guess at connecting her name with the brief information she gave him about her religious practice. but also lilith isn't the strangest of names )
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his head cants aside, and he smiles, a vicious, hungry little thing, knowing well enough.
he's a smart boy--even if he hadn't turned to the devil, he'd served god long enough to follow the important names. ]
You're not just a witch. All the same, I'll keep that in mind.
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( and honestly given who he'd turned to, the things that he'd done and what he was it would just be rude if what she was bothered him. she's a demon, it's just a fact of life. but it was never as the stories went )
I expect there's much you have planned to do.
( if he'd been bound so long, of course, he'd have a list of things to do once free )
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he shrugs noncommittally, but all the same she's not wrong. ]
There are... many things I have planned. Not least of which is a fight I was promised.
[ he was also promised a fuck, but he's not going to hold the priest to that straightaway. he wants the burn of his bayonets, right now. ]
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( claim what was now rightfully his. freedom, debts, whatever the hell he wanted.
she smiles, quiet words of latin as she waves her hands in a circular gesture before her, teleporting herself from the park )