"Nah, I'll look into it. You try to figure out the obviously important things like factions and money and I'll try to figure out the non-obvious important stuff that emerges from thirty unrelated details."

She pulls up her laptop.

Dear internet, why am I blue?

Ah. I see it's time for the talk.

You may have some questions about your changing body! Perhaps you are worried about how you look or you think something is wrong with you. But an important part of growing up is that sometimes you turn candy-colored and your eyes start glowing, or all your flesh sloughs off and you turn into a shadow.

It's okay to feel excited, scared, confused, or awkward about this, but this is perfectly normal and is called 'growing into your true form,' or 'coming into your lineage.'

You may be curious why this happens at all, which is a great question. We have twenty hypotheses and books on those hypotheses, let us know if you come up with another one!

Good talk!!

But also we call the thing you are 'Vanir' and you accumulate mana from the act of resistance, which is when you defy competing forces trying to supplant or wear you down.

Examples of this are enduring extreme heat, contending with temptation, or arguing with the entire body of a church.

Thanks mom!

She may have an overly affectionate view of the internet.

Meanwhile, Lily is googling "basic masquerade preservation tricks", and is currently reading about "Combat Zones". Ominous name, that.

Don't tell your friends, don't post about it on social media. If you need help hiding your true form, here are some video tutorials. Remember to take the big hat off when you go out. Try living somewhere unveiled. Don't tell your mortal partner, but there's less backlash in that than telling a stranger. You can tell someone you have locked in your basement but don't let them go after that. The Veil can't be negotiated with but you can cooperate with it: if you are fair to it then it prefers to cover your tracks than curse you.

Most of what the Veil does is inflict pain as punishment or occlude mortal sight. But the Veil can also inflict fifth rank curses, which is the level needed to subvert immortalities or dispense fates worse than death. Usually this only happens to very stupid or mentally ill witches. Try to avoid being very stupid or mentally ill.

'Veil' refers to the apex of witchcraft's achievements, a working of the fifteenth rank and arguably a god. 'Masquerade' refers to the social norms and behaviors demanded by its existence. An entire field of study exists with the aim of exploiting, parasitizing, or subverting the Veil.

One such product of this veilcraft are combat zones: bubbles of altered reality that prevent mortals from noticing their magical contents. They operate much like a looped security camera feed. They are 120m in radius, possible to be cast with only minimal power and cursory study. This is because the casting consists of tugging on the Veil's skirts and suggesting this would be a good place for one, rather than personally doing any lifting.

The spell gets the ominous name from its primary use case. Mortals are hapless and it's easy to eat them or take everything they own. This sort of thing happens several thousand times a day, both by witches and less humanish things. There are however covens of busybodies, who possess divination and the strength to preclude happenings they find distasteful.

Combat zones simplify things in these matters.

How lucky they are to not be fish in a barrel anymore. 

Well, less so. 

She watches a video tutorial on concealing skin color. It's fairly basic; wear gloves and makeup, concealing clothing, etc. Nonetheless it's something to do before things open for the morning.

Cytherea lets herself back in. She's carrying a small shopping bag.

"I've got what's needed. Here, Lillian." She sets the bag down next to her. "Should I keep the change or do you want it back, Marianne?"

"Keep it!" She snaps her laptop shut and flounces towards the door. "What have we got—"

"Perfume in a couple different scents, a penknife, a stick - did you literally get this off a tree or something? - some honey, some camphor oil."

"I can whittle down the stick to a proper wand for you, and do the basic rune shapes in the proper places, but it's on you to infuse them. It'll use up everything I got, pretty much - runes take a lot of ingredients. And yeah, I broke the stick off a tree."

Lily brings up the reference diagram. "I'll review the procedure while you whittle."

"Fair enough." 

Cytherea opens the penknife and starts trimming away the bark from the stick. It's mostly straight. Good enough.

Marianne isn't sure how she would help with this, so she watches Cytherea work. A knife looks good in her hands.

"You left before I could ask. How'd you do the shapeshift? Got any other tricks in your bag?"

"Succubi have a few things like this to help us blend. Limited shapeshifting to impersonate other species, something a little like mothergifts for our clothing but more versatile, minor illusions, basic masking against weak divinations. All with the intent of hiding in plain sight. I can't be anything nonhumanoid or make anything solid other than about a dozen outfits worth of clothes, and they'll vanish if separated from me."

"Coooooool." Marianne Belor flaps her hands.

—it occurs to her that this may be a startling habit to engage in come the future. She is a witch now and many spells are gesture-invoked.

"So what's Liath of the Seventh like? Do you have any idea why she'd pick me out of the dodgeball lineup? I'm assuming she found me with divination but like, what characteristics does she look for in teammates?"

"She's - intense. Fair, but cruel. From what I've seen of you, I think she likes you. The - nobility - is attractive to her. The kind of thing she likes to break. Or at least... test."

"Nobility? I'm sorry?"

She was imagining that Cytherea despised Liath, but it sure doesn't sound like it. She's not sure how someone can be fair and also plunge people in columns of fire, but maybe her prospective boss doesn't take part in that.

Her hands are suddenly antsy, eager for activity. "And would you like your hair braided? We haven't had a sleepover in literal ever."

"You're the kind of person who'll contract with a succubus fairly and keeping the succubus' interests in mind. That's rare. And sure, you can braid my hair."

She goes and fetches a comb, kneels behind Cytherea, and lets her hands perform the motions. "Yay, sleepover!"

"So yeah! You have feelings, and feelings are morally relevant. You don't suffer or savor any less intensely just because you've perpetrated abominations against humanity. The classical stance would say that you should condemn evil people anyway to make their life choices less attractive, but I think someone has to have open arms here or things don't get any better. Most humans are very viscerally angry at evil people, so I'm a someone."

Estrange Cytherea from other people; subtly and incidentally flatter yourself. Show her that you are capable of caring about her while others aren't willing to. She's already partly isolated, being in a new place surrounded by new people. Confusion is neuroplasticity: leave a lasting impression and it'll forever be imprinted on her. Talk to her in a more nuanced and less bullshit way than others do. Show her that you take her seriously and think she's smart and she'll engage with you. Keep plausible deniability: there is nothing odd behind your eyes. Be genuine and open as a default, it makes it easier to conceal when it's important.

Marianne doesn't think these thoughts in words, it's as automatic as braiding hair.

"I see. I guess that makes sense. Liath would like someone who - feels a kinship."

She's stripped the stick of most of its bark by now; she starts cutting in runes, quickly but methodically. 

"I wouldn't say I feel a kinship, just don't think you should be hung out to dry. If I could flip over Hell somehow, make it so that it's humans torturing demons? I wouldn't do that."

Illustrate your idealism: a vulnerability for her to take advantage of. Reinforce the kinship even as you deny it: if you make her think you really don't see the chemistry between the devil and her advocate, she may itch to show you. An imperceptibly slight itch that's unlikely to take, but what is seduction if not a million word choices?

There's something fun about sitting behind a cold reader's back.

"What do those mean?" she asks of the runes.

"This one attracts mana. This one eases its flow. This one concentrates it. Wands like this are used at Hawthorne a lot, though this one's going to be fairly crude."

She cuts at the wood with a little more force than strictly necessary. "There is a certain amount of demons torturing demons, in Hell."