When Jarl returns home, it is without Witch Doctor.

Manus, abuzz with the new information provided by the scrying, insisted on alerting the proper authorities (of magic, Jarl supposes) before heading out to where Jasey seems to be trapped. Something about that place is no laughing matter, Meathead, and some kind of prophecy.

Hagen simply had to return to being an apothecary.

The cabin is quiet when Jarl steps into it. To the point that the human forgets that he even has company in it. At first; then, that company makes itself known: screeching and cursing behind the locked and warded door.

The brunette sighs.

Tugging his bright red jacket off, Jarl takes a moment to stare critically at the scribbled numbers—coordinates—on a note he’d stuffed into his pocket, before heading to the abused spare room.

~

The room’s a mess when he enters.

What few items he’d left for the daemon to utilize are in ruins on the floor and splayed in a wild way. Jarl’s not sure if they were supposed to mean anything—perhaps makeshift lay lines or something—but he is certain the only things that survived were the bed and bedding, including the quilt Áesta’d handled so cutely.

Even the curtains are down and torn to shreds.

“I don’t love what you’ve done with the place,” Jarl quips, not entirely angry. He knew what he was bringing into his home when he performed the summons and never really expected anything more from a monster.

“Ah don’t love t’at ya ‘aven’t fed meh!”

The human rolls his eyes. “You have yet to uphold your end of the bargain.”

“HWAT‽”

Jarl watches disinterestedly as the daemon seethes. Blazing orange eyes ringed in toxic green bore into him like acidic suns and the image of pine needle teeth sinking into his body returns to him from the summons.

He ignores it and the foreboding chill that accompanies it.

“I asked for superpowers in order to perform a certain task,” the human informs his—what—pet daemon? “Since that task has not yet been done, you have not fully satisfied the terms—”

“T’en Ah’ll take t’em back!”

Bizarre midnight blue pupils glow like eerie double moons and Jarl gasps as he collapses to the ground. Strength and power envelop him in the exact opposite way he’d wanted them to. Áesta’s power—not Jarl’s—leeches from the human’s quaking body, returning to their original home: the daemon that granted them.

It’s really taking them!

“N-no! Wait! St-stop!” Jarl begs, practically grovelling on the floor. He can’t lose these powers; not yet. He needs them to find Jasey and he can’t risk never getting them back until after his brother is safe. “Please!”

Miraculously, the leeching stops.

Jarl’s certain he can still feel the empty spaces where some of Áesta’s powers used to be, but most of them are still in him. He sighs in relief and immediately tries to think of how to get the now missing powers back.

“Feed meh.”

The human stares up at the disgruntled daemon from his position on the wooden floor. Then, he sighs, “Fine.” With great effort, Jarl heaves himself back up and sits before continuing, “How, exactly, do I do that?” He frowns as Áesta snorts disbelievingly.

“Ye agreed ta t’is wit’out even knowin’ yer price‽”

The human huffs, growing impatient. He grabs the daemon by the neck and scowls into its face, “Just talk.”

Áesta smirks, immense tiredness seemingly gone, “Submit ta me thraell.”

That smirk’s so cute—Jarl jerks back, eyes wide. He splutters, cheeks flushing red, before he scowls again, “No way.” He won’t degrade himself that way. He won’t. No matter how cute—no: frightening Áesta’s glare is.

The daemon suddenly slams the human against the wall, tired body ignited by the unpromise of food, “Yes.”

The blue-eyed man gasps as fire erupts in his mind. A searing pain burns in his skull, in his brain, until it feels like he’s drowning in flames. His entire body flushes as desire explodes behind his eyelids, within his groin, and all he can see, feel, or think is cute.

Áesta shudders as the thraell works, a pure passion siphoning into it.

A purr escapes its throat as it’s fed, appearing to know Jarl will think that’s super cute. The human sneers, disgusted. He realizes this is happening because he has a soft spot for cats—the only small, delicate, cute thing he’ll ever admit to wanting in his life. “Ugh!”

The green menace giggles, adding to the cute, “Ye like felines, uh? T’is’ll be easy.”

Jarl slaps its shin, fully displaying one of the powers Áesta had yet to take away.

The green-haired being yelps, clutching its leg. It pouts, feeding while complaining, “’Ey! Super strengt'!”

“You deserve it!”

“Ah deserve ta be fed!”