You turn your head away from his profile and towards your feasting companions. The evening is very pleasant, but the unexpected situation and the company is slowly cloaking you in stress. It's the very first time that Raphael has such response to... well, anything that has happened between the two of you. At first, right after Cania, it was his anger that woke him up and pushed him from the bed. Then, the desire of vengeance, to break you to his will.

You sniff as a nervous tick shoots through your face. You try to glance at him from the corner of your eye. He is staring into the distance, somewhere above the glistening river, with the fingers of his right hand wandering across the bark of the log. When his knuckles whiten, you turn to his side profile. You would appreciate such view, if it wasn't for the rather unfortunate circumstances.

You turn back away from him, suddenly feeling confused and uneasy. What about the dream? What about Jaheira's research? This devil is a master manipulator, he can be faking his pain, can't he? If he is putting on a performance now, what about everything else that happened?

You rub your knuckles, feeling as if his presence was slowly crushing your side, even though the man remains sitting on his previous spot.

After several moments of hesitation, you decide to look at him and to your surprise – meet his eyes. They are unreadable, same as his face. Nothing in his behaviour could tell you the answers you seek. You are desperate to know the truth. If it was really him with the Accelerated Grand Design, then everything was just a part of his game. Are you ready to hear the answer?

'Can I ask you something, or would you rather sit in silence?' Your voice is quiet, with a gentle note. You tilt your body to face him.

'Ask,' he responds simply.

This is certainly a surprise. You were prepared for his usual 'I don't surrender knowledge for free', but it seems that now is not the time. Maybe his discomfort is real, after all.

'Do you think that dreams have meanings?'

His eyebrows angle, focused. He is trying to read you, trying to sense your intentions, while suppressing a hint of concern or anger. You wonder for a moment if you used incorrect phrasing, but then he responds:

'What inspired your question? Discoveries you've made, while rummaging through my things?'

A blush forms on your face and you look down.
'Yes, I'm sorry. I had issues keeping myself occupied and the Archive looked very intriguing.'

'Ah, the books, then,' he thinks to himself, but doesn't show any of the relief on his face.

'I only looked at a few,' you admit and risk a glance at him. 'I knew the portal to House of Hope is made of blood, besides it's located in Moonrise Towers, near the now dead colony... I was worried it would trigger the curse. There was so much gore at the time, it's hard to say what would have happened,' you explain to him. 'I couldn't leave before Withers transported me.'

You turn your head away to stare at the grass, lazily swaying in the wind. Before the silence gets a chance to become more uncomfortable, he decides to answer.

'They do. On rarer occasions, when it comes to mortal dreams, no doubt, but they do nevertheless.'

You roll your eyes at his comment.

'Why?' He inquires.

His gaze attempts to burn a hole right through your side profile, all the way inside your skull, trying to melt away the tissue of your brain to see what might be hidden there. There is no point in lying, besides, as Jaheira suggested, it would be best if the two of you finally started getting along. Dodging an answer seems inefficient in achieving such goal.
'I had a kind of vision. I think I was in Mephistar, but I can't say for sure.' You glance at him and watch his form return back to his regular intensity with straightened back, chin held high and a neutral focus laced with curiosity on his face. There are no more signs of his previous discomfort. 'And I was showed something, that's... unsettling, to say the least.' His expression doesn't change, encouraging you to continue.

Your gaze travels back to the camp, towards your companions sharing laughs, feasting on delicious and hearty meals. The group managed to overcome so many obstacles constantly being thrown under their feet. Some of those obstacles cost lives.

You spot Wyll, embracing his devil form; notice Karlach, trying not to think about the time slipping through her fingers, time until she has to step back through the portal to Avernus. You look at Jaheira, who lost so many fellow Harpers in yet another conflict; Shadowheart, now liberated from her abusive goddess, but without her family. All of them gained and lost something else, but neither of those things happened out of anyone's sheer will. It was fate, throwing you into the jaw of a carnivore beast, pushing you off a cliff so that maybe, just maybe you will find a way to crawl your way back up.

So much blood, gore, so many shed tears; sorrows blossoming like snowdrops whatever way the Absolute made. All of it because of the gods meddling with mortals! All of it because of... The Crown.

'Mouse?' Raphael's voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

The curse must be affecting your exhaustion again. It's second or third time someone had to bring you down to the Earth.

You turn your head towards not just the man, but the devil sitting beside you. You search his eyes for affirmation.
'Will you answer me truthfully? No matter how painful it may be? I'm willing to discuss the value of my question and consider my options to pay for your answer.'

He gives you a short nod.
'Let's reveal the subject of the transaction, then.'

'Did you put notes about accelerated grand design inside the vault in Mephistar?'

Raphael tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows, his dark eyes evaluate your face and a moment later they appear to be distant.
'No. But I would prefer to hear all about this dream of yours.'

Your body twists towards him and you put your right knee on the log, leaning your body weight onto it. 'I was inside some kind of a building, which reminded me of a fortress. I had no body, no limbs, no form. I was only made to watch. Something carried me around a glacier, making me follow the path of the nearest wall and eventually I found myself inside a vault. I saw the crown,' you gesticulate to paint the image of space inside the room. 'And there was an empty desk. Then you appeared, it felt as if you were inside of me,' you explain and watch him curve his eyebrow tauntingly. 'Hey, not like that! I mean that I was here,' you point your hands to your feet and then to your chest. 'And you left me, like, split out of me.'

'So what happened after the splitting?' His smugness rubs the blush onto your face. You desperately try to ignore his gaze for a moment, but it seems that your coyness makes him all the more complacent. You settle your eyes on a distant tree somewhere next to his head.

'You step into the vision and put the book on the desk. I follow you behind and see what the title is. But your form was just as misty and unstable as mine. I only saw the horns,' you put your hands above your head and try to sculpt the shape of them in the air. Raphael's gaze ignites further and he tilts his head. You straighten your back and point your finger at him. 'There was nothing dirty about it!'

He fakes offense.
'I'd never consider such a foul thing, little mouse. Perish the thought.'

You lean back to sit on your bottom and wrap your arms around your chest.
'That's all... So, was it you?'

'I have no such memory.'

In your mind, you pull apart his words and examine them like an archeologist uncovering an ancient vase threatening to shatter. After you establish that there is no room for a word play in his answer, you clarify:
'Could it be you under some kind of an influence?'

'By the time the Crown was held inside a vault in Mephistar, I was already busy planning ahead of the future itself.'

'Was it your father, then? But the horns do not match.'

'To forge such vision is to forge a lie. My dear father is no fabricator,' Raphael responds with confidence.

'Hm.' You turn away from him and stare at your feet covered in tall monastic boots with long pieces of fabric wrapping around your calves. The cambion next to you shifts uncomfortably and then an idea sprouts inside your head. 'Haarlep! What if it was Haarlep?'

He grimaces at the reminder of recent unwelcome sensations, but strokes his chin in thought.
'Not impossible.'

You sigh with relief and bring a hand to your heart.

'It wasn't Raphael...' You repeat in your mind. 'Good. I'm glad' you mumble under your nose.

He stares at you in disbelief, while you fix your pantleg, tugging it back underneath the wrappings.
'You are the greatest puzzle I have yet to solve,' he states in a low voice, making you stop.

'What do you mean?'

'Merely moments ago, your heart was pounding with fear, at the very possibility that the devil next to you might have schemed everything that you and your lovely friends were made to endure,' Raphael explains with a touch of annoyance. You shoot him a questioning glance, which says – how could you tell? - but he taps his chest with his long, index finger. 'As the scar's influence grows, the connection seals.'

'Why am I not able to feel your emotions, then?'

'Because I make sure they are squirreled away and out of your reach.'

'Unfair,' you notice. 'Tell me what number I'm thinking of,' you add and cover your ears as if his mind could probe you through them.

'Six hundred and sixty six,' he answers blankly. It was a guess, but it's more amusing to not let you realize.

'Noo,' you whine quietly and sit cross-legged at the log, while holding your head. 'That's even worse than I thought. And you said that the influence grows? Am I to understand it hasn't reached its final stage?'

'I think you are getting ahead of yourself,' he grins maliciously. 'You've racked up quite a debt by now.'

You look at him unimpressed.
'Right, because one simply cannot enjoy a conversation with you.'

'My time is far too precious for it to be enjoyed for free, little mouse.'

'Of course,' you murmur, but after a short moment, you realize this is not the usual model of his transactions. If he really, truly, was seeking benefit out of this situation, he would have demanded a deed beforehand. Not after he already clarified some of your doubts and concerns.

He turns his head away, eyes closed, while stroking his chin. He takes a theatrical inhale, preparing for his next performance.
'Fortunately for you, I am feeling extremely generous this evening. Even to those I don't deem my allies.' Raphael turns his attention back to you. 'Because of that, I have a humble proposal. For every question you have asked, I will name one of my own. How many questions were there, little mouse?'

'I didn't count,' you admit, frowning.

'Eight,' he smiles.

You lean onto your right thigh and point your finger at him.
'During the conversation you asked me about something, as well. Be fair in your dealings, devil.'

He smirks wickedly, amusement glinting in his dark eyes.
'Very good,' he purrs, and somehow it feels as if his voice was rumbling your own chest. Suddenly, you are aware of how little remains of the initial distance between the two of you. You move your body back to sit on your feet. 'Seven questions it is, then,' he adds, watching you escape his proximity.

You put your hand on your chest and look at him imploringly.
'Oh please, don't keep me waiting. I'm anticipating with bated breath.' A part of you mocks his theatrics to get an illusion of having an upper hand in this conversation. The other part tries to fuel the amused flames you see dancing in his eyes.

He tilts his head. 'Why did you just hand over the painkiller to me? You could've seized the opportunity, exploit your opponent. Maybe even force me into a deal.'

'Why would I do such a thing?'

'Do not respond with questions. It's not a valuable answer. Try again. Why did you not play your cards?'

'I just didn't want to,' you say simply, feeling a bit confused. Raphael looks at you, clearly unsatisfied. 'I mean, what do you want me to say? I just didn't want you to feel the way you felt.'

'I want you to be open as a book,' his voice is carrying a threatening edge.

'You literally said you can detect my thoughts, you can tell I am not deceiving you!'

He leans forward and grabs you by the collar. He stands up, imposing terror upon you. His eyes glare at you with such menacing void that liken the deepest depths of Hells.
'What are you planning to achieve? Why did you stand in my defense? Surely you had numerous advantage, having your allies on your side. You know the other way of breaking the curse. Why do you refuse to play your cards?'

You stare at him with wide eyes, your arms trembling, heart pounding at the ribcage.
'I don't plan anything, but lifting the curse from us both,' you answer with a weak voice. 'Most of my allies here don't have any equipment. We are at a party, not battlefield. We wouldn't stand a chance. Besides, I just don't want you dead. Is it so hard to understand?'

'Yes. Yes it is! Who are you siding with, what benefits were you promised?' He jerks you once and you are finally able to see through his mask.

Raphael is terrified. Mephistopheles knows about your fondness of his son, and thus he knew you will inform the cambion about your dream. This was not a message for you, this was a message to him: 'I see you, worthless half-thing. I see your futile attempts at besting me.'

Risking everything, possibly your life and soul, you place your palms on his. Your cool skin collides with his hellfire infused one. You look up at him, devoid of any hatred or malice, praying he will see through his fury.
'Raphael, I haven't sided with anyone. What are you thinking about? That I would stand by your father's side? If I wasn't completely powerless, I'd prefer to help you destroy him.'

His eyebrows rise a tiny bit, pulling his eyelids to reveal a soft, almost puppy-like expression. In a blink of an eye, the spite returns, poisoning his handsome features.

'Do you want me to be open?' You ask him rhetorically. 'I am fond of you, Raphael. As much as I dislike it and as hard as it makes me confused. I really do. I was ready to give you the Crown, despite what I discovered in your house,' tears gather at the edge of your waterline and your voice weakens. 'I am vulnerable to your charm. And it annoys me that you made your way inside my brain so easily, but out of the two worms that infested my mind throughout my life, yours was the most welcome one. I admire your determination and intelligence and if I was Asmodeus, I would put you as the ruler of one of the layers. Shall I keep going?' An invisible grip tightens your throat, and a burning sensation tries to melt the back of your tongue.

He stays silent, but each passing second wipes out the anger from his face.

'I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I just can't. I sympathise with you, just as much as I sympathise with the people you've hurt. It's just how I naturally am, in the same way as you naturally lean towards evil. But you are a child of a mortal. Maybe a part of you knew love, maybe not all is corrupted.'

'Please!' He huffs with disdain.

'It's true,' you counter weakly. 'I know how it is to not be taken seriously. I know how it is to want to prove yourself. But I am a small grain of sand in the desert of ambition compared to the dune that you represent. I've read about your kind, the cambions that no societies accept. I cannot fathom how difficult it is to grow up like this.'

He clenches his jaw and chuckles coldly.
'You are insane.'

'By some standards, I am. But I know exactly how far it goes. Far enough to want to show some kindness to everyone, even a devil and a man alike,' you finish in a whisper.

A tear escapes your eye and you bring your palm to your cheek, but before it reaches its destination, you feel the much hotter, soft, yet firm texture gliding beneath your eye. Raphael strokes his thumb across your skin, drying the wet trails from your face.

He lowers you so that you can sit back on the log and steps away. You wait for his next move or for him to break the silence, but long moments pass by the time either of those happen.

'What's your next move?' He inquires in a quiet tone.

'I wanted to bury the ones I've slaughtered to avoid gnolls or disease spreading from the corpses. But because of the curse,' you look down at the grass. 'I will most likely seek solitude.'

He nods once, eyes fixed on the river. He moves graciously to the shore and says:
'I'll see you soon.'

With that, he teleports away, leaving nothing else but the floating embers behind.