[center][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/3106782ead58e641b0b3568482a095d1/tumblr_p82adcx6HC1whbfi0o5_500.png[/img]
[u][b]Jailbreak In Fairyland IV[/b][/u][/center]
[sub]The Royal Palace, Guest Quarters, Faerie[/sub]
[sub][sub][hr][/sub][/sub][Indent][Indent][Color=lightgray]Much to Zatanna's dismay Voodoo's definition of waiting involved the older man locked away in his bedroom with several books he borrowed from the castle library on Faerie legal procedure. The magician cramming harder than a student during finals week left Zatanna trying to find some way to occupy herself until dinner. Partially spurred on by her companion's sudden bibliophile streak and partially because she finally had a moment to rest, Zatanna conjured up her Father's journals from the small fold in reality that she had tucked them away into since leaving the estate and spread them out across her bed.

They numbered nearly two dozen collectively, picking the one closest to her up Zatanna weighed it experimentally in her hands. Immediately she was struck by two things: first was the weight which seemed uncharacteristically heavy for the journal's slender profile and the smoothness of its black leather covering on her fingertips and palms. The journals were something that he took very seriously as something that his father before him did as well. In that way Giovanni used to refer to the journals in conversation Zatanna with a kind of reverence that one usually reserved for the divine. The elder Zatara going as far as getting the leather from the same farmers near Naples that his ancestors did. Yet where those journals of old served primarily as monetary ledgers, Giovanni's journals held much more esoteric knowledge.

Cracking open the journal held in her hands and experimentally flipped to the last page. The only thing deceriable to a normal observer was the date which places the entry about a month before Giovanni's death. Beyond that though, the page was filled with a strange array of markings and shapes that took up the majority of the page. A look of bemusement slowly transformed to a small smile of recognition as she quickly ran into the studying gathering up a pen and some paper.

Dealing with magical powers that had the capacity to unravel reality's fragile threads on a daily basis Giovanni never recorded anything using traditional methods. The effects of some malicious party getting a hold of his spell book would of been too catastrophic. Instead, the magician wrote everything through a complicated series of ciphers of his own design, the man spending a year teaching himself the ins and outs of traditional cryptography techniques just to ensure that it was up to snuff. And just to be sure, the cipher's key was not written down it had to be painstakingly memorized, a process which father forced upon daughter. At the time, Zatanna hated the lessons and the pneumatic devices she had to remember to get a grasp on the sequence, but now all that hard work was coming to fruition. With the speed of someone drafting a message in their native tongue, Zatanna quickly began to decode the entry 

As the entry neared its completion it became apparent that it wasn't an entry at all, it was an incantation weaved into the very ink that lined the page. A last layer of defense entrusting that only Giovanni or his progeny were able to activate the enchantment with their magic-infused words. Upon its completion, Zatanna began to recite the command phrase backwards and as she did the scribbles in the journal began to glow with a purplish hue. Zatanna reached out to touch the now glowing page and as she did purple filled her vision and the smell of roasted beans hit her nose.

[I]"More espresso sir?"

Mister Tong stood next to her hoisting a silver platter upward with a medium sized clear decanter filled with black liquid. They were back in her father's study and she was sitting at his desk the journal from previously placed atop of it. Reflexively, Zatanna attempted to move away from the large butler and cast a spell in defense before he could transform and attack. But Zatanna found that she was unable to move and when she did speak it was a voice that while deeply familiar was not her own. It's gruff texture of years of cigar smoking smoothed over by whiskey, deep and rich. 

"[I]No grazie[/i] Tong, I should really be getting to sleep soon."

"Yes sir, of course sir"

"Oh and Tong?" Giovanni asked as the butler slowly inched backwards out of the room.

"Yes sir?"

"Did Zatanna ever respond about dinner tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately, I have not heard from her sir."

Zatanna felt a sad and heavy sigh escape from her chest.

"That's alright! We will just have to try for next Sunday."

"Of course sir."

As Tong exited the room and the door clicked behind him, Giovanni rested his hands upon the desk as he looked over the journal. They seemed older and more frail than Zatanna remembered. The skin was pulled tight around the bones permanently displaying his veins as they ran up into his arms. He had let his fingernails go slightly overgrown as what looked like dirt was slowly began to build up along the edge. He pulled them together bunching them up closely as he began to speak to himself. As the words left his mouth the coded seal began to take shape on the page.

"I had the same dream again. Gotham, a city of corpses and that infernal abomination at its center. This can't be a coincidence, someone or something must be trying to communicate with me. To what end I do not know but it is becoming painstakingly clear that I must find out before this horrid prophecy comes to pass, for all our sakes. 

I must consult others in this matter. My knowledge has been stretched thin and no books in my library speak of any such creature. Tomorrow, I will travel to New York and speak with Strange hopefully the Sorcerer Supreme will be able to put me on the right track...."[/i]

And with another burst of purple Zatanna was once again sitting cross legged on the bed, the purple glow now faded from the text in front of her. She picked up her discarded pen and placed the butt in her mouth and chewed on it softly, a distraught maths tutor and one long session with a tongue depressor later having taught her not to apply too much pressure. Chewing away on the pen, Zatanna tried her best to process the new information she gained, let alone the fact that her father had constructed mini-windows into his past that she could just peer into like a tank in an aquarium.

After a few restless minutes of chewing it became clear to Zatanna that she wasn't getting anywhere with the new information. Frustrated, she tossed her pen across the room letting it clatter against the far. Soom the young magician got it into her head that it was the environment that was the problem. The dark gray stone of the walls, the significant lack of a singular window, and the old wooden bed frame made Zatanna feel like she was some rebellious nobles daughter shuttered away in a nunnery to avoid any scandals, and it was making her restless. The increasing tension only furthered an urge in Zatanna to find a shower. 

It was a silly thing really, the showering. The shower was one of the only places where she was able to have any privacy as a child, her only impregnable bastion from house staff and tutors. And so a routine slowly began to establish itself, needed to cry? It was time for a shower. Needed to yell? Time for a shower. Needed to think? Time for a shower. The rushing water served as the walls of her constructed hideaway where all her other problems could melt away. Of course such mechanisms had their drawback, particularly after one rough month including a rough breakup, a friend then immediately afterwards sleeping with her ex and a chemistry exam that left her scrambling to explain to her father why the water bill was so high.

The memory of her father's bemused expression managed to crack a small smile across her face, a smile that quickly faded as she looked at the journals spread out around her. All he'd ever cared about was making sure that she was ready to take up the fight when he was gone. The talk he had with her after the shower incident was exclusively about how a Zatara couldn't run away or hide in a shower, they had to stand and fight or the world could fall into darkness. And now, there she was scouring through his journals and chasing after his ghosts, he had gotten exactly he'd wanted. And yet since he died, all she could think about were the good times. Those rare moments when she actually felt like she had a father and not a strict magic tutor that only checked in on her every other week.

Feeling worse off than she started, Zatanna stowed the journals back into their fold in reality and exited the bedroom. She didn't know how long she had been in there minutes maybe, hours? The confusion only further worsened by the lack of any sort of timekeeping device and looking outside wasn't any help either revealing only a sea of perpetual twilight above as below crawling forward endlessly. Whatever time it was, she had to assume that she had enough time to find some sort of bathroom before dinner. Before she ventured outside though she walked over to the still closed door of Voodoo's chamber, experimentally she pulled at the hand which gave way as the door swung upon.

Voodoo sat cross legged on the floor a series of books each as thick as Zatanna's skull sprawled out around him in a semicircle. In his own lap was his own big black book where he was taking down notes with a pen. As he was writing, Zatanna couldn't help but notice the fact that he was having a conversation with himself. Commenting here or there about a particular line to back up a claim or refute an unspoken argument. 

"Well obviously I've already thought of that! Who do you take me for exactly? You know I was always the smarter one."

Zatanna knocked on the door.

"Huh?" Voodoo looked up startled but the tension released from his shoulders when he saw it was only Zatanna 

"I'm I interrupting something?" Zatanna asked cocking a brow as she did.

"No, no, of course not!" Voodoo explained with a smile.

"You sure? Because you sure were having an illuminating conversation with your self" Zatanna stated as she peered around the room double checking behind the door to make sure nobody was there.

"You should try it sometime," Voodoo admitted with a shrug "you'll be surprised how insightful it can be."

"Maybe I will," Zatanna coincided with a shrug "anyway I just wanted to tell you that I was going to go find a bathroom of some kind. I need to get clean and presentation before dinner."

There was something strange going on and Zatanna knew it, but was wise enough not to prod into it at the moment. It was on the same grounds of perhaps being a better conversation for later did she justify not telling Vodoo about what she learned from her father's journals. The older man was obviously busy with his research and she could delve deeper into the dreams on her own. Instead tactfully shifted the conversation towards her intended topic of discussion. 

"Alright," Voodoo replied, there was a reluctance in his voice but he agreed anyway perhaps reminded of their spat from earlier "just try and not get into any trouble"

"No promises!"

"And close the door! The draft is dreadful!" He added exasperated as she turned to leave.[/color][/indent][/indent]