Fallen: Synn

They were laughing, but they always seemed to be laughing. It was part of the fun, after all. What was the point of having any fun at all if you couldn't laugh from enjoyment? After almost two thousand years of living--for some of them--the only thing you could do was laugh. If you didn't, you would be looking for some way to end it all. However, it's not exactly easy to kill yourself when you're immortal. So, laughing it was.
Bastien stretched his arms above his head, his elbows cracking before he let them go on an explosive breath. "That was more fun than we've had in a long time. The human world is so interesting."
Synn waggled his brows at his youngest brother. "You mean the women are interesting."
Bastien grinned, his purple eyes--an effective reminder of his royal blood--twinkling mischievously. "I can't help it if I have more game than you do."
Synn rolled his own violet eyes as Myurin patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Synn. We all know you don't want to get involved."
Castiel, huffed, flicking his golden-red hair over his shoulder. "'Involved'? Why not just say he's not good with them?"
"I'm better than Rin," Synn countered.
"Hey," Myurin protested. "I just defended you, you ass."
Synn grinned as Bastien said, "So much for brotherly love."
They all laughed and continued down the brightly lit, but still dark halls of the castle. Things hadn't changed much since the eldest among them, Jeriah, had taken over the throne. Synn had to admit it had been shocking to learn that their father was retiring to the Outer Region after nearly ten thousand years of almost-peaceful reign, but Jeriah was doing well. No one would cross him, not even his brothers, and that was enough to ensure everyone stayed in their place. Synn missed hanging out with Jeriah, though. That much was certain. It wasn't any less fun, but he missed the guy's presence--even if he was the quietest out of them.
"Your Highnesses!" a voice called.
As one, the four of them looked up to see a bat demon flapping down towards them. The poor kid couldn't be more than a few hundred years old and that was not a good age to be working in the palace. It got you picked on by the upper demons more often than not, and this one was soaked to the bone in some sort of slimy, pink stuff that probably wouldn't come off with just a regular bath.
"Gibble," Castiel greeted the boy, his already angular brows turning down as he frowned. "What's done this to you this time?"
The bat boy's cheeks went red, his snub nose twitching as his completely black, watery eyes looked down in embarrassment. He landed in front of them with soft feet, his wings folding behind him. "It's nothing. I wasn't watching where I was flying and--"
"Don't start that," Synn said. The four of them had somehow become attached to the errand boy in the last decade or so and knew when he was spouting lies. He was a nice kid, never did anything too awful. As long as he didn't feed in front of them, they were cool. "We know that you're an impeccable flier. What in all of Obsidia happened?"
Gibble sighed. "It was the falcons again. They dumped a bunch of mushed fruit on me."
Bastien sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just because you're a vampire bat doesn't mean you don't like fruit."
Gibble nodded. "I tried to tell them that, but they were too busy laughing."
Synn could feel Myurin stiff as a board next to him and he laid a calming hand on his brother. He was of a caring sort--the most like their mother out of him, Castiel, and Jeriah--but his temper was not something anyone in this world or another would want to see. His wrath was worse than their father's.
"Breathe, Rin," Synn told him. "They're just kids."
Myurin turned sharp, murderous eyes on his brother. "I don't tolerate bullying someone smaller than yourself."
"Neither do I," Castiel agreed. "We'll deal with it later, Gibble. After you tell us what you need, you can go use our personal baths to get that goop off you. Looks like it's gonna take more than regular water."
Gibble's nose twitched, his coal eyes twinkling. "Sure thing, Castiel. Oh, but Jeri-- I mean, His Majesty wants to see you in the throne chamber immediately."
They all shared a look. What could it be this time?
"Uh," Myurin started, his anger suddenly gone. "We'll go their now." He offered a smile. "Why don't you go have that bath now? You smell like rotting fruit."
"I wonder why," Bastien muttered.
Gibble ignored him, thanked them, bowed, and lifted into the air, flapping away wetly and leaving the four brothers to stand around and debate the consequences of ignoring their brother's summoning.
"He'll kill us if we don't," Bastien said, wrinkling his nose. He didn't really like Jeriah and Jeriah didn't like him. It was probably due to the fact that they had different mothers, but it wasn't as if Bastien could do anything about it. It made Synn worry sometimes, but he couldn't change the unchangeable.
"Or worse," Castiel put in. He sighed. He was the second eldest and knew Jeriah the best, but they always butted heads, and it seemed like Jeriah took delight in torturing Castiel in whatever way possible.
"Guess it's settled then?" Synn ventured. "Let's go."
Rolling their shoulders, they let the large, black-feathered wings of their royal blood spread out behind them and lifted into the air, sending dust and different types of ash into the air at their feet. They could walk there, but it was a long way even by flight, and there was no point in putting off the inevitable.
They flew through the many halls, and Synn let the familiarity of home seep into him. The human world was nice and interesting, but this was Obsidia. There was no place like it--which was the point. He always found it amusing that humans called it "Hell", but he supposed to them it might be. It was dark here and there were demons that even they couldn't picture down here. Most of the outside looked like Earth, but there were plants that couldn't possible survive on their surface growing abundantly just outside the doors. Even their animals, fruits and architecture were completely different. Obsidia probably defied Earth's laws of physics and natural order, but this was home. Always had been, always would be, and Synn was happy to keep it that way. Having a random trip into Earth's realm for some fun was fine, but they never stayed long.
Synn landed lightly on his feet at the opening of the Chambers. The giant, bone-made doors were open, their blackened, carved surfaces pushed away uncharacteristically. Something was up and that made Synn dissolve his wings completely. His brothers did the same and that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Oh, yeah, something was up.
"Jeriah," Castiel called in a booming voice towards the end of the hall. He started forward and the rest of them followed, having no other choice. "What is it this time? Having some trouble with a rebel clan?"
At the other end of the long, black-pillared hall, Jeriah sat straighter in the cushy, towering throne. "No, Castiel. Unfortunately, the reason I've summoned you is far more dire."
Dire, Synn thought. Uh-oh. Jeriah only used old words when he was serious.
Castiel pulled himself to his full height, stopping before the throne and narrowing his eyes on his brother. "What's dire?"
Jeriah sighed. He was a force to be reckoned with even sitting down, and it showed. He had a long face and sharp teeth with thin lips. His brows were just as sharp and angular as Castiel's, but without the softness behind them, and his long nose came to a severe point, the purple eyes of the royal line shining out from behind his long, thin flaming red hair. If his face wasn't scary enough, he packed power behind his big, muscled body and wasn't afraid to show it. "Can you be serious for once? Your activities as of late have been called into question."
"What activities would those be?" Bastien asked with a bite, his arms crossed defiantly.
Jeriah's cold eyes turned on the youngest and Synn saw that Bastien tried with obvious effort not to flinch. "Activities like the ones you just finished."
Synn let out a breath. "Is that it? You used to go to Earth with us all the time. What's the big deal?"
Jeriah's eyes narrowed further. "The problem is that you deliberately disobeyed my direct orders to not fraternize with other dimensions. The Lines are completely haywire with activity. If you left even one gap in them, our world could be exposed."
"But we didn't," Castiel argued, crossing his arms. "So what's the problem?"
Jeriah sighed again. "You still don't get it. The problem is that you've overstepped your last favor. I can't keep letting you break the rules."
"What do you mean 'let us'?" Bastien spat. "You used to do the same things we did!"
"Which is why it's easier to keep track of you." He gestured to the fawn demon behind him and she released part of the scroll she was carrying and let it roll onto the floor. Synn watching it roll across the slate floor, down the throne's steps, past them and down the hall, where it kept going and going. There were scribbles in Obsidian all over the scroll, but Synn couldn't make out any of them.
"This," Jeriah explained. "Is a list of just what I've caught you doing. I'm sure there's more I'm unaware of, but this is enough."
Myurin finally spoke, his eyes calculating and serious. "Enough for what?"
Jeriah paused, staring hard at Myurin for a while before saying ominously, "Banishment."
The eruption of protest from each of the brothers was loud enough and angry enough to clear the room of any demon that was even slightly scared of them.
"What do you mean 'banishment'?!" Myurin shouted.
"Have you finally gone insane?!" Castiel yelled.
"This is stupid!" Bastien threw out. "We haven't done anything to deserve banishment!"
"What are you thinking?!" Synn joined in. "Where in all of Obsidia are we gonna go?"
"That's the thing," Jeriah started. He sounded sad, but Synn was as furious as his brothers. There was nothing in that list, long as it was, that was deserving of banishment. "You're not banished to anywhere in Obsidia."
Synn stiffened alongside the rest of his brothers, his hands fisted so hard his nails were biting into his palms. "Where are you banishing us to, then?"
"To Earth," Jeriah said easily, his voice echoing around the hall with finality. Synn felt the air start to stir around them, picking up his hair and whipping his clothes. Jeriah was calling on his power. Shit, this was for real. "For defying the direct orders of the King of Obsidia continuously and for endangering the secrecy of our world, I curse you."
Bastien screamed, the sound cutting through the air, and fell to his knees, his hands in fists as he slammed them on the ground. Next to fall and scream was Myurin and Synn didn't have time to ask or wonder why, because excruciating pain cut through his wrists. His knees gave out and he joined his younger siblings on the floor, Castiel following almost immediately after as if being slammed there by some unknown force. But it wasn't unknown. It was Jeriah, and he wasn't even touching upon his true power. Synn gritted his teeth so hard he thought they would break, but the burning sensation was subsiding little by little. When he could finally bear the pain enough, he looked up at his wrists and felt panic sink into the pit of his stomach. His breathing labored, he tried to sit up and failed, bringing his arms under his chest instead.
Shackles. Jeriah had fucking shackled them. But these weren't ordinary. These were the permanent shackles that came with a curse. The thick, double-banded black lines spiked around both of his wrists, looking like tattoos, but he knew better. These were scorches, not tats. There was no ink here, just the evil of black magic and the binding power of the King of Hell.
The loud clumping of footsteps echoed hollowly around the Chamber and Jeriah's boots came into view. When he spoke, he almost sounded like the old Jeriah. "I'm sorry, you guys. I really am." Synn could feel his eldest brother steel himself, straightening where he stood. "I hereby banish you to Earth. You are to stay there for one hundred years. No more, no less."
"That's . . it?" Castiel huffed, his face hidden behind his hair. "That's not . . so bad. . If you . . . . hadn't. . noticed, . . we like. . Earth. Fuckhead."
"Which is why I've added conditions," Jeriah told them. "Since you have such issues following rules, you need more of them--and this time the consequences for breaking them are more than you're willing to give."
"Like what?" Bastien gritted quietly from the other side of Castiel.
"Your banishment will become permanent, for one," Jeriah answered. "You'll also lose your immortality." He paused when Bastien sucked in a breath. "These conditions are simple enough." Synn felt his wrist start to burn again and, as his brother spoke, words began to be etched in the middle of the bands in Obsidia's language. "You're not to expose yourselves." Secrecy on the left. "You can't use your powers for personal gain." Discipline on the right. "You're not allowed to affect free-will." Restraint on the left. "You're not allowed to cause any great, negative disturbance amongst the humans." Discretion on the right. "And you must, absolutely not fall in love with a mortal." Solitude burned lastly on both wrists, completing the circle in swirling, demonic letters. "These are the conditions. If, after one hundred years, you have followed these rules and lived well, the Lines will be reopened for you. I will personally visit you every decade."
"Oh, joy," Castiel said dryly, still a little out of breath. He squinted up at his brother, hurt and sweat coating his face. "A hundred years on Earth is nearly five hundred down here. You really love to be a bastard."
Jeriah stepped back, his expression grim as Castiel and Synn finally sat up. "I could have banished you somewhere less enjoyable. As it is, this is the easiest solution I could come up with. For all of us."
Myurin finally sat up, but Bastien stayed down. He didn't like pain and Synn gathered his strength enough to go over and rub his brother's back. He'd been through enough hell thanks to his succubus mother without adding this to it, but what was done couldn't be undone. At least they would be together.
"A favor," Myurin intoned. He was pissed as hell and his own aura started to draw around them, pushing back at Jeriah's power. "Just one."
Jeriah swallowed. "Name it."
"The bat," Myurin told him, "Gibble. He needs looking after. The older demons--especially the falcon clan--have taken to teasing. I don't want to see his wings ripped again. If you promise him protection--your protection--we will cross the Lines quietly."
Jeriah stared at them for a while before asking, "All of you?"
Myurin looked at Castiel and he didn't hesitate to nod. Synn nodded as well, grateful that Myurin had thought of protection for Gibble, since they wouldn't have the pleasure of beating those falcon punks themselves. He patted Bastien's back. "Bastien. We're going to leave whether we want to or not, but this we can at least do for Gibble."
"Bastien?" Jeriah questioned, waiting.
Without rising his head, Bastien nodded, giving in. If he hadn't, Synn knew that he would go out kicking and screaming and causing hell. That would be bad for everyone, but this way. . . This way, at least, they all would leave with pride. And a hundred years wasn't so bad, right? It was also Earth, one of their favorite hot spots. What could go wrong?