[ 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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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