Do you really think we've only been here 300,000 years? Construction doesn't last that long; concrete disintegrates, tar pavement erodes into the Earth from whence it came. Sapiens or Neanderthalensis, countless brother races of a genus leaving only us to carry on the legacy. We cannot disappoint them. We carry them through our blood and our souls, countless lives spanning across time in a way that we can't perceive from our physical coils. But we can't disappoint them.
Hello, hi and hey! I call myself Atom. Some call me Fen. Others call me Ego, blessing the journey of guiding the individual toward the inevitable endgame that is rejoining the flow of life. I try to keep identity suppressed as much as possible, but I'm not a fool; we're here to express our creative selves. I like to think that our love and desire for creativity carries over far beyond the personal and individual. It's a part of the music of Humanity, and I do love the dance we do.
So, creatively, who is this dork trying to kill his own ego? What's he like? Is he decent?
I'd like to think so. I'd like to think I at least know how to write technically. I'm almost always lacking motivation, but I've just been spoiled over the years. I've had a handful of teachers who have really changed the way I look at creativity and working with the individuals who I'm trying to be creative with. My biggest goal is to give that back to the people who I work with. I want to foster an environment, or at least an expectation that if we're writing together, you'll be writing with a professional. Professional to me means courtesy and friendliness without ambiguity: A guarantee that one can always expect to be treated with the same values that I would want to be treated with.
So what do I do with my free time? A whole lot of struggling with myself for the willpower and discipline to muster the ultimate muse. So far I've managed to get strong inclination toward effort and motion again, but inclination isn't guaranteed. We've really gotta MOVE THOSE MUSCLES! That's what I'm here for! I want to talk to people about ideas and flesh scenarios out with people that I'm interested in, and I do hope to find others with the same strong sense of creativity that I have. I want to push and pull and stretch the dough of creativity, top it with the things we want to devour, and dive into the pizza we've made together with skill and love!
Mentions: Sully McPherson, Leon Richoux Direct Dialogue:Linqian Han Location: Bed > Cracker Island Ferry Docks
Edict woke up in a cold sweat, feet instantly swinging from the bed as he rushed for the bathroom to vomit up whatever he'd imbibed last night. He was well convinced there was a curse placed upon him, incidents the day prior having gone belly-up. That Witch he'd met... Had it not worked? Why a Recollection like that? He was really regretting coming back to St. Portwell as his guts worked their way back up out of his mouth and into his toilet: He'd already made a fool of himself at the Church Meeting, his position in the group was tenuous at best, then slighting a Family Connection only to wake up to this bullshit? Not to mention... That was the Beer Chalice!
He'd recognize Sully's flask anywhere; at least the guy used it like a flask. The whole Coven was a herpes outbreak waiting to happen back in the day with so many lips touching that thing. But, whoever the girl was... She had it? It was the past, so it had to be long before it made it into that lug's hands. Edict's mind didn't stop working just because he was giving himself up to the God of Porcelain. He felt a stranger's hand rubbing his back. He couldn't say he knew her name, but the comfort was nice. Once everything was done coming up, Edict turned his head to look out the bathroom window. The sun was close to rising, soon he'd have to check the wire tap recordings. Coffee, working out, then the Festival. Nobody missed it if you lived here; it was one of the best events in town. And a reason to dress up. Linqian had actually made plans to talk shop while they hung around, and he hoped there'd be some of the other more rowdy members of the Coven to hang about with. Almost sickening how he enjoyed hanging out with these people.
He spit the last of the poisoned, mucus filled phlegm into the toilet and flushed one last time, standing up. The woman didn't say anything; he hadn't told her to. Part of the transaction. "Go home." The girl took a deep breath, nodding as if she had any choice but to agree. Her hand left him, and she coldly gathered her things and dressed herself to trod off into the chilly city morning, leaving Edict alone with himself. He had a long day ahead, and thinking about this Recollection was going to get exhausting fast. The height of the afternoon had passed now. The air was on the cusp of changing as Edict drove down the road with the Impala's top down, his sunglasses dutifully blocking out most of the sun's harmful rays while still illuminating the wonderful St. Portwell bay area. It was starting to tilt westward, meaning the people gathering on Cracker Island for the usual fun times were in for one Hell of a sunset. Edict definitely wanted to be there. He took a peek in his mirror and grinned to himself as he saw his Uncle and cousins in the car behind him. The old man gave a smile and a knowing nod while Alice and Marie fussed about with their costumes behind him. Edict threw a thumbs up, and he saw the old man's hand wobble back and forth as if to say so-so. He laughed openly, and reached for his cellphone to talk to him. As he did, he was hit with Linqian's text message. He shook his head and dialed his Uncle.
"Lord of Pork, this is Mixed Bowtie." "Knock it off you Simian, what? Whadda'ya want?" "I kinda missed my business, so you take them and head for the other place. I'll meet you guys on Cracker." Edict laughed as his Uncle threw his hands up in the mirror. "Don't shrug me, Old Man, I'll drag you across the bay on that fuckin' boat." "That'll be the day, Punk. You and your fancy magic tricks."
He flipped Edict off with a great big smile as he hung the phone up on him. Edict proceeded to turn out of the traffic and down a nearby side street and into a random parking lot. Life was easy when you didn't worry about the car getting towed. A few minutes later and he was rounding the corner toward Linqian. To see his costume was to believe that he couldn't be more self aware. Usually he tried to dress as casually as possible around people, but what better way to tell people that you have a sense of humor than to caricaturize oneself? What walked toward Linqian was dressed in a pair of black and white wing tips, perfectly pressed gold and black pinstriped slacks with a thin Armani leather belt. His body was covered by a similarly pinstriped vest covering a dark gold button down shirt. His white suit coat was slung over both shoulders like a shawl, with a gold chain clipping the two sides together to ensure it didn't fall off. On his head was the most gaudy fedora with the same black and gold pinstriping and a white band wrapping around it. He also, not-so-conspicuously, was carrying around a guitar case that looked like it had some weight to it.
He had a full cigar in his mouth, tip glowing cherry red while plumes of white smoke climbed up from behind his sunglasses and into the air. "Woah, there she is... Where's, uh, The Big Bad Grandma? What, Leon not come with you?" It was the most obnoxious Brooklyn accent that came out of his mouth, with that cigar still clutched in between his grinning teeth. He stopped right next to her and put the guitar case down on the ground with a thump, pulling out his phone and scrolling to an image of Leon dressed up like a grandma werewolf on the 'gram. Him, and seemingly the rest of his family, crowded outside a stall in the middle of the festivities.
"He posted it like an hour ago. Crazy how life works, huh? Father Wolf if I've ever seen him.-" he joked, finally stopping to see Linqian's vaguely long face. "-Wait, what's up? I know that look, and I swear I didn't even have to poke. What's up, huh?"
The Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals (Yesterday)
It had been a long day, but Lynette knew it wasn't done yet. Her days were never done. Twenty-four hours of waking life; the surveillance operations couldn't just be passed off to others when it was an entirely spellbound affair.
The funeral earlier that day had taken a great deal of her energy, and now she was feeling sluggish as she once more changed her clothing. An all day affair in a heavy, dark black mourning gown. It was weighted at the bottom, and in between the fabrics were concealed ballistic plates to deter any sort of Blind assault.
Stripped down, Lynette looked in the mirror at her nude frame. In vanity, she managed to pose for herself, a smile cracking across her face. She shifted her legs, arms, watching the almost unnatural musculature ripple just beneath her pale skin. She bit her lip at the sight of herself, nodding before finally breaking off.
In that moment, she felt the same lurching connection that she'd felt a million times before. The sensation of deja vu that told her she was locking into a sequence. Her innate gift of White Lux manifested in dreams of vivid clarity that detailed action and emotion with uncanny accuracy. In the moment, she caught the edge of anticipation and sadness. Both welled up as she edeticly recalled the clothing she proceeded to don.
Her favorite dress robes. She remembered Max bringing them to her, how her Mother-in-law had made them with the assumption that Lynette would maintain her position as Priestess of the Dawn. The burned orange and gold swirled together upon the stole, the pure white cloth of the robes themselves shining in the dim light.
She followed the dream to the letter, making way for her lockbox and undoing it to remove a wide brimmed hat. She fluffed up the middle, letting the pure white witch hat climb up to its full height. Also removed from the box was a blade. The metal was black, cold, and jam packed with so much orange magic left behind by Max that she figured if she cut someone with it they would just explode.
He always told her to keep it close, but seeing it was painful. But, magic told her she needed it now, so it folded into her big sleeves and sat right near her hand where it was accessible. And then it came, the interruption. Frantic knocking at her door.
“Mistress!? Mistress! She's back!”
Lynette clenched her jaw. She didn't know who she was, but she could render a few guesses. Wordlessly, she pushed the door open and blew past the attendant to make way for the main chapel. This is where her dream gave out, leaving her to deal with what came next.
… The doors to the main chapel burst open; kicking down the door was the esteemed leader of the Greenwood Coven, Ruby White, except in her plain clothes, which consisted of black leggings, some sneakers, and a red Nike t-shirt. Notably, she had that massive tree branch she used as a staff in hand. Everyone looked at her in awe as she raised her staff in the air and shouted,
“... Bring me Lynette!” Ruby began, “Tell her the Chosen One has returned!”
She screamed… and all the Temple members were looking at each other in confusion, mumbling this and that about a ”Chosen one.” That was when Ruby grabbed her staff with her other hand and fired a few pale-yellow blasts of her spring beams at the ceiling. Each blast was enough to punch a hole through drywall and left behind various plant life and vines. Everyone ran away screaming as Ruby reached into her pocket, pulled a blunt out, slid it between her lips, and pulled out a lighter. She sucked on the blunt in the open fire as it created smoke.
Her eyes landed on a vase.
Then she walked over to it and pushed it over while waiting for Lynette to show up…
At first it was left to Clarissa to deal with, and while she didn’t lift a finger against her once proud sister, she did let loose with a verbal tirade while the others ran. It wasn’t until Lynette actually arrived on the scene that she cleared herself out and left them to speak. Lynette, ascending from the stairs, stared down at Ruby as she smoked on one of the pews. It wasn’t exactly what she was expecting, her old pupil. No wonder she wore the robe; she needed the comfort.
”And here I got dressed for this. What the fuck do you want?” She had no interest in pretense or image with Ruby. Out of anyone, she cared the least: She knew Lynette’s mind.
“Wow, rude,” Ruby said… before she took a large step forward and loudly tapped the bottom of her staff against the floor. “So, Lynette, the Temple’s esteemed leader, I have a question for you…”
Ruby took a long drag of her blunt, held it, before letting it out, and then asking the golden question,
“... Why did your little pet bitch attack my friend and ruin my plan to take Judas’ head?” Ruby asked, tilting her head. “Maybe you forgot, but don’t your people and my people have a little deal where we stay out of each other’s way?”
Ruby narrowed her eyes.
“... Are we forgetting how much of a fuckin’ powderkeg the city is right now?”
Lynette was still a bit sore about the whole thing; it’s not like Alizee hadn’t paid for the mistake with her life. She did her best to listen to Ruby, and taking a deep breath she descended from the dais down to Ruby. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and held up her hand. Two fingers extended, expecting a hit from the joint.
She didn’t speak at first, clearing her throat.
”Well, you didn’t exactly come to see the funeral, did you? The problem was dealt with the night it came up, and a young woman died. But now you come around like it’s some sort of problem I need to settle when you were the one who, and this is self admitted: YOU had plans to pop the powder keg.-”
She paused to stare at Ruby; the kind of stare she used to give when she was disciplining the girl all those years ago.
”-Especially with the Sycamore Tree and their situation, Ruby! Why the fuck did you have plans like that in the first place!?”
Ruby bared teeth.
“... Lyric Brown, Felica Harvey…” Ruby named as she pounded her staff on the ground. “The friends I had that were killed by the Nazis for their artifacts.”
She was silent as she said,
“After Kaiser Draeger went down, their artifacts went into the hands of those bastards, and all we were trying to do is get them back. Problem was that a lotta’ them are under Judas’ wing after Das Sonnenrad fell, and he has a problem when you fuck with his men.”
Ruby shook her head.
“So, we were going to remove him from the equation. I mean, if he was willing to let literal Nazis under your wing, then he really had it coming.”
Lynette grabbed the bridge of her nose and growled. Her hand flicked out, snagging the joint out of her hand and pulling a heavy tug from it. She held it in for quite a while, longer and longer until it was too much and she had to drive it like a flame from out of her lungs.
”Oh, Ruby, if you weren’t such an egomaniac you’d have help with this sort of thing! And then we all could’ve been involved and we could make sure that these things get handled in a way that isn’t how we handled them back in the day!”
She stuck her hand out, passing the joint back to Ruby as she took a deep breath. It cleared the lungs and brought a moment of her blood rushing to her head.
”Now what? You want some sort of help? Recompense for your lost wares? Or did you just come to hear me blow smoke up your ass about a problem you made? Or do you forget that I love you and that you’re welcome back here along with your entire cast if you could just end your childishness!?”
“Problem I made?” Ruby tilted her head, placing a hand on her chest as she feigned shock.
“I… I want to remind you that the Greenwood Coven wants no issue with The Temple of Graceful and Esteemed… Whatevers,” Ruby began, standing up straight and shaking her head. “And in return, I want you to affirm that incidents like this will be avoided in the future.”
She sighed.
“... Maybe, we could work together to that end,” Ruby hung her head. “It’s becoming obvious that Greenwood - my people - need help out here in St. Portwell. Except against Emily. That bitch’s ass is mine.”
Lynette gripped her hands, balling them into fists of frustration. ”Ruby, you know we’re not adverse to trimming the fat, but whatever 8th Street’s problem is, we need to deal with it the same way! We are working toward Paradise! This land is sacred! The thing in the fucking ground, Ruby! You know it’s necessary that we have as many bodies as we can get!”
Ruby jammed a thumb into her chest as she valiantly said,
“And 8th Street is my problem to deal with. Not the Temple. Not yours. Mine. I’m sorry, but this is something I have to do, Lynette.”
”The fucking Chosen One can’t take faith that her enemies would be taken care of by natural process? That the fruits of our labor won’t be borne to us as we have worked for them so far? Ruby, you could have everything you want and more at your fingertips, but you’re too impatient, Gods Damn You!” Lynette barked, smashing her hand against the pew. ”Why must it be this way with us!?”
“Impatient?” Ruby tilted her head. “I’m only saying that it wouldn’t sit right with me if I used the Temple’s resources to, you know, defeat my arch-rival. As far as all the other fuckers? Yeah, sure.”
She sighed.
“But, Honored Temple Mother, how can we fix the broken bonds we have between us? I know I left a few years ago to strike out on my own… but, St. Portwell is… well…”
She awkwardly laughed, hoping that Lynette would get the point.
”Don’t fucking butter me up, girl. Honored Temple Mother my cunt. You have your own Coven, you’re your own woman now. You’ve dug holes. I told you: I love you. Just end this Chosen bullshit. I am a mere prophet: my duty is to usher in the realm and the age. After that, we can talk about who is meant to rule. Lynette took a longer breath, taking the joint back to pull another long draw.
“Fine,” Ruby rolled her eyes, speaking like an annoyed teenager. “But, I don’t want to rule St. Portwell. I don’t even think the city should be ruled. The city is meant to be free. The only problem is that we got assholes like Emily, Judas, and Kaiser Draeger who try to impose their will on others.”
”You will learn in time, my Love, that someone must hold the leash. And when that time comes, we will have the war that will settle things. For now, it’s all a game. A long set of postures and poses as we jockey for position.”
Lynette’s personal posturing was over. She let her guard down, quick to welcome back as was her philosophy. It was impossible to burn a bridge with the woman, and in turn she expected that no bridge would ever be burned on her. Every option was open. They were established, and St. Portwell’s tenuous status as nexus of the Paranormal world was only getting more tenuous as the prodigal children returned in flock. The Miracle Children were home.
”So, Ruby… Tell me about the artifacts. What happened?”
Ruby shook her head,
“The Artifacts I am looking for belonged to my friends, Lyric Brown and-”
Lynette interrupted her: “Sisters! Your Sisters!”
Ruby sighed, gritting her teeth.
“... My sisters, Lyric Brown and Felicia Harvey… Lyric was a genius that who made a whole lot of them, and Felicia had the Unicorn Gem. One day, they were hanging out with my fellow sister, Autumn when Das Sonnenrad goons attacked them. They spared Autumn because…”
She awkwardly trailed off before she continued,
“... You know, but they took their artifacts, and that was why Greenwood went to war with the Sunwheel Cult. Why Greenwood allied with that bitch Emily… all I want to do is get the artifacts that they loved or worked hard on, out of the hands of the Nazis. That’s it.”
She sighed.
“Everyone keeps getting in my way…”
Lynette’s face became frustrated immediately. There was a sense that tension climbed from the floor back up to the ceiling. ”Spared her!? Fucking spared her? God, their philosophy makes me fucking sick. Jobs half done, ends left uncut over some crap about races that don’t matter?” There was a pause as she tried to think of what to do about the situation that didn’t involve direct murder.
”Alright… We play ball with them. Play into their bullshit like we’re willing to go for it. Us. Not your Coven. We’ll barter for them on your behalf, maybe send them a few of our supplies. We get back whats yours, pay for our wayward Daughter’s transgressions toward you, and we can move forward on the same pathway. If it comes to blows? Then we can both go in for it.”
“Barter with the Wolfpack?” Ruby asked. “Have fun with that… but if you ever want some bikers dead, you know who to call.”
”You think we don’t already deal with Judas and his group?” Lynette replied in a snappy fashion.
“Well, from what I hear the PRA took care of him,” Ruby said, “But rumor has it someone else took over… I think Dean Walker.”
She shrugged.
“Either way, this marks the day of a partnership, correct?” Ruby answered. “Maybe if we were working together, we could have avoided the whole situation with Alizee and I’ll uh…”
She looked around.
“... I’ll see if I can fix the holes in the ceiling.”
Lynette’s face formed a genuine smile. It was noticeable, a tick that almost everyone in the Temple joked about. If the teeth are out, she’s about to shout. Currently, she was soft and only one side of her mouth curled up practically to her ear.
”Nevermind them, Ruby. The plants are lovely.” Ruby nodded her head, before she took a long drag of her neglected blunt, held it, and turned around. She took a few steps towards the door and then looked over her shoulder,
“Keep in touch, Lynette,” Ruby said, “I know we both went down different paths… but I think some part of us are…”
She loudly gagged.
“... Similar.”
Lynette’s smile held. ”Don’t be a bitch, Ruby, you know you love it. What was it when you were younger? Aunty Lynnie? We’ll see you again soon, the Kids are coming home for the Troubles ahead… You’ve seen it too, haven’t you? Why else would you be scrambling to reclaim artifacts now?”
Ruby was silent, and didn’t respond.
“... I have to go talk my girlfriend out of putting cat ears over regular clothes as her costume,” Ruby sighed. “I’ll see you around.”
Edict was quick to get a ride back to his own apartment; and with his Uncle’s establishment only a short walk away, both he and Linqian were able to enjoy a few more drinks while Edict poured his woes onto the man behind the counter. From the perspective of a first hand observer, it was incredulous how much of the story Edict was able to leave out while keeping it believable. But, bias was bias: The man seemed to take Edict’s side almost instantly, citing some pretty serious feelings about the other establishment in question. By the time Edict’s ride arrived, a not-so-subtle agreement had been made. Hands were shaking, and the man himself had disappeared into the back room for more than a few seconds to leave Linqian drinking by herself.
When he came back, he was all smiles, and led Linqian out to the front where a clean Mercedes sedan was parked. A man was in the driver’s seat, and there was another car behind it. Edict grinned. European shitbox. Bugged to high heaven. I hope you love it, Lin. ”Oh, hey, would you look at that? Surprise, it’s your new car! Whaddya know?” He laughed, moving toward the back seat and opening it up for her. ”The driver service ain’t included though, after this you’re on your own there…” he finished, waving her into the back seat of the definitely-not-stolen car. Beat free, you big mother-loving cultist… Fucking Toyota? Come on.
”Fuck.” Linqian very eloquently said, eyes widening as she just stared at the car for a moment. Sure, she’d known she was getting a not quite legit car from Edict, but actually seeing it made it a whole lot more real. She was really going up in the world, from a poor as fuck shit car owner to a poor as fuck two car owner! Hah, at least this one didn’t need to be insured. With a slightly incredulous smile, she slid into the back seat. ”Didn’t want a driver service, so good.”
He got in behind her, and in a gentleman’s flourish, slid into the seat brandishing another drink for the road with the bar’s glasses and all. The way he figured, now was a good time to forget what had happened since payback was a done deal. He could simply enjoy his night now, no trouble. The drive back into the city’s centre was a smooth affair. Edict kept his trap shut for the most part, knowing that tip-toeing around Linqian’s personal brand of volcanism was the only logical option after he’d very openly been himself.
So, in that; he decided that he didn’t need to be himself. He needed to be who his loving Mother and Aunt thought he was. Even with the splitting pain still in his wrist from the earlier raid, even covered in beer and good tequila, he had to be The Man. Eventually they made it, and the car was parked in the lot at the base of the building. The driver handed over the keys to Linqian with a smile, and after breaking Edict’s balls for a moment about being covered in booze he hopped into the tail car and was gone into the night.
Greyson and Linqian were left alone once again. He couldn’t help but smile as he pulled his cigarettes out and handed one off to her before taking another. May as well for the walk to the elevator. He lit hers first, twisting his body slightly to steal the flame off the cherry tip to light his own.
Smiling, Greyson pulled away and laughed. ”So… Do you remember, I think it was the summer we all started working together, I took a bunch of us to that college party out on Where's Pier? And we spent the whole night messing with the Blinds while we were pulling free drinks?” It was a very clear demeanour shift. No more nervous energy or desire for frenetic verbal combat. He wasn’t looking for an opening, not hunting for a fix or a mark; For once, with someone who wasn’t totally under his spell, he just wanted to be.
”Of course,” Linqian said, taking a drag of her cigarette and gently blowing out the smoke. It pushed away any thoughts about what had happened back at the bar which the following drinks hadn't. It was helped by Greyson's sudden change - he suddenly wasn't acting so much like a just about tolerable dick. It was a lot easier to relax when he wasn't prodding. She was just going to have a good night, and not think about all the other shit going on. She leaned towards him slightly with a grin. ”That was fun as fuck. You practically had them eating out your hands… Didn't some of the more 'sensible' members get pissed off afterwards? Some bullshit about not using our powers on blind… not our fault they can't resist it.”
She rolled her eyes, but clearly not at him. She remembered now - Jinhai had been one of the ones pissed about it. It had been one of the first times she went somewhere without him and it had ended with a massive argument between the two of them. That hadn't been quite as good as the night itself. ”Can’t say I remember the whole night - how much did I have to drink? It was a lot, and I wasn’t quite as experienced with it then. Fuck, you showed us a lot of good times back then.” She laughed lightly, taking another smoke. ”Shit hasn’t been quite as good since.”
Greyson smiled widely as they passed row after row of parked cars. ”Oh everybody gets pissy until they need something done for them. It’s life. I like to think if more people were willing to ease up a little, we’d be a lot better off.” he shrugged, taking a drag for himself and blowing it up into the air away from his companion. ”Like with all the artefact theft. Back in those days, we were all taking whatever we could. There was a monster eating through our city. But when it was all over, ‘Hey we’ve gotta hand our stuff over and go back to living like normal!’. Fuckin’ nuts.”
Getting to the elevator, he slapped the button and waited for the machine to make its descent to the ground floor they stood on. Edict’s eyes were slightly narrow, in the same way a cat in contentedness does, scrunched up ever so slightly in the bridge of the nose with a smile pulled up just so around the mouth. He absolutely reeked of booze; something that’d have to be cleaned out of the back of the seat later. ”But, as far as that night? I think I remember people eating out of your hand quite literally… You, aaaand Tayla, and… I believe I brought Brit? And Leon’s oldest sister, on the rare night she made it out. Sully, Kali, my cousin Dio. I think Drake might have shown up with Jade? Pretty sure he was the one who ratted me out to the girls on top, but I never wanted to start a beef with that guy. Liable to do something crazy.” he laughed to himself.
”Heh, you're right, they were. What can I say, I was always this hot," Linqian smirked, leaning against the wall next to the elevator. Her cigarette was raised back to her lips, taking a shorter drag and tilting her head to the side to blow it away. The smell of the smoke helped cover up the pungent odour of alcohol coming from Greyson just slightly… though honestly, neither particularly bothered her. She didn’t bother commenting on the artefact theft stuff - she hadn’t had many thoughts either way back then, and still didn’t. Frankly, she didn’t care whether Greyson had taken them or not. None had been hers. Of course Jinhai had been one of the most vocal about kicking him out… But whether he truly believed it was him or if he just saw it as an excuse to get rid of Greyson, Linqian wasn’t sure.
”Yup, that was the group, Drake and Jade included. He might've ratted you out… But it also could’ve been my fault.” It was ten years ago, so it wasn't exactly a big deal. She furrowed her brow for just a moment as she tried to remember what had happened after that night. Ah, she remembered now. ”Oh yeah, probably me… not actually ratting you out, fuck no. Just couldn't exactly hide it from Jinhai when we lived together, and he was pissed.Pretty sure he threatened to tell Ashley… He could be a right fucking asshole, I swear.”
She shrugged, lips tugging back up into a smile. ”But Drake doesn’t seem to have changed there, with y’know,” she gestured to her very unbroken nose, ”Sloane. Bitch probably deserved it.”
The elevator gave a gentle notifying ping as its doors slid open. The inside was simple, wood panelled like it was made in the 70's, and had the essence of stale cigarettes practically baked into the old carpet. “What?” Edict furrowed his brow. “What happened to Sloane? Drake wasn't even there…”
The gears turned vaguely as he began to piece two and two together. The brief glimpses he got of Sloane's face weren't out of the ordinary from a distant glance. A moment where they got close, however, was when she was chatting up that Fed at the church fire. “Wait, don't be tellin’ me that Mr. Badditude actually hit that woman? Shit, what would Jade think?”
The elevator bobbed up and down slightly as they both stepped on. It was a quiet, well running machine at least, and as the doors closed, Greyson pulled his keyring from his pocket and slid one into a slot on the elevator's panel. It had to be one of those fancy apartments where one doesn't have a “door” per se. Rather, the elevator leads directly into the unit, otherwise inaccessible due to the keyhole being built into this lift.
”Oh yeah, he did,” Linqian shrugged one shoulder, eyeing the keys… She’d been convinced this kind of apartment only existed in movies. Being rich sure must be nice. Though she supposed she had a house, even if it was an older build and with a mortgage she could barely afford. She watched the floor display as it started to tick up. ”I overheard Anya talking to Sloane about it… Dunno how or why, but he hit her yesterday. I’m sure if Jade was here, he wouldn’t have done it in the first place.”
Which would have been a shame, since Sloane deserved every punch she got. ”It was before you got there, but her face looked fucked. Probably why Drake wasn’t there.” That was just a guess, but Drake was a better person than her - if she’d punched Sloane, she would’ve turned up the next day and bragged about it.
Greyson’s eyebrows nearly lifted off his head with how high they raised up. He stuck that little bit of ammunition into a magazine for future target shooting, but was quick to turn the vindication metre down before he ended up sounding like a petty baby again. Not that Linqian seemed to care about it at this moment, it was way more fun gossiping. “Y’know it’s honestly more surprising he didn’t show up. If it was one of us guys, he’d have been there to brag.”
Before either of them knew, the telltale ding came as they reached the tenth floor. St. Portwell’s skyline was well regulated, and from Greyson’s understanding, the town ordinance council only let a few buildings get over ten stories. The doors slid open to reveal a nice open floor plan: Immediately on entry, one is met by large windows that look out across some of the smaller buildings and out toward the harbour. There were no blinds or anything, the darkness of the windows indicating that the tint was more than sufficient. Otherwise, the place was fairly scarce on furniture; turning left meant turning into the living room and kitchen. There were no televisions anywhere in sight, though there was a sizable sound system and a whole wall full of records, CDs and other physical media. Otherwise, there was a couple of couches, one being a sectional that had the roman style end cap, and a glass coffee table between them.
The kitchen was well lit by a dozen dim ceiling fixtures, providing gentle but consistent light that illuminated the warm wood of the cabinets and bounced off the stainless steel appliances. The whole apartment had hardwood floors and tucked away light fixtures, so there was almost nowhere where bulbs had direct access to one’s eyes.
“Casa Devola. Hungry? Want another drink?” he offered, waving his hands about. ”Feel free to explore, get comfy. I’m just gonna change out of these clothes and wash my hair. Unless you want me smelling like a bar room the whole time.”
Linqian glanced around the place with eyes filled with interest. It was far fancier than anywhere she’d ever stayed, and practically had as much space as her own house, but it lacked a… home feeling to her. Well, it wasn’t like she was here for that. She tilted her head towards Greyson with a smile. ”Very nice. Another drink would be good, and-” she paused, about to say she didn’t need to eat but then realising she really did if she wanted to continue drinking without quickly getting very drunk. Which wasn’t quite her aim for now. ”Yeah, food. If you have anything in your kitchen I can handle that myself.”
She then wrinkled her nose, somewhat exaggerated because the smell wasn’t really that bad - if anything, she could smell the tear gas still clinging to her more. ”Please, I don’t want to be reminded of that bar anymore than I have to be. Though,” she then vaguely gestured to the couches, which looked expensive enough to her, ”not sure how you feel about tear gas getting on those. I might need to borrow some clothes.”
Greyson grinned a devious little smirk, taking a breath in and stepping closer to Linqian. He purposefully stuck his hands in his pockets, approaching her in a vaguely coy manner. ”Linqian… Are you asking me for clothing?” He nodded his head directionally, having her turn around before leading her down the hall in the direction opposite the living and kitchen. As he walked past a doorway, he flicked a lightswitch, and the vent of a bathroom began to hum.
But he walked on past it, leading her into a sizable bedroom with a california king bed and some more sitting furniture along with dressers and the expected bedroom furnishings. He made way for the biggest dresser, pulling open one of the bottom drawers revealed a plethora of women’s clothes. Everything from club dresses to evening gowns, even undergarments still packaged and sealed. ”It’s been a while since I’ve been back here, but I had it stocked up before I got back. Just in case, y’know? Take what you want, use the bathroom out in the hall.”
He was already taking his shirt off, tossing it and the undershirt into a nearby hamper. His arm flicked a lightswitch, and the ensuite bathroom that was more “his” lit up from around a corner. Linqian could get a good look at the physique he kept mostly hidden; he had that kind of Bruce Lee body going on, where the muscle mass wasn’t bulky and grotesque, but rather tight and controlled. As his arms moved about, there was rippling movement beneath the skin as he not-so-purposefully flexed his own assets.
The fabled sunglasses, still missing a lens, got placed on the top of the dresser as Greyson smiled at Linqian. He even wiggled his eyebrows slightly before turning away from her to head into the bathroom. As he did, Linqian would have a perfect view of the massive back tattoo he had. Ominously, it was a large sycamore tree, and a countless number of axes were buried in its tall trunk.
Linqian was rendered speechless by the whole drawer of women’s clothes, so shocked that she was almost completely thrown out of the mood that had started building when Greyson had gotten closer to her. Just in case? How many women was he having over that needed a change of clothes to stock up like this? Not that she could judge, but she didn’t have a drawer full of clothes for-
Then she noticed that Greyson had taken his shirt off, and all thoughts of how weird it was were thrown to the wind. He looked good. She was incredibly open about her looking, eyes scanning across his chest and down towards his abdominal muscles. Her lips curved up into a suggestive smile. There certainly was plenty to look at, and he was clearly happy to show it off. Damn. Good decision going back to his place.
Or not? Her gaze stilled on the tattoo. Shit. Was this going to turn from a fun night to her own murder scene? Probably not, why would he go through so much effort when he could just have someone push her down a flight of stairs. Feeling a bit more confident in her safety, Linqian bluntly asked, ”what made you get that tattoo?”
Greyson, behind the wall of the bathroom, had a cold feeling rush across him. See, having a tattoo is a thing of vanity that can just disappear into the background noise of one’s life. The ones he could see were one thing: His grandmother’s rosary on his hand and arm, the lotus on his chest, the different religious iconography… But the mural? He never saw it. And, for most girls, it had no context or bearing. He never had to worry. But here was someone who knew… He only hoped she didn’t recognize what kind of tree it was.
”After I got blamed for being scum and all my ‘friends’ abandoned me, I was… Pretty upset. Young hothead I was, I got my feelings tattooed on me. Kind of ironic coming back here now to help, huh?” No, it wasn’t ironic: It was poignant. He’d chop the fucking tree down and burn the remnants. Greyson slipped back around the corner to look at her. ”Kinda makes me feel like a stupid jerk now that I think about it, but hey… I spent a lot of money on it, so now I guess it can be a reminder about how childish we can all be.” he shrugged.
Linqian had a sightline from her position into the bathroom, where a mirror was shining a bright clear picture of Greyson’s bare ass. How could one fear a man with so little to hide?
”Righhhht... Yeah, pretty ironic.” Linqian wasn’t quite sure how to process that. Of course he would have been upset at being kicked out for doing something he possibly didn’t do, but getting it tattooed was a whole process. You had to cough up a shit ton of money and sit through hours for that. She’d backed out of getting one herself a few years back. Her expression didn’t change much as she thought about it, lips slightly parted and eyes narrowed in thought. ”Aside from the murderous implication, it looks good.”
So did his ass. Damn. Linqian stared at the clear reflection for a few moments, before realising she should also get changed. She wasn’t too worried about the tattoo now, and honestly didn’t want to dwell on it. The rest of his body, though? Oh, she’d keep thinking about that.
Linqian turned back to the drawer, rummaging through it for something that seemed her size. Eventually she settled for a relatively simple black dress, low cut but with a loose enough skirt she didn’t have to worry about it perfectly flattering her figure. She was reluctant to leave with the sight she currently had - but she was sure she’d see plenty more later. With a slight smirk, Linqian went to the bathroom he’d directed her to.
Thankfully there was a shower in there, so she could get rid of all the tear gas stuck to her. Her hair would have to wait for whenever she got home, since doing it without proper products would just result in it being incredibly frizzy and it would take ages to do anyway. She leaned forward and pulled her hair up into a messy bun, before quickly stripping off and stepping into the shower. It was nice to get all of the grime off her skin, the burning sensation fading with it. With a sigh of relief she shut off the shower, and stepped out.
Shit. She hadn’t thought to ask for a towel, used to her own bathroom with everything already in it. The only one in here was a hand towel which… she could use, but it would take ages. Linqian moved to the bathroom door, opening it a bit and sticking her head out. Most of her was hidden behind the door, with only her face and slender shoulders visible - but it was more than enough to make it very clear she didn’t have any clothes on. She raised her voice enough to hopefully be heard from the other bathroom. ”Hey, Greyson, can I have a towel?”
Greyson was whistling, dancing to himself as the steamy water poured over him. Taking a shower together would’ve been nice, but he wasn’t going to push his luck after she mentioned his tattoo’s implications. He often wondered how people could work so easily against their own gut feelings, wooing themselves into false security as if he couldn’t blow her away that evening. But. there they were! She was in his apartment after he’d made himself the ass of the town, and the only thing that would ruin his night (maybe) was if she got to him first! Not like if she poked around the house she couldn’t find a weapon; there were a dozen at least. Various calibres, all loaded and ready for the almost inevitable home invasion.
Butt ass naked, Greyson heard Linqian calling from the other room. He quickly washed the soap out of his eyes and made for a towel that he wrapped around his waist. Having been under the water, he didn’t catch the finer details of the yelling, instead poking the door open a bit to ask her what she wanted. He quickly found out it was, in fact, a towel. Keeping the bathroom door mostly closed, he pulled the one from around his own waist off and slipped it through the door. It was big and fluffy, and not wet enough that it’d make much of a difference to someone who was already soaked.
”I can come and dry you off too!” he offered through the crack in the door with a joking tone in his voice.
”Oh, how sexy,” Linqian laughed, taking the towel and wrapping it around herself. It was very tempting to fasttrack the evening, but she wasn’t in a rush. If she made him wait, the pay off would be that much nicer. It wasn’t as fun to just jump right to it. ”Tempting as that is, I need some food before I’m trapped in a bathroom for the rest of the night.”
She didn’t bother to properly close the door - if he got a peek, he got a peek - before drying herself off. Since she hadn’t washed her hair it didn’t take too long, and she pulled on the black dress she’d borrowed. It was a bit shorter than she’d expected, because she’d misjudged the sizing, but it just about covered everything it had to. Not that it necessarily had to. Now dressed, she bent down and felt through her coat pockets, pulling out a small pouch. It had all the essentials she needed if her makeup was ruined - which it had been by the teargas. She reapplied concealer to the areas with the worst damage, and redid her soft red lipstick too. Of course, Greyson had already seen her post tear gassing, but that was beside the point. She needed to look good now.
Pleased enough, Linqian bundled up her discarded clothes in her jacket, and made her way back to the living room.
Greyson had the chance to peek as much as someone trying their hardest to not be themselves could have. A casual onceover, the opposite of the slow building volcano he felt pushing magma up toward his throat. He managed to keep his friend in check and headed back to his room, pulling the clothes drawer open to check exactly what she took. Little black dress, for a nice evening. He smiled, thinking about actually enjoying a glass of wine instead of having a bottle of booze poured on him.
So he was back in the shower for another minute as he made sure there weren’t any more sticky alcohol stains left on him. Then, out and immediately patted down with another towel before applying some cocoa butter and a little bit of cologne. He walked back out into his room without the cover of a towel, unable to help but figure that if she was there to see it, she was expecting to. But it was quiet; a good thing probably. He made way for the nightstand next to his normal side of the bed and popped the drawer open, sighing in relief at the black sealed packs shining in the low light. Then, getting re-dressed was a simple ordeal.
Boxers, black slacks with the brown house shoes, a fresh tank top and something nice and silky with sleeves that came in the form of a dark blue collared shirt that he didn’t bother getting a tie to go with. Rather, he left it with an extra button open, and he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows before cinching them off in the fashion his father taught him. Suspenders clipped onto his belt, and he admired himself in the mirror as he pulled them up and swept his hand back through his hair.
Amazingly he took longer than she did, but he took the time to pop the painting in the hallway open and grab a nice bottle of wine for dinner from the unit hidden in the wall. He gave a quick glance down the hall to see if she’d see, and quickly closed it back down once he had the bottle in question. ”So, I can call someone? They’ll be here in ten minutes, cook us anything we want? Or, are we gonna have a nice cooking date?” he asked, holding up the bottle and making way to a cabinet for a couple glasses to bring down.
”Ah, the perks of being rich.” Linqian had made herself comfortable on one of the couches while waiting, leaning to the side against the armrest with her legs bent up beside her. Her phone was in her hand as she boredly checked it. There was a text from her brother with his flight details, which she gave a perfunctory response to. She put it down with Greyson now in the room, pushing aside any thoughts about her regular, mundane life. He’d pulled a bottle of wine out of nowhere - his bedroom, perhaps? Didn’t matter. ”I’ll cook. It’s nicer to not have someone else intrude.”
She stood back up, stretching her arms above her as if they’d cramped up just from using her phone. The dress rode up as she did, revealing the top of her thighs for just a moment. She approached Greyson, leaning in close enough to catch a whiff of his cologne - it was nice, and not too overpowering. He’d put a lot of effort into how he looked, and looked just as attractive with his clothes back on as he had when they were off. She tilted her head back to look up at him with a smile. ”Do you know enough to help? If not, I can do it all. Name anything and I can probably make it just as well as they could, if there’s the ingredients.”
This was one thing she was very confident in. She rarely got the opportunity to cook more than simple meals nowadays, and simply couldn’t afford to. It would be nice to impress… And she’d simply ignore him calling it a date. Just the word had her chest constricting slightly. But this was just casual. She was able to suppress the impending panic by thinking that.
”Oh, I mean… Probably not good enough to keep up, but I can chop things or twist knobs. How about instead, while you work away, I give you a little massage? Purely for pleasure, no poking or prodding.” The inclusion at the end was enough to tell that he didn’t mean a shoulder rub. Greyson casually went to the fridge, which he’d had stocked up with the things he liked and a bunch of other food that was probably going to get thrown away because he almost never ate at home or at a normal time.
But, regardless of that, he stared into the fridge full of things and couldn’t bring himself to make a decision. What kind of dinner is sexy? Can’t ask her to get up on the table, that’d be too much. Fuck, why’s it always the easy things? ”I… I don’t know, honestly. I’m usually eating egg whites and cashews, I don’t ever have the time or the reasoning to figure food out.” he laughed to himself, finally pulling away to look at her.
”I mean the place is packed, like I’ve only been here a couple nights. I had the grocer service stock it up before I got here, but I haven’t even looked. Why don’t we surprise each other? he offered, the suggestion a little vague as to what he’d surprise her with.
”Alright, alright, I’ll surprise you,” Linqian waved him out of the way so she could look in the fridge, slipping in in front of him. She tried not to feel too jealous about the sheer amount of food in there… What a waste, honestly. Even if Greyson cooked a full three meals a day he’d have to throw some of this out. Maybe she could take some on the way out… She put that thought aside for later. A surprise, sure. She’d just go for something simple and nice, because she was hungry and wanted to show off a little but not to the point of spending ages cooking. There were better things to be getting to that the food would fuel.
And what the fuck was he going to surprise her with? A strip tease while she cooked?
”I’m not so sure about the ‘massage’,” she said as she reached into the fridge. She pulled out salmon, spinach, mushrooms, and some asparagus. A simple pasta dish seemed safest… and most of this would help with other things. She moved back out from in front of the fridge, closing it and beginning to search through his cupboards for everything else she needed. With all of that gathered, she pulled out a chopping board and the sharpest knife she could find. She then turned to Greyson, brandishing the knife and lips pulled up into a teasing smile. ”How do I know you won’t try to do what you did back in the bar?”
Linqian had let him into her mind once, and it had helped. But that didn’t mean she trusted him - she could come back to his place, she could want to sleep with him, but she didn’t trust him. With what had happened at the bar, she was once again wary of opening up that door to him. ”I know once you’re in you can do whatever you want.” As she said this she turned back around, no longer brandishing the knife quite so threateningly and preparing to cut up the mushrooms with it instead.
Greyson smiled at her as she brandished the knife, biting his lip slightly as she drove the point home. The first thing he thought of saying was definitely never the right thing to say, so he let the moment linger on, his hand reaching out gently to brush across her arm while she washed and chopped mushrooms.
Pulling away, he made his way toward the living room section, flipping through different CD cases until he found something he knew she’d recognize. It had never been his type of music, but with memories so tightly locked in his mind, music was a good way to induce Recollections.
The disk slid into the stereo, and he skipped ahead a few songs.
It was that night again. He wasn’t even sure if he’d started dating Britney yet, but Linqian had always been around. Just a cool girl looking for a good time, always trying to get rid of the bullshit that seemed to swirl up around her. He’d always tried to find himself, who he was and who he wanted to be in everyone’s eyes; but frankly she could never have given a flying fuck.
That’s not a bad thing. It’ll hurt less in the end.
The balmy summer night, another rain storm passing over the rocky coast. The Lighthouse Pier crew; it wasn’t ever his scene, but having freshly joined the Coven, he was looking to get to know people. See what the score was. He hadn’t found too many people to connect with in those days; it was never an easy thing when you’re a little psychopath with manipulative tendencies. But she was never pushy. He learned quickly that as long as you didn’t bark up the wrong tree, you’d stay out of the gunline. It made him think for a while that something was there that never was.
The case of the CD was poorly written in sharpie marker. “Summer Mix - Ɛ⇂0ᄅ” The year was blurry, smudged out… No. You made yourself forget. A lot.
Seeing the hazard made him feel a little sick, knowing that no matter how hard he’d try, he gave those years up to the ether. It was only recollections now, and the feelings after it. When everyone tried to be normal. Greyson flicked a few switches on the stereo system, setting it up to swap to a different disk in the deck after finishing the song, then gave a final smile to the plastic package before letting it touch down on the table.
He finally returned to Linqian, playfulness in his smile. ”The night we first met and talked, this was playing. I actually scarpered this CD and like a box of twenty others from Lindsey Yvette, so I’m pretty sure this is quite literally the disk that was playing that night. You remember you stood up for me? When a few of those other prisses weren’t gonna let me stick around?”
Linqian recognised the song a few beats in, eyebrows raising in shock. It had been a long time since she'd heard it… way back when the coven was just starting up, the early days before Bianca had even joined and while most of them were still alive. They'd just been reckless teens trying to find their way in a suddenly changing world, and hanging out like teens did. She'd been there since day one, so she'd known most of the group - but Greyson had been new and interesting. She gently nodded along to the music as she heated up oil in a pan, a few curls falling out of the loose bun she'd left her hair in.
”No wonder the music quality suddenly went down at the parties,” Linqian laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly. It was more of a genuine smile than any she'd had recently - between the good memories and being in her comfort zone cooking, she felt pretty good. ”Oh yeah, some of them had sticks so far up their ass it was hard to find them… Wasn't it Drake and Amanda and that?”
She rolled her eyes, throwing two salmon fillets on the hot pan. She then went back to the fridge, making sure to brush past Greyson as she did, to get some milk and butter. She grabbed another pan and started making a basic white sauce. ”They'd hardly even talked to you- fuck, I still remember how pissed I got then. We were having a nice conversation but then you said something they didn't like, because of course they never said anything wrong, and got all pissy about you being there. Didn't Drake physically try to kick you out? I threatened to shove my burning hot knee in his crotch and he backed down real quickly.”
The vegetables were put in the pan with the sauce, the salmon flipped, and the pasta cooking too. With everything cooking, she could step back and relax a bit. She moved closer to Greyson, leaning into his personal space without quite touching him. She smiled coquettishly up at him. ”I don't think you ever thanked me for it.”
In the height difference, Greyson loomed slightly. Standing behind Linqian, he smiled a toothy grin while she leaned back. He let his neck slink forward slowly, gently, until they were closer than they ever needed to be. Even his breath smelled good. His eyes stared into hers as he spoke. ”Oh, gosh… You knew just where I was going. How about I get to it?” he cooed, letting his face slowly careen toward her own at glacial speed. He never knew when to go in for the kiss; it was always easier to disclude it and just get straight to things, but he just couldn’t help himself.
”Mm, sounds good.” Linqian didn't actually wait for Greyson to close the distance, instead doing it herself. She tilted her head up and forward, pressing her lips against his. It wasn't a chaste kiss by any means (she didn't do those), her lips immediately parting and tongue poking out from between them. She properly leaned back into him, body pressing against his.
Greyson was happy to lean back down into it, hands slowly tracing down her midriff to rest on her hips as he let it go a while. He managed to get lost in the moment; the sensation of physical touch and the surrounding scent of good food circling around her. He was mindful of his hands, not gripping or groping like an animal, but gently running his fingers up and down her legs. Finally, he pulled away and stared down at her, his forehead gently pressing against hers.
”Thank you, Linqian… For always giving this piece of shit a chance.” He let his hands trail back up, moving a pan on the stove off the heat so it didn’t burn.
Linqian hummed softly, suppressing a light shiver at the feeling of his hands trailing up and down her bare legs. She wanted to kiss him again, to feel his hands all over her, but she could feel the telltale pangs in her stomach that meant she couldn’t just skip eating and continue. The following dizzy spells would be much more annoying than a break now.
”Well, someone has to,” Linqian teased. She was a bit confused about why he was thanking her - for a start, she was pretty shitty herself. She’d followed him back to his place purely for another drink and in the hopes of sleeping with him, because he was attractive and his company was good enough. It wasn’t like she’d agreed to date him or anything. He wasn’t the sort that thought you couldn’t casually make out with someone, was he? No way. This is Greyson we’re talking about.
”Let’s eat before my efforts go to waste… We can continue after.” She couldn’t resist leaning in for another quick kiss, because fuck she enjoyed kissing, before forcing herself to pull back.
Linqian turned back to the stove, giving the sauce a quick test and making sure the pasta was done. The salmon that Greyson had thankfully taken off before it burnt was flaked, and mixed through the sauce and vegetables along with the pasta. She shifted away from him to find some plates, before serving up the food. She automatically made one serving larger than the other - a habit from always prioritising her brothers. Ah, well. Greyson was larger than her anyway. She turned back to him with a smile. ”Voila, all done.”
There was a table and a set of chairs, and as Linqian presented the dishes, Greyson led her over and pulled one of them out for her to sit down. The wine was already sitting there, and before he sat himself, the gentlemanly Greyson went and procured cutlery and napkins from the kitchen drawers. He set them out for Linqian, then sat down to refill his glass. The date was just as blurry as the one on the mixtape…
Looking at the beautiful spread of food made him thankful she was around. Again, not many chances for home cooked meals these days; so whatever he could take he would. His eyes traced across the beautiful flesh of the cooked fish, the light but sticky sauce that covered the noodles, the smells of it.
He was compelled to raise his glass. ”To you. Thank you for a wonderful night, and may we be exhausted enough to sleep through tomorrow.” he smirked, clinking his glass off hers.
”Mm, I’m looking forward to getting good use out of your bed,” Linqian smiled suggestively, taking a sip of her wine. It was much nicer than what she was used to, which wasn’t particularly hard when she generally drank the cheapest wine she could find. The last nice bottle had been bought for Jinhai passing his exams… And that had gone to waste. Ah well, she got to taste some now. ”Ah, I do have work tomorrow at eleven… or twelve if I’m pushing it. I'm also meeting Bianca in the afternoon, so I may need a couple of hours’ sleep to deal with that… but just a couple will do.”
She shrugged before beginning to eat, carefully so not to accidentally get any on the dress she’d borrowed. To her the meal itself was relatively simple, the kind she could easily whip up on a busy day - but the ingredients themselves were much higher quality than she was used to. It was pretty good. She glanced at Greyson as she ate - more nervous than she wanted to admit that the food might not be up to his standards. "I suppose I can take the morning shift off if I have a good enough excuse.”
Greyson ate just fine. In fact, he was thrilled by the flavour of the food and couldn’t help but dig in a little greedily. It was easy to notice that he spent far more time chewing than he probably needed to, which evened out the rather large mouthfuls of food he’d shove in with little delicacy. He laughed to himself, letting a gulp of wine chase the mashed amalgam into his gut before wiping his mouth with a napkin.
”Fuck a job-” he laughed, throwing the napkin down to the side and picking his fork back up. ”-if we’re both still around by the time this is over, jump ship. Come run the tobacco distribution for me. Make yourself a rich woman.” Edict’s grubby hands spread motivation like gems on the floor of a trap. For no real discernible reason besides the pleasure of being able to do so.
Get the hopes up, envision a future, place them in it with prominence. Linqian wasn’t a sentimental woman by any means; Edict knew this. But, the chance to have a stable life? To regain purpose and usher in good times for her family? He figured she wasn’t gonna pass it up. Greyson cleared his throat. ”Shit, we said no business. Well, can’t take it back; if you’re interested we’ll talk about it tomorrow. For now,-” he said, pointing his fork at the plate. His other hand gesticulated vaguely toward it. ”-this is delicious. I mean, rustic, flavorful, beautifully presented? I’m probably talking it up to you, but half the time my diet is cigarettes and coffee. I don’t get much good food like this.” he finished, punctuating with another large bite of food and a close-mouthed smile as he chewed away.
Linqian raised an eyebrow. The offer was incredibly tempting - though one with strings, she was sure. But at the end of the day she couldn't actually afford to be fussy. She didn't even want to be rich. Just stable enough to give her brother a better life than her, and maybe be able to think about her own future that she'd put on hold for most of her life. Edict had already given her a lot of money for very little work. She wasn't stupid enough to agree to anything today or even tomorrow, but what was the harm in agreeing to discuss it?
”Yeah, let's talk about it tomorrow,” Linqian agreed, without appearing to feel one way or another about it. Aside from her extremes in temper, she was much better at hiding her feelings nowadays - years in service had seen to that. Though she couldn't hide the genuine smile at Greyson's compliments about the food, and the way he was clearly enjoying it as he ate. ”It's nice to actually hear good things about my food. All I hear from my brother's is 'can I have more' and 'why did you put something I don't like in it.' Never any appreciation.” She smiled, tone half joking - but only half. Her younger brother did tell her he liked and missed her cooking, but was just as demanding about it. It was taken for granted in her home.
”But-” she raised her fork and pointed at him with it. Her own food was practically done, having given herself less and perfected the quick but neat eating method. ”That shit isn't healthy. Who's going to pay me if you die from not eating- I mean, I'll miss your wonderful company.”
”Oh, you’ll miss a lot more than the company in a little while.” Greyson raised his eyebrows at her in a playful manner, taking another sip from his glass. His fork dug into the flesh of the fish and split it apart in a beautiful line, and he dragged it through the pasta’s sauce to lap it up. ”My Dad taught me how they eat pasta in the Motherland, with the uh… The spoon and the twirling. Finesse, it’s like everything they do over there has to be a little extra. But my Mama, she taught me how to eat. When I finally got her a place down in the Islands, I met my cousins and shit, they eat all kinds of just off the plate delicious shit.”
He paused for a moment, thinking about the difference between the two, the love that was never meant to be. He had to stop himself from biting his cheek as old feelings welled up, and he crammed a fork full of pasta in his mouth to chew on instead. He shook his head with a smile, swallowing a bigger bite than he really wanted to. ”This is… It’s a good balance. Makes me feel like I’m at home. I mean, here. It screams St. Portwell, I mean the fish, the mushrooms. It's all local, I mean honestly to me this is restaurant quality.”
"Yeah, I never got the spoon and twirling thing… maybe because I'm more used to chopsticks than a fork,” Linqian laughed, before practically beaming. She tried not to let the compliment go to her head but very much failed. Cooking was one of the few things she had genuine talent in and enjoyed enough to develop. This wasn't even an overly complicated meal… she wondered how he'd react to a more intricate one. Wait, no. That would imply this would happen again. She finished over the last few bits on her plate, and moved onto just sipping wine, hiding her smile behind the glass and eyeing Greyson over it. ”It is pretty homely, in the St Portwell way. I missed the fish here, if nothing else… You know, I did consider culinary school for a while. When I was failing highschool and my parents were still around.”
She shrugged. Unlikely to happen. She pressed the wine glass to her lips, parting them slightly and taking a long, slow drink. Wine glass still in hand she leaned forward, lips curving into a more seductive smile. ”I'm glad I was able to cook for you. I enjoy being appreciated.”
Greyson let her words linger as he admired her smile, her lips, the way she held the glass, and for a second he was lost in it. All he could do was grin back, licking his lips and finishing the glass. His plate was empty, you’d think a person came with a scrub brush it was so clean. Wiping his face one last time, he pushed back on the chair and stood up to lean over the table. He had his hand outstretched to her. ”Let me appreciate you better up close.”
And the darker night still descended on St. Portwell. Another long and cold Autumn frost gripped the city. However, shining dimly in the distance, sirens and smoke. One of the oldest establishments in the Harbor was ablaze with the light of flames. Between it all, Greyson Devola watched a piece of history burn, and it transfixed him more than any pleasure of the flesh had ever done.
Edict should watch his back. Tayla's coming for his head.
I can't wait to see where this storyline goes; if she ends up paranoid enough that she takes him out before ever thinking that he's not really got any weight behind his words.
Mentions: The Whole Damn Lot. Direct Dialogue: Linqian Han@FernStone, Tayla Choi@silvermist1116 Location: His Inferno, His Happy Place (The Burning Church)
Edict kept his mouth shut like he was taught to. Even if they caught him, even if they brought him back in cuffs and threw him into some wagon, they'd never break him. Prison was nothing to Edict. Who could hurt him? Who could expect that all he needed was one courtesy call, or at worst a bit of extra time spent redirecting to a new Channeler, before he was master of his own domain? Fuck them. They'll have my cock in their mouths before they break me. He kept his eyes closed as they dragged him, taking deep breaths as he took a small rest before starting to channel again. The frame of his sunglasses was still warm against the side of his head despite the missing lens, and as they dumped him into the pile of other Coven members, he let himself begin to channel inward.
As he'd previously demonstrated, cutting access to his senses in order to benefit himself ended up being something well within the purview of his abilities. Resetting the Power Words that were blasted off him by the taser, he implemented weaker versions to maintain cognizance while dulling the pain in his eyes, ass and hands to a dull ache. From there, it was a matter of maintaining a level head. Listening, not speaking. Hearing what the Agents were saying and what his contemporaries were barking back. But he had to be ready for what was coming; or what he thought was coming. The worst pinch imaginable, and with Father Wolf no closer to being found.
Obligations left unfulfilled.
Edict breathed deeply, in and out on manual piloting, and a smile cracked across his face as he looked through bleary eyes at those agents around them. He wanted to memorize faces, remember who to have killed in a "fucking car accident". Yes, with the Fucking. He wanted to brain lance one of them out of sheer principle. How were they going to prove which animal among the gaggle was the one who pulled the trigger that melted their buddy's brain into neuron soup? And who was the rat? Linqian? Nah, come on. That personality is not pro-snitch. Think harder. Kali wasn't here, capiche? It's raw as is, no need for complication.
But he had been driven to anger toward them. He said he'd try to leave the logging for the Loggers, but his mind constantly crossed back to how he wanted to feel the axe in his own two hands. The sensation of the chopping, the feeling of the wood shearing and flying back up to hit you in the face. The blood... There was a familiar voice among the agents. He was trying to put some kind of a name to it. Something with a B that reminded him of banana... Syllables? His half stoned mind drifted for a moment as names with a B became a fond image of Britney in a silver dress in the middle of a fancy Portland restaurant. Her smile, her hair. But, it was two syllables, and he pulled himself back to the number three, which only further muddled the mind as he regressed back to the pressing matter. He'd probably have to release himself and live in the pain if he wanted to get any clear thinking done. It was a choice now; release it all and do his job? Or sit in silence and bliss until it was all over?
"Which one of you killed Agent Mahendra..." Son of a bitch!? Alright, alright.
Edict braced up hard, taking a last few manual breaths before he clipped the ends of his Power Words and stamped a big fat CANCEL across his mind. All at once, the new Command Line was cleared. All at once the sensation of having so much of the residue still in and around his eyes caused his teeth and bloody, glass filled hands to clench shut. The digging glass only made things worse, and he wriggled his legs in great discomfort for a moment as he tried to adjust to the pain. "He was found stabbed to death in a Dairy Queen parking lot within two hours of the chaos you all wrought on the city!" Those fucking geeks seriously went to Dairy Queen? Christ on a bike... It was something of a boon that he was so wrapped up in his pain; denying him the chance to make foolish comments to the federal agents who were trying to put them away... But he knew this wasn't his wrap now at least. Besides the minor intrusion the night before, they'd had no physical contact or any real reason to suspect Edict would have him killed. Things left off fine enough between the two of them, despite Edict's complicated feelings toward the guy. It was a relief that he was gone, in a sense. That miserable kind of void staring back at him feeling was gone, and he imagined smoother sailing from here on. If they don't try to pin it on me anyway, at least.
Linqian was working for her money at least. "If anyone did it, it was Everleigh. She was pretty close to shooting him yesterday!" Edict smiled through the pain. His prints were on the gun too... Fuck it. Let'em try. Frankly if they weren't dogpiling him into a wagon already, they already knew who did it, and they're just looking for rat witnesses. “I mean just look who we have within our midst,” Edict happened to look in her general direction, realizing that of all people, prissy Evelynn Serenelight was throwing shade his way. He kept his mouth shut, mostly because he knew if he said anything, people would know he was in pain. And he was starting to figure out that it was more than what he thought: A hot, shooting pain climbed from his left wrist to his elbow in a fracture that he probably got from either going through the window or hitting the ground below. The numb limp limbs still reacted in some fashion, tossing themselves out in front of him as he made impact, and from there he probably just fucked it up.
Tayla Choi was here too... He wondered if she got a full blast from his abilities earlier, as it would've resulted in a far more vivid and real-time experience without taking up any extra time. Simply more potent visual perception, but he knew what it was like from watching movies inside his own head on plane flights. The previous day, he'd considered trying to flip her by using his abilities, but he decided against it ultimately, and didn't think she was a source he wanted to pull from. The cursory onceover he pulled from his stunt yesterday told him a story he didn't want to participate in. It was a twisted empathy that he passed off as the better option, patting himself on the back for not playing into an Addict's nature. Not like he wouldn't do the exact same thing back home to some other unfortunate individual. Void-Hoppin' Jack interrupted the pow-wow in typical style; out of nowhere and abruptly, and holding another body that Edict couldn't recognize through his hazy vision.
"... A strange Wolf Idol was found by his body." Alright cutie, keep talking. Keep making bad decisions... Then the interruption. Before she could give up much more, Auri Auclair's name got brought up. That's the figure! Auri, limp in Jack's arms. What the fuck happened? Was she dead too? There was a long exchange that kind of got covered up in the chaos, a few of the agents talked back and forth before Edict heard the magic words. "... Uncuff them, we're letting them go. Except for her, she is coming with us."
Edict had just about regained his sight by the time they got around to uncuffing him, and having the pressure release on his wrist felt fantastic. He almost thought he could skip seeing some kind of healer, but it was a reason to visit Elodie uptown and healing a hair fracture could still cause complications later on. Better to get it touched up by a friendly face than stick around. Standing, he dignified himself by wiping the dust off himself as best he could before looking back at the fire he started. Leon mentioned that Auri had recently come into the ownership of the building... Go fuck yourself. It was a schmooze fest after that, but he wasn't content with sticking around with how many Feds there actually were lingering around. He looked around for Leon, and realized the Big Guy was still sleeping. Even after one of the Agents uncuffed him, Leon was still a near seven foot long lump of shit on the ground. He was unmoving, unflinching, and Edict couldn't help but think about how he could sleep so fucking soundly... Here of all places.
Looking around a bit more, he saw Sloane cozying up to the leader of this ragtag group of magical Feds, which made him sick with hate again. He hated to see any sort of cooperation, and made a mental note of her liability as he tried to step closer to Linqian. Finally, the man guilty for burning the entire church down opened his mouth to speak directly to her. By happenstance, Tayla Choi was also there. "And maybe a drink? There's a place down by the docks if you want to get outta here." "Someone mention a drink I could use?"- he asked, popping up almost between them. "-Tayla, nice to see you. Linqian, listen, Leon brought you a car. His goons are still over there waiting to hand you the keys. I can take you over there, and this is obviously code for please can we fucking leave the place with all the Pinkertons? I mean, the car is waiting that parts real but like, fuck. No bueno." He noticed the cigarette she was trying to smoke, and that it was a shit one again. He pulled his hard case out and popped it open to offer up a couple decent ones, and to Tayla as well. So much for keeping away from the poor woman.
43 | Andrade Salamente | He/Him "The taste for life is necessary for a full-bodied palette."
Description:
Chef to the Stars, Andrade was born and raised Miami Cubano. His youth was spent in his Father's beachside restaurant, his place behind a stove sweltering in the heat. From the time he was young, he was a workaholic who couldn't keep his hands and feet still. Life always had something new, and he was a vivacious young man who hungered for everything that he could see in front of him. He avoided school, fearing the stifling environments and stringent grip on his freedom, and worked with his father into his late teens with a paltry amount of time spent in the public school system.
It was at this time that Andrade was Kindled, the death of his Father and subsequent loss of everything he had due to a horrific fire driving him spiraling into a sorrow that he never thought he'd recover from. The only thing left was darkness, and Andrade gave everything up in search of solace. His feet and hands ceased their relentless nature. He attempted to curse fate, his new abilities only making him a more attractive meal for Miami's creatures of the night, until a chance meeting saw him brought back to St. Portwell in the care of the Richoux family.
Since then, Andrade has rehabilitated, Lynette Richoux's famed reeducation techniques having helped the young man out of a stage of absolute grief. She changed his entire opinion of the matter into a vacuum of non-concern as he kicked his life back into high gear. As his talents outside magic became apparent to the family, they happily put a young Andrade through culinary school and funded his endeavors into opening a new restaurant in their happy home of St. Portwell. Since then, he's served as the Temple's resident apparition sealer, pet chef, and with his now six restaurant strong franchise, one of the top money makers of the Temple.
Abstraction:
Andrade is a Blue and Black Lux Adept whose Channeler is a Chef's Knife. Andrade's spell book has been developed around his love for cooking, with blue curse spells meant to effect those who eat his cooking, as well as black spells that manipulate Apparitions and repurpose them into meals edible by both Kindled and Apparitions themselves. Curses include prolonged gut poisoning, paralysis and artificial drunkenness; tools to inconvenience the Temple's high society opposition and keep unruly members in check. Andrade's Apparition manipulation spells piggyback off of curses, utilizing cursed people as bait who taint and poison the Apparition until they're able to be easily sealed.
And can I just say what a thrill it was to work on this most recent collab with Ghost, Blizz and Atomic? One of the best collaborations I've had the pleasure of working on in the past 10 years.
Here's to more.
Thank you for your own wonderful contribution, and to you for giving us something to fight over. :D
Mentions: The Whole Damn Crew | Location: St. Portwell, Oregon: Reclaimed Church Raid
Leon had a slight warning before all hell broke loose: Thanks to Lelou, his dogged senses were always going to be a cut above normal, even among Adepts. Canines, as he understood, could hear things up to a quarter of a mile away. Maybe without much clarity, but voices existing in the surrounding were well within his range. The group all talking muffled things a bit, so he wasn't sure exactly what he was hearing. Lyss Burns and, of all people who he hadn't expected to see back, Anya Baksh tried to address him. He was totally ignorant of it as his hightened senses provided him with a painfully annoying experience. He was trying to parse out and separate every sound, attempting as hard as humanly possible to focus directly on the door that he and Edict had just come through. Listlessly, his body naturally gravitated through the windows. New scents filled the air; or, not so new? He recognized some, no, most of them.
They were fresh in his mind. Something about the mixing of smells was just so visceral that it almost paralyzed Leon. They weren't local scents: He figured after taking the time to sit in that parking lot before trying to rescue Alizee would let him be familiar with them all. He could smell Everleigh, Britney, Linqian; easy picks after he'd been in the car with them. But, Brit wasn't there? Stormy too... But, new people who werent there threw his nose off, and now other smells. He stood at the bay window near the entrance like a scene from an alien movie; the main character is nervous to look out the window and see the horrifying creature staring back, yet compelled to it as if the curiosity couldn't be prevented. So close... The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, curling Leon's stomach as his nose worked overtime trying to square up with what his ears were hearing.
Shuffling, clicking and clacking of metal. Preparation. He could almost see a shadow against the blinds of the window as Nakala readied the launcher. Then, everything froze. For what seemed like an eternity to Leon, he had the chance to consider that life was a truly funny thing. Edict had just gotten done accusing him of being a federal agent, and now... Now he heard the shuffling of boots scaling the outside wall, the rustling and shuffling of firearms and bullet proof vests, the telltale hiss that a gasmask gave off as you pulled the tab for the filter to start cleaning the air. It's a fucking raid! And it was far too late for the revelation. His body tensed as he heard the slow sound of a trigger being pulled. Again, that grinding metal noise as the action pulled forward and drove the firing pin into the primer of whatever casing was in the barrel. It sounded heavy to Leon, probably not a rifle or some other small arm.
All Lady Lelou could do in her own infinitely slower perception of time was scream and writhe in her tiny padded cell within Leon. But his minds eye, shared between the two of them, gave her a constant option to accaust him within micromoments. "UNLEASH ME OR DIE!" He didn't really argue with her. Not as the moments passed by and the light of the explosion coming from outside began to bow the window in toward him. With the half a second he had left, he began the process of letting the seals loosen up for the process of potentially regenerating a great deal of flesh and tissue in case this thing hit him in the face...
Which, it did. As the tear gas canister slammed its way through the window, the trajectory put it in a direct pathway toward Leon's dumb neanderthal forehead. The sound of the knock against the bone cavity was like a drum that punctuated the PRA's door kicking activities. The canister, having bounced off Leon's slanted plate of a skull, completely changed direction as it spiraled up toward the ceiling. It bounced off a rafter, hitting some hanging cloth tapestry which clung to it and forced a near vertical drop. As it clattered to the floor, the canister split slightly, causing pressure to force a second stream of the gas out into the room for a thicker blanketed fog.
Leon, unable to draw forth from Lelou's strength in time, blacked out as his brain rattled harder than any man had ever managed to punch him. For a short moment, pure willpower kept him from falling over flat as he tried his damnedest to force the primary transformation... But it wasn't to be. Like a castle wall crumbling from underneath itself, Leon's legs gave out and he hit the floor like a bag full of sand.
Edict was fuming from the interaction outside. Leon had basically bowled over him, the prick, and now here he was at a meeting he didn't even want to attend in the first place. What was having a network of spies for if he still had to attend these fucking meetings? And now he was buzzing in with those Temple stiffs, no better than Federal behavior as far as he was concerned. Even if he was telling the truth, it was a truth he didn't want to hear about or listen to. Big fucker! Edict smoothed his waistband where the holster of his gun was, trying to calm down as he scanned across the large room. He immediately spotted Linqian, who was looking haggard and pissy as usual... But he knew what she was really feeling. It probably wasn't good: Since Leon and he were both supposed to walk back to her new legitimate car, he figured he'd offer her another bump. Hell, maybe try to get a night out of it for himself, reroute them back to his place as opposed to her going home to be crabby about her brothers and her small life. Vague guilt crept into his heart, and on instinct he hunted around for Britney, who he didn't see. Nothing to be worried about...
Anya Baksh addressed Leon and him, and while Edict couldn't keep his eye of the Big Guy staring at the windows, he was a bit elated to see another Pink Adept. The connection was rare for him, but the Mistress of Dreams had popped into his own dreams on a rare occasion, always somewhat untouchable. He smiled at her and waved, making sure he kept his sunglasses held up on his forehead by way of his hat. "Good to see you again, Sis. Did you ever get that email I sent about the uh... The whole 'psychic ba-" The window smashed as Edict was staring at it. Wholesale, it exploded, shattered, and a metal canister the size of a soda can drove itself so hard against Leon's head that Edict audibly echoed a groan of sympathy toward the Jolly Giant before he crumbled to the floor like a wet paper mache house. His eyes trailed up with the canister as it spewed a colorless mist up toward the ceiling and spattered across the wood and cloth of the upper rafters. Its clamorous fall and subsequent smash off the hard tile floor of the aisle busted the thin metal shell open in a second place, causing more gas than necessary to spew from its guts.
Edict was standing pretty much in range of it when it hit the floor, passing over his eyes and face to almost instantly blind him and force him to his knees with a lack of oxygen. Thankfully, by the time he hit the floor, the little thing was spewing in a different direction than his face, because it probably would've instantly blinded him for good. As he hit the floor, the sunglasses on his forehead slumped down onto his eyes. He instantly began channeling upon himself, focusing several Power Words at once to bolster his mind and block out the neurological receptors to pain. His Emotional Field collapsed in on itself several times, each time etching a different portion of the Command String until he was running on just about nothing. He could only vaguely see shapes, but he kept a crystal clear image of the last thing he saw before the door came off its hinges, and he didn't like it. Body armor, guns... His tendrils reached out in real time, no longer caring about who or what he was knocking on. He was looking for friendlies, any clearly recognizable Emotional Fields he could feel. The many tendrils of the Lotus' roots acted as connectors to each and every one who he recognized as a Coven member.
He'd learned a bit of a technique to broadcast subliminal messaging: It worked much better against those without Emotional Fields, but even here he knew the effect would be strong enough that he'd be able to use it as a budget form of telepathy. Across each and every Coven member, new or old, a set of images were broadcast into their minds. They played out like a moving picture book as the signals scattered across the Fields. A pink lotus burst forth, with the word "SCATTER" painted across its surface in thick, densely burning flames that quickly consumed the message and left them with one last image: Edict's own point of view, the last things he saw before things went down. The canister hitting Leon's head, flying up into the rafters, hitting the floor... And then something else. The blurry vision of Edict's one hand lashing out and grabbing the canister. The other swipes a lit cigarette lighter through the thick foggy gas on the floor, while the canister flies from his grip up toward the ceiling.
A violent fireball followed the tear gas, and Edict's illusion broke when he had to refocus himself and make for a senseless sprint toward where he remembered the last window was. He couldn't see, he couldn't smell, and he couldn't breathe: But he couldn't feel any of it. Once he got some fresh air, most of the problems would be manageable, and he'd be able to hit the ground running... All it took was the bomb to give him the chance. He sprinted his numb body toward the edge of the room and smashed himself through the pane of glass full send. Somewhere in the middle of that, the fireball trailing up toward the canister hanging in the middle of the air finally met its own source, and the canister itself exploded into an even bigger and more caustic ball of flames that ate into the spray from before. The hanging cloth ignited in a magnificent pattern that happily consumed the old wood rafter beams like a hungry termite demon. Cobwebs, dust of twenty years that the previous owners neglected to clean, errant insulation sticking through the shoddy wood slats: Each little component caught ablaze like tinder in the flame. Within an instant, the entire roof of the church was ablaze with fires that danced across old wood beams and crawled into the walls above.
Edict wasn't there for that. He only hoped that anyone else able to take advantage of the distraction did the same thing he did and followed his advice. Still, his Command String of Power Words kept him practically blind and numb. He hit the ground outside hard, hair and clothes covered in glass shards and broken wood. He pushed up off the ground into a pile of glass, ripping his numb hands apart without a care as he sprinted toward what looked to his limited sight like a clear opening. There was a dumpster or something to his left, so he tried to avoid it and slipped right. Next thing he knew, he felt hot lightning in his right ass cheek as two darts zipped through his jeans and made purchase in flesh. Fifty thousand volts of electricity pumped his nervous system and utterly shattered his Command Line. All of a sudden, all the pain rushed back and he hit the ground in a heap.
"Oh, motherfucker! Fucking fucks! Fucking fucking fuck fuck FUCK" Edict's body instinctively curled into the fetal position like a cooked shrimp as his eyes once more burned from the residual chemicals. In that moment, he hated every single member of the Sycamore Tree Coven. Every single one of them deserved what was about to happen next, whether they were the rat who sold them out or some freak on a different cult's leash. He thought about the picture that hung over the desk of his office. "Lumber Day". A vast Sycamore tree being chopped down at the base, countless axes burried in its trunk. He wasn't here to get hit like this... And Leon had been the one who convinced him to come today. Convenient, but... He remembered that Kali hadn't been there as he tried to take deep breaths.
He felt hands on his wrists and a boot in his back. So much for the great escape... Wrong fucking window.
49 | Furio Natale | He/Him "You stink to High Heaven with guilt and lies."
Description:
Furio Natale was born in Brooklyn, New York. In a family of ten children, Furio is the eldest boy and would be patriarch of his family. Were there any left, of course. At the age of fifteen, he willingly participated in the execution of his Father at the behest of a local Crime Boss. In the insuing emotional situation, Furio's awakening to his Red Lux was nothing short of destructive as every little bit of solid material was removed from the surrounding area. Consequently, the destruction of the building meant the death of his siblings, only two of which escaped their demise by virtue of being elsewhere.
The incident was first handled by Police, who obviously couldn't place blame on any one party for the freak accident, and handed over to L'église de la Nouvelle Lumière: The Church of New Light. Typical practice in the area set the French cult up as defenders of the people and scions of the unseen world. It's with these people that Furio found a life outside of his propensity for criminal action, and an outlet to help him understand and control the raging power within. As a young man, he met Maxwell Richoux, and would eventually go on to become one of the champ's closest allies and bodyguards.
Maxwell Richoux once described Furio as "Purposeful Power", and Furio himself has admitted that beyond the constant sparring and fighting alongside his companions like Maxwell, he was trained as a young boy by some of New York's finest hitmen. He cites his criminal eyes and beyond stern demeanor as reasoning behind the supposed interest in his person, and he's often telling tall tales about his constant fighting and escaping from Mafioso members even as far from it as sleepy St. Portwell. Nowadays, he spends his time as Leon's God-Father, and the main security advisor to Lynette and the Richoux family. Together with his wife Clarissa, they form the Temple's premiere strike team working at the bleeding edge of the Temple's goals for St. Portwell.
Abstraction:
Furio is a Red Lux Adept whose Channeler is a ruby cufflink. Magnetomic: Furio's signature spell consists of directly targeting a small space and drilling a hole in solid material by forcing the atoms within the space to collapse into a tighter density. Heavy Industry: His search to master nature's atomic principals have given way to a set of spells collected from his studies centering around synthesizing and controlling alchemical elements. In his comfortable range, Furio is able to synthesize the same elements as our own Sun, all the way up to Iron.
Clarissa.Natale
50 | Clarissa Natale | She/Her "Run all you like. This is fun for me."
Description:
Born Clarabel Hayworth, Clarissa grew up in a harsh environment where every day was spent expecting the worst. Her first word was "trouble", emphasized with a questioning tone and a shrug to match. It never seemed to effect her demeanor, growing into a chipper young woman who saught the peace and escape that she could. Her days were full of anticipation, more and more like a pressurized bottle waiting to burst until finally it did. In a manic breakdown, a young teenager broke into her local library and spent the night surrounded by a fort of books that came down in piles from the shelves above.
As the only individual present at her own Awakening, she chooses to keep the secret of what happened that night as just that; another secret in a long line of mistique that eventually led her into the arms of The Church of New Light. Like her Husband, Clarissa arrived as an acolyte seeking control over her own abilities, as they had grown to plague her every day lifestyle and ability to maintain her sanity. What her teachers and advisors found was a young woman trapped in a cycle of accidental realmwalking that required a great deal of studying before being fully understood.
In those days, another newcomer to the cult was Lynette Hunter, who Clarissa would come to form a friendship with based on their mutual desire for privacy and a joined desire for peace and tranquility among mankind. This makes Lynette's prophecies of New Eden especially tantilizing to Clarissa, who has since dedicated herself to making such peace by any means necessary. Using her unique realm shifting ability, honed by the Richoux's scholars for many years, she has served as a pivotal member of Lynette's personal inner circle. Alongside her husband Furio, the two form the Temple's premiere strike team, keeping a constant vigil on their burgeoning garden and pruning anything deemed necessary by their arch gardener.
Abstraction:
Clarissa is a Purple Lux Adept whose Channeler is a .38 snubnose revolver. Hijack: Clarissa's primarily developed spell allows her to detect and utilize the residual energy of magical entities crossing between realms. Under her control, this residual energy can be used to reopen the crack previously made by the entity, allowing a small number of individuals to follow through the gap uninhibited. Danse Macabre: Beyond her affinity for sniffing out and reusing other Purple Lux user's portals, Clarissa is well studied in short range teleportation techniques. Specifically, the spell she's developed consists of mirror portals. Summoning one doesn't do anything, but in pairs or larger groups these portals can be walked between seamlessly. The portals do not directly correlate to one another, and as such the location from which you immerge after entering can seem random, but any strong aura reading White Lux user would be able to tell that the portals are constantly swapping their partners in a deadly dance.
Mentions: Linqian Han, Britney Williams | Location: St. Portwell, Oregon: The Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals (Pre-Meetup) > Reclaimed Church Meeting
Edict's foot feathered the clutch as he slowed down for the cul-de-sac loop. The usual suspects were out and about it seemed, and this quaint little campus tucked away in the middle of bumfuck nowhere St. Portwell looked more like a goth college than any sort of place for the study of magic. Edict remembered coming here once or twice as a teen, the allure of the mystique and the possibility of easy fleece made it a tantilizing place to a young guy looking to make his bones and impress his family. He learned real quick that it wasn't a place to steal from, and it sure as shit wasn't a place he wanted to be around any longer than he had to. The strangest part was that it looked the exact same; Edict thought he even recognized some leaves and branches from back then. The exact same patterns, like something held the place still as time passed. It was kind of freaky.
He pulled up to the front door, pulling the emergency break and putting the thing in park. He left it idling in the assumption that things here wouldn't be long, but as he got out and was approached by one of the rogue youths, he was pleasently surprised. "I'll park it for you, Sir." Sir? Edict instantly grinned, his emotion seeking tendrils instantly blossoming the pink lotus as he hoped to catch a bite of mundane prey. Instantly he remembered why he didn't come here: The young man's shimmering Emotional Field was tight and smooth, like a fresh wrap on a car fender. Nary a flaw nor weak entryway could be found, but the smile and the stare hung a little too long, and Edict cleared his throat before nodding. "Well, that's just great isn't it? Church with a valet?" Edict waved his hand forward, ushering the teen into his car before shaking his head out of sight and heading up toward the chapel steps. A middle aged man, dressed in all black like everyone around seemed to be, was waiting in the path by the time he looked up.
"Devola, I presume?" his voice struck Edict with a sense of de ja vu that he had to think about for an instant. He... He sounded like his Father. The accent. "Yeah, here for Leon Richoux. Problem?" Edict replied, trying his best to mimic the accent subtly, without it sounding unnatural. Like he had grown up there his whole life even though he'd only rarely visited New York. "Yeah, maybe. You gonna keep your hands to yourself? We know you around here; your name is in our Book... And you're rippling. Capiche?" Rippling? The fuck does that mean? Edict half cocked a smile and nodded his head. "Hey, listen... I'm just here to talk with Leon, we're supposed to be doing this thing y'know, maybe you ain't hear about people dyin' and shit?" The man's face went from disinterested to confrontational in an instant. "Oh, we know the Death around here Bambi. I ain't on about that, balls-in-hand. I just told you I felt you using your powers here on Temple ground. You're like a fucking loudspeaker, you and that pink saccharin shit. Stow it."
Edict bit up on his bottom lip slightly, letting air pass through in a small squeak as he made it a point to give the man a staredown. He was in their house, and if he'd learned anything in his years of business, it was that you acquiesce while in the territory of foreign powers. He was the stranger here, even if he was a "family friend". "Alright, you have my word, and my apologies." The man guarding the Temple steps took a deep breath, nodded, and finally stepped aside to let Edict into the building. It' have to be more subtle in the future; he just hadn't expected some detector to be sniffing the front of the building. Fucking rat. But Edict continued on into the chapel with a smile regardless. He was hopefully going to see that faint memory of a woman while he was here, and even if he didn't it was nice to catch up with Leon. He genuinely liked the guy despite how ecclectic he was: They had matching tastes for life. The desire to be, and to fulfill expectations of one's surrounding characters, connected their motivations in a way that a lot of other things couldn't. Or maybe Edict was just starstruck... He'd idolized boxers as a kid, and he loved seeing Leon's father Gravity at his own gym. He wasn't allowed in at that age, so he would just sit and watch from the windows outside. A real nostalgic thought for Edict to chew on as he looked around the room.
There was a lady there with blonde hair and black robes. She was presiding over some younger teens; it looked like a sunday school lecture that broke off into the middle of the week, but he assumed it was quite literally a school session. Amazing what you're allowed to homeschool these days. He heard her bubbly voice and listened in for a moment, immediately being transported to easier days. Before the awakening and the snake, the Coven that pushed him away, before he knew what a gangster was or that his father was a complicated man. A massive man broke his concentration, and Edict's head spun toward Leon's towering stature. "Woah, tall dark and beefy! There he is, the man of orange and gold himself... How's shit Leon?"
Leon, who had been sleeping here at the Temple since the whole Father Wolf business started, was fresh from the shower with a full meal to go in his hand. Breakfast was a cholesterol bomb, heavy in animal fat and carbohydrates to ensure that he had plenty of energy to burn. A pound of rice, six porterhouse steaks sliced into strips, four avocados, a bag of plums and a massive water bottle full of Lord knows what rested in Leon's massive hands. "It's bulking season, so... Just eating my days away." "Don't give me that. You need it to fight now, what's the problem?" Leon laughed and shook his head, thinking about the current situation and what would have to be done next to insure that people stayed honest and fair. They were in a delicate world now, and he'd given up surefire strength in the interest of the greater good. Now he was an unreliable bombshell who had to compensate like this, and it was clear to others who observed him. No doubt about it, he couldn't even eat around the others. Everything they'd had was dead, and he was ready for them to go back to wherever the fuck they came from before things in St. Portwell got worse. "Y'know a few people died last night, right?"
Edict feigned surprise, his head tilting and mouth opening in sad shock. "What!? What happened, Leon?" Leon couldn't prove it, but he knew that this guy never didn't know what was up. Even in cities that he had nothing to do with, he always seemed to have some sort of gossip or advice that a local would have: Three years prior, Leon had been in Romania to fight some Baltic boxers in a charity thing, and who was there but Edict Devola, world traveler and supposed clean businessman. "Don't bullshit me and I won't bullshit you, Devola, we're not kids." Edict waved a hand, finally standing and patting Leon on the bicep. "I have no clue what you mean, Leon. Whose dead, what happened?" Leon gritted his teeth behind closed lips, a deep breath of air pulling through his enormous lungs. Finally he shook his head and looked across the chapel toward the blonde woman teaching her heart out.
"Clarissa?" She stopped instantly, looking up. "Yes Leon?" "It's time to go." Leon's hands were tied, but he very clearly indicated the door with his eyes and head. The woman responded quickly, wrapping things up to the chagrin of her pupils before she made her way past them and out the door. Edict looked confused. "I'm in a two seater, so..." "You thought you were driving? I can barely fit in sports cars, you think I'm gonna bring my breakfast into a cab I can barely sit in? We gotta bring Linqian a new vehicle anyway, so we'll just go over in that." "Oh you, me and your wet nurse?" Leon laughed in Edict's face. "That wet nurse would invert you in an instant." "I'd let her invert something of mine, that's for sure."
Edict smiled, satisfied with his crude joke until he looked up at Leon with that same grin and saw a mountain ogre staring back at him with intent. His face said it was a joke, but he didn't verbalize for fear of pushing Leon over the hill. The same expression ushered Edict out of the building and back down the steps. The same middle aged guy from before was waiting, and handed Edict his keys once they were close enough. A new Toyota sedan pulled up front, allowing the four people to pile into it before they started to drive off back into St. Portwell.
While Leon and Edict were being driven toward the meetup location, the fill-in conversation took place. Edict was actually shocked at the amount of nothing Leon managed to experience in his time trying to save that chick, but it was at least interesting to hear the tale now from two different perspectives. Leon had a bit more information about the state of things at least: That St. Portwell had once again become something of a nexus of Adepts and magical beings from beyond the Third Eye. Leon himself, between massive bites of rice and steak, admitted that his Mother had been keeping a very close eye on the burgeoning covens of St. Portwell as they developed, and had been working on resource managing for some plants to be inserted among them. He always said things without thinking around Edict, despite knowing full well that it was dangerous to do so... But the way Leon saw it was that Edict would know sooner or later, and if they could symbiotically assist one another he wanted that arrangement available as long as possible.
Leon managed to eat the entire tower of tupperware bowls. He and the man in the front seat, who Edict came to know as a man called Furio, joked around a bit about something that Edict had no clue about. Some sort of Apparition, he gathered, but they kept referring to it in the same way he'd heard "friends" be referred to before they were whacked. For a moment he was beyond uncomfortable, feeling the end of a Mobster's life playing out before him. They pulled into the park's lot and saw the myriad of cars from different Coven members up and down the block, and Leon recognized Britney's car from the night before. As they exited the vehicle, another car pulled up alongside them with one more Temple member in it, whom Edict assumed was the ride home for the other two and, possibly, them when everything was over. Edict was still dressed like a hipster, and had managed the beanie hat at some point between meeting Linqian and arriving at the Temple. Leon was wearing generic clothing, assuming that the niceties were over and that war could be around any corner in the city.
"You uh... Strapped?" Leon looked down at Edict, the thought of defending themselves crossing his mind. Edict heard the question, but wasn't sure about where it was coming from. "Huh? Strapped?" Edict's sunglasses flipped down onto the bridge of his nose, blocking out the pale Autumn sunlight. He flashed a sly grin at Leon. "Why you gotta know if I have a gun or not?" "We should be ready to protect ourselves, Edict." Oh, it was business... Edict knew the difference in tone and intent in the usage of a different name. He recognized and reciprocated.
"Yes, Timberwolf. I am strapped as you say. Why, are we expecting things to go south again?" "I don't know, Man, it could! I have no fucking clue after last night's shitshow, but I don't want us getting caught off guard like that ever again." Edict put his hands in the air just enough to ward him off. The two men crossed the street, Edict checking his phone for any updates as Leon turned his head and spoke into his sleeve. "Test, test, test." "Clear." Edict heard, and didn't react. It was a backup team... Leon wasn't playing around. He stowed his phone, and the two of them made for the path through the park toward the pagoda they were supposed to meet at. When they got there, only signs of what had been remained. Leon ground his teeth; he'd made them late. Without hesitation, he began the slow process of opening his seals before Edict patted his chest and interrupted him. "Hey, here. Shoeprints in the grass heading off toward Aleo. A group that big can't move without some kind of trace."
Leon nodded, smiling slightly at the man's aptitude. He sauntered behind the bloodhound like man as Edict stared at the ground. So many footprints, and the hum of auras compiling into a big warm beacon for a moth to clamber toward. Those paying attention could probably feel Edict's tendrils trying to search them out before they could even come close to seeing him, the slithering pink oozing its way between alleys and fences. He took a deep breath, smiling as his feet locked him into a path headed for the fun. It was another few minutes before they got to the metal gate, but by then Leon knew where they were going as well. "What in the Hell..." "What?" Edict was genuinely curious about a reaction like that. "Not sure what we're doing over here. It's supposed to be like, an abandoned Church. Recently abandoned too... Fuck, Auri! We're adults, we don't need to be hanging out on bank owned property without permission!" Edict kept his mouth shut, shaking his head. That girl was all hot air and no lift. The two of them continued together down the road until the Church's front doors were visible. From the distance, Leon could see familiar white hair shuffling about at the door. His jaw dropped when he saw the violet portal opening up and she stepped into it.
"Furio, VL on the move. Probable Purple influence." Leon didn't even bother covering for the radio call. Nor did he care if Edict knew he was bugged at this point. "Shit, Leon are you a fucking Fed?" Edict stopped in his tracks, his hand lashing out and grabbing Leon's forearm. His free hand instinctively reached for his gun, but Leon pulled away. "Fed? Federal Agent? No, you fucking Goombah, it's for the Temple! You think they're not going to help us get out of this mess?" Edict was incredulous, but let go of the man's arm at the fear that a few rounds of 10mm may not actually put the giant down before he could rearrange Edict's face. "So, what?" "Come on, lets just go. We need to see what's going on, I need to-" Leon pushed ahead, breaking off into a jog that Edict had to run to keep up with. Fucking giraffe legs.
Of course the wolfman hit the door first, swinging it open to find the gathering spread out among the pews of the church. Oddly familiar setting compared to where he had come from. Edict was hot on his heels, following in behind in a huff as Leon pushed into the room. "Who the Hell is teleporting around here!?" he barked, pretty much interrupting everything he could.
[i]Do you really think we've only been here 300,000 years? Construction doesn't last that long; concrete disintegrates, tar pavement erodes into the Earth from whence it came. Sapiens or Neanderthalensis, countless brother races of a genus leaving only us to carry on the legacy. We cannot disappoint them. We carry them through our blood and our souls, countless lives spanning across time in a way that we can't perceive from our physical coils. But we can't disappoint them.[/i]
Hello, hi and hey! I call myself Atom. Some call me Fen. Others call me Ego, blessing the journey of guiding the individual toward the inevitable endgame that is rejoining the flow of life. I try to keep identity suppressed as much as possible, but I'm not a fool; we're here to express our creative selves. I like to think that our love and desire for creativity carries over far beyond the personal and individual. It's a part of the music of Humanity, and I do love the dance we do.
So, creatively, who is this dork trying to kill his own ego? What's he like? Is he decent?
I'd like to think so. I'd like to think I at least know how to write [i]technically[/i]. I'm almost always lacking motivation, but I've just been spoiled over the years. I've had a handful of teachers who have really changed the way I look at creativity and working with the individuals who I'm trying to be creative with. My biggest goal is to give that back to the people who I work with. I want to foster an environment, or at least an expectation that if we're writing together, you'll be writing with a professional.
Professional to me means courtesy and friendliness without ambiguity: A guarantee that one can always expect to be treated with the same values that I would want to be treated with.
So what do I do with my free time? A whole lot of struggling with myself for the willpower and discipline to muster the ultimate muse. So far I've managed to get strong inclination toward effort and motion again, but inclination isn't guaranteed. We've really gotta MOVE THOSE MUSCLES! That's what I'm here for! I want to talk to people about ideas and flesh scenarios out with people that I'm interested in, and I do hope to find others with the same strong sense of creativity that I have. I want to push and pull and stretch the dough of creativity, top it with the things we want to devour, and dive into the pizza we've made together with skill and love!
Lets make it happen together!
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><span class="bb-i">Do you really think we've only been here 300,000 years? Construction doesn't last that long; concrete disintegrates, tar pavement erodes into the Earth from whence it came. Sapiens or Neanderthalensis, countless brother races of a genus leaving only us to carry on the legacy. We cannot disappoint them. We carry them through our blood and our souls, countless lives spanning across time in a way that we can't perceive from our physical coils. But we can't disappoint them.</span><br><br>Hello, hi and hey! I call myself Atom. Some call me Fen. Others call me Ego, blessing the journey of guiding the individual toward the inevitable endgame that is rejoining the flow of life. I try to keep identity suppressed as much as possible, but I'm not a fool; we're here to express our creative selves. I like to think that our love and desire for creativity carries over far beyond the personal and individual. It's a part of the music of Humanity, and I do love the dance we do.<br><br>So, creatively, who is this dork trying to kill his own ego? What's he like? Is he decent?<br><br>I'd like to think so. I'd like to think I at least know how to write <span class="bb-i">technically</span>. I'm almost always lacking motivation, but I've just been spoiled over the years. I've had a handful of teachers who have really changed the way I look at creativity and working with the individuals who I'm trying to be creative with. My biggest goal is to give that back to the people who I work with. I want to foster an environment, or at least an expectation that if we're writing together, you'll be writing with a professional.<br>Professional to me means courtesy and friendliness without ambiguity: A guarantee that one can always expect to be treated with the same values that I would want to be treated with. <br><br>So what do I do with my free time? A whole lot of struggling with myself for the willpower and discipline to muster the ultimate muse. So far I've managed to get strong inclination toward effort and motion again, but inclination isn't guaranteed. We've really gotta MOVE THOSE MUSCLES! That's what I'm here for! I want to talk to people about ideas and flesh scenarios out with people that I'm interested in, and I do hope to find others with the same strong sense of creativity that I have. I want to push and pull and stretch the dough of creativity, top it with the things we want to devour, and dive into the pizza we've made together with skill and love! <br><br>Lets make it happen together!</div>
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