JulienJaden

BluBlood x JulienJaden, A Twisted Kind of Charm

80 hours? Fuck me, you must be made of steel. I'm already feeling tired-ish after tutoring some kids for three hours a day, and I only do that two, three times a week.
Sounds like you're wearing the pants on in this thread. XD

I guess I can scan the scatch and link it to you via PM? I haven't looked at it in a while, so maybe I don't even like it anymore. Let me see where I put it and if old man Jaden can get this "internets" thing to work. :P

That it does and I'm sure the two approve. ^^
And I believe now is the time when we should switch to PM, so that's where you'll find my reply when I get it up. But I likes where this is going. :)

BluBlood x JulienJaden, A Twisted Kind of Charm

I never knew that tattoo parlors were open well into the night but I hope it doesn't always keep you awake and occupied for that long. But with what you have in your profile, me thinks that you've got your work cut out for you. :)
I wish I was any good at drawing. I was contemplating getting a tattoo but the sketch looks meh; and I am working on something with a friend but it requires a map and the map is also not the best (although I guess it could be worse).

Gabriel will probably be a little more open to certain aspects of bondage, discipline, domination and submission as their relationship progresses, but he will also have good reason to react violently to her trying to push him on practices that involve pain or gags, among other things.
Likewise, he might find himself interested in the domination aspects of BDSM and in putting Nadine in a role she might not usually fulfill, though it would also remain to be seen how she would react to that.
At the end of the day, I believe that, going by what you wrote, Nadine and Gabriel both want stability, trust, a bit of tenderness and, of course, great sex in their life, so they have something to work with while they explore this side of each other and find out more about magic, and by the time they may become frustrated about certain things being touchy or off-limits, they have alternatives.

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

Got a little something for you guys, out of nowhere.

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

How much did Valorie know about life bonds?

That question kept Cain's mind occupied on the long ride to the outskirts of town; the cab driver didn't take the scenic route through those suburbs that looked like everybody cut the grass with nail scissors but the speedy one through the decrepit parts of town, navigating urban canyons of hopeless drug abuse and gang violence, dirty side alleys and abandoned shops with broken windows. But after a few decades in this city, you didn't see it anymore; no, you let your mind wander to the girl who shared the first part of the taxiride with you.

He felt better now, not as tired as before. Breakfast had done its thing and his magic was helping too, and yet he knew that he would have to do more about it if he wished to preserve his life and relative youth for longer. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was that ache in his joints that he got when his body wanted to remind him of his true age. Of course, Valorie didn't have to worry about these things yet. She had done what she could to destroy herself but, then again, so had Francis when he was only a little older and for much longer than her, before he found his purpose.

And now, here he was after dropping her off, wondering if she knew that he knew exactly where she was.

It wasn't a permanent life bond - an eternal bond - so the effect would fade after a day or two and he couldn't tell what she was thinking or doing, but he knew where she was and he would know if she got hurt, a side-effect that made his sacrifice even more worthwhile. It gave him options if she decided to go back on her words, if she got herself in trouble or trouble found her. He was probably too obsessed with her for his own good but he would have hated to watch her waste her potential and perhaps pass the point where she couldn't escape the drug abuse on her own. It was for her own good, really.

Or so he told himself as the taxi pulled up in front of an old church. Well, perhaps it had been a church once but some of the side buildings had collapsed and the tower looked like it was well on its way to the end of the line too, so the church had more or less been downgraded to an oversized, really unstable-looking chapel. Understandably, it looked like people only ever entered it when they had to during mass, and Cain couldn't imagine that anybody without at least half a mind to meet his maker got anywhere near this thing.

He paid the driver and made his way to the entrance, the cobblestone and overgrowth making him feel strangely calm in the face of such architectural danger. The door was half-open and as he entered, he saw a man in black robes kneeling and praying before the crucified Lamb of God. There were many religions in this world and many promised, not without merit, power or a longer life; but christianity didn't and yet it was one of the largest faiths in the world, even though it had its share of magic cult contenders. Here, in Santa Somabra, however, you could be lucky if you woke up in the morning and still had some faith, let alone a pulse.

"Excuse me, Father Karpenko?", Cain broke the silence as he took of his hat and approached the man who had obviously heard his footsteps but still finished his prayer before rising and turning.

The priest was a clean-shaved man with greying blonde hair, a little smaller than Cain and a little broader too, with metal-rimmed glasses and a good-natured look to him that was rare in Santa Somabra.
"Yes? What can I do for you, my Son?"

Cain respectfully bowed his head before entering 'detective mode', or so Vigilance had mockingly called it once - that state of mind you got into when you tried to be friendly but firm, tried to pay attention to every detail and would willingly rip any witness a new one if that could potentially lead to more information.
"My name is Francis Cain. I'm a private investigator looking into the Somabra Slayer case. My sources told me that the Slayer's most recent victims, Joanna Calhoun and Hugh Blackwood, both were part of your congregation. Would you mind answering me a few question?"

Karpenko looked surprised but that soon made room for sadness as he shook his head.
"Terrible thing, that; may they rest in peace. Well, if I can contribute to your investigation in any way, ask away."

"Thank you. What was the nature of the relationship between Miss Calhoun and Mister Blackwood?"

"I don't think there was any to begin with, to be honest. They were here for mass most every Sunday but they never spoke, as far as I could tell; not actively avoiding each other but just... strangers."

"And did you know the two?", Cain inquired.

"I can't say that I did. Of course, I offer every member of my parish to hear their confession and in these dark times, I am more of a shrink than a priest to some, but neither of them were particularly close to me."

Francis nodded. So far, this conversation was going as expected and leading nowhere, but that didn't mean it was pointless. Karpenko adjusted his glasses as Cain thought of his next question.
"Was anything different about them in the last weeks before their death? Did they seem nervous or frightened to you?"

"Hm... Let me think."
Karpenko seemed thoughtful but the way his eyes moved while he answered these questions was strange. The way he spoke suggested truthfulness but something was off; there was nothing to nail him down on, though.
"Not particularly, no... They were a little agitated, now that you mention it; left mass in a bigger hurry than usual. But I have several people in my community who couldn't deal with the pressure of being an aardvark in the local gangs and confessed, and compared to them, Miss Calhoun and Mister Blackwood were very calm, if they had any inkling as to what was going to happen."

And there it was. It stood out like a sore thumb and maybe a detached observer wouldn't have known what to make of it but it gave Cain at least an approach.

"Father Karpenko, does anybody in your family work in law enforcement?"

Suddenly, the priest seemed rather nervous himself.
"No, nobody. Why do you ask?"

Cain pressed on.
"Any friends who work in the SSPD? Acquaintances, anything?"

"N-no, I'm telling you", Karpenko stuttered. "What does that have to do with-"

"Aardvark. You see, 'mole' is what people usually say. The only people I know who would refer to police informants or undercover operatives as 'aardvarks' are SSPD cops."

"I-I don't-"

"What are you, really? Fresh meat from the academy or just some pen-pusher who got unlucky?", Cain pushed.

"I think you should go", the 'priest' decided, beads of sweat forming at the edge of his hair, and turned to leave himself.

"I doubt you'll have this position much longer, not after you got your operatives killed."

"I didn't get them killed! They weren't even my operatives!", Karpenko yelled, his words echoing back and forth in the church. There was enough guilt in his exclamation that Cain knew he had him, hook, line and sinker.

"You were their dead drop, their lifeline to the SSPD, right? Who are you working for? Richard Kennedy? Paul Lawson? Khadija Samat?"

"Lawson. But how do you-"

"Cain", he interrupted. "Does that name really not ring any bells? Detective, homicide, no?" Karpenko shook his head. "Well, guess I can't blame you. I don't know your face either. What matters, though, is that I still occasionally work for the SSPD and I have my connections; I could let Lawson know over what kind of stupid mistake you blew your cover and have him tell me what Calhoun and Blackwood were doing, exactly, or..."

He took a nice, long pause. Karpenko, or whatever his real name was, was a mess at this point, looking like he was about to start crying while Cain reached into his pocket and lit himself a cigarette before continuing.

"Or you could tell me what they were doing and I forget about this slip-up that could cost you your career."

Was Karpenko's mistake big enough to actually threaten his career? Probably not, not with how rampant the corruption ran in the SSPD. But that wasn't important. The only thing that mattered was that Karpenko believed it, and apparently he did because he sat down on one of the benches and, with a sigh of resignation, started spilling his guts.

"I don't know what they were doing. They didn't have anything to do with the Slayer, as far as I know; or maybe they did and they just didn't want to make it obvious. All I know is that their last message for Lawson was that they wanted to investigate the Nyctari and he gave his go-ahead. A few days later..."
He shrugged. Was he crying?

"Is that absolutely everything you can tell me?"

Karpenko nodded with a soft snivel.

"Jesus Christ, look at you: You really wanna cry in front of another man, right in the middle of a church? Get up."
Cain grabbed the man in robes by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet.
"I'm not gonna tell Lawson - I'm a man of my word. If you forgot about this encounter as well, nobody will ever know you blew your cover. What's your real name?"

"Walter Dixon", he responded without hesitation. Something told Cain that he hadn't really grasped to concept of undercover work yet.

"Alright, Walter, let me tell you something: Undercover work is really tough and I can tell you're not cut out for it, so as soon as you can, you should ask Lawson to give you your office job back, plain and simple. You wouldn't want to be here if the Slayer drew the same conclusions as I and shows up here one day, now, would you?"

Francis had never seen somebody's face switch from ignorance to insight to pure panic in under two second. Cain put his trilby back on.
"Good day, Father."

BluBlood x JulienJaden, A Twisted Kind of Charm

@BluBlood So, the way I see it, we are at a crossroads here and it can go either way:

If Nadine wants Gabriel more than his submission and is willing to give herself up to his control as well, they can be romantically involved as we were contemplating. This, of course, leaves some room for frustration to build up but those could directly feed into the idea of them using their powers for sinister purposes and looking for people to toy around with, an overpressure valve for her sadistic tendencies and his domination to keep the relationship intact - maybe they share, maybe Nadine plays with the other while Gabriel focuses his domination entirely on Nadine, maybe they change things around every now and then... no idea, but generally speaking, Gabriel would probably not give her THAT much more than what he's already offered

The other option is that she refuses. They could still be friends but I think this would leave a little bit of a sour taste and it could lead to, for example, Gabriel rather quickly looking into ways and means of forcing Nadine into submission and/or Nadine doing the same for Gabriel.

My vote would be for option one, since I'd rather they be allies and lovers who do increasingly horrible things together than them being enemies in disguise, but you're the one who knows whether Nadine is up for it, not me.

BluBlood x JulienJaden, A Twisted Kind of Charm

It wasn't unexpected. They had had their share of talks about her sexlife, about the stuff she would do with her partner; hell, half the time Diana would be sitting right there and fake a shocked look, but it wasn't like Nadine was too indescrete or Diana didn't like a bit of humiliation, if that even counted. BDSM was their thing and Gabriel was okay with that. It didn't prevent him from being friends with either of them and it didn't dampen his crush on Nadine. But he always knew that, if things ever worked themselves out, however unlikely that seemed, it would be an issue. He had enough knowledge about BDSM to know that about 95% of that was not negiotable. He was dominant and had always enjoyed it more to be in control than to give it over to somebody else.

However, this situation was special, Nadine was special and while he couldn't and wouldn't give her what she usually wanted or needed, he was more than willing to offer a compromise. Maybe, he hoped, she needed him more.

"I don't mind rough", he answered, standing tall and firm before here. He had been uncertain before, unsure whether she was just flirting and teasing as always, but this was where they laid the cards on the table. "But unless you want me to tie you up, that belt is not going to see any use."

Gabriel smiled and pulled the shirt over his head, revealing a defined torso and strong arms. It wasn't enough to make a bodybuilder feel inadequate but he was in good shape and the street lamp revealed it in a most pleasing way. He knelt down to get rid of his own shoes.

"Scratches at my back, a slap in the face..." - Gabriel remembered one girl who had a weird rape fantasy and wanted to genuinely struggle against him while he overpowered her; it was one of the reasons why he knew exactly what line he was not going to cross or allow Nadine to cross. "Being commanding or on top for a while... That is as far as you can go."

He rose, barefoot. She was still sitting on the ottoman, unmoved, and he wanted her, badly, but not at any price. His tone was assertive and his demeanor free of doubt as he stepped closer to her and leaned down to her, his lips inches away from her.

"But you will have to submit to me as well", he moved closer, "do as I tell you", their mouths were only a breath apart, "and endure what teasing I can come up with." When he thought she was going to close the microscopic gap between them, he withdrew, out of her reach. Had anybody ever resisted her like this?

"Now", he took another step back or two, "it's your turn to undress."

His tone had changed to a playful one, wrapping the order in the most considerate way he could come up with. He couldn't quite meet her halfway but he was willing to compromise. The only question was: Would she?

BluBlood x JulienJaden, A Twisted Kind of Charm

I think it's going to be another post or two before we have to switch to PM, since it wasn't really a challenge but merely a statement of fact. :P

Who the hell would leave the cap off the toothpaste?
If there really are individuals out there that do that, it sounds like them mindcontrolling all of humanity would usher in a golden age. ^^

It's good for jogging, I feel. Most of their tunes have a nice, steady rhythm to them and let the mind wander. Then again, I can jog just as well to Blue Stahli and Disturbed. XD
But for me, their repertoire helps put me in the right emotional state for writing, along with my collection of video game and movie scores, when I feel stuck.

I can relate though. Some of this movie stuff sounds WAY bombastic. But if the Imperial March playing in the background prevented only one person from having you tattoo a Wookie on their crotch... in exchange for a Deathstar on their ass, then it was well worth the drama. :P

BluBlood x JulienJaden, A Twisted Kind of Charm

"Not at all", he smiled. The cold air had done wonders to clearing his head. He was at this precious point where he was fully aware that he was drunk but didn't feel any of the effects, as long as he didn't try to hard to walk in a perfectly straight line, where his thoughts were relatively coherent but there would still be hell to pay when he woke up.

This quiet trek with Nadine was anything but uncomfortable. He could have thought of dozens of things to talk about now but he was content with listening to the occasional girlish giggle, or at least that's what he believed they were but when he turned to look at her, she just grinned and looked right back, as if she was waiting for him to repeat something funny he was doing unconsciously.
Things had not all been great in the past year and usually when all went silent, his mind wandered from one issue to the next, reminding him of everything that was falling apart, but none of these thoughts had any power over him tonight. The only thing that even remotely bothered him was walking all the way to the other side of campus, which might as well have been the opposite end of town at this hour.

They walked through the deserted streets, only the occasional car, crunching footstep or drunk yell in the distance disturbing the perfect silence of the night. It was a fairly long walk and by the time they reached the entrance to her place, Gabriel's fingers and toes were numb.

"Looks inviting", he commented, looking at a decently made graffiti on the wall right next to them. This definitely wasn't your retirement home in disguise but more of a progressive neighborhood, with quite a few college students inhabiting the apartments around. She fit right now. Both of them did, for that matter, since he didn't live too far away.

"So, tonight was..."
Gabriel had been raking his brain for how to conclude this interesting evening but when he met her eyes again, he immediately knew what was going to happen. Not once in the time they knew each other had she looked at him like that, not just affectionate but... 'glowing'. Of course, he could have just been seeing what he wanted to see, his judgement clouded by pot and booze, but if that was so, he was also a little too far gone to care. Everything about the last hours had been magical, literally, so maybe that old bastard God was making it all up to him.

Thy will be done.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between them. She didn't flinch, didn't back away, didn't break eye contact.
"Nevermind", he murmured and leaned in for a hungry, passionate kiss.

BluBlood x JulienJaden, A Twisted Kind of Charm

A sadist woman trying to overpower a sexually dominant male? Sounds like she's in for a disappointment if she thinks he's gonna play by her rules. XD

Happiness comes in all shapes and colors. And, you know, when you are so powerful you can basically manipulate an entire town with a wave of your hand, they can always have the slaves fight and shed blood over who left the toilet seat up while they skip right to the make-up sex. ^^

I'm sure you've already heard something from them at some point or another, since they produce film and trailer music. As a result, their discography isn't without 'meh' pieces but stuff like "Blackheart" more than make up for that.

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

Collab with @Atrophy

The noise outside was swelling. Between cars, yells and the tipper-tapper of rain against the windows, the city shook off its nightly robes and returned to the face it showed the world, industrious and clean, except for all the criminals. Cain woke up every now and again, trying to get comfortable enough in the chair by the bedside to fall asleep again while he watched the girl's chest steadily rise and fall under the blanket he had covered her with. It was halfway through the morning before he decided that he couldn't sleep anymore.

After Valorie fell unconscious again, he had spent another hour or two fixing her leg. The bleeding had been even worse than before and between finding the right ritual to break the curse responsible and keeping her alive long enough, he was left with no other choice but a life bond.
The back of his left hand itched where he had cut the runes into his skin, sacrificing a little of himself to make sure she didn't stop breathing and would recover quickly. The receiving symbols, with 'health' at their center, were drawn with his blood on the back of her right. He felt exhausted, even now, and he was sure that a few lines of grey had joined the rest. A bad headache was pounding against his temples and Cain knew that at least some of that discomfort were first signs of withdrawal.

The only reason he didn't grab a bottle and a cigarette for breakfast was that he needed a clear head, should she wake up and accidentally hurt herself again; he had barely dared to wash himself and change into something that wasn't soaked in her blood. His stomach was making his presence known, though, and whether it was that or the rain or just her internal alarm clock going off, Francis saw Valorie's eyelids flutter open.
And - he couldn't help himself - it caused him to breathe a sigh of relief.

"You're awake. Good. For a while, I wasn't sure if you would."

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and beard and stood up, the bloody coat he had covered himself with during the night piling up at his feet.

"I'll make us something to eat. I think be both need a FUCK", he exclaimed as he stumbled over something his coat had covered - The book he hadn't put away after using it; the book he had found the life bond, the curse and the counter-ritual in: 'Blood Magic - From Babylon to Tenochtitlan'.
For a moment, he thought he had ripped out a page, he was sure that he heard the paper rip, but as he knelt down to pick up the ancient, leather-bound tome, he cursed under his breath - The book was in better condition than ever, as was his coat; all the blood it had soaked in was gone.

With a look of disgust on his face, he picked up the book and put it back into its spot on one of the lower shelves. Blood magic, with all its sacrifices and books that usually had a life of their own, were something that always filled him with a sense of discomfort. It was undoubtedly one of the more powerful schools of magic but also unreliable and dangerous. It didn't escape his attention that Valorie had wanted to cut her hand in the trap, presumably to break it with her own blood. But was that the only magic she dabbled in? He could feel more in her, she unmistakeably had a magical gift, but he wasn't sure how that expressed itself.

His head swam with thoughts about magic as he proceeded to the kitchen and grabbed some eggs from the fridge. He called from the kitchen:
"There's water on the bedside table if you're thirsty. How do you feel? Any nausea or headaches?"

“I’m fine,” said Valorie, blinking the sleep away from her eyes. “This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up in some dude’s bed after a rough night of trying to get myself killed,” she said, dryly. “Usually they don’t offer to make me breakfast.” Usually she was gone before the morning. She wondered if he remembered.

She did feel better than she ought to have. She felt sore and weak, but the bandages on her thigh and shoulder were fresh, comfortable, and white. The wounds below them were sealed, and she’d soon have more scars to pester her when she stood in front of the mirror. The bruises would go away as they always did. She could cut the burnt tips of her hair. All things considered, the man did any incredible job keeping her alive. Unnatural, even. Her eyes fell on the book he had put away, twinkling. Chugging the glass of water, she pulled herself to the edge of the bed and set her right foot down. Then, quietly so to not make the floor creak, she set her other foot down as she pushed herself up. The wound did not reopen. She did not pass out again. Good.

“You actually did a really good job at patching me up, you know,” she said loudly to mask her footsteps. “I you didn’t tell me that you worked with that asshole Rich I would’ve pegged you for some mob doctor. A shame, really. I could use someone who’s good with their hands.” She smirked as she slid the book out from the shelf, her eyes widening as she read the title and let out a soft, feminine giggle in excitement. “Not that I care, but has Rich called you yet? You should tell him I’m not here. Tell him I snuck out. Tell him I’m dead. He wouldn’t mind, really, I can tell.” She plopped down in the chair he’d been sitting in and opened a page at random. “Consider it another favor that I’ll have to make...up...to...y…”

She fell silent, her eyes fervently dancing from the left to right and back again as her lips twisted into a wicked smile.

"You know what's a really bad idea?", he asked, standing directly behind her. He knew the floorboards, each and every one of them; she had been quiet, true, but this apartment was his sanctuary, a place filled with his magic presence and energy, guarded by every protective ward and ritual in these books. Nothing moved or happened within these walls without his knowledge; nobody entered without his consent; even finding this place was a little more difficult than finding the address. He wouldn't have cared if she grabbed one of the other books, any of them, really, but this one... He didn't trust it. And he didn't trust her to use blood magic responsibly, not when her entire lifestyle seemed to be following the motto: 'Crash and burn.'

His voice was calm but he spoke with authority now, not with warmth. He stepped to the front and as he looked at her, his eyes were glowing like embers, a thread of his mind controlling the fire under the frying pan.
"Going through a mage's property without asking for permission. Especially when it concerns blood magic and the mage in question", he laid his left hand on the open page so she would see its back and the runes without obstruction, "used it to save your life. Isn't that what you asked me earlier? What your 'life is worth to me'? More than Rich could possibly offer me, is the answer to that. Or do you think I would go to such lengths for just anybody?"

Cain pulled the book from her hands. He wasn't gentle about it but the book wouldn't be damaged so soon after it fed. He weighed it in his hand. An idea formed in his head.
"What magic are you familiar with? Other than blood magic."

Valorie had snatched greedily at the book as he pulled it out of her reach. She was going to yell at him to give it back, but the sight of his eyes caught her voice. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Her hand fell down to her side.

"Just this and that. Look, I don't want..." Her eyes glanced away from his and glued themselves to the floor. The only other person she had told about herself being a necromancer was Sander, and he hadn't asked. It had just sort of come out in a fit of excitement coerced by a few pills she had sampled before going over to his place to just, at the time, look at the bodies. This guy was probably a cop, it'd be fucking stupid if she said anything to him. She frowned. All she did was stupid things these days. Why ruin her perfect streak?

"It might come as a shock, but I wasn't always this likable," she said, scowling, as she looked back at the old man. "Plus we moved around a lot. It's not like I was a pariah or anything, I was just shy so people thought I was fucking weird. Whatever. I only ever had one friend growing up. Sammy. My best friend," she said. She tilted her head down, took in a breath, and exhaled deeply. "I fucking killed him with a car when I was sixteen. It was an accident. I was dr—for fuck sake, really Val?" She wiped the dampness from her eyes. "I was drunk. I put his body in a goddamn box with some ice, stashed him in my basement, and I began reading. I taught myself all about runes, and rituals, and magic, and voodoo, and whatever other bullshit I could get my hands on. It took for fucking ever. His brain was rotted by the time I brought him back and I almost fucking bled out, but I brought him back."

She tilted her head up towards his. She knew he likely understood what she meant, but she stated it outright anyway: "I'm a necromancer. I'm not even good at it. Sammy's the only one I've ever been able to raise up permanently, and he doesn't even know how to fetch a ball anymore. In fact," she laughed, shaking her head at herself. "I'm getting worse at it! I'm the worst possible mage studying the worst possible school of magic. It's fucking hilarious if you think about it."

Despite what she said, Valorie had stopped laughing.

"So now what? You going to revile me like the rest of this fucking city? Go ahead. I don't really care. You going to kill me after all that effort you put in fucking saving me for whatever stupid reason you had? I'm not in much of a position to stop you, though I won't make it easy." She slouched in the chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fuck me, I need," A drink. A joint. A line. A bump. Bennies. Dust. A fix. A bullet to the fucking head, "a cigarette."

His heart clenched as he listened to her. Her story was sad enough as it is but her breaking out into tears made it difficult to listen. How could he have ever believed that tough appearance she had showed him before? The mask she wore was paperthin, even the cocky and somewhat stupid role she took on when she grabbed the book. All these layers were easy to peel away, and here she was, the core: Self-loathing, guilt, doubt, anger, sorrow... and love.
But his own face was unmoved, a mask of perfect equilibrium through most of it. That is, until she named what she was: A necromancer.
A soft smile curled his lips and when she finished and speculated what he would do, he started his own ringing laughter.

"The cigarette will have to wait until after breakfast."

He knew that his eyes had shocked her, so he willed the flame to be as small as possible and cut the connection, returning his eyes to their crystal blue.

"A necromancer...", he chuckled, shaking his head, "I haven't met one in many years. I'm honored." Despite the smile in his eyes, his last words weren't meant to mock her. "Do you really think that I would hate you for raising the dead? If anything, I'm impressed. My Akkadian is awful and I never tried to raise any creature more complex than a bird. You reviving your dog on your first try means you have talent. And no, you are not getting worse at it."

There it was again, that comforting tone, warm and full. That was who he was, or at least that was who he hoped he was. Were the powerful mage and the ruthless 'do-not-try-to-fuck-me-over' PI his masks or was he wearing one of his masks for her? Who could tell anymore.
To her, he appeared strong and certain, offering his right hand.

"How about this: We sit down at the table, we eat, I explain to you what's special about Sammy and, when we're done, we see about that cigarette and maybe another proposal. Sound good?"

"Yeah," she said, taking his hand and smiling as she pulled herself up. "Sounds good."

She followed the man into the kitchen. She'd been surprised by him when he had said that he found her impressive; she had assumed that he had been smart. All the books and the graying hair tricked me, she thought, smirking to herself. More than likely he was just trying to be nice, to cheer up some stupid girl so that she'd shut the hell up, dry her eyes, and eat her goddamn eggs. At least that was what Valorie thought. So she ate the goddamn eggs, wolfing them down in a few bites. There was more pressing matters than savoring her eggs, and she knew that neither of them would believe her if she tried to act like a proper lady.

"So," she said, working the last bite of food that was still in her mouth, "I believe you were telling me how amazing I am?"

"Cocky, is what you are", he smiled, his own mouth full of egg and bread, destroying any illusion of gentlemanliness. Oh, he could act like he was brought up in some rich home and be all 'madam' and bows around the Faerie but he never forgot that he grew up between Rats when they still called themselves 'Mafia', had connections all over the country and were one of the most powerful factions in the city.

He swallowed and ate his last forkful, taking his sweet time too. She was impatient, he could see that, and it hurt her more than it helped. When he had put down his cutlery and wiped his mouth and spoke again:
"When I was fifteen, my mother got beat up. I knew the guy's face, I knew where to find him and I had been practicing how to control fire for a while, so I went to that bar when it was as good as empty, made sure he was his usual passed-out drunk self and burned the entire fucking place to ground, with him in it. You see, I'm still as water now but back then, I was livid, so much so that I thought I would lose my mind... and when I unleashed the flames, they burned brighter and hotter than ever before."

Cain wasn't entirely calm; a hint of emotion colored his voice, distant memories of excitement beyond his wildest dreams.

"When I came home, I thought I knew exactly what I needed to do, that I had mastered pyromancy and I could move on to other things. But the next time I tried to use it, it was the same as before all that. You see where I'm going with this?"

He didn't give her time to even nod or shake her head.

"Sammy was - is - your best friend, your family, your everything. You felt guilty over killing him. You poured a lot of blood and time and effort into bringing him back and I am sure that, the whole time, you didn't even really think about what you were doing. You were driven and all your actions and magic were fueled by love."

He folded his hands against his chin.

"Emotions are a powerful catalyst, Valorie, and they enable us to do great and terrible things beyond our actual skill. Bringing back Sammy revealed your talent and dedication for necromancy but most of the power came from your emotions. That said, everything you've done after came from you."

As promised, he fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, gave Valorie one and put another in his mouth. With a snap of his fingers that wasn't actually necessary but satisfied him nonetheless, his eyes lit up again and his thumb was covered in flame. One drag later, his cigarette was lit and, after a bit of hesitation, Valorie let him do the same for her and the flame vanished.

"Handy, isn't it? It's a shame most women who want to know if I 'have a light' freak out when I do that", he smirked. Cain took a long drag from the smoldering roll. "So... You have potential, I can sense it. And, believe it or not, it's 'sensing' this magical presence in you, in others, that's the key you are looking for. My proposal is this: You become my student."

Ignoring the impact of what he had just said, he stood up, began transferring the items from the table to the sink, talking all the while:
"There is little I can teach you about the actual execution of necromantic rituals but I have done enough research to have encyclopedical knowledge on them, I know where to get what books I don't already own and, most importantly, I have a lot of experience with all forms of magic. I can teach you not only how to find that 'sweetspot' where the magic happens - literally - but I would also show you other schools of magic, some you may also have talent for, perhaps even more than for necromancy."

The table was as clean and empty as it was going to get and, offering a stunned and scantily cled Valorie his hand once more, he led her back to the bed.
"In exchange, I want two things: Number 1, no more hard drugs. I'm not without my vices", he meaningfully wiggled with the cigarette in his mouth, "but stuff like Fairy Dust messes with your head and makes focusing harder. It's not only one of the reasons why you're not progressing faster, it's also why you feel as bad about it as you do. You can party, if you want, but the hard stuff would have to go. Number 2... is that you let me help keep you safe. Yesterday probably didn't go unnoticed and there are dangerous people out there that even I wouldn't want to run into without backup, so no sneaking out in the morning while I pretend to be asleep. We can at least have a cup of coffee, next time."

There it was. Maybe she had thought that he forgot about that night and he had decided to be nonchalant about it and give her a crooked smile. The truth was that he wouldn't mind repeating that experience, without all the alcohol. It had been a while since he genuinely cared about somebody or felt more than a superficial attraction. He felt himself drawn to her and the vulnerability he had witnessed only added to that, but the nature of their first encounter made that harder instead of easier and he wasn't sure how she would respond. Then again, she was standing half-naked in front of his bed again, so maybe things weren't all bad.

"What do you say?"

He left it open to interpretation whether he meant the proposal or the more delicate subject and left the rest up to fate, at least until he had a better idea.

"Okay," she said after thinking about it for a minute. She could use someone to back her up. And drugs, well, she had always told herself how she could quit the drugs whenever she had wanted. How hard can that be? she thought, rubbing the back of her neck. The answers that she came up with were not ones that she was happy to see. She'd try, though. At least long enough for this man to show her something useful. She walked over to the nightstand and, with a piece of notepad paper and a pen, jotted down her phone number. And then, smiling to herself, she jotted down a few short words. "Here. If you can't get in touch with me with this number, then call Rich. Which reminds me, I kind of need to check up on him. He gets lonely without me. He'll be so mad if I tell him I have a new professor," she said, coyly looking at the man. "I guess we'll just have to keep this is a secret. It's more thrilling that way, hmm?"

She had seen the way the man had looked at her; she couldn't help herself from having a little fun. She grabbed what remained of her clothes, making a show out of it as she arched and dipped with excruciatingly and painfully slow movements. A moan slipped out that was half in jest, half in actual pain as her tired muscles stretched and snapped. "Find me a book you're willing to lend. I'm borrowing a shirt," she said, gently bumping in to the man as she walked past him and into his closet, her top already halfway off before she completely disappeared inside. Picking a large, dark gray shirt she put it on and buttoned it most of the way up, turning it into a makeshift dress as she took the ribbon from her hair and tied it around her waist. Pulling on her dark leggings and stepping into her boots, she tossed the shorts with her tank top into the corner of the closet, serving as evidence that she'd come back.

"Well, am I walking?" she said, flicking her hair out with her hands. A half-smile formed on her face as she leaned against the closet's doorjamb, "Or would you be able to give me a ride?"

It was easy to determine which book he'd give her. It wasn't exactly the oldest in his collection and it was in relatively bad condition due to constant use but its contents were worth a look, covering some simple protective spells and exercises to get a better feeling for magic. He was tempted to watch her change but that just wouldn't have been appropriate, so he occupied himself with picking out the book with the faded yellow binding and writing the apartment's address and his private number on the back of a business card.

When she reappeared, he smiled right back. It was a pity this encounter hadn't been as mutually pleasurable as the last one but seeing a woman in one of his shirts was its own reward, as would be seeing this one gain a few pounds if she stopped using drugs and ate a little more. She was teasing him, of course, but two could play at that game.

"Absolutely but it's gonna be a little longer before your leg and shoulder can take it. On a completely unrelated topic, I'm heading out and I can drop you off, if you want to share a cab." Cain held out the book - 'Magic For Dummies - All The Fun, None Of The Witchhunt'. "Don't let it fool you: It's a useful book, if you're willing to see past the binding. And this", he gave her the business card as well, "should make coming back here easier for you. You will be able to find the apartment again, I'll make sure of it."

He walked her to the door but stopped right in front of it and turned to her, his face serious once more.
"I don't know if somebody's after you after yesterday, but with that and your injuries in mind, I want you to call me later in the day and return here before midnight, so I can see how your wounds are healing and we have time to figure out how to go about this arrangement. Can you do that?"

"Sure, sure. But c'mon, give me a little credit, Frankie. Disregarding last night, I have done a pretty good job of not getting myself killed," said Valorie. She waved her hands in front of her, trying to dismiss his serious look. "Just because you see some potential in me doesn't mean anyone else does. They just think I'm some junkie loser. Nobody's coming after me." It looked like she actually believed it with her hands clasped behind her back. A little frown crossed her face.

"Seriously, man, how much trouble do you think I actually get in during one week? Last night was enough to fuel me for the year," she said, tempting fate. "I'm totally going to be fine."

He wasn't convinced at all. Francis knew how situations like this could turn out with the Rats: If one of her group lived to tell the tale, they'd be out looking for her before she knew it. And if she was the only one to live, somebody would eventually start wondering why she was the only one to live and some of them might get triggerhappy. And that only covered the possible fallout of yesterday; there was no telling what might happen if somebody found out she worked with Kennedy, which was bound to come out sooner or later. And if he had any say in this, they would not be caught with their pants down when that happened.

"Maybe I'm paranoid", he admitted but otherwise not responding to her dismissive talk, "but I'm also alive because I didn't take any chances. Until I've had a chance to listen around and see what's what, you need to keep your head down, and today, that means: Give me that phone call and come back by midnight. I'm not just asking for your safety but also because I need to see that you are disciplined and trust my judgement. Bring Sammy if you want, but come back here."

Cain turned around and put his hand on the doorknob but, after a moment of hesitation, looked right back at her again.
"Tell you what: If you're here before 11, I'll bring out a bottle of really good Scotch or Bourbon - your choice. You can sleep in my bed, alone or with company", he flashed her a charming smile that made him look ten years younger and held up her note for him - 'I prefer tea' was what she wrote -, "and we'll decide on the hot beverage in the morning. Deal?"

"Deal," said Valorie, as she clasped her hands over her mouth in a mocking expression of excitement. "Sammy's going to be so excited to have an actual bed to sleep on tonight! Oh don't worry. He doesn't leak too much. Let's go!"