Sorry for the wait, I've been pretty busy with work and travel.

Chapter warnings: Graphic depictions of death.

"Where is he?"

"I'm not sure that he's returned yet, but you're more than welcome to check, Erza." The voice of the barmaid seemed to hold song-like qualities in comparison to the frigid tension which continued to circulate in the air.

Jellal's gaze shifted to the woman behind the bar, which happened to consume the better portion of the left wall, only giving way to a door in which Erza had already started in the direction of. Jellal could only assume that this "He" for who she demanded typically dwelled beyond that wall, not that he could say he was interested. "He" certainly could not be the angel's God—though he would admit that to be a rather interesting surprise should that be the case—and so he was led to assume that whoever "He" was would probably order for his torture in order to retrieve information. Rather boring, really.

Contrarily, his focus had been rather captivated by the essence of that barmaid, for there was something distinctly off about her presence. Perhaps it could be contributed to how insanely muddled this building seemed to be, considering it was riddled with creatures of all forms and ranks. Yet again, there was a degree of familiarity to it that created some type of draw.

As the leader of their makeshift brigade disappeared beyond the door to His domain, Gray suggested that they seat themselves at the bar to await her consensus. Jellal had no complaints, being that he had plans to investigate the peculiar magnetic energy that seemed to know exactly which of his strings to pluck in order to catch his interest one way or another. This would simply help that process along. There was one thing that he desired more than any tangible thing in existence, and that thing was knowledge. His very bones craved experience and learning.

"So we're taking orders from Erza now?" Natsu challenged, earning a sneer from the other as he started off in the direction of the bar.

"I'm sorry, did you want to die today?" Gray responded rather dryly, quickly tacking on, "Erza's already on edge and I don't plan on pushing her. This was her project anyway, it's not our place to do anything hasty."

Natsu bared his teeth, but seemed to be convinced enough by the other's response. "Alright buddy, time to wait for your judgement." He patted Jellal on the back, his head nodding in the direction of the bar.

He allotted the other a glare which expressed his thoughts on being touched. "I suppose." Jellal sighed, following the provided path in metaphorical ball and chain to take a seat. He chose to ignore the other's purposely ironic use of the familiar term in favor of enjoying some form of silence. Arguing with Natsu was a pointless way to consume time. He would rather speak to the captives of the first circle.

"Natsu, Gray, welcome home. Can I get you anything?" The abnormally cheerful creature met them with a warm smile, the point of which completely lost on the dark entity.

Even so, he could not contain his intrigue. A quick analysis of her features was enough to tell him that they'd never met, but he couldn't seem to shake the familiarity of her presence. Curious was the captive, his eyes burning into her flesh as he dared attempt to capture a read on her.

"No, thanks." The daemon's voice had yet to sound so gentle, offering the woman the same politeness that she had greeted him with.

"I'll pass." Natsu agreed, his tone also absent of confrontation for once. Their sense of comradery seemed quite strange to he who could not recall a single tender word shared between that of his peers.

"And you, sir? Can I help you with something?" She made it obvious enough that his staring didn't go unnoticed, and he could only bring himself to shake his head in response. It was too late, however, and she'd already picked up on his all too evident captivation. "I'm sorry, have I confused you somehow?"

Damn his overactive facial expressions. "No, my apologies. I suppose you just looked familiar." Though that wasn't it. She didn't appear to be physically familiar at all, so what exactly was this sensation?

"My, I'm sorry but I hardly find that to be believable." She laughed, melodic and honey-dripping. Again, she'd picked up on his uncertainty. He couldn't help but notice how oddly compassionate and understanding she already appeared to be, and for her to treat him the same as her allies was entirely outlandish. Her kindness was reminiscent of the humans he had purchased rags and food from, the ones who were cordial in exchange for jewel. "Though come to think of it, there is someone you may know."

"And who might that be?" His inquiry was a bit drier than he'd anticipated, but he couldn't help but feel that he was being made a fool of with the way she would laugh so eagerly at his testimony, especially with how suspiciously sweet she was.

"I believe his name is Azazel." Her offering was much more valuable than he'd anticipated. Gray shifted uncomfortably at his side, to which the woman turned her head to offer him a reassuring wink. His tension did not release, eyes expressing that she was crossing a line in giving out such valuable information so readily.

Jellal immediately shifted to become defensive, eyes narrowing dangerously as he hissed, "Azazel?"

He noticed Gray's hands poising at the ready out of the corner of his eye, and the way Natsu seemed to perk up upon noticing the impending collision. He was unconcerned with the pair, refocusing his attention entirely on the creature before him. She couldn't possibly be possessed.

"There's no need to worry." The woman merely laughed, placing a hand over her heart as if to say that he lived within her. Her words seemed to communicate on a deeper level, resonating with their small group as a whole. "He's been sealed away for some time now."

The demon Azazel, one of the contestants for a seat within Lucifer' cabinet, had gone missing some time ago. He had tasked himself with the reckless objective of locating the spawn of an angel and a human, beings which he couldn't be sure even existed for the sheer blasphemy of such relations between angels and humans, in order to harness the power of an angel. Even among demons, he was perceived as mad. Such frivolous views of yielding both demonic and angelic power on any scale were laughable. It was thought that he had simply been slain by an angel in pursuit of his objective.

He remembered his own conversations with the other, who was seen as an ally for hundreds of years, and how he couldn't help but find the other to be humorous in his aspirations. He seemed nothing short of a dreamer, but now that Jellal was confronted with this woman whose wavelength was a telling medley of angelic and demonic power battling for superiority, he found himself near about convinced. How utterly intriguing.

"Fascinating." But a whisper, but audible to all parties present. She meant to tell him that Azazel was not only living, but was trapped within her body without means of escape? If such happened to be the case, that would almost definitely mean... "—Nephilim."

"Mira, are you sure it's such a good idea to be making friends with this guy?" Gray interjected finally, unable to contain his concern any longer. Sure, Gray found him to be rather impressive and interesting enough at his base, but he was still a risk of high caliber.

"Why, because he's a demon?" The daemon flinched at the slightest hint of bitterness in her voice, though be it coated in marmalade the same as her previous sentences.

Gray sighed, knowing he'd upset her even though it wasn't his intention. With the way everyone in their coalition spoke of demons, it had become quite the sore spot for the woman who was, by all technicality, partially demonic. "That's not it, we just don't know anything about him. Erza seems pretty certain he's not someone we need to be heavily involved with."

"You do realize I am still present?" They had a nasty habit of treating him like an inanimate object.

"With all due respect, Erza is a bit biased. You know how she reacted to me at first." Mirajane sighed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, we're being rude."

Jellal simply shook his head in dismissal. He hated to admit that of the group he'd met so far, he was the fondest of this woman. To think that he would harbor anything but negativity for the lot of them was beyond him, but she was the first to engage with him so neutrally.

"I don't care if he's a demon or an angel," Natsu chimed in, "but if he's half as powerful as everyone says, I want to fight him!"

Gray groaned. "Would you give it a rest, Natsu?"

"Get off my case, you prick."

The door through which the angel had disappeared before opened, causing the daemon and dracon to snap their mouths shut. Jellal rested his chin within a palm out of boredom, long since tired of their theatrics. The one dubbed 'Mira' returned to drying freshly washed glasses. Idle thoughts roamed to the nature of his punishment for simply being born. He couldn't help but find this to be rather discriminatory being that he hadn't actually done anything wrong.

Erza paced over to their current resting place, appearing more calm than she had since he met her. Perhaps the presence of allies put her at ease. In any case, he wouldn't find any reason to complain about the absence of the insufferable harpy's barking.

"Come." She commanded, to which he responded by languidly pushing himself to his full height, eyes returning to him as soon as his feet hit the floor.

Natsu and Gray moved to follow, progress halted with a raise of the angel's hand. "That won't be necessary."

With a nod of her head in the direction of the door, Jellal followed her implications to proceed in that direction. She trailed not far behind, effectively staying on his heels. Beyond the door, the hall was rather narrow, forged entirely of reinforced steel. "This way." Her hand pointed in the direction of the hall which broke off to continue right, met with another door. He opened it, leading himself into a makeshift prison of sorts. There were a few empty cells, and from the looks of it, none of them had been used in quite some time.

"This area will be yours." Erza gestured to the first cell to his left, to which he simply nodded. At this point, he welcomed the chance to have some solitude. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Surely he had been expecting some form of containment, but this was nothing compared to the first circle's methods. "He is not here, so I would advise against getting comfortable."

"Now, what fun would it be if I was able to enjoy myself for a moment?" He quipped, dripping with sarcasm.

After situating him within the barred cell, which was quite laughable on the account that he could escape at any point if he truly wished to, she left without another word.

Hours passed without interruption, free to think without fear of some excitable being shattering his reverie. The steel bench, which he supposed was intended to double as a bed, was rather uncomfortable against this fleshly body. Parading as a human was equally convenient and inconvenient.

It would seem that the iron bars meant to ensure his imprisonment were quite fascinating, being that he had been staring at them for some time now. The overbearing sense of deja vu had led him to divulge into the vault of the past thousand years' memories. Try as he might, he came up empty handed. Hazel trailed down to the skin dipped fingers resting motionless against a clothed thigh, tracing the concealed movements of muscle and bone beneath thin layers of human composition as he grasped the cloth in thought.

Lifting a hand, he turned it in examination. The sight was strangely natural, as if this appearance was the one he'd always had rather than the thick, blackened skin that was vaguely reminiscent of that of a boar's hide. A small amount of energy coursed through his hands and to the ends of his finger tips, enveloping each individual digit with a pale glow. Pale. His energy in its rawest form had always been so pale, radiating a degree of beauty so uncharacteristically pure.

With little effort, he began to form a ball of light within the flat of his palm. Hickory wells drank in the sight of energy flowing from his hand to contribute in the assembly of the small, thoughtless orb. Its center whispered faintly of lavender. He dispelled the energy, fingers coiling to form a fist which extended in the direction of the iron bars holding him prisoner.

Just as soon as the thought filled his mind, just as soon as he accepted himself as exactly that, a prisoner, the visage melted away. Breath escaped the hold of his lips as though he'd been struck in the stomach, his eyes widening as reality blurred and thoughts consumed the present setting. The hand previously used to model fell limp, unable to remain in its previous position any longer.

The stench of death was heavy within the air, rotting flesh and long soiled garments entangling to form a horrid concoction. Fresh tears mingled with the dried sweat and grime of the fingers held just below the eye in order to prevent saline substance from reaching the still fresh wound. He sat facing away from the other body in the room, the one which was causing the nauseating odor to permeate.

His cellmate had been killed days earlier by the man in masks and they hadn't come back to collect the body since. He hadn't eaten in days, simply left with the rotting body which would soon come to decompose on the floor. He couldn't bear to look, the sight of the fallen soldier still bringing him to panic. Dried out eyes were open, staring lifelessly into the nothingness that came about when that spear had been driven through his chest. The skin was faintly blue, glistening with what appeared to be oil.

He heard the footsteps, glancing up to the iron bars which assured his imprisonment. He pushed himself closer to the wall, pulling his knees closer as he frantically wiped the tears from his face. His chest felt dangerously close to collapsing, stomach turning in response to the fresh wave of anxiety which appeared to be rising above his head in attempts to drown him.

The men in masks came, one of them making remarks about the smell hanging thickly in the air. They stopped just outside his cell, barking an order for him to stand. He did so timidly, stretching out sore knees for the first time in quite some time. He stood to his full height, which wasn't much considering he was just a boy.

"Come on out, Prisoner 870."

He gasped, one hand having somehow made its way up to his face to cover his mouth, the other embedding nails into the flesh of his arm. His breathing was haggard, details of the memory still circulating within his mind as he fought violently to regain his composure. The flame within the confines of his chest raged on as he peeled calloused hand away from dry mouth. Deep breaths helped to eliminate his gasps.

The tingling in his face and hands soon came to dissipate with regained control of his lungs, his head falling against the wall his back was propped against. "I've never seen such a violent reaction."

His laughter was dry and thoughtless, arms hanging limply at his sides.

"—Jellal?"

Before anyone asks: yes, this is a jerza fic. No, there will not be romance between Jellal and Mirajane, but she is important to the story. I'm not really happy with this chapter but if I keep rewriting it, it won't ever get published. Thank you for being patient with me.