I had been in far stranger circumstances, really. The company the Hunter provided was something I could have done without, but that wasn't to say I didn't appreciate the silence that fell between the two of us as we proceeded to enter the warehouse without too many barriers. Had our way been barred by the "bouncers" fae that remained in the entry way to this precise moment, our excursion would have twirled down a very, very different path that would more likely than not have ended in piles of rubble, and an irate Hunter wondering why I was incapable of doing anything in a discrete fashion. While the latter was terribly true, I had good reason! What good did it do for me to manifest powers of any kind and let them sit untouched? Far better was it to exercise these powers in order to know they remained strong, right? At least, this was something I convinced myself of in order to find some justification for a great many number of my actions and behaviors. That justification was rarely accepted, and while I didn't mind I had an inkling somewhere in my gut that my companion wouldn't appreciate any displays of grandeur in this particular instance. Keeping the particular desire to greatly embellish any of my actions while seated at the various poker tables in check, I comfortably played my way through hand on hand of cards. The other players weren't nearly as good as I believed they might have been, but then again they also didn't realize I was terribly good at sharking cards in a way that they would noticed if they weren't so oblivious and distracted by the appearance of my "poof ass" boyfriend.

Azrael landed on the table where we had been playing poker with a very effeminate flourish, his adoption of an incredibly tell-tale flamboyant tone eliciting far more stares than had originally been cast our way. Almost every player had turned their gaze towards us with their mouths not so discretely gaping open as if they'd never seen a pair of gay men before... Wait, did I seriously just ... Ugh. Disgusted but attempting to keep that to myself for the sake of the ruse and the obvious revenge that Azrael was attempting to acquire from rubbing me the wrong way literally and rather figuratively as his hand ran through my hair after he placed the suspicious drink in front of me. From within it's pink depths I knew I would find no pleasurable buzz from the alcohol; in fact, I was sure I'd find the opposite. Suspicious as it were that the man brought me a drink at all, I drank enough of the drink to keep from spitting some kind of profanity at the very poof ass who was seated near me. There was nothing to suggest that the overly-flamingo pink drink would harm me, per se, but it was a fairly known fact that fae refreshments never merely quenched a thirst; they offered oh so much more. With a complimentary and entirely discomforting run of his fingers through my hair once more, I was rid of the pest with only the parting words of he'd wait for me.

Damn straight he would! I would be more than happy to make him wait until he wanted to tackle the task all by himself, if that's what it took. While I was to blame for his "disguise", surely his actions that accosted me so pointedly deserved some kind of retribution that I would have to decide at a later date.

It would seem that someone upstairs had granted me a free wish because Azrael departed the table in a flurry of effeminate, soliciting words that would have caused me to step towards him with the intentions of violence at any other point. Instead, I would need to neglect those feelings and pour myself into the game that was unfolding hand by hand in front of me, leaving me all the richer and almost able to forget about the way he ran his fingers through my hair â€" almost. With a shudder I felt an increasingly prominent need to shower and wash the traces of his evil touch off of me, even if that sounded like he had violated me in some of the worst ways. Okay, truthfully? He had. Disgruntled but satisfied with the amount of money I'd won moving through the various poker tables and groups, I surrendered my position to a newcomer once I had been offered a seat at the table with the King of this particular monarchy. I had several moments to spare, and I fully intended to spend them provoking the incredulous poof loitering by the bar, clearly attempting to work towards the target he'd assigned himself. My words were offered in a low tone, something I knew he wouldn't be amused by and as I walked off, I felt a bit of a bounce return to my step with the knowledge and satisfaction of having harassed the Hunter further.

Empty handed as my drink was relinquished to thin air after being poured down the Hunter's neck, I sauntered behind the black curtain that shielded the "high rollers" table, most assuredly seating the King and his associates. "Here's the man who has been clearing us out tonight," One of the men began to say, his lips pulling back to reveal teeth filed to points. It was all I could do to keep from snickering â€" I lifted a cigar I had been saving for the very sort of moment that this had turned out to be. With it lit and between my lips, I managed a nod as if this was a very normal occasion for me before sliding into the seat that the aforementioned man pulled out for me. They briefly explained this particular tables' rules, ensuring I acknowledged them and swore to use no magic. Relaxing into what would appear to be a very confident position, as if I didn't have anything to lose and I had some innate knowledge that these hands would surely fall prey to my superior skill, launching into the game with little other thought.

That was, until the curtain drew back and a far too familiar face popped up.

...Couldn't he have just gotten lost outside with his head up his own ass?

I had a strong understanding that it was in this moment that I needed to play along with our charade as our target was seated directly opposite me at the table. The King looked incredibly interested in Azrael's appearance, his eyes devouring my personal poof ass, claiming that he was as attractive as the rumors of the evening had relayed. Ha, see? I do have some illusive skill, regardless of whether or not the Hunter believed me to have any kind of prowess above playing with rocks and an inability to control my Shadow. Upon his appearance and reference to his life partner, I felt bile rise in my throat that I begrudgingly swallowed with the aid of the cigar's staunch taste lolling over my tongue. With a terse exhale of smoke, I offered Azrael a smile that was far more charming than he deserved; the smile was enough that anyone in our immediate vicinity would buy it.

"Aw, stop it! You are just too much," I started to say, the emphasis in my voice far more than I ever wanted to hear myself repeat. "You'll have to excuse us, your highness. I just can't get enough of him, and I don't think I left any to share!"

It took mere moments to digest the King's words, and those moments saw my jaw tighten and my fingers tense on the cigar that had previously been relaxing between them. Playing for Azrael? What a load of horse shit. It was incredibly hard to keep a cork in my mouth in order to refrain from suggesting that the King could have him for free! I ran my tongue over my teeth, the gesture suggesting I was perturbed by the King's words and that actually became true when he mentioned the illusion magic I had, in fact, been using. It typically didn't leave a trail, no... I was more careful than the Hunter gave me credit for, especially as he'd mentioned I was truly in deep with the Council and it would behoove me to keep quiet. A very, very small voice tugged for my attention, mentally reminding me that Azrael would survive on his own, but my participation in our farce and now a high stakes poker game was probably for the best. With my eyes gently narrowed, scrutinizing the words I'd been offered and an impish gleam coating my eyes, I allowed the corners of my mouth to begin to turn upwards into what was a Cheshire grin.

"Poker, your Highness, is never fair... But I assure you, my magic has nothing to do with my game."

I had several options now, and most of them I didn't like. I could ignore the King's rules and bend them enough to where Azrael and I could manage to exterminate the immediate fairies, but how much trouble would that put both of us in? It was far safer to let the King think I was prepared to follow his rules by letting myself make several mistakes in the first few rounds, feeding the precious ego of a man that sat on a throne ill deserved. It was when he began to speak again, formulating some kinds of derogatory remarks against both Azrael and myself that I found it impossible to contain the wraith that had begun to whirl deep in me somewhere. The wraith wanted out, and that was precisely what I intended to allow it to do. I could not keep a hold on all of the boiling rage beneath my skin, it's deliberate need for my attention reminding me that I was a creature of power, and this so called King had a one too many weaknesses for me to calmly allow defeat.

"Darling, might I suggest you visit the powder room? I know how you are about your eyeliner, and it's looking a little shoddy," I suggested, my tone a little colder than I had anticipated. My eyes had shifted from their crystalline blue to a shade of white that would mean impending chaos; surely this was a sign the Hunter would remember from our battle royale in the middle of my apartment. He had requested no show ... Now what kind of exhibitionist would I be if I didn't put one on? In the mere, split second after the last word befell my lips, the iron stake I had been forging during the game shot through the floor in order to pierce the King like a suppository, rising well up into the belly of the man. Surprise would emanate from him, yes. I saw his eyes begin to turn red with blood, and while I felt a roaring pain begin in my mind caused surely by the King himself, my Shadow broke away from my still figure in order to direct Azrael out of the room. During that time, a whirlwind of cracking would be as audible as words on a loud speaker; the decibel of bones breaking was one that was hard to miss. Necks snapped as I twiddled my fingers briefly, my hands beginning to shake at the effort. My Shadow offered no physical help, merely trying to point Azrael towards safety and an exit, apparently sure I was going to be fine on my own in the middle of the volatile destruction I had longed to cause. And it wouldn't end there, no. Haphazardly did the Fae begin their strike upon me, and while I might have incurred some injuries they were absolutely not on my radar in that moment.

But the swarm began. And during the terrifying realization that they would keep coming and I would have to contend with the others of my species, I began using the bodies of those fairies that had had their necks snapped in the first moments of my decided destruction as barriers to shove the rest of the fae out of the way, a thunderous rumbling in the ground hinting at some kind of impending, apocalyptic doom. And sure enough, that doom was coming quickly as the ceiling caved in and the floor opened up to drag the remaining creatures into the ground to be speared on the spires of iron I had crafted during the games of poker I had played in the great room. Nearly beheaded by some form of debris, I found myself catapulted from the obscene wreckage of the warehouse just as the last of the building caved in and the screams of the fairies were quelled as they suffocated in the wreckage.

And me? I was left panting, dizzy and seeing all kinds of stars that were probably a direct product of that stupid fucking flamingo pink drink that Azrael had handed me. The effort of using all kinds of my magic at once had taken a toll, and I was glad for the darkness that surrounded us now giving me a cover from the piercing gold gaze of the Hunter.

"... Before you say anything, no one would have seen or felt the quake, though I have to congratulate myself on the richter scale I managed... There is an illusion over the building that will remain until morning. Satisfied? I didn't break your rules."