Realistic or Modern |Death Note: Gods of Apples| IC

[Kloudy]

The Rise of The Reapers​

And thus cometh the scripture of death...

It was a day that no one would recall. A day that held no significance in history. A day that was unlike any other before it. The 'once upon a time' the history books were given saw the murky streets of London, England. This particular hotpot of racial and industrial avenues was home to a variety of factions and alliances, from the rival postcode gangs to the underfunded law enforcement to the dubiously-economical members of parliament to the average working-class citizen that toiled the winding smog lanes of industro-surburbia. The Thames snaked heartily through it's centre, pumping it's polluted sludge from the heart of the city out of the mouth of the coast and into the ocean.

Several individuals were busy in what many viewed as the centre of the world. London was a land of opportunity just as it was the sweet honeysuckle trap for the unwitting. One did not survive without cunning, nor wealth nor connection. If the Thames made up the artery, then it's people connected together as veins of information. Margot Wright, writing under the pseudonym 'Bantz', holds monopoly over one of the quickly growing blogging websites in recent days. Capturing the attention of thousands even overseas, Bantz is an influential individual with some popularity already. Known for her honest, honest truths and barebone facts on what goes on behind the scenes, many have been drawn to her for her less-than-magnanimous attitude towards the foes of justice. Of all those involved with the Reapers, it is argued that in some respects Margot had gathered all the facts first.

There were more masked masqueraders amidst the London streets, some taking it to a more literal occupation. Gangs and drug traffickers were thick and dirty in the city's cesspool underbelly, but there remained still a cream to be cropped at the top consisting of select professionals. Internationally connected villains that struck fear in the hearts of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and brought forth an entire wave of intrigued-based power. Keomi Akiyama was an agent of death, born tragically now for the sole purpose of decreeing the end of the lives of men. Known professionally as 'The Scarlet Lotus', her track record bares impressive numbers and impressive still commission pay. Hailing from the feudal swordsmith lands of Japan, it is argued that of all those that became Reapers, Keomi had most right to be first.

London was not quite the black-and-white realm one would expect of England's capital. It held a few off-colours in the form of Abraham Bennett, the defacto-high priest of the Communion of Alacritus. The man being as grand in life as both his title and cult appear, Abraham was one who had charmed a great many people into the loving folds of his religious sect. He convinced many of his fastidiously advertised vision depicting a mass exodus of human life through purely divine means. Who knew that when the day came, Abraham would eventually be proven right...

The great city of London would be nothing without it's tourist and entertainment appeal to the larger world. Bars, stadiums, gigs and clubs lorded the sharpest cut of revenue in these modern times and flourished under the watchful eye of decreased corporate taxation from political involvement. Trey Alexander Morrisson was currently the Prime Minister of Club Du Fritas, a popular Westend club and bar located in Central. With plenty of patrons coming and going regularly, information flows through Trey's doors as freely as an unpolluted Thames. Murky dealings, criminal intrigue, police investigative speculation, political rumours, hot gossip; if it happened in London, chances are Trey knows a guy who knows a guy who's pretty cute and also knows a guy.

London was not all as hectic as it otherwise made itself out to be. Although the cost of living rose everyday, there were many that got by with honest work and wholesome ideals. Kiyoshi Kyogoku, a hardworking secondary school (high school) student looking to soon move up to sixth form (college, not university). Impressionable with youth yet sharp enough to score at the top of his class, truly this boy aims for greatness. A rolemodel for the city, he will soon be faced with daunting challenges as he delves into the most insidious investigative case to date. Will his skills and intelligence hold up, or will the perpetrator prevail over even pure innocence and justice?

And thus your briefing comes to a close. There is but one final curtain left to draw beford the play may proceed. One last character with which we shall meet and decide the fate of, for what is an audience if not an instrument with which a story plays? With the existence of the Death Note being unravelled to the world, it stands to reason that there must have been one particular individual that had first received it... Pen name 'Cipher Caldwell', a true crime author is ironically the first human to be given a death note in recorded human history. Having wrote many sensationalist docu-narratives based on real life investigations he had researched, Xander Markus Caldwell had done very well for himself in life. Yet something was missing, something more was needed in his writing. It was almost as if his documentations were too real and not sensationalist enough, it didn't immerse or grip the reader enough. There was a magical flair required. Little did the misfortunate man realise, that his calls would be unknowingly and accidentally answered in the form of...

Death Note - Gods of Apples
​

 

[Squad141]

It had just started to rain.

Xander watched from the Starbucks he was sitting in as the raindrops daintily hit the objects outside behind the slightly-dirty window in the cafe. He sipped his hot chocolate, not really a big fan of true coffee, and blinked. His hand brushed the opening of his satchel to his right, and the various items within, such as his tape recorder and journal.

Xander reminisced on his current situation. He hadn’t written a book in a while, and while he wasn’t very popular to the majority of people, his readers still yearned for more. But what else is there? Xander has felt that his biceps had become increasingly dull recently, and the only interesting ones he had in drafting were about sources which he couldn’t confirm (and he was very keen on making sure things were true to their originals). Xander put his left on on his chin, watching the rain fall. He blinked.

The local station had a few cold cases he had looked at a few hours ago, but nothing new. Same old same old, murder, theft, general villainy. But what was it that he was truly looking for?

Xander raises his cup to take another swing of his drink. He blinked.

Xander put down his cup.

Something had just fallen from the rooftop. It has to be right? He leaned over his table to look up, trying to see the trajectory. But the book had fallen straight down, unless of course someone had thrown in straight into the air first. Maybe it was an accident?

Xander sighed, and straightened his posture. Why was he worried about a stupid notebook anyways. It’d be ruined by the rain now anyways. Taking another drink of his beverage, Xander pulled out his phone and opened his notes app. This’d be an interesting premise nonetheless. Someone throws a book off a building to get attention as they’re dying, maybe as a message, and random passerby get caught up in some kind of conspiracy. Smirking, he clicked off his phone, and put it back in his pocket. Well, he was finished with his cup, and the rain would probably slow his journey back home down a bit. Getting up, Xander zipped up his satchel, and headed for the door.

Outside, the rain actually was as hard as it had looked. It was more of a drizzle as the moment, and didn’t seem to be changing. Xander flopped his hood up, and started walking past the cafe, specifically past the window he had previously been staring through.

He stopped.

To his left, that same notebook sat. What caught his interest is that it didn’t look drenched at all. It was still perfectly dry on the soaking street. Curious, Xander walked over to it, wiping the rain of his glasses to see better. After picking up, he could see that it had a very scale-like texture, with it being in black. On the cover, in a flowery kind of font, we’re the words ‘Death Note’.

Xander pocketed the book, and briskly began walking home.

 

[Morrighan]

"Well, well, if it isn't The Scarlet Lotus. Back again already? Didn't you just take a job over in Yorkshire?" Asked John, the manager of a local hotspot for assassins in London.

The Scarab, it was called, a bar popular with London's career criminals. John was a good source of Intel, and always seemed to know who was hiring. Plus, the old badger could make a damn good cocktail.

"Please,"she said dismissively, taking her usual seat at the counter. "it barely took me a day. I'm looking for something worth my time, John. Anything good come in recently?"

As the man fixed her usual gin martini, his eyes narrowed in thought. He always saved the best jobs for Keomi, who was one of his best patrons. However, by the time he slid her drink over to her, his expression was sullen.

"Sorry, Miko. Nothing new's come in since you last came in. Give me a call in a few days, and I'm sure I'll have something to lift your spir- OY SAM, GET YOUR PAWS OFF HIM!"

Keomi sighed into her drink as the bar keep ran off to beat the shit out of someone. She'd already anticipated that he'd have nothing for her, but it was still disappointing none the less. It'd been months since she'd had a job that had actually challenged her in any capacity. Ed would likely break her fist if he saw her now, moping in a pub because of a few easy jobs.

If she was being honest with herself, it had been a while since Keomi had felt truly alive. Her first kill had been like a lightning strike, but these days nothing felt dangerous enough.

I'm so sick of being bored...

 

[Nymphadora]

Margot scowled as she stared out the window of the office building watching the rain. Her boss, Michael Mitchell, grunted in approval as he finished reading her newest piece. “See? It’s not so hard writing about this sh*t now is it? This is what people want to read!” Mitchell said in a smug, condescending tone.

Margot’s scowl deepened, but she quickly wiped any emotion off her face before turning to look at him. “I’m not saying they don’t. I just feel like I could better utilize my time on more serious matters rather than fluff pieces like this.” She responded coolly.

“I’ve been more than generous with giving you a shot. Most papers wouldn’t have even given you a second look when you first got out of school, but I took you in. If anything, you should be thanking me for giving you any stories!” Mitchell reprimanded with a haughty air.

Margot opened her mouth to interject, but he spoke over her in a slightly softened tone, “Listen, kid, I get it. Everybody’s fighting for the big stories, but you know how competitive this game is. Besides, things have been slow lately so there’s nothing big to write right now anyways. If you keep proving to me that you’re reliable then maybe I’ll start considering you for some bigger pieces. I can’t say you haven’t done a good job in the past, but you have to remember that there’s a lot of people who have been here a lot longer than you. People like consistency so a newer name versus one that’s been around for decades is never going to hold the same level of reader loyalty or credibility. You know how this game works.”

“I know.” Margot sighed. “It’s all about writing what the reader wants so I’ll keep at it.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Mitchell smIled dismissively while turning his attention back to his computer. “That’s all for today.”

Margot left his office feeling more irritated than when she entered. It was true that the news had been fairly slow lately, but there were still plenty of things not being covered by any of the major news media outlets. She had just recently finished outing a small local group of robberies that had been occurring that nobody had even connected last week on her blog, and she was beginning to investigate a potential crime ring that mostly targeted drunk women leaving bars. So far she had only gathered a few scattered remnants of stories of women being robbed under eerily similar circumstances, but she was beginning to suspect it might be more of a form of organized crime than random, unrelated targets. She was glad she got to go home early so she could get some actual work done, but the more she thought about her incompetent boss the angrier she got.

As she trudged through the rain, she became more and more irritated at her bosses ignorance. “Pssh no stories. There’s always stories! He’s just too thick to find them!” She muttered to herself under her breath, shaking her head. At least she could take solace in the knowledge that she was at least bothering to tell the stories nobody else was telling and doing it properly. She quickened her pace slightly, determined to get home to start researching. She knew that there was something big that was bound to be out there, and Bantz was going to be the first to tell it.

 

[NecromancerNight]

It was strange starting a new school in a new country. He can't believe his cousin moved to London just for a stupid cult and some guy. Kiyoshi used to love London, after all, it is the place where Sherlock Holmes is set in. When he first moved here, he bought a small deer stalker hat which he wears everyday.

That was half an year ago.

Now London was just a part of life, he no longer stare at the Big Ben in awe. But his life still wasn't boring, he is struggling to keep himself fed.

"Kiyoshi, you there?" His best friend, Greg, asked. Greg share Kiyoshi's love of crime, although he is more into true crime. Together they form a detective squad and dwell around crime scenes after school, he also shares lunch with Kiyoshi and help him work part-time.

"Sorry, just spacing out"

"So did you read Cipher's books?"

"Not yet, I'm just finishing Curtain."

Greg frowned a bit "Just? You should have finished Poirot a long time ago!"

"You know I use to live in Japan, I mostly read Japanese novels." Kiyoshi said slightly offended.

Then the school bell rang.

"FREAK!" they said together

 

[Karcen]

The realm of the death gods was a boring place, it lacked vivid colors and for lack of a better word life of the human world. This lead to the realm having little to do, and it's inhabitants having little motivation. The death gods as they were called made little effort to build or grow anything, they barely ever even made anything. This was a realm that was as close to death as one could get without truly being dead. The only activities of this realm were gambling with nothing at stake or writing down the names of humans. In the past there had been those death gods that had grown bored with the realm of death gods and had cast down one o their few possession, their death note, to earth to visit the human world and take in it's life instead of just watching it from afar. Azani was one such reaper that had cast her death note down from time to time, though never had she lingered, but this time would be different. Azani would drop her note, but she would let a human take it and perhaps, just perhaps they would do something fun with it and entertain her. The idea of letting a human had a note was something that made other death gods chuckle, for they were okay with this boring rotting world. It didn't matter if the others laughed at her to Azani the chance at something more than this world was worth the jokes. So Azani had picked a hole that lead to the realm of the living and let her note lose letting it land where it may and be found by whoever it may, and if it landed in an ocean or some place no human could find it, Azani planned to ask for another from the king.

 

[Morrighan]

Keomi was late for work.

Again.

Honestly, she was beginning to suspect the guy who ran the place was only keeping her on because of how damn good she was. The other dancers liked her well enough, but she knew every one of them would gladly see her fired if it meant taking her clients.

Her position at the club was a facade, a way to maintain the appearance that her nice car and designer clothes were the results of - mostly - legal efforts. Dancers like her were well paid, and always got away with having too much cash. Besides, the dancing was good exercise and kept anyone from looking to closely at where exactly she vanished off to for days at a time.

Side-action with her clients was expected.

Murder for profit wasn't.

However, as she threw on some last-minute mascara and her favorite red lipstick, Miko found herself hoping for a bit of chaos. She needed something to distract her from all the nothing. A fight would be preferable, but she'd take just about anything.

A drunken one night stand, for example.

God...what the hell is wrong with me?

Frowning and officially put-out, Keomi heads out and decides to walk to work. It's close by, after all.

But by the time she gets there, the boss is already pissed off and looking for her.

Great.

 

[NecromancerNight]

Getting sick was not a part of his plan.

Kiyoshi really regrets not taking flu shots, still he was really afraid of the needles. An air bubble injected through your vein can kill you, he read enough books to understand that. Aki said that he was just paranoid, and now he was here, sick with the flu.

Aki was going on a date with her boyfriend, to catch a glimpse at the ”Father” no doubt , and he was now alone in this flat. He has just finished reading Bantz and was quite bored.

Greg’s get well soon card was sitting on the bedside with a book underneath.
If I have to be stuck home for a couple of days, I might as well read the book Greg recommended, he thought.

By Cipher Caldwell, what a mysterious name, lets see if his books holds up.

 

[vielpotato]

Trey Morrisson, the owner in name of the Club Du Fritas - and 'owner' of many other smaller clubs, through hookups with their owners- was patrolling his club when he realized one of his biggest sellers, Akiyama Keomi, missing from work despite saying she'd show up today. Searching around the club, word of that bitch arriving, Trey knew instantly who the other dancers were talking about. After all, the only person who could be hated that much would be the person with the most visitors. Trey then sprang into what could only be described as a weak jog, as it was perhaps a second at most faster than walking to the employee room to meet the most profitable girl of the club.
"Hey girl! Didn't realize you were running late today! You should really invest into this fantastic device called a smartphone and TELL ME NEXT TIME!" Trey may have overreacted. There was no reason to raise his voice over a female. But the lack of income coming in from her was the fuse that burnt out inside of Trey, not the fault of her being late as it happens.
"Just get to work please... I'd prefer to at least gain some money today, because those other ladies don't rack up as much as you do..." Trey says, leaving her to change but drops one more comment before leaving.
"Also, please tell me if you want to work somewhere else. It's quite annoying when I have to find it out from other people that my favorite dancer is cheating on me..."

 

[Morrighan]

It was an effort not to roll her eyes, or knock the man on his bony little ass. Instead, Miko smiled flirtatiously at Trey and shot him a cute little wink.

"I'd never dream of it, Trey."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

God, I'm tired.

The night was finally over, the last patrons being ushered out by Trey. Exhausted, Keomi plopped herself down on her platform and began the process of finding and counting all the bills tucked into her lacy uniform. A few hundreds had ended up on the platform, so she quickly grabbed those up before the vultures could snatch them.

£ 659.

Not bad for a side job.

Grinning, Miko tucked the bills away and went to get changed. The other workers, as per usual, kept shooting her glares and mumbling insults, but she honestly couldn't be bothered to care anymore.

She left the club without saying her usual goodbye to Trey, knowing it wouldn't make a difference.

Something needs to change.

 

[Kloudy]

The Next Day
(8:43am - Forecast: Cloudy with light rain)

​

It was the next day. Things had changed significantly in London, but perhaps not for the reasons you'd think.

The news was aghast, reporters and live footage of various incidents that had occurred across the city. Gang violence had peaked last night, claiming several lives in a group stabbing by a local bus stop. It seemed the postcode wars were not over and were perhaps only getting started once again. Tensions were rising in South London and homeowners were afraid to leave their houses at night. With the ineffective use of Stop and Search law, the police were helpless in stopping the rising tide of gang crime and it seemed that it will only continue to escalate.

In other news, the latest on the notorious serial killer "Jack the Trigger". An infamous man who apparently has taken a liking to the old story of Jack the Ripper, this particular murderer assaults women at night and kills them in cold blood. His preferred method of choice appears to be a .445 calibre Webley Revolver, a clear insult to Britain and its history. The police and the Federal Bureau of Investigation are both attempting their best to catch this killer, but so far no credible leads have been found. Despite the popularity, intrigue and notoriety Jack has garnered, the killings have even increased as he claims his fifty-second victim last night in a tragic display of shameless violence. While there were no witnesses, those who found the body described it to be "unnecessarily riddled" with the very .445 calibre rounds the man is known for using.

It was sunny now and, despite the terrible news on at the moment, London continued to function as it always had. Children went to school. Teenagers loitered in shopping centres and parks. Police cars raced down roads. Construction workers wiped grime and sweat from atop dusty scaffolding. Politicians continued to argue in the House of Commons over which fishing laws were to proceed to a vote and which were not worthy of their divine judgement. Market stalls flocked with buyers and sellers trying to palm off their wares at invariably cheap or expensive prices with little consistency. Despite the horror and filth, London continued to be the melting pot of the world and not even the crimes published on the news could shake it from the rumble of its slow-turning gears of modern society.

Until...

 

[Squad141]

Xander woke with a start on the floor, having fallen out of his desk chair from the night before.
‘Damn, what is this now, the sixth all-nighter?’ He thought, rubbing his head and pushing himself off of the ground. Groggily, he stumbled over to his desk and found his glasses, before stretching and taking in the morning sunlight through the blinds in front of him.

He had to admit, though the location may have been lousy, the view from his window had always been his favorite spot to work. Watching the city lights come on at night and the sun peak above the metal jungle really gave him a sense of hope.

Hope that is, if could ever use it correctly. Realizing he must have fallen asleep in his still-damp clothes from the afternoon before, he walked to the bathroom and started a shower.

Washing up, he thought about his late-nights recently. Inspiration came and went for most people, but it was a real bad lover to him. Nothing came to him anymore, and every draft he had had run dry in his mind. Toweling off his scraggly hair, he sat down at his desk again, and opened his drafts folder.

Scrolling through, he realized that he had done not even a smidge of research for his most recent ideas. All of his efforts had gone towards projects in the past that still lay unfinished: The Scarlet Lotus: International Secrecy, The Clubbing Conundrum, Divine Intervention: A Normal Day, and his most recent, Jack the Trigger: Past and Present. With his hand on his chin, he leaned back, letting his eyes wander the room.

They stopped on his small black bookshelf where his laptop case case. After a few moments of hesitation, he got up, and brought the bag back over to his desk. Opening it, he pulled a surprisingly dry object: The notebook that had fallen from the sky.

No, he thought, someone must have dropped it off of a roof or something. But why? It didn’t seem very important, other than the title saying the words ‘Death Note’. Opening it up, he read a short instruction on the inside of the cover.

Whoever's name is written in this notebook, will die.

What a joke. It looked like some bad product from Hot Topic, though the premise confused him. Why? It was obviously a joke... right?

Xander’s phone buzzed from his jacket pocket. Pulling it out, he realized it wa the local news station. Apparently, a small convenience store was being robbed, and the cashier and three customers inside had locked themselves in the bathrooms. Opening the notification, the saw the robbers name and face. She didn’t look like a criminal, just some middle-aged woman.

Taking in a breath, Xander grabbed a pen from his desk drawer. Why, it was dumb, a waste of time.

Then why was the pen moving across the page, writing the robbers name? He didn’t know, but it wouldn't work anyways. Re-reading the rules, he noted the 45 second time limit, and the heart attack clause.

Muttering to himself, he put his phone down facing him, and starting getting on Goggle, when his phone buzzed again.

looking down, he could hardly breathe.

The gas station employee had led the other customers out.

The woman had had a heart attack.

 

[Karcen]

As Xander wrote there was no way he coudl know he wasn't alone, he hadn't been since he had picked up the death note, but now that he had used it, now that he had been given a taste of the power it was time for his unseen follower to make herself known. Azani sat up having been laying in Xander's bed just waiting and watching for him to finally use the note to finally commit. Humans once they got power tended to dive into it, she had seen that from her realm over and over and it was so unlike the death gods of her home she wanted to see it, to see that passion first hand.

" My my one day and you write a name" Azani said from behind Xander her voice sounding much deeper and more mature than her small body would imply " i was wondering when you would " She continued her voice clearly having an amused tone to it.

 

[Squad141]

That hadn't happened...

It couldn't have been him, right? Maybe she had heart problems already? Maybe it was simply stress of someone had gotten ahold of her in the building...
...

What if it was you? What if you killed her?
What if you killed the woman who was going to kill someone, or rob someone?
What if a criminal dies, anyways? Is it moral?

…
She was going to die eventually. Maybe in prison.
Maybe you did her a favo-

Xander jumped in his chair when he heard a noise from behind him. Spinning around, he almost lost control of the chair against the tiled floor, and managed to keep himself upright before adjusting his glasses and looking towards the bed.

On the bed, was a lady. Or a girl. He couldn't quite tell, but she definetly looked young. She was wearing red, and lots of it, on her clothes and on her face.
But that wasn't the part that phased him.
The woman was floating above the bed, about three inches, her clothing following the laws of gravity that her body did not.

Xander quickly got out of his chair and stood up, facing the stranger in his home. Things were quickly spiraling out of his control, something he wasn't quite fond of.
"H-Hello? How did you get in here?" he asked, his voice stuttering against his will as he tried to be forceful but still polite.
"...do you...own this?" he asked quietly, grabbing the notebook from behind and holding it up without taking his eyes off his new partner in the room.

 

[Karcen]

Azani smiled as the human was surprised, their reactions were so very interesting, so much more lively than her people. She had come only after his first kill easily able to find her note even in the hands of others, she could almost feel the years added to her life as the other life had been snuffed out. Still she did wonder how many rules he had read as he would understand that the not was now technically his even if it was tied to her. That little detail could come latter right now she wanted to see just how interesting her note owner would be.

" Right now you own it" She pointing to him her tone rather playful " I just dropped it to see what would happen after all you humans are so very fun" She continued the way she spoke was like a child talking about a show or toy. " So you can use it all you like, but i'll stick around your very own death god to keep you company " She finished her tone again shifting not hiding that she thought her being around was a privilege she granted him.

 

[Squad141]

...
….
......

Did she just say death god?

His expression must have given him away, as the woman (god?) smirked wider, looking him up and down after her 'confession'. He thought about it, and somehow, he agreed with it. Maybe it was the insane tendency in his mind to over-analyze, or the withdrawal from having just murdered someone with a notebook.

The notebook...
She said that he owned it now, right? How did that work? Did simply picking it up make it his on that rainy afternoon
...
Could he get away with using it again?

Xander regained his composure, straightening the collar of the large blue sweater he was wearing. Even if he was dreaming about all of this in a sleep-deprived stupor, he might as well quiz his imagination for details. Who knows, maybe he could scrape a story out of it after he woke up.
Adjusting his glasses, he decided to take the situation in a different direction, one he was familiar with: profiling.

It was easy enough by the way the spirit in his flat acted so relaxed-like. She was childish, but not in the annoying way, almost playful with her language. She seemed excited about the prospect of him having he notebook. Was it special? Or maybe she had been waiting for this for a while. This was pretty obvious already from the way she mentioned humans being 'fun'. And she seemed to intend to stick around for whatever Xander decided to do, judging by her overly-sarcastic comment of staying, giving her tone of voice away.
"Okay, 'god of death'. If you're so special (and if you're even real), if you are going to be staying, then I need some information. This isn't the internet, I want some truth before I agree to do whatever it is I will with this book. Firstly, the most important one, I need a name. Your name, or whatever variation you want, if you still believe in this 'god status' thing you keep saying."

 

[Karcen]

Azani frowned that Xander wasn't in awe of her and had the audacity to doubt what she was when the proof was already there he had used her note. Well humans made lots of gods and the term god for her people was something of a regional thing once humans had started thinking in terms of one god existing. Well that god and what she was were separate things a difference between big G and little g one might say. Still Xander was already going to nothingness he would never see heaven or face hell, though Azani sometimes wondered if the places really did exist as no force ever stopped her people. Well this attitude was something beyond the apathy of the other death gods, here was doubt a human trying to figure out a puzzle over just throwing it away if it didn't solve itself.

Azani's frown soon became a smile again " I am Azani though you won't find my name in any religion my kind never sought worship " She explained cutting off any idea he might call out her name not being anywhere on earth " And Xander i'll give you two free questions then if you want anymore i want something namely candied apples for anymore" she said casully dropping his name despite him never saying it to show she saw more than him.