"Makes sense." Dylan sat upon the ground. Smoothly, the young man placed his glass upon the ground and shifted his head to peer at the other man. Strange ... The stranger didn't seem so angry anymore. Other spirits, well Dylan doubted that had ever happened. Or maybe it had, but his skepticism had kept him from seeing the truth.

Reaching out, he poked the other man. "So, what are you exactly? A ghost? Spirit? " He hesitated a moment before continuing on," My name's Dylan." There, he had gone and put himself out on a limb. Wait... A thought struck the young man all of a sudden. He wondered why the council the other man had spoken of wanted him to be spoken with. Surely there was a reason, something more then simply talking over what had happened.

Eddie glanced around and breathed out slowly. "When... someone is destined to die an especially violent death, they begin to be tracked by a spirit like me. I'm called a Messenger, a voice of death. When someone is to die a difficult death, I come to them in their last moments and ease their mind, and when they transition the veil, I'm there to lead them on to whatever's next. Sometimes one senses a strong power in someone about to be killed violently, the qualities of a Messenger. I'm not exactly a spirit, but I'm definitely dead. I was killed in Birmingham, in the year 1865, by a man trying to imitate Jack the Ripper. Apparently he didn't do well because he used a butcher's knife to completely gut me. When I was brought out of my body, I had to be sewn up and a simple rigging was made for me so I could function like a human. The Council, which is made up of five ancient Messengers of enormous power who oversee the rest of the Messengers, fixed me up after that."

Eddie looked down. "And because you could see me after I crossed the veil, because you could see the demon I killed, the Council would like to have a word with you. They wanted me to find you again, because as a human that can see spirits and demons, and even Messengers, they believe you'll be a strong asset. Of course I can't make you come with me, but they'll know if I don't at least try." A thought clicked, and he shook his head. "I'm Edward Browe, by the way, Dylan." He added quickly.

The description of what had happened to the other man had Dylan gagging slightly. He shook his head to try and rid himself of the sour taste in his mouth. It was hard to believe that anyone would ever do such a thing to someone, let alone want to imitate the first serial killer who had done so. "So that explains the scar, I was wondering about that." When Edward said difficult death, he really seemed to mean it. Dylan kind of felt bad for having been such a jerk when they'd first met.

"They want to talk with me?" Dylan couldn't believe it. The only reason he could think of for them talking with him, well it was a bad one. "I can't think of how I can help. Fighting isn't my thing, I'm a journalist, not a martial artist. And .. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but the circumstances are just a bit strange for that to be true." That was an understatement. Dylan wanted nothing more then to turn back time, so that he'd never seen Edward jumping over that hedge. Things had gotten complicated since then.

Eddie almost lost himself in thought when he mentioned his own death. Amongst many things, it stuck out like a beacon. He'd only taken a back-alley shortcut home, and was ambushed by the crazy cloaked man that had hidden his face with a black scarf. That had been odd enough considering it'd been the height of summer. But when that knife plunged into his stomach, Eddie hadn't had time to wonder about the man's odd clothing choice---he'd been trying to fight back the immediate shock as the blade swept down through his stomach and internal organs, spilling them even as he tried to put his hands against the slice. And when he fell, he'd tried to crawl on to a main street, half on his back and with one hand outstretched. But the shock had been far too much to ignore, and that had killed him before the blood loss.

He shook his head. "Dylan, you know, every Messenger is different. Some use trapping tactics to catch a demon, and others take a direct approach. Some work together, using the strengths of their partner to compensate for their weakness. Some Messengers are even children. But not all of them capture and kill demons. Other Messengers meet spirits that are lost and unable to find the way to their next life, and they help the spirits get there. But the Council obviously has faith in you for whatever reason. If I go back empty-handed, they'll be disappointed, but they'll leave you alone." At that, Eddie stood. "I know our initial first meeting... left a lot to be desired. I apologize. I get very intense when tracking a demon, and it'd been a bad morning for me in general." He laughed hesitantly, and stepped to the closed door. "You get one chance. When I leave I'll never come back, so let me know now if you're even somewhat interested or curious." He put his hand on the doorknob, burning it slightly.

Dylan didn't hesitate. Curiosity pushed him to it, or so he liked to think. In truth it was the adventure hanging just before his eyes that made him leap up and press his hand over the Messenger's. "Alright, I'll go... On one condition. If they expect me to get involved in all this demon stuff, I want to work with someone I can trust, or at least I can learn to trust. So that's you." They had just met, yes, but he knew already that Edward could present the facts in such a way that made even Dylan believe the incredible. That was an ability the journalist was certain would be useful in whatever crazy situations he was signing up for.

Eddie laughed quietly, but nodded as he opened the door and they stepped out. ""Usually only Messengers are ever partnered together, but considering they're the ones that wanted me to convince you to meet them, I have a feeling they'll make an exception." He grimaced as he remembered his last partner. "You're better than the cocky little idiot I had to work with for a month a few years ago, at least. He didn't last long at all."

Stepping onto the road, Eddie looked up. When he had a choice, he preferred to walk in the foggy, cloudy shadows of the other world---this cloudless evening seemed so revealing. "It's a bit of a walk, but I'm parked near where I first met you. It's a ways away, our destination, so you'll be able to ask about whatever you like before you actually meet them." He knew he was opening the door for any odd or uncouth question to be shot his way, but there was little he wouldn't talk about.

"What happened to him?", asked Dylan as he followed the other man out of the apartment. He was actually just a little eager to be off, and so walked faster then usual. It wasn't too long before they were both settled inside Edward's car. He fidgeted a little; Dylan's thoughts were racing as he searched for just the right questions to ask. It was important to find the right ones. Ask something wrong, and the whole conversation would go down the drain.

Taking a deep breath, he finally did speak up. "So what kind of brace did they use?" Alright, so asking about how Edward had coped after his death probably wasn't the smartest idea .... But Dylan couldn't help it! The explanation the other man had given had been just so odd.

When Dylan referred to the Messenger that had at one time worked with him, Eddie simply shook his head. It was something Dylan didn't have to worry about unless he became a Messenger himself, which was something Eddie hoped wouldn't happen. They made it to his car quicker than he'd expected, and pulled away from the little cafe and its outdoor patio.

"They actually used padding and a rigging from a source I don't know about." He replied calmly. "I woke up after they'd integrated it and before they cut my ribs and compacted them slightly. That was necessary to keep the thing that takes the place of my heart secured, or it'd rattle loose and have to be replaced." He put an elbow on the window he'd opened, mentally preparing for the Council's possible questions. "I can't be sure what they used specifically, but I was let on that it was a combined metal and flesh-like substance that won't cause irritation or unnatural issues." Eddie glanced down to himself. There were times he was asked if he was ill by others because of his narrow chest and even thinner waist.

"So basically you're the first person in the world to have an artificial heart..." The thing about his ribs did explain why Edward was so thin, then again Dylan had rather thought that was because the other man was dead. "Does it hurt? Your scar, I mean." It looked painful, like every movement might stretch the skin unpleasantly. He glanced out the window for a few seconds, and debated on opening it or not. The journalist decided against it with a shake of his head.

Instead he turned his mind to what this mysterious council might have to say. They were certainly going to have questions, and would probably have conditions to talk about. Dylan wouldn't have been surprised if they mentioned trying to make him forget everything that had happened so far.

Eddie shook his head. "Artificial heart is kind of pushing it. It's there to regulate whatever I take in and move it along the rigging, and keeps the rest of the system in place. But if you try it with a human I'm pretty sure they'd die." He paused, and considered the scar. He'd had it for ages... "It... stings. Constantly. A type of sting you'd feel after you just burn your hand in a grease fire. I just learned to tune it out after a while."

They were passing through a small area outside the city. The shops were lit up inside to battle the falling evening's darkness, but the scene didn't last long---he turned onto a small street that gradually began falling into shade under heavy trees. "Nearly there." Eddie commented. Ten more minutes separated them from the Messenger community.

He glanced at Edward, perplexed. "Does that mean you can't taste anything? You should still be able to ... Since the taste buds are on the tongue and the nerves connect from there to the brain." Dylan supposed he could be wrong, he wasn't a doctor by any means. "Well, I'm sorry to hear you had to get used to that." No one deserved that kind of pain, especially not when it was a reminder of such a horrific event in their lives.

Gradually Dylan began to notice the change of scenery. Everything seemed darker somehow, and just a little less welcoming. Then again, he was used to the bright lights of the city always offering up some kind of warmth in the night, whether cold or not. "I really hope this isn't just some elaborate prank." It was still hard to wrap his mind around the situation, despite all the proof he'd been given.

He thought for a moment, considering what Dylan said. "True. I've never had a sense of taste, even when alive, but death allowed me to pick up certain scents within a mile of where I am. No one really understands why." The trees opened up and revealed a brick wall and open iron gates. "We're here." He said. "The fence and gates separating this community from the rest indicate we're passing through a protective cover that allows Messengers to exist safely and give shelter to anyone who might be inexplicably chased or hounded by demons."

They passed the same houses Eddie went by every day. They were all large and intricate, and easy on the eyes. Messengers all over the world existed in large homes that could often house four perfectly well, as their jobs were classified as the most dangerous anyone living or dead could have. Eddie turned onto another street, made a slight arc, and passed several more roads. "I'm pretty sure no one would go to such lengths to get a laugh." He said, turning onto the secluded road. "That'd be pretty sad." He nodded to the house they were coming up to. "That's where the Council exists."

After thinking about it for a few moments, Dylan shrugged. "Ever think it might be to compensate for that lack of taste?" It would make sense, even though usually it didn't work quite that way. The journalist switched his attention to his surroundings, rather then the man sitting beside him. It was an odd place. Full to the brim with every kind of large house imaginable, some looked like they came right out of a magazine. .

As Edward nodded to the Council's home, Dylan finally began to feel truly nervous. He fidgeted, his fingers tapping nervously upon his leg as he stared at the place. "Well whatever. I just wanted to think I could look forward to a normal life for a little while longer, thanks for shattering the illusion, " snapped the dark haired man all of a sudden. Quickly, he stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut with a shove. If he was honest with himself, Dylan would have admitted that he was scared out of his mind.

Eddie went around the car and raised a finger at Dylan. "Don't get snippy now." He warned with a light smile. "You brought this upon yourself when you wouldn't let things simply be. Now go." He pushed Dylan forward, up onto the porch. Without knocking this time, Eddie opened the front door. The darkness inside was cut by the pale white-yellow glow of many candles littering the floor. Without waiting for Dylan to speak, he shoved the human inside and shut the door behind them. The glow grew brighter then, and the eyes of the Council fell upon them.

Eddie stepped forward. "Your request has been met." Eddie said, and bowed low. "The human seer took convincing, but he stands ready to hear you."

The boy stood from his seat, not gaining more than an extra several inches of height. "Come forward, human seer." He said. He, among the others, wore basic white clothes that seemed to catch the glow of the candles and reflected it back. "Speak your name, and where you first saw Edward Browe."

He yelped as he was shoved into the house without anymore warning then the feel of hands on his back. He would have cursed, if he wasn't too frightened and shocked to. The room went from dark to light eerily, in a way reminiscent of his worst nightmares. Taking a deep breath, without bothering to bow, he moved forward just a little more to stand beside Edward.

"My name's Dylan, and I first saw him outside a café I usually go to when I want to relax. How he looked puzzled me so much that I followed, and saw him taking care of ... something." He faltered uncertainly. Dylan gulped a little, quite intimidated by the whole council, no matter what their physical appearance was. They all had an air of authority that was undeniable.

Eddie grimaced at Dylan's disrespect, but it didn't seem to faze the Council. They all stood and went around the curved table, standing tallest to smallest in front of them. The young man stepped forward. "While in this world are humans that can see through the veil and speak to spirits, communicate with the dead that have passed on, they squander or exploit their talents, and use it for monetary value, or they feel they've gone insane and ignore their abilities." He looked to Eddie, who lowered his head slightly. "You were witness to a Messenger who had crossed the veil and your persistence represents that of a Messenger in of itself."

The old man nodded and reached out, pulling the younger one back into line. "This is true. We have considered this a vastly important use. If you would be willing to accept a proposition from the Council to become a spiritual messenger, we would be willing to give you a residence here while you understand and assist the spirit world."

"So you want to kill me just so I can go off chasing after demons?" He knew there was more to being a Messenger then that, but his mind insisted on resting upon the most gruesome things he knew. Dylan did like the idea of having such a grand house as the ones he had seen, but it simply wasn't worth his life.

Dylan didn't care that he showed such disrespect, though he knew it might very well get him neck deep into trouble. These people had made sure to send someone over, drag him there, ... And all to end his life. He did think of the fact that there was a chance that he misunderstood something. He glanced at Edward with a half-apologetic shrug, before turning his attention back to the Council.

The old woman laughed when the rest did, but her voice was greater than the others. "Kill you, dear boy?" She said through chuckles. "Oh, when did any of us indicate that we would kill you?" She leaned down, as she was taller than both Dylan and Eddie on the slight pedestal. "No, young man, we dare not kill such an asset. And never in such a violent way that would result in your becoming one of us. We simply request you work for us, work for the spirits that are, in this world, lost, work for the dying that need comfort from a living soul."

Eddie had looked down, hiding his silent laughter from Dylan, then turned to him. "Why would I bring you here to kill you?" He asked. "I could've done that ages ago! You're important as a living being, a human that can relate to other humans, see their fear of death and comfort them before they die. We wouldn't dare take that useful concept and ruin it!"

"Of course not." The old man said. "Now, why not consider this from a more logical stance? Now that you're not threatened with death, what do you think?"

Dylan fumed silently. Their laughter grated on his nerves, the more so because he felt humiliated and embarrassed. The copper haired man had to force himself to calm down and think. It was a good offer, and he would have a home instead of an apartment. There was something to be said for that, though he would be lonely... Of that he was sure.

"Alright, I'll do it. But I don't want a house. It'd be too lonely having one all to myself." He did want to help people. It was why he'd wanted to be a journalist in the first place. By exposing the truth, by reporting the good things of the community, it cheered people up ... At least it did sometimes.

Seemingly content, the Council members returned to their seats. The young woman sat forward. "Because of your ability I'm sure demons will be after you. Especially now that you've shown your abilities. It would be in your best interest to remain here, under the protection of other Messengers and the Council. But to alleviate the loneliness, you can accompany Edward to his home. Since the permanent death of his previous partner he has been alone. What do you say to that, Edward?"

Eddie glanced up. His house had certainly become rather quiet, but he tended to like it that way. "I wouldn't disagree." He said after a moment. Nowadays he would do anything to appeal to the Council. It was coming time for the young man, simply called Marcus, to begin his transition from this semi-life to another life, one that came to all ancient Council members when they became weary. But before their departure they would choose a Messenger to challenge, and if they managed to pass the tests, they would inherit the power of the passing member. Eddie had been dying for the position for several decades.

Dylan nodded at that, satisfied with the situation. Though once the simple action was over, he glanced about a little uncertainly. He didn't know where to go, or if it was time to leave for that matter. After a moment's thought, he bowed slightly to the council and walked away. Waiting for Edward didn't cross his mind. Getting out of there was the most pressing mater on the journalist's mind.

He let out a sigh of relief the moment he stepped outside. Slan leaned against the building, and slid to the ground. He hadn't realized just how nervous and frightened he'd been, faced with those people... Not until they weren't around anymore. His worries about work, brief though they had been, had been replaced. Demons were going to be going after him now, simply because he'd glimpsed another world he wasn't supposed to have seen.

Eddie looked after Dylan as he left, but was called to attention again by the young boy. "You'll be the only chance at survival he has now." He said. "For the time being, anyway. Do well to keep him alert, and inform him of everything that will allow us to continue doing what we do."

Eddie nodded and bowed low, and was dismissed with a slight inclination of the head from all the elder Messengers. He turned stiffly, striding to the door and following Dylan, looking around with a bit of a squint as he was back in the bright early evening's light. When he spotted the young man, Eddie crossed his arms. "Formidable bunch." He said. "But you can't get better than them. If you're well enough, let me know---we can either show you your new living arrangement or take care of your previous one. Any friends, family you need to contact, let them know? Best not to let them in on what's actually happening---sometimes a thin lie is best for the time being, at least."

He leaned against the wall beside Dylan as he spoke, looking down to him. Eddie had to trust that this human wouldn't blab the secrets he'd just discovered. They'd think him crazy, at the very most.

"They won't be surprised that I need to move again. It happens a lot in my line of work." He wasn't worried over much about changing ending his lease at the apartment either. Just a call, and that was that. Dylan didn't have very many things other then those needed for work. The furniture in the apartment belonged to the landlord, or the company.

Standing, he rolled his shoulders back and forth then shook his head to clear his thoughts. "So, what does your place look like?" Dylan began to walk towards Edward's car. For some reason he was eager to be off. Truthfully, he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the council members as possible.

As they went back to his car, Eddie paused. What his place looked like... "Well..." Pausing, he waited until they were both situated in the car and he was backing away, pulling into the small driveway near the house and turning around on the road. "I'm stuck... in the 1860s. That's when I was born. That's when I grew up. I might adapt on the outside but I've always been more fond of the older styles. Victorian-era oil paintings, furniture, and a simple but elegant layout. I like copper, and that's what the kitchen and main bathrooms are fitted with. Dark granite, marble-like tile floors, wood-paneled and dark wallpaper throughout the house. Of course, everything is modern, but it has the outward appearance of a time everyone seemed to leave behind."

Inside, he felt like he was falling a long distance. It always seemed to happen when he thought back to what he'd left behind. It was almost a lonely sensation that, no matter how many people were around, isolated him entirely. "It's got plenty of room, mind. A third level that's technically considered an attic. A good place to be alone, if... you feel you need to." It was almost torture to say those last words. "You... have anything you need to get from your apartment, or would you rather wait until tomorrow?" He glanced over to Dylan as they neared Eddie's house.

It sounded like he'd be going back in time. Dylan couldn't wait to see what the place looked like, instead of simply hearing about it. The more he heard about Edward's life, the more he was intrigued. Dylan felt a small smile tug up his lips. It was like sniffing out a story, and knowing only the barest of of details... There was so much more under the surface, just waiting to be discovered.

"I'm fine, really. Let's worry about getting my stuff tomorrow. I think today's been excitement enough for me." This was all probably the norm for Edward. Soon, such things would be normal for him too. That was quite the frightening thought actually. He lapsed into silence then, thinking over how much his life was going to change ... No, how it already had.