[Is everything okay Host?] The System reads, appearing in front of William’s face, blocking the view of the mirror he had been staring into, [You’re not malfunctioning are you?]

“Living things don’t malfunction System,” he explains, tilting his head slightly to see around the screen, “I was just a bit surprised.” He admits, trying not to feel jealous of a face that was *technically* his now.

Asterius had certainly been blessed in the looks department. He wasn’t the toned, masculine handsome that Cadeyrn had, but his face had a unique appeal. Beautiful in the way of royalty or a doll. Something perfect and sparkling that you could never touch, a near inhuman charm.

He has straight, waist-length silver hair, and dark blue eyes that glittered in the light, looking as though a piece of the night sky rested within them, shifting with stars. Skin pale and unblemished, like porcelain. With pointed elf-like ears, that seemed to at least partially react to his mood, wiggling and bending slightly as he tested expressions in the mirror.

“The book had said Asterius was pretty but… I didn’t think he would be this pretty.”

[Asterius’s mother, Luma, the old goddess of the moon, is widely regarded to be the most beautiful god to ever exist. Even the gods and goddess of love do not hold a candle to her refined ethereal beauty.]

Ah that explains it, all of his siblings had also been rather attractive, enough so for it to note mention in the book. Both the twins were compared to the old God Emperor, and were undeniably handsome in the spartan warrior way, while Asterius’s sister was described more as ‘cute’, a girlish cheerleader charm befitting her young godhood.

“So, you are saying Asterius got his looks from his mom?”

[System would not say that. Asterius’s form, as all god forms, are a reflection of their divinity, and they shift and change to better accommodate the godhood they represent.]

The System must see his lost face because it pulls up a little cartoon picture of Asterius. [All Gods have a “True Form”] and the picture of Asterius shifts into a bright little star, [and a “Vessel Form”] and the picture shifts back into normal Asterius.

[There is a difference between a True Form of a god and their Vessel Form.] It goes on to explain, and Willaim has a vivid flashback to his history teacher who loved slide-shows a tad too much. [True Forms are decided the moment a god is created, only another ascendance can change them. While Vessel Forms are not so rigid and simple features will come and go with the god’s fancy. External factors such as shifts in the hierarchy of the heavens or a new branch of worshipers can also affect a god’s physical form.]

Well, that was an information overload, but basically, “So, Asterius chose to look like his mom?”

[No again.] William’s convinced it's purposefully trying to pull his leg now, [In Asterius’s case he gained a similar appearance to his mother after he became Regent of the Moon. Just his will alone would not alter his appearance so heavily, and he is still very distinct from the original moon goddess. The only physical resemblance they share is silver hair.]

“If they aren’t alike at all, then why did you mention his mother at the beginning?” William asks, completely lost on where this conversation was supposed to go.

[System was just trying to supply the Host with more knowledge! It’s not System’s fault that Host misunderstood!]

“You-,” he sighs, rubbing at his temples, getting mad wouldn’t do him any good and it was information he should probably know, “So every god has a set True Form, and their Vessel Form is a reflection that can be slightly edited,” he summarizes trying to make sure he’s got everything.

[Vessel forms are a lesser reflection.] It stresses, pulling back up the little cartoon Asterius, [most gods take on forms that are very human-like, such as the one you are in now.] The little cartoon waves, and William waves back without really thinking.

[While True Forms] and the picture shifts to the shining star again, [are things beyond mortal understanding to perceive. Looking upon the true visage of a god is gazing at raw divinity, and it will kill most mortals.]

‘So, the gods are eldritch monsters,’ he thinks slightly worried, “And if I… where to see a god’s true form?”

[… System is unsure what would happen, Asterius’s body could obviously handle the strain but as Host is not actually a god…] There’s a long pause where he can almost hear the System run its numbers and calculations, [System does not advise Host to try.]

He makes a mental note not to stare at any true gods.

“Master?” the muffled voice of Pluma asks, from the other side of the bathroom door. “Would Master like help getting ready?”

William glances over at the large walk-in closet and dozens of robes he has no idea how to put on.

‘I don’t have to wear three layers of silk today do I?’ He asks the System in his thoughts.

[OOC] is all it says.

‘I can’t even just wear two layers?’ He tries to bargain.

[OOC] It repeats, edges going a bit red.

He tisks, obviously, this is not a fight he is going to win. ‘I can at least accept help right?’ He thinks.

[That would be fine! 😊]

‘You change your tune way too fast!’ He complains internally, but opens the bathroom door, freezing in place when he sees not just Pluma.

“What are you doing here?” he blurts, staring into Cadeyrn’s red silted eyes.

The demon smiles, radiating smugness, “Why I was also going to-.”

[HOST.]

It is too early to be stuck in the middle of this. He doesn’t let the demon finish (least he actually be swayed to do something he really shouldn’t), just grabs Pluma and slams the door.

Pluma seems a little surprised by the manhandling but quickly snaps out of it. Glittering blue eyes set into the most unfrightening scowl ever, “You should teach that ungrateful demon a lesson Master!” he complains, fluttering his six wings, but making no effort to escape the probably uncomfortable sack-like hold. “He’s obviously up to something!” he continues as William gently sets the seraphim on the vanity chair. “He’s been sticking too close! It's suspicious!”

So Cadeyrn was acting out of character! The system kept complaining to him about staying in character, but he’s sure he would have remembered a version of the demon that was that forward and flirty. ‘System?’ he thinks, ‘how do we fix this?’

[System has run an OOC check.] He waits, holding a breath, it’s possible he could die right here, all because the demon wanted to make a few too many naughty jokes and – [The results are negative.] He lets out a sigh of relief.

Pluma huffs, nudging his hand, and Asterius complies, giving the angel a pet. He purrs happily, lion tail swishing, “Master should get rid of him. I will do everything he does but even better!”

He chuckles, enjoying the funny mental image that conjures, “Don’t worry about him,” he soothes, glancing around the closest, feeling so out of his element. “Help me get dressed, I’ll let you pick today.”

That immediately brightens the little guy’s mood and he’s rushing off into the closet, muttering to himself about colors and stitching. It’s unendingly cute and brings a smile to his face.

[Host] the system prompts, he glances down at the text box, keeping most of his focus on the little angel. [System does not have enough data to determine if “Demon Prince Cadeyrn” is acting out of his assigned character. Host should proceed with caution. While deviations in small role characters might be allowed, deviations in the main cast will cost Host.]

So, he was alright for now, but anymore mess ups and he would be in trouble.

“Master this one!” Pluma is hovering in the closet, a light pastel blue robe in his talons. It at least looks more breathable than the thick robe he wore yesterday.

[🙁]

'What?' he asks, alert and surprised by the sudden emoji.

[System likes the green one more. 🥺]

He sighs. Today was going to be a long day. 'Well, System isn’t the one wearing it!' He thinks with venom, helping Pluma get it down.

"Here Master!" Pluma says flopping on the ground, "I've been practicing!"

And right before his eyes Pluma shits into a person, a child-sized person with six pairs of white wings, and a lion's tail. A mop of golden curls on his head and big blue glittering eyes.

[Host! This is Pluma!] the System unhelpfully informs him as if he couldn't already guess that, [High-level seraphims can temporarily take on a Vessel Form, this one is Pluma’s.]

"W-Well," he stutters slightly, trying to find out what to say, "Thank you."

Pluma beams, and though it's awkward, he does help William get the outfit on. Despite it looking gauzy, it's actually fairly heavy and is extremely complex to get on, due to all the ties and ribbons. William wishes he said no, but after 30 minutes they manage to get the robes completely on him.

Once everything is in place, he leaves the bathroom, quickly scanning the hallway for red eyes. Finding none he follows Pluma (once again a Griffin and not a child) downstairs towards the smell of slightly burned toast.

Instead, he finds the demon downstairs, in the room that must be the kitchen. It's strangely less perfect compared to the rest of the house and matches the humble cottage stone exterior. With plants twining up dark wooden cabinets, cookbooks stacked unevenly on a spare chair, and an assorted mix of pots and pans in various states of being washed. There are already plates of warm food sitting on the modest wooden table. Pluma dives for the food as William focuses on the chef.

Cadeyrn is leaning against the counter, towel slung over his shoulder, a bright red hawk preached in the open window next to him, and an open letter in his hands. There's a deep frown on his face and a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Before he can ask what it is, Cadeyrn tells him, “Your father has requested you pay him a visit.” The demon looks up, scanning his face for something, eyes dark and unreadable, “He claims he is dying and would like to see his eldest son one last time.”

He can feel his heart drop. He knew Asterius’s father was dying, but- He’s supposed to play the grieving son now? How? William never even had a dad growing up!? ‘How am I-‘

The window blinks to life in front of his face, [Host, do not worry about the letter.]

‘Not worry!?’ he thinks in alarm, ‘you said I had 20 days!?’

[Host does.]

‘But I'll have to meet his family, and they will notice-,'

The System's window appears in his face with force, [Host does not need to worry!] it reads in bold, [Asterius only attends the funeral after, and he is only there to give his prophecy. He does not stay for the ceremony.]

Everything slows to a stop as reads and re-reads the textbox, not fully understanding.

[Host has no mission till after the Royal Sun’s death.] The System reads, [Because Asterius refuses the summons. The God Emperor dies never seeing his eldest son before his end.]

He must look completely lost because it's Cadeyrn who takes pity on him, "Worry not master," and he crumbles up the letter, shooing the crimson-red hawk away. He didn’t know birds could look offended, but this one manages it. The red hawk caws loudly, attempting to peak Cadeyrn, but gets a glass window to the face for its trouble. Seemingly embarrassed, it stops causing a fuss and takes off into the sunrise.

“Yeah, don’t worry master!” Pluma agrees, nudging his hand. William pets him on autopilot. “Would Master like to paint now? Or maybe take a walk in the garden?”

He nods, still a bit disjointed. It shouldn’t unsettle him this much, but it feels weird knowing that a member of the original’s family is dying and he’s not going. ‘If it were my family-,’

[It is not Host’s family.] The System reminds. [Host needs to learn how to be Asterius better, Host does not need a perfect understanding, but Host should make an effort to try and understand. Else Host will fail before the first mission at this rate.]

‘You’re right,’ he agrees, taking a breath and reminding himself what he’s doing this for. His own family, his own life, a chance to pine over someone who wasn’t actively probably planning to kill him.

He coughs, trying and failing at a neutral tone as he gestures towards the table, “Breakfast?”

Neither the demon nor the angel, make a mention of his odd behavior and both take their seats as if they were a normal family. The absurdity almost makes him laugh, 'What a strange life,' he thinks, glancing around the homey kitchen once more, so out of place and yet weirdly fitting, 'Though I guess it’s time to start getting used to this life. It is mine now.'

And he takes a bite of his homemade toast, pleasantly surprised by the taste.

He might be stuck in a romance novel as its lead villain, but at least he has good food.