#new chapter one

[thehangeddemon]

The clothes, simple semi-formal black and grays, were almost certain to fit his now smaller frame. No amount of muscle would return his original body. No spell nor death. Their fates now the same. Closer than ever before, for the wrong reasons. This was an opportunity to bring purpose to suffering. So long as the opportunity wasn't ignored.

Mason took to the edge of the bed, flopping over onto his back while waiting. Hands on his stomach, staring at the ceiling.

Everything fit. From the trousers to the shirt to the sweater. Although it wasn't too far removed from what he'd normally wear, it still felt odd to dress in someone else's things when he was surrounded by clothes that had been tailored specifically to him.

It felt odd to dress period. All he'd worn for weeks were dressing gowns.

Sighing, he walked back into the room. "They fit," he greeted, sounding both surprised and a little shell-shocked.

[thehangeddemon]

If Xavier wanted the answer to his question, all he'd need do was ask. Mason wouldn't answer without it. He didn't have much to process to begin with. His experience seeing his brother in a new face was not the same as the rest of this household. "D'ya want a mirror? M'almost done." Just a few more combs, looking from different angles. Cutting hair in this manner was all he knew. His experience began and ended with this man. "Ya need a shower."

“You’re probably right,” Xavier sighed, waiting until Mason had paused the combing and trimming before he stood to go look at himself in the bathroom mirror. He couldn’t remember when he’d last bathed but Abel had been keeping on top of that for him.

He stared at his reflection. It looked…better. It felt more familiar to him than the long hair had, although that was probably because Mason had done it.

Xavier returned to his chair. “It’s looking fine. You can keep going.”

[thehangeddemon]

He didn't need to speak. Not verbally. Today he was little brother. He might be more tomorrow, but not today. Two fingers brushed quickly over his temple. Brief little affection reflecting two children a lifetime ago. The crossroads demon disappeared, returning to New York and to his husband to explain. Much the same as Xavier, Mason offered via telepathy. Only spare, less gruesome moments in a sea of violent implication. He couldn't allow Charles to see everything, no matter how strong his constitution, this was his baby brother. Some things had to belong only to him.

"You'll be with me," Mason explained. With him in spirit, of course, in the most profound sense, and a cellphone, when given a spare moment.

One last item shoved in his bag. A pair of silver scissors. A kiss goodbye, and Mason returned to the sitting room.

Xavier burrowed under the covers and indulged his misery while he waited for Mason to return.

He was only interrupted once when Abel came in to check on him. Xavier mentally filled him in on what he’d missed, after which his familiar ran off to have a guest room prepared and a tea tray brought up.

His brother would find him exactly how he’d left him.

[thehangeddemon]

Mason looked between them, tempted to brush their minds for the answer. Instead, Rohan was approached as the door shut behind him.

"I'm in no mood for the frills. The fuck is goin' on?"

"Your brother has a fondness for the frills. They comfort him. Right now...he's in desperate need of comfort."

Rohan sighed. This was different from telling MJ and Ramsay and Hamilton. The only thing that would do here was directness.

"Before I tell you, I would like you to take care with the information I'm going to give you. I won't ask you to promise me, it would be unfair and you don't know me well enough to give me a promise. Even if you don't agree, I'll still tell you because you deserve to know. All I ask is that you hear me out completely. And sit down."

[thehangeddemon]

Mason wasn't the least bit surprised to find the door opening before the first knock. One of those beautiful mortals, like living ornaments in a house with far, far too many servants. Bitter thoughts, because anger was simply a drug, and he'd already taken his pill well before disappearing across the country. "D'ya know where my darlin' lil brother is, Hamilton?"

Hamilton nodded. “Yes, Mr. Atlas. Please come with me.”

Into the drawing room, where instead of Xavier, Mason would find Xavier’s agent waiting by the fireplace.

Rohan nodded his thanks to the butler. “Thank you, Hamilton. Can you bring us some tea, please?”

“Yes, Mr. Dalca.” Hamilton nodded and disappeared, closing the doors behind him.

[thehangeddemon]

Mason stared for some time, before leaning away from the counter. A damn familiar. Those things for witches, and one had chosen a demon. Like cats they were, and cats made strange decisions. "How 'bout a beer with fish n'chips?" he asked. A lukewarm attempt at socializing with the creature.

“Way ahead of you.” Only one of the bags had their food. A second had an abundance of Xavier’s favorite snacks and a third had alcohol. Wine for Xavier and beer in case the demon wasn’t in the mood for wine.

Doubtful, but it never hurt to be prepared.

“Also got extra vinegar and those mashed peas you like,” he added with a grin. “Got extra of those, too, in case Mason also likes them.” All of this was said while Abel went around gathering plates and flatware and a wine glass for Xavier.

“Mushy peas,” Xavier corrected. “And thank you, again.”

“Mashed sounds better.”

[thehangeddemon]

"And who would be the seers in our circles? Our spouses? I should think not."

A fresh cup of tea was pushed towards Xavier.

"I'd rather Charles be deaf and blind. Rather he never laid eyes on a witch, but it's outta my hands. Now what choice do I have but drown him in knowledge." A rhetorical statement. He knew his brothers path hardly strayed from his own.

"Or that creature outside your eyes?"

Xavier nodded. “Him, absolutely.” And not just Abel, but the rest of his coterie as well. Ramsay and Rohan and MJ. For his brother?

“We all have people around us to be our seers. I do and I’m sure you do too.” He wouldn’t mention Bronwyn MacAllister for fear of disturbing the peace, but there was no doubt she was that for his brother.

Abel followed scent and sound down to the kitchen, greeting the pair of them with a smile. “We’re all squared away,” he said, setting bags down on the counter. “I’ve got the keys for show, the agent knows we’re here, and now we have food.”

“Thank you. Would you like some tea?” Xavier asked.

“With fish and chips?” The familiar shook his head. “I’ll pass.”