Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Forty-Five

Not in the least fatigued after five hours of restless sleep, Damian inhaled the last few bites of toast-positively ravenous. Swallowing his mouthful of bread, the teen leaned over his not-friend's shoulder.

"Light magic?", his forehead creased. "Common, human felons were in possession of Light Magical contraptions? Tt. Absurd!"

Raven set the object down, turning in her seat to face the ex-assassin, "And yet, despite the absurdity, that is the situation at hand.", massaging her temples, the demoness said (mostly to herself), "A large group of unremarkable individuals attempts to rob a bank, only to be found with advanced magical technology- Magic of the Light, even. It-it just doesn't make sense!", she huffed, her eyes throwing daggers at the offending item.

"We ought to direct our attention towards this particular tool before attempting to understand the entire situation,", Damian slid in to the seat opposite her, their legs almost touching beneath the small table, "let's find the purpose of this object then draw conclusions as to how the criminals acquired it and for what purpose."

Acknowledging the wisdom behind his words, the demoness resigned herself to dismantling the...thing: an evidently non-human piece of technology, easily fitting in to a person's hand, and a generally cylindrical shape adorned with several gemstones. Almost overbearingly Light- in both the colour sense of the word, and the preternatural meaning-the main body wasn't dissimilar to the tone of Raven's pale skin and the metallic band crossing its middle coloured innocently platinum, not forgetting the exhaustingly bright stones dotting the object (positively radiating Light magic).

It was despicable.

Well, to Dark creatures- such as demons.

Positively nauseating.

The Light did so desperately love to flaunt their...brand, if you will. Their...purity. But for all their shows of righteousness, a tool of theirs had ended up not only in the hands of humans, but in the hands of human criminals.

Raven's inner self cackled at the thought of shoving this in the face of a pompous ruler of the preternatural Light - for they were all, by her judgment, stuck up bastards.
Ooh, they'd be reeling!

"There are runes at the bottom,", Raven beat the glee out of her voice, "If I'm not mistaken, these are runes for transportation- to be specific, portals."

Her eyes, pinkish with excitement flew up to Damian's, both minds sprinting along the same track of thought.

Voice cool, he asked to see the potential transportation device. A finger skimming along the device's smooth surface, Damian held it at an angle so that the equally bright light lit the circular face at the end.

As though two bulbs had been switched on in his sockets, the boy's eyes widened, his lips making way for pointed teeth.

"Well, well.", a satisfied chuckle echoed in the side-room of the Batcave, "The Council will be thrilled."

The malicious undertone as Damian all but growled the last word struck a chord within the demoness, her breath escaping her at his tone.

Well Azar damn me, smug Damian is apparently a turn-on. Okay then. Shit.
ISSUES.

Attempting a discreet exhalation, Raven managed to heave a heavy sigh. How very subtle. Redirecting her attention, the demoness' teeth flashed, gaze hungrily taking in every tell-tale stroke marked on the bottom of the device.
Oh no, they wouldn't be taking this to any rulers. No, no. For, stamped on one of the circular ends of (what Raven now knew to be) the portal-summoner, lay the smug seal of the infamous organisation of the Light. The 'protectors' of humanity from the Dark. The do-gooders of the preternatural on Earth.