Life underground wasn’t something to scoff at. In fact, after things had gone to Hell in a hand basket, and after her family’s reputation collapsed with many-a New York building, retreating underground actually seemed favorable. Alma hadn’t initially gone underground—her bodachs had tried to steal food from a wolf-girl. The wolf-girl, around Haven—Emerald Lupin—and, well, Emerald had squashed the bodachs like a bug. But, once Alma showed herself and apologized for the actions of her little miscreant-bodach, Emerald had asked the young woman if she had anywhere to go, or anyone with whom to affiliate. Alma replied that she didn’t, and thus she came to stay in Haven.

She remained in her residence, quite-frequently. A one-room studio type of set-up. She had a bed, and a smattering of possessions that had been her before the city had been blown-up. Most of them were kept locked-up in a locker that she’d scrounged from an old high school, bolted to her own floor.

In the years that transpired, Alma became something of a hermit. She preferred her apartment to the company of others, let her bodachs handle human interactions. With the destruction of the City, more bodachs came, which furthered Alma’s belief that they were supernatural things—they’d run errands for her, spy on people, and she’d occasionally use them to help Emerald, if the boss-woman asked her to. She frequently did.

But, when Alma wasn’t taking orders, she was venturing about unseen, using bodachs to go beyond the borders. This evening, she’d come to a settlement, which she presumed to be “The Town”. They were on kind terms with the Haven, but Alma hadn’t been there, yet. She was using one of the big guys to saunter around the settlement, scoping the scene. For the most part, he was intangible and invisible, unless something struck the interest of the spy. Then she’d command him to become physical, to rummage around, before letting him disappear again.

It was an uneventful series of events—which usually ended in Alma calling the large bodachs back to Haven and going to bed. This evening, however, she saw a rogue bodachs.

“What on earth?”

The large, invisible shadowy puppet that she was currently controlled circled behind its apparent relative, and Alma hissed faintly, attempting to connect to the rogue without avail. She didn’t consider that this bodachs might be an actual mutant, only that it had to be one of her minions, that had seemingly developed the capacity to disobey her. Alma rose from her chair and crossed the room, wriggling into a wool coat. She donned a scarf, as well, which accented her jeans and boots well. She then set-off to investigate.

Alma walked quickly—the walk to the Town wasn’t a long one, if you knew the path, and as Alma had used the bodachs to follow it a number of times, she knew it well. Alma commanded her first bodachs to follow the rogue until she got there. The woman was quickly closing-in.

After almost a half-hour of walking, Alma had come above ground, and had passed through the checkpoint to get into town. Her record was clear, she wasn’t an Amazon, and she wasn’t staying long. Thus, she was permitted to enter. Following the trail of her bodachs, she wove down streets as if this had been her hope the past few years, and as she finally found her first bodachs, she gestured for him to come over.

“Where is your brother?” she demanded, shrewd eyes fastening onto the shadowy creature. The thing let out a faint, inhuman whine, as if to speak, and gestured casually towards what seemed to be a small residence. Odd. Alma went to the door, and knocked twice, her brow furrowed. How could a bodach go rogue? Alma could have sworn that they were thoughtless creatures. The bodach bobbed up behind Alma as she waited, and flickered into view, luminous eyes inquiring.

Aedus hopped up from his half duct tape recliner. The other half was possibly brown suede at one time but was melty brown foam…it was serviceable if you didn’t mind the fact the foot rest didn’t retract. He wasn’t expecting any of the guys… he had done century duty last night so he knew he wasn’t it. Unless Venus was here to beg him to cover again. Knowing damn well he didn’t have anything better to do. he set down the journal of a teen named Vicky that had very thus far had a very dramatic sophomore high school year…post apocalypse, you read what you could get your hands on. Diaries were a guilty pleasure. It made him sad to think the girl was likely dead, the conclusion forgone, no matter what happened between her and Vince.

He tossed it to the side and swung the door open. His jaw dropped as he saw the woman before him, she was not from around here. He would know it, he would know it because he would have heard the word ‘dibs’ from someone by now.

He stood there at a loss for words. Dumbfounded, she was dressed well and had eyes he could get lost in.

And here he was stuck in stone, he’d learned over the years he was sooooo much better at getting chicks when he had pretty Irish eyes and a smile to compliment it. at the moment he had lava orbs and black obsidian teeth that matched every other inch of him.He stepped back and his arm swooped to show her she was welcome into his humble abode.

The eyes were all-wrong. That’s what Alma noticed when the “rogue bodach” opened the door. She stared momentarily, before realizing that, in-person, his features were too defined, and not vague like those of her shadowy cohorts. He wasn’t a bodachs at all, but a guy. A cut-looking stone man, but a guy nonetheless. The guy gaped, and Alma folded her arms, gaze cutting towards the bodachs behind her. It was fully-visible, and she opted to chastise it in Spanish.

“You could not tell that this was a man?!” she whispered, “Do you know how embarrassing this is?”

The bodachs shrugged, a gesture that it had picked up from another one of the Haven members, and mumbled something incoherently. If Alma hadn’t known better, it sounded like a teen back-sassing their mom. She glanced back towards the stone man, gaze roving over him openly before a small, bashful smile touched her face. His eyes were like infernos, a luminous, fiery white with the occasional tilts of orange and red, or yellow. A man with eyes of literal fire. Interesting.

The smoldering gaze lingered an Alma, and was a touch unreadable, given the statuesque face that they were set against. Alma’s kneejerk reaction was to believe that the guy was annoyed that someone had awoken him, even as he gestured for her to come in.

“I beg your pardon,” Alma said, bowing her head slightly, “I mean, sorry—I did not mean to bother at you at this hour. There’s a slim possibility that I might have mistaken you as one of these… fools-“ she gestured at the bodachs behind her, who was bobbing passively, “-I am sorry that I disturbed you.”

That was, unless she hadn’t disturbed him, and the disruption was welcomed. In that case, Alma was perfectly content to look at the man—or, more specifically, his eyes. She found them so intriguing, and surreally beautiful, even if all-wrong for a bodach.

“And if I might be so bold as to say this,” Alma said, after her apology, “I find your eyes captivating, sir.”

Alma was hopeless—come to retrieve a rogue bodachs, and when she found out that it wasn’t a bodachs at all, she started flirting with him. Even though he didn't seem to be more than a sentient statue, he was a ripped sentient statue. The woman was a lost-cause, and absolute lost-cause. Alma glanced over her shoulder awkwardly, a self-dismissal and another apology on the tip of her tongue. She should leave. Hastily.

A black stone smile quirked the corners of his lips as the woman chastised the otherworldly minion and more so at the comment of it being embarrassing.

Eruption cleared his throat, a hollow sound, like listening to a small echo in a well. That done, he couldn’t help himself, this whole apocalypse thing had soured his mood for quite some time, but there was something about a beautiful woman at your door complimenting your eyes that could lift your spirits. A tiny spark of the man he used to be had clung to him all this time and she was fanning it into a flame.

His tongue might have appeared to be obsidian, but he would have to test it to see if it still worked as silver. “I’ve never known that a beautiful woman at my door was something to be pardoned, nor forgiven, or to be disturbed by and if they’ve taken you I might just have to claim your company for as long as the spell has worked.”

His hand reached up to hers and gently urged her in, it would take only an ever so slight refusal to be free of his hand. “Please, come in, I’m Eruption.” He looked over her shoulder. “You’re welcome as well, as I have you to thank for this lovely visitor.”

If he could get her to stay awhile, he would be a man once more instead of a statue. A few hours, maybe less. It was harder to keep track of when he erupted now that the world was running out of double A’s.

The man’s fluid retort earned a coy smile from the dark-haired woman, and some flattered fussing with her hair. And, as he wittily replied to Alma’s compliment, the woman’s smile grew into a smirk. Oo, this one was skilled with his words. Perhaps it was fortunate that she’d followed her minion there—he’d led her to a man who could make the evening far more interesting.

“It would seem that fortune’s in my favor, this evening, then,” Alma answered back, her tone just as cordial. If the man were so articulate, then she didn’t have to adjust her vernacular for his sake—she could be just as formal as she always was.

The man extended a hand to her and offered an introduction. Eruption. Alma accepted the hand politely.

“My name is Alma Nadine,” Alma replied fluidly. Surnames were things of the past, but Alma still included her middle name, “They call me the Seer.”

She paused, before politely trailing inside. After these introductions were exchanged, Eruption addressed the bodachs behind the young woman, who lingered outside, luminous gaze unyielding, and form unmoving.

“Come on,” Alma instructed, gesturing to the creature. Now bidden by its master, the thing slinked past, venturing to Alma’s side.

“This is one of my puppets,” Alma explained, apologetically as she lingered, standing, in the entry of the residence, “They are not sentient, so please excuse him if he seems impolite.”

He smirked and wondered for a moment if they weren’t saying see-her. No, he’d been out of the game for awhile but still new better than to attempt something quite that cheesy. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance Alma. My first name is Aedus, though I haven’t used it in quite some time, I suppose it could be dusted off.” Fortune was in her favor? She hadn’t taken a look in the mirror lately; she had been delivered to his door and was acting as if she had won the prize. He supposed he could live with that.His stony lips went to the back of her hand and planted a kiss. He always wondered how that felt exactly. He knew his lips gave way some but were still hard and cold as stone.

“I have no qualms with him, he can be impolite if he likes, I have him to thank for you on my doorstep and in my home after all.“ He nodded his greeting to the puppet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just put on some pants in case I shift tonight.” He hoped he did, if she liked him now and didn’t just have a thing for obsidian, he was golden, Or peachy at the very least. He found a pair of shorts and slid into them without bothering to leave the main room, they weren’t the pants he promised, but they were the nicest article of clothing he had. In obsidian mode he could get away with being naked for the fact that he looked much like a ken doll, but it wouldn’t be as acceptable once the clock struck twelve and he turned into a pumpkin.

“Can I offer you some tea and honey? I also have been experimenting with rye bread; this latest batch has come out nicely.” He went to the tiny half kitchen he had built and pulled a loaf dark bread from a vase in a vase.

“Whichever you prefer,” Alma answered cordially, smiling faintly. Either name was peculiar, on its own—“Eruption” probably pertained to his mutation, just as the Seer pertained to Alma’s. “Aedus” was an unfamiliar name, however—she wondered what the etymology of it was, but refrained from asking, for the time being. Eruption planted a light kiss on the back of her hand, and a smile quirked on Almas’ lips. What a blessing it was, to still have gentlemen in this era—even if this gentleman was, at-present, a statue.

Alma bowed her head faintly, gratefully, as Eruption replied that the puppet could be as impolite as it preferred. Alma flicked her gaze towards the bodachs, silently praying that it didn’t take what Eruption had said to-heart. It would be thoroughly embarrassing. She did continue smiling, though, as the stone man once again stated that, if it weren’t for the bodachs, Alma wouldn’t have ever come there.

“But of course,” Alma agreed lightly as the mutant dismissed himself. He remained within in the room and Alma, ever polite, turned and pretended to survey a chair, trailing her hand along its top absently as the man rustled around. Sure, he wasn’t anatomically your typical naked man, but out of habit, Alma didn’t watch him get dressed. When he spoke up, Alma turned back to face him once more.

“Tea would be lovely,” Alma agreed, trailing after Aedus hesitantly. Should she stand, or should she sit? Where would she be in the way, or where could she stand where she’d be out-of-the-way? It’d been a while since Alma had been anyone’s guest, so formalities were something difficult to grasp—particularly when in such compact quarters. The dark-haired young woman casually combed her hair back with a slender hand as she confessed, “I haven’t had some decent bread in a while.”

He smiled to himself as he slice the bread into pieces that reminded him of a civilized world. People ate their bread in chunks these days., No class. He set the slices of bread in front of Alma.

“Have as much as you like, that batch turned out pretty good. I’m making more tonight, so, you’ll be in for a treat if you stay awhile. Nothing beats fresh bread.”The bread was a dark Rye. He didn’t know what he would do if one of those amazons actually hurt one of the growers. He then went to work on heating some water and making Tea. He set up a small stack of sticks, estimating how much he would need to provide enough heat to boil the water and sustain the heat long enough to boil water.

“So, I haven’t seen you around town. Are you new to the area, or just visiting?” His question was legitimate, some people got nervous when they saw this many people, in the beginning groups meant trouble for lone travelers.

He cleaned a pair of cups and then put some honey in each. He then wrapped some small crushed leaves in a piece of canvas and tied it off with some floss. He waited as the small fire on top of his stove heated the water. He seeped the make sift tea bag in the still heating water, it wasn’t ideal, but it was efficient. He hoped she was talkative, he wasn’t used to holding a conversation.

Alma graciously, yet modestly, took two pieces of the bread, giving the murmured reply of, “Thank you.”

She helped herself to the first slice, tearing off half and holding it out to the bodach behind her. It let out an incoherent stream of noise that sounded almost like garbled speech.

“Take it or leave it,” the young woman said frankly. The bodach accepted the slice of bread and nibbled on it experimentally. When the creature determined the food to be sufficient, it’s mouth gaped to an enormous size, and it dropped the whole slice in, emulating a shark. Alma frowned. Yet, Aedus continued speaking, so Alma didn’t have the opportunity to chastise her bodach.

“I would be more than happy to share fresh bread with you, so long as I’m not imposing,” Alma agreed. Some people were rightfully stingy with food. She didn’t want to eat this man’s only source of sustenance.

“I am with Emerald’s settlement,” Alma explained, “The underground city—but I do a good deal of business with the Town, though I haven’t been up here in a while… so I suppose, just visiting?”

Alma inclined her head, watching as Aedus readied the teacups and teabags for their small meal. It had also been a while for the young woman since she’d held company beyond the bodachs. Though she was grateful for it, Alma, too, was at a loss.

“How long have you been here, in the Town?” she inquired, “Do you like it here?”

“My pleasure.” He responded cordially. And grinned at the exchange between the Woman and her minion. “You aren’t imposing in the least, please, make yourself at home.”

“Oh. Bussiness.” He tilted his head. “Anything I would have heard about?” some people traded goods here and there, some were liaisons to other settlements some traded in services, some did things that would have been considered criminal in a past life.”
He poured the steaming tea into the cups and slid the cup in front of alma, he then set the honey jar in front of her as well. “You should visit more often.”

“I’ve been here for a couple of years. It certainly beats fighting off packs and mobs for whatever you managed to scrounge together. Some of the locals have grown on me, but nothing or no one in particular is keeping me here.” He added making it obvious that he was single. “ how about Haven? I’ve heard someone call it haven. Do you like it?”
Tiny bits of obsidian began to fall from his skin, it was hours earlier than he had expected, this sort of thing happened these days, he used to be able to predict the change down to the minute, now he was lucky to catch where the sun was at the time and estimate how many minutes he had been in lava mode.
He set his tea down and backed up a couple of steps, brushing shiny little black flakes of stone to the floor. Soon He would be his old self again.

Alma smiled faintly as Aedus pressed-on about what sort of business the young woman meant.

“My mutation proves useful for espionage,” Alma replied. She gestured for the bodach to come closer, and when he was beside her, Alma gave a brief command, “Disappear.”

The thing instantly became opaque at its edges, to Almas’ eyes. This meant that, for “Eruption”, the creature would have vanished. Alma’s cryptic smiled turned into an open grin, and then a laugh. She seemed pleased with the trick, however simple it was. Out of politeness, however, after a few moments of invisibility, Alma summoned him back, “Thank you. Reappear, please.”

The bodach did as instructed, gave a faint bow, and drifted back to lingering. Aedus set a teacup before her, having filled it and added honey.

“I’m finding more reason to do so,” she murmured warmly, lifting the cup to her lips, “Thank you.”

Then, she took a sip. Aedus spoke as Alma sipped the tea ever so slowly. It was good tea. She hadn’t had such tea in a good, long while. She sighed contentedly, leaning back, and setting the tea down once again, to let it steep.

“I miss the sky,” Alma murmured, completely off-guard. It was an embarrassing sentiment, but it was true, “It is life. We don’t get many visitors, haven’t had an attack… one of very few perks of being underground. I’m mostly reclusive, spare the pests, though—I am usually preoccupied with tailing persons of interest.”

She smiled faintly at Aedus, raising her teacup to take a sip, yet pausing as Aedus stepped back, his skin flaking. Alma lowered her cup again.

“Are you shifting back?” Alma inquired, openly curious as she drew closer, “May I come cl—I mean, would you prefer if I stood back?” Alma was intrigued by the notion of watching his skin shed, even if such intrigue was impolite to possess.

A stone eyebrow shaped ridge raised at the thought of what she could accomplish if she wanted to. “Beautiful and mysterious, I might be falling for you already.”

She didn’t mention any boys wanting on here back home, she was reclusive so, She likely would have mentioned if she reclus’ed with someone.

Aedus took a step back, for the most part he didn’t want to ruin their tea with a misplaced bit of obsidian. He squeezed his eyes shut and the fire orbs of lava returned to almost glowing pupils of orange. He grew bolder by the moment, reaching out for her hand amd pulling he closer, gently yet firm. “You can get as close as you’d like.”

The small chips of stone fell to the ground, spinning and falling only to crack and live minute piles of broken black stone on the ground, moments later, he stood there facing her, face to face and no intention of backing away. “this side of the transformation is abit anticlimactic compared to what happens the next time around. Still.” He stretched reacquainting himself with the familiarity of what it meant to have all of his human features intact once more. A mischievous smirk lit his lips and soon hit his eyes.

Alma beamed proudly at the compliment, running a flattered hand through her hair. She wasn’t too sure as to how she was supposed to reply, as her seclusion had detracted some of her former well-versedness, yet the compliments still appealed to her, and she was grateful for them.

“Thank you,” she began, her tone dropping as if she meant to say something else, yet nothing else arising for her to say. He closed his eyes as Alma hazarded steps closer, and when he opened them, they were aluminous yet normative orange. He extended a hand and took Alma’s own in his, drawing her closer. Eager steps followed the encouraging pull, and his invitation—which as just as soft and as reassuring as the hand that had guided her closer—put the inquisitive woman at ease.

Alma did her best to help with the transition, hazel eyes wide and curious as she dusted off his shoulder, exposing actual, human skin. There really was a human man under there. Alma looked towards Aedus, expecting him to be surveying the progress of his own transition, but found him surveying her, with unadorned, human features. They were incredibly close, and he was unwavering. Alma scarcely dared to breath. Aedus, all the while, managed to murmur something about reverting to a human form being for less exciting compared to becoming a statue. He then grinned an impish grin, his whole face colored by mischief, and Alma found herself reflecting the look with her own eyes.

“Given your choice of name, I could only imagine,” Alma replied fluidly. Her gaze dropped from Aedus’ eyes, meandering along the centerline of his face, recoiling as soon as her eyes found themselves peering over the point of his chin with the inclination of wandering farther down. Luckily, however, Alma stopped herself at the chin, flicking her eyes back onto the other mutants’.

“You’ve the face of a man with devilish intentions,” the Seer pointed-out, leaning slightly closer. Perhaps the seclusion made her more bold, but there were certain impulses that the woman hadn’t acted on in a while. If Aedus didn’t reciprocate what Alma was alluding to, there was neither harm nor any foul—she’d finish her tea, eat her bread, express her thanks cordially, and leave. But, if Aedus picked-up on what Alma was insinuating, and reciprocated it, perhaps they could keep one another’s company for longer?

Her hand slid along his shoulder and whipped away the remnants of the stone like magic, it always reminded him of a magna doodle, you swiped the little bar across and the slate was clean again. She put her hand down on obsidian and revealed flesh. Her skin was delicate and soft and the first person that had touched him outside of battle in ages. She stepped closer still and they were inches apart, in the romantic movies of old, this almost always meant there was supposed to be a kiss, was that appropriate seeing as she had just come to his door not even an hour ago? Could he afford to ask? Wouldn’t that ruin the moment?

Her eyes ran across his face and he couldn’t help but realize it was appreciatively. If his intentions were devilish, then his actions matched.

She spoke and he answered… just without words. His mouth opened slightly and his teeth lightly bit her bottom lip, he didn’t hold her lip hostage for long, releasing it to kiss her softly. If this wasn’t what she wanted, she was certainly free to pull away, that said, she only got closer when he gave her devilish looks, so he would hazard the risk and attentively find out, how devilish his intentions were allowed to be.

His hands went to her side, again leaving her room to escape, but suggesting she’d be happier if she stayed. His heart thundered in his chest, wild with the joy of something unexpected and passionate.

The intentions formerly accused of being roguish showed their true colors, and needless to say, the gesture did not disappoint. A chill skittered down Alma’s spine when Aedus kissed her, but not a shiver of fear or distaste—she’d been underground for a while, it had been a while since a boy had kissed her. And, judging by how she was reacting now, it could be said that Alma missed it.

Was it proper to kiss a man you’d only just met? Not at all. She knew nothing of him, spare that he’d been a statue and, now, wasn’t—or in the process of shedding that skin—and that he was very kind on the eyes. Alma answered his kiss eagerly, but with the same, polite restraint that she had shown when speaking. His hand begged her to stay as it lingered on her side, and Alma eased closer, reassuring him that, so long as he didn’t send her away, she had no intentions of leaving.

Her free hand went to the side of his neck, before moving towards the back of his head, stirring flakes of obsidian that had yet to fall. The dark-haired woman rose onto her toes slightly for, though the differences in height wasn’t too tremendous, it didn’t change the fact that she was still shorter. How could she leave, when the encounter was so full of promise?

The bodach looked-on as his mistress kissed the new acquaintance and, with an air of disinterest, meandered towards the kitchen before slipping outside, through the window—he could take a hint. His mistress wouldn’t miss him when she was so preoccupied.