Do you really think we've only been here 300,000 years? Construction doesn't last that long; concrete disintegrates, tar pavement erodes into the Earth from whence it came. Sapiens or Neanderthalensis, countless brother races of a genus leaving only us to carry on the legacy. We cannot disappoint them. We carry them through our blood and our souls, countless lives spanning across time in a way that we can't perceive from our physical coils. But we can't disappoint them.
Hello, hi and hey! I call myself Atom. Some call me Fen. Others call me Ego, blessing the journey of guiding the individual toward the inevitable endgame that is rejoining the flow of life. I try to keep identity suppressed as much as possible, but I'm not a fool; we're here to express our creative selves. I like to think that our love and desire for creativity carries over far beyond the personal and individual. It's a part of the music of Humanity, and I do love the dance we do.
So, creatively, who is this dork trying to kill his own ego? What's he like? Is he decent?
I'd like to think so. I'd like to think I at least know how to write technically. I'm almost always lacking motivation, but I've just been spoiled over the years. I've had a handful of teachers who have really changed the way I look at creativity and working with the individuals who I'm trying to be creative with. My biggest goal is to give that back to the people who I work with. I want to foster an environment, or at least an expectation that if we're writing together, you'll be writing with a professional. Professional to me means courtesy and friendliness without ambiguity: A guarantee that one can always expect to be treated with the same values that I would want to be treated with.
So what do I do with my free time? A whole lot of struggling with myself for the willpower and discipline to muster the ultimate muse. So far I've managed to get strong inclination toward effort and motion again, but inclination isn't guaranteed. We've really gotta MOVE THOSE MUSCLES! That's what I'm here for! I want to talk to people about ideas and flesh scenarios out with people that I'm interested in, and I do hope to find others with the same strong sense of creativity that I have. I want to push and pull and stretch the dough of creativity, top it with the things we want to devour, and dive into the pizza we've made together with skill and love!
Mentions: Auri Auclair, Emily G. Reed/@Punished GN | Direct Dialogue: Emperor Tennogama | Location: Traveling > Home Boat > Auri's Flower Stand, Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
Gazing across the dark at the girl at once filled the observer with curiosity and dread as one scene to the other passed through the mind of the slumbering Kenshiro Murakin. The Pit, the Mother Will, the Chalice... That girl, and the woman with pale skin. The Witch of the End... Ken felt his legs moving, running, trying to get to the girl and stop her or... Something. He wasn't sure, it felt like everything was just moving in place while he desperately tried to get out of the box he was stuck in. Screams couldn't escape, and suddenly it was his Sister's face. His Mother's. Torn asunder by the Hunters as the dream spiraled off into the ether.
He awoke high in a tree, hanging from the net he'd secured with a couple kunai buried deep in the fleshy wood. The thousands of branches beneath him gave the impression that there was solid something below him. But, this was no ordinary tree. As Ken stretched his limbs in the makeshift hammock, the branch above him began to vibrate gently from its base. This caused the hammock to rock and sway even more, until one of the Kunai pulled itself from the limb with a bloody discharge as the large vein began to squirt the tree's blood from the limb. This had several effects: One, a side of the hammock let itself loose, removing any support out from underneath Ken. Two, the tree's blood spattered across his Gi and face as he began to fall which caused great discomfort. Third, in a reaction of pain, the tree's conscious mind moved all of the limbs between Ken and the ground out of the way to let him fall straight down to the ground. Still disoriented from the terribly vivid dream and the spatter of hot tree blood, Ken fell for a few dozen feet. It would have been a death sentence for many others, but then many others wouldn't spend their time this far up a Living Redwood. The impossibly tall and lanky creatures were massive wurms whose mouths and faces were buried dozens and dozens of feet beneath the dirt, whose massive stalks resisted the wind as they climbed higher toward the light.
It was a bit ironic in a poetic way that he felt much safer up here falling down than he did on the actual ground of this place. Cloth blew around him from his clothing, and he pulled a loose bit up to wipe the sticky coppery brown from his face. Eyes opened to the sky, disorienting in a falling position as there's very few references as to the speed of descent. He couldn't waste anymore time: Hands flicked together, fingers snapping from sacred position to position as Purple Lux rushed toward the band tied around his right bicep, then back out into his hands. "Murasaki: Enlighten!"
His downward momentum halted, the very cloth around his body slowing his now weightless form to a glide through the sparsely packed trees. Once he was at a slower pace, he began to lighten even the clothes and his equipment until he wasn't falling at all, but rather hung in the dense air as if on a cloud. He checked his vest and his pouch, taking inventory of what he had left for this excursion, and determined that he was right to follow the urge that was now bubbling in him after that strange dream. He felt the call of his own Realm. Shimmer's calm embrace felt reserved and threatened in that dream, as if nothing was right. It couldn't have been if a human was involved... They either saved or ruined everything they touched.
He was still facing the sky, staring at the twin suns of of this world from behind darkened glasses meant to block the harmful rays. Sunglasses he bemused. Sucking in through his teeth, he felt the Lux heavy atmosphere around him and wished some of his friends could come with him. That one day he'd like to take them to these places where the magic is stronger, and where they'd be able to transcend their mundanity on Earth. Places like the Hidden Villages, where the magic was thickest... To be fair, St. Portwell is similar. Tennogama has said so of his own volition. In a place like this, the magic flowed like blood through his veins, making even the most complicated spell a simple task. Even from this Enlighten, he had so much control over his weight and direction that he easily stood up in mid air as if there were a solid floor of stone beneath him. This took focus in Shimmer, or other realms more closely mirroring it along the Infinite Chain.
But he had to leave. He'd been untrue to his instinct before, and for that he was unable to save his family from their doom. He would not do the same thing again.
He knew not yet what he was to find in that sleepy City, in which the Toad hides and the Snake lies in unrest beneath the soil. Not yet.
Ken let his hands and arms receive a great deal of Purple Lux, drawing it from both within and without his body. Feet planted firmly on the nothingness, Ken reached for the sword at his side. Long, deep breaths carried his arm slowly, precisely, with absolute and utter authority to the grip. Purple Lux transferred from the man into the blade, and he began to chant into the air, the ancient mantras of the Ten Paths. Each Kanji representing the ten colors of Lux bubbled through the air in purple flames that appeared from nowhere, until finally Ken held the tone pitch perfect for several seconds. In those seconds, the vibration from his voice box passed along through his bones to the sword he gripped. In a single slash, the blade flicked upward through the air, the blade resonating with such a powerful frequency that the vibrations caused it to lose its shape so that it looked like an airborne torrent of metal.
The rend in reality revealed a tatami sliding door, which slid open for Ken as the rapidly vibrating sword was slid back into its sheath and made the most deafening silence one could imagine. He looked back one last time on this savage landscape, not knowing when he'd be able to return next, and took one last deep breath at the hellish landscape of flesh trees and flatulent monstrosities that belched sulfer gas and other dreadful awful things. Maybe powerful Adepts came from this place, but it wasn't worth looking at this awfulness everyday... It was his first time looking at the ground since yesterday, and it disgusted him for the last time.
The door slammed shut behind him with a loud resonant "Thwack!", leaving the wretched place behind. A few thousand feet away, in a nearby flesh tree, a single kunai sat stabbed into the woody flesh, and would probably stay there until the beast one day died and decayed. Life is so silly You could be born a Flesh Tree The Gods are all sick
The pathway door opened just where he wanted it to: At the foot of Tennogama's shrine, where the old Toad would be waiting for him to come back. The lucky thing was, he'd always know if Ken was alive or not; he was intrinsically aware that Tennogama needed Ken alive for the Pact to remain in place, which meant that if he was still stuck in St. Portwell, the reckless young human had to be alive. Not that it didn't pain him to think of his only guard being out trotting about the Allverse without any kind of true backup, of course... But what could he do besides complain to someone who wasn't interested in listening?
Tennogama's spirit sat in the cool afternoon air, letting the water of the brook run across his underside while he laid back against a natural rock face and smoked his pipe. It was a mystery what he was smoking, but Tennogama himself knew that it was the loudest swamp-grown evergrove leaf that could be grown in the Realm of Gam, freshly burned at an offering on the other side every morning and every night to insure that he was kept well stocked with material to smoke in the equivalent of their spirit realm: The Shimmer. As Tennogama inhaled, the Kai Pathway began to burn a hole in reality that signified a member of the Murasaki Clan was fast approaching. The great spirit looked at it with the same secret bemusement that he did the first day he saw something like it, watching the colors of the flames dance about the door that eventually slid open and deposited an almost always half drained and starved Kenshiro.
Ken emerged across the mouth of the brook from the Toad, destined to stare at his great golden skin in all its basking glory. The spirit's presence was warming in a literal sense, the density of magic around it pooling moisture in the air and trapping heat that rolled up off the lake. It gave the area a constant fog, not that it protected the Emperor's modest staff in any great way. The spirit, bereft of modesty, could tell immediately that there was a troubled air about his Bondsman. Though the two simply stared between one another for a span of time, their minds and eyes were locked in the constant back and forth battle of "Who will ask who first?"
"D-daijoubu desu ka? (You are... Well?)" The spirit's voice croaked like a thousand boulders tumbling into a pool of water, his ancient voice made far more convenient for croaking and barking than speaking the Human tongue. "Honestly? I don't know yet. I had an awful dream, Sensei." "And now you return because you fear?" "Maybe... I am... I am hungry for some tacos down by the Harbor District as well." Tennogama's eyes closed gently, and he inhaled another tug of smoke from his long, thin pipe. For a moment he made no motion, but exhaling brought about a gentle nod. "You... Were right to return. I have felt a disturbance in the Magic. Things are happening that were not before."
Ken took a long and deep breath, inhaling the mist that billowed from Tennogama's direction; magical vapor from a pipe that didn't actually exist. His hands came up to his face, pulling the cloth half mask and the wide hood off his head. Patting himself down, he nodded up at Tennogama. "Then it looks like I'm back for the foreseeable future. Let me go catch up with reality and I'll start rooting around, trying to figure out what's going on." Tennogama gave a loud, guttural croak from the deepest part of himself. It was expressive of deep satisfaction, and these croaks and ribbits and barks that came from within were the preferred method of communication. Ken had long ago learned to read them, and took that as his permission to be dismissed. He traveled down the shore of the lake a few hundred feet before lazily throwing his hands together in a jumble. Another enlighten spell: At first he wobbled as he stepped onto the surface of the water, but remembering the depth of control necessary here in the Shimmer, he focused the magic closer to the soles of his shoes and feet.
Rather than actually walking like a solid surface, small bubbles of trapped and pressurized air kept him aloft above the water like a staggered stone pathway across a pond until he reached his destination. The sixty or so foot houseboat was a sturdy construct that sat in the middle of the lake at almost all moments. Though there was a dock, the resident himself didn't need any particular path to get on or off the vessel, so he saw no need to fuss with docking it unless he was too exhausted to get out there himself. It had happened a few times, thus he kept a heavy iron chain tied from the boat to the dock; worst case scenarios he could tug the thing back to dock and flop over the side. The interior was sparse, mostly open space except for a kitchen and the bed at the second floor loft. The walls without windows were covered in storage, lockers upon lockers of tools and somatic supplies that so often needed refreshing between excursions. Not to mention the bundles of Blind medications, pain killers and other modern medical supplies that he'd adapted into his emergency kits. Otherwise, there was nothing except for a hatch to the ship's bilge and a small table with a radio and a little electrical outlet into which a small cell phone was plugged, and an equally small vintage radio with two batteries sitting next to it in upright positions. In the loft, besides his bed, was a small candle burning shrine with a stone pylon front and center. Without pictures, the faces of his long dead family members slowly fade from his mind.
Only pictures of himself with some of the Sycamore Tree kindred dot the otherwise bare walls of that upper space. He pulls the clothing from himself layer by layer, the sweat and blood and grime causing the various cloths to become rigid after peeling from one another and ultimately his chest. His lithe, slightly malnourished figure was made of very little body fat, but in the reflection of a window he caught sight of himself and saw his ribcage like a xylophone on his torso, and he took a deep breath. He'd been pushing himself too hard, even he had to admit that. He hoped in that moment, as he reached for his phone to turn it on and head down to the bilge for a shower, that he was just psyching himself up over nothing. He spent until the early evening held up in that bilge weeping deep and sorrowful tears at the news that his instinct had, in fact, been right. Something awful was happening, and by the dates of the texts and phone messages that were left on his device, he was more than a week late.
It was hard for Kenshiro not to feel responsible. His ego combined with his trauma in the most hellish feeling of self hatred and rage. Who the fuck is this Father Wolf? He doesn't have a fucking clue who he's dealing with. It took Ken the several hours of processing to recuperate, letting the cold filtered lake water wash over him and run back out into the body of water from whence it came. It cleansed him of the pain long enough to think of revenge. In a sick way, by the time he was done with the panic attack, he was fine. Better than fine, he had a goal clear ahead of him, and it was more tangible than chasing the ghosts of his other family ever was. The entire Coven, after all, had not died. Auri Auclair had reached out to him, asking him to a meeting at the beginning of the week which he'd missed. But looking at the date filled him with hope. That if she was going to be anywhere on this night, he knew exactly where that was. With the majority of his actual storage in the bilge, he set about unpacking his yearly attire for the Halloween Festival.
The others told him that he was supposed to change the costume every year, but Kenshiro failed to see the point. It was like a personification; the costume chooses you just as much as you choose the costume. As he pulled the two bags out of his big storage chest, he gave a very subtle grin. There was pain behind it, as he remembered some of the good times he'd had with it on. And now more people were gone. More, after the Stygian Snake, not from some random happenstance. He wasn't coming home to a drug overdose or a car crash funeral. He was coming back to a place where his final shot at a family was being terrorized by some nameless, faceless thing...
And it all has to do with Raven Jones... Who the fuck is Raven Jones?
His teeth gritted together, but he shook it off and proceeded to don his costume. As the storm formed over the Cracker Island Historical District, the thunder somewhat muffled the loud popping blasts that signaled Kenshiro's descent from high altitude toward the dot below. The island was awash with lights, and roughly a quarter of a mile before he made contact, he began to put the breaks on. Flight wasn't direct, nor was it precise; rather Ken had gotten to be something of a master at sling-shotting himself around by slinging a few spells together. Enlighten, combined with the martial techniques of Ten Ton himself, meant that the amount of power that Ken could output from his legs and arms was like scaling up a grasshopper and an ant at the same time. Manipulating his weight by shifting it at different points during flight, he could adjust for trajectory and accuracy like a guided artillery shell. With concentrated bursts of air trapped and pressurized by Phantom Hands, like how he crossed the water previously, he can make much harsher and more broad angle adjustments, as well as using them as airbag breaks that give up and bleed off velocity little by little.
All this pressurizing and popping makes Ken's Flight sound like a twin engine plane with a blown out propeller; all this to say that it was convenient for him that a localized storm had gathered in the area. Only, the full picture of it from above really gave the weather system away. He could tell from such a distance that it was clearly magical phenomena, as all around the horizon, no other clouds were so low and densely packed. Something was already awry, and it smelled like trouble. He took a low arc, readjusting to gain the trajectory he desired near the edge of the island. With the goal of getting a vantage point, his right hand reached into his favorite part of the costume, pulling out a small bundle of copper wire. Instantly, Purple Lux arced across the metal's surface, vibrating and finally vaporizing into nothing. Time slowed to a crawl in Ken's mind, and the clarity allowed him to see all the faces that he was slowly hurdling toward. Thankfully, he was dressed in all black and backed by dark storm clouds by this point, ultimately making him difficult to spot from the noises alone as they took time to travel toward the ground.
He saw a familiar face. One he didn't like, and one that filled him with an impulsive rage that made him want to do bad deeds with his gifts. Emily G. Reed... Every story he heard, every interaction he'd witnessed, he knew she wasn't just any normal dick. She was an asshole, and Ken knew that he'd rather be a dick than an asshole... I may be dirty, but I'm not full of shit. Beside Emily was one of her cronies; Ken didn't have time to distinguish targets. He only guessed that they weren't getting killed left and right like Sycamore... The spell effect ended, and Ken's free hand reached for another goodie. Pressure built around him slowly, a rather gentle shot flung him in a lazy way over the festival grounds. As he released and began to fly forward, he took a deep breath for Channeling his aura spell and yarded back like an MLB pitcher.
The wad of paper and colored gun powder zipped through the damp air toward Emily G. Reed and her freshly fixed costume. Ken only heard the gasping puff of air that the smoke bomb made as it released its payload all at once into a dusty cloud of smoke filled with black tar. It stuck to everything it wafted over, with Ken's dispersal of the air around him causing it to spin like a little tornado in one spot. Safe in mid air, Ken looked for the place with the most beautiful flowers, then landed somewhere inconspicuous nearby before immerging. Surprising a port-o-potty user just getting out of their bathroom break, The Batman stood in full regalia with the sleek armor and the vaguely gothic aesthetic that he'd come to learn and like from his friend Leon and his family. He assumed they were here too, they always were on Halloween. However he had business, and frankly he hoped that Auri wouldn't take his dressing up as some kind of offence as he approached her Flower Stand. The triangle-shaped CLOSED sign wasn't such a beacon of hope, and he grumbled to himself about the damned rain. Dogwood bark was an essential part of his kit, and he pulled out a small bit of it from one of his utility belt's pockets.
Holding onto the bark tightly, Ken flicked his fingers together and apart a few times in seemingly random order, but to those whose eyes are opened, they'd see a glowing golden light overtake Kenshiro's hands, and from them poured a couple dozen tiny tree frogs of various colors and shapes. The largest one still fit well within Ken's palm, and roughly two dozen scrambled into neat and tidy rows. They even had little yukata tops on, and some were sporting headbands or other head gear. He spoke to them strictly in Japanese, and quiet so that any observing blinds would only assume he was a little crazy. "Auri Auclair, guys. We need to find Auri; you know the Butterfly Priestess." There was an immediate and resounding Hai!, at which point the frogs scattered to the winds as if they'd never been there in the first place. Now he was on the hunt again, and like usual, hunting without tracks.
Batman skulked into the rain, hoping to find Auri, or someone who could point him toward her.
Members: Leon, Lynette, Elise, Casey, June and Mia Richoux, Andrade Salamente, Furio Natale | Direct Dialogue: None Outside Group | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
"Junior, stop! Stop, I'm trying to cook! Actually cook! You see this!?" "What the hell, I've seen you cook! You can spare a little time, look at you. Hand in your pocket, some kind of cool dude chillin' at the stove. Rapide, Monsieur!" "Maxwell the Fifth!? Control yourself or just go!"
Leon looked back from his position at the prep counter where he'd been chopping vegetables for the kebabs that Andrade had on their menu this year. This was an every year kind of thing, and while Leon hadn't missed one, he couldn't say the same for his siblings. It was nice to have them all home this year... Even with June being June. The young man was throwing his arm around Andrade's front, trying to hold an arm behind his back in some pugnacious display of pushiness that was classic of a recently assertive Maxwell V. Beside Leon, Casey sighed deeply, and he could see his younger brother's head shake. Then there was the increased heart rate, knowing that if it was going to be anyone who got it next, it was him. Leon thoughtfully bumped Casey's arm. "Hey, listen, Furio and a few of the other guys are supposed to be getting here for the next shift, so why don't you and me sneak off a little early and get some drinks?" Casey's reaction was near surprise, mostly because he was spaced out on the feeling of discomfort he got around his younger brother. There had always been something in June's eyes that terrified Casey, the kind of look that he saw in some of the Veterans who had a particularly hard time readjusting to civilian life. He always wondered if they should've switched places.
"What? O-oh, right, shit... The time, man, it fuckin' flies in a kitchen." Leon gave a shallow curved smile to his brother. "You should ask him for a job! You seem like you really loved doing this today." he replied to Casey, throwing his head over his shoulder at Andrade. His expression brightened in return, and the nodding confirmation gave Leon enough confidence to push it a bit more. But before he could, Casey spoke again. "You're right, I really should. Honestly I even loved chow duty when we were in the rear bases; I'd always volunteer to help. When he's not busy, y'know?" "Of course dude! Yeah, it'll be real good for you, helps you transition fully into the mundane."
While the Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals rented space for three different booths, the boys had decided to help by doing work for the food booth that Andrade was in charge of. It was always Leon's first choice, rather than selling clothes and swag or running the informational booth. With all three of the Richoux Brothers home for this particular Equinox. There was going to be a bigger celebration at the Temple the next day, but for now their celebration was service to the population of St. Portwell. Their Mother and her secretary happened to be at that booth overseeing things as their covers began to pick up for dinner. She was sure to never give her son the difficult shifts, and with all three being here this year, they'd very nearly finished the opening ten hours of the festival. Currently she was dealing with June, and was quick to pick up a folder planner full of the day's checklists to wrap him over the head with. As she did, the two plastic faces smacked together causing a clapping noise that made Casey jump again. Leon felt it, and the increased heart rate again, and shook his head.
"Ma, can you not, please?" "Leon Hunter, do not butt in." "Yeah Leon Hunter, or you won't get any good boy points from Mommy." "You should stock up on them, Junie. Oh, wait, you just collect boys, nothing to do with points." "Oh sure, jump in front of the bullet, classic Casey. Why don't you make yourself useful and go bomb another hospital in the desert?"
Leon's eyes flicked between his hands and the front of the booth where there was a line of people waiting for kebabs and burgers made by Andrade Salamente. He figured he may have some adjacent fans, and some of them may want to see a boxing demonstration, but doubted they were really here for that. He kept his hands down, laying the knife to rest on the cutting board as he spun to look at Junior. His cocky smiling face stared back, and Leon gave the best disappointed father look he could give. Casey hadn't looked up, hadn't even stopped chopping vegetables... But Leon could feel the muscles tensing as Orange Lux flowed through his brother's body. He and Casey had a complex relationship as children, and Leon carried a great deal of regret over the circumstances; something he sought to rectify whenever he could.
But surprisingly, it was Andrade who threw the decisive action. "What the fuck did you just say to him!?" Leon saw Andrade pull the cast iron pan from the stove with the peppers and onions inside still sizzling, and gripped it like a club before pushing his weight into Casey. "When he could've fucking died? You say that to your brother? Your Father would beat you senseless... Madame Lynette, please get him out of my fucking kitchen!" "You talk about my Dad like you've got his dick up your a-" Leon started forward, ready to go for June's collar, but ultimately the Mother Lion got in the way.
Swapping to French entirely, Lynette began to lay into Junior who ultimately shrank into his own clothes before finally being dragged out of the booth by her and down the causeway toward God knew where with the secretary of the week right behind them. The three remaining men drew breaths of relief toward one another, each of them knowing the fury that was out there for that young man. Andrade and Leon exchanged a look, both turning their heads to the crowd, who at the front had been exposed to the yelling. They tried their best to ward off curious parties, but eventually Andrade offered some food up to those effected until the line cleared out. When they had another moment to breathe, Andrade turned back to Casey and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him. "You know we'd never think of you like that my man. I'm sure even he doesn't, he just says-"
"The most hurtful thing possible."
The three of them spoke at the same time, and while Casey didn't look up from his work, he did laugh along with Leon and Andrade, who both gave him some reassuring pats on the back. Around the same time, Furio and the girls were showing up at the booth.
"Oh my God, it's Lee Lee!" Mia seemed to be in a good mood today, which was good, because it seemed like it was starting to rain. She'd need it being bored all night. She brushed past Casey like he didn't exist, giving Leon a big hug and practically crawling into his arms. Behind her, Elise's quiet presence filled in the booth, and while Andrade and Furio exchanged pleasantries and the other two were occupied with cuddling, Elise took the time to notice her little brother's expression. "Mum said Junie's on a time out? She's got him on the merchandise booth now, and he's pouting like a little kid. She asked us to come over here with Furio while the girls hang out with June and listen to him whine."
It was hard for Casey to hide his fading frustration, so he simply took a deep breath. "I implied he was a pedophile, so he told me I should go bomb a hospital." Elise's brow furrowed. "Over...?" "It's more complicated than it deserves being, E. Don't worry, he's fine." Leon piped up, Mia the Barnacle having finally unsuctioned from him. "Fine? Lee, they cannot be around one another! What the fuck are we supposed to do for a week?"
Leon scoffed and waved his had at his Sister. That same moment, Furio came into the picture, looking between the siblings. Once they stopped talking, he took it as a sign of acknowledgement. "Just to let you know, Leon? Eight Street is out in force tonight, but I've seen pockets of your friends clustering up together. The Big Man nodded his head, finally pulling his apron off to swap off with his baby sister. Underneath was a shirt with a clown face print on the front. A zombie clown, complete with cracker brains that said "You Crack Me Up" in bloody halloween letters. Unlike some of the others, he had to take his costume off to start work. Casey, accurately, took this as a sign that they were finished their shift, and pulled his apron off similarly. He had gone low effort, wearing his tans from his last deployment along with his Channeler on his right hand. Handing it to his Sister, he hugged Elise tightly and spoke into her ear.
"I promise it won't be my problem, Sis. It's not me." She hugged him back, tucking her face into his shoulder. "I know, Honey, I know. It's not fair to you. It isn't."
Leon & Casey
Mentions:Nobody Relevant | Direct Dialogue: Adora Phoenix-Prescott/@Punished GN, Trisha Vanburen/@FernStone | Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
Eventually the two men managed to escape the booth after Leon had finished putting his costume back on. It was a rather simple ordeal of a nightgown with big red slippers, a quilt over him, and an old woman's nightcap tucked over a wolf head mask that pulled entirely over Leon's head. He had the mask pulled up like a hat while walking about the Festival so he could look at Casey, both of them with a beer in hand. There were quite a few faces he recognized, and Leon pointed them out casually while telling Casey about some of the good times he'd missed.
Not because of his time in the army, mind you, but the fact that he didn't get to be part of the Sycamore Coven. One imagined that the slippery middle Richoux would've managed to sneak into the Coven, but it seemed like whenever he was on the verge of getting into trouble, all of a sudden Lynette would be attentive again. He knew what it really was; that she'd been monitoring them all no matter how much she pretended like she didn't care. That's, of course, how she framed it. Caring. Letting Leon go out and do whatever the hell he wanted while the rest of them were forced into lives that they didn't want. It took their Father disappearing for her to let anything else happen...
The two of them walked along, sharing pleasantries in between introspections until Leon caught the noise from someone getting into a fight in his keen ear. Leon openly began to chug his beer, which lit Casey's face up as he pounded his back in solidarity. By the time he was done, Leon had patted him on the chest in a directive to follow, which he was very familiar with as a soldier, and readied himself for what he couldn't hear but his wolf brother could. Leon pulled the mask over his face so that whatever was happening wouldn't spot Leon Richoux the celebrity. But it was strange... There were... Bees?
As the two rounded the corner, they were staring at ass rolling around on the ground and covered in bees. The honey pot, Casey thought to himself as he quickly moved to stop the fight. Leon could barely see in the wolf mask, and pulled it up again reluctantly to see a familiar face getting the better of someone. "Holy shit, Adora!? Hey, Casey grab the one underneath, grab her! Girls, girls, Ladies, what the fuck!?" Leon felt Adora's power from the Trinity as his hands wrapped around her arms to pull her up. Meanwhile, Casey was also being slowly covered in bees, and was thankful he'd worn full BDU tans with gloves, as he had very little exposed skin save for his face and head.
Mentions: Nobody Relevant Direct Dialogue: Linqian Han/@FernStone, Britney Williams/@Punished GN, Layla Hyacinthus/@Estylwen Location: Festival Grounds, Cracker Island Historic District
There was a great deal of relief as Vashti Nour cleared the area. While the rain didn't let up, it did begin to follow its dark cloud owner about the fairground to give some small relief to the Sycamites in the little huddle. At first he wasn't sure how things were going to go, his finger clenched as tightly as it could against the drop lever of the case. His friend screamed for the drop on the lizard woman, its magical ammunition capable of shredding augmented flesh by disrupting the Lux related spell or effect associated with it. He figured that while it may not be enough to deal with her once she was pissed off, if he acted first there may be a few moments where he'd catch her in that vulnerable state between transformations. Whether he managed to actually make the shot or not was a more complicated matter, and most of the aforementioned relief came from the idea that he didn't need to test it now.
With Vashti walking away, the small group was left to their own devices. Edict felt determined to not let the girls out of his sight, especially if Bean Vanburen was rolling with her. When she offered to dry their clothes, he humbly accepted whatever help she could give as even he wasn't stupid enough to step on the toes of a VB. His Father always taught him to be respectful of those people, said it was Old Money like that which kept them in business. The rich and the poor, a cycle of thieving and skimming and scrimping, all with the understanding that it was the man in the middle who would foot the bill. The sucker. He knew that Sabrina wasn't her old man... But hearing her clip Vashti's wings with authority made him pass a second more subtle look in her direction as she finished her task. It was still wet and cold, but at least they weren't soaked.
That's when Linqian approached him. He could feel her shaking slightly, and chalked it up to the cold rather than trying to pry into her leery mind and find out. As she hugged around him, he felt her purposeful tug upward, and he gripped his arms around her back to support her and pass on a little warmth. But then, she started yapping in his ear about something he almost couldn't make out over the din of the festival. Slowly parsing it out, his brow furrowed into a v-shape as his eyes passed between Britney and Layla. In that moment, he was one hundred percent sure that what he'd been approached with the other day at that meeting had everything to do with little Layla Hyacinthus. Edict had never paid her much mind. Probably because he'd never been in a position to deal with the House of Cards. How could he have ever known she was connected like that without having seen her at some sort of event? He wasn't allowed to go to those until he began really earning on the streets, and since then their merry band of murderers had taken something of a dive. He had been propositioned about their takeover, even, which in the end had been nixed by one negotiation or another.
”Though going to a haunted house at our age is fucking lame without getting absolutely wasted first.” Correct. He didn't actually speak, however, simply giggling to himself. Before she could fully let go, Edict took her right hand gently, and subtly stuck it into his left pocket as he casually spun both their bodies. He was masterful at slight of hand maneuvers like this, blocking her arm reaching into his pocket with the bulk of his coat. Inside was what felt like a small brick wrapped in paper. "Grab and hold, its yours." And with that same subtle movement, Edict stepped in front of Linqian, the motion allowing her to hold the envelope as it slid out from his pocket. In the same motion, he fluffed the coat on his shoulders to insure it blocked the sight of Linqian stuffing the envelope full of money into her back alongside the pistol he wasn't asking for yet.
Frankly, he wasn't confident that the night didn't have more surprises ahead. "You may still need that other thing though." His head turned, approaching Britney as her smile overtook his mind. He could feel the burn in his throat as he began to instinctively unfurl the lotus' roots in complete disregard for his channeler still secure in his breast pocket. It wasn't any kind of real spell ever, more like a leaking of pure Pink Lux that just permeated an area with the general sensation of being trapped in a box full of one way mirrors. It took a White Lux user to actually tell what was happening, unless you were close enough to him to see the glowing of the veins in his throat as the energy escaped.
The look of gratitude, inside still hiding something I could never get to the bottom of. Would I be satisfied if I did? Would I kill her just as easily?
He shook the thought out of his head, approaching Britney and smiling with a gentle smile as he reigned his energy in. As soon as the feeling had come over the surrounding, it was gone again and pink smoke curled from his nostrils. "I'm sorry for being an asshole to you there. It won't happen again, I promise." "You told me you never wanted to see me again: First time we see each other again and I'm doing the same shit? You had every right to be mad."
But before he could lock her down, she was off toward the booze line about something or another. She'd always been like that, and while it annoyed him then, the irony of what he said left him with a genuine smile on his face. At least until it was just Linqian and Layla. "Linqian, please go with them... I'm gonna stick around with Layla, make sure that we spread the firepower around a little bit, y'know? You're better with those people than I am anyway. We'll catch up, and yes I'll take a Stel. Thank you." Whether she believed him or not was her call, but if he couldn't talk to Britney about what happened and what he knew, he'd be able to at least try and soak the truth out of this junior Coven member. He didn't even wait for her to leave earshot before he started trying to butter Layla up.
"So how have you been, Hon? Not sure if you remember me at all, but my name's Greyson. I didn't see you at the meeting the other night, you not want to show up? You didn't miss much." At worst she wouldn't take the bait... Well, actually at worst, she was in deep with the House, and she may have some way of knowing he tampered with their agent the day before. But, he barely remembered the girl, never mind recalling a reason to be afraid of her. What was the worst that could happen?
27 | Elise Richoux | She/Her "Bless our fucked up Family and keep us safe from harm."
Description:
The Eldest Richoux daughter, Elise Simone has always had her feet and legs beaten into a direction that she was expected to walk. As her daughter, Lynette had expectations for Elise that mirrored her husband's expectations for their firstborn child. From the moment she was able to walk, she was being goaded and coaxed into Kindling by her parents. Once she was, which was significantly earlier than her elder brother who was two years older than her, her first lessons of spell casting were conducted by Lynette herself, whose goal was to imprint upon her a sense of duty and responsibility that went beyond Gravity's desire to see his family fortune and precious remaining Artifacts kept safe. The way she saw it, if she had some sort of gift for clairvoyance, her daughter had to have the same gift.
It was slow going, the process of finding out that she did not in fact have those same inclinations. A large, bitter pill that Lynette was forced to swallow as her daughter grew older and less inclined to magics involving the observation of the future. At first, Lynette couldn't think of anything else but to brute force the affinity, exposing the girl to constant White Lux energy in the form of a constant bombardment of spells constantly monitoring her aura, her actions, and generally surveilling her one hundred percent of the time. Long past traumatic, Elise was essentially a prisoner of her Mother's eye as she tried to have something of a life of her own. Held back even from joining a public school like Leon, it took until Gravity's disappearance for Lynette to finally get the hint that she wasn't getting anywhere.
At the time, Elise needed time to heal herself. Rather than trap her daughter any longer, Lynette urged her to New York where she had spent her formative years. The same Coven Lynette came from accepted Elise with open arms, and she was gone from St. Portwell before the Stygian Snake's invasion began. In those luscious green forests of the North East, Elise found sisterhood and acceptance where before she'd found only expectation and observation. Not only that, but she found that she enjoyed working and collaborating with others, as well as caretaking and pampering. Slowly but surely, Elise found her mundane niche before she ever felt some sort of spell that connected with her. Now, at twenty-seven, she's come into her own in a very big way. The experience and skills she gained not only concerning her personal spellcraft, but in mundane life styling. This has made her an incredibly important face for the Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals, and as her relationship has repaired with her mother, she's become quite the reborn spiritual leader as well.
Currently she's in charge of The Temple's Corporate face, most of her work coming out of the Temple's hotel Chateau de'Archange located in an isolated part of South-Eastern Oregon roughly an hour outside St. Portwell.
Abstraction:
Elise is an Orange White Adept whose Channeler is an ancient stuffed bear. Elise spent the first part of her life basically ignoring her Orange Lux, rarely having the kind of courage it took to cast any of the spells in the first place. Lynette attempted to develop a spell alongside the girl to access her own prescient gifts that she'd assumed existed. Where Elise actually excels is in analytical detection. Rather than directly reading the mind, Elise has developed a repertoire of spells meant to read, store and recall individuals and their personal actions and quirks. She's also become somewhat famous for her magical moving pictures, which she creates by utilizing her wide databank and almost video-camera like observation to enchant pictures which move as if they're miniature video screens.
Casey.Richoux
25 | Casaeu "Casey" Richoux | He/Him "I can't turn my back on them. They don't deserve it."
Description:
Second son of Gravity and the Prophet, Casaeu Gerard Richoux was born at a tumultuous time in the Temple's history. Focused on the ever-increasing danger of butting headlong into St. Portwell's magical underworld, Maxwell and Lynette had enough on their plate that the distraction of another child hadn't been on either of their minds. It's too bad their habitual comfort-seeking in one another couldn't wait. As Casey grew up, time seemed to forget him from his own personal observation. The only child his mother didn't have the time to breast-feed, it wasn't often either of his parents were present in his life until they managed to wrangle support to their side just in time for Junior to be born. While his youngest sister Mia struggled and troubled her way out of family obligation, Casey seemed mostly left to his own devices.
The only thing that seemed important to his Father, who only really included him in the picture as a stick for Leon to beat on, was that he be Kindled. Year after year it didn't happen, even after Gravity's disappearance. With a lack of nostalgic good times that his siblings had for the love of life they'd been given, Casey seemed distant and cold. It wasn't until he found the courage to leave his surroundings that he did Kindle. After years of agonizing over what would happen if he fled the Cult he'd been born into; about what the consequences would be knowing there was a world of magic out there that he couldn't see, Casey made the choice to join the Military. Figuring that it didn't matter if he lived or died, Casey sought active duty in the name of the Mundane government that he imagined may provide him with the family he never had.
He was right, and in the middle of a deployment, in the middle of a fire fight, Casey Richoux was Kindled in the blood of his dying battle brothers as he stood to hold the ground that nobody else could. Since then, he's seen several more deployments, eventually making his way toward desk work in the Reserves. While typically not interested in dealing with his family's dysfunction, he's been pulled back to St. Portwell at the behest of Leon, who has wanted to bury the hatched with his brother for many years. It was therapeutic for both parties, and since then he's come to terms with the circumstance of his youth. He's begun to make genuine and active motions to return to the fold of his first family, even coming to develop a renewed relationship with his Mother, which we know is probably not good.
Abstraction:
Casey is an Orange White Adept whose Channeler is an old combat glove. Casey had always seen his siblings studying and pouring over the Richoux tomes, but given his unique circumstance those dusty old books were totally useless to him until he was much older. Being born from such a venerable noble line, Casey shares a strong aptitude for Orange Lux. Unlike the others, he has an uncanny knack for spellcraft, developing a laundry list of basic enchantments that focus around the improvement and usage of Firearms, Body Armor and preparation of Ammunition. Weightless guns, endless magazines, spell-infused bullets, plate strengthening: An operation that he's since taken into the Temple, making him responsible for occasional duties as their part-time armorer.
Maxwell "June".Richoux V
23 | Maxwell "June" Richoux V. | He/Him "Dad never left: He lives on in our blood and tradition."
Description:
Probably the most intense out of the Siblings Richoux, Maxwell Selen L'mond Richoux V is known by the title Junior, which he proudly carries in the form of the pet name June. This hot-headed lion of a man carries a great deal of weight in the form of insecurities that drive him toward emotional outbursts, these moments typically ending in some sort of spectacle. In truth, June feels strongly at odds with the world he's been placed into, finding mundane life difficult to adjust to. As such, he's become something of a sheltered and hermited individual whose time spent among the outside world is done with great frustration and angst. This quiet discontent has slowly developed over the years into something of a superiority complex, his opinion of Blinds exceedingly low as a result.
Rather than correct the behavior, the vast majority of people in his life encourage this behavior. Lady Richoux has few qualms about a sense of bitterness toward the Blind and mundane, so long as their own flock are considered as some sort of exception. This is not always the case, and there are plenty of instances of June taking advantage of his position in one way or another. That being said, he's often seen as charismatic by those Kindled Acolytes who he keeps in his company, and naturally he's found himself in charge of something akin to a sect of his family's organization.
He wouldn't be so dangerous if he wasn't smart to boot. With a genius level IQ, June has been taking college classes since he was sixteen, studying at an Ivy League University and coming out with a master's degree in theology with a minor in child psychology. Currently in the middle of his doctorate, Max is able to use his position in the Temple to claim work experience and inflate his hours of service in order to qualify as soon as possible. For the purpose of his employment, June's been brought onto the Temple's active staff as a youth pastor. In reality, he's found a great talent in sniffing out people with potential for Kindling, and easing them toward the process using the methods laid out by the Richoux Tomes.
June is responsible for a youth camp in the spring and summer months, living his life in the Eastern part of the state among the Cascades. He returns for the late autumn/winter seasons, where he lives a very different life than the clean, child friendly façade he puts on at the camp.
Abstraction:
June is an Orange White Adept whose Channeler is a Rosary of New Light. As a student of the Richoux Tomes, June has had access to one of the most comprehensive Orange Spellbooks ever compiled by European Adepts. His White Lux, however, has truly informed his personal Spellbook. With an affinity for Aura reading and detection, June has honed his Orange Lux abilities to suit his purposes as a Kindler of Blinds. Most frequently, June uses his Orange Lux to enchant items that are meant to encourage the Kindling of could-be Adepts. In his earlier years, June dabbled in computer technology, and still spends scant spare time enchanting pieces of tech with Orange-White mixed spells that are meant to spy on and keep track of the users.
Toad Emperor.Tennogama the Robust
1437 in Shimmer | Toad Emperor Tennogama the Robust | He/Him "The Pact remains unbroken! Fight, you Toads, like the Empire's last soldiers!"
Description:
Originally a Cane Toad Daimyo hailing from the realm of Gam, Tennogama first came to his throne after a bloody civil war saw his troops victorious in taking the capitol for themselves. It's said that he was the voice which unified the Amphibians of Gam, and that his army which took the capitol consisted of all creeds and faiths of their vast swampland home. By the time Sage of the Ten Paths Kai arrived through his secret paths between dimensions, said war had been long finished for thousands of years. Instead, he found new political unrest as territorial disputes and invading forces from an altogether different realm began to make their move upon the Toad Empire's vulnerable borders. Sage Kai managed to gain audience with the Emperor, whose generally rigid and imperious attitude was won over by Kai through means that are lost to legend and unwilling to be spoken of by Tennogama himself.
What is known is that Kai offered his services to the Emperor, who eventually came around to making a wager: That if Kai was successful in repelling this foreign aggression, Tennogama would enter into a Pact. Pacts, an ancient form of Summoning Magic, allow the user to loosely bind the essence of a Greater Apparition to an artifact that can be used to commune with and accept power from an Apparition without Aberrance occurring. In return, the Apparition is worshipped in their own realm, but are also deified by the other party involved in the Pact. In his hubris, Tennogama was negligent in setting up an alternative, assuming that the painful death the little human would go through was going to be punishment enough.
It didn't take long for the Sage to prove the Emperor wrong, and a stunned Tennogama was true to his word as he entered into a pact with Sage Kai. Of course, this was all part of Kai's trickery; his most brilliant plans and schemes often caught prideful spirits off-guard. Many of these pacts can still be found in their original scrolls within the annals of the Gold clan's library monastery. However, some were trusted to branch clans, gifted as artifacts of worship that they're meant to tend to and protect. Some are unruly spirits who are less than satisfied with their containment, while others learned to respect and revere the Sage who had hooked them into his schemes one way or another. Tennogama is in the latter category, who managed to not only find admiration for Kai, but for the branch clan who were left in charge of caring for his essence in the Shimmer. For almost fifteen hundred years, the pact has remained in the Shimmer in one form or another.
This usually jovial spirit can now be found by a small lake just outside St. Portwell, where a hidden shrine has been erected in order to house the Pact. His relationship with his latest (and now only) retainer is far different than any relationship Tennogama has had in quite some time. While invigorated by the prospect of another life like he'd had following Sage Kai directly, Tennogama is keeping a secret from Ken: The Pact is keeping the Great Toad alive. In his own world, the Emperor's body has long withered from disuse, and while he's able to maintain leadership through the communion with his most loyal servants, he will never be able to physically recover from the strictures of the Pact. Therefore, while he can and has offered his power directly to Ken, he's reluctant to do so often, rather searching for the next Daimyo worthy of the seat and the crown.
Abstraction:
As an Apparition, Tennogama's abilities only extend as far as he's able to spread his influence. For close to a thousand years, the Murakin Clan harbored Tennogama in the hazy foothills of the Kanto region of Japan, where his still relatively young and fresh essence was able to permeate the ground, water and air. Now in this strange land, weakened by his long term disconnection from his homeland and stripped of the residual energy he'd left behind in Japan, he's more a refugee than any kind of territorial beast. But as a warrior, one who warred and killed and bloodied himself for his Empire, Tennogama is just as dangerous as he was thousands of years ago. While not some grand Multiversal threat, lesser apparitions need only feel the weight behind his massive padded fingers and hands crushing them to death or the equally deadly swordsmanship that the creature displays to know that he is truly leagues above common beasts. Like the Daimyo beneath him, Tennogama's sense for battle and combat is preternatural, and his immense strength translates into surprising speed while his massive girth and powerful Emotional Field leave him equipped to receive and return damage at devastating scales.
He/Him/Himself | 28 | Japanese | 5'9" | 153lbs _______________________________________________ Hunting _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "The movies always make Samurai look glamorous. It's dirt work." ___________________________________
Wild Upbringing ⫻ Ken's upbringing was, like many Adept Legacies, fraught with danger and violence to which he was purposefully exposed. As such, Ken is always expecting trouble just around the corner, is unsurprised when it appears, and well prepared to deal with it. Son of Gama ⫻ Ken was born to a clan responsible for defending certain temples and artifacts located deep in the Kanto mountains, where it's said the honored spirits of Shimmer's natural environment are free to roam and come for veneration. He has spent almost all his life involved with or surrounded by Apparitions, and he has a wide knowledge of the different spirits and mystical creatures found living in or passing through the Shimmer. Trained in the Arts ⫻ Like a member of any other Palette Clan, Ken was trained from the moment he was able in order to defend his home and the legacy of the Gama clan. To such an end, he's studied the Hundred Scrolls of Master Kai, memorized and mastered the Gama Pact, and is a direct student of the famed "Ten Ton" Takedo, whose signature technique consists of the weaving of Purple Lux not only into one's blows, but to their weapons as well. Toad Sage ⫻ Ken has a close relationship with his branch's Patron Apparition; a mountain spirit known as the Emperor Toad, whose wisdom and patience are matched only by the grandeur of his rotund form. When it comes to the Gama Pact and its association with the Kin Clan, Ken has been taught things in desperation that the Emperor certainly wishes he hadn't disclosed. This gives Ken an uncanny mastery over the clan's Gold Summoning techniques. The Last Samurai ⫻ When Ken's branch was eliminated, he was unprepared and barely managed to escape with his life. Now, all that he has left is the Emperor Toad, whom he smuggled out of his nearly destroyed village and brought back to St. Portwell It's there that the Emperor is kept, in an isolated lake somewhere outside the city limits. Ken's property is a small boathouse permanently docked there, and he serves as the Emperor's last and most distinguished guard. Strange Survivor ⫻ With all the strange bullshit that he's gone through in his life, Ken has an uncanny knack for pushing himself beyond his own limits. Struggle, hardship, these are things he's simply used to; and his mind is hardened to his own suffering. Its left him with a clear head and equally clear goals, and a near superhuman level of bodily willpower in order to meet those ends that he craves.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I'm pretty good at blocking my face."
Ken doesn't exactly have any particular sense of style or impression of himself as a fashionable man. While he's made some headway in living like a normal Blind, with a job and a place to live that he can go back to safely and stash magical shit beneath the floorboards, he's not particularly concerned with appearance overall. As far as his physical form, Ken's interdimensional traveling has left his body in something of a suspension since the time of his clan's decimation. As such, his appearance is something close to a twenty-three year old version of himself. Clean shaven, with a long and thick mane of dark brown hair that hides his ears, Ken's face has a bit of a triangular shape with a slightly pronounced inward slope of the chin and forehead. Accompanying, his nose is somewhat flat though not overly wide, and sits perched above a slightly small mouth. His time in America has introduced him to things like tattoos where he had been isolated from them before, and he's since gotten several both in commemoration of his abilities and his lost Family. Prime among them is a back mural depicting a mountainside, wilderness, amphibians; especially these, of which thirty can be found living among the piece. In speaking of his body, it was always expected of him to maintain peak physical condition; which he has managed to do without the esoteric old school torture exercises his Father and Uncles regularly put their kids through.
Clothes are usually comfortable things for him, having spent his childhood basically in Fundoshi and sandals and upgrading to robes when he became a Kindled Adept. Nothing overly tight or form-fitting unless it's able to stretch. As such, catching him alone on his property or on the rare occasions he's in town will see him in simple t-shirts and sweatpants, usually in open toed sandals or flip flops no matter how cold it gets. He has managed to gather up something of a wardrobe from different realms he's visited, and often incorporates similar methodology when acquiring said garments. This leads to having a unique and somewhat exotic look despite him neither caring about coordination, nor about general sense overall. Often times a Blind will ask him what brand his shirt is, or what store he buys from, and he always tells them he shops "Out of State".
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I'd like to say I'm beyond 'Fuck It.', but I'm still kicking these rocks over so..."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Ken's family was killed. By whom? Ultimately he's still trying to figure that out. Most of his adult life has been spent tracking the trail of his family's artifacts and protecting the Emperor from their Fiends meant to prevent his progress. While he loves his Second Family in the Sycamore Tree Coven, he loves the idea of avenging his clan and restoring it to an honored position just a bit more. Despite his pleas, the other Palette Clans are in no open position to help, and as such his ultimate goal is to achieve that revenge and redemption himself. Isolated from his culture and hiding in an equally strange world of magic, one day he will return to the way of life he was born into. He has vowed this not only to the Emperor, but to the spirits of his Family which he carries close. But for now, something new is Amiss in St. Portwell, his refuge from the charred remains of his temple, and perhaps it will lead to new clues in his ultimate journey.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Ken is a person who knows loss. He knew it before Father Wolf, before the Stygian Snake even. While he can empathize with those who have lost loved ones in the most recent tragedy, he is a man who is isolated somewhat by his own pain. As a teen, when he assisted with the War against the Snake, he still knew the joy of his people's mutual love and respect for the trials they together knew. He hoped one day that he would lead the branch, but not in the way he does now. Living his life in hermitage, traveling from Verse to Verse like a wandering hunter in search of prey, these tendencies only serve to remove him further from the cycle of life that many of his dear companions know. In spite of this, his bonds with the Adepts of St. Portwell were born of better, simpler times. These feelings still drum up feelings of great love and ultimately pride. He considers himself lucky to be included among them, and when he is among his Covenmates, he manages a jovial and friendly outward-facing demeanor that somewhat diffuses his otherwise intense desire for action.
SECRETS ⫻ There's only one big secret that Ken makes sure is kept no matter what: Where he's been. Only a select few of his closest Covenmates even have a clue that he travels like he does, and he makes it a point to insure that they stay as uninvolved in his private family business as possible. Not only does he not trust them to keep the artifacts of his family safe should he find any, but he believes his secrecy on the matter is a key factor in protecting his Covenmates and preventing his greatest fears from coming true. Aside from that, he is hiding a small stash of artifacts that are not involved with the Coven; rather he uses them as bartering currency with Adepts of other Verses in order to get vital supplies on his long excursions.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Lonely? Please hold him, he's sad.
FEARS ⫻ While previously alluded to, Ken's greatest direct fear is the repetition of history: That due to his meddling with forces beyond himself, he'd stumble upon something that would give his enemies reason to target his friends. Despite his drive for revenge, Ken wouldn't be able to live with himself if that quest were to fall back on his Covenmates. After all, none of them deserved it. In response, Ken isn't an overly welcoming individual when it comes to his personal property or personal space if he's meeting the occasional familiar face outside the Shimmer. Beyond this, he has Emperor Toad to worry about, who isn't fussy about offerings but is most certainly fussy about feeling protected. Thus, there are certain occasions where he will ask trusted friends to stay in his cabin and protect the Emperor and his new shrine hidden in the nearby hills outside St. Portwell. Both parties are left fairly lonely without one another, despite their vaguely antagonistic.
REPUTATION IN OLD COVEN ⫻ In the days of the War against the Stygian Snake, Ken's position was strange. He was, by all accounts, a hostile combatant at first. Some key Sycamore Tree members had "gathered" artifacts that belonged to the Palette Clans. It was Ken's first assignment to track the thieves down and bring the artifacts back. When he arrived, he made his pursuit, but found that those thieves who had absconded with the artifacts were using them to combat a Grand Apparition: A Multiversal threat, and something that permitted him to exercise his right among the clans to authorize the temporary requisition of the items in question. From there, he became a willing ally and eventually a well liked, but somewhat isolated, member of their ranks.
ROLE IN THE BATTLE AGAINST THE STYGIAN SNAKE ⫻ Ken played a role of advisor and combatant, assisting and working with other Coven Members who were struggling to develop and control their Lux. While the more gifted flaunted their skills, Ken worked with the rest to make sure that when the time came, everyone would be pulling their weight. In the climactic conclusion, the final battle, Ken's own natural talents shined as he reached deep into the Emperor's Kingdom to summon the Imperial Toad Court: Powerful Apparitions attached to the Gama Pact who provided stalwart defenders and fierce attackers in the final effort.
FLAWS ⫻ Ken's so used to being alone and doing things his own way that he rarely has the mind to make contact with a friend on his own, never mind including them in his plans or adventures. While the gentle guiding hand isn't gone, Ken has lost a great deal of patience since the massacre of his clan, leading him to make more rash decisions with less patience and a lot less concern for his safety. While he knows he has duties, there's a near bloodlust that he feels when he thinks of his desire for revenge, and it urges him ever onward toward danger that he's often unsure of his ability to overcome. Therefore, it may be just a hair worse that he's become somewhat cocky about it all; that his continued risk taking has wounded him gravely but he simply has no plans of stopping. In a strange way, he wonders if he actually likes what's happened to him.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Fuck off."
Kenshiro Murakin isn't from St. Portwell. He's not from America, or even the continental North America. His past has little baring on the local area, and were it not for one incident some twelve years ago involving theft of one of his Clan's ally's most sacred scrolls of Sealing, the two locations would never have been connected. However, some teenagers in a city called St. Portwell were having Apparition troubles. That same time, Ken was coming into his own as a man of his clan; and he was being trusted to reconcile the problem. Due to his gifts and talents, he was selected as part of the team and dispatched to track the thieves to their source. When they arrived in St. Portwell, a strategy of blending and patient waiting was adopted, leadership opting to wait for the scrolls to be used in order to best track their position by the nascent energy they were filled with. A week passed before they were wrapped up in a conflict that they had never intended to be wrapped up in; a conflict which led to an ominous situation as only Kenshiro managed to escaped from the attack by the Stygian Snake with his life intact. It turned out he only escaped because of the efforts of the Sycamore Tree Coven; the very same small army of young people who managed to steal the scrolls he was looking for. Understanding that his own allies had perished at the hands of the danger here in St. Portwell, Ken decided to dedicate himself to assisting in their plight and overseeing their usage of Clan property until such a time that the threat was eliminated. While he was unable to bolster their effort with more bodies beyond his own, he relished in being able to display a natural sense for instruction to an audience who was not only willing, but in dire need of trained guidance.
Kenshiro became Ken, had English imprinted into him by a Pink Lux user, and despite all the danger in St. Portwell, he had something of a Rumspringa for himself. He discovered the somewhat decadent culture of Western America that he'd been hidden from for so long, and beyond that he had made lasting friendships and relationships with people who accepted him despite his constant culture shock. By the time the Stygian Snake was neutralized and he had to return home to Japan, he didn't want to. He vowed that one day he would come back to St. Portwell as the head of his clan, and he would establish connections between them and the Sycamore Tree Coven. For a time after his return, things went as normal. Despite his first mission taking almost two years to complete, the Clan Daimyos readily recognized his effort once they were exposed to his memories and experiences through a trusted source. After such an effort, Ken was fast-tracked toward leadership as well as a teaching position of his own. A couple years passed and Ken never made it back to St. Portwell, but he stayed busy as he began his life among his family again. Despite this, his fond memories remained there, though his village's hermited existence prevented the exchange of letters and correspondence from those American Heroes.
One fateful night, Ken's village was attacked. Demons, Fiends, barreled their way through the township under magical camouflage, rending the clan heads and any leadership they could find before stealing the clan scrolls and artifacts and disappearing into the darkness like they'd never been there. Ken and a few other Clan Toughs pursued the fiends into their own realm, but lost them in the endless hopping before they could catch up. They fell into a trap, catching Ken in a moment of foolishness as he expended too much energy to teleport the rest of them to safety. He attempted to push the teleportation, but as he immerged on the other side, he found that only he had actually made it out. What sprawled in front of him was a scene more horrible than he could have imagined. In their pursuit, the away team had avoided the Cursed Flames that descended upon the village, burning the souls of the people there and leaving a vacant, hollow town of corpses. Bereaved and in fear, Ken rushed for the main temple at the top of the hill, where he found the flames leeching away the essence of their Patron Apparition. Forbidden from adjoining by the pact between them, the great toad accepted being sealed into Ken's Channeler, using his own blood to draw 蝦蟇(Gama - Toad) on the headband's front. Near exhaustion, Ken carried out the sealing and instinctively teleported himself far from that place.
Winding up in the only other place on Earth he felt comfortable, Ken woke up the next morning on a St. Portwell rooftop overlooking the bay facing west toward the Pacific Ocean. He felt like in that moment his life was over: but the power within the headband spoke through their shared Golden Lux energy. Words of encouragement from a soul that had seen his ancestors walk the same Earth that he'd been born to for hundreds of years. "We have rebuilt before, Grandson. We shall rebuild again. The pact remains unbroken." He had argued and cursed and raged at the spirit, and the infinitely patient wisdom of the Toad Emperor held its last protector's hand through each step of the grieving process as they came. For a year, the two slept in the wilderness in illegal dugout hideaways as Ken regained his confidence and desire for action. The Emperor, on occasion, recalls being thankful that he'd been sealed as he had, otherwise the faith of his single worshipper may not have been a strong enough tether to the world of cognition... But eventually Ken immerged from the woods and managed to find some of the remaining Sycamore in St. Portwell.
The heartbreak he felt hearing about the schism and how it broke the Coven he loved apart wasn't so bad; he'd come to accept loss of what he loved. But what he couldn't accept was that nobody seemed to want to fight to put it back together. Nobody wanted, he felt, what he wanted. Some tried to pull him into their mundane world hidden among Blinds. He tried to play along for another year or two, but ultimately found that his desire to right the wrongs of the past far outweighed his desire to live in peace. He craved action once more, and despite having found a place that The Emperor accepted to settle into again, Kenshiro craved the taste of his own mountain. Their true home. But he felt he couldn't go; that if he had nothing to restore, nothing to show those dead bones and rotten posts that he was back to reclaim their souls, then there was no reason to go. His pride in his survival, and his anticipation of a future of his own design: These two emotions gave him the will to cast like he'd never done before, and before long he would begin to use his abilities in order to hunt across the Allverse for the trail of the Fiends who killed his family. Occasionally, Emperor Toad accompanies Ken as a sealed apparition, acting as an amplifier within Ken's Channeler in order to increase the effectiveness of his magic. Ken begs him to do so just about every time he heads across the threshold of realities, but his reckless nature and trigger happy attitude make the Emperor more than a little nervous; thus such a thing is withheld for only the most dangerous and dire situations.
With his latest excursion spanning back before Father Wolf began its rampage across the Sycamore Tree Coven's members, Ken is returning to a situation that he's completely unaware of. Though, he will have text messages and voice messages on the phone he left behind, so his arrival will not be uncalled for. Just unheeded for some time.
Abstraction ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "The endless scrolls were nothing compared to Pacting."
TYPE ⫻ Adept
ABSTRACTION ⫻ Purple and Gold Lux, with a metal fronted headband as the Channeler.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ One would be forgiven for thinking that Ken's abilities come straight out of the panel of a comic or manga; but the truth is that art will always resemble life. Some of the most creative people have their third eye opened, and simply reap the rewards by telling stories of worlds that don't exist to the bulk of mankind. For Ken, the world of "Ninjutsu" is just the native expression of magic passed down through time honored tradition over a period of close to a thousand years of Japanese history. Unlike those mundane Adepts, Ken was brought up Kindled from a very early age, and has since amassed knowledge and mastery over a great number of spells involving his personal affinity, perhaps more than an Adept of his age normally would. Only, Ken hasn't developed a single spell of his own: He's learned every single one from one source or another involved in his upbringing and teaching.
Ken's Spellbook can be boiled down into three disciplines.
The Hundred Scrolls of Master Kai ⫻ All Palette Clan Adepts receive basic educations through the teaching and methodology of the Ten Path Sage, "Miracle" Kai. His famed Hundred Scrolls are a collection of spells he thought that all his disciples across the various Lux Disciplines should learn from, mastering what their abilities permit them to in order to best perform in their particular field. As a Dual-Lux Adept, Ken had the capability to access twenty out of the hundred scrolls, all of which he had at one point mastered; but as some go without material component or consistent practice, they've faded into his memory to be replaced by more complex magics.
Enlighten: A simple verbo-somatic Purple spell which removes the weight of worn equipment until recast. Can be channeled to increase the effect, turning the Adept or an effected object weightless as well.
Haste: A somati-material Purple spell allowing the user to increase their perceptive capabilities by warping time for a very small part of the brain. This grants the user vital moments to make micro adjustments to the body and split second decisions with more consideration. Requires small bundle of copper wire for a single use of 3 seconds maximum over a 24 hour period.
Hazy Doppelganger: Verbo-somatic Gold spell summons a number of minions that are able to mimic a single target object or individual within a meter (3ft) of the caster. Requires an exponential amount more energy per minion and per summon, limiting the overall volume of entities summoned at a given time. They are also entirely ethereal creatures, unable to do any harm and immediately banished once the effected target experiences a sudden change in momentum or if the spell is recast.
Dummy Buddy: A Verbo-material Gold spell summons a single entity that is of equal weight and size to the caster. The minion is a non-combative entity, cannot defend itself, and is banished a short time after taking damage. Only one Dummy Buddy minion can be summoned at a time, as the only time Dummy Buddies become aggressive is in the presence of another Dummy Buddy. Requires a small vessel filled with wood shavings or clay.
Send and Receive: A pure somatic Purple spell that swaps the user with an object within a 10m(30ft) radius that is of similar weight to the user. The transition is instant, and will only be successful if the targeted object isn't rooted or bolted down by some force other than its own weight.
Kai's Caches: This is a somati-material Purple spell requiring a legitimate gold coin to use. A portal is opened to one of Master Kai's many secret caches, where weapons and tools are said to multiply within through magics lost to the Purple Clan. Channeling the spell with the usage of additional material will expel a large number of bladed and heavy weapons such as knives, swords, spears and axes. The main drawback is that gold is in short supply, accompanied by a lengthy somatic input that cause some Purple Clan scholars to consider this ability a Ritual Spell.
Skin Jack: A Gold spell requiring a somati-material input. A minion is summoned that takes on the form of a large, wet cloth that can be stuck to a surface. The Skin Jack acts as a net trap that can be placed to walls, ceilings and floors in order to trap corridors and entryways. Using more of the material component can change the properties of the Skin Jack, making its surface texture smoother or rougher, as well as a version that can be worn over the user's body as a clothing mimic. Requires rawhide string made from predator throats, and only one can be summoned at a time. Summoning a second will banish the first, as will using any other Gold spell while the Skin Jack is deployed.
Beacon Beetle: A somati-material Gold spell requiring the carcass or molting of any beetle species native to Shimmer. Summons a small beetle attuned to the user's energy, which the user can sense with directional accuracy up to 3km (1.8M) away.
The Dojo: A Tri-Component Purple spell meant to trap a single touched target in a temporal arena where time is slowed to a comparative crawl. Originally used for assassination attempts, this spell finds use as a force equalizer that allows the user to focus on an individual target in a situation where they would otherwise be outnumbered. Requires a true hourglass to be smashed over the target as both material and somatic components, and covers a sphere of space roughly 30m(90ft) in diameter and traps the target for two minutes, or until they lose consciousness.
Phantom Hands: A verbo-somatic Purple spell that effects a basic telekinetic "mage hand" effect. Allows objects up to half the user's weight to be picked up and affected by touch spells with a 5m(15ft) range. Channeling this spell applies an effect capable of lifting more weight at a longer distance (1.5x user weight, 15m(45ft) distance), but removes its ability to apply touch spells from a distance.
Smoke Sprites: A somati-material Gold spell which summons minions made out of smoke. These sprites flit about in all directions horizontal and vertical, spreading themselves thin until they're too wispy to remain associate, at which point the minion is banished. It's a basic level spell that requires a ready-made source of smoke, causing some Gold scholars to debate if it's a Ritual spell or not, which it clearly isn't thanks to technology.
Observant Ancestors: A somati-material Gold spell that summons a stationary minion in the shape of a small statue that is able to observe its surroundings through sight and sound, and can be given very basic commands in order to use it as an early warning system, subtle spy or even a cunning distraction. The material is generally a fresh meal, and can be substituted for substantial offerings of fruit or other raw foodstuffs.
Secret Paths to Nowhere: In his time, Master Kai was said to have walked the soil of a thousand realms. Utilizing a Ritual process requiring a sword made of a certain type of metal being resonated at a particular frequency, the user can channel Purple Lux into the blade and form a particular character in the air. This character is cut into the fabric of reality, and corresponding to the thousand realms, one is able to step through the gap and follow Master Kai's secret path to the destination. This spell requires a great deal of energy, leaving the user vulnerable both before and after making a jump between worlds. In addition, Master Kai's pathways are a thousand years old; not all of them lead to places that are safe to be anymore.
The Gama Pact ⫻ His Father before him had been head of the Branch, whose specialty as one of the Noble Gold Boughs was guardianship of one of Japan's Legendary Apparitions, or Spirits as they call them. The Emperor Toad, like his contemporaries tended to beneath the other Boughs, once worked with Sage Kai in developing a pact which would see his patrons worship and protection in exchange for assistance and strength when it was most needed. The Gama Pact is a summoner's guide to the world of Amphibians, and details the Toad Empire in structure like a bestiary or warlock's grimoire. Specific rituals summon greater minions of the Toad Emperor from their marshland realm, while lesser servants are readily available through quick access spells. While unable to recreate the Hundred Scrolls for personal use, Toad Emperor's consistent tutelage and guidance of Ken has allowed the Gama Pact to live on through its sole heir in its entirety.
Salamander Jester: A somati-material spell that summons a troupe of acrobatic, fire breathing salamanders that reach close to the 2 foot mark. Occupying the First Ring of the Gama Pact, they are the most basic Toad Empire summon, requiring only a pile of ash to be summoned from as a spawn point. These salamanders, summoned 8 at a time, are generally obedient if not mischievous creatures prone to starting fires after accidentally (or purposefully) harming one another. Under a skilled leader, they are capable of causing havoc at the point of a needle: Their hyperactivity and particularly dangerous fire breathing can make them quite dangerous in certain environments where flammable materials are plentiful. The Salamander troop is banished once they've expended their allotted energy through use of their fire breathing, general mischief, or if they've been damaged by anything bigger than a house cat.
Tree Frog Scout: A somati-material summoning spell calling upon the smallest and most numerous of the Toad Emperor's army. Tree Frog scouts, summoned from the bark of swamp-bound trees, range between a few centimeters wide to around a foot in total diameter depending on the amount of energy used and bark available. While the larger variants are summoned at up to ten a time, and can be found carrying small daggers and other weapons slicked with poison from their deadly excretions, the smaller variants can be called forth up to a hundred at a time, at which point they make up for their lack of weaponry by excreting different reactive chemicals and toxic agents that can form anything from smoke to nauseous gas and even explosive glycerides. Large Scouts can remain in a dormant state for up to a 24 hour period taking no energy from the user in that time, and are banished by either taking damage from anything bigger than a badger, running out of their allotted time/energy, or successfully attacking their target. Smaller variants can lay dormant for up to four hours, and can be set off early by any explosive device wide enough to cover the effected area. Otherwise, without immediate direction, the frogs will simply loiter until they expend their energy and collapse without effect.
Pacman Tough: The first "Upscale" of the Gama Pact, this Ritual spell summons the Bosses of the First Ring. These Pacman Toughs, at between three and four feet wide, are stout district leaders who are summoned when enough of their lesser kin are offered up as a hearty meal. Up to six Toughs can be spawned at once, and each function independently of the other at the behest of their summoner. Once summoned, these toughs do what they're best at, and begin to rough up whatever they're directed toward. If they can't outright pop their target into their mouths and eat them whole, they will bite with steel jaws, punching and kicking with their piston-like limbs until the target eventually disappears among the rain of blood and viscera. Their skin, while moist, is thick and layered in fatty tissue making it a nightmare to grapple against them. With all six pummeling a target at once, their strength and tenacity can become overwhelming. Like their lesser counterparts, they will disappear when their allotted energy has burned up over a maximum of thirty minutes. Impact damage will not cause them to disappear, and they must either be crushed entirely, or something must pierce them from inside their gaping mouths.
Bullfrog Mercenary: A somati-material summoning spell utilizing money as a material component, up to a hundred dollars can be spent to summon ten bullfrog soldiers of various sizes up to four feet tall. These soldiers are equipped with unique weaponry ranging from clubs to spears, and their powerful frames allow them to fight with surprising strength and speed. These humble mercenaries are, under a skilled commander, a well drilled force capable of applying their particular weapons where they're most needed and supporting one another's weak points. However, they aren't exactly loyal to the Emperor, and while the summoner's money may be good, there are morale issues that can see them prematurely flee the Summoner's field of influence, banishing themselves back to the realm from whence they came. Otherwise, they are lightly armored and possess basic level Emotional Fields as magical defenses. They can be banished by technical mortal wounds, or if by some miracle they can make it to the end of their energy supplies after up to an hour.
Toadskin Trooper: A somati-material summoning spell involving a pre-written scroll signed with ink blessed by the Emperor Toad as a material. This sub-contract summons up to 6 five foot tall Rock Toad Troopers equipped in heavy armor. These troopers carry pot-guns; wide-bellied steel cannons that hold grape shot loads alongside powder charges. These Troopers will attempt to maneuver and position in coordination with the summoner and one another, lining up a perfect crossfire to catch the target in. Once voided, the pot cannons become clubs and shields at once, their girth turning mundane blades and firearms with their thickly walled sides while providing a heft necessary to clobber a man to death. While armored, it is still old school ceramic plates. Good for deflecting swords and catching bullets, the tiles tend to break and shatter on impact leaving the armor overall less effective as time passes and a fight rolls on. That said, they can take a brutal impact and get back up thanks to their loose skin and densely packed muscle fibers. As with the Pacman Toughs, impact damage without a crushing effect will not banish them; only a significant enough piercing wound applied to the torso or head, or some rending attack that would sever their bodies outright, will banish them. Otherwise, they have a twenty minute contract before returning to their posts elsewhere.
Goliath Brute: The Second "Upscale" of the Gama Pact, this Ritual spell summons the most robust and single minded of the Emperor's army. The Goliath Brute is summoned one at a time through sacrifice of enough lesser minions of the Second Ring. Standing at just over thirteen feet tall, these massive amphibian berserkers stand on hunched backs and powerful legs and often carry some of the biggest weaponry the Emperor's Armory can supply. While not particularly intelligent or cunning, the Goliath Brute is an unwavering wall of muscle can lift boulders in its arms and crush them with its kicks. They're able to jump with incredible speed to unexpected heights, often letting their weight slam down upon their enemies rather than trouble themselves actually aiming to swing. While other summons are banished by some sort of damage threshold, unless this particular greater minion is killed by magical damage or by some act of God in the form of overwhelming physical damage, simple wounds won't be enough. However, the Goliath is a stupid brute that is difficult to wrangle even for experienced Gama Summoners; and as such can be easily manipulated by mind altering Lux energy.
Cane Guard: A high energy requirement somati-verbal summoning spell summons three Cane Toad Guardians who stand at six foot tall each. These guardians fight to prove themselves to their Daimyo and their Emperor, and are heroes of the Toad Empire. Unlimited in their energy consumption, the guardians draw directly from the summoner's energy. They are completely dependent on the summoner's upkeep, and piggyback off the emotional field in order to adeptly defend themselves from magical attacks. All three guardians are skilled warriors equipped with the finest weapons in the Toad Emperor's Armory, including metal/ceramic armor and vibrating steel swords meant to convert kinetic energy into independent sawing power. While these skilled and patient combatants are able to hold their own against low level Adepts and Apparitions, they're difficult to hang onto for very long as a summoner, as they require a constant channel of one's own energy to continue their pressured onslaught against a target or targets.
Salamander Priestess: A difficult to perform somati-material summoning spell requiring the dust of pearls to be sprinkled into water blessed by the Emperor Toad himself. The Salamander Priestess, unlike her lesser kin, is a composed giant salamander woman standing just over five feet tall. Calling upon the resonant energy of the Toad Empire's hidden realm, the priestess is able to mend wounds and reinvigorate bodies for a short five minute period of time before she begins to go on about how it'll be noticed if she's gone any longer. After that, she elects to leave the influence area of the summoner and is banished to her realm. Otherwise, any damage done to her or unfavorable conditions in weather such as too extreme of a temperature or too dry of an environment will cause her to expend energy at an accelerated rate. If it's intense enough, it just plain counts as damage and the Priestess' pampered form disappears back into the smoke its summoning caused initially.
Cane Daimyo: The final summoning of the Gama Pact's Third Ring, this Ritual spell requires the presence of the Emperor Toad directly, as well as two Salamander Priestesses and a Cane Toad Guardian. While the two priestesses channel energy directly from the Emperor into his chosen champion, the summoner is swallowed in order to pass along Lux directly to them. Saturated by Lux, the Toad Emperor is able to remold the Can Guard into his own image. This Daimyo is directly linked to the Summoner like a mirror puppet, and the two entities share an equalizing of energy as one nears the point of adjoining. With the influence of the Emperor, a barrier is kept between the two entities that never lets them fully adjoin. While their combat ability is significantly increased as a duo, the overall energy constraint of this final summoning is exponentially higher than any other as the Daimyo uses its chameleon-like ability to copy and mimic spells with the summoner's Lux. In order to maintain the symbiosis, both Priestesses must remain alive and summoned, meaning that once their allotted energy is depleted, the Daimyo cannot remain in the Shimmer and is banished like any other dead minion.
Ten Ton Takedo's Teachings ⫻ Lastly, as the nephew of the Purple Clan's main branch household, Ken was permitted to study advanced combat techniques designed for Purple Lux Adepts by one of the venerated Tournament Kings. His great great granduncle, "Ten Ton" Takedo, developed a signature style of Aikido utilizing Purple Lux's propensity toward Telekinetic power. From there, Takedo further molded it for practical use on the field, incorporating Karate, Jit Kun Do and weapon training. Unlike general spellcasting, the specific usage of these powers requires a particular somatic stance to be drawn with the body, as well as unique breathing techniques being implemented.
Ready Stance: The most basic stance in Takedo's school, Ready Stance allows the Adept to better circulate their Lux through the body by manipulating one's frame into a position where breathing is easiest. In this stance, both legs are spread apart in an A frame shape, while both arms are held up at chest level and winged outward. The fist and the hand meet one another in the center of the chest. All other stances of the school are derived from this neutral position, and for a competent Adept, it should be easy to manipulate oneself into a better position. Attempting to cast Purple spells from this stance decreases their overall draw on the body's energy stores and allows more than one to be channeled at the same time.
Offensive Stance: Assuming a low ready position, this stance instinctively shifts the Adept's Lux flow toward the arms and the legs. This facilitates a more effective style of striking and grappling as verbal shouts and grunts are used to project telekinetic force in different ways. Most commonly, strikes are given additional power and a short range increase by casting matching telekinetic blasts simultaneous to the Adept's own blows. If range doesn't matter, telekinesis is used to manipulate the mass density of the limbs which increases the damage of direct strikes. For more range, a small wormhole style portal can be generated mid swing with the fist entering the hole and one spot and leaving in a completely different place.
Defensive Stance: This is the core that the entire school was predicated and built upon when Ten Ton Takedo began his journey. A stance hand built for strike redirection and ultimate defense, the Adept assumes a low guard position that transitions smoothly with its counterpart the Offensive Stance. With the stance tightened, Lux distributes itself toward the epidermis with each deep and intentional breath the Adept takes, creating strong anchor points for telekinetic padding and temporary shielding to develop. Simply, blows against the Adept are turned away as strong bursts of Telekinetic energy dampen the incoming force. In addition, the entire body experiences a shift in mass density. A small layer of outward projected telekinesis prevents a second opposing layer from crushing the Adept, and the two form a high density barrier that causes the Adept's physical form to act as if it were an incredibly heavy and dense object.
LIMITS ⫻ For most of Ken's spells, there are very specific material requirements that ask him to be prepared for a situation he may never even get into. Carrying material components for close to twenty spells at all times is just impossible without some serious pocket artifact. Beyond that, some of the material costs are either time consuming and too tedeous to gather or quite literally too expensive, rare or risky for him to supply them often. Alongside that, his combat potential and ability to function hinge on him being able to cast these spells consistently over a long period of time, leaving him playing with his cards close to his chest while he waits for an opening to strike. On the flip side, a great deal of energy can be expended at once if the necessity arises, but this can leave Ken totally exhausted and ultimately defenseless for at least an eight hour period afterward. As for the Toad Empire's minions and summons, Ken can only utilize one ring at any given time, meaning that if he's summoned Scouts, he cannot summon another minion besides Jesters and so on through the hierarchy. Utilizing his advanced combat stances is a process entirely dependent on the Adept's ability to freely breath, meaning that if at any point in time he's without oxygen circulation for more than a few purposeful moments at a time, the stance will lose all effect. At that time, the effects must be reapplied.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ Curse of the Natural Order: In his attempt to save his Guardian Spirit from certain doom, Kenshiro put his life and well-being on the line. Wretched otherworldly living fires consumed the Lux in the air around their hidden village like a gas leak, stoking incredible blazes of black and blue flames that danced across the corpses of the dead. In his escape, it was inevitable that he would make contact with these cursed flames, and so a curse was passed along to him in turn.
Whether the flames had twisted humors or they were made for something like this specifically, the curse placed upon him is both poignant and deadly. Specifically linked to the usage of Gold Lux, this curse piggybacks Ken's own energy, occasionally sapping it from his body. This wouldn't be so detrimental if the Lux simply went to waste, but the Curse is both a leech and a saboteur.
With the likelihood of effect rising in tandem with the amount of Lux sapped, this bleed-off is redirected through the curse's complex and arcane formula into a summoning all its own. The spell produced by the Curse ushers in a Fiend of varying degrees of complexity dependent on the amount of energy expended by it. This Fiend hails from a world so far inaccessible to Ken, whose masters are those he believes slaughtered his kin, and will actively focus their attention on him and any active summons he's arranged.
While the initial effect doesn't prevent its associated summoning from happening, this isn't necessarily a good thing: With some of his spells requiring multiple previous successful summons to work, the result of a single high level Gold spell being the Curse's trigger can result in a double-casting, both draining Ken of all his Gold Lux reserves and potentially harming him by overdrawing from his vital energies directly.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Ken means strong; but some days I really don't feel it."
Face Claim is Shuntarō Yanagi, whose movies I have never seen. Ken is my anime love letter stamped and delivered to the Recollection Allverse. The Emperor Toad is NOT being targeted by the Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals.
Mentions: Leon Richoux Direct Dialogue: Linqian Han/@FernStone, Britney Williams/@Punished GN, Layla Hyacinthus/@Estylwen, Vashti Nour/@Atrophy Location: Cracker Island Ferry Docks > Festival Grounds, Cracker Island
Edict was happy to crack the Stella open, stuffing the bottle cap into his pocket and clearing the beer in a matter of a few seconds. He was so thirsty, after all, as the ganja core of his cigar was giving him terrible cottonmouth... While he chugged, he listened to Linqian bash his choice of costume with as much of a smile as one could have with a bottle hanging from it. "Woah, ayy!-" he threw his hands up like a true Italian caricature, "-Unless I went to some fashion designer ahead of time, or... I don't know, some magical tailor, whatever I was gonna get would be cheaper than rocking vintage Giorgio Armani and fuckin' Prada wingtips. This is my Dad's suit from his hayday, the belt alone was like six cartons in those days."
Pocketing the bottle as well, he was now on the lookout for a trashcan; but as Linqian mentioned the idea of having to cut in line at a ferry to be shoulder to shoulder with the masses of mouth breathers, he simply couldn't bear it. His arm dipped down, scooping up his black and gold leather guitar case by the handle and moving his body to gesticulate a different direction than the ferry. Toward his car, in fact. "Well, you're not in any rush really, are you? I say fuck the Ferry, lets go catch my family's boat. It'll be more comfortable than whatever that shit is." he offered, waving his hand vaguely at the loading ramp for the ferry.
”This isn't some roundabout way of tossing me in the sea, is it?” Linqian joked, momentarily glancing at the guitar case before looking back at Edict with a slight smirk. ”Sure, I'm perfectly fucking happy with not being packed in with a bunch of horny teens and pissed adults- and Sloane. Fuck that, let's go.”
It was another forty-five or so minutes before Edict and Linqian were anywhere as close to Cracker Island as they were at the Ferry Dock. City traffic was bad enough, but now daytime revelers and weekend block parties were constant roadblocks. In the meanwhile, the two conversed casually about nothing in particular. He did end up explaining the roof was down because he was smoking, and offered some to Linqian after disclosing that there was, in fact, marijuana in it, as well as his own jacket in case she got cold. As he took it off and put it on the middle of the wide bench seat, Linqian could see the holster around his shoulders and the butt of his pistol hanging from it underneath his left armpit. His sleeves were rolled up, and his forearm tattoos were on full display along with his rigid, muscular forearms.
Eventually they ended up in the South End. The neighborhoods at the south part of the Bay were well insulated by a chain of thickets that formed a wooded privacy barrier for the rich gated communities. They were actually going to his Father's home, the place he'd lived in as a baby. He didn't bother sharing with Linqian, figuring that she wouldn't really want to hear it. Nor would she want to hear that he was upset, for yet another year, that his Father couldn't be assed to come up from Portland. Even while his own half siblings would be there. After all, someone had to live in that big house if his Dad wasn't.
Dad... Weird fucking word.
In the time it took them to drive, he was pressed to make a phone call which was clearly about him being flip-floppy with plans. From Linqian's seat, it seemed like he said one thing to them, and was now going back on it. Pulling it out of him, the sense was correct. He'd planned on taking the Ferry, but redirected the ultimate blame on Sloane, who he figured was going to be occupying the same Ferry. Making it seem like he cared much about Linqian's comfort. "For your own comfort, we don't need to walk around like there's tension. Lets just have fun."
But the ensuing family experience and boat ride were anything but comfortable, and Edict ended up having to admit to himself that he'd have rather just dealt with the crowds at the Ferry. First his older brother was busting his balls over making the rest of the family wait. He was a handsome man in his own right, and Linqian was able to see the similarities between the two men despite the elder brother having a bit more of a "dad bod". But, ultimately he was introduced as Eljay, short for Luigi Junior, and his wife Kaitlyn was quick to introduce herself as well with the immediately uncomfortable white person question.
"Oh my Lord you are so gorgeous Lin-shan. Where are you from?" Eljay was quick to snap at his wife. "St. Portwell you fucking duck, where do you think she's from?
Like Edict's Uncle, Eljay was aware that Edict was in fact a magical son of some voodoo priestess, and did his best to tiptoe around his brother after a time where he got a heavy dose of the stuff. Not that things were much less awkward after that. It seemed like Edict's "Family" was more than just close people like Linqian's experience. This was THE Family. Linqian would be able to recognize faces that she'd only seen on the news in courtroom footage, happily interspliced into a warm picture of family living with dozens of kids and teenagers and wives chatting away. As much as he didn't want to play the introduction game, Edict couldn't really find a place for them to stand on the eighty something foot yacht. So, after at least a dozen introductions and his cutesy family name being spilled by his Grandmother, "Gemmi" figured it'd be best to get where people understood that he was just trying to get a ride... He brought Linqian up to the deck where his Uncle was actually driving the boat. There were four or five older men chatting back and forth; no costumes to speak of between them. When they heard Edict and Linqian coming up, one turned and caused the whole group to spin like the duo had found the vampire convent's hideout.
What ensued was a bit of a conflict between Edict and his fellow Captains. While Linqian didn't have all the details, Edict was considered a Captain of the Devola Family, and as such had certain inalienable rights that were respected by the other Made Men around him. This did not make him immune to the long lived tradition of Italian-American machismo bullshit, as much as he tried to hide in the relative haven of the Twin City metropolitan area. There was a comment about Oreo cookies, dunking in milk, something said by one of the other men near the Uncle. A pretty awful thing to say concerning both of the duo's mixed heritages. The Uncle, who would later politely introduce himself to Linqian as Vito, nearly cuffed the other man in the face, shouting at him and grabbing him by the collar. Edict's first reaction was to join in the beating, but instead he quickly flicked his glasses onto his face and Linqian would've been able to feel the disturbance as Edict began to cast a spell across the room. Immediately, all the men were stiff as boards and silent. Rather than speak to them gently, Edict made very vocal demands that they be left alone, and to tell the others not to mess with Edict and his guest anymore.
It was very effective, and only the Uncle seemed permitted to stay. He had, after all, defended the two of them out of basic principle... But also because Vito Devola was Consigliere and Edict respected him enough to never actually use his abilities against him. Knowing what his nephew could do, Vito didn't even want to consider what the girl was capable of, and was just as happy to play it cool as he smelled the wafting scent of shit from the guilty man as he uncomfortably left the cabin. Edict gave Linqian a knowing nod as the deck cleared off and they were finally permitted to sit and relax in peace.
For a thirty minute boat ride, it was a lot more trouble than it was worth. Edict had Vito pull into one of the public launches to let them out early, a decision unquestioned by the Old Man who simply did what he was asked. On departure, there was a cold goodbye to the duo without even anchoring the boat. It was like a drive by deposit, and Edict had it no other way. Clearing his throat as they walked down the dock toward the festival grounds through a virtual back entrance, Edict rustled his guitar case while apologizing to Linqian for the entire situation. It wasn't like Greyson to admit when he fucked up, but here Edict was doing just that. He was probably more annoyed about the how things turned out as she was. Regardless, they had made it to their destination. The island was big enough that they couldn't chain it all off, and people with their own boats were usually trusted to stop at the admission area near the main pier. The Devola Family never did. Not for the amount of money and resources they dumped into it every year. People like the Van Burens weren't remotely interested... But the Temple was, which was always interesting. Fuckers were always burning some effigy or rolling up some pagan ritual to fascinate the Blinds.
But as the duo walked on into the fairgrounds, the rain began to trickle down. Edict's eyes narrowed at the sudden perspiration, his head spinning to check the horizons and finding that the storm clouds were isolated low over this part of the island. It was instantly relaxing, as he hadn't put his roof back up on the car. But it was only a brief respite before the realization bashed his head like a bell. Sudden isolated rain? Wizards were afoot. While they were still in the relative isolation of the rear grounds, Edict stopped himself and took a deep breath. "Hey, you feeling this? I don't think this rain's natural..." He reached across his chest, unclipping the pistol from his holster alongside the two magazines. The bullets gave off a vague hum to those Third Eyes who perceived them; Orange Lux enhanced ammunition, with little crosses carved into the lead slugs. Supposedly they were charged for twice the powder that was actually in the cartridge, which in turn made the pistol heavier as he'd had it made to withstand the tremendous amount of pressure coming from the quad-plus ten millimeter ammunition. "Take this. I know you probably don't want it, but take it. I'd rather if we get split up you have something you can use... I ran into a pretty serious character yesterday, so... Just be safe.
”Yeah, it ain’t,” Linqian held out a hand to feel the rain, raising her body temperature so it evaporated as soon as it touched her skin. She tucked her hair into her hood with a scowl. Fucking typical- Edict was handing her a gun. What the fuck. ”Where the fuck am I meant to put this? I can’t- you know what, fuck, okay.” He clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer so Linqian took the pistol, putting it in her bag which just had room. She was pretty sure the last time she’d used a ‘gun’ was during paintball for her brother’s birthday, and that really wasn’t the same thing. ”If I shoot myself you’re paying the medical bills.”
"Lets get to the bottom of it: I don't think I like anyone we know who can make rain..." Not that they had to go very far. There were some pretty tall ladies nearby being accosted by a Crocodile, and as Edict made it closer to the Beekeeper, he realized his intuition was spot on. "Britney? Brit!"
The Day Prior
The meeting was to be held at a neutral location. Obviously, the Elder Lamb was the most suitable option. A time had been set. Now, all there was to do was wait.
Only a few details had been dropped in the correspondence House of Cards left for the Devola family, mainly that the money in this particular job would be good for them. It was enough to entice a representative to meet with them. But House of Cards didn't want just anyone. They wanted Edict Devola specifically.
Phantasia Vorpal sat alone at the bar, idly stirring the olive in a James Bond martini. This particular drink made her smile, reminding her of a lonely, lonely little girl that wandered into her parlor the other night. She wore a simple black dress, wide brim hat covering her eyes.
She sat there waiting, but she wasn't unguarded. At least 5-6 men were dispersed in the crowd of happy patrons, dressed in their suits and idly sipping or smoking as they watched the doors and windows carefully. One couldn't say that the leader of the House of Cards wasn't well protected.
Why she came herself, though, remained to be seen…
As Edict made his way out to that oh so distant part of town, he had a nostalgic memory about riding in his Father’s car. Him, his Uncle, and a couple of his Father’s other close associates. There was a country club out in this part of town, and while the four men were mostly there to play Golf, Luigi Devola always made sure to bring Edict.
Those were warm memories; watching the men play golf, sitting on the cart, lugging around heavy bags of clubs, the grilled hot dog lunch at the end of the road. He never figured out what his Father’s actual play was, bringing him all those times. If it was just getting him used to working, or if there was some sort of scam they were playing with, he’d probably never know.
Well, I could know. But life needs some mysteries.
Now, as a kid, the Lamb Club was one of the places his Dad would go to without him. Occasionally after those days golfing, Luigi would have Edict trucked back to St. Portwell proper and go on about his business from the Lamb Club. Edict had only been once, and only outside while his Father made some collections.
But since then, the place had become far less desirable. In an attempt to make up for lost profit, the owners put up for a spot deeper in the city, naming it the Lamb Club while the old location became something more like an old man’s hangout. The Elder Lamb. A little on the nose for Edict, but it still made him chuckle to think of the two places as a “chain”.
The young Captain rarely rolled about with backup; but this was a random meeting out in the styx. He didn’t feel like being Father Wolf’s next victim without at least giving the fucker something to think about, so today the car was full. And so was the SUV behind them. All in all, they totaled eight individuals with concealed firearms.
Edict requisitioned his Father’s working Cadillac, and felt safe behind the armored door and window as they arrived at the Elder Lamb. He’d arrived under the pretense of a luncheon, which he’d called to reserve prior to the meeting itself. The eight men, parking their vehicles closer to the exits than they were probably allowed to, poured into the club in a short burst with their suit coats and their hats in their hands.
The man himself hung in the middle of the pack, the gentle weight of his ten millimeter brushing against his pelvis as the holster rocked back and forth on his belt. He was the only person in the group with any kind of supernatural inclination, and he let his powers loose upon the room without a second thought.
Ethereal pink tendrils slowly expanded across the room, hunting and prodding for active Emotional Fields. Targets became illuminated by the cursory resistance to such a naturally weak spell, with Edict feeling the severance of those doomed strands as the miniscule wisps of Pink Lux shattered across the surface of some seriously busy barricades.
As the ethereal threads moved across the room, Edict would notice that out of the House of Cards men she brought with her, none activated the threads save for her. It appeared she brought mundane protection with her today. Mundane protection with sharp eyes, as they watched slyly as their waited guests arrived.
He picked the woman out at the bar right away; her reaction being a particularly strong one that batted away his influence with an especially cruel swipe. He imagined her trailing back to him, and before he could get much further, he pulled the spell back. The group of men took their table, and after a moment of settling in, Edict was back up and headed toward the bar.
He wore a black lounge suit with gold accents, cufflinks and a patterned gold tie matched his newly repaired sunglasses that dangled from the coat’s breast pocket. Approaching the bar, his frame and stance as he walked marked him as a man of sheer confidence. He had been given a code to use, something innocuous to say to the bartender as a signal for his newest potential business partner to hear. ”Bartender? I hear that bottle services are table only on Tuesdays, is that correct?”
A smile appeared under that wide brim hat of hers, and she gave a gentle tap of her cigarette holder on an ashtray as she addressed the bartender.
“A drink for my friend. Top shelf, anything he likes.”
The hand holding the cigarette holder gestured to the seat beside her, as the lady’s bowed head turned to him.
“Please, be my guest.”
She took a puff of her cigarette, turning her half-hidden face to blow the smoke into the center of the room.
“I trust you haven't brought any trouble with you?” She said softly, “The spear has been on the move recently… But I imagine you know that better than I.”
There was a soft crack of a smile as her statement hovered in the air.
”If you mean individuals who, themselves, would cause some sort of ruckus? No. Just some close Devola associates, looking for some good food and alcohol.” he replied, his head tilting backward toward the table full of mafiosos.
With a slickness, he ordered a rum and coke and took the seat next to the enigmatic woman. He’d never met her, never seen her, didn’t know what her goals were; but there was no mistaking that she wasn’t normal. Hat aside, her Emotional Field was thick and robust, and didn’t turn him away so much as let him get lost in the distance between its outer edge and the inner flesh.
Taking a sip of the drink as it hit the bar, he mulled over what she meant by spear, not exactly sure himself. Giving it the few seconds to process gave him a bit of clarity, enough that he could take a wild guess and probably be right.
”As far as our badge friends are concerned, I’m not worried.-” Edict intoned as he took his cigarette case from his breast pocket and proceeded to light up with a fairly cheap lighter. ”But, is that the business we really want to be discussing?”
By ‘spear’, she was of course referring to the enigmatic PRA. As mysterious as they were, ‘loose lips sank ships’, and her spies had picked up scraps of intel from their more simple-minded members over the years. With the attack on the Sycamore recently, it was a wise move to be extra conscious of the badges.
Satisfied with Edict's response, the woman gave a knowing nod.
“Of course… the House of Cards has come across a bit of a snag, you see.” She said, tapping her cigarette holder against the ashtray once.
“We have need of your family's cunning and strength. But more importantly, we have need of your trust. The target… trusts you. You specifically.”
She let the words linger in the air for a moment, taking a sip of her martini.
“The job itself is simple enough for a man of your skillset.” Her voice dropped to a low note. “We need you to… procure someone for us. A kidnapping, if you will. You'll be compensated handsomely, of course.”
Edict’s interest was piqued, the idea of kidnapping someone who he knew being something he wasn’t unfamiliar with. Sometimes people just had to disappear. A grave smile crossed his lips, and he swigged back the rest of his drink. ”My fair Lady… I hesitate to question if you’re aware of what my particular status is among the rabble. I’d not consider myself well liked by my peers; so either you’re overestimating this individual’s closeness to me, or you’re certainly asking a heavy thing of a man to do. So, I’d beg your price…”
“Even a momentary hesitation while you greet them is enough, isn't it?” She said with a sly smile. “Instead of trust, perhaps them being acquainted with you is more accurate.”
She ashed her cigarette, setting the holder across on the tray while she chose her next words. Negotiations were an art, and she had learned it was always a good move to let the other party open with an initial bid.
“Price is such a… fickle thing, isn't it? I understand there are certain expenses involved, men to pay and cops to avoid. Bribe off if you play that way-” She took a breath, swirling her martini nonchalantly, “-So it's better to ask what a fair price is for a job such as this. Especially since your target is ‘special’, much like yourself.”
”You understand, things get complicated between individuals such as ourselves. My particular brand of coercion is best suited to dealing with those outside our world…”
Edict paused, thinking about what he'd been told about the House of Cards. Not a whole lot, frankly. Business associates, occasionally request protection and security for high stakes games, eclectic individuals. Not exactly social, but they managed to be earners for themselves with an internal security crew that Blinds generally don't mess with.
”Long story short, and unfortunately for you, I can't even begin to muster a price for you unless I know specifics on the target. Now, I consider this Family business, so understand that even if I refuse this outright, I will happily assist in facilitating a meetup with someone else who may in turn follow through. So, how about we spill the beans: Who are you looking for?”
The woman’s smile seemed more predatory for the briefest moment, relishing. This was the crux, where everything hinged, where she's see if Edict or the Devola family would be willing to involve themselves. If they'd risk it all for a special, special job.
She finished her martini, and gestured to the bartender. The glasses were removed, and a new rum and coke and martini were set on the bar. She swirled this one slowly, before her bowed face turned to Edict.
“How's your relation with Britney Williams?”
Edict couldn't hide the recoil the question caused. It could have been anyone else: Literally any other member of the Coven. It would've been easy to toss them under the rolling train of the Mafia.
So why did it have to be his Britney? They called him for this. There's no way this woman sitting in front of him didn't know their history. She was toying with him. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in to make sure his lowered voice would reach the woman loud and clear.
”Are you busting my balls right now?” Edict asked, his voice not wavering as he went from calm and collected to teetering on the verge of violence. ”You've got some serious stones asking me to kidnap my girl for you. You better have a good fucking answer for what you want with her…”
Almost immediately, six heads whipped in their direction, hands pressed into inner coat pockets and waistbands where firearms were hidden.
A subtle gesture of her head, and the men relaxed. Slightly.
Her face turned towards Edict, black laced hands softly gestured in a visible recoil, palms up, as if she had just touched a hot coal. There was a slight lick of her lips. She relished moments like these.
“Now, now, no need to get all tense.”
She leaned forward, a hand cupping her cheek with sick intrigue. “This is why, Mr. Devola, you are the perfect fit for the job. No one knows her like you.”
A pause, before a sweet smile played across her glossed lips. “You can either take the job, or watch her get swept away. Your choice.”
It was none of his business, after all, what the House of Cards wanted with Britney. Phantasia sat there, adrenaline spiking in her veins as she tried to keep a perfectly calm facade. Her smile wavering between sweet and predatorial.
Edicts first instinct was to go for the gun at his waist, but good sense made him think twice about it. Whoever this woman was, whatever she wanted with Britney, it didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew was that he had the chance to save the only woman he'd ever had the choice to love.
He thought about her, about the last arguments they had, about how he'd been wrong for using her. The only regret he had was that he wasn't more honest and forthcoming with her. He always thought it was macho to protect the woman, that she should never have any place in his manly business. Remnant thoughts of his upbringing.
But it was overwhelming love for Britney that welled inside him. The Pink Lotus unfurled, whose thick and serpentine roots all lifted in defense of their master. Edict's hand casually reached for his sunglasses to stop the pain as it crept up his brainstem. The pain of raw casting was nothing compared to being shot, at least not in small bursts.
”Look, Miss… Whatever the fuck your name is… Your beef with Britney ain't founded. She's a good girl, she's legit, and frankly I don't like you insinuating that you plan on kidnapping her.”
His fingertips pressed against the newly repaired frames, and he slid the sunglasses from his pocket for them to rest in his hand. Edict had developed his spells with the assistance of his Mother, and it emphasized wordless casting and somatic manipulation; typical gesticulations triggered internal imagery, quite literally the past casting spells far into the future.
Edict flicked one of the temples of the sunglasses, and in an instant he was no longer hovering. His magical roots dug into Phantasia's emotional field. At first they were subtle, potentially offering a false sense of security as he tunneled his influence straight toward her brain.
”Normally I don't get worked up, but… You invite me out here to this shitbum part of town with your fucking stupid hat, then you ask me to kidnap Britney Williams like I'm some spiteful, hateful ex boyfriend. And, what? Expect me to just go with it?”
The intensity of the probing was ever intensifying as Edict leaned in closer to her. Whatever happened next, he was simultaneously shoring up his own barrier in the hopes that if she retaliated, he'd be able to make it out of the deadlock.
”But now I'm going to have to make you forget all about it.-” Edict grunted, straining himself as he tried to brute force his way into Phantasia's mind. ”-And you're going to go home to whoever your fucking Boss is, and you're going to tell them that Britney Williams is off limits…”
A lick of the lips as Phantasia felt the pressure of a particular abstraction. This was exactly what she was looking for.
With a sly, slightly tight snicker from the pressure, her head lifted. Harrowing, coal black eyes stared hard at Edict, like the river Styx was begging for him to drown in despair in its depths.
She pressed hard, feeling a battle of wills as invisible pressures washed over her own will. Kicking it into a higher gear, she bared her teeth in a predatory smile as she pressed him with a haunting gaze. He'd feel it. The coldness. The sickness of despair, crawling at the edges of his will. Sharp, like the cold blade of a mafioso.
As she pressed, she observed how he moved. How he touched his glasses. How the pressures increased, looking for any weakness in her defense. It was, well, fascinating. Phantasia was already idly piecing together what she would say to Isabella when she returned to the Casino.
Fascinating…
Her men grew restless at the words of Edict, some half standing, some taking steps towards the bar. Phantasia simply smiled, and raised a hand, not breaking eye contact with Edict. The men stared, then seemed to hold their positions.
“If you really think you can change my mind, be my guest.” Phantasia said, an arrogance in her tone as her black eyes narrowed.
”C-c-curfl… Whudu wizh frrrr…” Edict wasn't an offensive spell slinger. He was acutely aware of pushing his abilities to their limits and what he could do at the outer edges of his own spells. Currently, he was just as busy protecting himself as he was drilling a hole in the woman's E-Field, half a dozen Power Words sticking themselves to his brain in order to shut down key centers that would otherwise be left somewhat exposed to counter attack.
Hence the slurring. He had the belief that ”Numb and Dumb are targets for None.” Or, in other words, you can shoot all you want. If there's nothing worth hitting, why waste the ammo? He was slowly, surely, slumping over in his chair as his motor skills dulled to the most basic functions. His movements were slowed to a crawl, only the emotional center of the brain left running on hot. Its where the casting really came from.
Feeling safe, he let the Lotus unfurl completely. A thousand points pressured Phantasia like countless diodes hooked to her mind directly. The stage was set for his latest Spell: A high-powered lance meant to break through Emotional Fields and directly damage the brain underneath.
Everything was so slow. He could only see Britney's face smiling at him… It was the day they went out of town to the Farm, to that dark part of the forest where he didn't have to be Greyson Devola. A place where he could relax and forget about everything and give the most basic parts of himself to her.
And right now, all he could do was protect that smile.
An echo projected itself through Phantasia's ears. ”Pink Lotus’ Subtle Drift: Let Me In.” Like a mine cave-in, the E-Field protecting Phantasia's gray matter shifted before falling in on itself entirely. A thousand spikes drove into the softness, their illusory nature causing no direct pain. Having no access to his eyes or ears, Edict couldn't tell if it was working or not.
She was, indeed, hooked, sitting there motionless, helpless.
Edict didn't waste any time formulating a Command String of different power words, uncaring as to the intensity of his carvings or the depths that they were being carved at. ”Pink Lotus’ Guiding Principle: Power Word Cease. Assess. Cease. Bullshit. Flee. Return.”
And then, like nothing ever happened, Edict broke the connection he'd forced open. As his senses slowly came back to him, his arm moved to wipe the drool off of his chin and neck as fuzzy eyes focused on the Witch he had assailed. He thought about the intended Commands and if they'd be carried out properly or if breaking the E-Field like he had would just render her comatose entirely. He'd never tested, but he knew what the string was meant to do.
Cease: Refrain from immediate violence. He'd found the sensation of an urge to fight back, and immediately squashed it before it was active. Assess: Essentially an unlocking for him, allowing him to discover more subtle impulses and targeting them directly. Cease: The second iteration directly targeted the dark bands where he saw Britney's name held. He assumed these were either targets or enemies in the woman's mind, and he did his best to scrub Britney from the consideration. Bullshit: A classic, he targeted their current situation, isolating the memories forming currently in Phantasia's mind and preventing her from speaking about their meeting truthfully. If anyone asked, she'd lie about what happened. It didn't matter to him what the lie was, only that it wasn't the truth. Flee: Not in a scared fashion. The type of fleeing one does when they want to avoid someone at the grocery store. Embarrassed and hurried avoidance, and he hoped she'd bring her men with her. Return: It wasn't the last time he wanted to see this woman. Return was directed toward him in her mind, ensuring that after a period of time, she'd actively seek him out again.
Edict looked at her closely as he regained his full vision, and as he returned to a fully upright position he tucked his glasses back into his pocket. ”I hope that was everything you were asking for… If you continue your pursuit, next time you won't leave on your feet.” he punctuated by hocking up a loogie and spitting it at her feet.
‘Assess’ brought forth some interesting subtleties. Edict uncovered a bloodlust first and foremost for the head of Britney, and a desire to make her suffer. Hidden underneath that was raw pain. Grief. Phantasia was grieving over someone, and using her bloodlust as a goal, as a cover-up to hide from the emotional pain. There was a list of names, yes. The only other name that had equal or more bloodlust surrounding it was the name ‘Andrade Salamante.’
Phantasia, after the influence left her, felt feverish and cold. Like reactive pain from after waking up from the sting of an anesthetic needle, her breath came in hyperventilated gasps. Reacting to a pain she couldn't feel.
Her skin was hot to the touch, yet she had a cold sweat. Her head was already lowered, and her eyes returned to a normal pink, squeezed shut before she dared to open them again.
Everything felt… terrible. Strange. Like she had suffered a type of Chinese torture. The headache was evident of that. There was only one thing she knew as she woozily rose to her feet.
She wouldn't harm Britney.
“Please excuse me.” She said with as much grace as she could muster, feeling the desire to escape from the presence of the man before her. Instantly, hands were on her as her men supported and escorted Phantasia from the vicinity.
And just like that, they were gone. Edict was left sitting at the bar with drool on his shirt and a burning question. Who the fuck is Andrade Salamante to them? The Temple Restaurateur? Edict had been to Le’ Sanc the night he got into town, but hadn’t considered speaking to the chef at all; Leon had simply told him to go there if he was ever back in town and he followed the recommendation.
He’d have to warn the Big Guy too then… Maybe. Maybe he’d just watch it play out? Hell, maybe when she came back, she’d want help with Andrade? He’d happily oblige that. Smugly, Edict smiled to himself as he finished his drink before cockily joining his fellows at their table to have a big lunch, all the while ruminating on the situation at hand.
As Greyson got a bit closer to the situation playing out in front of him, he recognized the scent of the Ozone heavy on the location. He didn't recognize her companions, but as the Crocodile turned in his and Linqian's direction he immediately knew that face. "Woah! Woooooah, God Damn, I guess you really embraced life as Emily's pet lizard!? Clear the fuck off, Nashty Hoor, before someone calls animal control." Jokes aside, this wasn't good. Vashti Nour was not only someone on his list, but a very dangerous someone with a lot of power and unpredictability. She was liable to do anything, so Edict was already looking for places to duck in cover when the heavy claws came out. His finger slipped to the latch trigger for his case, the feeling of his best pal bristling within just waiting to get out.
Mentions: Sully McPherson, Leon Richoux Direct Dialogue:Linqian Han Location: Bed > Cracker Island Ferry Docks
Edict woke up in a cold sweat, feet instantly swinging from the bed as he rushed for the bathroom to vomit up whatever he'd imbibed last night. He was well convinced there was a curse placed upon him, incidents the day prior having gone belly-up. That Witch he'd met... Had it not worked? Why a Recollection like that? He was really regretting coming back to St. Portwell as his guts worked their way back up out of his mouth and into his toilet: He'd already made a fool of himself at the Church Meeting, his position in the group was tenuous at best, then slighting a Family Connection only to wake up to this bullshit? Not to mention... That was the Beer Chalice!
He'd recognize Sully's flask anywhere; at least the guy used it like a flask. The whole Coven was a herpes outbreak waiting to happen back in the day with so many lips touching that thing. But, whoever the girl was... She had it? It was the past, so it had to be long before it made it into that lug's hands. Edict's mind didn't stop working just because he was giving himself up to the God of Porcelain. He felt a stranger's hand rubbing his back. He couldn't say he knew her name, but the comfort was nice. Once everything was done coming up, Edict turned his head to look out the bathroom window. The sun was close to rising, soon he'd have to check the wire tap recordings. Coffee, working out, then the Festival. Nobody missed it if you lived here; it was one of the best events in town. And a reason to dress up. Linqian had actually made plans to talk shop while they hung around, and he hoped there'd be some of the other more rowdy members of the Coven to hang about with. Almost sickening how he enjoyed hanging out with these people.
He spit the last of the poisoned, mucus filled phlegm into the toilet and flushed one last time, standing up. The woman didn't say anything; he hadn't told her to. Part of the transaction. "Go home." The girl took a deep breath, nodding as if she had any choice but to agree. Her hand left him, and she coldly gathered her things and dressed herself to trod off into the chilly city morning, leaving Edict alone with himself. He had a long day ahead, and thinking about this Recollection was going to get exhausting fast. The height of the afternoon had passed now. The air was on the cusp of changing as Edict drove down the road with the Impala's top down, his sunglasses dutifully blocking out most of the sun's harmful rays while still illuminating the wonderful St. Portwell bay area. It was starting to tilt westward, meaning the people gathering on Cracker Island for the usual fun times were in for one Hell of a sunset. Edict definitely wanted to be there. He took a peek in his mirror and grinned to himself as he saw his Uncle and cousins in the car behind him. The old man gave a smile and a knowing nod while Alice and Marie fussed about with their costumes behind him. Edict threw a thumbs up, and he saw the old man's hand wobble back and forth as if to say so-so. He laughed openly, and reached for his cellphone to talk to him. As he did, he was hit with Linqian's text message. He shook his head and dialed his Uncle.
"Lord of Pork, this is Mixed Bowtie." "Knock it off you Simian, what? Whadda'ya want?" "I kinda missed my business, so you take them and head for the other place. I'll meet you guys on Cracker." Edict laughed as his Uncle threw his hands up in the mirror. "Don't shrug me, Old Man, I'll drag you across the bay on that fuckin' boat." "That'll be the day, Punk. You and your fancy magic tricks."
He flipped Edict off with a great big smile as he hung the phone up on him. Edict proceeded to turn out of the traffic and down a nearby side street and into a random parking lot. Life was easy when you didn't worry about the car getting towed. A few minutes later and he was rounding the corner toward Linqian. To see his costume was to believe that he couldn't be more self aware. Usually he tried to dress as casually as possible around people, but what better way to tell people that you have a sense of humor than to caricaturize oneself? What walked toward Linqian was dressed in a pair of black and white wing tips, perfectly pressed gold and black pinstriped slacks with a thin Armani leather belt. His body was covered by a similarly pinstriped vest covering a dark gold button down shirt. His white suit coat was slung over both shoulders like a shawl, with a gold chain clipping the two sides together to ensure it didn't fall off. On his head was the most gaudy fedora with the same black and gold pinstriping and a white band wrapping around it. He also, not-so-conspicuously, was carrying around a guitar case that looked like it had some weight to it.
He had a full cigar in his mouth, tip glowing cherry red while plumes of white smoke climbed up from behind his sunglasses and into the air. "Woah, there she is... Where's, uh, The Big Bad Grandma? What, Leon not come with you?" It was the most obnoxious Brooklyn accent that came out of his mouth, with that cigar still clutched in between his grinning teeth. He stopped right next to her and put the guitar case down on the ground with a thump, pulling out his phone and scrolling to an image of Leon dressed up like a grandma werewolf on the 'gram. Him, and seemingly the rest of his family, crowded outside a stall in the middle of the festivities.
"He posted it like an hour ago. Crazy how life works, huh? Father Wolf if I've ever seen him.-" he joked, finally stopping to see Linqian's vaguely long face. "-Wait, what's up? I know that look, and I swear I didn't even have to poke. What's up, huh?"
The Temple of Charming and Graceful Individuals (Yesterday)
It had been a long day, but Lynette knew it wasn't done yet. Her days were never done. Twenty-four hours of waking life; the surveillance operations couldn't just be passed off to others when it was an entirely spellbound affair.
The funeral earlier that day had taken a great deal of her energy, and now she was feeling sluggish as she once more changed her clothing. An all day affair in a heavy, dark black mourning gown. It was weighted at the bottom, and in between the fabrics were concealed ballistic plates to deter any sort of Blind assault.
Stripped down, Lynette looked in the mirror at her nude frame. In vanity, she managed to pose for herself, a smile cracking across her face. She shifted her legs, arms, watching the almost unnatural musculature ripple just beneath her pale skin. She bit her lip at the sight of herself, nodding before finally breaking off.
In that moment, she felt the same lurching connection that she'd felt a million times before. The sensation of deja vu that told her she was locking into a sequence. Her innate gift of White Lux manifested in dreams of vivid clarity that detailed action and emotion with uncanny accuracy. In the moment, she caught the edge of anticipation and sadness. Both welled up as she edeticly recalled the clothing she proceeded to don.
Her favorite dress robes. She remembered Max bringing them to her, how her Mother-in-law had made them with the assumption that Lynette would maintain her position as Priestess of the Dawn. The burned orange and gold swirled together upon the stole, the pure white cloth of the robes themselves shining in the dim light.
She followed the dream to the letter, making way for her lockbox and undoing it to remove a wide brimmed hat. She fluffed up the middle, letting the pure white witch hat climb up to its full height. Also removed from the box was a blade. The metal was black, cold, and jam packed with so much orange magic left behind by Max that she figured if she cut someone with it they would just explode.
He always told her to keep it close, but seeing it was painful. But, magic told her she needed it now, so it folded into her big sleeves and sat right near her hand where it was accessible. And then it came, the interruption. Frantic knocking at her door.
“Mistress!? Mistress! She's back!”
Lynette clenched her jaw. She didn't know who she was, but she could render a few guesses. Wordlessly, she pushed the door open and blew past the attendant to make way for the main chapel. This is where her dream gave out, leaving her to deal with what came next.
… The doors to the main chapel burst open; kicking down the door was the esteemed leader of the Greenwood Coven, Ruby White, except in her plain clothes, which consisted of black leggings, some sneakers, and a red Nike t-shirt. Notably, she had that massive tree branch she used as a staff in hand. Everyone looked at her in awe as she raised her staff in the air and shouted,
“... Bring me Lynette!” Ruby began, “Tell her the Chosen One has returned!”
She screamed… and all the Temple members were looking at each other in confusion, mumbling this and that about a ”Chosen one.” That was when Ruby grabbed her staff with her other hand and fired a few pale-yellow blasts of her spring beams at the ceiling. Each blast was enough to punch a hole through drywall and left behind various plant life and vines. Everyone ran away screaming as Ruby reached into her pocket, pulled a blunt out, slid it between her lips, and pulled out a lighter. She sucked on the blunt in the open fire as it created smoke.
Her eyes landed on a vase.
Then she walked over to it and pushed it over while waiting for Lynette to show up…
At first it was left to Clarissa to deal with, and while she didn’t lift a finger against her once proud sister, she did let loose with a verbal tirade while the others ran. It wasn’t until Lynette actually arrived on the scene that she cleared herself out and left them to speak. Lynette, ascending from the stairs, stared down at Ruby as she smoked on one of the pews. It wasn’t exactly what she was expecting, her old pupil. No wonder she wore the robe; she needed the comfort.
”And here I got dressed for this. What the fuck do you want?” She had no interest in pretense or image with Ruby. Out of anyone, she cared the least: She knew Lynette’s mind.
“Wow, rude,” Ruby said… before she took a large step forward and loudly tapped the bottom of her staff against the floor. “So, Lynette, the Temple’s esteemed leader, I have a question for you…”
Ruby took a long drag of her blunt, held it, before letting it out, and then asking the golden question,
“... Why did your little pet bitch attack my friend and ruin my plan to take Judas’ head?” Ruby asked, tilting her head. “Maybe you forgot, but don’t your people and my people have a little deal where we stay out of each other’s way?”
Ruby narrowed her eyes.
“... Are we forgetting how much of a fuckin’ powderkeg the city is right now?”
Lynette was still a bit sore about the whole thing; it’s not like Alizee hadn’t paid for the mistake with her life. She did her best to listen to Ruby, and taking a deep breath she descended from the dais down to Ruby. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and held up her hand. Two fingers extended, expecting a hit from the joint.
She didn’t speak at first, clearing her throat.
”Well, you didn’t exactly come to see the funeral, did you? The problem was dealt with the night it came up, and a young woman died. But now you come around like it’s some sort of problem I need to settle when you were the one who, and this is self admitted: YOU had plans to pop the powder keg.-”
She paused to stare at Ruby; the kind of stare she used to give when she was disciplining the girl all those years ago.
”-Especially with the Sycamore Tree and their situation, Ruby! Why the fuck did you have plans like that in the first place!?”
Ruby bared teeth.
“... Lyric Brown, Felica Harvey…” Ruby named as she pounded her staff on the ground. “The friends I had that were killed by the Nazis for their artifacts.”
She was silent as she said,
“After Kaiser Draeger went down, their artifacts went into the hands of those bastards, and all we were trying to do is get them back. Problem was that a lotta’ them are under Judas’ wing after Das Sonnenrad fell, and he has a problem when you fuck with his men.”
Ruby shook her head.
“So, we were going to remove him from the equation. I mean, if he was willing to let literal Nazis under your wing, then he really had it coming.”
Lynette grabbed the bridge of her nose and growled. Her hand flicked out, snagging the joint out of her hand and pulling a heavy tug from it. She held it in for quite a while, longer and longer until it was too much and she had to drive it like a flame from out of her lungs.
”Oh, Ruby, if you weren’t such an egomaniac you’d have help with this sort of thing! And then we all could’ve been involved and we could make sure that these things get handled in a way that isn’t how we handled them back in the day!”
She stuck her hand out, passing the joint back to Ruby as she took a deep breath. It cleared the lungs and brought a moment of her blood rushing to her head.
”Now what? You want some sort of help? Recompense for your lost wares? Or did you just come to hear me blow smoke up your ass about a problem you made? Or do you forget that I love you and that you’re welcome back here along with your entire cast if you could just end your childishness!?”
“Problem I made?” Ruby tilted her head, placing a hand on her chest as she feigned shock.
“I… I want to remind you that the Greenwood Coven wants no issue with The Temple of Graceful and Esteemed… Whatevers,” Ruby began, standing up straight and shaking her head. “And in return, I want you to affirm that incidents like this will be avoided in the future.”
She sighed.
“... Maybe, we could work together to that end,” Ruby hung her head. “It’s becoming obvious that Greenwood - my people - need help out here in St. Portwell. Except against Emily. That bitch’s ass is mine.”
Lynette gripped her hands, balling them into fists of frustration. ”Ruby, you know we’re not adverse to trimming the fat, but whatever 8th Street’s problem is, we need to deal with it the same way! We are working toward Paradise! This land is sacred! The thing in the fucking ground, Ruby! You know it’s necessary that we have as many bodies as we can get!”
Ruby jammed a thumb into her chest as she valiantly said,
“And 8th Street is my problem to deal with. Not the Temple. Not yours. Mine. I’m sorry, but this is something I have to do, Lynette.”
”The fucking Chosen One can’t take faith that her enemies would be taken care of by natural process? That the fruits of our labor won’t be borne to us as we have worked for them so far? Ruby, you could have everything you want and more at your fingertips, but you’re too impatient, Gods Damn You!” Lynette barked, smashing her hand against the pew. ”Why must it be this way with us!?”
“Impatient?” Ruby tilted her head. “I’m only saying that it wouldn’t sit right with me if I used the Temple’s resources to, you know, defeat my arch-rival. As far as all the other fuckers? Yeah, sure.”
She sighed.
“But, Honored Temple Mother, how can we fix the broken bonds we have between us? I know I left a few years ago to strike out on my own… but, St. Portwell is… well…”
She awkwardly laughed, hoping that Lynette would get the point.
”Don’t fucking butter me up, girl. Honored Temple Mother my cunt. You have your own Coven, you’re your own woman now. You’ve dug holes. I told you: I love you. Just end this Chosen bullshit. I am a mere prophet: my duty is to usher in the realm and the age. After that, we can talk about who is meant to rule. Lynette took a longer breath, taking the joint back to pull another long draw.
“Fine,” Ruby rolled her eyes, speaking like an annoyed teenager. “But, I don’t want to rule St. Portwell. I don’t even think the city should be ruled. The city is meant to be free. The only problem is that we got assholes like Emily, Judas, and Kaiser Draeger who try to impose their will on others.”
”You will learn in time, my Love, that someone must hold the leash. And when that time comes, we will have the war that will settle things. For now, it’s all a game. A long set of postures and poses as we jockey for position.”
Lynette’s personal posturing was over. She let her guard down, quick to welcome back as was her philosophy. It was impossible to burn a bridge with the woman, and in turn she expected that no bridge would ever be burned on her. Every option was open. They were established, and St. Portwell’s tenuous status as nexus of the Paranormal world was only getting more tenuous as the prodigal children returned in flock. The Miracle Children were home.
”So, Ruby… Tell me about the artifacts. What happened?”
Ruby shook her head,
“The Artifacts I am looking for belonged to my friends, Lyric Brown and-”
Lynette interrupted her: “Sisters! Your Sisters!”
Ruby sighed, gritting her teeth.
“... My sisters, Lyric Brown and Felicia Harvey… Lyric was a genius that who made a whole lot of them, and Felicia had the Unicorn Gem. One day, they were hanging out with my fellow sister, Autumn when Das Sonnenrad goons attacked them. They spared Autumn because…”
She awkwardly trailed off before she continued,
“... You know, but they took their artifacts, and that was why Greenwood went to war with the Sunwheel Cult. Why Greenwood allied with that bitch Emily… all I want to do is get the artifacts that they loved or worked hard on, out of the hands of the Nazis. That’s it.”
She sighed.
“Everyone keeps getting in my way…”
Lynette’s face became frustrated immediately. There was a sense that tension climbed from the floor back up to the ceiling. ”Spared her!? Fucking spared her? God, their philosophy makes me fucking sick. Jobs half done, ends left uncut over some crap about races that don’t matter?” There was a pause as she tried to think of what to do about the situation that didn’t involve direct murder.
”Alright… We play ball with them. Play into their bullshit like we’re willing to go for it. Us. Not your Coven. We’ll barter for them on your behalf, maybe send them a few of our supplies. We get back whats yours, pay for our wayward Daughter’s transgressions toward you, and we can move forward on the same pathway. If it comes to blows? Then we can both go in for it.”
“Barter with the Wolfpack?” Ruby asked. “Have fun with that… but if you ever want some bikers dead, you know who to call.”
”You think we don’t already deal with Judas and his group?” Lynette replied in a snappy fashion.
“Well, from what I hear the PRA took care of him,” Ruby said, “But rumor has it someone else took over… I think Dean Walker.”
She shrugged.
“Either way, this marks the day of a partnership, correct?” Ruby answered. “Maybe if we were working together, we could have avoided the whole situation with Alizee and I’ll uh…”
She looked around.
“... I’ll see if I can fix the holes in the ceiling.”
Lynette’s face formed a genuine smile. It was noticeable, a tick that almost everyone in the Temple joked about. If the teeth are out, she’s about to shout. Currently, she was soft and only one side of her mouth curled up practically to her ear.
”Nevermind them, Ruby. The plants are lovely.” Ruby nodded her head, before she took a long drag of her neglected blunt, held it, and turned around. She took a few steps towards the door and then looked over her shoulder,
“Keep in touch, Lynette,” Ruby said, “I know we both went down different paths… but I think some part of us are…”
She loudly gagged.
“... Similar.”
Lynette’s smile held. ”Don’t be a bitch, Ruby, you know you love it. What was it when you were younger? Aunty Lynnie? We’ll see you again soon, the Kids are coming home for the Troubles ahead… You’ve seen it too, haven’t you? Why else would you be scrambling to reclaim artifacts now?”
Ruby was silent, and didn’t respond.
“... I have to go talk my girlfriend out of putting cat ears over regular clothes as her costume,” Ruby sighed. “I’ll see you around.”
Edict was quick to get a ride back to his own apartment; and with his Uncle’s establishment only a short walk away, both he and Linqian were able to enjoy a few more drinks while Edict poured his woes onto the man behind the counter. From the perspective of a first hand observer, it was incredulous how much of the story Edict was able to leave out while keeping it believable. But, bias was bias: The man seemed to take Edict’s side almost instantly, citing some pretty serious feelings about the other establishment in question. By the time Edict’s ride arrived, a not-so-subtle agreement had been made. Hands were shaking, and the man himself had disappeared into the back room for more than a few seconds to leave Linqian drinking by herself.
When he came back, he was all smiles, and led Linqian out to the front where a clean Mercedes sedan was parked. A man was in the driver’s seat, and there was another car behind it. Edict grinned. European shitbox. Bugged to high heaven. I hope you love it, Lin. ”Oh, hey, would you look at that? Surprise, it’s your new car! Whaddya know?” He laughed, moving toward the back seat and opening it up for her. ”The driver service ain’t included though, after this you’re on your own there…” he finished, waving her into the back seat of the definitely-not-stolen car. Beat free, you big mother-loving cultist… Fucking Toyota? Come on.
”Fuck.” Linqian very eloquently said, eyes widening as she just stared at the car for a moment. Sure, she’d known she was getting a not quite legit car from Edict, but actually seeing it made it a whole lot more real. She was really going up in the world, from a poor as fuck shit car owner to a poor as fuck two car owner! Hah, at least this one didn’t need to be insured. With a slightly incredulous smile, she slid into the back seat. ”Didn’t want a driver service, so good.”
He got in behind her, and in a gentleman’s flourish, slid into the seat brandishing another drink for the road with the bar’s glasses and all. The way he figured, now was a good time to forget what had happened since payback was a done deal. He could simply enjoy his night now, no trouble. The drive back into the city’s centre was a smooth affair. Edict kept his trap shut for the most part, knowing that tip-toeing around Linqian’s personal brand of volcanism was the only logical option after he’d very openly been himself.
So, in that; he decided that he didn’t need to be himself. He needed to be who his loving Mother and Aunt thought he was. Even with the splitting pain still in his wrist from the earlier raid, even covered in beer and good tequila, he had to be The Man. Eventually they made it, and the car was parked in the lot at the base of the building. The driver handed over the keys to Linqian with a smile, and after breaking Edict’s balls for a moment about being covered in booze he hopped into the tail car and was gone into the night.
Greyson and Linqian were left alone once again. He couldn’t help but smile as he pulled his cigarettes out and handed one off to her before taking another. May as well for the walk to the elevator. He lit hers first, twisting his body slightly to steal the flame off the cherry tip to light his own.
Smiling, Greyson pulled away and laughed. ”So… Do you remember, I think it was the summer we all started working together, I took a bunch of us to that college party out on Where's Pier? And we spent the whole night messing with the Blinds while we were pulling free drinks?” It was a very clear demeanour shift. No more nervous energy or desire for frenetic verbal combat. He wasn’t looking for an opening, not hunting for a fix or a mark; For once, with someone who wasn’t totally under his spell, he just wanted to be.
”Of course,” Linqian said, taking a drag of her cigarette and gently blowing out the smoke. It pushed away any thoughts about what had happened back at the bar which the following drinks hadn't. It was helped by Greyson's sudden change - he suddenly wasn't acting so much like a just about tolerable dick. It was a lot easier to relax when he wasn't prodding. She was just going to have a good night, and not think about all the other shit going on. She leaned towards him slightly with a grin. ”That was fun as fuck. You practically had them eating out your hands… Didn't some of the more 'sensible' members get pissed off afterwards? Some bullshit about not using our powers on blind… not our fault they can't resist it.”
She rolled her eyes, but clearly not at him. She remembered now - Jinhai had been one of the ones pissed about it. It had been one of the first times she went somewhere without him and it had ended with a massive argument between the two of them. That hadn't been quite as good as the night itself. ”Can’t say I remember the whole night - how much did I have to drink? It was a lot, and I wasn’t quite as experienced with it then. Fuck, you showed us a lot of good times back then.” She laughed lightly, taking another smoke. ”Shit hasn’t been quite as good since.”
Greyson smiled widely as they passed row after row of parked cars. ”Oh everybody gets pissy until they need something done for them. It’s life. I like to think if more people were willing to ease up a little, we’d be a lot better off.” he shrugged, taking a drag for himself and blowing it up into the air away from his companion. ”Like with all the artefact theft. Back in those days, we were all taking whatever we could. There was a monster eating through our city. But when it was all over, ‘Hey we’ve gotta hand our stuff over and go back to living like normal!’. Fuckin’ nuts.”
Getting to the elevator, he slapped the button and waited for the machine to make its descent to the ground floor they stood on. Edict’s eyes were slightly narrow, in the same way a cat in contentedness does, scrunched up ever so slightly in the bridge of the nose with a smile pulled up just so around the mouth. He absolutely reeked of booze; something that’d have to be cleaned out of the back of the seat later. ”But, as far as that night? I think I remember people eating out of your hand quite literally… You, aaaand Tayla, and… I believe I brought Brit? And Leon’s oldest sister, on the rare night she made it out. Sully, Kali, my cousin Dio. I think Drake might have shown up with Jade? Pretty sure he was the one who ratted me out to the girls on top, but I never wanted to start a beef with that guy. Liable to do something crazy.” he laughed to himself.
”Heh, you're right, they were. What can I say, I was always this hot," Linqian smirked, leaning against the wall next to the elevator. Her cigarette was raised back to her lips, taking a shorter drag and tilting her head to the side to blow it away. The smell of the smoke helped cover up the pungent odour of alcohol coming from Greyson just slightly… though honestly, neither particularly bothered her. She didn’t bother commenting on the artefact theft stuff - she hadn’t had many thoughts either way back then, and still didn’t. Frankly, she didn’t care whether Greyson had taken them or not. None had been hers. Of course Jinhai had been one of the most vocal about kicking him out… But whether he truly believed it was him or if he just saw it as an excuse to get rid of Greyson, Linqian wasn’t sure.
”Yup, that was the group, Drake and Jade included. He might've ratted you out… But it also could’ve been my fault.” It was ten years ago, so it wasn't exactly a big deal. She furrowed her brow for just a moment as she tried to remember what had happened after that night. Ah, she remembered now. ”Oh yeah, probably me… not actually ratting you out, fuck no. Just couldn't exactly hide it from Jinhai when we lived together, and he was pissed.Pretty sure he threatened to tell Ashley… He could be a right fucking asshole, I swear.”
She shrugged, lips tugging back up into a smile. ”But Drake doesn’t seem to have changed there, with y’know,” she gestured to her very unbroken nose, ”Sloane. Bitch probably deserved it.”
The elevator gave a gentle notifying ping as its doors slid open. The inside was simple, wood panelled like it was made in the 70's, and had the essence of stale cigarettes practically baked into the old carpet. “What?” Edict furrowed his brow. “What happened to Sloane? Drake wasn't even there…”
The gears turned vaguely as he began to piece two and two together. The brief glimpses he got of Sloane's face weren't out of the ordinary from a distant glance. A moment where they got close, however, was when she was chatting up that Fed at the church fire. “Wait, don't be tellin’ me that Mr. Badditude actually hit that woman? Shit, what would Jade think?”
The elevator bobbed up and down slightly as they both stepped on. It was a quiet, well running machine at least, and as the doors closed, Greyson pulled his keyring from his pocket and slid one into a slot on the elevator's panel. It had to be one of those fancy apartments where one doesn't have a “door” per se. Rather, the elevator leads directly into the unit, otherwise inaccessible due to the keyhole being built into this lift.
”Oh yeah, he did,” Linqian shrugged one shoulder, eyeing the keys… She’d been convinced this kind of apartment only existed in movies. Being rich sure must be nice. Though she supposed she had a house, even if it was an older build and with a mortgage she could barely afford. She watched the floor display as it started to tick up. ”I overheard Anya talking to Sloane about it… Dunno how or why, but he hit her yesterday. I’m sure if Jade was here, he wouldn’t have done it in the first place.”
Which would have been a shame, since Sloane deserved every punch she got. ”It was before you got there, but her face looked fucked. Probably why Drake wasn’t there.” That was just a guess, but Drake was a better person than her - if she’d punched Sloane, she would’ve turned up the next day and bragged about it.
Greyson’s eyebrows nearly lifted off his head with how high they raised up. He stuck that little bit of ammunition into a magazine for future target shooting, but was quick to turn the vindication metre down before he ended up sounding like a petty baby again. Not that Linqian seemed to care about it at this moment, it was way more fun gossiping. “Y’know it’s honestly more surprising he didn’t show up. If it was one of us guys, he’d have been there to brag.”
Before either of them knew, the telltale ding came as they reached the tenth floor. St. Portwell’s skyline was well regulated, and from Greyson’s understanding, the town ordinance council only let a few buildings get over ten stories. The doors slid open to reveal a nice open floor plan: Immediately on entry, one is met by large windows that look out across some of the smaller buildings and out toward the harbour. There were no blinds or anything, the darkness of the windows indicating that the tint was more than sufficient. Otherwise, the place was fairly scarce on furniture; turning left meant turning into the living room and kitchen. There were no televisions anywhere in sight, though there was a sizable sound system and a whole wall full of records, CDs and other physical media. Otherwise, there was a couple of couches, one being a sectional that had the roman style end cap, and a glass coffee table between them.
The kitchen was well lit by a dozen dim ceiling fixtures, providing gentle but consistent light that illuminated the warm wood of the cabinets and bounced off the stainless steel appliances. The whole apartment had hardwood floors and tucked away light fixtures, so there was almost nowhere where bulbs had direct access to one’s eyes.
“Casa Devola. Hungry? Want another drink?” he offered, waving his hands about. ”Feel free to explore, get comfy. I’m just gonna change out of these clothes and wash my hair. Unless you want me smelling like a bar room the whole time.”
Linqian glanced around the place with eyes filled with interest. It was far fancier than anywhere she’d ever stayed, and practically had as much space as her own house, but it lacked a… home feeling to her. Well, it wasn’t like she was here for that. She tilted her head towards Greyson with a smile. ”Very nice. Another drink would be good, and-” she paused, about to say she didn’t need to eat but then realising she really did if she wanted to continue drinking without quickly getting very drunk. Which wasn’t quite her aim for now. ”Yeah, food. If you have anything in your kitchen I can handle that myself.”
She then wrinkled her nose, somewhat exaggerated because the smell wasn’t really that bad - if anything, she could smell the tear gas still clinging to her more. ”Please, I don’t want to be reminded of that bar anymore than I have to be. Though,” she then vaguely gestured to the couches, which looked expensive enough to her, ”not sure how you feel about tear gas getting on those. I might need to borrow some clothes.”
Greyson grinned a devious little smirk, taking a breath in and stepping closer to Linqian. He purposefully stuck his hands in his pockets, approaching her in a vaguely coy manner. ”Linqian… Are you asking me for clothing?” He nodded his head directionally, having her turn around before leading her down the hall in the direction opposite the living and kitchen. As he walked past a doorway, he flicked a lightswitch, and the vent of a bathroom began to hum.
But he walked on past it, leading her into a sizable bedroom with a california king bed and some more sitting furniture along with dressers and the expected bedroom furnishings. He made way for the biggest dresser, pulling open one of the bottom drawers revealed a plethora of women’s clothes. Everything from club dresses to evening gowns, even undergarments still packaged and sealed. ”It’s been a while since I’ve been back here, but I had it stocked up before I got back. Just in case, y’know? Take what you want, use the bathroom out in the hall.”
He was already taking his shirt off, tossing it and the undershirt into a nearby hamper. His arm flicked a lightswitch, and the ensuite bathroom that was more “his” lit up from around a corner. Linqian could get a good look at the physique he kept mostly hidden; he had that kind of Bruce Lee body going on, where the muscle mass wasn’t bulky and grotesque, but rather tight and controlled. As his arms moved about, there was rippling movement beneath the skin as he not-so-purposefully flexed his own assets.
The fabled sunglasses, still missing a lens, got placed on the top of the dresser as Greyson smiled at Linqian. He even wiggled his eyebrows slightly before turning away from her to head into the bathroom. As he did, Linqian would have a perfect view of the massive back tattoo he had. Ominously, it was a large sycamore tree, and a countless number of axes were buried in its tall trunk.
Linqian was rendered speechless by the whole drawer of women’s clothes, so shocked that she was almost completely thrown out of the mood that had started building when Greyson had gotten closer to her. Just in case? How many women was he having over that needed a change of clothes to stock up like this? Not that she could judge, but she didn’t have a drawer full of clothes for-
Then she noticed that Greyson had taken his shirt off, and all thoughts of how weird it was were thrown to the wind. He looked good. She was incredibly open about her looking, eyes scanning across his chest and down towards his abdominal muscles. Her lips curved up into a suggestive smile. There certainly was plenty to look at, and he was clearly happy to show it off. Damn. Good decision going back to his place.
Or not? Her gaze stilled on the tattoo. Shit. Was this going to turn from a fun night to her own murder scene? Probably not, why would he go through so much effort when he could just have someone push her down a flight of stairs. Feeling a bit more confident in her safety, Linqian bluntly asked, ”what made you get that tattoo?”
Greyson, behind the wall of the bathroom, had a cold feeling rush across him. See, having a tattoo is a thing of vanity that can just disappear into the background noise of one’s life. The ones he could see were one thing: His grandmother’s rosary on his hand and arm, the lotus on his chest, the different religious iconography… But the mural? He never saw it. And, for most girls, it had no context or bearing. He never had to worry. But here was someone who knew… He only hoped she didn’t recognize what kind of tree it was.
”After I got blamed for being scum and all my ‘friends’ abandoned me, I was… Pretty upset. Young hothead I was, I got my feelings tattooed on me. Kind of ironic coming back here now to help, huh?” No, it wasn’t ironic: It was poignant. He’d chop the fucking tree down and burn the remnants. Greyson slipped back around the corner to look at her. ”Kinda makes me feel like a stupid jerk now that I think about it, but hey… I spent a lot of money on it, so now I guess it can be a reminder about how childish we can all be.” he shrugged.
Linqian had a sightline from her position into the bathroom, where a mirror was shining a bright clear picture of Greyson’s bare ass. How could one fear a man with so little to hide?
”Righhhht... Yeah, pretty ironic.” Linqian wasn’t quite sure how to process that. Of course he would have been upset at being kicked out for doing something he possibly didn’t do, but getting it tattooed was a whole process. You had to cough up a shit ton of money and sit through hours for that. She’d backed out of getting one herself a few years back. Her expression didn’t change much as she thought about it, lips slightly parted and eyes narrowed in thought. ”Aside from the murderous implication, it looks good.”
So did his ass. Damn. Linqian stared at the clear reflection for a few moments, before realising she should also get changed. She wasn’t too worried about the tattoo now, and honestly didn’t want to dwell on it. The rest of his body, though? Oh, she’d keep thinking about that.
Linqian turned back to the drawer, rummaging through it for something that seemed her size. Eventually she settled for a relatively simple black dress, low cut but with a loose enough skirt she didn’t have to worry about it perfectly flattering her figure. She was reluctant to leave with the sight she currently had - but she was sure she’d see plenty more later. With a slight smirk, Linqian went to the bathroom he’d directed her to.
Thankfully there was a shower in there, so she could get rid of all the tear gas stuck to her. Her hair would have to wait for whenever she got home, since doing it without proper products would just result in it being incredibly frizzy and it would take ages to do anyway. She leaned forward and pulled her hair up into a messy bun, before quickly stripping off and stepping into the shower. It was nice to get all of the grime off her skin, the burning sensation fading with it. With a sigh of relief she shut off the shower, and stepped out.
Shit. She hadn’t thought to ask for a towel, used to her own bathroom with everything already in it. The only one in here was a hand towel which… she could use, but it would take ages. Linqian moved to the bathroom door, opening it a bit and sticking her head out. Most of her was hidden behind the door, with only her face and slender shoulders visible - but it was more than enough to make it very clear she didn’t have any clothes on. She raised her voice enough to hopefully be heard from the other bathroom. ”Hey, Greyson, can I have a towel?”
Greyson was whistling, dancing to himself as the steamy water poured over him. Taking a shower together would’ve been nice, but he wasn’t going to push his luck after she mentioned his tattoo’s implications. He often wondered how people could work so easily against their own gut feelings, wooing themselves into false security as if he couldn’t blow her away that evening. But. there they were! She was in his apartment after he’d made himself the ass of the town, and the only thing that would ruin his night (maybe) was if she got to him first! Not like if she poked around the house she couldn’t find a weapon; there were a dozen at least. Various calibres, all loaded and ready for the almost inevitable home invasion.
Butt ass naked, Greyson heard Linqian calling from the other room. He quickly washed the soap out of his eyes and made for a towel that he wrapped around his waist. Having been under the water, he didn’t catch the finer details of the yelling, instead poking the door open a bit to ask her what she wanted. He quickly found out it was, in fact, a towel. Keeping the bathroom door mostly closed, he pulled the one from around his own waist off and slipped it through the door. It was big and fluffy, and not wet enough that it’d make much of a difference to someone who was already soaked.
”I can come and dry you off too!” he offered through the crack in the door with a joking tone in his voice.
”Oh, how sexy,” Linqian laughed, taking the towel and wrapping it around herself. It was very tempting to fasttrack the evening, but she wasn’t in a rush. If she made him wait, the pay off would be that much nicer. It wasn’t as fun to just jump right to it. ”Tempting as that is, I need some food before I’m trapped in a bathroom for the rest of the night.”
She didn’t bother to properly close the door - if he got a peek, he got a peek - before drying herself off. Since she hadn’t washed her hair it didn’t take too long, and she pulled on the black dress she’d borrowed. It was a bit shorter than she’d expected, because she’d misjudged the sizing, but it just about covered everything it had to. Not that it necessarily had to. Now dressed, she bent down and felt through her coat pockets, pulling out a small pouch. It had all the essentials she needed if her makeup was ruined - which it had been by the teargas. She reapplied concealer to the areas with the worst damage, and redid her soft red lipstick too. Of course, Greyson had already seen her post tear gassing, but that was beside the point. She needed to look good now.
Pleased enough, Linqian bundled up her discarded clothes in her jacket, and made her way back to the living room.
Greyson had the chance to peek as much as someone trying their hardest to not be themselves could have. A casual onceover, the opposite of the slow building volcano he felt pushing magma up toward his throat. He managed to keep his friend in check and headed back to his room, pulling the clothes drawer open to check exactly what she took. Little black dress, for a nice evening. He smiled, thinking about actually enjoying a glass of wine instead of having a bottle of booze poured on him.
So he was back in the shower for another minute as he made sure there weren’t any more sticky alcohol stains left on him. Then, out and immediately patted down with another towel before applying some cocoa butter and a little bit of cologne. He walked back out into his room without the cover of a towel, unable to help but figure that if she was there to see it, she was expecting to. But it was quiet; a good thing probably. He made way for the nightstand next to his normal side of the bed and popped the drawer open, sighing in relief at the black sealed packs shining in the low light. Then, getting re-dressed was a simple ordeal.
Boxers, black slacks with the brown house shoes, a fresh tank top and something nice and silky with sleeves that came in the form of a dark blue collared shirt that he didn’t bother getting a tie to go with. Rather, he left it with an extra button open, and he rolled the sleeves up to his elbows before cinching them off in the fashion his father taught him. Suspenders clipped onto his belt, and he admired himself in the mirror as he pulled them up and swept his hand back through his hair.
Amazingly he took longer than she did, but he took the time to pop the painting in the hallway open and grab a nice bottle of wine for dinner from the unit hidden in the wall. He gave a quick glance down the hall to see if she’d see, and quickly closed it back down once he had the bottle in question. ”So, I can call someone? They’ll be here in ten minutes, cook us anything we want? Or, are we gonna have a nice cooking date?” he asked, holding up the bottle and making way to a cabinet for a couple glasses to bring down.
”Ah, the perks of being rich.” Linqian had made herself comfortable on one of the couches while waiting, leaning to the side against the armrest with her legs bent up beside her. Her phone was in her hand as she boredly checked it. There was a text from her brother with his flight details, which she gave a perfunctory response to. She put it down with Greyson now in the room, pushing aside any thoughts about her regular, mundane life. He’d pulled a bottle of wine out of nowhere - his bedroom, perhaps? Didn’t matter. ”I’ll cook. It’s nicer to not have someone else intrude.”
She stood back up, stretching her arms above her as if they’d cramped up just from using her phone. The dress rode up as she did, revealing the top of her thighs for just a moment. She approached Greyson, leaning in close enough to catch a whiff of his cologne - it was nice, and not too overpowering. He’d put a lot of effort into how he looked, and looked just as attractive with his clothes back on as he had when they were off. She tilted her head back to look up at him with a smile. ”Do you know enough to help? If not, I can do it all. Name anything and I can probably make it just as well as they could, if there’s the ingredients.”
This was one thing she was very confident in. She rarely got the opportunity to cook more than simple meals nowadays, and simply couldn’t afford to. It would be nice to impress… And she’d simply ignore him calling it a date. Just the word had her chest constricting slightly. But this was just casual. She was able to suppress the impending panic by thinking that.
”Oh, I mean… Probably not good enough to keep up, but I can chop things or twist knobs. How about instead, while you work away, I give you a little massage? Purely for pleasure, no poking or prodding.” The inclusion at the end was enough to tell that he didn’t mean a shoulder rub. Greyson casually went to the fridge, which he’d had stocked up with the things he liked and a bunch of other food that was probably going to get thrown away because he almost never ate at home or at a normal time.
But, regardless of that, he stared into the fridge full of things and couldn’t bring himself to make a decision. What kind of dinner is sexy? Can’t ask her to get up on the table, that’d be too much. Fuck, why’s it always the easy things? ”I… I don’t know, honestly. I’m usually eating egg whites and cashews, I don’t ever have the time or the reasoning to figure food out.” he laughed to himself, finally pulling away to look at her.
”I mean the place is packed, like I’ve only been here a couple nights. I had the grocer service stock it up before I got here, but I haven’t even looked. Why don’t we surprise each other? he offered, the suggestion a little vague as to what he’d surprise her with.
”Alright, alright, I’ll surprise you,” Linqian waved him out of the way so she could look in the fridge, slipping in in front of him. She tried not to feel too jealous about the sheer amount of food in there… What a waste, honestly. Even if Greyson cooked a full three meals a day he’d have to throw some of this out. Maybe she could take some on the way out… She put that thought aside for later. A surprise, sure. She’d just go for something simple and nice, because she was hungry and wanted to show off a little but not to the point of spending ages cooking. There were better things to be getting to that the food would fuel.
And what the fuck was he going to surprise her with? A strip tease while she cooked?
”I’m not so sure about the ‘massage’,” she said as she reached into the fridge. She pulled out salmon, spinach, mushrooms, and some asparagus. A simple pasta dish seemed safest… and most of this would help with other things. She moved back out from in front of the fridge, closing it and beginning to search through his cupboards for everything else she needed. With all of that gathered, she pulled out a chopping board and the sharpest knife she could find. She then turned to Greyson, brandishing the knife and lips pulled up into a teasing smile. ”How do I know you won’t try to do what you did back in the bar?”
Linqian had let him into her mind once, and it had helped. But that didn’t mean she trusted him - she could come back to his place, she could want to sleep with him, but she didn’t trust him. With what had happened at the bar, she was once again wary of opening up that door to him. ”I know once you’re in you can do whatever you want.” As she said this she turned back around, no longer brandishing the knife quite so threateningly and preparing to cut up the mushrooms with it instead.
Greyson smiled at her as she brandished the knife, biting his lip slightly as she drove the point home. The first thing he thought of saying was definitely never the right thing to say, so he let the moment linger on, his hand reaching out gently to brush across her arm while she washed and chopped mushrooms.
Pulling away, he made his way toward the living room section, flipping through different CD cases until he found something he knew she’d recognize. It had never been his type of music, but with memories so tightly locked in his mind, music was a good way to induce Recollections.
The disk slid into the stereo, and he skipped ahead a few songs.
It was that night again. He wasn’t even sure if he’d started dating Britney yet, but Linqian had always been around. Just a cool girl looking for a good time, always trying to get rid of the bullshit that seemed to swirl up around her. He’d always tried to find himself, who he was and who he wanted to be in everyone’s eyes; but frankly she could never have given a flying fuck.
That’s not a bad thing. It’ll hurt less in the end.
The balmy summer night, another rain storm passing over the rocky coast. The Lighthouse Pier crew; it wasn’t ever his scene, but having freshly joined the Coven, he was looking to get to know people. See what the score was. He hadn’t found too many people to connect with in those days; it was never an easy thing when you’re a little psychopath with manipulative tendencies. But she was never pushy. He learned quickly that as long as you didn’t bark up the wrong tree, you’d stay out of the gunline. It made him think for a while that something was there that never was.
The case of the CD was poorly written in sharpie marker. “Summer Mix - Ɛ⇂0ᄅ” The year was blurry, smudged out… No. You made yourself forget. A lot.
Seeing the hazard made him feel a little sick, knowing that no matter how hard he’d try, he gave those years up to the ether. It was only recollections now, and the feelings after it. When everyone tried to be normal. Greyson flicked a few switches on the stereo system, setting it up to swap to a different disk in the deck after finishing the song, then gave a final smile to the plastic package before letting it touch down on the table.
He finally returned to Linqian, playfulness in his smile. ”The night we first met and talked, this was playing. I actually scarpered this CD and like a box of twenty others from Lindsey Yvette, so I’m pretty sure this is quite literally the disk that was playing that night. You remember you stood up for me? When a few of those other prisses weren’t gonna let me stick around?”
Linqian recognised the song a few beats in, eyebrows raising in shock. It had been a long time since she'd heard it… way back when the coven was just starting up, the early days before Bianca had even joined and while most of them were still alive. They'd just been reckless teens trying to find their way in a suddenly changing world, and hanging out like teens did. She'd been there since day one, so she'd known most of the group - but Greyson had been new and interesting. She gently nodded along to the music as she heated up oil in a pan, a few curls falling out of the loose bun she'd left her hair in.
”No wonder the music quality suddenly went down at the parties,” Linqian laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly. It was more of a genuine smile than any she'd had recently - between the good memories and being in her comfort zone cooking, she felt pretty good. ”Oh yeah, some of them had sticks so far up their ass it was hard to find them… Wasn't it Drake and Amanda and that?”
She rolled her eyes, throwing two salmon fillets on the hot pan. She then went back to the fridge, making sure to brush past Greyson as she did, to get some milk and butter. She grabbed another pan and started making a basic white sauce. ”They'd hardly even talked to you- fuck, I still remember how pissed I got then. We were having a nice conversation but then you said something they didn't like, because of course they never said anything wrong, and got all pissy about you being there. Didn't Drake physically try to kick you out? I threatened to shove my burning hot knee in his crotch and he backed down real quickly.”
The vegetables were put in the pan with the sauce, the salmon flipped, and the pasta cooking too. With everything cooking, she could step back and relax a bit. She moved closer to Greyson, leaning into his personal space without quite touching him. She smiled coquettishly up at him. ”I don't think you ever thanked me for it.”
In the height difference, Greyson loomed slightly. Standing behind Linqian, he smiled a toothy grin while she leaned back. He let his neck slink forward slowly, gently, until they were closer than they ever needed to be. Even his breath smelled good. His eyes stared into hers as he spoke. ”Oh, gosh… You knew just where I was going. How about I get to it?” he cooed, letting his face slowly careen toward her own at glacial speed. He never knew when to go in for the kiss; it was always easier to disclude it and just get straight to things, but he just couldn’t help himself.
”Mm, sounds good.” Linqian didn't actually wait for Greyson to close the distance, instead doing it herself. She tilted her head up and forward, pressing her lips against his. It wasn't a chaste kiss by any means (she didn't do those), her lips immediately parting and tongue poking out from between them. She properly leaned back into him, body pressing against his.
Greyson was happy to lean back down into it, hands slowly tracing down her midriff to rest on her hips as he let it go a while. He managed to get lost in the moment; the sensation of physical touch and the surrounding scent of good food circling around her. He was mindful of his hands, not gripping or groping like an animal, but gently running his fingers up and down her legs. Finally, he pulled away and stared down at her, his forehead gently pressing against hers.
”Thank you, Linqian… For always giving this piece of shit a chance.” He let his hands trail back up, moving a pan on the stove off the heat so it didn’t burn.
Linqian hummed softly, suppressing a light shiver at the feeling of his hands trailing up and down her bare legs. She wanted to kiss him again, to feel his hands all over her, but she could feel the telltale pangs in her stomach that meant she couldn’t just skip eating and continue. The following dizzy spells would be much more annoying than a break now.
”Well, someone has to,” Linqian teased. She was a bit confused about why he was thanking her - for a start, she was pretty shitty herself. She’d followed him back to his place purely for another drink and in the hopes of sleeping with him, because he was attractive and his company was good enough. It wasn’t like she’d agreed to date him or anything. He wasn’t the sort that thought you couldn’t casually make out with someone, was he? No way. This is Greyson we’re talking about.
”Let’s eat before my efforts go to waste… We can continue after.” She couldn’t resist leaning in for another quick kiss, because fuck she enjoyed kissing, before forcing herself to pull back.
Linqian turned back to the stove, giving the sauce a quick test and making sure the pasta was done. The salmon that Greyson had thankfully taken off before it burnt was flaked, and mixed through the sauce and vegetables along with the pasta. She shifted away from him to find some plates, before serving up the food. She automatically made one serving larger than the other - a habit from always prioritising her brothers. Ah, well. Greyson was larger than her anyway. She turned back to him with a smile. ”Voila, all done.”
There was a table and a set of chairs, and as Linqian presented the dishes, Greyson led her over and pulled one of them out for her to sit down. The wine was already sitting there, and before he sat himself, the gentlemanly Greyson went and procured cutlery and napkins from the kitchen drawers. He set them out for Linqian, then sat down to refill his glass. The date was just as blurry as the one on the mixtape…
Looking at the beautiful spread of food made him thankful she was around. Again, not many chances for home cooked meals these days; so whatever he could take he would. His eyes traced across the beautiful flesh of the cooked fish, the light but sticky sauce that covered the noodles, the smells of it.
He was compelled to raise his glass. ”To you. Thank you for a wonderful night, and may we be exhausted enough to sleep through tomorrow.” he smirked, clinking his glass off hers.
”Mm, I’m looking forward to getting good use out of your bed,” Linqian smiled suggestively, taking a sip of her wine. It was much nicer than what she was used to, which wasn’t particularly hard when she generally drank the cheapest wine she could find. The last nice bottle had been bought for Jinhai passing his exams… And that had gone to waste. Ah well, she got to taste some now. ”Ah, I do have work tomorrow at eleven… or twelve if I’m pushing it. I'm also meeting Bianca in the afternoon, so I may need a couple of hours’ sleep to deal with that… but just a couple will do.”
She shrugged before beginning to eat, carefully so not to accidentally get any on the dress she’d borrowed. To her the meal itself was relatively simple, the kind she could easily whip up on a busy day - but the ingredients themselves were much higher quality than she was used to. It was pretty good. She glanced at Greyson as she ate - more nervous than she wanted to admit that the food might not be up to his standards. "I suppose I can take the morning shift off if I have a good enough excuse.”
Greyson ate just fine. In fact, he was thrilled by the flavour of the food and couldn’t help but dig in a little greedily. It was easy to notice that he spent far more time chewing than he probably needed to, which evened out the rather large mouthfuls of food he’d shove in with little delicacy. He laughed to himself, letting a gulp of wine chase the mashed amalgam into his gut before wiping his mouth with a napkin.
”Fuck a job-” he laughed, throwing the napkin down to the side and picking his fork back up. ”-if we’re both still around by the time this is over, jump ship. Come run the tobacco distribution for me. Make yourself a rich woman.” Edict’s grubby hands spread motivation like gems on the floor of a trap. For no real discernible reason besides the pleasure of being able to do so.
Get the hopes up, envision a future, place them in it with prominence. Linqian wasn’t a sentimental woman by any means; Edict knew this. But, the chance to have a stable life? To regain purpose and usher in good times for her family? He figured she wasn’t gonna pass it up. Greyson cleared his throat. ”Shit, we said no business. Well, can’t take it back; if you’re interested we’ll talk about it tomorrow. For now,-” he said, pointing his fork at the plate. His other hand gesticulated vaguely toward it. ”-this is delicious. I mean, rustic, flavorful, beautifully presented? I’m probably talking it up to you, but half the time my diet is cigarettes and coffee. I don’t get much good food like this.” he finished, punctuating with another large bite of food and a close-mouthed smile as he chewed away.
Linqian raised an eyebrow. The offer was incredibly tempting - though one with strings, she was sure. But at the end of the day she couldn't actually afford to be fussy. She didn't even want to be rich. Just stable enough to give her brother a better life than her, and maybe be able to think about her own future that she'd put on hold for most of her life. Edict had already given her a lot of money for very little work. She wasn't stupid enough to agree to anything today or even tomorrow, but what was the harm in agreeing to discuss it?
”Yeah, let's talk about it tomorrow,” Linqian agreed, without appearing to feel one way or another about it. Aside from her extremes in temper, she was much better at hiding her feelings nowadays - years in service had seen to that. Though she couldn't hide the genuine smile at Greyson's compliments about the food, and the way he was clearly enjoying it as he ate. ”It's nice to actually hear good things about my food. All I hear from my brother's is 'can I have more' and 'why did you put something I don't like in it.' Never any appreciation.” She smiled, tone half joking - but only half. Her younger brother did tell her he liked and missed her cooking, but was just as demanding about it. It was taken for granted in her home.
”But-” she raised her fork and pointed at him with it. Her own food was practically done, having given herself less and perfected the quick but neat eating method. ”That shit isn't healthy. Who's going to pay me if you die from not eating- I mean, I'll miss your wonderful company.”
”Oh, you’ll miss a lot more than the company in a little while.” Greyson raised his eyebrows at her in a playful manner, taking another sip from his glass. His fork dug into the flesh of the fish and split it apart in a beautiful line, and he dragged it through the pasta’s sauce to lap it up. ”My Dad taught me how they eat pasta in the Motherland, with the uh… The spoon and the twirling. Finesse, it’s like everything they do over there has to be a little extra. But my Mama, she taught me how to eat. When I finally got her a place down in the Islands, I met my cousins and shit, they eat all kinds of just off the plate delicious shit.”
He paused for a moment, thinking about the difference between the two, the love that was never meant to be. He had to stop himself from biting his cheek as old feelings welled up, and he crammed a fork full of pasta in his mouth to chew on instead. He shook his head with a smile, swallowing a bigger bite than he really wanted to. ”This is… It’s a good balance. Makes me feel like I’m at home. I mean, here. It screams St. Portwell, I mean the fish, the mushrooms. It's all local, I mean honestly to me this is restaurant quality.”
"Yeah, I never got the spoon and twirling thing… maybe because I'm more used to chopsticks than a fork,” Linqian laughed, before practically beaming. She tried not to let the compliment go to her head but very much failed. Cooking was one of the few things she had genuine talent in and enjoyed enough to develop. This wasn't even an overly complicated meal… she wondered how he'd react to a more intricate one. Wait, no. That would imply this would happen again. She finished over the last few bits on her plate, and moved onto just sipping wine, hiding her smile behind the glass and eyeing Greyson over it. ”It is pretty homely, in the St Portwell way. I missed the fish here, if nothing else… You know, I did consider culinary school for a while. When I was failing highschool and my parents were still around.”
She shrugged. Unlikely to happen. She pressed the wine glass to her lips, parting them slightly and taking a long, slow drink. Wine glass still in hand she leaned forward, lips curving into a more seductive smile. ”I'm glad I was able to cook for you. I enjoy being appreciated.”
Greyson let her words linger as he admired her smile, her lips, the way she held the glass, and for a second he was lost in it. All he could do was grin back, licking his lips and finishing the glass. His plate was empty, you’d think a person came with a scrub brush it was so clean. Wiping his face one last time, he pushed back on the chair and stood up to lean over the table. He had his hand outstretched to her. ”Let me appreciate you better up close.”
And the darker night still descended on St. Portwell. Another long and cold Autumn frost gripped the city. However, shining dimly in the distance, sirens and smoke. One of the oldest establishments in the Harbor was ablaze with the light of flames. Between it all, Greyson Devola watched a piece of history burn, and it transfixed him more than any pleasure of the flesh had ever done.
Edict should watch his back. Tayla's coming for his head.
I can't wait to see where this storyline goes; if she ends up paranoid enough that she takes him out before ever thinking that he's not really got any weight behind his words.
[i]Do you really think we've only been here 300,000 years? Construction doesn't last that long; concrete disintegrates, tar pavement erodes into the Earth from whence it came. Sapiens or Neanderthalensis, countless brother races of a genus leaving only us to carry on the legacy. We cannot disappoint them. We carry them through our blood and our souls, countless lives spanning across time in a way that we can't perceive from our physical coils. But we can't disappoint them.[/i]
Hello, hi and hey! I call myself Atom. Some call me Fen. Others call me Ego, blessing the journey of guiding the individual toward the inevitable endgame that is rejoining the flow of life. I try to keep identity suppressed as much as possible, but I'm not a fool; we're here to express our creative selves. I like to think that our love and desire for creativity carries over far beyond the personal and individual. It's a part of the music of Humanity, and I do love the dance we do.
So, creatively, who is this dork trying to kill his own ego? What's he like? Is he decent?
I'd like to think so. I'd like to think I at least know how to write [i]technically[/i]. I'm almost always lacking motivation, but I've just been spoiled over the years. I've had a handful of teachers who have really changed the way I look at creativity and working with the individuals who I'm trying to be creative with. My biggest goal is to give that back to the people who I work with. I want to foster an environment, or at least an expectation that if we're writing together, you'll be writing with a professional.
Professional to me means courtesy and friendliness without ambiguity: A guarantee that one can always expect to be treated with the same values that I would want to be treated with.
So what do I do with my free time? A whole lot of struggling with myself for the willpower and discipline to muster the ultimate muse. So far I've managed to get strong inclination toward effort and motion again, but inclination isn't guaranteed. We've really gotta MOVE THOSE MUSCLES! That's what I'm here for! I want to talk to people about ideas and flesh scenarios out with people that I'm interested in, and I do hope to find others with the same strong sense of creativity that I have. I want to push and pull and stretch the dough of creativity, top it with the things we want to devour, and dive into the pizza we've made together with skill and love!
Lets make it happen together!
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><span class="bb-i">Do you really think we've only been here 300,000 years? Construction doesn't last that long; concrete disintegrates, tar pavement erodes into the Earth from whence it came. Sapiens or Neanderthalensis, countless brother races of a genus leaving only us to carry on the legacy. We cannot disappoint them. We carry them through our blood and our souls, countless lives spanning across time in a way that we can't perceive from our physical coils. But we can't disappoint them.</span><br><br>Hello, hi and hey! I call myself Atom. Some call me Fen. Others call me Ego, blessing the journey of guiding the individual toward the inevitable endgame that is rejoining the flow of life. I try to keep identity suppressed as much as possible, but I'm not a fool; we're here to express our creative selves. I like to think that our love and desire for creativity carries over far beyond the personal and individual. It's a part of the music of Humanity, and I do love the dance we do.<br><br>So, creatively, who is this dork trying to kill his own ego? What's he like? Is he decent?<br><br>I'd like to think so. I'd like to think I at least know how to write <span class="bb-i">technically</span>. I'm almost always lacking motivation, but I've just been spoiled over the years. I've had a handful of teachers who have really changed the way I look at creativity and working with the individuals who I'm trying to be creative with. My biggest goal is to give that back to the people who I work with. I want to foster an environment, or at least an expectation that if we're writing together, you'll be writing with a professional.<br>Professional to me means courtesy and friendliness without ambiguity: A guarantee that one can always expect to be treated with the same values that I would want to be treated with. <br><br>So what do I do with my free time? A whole lot of struggling with myself for the willpower and discipline to muster the ultimate muse. So far I've managed to get strong inclination toward effort and motion again, but inclination isn't guaranteed. We've really gotta MOVE THOSE MUSCLES! That's what I'm here for! I want to talk to people about ideas and flesh scenarios out with people that I'm interested in, and I do hope to find others with the same strong sense of creativity that I have. I want to push and pull and stretch the dough of creativity, top it with the things we want to devour, and dive into the pizza we've made together with skill and love! <br><br>Lets make it happen together!</div>
Punished GN
Estylwen
FernStone
Fetzen
Blizz
Sunny Suzuki
washcloth
Lucid Dreaming
rush99999
NoriWasHere
