[Woof. Getting some serious flashbacks to his time in the Dowling household.]
I'm sure his interests are broad and vast and absolutely none of my business.
There is, however, a box full of the tackiest dishware I have ever laid eyes on that desperately needs to be dropped off the nearest high rise, and a few bottles of Four Roses' Single Barrel best. Just saying, if you want to get the worst of it off your chest.
I can sweeten the deal with a tub of red velvet cheesecake ice cream.
[ She has never heard of 'red velvet' cheesecake, but she is going to guess it's not literal, and it sounds decadent. Demons with their temptations... ]
I assure you that I would make miserable company at the moment, Mr. Crowley.
That's why I'm offering. You're miserable and I have horrible plates that need to be destroyed. Perfect combination - you get out all that pent up misery and aggression, and another offense to good taste is vanquished.
While I appreciate the consideration, I am sorry to say that I will in fact be otherwise occupied this evening. I trust you will be well prepared for drink and dance on my behalf, Mr. Chandler.
If you can't dance without me, then I have failed in my role as a tutor. Please, take advantage of the celebrations where you can find them, Mr. Chandler.
You're mistaken. I'm saying that if it's my first-time dancing in the City, I want you to be my partner. I haven't had an occasion to dance since you taught me, it wouldn't feel right for my first official dance to be with anyone else.
So, I hope you'll save a dance for me one day, Miss Ives.
[ That's not quite how it's meant to go, but supposedly nothing was usual about their lessons, either. ]
Now I must suffer the guilt of keeping others from knowing the joy of following your graceful step. I've little doubt that opportunity will be swift to find us, in such a case.
Hope it isn't too weird that it's so late, but I think I owe you a thank you.
[ Please note that she has very deliberately sent this in the middle of the day, in the hopes that they can have one conversation where neither of them are violently awoken by creepy shit. She considered sending a picture of a kitten or something to really seal the deal on "I am attempting to have a pleasant conversation." ]
And possibly a sorry.
[ Possibly several, if you count attempting to haze her with the roof-walker bit. Constantine maintains that had potential, though. ]
[ Enough has happened since then that Vanessa has turned quite a distant mood with most, but curiosity keeps her from outright ignoring the message. So lost in her own angst, she can't even remember what the other woman is talking about. ]
All right, then. I would like to thank you for trying to help. I know I was a bit shirty afterwards.
[ And sort of ... abandoned her to the horrors. Just because there didn't seem to be any immediate danger when Constantine left doesn't mean there wasn't something just around the corner. ]
I know your name, Miss Constantine, but the attempt is appreciated.
[ She had publically shared her first name with at least one other where Vanessa had noticed. ]
Everyone was under duress while trapped in that building. I wouldn't begrudge you the desire to be alone after such an experience. Have you kept well since?
[ Oh. That tracks. Jesus, she should just switch her sleep schedule officially, if she's going to keep hanging out with vampires and the King of Dreams and an old-timey goth. ]
Deal. Watch out for roof-walkers
[ Eleven o'clock will find Constantine exiting the station in District 4, turning the collar of her coat up as she exits to the street. Wherever they are, the weather is certainly turning dreary as the autumn progresses. The cloud cover hides the stars and a chilly breeze plucks at her hair.
She keeps an eye out for Vanessa, and pauses when she reaches the restaurant, peering in through the windows.
A heavy, resigned sigh, and a mutter: ] God damn it, this place looks haunted as fuck.
[ While Vanessa might normally have gotten there early for the upper hand, she's hardly in the mood to entertain this meeting, let alone hurt herself hoping it will lead anywhere. Pessimism has weighed heavy of late.
Her steps are no less silent than normal as she strolls up behind the woman, assuming she'll notice her reflection. ]
[ The attempt to hold the door receives a slight smile as she steps in to have another look around. Alternate exits are always the first thing to look for in any new establishment. ]
I should hope not. Do I seem like a schoolteacher?
I suppose that would depend on your passions. [ A mild head tilt as she finally strolls to the bar once through looking at a painting. ] Have you not heard of taxidermy?
[ There's plenty else she could teach, but that seems the most normal offer.
Yep. ]
Whisky or brandy will do.
[ Port would be fine, as well. Socializing while on absinthe can remain Dorian's purvue. ]
[ Johanna gives her a quizzical look as she pulls down a bottle of whisky and a couple glasses. ]
Well -- yes, I have. All right, I stand corrected, one subject I've heard of. D'you take your whisky neat or with ice?
[ Apparently she's going to play bartender. She did say she'd pour drinks, since "buying" them for each other is not really a useful concept in a place with no money. ]
Not an easy hobby to practice around here, I'd imagine.
[ The last remark garners a quiet huff of amusement as she settles onto a stool and pulls her bag into her lap to rifle through. ]
I haven't practiced in some years, at any rate. More of a hobby in youth, though impossible to forget once you know. Like skinning a rabbit, or shooting a firearm.
[ A small velvet box is settled onto the counter between them. ]
[ The thought of that gets a flash of a grin before she lifts her glass just to catch its scent. One must be careful. ]
Forgive my misleading you. I only meant to suggest that it would be rare for me to need those skills. Traps were my choice for rabbit catching, more as I was older. And only some months ago, before being taken here, did I learn to shoot a gun. I'm afraid the most damage I did was to the dishware.
[ There's no answer as to what the box is, only a delicate nudge of the gift in her direction. ]
[ Vanessa still seems too posh to have been trapping rabbits at any point -- but then, Johanna has been known to surprise people if she lets slip that she grew up in a council house. Maybe they've both distanced themselves from a less polished past.
Or maybe Vanessa is posh and just likes trapping. You never know.
Setting down her glass, Johanna picks up the box and opens it. ]
--Oh, are you serious?
[ She sounds surprised, amused, and pleased in about equal measure. Drawing out the spider-shaped ring inside, she holds it up in the dusky light of the restaurant. ] Did you seriously find this for me?
[ Her shrug is minimal and her smile polite, but she's glad the choice doesn't seem to be offensive. There's no way not to notice that most people around here have very different ideas of fashion than her. ]
You have remarked on my jewelry more than once. I thought you might like something for yourself.
[ She tries it on a few fingers before finding a good fit on her right middle. That seems appropriate. It reminds her of the costume jewelry she wore for a bit when she was about sixteen, before she'd found herself in the punk scene, but it's better quality. A finer class of shock tactic than would be available to a teenager who'd nicked five pounds from her dad's wallet. ]
Thank you. [ She looks back to Vanessa with a small, genuine smile. ] You didn't have to do that.
[ It took a couple of hours to find something appropriate, but it isn't as though they are short on time. Anything that keeps one from going insane from boredom is a gift, really.
With her bag set on the stool next to her, Vanessa will cross her legs and drape an arm over the counter's edge before picking up her glass to wet her lips. ]
[ She props her elbows on the counter, picking up her glass, clinking her new ring on the side of it. Her gaze lands on the middle distance as she considers how to phrase what she's been thinking about. Most of it isn't terribly coherent yet, is the problem. ]
I was talking to a friend about ... the way this place keeps hauling out our secrets. It's not just making us look at ourselves, it's creating situations where we have to show parts of ourselves to others. [ Her eyes flick over to Vanessa. ] That seem right to you?
[ A pale fingertip traces the rim of her glass, not quite touching, while she slowly nods with a lowered gaze. ]
Such manipulations can encourage paranoia and displace the only confidence people may have in themselves; control over their own secrets. Once those are on display, nothing looks the same.
[ Possibly spoken with a little too much confidence there. ]
It is a house of mirrors.
[ With a little tip of her glass in Johanna's direction, Vanessa takes a drink that leaves it near empty. ]
[ Muttered: ] Never cared for those much. Always felt like there was something spooky in those infinite ones, where they're reflecting each other.
[ She doesn't know for certain whether there's a magical power to the way those sorts of mirrors create hallways, but she'd bet a few pounds that there is. Picking up the bottle, she offers to refill Vanessa's glass. ]
So is the point to make us paranoid, or is it to, I don't know, get us past that? Like some kind of fucked up exposure therapy.
[ The commentary on mirrors garners no visible reaction, but she keeps it noted for later while pushing her glass closer to Johanna with her fingertips. Vanessa hates mirrors just as much as she has loved them. Not even those can be simple for her. ]
Exposure therapy?
[ 'Therapy' is a word that she also notes, and though again she remains unmoved in appearance, there is a subtle edge to how the word is uttered. Not a murmur, but a rasp. Her unblinking stare is on Johanna now. ]
It's this ... It's a treatment for things like phobias, irrational fears. Say you're scared of snakes. The therapist shows you a picture of a snake so you can get used to it, train yourself not to be afraid of it. Then they show you a video, then a real snake in a cage across the room, then you get closer ...
[ She waves a hand. ] Et cetera et cetera. Make you face your fears, basically.
[ With arms folded, she continues to stare throughout the explanation, with a twitch of a squint when Johanna mentions a 'snake in a cage'. Well, she understands that some 'therapy' has possibly helped...some people, when not run by mad scientists. But everything she had known was nothing less than torture, and this sounds dangerously borderline.
Cruel. Vile. The hate is too deep in her eyes to likely notice from a distance, but Vanessa can taste it like copper, like acid, and it's with a glance down that she will lift her glass for a slow sip to wash away the taste of venom.
With the bitterness swallowed, vanished, she'll give a bit of a shrug and look back up. ]
There is no way one can move forward in life without facing one's fears. Only, who is to say some here were not doing exactly that when they were taken?
[ Her arm drapes back across the other. ]
Neither can I imagine that anyone capable of so much cruelty would care about 'bettering' us. I would think it the opposite, if anything. There are many ways to sow chaos.
Edited (the world can handle only so many vanessas) 2023-11-13 03:46 (UTC)
[ For what it's worth, Constantine's tone while giving this description is decidedly neutral. It wasn't part of her regimen at Ravenscar; no doctor would have tried to expose her to demons or Hell, after all, since no doctor believed they existed. ]
I'm sure some people were. And I'm sure it's not anybody's business but our own if we were or weren't.
[ She speaks softly while her fingertip once more circles the rim of the glass in a slow caress, only not quite touching. ]
Traumatic events can create a closeness among those who have nowhere else to go. With secrets so unveiled, that closeness can become a necessity. You do not want them. You need them. They have too much of you to ever risk losing. There will be friends. Lovers. Families. Contentment may dare to hover within arm's reach.
[ A sudden flick of her fingernail against the rim brings a weighted clink with an abrupt end—no sweet ringing to soothe the sharpness—while she continues with the softest musing. ]
Then, there is nowhere to go but down. Then, we have everything to lose. Our puppetmaster knows this. Do you think the games, the experiments will then become gentler, Constantine?
[ In the dim emptiness of the restaurant, the absolute quietude of the street outside, Vanessa's words fall with the flatness of dust, the kind left behind on photos you don't dare to look at anymore. They have too much of you to ever risk losing.
Not if you resign yourself to the loss beforehand, of course. Or if you make sure they lose you, and not the other way around.
And if even that option is taken away, then what? ]
Too many people have been getting comfortable here, and it's going to be their downfall. What does that make Vanessa now? Comfortable isn't the word, at least. Small, tragic blessings. ]
Have you considered the possibility that this isn't the first time we have had this conversation?
Me too. But I remembered him being here. If neither of us remember having this conversation, then we've been here the whole time. Or ...
[ She trails off, thinking through the implications. ]
There did used to be people here, [ she continue after a moment, slowly, like she's working out a math problem. ] Or they want us to think so. The university had those notes on past studies. That'd be a weird thing to fabricate just for us.
Do you think we could have been here before? All of us?
[ Her stare remains unmoved until Johanna begins to pose a question, to which she pulls an elegant fountain pen and small white notebook out to begin writing something down. ]
Does this mean anything to you?
[ It's flipped and pushed across the counter enough to read this in elegant (read: swoopy) handwriting, ITERATION 4█ with the spot next to the 4 intentionally blacked out. ]
[ She'll pull the notebook back, writing something else down while she speaks. ]
You are an exorcist. [ Not a question. ] Your familiarity with the occult is going to prove to your benefit, I think, but only so far as you are willing to take it.
[ Flipping the notebook back around, she'll slide it over again for Johanna to read, LOOK BEHIND THE APOCALYPSES. ]
When you see this phrase, what do you think of? What does it read as?
[ Constantine frowns, mildly offended by the implication that she wouldn't take her occult skills as far as she bloody well wants to, thank you. It might just look like she's focusing, though, as she draws the notebook closer to read the words a few times. ]
An apocalypse is an unveiling. A revelation. [ She drums her fingers on the countertop. ] Is the Wizard of Oz a thing for you yet?
[ Oh. She shakes her head while taking back her notebook. Sounds a bit similar to Alice and her adventures in Wonderland, but considerably more violent.
She can already see a mild connection to the city, but clearly, there's more to it. ]
I am afraid not. You are arriving at your point, I assume.
It's just a thought. At the end they find out the wizard isn't a wizard at all, he's just a guy from Earth who's puppeteering things from behind a curtain. [ She puts on a stentorian tone. ] "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!"
He gives all the characters the gifts they've been wanting, courage and brains and a heart, but it's sort of like, "oh, you've had it all along, this is just a talisman of it." [ A thoughtful moue. ] Which is trite, but it's not unlike magic.
[ The summary garners a bit of a squint while she listens, back to writing again. ]
These messages, among others, were scratched into seemingly random walls and furniture—on the floor just beneath the Halloween celebration that our puppetmaster summoned so many of us to attend.
[ Some people more forcefully than others. ]
The one capable of this level of entrapment is no man or woman. Somehow, they are exercising power greater than a god's.
[ Why does that sound so familiar? No, she knows. She knows.
The pen pauses, and her head tilts a little while she stares at the messages with an uncomfortable lump in her throat. Vanessa continues with a sharper edge to her rasp. ]
I assure you that evil is behind this, and nothing less.
Shit. I missed them. [ Too busy running, probably.
Johanna is already shaking her head as Vanessa makes that last pronouncement, though. ]
"Evil" and "man" aren't mutually exclusive. Not by a long shot. If you're thinking whoever is doing this must be more powerful than a god because they've bound god-like entities here, that doesn't rule out that they're human for a second.
[ The slightest upturned quirk to her lips. Just a twitch, though, blink and you miss. ]
I am somewhat familiar with evil and its manifestations.
[ She finally looks up, pen still poised. No smile now, and there is a drift to how she speaks. From experience. ]
But there is a price for that sort of evil. When someone is willing to go so far as to wield the power of a god or devil, to reach beyond the shadows of their own realm and into something darker, there is one day a line crossed where their humanity is sacrificed for something else.
[ Recalling Johanna's commentary on mirrors, now. ]
[ On the one hand, Johanna thinks they might be splitting hairs. On the other, she doesn't doubt that Vanessa is right in an extremely literal sense, and she's right herself in a more metaphorical one. Not worth arguing over, at the moment, and getting deeper into a paragraph of Romantic poetry. ]
I know lots of things about witches. Most of it's contradictory and half of it's made up. Why?
[ That gets a touch of a dark smile, however fleeting. ]
Witches who have given themselves unto the Devil in exchange for youth and power. They were once human, but now they are other. When first awakening here, I was certain that they were responsible for this imprisonment. I've since been convinced otherwise. They could not achieve this level of control over gods.
[ For this, she'll have another sip of her drink. Keeping a poker face during this topic is emotionally taxing. ]
But the master they serve believes that he could ascend to have such power, to tower over the Almighty himself, if he made a joining of his own with another. It would be worth considering that, given the endless possibilities for how this city can be touched by any realm, something similar could have occurred to create— [ A swirl and gesture with her glass in the general vicinity of...everywhere. ]
[ It's nursed at this point. Vanessa isn't one to indulge in any vice to excess, and everyone should be grateful for it. ]
All witches are dangerous, but they are not all evil. I have known of only one such who abandoned the promise of eternal life to forge her own path. A Daywalker. She risked herself to keep the Nightcomers away from what their master sought.
[ Gently, soundless, the glass is set down, but no shift in tone. ]
[ The Cut-Wife would likely say not. Possibly with a vulgarity and a laugh. And an undercurrent of fondness. ]
Her name was Joan Clayton.
[ The name is murmured more softly with a glance to her notebook, but when she looks back up, her voice has dropped back to something coarse. ]
Those responsible are now dead. However, I believe some Nightcomers managed to escape. There is no telling who our man behind the curtain can usher in when we least expect it. You ought to keep your mirrors covered at night, Constantine.
[ Revelation, of course. She sighs, though it's more a silent rise and fall of her shoulders. Has prophecy become plural? They can all go back to Hell. ]
...Nothing is definite.
[ She will at least pick up her drink to finish it. It would be rude to leave some in the glass, and it's not enough to worry about. ]
I merely thought it an interesting turn of phrase. It's quite specific. And the other—the number means something.
[ Her fingernail taps the page. ]
Say this game reaches its end and our captor is unsatisfied with the grand finale. He seemingly has the power to take us or send us away on a whim while controlling what memories we keep. Who is to say he has not returned this world, and us, back to the beginning several times? Each time with its own variations, to hope for a different ending. Forty-something times, perhaps.
[ Not one she likes, but one she's ready to entertain. ]
If not us, others. But if it was us ... that might explain how it knows so much about us. Though I still think it's just mirroring stuff, I think we're making our own monsters.
But why. I get hung up on the why. I don't think it's just sadism. It's -- you weren't here for the welcome party, right?
It sort of felt like someone -- or something -- that knew all the parts of a party but didn't quite understand it. [ She snaps her fingers. ] The same way the fun fair had that carousel with the animals that were wrong. Like it knew the carousel was supposed to have animals, but not what those animals are supposed to be.
I thought for a long time that the City is trying to be a city, but it doesn't know how.
[ Now, really, those weird animals would have fit right in for some Victorian collectors, what are you talking about? What's messed up are all the ugly buildings. What is this minimalist nonsense and weird angles? ]
Have you noticed such oddities anywhere else? To me, everything about this city is rather off. The architecture, the furniture, the fashion. So much of it seems...unfinished.
That doesn't quite fit in with forty-some repetitions of the place, to me. You'd think it'd be more broken in, not less. But ... could be the place has changed, and we haven't? We're the control?
[ Given she's viewing the city through 19th-century lenses, some of what she considers off may be perfectly normal, but at least everyone should agree that the 'photographs' are unsettling. ]
If it took forty-something attempts to have it reach this far, and still be of an uncanny nature...? It would have needed to be quite...lacking in the beginning. The Garden of Eden still awaiting the birds and the beasts.
[ If the city's appearance is consistently confused, it would be even more unlikely that their captor could have ever been human. It's a good thing she's focused on the matter at hand, because honestly thinking about this on a personal level is more than a little upsetting. ]
And the insects. From a mere ant to the Devil himself, nothing can penetrate those barriers unless he wills it. Our captor has the power over a realm where Heaven and Hell cannot find us, nor can any manner of afterlife. Considering all of this, I think it is fair to assume that he is omniscient in this realm of his. I wonder if we can discuss anything without him knowing.
[ Not that it would stop her, since she's assumed that for awhile. ]
[ Constantine sighs ruefully, nods, and drains the last of her whisky. ]
That's why I've always thought it was silly that people didn't want to talk on the network. [ She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her device, dropping it on the counter. ] It's the same as at home -- practically everyone's carrying one of these. If someone wants to know what we're talking about, they can, even before you start getting to someone or something that's got the power to conjure carnivals out of thin air.
[ The thought of people willingly using these if there could be ways to communicate without being spied upon, well that just hurts her head. It also does not surprise her, because these are so convenient and humans can be so soft. ]
In the beginning, I was quite wary of how I used those devices, but then I was underestimating the reach of our prison warden. It took some time to accept that gods, angels, and demons could be just as trapped as I. [ It isn't as though she was going to hear someone say 'I'm a god' and just go 'Well, of course you are'. ] I admit that I did not believe the rumors of resurrection until recently, either.
[ She can't think about that for too long or she will actually go mad. It hurts her worse than anything else. ]
Oh, yeah, London's got almost as many cameras as people. To stop terrorism, you know.
[ Rolling her eyes, she straightens up to grab the bottle and top up her drink. She proffers the bottle to Vanessa when she's done. ]
Someone got killed here pretty early on, by one of the other people here. Some grudge from their home world, I think. Sold me on the resurrection pretty fast.
As far as I am aware, that makes for two who have died and been resurrected in this city's...traditional manner—
[ A pause as she realizes that she is actually saying those words. ]
I am no longer certain what should even count for traditional death. It was supposedly different for those who died within that building during the Halloween festivities.
[ That does give her a moment's pause, but she'll nod and down it without another word on the matter.
Useful companies need all sorts, after all.
With a little smile of appreciation, she brushes a fingertip beneath her lip before setting the glass down and glancing back over what she's written so far. ]
So two of our own are properly considered to have died. At least a few have likely returned after being sent home. We know of two who don't seem to remember their previous time here.
[ Except, her notes remind her of something. The numbers don't really satisfy anything beyond curiosity, so she hadn't asked at the time. ]
Who was it that you knew prior? Have you noticed any change in behavior between then and now?
[ Well, of course there was a chance it would be that, so she isn't terribly shocked. Someone interested in the occult would reasonably gravitate towards one of the Endless. She immediately smiles, leaning forward on her elbows with a renewed interest. ]
Oh? Have you gotten him to laugh? Once you witness him laughing, everything in between that and a pout is easier to discern.
[ In a different context, it could have been taken as something very different, it was so unnatural. It was— An experience on its own. ]
You knew him before, then? [ A 'hm' of appreciation while she jots something else down. ] Well, my question does remain. Have you noticed anything at all different from before?
[ She sounds entirely bemused. The most amusement she's ever seen Morpheus evince is that bone-dry sarcasm when they're sniping at each other. Laughing? Really? ]
I mean, we met once, in London. And then again, here. And then he disappeared.
[ And she took it personally. And that does not answer Vanessa's question, particularly, but she's still not sure if she can. Particularly given her last conversation with him about change. ]
[ Well, that isn't much to go on if they weren't very close, but to know him from before is still more than anyone other than Hob can claim. As far as she is aware. Perhaps she should actually ask Morpheus about who else might be here... ]
[ Resting her knuckles lightly beneath her chin, Vanessa squints to look just past Johanna while considering. Unfortunately, it involves remembering too much else of that night, so she looks back with a more sheepish smile. ]
I wish I could recall.
[ But more importantly, ]
What sort of job would he have needed an exorcist for?
[ Vanessa is obviously canny enough to see that for the deflection it is. Johanna eyes her, wondering if she'll pursue it. Christ, why is she having a version of this conversation a second time? She could just talk about it; she never agreed to be the Lord of the Dreaming's secret-keeper.
Well, three reasons, she supposes. ]
I take my clients' confidentiality seriously.
[ And he took away the Newcastle nightmare. And she believes he would do her the courtesy of not talking about Rachel. ]
[ She will have to ask Morpheus about this, if the time seems right. It isn't important to her knowing of either of them, though, so she feels no need to press. ]
I will have to remember that should I ever require your services.
Anyway, like I said, it's hard to say with him. When he was first here ... I don't know, he volunteered one or two things, and now that he's back he's seemed less inclined to. But when I worked for him he wasn't terribly forthcoming, either. Not unless he had to be.
[ She shrugs. ] Could mean nothing, could mean plenty. I don't know.
[ There's a little twitch to her squint when she hears that, and a shift as she re-crosses her legs. ]
...Perhaps that has to do with the point in time he last knew? Something may have affected him between then and now.
[ There is the slightest shrug. ]
There is a dear friend of mine who I became quite close with before being brought here. He is one to always carry his secrets better than most, but since seeing him here, it is clear that he is hiding far more from me than I ever suspected. Something changed for him, though he may never tell me what. I can make an educated guess, though it will remain as such. Nothing is ever certain, so life has taught me.
[ Slowly, she flips her notebook closed. ]
I only learned later that he has come from a time separate from my own. Supposedly my near future, not far off at all, but now I do wonder. There are too many missing brush strokes to paint a complete picture. Or, I suppose they have been painted over with a different hue entirely.
As in, time might have passed, or gone backwards, for Morpheus, in between the times he was here? [ She purses her lips thoughtfully, nodding. ] Could be. I don't know, er, when he was from, the first time.
Is your friend the other person who's been here twice?
Yes. Now that we know that on returning home, we are returned to the same point from when we were taken, seemingly without any memory of our lives here, it makes as much sense as anything else that days or even years could separate us in the blink of an eye.
[ Sensible, certainly, if one doesn't...think about it for too long.
The second question, however, is followed with a slight headshake. ]
Ah, no, Lord Morpheus was the one I would have named should you have asked me first.
[ So they are down to knowing of 'one' for known amnesiac returns, but Vanessa already suspects there are plenty more without them or others knowing. ]
...I am beginning to suspect that I ought to make an announcement on the network. Lord Morpheus hadn't heard the news, either, but then it was only mentioned once at the last city meeting I attended, and for some reason few have spoken of it since.
[ Which is strange because it gave her a little bit of an existential crisis. They lose everything they know here. ]
One of our own, one of the very same who has known resurrection, was also returned home some weeks ago. There was no memory of the life here, and time then passed for her there before she awoke in the City once more. Upon arriving, her memories seemed to be back in order.
Her disappearance seemed to be different from the others, however, as I believe that her belongings did not disappear while she was gone.
Yes. Everyone has been...remarkably quiet about the entire matter.
[ At least, far more so than she would imagine. Shock and denial was her first guess, but it's been long enough now for most to recover. How has word not spread? ]
There is always the chance that it could have been something to never repeat, but...it is the most evidence we yet have of what happens to us on our return. [ Shaking her head, she'll lean back a bit on her stool with a small arch to stretch her back. These are not comfortable seats. ] There is only one way out of such an ouroboros, and everyone knows how to kill a serpent.
And so we trudge through the muck of tar and venom, and we search.
[ Far easier said than done, but keeping one another informed can only be a step in the right direction.
Once the notebook has been returned to her bag, she stands. With a little slip from the stool, Vanessa turns from the bar to have another of the subtlest stretches possible. The art here really does constantly seem to shift in the shadows, which is more fascinating to her than unnerving, and she stares at the nearest wall. ]
I suppose now you have my...number, as well, should you likewise need my assistance. Which is little but offering unfortunate information, thus far, but time will tell.
Don't sell yourself short. [ She holds up the hand with the spider ring. ] You've got a knack for finding jewelry, as well.
Er -- Miss Ives. [ It really does feel like talking to a schoolteacher, but when in the Victorian era. ] Thank you. I appreciate your perspective on it all.
Brook, such a gesture warms my heart. How kind. I was unfortunate enough to become trapped in that wretched house, but no serious harm was done. I am quite well, thank you.
no. i'm fine. i kept talking to daan - the doctor guy on my post - and he said the problem was probly that i was hungry and tired. turns out he was right. i've been hanging out with another guy who's been sharing the food he cooks with me. so i've been ok since then.
i'm glad you're ok too. i didn't say it then, but like. if you need help or anything, you can call me in return. i mean, i wouldn't be useful for nursing if you felt bad. i don't remember enough about what being human's like. but if you were worried about a dangerous situation or smth, i could be helpful then.
Forgive me, I did not mean to question your capabilities. I am always keen on knowing how this city may affect those who are more than human.
There is a garden that I was hoping to visit later on to collect some plant samples. I've heard that some of the more dangerous plants act as though they are possessed in some way, so it isn't particularly safe.
[There are a few seconds of silence as Dorian thinks about what to do. Vanessa is likely the one person safe from Ethan, and he could use her help, but is that a risk he really ought to take? He is already straining Ethan's forgiveness as it is, and he'd like not to have gotten out of the haunted house without killing her only to kill her now, when there would actually be consequences. What did that one girl say? Losing memories? Hasn't Vanessa's head been fucked with enough?
He hasn't been shot or stabbed. The claw wounds are painful and bleeding too much, but not deep enough to puncture a lung. He doesn't need help that badly.]
Nothing I can't handle, [he pants.] But I would advise you to spend the evening at home.
[ Has he met this woman? She will not sit inside while the men try to clean up their own fuckery, whatever it is. Contacting her and then dismissing her is only a surefire way to get her to head toward the danger for some answers.
She'll try to get ahold of Ethan next, and don't think she won't be calling back later, sir. ]
Mr. Crowley, I apologize if Mr. Chandler put any undue stress upon you or Mr. Fell. I can assure you that I am here and I am currently with Lord Morpheus, so there is no need to worry for my sake.
Your offer, as ever, is too generous. I shall consider it my first visit when next I move on.
[ Oh that. 'Beau', honestly!!! He is just a very very dear friend! Very. ]
It would be in rather poor taste if he hadn't.
It did not seem apt to mention certain details when I was uncertain if you would meet him. I would not have wished to place any undue assumptions on the nature of his interest by overindulging in my own affections.
[ She doesn't know how Morpheus would want the public to see them or if he'd care about her life outside of him, so she was trying to play it cool because Men. She knows she gets much more into people than they do her.
Hi, Miss Ives. I hope you're okay after everything with the party and the university. I know people got taken there against their wills [ ... ] and it didn't go so well.
[ It's not a message that Robby sends to everyone, but he remembers their talk about protection, about one's place in a city of misfits. And something about it, perhaps with their now and then meetings before that (if not always detailed, but he's surely seen her at the diner), he wants to seek after her.
Maybe he should apologise. He wants to. Even if he knows it's a pretty meaningless gesture that has to do more with himself than other people. ]
Mr. Keene, it is so pleasant to hear from you in any capacity, however you are too kind to worry over my state. Ought not I be the one inquiring after your health?
Were you taken?
[ That would upset her all the more, but she is curious now. Regardless, she can't imagine bothering him or anyone with what actually happened to her. In some ways, it had been her worst night so far in the city, but in others, it had been the finest. ]
No, I never went. I don't think so. I kept seeing things and ending up in different places, but I don't have any memories about the university if I did.
You don't have to tell me anything that happened, but I was wondering if anything happened to you after the party.
[ It takes Robby a moment to text out. He'll be honest to an extent, doesn't question her own lack of details, because that's just how adults are. Acquaintances, too.
But there's a guilt that still clutches at him, his companion since the party--the kind of emotion that sticks on. And does that guilt want to be absolved? Or validated? Or does he want to learn between fact and fiction, when he hasn't known what's happened to people since that time?
He just wants to know--something, is all Robby can register. Whatever that is. ]
[ Given his mood that night, the last thing she wants is to encourage the wrong attitude, but she's aware that it's always better to know, if one can. For better or worse. ]
Yes. More than once, unfortunately. It is good that you weren't taken there. Death roamed those floors.
What do you mean, different places? What have you seen?
I was trying to stay in my apartment, but then I was somewhere else, or thought I was? I need to talk to some people. I don't know what was real or in my head.
I'm okay now.
[ Because even if he's being honest, he wants to smooth it over, not make a deal out of it. Like something that might be still troubling him now. ]
[ The offer makes Robby pause, have to read it again, and think about it. He knows he won't talk: he doesn't even know how to verbalise, let alone write what it is that he went through, and what would come from sharing? And to an acquaintance--it's too much, in many ways. ]
[ These are the sorts of things she can’t press on and never would without reason, but then she is also in no hurry. ]
I recall that when I first began seeing things that others could not, I prayed to have someone I might speak to so that I could understand, only it seemed impossible. I was young, younger than you, and so afraid of what I might hear in return, or what might happen.
[ He sees the point in what she shares, although--it reminds him of something else, of maybe what's life in general: feeling alone, unable to speak out. Even if for him, he never worried about what might happen or what he might hear.
He always assumed indifference. But then, he never grew up with the supernatural. ]
[ That is a consideration. Those who did find out thought they could, once they understood it themselves, but even the doctor at the asylum had cut out the wrong part of her ...Had Joan come closest? She had been too terrified to really try.
There's a generous pause before continuing. Not the inspiring pep talk he deserves. ]
No. I suppose not. No one else could possibly know what it was like.
I once thought that the worst of the curse had been left beyond the barriers of the City, but I am still learning more about myself, it would seem.
I have never spoken to another who also experienced such things on their own.
[ It takes Robby a moment, too, to read what's been sent. A topic he's unfamiliar with, and his own mind still feeling like it's been made into a jack-in-a-box, or recovering from being turned into one: wound up, over and over. ]
I'm sorry. Your situation sounds worse. [ He goes back and forth on what to say, before: ] I put myself through it. I chose to stick with it was bad. Because we knew it would be bad. But the university was trying to make people kill each other too. I didn't want to go.
[ So he was stubborn. So he stuck it out. So he hoped that the moments that seemed real weren't, buried his head, has messages he still needs to send and figure out.
He wants to bury his head, but he'll try not to. ]
It doesn't sound like you got a choice. About your curse. [ ... ] Do you see ghosts?
[ How much of a choice any of it was may be debatable. ]
I do not need any of that to believe that you aren't responsible for anything that has occurred. Our captor would likely have attempted some torment no matter what was done. It does not mean we should ever cease our defiance.
On the mere chance that it was some sort of repurcussion, then that would not be a bad thing. It would mean that we are capable of upsetting them. That's an advantage.
[ So, not like Miu, and Robby doesn't want to make any other comparisons, doesn't want to ask what it's like to see such things. His own worn mind gives him the answer: too much. ]
Someone able to exercise so much power should have trouble comprehending how anyone could continue to defy them. No doubt they believe that we can only last for so long before we bend to their will.
They would likely speak through action, as you fear. But that is better than nothing happening on our action, to be silently wasting away into nothingness.
What you attempted was not reckless, by any measure.
[ It's not a straightforward consideration. This alone might not set Robby's belief of how he should continue onward (what can he handle? what is he willing to risk?), but a lot of what Miss Ives says, more poetic than he, vibes with him. The reason that he put together the rebel party: the desire to defy. To test the ones testing them, to see what they will do. To give others the incentive to do something instead of choosing nothing.
The question of his personal strength (or, his ability to endure) is still on the table, but if he's honest with himself? ]
That's what I want to do. I don't want to play by their rules. I still don't.
He is far too generous in crediting me, I'm afraid. If anything, I interfered with his defense of you.
I am gladdened to see that you are somewhat yourself again, but you should be concerned only over your own recovery, Mr. Nails. Please do not waste any more thoughts on one such as I.
if his defense of me had gotten any further it would have fucked him up more than hed say
[ and the fact badou was the one to call on him is a guilt he'll carry all on his own, thankyouverymuch! ]
anyway i aint the kinda man who likes to waste his time so dont go accusing me of doing that now you got what i said just now, right? me and mine who do you think is part of that?
If it was not my responsibility before, then it is so now. I promise nothing such as this will ever happen again. He will remain under my care during any full moon.
there is a gentle knock on the front door of vanessa's residence in the late morning hours. while aziraphale's interest had been preoccupied with a particular wily serpent on the holiday itself, he isn't one to let a good turn go unanswered. nor a chance to show appreciation for someone's kindness.
While she may keep her closest friends up-to-date on where her current 'residence' is in the weekly rotation, she doesn't actually expect anyone to show up at any of the places. She tends to be the one to visit, and since her return from...'away', she's been spending many of her nights with Morpheus, so her happening to be in when he knocks is serendipitous. Or suspicious. Is this a precursor to some other joint experiment that one of her poor friends has been thrown into with her?
Just in case, she's turning the stove off before going to open the door (it's fine, it won't teleport her anywhere this time, it's fine). She can tell who it is before she even pulls it open, so he's already greeted with a small smile while stepping aside so that he can enter, keeping the door open wide. ]
Mr. Fell, what a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?
[ She understands that he is quite polite, but if people insist on it, then a thank you note should be perfectly lovely and less a waste of their time on traveling just for her. ]
( better not to think about how the angel had been able to locate her. those are little details. the kind that are better off forgotten. instead the more important thing is that when vanessa opens the door, she's greeted by the sight of a very warmly dressed angel with a big woven basket in hand. )
Good morning! And something of a belated "Merry Christmas"!
( warmly. )
I apologise. I was bit too preoccupied to send my regards day of.
[ The mention of preoccupation only shifts her smile into something easier, nearly impish. The basket gets a glance, but she doesn't wish to presume anything. ]
Of course, and Merry Christmas to you. I might hope that any such distractions were lovely and perhaps somehow involved Mr. Crowley, then?
[ It's still the season, and there is the new year to keep the 'celebratory mood' going, as much as can exist while trapped in a large cage. ]
Please, won't you come in?
[ She is fairly sure that leaving an angel at the door is bad manners. ]
[ She can't help but grin, which has felt all too rare this last month. There are precious few who to draw it out of her these days. Mr. Crowley may be another, but he isn't talking enough in this regard. She wishes for the details!
With the door shut, Vanessa has a curious squint while stepping closer. ]
That is too kind. You did not need to go and trouble yourself overmuch for my sake.
[ Said as she is immediately trying to see what it is without looking too eager while gesturing for him to take a seat in the living room. He may be in a hurry, of course, but she doesn't want to be rude. ]
( casual dismissal. even if it were, he would never admit to such a thing.
with a careful hand, aziraphale picks off a hefty fabric from the top of the basket and extends it over to her. once it's cascading over the angel's arm, it becomes obvious that it's a handmade blanket and that the rest of the basket is full of carefully packed food. )
I fear I don't know your tastes well, but I thought you could use both during these chilly days.
( then he's offering the basket to her with his other hand. )
[ Hardly any trouble, he says, but Vanessa notices little details. Both basket and blanket are looked over with a wide-eyed swivel before setting the basket down on the table.
The blanket, she holds closer, caressing it fondly. ]
Did you...make this? [ She quickly looks back up, and her smile is caught with emotion. ] By hand?
I just wanted to thank you for the lovely thank you gift. It really was not necessary. I know we have not spoken in some time, but if you should ever need aid again, I would gladly provide it.
-Loki
backdated?! to just after new year's! (holiday inbox shuffle lost me a few tags)
Please, you may call me simply Loki. I am not Lord of anything anymore.
I am quite unused to receiving gifts of such a nature and believe me, I was truly touched by it.
I do hope neither of us require such help of each other, but if I am ever in need, I will consider you as well.
Yes, thank you for asking. It has been the best celebration of Yule I have had since I was a child. How has yours been? I do hope it has been a good one for you.
I would say that it has been the best experience yet for me, which does feel strange to admit to under the circumstances. After all, it should not be a good thing were we all to still be here for the next season's celebrations.
It is a bit of a conundrum, is it not? I do not wish to be here, but I would like to keep those I have become close with and stay with them outside of this place. I simply do not know if that is possible.
Though, I suppose not. Though it is concerning me what will happen if this world comes to an end. Or I leave for any purpose. Will I then cease to exist?
I do hope not. I have found too much to live for here.
I know, but I fear where I will end up. I am sure Valhalla will not accept me, and I am unsure I would want to go there anyway. Am I doomed to wander the realms alone?
I am tired of being alone.
If it meant being able to stay alive and with those of whom I care the most, I would like that. But I fear no one else truly wishes to stay.
I have a doubt in that... There are many damaged souls who have found family here. You ought to ask.
In the rest of it, if you wish, I may attempt a reading. Only, a warning, anything directly occurring within the City is never made clear. Such things are already unpredictable in their success, but I am especially confined for now.
True, but I worry none of them are those I feel are like my family now. And if they do not want to stay, I would not want them to feel guilty for saying no if I were to ask.
I understand the limitations and thank you. I still wouldn’t mind you trying, since you are offering.
Unlikely that any of us could become good at such a thing. Practiced through necessity, perhaps.
I have no special understanding of such devices, I assure you. A former resident of our city was able to discover new ways to trespass through the technology's
[ Only a short pause while she remembers the word. ]
I don’t know, some people seem to take to these things better than others. How or why, I do not know, but practice always at least helps.
Hacking… that term seems familar, though I admit I do not really know what it is. So they were able to do things with the technology that it was not intended to do? Or that we were not supposed to be able to do? Either way, that is rather interesting.
That is a true shame. I would’ve like to have met someone with such skills. Seems rather helpful. I hope you have not lost too many people with the mass departures recently.
[ There's no way he can't give Vanessa a gift in return, Daniel thinks. Partially because he's fond enough of everyone who helps out at the diner in the first place, but-- she had also said some quite nice things in the letter, even if there had been a callout right alongside it..
So he will make sure to give her a gift - the next time she's at the diner, of course, since he has no idea where she's staying. He will, however, disappear right into the kitchen after giving it.. But there's no problem, since there is a note with the gift. It reads: ]
Thank you for your kindness, both in your letter and your gifts. I have to especially thank you for thinking about Robby as well. It means a lot to me to see people looking out for him.
I can't say I am particularly glad to be stuck in this place, but if I would have to pick something I am glad for, it is having gotten to meet people like you. Your goodness and kindness are evident to me, and I would love to get to know you better, whenever you have time to talk. Maybe sometime over dinner at the diner? I'll cook.
Either way, enjoy your gift. And thank you for everything.
- Daniel LaRusso
[ Inside of the box is a tea set - all in black, decorated with white flowers. ]
un: hidden { backdated text to just after she finds the gift!
Thank you so very much for the return gift; it is stunning. More yet, sharing such generous sentiments has left me truly touched.
I soon may find a residence to settle into for something like permanence while here, and perhaps then I will have you and Robby for tea. As you say, we may not be joyous to be here, but it is a good thing that we have each other.
Dinner sounds like a lovely idea. Whenever should please you, I can find a dessert to bring.
[ ya got him stumped there, anonymouse. Reno's never once in his life considered the possibility that anyone might think he deserves better than his lot in life. ]
I dunno. don't think so anyway. I don't deserve better
[ Boy she and Morpheus really are a good match, aren't they? The sex must be portentous. Do they actually get each other's clothes off or do they just eyefuck while whispering opaque nothings to each other?
[ She minds the exorcist knowing, so she will say nothing on that matter, given she's already frantic over planning how to deal with this going forward. She doesn't want an exorcist anywhere near him, especially given this line of inquiry.
Vanessa ought to have prepared for this possibility. She's been too preoccupied.
At least the mention of demons can allow her to veer the topic, for now. There are a plethora of damned scenarios to reference from Vanessa's own past. The inquiry directed towards her of all people is...laughable. ]
You may need to be more specific, or I would not know where to begin. What manner of demon are you inquiring after?
[ Constantine has the distinct impression that Ives is being evasive, answering questions with questions. Of course, so is she: two bullshitters bullshitting. She knows why she's avoiding the straight answers, but why is Ives? Protectiveness of Peter? Or of someone else around here? Could be she knows Crowley and has the same paranoia towards Johanna that he does. ]
The kind that hurt people, not the charming ones
[ No doubt that's very reassuring. ]
ffs Ives, you're smart enough to put pieces together. We're not getting anywhere if we both keep acting coy.
Peter's got something attached to him and it's hurting him. I've been trying to help him get some relief from it and I'm hoping you can help me help him
I mean fuck I'm not going to just whack him in the face with a bible and walk off I'm trying to be sensitive That's why I'm asking you But a possession needs a bit more than a cuppa and a listening ear
It is no fault of your own. There is no way that you, or anyone else could understand such a trial. Not without experiencing such a thing for yourself.
There is a reason for his possession. His demon is his own. How best he can cope, and keep a mind of himself, is something that cannot be imparted by an exorcist. In his own way, he is sacred.
So, what is it that you would then suggest?
Edited (I mean we already know he's scared) 2024-03-24 17:20 (UTC)
It is something that you will never touch. Not truly. Of course, you wouldn't wish to. It has become the part of him where most would not bear to look. In his blood, in his soul.
The demon is with him, even here, where we are without our physical forms. Without a connection to life, nor death. Without the whispers of Hell.
I have known my own demons. One in particular. We must all be grateful that I would never claim him as mine own, and so he did not follow.
Whether or not you think to act kindly, an exorcism would do little when there is nowhere for a demon to go. Torture would be the only outcome. To then hope to instead suffocate the creature's voice, to bury its urges, would be no better. His pain would only be prolonged.
[ There's a long pause after that last text, as Vanessa might expect. There's a lot to process there, even after Johanna gets past her annoyance at Vanessa assuming what she may or may not wish to do. ]
Are you saying he's not possessed, he *is* the demon?
[ Let's all be grateful she self-censored her first try at that sentence. ]
So the people who were after him, they succeeded?
But they didn't If they were trying to expel Peter, they didn't, he's obviously still there
Did they put something else in there or did they just wake it up?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text | un: ouroborosed
You holding up alright?
no subject
I thought I had been thorough in showing him how to send a private message, but I did not think to teach him how to communicate anonymously.
[ She's never done it, so she simply hadn't thought of it. One of many, many mistakes. She's also failing to answer because no, she's a mess.
Ethan had barely lasted a fortnight. For all she knows, it isn't even the first time since arriving. ]
Men will be men, but I wish that had not been your first sighting of him. I promise there is more to his interests.
no subject
I'm sure his interests are broad and vast and absolutely none of my business.
There is, however, a box full of the tackiest dishware I have ever laid eyes on that desperately needs to be dropped off the nearest high rise, and a few bottles of Four Roses' Single Barrel best. Just saying, if you want to get the worst of it off your chest.
I can sweeten the deal with a tub of red velvet cheesecake ice cream.
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I assure you that I would make miserable company at the moment, Mr. Crowley.
Why would we drop plates?
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What do you say?
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I dare not leave you with the burden of ugly plates. I shall be over promptly, if that is truly an invitation, though I feel I ought to bring a gift.
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Yet. ]
If you insist. Ladies' night, then.
Thank you.
text; username: mr. chandler
If you aren't otherwise occupied, Miss Ives.
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Next time, then.
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Next time, perhaps.
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So, I hope you'll save a dance for me one day, Miss Ives.
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Now I must suffer the guilt of keeping others from knowing the joy of following your graceful step. I've little doubt that opportunity will be swift to find us, in such a case.
text; un: Constantine; early November
[ Please note that she has very deliberately sent this in the middle of the day, in the hopes that they can have one conversation where neither of them are violently awoken by creepy shit. She considered sending a picture of a kitten or something to really seal the deal on "I am attempting to have a pleasant conversation." ]
And possibly a sorry.
[ Possibly several, if you count attempting to haze her with the roof-walker bit. Constantine maintains that had potential, though. ]
no subject
For what?
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A thank you for trying to help and a sorry for leaving you alone
And for never getting your name
I can't just keep thinking of you as "the girl who digs up graves and has great jewelry"
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[ If only there were rabbits to catch. ]
My name is Vanessa Ives, and you owe me no gratitude or apology.
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Johanna Constantine
All right, then. I would like to thank you for trying to help. I know I was a bit shirty afterwards.
[ And sort of ... abandoned her to the horrors. Just because there didn't seem to be any immediate danger when Constantine left doesn't mean there wasn't something just around the corner. ]
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[ She had publically shared her first name with at least one other where Vanessa had noticed. ]
Everyone was under duress while trapped in that building. I wouldn't begrudge you the desire to be alone after such an experience. Have you kept well since?
no subject
Have you been all right? I've been thinking about what you were saying about this place wanting to rewrite our stories.
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[ She'll just ignore everything else prior to that. ]
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Can I pour you a drink and compare notes with you somewhere that isn't badly lit and full of ghosts?
no subject
Where did you have in mind?
no subject
[ She sends a map with a pinned location. ]
Hopefully it'll still have enough booze to be worthwhile. If not, I can be mother and make tea
no subject
Is eleven o'clock an acceptable time for you?
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-> action
Deal. Watch out for roof-walkers
[ Eleven o'clock will find Constantine exiting the station in District 4, turning the collar of her coat up as she exits to the street. Wherever they are, the weather is certainly turning dreary as the autumn progresses. The cloud cover hides the stars and a chilly breeze plucks at her hair.
She keeps an eye out for Vanessa, and pauses when she reaches the restaurant, peering in through the windows.
A heavy, resigned sigh, and a mutter: ] God damn it, this place looks haunted as fuck.
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Her steps are no less silent than normal as she strolls up behind the woman, assuming she'll notice her reflection. ]
Miss Constantine.
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Jesus! Hi. Have you ever considered wearing a bell?
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It has been suggested.
[ After glancing at the establishment inside—disappointing—and then finding the door, she murmurs with a subtle nod. ]
After you, Miss Constantine.
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[ Shaking her head, more at herself for getting got than anything, Johanna pulls open the door and precedes Vanessa in. ]
Johanna's fine, if you like. Or just Constantine. "Miss" makes me feel like a schoolteacher.
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I should hope not. Do I seem like a schoolteacher?
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[ She beelines for the bar to examine the stores and exclaims softly in triumph. ] What's your poison? We've got the basics. No absinthe.
[ Is she making assumptions about what goth Victorians drink? Yes. Yes she is. Is she wrong though. ]
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[ There's plenty else she could teach, but that seems the most normal offer.
Yep. ]
Whisky or brandy will do.
[ Port would be fine, as well. Socializing while on absinthe can remain Dorian's purvue. ]
no subject
Well -- yes, I have. All right, I stand corrected, one subject I've heard of. D'you take your whisky neat or with ice?
[ Apparently she's going to play bartender. She did say she'd pour drinks, since "buying" them for each other is not really a useful concept in a place with no money. ]
Not an easy hobby to practice around here, I'd imagine.
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[ The last remark garners a quiet huff of amusement as she settles onto a stool and pulls her bag into her lap to rifle through. ]
I haven't practiced in some years, at any rate. More of a hobby in youth, though impossible to forget once you know. Like skinning a rabbit, or shooting a firearm.
[ A small velvet box is settled onto the counter between them. ]
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I wouldn't have clocked you as someone who grew up shooting and skinning game. Not rabbits, anyway, maybe foxes.
[ She glances down at the box as she pours her own glass. ] What's this?
no subject
Forgive my misleading you. I only meant to suggest that it would be rare for me to need those skills. Traps were my choice for rabbit catching, more as I was older. And only some months ago, before being taken here, did I learn to shoot a gun. I'm afraid the most damage I did was to the dishware.
[ There's no answer as to what the box is, only a delicate nudge of the gift in her direction. ]
no subject
[ Vanessa still seems too posh to have been trapping rabbits at any point -- but then, Johanna has been known to surprise people if she lets slip that she grew up in a council house. Maybe they've both distanced themselves from a less polished past.
Or maybe Vanessa is posh and just likes trapping. You never know.
Setting down her glass, Johanna picks up the box and opens it. ]
--Oh, are you serious?
[ She sounds surprised, amused, and pleased in about equal measure. Drawing out the spider-shaped ring inside, she holds it up in the dusky light of the restaurant. ] Did you seriously find this for me?
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You have remarked on my jewelry more than once. I thought you might like something for yourself.
no subject
[ She tries it on a few fingers before finding a good fit on her right middle. That seems appropriate. It reminds her of the costume jewelry she wore for a bit when she was about sixteen, before she'd found herself in the punk scene, but it's better quality. A finer class of shock tactic than would be available to a teenager who'd nicked five pounds from her dad's wallet. ]
Thank you. [ She looks back to Vanessa with a small, genuine smile. ] You didn't have to do that.
no subject
[ It took a couple of hours to find something appropriate, but it isn't as though they are short on time. Anything that keeps one from going insane from boredom is a gift, really.
With her bag set on the stool next to her, Vanessa will cross her legs and drape an arm over the counter's edge before picking up her glass to wet her lips. ]
You mentioned that you had some questions?
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[ She props her elbows on the counter, picking up her glass, clinking her new ring on the side of it. Her gaze lands on the middle distance as she considers how to phrase what she's been thinking about. Most of it isn't terribly coherent yet, is the problem. ]
I was talking to a friend about ... the way this place keeps hauling out our secrets. It's not just making us look at ourselves, it's creating situations where we have to show parts of ourselves to others. [ Her eyes flick over to Vanessa. ] That seem right to you?
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Such manipulations can encourage paranoia and displace the only confidence people may have in themselves; control over their own secrets. Once those are on display, nothing looks the same.
[ Possibly spoken with a little too much confidence there. ]
It is a house of mirrors.
[ With a little tip of her glass in Johanna's direction, Vanessa takes a drink that leaves it near empty. ]
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[ She doesn't know for certain whether there's a magical power to the way those sorts of mirrors create hallways, but she'd bet a few pounds that there is. Picking up the bottle, she offers to refill Vanessa's glass. ]
So is the point to make us paranoid, or is it to, I don't know, get us past that? Like some kind of fucked up exposure therapy.
no subject
Exposure therapy?
[ 'Therapy' is a word that she also notes, and though again she remains unmoved in appearance, there is a subtle edge to how the word is uttered. Not a murmur, but a rasp. Her unblinking stare is on Johanna now. ]
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[ She waves a hand. ] Et cetera et cetera. Make you face your fears, basically.
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Cruel. Vile. The hate is too deep in her eyes to likely notice from a distance, but Vanessa can taste it like copper, like acid, and it's with a glance down that she will lift her glass for a slow sip to wash away the taste of venom.
With the bitterness swallowed, vanished, she'll give a bit of a shrug and look back up. ]
There is no way one can move forward in life without facing one's fears. Only, who is to say some here were not doing exactly that when they were taken?
[ Her arm drapes back across the other. ]
Neither can I imagine that anyone capable of so much cruelty would care about 'bettering' us. I would think it the opposite, if anything. There are many ways to sow chaos.
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I'm sure some people were. And I'm sure it's not anybody's business but our own if we were or weren't.
[ She swirls her glass moodily. ]
You think they're trying to worsen us?
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Traumatic events can create a closeness among those who have nowhere else to go. With secrets so unveiled, that closeness can become a necessity. You do not want them. You need them. They have too much of you to ever risk losing. There will be friends. Lovers. Families. Contentment may dare to hover within arm's reach.
[ A sudden flick of her fingernail against the rim brings a weighted clink with an abrupt end—no sweet ringing to soothe the sharpness—while she continues with the softest musing. ]
Then, there is nowhere to go but down. Then, we have everything to lose. Our puppetmaster knows this. Do you think the games, the experiments will then become gentler, Constantine?
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Not if you resign yourself to the loss beforehand, of course. Or if you make sure they lose you, and not the other way around.
And if even that option is taken away, then what? ]
No. [ Soft, and grim. ] Of course I don't.
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Too many people have been getting comfortable here, and it's going to be their downfall. What does that make Vanessa now? Comfortable isn't the word, at least. Small, tragic blessings. ]
Have you considered the possibility that this isn't the first time we have had this conversation?
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[ It definitely has not occurred to her. ]
Like we've had it before and forgotten it?
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It has happened already. I know of one being who has been here at least once before, only to not remember anything of the sort.
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[ She trails off, thinking through the implications. ]
There did used to be people here, [ she continue after a moment, slowly, like she's working out a math problem. ] Or they want us to think so. The university had those notes on past studies. That'd be a weird thing to fabricate just for us.
Do you think we could have been here before? All of us?
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Does this mean anything to you?
[ It's flipped and pushed across the counter enough to read this in elegant (read: swoopy) handwriting, ITERATION 4█ with the spot next to the 4 intentionally blacked out. ]
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[ She'll pull the notebook back, writing something else down while she speaks. ]
You are an exorcist. [ Not a question. ] Your familiarity with the occult is going to prove to your benefit, I think, but only so far as you are willing to take it.
[ Flipping the notebook back around, she'll slide it over again for Johanna to read, LOOK BEHIND THE APOCALYPSES. ]
When you see this phrase, what do you think of? What does it read as?
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An apocalypse is an unveiling. A revelation. [ She drums her fingers on the countertop. ] Is the Wizard of Oz a thing for you yet?
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Sorry?
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[ Cyclone, Jo, it's a cyclone. ]
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She can already see a mild connection to the city, but clearly, there's more to it. ]
I am afraid not. You are arriving at your point, I assume.
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He gives all the characters the gifts they've been wanting, courage and brains and a heart, but it's sort of like, "oh, you've had it all along, this is just a talisman of it." [ A thoughtful moue. ] Which is trite, but it's not unlike magic.
Was this graffiti, somewhere?
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These messages, among others, were scratched into seemingly random walls and furniture—on the floor just beneath the Halloween celebration that our puppetmaster summoned so many of us to attend.
[ Some people more forcefully than others. ]
The one capable of this level of entrapment is no man or woman. Somehow, they are exercising power greater than a god's.
[ Why does that sound so familiar? No, she knows. She knows.
The pen pauses, and her head tilts a little while she stares at the messages with an uncomfortable lump in her throat. Vanessa continues with a sharper edge to her rasp. ]
I assure you that evil is behind this, and nothing less.
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Johanna is already shaking her head as Vanessa makes that last pronouncement, though. ]
"Evil" and "man" aren't mutually exclusive. Not by a long shot. If you're thinking whoever is doing this must be more powerful than a god because they've bound god-like entities here, that doesn't rule out that they're human for a second.
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I am somewhat familiar with evil and its manifestations.
[ She finally looks up, pen still poised. No smile now, and there is a drift to how she speaks. From experience. ]
But there is a price for that sort of evil. When someone is willing to go so far as to wield the power of a god or devil, to reach beyond the shadows of their own realm and into something darker, there is one day a line crossed where their humanity is sacrificed for something else.
[ Recalling Johanna's commentary on mirrors, now. ]
What do you know of witches?
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I know lots of things about witches. Most of it's contradictory and half of it's made up. Why?
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Nightcomers? Do you know of them?
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Witches who have given themselves unto the Devil in exchange for youth and power. They were once human, but now they are other. When first awakening here, I was certain that they were responsible for this imprisonment. I've since been convinced otherwise. They could not achieve this level of control over gods.
[ For this, she'll have another sip of her drink. Keeping a poker face during this topic is emotionally taxing. ]
But the master they serve believes that he could ascend to have such power, to tower over the Almighty himself, if he made a joining of his own with another. It would be worth considering that, given the endless possibilities for how this city can be touched by any realm, something similar could have occurred to create— [ A swirl and gesture with her glass in the general vicinity of...everywhere. ]
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[ Though, like Reno said, the how isn't the only question. The why feels key, too.
She puts the question to one side for a moment, watching Vanessa sip her drink, measuring the level in the glass, measuring the woman. ]
You've had dealings with these people. [ Not a question. ] 'S why you wanted me to know you're not a witch.
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All witches are dangerous, but they are not all evil. I have known of only one such who abandoned the promise of eternal life to forge her own path. A Daywalker. She risked herself to keep the Nightcomers away from what their master sought.
[ Gently, soundless, the glass is set down, but no shift in tone. ]
They killed her.
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[ In general -- but specifically, she's thinking of the letter Vanessa said she received at the bank. ]
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Her name was Joan Clayton.
[ The name is murmured more softly with a glance to her notebook, but when she looks back up, her voice has dropped back to something coarse. ]
Those responsible are now dead. However, I believe some Nightcomers managed to escape. There is no telling who our man behind the curtain can usher in when we least expect it. You ought to keep your mirrors covered at night, Constantine.
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I'll bear it in mind.
You seem like you've got a very definite theory about all of this. What does that phrase mean to you? "Look behind the apocalypses?"
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...Nothing is definite.
[ She will at least pick up her drink to finish it. It would be rude to leave some in the glass, and it's not enough to worry about. ]
I merely thought it an interesting turn of phrase. It's quite specific. And the other—the number means something.
[ Her fingernail taps the page. ]
Say this game reaches its end and our captor is unsatisfied with the grand finale. He seemingly has the power to take us or send us away on a whim while controlling what memories we keep. Who is to say he has not returned this world, and us, back to the beginning several times? Each time with its own variations, to hope for a different ending. Forty-something times, perhaps.
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[ Not one she likes, but one she's ready to entertain. ]
If not us, others. But if it was us ... that might explain how it knows so much about us. Though I still think it's just mirroring stuff, I think we're making our own monsters.
But why. I get hung up on the why. I don't think it's just sadism. It's -- you weren't here for the welcome party, right?
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No, I was not. I have been here for...just over four months.
[ Thanks for the reminder. ]
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I thought for a long time that the City is trying to be a city, but it doesn't know how.
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Have you noticed such oddities anywhere else? To me, everything about this city is rather off. The architecture, the furniture, the fashion. So much of it seems...unfinished.
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That doesn't quite fit in with forty-some repetitions of the place, to me. You'd think it'd be more broken in, not less. But ... could be the place has changed, and we haven't? We're the control?
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If it took forty-something attempts to have it reach this far, and still be of an uncanny nature...? It would have needed to be quite...lacking in the beginning. The Garden of Eden still awaiting the birds and the beasts.
[ If the city's appearance is consistently confused, it would be even more unlikely that their captor could have ever been human. It's a good thing she's focused on the matter at hand, because honestly thinking about this on a personal level is more than a little upsetting. ]
And the insects. From a mere ant to the Devil himself, nothing can penetrate those barriers unless he wills it. Our captor has the power over a realm where Heaven and Hell cannot find us, nor can any manner of afterlife. Considering all of this, I think it is fair to assume that he is omniscient in this realm of his. I wonder if we can discuss anything without him knowing.
[ Not that it would stop her, since she's assumed that for awhile. ]
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That's why I've always thought it was silly that people didn't want to talk on the network. [ She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her device, dropping it on the counter. ] It's the same as at home -- practically everyone's carrying one of these. If someone wants to know what we're talking about, they can, even before you start getting to someone or something that's got the power to conjure carnivals out of thin air.
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[ The thought of people willingly using these if there could be ways to communicate without being spied upon, well that just hurts her head. It also does not surprise her, because these are so convenient and humans can be so soft. ]
In the beginning, I was quite wary of how I used those devices, but then I was underestimating the reach of our prison warden. It took some time to accept that gods, angels, and demons could be just as trapped as I. [ It isn't as though she was going to hear someone say 'I'm a god' and just go 'Well, of course you are'. ] I admit that I did not believe the rumors of resurrection until recently, either.
[ She can't think about that for too long or she will actually go mad. It hurts her worse than anything else. ]
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[ Rolling her eyes, she straightens up to grab the bottle and top up her drink. She proffers the bottle to Vanessa when she's done. ]
Someone got killed here pretty early on, by one of the other people here. Some grudge from their home world, I think. Sold me on the resurrection pretty fast.
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Her fingers drift up in a subtle decline of the bottle. ]
Did you witness it?
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As far as I am aware, that makes for two who have died and been resurrected in this city's...traditional manner—
[ A pause as she realizes that she is actually saying those words. ]
I am no longer certain what should even count for traditional death. It was supposedly different for those who died within that building during the Halloween festivities.
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I hope they're using some kind of science I don't understand to do that shit. I've never heard of resurrection magic not being bloody dangerous.
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We should only be so glad that we are capable of returning mostly whole thus far. If we are the same ones to return.
[ She's suddenly hungry. It must be the whisky. ]
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[ For that, she will hold her glass out for a little more whisky after all. ]
I suppose that is something to toast, hm? To skirting death.
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[ She pours Vanessa a generous shot and clinks their glasses together. ]
And devil take the hindmost.
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Useful companies need all sorts, after all.
With a little smile of appreciation, she brushes a fingertip beneath her lip before setting the glass down and glancing back over what she's written so far. ]
So two of our own are properly considered to have died. At least a few have likely returned after being sent home. We know of two who don't seem to remember their previous time here.
[ Except, her notes remind her of something. The numbers don't really satisfy anything beyond curiosity, so she hadn't asked at the time. ]
Who was it that you knew prior? Have you noticed any change in behavior between then and now?
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It's ... hard to say.
[ Which is a "yes," but with a lot of caveats. ]
Morpheus. Black hair, broody. Hard to read.
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Oh? Have you gotten him to laugh? Once you witness him laughing, everything in between that and a pout is easier to discern.
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Have you?
[ girl what ]
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[ In a different context, it could have been taken as something very different, it was so unnatural. It was— An experience on its own. ]
You knew him before, then? [ A 'hm' of appreciation while she jots something else down. ] Well, my question does remain. Have you noticed anything at all different from before?
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[ She sounds entirely bemused. The most amusement she's ever seen Morpheus evince is that bone-dry sarcasm when they're sniping at each other. Laughing? Really? ]
I mean, we met once, in London. And then again, here. And then he disappeared.
[ And she took it personally. And that does not answer Vanessa's question, particularly, but she's still not sure if she can. Particularly given her last conversation with him about change. ]
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How did you meet?
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[ The same answer she gave Hob, months ago. ]
How'd you make him laugh?
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I wish I could recall.
[ But more importantly, ]
What sort of job would he have needed an exorcist for?
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[ Vanessa is obviously canny enough to see that for the deflection it is. Johanna eyes her, wondering if she'll pursue it. Christ, why is she having a version of this conversation a second time? She could just talk about it; she never agreed to be the Lord of the Dreaming's secret-keeper.
Well, three reasons, she supposes. ]
I take my clients' confidentiality seriously.
[ And he took away the Newcastle nightmare. And she believes he would do her the courtesy of not talking about Rachel. ]
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I will have to remember that should I ever require your services.
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You've got my number.
Anyway, like I said, it's hard to say with him. When he was first here ... I don't know, he volunteered one or two things, and now that he's back he's seemed less inclined to. But when I worked for him he wasn't terribly forthcoming, either. Not unless he had to be.
[ She shrugs. ] Could mean nothing, could mean plenty. I don't know.
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...Perhaps that has to do with the point in time he last knew? Something may have affected him between then and now.
[ There is the slightest shrug. ]
There is a dear friend of mine who I became quite close with before being brought here. He is one to always carry his secrets better than most, but since seeing him here, it is clear that he is hiding far more from me than I ever suspected. Something changed for him, though he may never tell me what. I can make an educated guess, though it will remain as such. Nothing is ever certain, so life has taught me.
[ Slowly, she flips her notebook closed. ]
I only learned later that he has come from a time separate from my own. Supposedly my near future, not far off at all, but now I do wonder. There are too many missing brush strokes to paint a complete picture. Or, I suppose they have been painted over with a different hue entirely.
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Is your friend the other person who's been here twice?
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[ Sensible, certainly, if one doesn't...think about it for too long.
The second question, however, is followed with a slight headshake. ]
Ah, no, Lord Morpheus was the one I would have named should you have asked me first.
[ So they are down to knowing of 'one' for known amnesiac returns, but Vanessa already suspects there are plenty more without them or others knowing. ]
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[ It will not! ]
Wait. How do we know we're returned to the moment we left? I'm not even sure I know what the moment I left was.
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[ Which is strange because it gave her a little bit of an existential crisis. They lose everything they know here. ]
One of our own, one of the very same who has known resurrection, was also returned home some weeks ago. There was no memory of the life here, and time then passed for her there before she awoke in the City once more. Upon arriving, her memories seemed to be back in order.
Her disappearance seemed to be different from the others, however, as I believe that her belongings did not disappear while she was gone.
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[ Her voice is flat. ]
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[ At least, far more so than she would imagine. Shock and denial was her first guess, but it's been long enough now for most to recover. How has word not spread? ]
There is always the chance that it could have been something to never repeat, but...it is the most evidence we yet have of what happens to us on our return. [ Shaking her head, she'll lean back a bit on her stool with a small arch to stretch her back. These are not comfortable seats. ] There is only one way out of such an ouroboros, and everyone knows how to kill a serpent.
[ Apologies, dear Crowley. ]
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[ She shivers, in spite of herself. What else is she missing? A lot, she's sure, but how do you know what you don't know? ]
Yeah, but you have to find the head first.
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[ Far easier said than done, but keeping one another informed can only be a step in the right direction.
Once the notebook has been returned to her bag, she stands. With a little slip from the stool, Vanessa turns from the bar to have another of the subtlest stretches possible. The art here really does constantly seem to shift in the shadows, which is more fascinating to her than unnerving, and she stares at the nearest wall. ]
I suppose now you have my...number, as well, should you likewise need my assistance. Which is little but offering unfortunate information, thus far, but time will tell.
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Er -- Miss Ives. [ It really does feel like talking to a schoolteacher, but when in the Victorian era. ] Thank you. I appreciate your perspective on it all.
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It was either a ring or the rabbit stew.
[ A jest, one would hope, though she's already turning to head for the door, so it may be difficult to tell. ]
Good evening, Constantine. Thank you for an enlightening encounter.
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[ Cool. She's going to give Vanessa a few minutes' head start and then take the rest of this bottle home to have an existential crisis in private. ]
About a week into November; text; un: rabbit_ebrooks
i just wanted to ask if you were ok. i know ppl got hurt in the haunted house party thing.
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What of yourself? Are you in need of aid?
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i've been hanging out with another guy who's been sharing the food he cooks with me.
so i've been ok since then.
i'm glad you're ok too.
i didn't say it then, but like. if you need help or anything, you can call me in return.
i mean, i wouldn't be useful for nursing if you felt bad. i don't remember enough about what being human's like. but if you were worried about a dangerous situation or smth, i could be helpful then.
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Oh? You are so willing to engage with danger?
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or anyone else.
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but i'm still stronger than a human.
and you were nice to me. so. it's ok.
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There is a garden that I was hoping to visit later on to collect some plant samples. I've heard that some of the more dangerous plants act as though they are possessed in some way, so it isn't particularly safe.
Would you like to join me?
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yea i can help deal with those.
do you want to meet up at the train station near there?
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On the chance that someone else may be lingering there at the same hour, how might I best know you from another?
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i'll see you there.
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Until then.
[ → ]
audio | night of the 27th
[Dorian's voice sounds faint, strained, and out of breath.]
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[ He is never out of breath (except that one time—), so she is immediately pinged. ]
Has something happened?
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He hasn't been shot or stabbed. The claw wounds are painful and bleeding too much, but not deep enough to puncture a lung. He doesn't need help that badly.]
Nothing I can't handle, [he pants.] But I would advise you to spend the evening at home.
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You sound unwell. Let me help.
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[The call ends.]
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She'll try to get ahold of Ethan next, and don't think she won't be calling back later, sir. ]
Text | Un: Ouroborosed
>>>1:31pm: hey just checking in to make sure ur still here. ur american gentleman seemed worried he couldn't find you
>>>4:43pm: hope ur having a good time with ur beau >:)
>>>9:02pm: headed to bed now, but the door's unlocked if u need to crash and there's food in the fridge.
evening of the 30th (after finding her phone)
Your offer, as ever, is too generous. I shall consider it my first visit when next I move on.
Please enjoy an extra dessert in my stead.
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Any reason for the sudden disappearance?
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[ A delay. ]
Someone has a unique sense of humor, as is usually the reason for our inconveniences here.
Backdated a bit to mid-ish November
Hey Vanessa real quick question just wondering but
What the fuck.
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Mr. Crowley? Is something the matter?
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He has told you what he is right?
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It would be in rather poor taste if he hadn't.
It did not seem apt to mention certain details when I was uncertain if you would meet him. I would not have wished to place any undue assumptions on the nature of his interest by overindulging in my own affections.
[ She doesn't know how Morpheus would want the public to see them or if he'd care about her life outside of him, so she was trying to play it cool because Men. She knows she gets much more into people than they do her.
Satan doesn't count. ]
( early november ), text, un: displayname
[ It's not a message that Robby sends to everyone, but he remembers their talk about protection, about one's place in a city of misfits. And something about it, perhaps with their now and then meetings before that (if not always detailed, but he's surely seen her at the diner), he wants to seek after her.
Maybe he should apologise. He wants to. Even if he knows it's a pretty meaningless gesture that has to do more with himself than other people. ]
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Were you taken?
[ That would upset her all the more, but she is curious now. Regardless, she can't imagine bothering him or anyone with what actually happened to her. In some ways, it had been her worst night so far in the city, but in others, it had been the finest. ]
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You don't have to tell me anything that happened, but I was wondering if anything happened to you after the party.
[ It takes Robby a moment to text out. He'll be honest to an extent, doesn't question her own lack of details, because that's just how adults are. Acquaintances, too.
But there's a guilt that still clutches at him, his companion since the party--the kind of emotion that sticks on. And does that guilt want to be absolved? Or validated? Or does he want to learn between fact and fiction, when he hasn't known what's happened to people since that time?
He just wants to know--something, is all Robby can register. Whatever that is. ]
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Yes. More than once, unfortunately. It is good that you weren't taken there. Death roamed those floors.
What do you mean, different places? What have you seen?
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I was trying to stay in my apartment, but then I was somewhere else, or thought I was? I need to talk to some people. I don't know what was real or in my head.
I'm okay now.
[ Because even if he's being honest, he wants to smooth it over, not make a deal out of it. Like something that might be still troubling him now. ]
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I am listening.
[ Figuratively speaking. ]
If you wish to talk.
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I'll remember if I need to. Thanks.
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[ These are the sorts of things she can’t press on and never would without reason, but then she is also in no hurry. ]
I recall that when I first began seeing things that others could not, I prayed to have someone I might speak to so that I could understand, only it seemed impossible. I was young, younger than you, and so afraid of what I might hear in return, or what might happen.
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He always assumed indifference. But then, he never grew up with the supernatural. ]
Did you ever find anyone?
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[ That is a consideration. Those who did find out thought they could, once they understood it themselves, but even the doctor at the asylum had cut out the wrong part of her ...Had Joan come closest? She had been too terrified to really try.
There's a generous pause before continuing. Not the inspiring pep talk he deserves. ]
No. I suppose not. No one else could possibly know what it was like.
I once thought that the worst of the curse had been left beyond the barriers of the City, but I am still learning more about myself, it would seem.
I have never spoken to another who also experienced such things on their own.
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I'm sorry. Your situation sounds worse. [ He goes back and forth on what to say, before: ] I put myself through it. I chose to stick with it was bad. Because we knew it would be bad. But the university was trying to make people kill each other too. I didn't want to go.
[ So he was stubborn. So he stuck it out. So he hoped that the moments that seemed real weren't, buried his head, has messages he still needs to send and figure out.
He wants to bury his head, but he'll try not to. ]
It doesn't sound like you got a choice. About your curse. [ ... ] Do you see ghosts?
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[ How much of a choice any of it was may be debatable. ]
I do not need any of that to believe that you aren't responsible for anything that has occurred. Our captor would likely have attempted some torment no matter what was done. It does not mean we should ever cease our defiance.
On the mere chance that it was some sort of repurcussion, then that would not be a bad thing. It would mean that we are capable of upsetting them. That's an advantage.
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Upsetting them until they speak?
[ Or meet their limit for defiance. ]
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They would likely speak through action, as you fear. But that is better than nothing happening on our action, to be silently wasting away into nothingness.
What you attempted was not reckless, by any measure.
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The question of his personal strength (or, his ability to endure) is still on the table, but if he's honest with himself? ]
That's what I want to do. I don't want to play by their rules. I still don't.
[ Even after everything. ]
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If you could learn one thing only about what you have seen, what you have suffered, what would it be?
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I'm not sure.
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I could find out what everyone else who took part experienced?
un: NAILS | backdated to early december bc i suck :')
howre you holding up?
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I am gladdened to see that you are somewhat yourself again, but you should be concerned only over your own recovery, Mr. Nails. Please do not waste any more thoughts on one such as I.
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[ and the fact badou was the one to call on him is a guilt he'll carry all on his own, thankyouverymuch! ]
anyway i aint the kinda man who likes to waste his time so dont go accusing me of doing that now
you got what i said just now, right?
me and mine
who do you think is part of that?
now i am Emotions and so is she
If it was not my responsibility before, then it is so now. I promise nothing such as this will ever happen again. He will remain under my care during any full moon.
covers timestamps
whos gonna watch your back?
time is so wibbly wobbly
Anyone else nearby may rile him into another frenzy.
you're so right bestie
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➔ action; just after christmas
there is a gentle knock on the front door of vanessa's residence in the late morning hours. while aziraphale's interest had been preoccupied with a particular wily serpent on the holiday itself, he isn't one to let a good turn go unanswered. nor a chance to show appreciation for someone's kindness.
so he's here. right now. )
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While she may keep her closest friends up-to-date on where her current 'residence' is in the weekly rotation, she doesn't actually expect anyone to show up at any of the places. She tends to be the one to visit, and since her return from...'away', she's been spending many of her nights with Morpheus, so her happening to be in when he knocks is serendipitous. Or suspicious. Is this a precursor to some other joint experiment that one of her poor friends has been thrown into with her?
Just in case, she's turning the stove off before going to open the door (it's fine, it won't teleport her anywhere this time, it's fine). She can tell who it is before she even pulls it open, so he's already greeted with a small smile while stepping aside so that he can enter, keeping the door open wide. ]
Mr. Fell, what a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?
[ She understands that he is quite polite, but if people insist on it, then a thank you note should be perfectly lovely and less a waste of their time on traveling just for her. ]
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Good morning! And something of a belated "Merry Christmas"!
( warmly. )
I apologise. I was bit too preoccupied to send my regards day of.
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Of course, and Merry Christmas to you. I might hope that any such distractions were lovely and perhaps somehow involved Mr. Crowley, then?
[ It's still the season, and there is the new year to keep the 'celebratory mood' going, as much as can exist while trapped in a large cage. ]
Please, won't you come in?
[ She is fairly sure that leaving an angel at the door is bad manners. ]
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( simply. aziraphale is hardly one to kiss and tell—as the saying went—but that didn't mean that crowley had any of the same reservations.
then with a little polite little nod, he makes his way inside of his residence. )
Thank you.
( then he offers a little pat to the basket on his arm. )
I brought something for you.
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With the door shut, Vanessa has a curious squint while stepping closer. ]
That is too kind. You did not need to go and trouble yourself overmuch for my sake.
[ Said as she is immediately trying to see what it is without looking too eager while gesturing for him to take a seat in the living room. He may be in a hurry, of course, but she doesn't want to be rude. ]
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( casual dismissal. even if it were, he would never admit to such a thing.
with a careful hand, aziraphale picks off a hefty fabric from the top of the basket and extends it over to her. once it's cascading over the angel's arm, it becomes obvious that it's a handmade blanket and that the rest of the basket is full of carefully packed food. )
I fear I don't know your tastes well, but I thought you could use both during these chilly days.
( then he's offering the basket to her with his other hand. )
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The blanket, she holds closer, caressing it fondly. ]
Did you...make this? [ She quickly looks back up, and her smile is caught with emotion. ] By hand?
Text | UN: Loki
I just wanted to thank you for the lovely thank you gift. It really was not necessary. I know we have not spoken in some time, but if you should ever need aid again, I would gladly provide it.
-Loki
backdated?! to just after new year's! (holiday inbox shuffle lost me a few tags)
It was no trouble at all, I assure you. I am gladdened to know that the gift was well received.
Your offer is quite kind. I am humbled. Of course, I should do the same for you in any matter someone like me could be of any use to a god.
Have you enjoyed the Christmas season, then?
Sincerely,
Vanessa Ives
Works for me!
Please, you may call me simply Loki. I am not Lord of anything anymore.
I am quite unused to receiving gifts of such a nature and believe me, I was truly touched by it.
I do hope neither of us require such help of each other, but if I am ever in need, I will consider you as well.
Yes, thank you for asking. It has been the best celebration of Yule I have had since I was a child. How has yours been? I do hope it has been a good one for you.
Sincerely,
Loki.
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I would say that it has been the best experience yet for me, which does feel strange to admit to under the circumstances. After all, it should not be a good thing were we all to still be here for the next season's celebrations.
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[ It wasn't optimistic. ]
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One is never more vulnerable than when in the throes of death.
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To then be taken to a realm between realms brings thought that you have not yet arrived at death.
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I do hope not. I have found too much to live for here.
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Perhaps if we manage to discover our captor, this city can be cared for by those who would prefer to remain. Such as yourself.
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I am tired of being alone.If it meant being able to stay alive and with those of whom I care the most, I would like that. But I fear no one else truly wishes to stay.
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In the rest of it, if you wish, I may attempt a reading. Only, a warning, anything directly occurring within the City is never made clear. Such things are already unpredictable in their success, but I am especially confined for now.
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I understand the limitations and thank you. I still wouldn’t mind you trying, since you are offering.
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If such thought does ail you, I can show you how to address the network anonymously — when we meet for your reading.
[ Wrench was awkward (around her) but very very useful with these devices. ]
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I would appreciate that, yes. I like to think myself decent with technology, but admit I have not gone out of my way to learn any new features here.
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I have no special understanding of such devices, I assure you. A former resident of our city was able to discover new ways to trespass through the technology's
[ Only a short pause while she remembers the word. ]
coding. He called it hacking.
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Hacking… that term seems familar, though I admit I do not really know what it is. So they were able to do things with the technology that it was not intended to do? Or that we were not supposed to be able to do? Either way, that is rather interesting.
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backdated holiday gift!
So he will make sure to give her a gift - the next time she's at the diner, of course, since he has no idea where she's staying. He will, however, disappear right into the kitchen after giving it.. But there's no problem, since there is a note with the gift. It reads: ]
Thank you for your kindness, both in your letter and your gifts. I have to especially thank you for thinking about Robby as well. It means a lot to me to see people looking out for him.
I can't say I am particularly glad to be stuck in this place, but if I would have to pick something I am glad for, it is having gotten to meet people like you. Your goodness and kindness are evident to me, and I would love to get to know you better, whenever you have time to talk. Maybe sometime over dinner at the diner? I'll cook.
Either way, enjoy your gift. And thank you for everything.
- Daniel LaRusso
[ Inside of the box is a tea set - all in black, decorated with white flowers. ]
un: hidden { backdated text to just after she finds the gift!
Thank you so very much for the return gift; it is stunning. More yet, sharing such generous sentiments has left me truly touched.
I soon may find a residence to settle into for something like permanence while here, and perhaps then I will have you and Robby for tea. As you say, we may not be joyous to be here, but it is a good thing that we have each other.
Dinner sounds like a lovely idea. Whenever should please you, I can find a dessert to bring.
Sincerely,
Vanessa Ives
text ; @thundaga - misfired, 1/3
2/3 dreamwidth PLEASE work with me
3/3
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It sounds like you had a difficult day.
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you try to protect pepple snd you fail em and then you get aa second chance and you fsil en again. the usual
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Is something denying you a third chance?
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Who was she?
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she should have hated me all things considered but for some rdason she didn't
and I should have protec tyed her but I didn't
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[ and even through the haze of the drink and the filter of anonymity Reno doesn't feel totally right telling it. ]
let's just say I wasn't good to her. the company treated her real bad. she deserved better
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I dunno. don't think so anyway. I don't deserve better
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If she could see that, then perhaps she saw something else.
text | @stray
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Truly?
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you wanna see em?
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But how? Where did you find them?
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like i'd taken them off and left them there last night
i can't explain it but they're definitely mine
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insulting.
[ At least it gives her the opportunity to be openly frustrated with the City again for the first time since her 'field trip'. ]
Have you already tested them?
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they came with ammo boxes but i haven't loaded them
figured if i only have so many bullets i better make the demonstration worth it
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I should at least be able to discern if they are hexed in any manner.
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i'll probably be in all day
or we can meet somewhere else
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[ No traffic has its perks. ]
I will come to you. So long as we are outside, if you are to test them.
text; un: Constantine | around Jan. 18, unless time needs to wibble-wobble it to later
You're friends with Peter Graham, right?
[ This is probably not actually better than a "We need to talk" text, it's just got more syllables in it. ]
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Yes, he is a dear friend.
Why do you ask?
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[ Which doesn't answer the question. ]
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Underlying causes of losing time.
Morpheus suggested I talk to you.
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Unless he is keen to send Constantine into a trap, but she doubts he would encourage Vanessa's inclinations quite that avidly. ]
And?
Your inquiry?
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Anyway, fine, may as well get to it. ]
How do you think he would deal with bad news?
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[ Not a good idea. ]
What has happened?
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And if anything HAS happened to him lately I wouldn't mind knowing just in case there's a way I could help
Anyway
You know a fair bit about witches.
What do you know about demons?
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Vanessa ought to have prepared for this possibility. She's been too preoccupied.
At least the mention of demons can allow her to veer the topic, for now. There are a plethora of damned scenarios to reference from Vanessa's own past. The inquiry directed towards her of all people is...laughable. ]
You may need to be more specific, or I would not know where to begin. What manner of demon are you inquiring after?
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The kind that hurt people, not the charming ones
[ No doubt that's very reassuring. ]
ffs Ives, you're smart enough to put pieces together. We're not getting anywhere if we both keep acting coy.
Peter's got something attached to him and it's hurting him. I've been trying to help him get some relief from it and I'm hoping you can help me help him
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What do you hope to accomplish? To 'help' him? An exorcism is not possible. What he needs is understanding.
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I mean fuck I'm not going to just whack him in the face with a bible and walk off
I'm trying to be sensitive
That's why I'm asking you
But a possession needs a bit more than a cuppa and a listening ear
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There is a reason for his possession. His demon is his own. How best he can cope, and keep a mind of himself, is something that cannot be imparted by an exorcist. In his own way, he is sacred.
So, what is it that you would then suggest?
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How do you mean "his own"?
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The demon is with him, even here, where we are without our physical forms. Without a connection to life, nor death. Without the whispers of Hell.
I have known my own demons. One in particular. We must all be grateful that I would never claim him as mine own, and so he did not follow.
Whether or not you think to act kindly, an exorcism would do little when there is nowhere for a demon to go. Torture would be the only outcome. To then hope to instead suffocate the creature's voice, to bury its urges, would be no better. His pain would only be prolonged.
He is safe with me.
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Are you saying he's not possessed, he *is* the demon?
[ Let's all be grateful she self-censored her first try at that sentence. ]
So the people who were after him, they succeeded?
But they didn't
If they were trying to expel Peter, they didn't, he's obviously still there
Did they put something else in there or did they just wake it up?