[indent][b][u]January 2nd, 04:15 AM Caernarvon Central Station, Old Bludhaven, NJ.[/u][/b][/indent] [color=orangered]”Okay, Mal. You’ve had a long night.”[/color] The boy spoke finally, after a long hour or so of staring at the wall of his ad-hoc shower with a big dumb look on his face. Made all the more silly by all the water pouring directly upon it. [color=orangered]”Let’s recap before ya lose yer head.”[/color] Shutting the damn thing off with a bit more force than necessary and stepping out, still talking to himself as he grabbed up his towel. Funny habits you pick up being alone so often and all that. [color=orangered]”Woke up in a bus station, in a blizzard, ate fried chicken, stare at some big ol’ bronze booty and then fought a fucking lunatic cannibal with a big magic knife.”[/color] He continued, drying himself off and wrapping the towel about his waist as he meandered over to the mirror. [color=orangered]”Saved a cop, went to the land of soylent green enthusiasts, fought a bunch more asshole maneaters with big magic knives, got called ‘mortal’ and ‘peasant’ a lot and then had [i]dinner with a fucking deity.”[/i][/color] He took a minute to catch his breath, before staring into his reflection and taking on the roughest voice he could muster. [color=orangered]”And let’s not forget; [i]You’re a wizard ‘Arry!”[/i][/color] He wanted to laugh, he really did. The best he could do, though, was softly planting his head against the mirror and letting out a sigh. [color=orangered]”Could’a had a nice night of just watching the idiot box with Mog on a nice warm couch, but [i]noooo…”[/i][/color] He growled. [color=orangered]”you had to go and get yer ass involved with cannibals and onis and demons and fucking [i]stalker gods, you [b]dumb asshole.”[/b][/i][/color] His shoulders slumped a little where he stood. Where he remained in silence for more than a few minutes. [color=orangered]”...Fuck me, I need a holiday.”[/color] [color=#5566db]”Oh my,”[/color] said Aelia, covering her mouth behind him. [color=#5566db]”How bold! How scandalous! And after but one meal! Tsk, tsk, Mr. Talhaiarn!”[/color] [color=orangered]”...Seriously, Aelia, do you just not have the concept of [i]knocking[/i] where you’re from?”[/color] Mal just deadpanned in reply, not even bothering to look up at this point. Aelia laughed softly into her hand. [color=#5566db]“Of course not, mortal! We use arcane seals to protect our sanctuaries from unwanted intruders! Your primitive locking mechanisms are far too easily subverted through common spellcraft!”[/color] Spinning about his bathroom in the direction of his shower, she briefly peaked inside of it. [color=#5566db]”Yet there is undeniably something almost [i]cosy[/i] about your dreary living arrangements! It has a definite personal touch to it that many aspects of my home severely lack!”[/color] Making sure his towel was [i]quite[/i] secure, the lad (somewhat awkwardly) turned towards his impromptu guest… though he avoided her eyes and started inching back toward his clothes. This [i]was[/i] still the first time he had ever had a guest over, after all. And here he was without his fuckin’ pants. [color=orangered]”Well, that’s... probably because I had to actually repair and rebuild a lot of this stuff from scratch.”[/color] He admitted, even while trying as hard as he could to both protect his decency [i]and[/i] subtly inch his way back toward his underoos. [color=orangered]”The plumbing was actually pretty easy, most of what I needed for it was already there, after all...”[/color] Another controlled breath, another inch towards salvation. But still, he kept on talking. [color=orangered]”So, uhh… can I [i]help[/i] you?”[/color] Aelia glanced back at him, having just finished sniffing of his shampoo. Something that was [b]totally[/b] not weird. At all. No sir. [color=#5566db]“Hm? Oh, no. I’m quite alright, but thank you for asking!”[/color] [color=orangered]”Ah. Well then. Alright.”[/color] The usually-controlled teen managed, trying to be polite as he possibly could given the circumstances as he took another, [i]oh-so-careful[/i] step towards his clothes and the freedom from this hell they promised. [color=orangered]”Can I ask why you’re here, then?”[/color] [color=orangered][i]’Specifically [b]while I’m in the damned bathroom?’[/b][/i][/color] He added internally. Aelia had turned on his shower by this point, and was spraying herself in the face with the head. [color=#5566db]”Ohohoh! I had forgotten you mortals still used water to bathe! Ahhh!”[/color] she sprayed her tongue, before turning to answer him. With a wave of her hand, the water that had dampened her hair and face were instantly dried. [color=#5566db]“It’s quite simple, really! We are both investigating the same demon, yes? And so it is far more efficient to pool our resources, so that we do not stumble over one another’s feet, as it were. Thus, I shall be making this my temporary headquarters for the duration of the investigation!”[/color] The Hound, with all his skill, mastery over his own body and all that other crap that went with his (apparently magical) brain… [i]damn near tripped over his own feet at the woman’s words.[/i] [color=orangered][i]’Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding.’[/i][/color] [color=orangered]”Wait, seriously?”[/color] He asked raising a brow slightly at the woman… even as he put his back to her and bent down to finally get ahold of his clothes. [color=orangered]”You can clearly show up anytime ya want, why bother [i]moving in?”[/i][/color] Stepping past Malcolm on her way out of the bathroom, she snatched the clothing from his hands only to throw them back in his face. Despite this, she smiled. [color=#5566db]“Even for one such as I, it’s inconvenient to constantly travel from one end of the universe to the other, so I require a place to live while I am on this planet. I do have other assignments, in other cities, but I’m rather fond of this derelict of a metropolis. It’s so very different than anything I am used to!”[/color] It was about that time that Malcolm realized he would never have the upper hand in anything ever again. Still… [color=orangered]”Could ya at least learn to [i]knock?”[/i][/color] He called after her as she went, even as he hastily dressed himself in her absence. Aelia stops, once again looks back, and slowly raises her hand to knock on the side of the bathroom. [color=#5566db]“There you are, my friend.”[/color] [hr] [center] [img]https://i.postimg.cc/jSXg27jZ/bludmarket.jpg[/img] [/center] [indent][b][u]January 8th, 7:32 PM New Shanghai, Bludhaven, NJ.[/u][/b][/indent] It had been... a long week, Malcolm had to admit. Between uncovering the big damned disurbing meat market of magical murder, being accosted by his own personal stalker-deity with no apparent concept of personal space, who [i]graciously[/i] informed him she was now his roommate and perhaps more importantly, [i]the whole damned world learning that he [b]existed...[/b][/i] things had gotten just a [i]tiiiiny[/i] bit out of hand real quick. Namely in that now that his existence was common knowledge, the Aquilas didn't have to even [i]try[/i] being discrete about dealing with him anymore. Mal had been a [i]very busy boy since.[/i] The day after that whole fleshmarket fiasco, the Aquilas responded by having the police precincts in their employ go after the Sisterhood of the First Flame, out of uniform but not out of [i]arms,[/i] for the coven's part in helping Sasha and her less-than-bought friends that night. Which said friends weren't exactly fond of, which led to a rare standoff between the two halves of the Bludhaven police... with a bit of mages, non-humans and even a few guests from the fire department thrown in for good measure. That was twelve hours of siege he wasn't going to be getting back anytime soon. But eventually Bludhaven’s dirtiest packed it up and called it a day… or rather, were [i]made[/i] to when the white witches of the Sisterhood had finally had enough, opened a portal behind their attackers’ parked cars and sent him, Sasha and a few others out there to raise as much hell as humanly possible. A fun time was had by all… save for the Hound himself, who was still getting used to this whole ‘actual bonafide superhero’ shenanigans and having that many eyes on him at once. This set the tone for the rest of the week; bank robberies, arson, the whole nine yards as the Aquila tried hand over fist to grab his attention and then attempt to kill him. Fun times all around… unless you were Mal, then you just hadn’t had a good night’s rest all damned week. Tonight though, was different. All day. All [i]damned day[/i] he’d been skulking about the city keeping an eye out for something, [i]anything[/i] bout to go tits-up six ways from sunday… and found [i]nothing.[/i] That was… a nice change. So there the boy stood in the middle of the New Shanghai bazaar in his plain street clothes just… [i]enjoying himself for once.[/i] With a cup of hot chocolate in the middle of all the nightly pandaemonium of a place far from the dictates of Washington; where Terrans— man, magi, non-human and demon alike— went about their lives in something out of an old Karen Hernandez cartoon. ...Just, y’know. With a bit more grime smudged on than Disney was ever willing to animate. To his right, a pair of succubi in bright red cocktail dresses enchanted to keep them from freezing their literal tails off and big damned winter boots waved down everyone and anyone their eyes met in the crowds to come on inside where it was nice and warm— To look at their handmade fashion wear, before you start assuming. To his left, an orc and what looked [i]suspiciously[/i] like one of Sasha’s men, both drunk as all hell, tried their level best to heave a damned minotaur who had clearly had much more than they had, home on their shoulders. The snowy ground not exactly doing them any favours there. His head perked up suddenly as he heard rapid, albeit light footfalls approaching him from behind and on instinct, he dropped his drink and quickly dodged left, getting ready for a fight… only to just stand there like some dumb asshole with his hands up when it turned out to just be some kids, one human and the other purple-skinned and hooved, playing tag. Pausing there for a moment, hands slowly falling to his sides, Mal’s eyes turned towards his now spilled cocoa. Deciding one thing in that moment. [color=orangered]”I need a day off.”[/color] [hr] [indent][b][u]January 8th, 8:30 PM Caernarvon Central Station, Old Bludhaven, NJ.[/u][/b][/indent] Going through the same old routine as he always did, deftly spinning the trio of combination locks he’d rigged up on what amounted to his front door with one hand and slapping them to a stop when they found their mark, the boy wrenched the heavy steel door with just the faintest of grunts and stepped through, letting the weight of the thing slam itself shut behind him with a loud ‘BANG!’ followed by a series of mechanical clicks as the locks reengaged. Making his way down the old stone steps to the station proper, his duffel on his shoulder and a plastic bag with the image of a particularly [i]cheeky[/i] looking cartoon ogre on it on his hand, the boy rounded a few corners, walked along the old train platform and finally made a right through the first doorway he came across into the old rec room- Modified over the course of four years or so to be his kitchen/dining room/mancave-within-a-mancave. With a remodeled sink, countertop, rebuilt vintage oven and fridge against one wall, an old tube television against another in front of a couch he’d swiped, brought down and reassembled in pieces from an abandoned Ikea and the big damned mahogany boardroom table sitting dead centre. It wasn’t the Ritz-Carlton by any means, but the boy still found some pride in making it work all the same. Still, swallowing that little sliver of pride and remembering just what he’d gone out of his way to buy and [i]why,[/i] he got to the hard part. [color=orangered]”Hey Aelia… ya home?”[/color] The television was on, playing an old black and white sitcom--I Love Lucy. Lounging across from it, spread across the couch like a languid cat, was Aelia Marcella Lumena. Smoke billowed from the end of a long, golden pipe (resembling a kiseru) engraved with dimly glowing runic symbols. Grasped lightly between her fingers, she idly puffed on it while watching Lucy attempt to con her way into her husband’s show for the umpteenth time. When Mal spoke, her dark blue eyes slowly tore themselves from the screen to focus on him. Slowly sitting upright, she cleared her throat. [color=#5566db]“Yes…[i]‘Honey, I’m home!’[/i]”[/color] She seemed quite pleased with herself for saying this. [color=#5566db]“I have been learning a great deal about your modern culture through this [i]television entertainment device[/i] here. Tell me, can one still obtain large groups of mortals to laugh at their attempts at humor on command? I feel as if that would grant you some much needed validation within your life!”[/color] said Aelia, smirking playfully to him. [color=orangered]”To be fair, who needs a live studio audience when I have the great [i]Aelia Lumena, goddess of couch-potatoes and voyeurism,[/i] lounging on my couch, high as balls, to watch me fail my way to glory?”[/color] Replied Mal, without missing a beat and waving his hand about the air as if he were pontificating to the world… and smiling. Maybe. Just a little. Goddamn, he was starting to get used to this. Dropping his duffel and making his way towards the kitchen, he continued over his shoulder. As he set the plastic bag down on the counter and bent down to go fishing through his cabinets. [color=orangered]”Did’ja eat yet?”[/color] Aelia observed him making his way into the kitchen area, a blonde brow rising. [color=#5566db]“No. I do not require food under ordinary circumstances. I normally only eat for the enjoyment of doing so, or for social occasions. Why? Do you wish for me to cook something for supper?”[/color] Preparing meals for them had been a regular activity of hers since she had first arrived here. She did this without much forethought, most days. At the woman who had to constantly remind himself was (allegedy) some kind of [i]deity’s[/i] words, Mal briefly paused- He didn’t know that. ...Awkward. Still, not willing to give Aelia the joy of flustering him for the nth time that week, he nonetheless found what he was looking for— a deep fryer— and pulled it out onto the counter. [color=orangered][i]”Actually,”[/i][/color] Mal kept on talking, seemingly unabated. [color=orangered]”After waking up and going to bed with luxurious food in my gut every single night this week, I thought I’d... try and return the favour for once.”[/color] Actually looking back at the woman now, with a grin that looked a little more sheepish than he’d like, he added- [color=orangered]”...If you’re fine with [i]mortal cooking[/i] that is.”[/color] Aelia tilted her head briefly to one side, surprised by his offer to cook. This lasted for only a moment before a smile slowly returned to her face. [color=#5566db]“I am happy you have been enjoying the meals I have prepared.”[/color] Spinning away from the couch to present a dramatically outstretched hand in his direction, she lightly dipped her head. [color=#5566db]“Very well! I look forward to trying your mortal cuisine, Malcolm! I am always eager to experience every sensation today’s Gaia has to offer!”[/color] That was just about all the prompting Mal needed as, with a widening grin and eyes crackling up with their usual fire, he rolled up his sleeves and set about his task- It’d been a while since he’d bothered to actually [i]try[/i] when cooking, usually opting to just make up whatever he could to sustain himself, but tonight was a bit of a special occasion. And though he hadn’t bought anything near the caliber of Aelia’s usual fare, she was about to receive a stern lesson on the lad’s principal, uniting talent— Doing a whole lot with very little. [hr] [color=orangered]”Alright, here we are!”[/color] Mal said, trying not to look just a little bit pleased with himself as he set down the fruits of his labours in front of the woman with way too damn many titles on a vintage plate. Deftly tossing and catching a lemon with his free hand as he did so. [color=orangered]”A local favourite; beer-battered fish and chips with Cajun spice.”[/color] And, not to let Aelia have the absolute monopoly on theatrics, he moved on from tossing the lemon to juggling it along with a pair of knives for a few short seconds before snatching the airborne blades out of the air and cutting two neat slices out of the still-airborne citrus, gently placing one in the corner of her plate as he slid a small bowl of tartar sauce toward her as well, on the way back to the fridge to grab some drinks. [color=orangered]”Don’t worry, it tastes a lot better than you’d think looking at it, knowing what you’re used to.”[/color] He explained, sitting down. [color=orangered]”We’re poor, but we know how to make a meal.”[/color] Aelia had watched Malcolm closely when he began preparing the meal, always eager to learn a new recipe. Most of her knowledge was of gourmet dishes from her home in the Consortium, from many of the alien worlds she had visited, or what she had learned during her initial time on Earth--which she had been practicing in the past week. Compared to the genuine chefs of the Consortium, who had been refining their craft for five hundred years or more, her cooking ability really wasn’t anything impressive. She still had a lot to learn before she could hope to reach their level, and she had to focus the majority of her studies on a more distinctly [i]magical[/i] line of academia. [color=#5566db]“Brilliant!”[/color] she said, clapping hands as he juggled the knives and lemon before skillfully slicing it apart in the air. [color=#5566db]“I greatly look forward to trying your peasant-mortal cuisine!”[/color] Unfolding a serviette beside her plate, she took up her fork and stared down at her plate. Deciding to try one of the sliced potatoes first, she jabbed one with her fork and bit the end off of it. Humming with a subtle delight, she quickly finished the singular chip. That little hum didn’t go unnoticed by Mal, who was trying his level best not to look [i]too[/i] pleased with himself [i][b](and failing spectacularly)[/b][/i] as he reappeared with a pair of cream sodas in the old-fashioned glass bottle in one hand and a bottle-opener he’d made out of a fifty cal bullet in the other. [color=orangered]”Well, I’m happy to know my [i]peasantly[/i] skill with potatoes, at least, pleases [i]the great and terrible [b]Aelia Marcella Lumena.”[/b][/i][/color] The boy commented, his words dripped in that confusingly unique blend of sarcasm and warmth he shared in those rare times he was actually relaxed, as he popped open both bottles and set one down by his apparently-divine roommate, before heading back to his own seat. [color=orangered]”Hopefully you’re as fond of the haddock. Benefits of not having the federal government around to give mages a hard time— there’s always fresh fish and it’s half the price of anywhere else.”[/color] He was… talking a lot more than usual right now, Mal realized. Well, more than he did with anyone who wasn’t Mog or Eddie he’d admit, but again, this was kind of a special occasion; it wasn’t every day, or in fact, often [i]at all[/i] that he ever got to cook for anyone. Save, maybe Mog once or twice. But, well… last time he did that, he watched her outright inhale the whole thing in a half-minute flat and made the fatal mistake of asking her where she put it all. To his dismay, she looked him dead in the eye and responded- [i][color=darkorchid]”I’m glad you asked.”[/color][/i] She then used her succubus physiology to inflate her butt to cartoonish size and spent the rest of the day randomly teleporting behind him whenever he was in public, on the street or even riding the bus to scream [i][color=darkorchid]”I PUT IT IN MY ASS, MALCOLM! I PUT IT IN MY ASS!”[/color][/i], while jumping up and down and pointing at said part of her anatomy with a crazed expression. Lesson learned, never call a two-thousand and something year-old demon out on their eating habits. They generally give little in the way of fucks. Mal shook his head. [color=orangered][i]’Ohhhh, so [b]that’s[/b] where I’ve been hiding all the suppressed childhood trauma. Neat.’[/i][/color] But that was neither here nor there. Point was, the boy was happy to cook a damned meal for someone else a change… even if it [i]was[/i] for the cosmic demon-deity that invited herself to live in his house, smoke magic space-weed and watch [i]I love Lucy[/i] all day. He snorted a little. Finally starting in on his meal. ...For all his internal griping, this set-up was bugging him less and less as this ride of a week rolled on. Maybe the cheery, [i]all-powerful Demon-Goddess of Magical Whoopass[/i] was rubbing off on him a little. Aelia had continued to partake in her meal as Malcolm was consumed by his own internal reverie. Slicing into the fish, her eyes flashed briefly with delight when she bit into it. When coupled with the tartar sauce, this effect was magnified. Though she didn’t say a great deal [i]while[/i] she ate, once her plate had been cleaned and her mouth properly dabbed with her serviette, she offered him a warm smile. [color=#5566db]“A splendid meal, Malcolm, thank you! Your ability to produce a delicacy from so very little is most impressive!”[/color] she said, raising a finger into the air to command her plate and fork to go and wash themselves in the sink. [color=#5566db]“Mortal peasant ingenuity is rather fascinating in and of itself, truthfully, and it would take a great deal of it to survive in such a dreadful place as Bludhaven, to be certain. But then, you do at least have the aid of the mages living here.”[/color] Mal raised a brow at that as he took a swig of his drink and swallowed down a mouthful of fish. [color=orangered]”You’re welcome. And to be fair, we’ve also got a fair amount of demons and all kinds of non-humans helping out as well... though I guess that ain’t quite right either.”[/color] Malcolm replied, eyes weaving off to the side a little in thought and a finger idly tapping on the glass bottle in his hand. [color=orangered]”I guess it’s less that they’re here helping us and more that they [i]are[/i] us.”[/color] His lips pursed at his own words. Computer-like brain and [i]that’s[/i] the best he could come up with to explain his town? [color=orangered]”This [i]dreadful place,[/i] as you call it, has a funny way of making people it’s own. The mages, demons and non-human whathaveyous? They’re not just here ‘aiding’ us, they’re a [i]part[/i] of us. And hell, this is probably the only place outside of a wildland where they’re [i]allowed[/i] to be.”[/color] He finally said, after a bit more thought. [color=orangered]”And for all the crime, horror and general bad business that this city is, that’s just kinda how it’s always been— the last refuge for the lost and the damned, if ya wanna be poetic about it— even before the war.”[/color] Taking another gulp of soda, the boy rested his chin on his palm and offered the blonde a small, but genuine smile. [color=orangered]”...But that’s hardly decent dinner-talk, I’m just glad you enjoyed the meal.”[/color] Aelia hid well the inherent displeasure she felt when he lumped himself and the humans of this city with the lesser creatures that lived beside them. While species native to this world could remain when Consortium arrived to cleanse this world of Chaos, they had to understand that their role in life was to [i]serve[/i] the interests of the human race. [color=#5566db]“I [i]did[/i] enjoy it! Thank you kindly for going to the effort, Malcolm. I look forward to helping you improve the situation within this city, and eventually Gaia as a whole!”[/color] said Aelia, extending her hand dramatically towards him again. [color=#5566db]“Now, would you care to join me in watching the ‘Leave it to Beaver’ marathon that is soon to begin? I wish to see the penultimate results of June Cleaver’s subtle manipulations of her husband.”[/color] No one would force themselves to endure high heels and makeup on a permanent basis unless it were part of some elaborate scheme to seize control of the household. Mal cocked an eyebrow her way for that one. [color=orangered][i]’Two thousand channels at her fingertips, and she settles on the [b]Golden Oldies[/b] network…’[/i][/color] But still, with a light shrug, he stood and made for the couch. [color=orangered]”Ah, what the hell. Why not?”[/color]