"Take it or leave it!" She stares of this being a bazaar, open air market with wood tables. The grey sand dunes make the floor and horizon of the open air bazaar. The rules are 'ethereal' world laws. Beings are part solid energy particles or thin clouded phantoms. There is all sorts shapes inside cloaks, creepy strangers. Even scarier then the normal crowds of purgatory Sigil she knew.
She looked about her appearance. She chuckled to herself. She mentally noted that she looks like someone that could be swindled and mugged. She shifted for her more creepy, gaping hole through the stomach and empty face area. Now she was fitting, she fitted with this bazaar as the next creep.
If there was a chin, she held it lifted with being proud of her looks. A soft tune soon twitched in her throat, and this made plenty back away from her personal bubble. Befitting a nightmare lord title. She soft glide steps, walking the crowds without being any attachment. Floating between the tables while looking, no buying.
"Do we have a deal or not!" A nearby table was pushed over across the floor. The stall holder crumbles down, picking up their stuff and the deal maker is spitting curse words. She stands stealing the energy and insults into a spindle of thread. Her mask reformed with the spare energy. Putting her expressions into a visible viewing. She smiles contently for the free material. Pocketing it smoothly.
"I don't think a deal was strike at this moment." She step between before it all got physical, "Silence is just as much a rejection as saying no. Leave the poor soul be now."
The two sides back down, an extra mist that fogs their shapes. It is as if their fear or nerve has allowed them more privacy. The stall keeper slowed their retrieval of items, carefully hand moves and eyes assessment. The creep making big for making a contract backed down more steps, hands closed. Shoulders dropped and body closed. The lowering from being prey. There was companions, stepping to be the shields. The stand off began.
"Break away, there is nothing to happen here." A fourth party, a sort of poker card title from among Clothus. Clearly the stall holder has relief seeing this figure. Focused back to items and table setting. She showed the universally known sign of back down, stepping back with open flat palms. Her face breaks away, back to being faceless. She backed away so much that she stepped through a gate.
Suddenly stood in among finery of expensive products and shelving that gleamed with pride. Staff in uniforms that might, they walked fast and busy, as well as those clothes be fashion statements. There is quality and a single label across every single product. There a happy bell that chimes at the old glass door. She noticed that she is in the snacks aisle and slowly her eyes lifted to the eye watering prices of the wine along the next shelving over. She sees briefly of her mock human appearance, the wife... or was she a store worker. She brushed her cheek and paint streak came off. Her skin was pale death under the makeup. She carefully noticed her handbag hung at her shoulder. And knows herself to have emergency. A foundation powder swiftly patted the spot she removed on accident. She clicked the makeup back into the bag. She collected herself, and gently she was browsing the old store. She smirks gentle as she softly glides about alone. She did come to be debating about which of the two wines she noticed that she convinced herself to buy. She has not actually touched them, stare deeply thinking about it.
"What are you doing? Get back to work." Hissed a passing floor manager, "Standing about dazed, no wonder there is no one purchasing anything here." wafted a hand, "Work." She scales the manager for a little and they turned pale, "Forgive me." The poor falllen angel kneels instantly, "I had no idea such an honoured guest was here. You're clothing had me fooled."
"Good. I didn't want to be noticed." She turns back with thinking about the wines, "Tell me about these wines." The fella got off the floor and quickly looked about the shelving she did. He gulped a bit and made a nerves tone.
"My lady, those are..." He paused because she took one from the shelving, his heart skipped a beat.
"I would imagine it be quite chalky from the media used to draw them there." A smart mouth with quick wit stepped over. And stands confidently to her side, pointing to the drawings, "This one is meant to be a sketch of the 1900 wine that was casketed for the openning of this exact location. Afterall, the is the first luxary brand store that opened under the Harrods label." She softly nodded along with the worker that smooth talked a neat lie.
"I get it now." She puts the bottle back, "Show me the actual shelving of wines." The worker looked at the wall, her and then the wall. Blinked a bit and shook. They posed left hand and guided her deeper into the store. The manager stayed there staring at the now altered drawing... the bottle seemingly placed misaligned from the original way it was. The store assistant was a smooth silver tongue, they told half truths and would sometimes ask an ear piece for back up information. another stood with the manager looking at the altered drawing of their poster advert and at the back of mock human that came from it.
"We sold to ghosts before." Patting a shoulder and sighs. Plenty moved on from the strange as this was a normal British day. Rain pelting the massive display sides. No one pays mind while the stranger that came from an advert was going around asking and making a basket up of items. They all turned away again... going back to doing their things.
"I have a lot of questions... but give you are the customer, it isn't my place." The assistant gentle at folding themselves to the side while she stares at the wines.
"You don't realize that you are dead. Being alive doesn't mean living. You got to feel to be alive." She finally set on a wine, and picked it up and adds it to the wicker basket the assistant has ready. She takes the basket off them, "To be functionally dead is a very different question that I don't know the answers. Even gods learn lessons." She looked around once again, "Don't worry about the after. You worry about the future, not the after." She soft pats the arm and glides back over from where she came from, looking at the wall. She smiles and took out that wine from the drawing, "Here, for this one. Take that one."
The worth of the authentic 1901 wine in the assistant's hands was above what it means for the wine she choose. Even then, it was plenty enough. She goes back into the print advert. The assistance turned showing the dusty crusted bottle to the manager and the talker. They have it sent for making sure it was real. Although, as the one said. Serving ghosts aren't the first time. The door chimes and someone puts the umbrella to the provided wax paper cover to prevent water dripping the place. Their eyes lit up in shock seeing the three holding the lost wine bottle.
She was back in the sea of advert world, sometimes its tv shows or the adverts between shows. Some are art landscapes. others are digital pop ups in the side of websites. It crosses media - papers. Junk mail. Printed flyers. Posters on sides of buildings. Bus sides. She shape shifted as these people. Faceless or face hidden by products. Well cut sides of viewing. She looked back at those that looked at the advert world. Shops, houses... words on print. If it was to sell a something, she could reach through it. She has even managed to touch the bonds between demons and the slaves of Clothus. As those bonds are make of ink, paper and lies - sales of souls. She finds herself squishing among words and languages - making sure that words suited their purpose.
"Sign on the dotting lines." A gloved finger pointed at the segment, and yet the contract underneath those fingers was being altered... parts being torn, reworded and repaired. Scrapping the lies... scrapping the ties that led to a future to be prevented. The person that hovered a pen above the page froze... watching the strange page bleeding and mixing. The person instead pushed the paper back the to thing across from them. The Clothus lowering its gaze at how the paper was cursed... peeling and bleaching the ink off the page. The curse that binds was broken from inside itself. The Clothus picked up the paper, and the whole surface slid off... a blank page is all there was. The table was marbled with beads of spell components and blood inks. Her soul name... which was on this paper. It was a solid mass crystal that was hard stuck on the table like it grown into the table. Refusing to be moved to the Clothus.
"It's fine, I have a back up..." the Clothus reached in empty pockets, patting empty. Not even his title... his oaths. Everything gone. The human across sees this Clothus for what it was, a con artist. The man snarls with punching the table between.
"Fake Merchant!" Slamming the powers in casting these being to show to be what they really are. And this forced laws to banish them from a living boundary, give the illusions were gone. The powers burn and all these souls that would have suffered by this consequence were uniformed to change.
The chime of the Elizabeth tower is unmistaken. She lifted her head from off a desk. She looked at a computer with active figures showing sales per hour. There was a counter of how many customers have came in, how many were in store and the predicted end of day total being adjusted by the hour. Someone came from the office door.
"Supervisor, the fire inspector has arrived." She flicked her eyes about the several files needed, and back to the employee that stands waiting in the Harrods uniform. She noticed the clothing she is wearing. She slowly got up, wavered with the hit of exhaustion and stress. A drop of blood pressure. The co-worker stepped to make sure she was ok, and backed when she smiled that she was fine.
"Let them through to the office, they will want the fire assessments files 1st." The worker nods and she fetched the files, back turned away. The soft shuffle of folks being brought through the locked electric door, putting themselves into the office. She carries the files across to the open desk, eyes lifted to smile causally.
"Can I see some id? You from the city of London or the greater London branch? Would I get the contact information to send forward to our main offices." She took sharp glares of the lack of fire uniform. She leaned and checked if her personal staff came in. She made a vague gesture and the co-worker nods. Leaving her to the guests. A man came forwards, taking a crystal slate out and with a lot of typing. He lifted this device to her computer, her left hand soon blocked the touch. She glares deep, the crystal made a sharp shine of a warning. The guy retracted quickly and reads the warning.
"Harrods is a purgatory profit. If you don't fall or rise after death, you end up as part of the crew. Well, this is one of several companies. Each owned by majors that are not divine or evil. We take our sales data very seriously, and not open trade to strangers without warning." She spoke in their tongue, "What business do you have with the Monkey puzzle traders house, not associated with the living world Harrods store? Afterall, you mages understand hiding." She closed fingers together and steadies with eyes that cast a magic. The files thrown back on the shelves, given these lot are not the fire inspector. She waited for them to talk between each other and make change to their plans.
"We need to make exchanges with someone outside of magic systems or gods."
"Well you came to the right being." She tuts, "What are you trading?" She looked at them all deeply, "Did you bring some interesting trash from off worlds?" The one guy shivered like that was being insulting. But with the crystal slate alert, they held back from making things difficult. It takes them a short bit and soon someone puts a jar of soul stones at her front. They then took a bound small book, a5 notepad shape. Put at the lid. Lastly, the person took off one of several watches on their arm... it too placed beside the jar. She studies this deeply.
"Someone is very well informed." She takes these prizes, sunk the paper and jar into her torso. She took her face off to the side, slides the watch through her. She puts the face back properly, "I can exchange magic types. I can change your soul types. There a lot of interesting services I can offer... that is against nature, divine and worldly laws as you know them." She shows open palms, "I am not a typical outsider, nor do I take pleasure like those Clothus in any tortures. You fed me a decent meal just now. I am not for sale." She closed hands again with waiting for them.
"What happened to the black hole project in this universe?" She studies them softly.
"Reversed. There are a lot of strange time nature around here... perfect for reversing soul damages of some things. I am currently the pivot point preventing the repeating of those historical points. I am webbing the damaged into more sensible reasons for why they became. I have stopped the success of this terrible events to come. It doesn't stop it from happening, but it changes how it happens and how much damage spreads." She tells them, "You are from the other end of that black hole. As are the German red hands... and some few gods and Clothus that got torn from their places." She studies each of these folks that are very tense, "I am a tome keeper, I see how souls are made and where they came from."
"We need those Germans." She nods at this.
"They are currently travelling in Unlondon. I have to go back there myself, I left some folks to walk the paths leading. My time distortion has me going back and forth often." She looked to the time, "I don't have long before I am shuffled again. The bell tolls shifts here."
"Will you take us to them?" She studies.
"You have to trust me. Do not eat food there. Even I will talk of being fed there, do not eat. Unlondon is a mind control facility. It will test your morals." She warns. She stands, shadow grasp all of them. Once she has them all, she shifted ready.
The bell tolls, and the wall melted. She stands in a lab coat. Staring blankly of those to prevent the events. She stands beside her cult father, he smirks proud of more blood meat to feed the ritual. She felt those in her storage restless.
"You all managed to make it onto beggars street." He was a strained man, "A bunch of useless bloodline." He spat at them.
"They speak German, so..." She noted and crossed her arms, "They been looking for you." She tuts and shadow lifted the group from Harrods. They soon were fast snapping conversation of their own. Her father looks lost and turns to her, "Lost things end up in my hands." She disregarded, "I was just holding on to them to shackle them to the ritual. More fuel." He smiles again as she is cruel as per always. He makes commands and has them all taken to cells. Locked into a cage and marked as traitors in the unlondon system. So they will be treated by the clockwork machines as slaves owned by the apartment owners. This place is the place to buy slaves, after all.
"Daughter, what of the new calculations for the ritual." He commands with going back to the area of the experiment. Many demons with chalks filling the chaining wards and the gravity laws. Hoping this will contain the blackhole enough. She stares how weak these chains are... watching the magic being weaved. She not meant to have a sense of magic or soul abilities.
"I have made improved version of the one you had found. I have been successful with my personal project to speak to others. They told me a lot of interesting madness. I didn't believe it all... but then I found things they said was proof. And slowly, I was convinced to try a mini of the experiment we are about to do. Well, a computer simulation." She sees he buying, "And then with a bit of bargaining. I managed to exchange a new ritual circle. The Nightmare promised me that it will be a safer approach to what we are about to do." She shows her left arm of deep cut runes, "So leave it to me." he deeply thinks about that.
"I thought you wanted to talk to your dead mother." He voiced.
"Talking to undertakers is boring." she tuts, "I wanted to talk to the things that they feared." She smiled, "I made a lot of good friends." She purred a little and clears her throat, "Besides, the original papers were stolen by the UK government and is being joint shared with other countries." She puts her sleeves back down, "The traitor that wrote the calculation was the mole, and was executed." She puts gloves on, "And the undertakers are powerless against my Nightmare pals. Keep them busy while we work. The angels and demons are having civil war, started by some other Nightmare of Purgatory. The ender has disappeared." She nods certain of the plans and he looked confused, "No one to stop this. Not even Death himself."
"oh? Are you friends stronger then gods?" He chuckled, "I have to see this, you been good to me this far." He pushed her out of the safety of this container and wafted, "Go on, do the ritual." Knowing that the original has a soul price. And that price has never changed. She walked with the folks being caged and with putting on the act.
Pretending to be a cultist.
She kicked a demon slave in the way, she broke their chain contract and this dusted the demon instantly. This was overlooked, she was a cruel persona. She takes the chalk and she goes to began writing her own pathing of the ritual. She knew exactly how to bridge this tear from one end of a wormhole to the other. She used lost languages from forgotten tomes. She used erased souls from her care. She used magic that she collecting a while as a Clothus. She was getting everything ready for the conjuring.
And...
Melting, time has shifted again. She sits up from being asleep.
"Thank the abyss." She scooped off the floor, "Freaking fool." A cloak over her shoulders, "And you claim that your my wife." She princess carried up, "Now I just need to find the others." Looking around confused. She lifted fate threads in tracing and instantly plenty are groaning from getting up off the floor. Others are waking from being knocked out, "This is why you needed one of us as a spirit." He figured out now, "I am the one immune to the gas traps." He leans with helping the others, "Come on, we aren't far from the gate."
"There they are! Capture them!" Half clock workers and half are cult members. Plenty are soon bound by ropes and being dragged, "Perfect timing, we are about to try the experiment again." even her dear was pulled and roped. She was being held up by her arms, "Oh look, its the reborn runaway traitor that made the original. Fate is on our side!" They being pulled along the grimy tunnel works and soon the way these tunnels are changing.
Metal... no rust. No flood damage... more mind game traps. More gear workers. More robot bodies. This was the outskirts of Unlondon's populations.
"Lady Myth!" A push of a strange clothed set of clock workers, these are folks that willingly converted out of human to machine. Replacing a organ at a time with gear works. The cult members knowing to know mess with the local residences, put her down. They backed off, stood watching the strange exchange about to happen. She barely has it to stand... in fact, these are paralyzed crystal made legs.
This is her runaway life. Even then, she got off the floor with her own pride and makes the trade greeting. She lost track of what gestures should matter and thus stuck with her nightmares gestures and abyss warnings. This only made the machine men happier to exchange. Posing a bunch of Clothus remains, junk from Clothus storage and the cores souls trapped in objects. These machines wanted gears, metal bits and left over corpse bits from other clock workers. She been pick pocketing the corpses that her husband was fighting through Unlondon.
"We have the stamps here." Showing the trading seals that the big owners of shares to the Harrod's luxury brand. These puppets are part owners of the massive conglomerate that is likely located above their heads, miles above ground. She was softly able to make plenty of exchanges, like the id and passwords to pretend to be a supervisor. She was able to pass a bunch of metal machine parts she had from collapsed worlds. They shake left hands between them, and those clock men gleefully retreat back among the tunnel works of this labyrinth. The cult members grapple her again, pushing her to be more fodder for the failed ritual.
"We are exactly 13 symbols away from correcting the error of last time." heard reported between upper managing. Iron bar cage around a salt grid. Chalk marks. Offerings of strange gemstones. Skulls in blood.
There is four Clothus arguing about some the markers. They argued about the existing marks being dangerous and wrong. It is untouched from the day she quiet her life as a cult second in command.
She was executed before she finished the current ritual... and they were all slaughtered by the cities enforcement before this wormhole was finished. Unlondon has evolved since then... more magic and supernatural then that chime. Yet there is still a primitive understanding. Machines has the ownership here, but there are flaws of machines.
"Excuse us." the gear work strangers stepped shuffling. Busting the circle... spray of the salt. One very spiteful guy kicked a skull of blood across the middle of the whole thing. Many demons at the edges gasp and many were panic fixing. Several humans joined in, bring more salt and trying to keep the chalk shapes real. The gear men managed to take the Clothus away and were removed away from damaging the ritual further. So many of the cult members began sobbing as there was a time window. And this was a set back they aren't going to recover from.
"Damn it!" the higher leaders snarl and this was abandon once more. The time frame will be for next time. In wanting to be petty, a war breaks between the strangers of machines and the cult members. The city was always going to win on home turf advantage. The folks with the Harrods seal made it out of this event as did her allies. The German's left from a drawn gate, the oily art that was the maintained worker she corpse picked from.
"And with that..." a local grim checked his work, he shared with the demi-god that was eyeing about the abyss types. The gaze of the god being stopped over her, how she barely was here at all. Her life force weak. Being converted. The demi-god nods, and sent off an ink bird to send a message. The whole area became a death trap, and hardly anyone was getting out. She stays right here... knowing she needs to leave a corpse here. It was on the list. The city knew of this event, knew she has to be counted dead here. She stands waiting while many are running away.
"You will not. Not again." Cold burns at her back, and soon snatching her neck. Pulling her to be body locked on his. She is forced to look up at his eyes, noses brushing in this painful hold. Her Loki with one of Death's souls lands on a shoulder. Posing a wing thinking about this.
"Well actually..." He started and stopped, "If you leave a corpse here and stay with this guy. I will not bother the paper altering." She used her shadow and it releases one her previous lifetimes as a human from another world. The body rolled at their feet. This vessel nods and flew over to the demi-god. They give an exchange about the whole strange. Of leaving the abyss creature in the hands of the ender. This was not an argued.
She is paid as a price, and now the current ender are doing their work. They ruin the crude ritual. They spoke in banning the cult members and changing status. Someone among has helped located the hackers that are the SCP foundation and are cooperating with the city to provide a better technology buff defence. In a crowd of moving bodies changing the current events, a set of undertakers soon flooding in and changing to keep further preventing measures from the wormhole event. The time distortion is actually finally being repaired, slowly lifetimes are being aligned... each of these enders using their time scales of tome to keep this scar of space from harming.
"My part is done." Arthur closed his segment, covered in the years of time as the ender, "Here. Just like she said would be." Passing the tome to each of the lads. A portion goes to Josh. A part is divided to Dan and Philips. The largest part was passed over to the sentient self-made Ender itself... it made from what it learned since being Mathew's title. The broken two split mask gave a broken frown, watching Arthur soul go to sleep. Watch a soul be sent into the system of next. This whole group was able to prevent these two attempts of the wormhole project. The time she was second command.
The time she was a paralyzed no one. She hasn't came across her life she left. The one as a stolen human made slave. Although, she suspects she is owned by her husband.
"You are not allowed to disappear." Icy breezed in her ear, cold unfolding down her spine and there a sort of melting... She can't help but wanting to cling closer with the cold. She didn't give in mentally but her body does. Locked and hung for the being that pulled her way to tightly. She feels that her physical being was disappearing, that a lot of previous lives are erased and now she is being made backwards. She is still all those erased times, those scars and imperfections are still there. But the bodies, those lives and those hands are going away. Glitching with the time altering. Unlondon's greatest updates and strides of becoming what it was are also being taken away.
"In preventing the contract of signing over your soul to your master..." The cold claws across her disappearing body, "You erased all those paths caused from that event." and now her core is all that seated in those hands, "Good..." Clasping tightly and soon put into his chest. A hole filled by her. The two halves of Ender repaired into one being. The sentient mask pulled back over the face of one host of three souls. She clings to the darkness of both these souls... the anchor holding them. He was the conduit of light and energy. And what remains was devoured by the title of Ender.
Time is a strange enactment. As now she is just a soul... she was able to detangle and be sent away. But she is caged in this strange tangle of a undertaker's soul path. A man owned by Omens. She settled into the comfort of being, staying willingly in the cage. Her soul only drifted if he lets her. Even then, she stayed dormant for spending to much in the distortions.
"Supervisor," She heard knocked at the office door. She picked her head up from the desk. The scroll of sale numbers. The end of day paperwork was piled and signed. She got up, "Are you done?" They open the door wider with concern, "Oh, you ok? You are looking pale." She wafted hand, "You look worse then you had with the fire inspector." She smirks.
"Let's not worried about it, Come on. Let's sign out with the punch cards. Get out of here." They nod and she picked up her bag and coat. She checked the important parts - keys, phone, wallet and other keys. She followed her only other staff worker. They punched with the clock card puncher. Putting the card back on the wall of other punch cards, "We did barely above the yellow. The sales are almost not enough for keeping the smaller locations. That is if those numbers are a reflection across the country." She makes small talk to the Co-worker.
"The numbers are not reflective of all the locations." the co-worker thinking about it out loud, "In the cities like Lester and Nottingham... there going to be rough. We keep afloat thanks to the three store in Scotland and the One superstore in Wales. The midlands is always been bleeding us dry." she nods about that in getting it.
"Yet, if we could think about politics. The biggest votes are the from England." They both turned quiet as she locking the doors, putting the shutter down. With the last lock down, a shared nod.
The worker folds into the crowds. She stares deeply of the people, all sorts types. Covered eyes. Religious guardians. Creatures that eat types of luck and fates. These people walking about as tourists, as office worker, as shop assistants. The she sees the veils overlay, seeing the undertakers and attached ghosts of loved ones. The spirit guides and the spirit shapes of some souls here. Even living people are souls of monsters. She was stood still eyeing the between.
"Come home." she jumped a little with shock. Sighs when her eyes landed on the being stood at her side, "Please come home." she looked into the being deeply.
"You came chasing me across the universes to find me." she shook, "You closed narrow minded. My soul came from this world. I had to be back here or I would have lost." she holds her heart a little, "You should have waited for me. I was coming back after this." the being tilts deeply.
"This isn't a universe. This is a tome graveyard." She smirks.
"And who do you think sewn these pages back together?" she soft pats the arm. The being steadies about the world around them, looking about all these versions of humans there is. Then he was looking between like her, seeing the attachments humans accumulate. They both walked towards the west minister, passing the statues of each hero. She stopped infront of Churchill. The tower was about to chime.
"So give they couldnt sign your soul off. What happened instead?"
"I lived a normal live. I moved to England after turning eight. I went to school then College. Got a job or two. I see the sea of blindfolds, creatures beside humans and the afterlife. Pretending it is nothing." She adjustment of her bag, "I paid to be a Citizen. Did all the paperwork and tests and more money." She softly turned away, "No big deal."
"Did you ever want the old ways back?"
"I miss a lot of things. Miss a lot of people." She looked up at statue as time shifting, "I would have always been me." The being tilted with an odd expression as he disappeared.