The Tooth Fairy was dressed in blue suede with white sable trimming; his skin was richly olive and his hair was flamboyant white. He strolled up to within a few feet of where Moone was standing, and continued speaking. "And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing now?"
"Oh, um... I'm just, here with the Mothman, one of his manservants." He gestured back to Unwin, who had struck a dramatic and dignified pose, looking stately in his emerald green silk cape.
"Ah, yes, the Mothman! Big fan of his. Flying around, scaring local yokels. An all-time classic. But, uh, does he not brush any of his servants up on their [magicstuffology]?"
"He's a fresh recruit, your dentistry," Unwin said, approaching the Tooth Fairy and kissing a proffered ring, which was of course the golden color of dental fillings. "Not even from our world. Grew up hearing stories of you, but figuring you were his parents."
The Tooth Fairy cocked an ivory-white eyebrow at Moone, but looked back toward Unwin and continued chatting amiably with him. "Well, I may be the boy's father, you know. Like the milkman am I. But I don't think that's quite what you mean by parents, right?" He laughed at his own joke, but to Unwin's credit, he laughed along, just loudly enough to have it be mere polite laughter, but just softly enough to keep it from being boorish.
"Well, anyway, welcome, welcome," the Tooth Fairy continued. "Welcome to our little auction here. We're used to [the sale of] high-profile items, but this is one of the most exciting high-profile items to [cross our boarders] in... several millenia. I'm glad it's high enough profile to draw the attention of a legend as eminent as yourself to our humble little tower here." So he was the one who was offering up the NOC list. Not just the architect of the place, but seemingly a proprietor in charge of the auction, the third-party intermediary, so as to keep MacBeth's [position] anonymous. MacBeth, he was probably back at the Pentagram right now. Did the agency even know that this auction was going on?
"The pleasure is all mine," Unwin beamed, the Tooth Fairy growing noticeably excited looking into the man's mouth. "You're doing yourself a disfavor with this false humility. I for one am also a huge fan of yours. Living in the, mortal world as we do. My children are huge fans. Could I get your... autograph?"
"An autograph, Mothman? Who's doing himself a disservice now? Clearly we're both admirers of each others' works. You want to slip somewhere more exclusive and talk shop?"
The Tooth Fairy left with Unwin, leaving Moone absolutely baffled, and somewhat shaken over the nature of reality. "Well, that was suspiciously easy. We may have our entry in." He turned to the Pontifex. "He really a fairy?" Moone asked.
"Well, that has multiple meanings. He could be considered a fairy in a sense because he does live in Babel, which is a sort of fairyland based on how it interacts with the normal timestream... but it isn't a traditional fairyland, though it could definitely be considered a court, albeit one completely unaligned with the courts seelie and unseelie. Um... Probably he'd be considered Anunnaki, one of the sons or descendants of Anu... specifically maybe an Igigi Anunnaki, who were the sons of those sons, serving their will before ultimately rebelling against the generation of gods that preceded them? That would make sense if he truly is the grand architect of the Tower of Babel, commissioned by King Nimrod the Great as a sort of rebellion against Elohim... I mean, there's the, titanomachy, deal, right there, but I'm not sure how much sense that makes. The, the admixture of Babylonian and Hebrew mythology in this place is really quite baffling."
Moone grimaced. "I think it's all Hebrew. Hebrew with fairies."
"Well..." the Pontifex began, but trailed off and cleared his throat. "You're probably right. Babylonian mythology does have cyclical tales and etiological cycles, often taking place in stately palaces and grand settings, but no real example of such courts being thrown down as an etiology for anything that happens within the world of man. Weather cycles, though, if I recall correctly. The whole, fertile crescent, pattern being based off of cycles of flood and drought."
Moone narrowed his eyebrows and gave the Pontifex a blank stare.
"Am I, am I boring you? [give the pontifex more lengthy lectures on mythology as part of his character.] Mr., tooth-in-a-mousehole?"
"Well I--"
The Pontifex tried to begin to explain all the areas where Moone had gotten the origins of the practice wrong, but stopped speaking when one of the Tooth Fairy's servants nearby approached the group, and tossed a glittery powder over them apparently upon receiving orders to do so via earwig. There was a boon being added to each member of the group- a boon that, like the Pontifex's bestowal of his own aura, had no corresponding bane placed upon the recipient, a sheer gift of good will. Some of the Tooth Fairy's finest personal magic, a magic usually reserved for the likes of him, the Sandman, and the members of the Christmas Host.
The Tooth Fairy's personal fondness for the Mothman had apparently led him to place an enchantment of movement speed over the Mothman and his whole entourage. Nobody ever said that magical beings don't play favorites, or play fair, thought Moone; Unwin's Mothman persona was really paying its dividends. This bubble allowed everyone in it to be able to think, move, and act slightly, subtly faster than everyone else around them, like the world was in slight slow motion, and they could move freely among it.
The servant took their head and gently led them through the bone-white twisting hallways of the Tower, through wide white double-doors, and into the main room.
...
The auction took place in a grand hall, everyone seated at great tables, round and draped with shimmering white tablecloth. Moone and the Pontifex were led to Unwin's assigned table, along with the five member's of Unwin's core gang. There were placesettings set out, peaked folded tablecloths floating via magical forces above white plates of finest porcelain; wicker baskets of flaky spiral-shaped rolls and small bowls of ghee and honey butter besides. The auction would occur in an hour and a half; before then, a dinner, with servants rushing in and bringing in the plates, was to be served.
Moone and the Pontifex sat side-by-side at the table, Moone with his napkin tucked into the front of his shirt, swirling some sort of white-colored beverage with a high alcoholic content and poking at the dinner roll he'd helped himself to. To his left sat one of Unwin's men, the hogfaced one, whose name was [Name.] To his right sat the Pontifex, and to the Pontifex's right was the still-empty seat reserved for the Mothman, who was, Moone could see, winding down his schmooze with the Tooth Fairy near the head of the hall, preparing to head back and take his place at his own table.
"You're right, by the way," the Pontifex spoke suddenly. "This place, it's 100% the Hebrew telling of things. Not even a little Babylonian leaking in. Maybe this is historically accurate, maybe it isn't, but this is still the mythological past. We're in Dreamtime, or at least partially. Not the whole thing, not like what my powers can access if compounded on themselves, but this place is part of the dreaming."
"You're in one of your moods again. What's going on?"
"Nothing, just..." He sighed. "Look at all these people. They're the scum of the earth, and they all want their hands on the list. It would be better the list be destroyed than it fall into the wrong hands. I don't think this is about the NOC list any more. This could be the time to use my power, and be consumed at last. This could be time for my aura's ultimate purpose."
Moone's head swam as he considered what the Pontifex was offering. "B-but... this is ancient Babylon. Hebrew dreaming. You access the Dreamtime here, the mythological past version of events, and..." Moone thought about their situation. [has it been established that dreaming is geographically based, depending on local folklore and religion?]"We're in a Hebrew origin myth. In ancient Babylon. The Babylonian myth is going to leak through the portal- the myths will clash..."
"And cancel each other out," said the Pontifex, eyes closed in peace, as if he'd already considered the outcome. "Accessing the dreamtime in a geographically inaccurate location for the myth, during this time of already dreaming... the dreamspace will loop, feedback, and collapse in on itself."
"And that would be, catastrophic."
"So catastrophic it would bring the tower down, and all in it. Yes."
"You... I mean, would that... you can't do this."
"And what if I have already done this? What if I'm foretold to sacrifice myself in this way because this is how it ends? The Tower of Babel was cast down, will be cast down, unavoidably. The fact that it's still here in this time, accessible, is just further proof of man's hubris, extending out an abomination past its due date. This tower is falling one way or another. The Bible says by the wrath God, but God works through intermediaries frequently. What if I am that wrath? This edifice has to be cast down, sometime, ever."
"That's..." Moone paused. That was in a sense how time travel worked. This bubble of time as space wouldn't be able to last forever. So what if the tower were to fall? The Pontifex was right, of course. It would be the greater good.
Who was Moone to fight against this force of nature? Still, he knew there must have been another way. It wasn't just Unwin and his men in danger, it was Moone himself, which meant there was a way out. The puzzle was to find the angle.
"Think about it, Pontifex. I'm here. Unwin and his men are here. Ninevah was spared for the people and the cattle. Sodom would have been spared for the sake of ten righteous individuals. You may eliminate a lot of evil from this world going through with your plan, but you'd kill us innocents too." Moone took a deep shaky breath in through his mouth, and then a resigned one through his nose. "At least give us a chance to try to win this thing square for ourselves, eh?"
"Ten righteous, and innocents. If you weren't here now, would you fight against this? You signed up for this life, you signed up for this death. You're all spies. Soldiers. Who live to serve, and die if it serves something greater. Death is inevitable- I know how I'll die. I'm resigned to it. I've known I'd die sacrificing myself, and it feels... wonderful, and, important. And you... this is important. And you could all share in it."
"And maybe there will be some even greater sacrifice that needs to be made in the future."
"We can never know these things. This, as of right now, seems the greatest use of my sacrifice. I don't need your permission to do what I believe to be the greatest good."
Moone was staring up at the ceiling, looking past the glimmering chandeliers and stalactites of teeth. And saw his way in. "And are you sure it isn't just your own hubris, wanting your sacrifice to be part of something that goes down in history, as an act of God itself?"
The Pontifex shut his eyes, and flicked his tongue between his teeth, biting it there in a grimace. "I'm... I'm not sure. But I... I do want my sacrifice to mean something. And if it's this... it would be like, like my sacrifice has the approval of God."
Moone paused. He hadn't known the Pontifex to be so religious... but of course, the man's title was that of a priest. "God doesn't have to give up his life for this one. Not this time, anyway. If it's necessary- if it's really, truly necessary- then, well I don't claim to know God's will. But you'll have my approval, at least. Just let me give it to you, if I feel it's truly needed." Moone dabbed his mouth with the napkin still tucked into the front of his shirt. "And until then... let's at least work other angles first."
The Pontifex nodded slowly, and Moone exhaled. "Very well then. Very well."
And Unwin returned.
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