Patrollogs
Irenes Ghost Banishing 241119
In the eerie quiet of Arkwright Cemetery, a group gathered under the cloak of darkness, spurred by the haunting giggles of unseen spirits. Irene led the assemblage, navigating through the chilling silence towards a pivotal site marked by scattered chicken bones and a surge of fairy magic that spoke of mischief and deeper maladies. Amidst the murmurs of ancient rites and the fresh sting of voluntarily shed blood, the veil between realms seemed to thin, reflecting the tension and unspoken pacts among those present. Sam, bearing the marks of recent confrontations, willingly offered his blood to the cause, hinting at a truce plagued by doubts and recent skirmishes; while Luciano, caught in the throes of unintended honesty, revealed more about his desires and frustrations than he might have preferred.
As the ritual's intensity grew, Elora carved runes into the earth, her actions driven by a blend of fear and determination. The night air filled with the scent of roses and the ephemeral sight of lost lovers, the fae's tricks weaving through the group's resolve, pulling forth confessions and desires better left unspoken. Amid accusations and the weight of past decisions, Vindicta and Viorel wrestled with their own demons, revealing the complex tapestry of motivations that brought them to this haunted ground. Despite the fae's enthralling magic prompting unexpected kisses and brutally honest admissions, the group persisted, their efforts culminating in the spirit's banishment as the array ignited with a blue glow under the moon's watchful eye. In the aftermath, while the artifacts of fae mischief faded, leaving behind a duller reality, the participants found themselves grappling with the revelations and changes wrought by the night's ordeal, their bonds tested and reshaped by the shared struggle against the unseen.
(Irene's ghost banishing)
[Mon Nov 18 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 48F(8C) degrees, and the sky is partly covered by dark grey stormclouds. There is a waning gibbous moon.
Child-like giggling begins to fill the graveyard, it comes from everywhere, filling the minds of the small gathering here only to suddenly cut off, leaving everything dead silent, not even the wind makes a sound, the distant cars passing the graveyard have been muted. Only local voices can be heard by one another.
And so, after dawdling for a fair while and having evidently scared the spirit onwards from their vicinity, eventually Irene leads the group further along, trusting in some hidden instincts to guide her. They arrive at the site of some scattered chicken bones, whereupon she looks at Sam warily and decides, "No personal objections from me, so long as it is your blood."
Irene turning towards Luciano with a frown, Irene inquires, "He bled you?"
Sam nods his head, drawing a hunting knife and cutting it across his palm. "He and Vindicta jumped me in the nightmare, and beat my ass fair and square. Italy got blinded in the process."
He smirks, looking to Viorel. "Ey, mind seeing if we can balance shadow and light? Otherwise, I'll just stay outta yer way a little, yeh?"
"So that's why you wanted a truce," Irene remarks of Sam tersely, and perhaps she'd even be reconsidering it, if she hadn't already agreed. The sound of giggles all around draws her attention all around, and with a dour look she warns the others, "Fairy magic." A particular glance is sent over to Vindicta, though it's Luciano she steps over towards.
"Vio and Vindi not even arrive together," Vindicta sighs out, looking sick and tired of the accusations she has been enduring already. "One more rumor that Vindi just sex everything and maybe just leave Temple all together. Not worth trouble," she mutters, the normally bright and bubbly young woman seemingly finally found the end of her rope. She lingers for the banishment at least, but with everything that has been said and the looks exchanged, it doesn't seem like she'll be lingering beyond that. Her jaw sets with irritation, and then she puts her phone away, only growing tenser at the sound of giggling that resounds from all around.
Elora strides carefully through the cramped and weathered plots of the old cemetery, her boots treading softly over the uneven, grass-swallowed stones. Her vivid, hair dances in the wind, the deep blue and neon green strands catching the sparse moonlight that filters through the darkened sky. She approaches one of the taller monuments, its stone weathered and cracked, the engravings barely legible. She drops to one knee, her plush white fur scarf slipping to the side, exposing more of her pale skin. Her delicate hands dip into the loamy soil at the monument's base, feeling the earth's cold and yielding texture. She begins her work with a sense of ritualistic purpose. Her nails, painted to complement her arresting teal eyes, scrape gently at the soil, drawing the first careful arc of the runic circle. Her fingers carve graceful, flowing lines, the loam parting easily under her touch. With each deliberate motion, she inscribes intricate symbols into the earth, her movements fluid and confident.
The sound of a harp echoes nearby, and the tune is hauntingly familiar. For just a moment, you feel an overwhelming urge to confess your deepest feelings to the nearest person.
Viorel continues taking light drags from his cigarettes, filling the air with the faint scent of mint. "One day, I'll finally bite someone and I'm kinda excited." He pauses, immediately catching his own tongue in his mouth. Quickly, he attempted to clear his throat, hoping that his light admittance is lost in the wind and the conversation between those who had arrived.
As Sam works in making a triangular shape of blood on the floor, Sam turns to Luciano, tilting his head aside.
"Ey, Italy, y'know what? I dun really mind the banter. Ya own yer battles, an' I can respect that." A slight smirk crosses his lips. "Bet I could fuckin' fold ya up like a bundle of clothing easily, though." An amused chuckle escapes his lips, trailing off in a gutteral hiss.
Elora tries to concentrate on her work, but her hand clenches in the loamy soil and she looks up. "I don't like this. I don't like that there are so many people here, so many eyes. It is all the worse, because I know this spirit means to watch as it plays with us. It makes my skin crawl."
Luciano looked to Viorel and covered his mouth, stifling a laugh as he began to speak. "Honestly I really just need to go back to shooting people, it's a lot less of a hassle. The jester's privlidge is nice, though." Luciano paused as his look of amusement turned to slight shock as he looked around. A slight flush across his face as he let out a groan. "God damn it..." He uttered. Tucking his hands back into his pockets as he let out a groan. "I should of just stayed home."
As Irene had been standing nearest to someone, it's him she turns to. She smiles at him a little uncertainty, and says, "I'm glad you said you want me around more, even though I don't think I can honour that. I feel the same way about wishing I had more normal people around in the Temple. You're a cool guy, Luca, I think we're a lot alike ..." And then she trails off, just briefly, but is perhaps feeling exceedingly honest when she says, "Even though I absolutely lied about having any sort of interest in you saving my soul for Christ. I actually found the whole thing super offensive, I thought about just leaving you there in pain when you started that. But in the end I dealt with it the way I always do, I just lied in your face, played a little game in my head about making you believe a fake version of me, and had fun with it."
As Irene had been standing nearest to Luciano, it's him she turns to. She smiles at him a little uncertainty, and says, "I'm glad you said you want me around more, even though I don't think I can honour that. I feel the same way about wishing I had more normal people around in the Temple. You're a cool guy, Luca, I think we're a lot alike ..." And then she trails off, just briefly, but is perhaps feeling exceedingly honest when she says, "Even though I absolutely lied about having any sort of interest in you saving my soul for Christ. I actually found the whole thing super offensive, I thought about just leaving you there in pain when you started that. But in the end I dealt with it the way I always do, I just lied in your face, played a little game in my head about making you believe a fake version of me, and had fun with it."
"Saving other people's souls implies that they can't save themselves, or they need saving. It's why I can't stand most other christians." Viorel spoke bluntly to Luciano between a long drag that rippled the cindering ash all the way down to the filter. "I also think people need to grow a personality outside of things that they were born into, it's a little pathetic.2"
"Saving other people's souls implies that they can't save themselves, or they need saving. It's why I can't stand most other christians." Viorel spoke bluntly to Luciano between a long drag that rippled the cindering ash all the way down to the filter. "I also think people need to grow a personality outside of things that they were born into, it's a little pathetic." (fixed quotation mark)
The feminine voice echos to each person, Lets play a game! Two of you must kiss! and you feel a very strong desire to play along regardless of your feelings towards your companions.
Placing his hands on the ritual form, Sam proceeds to work on the banishing, muttering soft words of power as that finger-bone around his neck glows with a dark energy.
"Y'know? For all my banter, honestly? The Hand ain't doing much for me." He pauses, and shrugs. "Woulda made a good templar, I bet, if I were fuckin' human."
He pauses, narrowing his eyes a little as a blush comes over his face, then.
Elora has hair lit partly by the waning gibbous moon as she continues to kneel by the runic circle she carved into the loamy soil. Her pale hands, trembling slightly, press into the damp earth as she fights to steady her breathing. Her fingers tighten around the soil, smearing more dirt across her moon-white skin as she tries to block out the whispers teasing at the edge of her mind, promising secrets and demanding confessions. And then the compulsion is once more gripping her. She bites her lips, eyes roving for a partner.
"Vindi enjoy taking lives," Vindicta says softly, her voice as light as a feather as her pallid eyes stare blankly ahead, like the confession were little more than casual banter. "It why she always work so hard to save people. She feels guilt at the pleasure felt when finally getting to be a predator after twenty years of being prey," says the albino, her words spilling forth seemingly without filter. "Save lives hard, take lives easy, that what Vindi always say. Not motivational speech, just truth about self. Vindi think forcing self to save like good exercise for discipline and help to tame bloodlust." Her eyes tilt towards Viorel of all people then, her voice as cold as ice as she wanders closer. "Not help. Not help at all. Vindi still love to kill."
Turning to look over in the direction of Elora and her rituals, Irene appears to quickly grow tired of all the Temple gossip, and simply abandons them entirely, instead striding briskly on over towards her. "Hey, Elora? You dumbass bitch," she names her, "I actually liked you, and you wouldn't even play a game." Reaching out to tangle her fingers in the other woman's scarf, she pulls her in for a kiss.
"You don't have to be human to join the Templar. Could always get chipped." Viorel flashed a grin, showing off those sharp, elongated canines in the rich moonlight, only for his attention to be drawn to Vindicta, "I mean- That much was a given, no? I think in our work you've gotta enjoy killing at least a /little." He huffed, hands subtly shaking as he drew another cigarette from the packet and slipping it between his lips in some sort of oral fixation.
Abruptly, Sam gets up, and starts striding towards Luciano, seemingly with some intent in mind. "Ey Italy, wanna put that fucking mouth of yours to good use?" He grins broadly.
Luciano's head recoiled slightly at Irene's sudden burst of truth. "Well I honestly say I should be surprised, but people who make up all these fantastical stories about themselves do get lost in their own imaginations. I can't be too surprised, I've put on so many fake persona's I know what the drill is." Luciano's looked to Viorel as he smiled. "Oh I know for a -fact- the guy who just said he can't wait to bite someone isn't taking the high and mighty route on being 'holier than thou'. You drink peoples blood to survive and you can't get a tan without getting the third degree."
His attention did finally turn to Vindicta "Ehhhh you kinda gotta not think about the people you kill. Or if you do and kinda get excited by it, that's nor--" His interjection was interrupted by Irene suddenly kissing Elora, now completely lost in thought as Sam then approached. "Fucking huh--" He was seemingly helpless to Sam's advance, too caught off guard by the whirlwind of emotions to even REGISTER what was said.
Elora wraps her arms around Irene in turn. "I liked you too, idiot," Elora hisses at Irene. "Why did you have to ruin it?" As hands tangle in her hair, her arms wrap around Irene's back. Then she gets on her tippy toes to capture Irene's lips with her own.
"I've never drank anyone's blood before." Viorel easily spoke, lighter once again flicking itself open and casting the sparks upon the to-be flame. "Nice try though, you thought you had me." He grinned, cigarette still placed between his teeth as he lets it smolder in the shelter of his hands.
Sam steps forward, trying to roughly grab Luciano by the collar, though somehow, he fails to get a grip. "Fuckin' kiss me already, then, idjet." He speaks simply, smirking wide. "My first time with a guy was with this kinda ghost too. Trust me, it hits different." He tries guile now, seemingly.
A flash of light reveals a dancing figure, twirling gracefully through the air. Their voice is sing-songy as they tease, 'He loves me... he loves me not...' Each time they speak, doubt flickers in your heart about your closest relationships.
There must've been something more than fae magic in Irene's choice, because even after she's fulfilled the sing-song voice's demands, she ends up lifting her hand to trace through Elora's neon hair, leaning into it. When eventually she releases her, she looks a little bashfully down at the much shorter woman, and then back at her Temple compatriots, biting at her lip. She whispers something, for Elora's ears only.
Vindicta looks over quite literally every single person gathered, wetting her lips in thought. She considers her prospects for a smooch, and ultimately ends up pulling out her phone. Idly she scrolls through her camera roll, findign a picture of a dark-haired, brown-eyed man. She smiles down at it and starts to lean in as though to kiss her phone screen, only to be given pause. Her pretty white brows furrow gently, and then she murmurs: "... Probably just using Vindi like everyone else... Not really care about.. Talk behind back, but smile in face.."
Almost subconsciously, Viorel pulls one of his gloves from his hands, pinching a silver ring that laid upon his ring finger to roll it back and forward nervously. Even as he did, he drew his attention over to the others, the strange sights playing out a little distant from his current thought as a moment of apprehension caused his cigarette to tumble to the grass. "A fucking cruel night." Is all he mumbles, a shaky hand once again drawing out a replacement for the lost vice.
Luciano leans back and bobs and weaves Sam's initial attempt in a similar way to the cookout. Stepping to the side and leaning far back as he used his height to narrowly avoid an unwanted smooch. "You know... I really think I should of just taken the contracting job in Ukraine at this point. This place is fucking weird." Even though Luciano didn't feel the urge to speak his deepest thoughts anymore, he kind of stretched the limit. Biting back at the urge to kiss Sam on his hot mouth, no longer feeling romantical and just biting his own lower lip. "Yeah no -shit-."
"Ch, bet you'd be a good cuddler, Italy." Sam snickers and turns, his expression darkening abruptly. Sam snarls, and draws that knife again, and starts to stab at the center of that form, his motions more anger than method, really. He doesn't make a sound other than the SHUCK-SHUCK of that knife in the center of that shape, pure malice on his face. "Fuckin useless pieces of SHIT!"
Viorel covers the glint of silver with his leather glove again, eyes drawn to Vindicta, "That's why you have to get someone who's comfortable saying shite to your face." He nods, finally stomping out the cindering stick with his heel, "People who act nice all the time are obviously lying, nobody is perfect."
A swarm of beautiful blue winged butterflies sweep into the area and move as one to form the shape of a curvaceous female form, it moves as if to dance whimsically across the grave and as easily as it formed the butterflies scatter into thousands of directions.
A faint and almost guilty look crosses Irene's eyes when she looks down at Elora, which is certainly unusual for her; almost everyone here, at least, has certainly born witness to how cold and unempathetic she can really be. "Fairy magic," she replies uncomfortably, and takes a half step off to the side. "Umm, how do we do your ritual, Elora? You're probably good at this."
Elora settles back down in the loamy soil near the weathered monument, her arms still tingling from Irenes touch, lips still buzzing with the lingering heat of the kiss. With a deep, shaky breath, she wills herself to refocus, fingers trembling only slightly as she returns to the intricate runic array. The damp earth feels cold beneath her touch, grounding her in this haunted place, surrounded by the echo of spirits and the unspoken tension hanging in the air. "Its just a ghost banishing ritual, though I think Lirael is empowering this one to return, given how often it comes back, despite the banishing." She points to a segment of soil. "The life force will be fed in there if you wish to contribute your blood to the working."
Ah, but Irene's no Orderite, she's not that selfless. "Use his blood," she asks of Elora, and lifts up a finger to point over at Sam through a swarm of stunning butterflies.
Luciano lets out a long, pent up sigh and takes a step back as well. Visibly uncomfortable at how honesty flowed freely and Sam went into a murderous rage. Glancing to Vindicta and Viorel with a sigh, followed by a concerned glance to Irene as the experts took over.
At that moment of reprieve, Sam goes back to a corner of the triangle, and speaks softly. "By my blood I open the Maw od Duat..." Soft words spoken to that shape as he places his head to the ground, then looks up, pointing his hunting knife at the piece of soil that Elora indicates. "Unmake, and break, drag back down..."
He looks up, narrowing his eyes to Irene. "Classic." He doens't comment more.
"Please just get over with," Vindicta begs, her only reprieve the dancing femme made of butterflies and wind. No more words caress her mind with fingers as sharp as needles, bidding her to do things she otherwise wouldn't. "Can't.. Can't stand Fae magic... Always twisting minds and breaking things. Breaking people. Not good. Make go away," pleads the little albino as she shuffles back, distancing herself from the group.
"Look, I'm not saying to break the truce," Irene insists to Sam, holding up her hands in preemptive surrender to Sam, and flashing him a little grin. "I'm just saying you should volunteer. For the common good. Since you're into blood magic, and you need to atone for your failure of joining the Hand if you wanna earn our favour, right?"
flicks his attention over to Vindicta as she backs away with a huff, a thick, billowing cloud of minty smoke as he exhaled. "You should probably get it started." Viorel turns over to Irene and Elora, "I'm probably not feeling this as much as you lot for obvious reasons, but a lot of fae shite ends with a curse if the spirit isn't particularly happy."
A swarm of beautiful blue winged butterflies sweep into the area and move as one to form the shape of a curvaceous female form, it moves as if to dance whimsically across the grave and as easily as it formed the butterflies scatter into thousands of directions.
The will o' wisps hover around Elora, their presence almost playful as they swirl and dip, illuminating the vibrant neon and turquoise hues of her wild hair. The lights seem drawn to her, caressing the strands and igniting them with a subtle, shimmering brilliance. Her pale, moonlit skin glows under their soft illumination. "Working on it," Elora calls to Vindicta. As the will o' wisps circle her, they cast light onto the runic array, making the runes stand out more in the loamy soil. There is a circle taking shape, one with four quadrants each of which is filled with sigils. For someone educated, it might be clear that the upper left quadrant directs the runic array to target the nearby spirit, while other quadrants function to gather life force and channel it into the spirit's banishment.
Elora swallows nervously.
Pressing his head against the soil, Sam proceeds. "Strengthen and draw, life to end life." He points his knife towards one of the quadrants of Elora's circle, shadowy tendrils shooting towards the array, adding energy to that circle.
"If ya think yer being manipulative, that shit only works when the other party assumes yer not playing them." His tone isn't unfriendly. More friendly banter type, as he strains to maintain the flow of energy.
Elora lightly runs her blade against her flesh causing blood to dribble along her palm and then fall in drop after drop to the loamy soil. She winces, then puts the blade away, clenching her hand to hide away the cut. The blood continues to spatter down as it hits the soil the runic array there ignites, not with something red like the bloody, but with a subtle whiteish blue glow which seems to push back against the green light of the butterflies.
Luciano visibly cringe and let out a small groan as Elora scored herself with her blade. Looking away as he closed one eye tightly, His teeth showing as his upper lip curled into a look of discomfort. Taking a few steps to join Viorel and Vindicta on the sidelines quietly.
Elora begins to murmurs under her breath, teal eyes intent on the blood dripping down into the array she and Sam are feeding. "Glacies aeternum, vincula animae alligate in tenebris," Elora hisses quietly. "Umbrae glaciales, vorate spiritus errantes. Gelida nox, absorbe animas in oblivione"
A soft giggle echoes in the air, followed by the scent of roses. For a brief moment, the face of a lover or crush you havent seen in years flashes before your eyeswas it real, or just a trick?
Perhaps still feeling some sense of unnatural honesty (clear, very, VERY unnatural for someone like her), Irene smiles at Sam and blithely tells him, "I assume that everybody is playing everybody at any given times. Those who act most innocent and in denial about the games you play, most of all." Her dark eyes flicker away from him just then, but they don't focus on anyone in particular, and soon return to his own face. Whilst the others practice their ritual magics, she attempts some of her own, one far older, albeit perhaps weaker. She prays. Her hand snakes under her flannel to clasp at a sterling silver chain, easily visible around her neck, although the pendant it holds remains hidden. Dipping her head, she murmurs softly into her fist and this secret little token, in some faint, foreign language.
Elora has blood which drips and drops from her hand, splattering into the circle which is glowing with a brighter and brighter light as power is fed into it. "Tenebrae frigidae, exsugite spiritum et redite ad abyssum. Gelum et umbra, ruina animarum nunc fiat."
Keeping his support to feeding Elora's circle, Sam places one hand firmly on the triangle, that knife still being used to direct the energy towards that array. As Elora starts incanting, he speaks, much less sophisticated. "Yeh, fuckin... DIE!" At that last word, the hissing of snakes is audible from his ritual triangle, while the energy coming from him radiates malice, like the cery darkness itself wants the spirit to be ended.
Unafraid of blood, Vindicta watches Elora slit her palm in a quiet stillness, as though the tiny Deputy assumed that if she did not move, the spirit would not target her. Frozen in place, her pallid eyes drift closed, only to open once more when she hears the sound of Luciano's footsteps drawing nearer and nearer. The man isn't given much beyond a distasteful scowl, the woman not having forgotten what he'd said earlier. It seems she has no intention of forgiving his accusation any time soon, and so no matter how close he gets, he is only met with a cold shoulder.
Doubly so when the next wave of magic washes over the group, causing the femme's eyes to go misty and distant. Once more.. She seems to feel, or maybe just see, nothing.
Tears well up along Irene's lower eyelids, captured by her naturally thick, dark lashes. She glances into the distance, where some unseen figure watches her, but she's played this particular Fae game before, she knows it isn't real. So instead she focuses on her prayer, head bowed, while these droplets start to spill unbidden on her cheeks.
Viorel watches from the sidelines, eyes taking in the sights, sounds and different emotions swirling in the graveyard. His gaze occsassionally ticks off to the side, followed by a quick click of his tongue as he fidgets with something under his glove. "I'd rather go werewolf hunting than deal with this shite." The man grumbled under his breath, attention wandering towards the cool glow of the moon to distract him from anything residue.
Elora continues her low hissing, teal eyes intent, as she glares now toward the spirit. "Mors glacialis, animas vagantes percutite. Cor ruinosum, glacie aeterno claude hos phantasmos."
Luciano quickly diverts his path to stand with Viorel between him and Vindicta as she sent him that scowl. Glancing to Viorel again with a grimace. "Yeah, can't say I disagree, amico..." Luciano remarked quietly. Avoiding Vindicta's gaze as he glanced towards Irene for a second. His lips tightening as he remained a bystander.
Sam grins towards Irene. "Yaknow? I can respect that. I make no secret of bein' a bad person." He looks at the thin air, the shadows around him flickering erratically. "Fuckin' ay..."
He pauses a few moments, then seems to recover, his malice back, and brought up a notch or several. "FUCKIN... STOP! MESSING! WITH! MY! HEAD!" He puches the ground repeatedly, his knuckles crackling and drawing blood. "SHUT UP!"
As the games come to and end and the spirit is banished, the whimsy and all its charms seem to fade away. Bringing a barren, dull feeling to the graveyard once again. Wasnt it better before?...
As the ritual's intensity grew, Elora carved runes into the earth, her actions driven by a blend of fear and determination. The night air filled with the scent of roses and the ephemeral sight of lost lovers, the fae's tricks weaving through the group's resolve, pulling forth confessions and desires better left unspoken. Amid accusations and the weight of past decisions, Vindicta and Viorel wrestled with their own demons, revealing the complex tapestry of motivations that brought them to this haunted ground. Despite the fae's enthralling magic prompting unexpected kisses and brutally honest admissions, the group persisted, their efforts culminating in the spirit's banishment as the array ignited with a blue glow under the moon's watchful eye. In the aftermath, while the artifacts of fae mischief faded, leaving behind a duller reality, the participants found themselves grappling with the revelations and changes wrought by the night's ordeal, their bonds tested and reshaped by the shared struggle against the unseen.
(Irene's ghost banishing)
[Mon Nov 18 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 48F(8C) degrees, and the sky is partly covered by dark grey stormclouds. There is a waning gibbous moon.
Child-like giggling begins to fill the graveyard, it comes from everywhere, filling the minds of the small gathering here only to suddenly cut off, leaving everything dead silent, not even the wind makes a sound, the distant cars passing the graveyard have been muted. Only local voices can be heard by one another.
And so, after dawdling for a fair while and having evidently scared the spirit onwards from their vicinity, eventually Irene leads the group further along, trusting in some hidden instincts to guide her. They arrive at the site of some scattered chicken bones, whereupon she looks at Sam warily and decides, "No personal objections from me, so long as it is your blood."
Irene turning towards Luciano with a frown, Irene inquires, "He bled you?"
Sam nods his head, drawing a hunting knife and cutting it across his palm. "He and Vindicta jumped me in the nightmare, and beat my ass fair and square. Italy got blinded in the process."
He smirks, looking to Viorel. "Ey, mind seeing if we can balance shadow and light? Otherwise, I'll just stay outta yer way a little, yeh?"
"So that's why you wanted a truce," Irene remarks of Sam tersely, and perhaps she'd even be reconsidering it, if she hadn't already agreed. The sound of giggles all around draws her attention all around, and with a dour look she warns the others, "Fairy magic." A particular glance is sent over to Vindicta, though it's Luciano she steps over towards.
"Vio and Vindi not even arrive together," Vindicta sighs out, looking sick and tired of the accusations she has been enduring already. "One more rumor that Vindi just sex everything and maybe just leave Temple all together. Not worth trouble," she mutters, the normally bright and bubbly young woman seemingly finally found the end of her rope. She lingers for the banishment at least, but with everything that has been said and the looks exchanged, it doesn't seem like she'll be lingering beyond that. Her jaw sets with irritation, and then she puts her phone away, only growing tenser at the sound of giggling that resounds from all around.
Elora strides carefully through the cramped and weathered plots of the old cemetery, her boots treading softly over the uneven, grass-swallowed stones. Her vivid, hair dances in the wind, the deep blue and neon green strands catching the sparse moonlight that filters through the darkened sky. She approaches one of the taller monuments, its stone weathered and cracked, the engravings barely legible. She drops to one knee, her plush white fur scarf slipping to the side, exposing more of her pale skin. Her delicate hands dip into the loamy soil at the monument's base, feeling the earth's cold and yielding texture. She begins her work with a sense of ritualistic purpose. Her nails, painted to complement her arresting teal eyes, scrape gently at the soil, drawing the first careful arc of the runic circle. Her fingers carve graceful, flowing lines, the loam parting easily under her touch. With each deliberate motion, she inscribes intricate symbols into the earth, her movements fluid and confident.
The sound of a harp echoes nearby, and the tune is hauntingly familiar. For just a moment, you feel an overwhelming urge to confess your deepest feelings to the nearest person.
Viorel continues taking light drags from his cigarettes, filling the air with the faint scent of mint. "One day, I'll finally bite someone and I'm kinda excited." He pauses, immediately catching his own tongue in his mouth. Quickly, he attempted to clear his throat, hoping that his light admittance is lost in the wind and the conversation between those who had arrived.
As Sam works in making a triangular shape of blood on the floor, Sam turns to Luciano, tilting his head aside.
"Ey, Italy, y'know what? I dun really mind the banter. Ya own yer battles, an' I can respect that." A slight smirk crosses his lips. "Bet I could fuckin' fold ya up like a bundle of clothing easily, though." An amused chuckle escapes his lips, trailing off in a gutteral hiss.
Elora tries to concentrate on her work, but her hand clenches in the loamy soil and she looks up. "I don't like this. I don't like that there are so many people here, so many eyes. It is all the worse, because I know this spirit means to watch as it plays with us. It makes my skin crawl."
Luciano looked to Viorel and covered his mouth, stifling a laugh as he began to speak. "Honestly I really just need to go back to shooting people, it's a lot less of a hassle. The jester's privlidge is nice, though." Luciano paused as his look of amusement turned to slight shock as he looked around. A slight flush across his face as he let out a groan. "God damn it..." He uttered. Tucking his hands back into his pockets as he let out a groan. "I should of just stayed home."
As Irene had been standing nearest to someone, it's him she turns to. She smiles at him a little uncertainty, and says, "I'm glad you said you want me around more, even though I don't think I can honour that. I feel the same way about wishing I had more normal people around in the Temple. You're a cool guy, Luca, I think we're a lot alike ..." And then she trails off, just briefly, but is perhaps feeling exceedingly honest when she says, "Even though I absolutely lied about having any sort of interest in you saving my soul for Christ. I actually found the whole thing super offensive, I thought about just leaving you there in pain when you started that. But in the end I dealt with it the way I always do, I just lied in your face, played a little game in my head about making you believe a fake version of me, and had fun with it."
As Irene had been standing nearest to Luciano, it's him she turns to. She smiles at him a little uncertainty, and says, "I'm glad you said you want me around more, even though I don't think I can honour that. I feel the same way about wishing I had more normal people around in the Temple. You're a cool guy, Luca, I think we're a lot alike ..." And then she trails off, just briefly, but is perhaps feeling exceedingly honest when she says, "Even though I absolutely lied about having any sort of interest in you saving my soul for Christ. I actually found the whole thing super offensive, I thought about just leaving you there in pain when you started that. But in the end I dealt with it the way I always do, I just lied in your face, played a little game in my head about making you believe a fake version of me, and had fun with it."
"Saving other people's souls implies that they can't save themselves, or they need saving. It's why I can't stand most other christians." Viorel spoke bluntly to Luciano between a long drag that rippled the cindering ash all the way down to the filter. "I also think people need to grow a personality outside of things that they were born into, it's a little pathetic.2"
"Saving other people's souls implies that they can't save themselves, or they need saving. It's why I can't stand most other christians." Viorel spoke bluntly to Luciano between a long drag that rippled the cindering ash all the way down to the filter. "I also think people need to grow a personality outside of things that they were born into, it's a little pathetic." (fixed quotation mark)
The feminine voice echos to each person, Lets play a game! Two of you must kiss! and you feel a very strong desire to play along regardless of your feelings towards your companions.
Placing his hands on the ritual form, Sam proceeds to work on the banishing, muttering soft words of power as that finger-bone around his neck glows with a dark energy.
"Y'know? For all my banter, honestly? The Hand ain't doing much for me." He pauses, and shrugs. "Woulda made a good templar, I bet, if I were fuckin' human."
He pauses, narrowing his eyes a little as a blush comes over his face, then.
Elora has hair lit partly by the waning gibbous moon as she continues to kneel by the runic circle she carved into the loamy soil. Her pale hands, trembling slightly, press into the damp earth as she fights to steady her breathing. Her fingers tighten around the soil, smearing more dirt across her moon-white skin as she tries to block out the whispers teasing at the edge of her mind, promising secrets and demanding confessions. And then the compulsion is once more gripping her. She bites her lips, eyes roving for a partner.
"Vindi enjoy taking lives," Vindicta says softly, her voice as light as a feather as her pallid eyes stare blankly ahead, like the confession were little more than casual banter. "It why she always work so hard to save people. She feels guilt at the pleasure felt when finally getting to be a predator after twenty years of being prey," says the albino, her words spilling forth seemingly without filter. "Save lives hard, take lives easy, that what Vindi always say. Not motivational speech, just truth about self. Vindi think forcing self to save like good exercise for discipline and help to tame bloodlust." Her eyes tilt towards Viorel of all people then, her voice as cold as ice as she wanders closer. "Not help. Not help at all. Vindi still love to kill."
Turning to look over in the direction of Elora and her rituals, Irene appears to quickly grow tired of all the Temple gossip, and simply abandons them entirely, instead striding briskly on over towards her. "Hey, Elora? You dumbass bitch," she names her, "I actually liked you, and you wouldn't even play a game." Reaching out to tangle her fingers in the other woman's scarf, she pulls her in for a kiss.
"You don't have to be human to join the Templar. Could always get chipped." Viorel flashed a grin, showing off those sharp, elongated canines in the rich moonlight, only for his attention to be drawn to Vindicta, "I mean- That much was a given, no? I think in our work you've gotta enjoy killing at least a /little." He huffed, hands subtly shaking as he drew another cigarette from the packet and slipping it between his lips in some sort of oral fixation.
Abruptly, Sam gets up, and starts striding towards Luciano, seemingly with some intent in mind. "Ey Italy, wanna put that fucking mouth of yours to good use?" He grins broadly.
Luciano's head recoiled slightly at Irene's sudden burst of truth. "Well I honestly say I should be surprised, but people who make up all these fantastical stories about themselves do get lost in their own imaginations. I can't be too surprised, I've put on so many fake persona's I know what the drill is." Luciano's looked to Viorel as he smiled. "Oh I know for a -fact- the guy who just said he can't wait to bite someone isn't taking the high and mighty route on being 'holier than thou'. You drink peoples blood to survive and you can't get a tan without getting the third degree."
His attention did finally turn to Vindicta "Ehhhh you kinda gotta not think about the people you kill. Or if you do and kinda get excited by it, that's nor--" His interjection was interrupted by Irene suddenly kissing Elora, now completely lost in thought as Sam then approached. "Fucking huh--" He was seemingly helpless to Sam's advance, too caught off guard by the whirlwind of emotions to even REGISTER what was said.
Elora wraps her arms around Irene in turn. "I liked you too, idiot," Elora hisses at Irene. "Why did you have to ruin it?" As hands tangle in her hair, her arms wrap around Irene's back. Then she gets on her tippy toes to capture Irene's lips with her own.
"I've never drank anyone's blood before." Viorel easily spoke, lighter once again flicking itself open and casting the sparks upon the to-be flame. "Nice try though, you thought you had me." He grinned, cigarette still placed between his teeth as he lets it smolder in the shelter of his hands.
Sam steps forward, trying to roughly grab Luciano by the collar, though somehow, he fails to get a grip. "Fuckin' kiss me already, then, idjet." He speaks simply, smirking wide. "My first time with a guy was with this kinda ghost too. Trust me, it hits different." He tries guile now, seemingly.
A flash of light reveals a dancing figure, twirling gracefully through the air. Their voice is sing-songy as they tease, 'He loves me... he loves me not...' Each time they speak, doubt flickers in your heart about your closest relationships.
There must've been something more than fae magic in Irene's choice, because even after she's fulfilled the sing-song voice's demands, she ends up lifting her hand to trace through Elora's neon hair, leaning into it. When eventually she releases her, she looks a little bashfully down at the much shorter woman, and then back at her Temple compatriots, biting at her lip. She whispers something, for Elora's ears only.
Vindicta looks over quite literally every single person gathered, wetting her lips in thought. She considers her prospects for a smooch, and ultimately ends up pulling out her phone. Idly she scrolls through her camera roll, findign a picture of a dark-haired, brown-eyed man. She smiles down at it and starts to lean in as though to kiss her phone screen, only to be given pause. Her pretty white brows furrow gently, and then she murmurs: "... Probably just using Vindi like everyone else... Not really care about.. Talk behind back, but smile in face.."
Almost subconsciously, Viorel pulls one of his gloves from his hands, pinching a silver ring that laid upon his ring finger to roll it back and forward nervously. Even as he did, he drew his attention over to the others, the strange sights playing out a little distant from his current thought as a moment of apprehension caused his cigarette to tumble to the grass. "A fucking cruel night." Is all he mumbles, a shaky hand once again drawing out a replacement for the lost vice.
Luciano leans back and bobs and weaves Sam's initial attempt in a similar way to the cookout. Stepping to the side and leaning far back as he used his height to narrowly avoid an unwanted smooch. "You know... I really think I should of just taken the contracting job in Ukraine at this point. This place is fucking weird." Even though Luciano didn't feel the urge to speak his deepest thoughts anymore, he kind of stretched the limit. Biting back at the urge to kiss Sam on his hot mouth, no longer feeling romantical and just biting his own lower lip. "Yeah no -shit-."
"Ch, bet you'd be a good cuddler, Italy." Sam snickers and turns, his expression darkening abruptly. Sam snarls, and draws that knife again, and starts to stab at the center of that form, his motions more anger than method, really. He doesn't make a sound other than the SHUCK-SHUCK of that knife in the center of that shape, pure malice on his face. "Fuckin useless pieces of SHIT!"
Viorel covers the glint of silver with his leather glove again, eyes drawn to Vindicta, "That's why you have to get someone who's comfortable saying shite to your face." He nods, finally stomping out the cindering stick with his heel, "People who act nice all the time are obviously lying, nobody is perfect."
A swarm of beautiful blue winged butterflies sweep into the area and move as one to form the shape of a curvaceous female form, it moves as if to dance whimsically across the grave and as easily as it formed the butterflies scatter into thousands of directions.
A faint and almost guilty look crosses Irene's eyes when she looks down at Elora, which is certainly unusual for her; almost everyone here, at least, has certainly born witness to how cold and unempathetic she can really be. "Fairy magic," she replies uncomfortably, and takes a half step off to the side. "Umm, how do we do your ritual, Elora? You're probably good at this."
Elora settles back down in the loamy soil near the weathered monument, her arms still tingling from Irenes touch, lips still buzzing with the lingering heat of the kiss. With a deep, shaky breath, she wills herself to refocus, fingers trembling only slightly as she returns to the intricate runic array. The damp earth feels cold beneath her touch, grounding her in this haunted place, surrounded by the echo of spirits and the unspoken tension hanging in the air. "Its just a ghost banishing ritual, though I think Lirael is empowering this one to return, given how often it comes back, despite the banishing." She points to a segment of soil. "The life force will be fed in there if you wish to contribute your blood to the working."
Ah, but Irene's no Orderite, she's not that selfless. "Use his blood," she asks of Elora, and lifts up a finger to point over at Sam through a swarm of stunning butterflies.
Luciano lets out a long, pent up sigh and takes a step back as well. Visibly uncomfortable at how honesty flowed freely and Sam went into a murderous rage. Glancing to Vindicta and Viorel with a sigh, followed by a concerned glance to Irene as the experts took over.
At that moment of reprieve, Sam goes back to a corner of the triangle, and speaks softly. "By my blood I open the Maw od Duat..." Soft words spoken to that shape as he places his head to the ground, then looks up, pointing his hunting knife at the piece of soil that Elora indicates. "Unmake, and break, drag back down..."
He looks up, narrowing his eyes to Irene. "Classic." He doens't comment more.
"Please just get over with," Vindicta begs, her only reprieve the dancing femme made of butterflies and wind. No more words caress her mind with fingers as sharp as needles, bidding her to do things she otherwise wouldn't. "Can't.. Can't stand Fae magic... Always twisting minds and breaking things. Breaking people. Not good. Make go away," pleads the little albino as she shuffles back, distancing herself from the group.
"Look, I'm not saying to break the truce," Irene insists to Sam, holding up her hands in preemptive surrender to Sam, and flashing him a little grin. "I'm just saying you should volunteer. For the common good. Since you're into blood magic, and you need to atone for your failure of joining the Hand if you wanna earn our favour, right?"
flicks his attention over to Vindicta as she backs away with a huff, a thick, billowing cloud of minty smoke as he exhaled. "You should probably get it started." Viorel turns over to Irene and Elora, "I'm probably not feeling this as much as you lot for obvious reasons, but a lot of fae shite ends with a curse if the spirit isn't particularly happy."
A swarm of beautiful blue winged butterflies sweep into the area and move as one to form the shape of a curvaceous female form, it moves as if to dance whimsically across the grave and as easily as it formed the butterflies scatter into thousands of directions.
The will o' wisps hover around Elora, their presence almost playful as they swirl and dip, illuminating the vibrant neon and turquoise hues of her wild hair. The lights seem drawn to her, caressing the strands and igniting them with a subtle, shimmering brilliance. Her pale, moonlit skin glows under their soft illumination. "Working on it," Elora calls to Vindicta. As the will o' wisps circle her, they cast light onto the runic array, making the runes stand out more in the loamy soil. There is a circle taking shape, one with four quadrants each of which is filled with sigils. For someone educated, it might be clear that the upper left quadrant directs the runic array to target the nearby spirit, while other quadrants function to gather life force and channel it into the spirit's banishment.
Elora swallows nervously.
Pressing his head against the soil, Sam proceeds. "Strengthen and draw, life to end life." He points his knife towards one of the quadrants of Elora's circle, shadowy tendrils shooting towards the array, adding energy to that circle.
"If ya think yer being manipulative, that shit only works when the other party assumes yer not playing them." His tone isn't unfriendly. More friendly banter type, as he strains to maintain the flow of energy.
Elora lightly runs her blade against her flesh causing blood to dribble along her palm and then fall in drop after drop to the loamy soil. She winces, then puts the blade away, clenching her hand to hide away the cut. The blood continues to spatter down as it hits the soil the runic array there ignites, not with something red like the bloody, but with a subtle whiteish blue glow which seems to push back against the green light of the butterflies.
Luciano visibly cringe and let out a small groan as Elora scored herself with her blade. Looking away as he closed one eye tightly, His teeth showing as his upper lip curled into a look of discomfort. Taking a few steps to join Viorel and Vindicta on the sidelines quietly.
Elora begins to murmurs under her breath, teal eyes intent on the blood dripping down into the array she and Sam are feeding. "Glacies aeternum, vincula animae alligate in tenebris," Elora hisses quietly. "Umbrae glaciales, vorate spiritus errantes. Gelida nox, absorbe animas in oblivione"
A soft giggle echoes in the air, followed by the scent of roses. For a brief moment, the face of a lover or crush you havent seen in years flashes before your eyeswas it real, or just a trick?
Perhaps still feeling some sense of unnatural honesty (clear, very, VERY unnatural for someone like her), Irene smiles at Sam and blithely tells him, "I assume that everybody is playing everybody at any given times. Those who act most innocent and in denial about the games you play, most of all." Her dark eyes flicker away from him just then, but they don't focus on anyone in particular, and soon return to his own face. Whilst the others practice their ritual magics, she attempts some of her own, one far older, albeit perhaps weaker. She prays. Her hand snakes under her flannel to clasp at a sterling silver chain, easily visible around her neck, although the pendant it holds remains hidden. Dipping her head, she murmurs softly into her fist and this secret little token, in some faint, foreign language.
Elora has blood which drips and drops from her hand, splattering into the circle which is glowing with a brighter and brighter light as power is fed into it. "Tenebrae frigidae, exsugite spiritum et redite ad abyssum. Gelum et umbra, ruina animarum nunc fiat."
Keeping his support to feeding Elora's circle, Sam places one hand firmly on the triangle, that knife still being used to direct the energy towards that array. As Elora starts incanting, he speaks, much less sophisticated. "Yeh, fuckin... DIE!" At that last word, the hissing of snakes is audible from his ritual triangle, while the energy coming from him radiates malice, like the cery darkness itself wants the spirit to be ended.
Unafraid of blood, Vindicta watches Elora slit her palm in a quiet stillness, as though the tiny Deputy assumed that if she did not move, the spirit would not target her. Frozen in place, her pallid eyes drift closed, only to open once more when she hears the sound of Luciano's footsteps drawing nearer and nearer. The man isn't given much beyond a distasteful scowl, the woman not having forgotten what he'd said earlier. It seems she has no intention of forgiving his accusation any time soon, and so no matter how close he gets, he is only met with a cold shoulder.
Doubly so when the next wave of magic washes over the group, causing the femme's eyes to go misty and distant. Once more.. She seems to feel, or maybe just see, nothing.
Tears well up along Irene's lower eyelids, captured by her naturally thick, dark lashes. She glances into the distance, where some unseen figure watches her, but she's played this particular Fae game before, she knows it isn't real. So instead she focuses on her prayer, head bowed, while these droplets start to spill unbidden on her cheeks.
Viorel watches from the sidelines, eyes taking in the sights, sounds and different emotions swirling in the graveyard. His gaze occsassionally ticks off to the side, followed by a quick click of his tongue as he fidgets with something under his glove. "I'd rather go werewolf hunting than deal with this shite." The man grumbled under his breath, attention wandering towards the cool glow of the moon to distract him from anything residue.
Elora continues her low hissing, teal eyes intent, as she glares now toward the spirit. "Mors glacialis, animas vagantes percutite. Cor ruinosum, glacie aeterno claude hos phantasmos."
Luciano quickly diverts his path to stand with Viorel between him and Vindicta as she sent him that scowl. Glancing to Viorel again with a grimace. "Yeah, can't say I disagree, amico..." Luciano remarked quietly. Avoiding Vindicta's gaze as he glanced towards Irene for a second. His lips tightening as he remained a bystander.
Sam grins towards Irene. "Yaknow? I can respect that. I make no secret of bein' a bad person." He looks at the thin air, the shadows around him flickering erratically. "Fuckin' ay..."
He pauses a few moments, then seems to recover, his malice back, and brought up a notch or several. "FUCKIN... STOP! MESSING! WITH! MY! HEAD!" He puches the ground repeatedly, his knuckles crackling and drawing blood. "SHUT UP!"
As the games come to and end and the spirit is banished, the whimsy and all its charms seem to fade away. Bringing a barren, dull feeling to the graveyard once again. Wasnt it better before?...