Patrollogs
(Berlin's decursing attempt)
[Sun Dec 15 2024]
In a comfortably appointed master bedroom
Masculine elegance radiates from every corner of this stately bedroom. The walls are painted in a light shade of mist grey, providing a calming ambiance that is perfect for relaxation. The bed, made of sturdy ash wood, sits in the center of the room, dressed in crisp grey sheets and adorned with a silver comforter.
The room is filled with subtle details that showcase the owner's refined taste. A vintage armchair is placed in the corner, inviting one to sit and enjoy the warm glow of the electric fireplace. The floor-to-ceiling bay window is framed by thick curtains made of a luxurious, heavy grey fabric that pools at the floor.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
Berlin says, sounding startled, "Fuck, got a curse, anyone want to help?"
Berlin says "I'm at home. Apartment 201."
Berlin says "considering that I have a dagger magically fused to my hand at the moment, no. Walking through the town seems like a good way to get thrown back in jail."
Berlin says "yana? "
Berlin says "or percy if you're still up?"
Berlin says "before I forget, anyone know where the entrance is today? Besides the camp?"
Berlin says "thanks tabitha"
Berlin lets Emmelline in, returning to the coffee table where he has a silver dagger laid out on a white handkerchief. "Fucking thing tried to bite me," he mutters, but does flash Emmelline a smile. "Thanks for coming," he says, gesturing for her to join him. "you know the rules, no blood. Just sacrifice, focus, and concentration."
'You know people think my methods are strange," Emmelline says with a soft sigh. 'I wonder what they'd make of yours. I always get weird looks when I go to banish spirits. Because they think my methods unorthodoxed. Yours are on a whole new level."
"They should see me disspell a spirit," Berlin comments with a chuckle, reaching across the table for an african violet in a small pot. "I'm sorry friend," he mutters, seemingly speaking to the plant, instead of to Emmelline, "Your sacrifice is appreciated." He folds the handkerchief around the hilt of the dagger, using it to lift the gleaming weapon. "I'll need your help Emma," he directs, "Hand over mine, focus on forcing the curse to attack the plant instead of us. force it away from you." He guides the tip of the dagger toward the violet, touching the glittering tip to one of the fuzzy leaves.
For several seconds the room grows painfully hot.
"All right," Emmelline says, clearly unsure on what's going on. But she follows Berlin's instructions. She places her hand on top of his, focusing her mental energies in that direction. "Well I've never seen you at one of those," she goes on. "The spirit banishings I mean. Suppose it's not your cup of tea. Wouldn't blame you, they're rarely pleasant."
"I'm kidding," Berlin clarifies, "I've never disspelled a spirit, but I'd certainly not do it by slicing my bloody arm open and waving it about, or drawing circles all over everything." He takes a harsh breath, free arm lifting with a wince of pain. "Fuck," he mutters, "Damn shoulder." Still, he wipes away sweat, his other hand pressing the dagger closer to the leaf. AS the silver touches, the heat raging, the leaf bursts into flame, reducing to a pile of cinders on the coffee table below. "More," he directs Emmelline, 'It'll start fighting soon.""
All metal objects in the room are suddenly tugged violently towards the artifact.
"Why do you feel," Emmelline asks casually, as she continues to focus her mental energies on the dagger in Berlin's hand, "that blood necessarily requires you to slice anything open? I mean it is possible isn't it, to just slip a needle into a veign. As you might when you get your blood drawn at the hospital. Then just put one of those tubes at the end and collect it that way. It's what I do. Far more civilized, and I can choose how much blood to take. And I don't draw circles in the dirt either," she says chuckling. "And I get some looks for that too. I have a wooden tablet sort of thing. I have..." and then she's distracted as all metal items get tugged towards the dagger.
"No," Berlin snarls, almost angrily, at the dagger. He slams his free fist down on the table, the metal objects stopping their sliding and flying toward the coffee table. They settle back down, the man glaring at the weapon in his hand. "You don't control that," he seithes through gritted teeth, moving the point of the dagger toward a second leaf. "Being medical instead of goth doesn't really make it much better," he comments aside to Emmelline, "Besides, I can speak from personal experience, needles can be just as uncivilized. You put them into veins. Others put them into pressure points. There's no real difference between the two."
"mkay, whatever you say," Emmelline says, looking rather dubiously as Berlin seems to get angry at the dagger in his hand. Though she doesn't comment upon it. "Well if next time I need your help to decurse one of these things, I'll show you how I do it. We've done it your way twice now."
An arc of lightning blasts out of the artifact to strike Berlin, sending him flying.
Berlin tumbles, letting out a cry of pain as he rolls over his injured shoulder. "Dammit," he swears, quickly clambering back to his position. "Focus harder," he says to Emmelline, "WE've gotta force it to attack the plant and not us." He glares once more, fury in his face as he pours his concentration into the silver tip of that dagger, stabbing it toward the leaf, which bursts into flames.
Emmelline doesn't foresee the lightning, and so she's hardly able to keep Berlin from tumbling. "Damn," she tells the man, "You get real angry during these decursings. Now I know what it's like to see Berlin unplugged," she says, her tone teasing. Though she does continue to focus in on the dagger, even as she speaks.
"I'm always angry these days," Berlin says, his voice gruff, "This is therapy." He guides their clasped hands up, leading the dagger to a third leaf, driving the tip toward it. "I get to focus on getting rid of my anger, and it helps. Not sure why some CBT practicioners haven't started using it to be honest. Its great stuff."
"Yeah... I'd be more worried on the you're always angry portion," Emmelline says making a face at Berlin's words. "That's not the healthiest you know. Surely your girlfriend has told you that? Now that she's back in town?"
All metal objects in the room are suddenly tugged violently towards the artifact.
"My girlfriend knows why I'm angry," Berlin explains, but then his keys on the table start sliding. "I said no," he barks, once more slamming his fist on the table. The keys stop, but they quiver slightly, as if caught in some invisible war that is pushing and pulling them back and forth.
"Yeah, I'm not really talking about the why behind it," Emmelline says with a shrug, "more the you being angry all the time portion," she says accentuating the word all. "If my boyfriend were angry all the time, I'd rather worry about his mental health and see if there's anythign that can be done about it."
"That's because you see anger as a negative," Berlin replies, the words spoken through gritted teeth, but without anger toward Emmelline. "You see it as a sign of a problem with the person, rather than a proper response to stimuli. Its a very modern idea. We want to avoid all negatives, instead of addressing them and accepting that they are as necessary as the positives. Why do you think most of America is in therapy and not getting better? Its a society of people wanting to avoid instead of accept and address. Britain's much the same." Another leaf bursts into flames, then another. "We're almost there, just a bit more."
With a final burst of power the curse on a silver dagger is broken.
Berlins Decursing Attempt 241216
(Berlin's decursing attempt)
[Sun Dec 15 2024]
In a comfortably appointed master bedroom
Masculine elegance radiates from every corner of this stately bedroom. The walls are painted in a light shade of mist grey, providing a calming ambiance that is perfect for relaxation. The bed, made of sturdy ash wood, sits in the center of the room, dressed in crisp grey sheets and adorned with a silver comforter.
The room is filled with subtle details that showcase the owner's refined taste. A vintage armchair is placed in the corner, inviting one to sit and enjoy the warm glow of the electric fireplace. The floor-to-ceiling bay window is framed by thick curtains made of a luxurious, heavy grey fabric that pools at the floor.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
Berlin says, sounding startled, "Fuck, got a curse, anyone want to help?"
Berlin says "I'm at home. Apartment 201."
Berlin says "considering that I have a dagger magically fused to my hand at the moment, no. Walking through the town seems like a good way to get thrown back in jail."
Berlin says "yana? "
Berlin says "or percy if you're still up?"
Berlin says "before I forget, anyone know where the entrance is today? Besides the camp?"
Berlin says "thanks tabitha"
Berlin lets Emmelline in, returning to the coffee table where he has a silver dagger laid out on a white handkerchief. "Fucking thing tried to bite me," he mutters, but does flash Emmelline a smile. "Thanks for coming," he says, gesturing for her to join him. "you know the rules, no blood. Just sacrifice, focus, and concentration."
'You know people think my methods are strange," Emmelline says with a soft sigh. 'I wonder what they'd make of yours. I always get weird looks when I go to banish spirits. Because they think my methods unorthodoxed. Yours are on a whole new level."
"They should see me disspell a spirit," Berlin comments with a chuckle, reaching across the table for an african violet in a small pot. "I'm sorry friend," he mutters, seemingly speaking to the plant, instead of to Emmelline, "Your sacrifice is appreciated." He folds the handkerchief around the hilt of the dagger, using it to lift the gleaming weapon. "I'll need your help Emma," he directs, "Hand over mine, focus on forcing the curse to attack the plant instead of us. force it away from you." He guides the tip of the dagger toward the violet, touching the glittering tip to one of the fuzzy leaves.
For several seconds the room grows painfully hot.
"All right," Emmelline says, clearly unsure on what's going on. But she follows Berlin's instructions. She places her hand on top of his, focusing her mental energies in that direction. "Well I've never seen you at one of those," she goes on. "The spirit banishings I mean. Suppose it's not your cup of tea. Wouldn't blame you, they're rarely pleasant."
"I'm kidding," Berlin clarifies, "I've never disspelled a spirit, but I'd certainly not do it by slicing my bloody arm open and waving it about, or drawing circles all over everything." He takes a harsh breath, free arm lifting with a wince of pain. "Fuck," he mutters, "Damn shoulder." Still, he wipes away sweat, his other hand pressing the dagger closer to the leaf. AS the silver touches, the heat raging, the leaf bursts into flame, reducing to a pile of cinders on the coffee table below. "More," he directs Emmelline, 'It'll start fighting soon.""
All metal objects in the room are suddenly tugged violently towards the artifact.
"Why do you feel," Emmelline asks casually, as she continues to focus her mental energies on the dagger in Berlin's hand, "that blood necessarily requires you to slice anything open? I mean it is possible isn't it, to just slip a needle into a veign. As you might when you get your blood drawn at the hospital. Then just put one of those tubes at the end and collect it that way. It's what I do. Far more civilized, and I can choose how much blood to take. And I don't draw circles in the dirt either," she says chuckling. "And I get some looks for that too. I have a wooden tablet sort of thing. I have..." and then she's distracted as all metal items get tugged towards the dagger.
"No," Berlin snarls, almost angrily, at the dagger. He slams his free fist down on the table, the metal objects stopping their sliding and flying toward the coffee table. They settle back down, the man glaring at the weapon in his hand. "You don't control that," he seithes through gritted teeth, moving the point of the dagger toward a second leaf. "Being medical instead of goth doesn't really make it much better," he comments aside to Emmelline, "Besides, I can speak from personal experience, needles can be just as uncivilized. You put them into veins. Others put them into pressure points. There's no real difference between the two."
"mkay, whatever you say," Emmelline says, looking rather dubiously as Berlin seems to get angry at the dagger in his hand. Though she doesn't comment upon it. "Well if next time I need your help to decurse one of these things, I'll show you how I do it. We've done it your way twice now."
An arc of lightning blasts out of the artifact to strike Berlin, sending him flying.
Berlin tumbles, letting out a cry of pain as he rolls over his injured shoulder. "Dammit," he swears, quickly clambering back to his position. "Focus harder," he says to Emmelline, "WE've gotta force it to attack the plant and not us." He glares once more, fury in his face as he pours his concentration into the silver tip of that dagger, stabbing it toward the leaf, which bursts into flames.
Emmelline doesn't foresee the lightning, and so she's hardly able to keep Berlin from tumbling. "Damn," she tells the man, "You get real angry during these decursings. Now I know what it's like to see Berlin unplugged," she says, her tone teasing. Though she does continue to focus in on the dagger, even as she speaks.
"I'm always angry these days," Berlin says, his voice gruff, "This is therapy." He guides their clasped hands up, leading the dagger to a third leaf, driving the tip toward it. "I get to focus on getting rid of my anger, and it helps. Not sure why some CBT practicioners haven't started using it to be honest. Its great stuff."
"Yeah... I'd be more worried on the you're always angry portion," Emmelline says making a face at Berlin's words. "That's not the healthiest you know. Surely your girlfriend has told you that? Now that she's back in town?"
All metal objects in the room are suddenly tugged violently towards the artifact.
"My girlfriend knows why I'm angry," Berlin explains, but then his keys on the table start sliding. "I said no," he barks, once more slamming his fist on the table. The keys stop, but they quiver slightly, as if caught in some invisible war that is pushing and pulling them back and forth.
"Yeah, I'm not really talking about the why behind it," Emmelline says with a shrug, "more the you being angry all the time portion," she says accentuating the word all. "If my boyfriend were angry all the time, I'd rather worry about his mental health and see if there's anythign that can be done about it."
"That's because you see anger as a negative," Berlin replies, the words spoken through gritted teeth, but without anger toward Emmelline. "You see it as a sign of a problem with the person, rather than a proper response to stimuli. Its a very modern idea. We want to avoid all negatives, instead of addressing them and accepting that they are as necessary as the positives. Why do you think most of America is in therapy and not getting better? Its a society of people wanting to avoid instead of accept and address. Britain's much the same." Another leaf bursts into flames, then another. "We're almost there, just a bit more."
With a final burst of power the curse on a silver dagger is broken.