risethedemxn:
/
Another heavy breath sank his shoulders further into the chair, blinking away his moment of confusion and curiosity. “Ah. I’m sure.” He nodded, almost forgetting his own cup in his frantic moment of hospitality, staring at the amber-tinted liquid just a second too long. “… Hers certainly are more potent than anything I could carve. She wields actual magic, I only hope to emulate it through what little of the craft I can work with.” A light chuckle seemed to signify calmed nerves, one sip of tea later brought him back to his right wits.
Jason’s eyes studied… But not for too long. He knew better than that, to stare and dig too deeply without cause. They’d barely spoken, he didn’t need to draw any suspicions of… Suspicion. “Still,” he sighed, looking back up towards the bookshelves. “Hers are not misplaced. I hope I don’t have to scold you for some misdeed.” Half of a joke, the only indication was the sly smile curling onto his lips. In truth, Jason had no room to judge. Hell, he would be damned if it wasn’t for the quite immortal curse. Whatever business anyone had, whatever scale of morality, couldn’t compare to what Etrigan had influenced in him… Or, perhaps, his self-made exile had gone on a thousand years too long.
Sulphur itched his throat, the flames warming the old room growing just a hair hotter as he realized the gravity of his own explanation. “… Old friend, don’t tell me you meant to attack her.”
//
He’s used to the somewhat circuitous route his conversations with Blood tend to take--and he can hardly hold it against the man. Blood plays host to something otherworldly, after all, and Erik now knows first-hand just how complicated that relationship can be.
( Does it say something, he wonders, that he needs more than one hand to count how many of his acquaintances and loved ones are not wholly themselves? How many of them share their body with another force? )
Erik would say something about Blood being far too humble, but in the scheme of things, he was right--the man was impressive, but Zatanna really was in an entirely different class of magic-user altogether. “Oh, I don’t know--there’s always something to scold me for. Par for the course in my line of work, I’m afraid.”
Then the implications of crossing Zatanna’s wards seemed to click for his host, and the air in the room seemed to get warmer, a hint of egg smell brushing his senses. Ah. Yes, probably would’ve been better to clarify that early. “Of course not. I consider her a dear friend.”
Not that that’s always, or even usually, stopped him before.
“I was simply looking for her to have a conversation. Apparently last time I visited her stage area I attempted some reorganization and upset her assistant. To keep me out, Zee put up a ward and then forgot about it until she found me laid out on the floor. We had a laugh about it after, rest assured.”
Erik takes a sip of his drink, settling back in his chair as the tension in the room eased with his explanation. “It’s been a while--how have you been? Your little jaunt with the Justice League treating you well?” he asks, managing to (mostly) keep his disdain for the team from his voice.

















