It was a little late.

As in, a few minutes past the time on the text to Avis to meet at the Circle. The Circle of Creation, with deep Movie Announcer Guy Voice. It was the boxes. Really. Two large boxes, wide but not tall, threatening to spill out of the web of bungee that had held them on to the back of the motorcycle. The kickstand creaked out, the helmet was doffed, and the boxes collected. Up the steps, count the steps, did the number of steps mean anything, and finally the Big Doors.

Boom. Boom.

It's the elbow knock. You can't knock on doors that big with your knuckles. One, there's no volume; Two, ow. So throw the double elbow pump. Long fingers fished sunglasses off and upward, resting them in the slowly re-grown mop like a little metal avian perched in a nest.


The door cracked open, revealing a sliver of grey cotton, pale skin, a fen water eye, and a spill of dark hair.

"Welcome back, Quasimodo," Avis said, opening the door just enough to let Star and his boxes in. Then the door was shut again, locked, and as the two walked further into the building it became apparent why. Across the Cathedral, sitting in the choir stand, was another Avis tuning up a bass with headphones on. Bass Avis looked up and gave a limp wave before turning back to the instrument, Greeter Avis smiling lightly at Star's side.

"So, what's up? Why'd you wanna meet at the circle?" she asked as the neared the pitch preoccupied version of herself.


"Oh, so does that make you..." The boxes turned and navigated through the opening, and then he followed. Rubber soles chirped an abrupt stop as the Two Avis' were absorbed.

"Uh."

Really, what is there to say?

"Is that, ummm, is she, real?" Brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed as The Other was studied. The focused expression highlighted the slightly bruised skin under the eyes and crows feet at their edges. Just fatigue. It's also a fair question, from someone who can create Illusionary People. "Hold up two fingers." The word are soft; a whisper, impossible for The Other to hear.

"Oh, and, uh, the symbolism."

The Angel's mop halo'ed as his head whipped sideways to look at her; eyes wide, lips pressed tight. If the Two Avis' was curiosity, this was genuine surprise.

And chagrin.

"Errrrrrrrm. Well. Uh. That's, yeah. I was, uh, I was going to ask if you wanted to do Fun or Serious first? They're both good, at least, I think they're good, but you kinda...," Eyes flickered between The Two.

"...Surprised me."

Admit it, yo. A little weird. Warlocks.


"Sure I'm real," Avis replied with a grin, a smudge of pride coloring the expression. "Although the physical me is over there," she explained, nodding towards the Avis with the bass, who flashed a peace sign back to Star.

"It's just, uh, hmm...I'm sure I can explain it well. It's like teleportation, but with a prolonged afterimage. One that I've given a piece of my consciousness to, so this image can talk to you and stuff."

The bass player set the instrument carefully down, hung the headphones on the back of her chair, and then winked out of existence, the familiar tingle of recent spellcraft settling briefly onto Star.

"There. Now I'm all here for you. Let's start with the good first. Or the best, whatever you wanna call it."


"Like... like a space mirage?"

But it wasn't, because That One put down the guitar and then.... There's a lean, shoulders bumping gently. Yep, real.

"You know I, ummmm, I had to ask. I mean, because, you know. Like, if there were two of you? Like really two?" Eyebrows bobbed suggestively.

"...We'd have to talk about doubling your chores at Four Dubya." A grin slides out at the innuendo slash joke, before the head cranes over the boxes and closer. "But, like, legit, that was pretty weird. For me. I didn't know who, which, to talk to. Pay attention to."

What would the moon do if there were suddenly two Earths?

"But it was... amazing." Yeah, someone caught that possessive yet almost exultant timbre. And? It's deserved. "Really... amazing. Are, umm. Are you a, an...," There's a question there. The last word draws out in a near echo of the Warlock's tone. It's for a different reason. It's for the girl that talked about Mensamancy at a train stop.

"Intervallutrix? Uh. Sorry. Space Ace. Urgh. I mean, Master. Mastery. Of Space. Mistress."


An eyebrow quirked briefly at the strange title Star threw out, but the look of confusion transformed into a small grin as he explained.

"Yeah. Intervallutrix. That's me. Aquinas isn't the only spaceman in town any longer, but, far as I know, there is still only one mage that's intergalactic. Though he'll have to wait at least another year before he can have twins start doing his chores for him. I don't know enough to make, like, a clone, just to have my mind occupy more than one space. Which'll have it's uses."

An eyebrow bob answered earlier innuedo. Cause oh yeah, all the sexy things she could do with that. Sexy, sexy things like sending her immaterial self as a scout or emissary with no fear of harm. Well, aside from Vulgar harm, but there were ways around that.

"So, uh, yeah, I guess that was my show and tell. You still haven't shown me yours."


"You did it."

Lips curved into a shy smile, and for a moment bluish eyes dove into their fen-water counterparts. Did she remember? It didn't really matter. But he remembered, the first time she'd said she was going to. That was The First Time, when they'd mastered an interval between them. Mastered, but not masterful; what was natural now had once been foreheads colliding, elbows where they shouldn't be, and...

"Ummm. Right. Wow. Okay." Eyebrows bounced around like a Whack-A-Mole game, settling as he bent over to set the boxes on the ground. Hands free, one reached out to take hers. "You know, for a minute, I thought, I thought it was messed up, but you just made it perfect. Like before. I don't know how you do that." Fingers twined and he gently pulled at her hand, slowly walking and leading. "What I said before? Everything has a beginning and end, but sometimes they overlap. Sometimes they're the same, sometimes they happen in the same way or same place."

This alcove? It's particular. And special.

"This is where it began, it's funny, you know, Guardians and Arrows used to share it."

Electric prickles of nervous energy, and a warm flush spread as he turned to face his Warlock. A hand reached into a pocket and came out, closed, and was held between them.

"Avis." Eyes that won't meet hers now, focused on the hand. "This, this is my gift. For you. It is, it's everything I am, and can do. It will counter spells, my love to protect you. It will give you the power of destruction, my faith to aid your purpose. My Oath, to you. It..." A ragged breath. "I... I had more to say. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm messing this up, I can't remember."

Because there's One Thing left to say. The hand opened, revealing a mirrored ring that glowed softly.

"It is a gift, without expectation. Without... Condition. But. But it's a ring, a ring you can wear on any finger," the tumble of words came out, softening into a whisper. Finally, he looked up, eyes shining with a jangle of emotions that had become liquid. "But. But, ummm."

Lips pressed together. Last Chance. Last Chance to Not Say It.

"But I would want, I mean, I would be honored. If it went, that is, that you wore it on, if... If it were a wedding ring. Ours. You and me."


Green eyes flicked upward, studying Star carefully, the Warlock's features having smoothed into careful blankness.

Within the barriers of her mind, a signal fire had lit, flaring to life in response to the Oath it recognized, yet further within the reaches of her mind, where the light of no signal yet reached, a girl in blood splattered pajamas recoiled in horror. For, though the ring was the Symbol of an Oath, it was mired in association with lie and those associations flashed through the Warlock's mind. Associations of lush gardens and lazy Lousiana evenings, the Boss crooning in the background. Of kitchen's filled with the smell of baking, and evenings spent in snuggled embrace before a silver screen.

A shiver ran through the Warlock, a mild seizure, her system fighting the images off.

With a speed meant to indicate deliberation, Avis seized the ring, closing her hand over it.

"I have one condition. You can't call me your wife, and you can't expect me to call you my husband."


A shiver at the touch of fingers and words turned the Angel into an echo of the Warlock's previous. Shoulders soften and fell as the puppeteer's strings of tension were cut, and and soft inhale suffocated the No-It's-Okay-I-Understand speech that was being rehearsed. Thoughts latched on to her words, turning them over and over. And over. Had he ever called her His Girlfriend? Some things, just were.

"Okay." There were Reasons for her to say No, and Good Reasons. The top two? Order and The Lie. Dollars to donuts that the condition was related to one of them, and not a propeller hat payment. It's something for later, because the time for psycho-analyzing your.... fiancee... really isn't during the proposal. Really, it probably shouldn't be after it, either.

"As you wish." A smile crept out as Reality Sank In. A feather touch of chill tracked the tear that dripped out of one of his eyes, and an unceremonious sniff and indecorous Shirt Sleeve Wipe followed. "Sorry. I've been, I dunno, having trouble keeping my," a free hand cartwheeled, "My stuff together." Ever since the Tearing Away. They call it Relinquishing, but it had been nothing like simply letting something go. "I, uh. Wow. I'm kind of fried, right now. I didn't think... I mean, I know-know you love me. Just. I wasn't sure you'd be about this. But even if you hadn't, I just... I would have just wanted you to know."

It's True. The Plan didn't go this far. Just like the last time, but it wasn't intentional. Every deck needs a good shuffle now and then. The smile blossomed into Full On Goofy Grin, the sort that'll make you wonder why your cheeks ache later.

"You know, sometimes I call you my Warlock?" A finger tapped the mop. That's right, just up there. Mostly when she was being Extra Creepy with Space, or Extra... Shhhhh. "Avis, will you be my Intervallutrix and take me as your... Radixor?" That's only half serious. Mostly to give due weight to the request, with a healthy side of We Do Things Differently.

He reached out, his left hand to hers, forming an X between their arms.

"Can I... uh. You know. Put it on you?"

The Warlock's eyes widened, her gaze studiously flicking across Star's features, searching beyond the tear and the smile, searching for all the subtle expressions which were written by the state of a person's mind. There, in that text scribed in the frequency of blinks and the cant of the brows, she saw it. Saw the realization of what she held in her hand. Not just a piece of metal. Nor a piece of magic, but a piece of Star, forged from his Soul itself.

Another moment of panic engulfed her, her eyes flicking down to the hand clasped around the ring, then flew back to Star's face. That sacrifice that he'd just given her, that wound he'd sustained for her, it was something she'd never have wished for, yet she wasn't cruel nor blind to the reason for his gift.

"Sure," she answered quickly, nodding with a sniff, her own eyes beginning to mist.

"Sure. I'll take you as my Radixor."

The words were weak, and felt slippery on her tongue, but nothing else came to mind. Not in that moment. That moment of recognizing that a wound she had long since grown accustomed to had healed, and the terror of recognizing just how easily that would could be opened again. Opened yawning and wide, gaping beyond even what she'd felt on the night the her body expelled a corpse into the veins which ran beneath Sacramento's streets.

It was staggering, how frightening and painful such a deep joy could feel.


The grin softened at the sniff and the mop descended to lightly bump the lank darkness. Don't You Cry, Don't You Cry.

"It's a good thing you didn't beat me up when I kissed you," came whispered words as long fingers unwound hers from around the ring. It's not a great attempt at humor but it's not a terrible reminder of where the seed that had blossomed had first been planted.

He held her left hand like a wild raptor that could take flight at any moment, and rolled the quicksilver River Ring between the thumb and forefinger of his right. Whatever they would do, jump over a broom or not do, it was Right Here, Right Now that promises had been made. More binding than any clergy's recitation, and eloquence in their locked eyes rather than words. Bluish eyes stayed on hers until they had to drop to slide the ring onto her third finger.

Eyes traced over the spider-work of scars, pale skin with more pale slashes; raised ridges that he could feel when they held hands. Down arms and hands, and now ending in a glowing silver lattice. It hadn't been planned. Truth be told? The design was a product of lack of metal -- the cost of the gold needed. Perfect accidents. The mop dipped again, this time to kiss her hand which his own raised.

What immortal hand or eye, could frame thy fearful symmetry?

"First dance?" The Angel's head bobbed back toward where they'd come from. "I've got dibs, right."

A Totally Serious eyebrow arched upward.

"I brought the roller skates."


A surge of startled laughter choked away Avis' breath, along with her reply, the sheer ludicrousness of what had just been said suddenly flash thawing her tension away. Here they were, together pledging their lives to each other, defining the depths of their relationship, and now the next thought was roller skating through the motherfucking Cathedral?

She couldn't help but laugh, tears leaking the tension away, the Warlock pulling Star into a shaky embrace. It was too...them. Too fitting for their relationship, one that had been built on spontaneity and games, and the questioning of the status quo of the Lie around them. What better way to...to celebrate their cemented bond, to celebrate Star's gift than to mount themselves upon wheels and fly through the cathedral's halls, to free their movement and send them hurtling through what had once been a symbol of domination as much as it had been one of elevation.

Avis couldn't think of a better way. Because the same universe that had shaped the scars upon her skin had also given form to the Star's clever hands, and to his keen and mobile mind, and together they would uncover the Truth's reflected through their universe's Lies...