Mamnen's Research

Mamnen, being over twenty and employed in a specialty now, found himself more confident than ever in researching his mother Jone’s disappearance again. It was likely the only way he’d see his sister again, he knew, since he knew he went looking for her–and, if she was still alive with the purchasing lord, she likely would look again.
 
A dark thought occurred to him as he made his way to the Waterdeep research library where he had unburied all those notes almost eight years before… What if, he thought, I was able to secure Atka’s whereabouts with a contract? What was a soul used for? And were the Hells really worse than what his mind was doing to him every day?
 
Mamnen banished the thought before entering the structure that hopefully housed his answers. There was a reference desk with a familiar angel leaning down and reading a book of some kind. Mamnen sighed and knew that if he was to truly find out, he would have to ask. He flipped his hair over his horns and head, white bangs falling right back over his face. Marching himself to the angel’s side, he arched over to rest on his forearm on the high desk so that he sat at the angel’s height.
 
“Castiel.”
 
The angel looked up from his reading and peered over at the tiefling curiously. “Can I help you, sir…?”
 
“Mamnen Marduk.” he said and smiled as sweetly as he could muster. Castiel’s jaw tensed and he asked,
 
“Mammon?”
 
“Mam-nen. It’s funny how alike they sound though. Is Mammon a friend of–”
 
“No, how can I help you, Mam-nen?” Castiel pronounced his name deliberately and carefully. Mamnen wondered how he started off on such bad footing. Mammon must be terrible, whoever he is.
 
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
 
“Should I?”
 
Mamnen shook his head. “I suppose not. You thought at the time I was asking questions to joke with or bother you, which I suppose makes a sort of sense now that I have a bit of background and recognize my youth at the time was suspect.”
 
“Youth ‘at the time’?” Castiel clarified and gestured to the tiefling. “Your youth is still very much intact. Are you here to joke with and bother me now?”
 
“I’m not joking, and I certainly hope my inquisition about it doesn’t bother you as I think my research of this individual will help me prevent the needless suffering of two of the women in my immediate family.” Mamnen rested his hand on his opposing wrist that he leaned on. He tried to look serious. He tried to look intimidating, although he didn’t know why. He was not going to take on an angel.
 
Castiel straightened up and closed the book he was reading. “Come with me to one of the private rooms. I’m listening, Mamnen Marduk.”
 
Mamnen waited for him to lead the way and grinned after his back was turned. “Thank you,” he said softly and quickly eyed the book Castiel had been reading. A monster’s guide of some kind. Not important to him, he figured. Mamnen pushed off the counter of the desk and jogged a bit to catch up with Castiel. They walked through some of the tall shelves, around some patrons and workers, and found an open room for study, typically along the back wall.
 
They sat at the singular table–why were study rooms so hopelessly drab, Mamnen thought–and Mamnen coaxed the door to shut after they were seated with his telekinesis without much forethought. As he attempted to tuck his bangs behind his ears, Castiel growled lowly,
 
“How did you do that?”
 
“Shut the door? Surely you’ve heard of magical ability… I–”
 
“Mamnen, I know magic. I’ve studied magic. I’ve met people who gain magic from books, patrons, and birthright. What powers you?”
 
“Uhh…” Mamnen vocalized confusion in answering such a direct question. One certainly didn’t lie to angels, but telling the truth on this seemed irresponsible. “Birthright is closest, I guess. It was simply something I woke up with one day.”
 
“Stress induced?”
 
“You might say that,” Mamnen struggled not to smile, remembering his retribution that day with those abusive traitors. Castiel’s face softened, though the amusement and intrigue did not leave outright.
 
“Who are these people who you believe to be in danger?”
 
“I know for certain one is in danger. As far as the other, I think she may be heading to seek the danger out.”
 
“Why would she do that?”
 
“To save the first. Much like me,” Mamnen admitted. Castiel chuckled and crossed one leg over the other, turning sideways in his chair, large glowing wings folded neatly over its sturdy back.
 
“Just what is troubling your family, Mamnen?”
 
“Ire Mennith, I think.”
 
Castiel grew serious and immediately repositioned himself again to face and lean towards the young tiefling. Mamnen was struck with the same dismissiveness that he gotten at their first encounter, except this time, instead of ostracizing him, Castiel said,
 
“You suppose a devil like Ire gives two shits about a small tiefling family on this plane? Why?” the voice was a harsh whisper, a knowing whisper. Mamnen cleared his throat to maintain some kind of confidence in his ability to “run with the bulls.”
 
“My mother may be his half-sister Jone…”
 
Castiel didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t react. He was waiting. Waiting for what? Mamnen didn’t rightly know, so he kept talking. “My sister has my journal with all the research I’d done eight years ago about my family history in the hells and why Ire might have slaughtered my father, kidnapped my mother back ‘home’ and then enthralled my sister’s mind so tightly that she entered the Ring Master’s obstacles only to lose and be sold to some lord.”
 
“That’s a lot to unpack, young tiefling.”
 
“I’ve lived more than most. I’m young, not ignorant.”
 
“We’ll see.” Castiel muttered. “I’m sorry that you experienced Ire’s wrath firsthand, nephew of Ire.”
 
Mamnen cringed, squeezing his eyes shut, baring his gritted teeth, and twisting his neck awkwardly. “Please don’t associate me with devils.”
 
“But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re the nephew of a devil–a powerful, ugly one–”
 
“Half, half nephew, and I wasn’t raised in the hells, I am not influenced by–”
 
Castiel’s flat hand slammed on the table and Mamnen flinched, opening his eyes again to look directly at the angel. His tail lowered and instantly tensed. “You cannot tell me you’re not influenced by your half uncle to some degree, Mam-nen Marduk. You share his blood, you seek his name, you spin intentions with me very self-interestedly… I wouldn’t be surprised if I were mortal and you had the opportunity, you take my soul for something.”
 
Mamnen disregarded the last insinuation, focusing instead on the middle one. “How did you know I sought his name?”
 
“I do remember you now, nosy little boy at the time. I told you to stop looking, yet here you are, right back with me, asking more questions.”
 
“But my family–”
 
“Are devils. They belong in Batoor. As do you, I sense. You are rotting with mal-intent,” Castiel stated and leaned across the table and inhaled deeply, almost like a starved wolf appreciating the first kill after a long, hungry winter. “I smell your fear, and I know that given this conversation, you want to lash out. Your fists are balled, you’re prepared to use your birthright on me, aren’t you?”
 
“Are you trying to tempt me?”
 
“Angels are more observation than temptation seekers. That’s devil-work.”
 
“Please stop aligning me with devils!” Mamnen sighed, actually pretty loudly for someone whose heart was thumping in his throat. He was angry and did want to lash out, yes, but he was terrified. Castiel could end him where he stood, couldn’t he?
 
“I’m not aligning you, Mamnen Marduk. You wear a devil name. Devil lineage pumps through your veins. I see devilish intentions rattling in your head and dripping off your tongue. If you want me to stop seeing devil in you, stop trying to manipulate an angel.”
 
Mamnen inhaled sharply in a caught gasp. Castiel had indeed found him out, and he hadn’t even really attempted to start “manipulating” him. “I did–I wasn’t manipulating. Is it manipulation to have an intention?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Then how do angels get stuff found out and done?” Mamnen was glowering now.
 
“I dwell in each moment and read it on its own terms, Mamnen Marduk. There are no intended outcomes with me, because I don’t have the expectation of getting my way.”
 
Mamnen was getting annoyed, frustrated, and beyond angry. Castiel was saying everything that he didn’t want to hear and it was not going over well.
 
“Do I need to keep you here to calm you down?”
 
“No. I dwell in self-control.”
 
Castiel laughed, quite amusedly. “Yes, you look as though you do. Everything I say brings you one step closer to your true nature, and it doesn’t even terrify you, does it?”
 
Mamnen arched an eyebrow at him. “How do you mean? What makes you think I’m not terrified right now?”
 
Castiel folded his arms across his chest and smiled. “You’re terrified of me, that I can smell on you. But of yourself? What you are capable of? That’s never scared you, has it, Mamnen?”
 
“Why should my own capability–”
 
“Because,” interrupted the angel, lifting a hand to stop the tiefling, “only devils are fascinated by their own power. Only the corrupted obsess with nurturing their own ends without the thought of its influence or consequence. Tell me, Mamnen, have you ever done anything where there were dire consequences and you felt directly responsible?”
 
“I don’t do anything with dire consequences,” Mamnen hissed. “I am calculated.”
 
“You’re a liar, too. I can tell that. You have something in mind already, and you’re lucky I don’t know, would be my educated guess.” Castiel said. Mamnen didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to give in to Castiel’s bullshit. Castiel continued, “Now, if you think I’m going to help you get the name of Ire Mennith so that you may reunite with your family, you’re truly lost. If you want to go home, however–”
 
“The Nine Hells is not my home.”
 
“Yet.” Castiel pushed off the table, chair toppling back onto the floor behind him. He walked out, having determined that little conversation was over. Mamnen stewed in his agony. He placed a hand on his abdomen like Atka used to do when he said he missed and loved her and tried to discern her whereabouts. Nothing. He couldn’t tell where she was or if she was alive. Normally their connection was insanely powerful, but after his powers revealed themselves to him, he lost her. Castiel would probably say that was “life’s way” of protecting her from his “devil manipulation.”
 
Mamnen leaned back against the chair and placed both hands on the table. He wondered if his twin was experiencing similar accusations because of her relationship with Ire… If she were smart, she would heed his former warning and keep her mouth shut about it, but he knew she wouldn’t (she did go to the Ring Master with the problem, after all). Mamnen sighed, calling today a loss and not feeling like researching more, and walked home–being sure to shoot a haughty glance at Castiel as he passed the reference counter.