Consult

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair killed the Jeep's engine and let his head fall forward a bit, bumping into the steering wheel before he sat for a minute or two. Part thinking, partly just groaning and considering all the messes on his plate. For once, the Order might not be the biggest threat on the horizon, and here he was even thinking of working WITH the piles of shit, lest whatever was out there killing magi start killing more of his people as well.

The hell of it was, after checking into all of it, he didn't think Dacia was screwing with him. A big part of him was hoping that she had been, because that would have restored the regular order of the universe. The Order lied, he fought them, they were the bad guys, things were simple.

But then, he'd always known they weren't all bad, at least not down to the very last... but there had been good people in every evil regime, thinking they were doing the least bad thing. He wasn't comparing anyone to the Third Reich, mind (no sense invoking Godwin's Law on himself), but there were lots of other that he could apply to the situation. And most of them didn't have magic, as far as he knew. Shit, maybe some of them, HAD, and...

Okay, this was all besides the point. The point was, there was a group of... cultists, for lack of a better term, who were using some sort of ritual and or blood magic to build up enough power to produce substantial and deeply dangerous effects. Enough that, according to Dacia, they were even starting to go after Order magi. And Alistair had no illusions about who might be next. Which meant that this visit wasn't 100% social... but it wasn't as though he spent much time <i>skipping</i> excuses to stop by.

So he hit the door release and stepped out, walking up to Kells, his damn-near-trademarked-by-now coat hanging a bit too warmly on him in the heat of the summer, and the magus stepped in, glancing around for a moment to see who was working the desk that day. Though he didn't see anyone, at least not right away...

[alistair]Hello? Candygram for Rorye![/alistair] he DID, as it turned out, have a box in one hand. You know. It rarely hurt to come bearing gifts. Bribes. Whatever you called them.
 

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

Lashes opened quietly. It always felt strange, like contacts in an eye for the first time- seeing something in your horizon but unable to chase it with your glance. This time, it was that twinkle of green in irises the color of deep mahogany. Entirely too much lately….  she just liked holding them, oozing in and out of the odd consciousness.  The custom blades Ali had helped her acquire were exquisite, the ones Johann had bound for her were addicting.  It felt exhilarating to feel your entire existence merge with something else on a whim, the wild that was so necessary thousands of years ago a spark in the chest.  Brutal.  Taking what you wanted and not asking for permission to survive. It whispered at her when she slept, pulled at her when she was awake.  Maybe she had a problem.  Maybe not, smirk was light, putting them on the custom rack in her closet next to other weaponry she had started to accumulate felt like letting go of a security blanket.

 

Yes, the world was brutal now…but Red made it feel so much more, enticing.

 

Lower lip was drawn through teeth, pulling low slung jeans over her hips, the slip on shoes allowing the tops of her feet to be tickled by the lazy frays of the jean cuffs.  Black silk cami was slid into, frowning slightly. She wasn’t the most small chested person in the world, it was wiggled out of, replaced with some lacy underthing before cami was pulled back on and she slipped an emerald sheer gauze fitted tunic over it.  Comfy today, she’d just loaded a ton of new things into the back of the shop.  Some harmless, some not so harmless. 

 

She’d promised… it was so HARD to keep that promise.  Addicted to dangerous things… like Red, like overpowered trinkets that tried to eat your face, like Alistair.

 

Hair pulled up lazily in an updo held in place with unadorned kanzashi.  It was not a leather and fuck-off to the world day.  It was a relaxed one.  She was half-way bouncing gracefully down the narrow Victorian stairs into the quiet murmur of the tea house when she heard him, it drew a thoughtful pause.

 

….did she have anything in the place he’d be upset at her for?

 

…..meeeeehhbe?

 

He didn’t need to know that.

 

Swish of her footsteps were light into the shop proper, quiet, coming up behind him and grazing her fingertips along the edge of his hairline at the back of his neck in a soft tickle meant to elicit a shudder.

 

Why do I doubt that it’s candy,  she whispered into his ear from behind before placing a soft peck on his neck and keeping her stride to the main counter.  New hires needed to be paid.

 

Pupils were far too wide, opening, then closing the ledger as she examined his expression. Something was up.

[Alistair Greene]

The touch had the intended effect, and Alistair grinned when she spoke, closing his eyes just a moment for the kiss. He shook his head though, following her over to the counter and putting down the box he was carrying before he looked across it to her, his expression deadly serious.

[alistair]Rorye. I would not lie about candy.[/alistair] he said, tone solemn, and he opened the top of the box to show a pile of pralines. [alistair]See? Candy. Or at least some sort of sugary treat.  I always figured pralines were candy, anyway.[/alistair] He frowned at them for a moment, then shrugged, sliding the box over to sit next to the ledger before he stepped over that way himself, leaning in and kissing her - Her greeting had been nice, sure, but not entirely the proper one, since he hadn't seen her in a couple days anyway.

[alistair]Morning to you too, by the way.[/alistair] he said quietly as he pulled back, leaning against the coutner next to her. It was, he thought, probably a bit early for her usual clientele. Shit, it was early for HIM, but he was running on a fairly good supply of caffeine just then. It probably wasn't much of a secret to anyone by this point that he was something of a regular at the place. Not the sort of thing you COULD keep a secret, and in his experience people in the city's occult circles could be as gossipy as you like. Just not the kind of thing you could hide for long. And she had a way of drawing him back in, of course...

They were trouble. When he'd met her, he'd thought he was the troublesome one, considering that tended to be the case with him, but somehow he'd ended up finding a lady who got herself into almost as much, and that... well, he was apparently a sucker for it. Neither of them were exactly the easiest people to know. It worked anyway. Maybe they both just liked long odds.

[alistair]I did come with an ulterior motive, though. Well...[/alistair] He let himself give her a long look before flashing another grin. [alistair]Other than the usual one. If you've got a minute for shop talk, that is.[/alistair] Like there was much chance of her not, he thought - he'd never known her not to be interested in talking shop. They were addicted to their jobs as much as anything else, workaholics all day long. Well, work hard, play hard, as the saying went.
 

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

"Rorye. I would not lie about candy."

 

She blinked at him, dark eyes narrowing with a quick wit on the tip of her tongue. Fingers tapped on the ledger.

 

“You can’t tease me like that…  I truly believe in revenge.”

 

"See? Candy. Or at least some sort of sugary treat.  I always figured pralines were candy, anyway."

 

Good god she loved those things.  Not fair.  Not fair at all.  Lips curled into a smirk, teeth tugging a bit at his lower lip as he leaned back.

"Morning to you too, by the way."

 

“Incredibly lonely morning….”  she said with a playfully wistful sigh as the ledger flipped open again and she picked up a pencil, plucking one of the sugary confections she knew immediately was some sort of bribe.  “Had to find ways to amuse myself before breakfast,” she said under her breath loud enough for him to catch. Brow quirked as she glanced over numbers on the pages, looking incredibly busy for a moment.  “...alone.” 

 

Eyes flicked up.  Pencil rocked in her fingers between her knuckles as she chewed and watched him auspiciously.  A little earlier and Red may have been involved.  Pencil twirled and she began to write.  She’d always hated technology and preferred to do everything by hand, it was like the damn shit was always screwing something up around the shop.  After the Nevus, she was glad she preferred to do it the old fashioned way.

 

"I did come with an ulterior motive, though. Well..."

 

“Did you now,” abnormally large pupils caught the long look, again the odd green flecks of light at the edges of her vision, pencil paused, feeling a prickle in her chest jump at the grin.  He was so bad sometimes. Okay, fuck that… all the time.

 

"Other than the usual one. If you've got a minute for shop talk, that is."

 

She laughed, the unique timbre of her voice warm… smirk followed.  Smartass.

 

“Bribery.  You’re going to get yourself into trouble Alistair Greene.  I’ve always got more than a minute for shop talk,” lips still curled upward as she set to work for a moment.  Fingers were making quick work of the hours and numbers, tickle of a lock swiftly tucked behind an ear. She was good at mental math.  Finished, buttons were hit on the register- cute little ding as the drawer slid out, and the ledger was slid in under the cash tray. Pencil was tossed back into the old chalice she used as a writing utensil holder with accurate aim.

 

“You have my undivided attention. Unless you ask about stock I don’t really have, then I will divert your attention so you don’t get upset with me because you know I actually have it.”

 

Glance was quick to the Sky Disc that graced the wall as a decoration behind her counter. Artifact perhaps, but it hadn’t much as peeped since she got her hands on it.  Fuck Richard. She’d kept it, that damn thing had gotten her laid for the first time in- way too long... of course also a freak fallout of a business relationship had followed, but she’d made it work.  Alistair being around had made some skittish as well, some didn't want their "alternative" activities common knowledge to those they thought would try to put a kabash on their "hobbies" other than incense burning and yoga.  She didn't care, she still had her fingers on the pulse of everything arcane moving through the circuits.

 

There was something wrong.  Even through the witty banter that had become a staple in their conversations, he was tired, she could tell.  Sure, it was early, but she watched the news, things were tense.  Fingertip slid something from the space underneath the register, a keychain.  She found herself lately unable to keep her hands still, a product of her weapons training perhaps.  Fingers were incredibly nimble.  If she was a gambler, damn...  it flipped through her fingers as she waited for him to divulge why he was here so early.

[Alistair Greene]

Welp.

Alistair swallowed once - she was better at this game. [alistair]Ah... Noted. I should come over earlier next time. Or maybe just stay the night.[/alistair] he lifted a brow at the suggestion, but she had her paperwork to get through, so he waited a moment, snagging a praline himself and trying not to imagine acute enamel decay as he bit into it.

Magic was a bit of a problem as far as any kind of tech went. Alistair had to go to some pretty extreme lengths as far as shielding things like his phone, and even then he went through one every month or so. It was a good thing there were shops that could still make and repair them, though they weren't what they used to be - microprocessors had taken a bit of a step back, considering you weren't getting anything from those Chinese factories anymore. Supply chains: they were a bitch. But there were also... well... an awful lot of cell phones lying around. Millions of dead people didn't need them anymore. Morbid, but people did what they had to do these days.

[alistair]Me? Trouble? I'm always in trouble in one way or another.[/alistair] He chuckled, letting her take care of her numbers for a few minutes before she tossed her pencil away and focused back on him.

[alistair]Nah. Not gonna harangue you about stock items.[/alistair] He left 'today' unsaid. He did have a job to do, and unfortunately dangerous magical artifacts tended to show up in HIS blotter sooner or later. People tended to prefer their faces un-eaten. Still, there was always going to be a black market. He'd rather she have something to do with it than certain bug-wielding shitbags. Sooner or later, that prick was going to have to be dealt with. Pharos, likely, was going to want their museum back. But he'd told her and plenty of people that he didn't give a solitary fuck about people practicing magic in their homes... until demons and monsters started pouring out of holes int he Veil.

It was a fine line. Letting people play with magic was a lot like letting everyone have explosives. Most people just wanted fireworks, but even they could fuck up and burn the apartment building down.

Well, anyway. There was something he wanted to ask her about. [alistair]So... Not so much in this country yet, but it seems like someone is picking off mages in Europe. There have been a couple here - OFL sorts, primarily. Which wouldn't bother me so much most days, mind... But it's the things and people who are going missing that's getting to me. Order actually reached out the olive branch, wants a truce to deal with it.[/alistair]

He paused, trying to figure out how to phrase why there was so much worry about it. [alistair]The thing giving people heartburn is, there's no trace. Magi can track other magi, like senses like, but there are these crime scenes, magic was obviously used, but there was no magus. I think someone's figured out how to give magic to non-Altereds. It's mentioned in texts here and there, but the Order always said it didn't work - I'm worried, and for that matter so are they, that they were wrong. And I wouldn't be an elitist prick about it and say 'normal people' aren't allowed to play in the magus sandbox if they didn't seem to be fusing the sand into glass and stabbing people with it.[/alistair]
 

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

Lashes blinked slowly at his idea of coming over early or staying the night, she’d caught the swallow too.  She was the type of girl to slide into every situation with grace and respectability, then whisper something torrid in his ear at the exact moment it could break his train of thought.  Kept him on his toes, and she felt it helped take the edge off his mountain of stress.  He needed a break.  Everyone responsible for taking care of the needs of others all of the time eventually got drained.  It was part of being in charge.  She knew some things had shifted within the ranks, but still. Even when she herself passed the reins to Nina, her staff still looked at her first. 

 

She had a big tub…  with jets.  He needed to spend the night.  Brow darkened a bit, never having breached the subject before because… well… she didn’t want to get electrocuted.  She was eventually going to have to ask him exactly how that worked.

 

“You are trouble,” she murmured with a smirk in response to his confession of always being in a bind, finishing her payroll in record time.  “Not that I’m an angel either.”

 

"Nah. Not gonna harangue you about stock items."

 

“Case in point.”

 

Then business.  He was here during business hours after all.  Hers anyway.  His, all hours were business hours.

 

"So... Not so much in this country yet, but it seems like someone is picking off mages in Europe. There have been a couple here - OFL sorts, primarily. Which wouldn't bother me so much most days, mind... But it's the things and people who are going missing that's getting to me. Order actually reached out the olive branch, wants a truce to deal with it."

 

Her learning curve since jumping into the Justice League had been… substantial.  She found the way the factions worked fascinating.  She’d never been a clubs kid, on the outskirts of everything- the clique between the “stoners” and the “goths”.  She liked to call it the “educated rebel” type, help where needed and do the stuff nobody else had the balls to do.  She still preferred it, though a member, she skirted the edge.  No “Members Only” jacket for her.  She supported ARMA, but she didn’t broadcast her involvement either.  Alistair being around kind of did that for her.

 

Lips quirked slightly.  His information was… incredibly interesting and terrifying at the same time.  Killing mages, was not easy.  Order was trying to cooperate.  It was either a phenomenal leap of morals, or they were terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought.  As long as nobody was conjuring Stay-Puft men, they had a chance to maybe figure it out.

 

"The thing giving people heartburn is, there's no trace. Magi can track other magi, like senses like, but there are these crime scenes, magic was obviously used, but there was no magus. I think someone's figured out how to give magic to non-Altereds. It's mentioned in texts here and there, but the Order always said it didn't work - I'm worried, and for that matter so are they, that they were wrong. And I wouldn't be an elitist prick about it and say 'normal people' aren't allowed to play in the magus sandbox if they didn't seem to be fusing the sand into glass and stabbing people with it."

 

I know it works.

 

Her brain rolled on it, thumb twirling the silver ring on her middle finger, the tiny voice in the back of her mind unwelcome.

 

“The ones that know it works, are the ones that always tell everyone else it doesn’t,” eyes watched the tea house again, making sure her voice was out of earshot.  Sure, she did believe there were things the run of the mill human could do that defied explanation, but in essence… she knew her shop catered to superstitions.  She wasn’t going to deter customers from thinking they actually COULD summon some sort of shit they’d seen in a TV show.  “There is nothing the average guy on the street can get their hands on out in the shop that could do that.”  thumb stopped moving.  “They browse, get hooked reading a book and buy cool stones, play, read another book, and play with more cool stones.  It’s the mysticism.”

 

But humans potentially breaking the barrier in such force to make the Order piss their pants?  Give Alistair heartburn?  His news was… not good.

 

She picked up her receipt book from under the counter, adequate bribe of pralines –which she was starting to think were not enough- and stuffed the keychain in her back pocket, motioning him toward her back workroom.  This was not a conversation to even be in the vicinity of her employees.  She closed the door behind them.  A few boxes were shifted off the large island workbench in the middle of the room onto a shelf, two stools pulled up to the cleared table.  One never really sat on a stool, especially if you were tall. Usually some sort of casual lean with one heel on a rung and the other leg stretched out.  Weird.

 

She set down the bribe in front of her, then slid the receipt book in front of him.

 

“Everything here, is essentially harmless, but you know I move other things not on the floor.  Sometimes stock comes in that someone didn’t realize was hoodoo, and I get that to you…” most of the time.  “First names, items, amounts.  Just to track stock and trends.  Some things, red flag. Blood, blades and spellbooks.  Rare books are locked in the cabinet out front, they pay by the hour.  Some old “arcane” texts and history books, things that you need gloves to handle that I’ve collected from fencers after the looting from the Nevus.  It’s been a hotspot lately, names are in there.  I’ve had black market inquiries for old blades too.  That stuff moves so fast I usually never bother trying to snatch it because the turnover profit is low and they are almost never anything of value.  Deals like that start through anonymous inquiry,” lips quirked.  “As the deal solidifies, money amounts follow, then drop off points or couriers.”  This was stuff she never talked about.  She was so gonna get yelled at for this.  She was worried, worried about the kinds of mages that were getting offed.  Even in the New Age-y circles, some truths still held.  Stereotypes came from some shrap of truth.  You want power, you went after the powerful.  To get the power to attempt it, you were either ballsy enough to go straight to the top or you worked your way up the totem pole.

 

Sigh was long.  She got up and knelt in front of her safe.  SHE was going to have to provide the bribe for this one, and buy a damn gun to sleep with under her pillow.  The giant door clinked, it was a relatively small safe, but had been in a bank at one time for rare gems a hundred years ago.

 

“Sometimes I’m just the weigh station,” her frown was deep.  She would have to apologize later.  “I don’t know what it is most of the time.  This one though.  Pick up never showed, so I checked it out.  People lately have been asking for blood.  I don’t carry it in the shop.  It’s gross, it stinks and I have standards.  Then this came through the pipe and never left.  I WAS going to give it to you.  I don't want it here.”

 

Cloth-wrapped book came out, followed by something else- a small and ornate container, round, looking like polished coal.  She sat down and slid the tiny container over to him, holding the cloth-wrapped book to her chest. 

 

She knew what was in the damn thing, and didn't want to touch it again.  A vial of what she assumed was probably blood of some kind.  It might not be, but given the recent inquiries... the conclusion was fairly sound and she wasn't going to check it out.  He had essentially changed her ways to some extent.

 

“Take it, but if someone finally shows up for it and fuses sand into glass to stab my ass you’re the first person I’m coming after to haunt.”

 

The book she held though... was a peace offering. She should have said something sooner.  Granted, the little container had only been in her hands a few days, sooner would have been better with the weight of this news.

[Alistair Greene]

Yeah, Rorye was trouble on more than a few fronts... and she had definitely decided of late to have a bit more fun with him, it was clear. Granted, his schedule had interfered a bit, but that was also more or less par for the course, wasn't it? All he knew was that most of the time she was around, he didn't spend the time thinking about the mountain of shit he had to go back to climbing afterward, and there wasn't a lot more one could ask than that.

[alistair]Nah... but I like you anyway.[/alistair] Alistair offered in response - no one would accuse either of them of being angels, he imagined. Though he'd been typecast as the 'white knight' more than a few times over the course of his career. Thank GOD that was dying down. He'd never been comfortable with anything of the sort. He tried to do the right thing - sometimes the right thing tended to stain someone's shiny silver armor. That was the difference between wanting to do the right thing and wanting to be SEEN doing the right thing, he figured.

He took in a short breath when she said the same thing he'd been thinking for some time, and he shook his head a little bit. [alistair]Always a safe assumption with magic. But it's not as though we've been taking their word for it - I've seen the tests, seen people follow the rituals in the books, and not a one of them amounted to anything. There was a piece missing - pieces, really, and I think I know what they are, too.[/alistair] he winced, rubbing at the back of his neck a little bit and letting her continue on for a while. She was getting on something of a roll... he didn't want to interrupt.

The magus watched as she moved things about - and tried to remember that while it was always nice watching her, that wasn't the point of THIS conversation - until she came back down, and he took the book with a slow nod, opening it to flip through a few pages. [alistair]Right...[/alistair] he murmured, but then he flipped the book closed, sliding it where it was out of view for the moment. It was going to be worth poring over, but when you got right down to it not something he could do obviously. In a sense, Rorye was sort of like a CI, at least in that neither of them could be seen to openly work together on anything like this, and that some of what she did either was or maybe ought to be on the shady side of legal. Her explanation got a few nods here and there, the onetime engineer not looking at anything in particular as he put the pieces together in his head.

The next thing she went to get though piqued his interest, and he lifted a brow slightly as she brought it over.... for some reason though, Alistair ignored the book, reaching instead for the container. When his fingers brushed it though, his mouth fell open, and the magus suddenly went dead pale, pulling his hand back as though it had bitten him, chair knocked over as he stood, taking a step back from the table until he hit the counter. That he gripped onto with one hand, knuckles turning white as the color gradually began to return to his face. [alistair]Mother fuckers...[/alistair] he hissed, putting enough feeling into the second word that from a mage like him it might almost have been a literal curse, and he lifted a hand to rub at his brow a moment.

[alistair]Sorry, sorry... fuck... should have warded up, if you're a sensitive, there are some things...[/alistair] He shook his head a little bit, trailing off as he pulled one of his insulated gloves from his pocket, and pulled that on before he picked the accursed thing back up, stuffing it in one of the pockets of his coat. The coat was shielded - right now it was about the only place he wanted the thing, though he also began pulling the coat off once it was inside.

[alistair]Like I said.[/alistair] he began again, his voice a bit shaky. [alistair]Two things missing from the rituals. The power source, and the belief. The collective minds of the people on this plane are part of what drives the magic here... belief has power, even for those without the Spark a mage has. So I'm betting the first missing component was that - no one expected it to work, so it didn't. The second part... Life. Taken from another. Blood of the slain, if you really want a charge, distilled or raw - sometimes...[/alistair] He wrapped the coat in a ball around the vial and put it back down, away from him.

[alistair]Sometimes a fucking lot of them. We need to dig back into missing persons, hard, we need to... those pieces of shit.[/alistair]

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

"Always a safe assumption with magic.”

 

People never told the truth, not completely anyway.  Nobody in the history of the world ever got what they truly wanted, the ones that had the means always seemed to find a way to pull the wool over the more honest of the world.  This was no different.  She read the papers.  If the Order was anything like what she’d heard others describe, this new image bullshit was exactly that.

 

“But it's not as though we've been taking their word for it - I've seen the tests, seen people follow the rituals in the books, and not a one of them amounted to anything. There was a piece missing - pieces, really, and I think I know what they are, too."

 

She was worried what it might bring along with it.  Alistair wanted to keep people safe, the Order… wanted to keep themselves safe and she had no doubt they would walk over Arma’s dead bodies to do it after finding a way to skew it to their advantage.  Lower lip rolled through her teeth at the thought, it was the first time really she wished this HwA shit was more than just that… that she could really join the ranks and sling some badass shit.

 

You can.

 

Brows ghosted down.  It was becoming a struggle.  The Rorye with abilities wasn’t just fast; she had been a boxer, even a kickboxer since she was young.  Speed coupled with that, she could be positively one of the best brawlers in the city.  There was a hitch.  A hitch that prevented her from really cutting into the limits of what she could do. Last time, she’d killed someone she loved.  Red added to the mix, and there was no telling what her world would become.  She wondered if Alistair, if any of them had to get over the apprehension of dealing with the dangers. Of course they'd pushed through it… she’d just never asked how they did it.

 

“Books, modern books anyway…the ones I sell, were written by those that had a story after a time that shunned what they feared.  Humans have gone from magic, to fear of magic, back to magic as pop culture and fact.  Now the world knows the “witches” are real again and they have to put together a game of telephone over a millennia after watching their buddies turn into the Super Friends.”  The book she’d been holding to her chest was set on the table.  “Meanwhile, those with real magic went around and picked up all the Easter eggs while people were burning witches.  Stole it from right under the hysterical noses.  I’d bet they may have even had a hand in the chaos.”

 

Soft sigh was quiet as she watched him flip through a few pages of the receipts before bringing his attention back to what she was doing, placing the more “fun” things from her safe onto the table.

 

“You know,” her voice was quiet, sliding to that place where it became that gentle shopkeeper.  She guessed she always was, even with everything that had happened over the last year or so.  “I just hope this isn’t part of an Order bigger plan.”

 

She wasn’t as familiar as he was of course with the mess of the Vatican that had come before, she was too busy holding her own neighborhood together and dealing with her own changed but not quite cool kid status.  The Scot had picked up a few things though over the years.

 

“In my line of extra-curricular work, people are assholes until they need something from you. Best friends, then they fuck you over.”

 

Dark eyes watched him reach for the container.

 

…her breath sucked from her chest at his reaction, repelling the urge of muscles to move.

 

Damn it.

"Mother fuckers..."

 

Bottom lip was bit, expression dire.  She knew it wasn’t good the moment it had come into the shop.

"Sorry, sorry... fuck... should have warded up, if you're a sensitive, there are some things..."

 

“I’m not, look… you don’t have to carry it where it needs to go…. let me do it.”  words were quiet.

"Like I said.  Two things missing from the rituals. The power source, and the belief. The collective minds of the people on this plane are part of what drives the magic here... belief has power, even for those without the Spark a mage has. So I'm betting the first missing component was that - no one expected it to work, so it didn't. The second part... Life. Taken from another. Blood of the slain, if you really want a charge, distilled or raw - sometimes..."

 

Brow was still down.  Answers.  There was one person that could have answers. One person that had seen the world so far back in an age where the belief was all there was, and blood was something of an everyday occurrence.  Light could be shed. She wasn’t sure she was willing to go there yet.

"Sometimes a fucking lot of them. We need to dig back into missing persons, hard, we need to... those pieces of shit."

 

She kept the idea to herself for the moment, untying the book cover from the fragile, leather bound thing.  “Didn’t fall into this business on accident. Family heirloom of sorts.  Always been in a safety deposit box along with some other things from my mom’s side.  Banks now what they are, I keep it here.  I think… I think given the circumstances, you should probably keep it locked up under your keys.”

 

Knowing what she knew now, it was probably NOT a good thing the two items were next to each other in her safe.  Or maybe, that was someone’s point all along.  Who else knew she had this thing?  Her employees.  The book was exactly what he probably thought it was.  A hundred pages of what looked like complete nonsense, stuffed with feathers, bits of crumbling plants, sketches and meanderings; added to over the years, some pages merely stuffed in there with no binding.

 

“Does any of it work?  I don’t know.”

 

It works… if it didn't, why am I still around?

 

She got up almost immediately and locked the deadbolt on the back door, opening the other to her shop slightly to glance across the rooms.  It was quiet.  She was starting to feel like someone not coming for the container wasn't an accident.  Both things in the same place at the same time... and now an "up the totem pole" target?  Alistair, this shit, and her book in the same room at the same time.

 

"Get rid of it," she said quickly.  "Is there a way to get rid of it? Now?  Fry it, burn it, dump it down the damn sink?"

 

Door closed, wrapping the book back up and shoving it back into the safe with a spin of the dial. It may not have withstood magic intervention, but it would slow somebody down.  She was quick, movements concerned, expression following suit.  She reached for his coat and pushed it back toward him, she knew it protected him.

 

"I think this is a set-up... you said they needed belief and a power source, they believe and that's their battery.  For what? For me?  Bullshit... this is to get to you...  give me that damn vial and I'll get rid of it."

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair nodded when she started adding her own explanation. It meshed with his understanding, more or less. He'd never been into any of this before, aside from comics and fantasy books. He'd been an electrical engineer for fuck's sake.

When she asked about the Order though he looked back up to her, shaking his head after thinking for a few moments. [alistair]I don't think so. Not yet, anyway. Dacia's not who they'd send for that. She's here to do damage control on their public image. They need a good setup before they can make a move, and they don't have it yet. So that's the big thing I'm paying attention to... promise I'm keeping an eye on them, but I don't think they've gotten to that point. Not yet anyway. [/alistair]

[alistair]Yeah. People are pretty much like that in my work, too.[/alistair] he agreed, with a bit of a wince as he did. That had been part of his rudest awakening, getting into the ass-kicking and mystery solving business.

Later, after the debacle with the vial, he shook his head once at her offer. [alistair]No. It's fine. I just need to keep it grounded, I can do that... and I can destroy it properly back at the office. Give some peace to the people who were slauthered for it... maybe even find a way to hunt down the son of a bitch who created it.[/alistair] he said, his voice quiet. He wasn't thinking right now about anything else she might do... he was just stuck on the idea of the thing, and what he could do to undo it - and prevent more of them from being created.

Even now, no matter how many terrible things had already happened, people seemed ready and even eager to do even worse things, it seemed. He ran his fingers over the book she set down, never quite touching it. There was a hum about it... something there, he thought. How much he couldn't say, but... something. When she suddenly got up and started locking things up, he pushed himself back to his feet, taking a slow breath and reaching for his power, stretching his magical awareness out as far as he could. There wasn't any charge other than what was familiar in the store, so...

[alistair]Rorye... Easy.[/alistair] he said, shaking his head a bit, then stepping closer to her, putting his hands on her arms. [alistair]I don't think it's that, not this time. I'm covering my tracks lately. Bit of magic chaff before I go places. And no, can't rush something like that. Could either reform in the sewer and do who knows what, or... I was gonna say explode, but it's probably a lot worse than that.[/alistair]

[alistair]I'll deal with the thing. I swear. But you're getting the hang of the worrying bit, for now anyway.[/alistair] He looked toward the door, then shook his head just a little bit and pulled her into a hug. She was worried, and while he was hiding it... yeah, he was worried too, in his way. Partly because of how badly the echoes stored within the vile thing had screamed into his head.

[alistair]It's alright. This time. For now.[/alistair]

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

"No. It's fine. I just need to keep it grounded, I can do that... and I can destroy it properly back at the office. Give some peace to the people who were slaughtered for it... maybe even find a way to hunt down the son of a bitch who created it."

 

Big sigh.  Big sigh.  GIANT sigh.  It was still a flutter of panic in her chest.

"Rorye... Easy."

 

Eyes flicked up to him the moment he rose.  She was tall, but he was still taller, there were few men that were.  Somehow though, he always knew how to pull the calm out of her, another sigh slowing the heartbeat when he held her arms.

 

"I don't think it's that, not this time. I'm covering my tracks lately. Bit of magic chaff before I go places. And no, can't rush something like that. Could either reform in the sewer and do who knows what, or... I was gonna say explode, but it's probably a lot worse than that.  I'll deal with the thing. I swear. But you're getting the hang of the worrying bit, for now anyway."

 

She was making the squinty face at him.  The… “I don’t believe you but you sound so fucking sure so I’m going to believe you, but if you’re wrong I will punch you” face.  As soon as she realized it, the squinty expression disappeared, replaced with the quirk of her lips.

 

"It's alright. This time. For now."

 

Brows were down. It wasn’t all right.  Every inch of her wanted to scream that from the rooftops. With danger, you couldn’t pause to think, you had to act.  Impulse was overwhelming, and she wasn’t sure… no, she knew exactly where it was coming from.  There was a reason it was coming from the back of her thoughts.  Thoughts and feelings were melding together. It was making her question whether or not she truly was simply just a kid from Hell’s, or if this rip.. this thing in the sky had built a bridge somehow across time to someone she always was, or was supposed to be.  Her family’s grimoire, need to fight, to protect, her faith in what was right, her taste in the dangerous… books and artifacts mostly but Alistair definitely fell into that category.  Something was there that made puzzle pieces fit.  Pieces whose pictures did not mesh, but the groove and joints locked perfectly.

 

“You should talk to someone.  Someone who knows what it was like before the reality became our disbelief and myths.”

 

Voice had fallen into such a low timbre it was rum rich.  She couldn’t lie and say the thought didn’t make her heart flutter a bit.  Red was exciting… like someone she knew intimately but never realized existed.  Maybe she would confess soon there was definitely something not quite right about the presence that clung to her.  Not quite right meaning… an echo.  One person ripped into two when the sky pulled apart.  It seemed like such a stupid idea when she thought about it… but her gut didn’t lie.

 

Eyes studied him a moment.  It was absolutely incredibly rare she even offered to open that door… okay, total lie, never… She had a handle on that spitfire rather fast. Alistair had not seen a flicker of the “other” in a very, very long time.  He didn’t ask. She didn’t offer.

 

“But… we have to go upstairs.  Nina, the others, have no clue what’s up with that.  I can bring up the grimoire, it might help.”

 

It was up to him.  She was now offering, and she knew it would help… if the bitch cooperated.

[Alistair Greene]

Somehow, Rorye didn't seem convinced.

Alistair didn't blame her really. Things had a tendency to go to shit regardless of anyone's reassurances, so it was hard to blame anyone for expecting the worse, ever since the Big Sparkly showed up in the sky. Well, Alistair had been deep in the pessimism for what seemed like forever now. He just didn't have the energy to always be afraid anymore. That was how it felt. Right now, he thought the situation was alright... temporarily of course, always temporarily, but good enough that they didn't need to be arming up and battening down the hatches. Not for a while anyway.

[alistair]Someone like... Red? Seriously? You think that's a good idea?[/alistair] he asked, mildly surprised. Not that it was likely to be enormously dangerous, at least he thought not. Hard to exactly be sure... he didn't know much about her beyond that she had been some serious historical ass kicker, but even that much was hard to confirm. Hadn't exactly been hostile to him the last time he 'met' her, either. Which boded well, but... awkwardly.

He let out a breath, rubbing at the back of his neck, then he let out a breath and nodded. [alistair]Alright. Let's ask the lady from the past then.[/alistair] he finally said. If she was willing, and she thought it would help, he'd rather be around for it than not. He still didn't know the extent of the possession, and it was just the fact that Rorye had been functioning alright and pretty much herself that kept him from looking too much into it.

The mage had no idea, though, if tonight was going to change his mind. [alistair]Inviting me upstairs, huh?[/alistair] he added, grinning faintly at the tease. It was just a little too easy, too lobbed underhand, for him not to comment on.

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

"Someone like... Red? Seriously? You think that's a good idea?"

 

“It’s a terrible idea,” answer came a bit quick, fingers reaching to rub the back of her neck.  “She makes me a bit uncomfortable.  I kinda like it though,” brows quirked at him, not embarrassed, a little naughty maybe?  Kinkyyyy....  That was, weird to confess.  "Weird I know, but it feels... like she's... me?"

 

Smirk was light.

 

She cleared her throat softly.

 

“We'll have to talk more about that later.  I have it under control though.  But, it’s a good idea.  Is there anyone alive that has seen magic that old?  Who knows what she could have overheard, seen, if that was even possible.  It’s a good idea.”  She said it again, reassuring herself.  She had this.

 

"Alright. Let's ask the lady from the past then."

 

Nod was decisive… could be the ultimate test to see if she really did have control of this.

 

"Inviting me upstairs, huh?"

 

Lips pressed together as she smiled slightly, dimples flicking when she reached in her back pocket.

 

“About that.”

 

The key chain that she’d been playing with earlier slid out and she put it into his hand, her own fingers closing over his.

 

“Master key to the shop.  Alarm panel is by the back door, when you open the back door you have thirty seconds to disarm it… please don’t blow it up.  Code is nine two eight seven.”  She let go of his hand, quirk of her brow serious.  “Ground rules.  You come through the front door when we’re open and you’re working.  People know you, you come out of the back room they'll think you’re checking up on them.  I'll lose clients and I then can’t help you.  Otherwise, when we’re closed, help yourself.  Just, let me know you’re here so I don’t shoot you at three A.M.”  Lips quirked slightly, lashes low and a bit mischievous.  “The key also opens my parlor door up the fire escape outside, and the stairwell behind the tea house.”

 

Voice lowered to an almost inaudible decibel, the murmurs from the breakfast crowd in the enclosed tea house veranda monitored a moment as she cracked the door to the shop.

 

Shit.  They would have to cut through the tea house. Not that she cared whether or not they saw them together in public, him following her upstairs would definitely make people talk more than they already were… given the recent headlines and what he was now here telling her, it could definitely impact business if her customers thought there were being monitored. 

 

Dark eyes looked at the receipt book she’d offered for his perusal.  Hm.  They kind of were.

 

Well damn.

 

They didn’t need to know that.

 

Damn.

 

That was some 1984 shit right there. Sigh was brief.

 

Welllllll then.  Retrieving the grimoire again from the safe, she tucked it against her chest.  Might be useful.

 

“I’m going through the shop, you go up the fire escape.  I’ll let you in up there.”

 

Peck on the cheek was quick and footsteps quiet as she slipped out from the back room and closed the door behind her… good god she felt like she was sneaking out in the middle of the night.

 

“I’ll be upstairs,” she said to Nina in the tea house, taking the steps on the back stairs two at a time, slipping in the door at the top and closing it behind her. Locked.  Someone walking in would be awkward.  Strides purposeful, almost, excited?  Control.  She had this under control.

 

Under control.

 

Last thought she remembered.

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair shook his head a little bit at her reply to his comment. Yeah, having someone else in his head would be a little uncomfortable, he had to think, though something about the way she said that last part, the look... he lifted a brow back at her, and tried not to feel too curious as to if she meant what he thought she did. [alistair]I've seen a lot of weird you know... kind of hard for me to judge.[/alistair]

Definitely though, Red was from the last cycle, the time before the long magic drought. And the cycle was still on the upswing, which meant she had probably seen things they wouldn't see yet for decades, centuries even. This was just the beginning of magic in the world, from what he - well, the Order - suspected. He didn't think they were wrong. That much he'd been able to get out of them even back in the secret keeping days.

He was about to go, knowing the way to the steps, when she made a comment, and he had to look back at her in slight surprise when she gave him the key. Holy shit. Things just got real, didn't they? [alistair]Nine two eight seven...[/alistair] he repeated quietly, trying to commit the numbers to memory, and nodding in agreement with the rules she was setting. They made sense after all, and... well. He wasn't exactly going to argue with the notion.

[alistair]I got it...[/alistair] he said finally, grinning. He still had only shown her his lair the once - she was so much more often working from home, after all. There was something mildly funny, too, about the parlor door comment, but he let that one slide for now.

[alistair]Fire escape, got it - see you in a minute.[/alistair] He stepped out back and started climbing - it wasn't his first fire escape. Though, amusingly, usually the fire escape was because he was trying to... well best not think about the horrible stuff at this point. This time it was actually fairly innocent, and he wasn't carrying a shotgun loaded with banishment rounds. He found the door and unlocked it - shit the key worked! - and stepped into the room.

It was kind of oddly dark, she probably hadn't hit the lights yet, and he closed the door behind him, hitting the lock before he walked a bit further in. [alistair]Rorye?[/alistair]

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

It felt like a heavy sleep at first.  Moonlight through mist, a chill at her feet with warmth on her cheeks, the same hollow of a night with no stars.  She felt alone in the cold, staring at a bonfire from far away.  Seeing the beacon of light, seeing her body, urging its movements and thoughts, but unable to connect with it.  The only thing on earth she could describe it as was tunnel vision, aware in a dream you couldn’t wake up from.  She’d taken the jump into a realm that was starting to feel more comfortable than her own retail world.

 

There were so many other thoughts, memories that weren’t hers.  Emotions that weren’t hers, almost magnified.  Hate was more vicious. Sadness felt crippling, joy was elation.  Lust…

 

Eyes blinked toward the door as the lock clicked.

 

She was sitting on her stairwell railing in the Victorian loft, just beyond the reach of the light filtering in the fire escape door.  Perched would be a better word, in a crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet.  An agile gymnast’s grace present that she could execute but really didn’t know how to if she’d still been in “real” life.  Forearms rested on her knees, fingers hanging quietly, listening to the muffled conversations below beyond the locked door, attention also keenly on the fire escape door that had opened and closed.

 

Face turned back slightly over her shoulder to the stair “pit” behind her for a brief time, tickles of the chestnut hair that had been completely set free spilling over shoulders and around her forearms with a waterfall’s carelessness.

 

She’d heard her name. Same in life as it was in death.  Rorye.  Red?  Red was just an affectionate nickname by those long dead that didn’t have a description for the beast that she could become.  Rorye was a name that was buried on necessity, and had come around again.  There were no accidents when it came to things like this, to what degree was yet to be seen.

 

“I was listening in.  You have questions.”

 

The voice was the same, the rich timbre of rum licked with a night out that was way beyond bridled.  Shreds of the same person could be heard, yet so far away.  Head languidly stretched to one side, then the other, hands moving to either side of her hips to lift herself from it and place feet now barefoot onto the floor.  Motions were cat-like, intentional and light, holding a weight behind them that held its own warning of power that could be unleashed in the blink of an eye.  Full height, formidable then, even still in this life.  It always had been, with a stance completely comfortable in the skin that knew the intricacies of every muscle, and how to kill someone with it… with or without a weapon.

 

“The answer is yes.”

 

Upward curl of lips was brief, leaving him to wonder for a moment what the yes may have been for.  Everything?  Nothing?  An answer to his unspoken thoughts?

 

A slow breath was drawn in, then released, enjoying the feel of breath into her chest while she watched the magus with the eyes of a predator.  There was an unspoken agreement between handler and animal. Look, but don't touch.  It was concerning that the fine line was starting to blur.  A human with a dark side, a supernatural searching for their light.  A proverbial coin that was staring to spin, with both sides becoming visible.

 

“The more important question is how to stop it…”

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair caught sight of her on the railing and blinked a moment. Well that was a trick... not something he'd be able to pull off, at least not on purpose. The voice that spoke back wasn't... right, exactly. He didn't know how to place it, but then again, this wasn't the first time he'd spoken to her. Though it had been more than a little while since he had, hadn't it? Rorye had been keeping her tagalong considerably more under wraps. He could understand why, granted. But perhaps Rorye's reasoning was different. Perhaps Red had been out to play plenty, and he just hadn't been around.

[alistair]That's about the sum of it.[/alistair] he agreed, nodding as she took herself off her perch and walked a bit closer. As before with her, he had the uncomfortable sensation that he was being looked at the way a tiger might look at a juicy cut of steak. That wasn't a totally unfamiliar feeling, consdering the time he'd spent with vampires in the past, but it was stranger, seeing it come from eyes that he otherwise knew so well.

Life just loved throwing curveballs at him, didn't it?

When she answered the way she did, he lifted a brow - she'd left the answer vague, and he made no secret of the fact that he caught how she was playing with it. The actual question she meant to answer seemed clear enough, as did the fact that she was playing a game with it, which didn't exactly surprise him, on second thought. [alistair]And?[/alistair] he asked, prompting her to continue on, and waiting while she decided what to follow up with.

He let out a breath when she did, nodding. [alistair]Granted, there's not going to be any way to completely stop the phenomenon. If magic is growing stronger, if more people than just mages are going to be able to perform ritual spells... that's not a genie you can stuff back into the bottle. But the ones who are killing this way, sealing souls for their power... That's not anything I'm about to let stand. Them, you're damn right I'm going to stop.[/alistair] he said, his voice turning into a bit of a growl at the end. He tried to curb that from time to time... he knew he couldn't save everyone. But there were some things that deserved more than a little bit of rage - this was one of them.

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

"And?"

 

Pause was long, finding the arm of the couch and pulling herself onto it to sit.  Legs folded up easily, leaning over to pluck the chain of a tall Tiffany lamp behind the couch.  The room erupted with an eerily beautiful glow of light that caught her attention for a moment.   There was agility and grace to this consciousness that had been long fought for, over decades of fighting.  So much fighting for survival.  She felt for them all, she really did- there would be a shadowed force that would later come to annihilate them.  She wished she could have said she was tired of it.  The opportunity for more, to get out and stretch her legs so to speak felt insatiable.  A definitive enemy and the brute force to stop it seemed delightful.  Elbow leaned on her thigh, fingertips tapping her chin in contemplation while she watched a face she could now see in the comfort of a soft lamp.  Other fingers slid to rest on her thigh.

 

And? 

 

She would think about that a moment.  Answers in due time.  Maybe not on his timeline, she wanted to drive for a while.

 

"Granted, there's not going to be any way to completely stop the phenomenon. If magic is growing stronger, if more people than just mages are going to be able to perform ritual spells... that's not a genie you can stuff back into the bottle. But the ones who are killing this way, sealing souls for their power... That's not anything I'm about to let stand. Them, you're damn right I'm going to stop."

 

She couldn’t help but feel a spark at the aggression behind his words.  She, they?  Which one exactly?  Couldn’t quite tell where one ended and the other began, a definitely curt uptick to her lips.  Look. Don’t touch.

 

Look.

 

Don’t touch.

 

“Don’t stuff them back in the bottle. Slit their throats.”

 

It was said in such a nonchalant fashion, eyes studying him careful for the slightest reaction in his features.  The swift lick of a lower lip followed, then rolled them through her teeth.  She wasn’t purposefully avoiding answering his questions, she was just watching for signs of how far he was willing to go to protect his charges.

 

“Anyone can do what you do if they have the right tools,”  she slid backwards off the arm of the couch into the seat proper with the intricate counter balance of long legs until she was on the cushion, feet relaxing to dangle, toes wiggling.  Fingers drew over the book on the coffee table before they intertwined behind her neck and held her neck up to look at him.

 

Just looking… just looking.  Just getting comfortable.

 

“They are not growing stronger,” words were sure of themselves, the timbre like burned rum.  It was hypnotic to listen to, hitched with a slight accent that the primary driver had grown out of the longer she spent on the streets of New York.  Forgotten.  So much she’d forgotten.  “THEY cannot cull more from a field that is only so big.  They are increasing in number. Sharing secrets.  Recruiting.  Taking you out strategically in order to see what joint buckles first.”

 

Fingers let go, arms lazily drawn above her head as she stretched and then just laid there quietly, truly in thought, feet swinging gently.  She knew about death.  Killing.  War.  Intimately.  Eyes focused on the purples cast from the stained glass lampshade onto the ceiling. 

 

“Your ripped sky is not the first, it is just the return.  We called you draoithe, Druids.  Now you call yourself Magus.  Same.  We knew of you, each of us had one in employ.  Necessary, revered.  Forced into hiding for millennia.  Instead of being respected, you became feared because magicians-for-dummies bookworms slung half-ass spells and got their asses burned as witches.”  We.  Meaning what exactly?  Divulging she had been someone great in her time, enough to employ, or own a true magic user.  Several in fact.  “They got scared, you stayed in hiding and scooped all of your goodies back out of their crispy hands.”

 

Heel of her foot slid up to sooth some kind of itch on the opposite leg, elbows went to her sides to prop herself up to look up at him again.

 

“You seek Primitives.  Witches.  The cailleach that did this to me.  Not sophisticated, just arrogant.  They are getting their items from somewhere.  Fed, not found. Nobody amasses that kind of resources in a dead world without help.  Blood, magic items your kind or the sky created.  Things like this,”  she nodded toward the book.

 

The more she spoke, the more she fought for words.  This language, was not her first, the soft muttering in another more percussive dialect the first inkling there was indeed still a rift that could flip back and forth in her brain.  She was searching for the right words.

 

“You can stop it by making the punishment so horrible the thought of stepping on your people is unthinkable.”

 

Death.  Horrific deaths.

 

“I burned London to the ground for killing my family, it was effective.  Flushed out the mice.  I would look in your own basement first.  I will gladly help them squeak,”  there was such a darkness to the words there was no doubt she’d done unspeakable things.  “I could see every face that held that book while I was in it.  I might be able to do the same if you get your hands on something that’s theirs.”

 

That was a bombshell, watching for his reaction. 

 

Eyes narrowed.  Fuck this "just looking" shit.

 

“Information’s not free you know,”  one heel hitched up on the arm of the couch.  “Not cheating.  Not by far… I should tell you some of the things that go through my brain when I look at you.”

 

She rolled up and stood in one motion, the distance crossed almost immediately.  Fingers caught on the front of his waistband to attempt to snap him forward to her, possessive, lips just under his ear to draw a long inhale.  A lion sizing up something to eat, or getting a gauge on exactly how much aggression there was in that magus body of his.  She, was a monster.  It would take a monster to kill monsters.  Lashes parted to take a long look over his features, normally dark eyes twinkling back something not of this world.

 

“I’ll help you kill them all.  Just say the word. How far will you go to keep everyone safe?”

[Alistair Greene]

Alistair let out a slow breath at her response. Slit their throats? Not entirely his style. But not for the reason some might have guessed, he figured. [alistair]If I have to. Tend to be a bigger fan of bullets than knives, but I suppose that's an epochal difference, yeah?[/alistair] She'd never exactly had that option, now had she? Though he supposed she might be one of those sorts who took a particular, perverse pleasure in the feel of a knife biting through flesh, or the extra proximity to the dying breath of a foe. Alistair might have lost his onetime aversion to killing, at least in large part, but it didn't mean he'd ever gotten to the place where he enjoyed it. That... was the step he would prefer to avoid taking, for whatever span he had left on this world.

[alistair]'Anyone' seems like a stretch.[/alistair] he quipped in reply. Most people would still get themselves killed. Plenty of people got themselves killed with guns back in the day, and magic was a great deal more unpredictable, to the untrained. Even before all this had started, the number of people who'd gotten themselves killed by artifacts was far above the number of people who'd managed to use one correctly and cause any level of trouble with it.

For his part, he tried to keep himself even, mind on his task. She might have been... distracting, otherwise. There was training to deal with things like this, though previously most of the issues had been vampires, demons of varying types... usually wasn't someone like Rorye, though. Easier to put those thoughts aside when it wasn't the image of someone who you were used to... not putting those thoughts aside about. Hard to unwire that particular part of your mind when there was someone else at the controls. But the movements were different, and at least that was unnerving enough to throw up something of a firewall. Was there much to worry about with this creature?

This was getting confusing.

[alistair]Stronger might not be the right word. But they could be learning. Even if the power behind the magic is finite, the person who uses it better can achieve the greater effect.[/alistair] he replied, equally confident. He'd staked his early career on that, after all. Alistair had never been the magus with the greatest raw power - he'd just been smarter than most of the rest about how he used it. Though, as carefully neutral as he had been keeping himself, his eyes widened a touch as she confirmed most of what he'd suspected for years about the cycle. Everything came back around, it seemed...

[alistair]'Did this to you'? You did get cursed then... here I thought your state might have been some attempt at immortality.[/alistair] It was about a 50/50 guess, in all honesty. Most lingering spirits were the result of one or the other, after all.

He snorted slightly at her notion of punishment. [alistair]Time to get draconian, you mean... problem with that: I don't write the laws. And the only place I can punish those people is here... Probably end up driving them out into other parts of the world. But here, at least, I can hunt them. And you're saying what, you can see the history of an item? Not just your own?[/alistair] He frowned at that. The idea that she had that ability with her own book, that made sense, but others? What more was she than just a spirit?

He should have been ready for her speed, but given the rest of what he'd had to think about, she managed to take him by surprise all the same. The comment about 'not cheating' had been the kicker, as he tried to solve that riddle, it had slowed an instinct that might otherwise have put a barrier between them. But he didn't have many ways to stop a speedster that didn't involve potentially lethal methods, and he had to stay his hand... even when she grabbed him and whispered into his ear.

Alistair was still a moment, taking a breath, trying to keep his cool... Was he really thinking about this? Some kind of killing spree? All the same... [alistair]I only kill when I have to... But the ones who're doing this... I don't see any other options. That doesn't mean I'm sanctioning any bloodbaths.[/alistair]

[Rorye Shannon-Kearney]

Somewhere along the way, the “host” and “intruder” stood side by side.  Not in reality, but it felt as such. Two people, standing shoulder to shoulder and talking to one man, like a left and right hand steeped together or a palm touching a mirror.  It was getting confusing which thoughts trailed through which brain, and made the suspicions a lot more heavy as she listened to what herself had to say.  When the Nevus hit, who had come from where?  If people could be pulled from one side to another, could people have been pulled together?  Or freed into what should always have been?  Humans dabbling in arcane shit had taken the rest of her life to live from her, the ancient now had a chance to take it back. And then some.

 

..it felt like a vendetta, the angry, bitter thoughts…

 

"'Did this to you'? You did get cursed then... here I thought your state might have been some attempt at immortality."

 

His voice interrupted the obsession.

 

Silence.

 

It was still… so… raw

 

[rorye]I already was,[/rorye]  she’d stopped moving, a long breath pulled in.  The air that hovered around her most definitely let anyone know that something was different about the occult specialist when she let the “voices” talk, but what fell around her features now was truly haunting.  A brutal, vicious weight .  [rorye]Immortal, that is.  A girl doesn’t push against an empire and just disappear into history.  Now they’re dead, and I’m not. Who won this round of that fucking fight?[/rorye]

 

His snort brought a darker flicker over her brow.

 

"Time to get draconian, you mean... problem with that: I don't write the laws. And the only place I can punish those people is here...

 

[rorye]I don’t need your laws,[/rorye] it was under her breath.  It was becoming clear, at least to her, what had to happen.  Same scourge, same purge.  They snagged her once; this was just the second act to follow up the first tragedy.  If there were other people now on her side, that could be a blessing or a problem. 

 

Probably end up driving them out into other parts of the world.

 

Eyes flicked up to him.

 

But here, at least, I can hunt them. And you're saying what, you can see the history of an item? Not just your own?"

 

Hand went instinctively to his cheek, thumb caressing quietly there for a moment. She didn’t like it when he frowned. She’d never liked it when he frowned.  It was her job to…

 

A flinch flicked her attention downward and the suggestive words that coupled with the proximity were lost for a moment.  Long breath brought her hands back to her sides.

 

[rorye]Maybe,[/rorye]  came quiet words in response to being able to sense who had been screwing around with other things of her nature.  [rorye]My book was a cage.  Lions can see who walks past their cage.  I knew when I was “back in the hands” I was supposed to be in.  Why I was finally able to undo what had been done, I’ve no idea.  I’m not walking and talking on my own… no body left to make that happen. Something still allows me to be here, maybe that something could make it.  I wouldn’t know how to do that myself.  Maybe your people do.  My cage, however, may have crossed paths with the people you’re looking for.  I’ve seen a lot of faces.[/rorye]

 

How to figure that out, wasn’t her specialty. She killed things, she’d never slung magic.  That was left to people she trusted, who had eventually betrayed her.  It was boiling up again from her core, the anger.  Something that had never been cast aside, not even when there had been reason to.  It had been why they took her down, and now was going to be used to exact payback.  Why?  Why would they have done something like that to her?  Thousands of years had been spent pondering the question.  Why not just kill her and be done with her?  Eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke.

"I only kill when I have to... But the ones who're doing this... I don't see any other options. That doesn't mean I'm sanctioning any bloodbaths."

 

The words were familiar, so was the scratching in her skull.  She was outstaying her welcome.  Too fucking bad.

 

[rorye]People will keep dying.  Do what is necessary to protect what you care about.  If you don’t, someone will step in and take that choice away.[/rorye]

 

Both hands reached to hold the sides of his face, the flecked green searching his eyes for something that she wasn’t finding.  Forehead came to rest against his softly, closed eyes and a long breath questioning who now exactly was in charge. Maybe both? Maybe neither.  Whoever it was oozed with aggression even though everything else was silent.

 

Quick sigh pulled her hands back into her own proximity, the predatory eyes still licked with a deep expression of unpredictability.

 

[rorye]You point, I’ll do the dirty work for you.[/rorye]

 

More accurately, he pointed and she would follow the trail to its head, and gut every last fucking one of them.  His war, it seemed, was one that was also hers.

 

[rorye]Figuring out who you’re looking for, that is.[/rorye]

 

Lie. Lie lie lie…