#Revengebuddies
#Revengebuddies Can't wait for this goofy duo to cause nothing but problems for others. Also can't wait for the eventual reconvening of House of Cards, and Layla just brings Edict along and Vorpal's like "OHFUG"
AtomicEmperor Member
Radioactive Frog
- Last Seen: 3 hrs ago
- Joined: 1 yr ago
- Posts: 141 (0.32 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- AtomicEmperor 1 yr ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Estylwen,
Zombiedude101,
FernStone,
Mixtape Ghost N,
Atrophy,
NoriWasHere,
Tesserach,
Sky Blue,
TokyoPewPew,
Framing A Moose
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
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!
Lets make it happen together!
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!
Lets make it happen together!
Most Recent Posts
#Revengebuddies Can't wait for this goofy duo to cause nothing but problems for others. Also can't wait for the eventual reconvening of House of Cards, and Layla just brings Edict along and Vorpal's like "OHFUG"
Edict & Layla
Mentions: Stormy Carson & Jack Hawthorne/@Blizz, Britney Williams/@Punished GN, Sloane Farris/@Atrophy, Leon Richoux, PRA/TCGI/STC NPCs | Direct Dialogue: In collaboration with @Estylwen | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
But it had to be done; something had to give in the situation he was in now. She either had a grudge or something deeper, but he needed to know everything before he could make a judgment. He had no clue what he was actually walking into.
Edict’s smile curled up around his face, perfectly curated to mimic empathy and compassion. His hand extended in a friendly way, patting Layla on the shoulder with a directive motion toward the haunted house. As he did, he pulled out his phone and rattled the text message to Linqian he had intended to.
His phone clicked, and he moved his hand away from Layla as they began to walk. His first instinct was to give the same disclaimer he’d had the decency to give Linqian.
"A couple of things are going to happen at once, Layla. I’m gonna show you what happened at the Church, and at the same time I’m gonna give you a bit of a boost. Think of it like an energy drink: You’ll feel more alert, but also more relaxed… I know it sounds weird, but I promise it’s pretty cool.-"
Layla nodded along as they walked. ”O-okay.”
Edict gave the girl a smile and a reassuring nod as they began to walk through the crowds the further they got into the actual event space. Of course he wouldn’t tell her what the process entailed; about how he’d be learning every point of stress he could, about how he’d be scrubbing and combing her memories for information in order to form the perfect string of spells catered to give her the best kind of high she could ask for.
"Now, it’ll last about four hours. We’ll probably either be wrapping up or already departed by then, so if you like the feeling I’ll top you off again before we’re done. However, I’ll warn you that after you’re done, it’s gonna feel like hell. Worse than when you started, maybe. But, I’ve heard people say the four hours is enough time to experience some level of clarity where they were able to make changes in their lives. I think it’s worth it if you can push through the adverse ending.”
Bullshit. It was heroin, it was amphetamine, it was the poison one crams into their veins through the webbing in their toes because they can’t show the injection sight to the public. It was the little death, the pain of withdrawal that left you feeling empty and worthless without the glowing pink center to give you that second hit. If she wasn’t a naïve girl, she’d have sprinted away then and there.
But he never framed it like it was the end of the world. For a strong person, someone like Linqian, it wasn’t. It was the weak and the desperate that clung to Edict like a piece of flotsam in the storm.
His eyes began to curl with pink smoke, Channeler intaking Pink Lux from his own mind. The Pink Lotus unfurled its waterbound roots, beginning to crawl across the space between them in bundles like wide arms that caressed Layla’s emotional field like a mother swaddling a newborn. Even the gentle uplifting pressure was enough to make him feel safe… And, he was asking permission. Nothing bad ever happened with someone’s permission, right?
"Are you ready?”
A brief hesitation. What was she signing away here?
Layla's bottom lip stiffened. No, no there was no time for hesitation. She felt cold, uncertain, yes. But Mr. Devola could be trusted. He could be trusted, right?
A shaky breath. She could feel pressures already. Not in a bad way. Poised, more like. Waiting to be let in.
“I'm ready.” She said softly, having no idea what she was walking into. Internally, she relaxed. It was like any resistance she held was released as she stood as still as possible.
Edict took a long, deep breath. The words didn’t ring through the air so much as echo through her very mind.
”Pink Lotus’ Guiding Principle: Power Word Assess.”
The tendrils felt the flickering resistance as Layla released herself to him and his intentions.
And as Mr. Devola would begin his examination, several stress points would pop up, hazy in their numbers, but taking focus at a closer look.
The Void. What appeared to be kindness turned into ultimate betrayal as Layla watched Jack lure her and Void into a trap. The pain of having to fight friends - Stormy, Jack, Britney, Auri, in a desperate struggle for survival. The pain of being unheard and misunderstood when she said it would get worse, much worse, if they took Void from her.
The hot, biting sting of hatred in Layla as she pulled a knife on Jack. She hated seeing Void surrender. She didn't understand why a stupid sword meant anything, why Void was so scared of Britney. Why he surrendered all of a sudden. Her anger though, curiously, turned on Jack instead, and she felt the bloodlust necessary to drive it through his heart.
The pain of preferring death, of threatening her own life, to keep them away from Void.
The Temple. The false sense of security that was shattered like a China dish. This memory was twisted, thought on repeatedly instead of being first-hand experience. As if Layla could only imagine as Mr. Salamante drove the knife through a no longer breathing Void. Her raw disgust at Clarissa, the memory having an audible shriek to it as Layla gripped hands on the woman. How her disgust and shock turned into physical sickness. How she was told Void was dead. And she wished to be dead too.
The nights. Haunting shadows of figures morphing into reality, crooning over her as she sat there in the darkness, petrified with fear. Hands and face slicked with sweat. Trembling at even the slight gesture of them teasing her, mocking her. The fear of knowing what her entities wanted, and simply waiting for the pain. Waiting in dread for a thing she couldn't avoid.
As all of this swirled, as he peeled through each layer of her recent memories hunting and searching for a point where she’d decided that a hit was to be placed on Britney for her involvement, he regaled Layla with the full color full motion footage recorded in his mind.
”Pink Lotus’ Precious Recollection: Living in Color.”
It was a seamless experience filled in by the imagination of a man who spent his entire life lying to people in order to maintain his own position. He was happy to show her something that almost happened, as it was far easier to put together on the fly than something entirely fabricated.
What Layla saw flash across her own mind as things began to settle in her was from Edict’s point of view.
The flash of Jack teleporting away outside the Church, with what she recognized as herself in tow. Entering the Church, Leon’s boisterous voice shouting about someone teleporting.
”Leon knew you were in trouble. I realize this now. He tried to save you.”
It was like one of those old school moving pictures, where instead of a voice there was a flash of text quotes in the foreground. Followed by clever editing; Leon at the window, the canister hitting him in the head. It was easy to influence the mind to think that the cloud of vapor wasn’t there…
It hit the floor in front of him. Then, his hands came up, throwing the canister toward the ceiling as it exploded into a ball of fire. Never once did it show his hand in it, that he’d lit the fire from the leaking gas cloud. It also wasn’t hard to mimic consciousness fading in and out, and he did this to cover his failed escape attempt. Rather, in the vision he gave Layla a sense that he turned from the explosion and tried to dive away before being driven to the ground by the force. His eyes opened to the PRA, and he made sure to focus on their leader shouting and having an absolute shitfit.
”These people are dangerous enemies.”
Faces flashed in front of Layla, and Edict couldn’t help but transfer a bit of personal emotion to her. Pain that she was familiar with, that he was quickly learning behind the scenes as something they had in common. Sloane, Stormy, Jack and Auri who arrived wounded. It was explained far better to him through this context, knowing what he knew now. There’d been a fight. Those two from the Temple, and more. Salamente, even their Lady herself, Lynette.
But the picture show was over then. His work wasn’t. The two of them walked while this happened, with Edict guiding their steps slowly and carefully until they made it to a waiting area where they could sit near the Haunted House.
”Pink Lotus’ Guiding Principle: More Than a Feeling.”
Complete and total pink saturation washed through Layla’s brain matter, brute forcing a solution that he’d searched and searched for: The crux of the problem. He was always listening, after all.
”Taking life is easy. You must just not be looking at things the right way. Don’t Worry.”
Picking through her memories, he began to feed them back to her. Images of past kills, of previous hunts that she’d been forced to watch. The Void Heart smiled in her memory, bloody hands lifting up her chin to witness his dark form. Alongside him, “friendly” faces: Edict himself, with Britney under his arm. Leon, the Temple, people who he wanted her to disassociate as threats. As if Void Heart was personally vouching for them contrary to what she had previously seen.
"I’m so proud of you…”
He pulled and ruffled the sparse but passionate moments that she’d spent with Void Heart, bringing it all together in the form of a seal that locked her mind into the final thought: Jack Hawthorne’s severed head, corpse a feast for the ethereal dogs of her torturers piled alongside the others who had betrayed her trust in the first place.
”People involve themselves in business that isn’t theirs. Busy bodies, enemies of your happiness. You have the tools to end their lives. Use it for yourself, and paint the canvas with their remains.”
As the crux and defining moment played out, one last memory surfaced. One that Mr. Devola had been searching for. The mental breakdown of Layla's as she sat across a recognized figure - Miss Vorpal. One other, Miss Blackthorn, was with them as well. The feeling of bliss from Miss Vorpal's ethereal eyes. How Miss Vorpal held Layla and promised her healing in the form of revenge. How Britney Williams had been implied as one that had to suffer.
This was how the connection between Britney's hit and Layla's involvement would be made.
And then reality came back around them, the tendrils pulling away all at once. Edict had his sunglasses in his hand now, looking at Layla as she came to. Consciousness was meant, in Edict’s method, to be a warm embrace that welcomed the girl back into its arms. The sting of Void Heart’s loss remained, but far louder was the lasting image of that “friendly” smirk he gave to his pets. What one may consider predatory was Layla’s happy place: The beast that gave her peace.
Edict waited for a long moment, letting reality set back in for her as sorrow was replaced with warm nostalgia and love that she’d been able to perceive as if it were real and in front of her.
As her awareness came back to her, a genuine smile graced her features. What had once been unhappy and grief-stricken were now replaced with happiness and peace. She was filled with understanding, as tangible as seeing Void's warm face in front of her.
She blinked slowly, trying to get her bearings. She realized they were right outside the Haunted House, and a childish giggle escaped her lips.
She thought about what she saw, and spoke slowly, gaze shifting from the ground to Mr. Devola. “I think… the cops were wrong to attack everyone. I can't believe they set the church on fire…”
Her head hung a bit. “Perhaps… I was wrong about the Temple. They were just trying to help.”
She thought of Void, and her smile grew soft. “I miss my friend, but I'll be okay.”
A dark, detached look crossed her face. She didn't vocalize this, but already in her mind, strategies were being formed to take down the man who betrayed her and Void: Jack Hawthorne. He wouldn't see it coming…
“I… Thank you, Mr. Devola.”
Edict, looking around to see Linqian, Sabrina and Britney making their return through the crowd, leaned into Layla subtly as he stuffed his Channeler into his breast pocket.
"Don't mention it. Seriously, not to anyone else. It's our secret now. Revenge Buddies.”
He patted her shoulder with warm comfort, something like a genuine smile forming over his face as his legs brought him back to a standing position. He hefted the guitar case over his shoulder, waving the returning ladies closer to them.
Edict
Mentions: Linqian Han/@FernStone, Britney Williams/@Punished GN | Direct Dialogue: Layla Hyacinthus/@Estylwen | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
“Only Anya seemed to agree with me. She's got her head on straight, I'll have to talk with her again.
God in Absence, she's beyond naïve.
Edict made a strong mental note to contact Anya and get her working this case with him. They were, he recognized, tools for one another's games. But he kind of liked that, and it made Edict feel similar to how he felt about Linqian: You can live, maybe. She unwrapped her hand, showed him her wound, and Edict did his best mimic of a surprised face. At the same time, he had to keep a straight face as he saw two tiny eyes cresting up over the side of one of the canopies holding a festival booth. Two golden eyes, sitting perfectly like two cresting suns over the horizon of canvas lining. One little... Hand? Paw? Foot?
A tiny, bright gold tree frog stared at the two of them with a discerning and judgmental stare. It wasn't there long, however, and before Edict could do anything about the strange creature, it was gone. He thought for a second it was wearing clothes. His head shook, and he cleared his throat.
"Auhh... You... You don't sound so good Layla. Maybe... Maybe I can help you?-"
He sincerely had no recollection of what her abstraction entailed, but he couldn't see many consequences present in giving her a quick magical once-over. If she had any serious cracks, like he thought she may have, she'd be a sitting duck for his powers. But, he stopped himself short. It was always easier to get permission for these sorts of operations; Once he was in with permission, it was hard to stop him from getting back in later unless you had some serious assistance or were somewhat used to the basic entry.
“We should… uh… move to the Haunted House.”
Edict nodded in agreement, the perfect chance to see if that little frog was really who he thought it was. But she stopped again, held still.
“Were… there any more leads given during the meeting? Anything I missed?”
Pulling out his phone to rattle off a text to Linqian, Layla gave him reason to pause and smile. Fire, flames, chaos, property damage...
"Well, long story short, we were raided by Police Officers. Federal police, actually, government agents more like. Magical people, like us. They attacked. I can show you if you don't mind me using my power."
That was a far more casual, far more devious way to suggest letting him in. Edict wasn't keen on leaving the spot he told the others they'd be in, so he was hopeful that she'd take the bait and he could drag the line into the boat so he could get a nice long look at his catch. He waited for her choice with phone in hand figuring that if for some silly reason he was denied, he'd still have to text someone to let them know there's movement. All he needed to really know was what the hell happened with the Sealing. He wanted to see what Britney had to do with it that would make her a target for anyone. It just didn't make sense in his mind that something so drastic could've happened, but the way he figured things made him feel like he was the only one who could get to the bottom of it.
Leon & Casey
Mentions:Nobody Relevant | Direct Dialogue: Adora Phoenix-Prescott/@Punished GN, Trisha Vanburen/@FernStone | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
"Oh, wow... Trisha? God, what's the city coming to when a Vanburen can't walk safely among her people?" he asked sarcastically, the still struggling Adora beginning to mellow out.
"Dude, she's fucked! Look at this poor girls face, who are these two?"
Leon took a long deep breath as he avoided saying That's a Bee.
"Well this here is Adora PP, Phoenix-Prescott, or Appie, she hates all those nicknames. And she's a Vanburen so that really sums things up."
Casey's eyes widened a bit as he got a slightly better picture of things, and he turned to Trisha.
"Oh my God, Ms. Vanburen!? I'm so sorry about this, holy hell..."
"Yep, welcome to Sycamore Hell my favorite Little Brother. Ladies, my brother Casey. He's handsome and available. Speaking of, Case, could you please bring our lovely Ms. Vanburen to the place with the food? Have Andrade get her the jelly roll from the ice chest, I think that'll do the trick for the blood and broken bones."
Casey, still wide eyed at the carnage, frowned.
"Uh, sure Lee.-" he replied, looking at Trisha with a great deal of empathy. "Do you mind? Its just down the way, our Uncle has some food that can heal you. Videogame shit, but that's magic right?" he tried to be as polite as possible in offering the help to the woman whose family was St. Portwell Royalty that his mom and dad had spent his whole childhood striving for. He didn't know why he felt compelled to treat her like a princess; maybe it was the inherent respect for authority and hierarchy that filled his heart, or maybe it was the sight of a wounded woman that put him out of sorts.
Meanwhile, Leon had already begun moving Adora into a different direction. Speaking to her in a low voice as he let her go, Leon smiled down at Adora.
"When I saw it was you, I was gonna let you keep going. But I figured if it was good and right, we could both get some shots in together... Come on, let's not be near her now, and maybe we can get a beer. God damn look at that face..." he said, looking back one last time to wave his little brother and the young Vanburen off.
"What the hell brought all that on, huh?" he asked Adora, still laughing and shaking his head as he tried to shift the attention ultimately away from what had transpired.
Kenshiro
Mentions: Auri Auclair, Emily G. Reed/@Punished GN | Direct Dialogue: Emperor Tennogama | Location: Traveling > Home Boat > Auri's Flower Stand, Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
He awoke high in a tree, hanging from the net he'd secured with a couple kunai buried deep in the fleshy wood. The thousands of branches beneath him gave the impression that there was solid something below him. But, this was no ordinary tree. As Ken stretched his limbs in the makeshift hammock, the branch above him began to vibrate gently from its base. This caused the hammock to rock and sway even more, until one of the Kunai pulled itself from the limb with a bloody discharge as the large vein began to squirt the tree's blood from the limb.
This had several effects: One, a side of the hammock let itself loose, removing any support out from underneath Ken. Two, the tree's blood spattered across his Gi and face as he began to fall which caused great discomfort. Third, in a reaction of pain, the tree's conscious mind moved all of the limbs between Ken and the ground out of the way to let him fall straight down to the ground. Still disoriented from the terribly vivid dream and the spatter of hot tree blood, Ken fell for a few dozen feet. It would have been a death sentence for many others, but then many others wouldn't spend their time this far up a Living Redwood. The impossibly tall and lanky creatures were massive wurms whose mouths and faces were buried dozens and dozens of feet beneath the dirt, whose massive stalks resisted the wind as they climbed higher toward the light.
It was a bit ironic in a poetic way that he felt much safer up here falling down than he did on the actual ground of this place. Cloth blew around him from his clothing, and he pulled a loose bit up to wipe the sticky coppery brown from his face. Eyes opened to the sky, disorienting in a falling position as there's very few references as to the speed of descent. He couldn't waste anymore time: Hands flicked together, fingers snapping from sacred position to position as Purple Lux rushed toward the band tied around his right bicep, then back out into his hands.
"Murasaki: Enlighten!"
His downward momentum halted, the very cloth around his body slowing his now weightless form to a glide through the sparsely packed trees. Once he was at a slower pace, he began to lighten even the clothes and his equipment until he wasn't falling at all, but rather hung in the dense air as if on a cloud. He checked his vest and his pouch, taking inventory of what he had left for this excursion, and determined that he was right to follow the urge that was now bubbling in him after that strange dream. He felt the call of his own Realm. Shimmer's calm embrace felt reserved and threatened in that dream, as if nothing was right. It couldn't have been if a human was involved... They either saved or ruined everything they touched.
He was still facing the sky, staring at the twin suns of of this world from behind darkened glasses meant to block the harmful rays. Sunglasses he bemused. Sucking in through his teeth, he felt the Lux heavy atmosphere around him and wished some of his friends could come with him. That one day he'd like to take them to these places where the magic is stronger, and where they'd be able to transcend their mundanity on Earth. Places like the Hidden Villages, where the magic was thickest...
To be fair, St. Portwell is similar. Tennogama has said so of his own volition.
In a place like this, the magic flowed like blood through his veins, making even the most complicated spell a simple task. Even from this Enlighten, he had so much control over his weight and direction that he easily stood up in mid air as if there were a solid floor of stone beneath him. This took focus in Shimmer, or other realms more closely mirroring it along the Infinite Chain.
But he had to leave. He'd been untrue to his instinct before, and for that he was unable to save his family from their doom. He would not do the same thing again.
He knew not yet what he was to find in that sleepy City, in which the Toad hides and the Snake lies in unrest beneath the soil. Not yet.
Ken let his hands and arms receive a great deal of Purple Lux, drawing it from both within and without his body. Feet planted firmly on the nothingness, Ken reached for the sword at his side. Long, deep breaths carried his arm slowly, precisely, with absolute and utter authority to the grip. Purple Lux transferred from the man into the blade, and he began to chant into the air, the ancient mantras of the Ten Paths. Each Kanji representing the ten colors of Lux bubbled through the air in purple flames that appeared from nowhere, until finally Ken held the tone pitch perfect for several seconds. In those seconds, the vibration from his voice box passed along through his bones to the sword he gripped. In a single slash, the blade flicked upward through the air, the blade resonating with such a powerful frequency that the vibrations caused it to lose its shape so that it looked like an airborne torrent of metal.
The rend in reality revealed a tatami sliding door, which slid open for Ken as the rapidly vibrating sword was slid back into its sheath and made the most deafening silence one could imagine. He looked back one last time on this savage landscape, not knowing when he'd be able to return next, and took one last deep breath at the hellish landscape of flesh trees and flatulent monstrosities that belched sulfer gas and other dreadful awful things. Maybe powerful Adepts came from this place, but it wasn't worth looking at this awfulness everyday... It was his first time looking at the ground since yesterday, and it disgusted him for the last time.
The door slammed shut behind him with a loud resonant "Thwack!", leaving the wretched place behind. A few thousand feet away, in a nearby flesh tree, a single kunai sat stabbed into the woody flesh, and would probably stay there until the beast one day died and decayed.
Life is so silly
You could be born a Flesh Tree
The Gods are all sick
The pathway door opened just where he wanted it to: At the foot of Tennogama's shrine, where the old Toad would be waiting for him to come back. The lucky thing was, he'd always know if Ken was alive or not; he was intrinsically aware that Tennogama needed Ken alive for the Pact to remain in place, which meant that if he was still stuck in St. Portwell, the reckless young human had to be alive. Not that it didn't pain him to think of his only guard being out trotting about the Allverse without any kind of true backup, of course... But what could he do besides complain to someone who wasn't interested in listening?
Tennogama's spirit sat in the cool afternoon air, letting the water of the brook run across his underside while he laid back against a natural rock face and smoked his pipe. It was a mystery what he was smoking, but Tennogama himself knew that it was the loudest swamp-grown evergrove leaf that could be grown in the Realm of Gam, freshly burned at an offering on the other side every morning and every night to insure that he was kept well stocked with material to smoke in the equivalent of their spirit realm: The Shimmer. As Tennogama inhaled, the Kai Pathway began to burn a hole in reality that signified a member of the Murasaki Clan was fast approaching. The great spirit looked at it with the same secret bemusement that he did the first day he saw something like it, watching the colors of the flames dance about the door that eventually slid open and deposited an almost always half drained and starved Kenshiro.
Ken emerged across the mouth of the brook from the Toad, destined to stare at his great golden skin in all its basking glory. The spirit's presence was warming in a literal sense, the density of magic around it pooling moisture in the air and trapping heat that rolled up off the lake. It gave the area a constant fog, not that it protected the Emperor's modest staff in any great way. The spirit, bereft of modesty, could tell immediately that there was a troubled air about his Bondsman. Though the two simply stared between one another for a span of time, their minds and eyes were locked in the constant back and forth battle of "Who will ask who first?"
"D-daijoubu desu ka? (You are... Well?)"
The spirit's voice croaked like a thousand boulders tumbling into a pool of water, his ancient voice made far more convenient for croaking and barking than speaking the Human tongue.
"Honestly? I don't know yet. I had an awful dream, Sensei."
"And now you return because you fear?"
"Maybe... I am... I am hungry for some tacos down by the Harbor District as well."
Tennogama's eyes closed gently, and he inhaled another tug of smoke from his long, thin pipe. For a moment he made no motion, but exhaling brought about a gentle nod.
"You... Were right to return. I have felt a disturbance in the Magic. Things are happening that were not before."
Ken took a long and deep breath, inhaling the mist that billowed from Tennogama's direction; magical vapor from a pipe that didn't actually exist. His hands came up to his face, pulling the cloth half mask and the wide hood off his head. Patting himself down, he nodded up at Tennogama.
"Then it looks like I'm back for the foreseeable future. Let me go catch up with reality and I'll start rooting around, trying to figure out what's going on."
Tennogama gave a loud, guttural croak from the deepest part of himself. It was expressive of deep satisfaction, and these croaks and ribbits and barks that came from within were the preferred method of communication. Ken had long ago learned to read them, and took that as his permission to be dismissed. He traveled down the shore of the lake a few hundred feet before lazily throwing his hands together in a jumble. Another enlighten spell: At first he wobbled as he stepped onto the surface of the water, but remembering the depth of control necessary here in the Shimmer, he focused the magic closer to the soles of his shoes and feet.
Rather than actually walking like a solid surface, small bubbles of trapped and pressurized air kept him aloft above the water like a staggered stone pathway across a pond until he reached his destination. The sixty or so foot houseboat was a sturdy construct that sat in the middle of the lake at almost all moments. Though there was a dock, the resident himself didn't need any particular path to get on or off the vessel, so he saw no need to fuss with docking it unless he was too exhausted to get out there himself. It had happened a few times, thus he kept a heavy iron chain tied from the boat to the dock; worst case scenarios he could tug the thing back to dock and flop over the side.
The interior was sparse, mostly open space except for a kitchen and the bed at the second floor loft. The walls without windows were covered in storage, lockers upon lockers of tools and somatic supplies that so often needed refreshing between excursions. Not to mention the bundles of Blind medications, pain killers and other modern medical supplies that he'd adapted into his emergency kits. Otherwise, there was nothing except for a hatch to the ship's bilge and a small table with a radio and a little electrical outlet into which a small cell phone was plugged, and an equally small vintage radio with two batteries sitting next to it in upright positions. In the loft, besides his bed, was a small candle burning shrine with a stone pylon front and center. Without pictures, the faces of his long dead family members slowly fade from his mind.
Only pictures of himself with some of the Sycamore Tree kindred dot the otherwise bare walls of that upper space. He pulls the clothing from himself layer by layer, the sweat and blood and grime causing the various cloths to become rigid after peeling from one another and ultimately his chest. His lithe, slightly malnourished figure was made of very little body fat, but in the reflection of a window he caught sight of himself and saw his ribcage like a xylophone on his torso, and he took a deep breath. He'd been pushing himself too hard, even he had to admit that. He hoped in that moment, as he reached for his phone to turn it on and head down to the bilge for a shower, that he was just psyching himself up over nothing.
He spent until the early evening held up in that bilge weeping deep and sorrowful tears at the news that his instinct had, in fact, been right. Something awful was happening, and by the dates of the texts and phone messages that were left on his device, he was more than a week late.
It was hard for Kenshiro not to feel responsible. His ego combined with his trauma in the most hellish feeling of self hatred and rage. Who the fuck is this Father Wolf? He doesn't have a fucking clue who he's dealing with. It took Ken the several hours of processing to recuperate, letting the cold filtered lake water wash over him and run back out into the body of water from whence it came. It cleansed him of the pain long enough to think of revenge. In a sick way, by the time he was done with the panic attack, he was fine. Better than fine, he had a goal clear ahead of him, and it was more tangible than chasing the ghosts of his other family ever was. The entire Coven, after all, had not died.
Auri Auclair had reached out to him, asking him to a meeting at the beginning of the week which he'd missed. But looking at the date filled him with hope. That if she was going to be anywhere on this night, he knew exactly where that was. With the majority of his actual storage in the bilge, he set about unpacking his yearly attire for the Halloween Festival.
The others told him that he was supposed to change the costume every year, but Kenshiro failed to see the point. It was like a personification; the costume chooses you just as much as you choose the costume. As he pulled the two bags out of his big storage chest, he gave a very subtle grin. There was pain behind it, as he remembered some of the good times he'd had with it on. And now more people were gone. More, after the Stygian Snake, not from some random happenstance. He wasn't coming home to a drug overdose or a car crash funeral. He was coming back to a place where his final shot at a family was being terrorized by some nameless, faceless thing...
And it all has to do with Raven Jones... Who the fuck is Raven Jones?
His teeth gritted together, but he shook it off and proceeded to don his costume.
As the storm formed over the Cracker Island Historical District, the thunder somewhat muffled the loud popping blasts that signaled Kenshiro's descent from high altitude toward the dot below. The island was awash with lights, and roughly a quarter of a mile before he made contact, he began to put the breaks on. Flight wasn't direct, nor was it precise; rather Ken had gotten to be something of a master at sling-shotting himself around by slinging a few spells together. Enlighten, combined with the martial techniques of Ten Ton himself, meant that the amount of power that Ken could output from his legs and arms was like scaling up a grasshopper and an ant at the same time.
Manipulating his weight by shifting it at different points during flight, he could adjust for trajectory and accuracy like a guided artillery shell. With concentrated bursts of air trapped and pressurized by Phantom Hands, like how he crossed the water previously, he can make much harsher and more broad angle adjustments, as well as using them as airbag breaks that give up and bleed off velocity little by little.
All this pressurizing and popping makes Ken's Flight sound like a twin engine plane with a blown out propeller; all this to say that it was convenient for him that a localized storm had gathered in the area. Only, the full picture of it from above really gave the weather system away. He could tell from such a distance that it was clearly magical phenomena, as all around the horizon, no other clouds were so low and densely packed. Something was already awry, and it smelled like trouble. He took a low arc, readjusting to gain the trajectory he desired near the edge of the island. With the goal of getting a vantage point, his right hand reached into his favorite part of the costume, pulling out a small bundle of copper wire. Instantly, Purple Lux arced across the metal's surface, vibrating and finally vaporizing into nothing.
Time slowed to a crawl in Ken's mind, and the clarity allowed him to see all the faces that he was slowly hurdling toward. Thankfully, he was dressed in all black and backed by dark storm clouds by this point, ultimately making him difficult to spot from the noises alone as they took time to travel toward the ground.
He saw a familiar face. One he didn't like, and one that filled him with an impulsive rage that made him want to do bad deeds with his gifts. Emily G. Reed... Every story he heard, every interaction he'd witnessed, he knew she wasn't just any normal dick. She was an asshole, and Ken knew that he'd rather be a dick than an asshole... I may be dirty, but I'm not full of shit. Beside Emily was one of her cronies; Ken didn't have time to distinguish targets. He only guessed that they weren't getting killed left and right like Sycamore...
The spell effect ended, and Ken's free hand reached for another goodie. Pressure built around him slowly, a rather gentle shot flung him in a lazy way over the festival grounds. As he released and began to fly forward, he took a deep breath for Channeling his aura spell and yarded back like an MLB pitcher.
The wad of paper and colored gun powder zipped through the damp air toward Emily G. Reed and her freshly fixed costume. Ken only heard the gasping puff of air that the smoke bomb made as it released its payload all at once into a dusty cloud of smoke filled with black tar. It stuck to everything it wafted over, with Ken's dispersal of the air around him causing it to spin like a little tornado in one spot. Safe in mid air, Ken looked for the place with the most beautiful flowers, then landed somewhere inconspicuous nearby before immerging.
Surprising a port-o-potty user just getting out of their bathroom break, The Batman stood in full regalia with the sleek armor and the vaguely gothic aesthetic that he'd come to learn and like from his friend Leon and his family. He assumed they were here too, they always were on Halloween. However he had business, and frankly he hoped that Auri wouldn't take his dressing up as some kind of offence as he approached her Flower Stand. The triangle-shaped CLOSED sign wasn't such a beacon of hope, and he grumbled to himself about the damned rain. Dogwood bark was an essential part of his kit, and he pulled out a small bit of it from one of his utility belt's pockets.
Holding onto the bark tightly, Ken flicked his fingers together and apart a few times in seemingly random order, but to those whose eyes are opened, they'd see a glowing golden light overtake Kenshiro's hands, and from them poured a couple dozen tiny tree frogs of various colors and shapes. The largest one still fit well within Ken's palm, and roughly two dozen scrambled into neat and tidy rows. They even had little yukata tops on, and some were sporting headbands or other head gear. He spoke to them strictly in Japanese, and quiet so that any observing blinds would only assume he was a little crazy.
"Auri Auclair, guys. We need to find Auri; you know the Butterfly Priestess."
There was an immediate and resounding Hai!, at which point the frogs scattered to the winds as if they'd never been there in the first place. Now he was on the hunt again, and like usual, hunting without tracks.
Batman skulked into the rain, hoping to find Auri, or someone who could point him toward her.
The Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals
Members: Leon, Lynette, Elise, Casey, June and Mia Richoux, Andrade Salamente, Furio Natale | Direct Dialogue: None Outside Group | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
"What the hell, I've seen you cook! You can spare a little time, look at you. Hand in your pocket, some kind of cool dude chillin' at the stove. Rapide, Monsieur!"
"Maxwell the Fifth!? Control yourself or just go!"
Leon looked back from his position at the prep counter where he'd been chopping vegetables for the kebabs that Andrade had on their menu this year. This was an every year kind of thing, and while Leon hadn't missed one, he couldn't say the same for his siblings. It was nice to have them all home this year... Even with June being June. The young man was throwing his arm around Andrade's front, trying to hold an arm behind his back in some pugnacious display of pushiness that was classic of a recently assertive Maxwell V. Beside Leon, Casey sighed deeply, and he could see his younger brother's head shake. Then there was the increased heart rate, knowing that if it was going to be anyone who got it next, it was him. Leon thoughtfully bumped Casey's arm.
"Hey, listen, Furio and a few of the other guys are supposed to be getting here for the next shift, so why don't you and me sneak off a little early and get some drinks?"
Casey's reaction was near surprise, mostly because he was spaced out on the feeling of discomfort he got around his younger brother. There had always been something in June's eyes that terrified Casey, the kind of look that he saw in some of the Veterans who had a particularly hard time readjusting to civilian life. He always wondered if they should've switched places.
"What? O-oh, right, shit... The time, man, it fuckin' flies in a kitchen."
Leon gave a shallow curved smile to his brother.
"You should ask him for a job! You seem like you really loved doing this today." he replied to Casey, throwing his head over his shoulder at Andrade.
His expression brightened in return, and the nodding confirmation gave Leon enough confidence to push it a bit more. But before he could, Casey spoke again.
"You're right, I really should. Honestly I even loved chow duty when we were in the rear bases; I'd always volunteer to help. When he's not busy, y'know?"
"Of course dude! Yeah, it'll be real good for you, helps you transition fully into the mundane."
While the Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals rented space for three different booths, the boys had decided to help by doing work for the food booth that Andrade was in charge of. It was always Leon's first choice, rather than selling clothes and swag or running the informational booth. With all three of the Richoux Brothers home for this particular Equinox. There was going to be a bigger celebration at the Temple the next day, but for now their celebration was service to the population of St. Portwell. Their Mother and her secretary happened to be at that booth overseeing things as their covers began to pick up for dinner. She was sure to never give her son the difficult shifts, and with all three being here this year, they'd very nearly finished the opening ten hours of the festival. Currently she was dealing with June, and was quick to pick up a folder planner full of the day's checklists to wrap him over the head with.
As she did, the two plastic faces smacked together causing a clapping noise that made Casey jump again. Leon felt it, and the increased heart rate again, and shook his head.
"Ma, can you not, please?"
"Leon Hunter, do not butt in."
"Yeah Leon Hunter, or you won't get any good boy points from Mommy."
"You should stock up on them, Junie. Oh, wait, you just collect boys, nothing to do with points."
"Oh sure, jump in front of the bullet, classic Casey. Why don't you make yourself useful and go bomb another hospital in the desert?"
Leon's eyes flicked between his hands and the front of the booth where there was a line of people waiting for kebabs and burgers made by Andrade Salamente. He figured he may have some adjacent fans, and some of them may want to see a boxing demonstration, but doubted they were really here for that. He kept his hands down, laying the knife to rest on the cutting board as he spun to look at Junior. His cocky smiling face stared back, and Leon gave the best disappointed father look he could give. Casey hadn't looked up, hadn't even stopped chopping vegetables... But Leon could feel the muscles tensing as Orange Lux flowed through his brother's body.
He and Casey had a complex relationship as children, and Leon carried a great deal of regret over the circumstances; something he sought to rectify whenever he could.
But surprisingly, it was Andrade who threw the decisive action.
"What the fuck did you just say to him!?"
Leon saw Andrade pull the cast iron pan from the stove with the peppers and onions inside still sizzling, and gripped it like a club before pushing his weight into Casey.
"When he could've fucking died? You say that to your brother? Your Father would beat you senseless... Madame Lynette, please get him out of my fucking kitchen!"
"You talk about my Dad like you've got his dick up your a-"
Leon started forward, ready to go for June's collar, but ultimately the Mother Lion got in the way.
Swapping to French entirely, Lynette began to lay into Junior who ultimately shrank into his own clothes before finally being dragged out of the booth by her and down the causeway toward God knew where with the secretary of the week right behind them. The three remaining men drew breaths of relief toward one another, each of them knowing the fury that was out there for that young man. Andrade and Leon exchanged a look, both turning their heads to the crowd, who at the front had been exposed to the yelling. They tried their best to ward off curious parties, but eventually Andrade offered some food up to those effected until the line cleared out. When they had another moment to breathe, Andrade turned back to Casey and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him.
"You know we'd never think of you like that my man. I'm sure even he doesn't, he just says-"
"The most hurtful thing possible."
The three of them spoke at the same time, and while Casey didn't look up from his work, he did laugh along with Leon and Andrade, who both gave him some reassuring pats on the back. Around the same time, Furio and the girls were showing up at the booth.
"Oh my God, it's Lee Lee!"
Mia seemed to be in a good mood today, which was good, because it seemed like it was starting to rain. She'd need it being bored all night. She brushed past Casey like he didn't exist, giving Leon a big hug and practically crawling into his arms. Behind her, Elise's quiet presence filled in the booth, and while Andrade and Furio exchanged pleasantries and the other two were occupied with cuddling, Elise took the time to notice her little brother's expression.
"Mum said Junie's on a time out? She's got him on the merchandise booth now, and he's pouting like a little kid. She asked us to come over here with Furio while the girls hang out with June and listen to him whine."
It was hard for Casey to hide his fading frustration, so he simply took a deep breath.
"I implied he was a pedophile, so he told me I should go bomb a hospital." Elise's brow furrowed.
"Over...?"
"It's more complicated than it deserves being, E. Don't worry, he's fine." Leon piped up, Mia the Barnacle having finally unsuctioned from him.
"Fine? Lee, they cannot be around one another! What the fuck are we supposed to do for a week?"
Leon scoffed and waved his had at his Sister. That same moment, Furio came into the picture, looking between the siblings. Once they stopped talking, he took it as a sign of acknowledgement.
"Just to let you know, Leon? Eight Street is out in force tonight, but I've seen pockets of your friends clustering up together.
The Big Man nodded his head, finally pulling his apron off to swap off with his baby sister. Underneath was a shirt with a clown face print on the front. A zombie clown, complete with cracker brains that said "You Crack Me Up" in bloody halloween letters. Unlike some of the others, he had to take his costume off to start work.
Casey, accurately, took this as a sign that they were finished their shift, and pulled his apron off similarly. He had gone low effort, wearing his tans from his last deployment along with his Channeler on his right hand. Handing it to his Sister, he hugged Elise tightly and spoke into her ear.
"I promise it won't be my problem, Sis. It's not me."
She hugged him back, tucking her face into his shoulder.
"I know, Honey, I know. It's not fair to you. It isn't."
Leon & Casey
Mentions:Nobody Relevant | Direct Dialogue: Adora Phoenix-Prescott/@Punished GN, Trisha Vanburen/@FernStone | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
Not because of his time in the army, mind you, but the fact that he didn't get to be part of the Sycamore Coven. One imagined that the slippery middle Richoux would've managed to sneak into the Coven, but it seemed like whenever he was on the verge of getting into trouble, all of a sudden Lynette would be attentive again. He knew what it really was; that she'd been monitoring them all no matter how much she pretended like she didn't care. That's, of course, how she framed it. Caring. Letting Leon go out and do whatever the hell he wanted while the rest of them were forced into lives that they didn't want. It took their Father disappearing for her to let anything else happen...
The two of them walked along, sharing pleasantries in between introspections until Leon caught the noise from someone getting into a fight in his keen ear. Leon openly began to chug his beer, which lit Casey's face up as he pounded his back in solidarity. By the time he was done, Leon had patted him on the chest in a directive to follow, which he was very familiar with as a soldier, and readied himself for what he couldn't hear but his wolf brother could. Leon pulled the mask over his face so that whatever was happening wouldn't spot Leon Richoux the celebrity.
But it was strange... There were... Bees?
As the two rounded the corner, they were staring at ass rolling around on the ground and covered in bees. The honey pot, Casey thought to himself as he quickly moved to stop the fight. Leon could barely see in the wolf mask, and pulled it up again reluctantly to see a familiar face getting the better of someone.
"Holy shit, Adora!? Hey, Casey grab the one underneath, grab her! Girls, girls, Ladies, what the fuck!?" Leon felt Adora's power from the Trinity as his hands wrapped around her arms to pull her up.
Meanwhile, Casey was also being slowly covered in bees, and was thankful he'd worn full BDU tans with gloves, as he had very little exposed skin save for his face and head.
Edict
Mentions: Nobody Relevant Direct Dialogue: Linqian Han/@FernStone, Britney Williams/@Punished GN, Layla Hyacinthus/@Estylwen Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
With Vashti walking away, the small group was left to their own devices. Edict felt determined to not let the girls out of his sight, especially if Bean Vanburen was rolling with her. When she offered to dry their clothes, he humbly accepted whatever help she could give as even he wasn't stupid enough to step on the toes of a VB. His Father always taught him to be respectful of those people, said it was Old Money like that which kept them in business. The rich and the poor, a cycle of thieving and skimming and scrimping, all with the understanding that it was the man in the middle who would foot the bill. The sucker.
He knew that Sabrina wasn't her old man... But hearing her clip Vashti's wings with authority made him pass a second more subtle look in her direction as she finished her task. It was still wet and cold, but at least they weren't soaked.
That's when Linqian approached him. He could feel her shaking slightly, and chalked it up to the cold rather than trying to pry into her leery mind and find out. As she hugged around him, he felt her purposeful tug upward, and he gripped his arms around her back to support her and pass on a little warmth. But then, she started yapping in his ear about something he almost couldn't make out over the din of the festival. Slowly parsing it out, his brow furrowed into a v-shape as his eyes passed between Britney and Layla. In that moment, he was one hundred percent sure that what he'd been approached with the other day at that meeting had everything to do with little Layla Hyacinthus.
Edict had never paid her much mind. Probably because he'd never been in a position to deal with the House of Cards. How could he have ever known she was connected like that without having seen her at some sort of event? He wasn't allowed to go to those until he began really earning on the streets, and since then their merry band of murderers had taken something of a dive. He had been propositioned about their takeover, even, which in the end had been nixed by one negotiation or another.
”Though going to a haunted house at our age is fucking lame without getting absolutely wasted first.”
Correct.
He didn't actually speak, however, simply giggling to himself. Before she could fully let go, Edict took her right hand gently, and subtly stuck it into his left pocket as he casually spun both their bodies. He was masterful at slight of hand maneuvers like this, blocking her arm reaching into his pocket with the bulk of his coat. Inside was what felt like a small brick wrapped in paper.
"Grab and hold, its yours."
And with that same subtle movement, Edict stepped in front of Linqian, the motion allowing her to hold the envelope as it slid out from his pocket. In the same motion, he fluffed the coat on his shoulders to insure it blocked the sight of Linqian stuffing the envelope full of money into her back alongside the pistol he wasn't asking for yet.
Frankly, he wasn't confident that the night didn't have more surprises ahead.
"You may still need that other thing though."
His head turned, approaching Britney as her smile overtook his mind. He could feel the burn in his throat as he began to instinctively unfurl the lotus' roots in complete disregard for his channeler still secure in his breast pocket. It wasn't any kind of real spell ever, more like a leaking of pure Pink Lux that just permeated an area with the general sensation of being trapped in a box full of one way mirrors. It took a White Lux user to actually tell what was happening, unless you were close enough to him to see the glowing of the veins in his throat as the energy escaped.
The look of gratitude, inside still hiding something I could never get to the bottom of. Would I be satisfied if I did? Would I kill her just as easily?
He shook the thought out of his head, approaching Britney and smiling with a gentle smile as he reigned his energy in. As soon as the feeling had come over the surrounding, it was gone again and pink smoke curled from his nostrils.
"I'm sorry for being an asshole to you there. It won't happen again, I promise."
"You told me you never wanted to see me again: First time we see each other again and I'm doing the same shit? You had every right to be mad."
But before he could lock her down, she was off toward the booze line about something or another. She'd always been like that, and while it annoyed him then, the irony of what he said left him with a genuine smile on his face. At least until it was just Linqian and Layla.
"Linqian, please go with them... I'm gonna stick around with Layla, make sure that we spread the firepower around a little bit, y'know? You're better with those people than I am anyway. We'll catch up, and yes I'll take a Stel. Thank you."
Whether she believed him or not was her call, but if he couldn't talk to Britney about what happened and what he knew, he'd be able to at least try and soak the truth out of this junior Coven member. He didn't even wait for her to leave earshot before he started trying to butter Layla up.
"So how have you been, Hon? Not sure if you remember me at all, but my name's Greyson. I didn't see you at the meeting the other night, you not want to show up? You didn't miss much."
At worst she wouldn't take the bait... Well, actually at worst, she was in deep with the House, and she may have some way of knowing he tampered with their agent the day before. But, he barely remembered the girl, never mind recalling a reason to be afraid of her. What was the worst that could happen?
The Richouxs Return (And also a TOAD???)
Bloopin Boi for review.
Edict
Mentions: Leon Richoux Direct Dialogue: Linqian Han/@FernStone, Britney Williams/@Punished GN, Layla Hyacinthus/@Estylwen, Vashti Nour/@Atrophy
Location: Cracker Island Ferry Docks > Festival Grounds, Cracker Island
"Woah, ayy!-" he threw his hands up like a true Italian caricature, "-Unless I went to some fashion designer ahead of time, or... I don't know, some magical tailor, whatever I was gonna get would be cheaper than rocking vintage Giorgio Armani and fuckin' Prada wingtips. This is my Dad's suit from his hayday, the belt alone was like six cartons in those days."
Pocketing the bottle as well, he was now on the lookout for a trashcan; but as Linqian mentioned the idea of having to cut in line at a ferry to be shoulder to shoulder with the masses of mouth breathers, he simply couldn't bear it. His arm dipped down, scooping up his black and gold leather guitar case by the handle and moving his body to gesticulate a different direction than the ferry. Toward his car, in fact.
"Well, you're not in any rush really, are you? I say fuck the Ferry, lets go catch my family's boat. It'll be more comfortable than whatever that shit is." he offered, waving his hand vaguely at the loading ramp for the ferry.
”This isn't some roundabout way of tossing me in the sea, is it?” Linqian joked, momentarily glancing at the guitar case before looking back at Edict with a slight smirk. ”Sure, I'm perfectly fucking happy with not being packed in with a bunch of horny teens and pissed adults- and Sloane. Fuck that, let's go.”
It was another forty-five or so minutes before Edict and Linqian were anywhere as close to Cracker Island as they were at the Ferry Dock. City traffic was bad enough, but now daytime revelers and weekend block parties were constant roadblocks. In the meanwhile, the two conversed casually about nothing in particular. He did end up explaining the roof was down because he was smoking, and offered some to Linqian after disclosing that there was, in fact, marijuana in it, as well as his own jacket in case she got cold. As he took it off and put it on the middle of the wide bench seat, Linqian could see the holster around his shoulders and the butt of his pistol hanging from it underneath his left armpit. His sleeves were rolled up, and his forearm tattoos were on full display along with his rigid, muscular forearms.
Eventually they ended up in the South End. The neighborhoods at the south part of the Bay were well insulated by a chain of thickets that formed a wooded privacy barrier for the rich gated communities. They were actually going to his Father's home, the place he'd lived in as a baby. He didn't bother sharing with Linqian, figuring that she wouldn't really want to hear it. Nor would she want to hear that he was upset, for yet another year, that his Father couldn't be assed to come up from Portland. Even while his own half siblings would be there. After all, someone had to live in that big house if his Dad wasn't.
Dad... Weird fucking word.
In the time it took them to drive, he was pressed to make a phone call which was clearly about him being flip-floppy with plans. From Linqian's seat, it seemed like he said one thing to them, and was now going back on it. Pulling it out of him, the sense was correct. He'd planned on taking the Ferry, but redirected the ultimate blame on Sloane, who he figured was going to be occupying the same Ferry. Making it seem like he cared much about Linqian's comfort.
"For your own comfort, we don't need to walk around like there's tension. Lets just have fun."
But the ensuing family experience and boat ride were anything but comfortable, and Edict ended up having to admit to himself that he'd have rather just dealt with the crowds at the Ferry.
First his older brother was busting his balls over making the rest of the family wait. He was a handsome man in his own right, and Linqian was able to see the similarities between the two men despite the elder brother having a bit more of a "dad bod". But, ultimately he was introduced as Eljay, short for Luigi Junior, and his wife Kaitlyn was quick to introduce herself as well with the immediately uncomfortable white person question.
"Oh my Lord you are so gorgeous Lin-shan. Where are you from?"
Eljay was quick to snap at his wife.
"St. Portwell you fucking duck, where do you think she's from?
Like Edict's Uncle, Eljay was aware that Edict was in fact a magical son of some voodoo priestess, and did his best to tiptoe around his brother after a time where he got a heavy dose of the stuff. Not that things were much less awkward after that. It seemed like Edict's "Family" was more than just close people like Linqian's experience. This was THE Family. Linqian would be able to recognize faces that she'd only seen on the news in courtroom footage, happily interspliced into a warm picture of family living with dozens of kids and teenagers and wives chatting away.
As much as he didn't want to play the introduction game, Edict couldn't really find a place for them to stand on the eighty something foot yacht. So, after at least a dozen introductions and his cutesy family name being spilled by his Grandmother, "Gemmi" figured it'd be best to get where people understood that he was just trying to get a ride... He brought Linqian up to the deck where his Uncle was actually driving the boat. There were four or five older men chatting back and forth; no costumes to speak of between them. When they heard Edict and Linqian coming up, one turned and caused the whole group to spin like the duo had found the vampire convent's hideout.
What ensued was a bit of a conflict between Edict and his fellow Captains. While Linqian didn't have all the details, Edict was considered a Captain of the Devola Family, and as such had certain inalienable rights that were respected by the other Made Men around him. This did not make him immune to the long lived tradition of Italian-American machismo bullshit, as much as he tried to hide in the relative haven of the Twin City metropolitan area. There was a comment about Oreo cookies, dunking in milk, something said by one of the other men near the Uncle. A pretty awful thing to say concerning both of the duo's mixed heritages.
The Uncle, who would later politely introduce himself to Linqian as Vito, nearly cuffed the other man in the face, shouting at him and grabbing him by the collar. Edict's first reaction was to join in the beating, but instead he quickly flicked his glasses onto his face and Linqian would've been able to feel the disturbance as Edict began to cast a spell across the room. Immediately, all the men were stiff as boards and silent. Rather than speak to them gently, Edict made very vocal demands that they be left alone, and to tell the others not to mess with Edict and his guest anymore.
It was very effective, and only the Uncle seemed permitted to stay. He had, after all, defended the two of them out of basic principle... But also because Vito Devola was Consigliere and Edict respected him enough to never actually use his abilities against him. Knowing what his nephew could do, Vito didn't even want to consider what the girl was capable of, and was just as happy to play it cool as he smelled the wafting scent of shit from the guilty man as he uncomfortably left the cabin. Edict gave Linqian a knowing nod as the deck cleared off and they were finally permitted to sit and relax in peace.
For a thirty minute boat ride, it was a lot more trouble than it was worth. Edict had Vito pull into one of the public launches to let them out early, a decision unquestioned by the Old Man who simply did what he was asked. On departure, there was a cold goodbye to the duo without even anchoring the boat. It was like a drive by deposit, and Edict had it no other way. Clearing his throat as they walked down the dock toward the festival grounds through a virtual back entrance, Edict rustled his guitar case while apologizing to Linqian for the entire situation.
It wasn't like Greyson to admit when he fucked up, but here Edict was doing just that. He was probably more annoyed about the how things turned out as she was. Regardless, they had made it to their destination. The island was big enough that they couldn't chain it all off, and people with their own boats were usually trusted to stop at the admission area near the main pier. The Devola Family never did. Not for the amount of money and resources they dumped into it every year. People like the Van Burens weren't remotely interested... But the Temple was, which was always interesting. Fuckers were always burning some effigy or rolling up some pagan ritual to fascinate the Blinds.
But as the duo walked on into the fairgrounds, the rain began to trickle down. Edict's eyes narrowed at the sudden perspiration, his head spinning to check the horizons and finding that the storm clouds were isolated low over this part of the island. It was instantly relaxing, as he hadn't put his roof back up on the car. But it was only a brief respite before the realization bashed his head like a bell. Sudden isolated rain? Wizards were afoot. While they were still in the relative isolation of the rear grounds, Edict stopped himself and took a deep breath.
"Hey, you feeling this? I don't think this rain's natural..."
He reached across his chest, unclipping the pistol from his holster alongside the two magazines. The bullets gave off a vague hum to those Third Eyes who perceived them; Orange Lux enhanced ammunition, with little crosses carved into the lead slugs. Supposedly they were charged for twice the powder that was actually in the cartridge, which in turn made the pistol heavier as he'd had it made to withstand the tremendous amount of pressure coming from the quad-plus ten millimeter ammunition.
"Take this. I know you probably don't want it, but take it. I'd rather if we get split up you have something you can use... I ran into a pretty serious character yesterday, so... Just be safe.
”Yeah, it ain’t,” Linqian held out a hand to feel the rain, raising her body temperature so it evaporated as soon as it touched her skin. She tucked her hair into her hood with a scowl. Fucking typical- Edict was handing her a gun. What the fuck. ”Where the fuck am I meant to put this? I can’t- you know what, fuck, okay.”
He clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer so Linqian took the pistol, putting it in her bag which just had room. She was pretty sure the last time she’d used a ‘gun’ was during paintball for her brother’s birthday, and that really wasn’t the same thing. ”If I shoot myself you’re paying the medical bills.”
"Lets get to the bottom of it: I don't think I like anyone we know who can make rain..."
Not that they had to go very far. There were some pretty tall ladies nearby being accosted by a Crocodile, and as Edict made it closer to the Beekeeper, he realized his intuition was spot on.
"Britney? Brit!"
The Day Prior
The meeting was to be held at a neutral location. Obviously, the Elder Lamb was the most suitable option. A time had been set. Now, all there was to do was wait.
Only a few details had been dropped in the correspondence House of Cards left for the Devola family, mainly that the money in this particular job would be good for them. It was enough to entice a representative to meet with them. But House of Cards didn't want just anyone. They wanted Edict Devola specifically.
Phantasia Vorpal sat alone at the bar, idly stirring the olive in a James Bond martini. This particular drink made her smile, reminding her of a lonely, lonely little girl that wandered into her parlor the other night. She wore a simple black dress, wide brim hat covering her eyes.
She sat there waiting, but she wasn't unguarded. At least 5-6 men were dispersed in the crowd of happy patrons, dressed in their suits and idly sipping or smoking as they watched the doors and windows carefully. One couldn't say that the leader of the House of Cards wasn't well protected.
Why she came herself, though, remained to be seen…
As Edict made his way out to that oh so distant part of town, he had a nostalgic memory about riding in his Father’s car. Him, his Uncle, and a couple of his Father’s other close associates. There was a country club out in this part of town, and while the four men were mostly there to play Golf, Luigi Devola always made sure to bring Edict.
Those were warm memories; watching the men play golf, sitting on the cart, lugging around heavy bags of clubs, the grilled hot dog lunch at the end of the road. He never figured out what his Father’s actual play was, bringing him all those times. If it was just getting him used to working, or if there was some sort of scam they were playing with, he’d probably never know.
Well, I could know. But life needs some mysteries.
Now, as a kid, the Lamb Club was one of the places his Dad would go to without him. Occasionally after those days golfing, Luigi would have Edict trucked back to St. Portwell proper and go on about his business from the Lamb Club. Edict had only been once, and only outside while his Father made some collections.
But since then, the place had become far less desirable. In an attempt to make up for lost profit, the owners put up for a spot deeper in the city, naming it the Lamb Club while the old location became something more like an old man’s hangout. The Elder Lamb. A little on the nose for Edict, but it still made him chuckle to think of the two places as a “chain”.
The young Captain rarely rolled about with backup; but this was a random meeting out in the styx. He didn’t feel like being Father Wolf’s next victim without at least giving the fucker something to think about, so today the car was full. And so was the SUV behind them. All in all, they totaled eight individuals with concealed firearms.
Edict requisitioned his Father’s working Cadillac, and felt safe behind the armored door and window as they arrived at the Elder Lamb. He’d arrived under the pretense of a luncheon, which he’d called to reserve prior to the meeting itself. The eight men, parking their vehicles closer to the exits than they were probably allowed to, poured into the club in a short burst with their suit coats and their hats in their hands.
The man himself hung in the middle of the pack, the gentle weight of his ten millimeter brushing against his pelvis as the holster rocked back and forth on his belt. He was the only person in the group with any kind of supernatural inclination, and he let his powers loose upon the room without a second thought.
Ethereal pink tendrils slowly expanded across the room, hunting and prodding for active Emotional Fields. Targets became illuminated by the cursory resistance to such a naturally weak spell, with Edict feeling the severance of those doomed strands as the miniscule wisps of Pink Lux shattered across the surface of some seriously busy barricades.
As the ethereal threads moved across the room, Edict would notice that out of the House of Cards men she brought with her, none activated the threads save for her. It appeared she brought mundane protection with her today. Mundane protection with sharp eyes, as they watched slyly as their waited guests arrived.
He picked the woman out at the bar right away; her reaction being a particularly strong one that batted away his influence with an especially cruel swipe. He imagined her trailing back to him, and before he could get much further, he pulled the spell back. The group of men took their table, and after a moment of settling in, Edict was back up and headed toward the bar.
He wore a black lounge suit with gold accents, cufflinks and a patterned gold tie matched his newly repaired sunglasses that dangled from the coat’s breast pocket. Approaching the bar, his frame and stance as he walked marked him as a man of sheer confidence. He had been given a code to use, something innocuous to say to the bartender as a signal for his newest potential business partner to hear.
”Bartender? I hear that bottle services are table only on Tuesdays, is that correct?”
A smile appeared under that wide brim hat of hers, and she gave a gentle tap of her cigarette holder on an ashtray as she addressed the bartender.
“A drink for my friend. Top shelf, anything he likes.”
The hand holding the cigarette holder gestured to the seat beside her, as the lady’s bowed head turned to him.
“Please, be my guest.”
She took a puff of her cigarette, turning her half-hidden face to blow the smoke into the center of the room.
“I trust you haven't brought any trouble with you?” She said softly, “The spear has been on the move recently… But I imagine you know that better than I.”
There was a soft crack of a smile as her statement hovered in the air.
”If you mean individuals who, themselves, would cause some sort of ruckus? No. Just some close Devola associates, looking for some good food and alcohol.” he replied, his head tilting backward toward the table full of mafiosos.
With a slickness, he ordered a rum and coke and took the seat next to the enigmatic woman. He’d never met her, never seen her, didn’t know what her goals were; but there was no mistaking that she wasn’t normal. Hat aside, her Emotional Field was thick and robust, and didn’t turn him away so much as let him get lost in the distance between its outer edge and the inner flesh.
Taking a sip of the drink as it hit the bar, he mulled over what she meant by spear, not exactly sure himself. Giving it the few seconds to process gave him a bit of clarity, enough that he could take a wild guess and probably be right.
”As far as our badge friends are concerned, I’m not worried.-” Edict intoned as he took his cigarette case from his breast pocket and proceeded to light up with a fairly cheap lighter.
”But, is that the business we really want to be discussing?”
By ‘spear’, she was of course referring to the enigmatic PRA. As mysterious as they were, ‘loose lips sank ships’, and her spies had picked up scraps of intel from their more simple-minded members over the years. With the attack on the Sycamore recently, it was a wise move to be extra conscious of the badges.
Satisfied with Edict's response, the woman gave a knowing nod.
“Of course… the House of Cards has come across a bit of a snag, you see.” She said, tapping her cigarette holder against the ashtray once.
“We have need of your family's cunning and strength. But more importantly, we have need of your trust. The target… trusts you. You specifically.”
She let the words linger in the air for a moment, taking a sip of her martini.
“The job itself is simple enough for a man of your skillset.” Her voice dropped to a low note. “We need you to… procure someone for us. A kidnapping, if you will. You'll be compensated handsomely, of course.”
Edict’s interest was piqued, the idea of kidnapping someone who he knew being something he wasn’t unfamiliar with. Sometimes people just had to disappear. A grave smile crossed his lips, and he swigged back the rest of his drink.
”My fair Lady… I hesitate to question if you’re aware of what my particular status is among the rabble. I’d not consider myself well liked by my peers; so either you’re overestimating this individual’s closeness to me, or you’re certainly asking a heavy thing of a man to do. So, I’d beg your price…”
“Even a momentary hesitation while you greet them is enough, isn't it?” She said with a sly smile. “Instead of trust, perhaps them being acquainted with you is more accurate.”
She ashed her cigarette, setting the holder across on the tray while she chose her next words. Negotiations were an art, and she had learned it was always a good move to let the other party open with an initial bid.
“Price is such a… fickle thing, isn't it? I understand there are certain expenses involved, men to pay and cops to avoid. Bribe off if you play that way-” She took a breath, swirling her martini nonchalantly, “-So it's better to ask what a fair price is for a job such as this. Especially since your target is ‘special’, much like yourself.”
”You understand, things get complicated between individuals such as ourselves. My particular brand of coercion is best suited to dealing with those outside our world…”
Edict paused, thinking about what he'd been told about the House of Cards. Not a whole lot, frankly. Business associates, occasionally request protection and security for high stakes games, eclectic individuals. Not exactly social, but they managed to be earners for themselves with an internal security crew that Blinds generally don't mess with.
”Long story short, and unfortunately for you, I can't even begin to muster a price for you unless I know specifics on the target. Now, I consider this Family business, so understand that even if I refuse this outright, I will happily assist in facilitating a meetup with someone else who may in turn follow through. So, how about we spill the beans: Who are you looking for?”
The woman’s smile seemed more predatory for the briefest moment, relishing. This was the crux, where everything hinged, where she's see if Edict or the Devola family would be willing to involve themselves. If they'd risk it all for a special, special job.
She finished her martini, and gestured to the bartender. The glasses were removed, and a new rum and coke and martini were set on the bar. She swirled this one slowly, before her bowed face turned to Edict.
“How's your relation with Britney Williams?”
Edict couldn't hide the recoil the question caused. It could have been anyone else: Literally any other member of the Coven. It would've been easy to toss them under the rolling train of the Mafia.
So why did it have to be his Britney? They called him for this. There's no way this woman sitting in front of him didn't know their history. She was toying with him. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in to make sure his lowered voice would reach the woman loud and clear.
”Are you busting my balls right now?” Edict asked, his voice not wavering as he went from calm and collected to teetering on the verge of violence.
”You've got some serious stones asking me to kidnap my girl for you. You better have a good fucking answer for what you want with her…”
Almost immediately, six heads whipped in their direction, hands pressed into inner coat pockets and waistbands where firearms were hidden.
A subtle gesture of her head, and the men relaxed. Slightly.
Her face turned towards Edict, black laced hands softly gestured in a visible recoil, palms up, as if she had just touched a hot coal. There was a slight lick of her lips. She relished moments like these.
“Now, now, no need to get all tense.”
She leaned forward, a hand cupping her cheek with sick intrigue. “This is why, Mr. Devola, you are the perfect fit for the job. No one knows her like you.”
A pause, before a sweet smile played across her glossed lips. “You can either take the job, or watch her get swept away. Your choice.”
It was none of his business, after all, what the House of Cards wanted with Britney. Phantasia sat there, adrenaline spiking in her veins as she tried to keep a perfectly calm facade. Her smile wavering between sweet and predatorial.
Edicts first instinct was to go for the gun at his waist, but good sense made him think twice about it. Whoever this woman was, whatever she wanted with Britney, it didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew was that he had the chance to save the only woman he'd ever had the choice to love.
He thought about her, about the last arguments they had, about how he'd been wrong for using her. The only regret he had was that he wasn't more honest and forthcoming with her. He always thought it was macho to protect the woman, that she should never have any place in his manly business.
Remnant thoughts of his upbringing.
But it was overwhelming love for Britney that welled inside him. The Pink Lotus unfurled, whose thick and serpentine roots all lifted in defense of their master. Edict's hand casually reached for his sunglasses to stop the pain as it crept up his brainstem. The pain of raw casting was nothing compared to being shot, at least not in small bursts.
”Look, Miss… Whatever the fuck your name is… Your beef with Britney ain't founded. She's a good girl, she's legit, and frankly I don't like you insinuating that you plan on kidnapping her.”
His fingertips pressed against the newly repaired frames, and he slid the sunglasses from his pocket for them to rest in his hand. Edict had developed his spells with the assistance of his Mother, and it emphasized wordless casting and somatic manipulation; typical gesticulations triggered internal imagery, quite literally the past casting spells far into the future.
Edict flicked one of the temples of the sunglasses, and in an instant he was no longer hovering. His magical roots dug into Phantasia's emotional field. At first they were subtle, potentially offering a false sense of security as he tunneled his influence straight toward her brain.
”Normally I don't get worked up, but… You invite me out here to this shitbum part of town with your fucking stupid hat, then you ask me to kidnap Britney Williams like I'm some spiteful, hateful ex boyfriend. And, what? Expect me to just go with it?”
The intensity of the probing was ever intensifying as Edict leaned in closer to her. Whatever happened next, he was simultaneously shoring up his own barrier in the hopes that if she retaliated, he'd be able to make it out of the deadlock.
”But now I'm going to have to make you forget all about it.-” Edict grunted, straining himself as he tried to brute force his way into Phantasia's mind. ”-And you're going to go home to whoever your fucking Boss is, and you're going to tell them that Britney Williams is off limits…”
A lick of the lips as Phantasia felt the pressure of a particular abstraction. This was exactly what she was looking for.
With a sly, slightly tight snicker from the pressure, her head lifted. Harrowing, coal black eyes stared hard at Edict, like the river Styx was begging for him to drown in despair in its depths.
She pressed hard, feeling a battle of wills as invisible pressures washed over her own will. Kicking it into a higher gear, she bared her teeth in a predatory smile as she pressed him with a haunting gaze. He'd feel it. The coldness. The sickness of despair, crawling at the edges of his will. Sharp, like the cold blade of a mafioso.
As she pressed, she observed how he moved. How he touched his glasses. How the pressures increased, looking for any weakness in her defense. It was, well, fascinating. Phantasia was already idly piecing together what she would say to Isabella when she returned to the Casino.
Fascinating…
Her men grew restless at the words of Edict, some half standing, some taking steps towards the bar. Phantasia simply smiled, and raised a hand, not breaking eye contact with Edict. The men stared, then seemed to hold their positions.
“If you really think you can change my mind, be my guest.” Phantasia said, an arrogance in her tone as her black eyes narrowed.
”C-c-curfl… Whudu wizh frrrr…”
Edict wasn't an offensive spell slinger. He was acutely aware of pushing his abilities to their limits and what he could do at the outer edges of his own spells. Currently, he was just as busy protecting himself as he was drilling a hole in the woman's E-Field, half a dozen Power Words sticking themselves to his brain in order to shut down key centers that would otherwise be left somewhat exposed to counter attack.
Hence the slurring. He had the belief that ”Numb and Dumb are targets for None.”
Or, in other words, you can shoot all you want. If there's nothing worth hitting, why waste the ammo? He was slowly, surely, slumping over in his chair as his motor skills dulled to the most basic functions. His movements were slowed to a crawl, only the emotional center of the brain left running on hot. Its where the casting really came from.
Feeling safe, he let the Lotus unfurl completely. A thousand points pressured Phantasia like countless diodes hooked to her mind directly. The stage was set for his latest Spell: A high-powered lance meant to break through Emotional Fields and directly damage the brain underneath.
Everything was so slow. He could only see Britney's face smiling at him… It was the day they went out of town to the Farm, to that dark part of the forest where he didn't have to be Greyson Devola. A place where he could relax and forget about everything and give the most basic parts of himself to her.
And right now, all he could do was protect that smile.
An echo projected itself through Phantasia's ears.
”Pink Lotus’ Subtle Drift: Let Me In.”
Like a mine cave-in, the E-Field protecting Phantasia's gray matter shifted before falling in on itself entirely. A thousand spikes drove into the softness, their illusory nature causing no direct pain. Having no access to his eyes or ears, Edict couldn't tell if it was working or not.
She was, indeed, hooked, sitting there motionless, helpless.
Edict didn't waste any time formulating a Command String of different power words, uncaring as to the intensity of his carvings or the depths that they were being carved at.
”Pink Lotus’ Guiding Principle: Power Word Cease. Assess. Cease. Bullshit. Flee. Return.”
And then, like nothing ever happened, Edict broke the connection he'd forced open. As his senses slowly came back to him, his arm moved to wipe the drool off of his chin and neck as fuzzy eyes focused on the Witch he had assailed.
He thought about the intended Commands and if they'd be carried out properly or if breaking the E-Field like he had would just render her comatose entirely. He'd never tested, but he knew what the string was meant to do.
Cease: Refrain from immediate violence. He'd found the sensation of an urge to fight back, and immediately squashed it before it was active.
Assess: Essentially an unlocking for him, allowing him to discover more subtle impulses and targeting them directly.
Cease: The second iteration directly targeted the dark bands where he saw Britney's name held. He assumed these were either targets or enemies in the woman's mind, and he did his best to scrub Britney from the consideration.
Bullshit: A classic, he targeted their current situation, isolating the memories forming currently in Phantasia's mind and preventing her from speaking about their meeting truthfully. If anyone asked, she'd lie about what happened. It didn't matter to him what the lie was, only that it wasn't the truth.
Flee: Not in a scared fashion. The type of fleeing one does when they want to avoid someone at the grocery store. Embarrassed and hurried avoidance, and he hoped she'd bring her men with her.
Return: It wasn't the last time he wanted to see this woman. Return was directed toward him in her mind, ensuring that after a period of time, she'd actively seek him out again.
Edict looked at her closely as he regained his full vision, and as he returned to a fully upright position he tucked his glasses back into his pocket.
”I hope that was everything you were asking for… If you continue your pursuit, next time you won't leave on your feet.” he punctuated by hocking up a loogie and spitting it at her feet.
‘Assess’ brought forth some interesting subtleties. Edict uncovered a bloodlust first and foremost for the head of Britney, and a desire to make her suffer. Hidden underneath that was raw pain. Grief. Phantasia was grieving over someone, and using her bloodlust as a goal, as a cover-up to hide from the emotional pain. There was a list of names, yes. The only other name that had equal or more bloodlust surrounding it was the name ‘Andrade Salamante.’
Phantasia, after the influence left her, felt feverish and cold. Like reactive pain from after waking up from the sting of an anesthetic needle, her breath came in hyperventilated gasps. Reacting to a pain she couldn't feel.
Her skin was hot to the touch, yet she had a cold sweat. Her head was already lowered, and her eyes returned to a normal pink, squeezed shut before she dared to open them again.
Everything felt… terrible. Strange. Like she had suffered a type of Chinese torture. The headache was evident of that. There was only one thing she knew as she woozily rose to her feet.
She wouldn't harm Britney.
“Please excuse me.” She said with as much grace as she could muster, feeling the desire to escape from the presence of the man before her. Instantly, hands were on her as her men supported and escorted Phantasia from the vicinity.
And just like that, they were gone. Edict was left sitting at the bar with drool on his shirt and a burning question.
Who the fuck is Andrade Salamante to them?
The Temple Restaurateur? Edict had been to Le’ Sanc the night he got into town, but hadn’t considered speaking to the chef at all; Leon had simply told him to go there if he was ever back in town and he followed the recommendation.
He’d have to warn the Big Guy too then… Maybe. Maybe he’d just watch it play out? Hell, maybe when she came back, she’d want help with Andrade? He’d happily oblige that. Smugly, Edict smiled to himself as he finished his drink before cockily joining his fellows at their table to have a big lunch, all the while ruminating on the situation at hand.
As Greyson got a bit closer to the situation playing out in front of him, he recognized the scent of the Ozone heavy on the location. He didn't recognize her companions, but as the Crocodile turned in his and Linqian's direction he immediately knew that face.
"Woah! Woooooah, God Damn, I guess you really embraced life as Emily's pet lizard!? Clear the fuck off, Nashty Hoor, before someone calls animal control."
Jokes aside, this wasn't good. Vashti Nour was not only someone on his list, but a very dangerous someone with a lot of power and unpredictability. She was liable to do anything, so Edict was already looking for places to duck in cover when the heavy claws came out. His finger slipped to the latch trigger for his case, the feeling of his best pal bristling within just waiting to get out.
Edict
Mentions: Sully McPherson, Leon Richoux Direct Dialogue:Linqian Han Location: Bed > Cracker Island Ferry Docks
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?"
© 2007-2024