Encounterlogs
Ritsukas Odd Encounter Sr Illyana 250129
In the clinical ambiance of Biolabs Pharmaceuticals, where pristine tile floors and the sharp scent of isopropyl alcohol dominate, a clandestine encounter brews beneath the superficial calm. Ritsuka, the proprietor, converses with Hikari, a recent arrival in Haven, about the nuances and cultural shock of transitioning to American life from Japan. Their exchange, rich in cultural reflections and personal aspirations, is abruptly overshadowed by a dark ritual unfolding within the store's confines. Cultists of The Destined Host, draped in secrecy and malign intentions, engage in an ominous rite aimed at summoning a powerful entity, an oni, from Hell. Amid the pharmaceutical aisles, these cultists' sinister agenda materializes into a palpable threat, pulling Ritsuka and Hikari into a confrontation with the supernatural.
Ritsuka, seasoned in the supernatural undercurrents of Haven, takes a decisive stand against the cultists, thwarting their immediate plans through a mixture of cunning and direct confrontation. The summoned oni, encapsulated in the guise of a Japanese businessman, reveals his purpose in Haven and proposes a ceasefire, offering compensation for the chaos sewn. Ritsuka, navigating the complexities of her unintended role as a Hell's Borderlord, opts for a practical resolution, allowing the demon to depart from her pharmacy. In the aftermath, the city learns of the cult's thwarted attempt to blend the demonic with the human, leaving behind a story of courage and pragmatic diplomacy in handling entities from beyond. Haven, a nexus of the ordinary and the arcane, returns to its deceptive tranquility, with Ritsuka and Hikari reflecting on the precarious balance between both worlds.
(Ritsuka's odd encounter(SRIllyana):SRIllyana)
[Tue Jan 28 2025]
In Biolabs Pharmaceuticals - OTC & Supplements
Even the blind would be able to tell that they've just entered a pharmacy. The scent of isopropyl alcohol is the first to greet the senses. The tile flooring makes spills and accidents a breeze to clean, and even a speck of dust would stand out against all that pristine white. All the aisles are labeled with letters large enough for myopic townies, and the fluorescent lights wash everything in their true hues.
A pair of chimes that feature frosted glass tubes and shimmering silver accents, resembling icicles hanging from a snowy tree branch, are hung up by the door.
It is afternoon, about 5F(-15C) degrees, and the sky is partly covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(The Destined Host has begun performing a dark ritual at a local historic site that is believed to hold a powerful artifact. Your target and their allies accidentally stumble upon this ritual while investigating unrelated supernatural occurrences. They must now decide whether to interfere and risk drawing the attention of The Destined Host, or let the ritual continue and face the potential consequences. The outcome of their actions could have far-reaching effects on their relationship with the faction and their standing in the supernatural community.)
"Yeah I have a phone! I mean, who doesn't these days, everyone has a phone." Hikari giggles softly, a shake of her head following, "I only just got off the plane a few days ago, one step at a time, if you don't mind." She adds on, drawing a breath as her eyes drift about.
"Haven-city is a bit very adventurous. It should be a very quiet place but it never turns out to be that way, compared to home in Japan," Ritsuka quietly says to Hikari with a lighter at heart kind of smile. "Can I ask for what brings you to Haven city and for what I can call you?"
"I mean, maybe? And as for your question..." Hikari hums, leaning forward as she lets the thought dwell on her lips, "Adventure?" She poses, a wry smirk left on her expression before she stands straight again, "I mean, it's complicated, long story really. I'm sure you know how japan is."
Ritsuka makes a small nod "The economy is a little difficult and corporations are very harsh on us women." She says, listening to Hikari closely. "It's... something some people are working on changing. Some of us are here doing that already, it will only take time. But someday we won't have girls need to do what they do in places like in Shinjuku." She definitely switches to Japanese when Hikari points out knowing how Japan is, her words are softer in Japanese, and higher pitched.
"I mean, not just on women. Men too." Hikari replies softly, "I barely saw my dad because he spent all his time in the office, wasn't fair on him nor me." She sighs, shaking her head again as she settles a hand on the jut of her hip, "Buuut, that whole thing is a long discussion another time. Maybe over a drink so we can have something to smile about." The woman winks, flashing a grin, "Oh! And before I forget, I'm Hikari, Kamo Hikari."
"We could go and have some tea sometime, Kamo-san. Work can get a little bit in the way for me, between the project I mentioned, what I am trying to do and also my general work." Ritsuka answers, light, still in Japanese before she makes a more formal bow now. "I am Shimomi Ritsuka. It is nice to meet you, kamo-san. If you are a little spiritual, I try and keep shrines to the Kami nearby the place I have mentioned. Food in America can be too sweet, but I can also make tea for us if you would like, it is original ingredients from Japan. A little something I insist on, Kamo-san."
Inside Biolabs Pharmaceuticals, where Ritsuka holds court with Hikari, the world outside recedes into the mists that Haven is known for. This is often the cause of something fanciful and mysterious, and today is no exception. Someone is upto something, no doubt, but exactly what is up for debate. Within the store, the air is sharp and clinical, a bite of isopropyl alcohol that lingers in Hikari and Ritsuka's nostrils, a reminder of the sterile purpose that permeates every corner; Cleansing tones that never the less fail to manage to disrupt the secrecy of the supernatural world without. The tile flooring gleams like polished glass, its stark whiteness mocking the dark, foreboding clouds that loom overhead, and in these, Ritsuka and Hikari's reflections are nearly seen for the pure things they are. Yet, so to do they reflect echoes of something more sinister, the shadows of the customers who move around the two in what should be perfect innocents. Each step around Hikari and Ritsuka echoes softly, the sound swallowed by the immaculate surroundings, as though even the audible is unwelcome in this bastion. Over head, fluorescent lights hum, illuminating rows of neatly stocked shelves that glisten under their harsh gaze. The aisles are meticulously labeled, their signs bold and clear, practically daring even the most myopic of patrons to wander astray, and in this, they are successful, as the few patrons here today are seemingly able to find exactly what they need with elacrity. Small, colorful boxes line the shelves; relief and health promiced in pill or liquid form, in an otherwise chaotic world. Yet, beneath the surface of this organized haven lies an undercurrent of tension, a sense that something sinister lurks just out of sight-- An in the Haven township, this is very likely to be true, as Ritsuka and Hikari will find out soon enough... The soft chime of the door bell announces each new arrival; a fleeting moment of warmth. The sound hangs in the air like a faint whisper, a reminder that life continues outside, even as dark shadows gather on the horizon. Outside, the temperature hovers around 5F, a hideous, biting cold that seeps into the bones. The storm clouds above are foreboding, heavy and thick, threatening to unleash their fury upon the unsuspecting town of Haven, Just a half hour from the bustle of Boston. In here though, all is apparently well... Or is it? Do that many people usually gather to purchase medical equipment?
"I think I'd like that! Haven't had some proper tea since I stopped here... Although I was more meaning sake or beer. Been a while since I've had a proper drink, used to drink with my dad on his off-days." Hikari explains, a free hand gesturing back and forth, only for Ritsuka to bow like that, "You don't have to worry about formalities with me! I mean trust me, Ritsuka-san, I've had more than enough formalities to last me a lifetime." She huffs.
But, as the door opens, Hikari shivers, "I really should have packed a scarf... Or a beanie." She sighs, arms wrapped around her own body, "Is the weather usually like this around here?"
Glancing around the pharmacy, Ritsuka gives a brief, thoughtful look before her attention snaps back to Hikari, she looks to fall into the habit to bow again, and there is the first step but she stops before it follows into a proper one. Clearly it is ingrained into her. There is a few thoughtful seconds she allows to be quiet before she tells Hikari "Only once a while." She looks down to her phone, it is a burner phone for some reason, with old buttons. Really does not fit the more expensive look of the rest of her clothes and she types something up on it. "You still look very green, Hikari-san." She does afford the shift in name at least, though even that has a little bit of discomfort, to step that far outside the formal.
"Things are fine?" Hikari asks with a raised brow, "Oh and I mean, I've only been here for a few days, I guess green is one way to put it." She chuckles, eyes running over Ritsuka for a moment, "And I wasn't going to say but... You do have pretty fancy clothing, you're more than just a receptionist, I'm guessing?" The question is prodded curiously as she flicks her gaze between Ritsuka and the doorway.
Ritsuka has to let out a softer chuckle, though she is certainly a little wary now, but it does not seem to be Hikari. "No, Hikari-san. I own this pharmacy. It is just very important to work with your employees if you want them to be more like Japanese and loyal to the people they work for. Or they might decide they can make better profit selling some spare pharmaceuticals from the storage to some gang and make the illegal drug business worse. Americans are more like you mentioned you, less work busy. Less bound to work. They don't put in as much effort as Japanese do, in my opinion. At least at the beginning."
From where Hikari and Ritsuka stand, the pharmacy buzzes with the familiar sounds of commerce: the beeping of registers, the rustle of plastic bags, and the soft murmur of customers exchanging pleasantries with Ritsuka's trusted staff. Yet, amidst the everyday hum, a haunting energy clings to the air, drawing the eye toward the shadowy corner where magical aperatus is stored, where four figures stand, draped in heavy winter coats and scarves that obscure their features. Their presence feels out of place, as if theyve stepped from a different realm into the mundane routine of pill bottles and prescriptions, and Ritsuka half-remembers seeing their faces before; Destined Host cultists! The fluorescent lights flicker slightly, casting an unusual hue that dances around the figures. They huddle together, their postures rigid, creating a stark contrast to the relaxed demeanor of the other-- Unaware patrons. The way they stand: shoulders angled inward, heads bowed, evokes an eerie sense of secrecy. It's as if they are tucked into a world of their own, engaging in a silent communion that pulses with anticipation. An onlooker-- One knowledgable of the occult, might liken it to a ritual, but without the trappings of tradition; there are no candles, no symbols, just the air thick with an unnameable tension. As the bustle of the pharmacy continues, their focus seems drawn toward the northern wall, where aisles of medical supplies await. The shelves are well-stocked, yet there's an unsettling stillness at the end of that aisle, as if the items there hold secrets best left undiscovered. From that darkened corner, a sound emerges-- low, sibilant whispers that slither through the air like smoke. The language is foreign and malevolent, its cadence twisting the heart into knots. It curls around the ears of Ritsuka and Hikari nearby. The figures shift slightly, their attention unwavering, and the air grows colder, a chill that seeps through the layers of winter wear. Shadows gather at their feet, distorting the bright, sterile lights above, as if the very essence of the pharmacy is being drawn into their mysterious gathering, and so too is there a curious twisting of the light; It's raw, incarnadine-- The color of an open wound, and it is oh-so strange how the majority of the pharmacy's patrons do not notice what is taking place. The whispers crescendo, a cacophony of intent that seems to beckon forth something ancient and dark from the recesses of the medical supplies. It is a call to arms, a beckoning to something, a demon, most like, that should not be summoned in the flickering light of a January. Then comes that silence before the storm. That susurration that heralds impending problems for Ritsuka. again.
"I mean, that's the sort of business stuff I kinda wanted to get away from." Hikari laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of her messy curls, "But I get what you want, Americans are pretty different..." She trails off.
But then, she flicks her gaze over to the huddled group, eyes switching between them and Ritsuka, "Hey uh, you know what that is?" She asks vaguely, a pointed digit attempting to more subtly gesture over to what was steadily growing.
Briefly glances in their direction but then looked back to Hikari, and then, Hikari also points them out. It has her draw in a breathe, groan, and then, rather openly say "A reason to give you amn..." Ritsuka starts but then stops, shaking her head. Why would these freaks dare to do this in her pharmacy out of all these places? Unless of course, this is precisely what they were looking to do. "... Eliminate an enemy before she gains more power." She says the remainder of that thought out loud. There is then another sigh, and she hurries on over. Perhaps once, there had been more time given to just... approach, talk to them, but after the 200th cultist, many of which would become a risk to her, that virtue has long since fallen to ash. She does ready the flame of her soul, but that proves to more be something to fall back onto, once a commotion starts, it would draw attention. She tries to smack one of them on the back of the head, and shouts. "I am seeing what you are doing there, stop packing your pockets full with that!" Accusing of theft, ever needing to cover up.
"Give me what?" Hikari cant help but ask as her curious gaze continues to wander about, only to flick back over to Ritsuka, "I mean, I guess this place is just like I was told." She giggles softly, hand settling on something under her coat, only for the other woman to take a more mundane approach.
The air in the pharmacy now feels heavy, thick with an unnameable tension that prickles the skin like a spider's delicate though hideous foot fall. Shadows stretch and twist unnaturally, pulled by the flickering, fell incarnadine light that pulsates like a heartbeat in the dim corners of the store. Its glow casts an eerie crimson hue over Ritsuka and Hikari's faces and the pharmaceutical goods, turning ordinary shelves into cryptic silhouettes, their contents morphing into grotesque shapes in the artificial gloaming. Deep whispers continue unabated to float through the haze, an unintelligible litany that coils around the ears of the unsuspecting customers, who remain blissfully unaware of the unfolding dark ritual, but Ritsuka and Hikari are fully aware. The four figures huddled together in the flickering light continue to ignore the world around them, their faces obscured by their hoods, but the fervor of their intent is palpable. The air shimmers with an almost tangible energy, the kind that raises goosebumps and sets teeth on edge, as if the very fabric of reality is being stretched thin-- The kind of transferance of magic used to summon. Then, suddenly, a shadow stirs near the medical equipment, a subtle motion that threatens to unravel the fragile calm. Then its eyes open, and they burn with violence and hate-- That of Hell. One flickering light sputters and dies, plunging part of the pharmacy into a deeper darkness, but still the unaware patrons shop, the distant clatter of bottles and the soft rustle of plastic bags creating a mundane backdrop to the chaos brewing just out of sight of them. The air grows increasingly oppressive, a wave of infernal heat sweeping through the space, reminding Ritsuka and Hikari of the scorching presence of a being such as a flame sorcerer or an angelborn champion's heataura. It lingers like the aftermath of a firestorm, igniting the senses and sending an instinctual warning to those who might perceive it. The cultist at the center of the summoning suddenly turns, an expression of eerie satisfaction creeping across his features as he catches sight of the two onlookers. His voice, a low growl laced with a smirk, slices through the tension. Im not stealing anything. He tells Ritsuka as she closes in on him; The avenger facing the mustac he twirling villain. The words hang in the air, thick with implication, yet before any further exchange can unfold, Ritsuka, with supernatural intention and the vitriolic caustic anger of someone who's property has been invaded again... Smacks him sharply atop the head with an abrasive *CRACK*! His body crumples to the ground like a rag doll, echoing the sudden, jarring shift in the atmosphere. And then, the remaining three figures falter for a heartbeat, their ritual momentarily disrupted, and the air grows heavy with the promise of something unspeakable. Will the three attack, or are they too busy with the figure on the shadows? And just who is it in those shadows, entering the town of Haven through a summoning gate? Were they successful enough? Yes, as it turns out, because that shadow detaches itself from the others, crimson eyes now on Ritsuka, and both Ritsuka and Hikari can see that this particular figure, no taller than five foot and a couple of inches, is an asian gentleman in a business suit. He is Japanese in appearance. But that means... an oni.
Ritsuka does not turn her gaze to the oni - yet, instead she goes on to try and pummel the other three on the face before they really get a chance to decide. It is already bad that they had succeeded, and she can go and figure out how to banish the oni in a moment. She does not respond to Hikari and it does not look like she relies on the other woman here, or thinks she could. Far as she knows, the other is unaware, green, not to be involved, but it also does not change that the other could very well have seen the Oni and very much seen the fragile looking Japanese basically knockout punch one guy in the face. Well, knockout if he's lucky. the punch is not meant to cause severe harm, but intend does not always translate to the result with this kind of physical violence.
drawing a breath through her nose, Hikari decides to take on the take the backseat, merely watching as the oni thunks to the ground like that. "I left all my stuff in the moving luggage anyway." She sighs quietly, the words mumbled under her breath, "Let me know if you want any help, buuuut you seem like you have it fairly under control."
The air within the pharmacy is thick with a mixture of antiseptic and something more sinister, the faint undercurrent of sulfur that clings to the walls like an uninvited guest, sudden and abrasive, and only now does it reach Hikari and Ritsuka's noses-- Hell then for certain. . The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting their harsh glow, stagnant and almost violent with that cadence which dances erratically across the aisles of neatly stacked pharmaceuticals, illuminating the stark contrast of the mundane against the supernatural monstrosity that is taking place here and now beside the medical equipment, where Hikari and Ritsuka look on. The sterile environment hums with its soft, almost mechanical drone: a far cry from the tense situation unfolding in the corner, where the oni stands in his disguise. From the shadows emerges a Japanese businessman, his stature modest yet imposing in its own right-- Fully unveiled and ready to interact with the landscape of Haven and the Destined HOst who summoned him. Dressed in a charcoal pinstriped suit that speaks of understated wealth, he carries the weight of authority in his devilish presence. His crisp, starched shirt contrasting sharply with the devilish motifs dancing across his necktie; a playful reminder of his infernal heritage. As he steps forward, a sense of artificial calm washes over the scene, the oppressive atmosphere of the pharmacy lightening as he smiles; a warm, inviting expression that belies the fiery crimson glow of his eyes. The briefcase in his hand glistens like a portal to another world, its leather surface polished to perfection. It hangs at his side with a nonchalance that suggests it holds secrets far beyond mere business transactions. Instead of engaging with the four cultists-- one sprawled unconscious on the tiled floor thanks to Ritsuka, the others frozen in awe before him-- his gaze drifts toward the two onlookers, Hikari and Ritsuka with a curious gaze. Ritsuka, with effortless skill, dispatches the remaining cultists, yet the businessman remains unfazed, as if the skirmish is but an afterthought in the grander scheme of things. As the oni steps forward, the air becomes fragrant with a blend of lavender and eucalyptus, evoking the malicious sense of calm and tranquility as that brimstone undertone continues to linger.
has no idea how she managed to add that helpfile sillyness. Just ignore it.
The story runner is having computer issues. Give me a moment to fix please and thanks.
(repost. Should be fixed) The air within the pharmacy is thick with a mixture of antiseptic and something more sinister, the faint undercurrent of sulfur that clings to the walls like an uninvited guest, sudden and abrasive, and only now does it reach Hikari and Ritsuka's noses-- Hell then for certain. . The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting their harsh glow, stagnant and almost violent with that cadence which dances erratically across the aisles of neatly stacked pharmaceuticals, illuminating the stark contrast of the mundane against the supernatural monstrosity that is taking place here and now beside the medical equipment, where Hikari and Ritsuka look on. The sterile environment hums with its soft, almost mechanical drone: a far cry from the tense situation unfolding in the corner, where the oni stands in his disguise. From the shadows emerges a Japanese businessman, his stature modest yet imposing in its own right-- Fully unveiled and ready to interact with the landscape of Haven and the Destined HOst who summoned him. Dressed in a charcoal pinstriped suit that speaks of understated wealth, he carries the weight of authority in his devilish presence. His crisp, starched shirt contrasting sharply with the devilish motifs dancing across his necktie; a playful reminder of his infernal heritage. As he steps forward, a sense of artificial calm washes over the scene, the oppressive atmosphere of the pharmacy lightening as he smiles; a warm, inviting expression that belies the fiery crimson glow of his eyes. The briefcase in his hand glistens like a portal to another world, its leather surface polished to perfection. It hangs at his side with a nonchalance that suggests it holds secrets far beyond mere business transactions. Instead of engaging with the four cultists-- one sprawled unconscious on the tiled floor thanks to Ritsuka, the others frozen in awe before him-- his gaze drifts toward the two onlookers, Hikari and Ritsuka with a curious gaze. Ritsuka, with effortless skill, dispatches the remaining cultists, yet the businessman remains unfazed, as if the skirmish is but an afterthought in the grander scheme of things. As the oni steps forward, the air becomes fragrant with a blend of lavender and eucalyptus, evoking the malicious sense of calm and tranquility as that brimstone undertone continues to linger. He pauses just outside Ritsuka's reach, taking in the careful harmony of the space before approaching closer. With a slight bow, the demon acknowledges Ritsuka, the movement fluid and deliberate, a gesture designed to convey both deference and authority. His brilliant red eyes glint with an intensity that hints at a purpose away from the pharmacy, Ritsuka and Hikari. Konnichiwa, he greetes, his voice smooth and warm, flowing effortlessly in Ritsuka's native tongue. I am here to take part in a ritual being conducted in the Orphan's cemetery beside the White Oak educational college, he continues, his tone shifting slightly to reflect the seriousness of his mission. I do not wish to disrupt your business, and you will be compensated for the disruption caused by my uneducated American underlings if you would simply permit me to leave without causing you trouble." As he speeks, his gaze flicks to the bustling patrons of the Pharmacy, a subtle threat, then to his now unconscious underlings."
It seems to Hikari and Ritsuka that this is not the intended devilment of the Destined Host, and the two have, completely by accident stumbled into the cultists summoning a demon from District 82 who is meant to aid them with their true aims. There may in fact be a way to talk your way around this, or convince him to leave.
with a long sigh, Hikari self draws her gaze back to Ritsuka just as the last one hits the floor. "You think they'd be a little more subtle with how many regular folk there are around." She muttered in a light chide, tone blended in with her more native use of her tongue, "But it's your business, I'll leave the decision to you." Adding this on, she keeps an eye on the other man through the corner of her vision.
Finally, Ritsuka turns to look to the Oni. She has fought devils and demons before, back then, with Ash and Ryn. The look is very normal to what she expects them to wear, they were typically also running around with rifles and guns for some reason. At least in hell, despite the fact that guns work less efficiently in the hands of the supernatural. When the oni says that much, Ritsuka just shrugs, why would she stop him if he intends to leave without further problem? By chance, she somehow ended up being one of Hell's Borderlords, though this is likely to change in just a few days, by the time the alliances are set anew. She looks back to Hikari "You are aware then?" And then back to the oni "Compensation will, of course, be expected."
"I mean, aware is one way to put it. It's a conversation for another time." Hikari comments quietly, not comfortable with keeping her eyes away from the suited oni.
As he waits for Ritsuka's responce, the demon looks on easily. The fluorescent lights of the pharmacy flicker slightly, casting their glow over the aisles stocked with neatly arranged bottles and boxes in the more populated area of the pharmacy. The scent of antiseptic mingles with the faintest hint of herbal remedies, lavender, eucalyptus and brimstone as the seconds draw on, and the air is thick with a silence that hangs heavy, as if the very walls are holding their breath, anticipating the next unfolding drama. Across from Ritsuka, the Japanese-looking businessman exudes an unsettling calm. His crisp suit impeccably tailored, rustling as he moves oh-so-slightly. Each shallow bow he offers to Hikari and Ritsuka feels both courteous and menacing, as if hes performing his own ritual rather than a simple gesture of respect. The businessmans gaze wanders, assessing the pharmacy as if it were a stage for his unfolding spectacle. Your payment will indeed be forthcoming, he declares, his voice smooth yet laced with an underlying menace, a promise that seems to hang in the air like an infernal storm cloud. As he opens his briefcase, the mundane reality of the pharmacy warps around him. The brass latch clicks open with a sound that echoes unnaturally, reverberating against the shelves lined with vitamins and first-aid supplies. With an effortless grace, he begins to extract the four unconscious cultists, their limp forms sliding into the depths of the leather case as if it were an extension of his being. The sight is absurd and terrifying; their bodies should not fit, yet the briefcase yawns open like a hellmouth-- A maw, swallowing them whole. Each movement is deliberate, almost hypnotic, as if time itself slows to accommodate the surreal act. The cultists vanish one by one, their presence erased from Haven, leaving behind only a whisper of their existence. I thank you for your hospitality, the oni states, the finality of his words hanging in the air like a fading echo. As he latches the briefcase shut once more, a sense of finality washes over the pharmacy, the mundane world reasserting itself with each click of the latch. With a nod, he steps around Ritsuka and Hikari, and glides past the rows of supplements, his presence a stark contrast to the everyday items that surround him, shoes tap-tapping on the shining tiled flooring. With a final glance back, he exits through the door, the jingle of the pharmacy bell sounding like a distant chime from a dream. The moment he leaves, the atmosphere shifts once more, the silence deepening as if the pharmacy has exhaled, returning to its ordinary rhythm. Ritsuka and Hikari now able to return to their normal, unsupernatural lives. But what of the Destined Host and their plans? Over the next few days, it drifts back to Ritsuka and Hikari that the cultists were rounded up by the HSD for defacing and exhuming a number of corpses. Within the supernatural underground, there are hints that the Host had an ancient artifact that was going to put the souls of true demons into these demonborn orphan's corpses. As is only to be expected though, they failed, and instead of generating their desired outcome, they manifested ghouls, who ran a muck, though the Order were able to cover it up. Naturally, the Hand's spin doctors had a story ready to go in order to cover it up, and the Temple used it for more pro-human retoric, though ultimately, all returned to normal within a matter of days-- Or at least, normal for the Haven township, where the natural and supernatural blends mysteriously into one, its haunting mists inviting worse depravities and pain to the unsuspecting citizens of this sleepy, though cursed town.
If you give me a couple of minutes, I'll summon you both back to the pharmacy. Thanks for taking part and dealing with the shenanigans with computer and formatting issues.
(One of your targets is approached by a member of The Sapphire Martyrs who seems unusually interested in them. They're kind and friendly, and they seem to genuinely care about your target's wellbeing. The Martyr offers your target a place in their organization, promising them a purpose and a chance to save the other worlds. Your target must decide whether to join them, to spy on them, to confront them, or to ignore them. If they choose to join or spy, they may be able to learn more about The Sapphire Martyrs' plans and potentially interfere with them. If they choose to confront or ignore the Martyr, they could make a powerful enemy.)
The shortstack blonde emerges from the direction of the showers, smelling good even if her clothes seem wrinkled, as if Summer had worn them a few days in a row. She walks over to her car, not bothering to look around her. Her face is illuminated by her cell phone and she texts rapidly, despite her long fake nails.
As Summer walks out of the shower building, the night seems cold, and lonely, perhaps. Barely anyone is on the streets. Perhaps it's a welcome solitude, perhaps not. Either way, it seems that something is a-moving today.
Then, a man approaches. Blue eyes, brown hair. He's dressed in a black teeshirt, and a pair of black jeans. He seems to be slightly lost and cold, and he is looking around somewhat like a lost sheep. Then, he turns and looks over to Summer.
"Hey!" He gestures. "Hey hey you!" He shivers, his teeth clattering heavily. He can't be much older than eightteen.
Ritsuka, seasoned in the supernatural undercurrents of Haven, takes a decisive stand against the cultists, thwarting their immediate plans through a mixture of cunning and direct confrontation. The summoned oni, encapsulated in the guise of a Japanese businessman, reveals his purpose in Haven and proposes a ceasefire, offering compensation for the chaos sewn. Ritsuka, navigating the complexities of her unintended role as a Hell's Borderlord, opts for a practical resolution, allowing the demon to depart from her pharmacy. In the aftermath, the city learns of the cult's thwarted attempt to blend the demonic with the human, leaving behind a story of courage and pragmatic diplomacy in handling entities from beyond. Haven, a nexus of the ordinary and the arcane, returns to its deceptive tranquility, with Ritsuka and Hikari reflecting on the precarious balance between both worlds.
(Ritsuka's odd encounter(SRIllyana):SRIllyana)
[Tue Jan 28 2025]
In Biolabs Pharmaceuticals - OTC & Supplements
Even the blind would be able to tell that they've just entered a pharmacy. The scent of isopropyl alcohol is the first to greet the senses. The tile flooring makes spills and accidents a breeze to clean, and even a speck of dust would stand out against all that pristine white. All the aisles are labeled with letters large enough for myopic townies, and the fluorescent lights wash everything in their true hues.
A pair of chimes that feature frosted glass tubes and shimmering silver accents, resembling icicles hanging from a snowy tree branch, are hung up by the door.
It is afternoon, about 5F(-15C) degrees, and the sky is partly covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(The Destined Host has begun performing a dark ritual at a local historic site that is believed to hold a powerful artifact. Your target and their allies accidentally stumble upon this ritual while investigating unrelated supernatural occurrences. They must now decide whether to interfere and risk drawing the attention of The Destined Host, or let the ritual continue and face the potential consequences. The outcome of their actions could have far-reaching effects on their relationship with the faction and their standing in the supernatural community.)
"Yeah I have a phone! I mean, who doesn't these days, everyone has a phone." Hikari giggles softly, a shake of her head following, "I only just got off the plane a few days ago, one step at a time, if you don't mind." She adds on, drawing a breath as her eyes drift about.
"Haven-city is a bit very adventurous. It should be a very quiet place but it never turns out to be that way, compared to home in Japan," Ritsuka quietly says to Hikari with a lighter at heart kind of smile. "Can I ask for what brings you to Haven city and for what I can call you?"
"I mean, maybe? And as for your question..." Hikari hums, leaning forward as she lets the thought dwell on her lips, "Adventure?" She poses, a wry smirk left on her expression before she stands straight again, "I mean, it's complicated, long story really. I'm sure you know how japan is."
Ritsuka makes a small nod "The economy is a little difficult and corporations are very harsh on us women." She says, listening to Hikari closely. "It's... something some people are working on changing. Some of us are here doing that already, it will only take time. But someday we won't have girls need to do what they do in places like in Shinjuku." She definitely switches to Japanese when Hikari points out knowing how Japan is, her words are softer in Japanese, and higher pitched.
"I mean, not just on women. Men too." Hikari replies softly, "I barely saw my dad because he spent all his time in the office, wasn't fair on him nor me." She sighs, shaking her head again as she settles a hand on the jut of her hip, "Buuut, that whole thing is a long discussion another time. Maybe over a drink so we can have something to smile about." The woman winks, flashing a grin, "Oh! And before I forget, I'm Hikari, Kamo Hikari."
"We could go and have some tea sometime, Kamo-san. Work can get a little bit in the way for me, between the project I mentioned, what I am trying to do and also my general work." Ritsuka answers, light, still in Japanese before she makes a more formal bow now. "I am Shimomi Ritsuka. It is nice to meet you, kamo-san. If you are a little spiritual, I try and keep shrines to the Kami nearby the place I have mentioned. Food in America can be too sweet, but I can also make tea for us if you would like, it is original ingredients from Japan. A little something I insist on, Kamo-san."
Inside Biolabs Pharmaceuticals, where Ritsuka holds court with Hikari, the world outside recedes into the mists that Haven is known for. This is often the cause of something fanciful and mysterious, and today is no exception. Someone is upto something, no doubt, but exactly what is up for debate. Within the store, the air is sharp and clinical, a bite of isopropyl alcohol that lingers in Hikari and Ritsuka's nostrils, a reminder of the sterile purpose that permeates every corner; Cleansing tones that never the less fail to manage to disrupt the secrecy of the supernatural world without. The tile flooring gleams like polished glass, its stark whiteness mocking the dark, foreboding clouds that loom overhead, and in these, Ritsuka and Hikari's reflections are nearly seen for the pure things they are. Yet, so to do they reflect echoes of something more sinister, the shadows of the customers who move around the two in what should be perfect innocents. Each step around Hikari and Ritsuka echoes softly, the sound swallowed by the immaculate surroundings, as though even the audible is unwelcome in this bastion. Over head, fluorescent lights hum, illuminating rows of neatly stocked shelves that glisten under their harsh gaze. The aisles are meticulously labeled, their signs bold and clear, practically daring even the most myopic of patrons to wander astray, and in this, they are successful, as the few patrons here today are seemingly able to find exactly what they need with elacrity. Small, colorful boxes line the shelves; relief and health promiced in pill or liquid form, in an otherwise chaotic world. Yet, beneath the surface of this organized haven lies an undercurrent of tension, a sense that something sinister lurks just out of sight-- An in the Haven township, this is very likely to be true, as Ritsuka and Hikari will find out soon enough... The soft chime of the door bell announces each new arrival; a fleeting moment of warmth. The sound hangs in the air like a faint whisper, a reminder that life continues outside, even as dark shadows gather on the horizon. Outside, the temperature hovers around 5F, a hideous, biting cold that seeps into the bones. The storm clouds above are foreboding, heavy and thick, threatening to unleash their fury upon the unsuspecting town of Haven, Just a half hour from the bustle of Boston. In here though, all is apparently well... Or is it? Do that many people usually gather to purchase medical equipment?
"I think I'd like that! Haven't had some proper tea since I stopped here... Although I was more meaning sake or beer. Been a while since I've had a proper drink, used to drink with my dad on his off-days." Hikari explains, a free hand gesturing back and forth, only for Ritsuka to bow like that, "You don't have to worry about formalities with me! I mean trust me, Ritsuka-san, I've had more than enough formalities to last me a lifetime." She huffs.
But, as the door opens, Hikari shivers, "I really should have packed a scarf... Or a beanie." She sighs, arms wrapped around her own body, "Is the weather usually like this around here?"
Glancing around the pharmacy, Ritsuka gives a brief, thoughtful look before her attention snaps back to Hikari, she looks to fall into the habit to bow again, and there is the first step but she stops before it follows into a proper one. Clearly it is ingrained into her. There is a few thoughtful seconds she allows to be quiet before she tells Hikari "Only once a while." She looks down to her phone, it is a burner phone for some reason, with old buttons. Really does not fit the more expensive look of the rest of her clothes and she types something up on it. "You still look very green, Hikari-san." She does afford the shift in name at least, though even that has a little bit of discomfort, to step that far outside the formal.
"Things are fine?" Hikari asks with a raised brow, "Oh and I mean, I've only been here for a few days, I guess green is one way to put it." She chuckles, eyes running over Ritsuka for a moment, "And I wasn't going to say but... You do have pretty fancy clothing, you're more than just a receptionist, I'm guessing?" The question is prodded curiously as she flicks her gaze between Ritsuka and the doorway.
Ritsuka has to let out a softer chuckle, though she is certainly a little wary now, but it does not seem to be Hikari. "No, Hikari-san. I own this pharmacy. It is just very important to work with your employees if you want them to be more like Japanese and loyal to the people they work for. Or they might decide they can make better profit selling some spare pharmaceuticals from the storage to some gang and make the illegal drug business worse. Americans are more like you mentioned you, less work busy. Less bound to work. They don't put in as much effort as Japanese do, in my opinion. At least at the beginning."
From where Hikari and Ritsuka stand, the pharmacy buzzes with the familiar sounds of commerce: the beeping of registers, the rustle of plastic bags, and the soft murmur of customers exchanging pleasantries with Ritsuka's trusted staff. Yet, amidst the everyday hum, a haunting energy clings to the air, drawing the eye toward the shadowy corner where magical aperatus is stored, where four figures stand, draped in heavy winter coats and scarves that obscure their features. Their presence feels out of place, as if theyve stepped from a different realm into the mundane routine of pill bottles and prescriptions, and Ritsuka half-remembers seeing their faces before; Destined Host cultists! The fluorescent lights flicker slightly, casting an unusual hue that dances around the figures. They huddle together, their postures rigid, creating a stark contrast to the relaxed demeanor of the other-- Unaware patrons. The way they stand: shoulders angled inward, heads bowed, evokes an eerie sense of secrecy. It's as if they are tucked into a world of their own, engaging in a silent communion that pulses with anticipation. An onlooker-- One knowledgable of the occult, might liken it to a ritual, but without the trappings of tradition; there are no candles, no symbols, just the air thick with an unnameable tension. As the bustle of the pharmacy continues, their focus seems drawn toward the northern wall, where aisles of medical supplies await. The shelves are well-stocked, yet there's an unsettling stillness at the end of that aisle, as if the items there hold secrets best left undiscovered. From that darkened corner, a sound emerges-- low, sibilant whispers that slither through the air like smoke. The language is foreign and malevolent, its cadence twisting the heart into knots. It curls around the ears of Ritsuka and Hikari nearby. The figures shift slightly, their attention unwavering, and the air grows colder, a chill that seeps through the layers of winter wear. Shadows gather at their feet, distorting the bright, sterile lights above, as if the very essence of the pharmacy is being drawn into their mysterious gathering, and so too is there a curious twisting of the light; It's raw, incarnadine-- The color of an open wound, and it is oh-so strange how the majority of the pharmacy's patrons do not notice what is taking place. The whispers crescendo, a cacophony of intent that seems to beckon forth something ancient and dark from the recesses of the medical supplies. It is a call to arms, a beckoning to something, a demon, most like, that should not be summoned in the flickering light of a January. Then comes that silence before the storm. That susurration that heralds impending problems for Ritsuka. again.
"I mean, that's the sort of business stuff I kinda wanted to get away from." Hikari laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of her messy curls, "But I get what you want, Americans are pretty different..." She trails off.
But then, she flicks her gaze over to the huddled group, eyes switching between them and Ritsuka, "Hey uh, you know what that is?" She asks vaguely, a pointed digit attempting to more subtly gesture over to what was steadily growing.
Briefly glances in their direction but then looked back to Hikari, and then, Hikari also points them out. It has her draw in a breathe, groan, and then, rather openly say "A reason to give you amn..." Ritsuka starts but then stops, shaking her head. Why would these freaks dare to do this in her pharmacy out of all these places? Unless of course, this is precisely what they were looking to do. "... Eliminate an enemy before she gains more power." She says the remainder of that thought out loud. There is then another sigh, and she hurries on over. Perhaps once, there had been more time given to just... approach, talk to them, but after the 200th cultist, many of which would become a risk to her, that virtue has long since fallen to ash. She does ready the flame of her soul, but that proves to more be something to fall back onto, once a commotion starts, it would draw attention. She tries to smack one of them on the back of the head, and shouts. "I am seeing what you are doing there, stop packing your pockets full with that!" Accusing of theft, ever needing to cover up.
"Give me what?" Hikari cant help but ask as her curious gaze continues to wander about, only to flick back over to Ritsuka, "I mean, I guess this place is just like I was told." She giggles softly, hand settling on something under her coat, only for the other woman to take a more mundane approach.
The air in the pharmacy now feels heavy, thick with an unnameable tension that prickles the skin like a spider's delicate though hideous foot fall. Shadows stretch and twist unnaturally, pulled by the flickering, fell incarnadine light that pulsates like a heartbeat in the dim corners of the store. Its glow casts an eerie crimson hue over Ritsuka and Hikari's faces and the pharmaceutical goods, turning ordinary shelves into cryptic silhouettes, their contents morphing into grotesque shapes in the artificial gloaming. Deep whispers continue unabated to float through the haze, an unintelligible litany that coils around the ears of the unsuspecting customers, who remain blissfully unaware of the unfolding dark ritual, but Ritsuka and Hikari are fully aware. The four figures huddled together in the flickering light continue to ignore the world around them, their faces obscured by their hoods, but the fervor of their intent is palpable. The air shimmers with an almost tangible energy, the kind that raises goosebumps and sets teeth on edge, as if the very fabric of reality is being stretched thin-- The kind of transferance of magic used to summon. Then, suddenly, a shadow stirs near the medical equipment, a subtle motion that threatens to unravel the fragile calm. Then its eyes open, and they burn with violence and hate-- That of Hell. One flickering light sputters and dies, plunging part of the pharmacy into a deeper darkness, but still the unaware patrons shop, the distant clatter of bottles and the soft rustle of plastic bags creating a mundane backdrop to the chaos brewing just out of sight of them. The air grows increasingly oppressive, a wave of infernal heat sweeping through the space, reminding Ritsuka and Hikari of the scorching presence of a being such as a flame sorcerer or an angelborn champion's heataura. It lingers like the aftermath of a firestorm, igniting the senses and sending an instinctual warning to those who might perceive it. The cultist at the center of the summoning suddenly turns, an expression of eerie satisfaction creeping across his features as he catches sight of the two onlookers. His voice, a low growl laced with a smirk, slices through the tension. Im not stealing anything. He tells Ritsuka as she closes in on him; The avenger facing the mustac he twirling villain. The words hang in the air, thick with implication, yet before any further exchange can unfold, Ritsuka, with supernatural intention and the vitriolic caustic anger of someone who's property has been invaded again... Smacks him sharply atop the head with an abrasive *CRACK*! His body crumples to the ground like a rag doll, echoing the sudden, jarring shift in the atmosphere. And then, the remaining three figures falter for a heartbeat, their ritual momentarily disrupted, and the air grows heavy with the promise of something unspeakable. Will the three attack, or are they too busy with the figure on the shadows? And just who is it in those shadows, entering the town of Haven through a summoning gate? Were they successful enough? Yes, as it turns out, because that shadow detaches itself from the others, crimson eyes now on Ritsuka, and both Ritsuka and Hikari can see that this particular figure, no taller than five foot and a couple of inches, is an asian gentleman in a business suit. He is Japanese in appearance. But that means... an oni.
Ritsuka does not turn her gaze to the oni - yet, instead she goes on to try and pummel the other three on the face before they really get a chance to decide. It is already bad that they had succeeded, and she can go and figure out how to banish the oni in a moment. She does not respond to Hikari and it does not look like she relies on the other woman here, or thinks she could. Far as she knows, the other is unaware, green, not to be involved, but it also does not change that the other could very well have seen the Oni and very much seen the fragile looking Japanese basically knockout punch one guy in the face. Well, knockout if he's lucky. the punch is not meant to cause severe harm, but intend does not always translate to the result with this kind of physical violence.
drawing a breath through her nose, Hikari decides to take on the take the backseat, merely watching as the oni thunks to the ground like that. "I left all my stuff in the moving luggage anyway." She sighs quietly, the words mumbled under her breath, "Let me know if you want any help, buuuut you seem like you have it fairly under control."
The air within the pharmacy is thick with a mixture of antiseptic and something more sinister, the faint undercurrent of sulfur that clings to the walls like an uninvited guest, sudden and abrasive, and only now does it reach Hikari and Ritsuka's noses-- Hell then for certain. . The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting their harsh glow, stagnant and almost violent with that cadence which dances erratically across the aisles of neatly stacked pharmaceuticals, illuminating the stark contrast of the mundane against the supernatural monstrosity that is taking place here and now beside the medical equipment, where Hikari and Ritsuka look on. The sterile environment hums with its soft, almost mechanical drone: a far cry from the tense situation unfolding in the corner, where the oni stands in his disguise. From the shadows emerges a Japanese businessman, his stature modest yet imposing in its own right-- Fully unveiled and ready to interact with the landscape of Haven and the Destined HOst who summoned him. Dressed in a charcoal pinstriped suit that speaks of understated wealth, he carries the weight of authority in his devilish presence. His crisp, starched shirt contrasting sharply with the devilish motifs dancing across his necktie; a playful reminder of his infernal heritage. As he steps forward, a sense of artificial calm washes over the scene, the oppressive atmosphere of the pharmacy lightening as he smiles; a warm, inviting expression that belies the fiery crimson glow of his eyes. The briefcase in his hand glistens like a portal to another world, its leather surface polished to perfection. It hangs at his side with a nonchalance that suggests it holds secrets far beyond mere business transactions. Instead of engaging with the four cultists-- one sprawled unconscious on the tiled floor thanks to Ritsuka, the others frozen in awe before him-- his gaze drifts toward the two onlookers, Hikari and Ritsuka with a curious gaze. Ritsuka, with effortless skill, dispatches the remaining cultists, yet the businessman remains unfazed, as if the skirmish is but an afterthought in the grander scheme of things. As the oni steps forward, the air becomes fragrant with a blend of lavender and eucalyptus, evoking the malicious sense of calm and tranquility as that brimstone undertone continues to linger.
has no idea how she managed to add that helpfile sillyness. Just ignore it.
The story runner is having computer issues. Give me a moment to fix please and thanks.
(repost. Should be fixed) The air within the pharmacy is thick with a mixture of antiseptic and something more sinister, the faint undercurrent of sulfur that clings to the walls like an uninvited guest, sudden and abrasive, and only now does it reach Hikari and Ritsuka's noses-- Hell then for certain. . The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting their harsh glow, stagnant and almost violent with that cadence which dances erratically across the aisles of neatly stacked pharmaceuticals, illuminating the stark contrast of the mundane against the supernatural monstrosity that is taking place here and now beside the medical equipment, where Hikari and Ritsuka look on. The sterile environment hums with its soft, almost mechanical drone: a far cry from the tense situation unfolding in the corner, where the oni stands in his disguise. From the shadows emerges a Japanese businessman, his stature modest yet imposing in its own right-- Fully unveiled and ready to interact with the landscape of Haven and the Destined HOst who summoned him. Dressed in a charcoal pinstriped suit that speaks of understated wealth, he carries the weight of authority in his devilish presence. His crisp, starched shirt contrasting sharply with the devilish motifs dancing across his necktie; a playful reminder of his infernal heritage. As he steps forward, a sense of artificial calm washes over the scene, the oppressive atmosphere of the pharmacy lightening as he smiles; a warm, inviting expression that belies the fiery crimson glow of his eyes. The briefcase in his hand glistens like a portal to another world, its leather surface polished to perfection. It hangs at his side with a nonchalance that suggests it holds secrets far beyond mere business transactions. Instead of engaging with the four cultists-- one sprawled unconscious on the tiled floor thanks to Ritsuka, the others frozen in awe before him-- his gaze drifts toward the two onlookers, Hikari and Ritsuka with a curious gaze. Ritsuka, with effortless skill, dispatches the remaining cultists, yet the businessman remains unfazed, as if the skirmish is but an afterthought in the grander scheme of things. As the oni steps forward, the air becomes fragrant with a blend of lavender and eucalyptus, evoking the malicious sense of calm and tranquility as that brimstone undertone continues to linger. He pauses just outside Ritsuka's reach, taking in the careful harmony of the space before approaching closer. With a slight bow, the demon acknowledges Ritsuka, the movement fluid and deliberate, a gesture designed to convey both deference and authority. His brilliant red eyes glint with an intensity that hints at a purpose away from the pharmacy, Ritsuka and Hikari. Konnichiwa, he greetes, his voice smooth and warm, flowing effortlessly in Ritsuka's native tongue. I am here to take part in a ritual being conducted in the Orphan's cemetery beside the White Oak educational college, he continues, his tone shifting slightly to reflect the seriousness of his mission. I do not wish to disrupt your business, and you will be compensated for the disruption caused by my uneducated American underlings if you would simply permit me to leave without causing you trouble." As he speeks, his gaze flicks to the bustling patrons of the Pharmacy, a subtle threat, then to his now unconscious underlings."
It seems to Hikari and Ritsuka that this is not the intended devilment of the Destined Host, and the two have, completely by accident stumbled into the cultists summoning a demon from District 82 who is meant to aid them with their true aims. There may in fact be a way to talk your way around this, or convince him to leave.
with a long sigh, Hikari self draws her gaze back to Ritsuka just as the last one hits the floor. "You think they'd be a little more subtle with how many regular folk there are around." She muttered in a light chide, tone blended in with her more native use of her tongue, "But it's your business, I'll leave the decision to you." Adding this on, she keeps an eye on the other man through the corner of her vision.
Finally, Ritsuka turns to look to the Oni. She has fought devils and demons before, back then, with Ash and Ryn. The look is very normal to what she expects them to wear, they were typically also running around with rifles and guns for some reason. At least in hell, despite the fact that guns work less efficiently in the hands of the supernatural. When the oni says that much, Ritsuka just shrugs, why would she stop him if he intends to leave without further problem? By chance, she somehow ended up being one of Hell's Borderlords, though this is likely to change in just a few days, by the time the alliances are set anew. She looks back to Hikari "You are aware then?" And then back to the oni "Compensation will, of course, be expected."
"I mean, aware is one way to put it. It's a conversation for another time." Hikari comments quietly, not comfortable with keeping her eyes away from the suited oni.
As he waits for Ritsuka's responce, the demon looks on easily. The fluorescent lights of the pharmacy flicker slightly, casting their glow over the aisles stocked with neatly arranged bottles and boxes in the more populated area of the pharmacy. The scent of antiseptic mingles with the faintest hint of herbal remedies, lavender, eucalyptus and brimstone as the seconds draw on, and the air is thick with a silence that hangs heavy, as if the very walls are holding their breath, anticipating the next unfolding drama. Across from Ritsuka, the Japanese-looking businessman exudes an unsettling calm. His crisp suit impeccably tailored, rustling as he moves oh-so-slightly. Each shallow bow he offers to Hikari and Ritsuka feels both courteous and menacing, as if hes performing his own ritual rather than a simple gesture of respect. The businessmans gaze wanders, assessing the pharmacy as if it were a stage for his unfolding spectacle. Your payment will indeed be forthcoming, he declares, his voice smooth yet laced with an underlying menace, a promise that seems to hang in the air like an infernal storm cloud. As he opens his briefcase, the mundane reality of the pharmacy warps around him. The brass latch clicks open with a sound that echoes unnaturally, reverberating against the shelves lined with vitamins and first-aid supplies. With an effortless grace, he begins to extract the four unconscious cultists, their limp forms sliding into the depths of the leather case as if it were an extension of his being. The sight is absurd and terrifying; their bodies should not fit, yet the briefcase yawns open like a hellmouth-- A maw, swallowing them whole. Each movement is deliberate, almost hypnotic, as if time itself slows to accommodate the surreal act. The cultists vanish one by one, their presence erased from Haven, leaving behind only a whisper of their existence. I thank you for your hospitality, the oni states, the finality of his words hanging in the air like a fading echo. As he latches the briefcase shut once more, a sense of finality washes over the pharmacy, the mundane world reasserting itself with each click of the latch. With a nod, he steps around Ritsuka and Hikari, and glides past the rows of supplements, his presence a stark contrast to the everyday items that surround him, shoes tap-tapping on the shining tiled flooring. With a final glance back, he exits through the door, the jingle of the pharmacy bell sounding like a distant chime from a dream. The moment he leaves, the atmosphere shifts once more, the silence deepening as if the pharmacy has exhaled, returning to its ordinary rhythm. Ritsuka and Hikari now able to return to their normal, unsupernatural lives. But what of the Destined Host and their plans? Over the next few days, it drifts back to Ritsuka and Hikari that the cultists were rounded up by the HSD for defacing and exhuming a number of corpses. Within the supernatural underground, there are hints that the Host had an ancient artifact that was going to put the souls of true demons into these demonborn orphan's corpses. As is only to be expected though, they failed, and instead of generating their desired outcome, they manifested ghouls, who ran a muck, though the Order were able to cover it up. Naturally, the Hand's spin doctors had a story ready to go in order to cover it up, and the Temple used it for more pro-human retoric, though ultimately, all returned to normal within a matter of days-- Or at least, normal for the Haven township, where the natural and supernatural blends mysteriously into one, its haunting mists inviting worse depravities and pain to the unsuspecting citizens of this sleepy, though cursed town.
If you give me a couple of minutes, I'll summon you both back to the pharmacy. Thanks for taking part and dealing with the shenanigans with computer and formatting issues.
(One of your targets is approached by a member of The Sapphire Martyrs who seems unusually interested in them. They're kind and friendly, and they seem to genuinely care about your target's wellbeing. The Martyr offers your target a place in their organization, promising them a purpose and a chance to save the other worlds. Your target must decide whether to join them, to spy on them, to confront them, or to ignore them. If they choose to join or spy, they may be able to learn more about The Sapphire Martyrs' plans and potentially interfere with them. If they choose to confront or ignore the Martyr, they could make a powerful enemy.)
The shortstack blonde emerges from the direction of the showers, smelling good even if her clothes seem wrinkled, as if Summer had worn them a few days in a row. She walks over to her car, not bothering to look around her. Her face is illuminated by her cell phone and she texts rapidly, despite her long fake nails.
As Summer walks out of the shower building, the night seems cold, and lonely, perhaps. Barely anyone is on the streets. Perhaps it's a welcome solitude, perhaps not. Either way, it seems that something is a-moving today.
Then, a man approaches. Blue eyes, brown hair. He's dressed in a black teeshirt, and a pair of black jeans. He seems to be slightly lost and cold, and he is looking around somewhat like a lost sheep. Then, he turns and looks over to Summer.
"Hey!" He gestures. "Hey hey you!" He shivers, his teeth clattering heavily. He can't be much older than eightteen.