Matias’s Thursday night exorcism
Date: 2025-07-03 00:14
(Matias’s Thursday night exorcism)
[Thu Jul 3 2025]
In empty shop
It is about 60F(15C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Elm and Lake/span>/spanGwyndolyn lets out a low, exasperated sigh, “This place got crowded fast… Well, lets try to speed through this, it is getting late.”
The heavy mist clings to the windows of Second Chances as the group approaches the darkened storefront at 12:13 AM. Through the glass, they can see Marcus Chen moving between the bookshelves with unnaturally precise movements, his wire-rimmed glasses catching the dim light from a single overhead bulb. The shop’s usual warm glow seems muted – the colorful book spines appear faded, almost gray, and the cheerful community bulletin board by the door is covered in crossed-out dreams and goals written in different hands.
Marcus looks up as their shadows fall across the window, offering a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, hello there,” he calls out, his voice carrying its usual warmth but with an odd, hollow quality underneath. “Just doing some late-night organizing. Everything’s perfectly fine here – finally being realistic about what this place can actually accomplish.”
Behind him, the children’s reading corner sits in disarray, picture books scattered with pages torn out. A faint smell of burnt coffee mingles with something else – something that makes the air taste flat and lifeless. The temperature near the windows feels noticeably colder than the July night outside.
The front door stands slightly ajar, as if Marcus had been expecting visitors.
Jasper says “Right. “
Cadalie twines a thin cord out from around her waist and uponher gauntlet. “Likewise, Matias.” She laughs, letting the crucifix hang. “-Though, I did drive just next to your for awhile, Professor.”
And then Marcus Chen. Everyone knows Marcus Chen, well known for moving around bookshelves. The Pontifex surely just pretends not to know who this is as she waves a free hand. “Howdy there, feller. I’m Pontifex Cedalie, pleasure. I’m afraid to inform you that there is a disturbance, a possession in all likelihood.”
Jenny stays in the back, sniffing around the area. As the rest do the talking.
Matias lingers near the back of the group and in lieu of actually speaking to Marcus Chen (which is a common name in New Haven) the latino man begins to murmur a litany prayer in spanish. While it is unlikely everyone speaks the language it is your classic let the Lord’s light reveal those in darkness, let demons reveal themselves and their names, may the virtuous prosper and find redemption so on so forth in the name of the Holy Trinity.
Gwyndolyn ignores Marcus entirely, moving past him close enough to brush shoulders. As soon as she caught notice of the mess at the children’s reading corner, Gwyndolyn began power-walking towards it. “Right, you do the talking to the demon. I’ll be having a look over here.” As soon as she gets closed to the torn pages, she casually picks one up, examining it for any alterations while scanning the rest of the corner.
Jasper tilts his head to look at the reading corner behind Marcus, before he raises his brow. “You sure everything’s fine?” he inquires of Marcus. “We heard about the disturbance being here, so we’re here to deal with it.”
Gwyndolyn says “Oh, it is no danger. This place is packed like a can of sardines, and we even have a nun here to do the rites.“
Eloa stays near the back with Jenny and Jasper, looking curiously at Gwyndolyn. “Is now who that is?” She whispers to them.
As Matias begins his Spanish litany, the temperature in the shop drops noticeably. Marcus’s head snaps toward him with unnatural speed, his kind eyes suddenly reflecting the overhead light like dark mirrors. “Disturbance?” he repeats, his voice maintaining its warmth but with an edge that cuts through the air. “I assure you, Pontifex, there’s no disturbance here. Just… clarity.”
Gwyndolyn’s examination of the torn pages reveals disturbing alterations – classic fairy tale endings have been systematically removed or rewritten. Where Cinderella once found her prince, someone has scrawled “dreams are lies” in faded ink. The Little Engine That Could now reads “The Little Engine That Couldn’t.”
Jenny’s keen senses pick up something wrong with the scents – beneath the burnt coffee is the smell of old paper and something else, something that reminds her of empty spaces and forgotten things. The mist outside seems to press against the windows more heavily.
Marcus turns his attention to Jasper, tilting his head at an angle that’s just slightly too far. “Deal with what, exactly? I’m simply helping people see reality. No more false hope, no more impossible dreams cluttering up their lives.” His smile widens, but shadows seem to gather in the corners of his mouth.
The bulletin board behind him rustles slightly, though there’s no breeze in the shop. More dreams and goals continue to fade from the posted notes as if being erased by invisible hands.
Jenny says simply looking over at the board looking to the others “My nose smells some bullshit with that statement.”
“Not yet, there wasn’t.” Cadalie informs poor Marcus. It’s a cultural issue, everyone must understand, between Demons, as the metal gauntlet takes Marcus straight on the forehead with the winding speed of a subdued kick from a horse. His reality has been made steel, and ideally, his ass to the floor.
frowns a little as the dreams and goals start to fade, taking out her holy cross and grasping it. “Do we need do ritual? Also ola miss cadal-Eeeeeeeeeee.” Eloa jerks back at the kick from Cadalie.
With that hollow thunderclap of metal to bone out of the way, Cadalie sighs. “Alrighty, folks. Let’s get to the banishment.”
Gwyndolyn opens a curious smirk at the alterations to the fairy tales, peeking over her shoulder and back to the possessed man, clearly amused. This was too petty, even for her. She quickly gathers a few of the more glaring examples, shuffling them into one pile, walking back to where the group confronted the possessed victim, casually flicking one page to the demon – now firmly gripped by Cadalie. “The princess kissed the frog and it was poisonous? Really? Are you responsible for these?”
Matias pauses in the litany as Cadalie strikes the man and there is a quiet *huh* before he pulls out a saint minted coin and opts for a more direct strategy. “Very uh… Prompt.” he says to Cadalie in a brazilian accented english before pressing the saint minted coin to the forehead of Marcus chen whether he be on the floor or standing and now begins reciting a prayer much louder and audible demanding the fallen and the forsaken reveal themselves and let the Lords light so on so forth.
“Unnatural, to be exact,” Jasper says, watching Marcus get knocked out before he turns to the reading room. “That guy seems sus anyway. Plus the damage to those books…” He then tsks as he turns to inspect more of the books.
Cadalie shrugs sheepishly to Matias, not dressed religiously enough to pay her respects to the holy trinity. “It is what it is. The last Demon I exorcised was very intent to steal my memories with a cursed camera, even at gun-point. I didn’t wanna be wrong- so I let the lieutenant here’s own malevolence tweak out.”
“Help… it’s eating… everything I…” before the demonic harmonics return.
The torn pages in Gwyndolyn’s hands begin to crumble at the edges. “Those stories were lies,” the thing wearing Marcus’s face snarls. “I simply revealed the truth. Dreams are poison. Hope is a disease. I am the cure.”
Around the shop, more books begin to fade, their covers losing color as if being drained of life itself. The bulletin board’s remaining dreams and goals continue to disappear, and a spreading circle of absolute cold emanates from where Marcus stands.
Gwyndolyn sighs, observing the immediate reaction following the demon’s words. She turns her head to Cadalie, “Could you hold it by the mouth, maybe? That thing seems to have a very foul breath.” She remarks, letting the crumbling fragments of the pages fall between her fingers and onto the ground.
“You say that-” Cadalie tuts down to her far estranged great uncle or great aunt within the body, “But I’m sure you’d approve nicely of a Nightmare.”
“Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.
Having little effect in gaining the demon’s name via prayer Matias/i>“You say that-” Cadalie tuts down to her far estranged great uncle or great aunt within the body, “But I’m sure you’d approve nicely of a Nightmare.”
“Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” She sermons, “..And I’m afraid we’re alright.” She takes out a bandage and neatly stuffs Marcus’ mouth with her gauntleted glove- just in case. [fixed]
Jenny sits near the back looking around at the group “I don’t think theres much I can do here.” she chuckles “Unless you want me to slap him with one of the books screaming “Imagination.”
Gwyndolyn hmms to herself, “Well, naturally we can’t simply kill the host. Too messy…” She groans softly, “An exorcism circle, or perhaps the power of friendship? Neither are my specialty.” A cursory look runs the room, across Eloa, Jenny and Jasper.
“Matias is taking care of it.” Cadalie informs everyone with an almost mocking tone of ill-contribution.
Meridith steps quietly into the scene. She doesn’t seem all that perturbed, she does dutifully take a position beside Cadalie. And gives her a little nod.
Jenny gives a shrug, grabbing one of the pens and moving over to the blank pages on the board scrawling out stuff on the papers yelling out to the possessed man like she were doing an attack with each word she said “Environmental studies degree! Successful youtube career!” and she goes on like this
Eloa moves to the board next to Jenny, giggling a little. “To find love. To meet more men in Haven who aren’t assholes.” A very ambitious goal.
“The journal… behind the counter… it had binding words… I broke it by accident…”
The books around the shop begin to regain some of their color as the demon’s hold weakens. Jasper’s inspection reveals several volumes that seem to pulse with returning life. The children’s books in particular respond to the renewed hope, their torn pages beginning to mend themselves.
But Vex’thara isn’t finished. The shadows around Marcus deepen, and the demon prepares for one final assault on the growing light of possibility filling the shop.
“The journal… in the back office… it had a binding spell… I broke it by accident…”
The demon’s influence visibly weakens as more dreams appear on the board. Books throughout the shop pulse with returning vibrancy, and the oppressive atmosphere begins to lift. But the entity isn’t finished – shadows begin gathering around Marcus’s feet, and the temperature starts to drop again as it makes one final desperate attempt to maintain its hold.
“I am Vex’thara!” it howls. “I consume what was never meant to be! Your dreams will turn to ash!”
“I’ll help as well,” Jasper says, moving to join Eloa and Jenny to the board. Grabbing a pen, he moves to write on the board, “To create a better community. To fight for the good people.”
Meridith makes a face. “Demon? Dream entity? Over indulgent gifted type?” she asks Cadalie. She tips a hand to the hilt of a sword on her hip and leans off to one side, eyes flickering over the scene. It looks in hand.
There is a name! Matias informs Eloa and Jenny , “Keep writing people, read out your dreams.” and then unfurls the rosary from his hand and approaches Marcus Chen aka Vex’thara… “Demon you are unwelcome and unwanted… In the name of the Father, I command you. In the name of the Son, I unname you, and in the name of the Holy Ghost I banish you… Be gone from this innocent, this place, and this town. Down to hell with you nameless fallen who has no dreams or truth.” he says in a melodic almost sermon-esque baritone of a voice.
“No turn Eloa’s dream to Ash!” Eloa cries out as she adds more, smiling at Jasper, “To be appreciated when I help people instead of being taken for granted.”
“Vexare.” Cadalie repeats idly, walking back on the history of that name through its etymology. “Do disturb, trouble, or torment. -Yes, it’s a Demon possession, Meri.”
Meridith beams at Cadalie. “Your latin is really coming along,” she coos.
Gwyndolyn raises her eyebrows to Jenny clearly impressed with the cause and effect. “Well, personally I had always thought Youtube careers were lies, though I suppose if it works…” Seemingly incapable of contributing her own positivity, Gwyndolyn walks oevr to the journal on the counter, swiping it and flipping it open to the bookmarked page in one swift motion. She quickly voices what seemed to be gibberish, though were, in fact, the binding words, “Mastur Buost! Merk end ploir! Poeduopau!” All the while frowning visibly at what she was reading.
Jenny keeps on writing saying to the possessed man “I’d like to see you try!”
“Well-” Cadalie shrugs and comes to a stand to loom over the form. “Latin is a frequent language of prayer. Most language of Sirinia is derivative of Cannan or- Levant, closer to Hebrew. But there was a sorta ‘age of Latin’ in Hell, too. Got real popular.”
As Gwyndolyn speaks the binding words from the damaged journal, the ancient syllables resonate through the shop with power. The shadows around Marcus begin to writhe and pull away from him, as if being drawn into an invisible vortex. Vex’thara’s voice becomes a shriek of rage and desperation.
“No! I will not return to the void! These dreams sustain me!”
But the combined assault proves too much. Matias’s exorcism prayers create a barrier of holy light, while the growing collection of dreams and hopes on the bulletin board blazes with renewed possibility. The books throughout the shop pulse with vibrant colors, their stories fighting back against the demon’s influence.
Marcus staggers, his eyes clearing for a moment. “The binding… it’s working… but it needs…” He gasps, fighting against the demon’s hold. “It needs something to anchor it… something real…”
The journal in Gwyndolyn’s hands grows warm, its damaged pages beginning to repair themselves. But the binding spell requires completion – it needs a genuine act of hope or creation to seal Vex’thara away permanently.
The demon makes one last desperate attempt, shadows lashing out toward the bulletin board where the dreams are written, trying to destroy them before the binding can be completed.
“To not be burdened by what I am,” Jasper continues to write. “You will not win, dream demon. To restore honorable order. To have self-control over myself and not lose myself.”
Meridith shakes her head in disdain. “This is a fella in need of a heart warming friendship speech if ever I’ve heard one.” She scoffs. “My dreams are my own you selfish little warm.”
Having finished the banishment, Matias looks to the woman holding the journal for the final key to the puzzle.
Jenny keeps on writing “My last dream is to get your raggedy ass out of this man. BEGONE!” she yells dramatically
Meridith says “You are.“
Gwyndolyn furrows her brow at the demon, clearly conflicted at what was required of her here. She steels herself, turning to Jenny and draws in a deep breath, closing her eyes. One hand goes to clutch at her heart as she speaks those words, “I… I wish you best of luck, in your future Youtube career. May your subscribers be many, and your controversies be few.” She exhales upon finishing, dramatically clasping the journal closed after that heartfelt message of hope.
Meridith says “You can’t help it Obie. Like I can’t help being strong, and fast, and awesome, and hot, and humble too. “
Cadalie looks at all the hope and love in the air and nods sagely. Yes, this is how you remove a Demon.
Jenny gasps over to Gwyndolyn “Thank you! I shall do a tour on all the national parks and make a in-depth video on each of them!”
Eloa leans into Jasper, “Is hope all of Eloa’s friends safe and sound and happy. And full of love.” She adds to the air.
Jasper says “Same. “
The moment Gwyndolyn speaks her genuine wish for Jenny’s success, the journal blazes with brilliant light. The binding words complete themselves across the damaged pages in flowing script, and Vex’thara’s shriek becomes a wail of defeat.
“I… am… bound!” The demon’s voice tears from Marcus’s throat one final time before the shadows are pulled violently away from him, spiraling into the journal like smoke being drawn into a vacuum. The book snaps shut with a sound like thunder, its pages now sealed with bands of silver light that weren’t there before.
Marcus collapses to his knees, gasping and shaking, but his eyes are clear and human again. Around the shop, the transformation is immediate – book covers bloom with vibrant colors, the coffee smell becomes rich and inviting, and the bulletin board practically glows with the dreams and hopes written upon it.
The temperature returns to normal, and through the windows, the oppressive mist begins to lift from the streets of All Saints.
Marcus looks up at the group, tears streaming down his face. “Thank you… I could feel it eating everything I cared about, everyone’s dreams… I thought I was going crazy.” He notices the bulletin board, now covered in aspirations both silly and profound. “Look at all of this… this is what I wanted this place to be.”
The journal in Gwyndolyn’s hands feels warm but stable – Vex’thara is contained once more, bound by the power of genuine hope and community.