Date: 2st August 2017
Location: Simon’s Penthouse Suite, Queens NY
Time: 11:54AM EST
Collab featuring: @FrankenDaughter@Zetsuko
Luka tapped his foot on the way up the elevator, it was quite a ways up to the penthouse but that just gave him some time to look over a few messages on his phone. He’d missed the meeting Aloy called last night but thankfully someone sent him a summary of what happened. Simon was still anxiously trying to prep Luka as well.
SquirrelySounds<11:42> - Just… try to woo her, I guess? She seems desperate enough that you can put her off balance. Act impressed with her if you can. She’ll be hiding the moment she sees you. She thinks its an audition.
Another minute or so of tapping and reading and the elevator finally dinged at the penthouse floor. Slipping his phone back in his pocket Luka stepped out of the elevator and into the hall, following it till he got to Simon’s door, knocking when he got there. Luka could hear Simon’s heavy boots approaching before the door opened, revealing a familiar mop of ginger curls over hazel eyes and the same grimace Luka had seen on the man’s face last time. Coincidentally, Luka also heard an aged woman’s voice cry ”Victory!” from within the apartment.
"Simon," Luka nodded in greeting, looking over the man’s shoulder at the sound coming from the within. Simon put his back to the hallway as he opened the door wide and Luka wrinkled his nose for a second at the thick smell of bacon grease and stinky cheese as he stepped past Simon and went down the hall. Luka followed the short hallway into a wide and lavishly furnished living room. Taking up almost a fifth of this room was a rectangular depression with an L sofa and some chairs lining a coffee table. Sunlight poured in from the windows of the southern wall, which looked out onto a neat patio area. Much of the floor was otherwise open, rich brown hardwood.
A single laptop was on the coffee table, with a mouse still moving beside it. Someone was clearly sitting in front of that laptop--leaving a shallow depression in the black leather sofa cushions. But as far as Luka could see, he and Simon behind him were the only ones in the suite.
“Hi.” said a voice from the general direction of the sofa... not the aged woman, but a young and throaty smile of a voice, rough from overuse or cigarettes. “I’m Poet.”
If Luka was surprised by the phantom sitting on the couch, it didn't show.
"Luka," he gave a slight smirk at the disembodied voice. "Nice trick."
He strode across the room and sat down on the other side of the corner couch. Without really looking in her direction he jokingly asked, "So is the name for show or can you string beautiful rhymes together as well?" His voice matched his looks, somehow still seeming soft and graceful despite a heavy Russian accent.
“No.” Poet laughed, and Luka recognized Poet’s own Russian accent. Then, she was speaking fluent Russian, “[my mentor gave me that name for my grasp of language and dialect. One of my gifts.]” and then Poet’s accent changed as she spoke English again, a waspy midwestern drawl, “Though I do write songs in my spare time.”
Luka actually cracked a smile at hearing his mother tongue, not missing a beat.
"[Hah, so no rhymes but she's good with words.]"
The laptop clapped shut gently as the depression in the cushion shifted. Poet was clearly leaning back now. Simon had already retreated to the kitchen and Luka could hear him rummaging.
“Tea?” Simon called.
“Lap Sang, yeah?” Yet another change in accent, something close to American southern. As Poet spoke, Luka felt a brief tingle in his ears, as though they’d been full of water and only just now his head had come out of it… and there Poet was on the sofa, sitting with her legs crossed. She was wearing earthen brown cargo pants and a very baggy hoodie, her blonde hair tied back in a thick ponytail that draped over her left shoulder. Luka took the moment to look her over now that she was visible. Pretty thing her, Simon must feel lucky.
“And you, Luka? Maybe a soda? Liquor?” Simon sounded irritable for some reason. Luka couldn’t recall him ever sounding irritable.
"hmm? No thanks Simon, I'm fine" he leaned back and switched back to Russian to talk with Poet. "[So Simon's only told me a little bit about you. well, he's told me enough. But I'm curious, what're you looking for with this? what do you want?]"
“[I find myself stuck. From everything I’ve seen, Dark Shadow can get me unstuck. It survived one clash with The Guild, so anyone speaking out from Dark Shadow is heard.]” As Poet spoke Russian this time, she kept that vague southern twang. Her smile, initially warm, had taken a rather sullen shade, her eyes dulling from the bright gleam she’d had when she’d first appeared. “[I am useful. I’ve worked for your people before. I want to do so more closely.]”
"[Stuck hmm, well I won't ask. Aloysious probably won't care anyway, so long as you can get things done.]" Luka's smile faded a bit along with her's. He glanced away for a moment as if in thought, checking the time before looking back toward her "[They're a bit busy on a job right now, but once they're back we can go meet the gang. Introduce you to our glorious leader.]" the last part was said with a sarcastic tone, an exaggerated hand gesture accompanying the words 'glorious leader’.
“[Our Glorious Windbag, gusting with the heavenly updrafts on which we intend to ride?]” Poet’s smile brightened again with her words. “[If I have to I will. Simon’s told me about others though.]”
Poet was looking into Luka’s eyes, cocking her head slightly as if listening for something. Then Luka heard it too--the electric kettle roiling as Simon took it from the stand and filled some cups. Footsteps, then Simon came into view, setting a large, steaming mug by Poet’s laptop that had two teabag strings hanging from the rim.
“I’ll be in the studio if you need me,” Simon said gruffly. His tone didn’t even phase Poet… in fact she didn’t seem to notice he was there, still watching Luka’s eyes. As he left to another area of the suite they could hear doors closing just a little too noisily. Poet eventually winced and shook her head, sighing.
“[He never likes when I affect, thank god,]” Poet said, looking back up with a returning smile. “[Anyway… he told me about you.]”
Luka's attention drifted toward the kitchen as the kettle went off and Simon came in with the tea, coming back to Poet as he dropped of the tea and left. He returned her gaze, smiling back at her until Simon was gone and she spoke again. He raised a brow and tilted his head curiously.
"[Oh has he? he's said good things I hope?]"
“[Not who you are, just what you can do,]” Poet said. “[Which is less important to me than who you are, as it turns out.]”
Poet stopped to take her first sip of tea, transparently looking Luka over from above the lip of her mug. Her gaze steadied on what was clearly Luka’s neck.
“[When did you get that collar?]”
Luka brought a hand to his neck, rubbing a few fingers over the tattoo there. "[Some years ago, when I was still with the Mafia,]" he let his hand fall away, "[some of them called me an angel when they found out what I could do, but they didn't want to let me go because of it; 'my wings were my collar,']" He shrugged. "[Heh, well. that's what I thought at the time at least.]"
“[A friend of mine has a very similar tattoo. Each wing is hinged against the back of their neck.]” Poet explained, clutching her mug in her lap, stroking her thumb absentmindedly on swirls near the rim. “[They thought they couldn’t live a life without god and so they sought a binding to represent their abstinence from magic.]”
"Hrrmm." Luka didn't have a response to that, instead asking "[what about you hmm? no ink hidden on that body of yours?]"
“[No ink, just the mark.]” Poet answered, taking another sip of tea. “[I wasn’t really given time to pursue one before I lost interest.]” She leaned back on her sofa again, her expression ponderous.
“[Why are you in Dark Shadow?]”
"[This life was one way to keep the old one from haunting me. Like you in a way. I was stuck, Dark Shadow got me unstuck.]" Luka smirked.
“[Sure, but you were stuck to the Bravta. I’m stuck to the Guild.]” Poet spat, her smile turning to an acid grimace. It wasn’t clear whether she was offended by her own situation or by Luka’s comparison. Either way, letting the Dark Shadow know she had any connection to the Guild was something she’d avoided until now, with this first meeting. But now was no time to admit she’d screwed up.
“[And I’m stuck in this city, too, while we’re at it. According to Simon and the news though… I’m just in time for the show.]”
Luka simply shrugged again "[Yet you still wound up here. we may not be so different...you are right though, thing are starting to get in motion. We may want to head out soon.]" Luka shifted slightly and half-smirked half-grinned at her "[unless you'd like to get to know each other more?]”
Poet just watched him for a time, her thumb still worrying at her cup. She bit her upper lip as she considered their setting, eyes swaying gently around the room. Then she locked eyes with Luka again.
“Do you know push-hands?”
Luka chuckled, grin getting a little wider "I'm afraid not, you may have to show me."
Poet rose slow, mug in hand, and came round to Luka’s side of the coffee table, offering him a hand up. She lead him to the patio, the lone table still holding a couple of dishes. She pointed with her free hand to the side of the living room window. For all her baggy clothing, the temperature seemed to not affect her in the slightest.
“Tai-Chi teaching game,” Poet said, moving one of the chairs. She seemed intent on keeping her mug at the ready. “I assume you’ve fought without magic before?”
Luka took her hand to be led out to the patio, moving to where she pointed to before turning back to face her. "Only a few brawls really, I'm no martial arts expert."
“Did you ever have fun?” Poet asked, walking up to stand in front of Luka. He could tell from her tone she didn’t expect the answer she wanted.
"Most of them were drunken brawls between companions so...yes, I've had a bit," Luka smiled at her, awaiting instruction.
She sighed.
“Time to unlearn.”
Poet assumed a stance and directed Luka to mirror her, holding the back of his left hand to the back of hers, and keeping their left feet side by side. And then they started to move.
“I’ll walk you through it… you’ll understand in a minute.”
Poet guided him through the basics, the two of them teetering back and forth for half a minute before she pushed Luka off balance. She didn’t even come forward out of her stance, just waved her hand in beckoning for the next bout. He smiled, rejoining Poet for the second bout which lasted slightly longer. Then Luka was off balance again, this time falling past Poet who stood rigid.
“Again… and close your eyes.”
Luka came up, mirroring Poet’s stance again and immediately starting to sway with her closing his eyes. He could count the moments as they swayed in the sun… listening to the faint sounds of the city below… the gentle breeze tossing their hair… Poet sipping her tea as they kept the flow of balance between them.
Then Luka felt that strange sensation in his ears again. The noise of Poet sipping her tea seemed to swirl and shrink, like listening to a sound poured down a sink drain. The shock of it made him open his eyes. Poet wasn’t there… just her balance and his, keeping them in sway.
Luka was momentarily surprised when he saw she wasn't there again but he soon let his eyes drift back closed with a slow sigh, exhaling through his nose as he worked to keep his balance. In this moment he forgot that he was meant to be shifting her off balance, instead just maintaining the calm swaying he'd taken a liking to.
And so the third fall didn’t come on him like the others--it wasn’t a sudden shift, or his pressing forward glancing off of Poet’s mountain of motion. Luka just fell forward, as if cast off from a funnel spinning slow as the sea, but with just as much force. And with that disorientation came a splitting headache and a sharp tinnitus in his ears. His eyes shot open, looking up at Poet who was visible again, still frozen in her stance. But her eyes were open and her expression apologetic.
“[It’s ... of being let ... blank.]” She murmured, her voice still slack with the rhythm they’d been keeping. Luka’s hearing was returning slow as Poet bent down to offer him a hand up. As she continued, her voice was close enough for him to make it out over the ringing in his ears. “[The closer someone is to me when they’re in the blank, the more intense the shock is when they’re let out.]”
The fall wasn't bad, he was hit more by the effect from Poet's power leaving him a bit disoriented. He recovered quickly though, taking Poet's hand to get back up.
"I see," he smiled at her as he stood, then getting a thoughtful look on his face. "Hmm, are you able to use your ability on others? make them invisible too?"
“No.” Poet sighed as she switched back to English, flopping into a chair. “At least… not safely. It’s not me being invisible. It’s me reaching into your brain and suggesting I’m not there.”
Poet reached a hand to rummage in her hoodie’s central pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes, American Spirit Light Blues, and stuck one in her mouth, offering the pack to Luka and rummaging for fire. She took a long drag first, then spoke again as she exhaled.
“It works a few different ways, but how I just suggested to you I can only do with one person at a time. It’s hard for me to switch on and off with only one person. With multiple people I can strobe it... keep the headache going, make their ears ring so hard they can’t hear anything else, make it bad enough for them to pass out. If I want to do more I can’t control it. So I don’t.”
"Ah, still could get up some mischief, power like that," Luka said as he took a cigarette from her pack, lighting it with his own lighter. He found a seat in another chair, exhaling smoke from through his nose. He nodded as she spoke "Ever kill someone with it?"
Poet took another drag from her cigarette in response and left the silence between them, exhaling through her nostrils as she watched Luka closely. She bit her lower lip, looking down at her lap.
“If I want to do more…” Poet paused for emphasis, looking back up at him, “...I can’t control it. So I don’t do more.” She looked at the tip of her cigarette, flicking away the ash so she could watch the ember. “But yeah, I did. I killed my mentor because he figured out how to see past the blank. I wanted him to not, and he didn’t.”
Poet had started tapping her foot against one of the legs of the patio table as she spoke, and took yet another drag as she fell silent again.
Luka only nodded. He didn't have much more to say at this point so he just sat in silence with her, his gaze soon drifting away from her as he relaxed and let time pass. Poet tapped out more ash.
“So what do you do?” Poet asked, looking up at Luka again. “Simon said you were a hemomancer, but he’s also an impotent. I learned not to trust muggles at about the same time I learned not to trust mages.”
Luka snapped his gaze back when she spoke again.
"Well my magic does use blood, either directly or as power, but it's more than that,” he leaned forward, looking at his hands in front of him. "I can...manipulate people’s flesh as well. I can change appearances, shift features around and make you look like someone else. I can mend almost any wound, hell you could get your guts spilled out all over the floor so long as you aren't all the way dead I can fix you. Then of course there's the other side of that. I can inflict unimaginable pain on someone, and keep them alive and conscious for all of it." He paused for a second, looking from his hands to Poet. "And I don't know if Simon mentioned anything about being a Vampire again but that is pretty much true if he did."
“Heheh-he’s very insistent about that, yes,” Poet chuckled. “You’re features are a bit more masculine than he lead me to believe though.”
Poet stood then, rubbing her cigarette out into a tray. She left it there, putting her hands on her hips and looking at Luka with an expectant smile.
“So, when do I start? Simon didn’t really explain how all of this was supposed to work. I’m kinda guessing that’s because he didn’t know.”
Luka smiled back up at her and flicked his cigarette over the patio railing, sending off into the street below. "Oh really?" He stood up with her. "Well at any rate, we'll go find Aly. Powers like yours and you've already been helping us? you'll be starting right then. I, for one, look forward to working together" he held out his hand and Poet took it awkwardly, clearly unused to the gesture. That didn’t stop her smiling, though her grip as she shook was rather weak.
“Lunch?”
