Jareth felt his face heat as the gorgeous woman slid her arm around his. It was impossible to catch his breath with her so close, and his heart felt like it might burst right out of his chest. Gods, but he was hopelessly lost. It took a massive wrench to pull his attention away from Lya, and it was with a belated protest that he saw the mass of machinery hit the wall. The young man wanted to go to it, see if any of the components might be recovered, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. It was a few moments more before he managed to notice Victor with his artificial eye, and the holoscreen. Questions bubbled up inside him, but he was unable to turn them into words. Curse it, he was probably gawping like a fish. Another flush, this one ashamed, reddened his face. Why did a crush have to render him so totally useless?! --- Amuné listened to the explanation of symbiosis, but shook her head. "The idea of my thoughts and wishes being identical to another's, even if they shared a part of myself is...not one that sits well with me," she admitted slowly. "The thought of not wishing them to be is even worse. If you are truly of one mind and of one body, I do not understand how you are still separate people. If you are separate people, then even if both influence the outcome, there should be a difference." She paused, considering. "I seem to sense a difference of some sort, but...I don't know. Perhaps this is simply something I have yet to comprehend." His laughter was surprising, and his words stirred anger in her heart. The woman's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. Serving an angel of death...interesting, yes. But that was a separate issue. "Perhaps saying they do not exist is inaccurate," the Seer allowed. "They are merely concepts, words to describe a thing. But I would argue that the concept is inaccurate, compared to what is being described. Divinity, an absolute right and wrong, unchanged and unwavering: these are the things I question. The Christian concept I reject completely. The beliefs of religions with pantheons, perhaps those I might accept, but I will not worship, nor give unquestioning obedience. 'God' is merely a statement of power." Amuné focused again on the demon, no longer so evident, and addressed him. "Power beyond comprehension no more makes someone right than it does at the level of humans. I don't think it possible to be right beyond question; if someone was, it would take self-determination from others, and I feel that would itself be wrong. A different level of ability, a different kind of morality perhaps. Even the concept of death, the afterlife, and heaven: if I still have awareness, why would I call that death? If I do not, how could I consider that life? And if no one suffers, either they have lost the ability, or others are restricted; I could not accept that as a utopia. Not caring that there is no choice is worse than having no choice." One hand curled into a fist on her knee. "Any existing god is flawed and imperfect; angels and demons are no more absolute good and absolute evil than anyone else. Predisposed, perhaps, but that is true of all things. Truth is merely perception, and reality itself is mutable and flawed. My criteria for holiness most likely cannot be met, and so I say gods are not real. I will use the word to be understood, but nothing further." --- Cera was not expecting an attack, but while Orion was beyond swift, she was not precisely slow by normal standards. Nails dug into his hand and wrist as he shoved her up against the wall, snarling. She'd liked him -- she'd thought he was pretty okay. Where had this come from? Concern for her, apparently. The hug so soon after the grab startled her, but the vampire returned it, squeezing him tightly before letting her grip loosen. "Sure, I can do that," she said, trying not to get too hopeful. Then again, she'd never seen a problem with mixing business and pleasure. "But you know, Orion, I'm not going to stop having a life just because someone nasty came through." She used his name to make sure he realized she was serious. "There's no point in being around if I have to stay holed up all the time. C'mon, my truck's across the street." Her duplex was pretty nice, a comfortable size for a single woman who might throw a party now and then, but she'd had years to make it her own. The furniture was the eclectic mix of someone who'd lived a long time, and the pictures on the walls showed an interesting aesthetic sense, with classic reproductions and modern abstract art mixing with Edward Hopper's Nighthawks and a couple framed copies of Norman Rockwell's work. "Have yourself a seat, cutie," she said, waving at the couch as she went to put her purse in another room. When she came back she settled next to him. "So okay, the Royals, that'd be Queenie's top dogs. Wolf, and whoever else. I haven't turned up anything new, but I'm keeping an ear out." [@TheMinorFall]