Seraphina’s Wednesday evening odd encounter(Seraphina)

July 3, 2025

Date: 2025-07-02 18:51

(Seraphina’s Wednesday evening odd encounter(Seraphina):Seraphina)

[Wed Jul 2 2025]

An antique shop
This guest room is restrained but deliberate, a sanctuary meant for repose rather than indulgence. A sleek brass bed, its frame gleaming under the soft light, stands neatly beneath the window, dressed in a hand-stitched quilt of faded rosesthe fabric worn smooth, but impeccably maintained. In the corner, a mahogany writing desk sits in quiet anticipation, its surface empty except for a crystal inkwell and a monogrammed blotter, aged yet pristine. The wallpaper, a subtle damask, curls imperceptibly at the corners, tended to with discreet care. A single upholstered chair, its velvet untouched by time, rests beside a curated collection of leather-bound travel memoirs and rare theological texts, their spines unbroken. The air carries a faint trace of fresh lavender and beeswax polish, a testament to a room seldom occupied but always immaculately prepared.

It is about 60F(15C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Panama and Lake/span>/span(Your target discovers a seemingly abandoned supernatural pawn shop after hours, but upon entering finds themselves trapped inside with the ghostly proprietor who insists they must make a trade before they can leave – something precious for something they desperately need.)

shoos Thomas off after she stands from observing the wound upon his thigh.. “Go and get dressed. I want to go out and you can tell me more about this ‘interest’. I want to find something fun for this house. It is very ….” She pauses, looks around the room. “Brown.”

Seraphina shoos Thomas off after she stands from observing the wound upon his thigh.. “Go and get dressed. I want to go out and you can tell me more about this ‘interest’. I want to find something fun for this house. It is very ….” She pauses, looks around the room. “Brown.”

Stepping out and then back, Thomas changes into a black turtleneck and trousers. “There’s nothing wrong with brown!” Thomas tells Seraphina, lingering in her doorway. “But fine,” he tells her. “You can redecorate.” He pauses, before he mutters in good humor, “Books are brown.” There’s a pause, regarding the woman, before he says, “Where are we off to?”

The raven-haired woman says to Thomas, “You drive. We are going antiquing. Maybe you have heard, as a dealer, of new places in town?” She wraps her arms about one of his biceps and ushers him through the home. “It needs some life, Mister Hale.” She shrugs. “Maybe some pawn shops? As well you know, what is old becomes new when it is in another’s hands!” Down to the foyer, and out the door, Seraphina waits by the Porsche passenger side door for Thomas to open it for her.

“Mmm,” Thomas tells Seraphina. “I may not be driving, on account of my car being crashed…” He digs for his phone, dialing. “But I will call us up an Uber.” He pauses, dialing. “It should be here soon. And yes,” he says, waiting for the car to pull up — opening it for Seraphina. “There’s a little place in Highgate that opened recently,” he says. “I imagine it has some interesting tidbits from the border with the Godrealm,” he says. “I keep wanting to find some scrimshaw from the desert…” He’s inside the car, then, chattering as he gives directions to the driver, focus on Seraphina.

“From the desert?” Seraphina says, incredulously. “That is just more brown!

Buck ooc//I joined to see if Seraphina minds me hopping along with the encounter?

“It’s more tan!” Thomas tells Seraphina. They are in an Uber, just pulling up to a small antiques shop that recently opened somewhere in Highgate. Thomas is chatting with Seraphina, apparently. “Tan and brown are quite different colors, Miss Hawke,” he explains to her.

The driver follows the directions to the little shop as provided by Thomas, until he and Seraphina pull up in front of a small little shop. The windows are darkened, and upon the door there is a little sign that says, “Sorry, we’re closed.” The raven-haired woman turns to look at Thomas, though she is getting out of the car, despite, “Did you bother to look at the website?” She says then, “And tan is brown. You need to spice up your life.”

Loitering outside the antique shop, Buck is smoking a cigarette and watching the clouds roll by, an umbrella at his side as it was raining earlier today, and he gives a tip of his hat to Seraphina and Thomas, “Good evening, the both of you. I see you’ve also been swindled by the hours of operation of this fine establishment.”

Thomas tells Seraphina, “Clearly you don’t spend time at strange antique shops.” There’s a roll of his eyes, and then he looks over at Buck. “Consulting their hours on the internet — or anywhere else — is essentially futile.” He pauses. “They have a way of being open and closed whenever it is the least convenient for you… Ransom, my friend. I’m glad to see you.” He peers in, trying to look through the windows, to see what he can through the windows even through the gloom.

Thomas mutters some little incantation — to sharpen his sight, perhaps.

“They tease about having some of the finest pawned items one could simply die for,” Seraphina begins, looking at Thomas, she sighs, and claps her hands down onto her hips. She walks over to the windowfront and puts her hand to the glass so she can peer in. “Oooooh!” is suddenly cooed. She ticks her head to Buck, “It wouldn’t be so bad if we just go and take a peek, right? Leave the proprietor a note?”

A wisp of smoke curls idly from the tip of Buck’s cigarette as he reaches down to flick some ashes away from it, then bring it back to his lips to take a long, lazy drag from it, blowing out his nose slowly with a glance over to Thomas, “Looking for something in particular? I’ve been dealing in a handful of antiques lately. Tracking small twists of fate that have been tugging at the edges of my will.”

Buck thumbs over his shoulder at the door, “I’ll keep an eye out if you want to jimmy the lock.” he looks around the area before giving a subtle nod to Seraphina, “I don’t think they’ll mind.”

“Oh?” Thomas asks Buck. “It’s interesting: I have a little curio like that,” he tells the man. “I might want your help with it…” He’s looking back at Seraphina, though, and definitely not at her rear end in that dress. “Are you about to pick the lock with a hairpin, Miss Hawke?” he says, scanning around for security cameras.

There comes a gasp from Seraphina, and a press of a hand to her clearly present decolletage. “I would never!” But then she is started to root about in her hair. For something. She nods to Buck, “Give me a nudge if anyone comes.” She doesn’t end up pulling out a hairpin, for her hair is down and flowing, but she does pull a little velvet cloth that is tied. She unravels it to reveal some shiny slender lockpicks. There comes a little CLICK, and the door is swung open. “After you, gentlemen!”

“I’m all ears about that, Mr. Hale. I’ve got piles of books and scribbles of notes about old lamps and necklaces and little statuettes. Dunk it in holy water first, mind you. I’ve had my fill of cursed knick knacks for the week.” he jokes and with another peek up and down the street, Buck slides into the darker shop.

Stepping into the darkened antique shop, Thomas murmurs some little charm to himself: protection, perhaps, as he slips inside to look around, making room for Buck and Seraphina to follow him. “Look at this,” he says. “What a store of treasures.” He looks over at Buck. “I acquired a little curio the Summer Queen of the Court desires,” he shares. “Except that she expected me to deliver it to her as a subject, not trade for it like a free man.”

Once the trio has entered the shop, the door closes on its own accord, unsurprisingly. Surprisingly, there is another little CLICK behind them. Seraphina certainly doesn’t notice it, already heading over to what Thomas has found. She lifts her brows up at Thomas, “So what are you going to do?” Those doe-eyes hold clear interest to the tale, motioning, however, for Buck to approach.

Buck give a nod and a smirk, “I’m setting up other deals for similar things. Do you want me to start negotiations on your behalf? What sort of thing do you want in exchange?” he asks as he looks across the darkened room, keeping an eye on the front window as he slinks deeper away from any peering eyes outside, picking through some of the offerings, “Interesting stuff here. I doubt most of it is enchanted or bears some trickle of fate, but you have a better eye for this stuff than I do.”

Buck slinks closer to Seraphina as he asks quietly, “She is quite powerful, so caution is advised.”

“Mmm,” Thomas tells Buck. “I think I am going take one more run at her. If she doesn’t want to make a bargain, then my thought is to sell the relic to you and let you negotiate.” He glances at Seraphina. “She is, though not so much more powerful than I am,” he says perhaps a little pridefully.

Thomas browses, his fingers running over artifacts: seeking things from Anupharis, particularly, the Godrealm’s windswept desert with some curiosity.

“It isn’t my curio.” Seraphina mentions to Buck. Not her circus, not her monkeys. She tells Thomas, pumping up his ego, “No doubt, Mister Hale.” She picks up an item for its inspection, the base leaving a round, clean circle, about some layered dust. “Tan,” she reminds the scholar.

As the trio who definitely didn’t just break into the darkened pawn shop continue to scour through the shop for unique trinkets, the room begins to grow cold. It is not entirely unbearable, but the drop is steady, and unstopping.

Raising an eyebrow as he crouches down, Buck finds some half-broken mess of wooden parts, seemingly a miniature version of a wooden woman meant to control it through sympathetic magic. It looks half burned in the ill fated attempt. “Huh, interesting.” he murmurs as he shivers slightly, pulling out his trenchcoat from his bag and shuffling it on, “You all hear the air conditioning? It’s pretty hot out there, but I don’t hear the fans loud enough for this to be natural. I’d put whatever you’re touching down, as we may have caught a Fetter.”

Slowly setting the miniature wooden woman down, Buck raises his hands up in a form of surrender, keeping his eyes peeled for anything amiss as he sniffs the air. “I’m not smelling brimstone yet.” he murmurs quietly.

There’s a pause, as Thomas turns. “I do detect a chill,” he admits to Buck. “But there are many secret things in a place like this: I wouldn’t be so quick to leap,” he tells the man. “Still. Miss Hawke, you are alright?” he asks Seraphina, even as he mutters a few low words beneath his breath, seeking to reveal the unseen.

There is no A/C running. This cold, it chills to the boner, like death. A wind blows, across each, like a whisper, at their ears. There is no smell of brimstone. This is not A/C, and this doesn’t appear to be a demon. The wind stops, but the air chills further to the point that one can see their breath, and writing on windows could be very easy. In fact, on an old mirror, the word ‘WELCOME’ begins to be drawn upon the faded, greying glass. “I’m fine,” Seraphina says to Thomas, but she is now crossing her arms to rub at her upper arms, as she’s not wearing much to stave off winter. Or Ghosts.

“Death comes,” Thomas tells Buck and Seraphina. “I hear even now the snorting of some pale horse.” The necromancer is scanning the room, emerald eyes darting too and fro — and then his gaze settles on the mirror. “Why,” he tells the mirror. “Hello.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Buck says as he breathes out slowly, seeing a slight mist as he blinks. Checking his pockets for his cigarettes, Buck shakes his head, “You have more skill than I do in figuring this stuff out from your work with Sidney Antiques. I’m just jumpy because I got mugged the other night after we got home from Spain.”

IT CHILLS TO THE BONE…. THE BONE.

Wait, what?!” Buck asks as he was distracted looking around and then his eyes fall on the mirror as he says, “Whoa, bud. I wouldn’t touch that shit. I’ve seen people get pulled in all kinds of nasty places from mirrors.”

“Wait, what?!” Buck asks as he was distracted looking around and then his eyes fall on the mirror as he says, “Whoa, bud. I wouldn’t touch that shit. I’ve seen people get pulled in all kinds of nasty places from mirrors.” (fix)

“I’m not touching it,” Thomas banters back to Buck. “Not yet, at least.” He glances over at Seraphina, keeping an eye on her, even as he slowly twists the sigil ring on his finger.

It is Thomas who sees him first. An elderly man with wisps of white hair, combed over, glasses, and a suit that would have been fashionable in the fifties. Tweed. There is a whiff of Green Irish Tweed on the air, heavy, and a little cloying. Even Buck and Seraphina should be able to smell it. The ethereal figure is only in the mirror, his boney finger drifting from inside the glass pane to write the word backward. “Do you smell that?” the velvet-clad frozen gal asks.

“I smell it,” Thomas tells Seraphina. “Ransom, there is a man in the mirror. White hair, glasses… it is he who is writing the word inside the mirror.” He pauses. “Forties or fifties, I’d guess. Nineteen-sixties, if he’s got a particularly ossified sense of fashion.” A beat. “How are our ways out looking?” he asks, sotto-voice, before he raises his voice. “Hello, old friend. Been trapped in that mirror for a while?”

Buck sniffs the air, “Some kind of….lemon and peppermint mixed with…something else, I can’t place it.” he asys as he raises an eyebrow to Thomas and then saunters closer to the mirror, making sure not to make eye contact with whatever is inside of it. A tip of his hat goes to the man in the mirror as he says, “Evening, sir. I suppose we’re some folks in a mirror on your end. How can we help?”

The old man’s mouth moves, silent to the ears of Buck and Seraphina, and even to Thomas. With a burst of energy that causes all the lights, previously off, to flicker and hum, dangerously, even causing one single light to burst above their heads, the ghostly figure now stands before the trio, visible, and rather opaque, as it has decided to expend most of its energy to be ‘hospitable’ to the shoppers. It speaks, “What brings you to our store today? We have the best selection in the World, if I may say, of supernatural goods.”

Startled by the lights, Buck jumps slightly, his reflexes reaching for his pocket where he keeps his gun, his other hand over his chest as he huffs out a breath of relief that that the loud pop wasn’t something dangerous and he isn’t bleeding. He checks Thomas and Seraphina as he sees their state of health and after a few moments of calming himself, he raises an eyebrow, “Oh, um…let me look around.” he notes as he idly wanders, scanning around to find something to buy, “Do you take cash or….ancient coins or what?” he asks of the ghostly figure.

The old man chuckles. “I require… well, let us not get into that right now, shall we? What tickles your fancy? Perhaps there is something that calls to you. If you listen close, you will find exactly what you seek.”

“We are looking for something vintage,” Thomas tells the ghost. Seraphina and Buck can hear me clearly, whatever they can hear of the ghost. “My companion…” He gestures to Seraphina. “She’s looking for something to brighten up her home. Something…” He glances at her with humor. “Something that isn’t brown,” he says. “As for me?” A pause. He tilts his head. “Well, I am listening.” As he does, he extends out some psychic senses, as if to find some intriguing artifact.

Closing his eyes as Buck sways back and forth in a sort of lazy radar walk, his hands outstretched as he puts one foot in front of the other, bumping slightly into furniture as he breathes in deeply, he runs his hands over all of the items until he feels a tug from one of them, murmuring, “Luck be a lady…tonight.” he murmurs as if it was some odd incantation, but he’s mostly just leaving it to random chance.

Thomas’s hands reach out — to touch some emerald jewel, fingers brushing across it. He clasps it, picks it up, and then turns to look at the ghost. “This is what I crave,” he pronounces, glancing over at Buck and Seraphina’s own wandering, before he focuses back on the ghost. “What price?” he says. “I am prepared to… negotiate.”

Buck’s hand lands upon a stack of files. Do they look familiar? Certainly.

Feeling the thick cardstock of some files, Buck’s eyebrow quicks up as he opens his eyes, “Huh. What do we have here? Someone’s taxes perhaps.” He scoops up the small file box as he carries it back to the ghostly figure, “Well, what’s this old bit of paper worth to you? I haven’t even opened it. Do you have some kind of ‘mystery box’ discount for sight unseen? Could be old stock certificates, could be someone’s old unfiled tax receipts, who knows?”

“Her,” the ghost replies to Thomas, turning himself over toward Seraphina, wispy hair floating on still, dead air. The being floats, flickering in and out of existence as it moves and expends its energy to be seen. “Me?” the woman asks, shaking her head, “I’m sorry, Sir, but I am not for sale!”

“Everyone is for sale when objects of true desire are within reach.” The elderly man replies, posh, British.

There is a pause. “Her, how?” Thomas asks the ghost, apparently not put off by the notion of selling his assistant. Perhaps Seraphina has other ideas. “For how long, and it what manner?” he asks the spectre, still holding the emerald.

“Whoa, bud. That wasn’t even legal in your time, I’m pretty sure.” Buck says as he wiggles the file box and listens for the slight shuffling rattle of crisp file folders within, “Tell you what, I’ll dispose of this old paper for you and we’ll pop you out of that mirror, sound good? You probably got…I figure a couple of anchors tying you to this place?” he blinks as he looks over at Thomas, “You can’t be seriously thinking about bargaining with this thing, Thomas. Needful things are always a monkey’s paw.” he adds, as he spots something out of the corner of his eye and reaches down to pick up a small furry object stuck between two cushions of a couch, “See? I -literal- Monkey’s Paw.”

“Mister Hale!” Seraphina calls out, a little shocked. But she also seems to be warming to the idea. Alas.

“I am a creature that bargains,” Thomas tells Buck, eyes focused on the shade. “Let’s see what it is, exactly, that he desires. After all, with contracts?” A pause. “The Devil is in the details.”

Indeed, there is a literal monkey’s paw for sale, stuffed between the cushion by someone, at some time. A possible way to get it out-of-sight and out-of-mind.

A flick of his wrist and Buck flings that gross thing away from himself, “Fuck, man. I don’t need anything -this- badly. But I will say that we are trespassing on your property, sir. Rules are rules, and we can’t buy anything after hours, so I’m afraid we probably have to get kicked out. As much as I would -love- to get my hands on all of this stuff, you’re technically closed.

“A week, that she takes my place, and in return, you may have your deepest desire… You have the word of an old man that I will return her soul to her body when I have had my week in her shoes,” says the ghost. But then the ghost is on Buck, “You trespassed in hopes to find something unique and dear, no? I’m afraid that to get out, that is my offer.” Shutters on the windows close with a clatter, and another light bulb bursts.

Thomas counters to the ghost, “A day.” He pauses. “Twenty-four hours, and a promise — I will find you others you can inhabit for future bargains.” He looks over at Seraphina. “A day is not so bad, Miss Hawke. Think of the things we will learn!” he says. Then, Buck “And you will allow Ransom with his files to leave as well.”

“A week and nothing less!” The ghost expends its visibility and winks from existence. There comes a shriek from Seraphina as hair begins to twirl in the air, but she tries to not. “A day is not so bad,” she agrees, even though there is a small amount of trepidation in her voice. If it can be trusted. This likely on the tip of her tongue, but not spoken.

“I’m not offering my assistant for a week,” Thomas replies back to the ghost. “A day from her, and a week from a sacrifice I bring you after,” he barters. “The city is full of pretty young things: I can fetch one for you.”

“Hey bud, I’ve been lied to by old guys aplenty. You better spit shake on it and if she agrees to it, it’s also conditional. No funny business in her body. No rituals, no physical contact with people she wouldn’t agree to, and she has to consent to boundaries that you stay within. If you don’t stick to the deal, I’ll burn this god damn place to the ground and salt the ashes. There’s plenty of mirrors in this city, I’ll come in there and find you.”

Buck thumbs over towards Thomas, “Take his deal, or we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“Very well, gentlemen,” the ghost replies, from somewhere in the vicinity of Seraphina. Hair stops its flowing like black ink in a wind that catches nothing else. Then, the woman slowly rubs her hands down her breasts, and her hips. She walks to the mirror and looks into it, smiling. “I say… She is a fine form.” The possessed woman turns to the side, and then caresses her rear. “Yes, this will do.” The figure in the mirror mimics the real woman, but her mouth doesn’t move with her real-lips. She looks out with that doe-eyed expression toward Buck and Thomas alike, and then the mirror Sera moves, and her hands press into the glass from the other side.

“I’m taking this fucking mirror.” Buck says as he moves to pick up the mirror. “That way it’ll be easy to get her back when the deal is done.”

Thomas watches quietly. he has a cautious, but prideful demeanor ? ? interested in how this transaction plays itself out. “A fair bargain.”

“I do wonder what this body can do,” the woman who is not exactly the woman says, turning back to the mirror as her fists begin to ball, as if she is ready to strike the glass, face to face with the image of the real woman, trapped.

Sliding out his revolver, Buck says, “Well it sure as fuck isn’t going to do anything to this mirror, bud. You’re gonna learn some boundaries, and real fast.”

“I owe you.” Thomas nods to Buck, and then he looks at Seraphina — or whoever inhabits her. “Let us all head back home, and we can learn what you are.”

The woman, or old soul, not knowing what sorts of powers Seraphina has, turns and holds her hands up and walks toward Buck in an akward sway, in those heels, “You wouldn’t want to shoot her, would you? Then her soul may never return.” Her head twists to look at Thomas, “One day but if you do not live up to your bargain…”

Thomas says “One day. “

Thomas steps out, emerald in hand.

“Oh, I’ll find a way.” Buck says as he walks backwards towards the door, still having the gun trained on Seraphina, “I got plenty of friends with lots of dusty old books. I know Seraphina’s tough, if you step out of line and I have to knock this body out to save the soul, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

The woman walks to the door, and with a touch of her fingers to a keypad, the door unlocks and the shutters are opened once more. “Oh, I … well. There’s a bit of living that I intend to do with this body.”

“I’m a pretty nice guy, but you keep this up and you’ll get to know Buck Ransom, pain in the ass.” Buck says as he walks out the door with Seraphina, sliding his gun back in his pocket. “I’m keeping an eye on you, bud. All of them.”

“But… I’ve given my word,” she says, and steps out into the dim night. “Just a little fun.” She tries to reach out to stroke at Buck’s arm. “Hm..”

Buck jerks his arm back from Seraphina, “Offa me. She didn’t consent.” as he storms off a distance, still keeping an eye on Seraphina’s body.