The rusty gears in Ignavas’ head began to turn. He attempted to push past the blurred vision and murky thoughts as he adapted to the body he had just invaded – no, not invaded, coerced into allowing himself to temporarily reside within the human’s brain. He would give it back eventually, when he had done what was needed to be done. Possession was not exactly encouraged, to say the least, but finding a Sensitive to contract with was not a particularly simple task. It required a lot more effort, effort he only barely wished to use.
He stared around his surroundings. A reasonably fancy restaurant that was starting to close up, a table for two which only had one man, and an empty bottle of red wine along with a half of glass still full. Ig recalled his conversation with the drunken man that he was now residing in – to said man, Ig’s voice seemed like it was coming from his wine glass. He had offered sympathy and friendly conversation to the man who had been stood up by his date. He reassured him that she probably had a reason, that he’s a lovely person that any woman would be glad to date, that he’ll find the right woman eventually and won’t he just have another drink? He’ll feel better.
So, possession became much simpler after all that wine. He figured he would have been able to do it anyway, but it probably would have taken some effort. Downing the rest of the wine, he unsteadily got to his feet, still not fully used to the new body. Rubbing his eyes, he made his way to the exit, trying to figure out in his head just what the hell he was going to do.
“Sir? Sir! You haven’t paid your bill!” a female server called out. He turned, giving a fake apologetic smile.
“Ah, so sorry, slipped my mind,” a light voice that was not his own slipped out of his mouth – a jarring experience that he was more or less prepared for. He reached for the pocket where the man kept his wallet, opening it up to find almost fucking nothing. Well, there was an American Express credit card and a driver’s license which told him the man’s name was George Asprey, but would it kill this guy to keep some cash on hand? Paying with a credit card was such a pain. Heaving a mental sigh but keeping the same smile, he handed over the card.
“Excuse me, sir, but do you have another card? This one doesn’t seem to be working,” the server said after swiping it. As in, polite server talk for ‘you’re fucking broke why are you even eating here’. Ig stayed quiet for a few seconds, and then clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“Lucifer damn it, George, what were you expecting to happen?” Ignavas muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t care about the server’s questioning gaze. “I mean really, that’s just rude to your date and the servers that have to deal with you.”
“S-sir, is there some… something…” she frowned, as if forgetting what she was going to say next. Probably because she had forgot what to say next, funny that. His powers increased and a wave of exhaustion and fatigue waved throughout the restaurant.
“I already paid,” he said simply as the woman suddenly had to balance herself up on the counter, blinking in confusion and she slowly fell to her knees.
“E-eh, ah, ok, sure.” And with that, he was gone.
Ignavas. Sloth Demon. Underworld monstrosity of lassitude and lethargy. Corrupter and devourer of pure souls. Dine’n’dasher. His superiors must be so proud.
Walking through the dark streets was strangely comforting – but it wasn’t a comfort he needed right now. The sleeping city just filled him with the overwhelming desire to lie down on a bench somewhere and nap -- a resoundingly bad idea even in the best of cities, but he had things to do. Vaguely defined and poorly planned ‘things to do’, but things to do nonetheless. He moved through the city, often checking out any bars and clubs for any prospective Sensitives mindlessly enjoying the night away. He wasn’t fond of bars or clubs – far too loud -- but it was the only place he was going to find anyone at such a time of night.
Mindlessly wandering around had up until then proved fruitless. Until he felt the deterring effect of a walking ward. He followed the feeling, turning a corner just in time to see somebody walk into the hospital. It was worthy of investigation – but it would be far too suspicious to enter directly after her. He waited in the pitch black darkness of an alleyway, staring out at the hospital entrance. He yawned. This was going to be a boring wait.
