Wealth Against Culture

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/SMT Devil Summoner Raidou Kuzunoha (Casts Shadows)
Summary: They gather more possible allies and plan the attack.
Word Count: 1307
Rating: Teen
 

        It’s pretty obvious all of Duchess Buffy’s fighting instincts haven’t disappeared, because she has an instinctive grasp on strategy, patrolling, and the like, unleashing them in a flurry of orders. He’s starting to suspect that, contrary to Willow’s speculations, it’s not that she didn’t want to be involved in the whole fighting business anymore, merely that she didn’t want to be doing everything herself for a change, which is understandable, if she’s been treated for years like it’s her sole responsibility to fight by herself. Her earlier fear of the ‘unnatural’ also seems to have entirely vanished, though she did insist on borrowing his sword and knighting everyone, which has him mulling over whether ‘Sir Xander’ or ‘Sir Raidou’ is more appropriate.
        This does mean that he’s not out sweeping the streets, though, just sitting around bored and twiddling his thumbs. Again. He wasn’t able to convince the vampire to lend one of his guns, the sword is in Buffy’s hands now, and with his demon also occupied, the best he can do is lean against a wall and try to look pretty.
        “Are you...blushing?” Willow’s voice makes him jump, but then, she’s caught him off guard by floating through the wall, so that (and her unseen observation of him) were probably on purpose.
        “I—no.” All he’s doing is denying things around her! And as she eyes him, he gets the idea he’s actually lying, even if it’d been unintentionally.
        It’s...not that weird, he reasons. As demons go, Nix and Encantado are very attractive, and luring humans is an important part of their repertoire. Usually women and men, respectively, but not all demons are quite so...focused, between type and individual, and the flowing shimmering mane glimmering like a waterfall, the sleeveless jacket and courtier clothes in blues that reflect the beauty of a river, the rippling muscles and slim frame and endlessly blue pools of eyes...surely anyone would find that attractive, right? Particularly when all he’s been allowed to do is stare at the demon smilingly and cheerfully healing one of Buffy’s new army or subjects after the other and murmuring compassionate reassurances in a melodic voice, whether or not they can hear him. It’s really kind of sweet. His mind hadn’t even gone in the direction of calling him a stallion (because Nix are technically water horses and...yeah, it’s not one of his best lines) until he’d been confronted.
        “At least he doesn’t have his violin or they’d be too distracted swooning to get anything done.” The ones who can see him, anyway. He inclines his head toward several poring over a map and strategizing, while her Grace continues going through and knighting a line of people. They’re very orderly.
        And then, through the ambient chatter, the sound of knocking on the door, making everything else disappear as his focus narrows.
        “Sir Raidou, your blade!” Duchess Buffy throws it, scabbard and all, in an almost perfect, nearly effortless arc, smacking satisfyingly into his palm, back where it belongs. He draws it in one swift, fluid motion, which draws the eyes of many in the room. Perhaps he’s showing off, but so is she.
        And then there’s a cool, gentle hand on his arm. “I have finished here; the rest have injuries but minor in nature. I will come with you, Raidou.”
        He nods and approaches the door cautiously, again accompanied by demon and ghost, though if he’s not hearing things he could’ve sworn he heard another ‘oh brother’ from Willow. Though it’s not as if he has the time to dwell on it in the first place.
        It’s unlikely that an enemy managed to slip through, even if the plans and barricades were hastily constructed. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious. “Password,” he calls out, sword in hand, Nix ready and waiting to freeze an intruder at his side.
        “Swordfish, right? You’re not clever or original, Xander Harris.” The woman’s voice at the door sounds extremely unimpressed.
        Well, she doesn’t sound hostile. A bit snooty, maybe, but as long as she means no harm, she’s just the sort of person they’re trying to protect. He reaches for the doorknob and a ghostly hand grabs his.
        “That’s Cordy,” she hisses, venom in her voice, and he stares right back at her, unmoved and stern.
        “Is whatever she’s done so great a sin that we should just leave her to die, then?” he asks mildly, and her hand instantly lets go of his as she stumbles back a little, horrified.
        “Um, but, well, I—” That’s a no, he decides, and opens the door without further ceremony.
        “It’s about time,” the teenager—about their age, he guesses, which would probably equal familiarity which could then explain the hostility—announces, walking in like she owns the place. Her cat costume is ripped and revealing, but she definitely sounds like she knows who she is more than he or Buffy do, at the very least. Between his own eye for wounds (that’d been part of the training) and a glance at Nix, who shakes his head surreptitiously, despite the bit of blood none of those holes in costume or human look in urgent need of treatment. “Speaking of which, do you ever plan on fixing this? Some of us have social lives to be getting back to.”
        “If you have some sort of strategic target for us, please, do share,” Her Grace’s voice cuts through the air of the room, delightfully frostily polite.
        Cordy snorts and crosses her arms, the very picture of ‘holier than thou’ she’s attempting to convey—and yet, it’s just a picture, because it’s flawed. She might be fooling Willow, but the movement was actually to try to hide the slight tremble in her arms. “Look, if you want me to use your brains for you, too—” she begins, and between his own rising irritation, Nix’s amused nod, and the need to save her life before Willow decides to try a good old Poltergeist strangulation, Raidou waves a hand, dismissing Nix and already summoning Encantado in his place.
        “What—did you do?” She’s a good deal calmer about it, even if she still isn’t happy. From the way she’s glaring at Encantado next to him, cheerfully mischievous beneath the pink Panama hat as her long dolphin’s tail unfolds beneath the colorful dress, she can see demons, which is a little fascinating.  Thus far, most of the so-called ‘normal’ people haven't been able to see a thing.
        “Seems someone just needed a little dip in the river, hmm?” laugh sounding just a little like a dolphin’s.
        “You were saying?” he asks, ignoring his demon posing elegantly in the air as if it were water, putting what’s visible of the pale skin on display. He also ignores the implied threat of drowning. Neither of his most loyal demons have exactly learned charm spells yet, and both have chosen to be better than the worst of their kind, but that changes nothing about their natures.
        “I won’t forget this.” It’s hard to tell if that’s a threat or a warning. “Maybe it’s targeted. I saw Aura, and Harmony called me, and both of them were just fine.”
        Hmm. That’s worth a jot in his detective’s notebook. One of the Jedi uses the Force to add it to the list on one of those giant pads of paper someone had for some reason. Show-off. Still, if it helps them narrow this down before anyone gets hurt, then maybe it’s just fine.
        “Well, welcome to the castle. Her Grace, the Duchess Buffy, commandeered the fridge and the entire bowl of candy, so if you get hungry feel free, though you’ll probably have to swear fealty. I think there’s a pot going around to pay her back afterwards.” He gets the feeling Cordy is trapped between disgust and laughter.