Chapter Text
To put it simply, Ivy Hawthorn was not having the best of days. One would think that three years of law school and plus the ever growing number of hours he worked for the past three years would make him immune to the shock and awe of his field. Yet he could feel the growing stress headache building up behind his eyes…or perhaps it was a caffeine withdrawal headache. It had been a while since his last cup. And by a while, that just means his six am cup. Ivy pinches his right brow, pushing his thumb into the orbital bone to ease the pressure. Could also be a sinus headache, he would get those wherever the pressure changes. And judging by the forecast tomorrow, it is changing.
He turns and looks out the window. The view is something he really adores. The steel building rises above where the three rivers that run through the city meet. Apparently, the board chose this specific spot due to the “magical energy” and the “natural vortex”. But Ivy would never complain about that. He got to enjoy a lovely sunlit corner office. A lovely oak desk, a dual monitor set up, and rows of bookshelves. Well, somewhat. The black bookshelf faces the window since the phone book in the glass case needs to sunbath. He rolls his desk chair back to lounge in the sun for a moment. Maybe the sun can burn his retinas and he never has to read another disposition ever again.
He should dip down to the coffee shop in the building, get a second cup-
As if like magic, a steaming cappuccino is placed in front of him. He looks up to see Emma, his lovely legal assistant/paralegal/ the one fucking person who is competent at her job.
"It’s one. You missed your caffeine run this morning,” she says, sipping on her own latte. Her blood red nails looked a little sharper than normal.
“Did you get your nails done recently?” He asks. She hums and nods before swallowing.
"Yes, my friend is getting her tech license to make some extra money, she asked if I could be her walking advert,” Emma says, leaning against his desk. “You want her number?”
Ivy chuckles, but not before catching the way the light seemed to flash against Emma’s eyes. He couldn’t prove it, but he was pretty positive his trusted paralegal/legal assistant/best work friend wasn't exactly…human. Sure, she looked and sounded very human, but there were just these little things he didn’t know what to make of. She would sometimes glare at empty corners, or murmur to the coffee machine. And last Friday, he swore she didn’t have a shadow. But honestly? He wasn’t exactly in any spot to care or critique. All he knew is that she was gearing up to go to law school, she loved maple lattes, and had a love for fashion…and had this uncanny ability of knowing way too much. Which simultaneously made her the best and worst person to gossip too.
“Does she have a business card?’ He counters sipping his coffee. Emma shrugs. “I’ll forward the link to her website to you. She also does tarot readings,” She adds in.
“Oh right, how’s your, what was it? Etsy witch shop idea? How’s that going?” He asks, willfully ignoring the ping of outlook. The petite woman rolls her eyes.
“Tarot reading website thank you. I don’t do spellwork like that,” She mumbles. “The materials alone cost a fortune.”
“Ah yes, Tariffs will ruin us all,” He chuckles. Her eyes brighten up.
“Oh shit, speaking of, how did the case go in court yesterday? The one with the haunted house and the eminent domain laws?” She asks, her jewelry jingling as she speaks with her hands. He was honestly impressed she never spilled her coffee.
He lets out a breath and sinks a little lower in his chair. Stoker, King’s and Associates prided themselves on taking on the cases no one else would. The weird. The wild. Because, as it turns out, yes even demons and eldritch abominations need someone to look over their contracts. His last case he worked on was this house over the Emergence Ave, he represented the haunted house which was attacking workers that were trying to work on it to get the house back on the market. The city wanted to use eminent domain as the house was considered ‘blighted”. The house then walked into the office by use of a psychic medium that offered their services as a vessel. It was only through some bullshit that involved the legal loophole that allows corporations to have personhood that allowed him to argue on behalf of the house. The city and the house both came to an agreement that as long as the entity could approve of the re-modeling plans it would stop attacking the workers. The next day he found a bag of old canine teeth on his desk as payment. Which wasn’t too bad since the current exchange rate was $1.50 for a canine.
“The house and the city settled. Thank all above and below for that,” he sighs before taking off his glasses and rubbing his light weary eyes.
“Settlement? Wow! I didn’t expect that. What kind of argument did you use?” She goes to ask before she catches the time on her golden watch. “Ah, shit, tell me later. I believe your next clients are coming in,” She says before multiple pings on outlook broke up the gossiping session.
“Oh! And close the blinds, this one requested not much sunlight and for star anise and wormwood incense,’ She adds before vanishing to…wherever the hell she actually sat. Ivy opens one of the many drawers under his desk to grab the incense sticks. He made sure they were scent coordinated. It would be in very bad taste to burn Cinnamon instead of Star Anise. Very quickly he closes the blinds, smoothes out his slightly wrinkled black button down shirt, and lights the burning sticks.
"Please don’t set off the fire alarm again,” he asks. A sputtering spark answers in turn, and he damn well knew this was going to be a long meeting.
The air drops a few degrees before his door opens again. He’s first hit with the smell of saltwater. Like a perfume drying, it vanishes to only be overpowered by the star anise. It clung to the three individuals that took a seat in front of him. Or perhaps they were entities? All three are very clearly glamoured or shapeshifted and quite frankly, he appreciates the attempt at them trying to stave off his madness by being in a human form. Truly he does. But they just look so uncomfortable. The smallest one keeps shifting, the one with the pineapple socks keeps bouncing his leg, and their leader? He just looks like everything itches.
“Gentleman, pleasure to meet you, my name is Ivy Hawthorn, and you must be…the cult of Sleep am I correct?” He double checks the notes already prepared by Emma the day prior. Gods, he didn’t want to think about what would happen when she went off to school.
“That would be us, I’m II, this is three and this is Vessel,” II says. Ivy nods.
“Feel free to relax, I assure you, you three are not the strangest I’ve seen,” Ivy says.
He almost regrets it. The sounds of ripping flesh fill his office as the three shed their skins into black tar. He sips his coffee as he watches II’s face melt off to show a gold skull under neath. The black liquid stains their skin to the color of midnight and oh. III’s lower jaw just fell off. Vessel’s body snaps and contorts, his abdomen ripping open for one moment as he grows a whole foot. His head snaps left and right as antlers burst through in a gooey mess. Ivy does his best to not stare for so long. But fuck him, those stains are so not coming out of the damn carpet. He’s already on house keeping’s shit list after the sulfur incident. Instead of internally bitching he simply sips his coffee as the three morph into their preferred forms.
“Cheers for that mate,” III says happily. Ivy just knows he’s going to have nightmares tonight of his face sloshing off to reveal a golden skull underneath. He clears his throat, careful not to choke on the scent of smoke, blood, and whatever the fuck. What was once three human men in front of him, now sit three godly entities. Beautiful godly entities, although he is a bit confused on why he smells salt water when the Vessel in front of him has now grown a foot, and sprouted antlers and six eyes. The man-god is also somewhat naked. But hey, who is he to judge?
“Not an issue, our client’s confidentiality and comfortability are of utmost importance here,” Ivy says, putting on his professional voice. Vessel eyes glow and temperature falls that much lower.
“You lie. Ivy is not your name…clever thing,” Vessel’s voice is distorted, multiple voices speaking at once. Ivy smiles.
“And you must be Sleep, a pleasure. Do you have a title you wish to be called?” Ivy asks, minding his manners.
The god chuckles before turning to II. “I like this one. Knows his manners,” the god rumbles and for a moment Ivy feels as though a riptide is shackling itself to him.
“We wouldn’t fail you like that,” II says plainly to his god. His icy eyes turn to Ivy, who is quickly looking over the brief Emma set up.
‘According to the paperwork my assistant had you fill out, you need me to-” Ivy nearly chokes after reading. “-RCA records?” He says, mouth damn near dropping open. “Uh…my apologies but I must have misunderstood, you need me to represent you to RCA records here in America,” Ivy can feel his blood pressure spiking. Contract work. Bloody fucking brilliant. His least favorite. Why would Sharon assign him-
“Where in the UK are you from?” III interrupts. Ivy picks his head up, his hackles raising a bit. He clears his throat once more.
“I don’t disclose that information,” Ivy explains with a raised brow. III smirks. Ivy knows he is smirking even if there aren’t flesh and lips to do so.
“Just as you haven’t told us your name pretty boy?” III says with a certain boldness that any other day would make Ivy blush…but now his left eye is twitching.
“Leave him alone III,” II scolds. “Sorry mate, can’t help but be curious. I assume you must have many experiences with the fae if there is all this secrecy around your information,”
“They’re a repeat client,” Ivy says, offering up another bit of information. “But, I would like to continue if I may, so! Just so I understand properly, you two-” he gestures to II and III “-worship Sleep, who is using Vessel as, well, a vessel. You three play in a band who is in current negotiations with RCA-who is currently representing you-?”
“Not of importance,” Sleep hisses. The shadows of the room growing teeth in response to the god’s anger. Ivy gets the message…but is confused by the way III squeezes Vessels’? Sleep’s? Thigh. The shadows grumble and return to their proper places. Ivy mentally adds “living shadows” to whatever the hell will be in his dreams tonight.
“Understood!” Ivy smiles, his hand shaking as he sips his now cold coffee. It makes him want to vomit. Sleep must notice this, because mid-sip the coffee is suddenly hot again, making Ivy cough and II look like he wants to slam his head against the wall. It’s honestly comical how much emotion the man can show with just a skull face.
“Well-ahm, I suppose I can represent you. You want me to be the main point of contact in regards to all merchandizing, albums, music rights etc,” Ivy says reading the docket further. “Alright! Now, my next question, has Sleep Token been registered under British trademark law?” Ivy asks. “I will also need a copy of the contract agreement between the four of you and Sleep’s Vessel license as well,” Ivy sighs, knowing he’ll have to register the band in the P.L.A database. The American Paranormal Licensing Association was known for having entities and people jump through hoops to get registered. It doesn't help either that everything from thralls to vessels to reincarnations have to be registered. That reminds him.
“Additionally, II and III are you registered as Vessels or Thralls-?”
Sleep suddenly hisses something to II. III bursts into laughter and Ivy’s left eye is twitching again.
“Sorry mate, but do you mind wrapping this up? We have a show tonight and Vessel can get pretty exhausted hosting Sleep,” II says using his finger to make a circling motion. “We’ll pay you, we’re just a bit pressed for time, I’ll forward you everything you need,” II says. Ivy looks at the clock. He sighs, again, because who is he to question this entity’s will?
“Not an issue, I’d be happy to represent you,” Ivy says and the room is filled with the scent of star anise as Sleep makes this rumbling sound.
“Wonderfull…my fourth-”
"Off we get then!” III says, ushering the god to get up. In a blink, all three are gone…and in their place is a bag. He eyes the bag of… something as it sits amongst the goo. Fuck, housekeeping was going to hex him. It was just a little brown satchel and when Ivy picks it up it’s full. He pulls open the drawstring bag and lets out a sharp exhale. Gold. Actual coins of gold. Shit, should he put this in the bank? Keep it? Dammit, this was almost worse than the bones because bones don’t have practical application in his life. Gold does. Either way, he’ll have to log it for accounting. He goes to call out to Emma, but he hears the tell-tale sound of her jewelry.
“Please tell me it’s not bones-holy shit! What the hell happened?” she gasps looking around. She raises her hands after a moment. “Actually you know what? None of my business. Just-give me the bag, I’ll go log this-ew ew ew ew!” She says taking the bag from Ivy with the tips of her fingers. He hears her walk away mumbling curses in Latin. It’s just Latin right? He walks back around to the phone on his desk to face the wrath of housecleaning. His next exhale is a cloud of vapor. His body freezes.
Shit.
His desk starts to rumble. The light overhead of him bursts and he ducks down to avoid the glass. The cloying smell of rot and decay fill the air. He begins to choke him as the floor splits open in a flash of darkness. Wind rushes by him, and he watches an inky tentacule emerge from the darkness. It pulstates and writhes before plopping something on the ground. He watches on in fascination as it gives him a little wave before dipping back down to wherever it came from. Slowly, the lights come back on and the room clears, and he peaks around the corner. There in the middle of his room, is a roomba. Ivy blinks. No. No way. There’s no the Eldritch tentacule just deposited a roomba on his floor like it was a cat. The Roomba chirps to life and starts sucking up the Eldritch goo plastered onto the floor. He feels his left eye start to twitch again. He needed to take some PTO.
“Ivy I deposited the- aw! Look at your little roomba go!” Emma squeals. Yup. He definitely needed those damn PTO days.