Dion
AlteredTundra
The Shady Lady wasn’t exactly the sort of establishment Astrid might have frequented back in Verona – not that she would have gone anywhere outside of Lincoln Memorial High and home, and not that her dinky hometown had anything quite so seedy out in the open like this. A faint buzz of magic surrounded the archway of the door, runes built into the wood itself, and she glanced curiously at Mal as he jerked backwards. “Those are some nifty protection sigils they have there,” he said, and promptly walked right through them first into a tight corridor of graffitied wood panelling.
As soon as they were through the entrance, the loud beat of music could be heard beneath their feet. It was an underground club. The door was marked by a painting of a stylised female figure adorned with a witch hat; something that might have been outlawed and shunned by the good people of Seattle in recent years if it didn’t have such strong wards.
“The guy has a private room in the back, she said, didn’t she?”
“How would we even get there? We’re not exactly trusted regulars around here.” Aiden crossed his arms and frowned, pausing in front of the door. With an arm extended in front of the others, he motioned for them to stop with him with a clouded expression. “Guys wait. It’s great that we’re here and all, but what exactly are we trying to do? We can’t just bust in and demand for the spell to be reversed, can we?”
“Of course we can.” Jess answered without skipping a beat. There wasn’t the slightest hint of sarcasm in her tone or her face, as she glanced at everyone in turn before turning to the door. “I mean, unless you can think of another way to find out more about this whole mess. Those punks didn’t know what they were dealing with. Besides! We might be able to buy some cool shit from him. Two birds with one stone, right? There is no way that this could go wrong whatsoever.”
With an excited grin, Jess marched up to the door and studied it for a bit. After a small comment of “Wow, tacky,” she pushed the door open without a second thought.
“I don’t think tacky is the right word for this place.” King mused.
The venue beyond the door wide and glowing and infused with pure magic. King stared. Then he looked away. Then he stared again. Something odd happened as the group passed through the threshold, a magical phenomena that played with King’s eyes for a second longer than it should have. He saw a world within the bar, then a sky, then a forest. Magic tugged at his brain, pulling at threads And then they were inside and he was left maddened and thoughtless in the entrance of a dimly-lit and loud pub.
King wondered, briefly, if whatever protection sigils Mal mentioned had minds of their own. Instead of dwelling on that thought, though, his attention was grabbed easily by the interior of The Shady Lady.
The bar wasn’t unlike anything he had ever seen. Rather, it felt quite ordinary, but at the same time King could see the air shimmer on it’s own accord. Magic was in the air. A dance floor sat in the center of the room, lit with purples and pinks and oranges that all mixed into a blur of luminescence . Metal tables were scattered around it, and beyond all that was a short and booze-filled bar, all lit from behind. Two doors sat on either side of the bar, one marked with a restroom sign and the other blocked off with a slimy-looking red rope.
Everything seemed to be coated in a fine layer of age or grime. All the edges of King’s vision felt grayed out and fried, as if he was standing and staring out at a decrepit and shady scene despite the colors and the high-end looking bottles of booze far beyond their reach.
The music blaring from invisible speakers was electronic; filled with bass and tinny voices. It soaked King’s veins with music and shook the floor beneath his feet.
The place was unsurprisingly quiet save for a few ‘regulars’ – hardened men and women who couldn’t have been much older than them smoking and drinking at the bar; drawing sigils in salt – and the bartender. It was much too early for any real partying, and Mal did wonder if most had stayed at home tonight since sleep took over Seattle. True enough, a small TV in a quiet corner was turned on, and at least half of the patrons were paying some attention to it.
He approached the bartender with the confidence that only a consummate alcoholic might have and leaned on the counter with a blinding smile. “Three vodka and cokes, one vodka – no coke – and... “ Mal paused for just a moment, appraising Astrid’s alcohol tolerance. “A cider. Whatever you’ve got.”
“You know, I had a lot of high expectations for a secret magic bar…” Jess mused, eyeing Mal getting drinks with a slight pout in her lips. “If those drinks aren’t mindblowingly magical, I'll be more disappointed than a boy waiting for his dad to come home.” She plopped down in a nearby chair, draping herself against the back of the seat with an exaggerated sigh. “Let's just get what we came here for and leave. Do you think we need a super secret password to find this magic man in his private room? Or can we just bust our way in? Do you think we’ll get a special ‘show’ in there?”
“Let's just ask first and leave breaking in as a backup plan.” King growled glancing across the bar longingly until he settled on the bored-looking bartender again. His best smile was dragged from the depths of whatever hell he stored all of them as he approached, and the woman made no attempt to straighten up and face him as she worked at their orders. “Ma’am,” King greeted with a dazzling smirk, “Sorry to bother you, but we’re looking for a spell broker who works down here. Have any idea where he is?”
“No clue what you're talking about, kid.” The bartender responded, voice thick and gravelly with abuse. She pushed an ice-cold glass against his knuckles and returned his smile, though King noticed it was much less toothy than his. “Take your drinks and move on, then. I haven't got the time for nosy witches like you.”
“C’mon, half of Seattle’s asleep and we just wanna pick up a few things before the military comes in,” Mal pleaded, lips already on the edge of his glass and a deep gulp of the vodka gone already. Nobody ever called his drinking habits healthy, after all. [color=b3df1f][b]“We were – referred to by a group of goths.”[/color][/b]
Astrid quickly slipped her arm underneath Mal’s to receive her own glass of cider. “We’re… um, on our way out of Washington – trying to find somewhere safer. We – sort of need help for that… Spells.”
The bartender sat back an inch, her unwavering grin twitching tighter as curiosity formed between the cracks of her expression. “Oh, oh– that's why you need him.” She said, simple as that, and nodded towards the room roped off beside the bar. “He’ll be happy to take your orders, so long as you have cash.” She nodded casually to their drinks, “Finish those up; I’ll let him know he has guests.”
King took her command with a raised eyebrows and a tentative sip of his drink. Something bubbled within the sting of vodka, and he automatically assumed it to be magic. It added a strangely satisfying flavor. “Well,” He murmured, “That was easier than expected.”
“But he’ll only let in one into the shop at a time! House rules!”
