Bubble tension

"Release them." The monarch displeased.

"Sure. I have plenty of bait now. Take what you need. I just need one left behind." She sees this wasn't his real order. He gestures he isn't of his own contorl, "I am sad to see you don't like I did with you hand. I thought keeping it safe was what you would have wanted. The books tell me that undertakers are like humans. You just pop limb back on like it's nothing." She was using it to buy more time. She softly was swaying her right hand. A sinner chain whipping among everyone's feet, "This realm didn't always exist in other universes. Unfair to judge such things but this fall between hell and living world didn't always have the neat anchor corridors that undertakers rely upon." She pulled the sin chain and they all were trap to the sin chains. Pinned all over this corridor. She breaks out a fishing pole, tied a necklace at the end and casts it into the mirror. She feels the if they use it or pick it up. If they play with it, she can whip them with it here.

"So like you planned this?" An undertaker asked with all this audience here to listen.

"No but I was trapped here. You were going to do something with me eventually." She snags a catch and they are insared among traps and uses their panic to make more arrive. More came and more are trapped. It settled once again with nothing happening and she casts again. Someone cut the end this time, "Ragnar, fetch another mirror." She commands and the little furry kitten of black fur walked from her shadow. Some time passes and it is a god eater holding many mirrors. She pets them proud and aligns the corridor of these. Ragnar looks at the imprisoned and shook in dismay.

"If she plans to recycle you. That be a blessing." He warns in disappearing. Many turn to each other.

"Don't mind the old little reptile. He seen to many worlds break and spill into others. That sort of thing makes even a beast become wise." She sits comfortably and chained to another chair is the monarch at her side. She gives him better treatment in respect, "I had to survive and that was all that mattered. Time broken and still there is existence. God's leave the universe behind or die. Wise beings will always replace them or that the universes finds a way. Small impacts such as human cultures choose to worship what, directly or unintentionally. The life after death will always bend around these changes." She sits back casting fishing line to all directional mirrors and in swoop all came with folks. All intangled in traps. Some traps were gore and brutal. But they still did that job. Not to kill. Just suffer being trapped.

"Why are you able to walk time frozen corridors?"

"Have you considered what is broken?" She replies faster then he can handle. Even so, she watched the attempts to escape. Someone at the edge makes it.

"It safer around me." She shook, "So many hungry dementors. Afraid of me. Afraid of the god slayers in my pocket. Afraid of my books. Afraid of being ate." She looks at the dementor offering the thing that escaped her as price of peace. She nows accepting this peace and they stand there at the edge... waiting for another.

"What are you?" The monarch asked.

"You tell me." She gets up woth more idiots to chain and back to peer comfort at the new captured ones.

"Do you have a soul?"

"Broken but yes. I was human, born one. I was brought here many times. Many monarchs have talked to me. Many think I was some enemy. I was a Seer or Trickster. I was once the only original named Tricky Trickster. But..." She throw something at a newbie. It was a pouch of salt. It stopped them casting whatever. She leans back again, "I was a partner to an undertaker. You lot had believed I was useless. At the time, you weren't wrong. I was useless."

The newest to arrive in her traps are some sort of message passer. She gets up and takes the message, she gives it a little gander. Can't read it, so she gave it to the monarch.

"A contract of truce." He states and she takes it back. Burns it and she kicked the message carrer back over. She sits comfortably in crossed arms. Waited for the next idea, "What now?"

"Now? When?" She asked, "This universe is unique for one exact factor. There is no other universe that works like this one. Why I can be here. Why my broken can be existence." She tilts peering about the king, "Those time frozen corridors are perfect. No grain of sand out of place. Not even Death Gods can walk through it. The god of time himself gives such blessing of prized rituals. And yet... I." She flicked her right hand at sending whatever it was from the mirror back over, "I can be there. Act there. Move things and change things. Even elemental patterns and waves." She crossed hands at her lap, "So what is already broken can't be broken further. Why the living world reverts in a glitches." She sits back, "I don't know how it works but it has uses that the other universes need. Revert broken objects with a little bit of spent time."

"I demand to speak truce!" She slammed her right hand and this guy was pancake to the floor. She looked over at what she did and posed in pretend shock. Some other enter and they look around confused of both their own and undertakers being trapped.

"She's not as she seems!" Wavered the scared bunch in chains.

"Don't mess with her. She makes dementors kneel." an undertaker directions attention of looking at the sea of beings that crawled in bow to her.

"She is a huntress." That sounded to positive from whomever came from the mirror.

"And you are a Clothus." She sings, "You dare not take any souls in my presence. I will rip yours. You will can't have me or what is mine. As for the rest of these idiots. They are on their own. I don't own them." She posed her hands, "But you seek to torture any of the little beings in my care and you will suffer. God slayers shiver in my wake. Take that as you chance to say any prayer to whatever God's I will have devoured." The pose of hand was a court binding. Prevented soul trade.

"Crap. We have a clothus before us. Someone bet me to this universe." They sigh diminished, "Sure. I can respect you own this universe."

"Oh sweet little soul. I don't own the universe. It hates me. I was thrown out, erased and forgotten." She says in depth of many other accents and languages. She slides about to circling them, "You see this skin. I torn it off the last clothus." She tilts in checking their reactions.

"Like you could. There isn't a god for us."

"No there is no. Your realm has no sky and it is full of death. But you do not die. You are trapped souls in a pocket between. We enders have considered scrubbing every last of you. But then one your own came back and said it was better to farm you. You make some really nice stuff. Ethereal existence in a living realm but touchable for humans to wear and use as cloaks. Dusty to eat but at least your edible." No not working. She sighed sad.

"I just don't get it. What is her deal?" The monarch asked his men.

"I mean... creepy works." A hostage shrugs, "But what's the illusion she hiding here? Why can't we see things that she can? Clearly them dementors do." The look of the sea of bowing creatures. Even the ceiling is infected of God eaters in bow and shiver.

"What is your multiverseal purpose?" The Silverstone leader here asked.

"Keeping broken tome pages. I seek broken souls. I keep them. Repair them if I can. I have quiet the vast collection. This isn't the only universe of undertakers or clothus invasion. Not the only time I met the Silverstone Empire. Many Tricksters have came to be slain at my hands. I have lived and died and back again. You can't wipe away the memories of a broken soul. Not perfectly at least." She stops at being directly face to face with the leader. She hovered her hand just inches away and the crowds of creatures lifted. The collective reaction of fear. She lowered hand and they all flee. Hostages stare stiff.

"Soul eater?" The Silverstone leader asked.

"No. But they taste good. You got any? Trade them lives for your men. I don't trade souls."

"Ooh. That loop hole of our law." Tbe clothus snicker, "You are one of us."

"No. You taste like a human when you aren't on death grounds or living realm." She grapples the mask face of the clothus. From touch, it told her everything about what they looked like. How they are both living and dead. Hung bits of organs in a balloon of skin in a mist of soot that filled the balloon suit. The mask of clay is how undertakers are, acting muscles are the soul wave pattern that allow them to changed expression softly. Set of only basic expressions, nothing complex like the shadow of damned or a human. It weighs nothing to her. Slamming them to the ground and tears them to shreds. She got up brushed the ash soot off her. She moved her foot off the soul and picked it up. She inspected it. She dropped it into her face area.

"The was a chess knight." The Silverstone leader directs in pointing to the body.

"The queen or king taste better." She knocked arm playful, "So here you are. Stuck in my fly paper." She returned to her chair, "Is anyone bored yet?" She asked around.

"This isn't entertaining." The monarch makes critical.

"So your done fighting here? They are done and your are done?" The shake of heads and glares of all sides. She frowns and she sets up a chair for this new guy. Once traps are sorted. She goes back to fishing. Silence.

"I don't think anyone is uncomfortable enough." She laughed at that suggestion and from him no less. Bonus was the twit archangel and demon lord. They stand at the edge of where the god slayers have allowed them through.

"I prefer the flavour of breaking souls." She spoke honest of this, "I seen world collapse. God's die. worlds suffer. Starve. I seen many end of times. I seen unfinished business get nasty." She reels this big fish in and the traps failed to pin them. This was due to the exactly who they are, "Hey! I finally fished the god of death!" She runs right up to the god, "Come on man. You must be proud of me. I served many death gods. Many have gave me their name. So I am finally get to met you." She tilts softly of how the god is the same as always. No emotional state. Silence mostly. He did look at her and looked around. He stares at so many names here. He stands in waiting. Does nothing. She smiles, "I am so happy that you are a honest good fella. You care and not. A lovely paradoxical dilemma." She accepted in forcing to take death's hand and guide him through her other traps. So he can be safe.

"We are not able to do anything because of her." Death voiced to the two chained up leaders, "You lot broke it and I can't fix that." He literally meant her as she is partial soul fine dust of many versions of herself. Refined and many while one being. He sees her soul and not the illusion they see, "She is your problem."

The monarch stares not with sight. He gets it now. That this entire time was that she hide in some illusion that they can't see past. She not the bundle of bits before but she is the spread shadow of all around them. Her body is the cloud of darkness around them. The illusion of perception of veils has made it easier to ignore her real body.

Everyone sits waiting as death does. She what held time back all this way. It was them to release her in order to allow it to revert. Enemy's play truce for this one mission alone. To deal with her. Finally she got them as she wanted.

"About time." She knocked their heads and they dislike that she read them like a book, "You better play nice together. I will will leave. But this was what I waited for." She torn the chains to shatter off them both, "You see. Bonds don't matter if you don't keep your promises. Humans play fast and loose about bonds. I expect you lot to not be stupid like a human." She glares at them and they sigh at having to trust this. This is what she made them do, it is out of hands of both sides. ending this war on truce. Not one on a paper. A chain bond.

"I am going home." She tells death, "So show me the way, shepherd of souls."

Death's waved a door of his make to open and offered it. Every step she made a living part of herself breaks apart and left behind. All them shells she had hidden and puppet strings working. The hands that made traps and what drove these traps to work. Littered of ashes the runic patterns break and no more was there hostages. Once every last part crossed over back to rhe living world. Time reverted for all sides, even god realms were renewed and made once again.