It was a comforting combination of the symbols belonging to his adopted brothers: the sun worn by Damian, the White God, and the star worn by Jule, the expelled immortal and eastern hemisphere's commander.
I'm not Damian or Jule; you can't sweet talk me into anything.
Damian himself would be overjoyed, and Jule-- the third adopted brother in their threesome-- ecstatic.
He hadn't heard from either Damian or Jule in two weeks.
He'd never understood the Watchers or any of the otherworldly beings Damian or Jule had known pre-Schism.
Damian granted him his god-powers after the Schism, whereas Jule was expelled from the divine world for crimes he'd never discussed.
As the youngest, non-natural deity-like being, he didn't have the history-- or the patience-- D or Jule had with such creatures as the Watchers.
If Jule or Damian were there, they'd take a trip to the boxing ring and take turns beating the hell out of him until his blood settled.
Dusty, Sofia, Darian, Damian, Jule, Jenn, Toni, Jonny, Watcher.
He tested his new phone by sending Damian and Jule a text. 911.
Without Damian and Jule and with Darian not yet able to take his place as the Grey God, he wasn't going to walk away from this weekend alive.
Jule and I were Traveling back.
Dropped me in … not sure where, but Jule thinks he's in Ireland.
"There's a man on the corner with a sign saying the world is going to end, but the sign's dated last year," Jule said.
Jule lifted his head to the night sky and closed his eyes.
While he recalled little else of his time before the Schism, Jule couldn't help the nagging feeling he was missing something important about the transition between an old and new god.
Jule drew a deep breath and faced the small, grandfatherly man with eyes the color of an Irish meadow.
The rain didn't touch the Watcher, and Jule crossed his arms.
Jule understood the importance of her appearance, just as he knew all bets were off once she was revealed.
Say your piece and get out of here, Jule replied.
Jule was happy to piss off the little green-eyed troll.
Jule baited the immortal creature.
"Someone here in Ireland," Jule guessed.
"Make the Black God look like Santa Claus," Jule said with a frown.
"Give me back my powers, so I can find her," Jule said.
"This one," Jule said with a broad smile.
Jule studied him, guessing his words to be correct by the anger on the Watcher's face.
"No, thanks," Jule said.
Jule felt the creature's presence disappear and dwelled on the odd arrangement.
The rain fell harder, and Jule broke into a trot.
Jule couldn't help but feel some relief at the sight of a warm, well-lit interior.
"All righty," Jule said.
"It's bad, Jule," the Guardian said, pursing his lips.
Just have worse odds, Jule said, trying not to let his own alarm show.
Jule looked around the cozy house.
Jule had watched the Magician for a good half hour.
Jule rose and maneuvered through the crowd and down the small hall.
The hum around the Other assured Jule there was only one person in the alley without any sort of otherworldly power.
"You want nothing to do with this guy, woman," Jule muttered.