Even though he would probably never admit to Pam that this country they find themselves in is in anyway beautiful, Eric cannot help but gaze out toward the mountains that are his view as he swings open the back door to their van, mere moments after the sun has set. It is a different scene than what he shut the door on in the dawning light, so he assumes that Diantha spent at least a few hours traveling while he and Pam slumbered the day away in the back of the light-tight van. And as his eyes roam over the small clearing he finds himself in, he soon spots the small tent beside a cheerful fire, complete with the demon who no doubt set it with her bare hands.
"Where are we?" he grouses by way of greeting, tugging on the strings of the sweatpants he swiped from one of the bags stuffed into the back of the van.
"Oh, are you speaking to me after two whole days?" Diantha asks in a whimsical voice, not bothering to look up from the large book in her hands; and it seems her eyes have no problem discerning the words in the spotty lighting, "I thought you two had fucked the memory of me out of each other's heads."
"If only," Eric sighs, glancing once more toward the van, assuring himself that he can see Pam from where he chooses to sit. He spreads out one of her sweaters on the cleanest log by the fire, warming it for her before she awakens. Warily, he lowers himself to the same log, stretching his legs out by the fire across from Diantha. "How much damage did we cause?" he asks proudly, neither he nor Pam having bothered to ask in the two days since they left the mansion behind.
"It was mostly contained outside," Diantha murmurs, flipping a page, "And they might need a new dining room table. Honestly, Northman; I expected so much more from you."
"And what did you do?" Eric sneers, his pride hurt even though he would never admit it, "I thought your kind enjoys torture."
"She reminded me of my mother," Diantha responds with a shrug, her attention still on her book.
"Your mother has blonde hair and blue eyes?" Eric asks sarcastically, wondering if he is due in for another night of explaining that he and Pam are not the girl's real parents.
"No, my mother has green eyes and red hair like me," Diantha informs him, glancing up at him for a fleeting moment, "I just meant she was soft spoken."
"A trait I see you never inherited," Eric quips, his eyes narrowing as the demon merely shrugs off his attempt at instigating a fight. "How do you even know if your mother's alive?" he asks, half out of spite, half out of a curiosity he would never admit, "You haven't spoken to the outside world in over a year."
"Says who?" Diantha asks softly, her brow arches as she finally lifts her head to look at him head on. When Eric's eyes narrow, she continues on in the same annoyingly reverent voice he has begun to associate to mentions of her mother. "My mother is very much alive and well; and safe," Diantha informs him, "She has even more protection around her now, thank you very much."
"Now?" Eric asks, "Exactly what protection did she have before?"
"I was my father's favorite," Diantha says simply, though there is no audible pride in her voice; a sentiment that Eric vaguely recalls her own brother echoing, "It stands to reason that she would also be his favorite; though I don't know which came first. She's had wards around our home since before I was born; built by my father. To keep us safe from his enemies, I guess."
"And how do you know those wards are still standing?" Eric asks, bluntly reminding her, "You father's dead."
Diantha merely blinks, her expression droll. "My uncle and brother have erected wards in his...absence," she says, "And I'll add my own once I see her again." Now, the demon looks down into the flames; flames that Eric is unnerved to see bend toward her. "She thinks I'm dead, you know," Diantha says softly, "They had to tell her that...so that she couldn't lie in case..."
"How do you know all this?" Eric asks, speaking across her, his brow arched, "Who are you speaking to? And when?"
Slowly, Diantha taps her head; and Eric is all too aware of what powers she holds inside of it. "Nathan," she says by way of explanation, "It's not much, we can't chance it. But he tells me what I need to know. What we need to know."
"And do you tell him what he needs to know?" Eric hisses, suddenly fearing that there has been a hole in their armor all along, "Do you tell him where we are?"
"He has no idea where we are," Diantha explains calmly, her eyes narrowed as if she's offended, "All he knows is that I'm alive. We don't talk about you much."
Eric growls, his eyes narrowing into blue slits of pure ice though some of his panic is resolving. "What has he told you?" Eric asks finally, his interest winning out, "What's happening?"
"Nothing much," Diantha says with a shrug, "Almost everyone believes that we're all dead. That Pam met the final death in Romania. That you no doubt slaughtered me for failing to keep you two assholes alive. And that you met the sun, out of grief. It all fits...helped along by what my uncle has told Sophie-Ann and Russell."
"You said almost everyone," Eric reminds her, his own voice dropping to a whisper, "Almost?"
"Cassius," Diantha answers instantly, her chin raising in defiance, "He's still trying exert some power over what's mine." Now, Diantha's eyes flash, a look of utter possessiveness in them that Eric is not sure he has ever seen before. "Those who think he will lead them to the throne are still out looking for you. And me."
"How many?" Eric asks, fearing and needing the answer all at once.
"Too many," Diantha says simply.
At this, they both fall silent, staring into the flames of the fire. Eric knows that while they may be safer staying hidden for the moment, there is also the fact that their allies would mean nothing if something were to happen; if their safety was threatened. Many would not even realize they were in trouble, or that they had passed. Now, more than ever, he knows their seclusion is coming to an end; and that they will have to make themselves known. For their own safety. For their own freedom.
"What's that?" Eric asks, allowing his attention to be diverted instead of wallowing in what he cannot change at the moment.
"Your itinerary for the evening," Diantha says, a slow smile spreading across her face as she makes a show of folding it up and tucking it into her jacket, "Wouldn't you like to know what it says for tonight?"
A few minutes later finds both Eric and Diantha scrabbling in the cold snow and dirt, one trying to protect the simple peace of paper while the other tries to snatch it. Although, to be fair, Eric has become entirely more concerned with shoving Diantha's face into the dirt than actually taking the paper and its secrets. But a soft cough soon has them both looking up, caught out as if they are children, into the amused expression of Pam who stands with her arms crossed over her chest, dressed in a t-shirt of Eric's.
"What do we have here?" she asks, biting her full bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud at the two creatures before her, still tangled up in the snow.
"He's trying to have his way with me!" Diantha immediately informs everyone present, though she is shoved off of Eric and tossed into a snow bank as he rises to his feet.
"Ew," Eric huffs as he stands, brushing himself free of the snow. His expression changes entirely as he takes a step closer to Pam, his hands finding hers as he draws her closer. "Hi," he murmurs, knowing that the guilty expression on his face is broadcasted for her to see, "I definitely wasn't trying to peek at the itinerary."
