Chapter 70: Post-Human Resources

The next day, Lucien and Kamiko sit together in her room, bright and airy in the morning light, sunlight pouring through curtains drawn wide for once, the smoky, sensual haze from their first meeting nowhere in sight.

They’re poring over a stack of documents thick enough to double as a footstool, each one detailing another layer of the trade agreement between her businesses and the Ashlands. A pot of tea sits cooling between them, entirely ignored in favor of clause after clause of tariff schedules and route allocations.

"We’ll need permission from the Tribe Chieftain," Kamiko reminds him, "She controls the tribes, she’ll want to know what we’re up to. But with the Beast Mother’s blessing, I doubt she’ll be a hurdle. I’ll send word."

"I leave it in your very capable claws." Lucien smiles.

They sign off on the last of it, clink glasses, and toast the deal.

"Pity we can’t celebrate properly." Kamiko swirls hers, sighing. "I was really looking forward to that friends-with-benefits clause."

Lucien bites his lip, glancing sideways at Serenith, who’s watching him from her perch on the window with the flat, patient expression of a woman waiting for him to slip up so she can enjoy it thoroughly.

He clears his throat, visibly irritated, "It truly is a shame." He agrees with Kamiko, "But the decisions of the divine must be respected. Even when they’re torturous. Even when they’re, in my professional opinion, completely unfair."

Serenith bites back a laugh.

"How long, exactly, is this divine punishment?" Kamiko sighs, disappointed.

"A week."

She sucks air through her teeth.

"That can’t be easy. Not for a man of your... particular talents."

"It’s not called divine punishment," he sighs, slow and solemn, his eyes falling to the floor dramatically, "because it’s easy. It never is."

Kamiko laughs, rising from the table to drape herself across her chaise, "Good luck, then. Should you survive." A slow, promising smile. "I’ll be waiting." She purrs, silk gown sliding loose around her, curves on full, unapologetic display.

Lucien bites back a squeal, turns sharply to Serenith.

"You’re going to be the actual death of me." he mutters to the angel, "You should’ve just let me die in that fire dimension. It would have been less painful."

Kamiko snickers, watching him argue animatedly with an empty patch of air.

He notices, throwing both hands up in defeat.

"This is so unprofessional." he pouts, "I cannot conduct business like this." He turns back to Kamiko, apologizing properly. "I know this looks ridiculous. I’m navigating a rather hostile work environment with a very unsupportive colleague at the moment."

"It’s fine. I’m totally fine." Kamiko wheezes, biting back laughter, waving a limp hand. "I don’t really understand it... like, genuinely, none of this makes any sense whatsoever, but the Beast Mother gave you her blessing, so I’ll go with that."

Lucien groans, deflating into his chair.

"This is terrible for public relations." He mutters to himself.

Serenith watches his wounded ego with something almost like guilt, symphathy blooming in her chest despite her every attempt to shove it back down.

"Don’t blame me if we all get smited over this." She sighs.

He turns to her, pout dissolving slowly into a wide, hopeful grin.

"You’re impossible." She giggles despite herself.

Then, with a soft exhale, she lets herself materialize fully. A gentle haze of light blossoming above Lucien’s shoulder, resolving into her full, visible, ethereal form.

Kamiko’s eyes go enormous and she drops immediately into a deep, reverent bow.

Serenith sighs.

Lucien grins, entirely too pleased with himself.

"This," Serenith says, "is exactly why I don’t reveal myself outside the Ashlands. Back there, everything fears holy magic and keeps its distance. Out here, people revere it. Flock to it. I don’t want my presence influencing your mission."

She floats down toward Kamiko, lifting her chin gently with two fingers.

Kamiko looks up, eyes wet, lips trembling.

"I’m purely here for observation. I shouldn’t technically even be outside the Ashlands." Serenith says, sounding almost like a plea, "You can simply pretend I doesn’t exist."

Kamiko nods rapidly, still entirely overwhelmed, not daring to actually speak.

"This is useless." Serenith sighs.

Lucien wanders up behind the angel and spanks her squarely on the butt with an audible slap.

Serenith squeals, both hands flying to her mouth, face flooding red while he casually slings an arm around her waist as she hovers beside him.

"She’s harmless," he says. "Well... she did punch me through several dimensions yesterday. But that was entirely my fault. I take full blame for that one."

Serenith turns to him, halo already flickering, holy energy gathering fast in one clenched fist.

"Did you seriously just spank an angel?"

"More of a light slap than a spank, technically."

Serenith stares at him, mouth open in disbelief. "MONSTER!"

Kamiko, stares at them, hands still pressed over her mouth, eyes wide as violet moons, watching the entire exchange unfold like a woman witnessing a religious event and a bar fight simultaneously.

"Is... is this actually happening right now?" She manages faintly between her fingers.

"Nobody, has ever, in five millenia..." Serenith raises the glowing fist, threatening. "I should smite you again for even thinking that was acceptable!"

"You probably should have." He croons, catching her hand gently and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "You didn’t, though."

Her face blushes over entirely. She growls, low and frustrated, and turns to Kamiko instead.

"I have to deal with this. All day. Every day." Her shoulders sag. "It’s exhausting. I would love, just once, for someone to treat me like the tired, overworked woman I actually am."

Kamiko catches something behind Serenith’s eyes then, the quiet ache of someone carrying far more than she’s ever been thanked for.

The kitsune gulps, gathers what courage she has, and rises to meet the angel properly, bowing low.

"I’m... I’m not worthy," she says softly. "But if you’ll allow me... I’d like to give you a chance to rest. To relax. To be properly appreciated, for what is clearly, a heavy burden to bear."

Lucien gasps, betrayal and disbelief burning across his face.

Serenith’s breath catches, lips trembling slightly.

Kamiko looks up at her with wide violet eyes that carry a simple, almost spiritual understanding. The particular, wordless kinship shared only between two women who’ve spent far too long dealing with a man who couldn’t see their true worth.

Kamiko takes her hand.

Their fingers intertwine, both of them trembling for entirely different reasons as a silent moment passes between them, eyes locked, some quiet solidarity of womanhood settling into place without a word said. Serenith hitches, eyes heavy with something unsaid, and Kamiko doesn’t hesitate, pulling the angel straight into a hug.

"It’s so, so hard," Serenith sniffles into her shoulder. "Lucien is chaos incarnate, and I’m just one innocent, defenseless little angel trying to keep a... a interdimensional, sex-obsessed madman from from destroying all of creation."

"I truly cannot imagine what he’s put you through." Kamiko coos softly in the angels hair, stroking her curls gently.

Lucien stands off to the side, mouth hanging open. "This is ridiculous—"

Serenith lifts one hand toward him, holy magic already gathering in her palm, and decides to shuts his mouth immediately, slinking to the corner where he drops into a chair that swallows him whole. He pouts at the two women across the room, arms crossed, scowling, muttering under his breath about celestial work codes as Kamiko settles in to hear the full, uncensored, extended list of Lucien’s crimes.

An two hours later, Lucien sits on a couch in one of the brothel’s back rooms, glaring at a ledger he isn’t actually reading, muttering to himself that this entire arrangement has to violate some kind of divine labor code.

Across the room, Serenith lies fully splayed across a chaise, surrounded by half a dozen of Kamiko’s girls plying her with food, wine, and a truly dedicated shoulder and wing massage. Her feathers groomed to a glossy shine that catches the afternoon light, while she solemnly recounts, in exhaustive detail, every single time Lucien has ever wronged her.

The girls hang on every word, gasping and sympathizing on cue like a small, devoted congregation.

"This is ridiculous!" Lucien calls out. "There is no way angels are allowed to do this. You’re basically drunk!"

Serenith hitches, averting her eyes with dramatic flair as hand presses to her forehead in exageratted offence.

"This," she says, voice trembling with practiced sorrow, "this is exactly what I deal with. Every single day. It’s so... so hard..."

"That is a massive exaggeration!" Lucien gasps.

He’s cut off by a hail of pillows, a shoe, and an unripe fruit. The girls shouting at him in unison to leave the poor, overworked, unappreciated angel alone.

Serenith sniffs, thanking them warmly for their support, and flickers her wings.

A soft cascade of shimmering holy light spilling out over the whole room and the girls all coo, showering her with fresh praise about how beautiful, how radiant, how thoroughly deserving of good pampering she is.

She shoots Lucien a wide, victorious, completely unapologetic grin over one girl’s shoulder.

His jaw drops as he glares at her.

And then, despite himself, his mouth breaks into a slow smile as he shakes his head.

"Oh, you’re good." he mutters.

Serenith smirks, entirely too proud of herself, and winks back at him, settling deeper into the pillows as another girl arrives with a fresh tray of pastries, fully prepared to milk this particular arrangement for every last drop of sympathy it’s worth.