Patrollogs
Korinas Ghost Banishing 240923
In the eerie ambiance of Arkwright Cemetery, a group gathers to confront a ghostly menace, but instead, they find themselves beset by sinister forces. The air is filled with the ominous smell of brimstone and a rising, black mist that morphs into threatening creatures with red eyes. Amid this chaos, the companions each react in their own way: Emmanuel seeks protection behind Harriet, Lepia observes with a mysterious calm, and Korina, initially mistaken as a ghost by Emmanuel, tries to assert control despite her growing distraction from the smoke's whispers of decadent desires. The situation escalates when demonic figures form from the mist, targeting the group with their twisted weapons, and the air crackles with the promise of dark, seductive powers attempting to sway them from their purpose.
Amid the confusion, each group member tries to fight back in their own way: Korina, after being momentarily distracted by the prospect of jerky, engages in combat; Emmanuel struggles with ritualism, believing it boils down to salt and smoke; Harriet, distracted by her own desires, scrambles with salt to form protective circles; Lepia chants enigmatically, possibly casting unknown spells; and Euphemia, brought to her knees by the overwhelming desires, finally stands to fight with renewed determination. As the battle against the smoke monsters intensifies, Korina's blood is spilled to strengthen their ritual circle. Eventually, through their combined, if somewhat chaotic, efforts, the sinister smoke and its monsters are vanquished, leaving the group victorious but visibly shaken by their encounter with the ghostly forces that once haunted Arkwright Cemetery.
(Korina's ghost banishing)
[Sun Sep 22 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 72F(22C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
There is the sudden smell of brimstone that fills the area, and along with a rising, black mist: smoke, coiling along the surface of the graveyard. It seems to form strange whorls and shapes, and as they draw close to %n they begin to look more and more like creatures -- horned creatures, with red eyes full of menace.
"Oh, you are the ghost." Emmanuel drawls over to Korina with a little smirk, though it falters pretty quickly as the environment becomes all sorts of less friendly. He takes a careful, measured step behind someone, keeping the Warden between himself and those spooky creatures. "Hallo, hallo Harry."
"Oh, you are the ghost." Emmanuel drawls over to Korina with a little smirk, though it falters pretty quickly as the environment becomes all sorts of less friendly. He takes a careful, measured step behind Harriet, keeping the Warden between himself and those spooky creatures. "Hallo, hallo Harry."
A hot wind blows through the cemetery, and with it comes sibilant whispers in the ears of Korina and all their companions: they promise depraved, decadent desires fulfilled, and for a moment that's all anyone can focus on.
Korina gives Emmanuel a long stare but she looks barely awake so it's interrupted by a big yawn. Alas. Can't even stare right when sleepy. "I will show you ghost." comes the mumble-grumble, right as smoke starts blowing across the cemetery - so maybe she /is/ the ghost, and then she tells Harriet, "I did not bring crown." She brought frown. That's close enough.
Lepia gets another stare. It's curious. And then Korina's getting distracted by the whispers in the smoke, freezing up for just a few seconds.
Harriet approaches, nearing Korina -- but not too close. She's well aware of that crazy cat woman's antics, but hazel eyes are initially locked upon that woman, unwavering as both naturally arched eyebrows rise as if in some sort of silent question, but then Korina already knows how to respond. "I did not bring jerky." The look that Harriet gives Emmanuel is one that appears to be not surprised, given the reputation of the French in general, as he stands behind her. "Hello," she replies, lashes fluttering some, but with the hot winds and the sudden shift in hearing promises she is too distracted to even recall that she needs to retrieve her beloved Celtic sea salt to make pretty pointless barriers on the cemetery grounds.
Lepia arrives, slinking around the graveyard like some specter, watching the gathered proceedings with wide, luminous eyes. She sits, for a moment, and watches them all and their myriad doings. A stare, for a moment, right back at Korina, unblinking, before she closes her eyes for a moment, humming something soft.
The seductive promises clawed at Euphemia's thoughts, pulling focus from the task at hand. Her steps faltered briefly as the whispers filled her mind, but with a deep breath, Euphemia shook off the haze. The temptation lingered, but Euphemia's holy energy flickered inside, a reminder of her purpose. Glancing toward Emmanuel, she refocused, pushing past the dark desires. Euphemia steeled Euphemia's resolve, knowing they had to stay strong to banish the spirits before the sinister forces overwhelmed them both.
That snaps Korina out of whatever sibilant desires the smoke had been crooning in her ears. "/What/." she says to Harriet, betrayed. Comeuppance? No. Korina should get jerky whenever she desires it, and whenever she desires it is all the time.
Depraved, decadent desires? Say non more. There's a throaty sound from Emmanuel as he awkwardly adjusts his stance, and finds a tombstone to lean against. Trying to ground himself somewhat as he starts to rummage about through his many pockets and pouches, "This is.." He doesn't finish the sentence, instead taking a long, steadying breath in through his nose.
Some figure forms in the smoke: tall, it has twisted horns and red eyes. It levels a gnarled finger at Korina, beginning to chant in an unknown language as the air begins to crackle with magic. Immediately, Korina can feel something like a vise closing on their heart.
Yes, Korina's heart is aching with all the jerky Harriet didn't bring for her. Also there's that demon over there too. Maybe relevant. She snarls under her breath, and then there's an explosion of light that bursts free from her; none of those usual demure and mindful pastel blobs of light, no, she's just trying to pierce through the mist with sheer brute force.
Maybe Harriet forgot the dried meat product on purpose, because she is suddenly smiling, despite the occasion. No, she's beaming, really, lost in some brief reverie and slipping out past soft lips is a faint noise that is an awful lot like a moan, but when Korina is speaking to her again, the tall brunette snaps out of it. Gently, she clears her throat and then fingertips find the hem of her top and she gives it a light tug to shift it perfectly into place. "I'll buy you a steak, later," comes her assurance to Korina as she reaches into her handbag for her trusty bag of salt. But... what is this? It is a piece of stale jerky. The kind that keeps Korina shut up for several minutes because it takes so long to chew. The old, forgotten bit of beef is tossed to the woman who once punished her with taking care of a goat, and she fully expects her intended target will catch it like a well trained Border Collie. After that, the original item is taken from her purse and she unties it before sprinkling it in a large circle around the grup.
Oh, good. Relief. The weird spooky monster is targeting Korina now, and Emmanuel can breath again. He produces a smudge stick from one of his pouches, and a handful of mixed pocket-sand and pocket-salt, though it does seem as thought Harriet has the later largely covered, "Oh, tres bien!" He chirps out in approval, clearly glad that he isn't the only one packing supplies this time. There is a slight-double take at the moan though. Then Emmanuel is producing a lighter, working it up to catch alight, and setting his smudge stick to smolder.
Lepia mumbles something, eyes flicking to watch the demonic figure as it emerges from the smoke. She stares at it, for a long, quiet moment. A bit of string is caught between her fingers as she sits down on the graven soil, looping it around fingertips into a cat's cradle, hands idly drifting through different positions with the strings as her eyes shift to each of their reactions in turn, a faint little smile rising to her lips. Whether what she is doing is actually helping is questionable, at best, but at the very least, it was doubtful she was hurting.
Euphemia curses quietly under her breath as the decadent desires finally fade, glancing back at Emmanuel with her lower lip disappearing beneath ivory teeth. "... Stop that!" she curses towards him, leaning down to collect a handful of stones from the ground.
A hot wind blows through the cemetery, and with it comes sibilant whispers in the ears of Korina and all their companions: they promise depraved, decadent desires fulfilled, and for a moment that's all anyone can focus on.
Korina catches the jerky, because of course she does, and there's a tentative sniff at it. "This smells like too much salt." she tells Harriet, and doesn't get to chewing immediately. Maybe because she needs her mouth for incantations and putting jerky in there would be followed by thirty whole minutes of chewing. In her palm it goes to collect palm sweat, while Korina begins to work on starting up a proper ritual circle--
Never mind. She's distracted immediately. In goes the jerky. Time to chew.
Euphemia lowers a hand to her abdomen... grimacing to herself as the flood of desire begins to overwhelm and chip away at her force of will. It was... too much. To be inflicted not only with her own needs, but all those in her immediate vicinity? The overwhelming presence causes her to fall to her knees... stones tumbling to the earth... raising both hands to clutch either side of her head with a slight whimper. Euphemia's eyes close... trying to recompose herself with deep, shuddering breaths.
"Sto- It is needed to scare it off" Emmanuel defends his choice in ghost-fighting equipment, even as the ocean's breeze causes all that strong, strong smoke to blow directly into Euphemia's face and eyes. Shame. He wanders over closer toward Harriet then, into her circle of salt, and starts to mutter under his breath in French, before pausing to more readily squint aside to someone.
Twist twist twist, the fingers of Lepia dance around the loops and whorls formed by the bit of yarn. Holes made up of the space between what is, the skein of the string, patchwork resemblance to the predicament the group shares. The sibilant whispers sound, the fingers work faster, upper teeth worrying away at her lower lip, drawing a faint bit of blood to them. A hand raised, and a bit of cloth meets her lips, the biting teeth locking around a hand towel stowed away somewhere amidst the hand-woven panoply.
"Sto- It is needed to scare it off" Emmanuel defends his choice in ghost-fighting equipment, even as the ocean's breeze causes all that strong, strong smoke to blow directly into Euphemia's face and eyes. Shame. He wanders over closer toward Harriet then, into her circle of salt, and starts to mutter under his breath in French, before pausing to more readily squint aside to the English Maven.
Was that a giggle coming out of Harriet's mouth this time? It was faint, but there was certainly some giddiness involved in the sound that wound its way out. Although the glee does not seem to b directly aimed at Korina or what she's doing with the jerky. Still smiling rather dumbly for the moment, and wholly unaware of that fact, she relays to Korina, "It will simply have to do for now. The steak is still on the table," with a dismissive wave of her slender right hand before reaching into the bag for more salt. The granules fall from her fingertips as she bends over to allow for a rather controlled stream of the grains to create a steady line to reinforce the circle, nodding to Emmanuel who has the same sort of idea. She treats it like some sort of impenetrable boundary. "Hmm," is hummed out as gets distracted again by the whispered promises, but she glances between Euphemia and Lepia wih light concern.
With a howl, some kind of winged monkey-demon swoops down near Korina, its body made of living smoke. It's all grasping claws, striking hard to leave psychic scars that hurt like deep slashes. Other monkeys attack anyone nearby, with similar screeching, rending claws.
"Which table." Korina asks immediately, glancing around in the gloomy vicinity - there's no tables with steaks here, Harriet, you better not be lying-
And then she's immediately being monkey'd, a little yelp escaping her while she does a whole backflip and a roll across the ground to get away from the thing, slashing her nails through the smoke-creature as though that will get rid of it. "Go away," comes the demand, and she's stalking her way over to Emmanuel and Harriet next. The former gets an incredibly judgmental squint. "Did you learn actual ritualism?" she sounds dubious. Maybe he's reciting a salad recipe under his breath.
"Monkey monkey monkey." Lepia mumbles, eyes alight with a bit of joy at the sight of the demon, even if it was some kind of twisted mockery of an average simian species. The hand towel falls from her lips as a grin stretches across them, uneven teeth shown, never having been graced by the touch of braces. The winged monkey-thing lunges, and she rolls forwards from her sitting position, holding the skein of yarn in front of her as if brandishing some mighty talisman, some mighty artifact that could banish it. That, or it was just a string. She makes a click with her tongue, head tilting to the right as her eyes stared at the smoky figure.
"Wah!" Emmanuel ducks for cover as one of those flying monkeys goes for his terrible haircut. Crisis mildly averted. He struggles back up, filtering pocket-salt-sand from his, well, pocket with one hand while waving the smudge stick around with the other, "Into the circle, eh? Euphie? You?" He calls over toward Euphemia and Lepia, before flicking a look aside to Korina. There's a long pause. "..It is all just blood, and hurting and intent, non? Salt, and smoke?" Yeah, that's how magic works, alright.
A trio of horned smoke-monsters advance out of the mist. They have twisted weapons formed of smoke, and they descend on Korina, howling in an incomrephensible, devilish tongue.
seems to come to after a few moments of pause... though whether it seems due to Emmanuel's interference or her own mustered willpower is up for interpretation. With a deep breath, Euphemia launches herself bank into action... rolling to her feet and leaping a great length across the dirt to join the others within the circle. She draws a small knife, raising it defensively as the monsters descend upon the group... a brilliant, blinding light engulfing her frail figure as she swings at the encroaching spirits. "...I am NOT afraid of no ghosts!"
Korina stares, smacks at Emmanuel's smoke-stick while he's distracted - it's annoying her eyes too, and there's definitely enough smoke going around already - and then promptly proceeds to use the man as a bodyshield against smoke-monsters while she takes over the actual ritualism aspect as the (presumably) only Certified Ritualist here.
Her circle looks just like the one Harriet and Emmanuel were making anyway. Don't they dare doubt her though.
"Wind woven weaving, do things in threes threes threes; distinct Gaul geddon calling, widdershin deosil circle round." The words come from Lepia's mouth like the weaving her fingers were doing with the string, stepping towards the circle that they had formed from the salt and sage. "Heart hearth argent vicus skjold, banish bints bluster bravely." Her feet carry her across the threshold, sitting once more amidst the press and motion of the crowd.
"It is figure of speech, Pool Noodle Queen," Harriet replies to Korina about the missing table with a steak. "A metaphorical table. What I mean to say is, I shall obtain a nice, bloody steak for you later. I will not forget," she seeks to assure. Then she also honestly states, despite not being asked, after Emmanuel speaks of salt and smoke. "Ritualism is also beyond my expertise, I assure you. I can barely light a candle without questioning if I have done it correctly," with the latter only mocking her lack of abilities. However, she does have a quiet confidence about allowing the salt to steadily fall from her fingertips. A nod is given in approval of the circle's state, and she does her best to try and protect her -- and she does this by throwing a handful of Celtic sea salt at her. It's raining. Not men today, folks, but a bunch of mineral based grains composed primarily of sodium chloride, and from Ireland of all places. Korina should feel lucky, really -- getting pelted with international trade goods. She glances over at Lepia, and Euphemia also earns a look briefly.
"..Hey-" Emmanuel starts to complain like a child whose lunch was just knocked out of their hands as Korina smacks his very effective smoke stick right on out of his grip, sending it spiraling down to the ground. He doesn't get much more of a chance to complain or whine about this as she's twisting him toward the smoke-monsters then. "Hey!" He blurts out in a more alarmed manner, kicking at the monsters with desperation as they get closer and closer yet, "Close the circle, close the circle!" There's a wary shot of his gaze over at Lepia and her words then too, "What are- is she cast- are you casting a hex?"
For a moment, the dark smoke is still around Korina ... but then a low, evil laughter begins to echo. It takes only a second to realize the laughter is echoing inside the heads of those who fight here, and with it comes a sudden urge to give into everyone's worst sin.
"Yes, I am hexing you to go bald," it would be a better fate than whatever he's got going on with his hair right now. Korina is mildly distracted by Lepia's words, her brow furrowing, and she's moderately distracted by Harriet's words - yes, steak - but she's definitely severely distracted by the sudden desire to take a nice, long nap right here. There's another yawn, and she was already hunched up behind Emmanuel, so really the best thing to do here is to just... lie down... right?
"Whine whine whine, cast into a lake, drag the fish to shore, have a feast for a day. Hex, no hex, hex, no hex.... Mm!" The rambling words continued from Lepia's lips, the hands drifting again to another hand towel, beginning to rip and tear at the fabric with her teeth, as if trying to sharpen them. Or eat the cloth. It was quite hard to tell, her eyes going a bit vacant as some urge presses inwards, unbidden, undesired.
Quite suddenly, Harriet's posture straightens further as she's hit with a wave of who knows what, but the sensation seems to infuse her with a jolt of pure energy. A shiver races down her spine, and she completely loses whatever focus she managed to find prior. "Ohhhh," gets moaned out unabashedly. "This is exquisite," she murmurs under her breath, barely able to suppress a wild, cackling laugh that follows while Korina is claiming she's hexing, and Lepia sounds like she's actually truly hexing. This tall brunette is currently not helping at all.
No, never mind the nap, Korina inhaled some salt and now she's rapidly sneezing. Achoo, achoo, a-choo! There's a bleary blink, and Korina reaches down to cut open her palm, dripping some blood into the circle. Easy as that. She's still sneezing.
"Neh!" There's something closer to actual anger from Emmanuel, rather than just mild annoyance as he ends up being half-dragged down by Korina from behind. Like a little baby koala dragging their bigger, cooler parent off of a tree. He snarls, and snarps, and twists to try and throw her off of him, "Off! off!"
The smell of smoke seems to peak, and then, with a rush of magical power, it's gone. The smoke monsters in the cemetery disappear, banished -- fading away as wisps of mist in the air around $n.
Amid the confusion, each group member tries to fight back in their own way: Korina, after being momentarily distracted by the prospect of jerky, engages in combat; Emmanuel struggles with ritualism, believing it boils down to salt and smoke; Harriet, distracted by her own desires, scrambles with salt to form protective circles; Lepia chants enigmatically, possibly casting unknown spells; and Euphemia, brought to her knees by the overwhelming desires, finally stands to fight with renewed determination. As the battle against the smoke monsters intensifies, Korina's blood is spilled to strengthen their ritual circle. Eventually, through their combined, if somewhat chaotic, efforts, the sinister smoke and its monsters are vanquished, leaving the group victorious but visibly shaken by their encounter with the ghostly forces that once haunted Arkwright Cemetery.
(Korina's ghost banishing)
[Sun Sep 22 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is night, about 72F(22C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
There is the sudden smell of brimstone that fills the area, and along with a rising, black mist: smoke, coiling along the surface of the graveyard. It seems to form strange whorls and shapes, and as they draw close to %n they begin to look more and more like creatures -- horned creatures, with red eyes full of menace.
"Oh, you are the ghost." Emmanuel drawls over to Korina with a little smirk, though it falters pretty quickly as the environment becomes all sorts of less friendly. He takes a careful, measured step behind someone, keeping the Warden between himself and those spooky creatures. "Hallo, hallo Harry."
"Oh, you are the ghost." Emmanuel drawls over to Korina with a little smirk, though it falters pretty quickly as the environment becomes all sorts of less friendly. He takes a careful, measured step behind Harriet, keeping the Warden between himself and those spooky creatures. "Hallo, hallo Harry."
A hot wind blows through the cemetery, and with it comes sibilant whispers in the ears of Korina and all their companions: they promise depraved, decadent desires fulfilled, and for a moment that's all anyone can focus on.
Korina gives Emmanuel a long stare but she looks barely awake so it's interrupted by a big yawn. Alas. Can't even stare right when sleepy. "I will show you ghost." comes the mumble-grumble, right as smoke starts blowing across the cemetery - so maybe she /is/ the ghost, and then she tells Harriet, "I did not bring crown." She brought frown. That's close enough.
Lepia gets another stare. It's curious. And then Korina's getting distracted by the whispers in the smoke, freezing up for just a few seconds.
Harriet approaches, nearing Korina -- but not too close. She's well aware of that crazy cat woman's antics, but hazel eyes are initially locked upon that woman, unwavering as both naturally arched eyebrows rise as if in some sort of silent question, but then Korina already knows how to respond. "I did not bring jerky." The look that Harriet gives Emmanuel is one that appears to be not surprised, given the reputation of the French in general, as he stands behind her. "Hello," she replies, lashes fluttering some, but with the hot winds and the sudden shift in hearing promises she is too distracted to even recall that she needs to retrieve her beloved Celtic sea salt to make pretty pointless barriers on the cemetery grounds.
Lepia arrives, slinking around the graveyard like some specter, watching the gathered proceedings with wide, luminous eyes. She sits, for a moment, and watches them all and their myriad doings. A stare, for a moment, right back at Korina, unblinking, before she closes her eyes for a moment, humming something soft.
The seductive promises clawed at Euphemia's thoughts, pulling focus from the task at hand. Her steps faltered briefly as the whispers filled her mind, but with a deep breath, Euphemia shook off the haze. The temptation lingered, but Euphemia's holy energy flickered inside, a reminder of her purpose. Glancing toward Emmanuel, she refocused, pushing past the dark desires. Euphemia steeled Euphemia's resolve, knowing they had to stay strong to banish the spirits before the sinister forces overwhelmed them both.
That snaps Korina out of whatever sibilant desires the smoke had been crooning in her ears. "/What/." she says to Harriet, betrayed. Comeuppance? No. Korina should get jerky whenever she desires it, and whenever she desires it is all the time.
Depraved, decadent desires? Say non more. There's a throaty sound from Emmanuel as he awkwardly adjusts his stance, and finds a tombstone to lean against. Trying to ground himself somewhat as he starts to rummage about through his many pockets and pouches, "This is.." He doesn't finish the sentence, instead taking a long, steadying breath in through his nose.
Some figure forms in the smoke: tall, it has twisted horns and red eyes. It levels a gnarled finger at Korina, beginning to chant in an unknown language as the air begins to crackle with magic. Immediately, Korina can feel something like a vise closing on their heart.
Yes, Korina's heart is aching with all the jerky Harriet didn't bring for her. Also there's that demon over there too. Maybe relevant. She snarls under her breath, and then there's an explosion of light that bursts free from her; none of those usual demure and mindful pastel blobs of light, no, she's just trying to pierce through the mist with sheer brute force.
Maybe Harriet forgot the dried meat product on purpose, because she is suddenly smiling, despite the occasion. No, she's beaming, really, lost in some brief reverie and slipping out past soft lips is a faint noise that is an awful lot like a moan, but when Korina is speaking to her again, the tall brunette snaps out of it. Gently, she clears her throat and then fingertips find the hem of her top and she gives it a light tug to shift it perfectly into place. "I'll buy you a steak, later," comes her assurance to Korina as she reaches into her handbag for her trusty bag of salt. But... what is this? It is a piece of stale jerky. The kind that keeps Korina shut up for several minutes because it takes so long to chew. The old, forgotten bit of beef is tossed to the woman who once punished her with taking care of a goat, and she fully expects her intended target will catch it like a well trained Border Collie. After that, the original item is taken from her purse and she unties it before sprinkling it in a large circle around the grup.
Oh, good. Relief. The weird spooky monster is targeting Korina now, and Emmanuel can breath again. He produces a smudge stick from one of his pouches, and a handful of mixed pocket-sand and pocket-salt, though it does seem as thought Harriet has the later largely covered, "Oh, tres bien!" He chirps out in approval, clearly glad that he isn't the only one packing supplies this time. There is a slight-double take at the moan though. Then Emmanuel is producing a lighter, working it up to catch alight, and setting his smudge stick to smolder.
Lepia mumbles something, eyes flicking to watch the demonic figure as it emerges from the smoke. She stares at it, for a long, quiet moment. A bit of string is caught between her fingers as she sits down on the graven soil, looping it around fingertips into a cat's cradle, hands idly drifting through different positions with the strings as her eyes shift to each of their reactions in turn, a faint little smile rising to her lips. Whether what she is doing is actually helping is questionable, at best, but at the very least, it was doubtful she was hurting.
Euphemia curses quietly under her breath as the decadent desires finally fade, glancing back at Emmanuel with her lower lip disappearing beneath ivory teeth. "... Stop that!" she curses towards him, leaning down to collect a handful of stones from the ground.
A hot wind blows through the cemetery, and with it comes sibilant whispers in the ears of Korina and all their companions: they promise depraved, decadent desires fulfilled, and for a moment that's all anyone can focus on.
Korina catches the jerky, because of course she does, and there's a tentative sniff at it. "This smells like too much salt." she tells Harriet, and doesn't get to chewing immediately. Maybe because she needs her mouth for incantations and putting jerky in there would be followed by thirty whole minutes of chewing. In her palm it goes to collect palm sweat, while Korina begins to work on starting up a proper ritual circle--
Never mind. She's distracted immediately. In goes the jerky. Time to chew.
Euphemia lowers a hand to her abdomen... grimacing to herself as the flood of desire begins to overwhelm and chip away at her force of will. It was... too much. To be inflicted not only with her own needs, but all those in her immediate vicinity? The overwhelming presence causes her to fall to her knees... stones tumbling to the earth... raising both hands to clutch either side of her head with a slight whimper. Euphemia's eyes close... trying to recompose herself with deep, shuddering breaths.
"Sto- It is needed to scare it off" Emmanuel defends his choice in ghost-fighting equipment, even as the ocean's breeze causes all that strong, strong smoke to blow directly into Euphemia's face and eyes. Shame. He wanders over closer toward Harriet then, into her circle of salt, and starts to mutter under his breath in French, before pausing to more readily squint aside to someone.
Twist twist twist, the fingers of Lepia dance around the loops and whorls formed by the bit of yarn. Holes made up of the space between what is, the skein of the string, patchwork resemblance to the predicament the group shares. The sibilant whispers sound, the fingers work faster, upper teeth worrying away at her lower lip, drawing a faint bit of blood to them. A hand raised, and a bit of cloth meets her lips, the biting teeth locking around a hand towel stowed away somewhere amidst the hand-woven panoply.
"Sto- It is needed to scare it off" Emmanuel defends his choice in ghost-fighting equipment, even as the ocean's breeze causes all that strong, strong smoke to blow directly into Euphemia's face and eyes. Shame. He wanders over closer toward Harriet then, into her circle of salt, and starts to mutter under his breath in French, before pausing to more readily squint aside to the English Maven.
Was that a giggle coming out of Harriet's mouth this time? It was faint, but there was certainly some giddiness involved in the sound that wound its way out. Although the glee does not seem to b directly aimed at Korina or what she's doing with the jerky. Still smiling rather dumbly for the moment, and wholly unaware of that fact, she relays to Korina, "It will simply have to do for now. The steak is still on the table," with a dismissive wave of her slender right hand before reaching into the bag for more salt. The granules fall from her fingertips as she bends over to allow for a rather controlled stream of the grains to create a steady line to reinforce the circle, nodding to Emmanuel who has the same sort of idea. She treats it like some sort of impenetrable boundary. "Hmm," is hummed out as gets distracted again by the whispered promises, but she glances between Euphemia and Lepia wih light concern.
With a howl, some kind of winged monkey-demon swoops down near Korina, its body made of living smoke. It's all grasping claws, striking hard to leave psychic scars that hurt like deep slashes. Other monkeys attack anyone nearby, with similar screeching, rending claws.
"Which table." Korina asks immediately, glancing around in the gloomy vicinity - there's no tables with steaks here, Harriet, you better not be lying-
And then she's immediately being monkey'd, a little yelp escaping her while she does a whole backflip and a roll across the ground to get away from the thing, slashing her nails through the smoke-creature as though that will get rid of it. "Go away," comes the demand, and she's stalking her way over to Emmanuel and Harriet next. The former gets an incredibly judgmental squint. "Did you learn actual ritualism?" she sounds dubious. Maybe he's reciting a salad recipe under his breath.
"Monkey monkey monkey." Lepia mumbles, eyes alight with a bit of joy at the sight of the demon, even if it was some kind of twisted mockery of an average simian species. The hand towel falls from her lips as a grin stretches across them, uneven teeth shown, never having been graced by the touch of braces. The winged monkey-thing lunges, and she rolls forwards from her sitting position, holding the skein of yarn in front of her as if brandishing some mighty talisman, some mighty artifact that could banish it. That, or it was just a string. She makes a click with her tongue, head tilting to the right as her eyes stared at the smoky figure.
"Wah!" Emmanuel ducks for cover as one of those flying monkeys goes for his terrible haircut. Crisis mildly averted. He struggles back up, filtering pocket-salt-sand from his, well, pocket with one hand while waving the smudge stick around with the other, "Into the circle, eh? Euphie? You?" He calls over toward Euphemia and Lepia, before flicking a look aside to Korina. There's a long pause. "..It is all just blood, and hurting and intent, non? Salt, and smoke?" Yeah, that's how magic works, alright.
A trio of horned smoke-monsters advance out of the mist. They have twisted weapons formed of smoke, and they descend on Korina, howling in an incomrephensible, devilish tongue.
seems to come to after a few moments of pause... though whether it seems due to Emmanuel's interference or her own mustered willpower is up for interpretation. With a deep breath, Euphemia launches herself bank into action... rolling to her feet and leaping a great length across the dirt to join the others within the circle. She draws a small knife, raising it defensively as the monsters descend upon the group... a brilliant, blinding light engulfing her frail figure as she swings at the encroaching spirits. "...I am NOT afraid of no ghosts!"
Korina stares, smacks at Emmanuel's smoke-stick while he's distracted - it's annoying her eyes too, and there's definitely enough smoke going around already - and then promptly proceeds to use the man as a bodyshield against smoke-monsters while she takes over the actual ritualism aspect as the (presumably) only Certified Ritualist here.
Her circle looks just like the one Harriet and Emmanuel were making anyway. Don't they dare doubt her though.
"Wind woven weaving, do things in threes threes threes; distinct Gaul geddon calling, widdershin deosil circle round." The words come from Lepia's mouth like the weaving her fingers were doing with the string, stepping towards the circle that they had formed from the salt and sage. "Heart hearth argent vicus skjold, banish bints bluster bravely." Her feet carry her across the threshold, sitting once more amidst the press and motion of the crowd.
"It is figure of speech, Pool Noodle Queen," Harriet replies to Korina about the missing table with a steak. "A metaphorical table. What I mean to say is, I shall obtain a nice, bloody steak for you later. I will not forget," she seeks to assure. Then she also honestly states, despite not being asked, after Emmanuel speaks of salt and smoke. "Ritualism is also beyond my expertise, I assure you. I can barely light a candle without questioning if I have done it correctly," with the latter only mocking her lack of abilities. However, she does have a quiet confidence about allowing the salt to steadily fall from her fingertips. A nod is given in approval of the circle's state, and she does her best to try and protect her -- and she does this by throwing a handful of Celtic sea salt at her. It's raining. Not men today, folks, but a bunch of mineral based grains composed primarily of sodium chloride, and from Ireland of all places. Korina should feel lucky, really -- getting pelted with international trade goods. She glances over at Lepia, and Euphemia also earns a look briefly.
"..Hey-" Emmanuel starts to complain like a child whose lunch was just knocked out of their hands as Korina smacks his very effective smoke stick right on out of his grip, sending it spiraling down to the ground. He doesn't get much more of a chance to complain or whine about this as she's twisting him toward the smoke-monsters then. "Hey!" He blurts out in a more alarmed manner, kicking at the monsters with desperation as they get closer and closer yet, "Close the circle, close the circle!" There's a wary shot of his gaze over at Lepia and her words then too, "What are- is she cast- are you casting a hex?"
For a moment, the dark smoke is still around Korina ... but then a low, evil laughter begins to echo. It takes only a second to realize the laughter is echoing inside the heads of those who fight here, and with it comes a sudden urge to give into everyone's worst sin.
"Yes, I am hexing you to go bald," it would be a better fate than whatever he's got going on with his hair right now. Korina is mildly distracted by Lepia's words, her brow furrowing, and she's moderately distracted by Harriet's words - yes, steak - but she's definitely severely distracted by the sudden desire to take a nice, long nap right here. There's another yawn, and she was already hunched up behind Emmanuel, so really the best thing to do here is to just... lie down... right?
"Whine whine whine, cast into a lake, drag the fish to shore, have a feast for a day. Hex, no hex, hex, no hex.... Mm!" The rambling words continued from Lepia's lips, the hands drifting again to another hand towel, beginning to rip and tear at the fabric with her teeth, as if trying to sharpen them. Or eat the cloth. It was quite hard to tell, her eyes going a bit vacant as some urge presses inwards, unbidden, undesired.
Quite suddenly, Harriet's posture straightens further as she's hit with a wave of who knows what, but the sensation seems to infuse her with a jolt of pure energy. A shiver races down her spine, and she completely loses whatever focus she managed to find prior. "Ohhhh," gets moaned out unabashedly. "This is exquisite," she murmurs under her breath, barely able to suppress a wild, cackling laugh that follows while Korina is claiming she's hexing, and Lepia sounds like she's actually truly hexing. This tall brunette is currently not helping at all.
No, never mind the nap, Korina inhaled some salt and now she's rapidly sneezing. Achoo, achoo, a-choo! There's a bleary blink, and Korina reaches down to cut open her palm, dripping some blood into the circle. Easy as that. She's still sneezing.
"Neh!" There's something closer to actual anger from Emmanuel, rather than just mild annoyance as he ends up being half-dragged down by Korina from behind. Like a little baby koala dragging their bigger, cooler parent off of a tree. He snarls, and snarps, and twists to try and throw her off of him, "Off! off!"
The smell of smoke seems to peak, and then, with a rush of magical power, it's gone. The smoke monsters in the cemetery disappear, banished -- fading away as wisps of mist in the air around $n.