The youngest in appearance reached out to place her hand on Eddie's arm. "Messenger training is part of the test. If he can survive that, then both of you will work together thereafter as partners. In the event of Dylan's death there is a possibility that he too, will be called to become a Messenger."

Dylan opened his mouth, then slammed it shut with a frown. Him? A Messenger? The young man shook his head. To be faced with the life of a Messenger ... He had no idea if he ever could do that. It didn't even matter if he was dead or not. They were planning on making him one anyway. Dylan started trembling. Why?

Ah, of course. New Messenger training. The camp new Messengers trained at for two months to learn their strengths. Two months, though it seemed short, was enough to understand one's best abilities and weapons, or to learn whether or not one was more fit to send spirits to their afterlife. Then there was the idea that Dylan would become a Messenger, and immediately Eddie regretted even pulling him into this. "Um, I-I d-don't think I could---"

"The decision has been made." The eldest said, and gestured to Dylan. "If you are to expire before your time and in a glorious way, you will be among our ranks. Now, we have much to speak of. Eddie, you will be here in two weeks to train for the final teaching position, will you not?"

"I... will, yes, of course..." Eddie spoke out of necessity now, barely understanding what was being said to him.

"But ..." Dylan shook his head. They had clearly been dismissed, or would be soon. The young man shifted back on his feet, lifted himself up onto his toes.The council turned to each other. They turned their backs on them. Dylan tilted his head to glance at Eddie.

The journalist turned away. He started to walk away, but his pace was slow. HE needed Eddie to help him find his way. There was so much about this new world, within the one he'd always known. So much to learn. So much danger.

Eddie sighed and followed Dylan. He was silent until they passed through the doors, closing them against the oppressive power of the Council and on the front porch, in the presence of the surreal front courtyard. "God... I thought that'd go much more smoothly." Eddie growled, leaning against the pillar nearest him. "I wasn't aware they'd christen you a Messenger before your death. Without even understanding what your death may be. The spiritual rules are that only those that die spectacularly are to be Messengers. I desperately pray they aren't hoping for that..."

He looked toward Dylan. "Are you okay?" He asked suddenly.

Dylan slumped onto the porch the moment they were free of the Council's presence. He shook, trembled. "I'm not alright!" Dylan yelled out the words. "I don't want to be a Messenger, that isn't why I came here." HE shoved himself to his feet. "You were supposed to protect me. Not bring me here and drop me right into what I was trying to avoid."

Eddie's defenses flared. "What do you want me to do?" He snapped, gesturing hard at the house. "Their word is law! I'd never go against them even if I weren't trying to become one of them! Besides, Dylan, you become a Messenger if you die spectacularly, awfully, disgustingly, painfully, and not under any other circumstance. When your death is agonizing, your spirit is trapped in your body, free for the Messenger to remove it. When you die easily, peacefully, quickly, you move on faster. You don't become a Messenger. Do you think I want you to be what I am? Do you think I planned this?" Eddie growled, stomping down the stairs and flopping down on the last one to stretch out his long legs.

Dylan scuttled down the steps and settled down beside Eddie. "Make sure I don't die a horrible death?" HE glanced pleadingly at the other man. He didn't want to die, period. But if the least he could hope for was a peaceful death then he would take it. It would be worth it, if it meant not being like Eddie. Then again ... He glanced at the other man. Was it so horrible, being able to help others? Ah but there was all the suffering entailed in being a Messenger.

Eddie studied Dylan for a moment. Then he sighed and put an arm around him, squeezing lightly. "Aw, you... you idiot, I won't let you die... That'd be the precise opposite of my promise, wouldn't it?" He smiled, and dropped his arm, folding them in front of him. The idea that he'd let Dylan die was laughable. Stupid. And that pleading look he was given just ripped at his heart.

The young man leaned into the brief touch. It felt so nice. Then the warmth dropped away with Eddie's arm, that brief comfort disappearing. He wanted it back, with a longing that surprised Dylan. He contented himself with a faded smile. "Even you aren't invincible. And at this camp ... There's no planning for every eventuality. " Dylan laughed wryly. "I guess I can comfort myself with the fact that I'll come back and be thrown right back into it, the camp." What was so different about him that they even changed their own rules? "Why me?"

Eddie laughed. "Not invincible, no, but I'm damn hard to kill. That's the magic of a Messenger. We're notoriously stubborn in the permanent death department. Besides, our camp is just as well protected as our homes. With as many Messengers as there are in one area it's a place that demons will want to approach. So we put up a barrier much like what keeps this place safe." He bumped Dylan's shoulder, feeling oddly connected with the human. It had been a long time since he'd felt a friendship with a human. He just hoped he didn't screw it up.

He looked around. "I'm not sure what they see in you. Other than your ability to see demons, devils, and spirits, you're a human. They must know there's something inside you that hasn't been found out yet." He shrugged, hoping it was true.

Dylan smiled a bit. It was odd how just a small touch, could help make his heart stop pounding and calm his mind. The normalcy of it really did it, and the friendliness of the movement. Dylan leaned over to press his shoulder companionably against the other man's. "Well whatever does happen ... I'm glad you're gonna be around to keep me out of trouble. I tend to wander around sticking my nose into places it shouldn't be. So I kind of need a keeper." The journalist laughed, and glanced at the car, and the landscape. The yard had green grass, and was peppered all around with colorful flower beds. Still, it was creepy.

Eddie nodded slowly. "Yeah, a keeper to keep you from getting that nose knocked off." He smiled, looking up at the trees and shivering. The place always made him feel... out of sorts. "I'll be able to get you some weapons soon." Eddie said. "They'll be made of the sturdiest, lightest human metals we can find and edged with our metal. Long range weapons are possible... but but they'll have to be coated and you'll have to have specialized bullets... Unless you'd rather go the more communicative way? Messengers come in two forms---fighters and talkers. While talkers are still targeted by demons and devils, they're not in constant dangers like fighters." He shifted. He wanted to get out of here, but didn't feel quite like standing. The front courtyard was surreal, almost completely unreal, but eerily soothing.

Dylan hadn't thought about which branch of work he wanted to specialize in. The young man let out a long breath. The grass kept shifting oddly. There was no breeze to push it near flat, as it sometimes was. "You'll have to teach me how to use them. I've never held more then a steak knife. And I've never shot anything, except one archery lesson years ago in high school." He remembered it in clear detail. The target had loomed large in his eyes, even though it was so far away. The arrow and tuded into the edge of a target, but not its intended one. No, there wouldn't be any long range weapons for him. Dylan couldn't hit the side of a barn, even if he tried.

Eddie smiled. "Yeah, I'll help." He said, looking away from the shifting plants and grasses. In the momentary silence that followed he could hear the pond, the trickle of water from the fountain nearby. "I can help you learn how to use large weapons, but you won't have any that can change like mine. Only weapons made from solid specter metal can alter depending on the necessity and the use. But if you want to learn how to use long range weapons I can help you there too. Help you during training in the camp, if nothing else. I'd feel a bit better if you tried it, anyway..." Long range meant Dylan wouldn't be up close and personal with the demons and devils that would be bent on killing him. It helped that he was human, however, and that stronger demons only wanted to kill quickly, rather than terribly. And he wouldn't go to the same place most Messengers did when they were killed. That did help set his mind at ease.

The young man shifted. He leaned up, stood and settled on his feet. "I'll end up shooting you, or hurting you." He didn't see himself as much of a fighter. Sure, he thirsted for adventure but he didn't want to charge straight into a battle with demons, his eyes wide open about it all. Maybe he would be better as a talked. As a peaceful way for spirits to pass on. "I think ... I think I would be better off talking to the spirits. I mean, I'm not quite a Messenger, and the less I need to deal with demons, the better."

Eddie snorted and stood up after Dylan, stretching upward and hearing his bones pop and crack. "You still have to learn how to use some weapons as self defense. You can talk all you like but when you're confronted by a demon that wants you dead, you can't just run away from it---they're faster, stronger, and can phase through human dwellings to get to you when they want to. I can draw up some weapon concepts for you when we get back home, though. With the right metal weights you'll be able to handle them very easily." He took the last step down and dug in his pocket for his keys. "C'mon, this place kind of unnerves me after a while." He shuddered at the front courtyard. From a distance it looked perfectly normal, but breaching the front gates made it seem... so dream-like.

Dylan groaned, and mumbled under his breath. He really hated thinking of being hunted down by deons and torn apart, just because he had seen Eddie and stumbled onto this whole other world, the world that had been hidden from sight for so long. What had changed? "Why was I suddenly able to see you, to see the demons and spirits? It never happened to me before," said the young man while he walked towards the car.

In the vehicle, Eddie shrugged and looked at Dylan. "I haven't the slightest idea." He said seriously, starting the vehicle and pulling along the driveway. "Perhaps you've reached a milestone in your human life, and the veil was opened to you. Perhaps you could always see them but you never paid attention, or were never in the right place. Normally Messengers stay near alleys or on rooftops even after they've crossed the Veil, but I never found any necessity." He shrugged and slipped out of the surreal courtyard, sighing at the way everything became normal and easy on the eyes.

Dylan leaned back against the car seat. He tilted his head so he could use the top of the seat as an improvised pillow. He closed his eyes. "I keep wondering why all of this happened to me. And I keep asking myself if this is all some kind of demented nightmare, some crazy dream, that my mind came up with because I've always wondered what it would be like to have an adventure." The young man didn't notice when the car veered toward Eddie's eerily elegant home. If Dylan had been given the chance, he would have run back to his normal life as fast as his legs could take him.

But that hadn't been an option since the moment he'd seen Eddie and run after the man.

Damn his curiosity.

Eddie didn't respond for a time. Dylan looked tired. Worn down. He didn't blame the human---it was physically and mentally draining to be in the presence of the Council, and that was just a faction. He turned a corner. "Listen, many people would love adventure in their life. Some seek it out, and others have it thrown at them. This most certainly isn't a nightmare, or a dream, because if it were I wouldn't feel bad when I tell you that your life has permanently and irreversibly changed. In reality I feel awful, like I dragged you into this whole situation because I didn't consider clairvoyant humans, those that can see spirits that can also see demons and Messengers that have crossed the Veil."

He went quiet then, staring at the road in front of him. On either side homes rose like pillars, some with towers that stretched higher than the tallest floor of the house itself. His had a tower that was accessible by a ladder, which he used, most of the time, to stargaze during sleepless nights.

"Actually, Clairvoyant isn't the word. It's called the Sight. Clairvoyant is seeing the future, the Sight is being able to see the things that others can't, the things that flash at the corner of your eye." The copper haired man shook his head a bit and laughed. "I did some research. Old habits really do die hard." Even if his journalist days were behind him, Dylan couldn't help the thirst for knowledge from pushing him forward, into even more desperate and dangerous situations. That was exactly what was happening at the moment. He just needed to know all he could.

"I had the choice. You gave me the option of going back home to my apartment. So don't go blaming yourself. I chose this, Eddie." It was almost like going through different periods of time, whizzing past the houses in the Messenger neighborhood. It was a steady progression, and an enlightening one. The houses were clues to the times and places those who lived inside had come from.

Eddie rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Whateeeeever, Dylan. I'm over two hundred years old, I can't keep all the terms right in my head. What you have, few others have, I know that. Why you can see us now is a mystery to me and it'll probably remain a mystery for the rest of your days, because spirits are strange and unpredictable and screw around with the whole world because they're not supposed to be here. The same goes for demons."

As they pulled into his driveway, Eddie looked at Dylan. "You had a chance to go back home, but it wouldn't have mattered. I would have followed you to make sure you were safe. Damned if I'm going to allow a human to die because they decided they were curious about a man with a big stick running through the streets. No matter how dangerous said man could have been, seeing as they may have been a maniac or could have suffered a mental break." He shut the engine off and stepped out.

Dylan slammed the car door when he got out, more out of frustration at his situation then anything else. He glanced at Eddie. "Sometimes I really wonder who keeps you safe, when you're out there running after demons." He swallowed hard as he turned away. "Anyway, I need to get inside and make some calls." He didn't know how long he could stand there, talking to Eddie after facing the Council. Facing what he might be forced into becoming, facing the other man when he knew exactly what kind of death had crafted him into the weapon he was. Dylan let out a long breath and slumped against the car. His legs were jelly. Just getting to the porch felt impossible, let alone going into the house and finding a phone to make his calls.

Eddie was silent, staring for a moment. He opened his mouth but nothing came out beyond a frail noise, which he quickly swallowed and shook away. Instead he went to the front door, going to unlock the door. Who kept him safe? No one of course. Rarely did one of his friends join him, but that was because he had one especially close friend, and he was completely insane. He didn't bother responding, however, as he stepped inside and went to the kitchen to add to the list he'd started before they left that morning. Dylan did need his own key to the house, so he added that. Folding the paper, he slid it into the sleeve on the front door, then leaned against the door when he closed it.

What had he had to do? It wasn't a mealtime and no doubt Dylan would be a bit too tired to eat after encountering the Council. They did a good job of making one feel drained. Eddie shook himself, going through the living room and into the basement, retrieving a sketchbook and pencil and settling in one of the large armchairs near the fireplace.

Dylan waited a few moments outside. A gentle breeze swept through the yard. It was amazing, really, to think of how fast his life had changed. Just a few days had taken Dylan far from everything he had ever known, and thrown him straight into a maelstrom that he didn't even know if he wanted to escape.

Shaking his head, he finally made his way inside. The living room was the first place he looked for a phone. The antique furniture was more welcoming then Dylan expected it to be. Usually old things, old homes, seemed a bit stuffy and intimidating to him. Not here. This place was warm and full of charm, and sad.

He found the phone on a small side table, and settled into a nearby armchair to start dialing some numbers.