Welcome to Gaia! ::

“But I don’t even like coff-” Noticing that no one seemed to be listening to her anyway, seeing Rhys was already leaving, Miranda’s lips moved into a pout. She took another ‘sip’ from her can and put it down on the food table to pick it up later – not like there was much left in it. By far not as much as she made it be in her head.

Reyna still was easy to spot with that bright silvery mane of hers, and – conveniently enough – staying in one spot, so Miranda made a beeline for her before she could think otherwise. She was having a bit of trouble here, what with the bad lighting and the uneven ground, and she never quite knew if it was people or shadows that seemed to get into her way, or shadows that were people. Eventually, she made it.

“Reyna,” Miranda declared solemnly after having cleared her throat, but a moment later she was giggling and swaying slightly on her feet. It was dead-obvious the girl was drunk, though she certainly didn’t feel drunk herself. Juuuust a little funny. Yeah. “So. Uhm. Dio told me you’re the sweetest person ever, and I thought … I thought maybe we just got off wrong somewhere, and maybe there’s just a misunderstanding or something. Did you know Mir is Russian for ‘peace’?” she added randomly. “Let us make peace, auntie Reyna.” And with that, a wide drunken smile on her lips, Miranda hugged the demoness.

Which was part out of necessity, because she’d been drinking clearly too fast, and now the effects of the brew’s impressive alcohol content were kicking in belatedly. She really was in need of something – or rather, someone – to hold on to all of a sudden. “I luv you,” she declared, still with a rather silly grin. Dio was right, she wasn’t that scary at all.

Rutie, in a state of growing confusion, clearly was having trouble keeping his flight route straight. He was aiming for his guardan’s brightly colored hair to nest and hide some, but instead somehow managed to boink straight into Reyna’s forehead.

“Coffee for at least half a dozen then,” Amon said, nodding to himself before adding, with a grin: “No napping allowed on my party.” He was half expecting on Nephrite to chime in and insist that this was her party too, but, she seemed strangely preoccupied and focused on other things.

“Rhys.” The youth’s exclamation was sure to catch his attention, and he was quite grateful for his offer in fact, as it didn’t seem like Nephrite would be of any help this night. Plus, the young man clearly was the youngest here, the only one underage in fact. Amon found himself wondering if the boy’s visible awkwardness was to be attributed to this, of if there was something else going on. His appearance was unusual, to say the least, at least it didn’t fit any of the common Gaian races.

He had to be about the same age he’d been when he’d … when ‘they’ had … Well, when he’d lost his eye. And things had happened, and eventually Madame Bree had taken him in.

“I’ll take that help, sure. Especially as it looks like I’ll have to make several batches to-” Just like Rhys previously, he broke off mid-sentence. Mostly startled by the almost overwhelming sensation of … what? confusion? he felt from Nephrite. But there was Tek’s sudden appearance as well and …

HOLY s**t WAS MIRANDA GIVING REYNA A HUG?!!!

Amon’s jaw dropped in disbelief (the girl could not possibly be THAT drunk, could she now), for barely a moment, before he caught hold of himself. “... to accommodate to everyone,” he finished what he’d been saying to Rhys. “Come on in, if you don’t know how to make proper coffee already, this will be a valuable lesson.” He reached for Rhys’ arm to gently usher the boy up the porch stairs and inside, while glancing over his shoulder to keep an eye on things happening in his backyard. This … might turn out to be ugly.

“I probably should have put something about not disemboweling fellow guests on the invite …” Amon murmured under his breath, filling the electric kettle with water and flipping it on.

“In Miranda’s case, I’m not sure a coffee will do. An ambulance might be the way to go. She certainly seems to have a death wish.” He idly glanced out of the window, glad he hadn’t gotten the bonfire started yet. Reyna’s expression, mildly put, was priceless.

Probably trying to figure out if just to slap ‘Peach-head’ silly, to break all her bones or to tear open her abdomen and have her intestines splatter to the ground.

He himself, so far, had only gotten to experience ‘nice’ Reyna and, mh, ‘playful’ Reyna. The latter of which had served well enough to get him hospitalized, on several occasions.

‘Pissed off’ Reyna was something Amon hoped he’d never have to witness. For a moment he fingered the cell in his pocket, wondering just how quickly an ambulance could be here. Instantly, probably, if they used portal technology. Or magic. He shuddered, letting go of his phone. Athan was around, and he hoped that would serve just as much to keep in check the many fiends about as well as on a certain demoness-with-a-tendency-to-go-berserk.

Amon tore his gaze off the window, massaging the bridge of his nose as if to battle an imminent headache. Which he did, in fact, get rather often. And his skin was starting to itch slightly where it touched against the eye patch. It happened every now and then, even after all the time. Not too different from people who’d been wearing glasses ever since childhood from all he’d heard.

“The mugs- cups, actually, are over there.” He motioned at the left-hand cupboard. He was right-handed, but actually preferred to store most of the stuff he intended to use often to the left where he could see it.

“So, okay, this is not even going to be ‘proper’ coffee, this is going to be good coffee. Personally I very much prefer press pots over drip machines. A bit more of an effort of course, but wholly worth it, in my opinion. And, unless you let the brew steep for way too long, you’ll never end up with ‘bitter’ coffee.” He pulled the large french press from a shelf, the one he rarely ever used unless he had guests, and thus checked twice to make sure it was clean. He still sloshed some hot water around in it, but that was mainly for pre-heating the glass. He’d had one glass pot cracking on him, and while heat did little to him he still didn’t want a repeat of the mess it had caused.

“Get good coffee from the roaster or supplier of your choice, whole beans if you intend to grind it yourself. If not, do let them know it’s intended to be brewed in a press pot. Those require a coarser grind, as to not clog up the filter and to avoid the sludge at the bottom of a cup. If you grind yourself, don’t skimp on the grinder. No blade grinders allowed, burr grinder’s the way to go.”

Amon paused. “And, yeah, in case you were wondering, I do indeed obsess over good coffee.” He grinned. “All things said, coffee from a press pot is extremely rich, lots of flavor, lots of caffeine, very little bitterness if you do it right.”

“And you,” he added, fixing his one-eyed gaze on Tek, “better not break anything. Or else ...” He lifted his eye patch just long enough for the fiend (and his guardian) to spot the scarred empty socket underneath. “... I’ll take one of your eyes to replace my own,” he said with a feral grin, not unlike Reyna’s when she happened to be in that mood. “Three are plenty, I do think. You can spare one ...”

He was joking, of course, but – for a moment there – he was wondering if he might have gone too far.

“I don’t believe in half-assed compromises,” Amon stated simply, and shrugged. It was true, and it was – his paranoia of magic aside – certainly the most defining aspect of his personality. He was not a perfectionist, but whatever he did do, he made sure to be thorough in his research and strove to come as close to perfection as possible. Walking only part of the path just didn’t cut it.

Waiting for the water to come to a boil, he glanced out through the window once more, his gaze drawn by Reyna’s bright silver mane once more. The demoness looked ever more beautiful in her fury, though – by some no small miracle – Miranda seemed to still be alive. Probably because either Athan or Mystic had interfered.

“Scary as s**t, ain’t she?” He murmured, his voice filled with respect as he noted Rhys’ glance was going in the same direction. “Unless you’re ready to die, don’t take her on.”

He measured out the coffee, and once the water had subsided boiling, he poured it on the grind, stirring the brew with a wooden chopstick, and setting the timer once he’d put the lid on the press pot. Even with the big one, for this many people he’d have to work in batches. It would yield five cups at most.

Tek’s open curiosity surprised him, and he was glad he’d already put back down the hot kettle when the tentacly fiend hugged his leg. The ********, didn’t any of the fiends have an idea of what “personal space” meant?

Probably not.

They were “shadows” after all.

Still, Nephrite seemed … less brash in her approaches. Well, she was a girl.

And boys will be boys.

He’d encountered the morbid curiosity Rhys displayed before, though he was sensitive enough to notice there seemed to be something more to it. Sympathy. And Tek … well, “he” seemed genuinely interested. He’d noticed Tek’s appearance was unusually foreign even for him being a shadow fiend, and apparently humans were just as strange to him.

“An accident,” Amon said, only to tentatively admit: “At least that’s what I usually tell people.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, fingers moving underneath the straps of his eye patch to – untypically for him to do so in the presence of others – remove it completely for the time being, the empty eye socket being free for both boys to see.

“I must have been about your age …” He paused. “Nah, younger even – about fourteen? – when it was taken.” His finger tips lightly ran across the rim of the lower lid, touching upon the lashes. The canthi were scarred from tearing due to the brutal force used back then, but the lids, at least, had remained intact. “Nerve damage is too severe for an implant, at least that’s what doctors here are telling me, and … Well, I tried a fake, but apparently my eye color is kinda odd. Really hard to match.” He shrugged. “As I said, I do not believe in half-assed compromises.”

It was rare for him to speak about it at all, but there’d been a seriousness in Rhys inquiry … The boy seemed to act responsible and adult beyond his age, and Amon – while not specifically trained to read teenagers, lest alone males, particularly well – sensed there might be some past injury. Scars much worse than those visible on the corners of his right eye. Scars on the soul.

“I don’t really like to talk about it,” he openly admitted, pouring the first batch of coffee. “And this isn’t exactly the place and occasion to bring up dark stuff like that. But Cinder – you’re with Cinder and Merci, right? – mentioned business, so I’m likely going to stop by some time soon.” Madame Bree, very mildly put, hadn’t been too pleased with the frequent out-times and hiatuses he’d been taking since he’d (involuntarily) acquired Nephrite and – much more so – started “dating” Reyna. The additional business Cinder had hinted at – even if it didn’t necessarily pertain hiring him – would be good.

Amon laughed a little at Tek’s visible disappointment. This little fiend really was special. He rather liked him.

“And here I was, thinking Gaia’s medical facilities to be quite advanced.” He couldn’t help but sound vaguely interested. Sad truth was, the sight on his remaining eye wasn’t getting any better. It was a very slow, gradual change, nothing to be worried about anytime soon, but he still wasn’t thrilled about being forced to wear glasses for driving. “And, yes, it is hazel – sort of. It can look really different depending the light or what I’m wearing. At times it’s been mistaken for blue even.” He shrugged. “Runs in the family, though fortunately this seems to be the only trait I’ve inherited from my mother’s side.”

Having kept an eye on the timer occasionally, he pressed down the plunger of the cafetiere, and started to pour the coffee. Its smell was terrific. “I don’t think Cinder was being rude at all,” Amon reassured the teen. “Just upfront and direct, which I actually prefer in people rather than skirting around matters. There, first batch is ready.”

“In fact I really can’t tell. But that’s because I don’t know a thing about hyperspace.” Amon laughed. “The furthest I’ve ever been into space was the occasional orbital joyride, for … mostly for the things you can do in zero-g,” he added with a smirk and a wink.

It was a good thing the shadows were virtually weightless too, so Amon wasn’t overly bothered by the leg-hugging fiend as he went to quietly prepare the second batch of coffee. Tek’s obsession with limbs was certainly odd though, he was by far the strangest of the fiends he’d encountered so far.

“So, Hyperspace is kinda like a …” Amon paused. He’d been about to say: ‘portal’, and then launch into one of his speeches about how portals – whether spell-based or tech – just weren’t right, but … “Whaitwhat. Your ‘mom’ … blew up stuff?!”

His first impression of Cinder had already been a positive one, due to her seeming to be quite straightforward and upfront about things. He hadn’t been merely polite when he’d remarked he appreciated such traits in people. But now he was really intrigued. “And what with ‘growing an eye’, you mean genetically engineered?” Hells, that was an option he’d much rather place his trust in than anything crafted by magic or being completely artificial. Plus, it was more likely to withstand the heat of his natural ‘element’, which had become somewhat of a growing concern lately.

“Sleeping, right.” Amon gave a cocky grin. “With girls that is.” Pouring the second batch of coffee after a little while, he was blissfully unaware of what Tek was up to, the black-and-neon fiend being smart enough to stick to his blind side.

“Well, shush then. If you don’t know the details you shouldn’t be talking about it at all,” Amon said softly. He quirked a curious brow when the boy dropped he’d been ‘created’, but Rhys unease was almost tangible so he decided to not touch upon the matter. Besides, this was a party, and the conversation ought to be lighthearted, like, about girls, perfect.

“She is, to my knowledge, perfectly straight. Hugging Reyna like that, that’s just her making a fine example of herself why some people just shouldn’t be allowed to touch alcohol at all.” He started rummaging through the kitchen cabinet, looking for the serving tray he knew he had. It was just that he barely ever used the damn thing. “I figure you could ask Neph if you wanted to know more, like, which shifts she works …”

Ah, there it was, albeit a little dusty from disuse. He cleaned it up quickly, placing the mugs on it. “Though, honest advice: If there’s anything you want to know about her, her likes and dislikes, I’d ask her directly. It may be all sorts of awkward and embarrassing, but it’ll show you’re genuinely interested.”

He was about to pick up the tray, only remembering about the eye patch when his gaze fell upon it by accident. While the boys might have been thrilled to get a good look at his ruined eye, ‘normal’ people generally were rather disturbed by the sight. Sypos, eh? He’d keep that in mind, maybe mention it to the Madame, see if she was familiar with that world and the medical advantages it had to offer.