Plotlogs
One Night In Bangkok Sr Tabitha 240316
In the bustling yet mystical Nak Niwat Road of Bangkok, a tale of witchcraft, loss, and supernatural forces unfolds. Tabitha, a practitioner of the dark arts, finds herself embroiled in a troubling situation alongside Miles, a deputy with a knack for the paranormal; Jack, a demon hunter with a deep understanding of the supernatural; and Alexander, a gentle yet powerful ally with a connection to nature.
The team is drawn into a distressing situation involving Chakrii, a grief-stricken man who has taken drastic measures to reclaim his dead wife, Apinya, from the clutches of death. The old man's sorrow is palpable, having resorted to necromancy in a desperate attempt to reunite with his beloved, only to find her transformed into a Krasue – a vampiric entity driven by insatiable hunger.
Their investigation leads them to the Protestant Cemetery of Bangkok, where they unearth Apinya's coffin, only to find it empty, save for signs of recent disturbance. This discovery prompts the group to suspect that Chakrii has exhumed his wife's body in a tragic misunderstanding of her undead state.
The team's search takes them back to Chakrii’s residence, where they find the old man tending to Apinya's corpse in a heart-wrenching display of love and denial. The room reeks of decay, a stark testament to the lengths to which grief can drive a person. The scene forces the group, especially Jack and Tabitha, into a somber reflection on the power and consequences of magic and love.
Jack takes charge, initiating a ritual to bind Apinya's tortured spirit, preventing it from causing further harm. The ceremony is emotionally charged, demanding everything from the group as they fight to contain the darkness summoned by Chakrii's actions. Their efforts are successful, and they instruct Chakrii to burn Apinya's body at sunrise to finally lay her restless spirit to peace.
The ordeal leaves the team profoundly affected, grappling with the complexities of love, loss, and the ethical dilemmas inherent in their line of work. They leave Bangkok not just with the knowledge that they've prevented a tragedy but also with heavier hearts, having witnessed the destructive power of grief and the unpredictable nature of the supernatural.
In the end, this story is not just about the battle against a dark entity but also a poignant examination of the human condition, the depths of love, and the irrevocable consequences of actions borne out of desperation. As they return to Haven, each member carries with them a piece of the sadness and the haunting reminder of the fragile boundary between life and death, love and obsession.
(One Night in Bangkok...(SRTabitha):SRTabitha)
[Fri Mar 15 2024]
On Nak Niwat Road
This particular section of Nat Niwat Road is showcase to two witchcraft related stores: The Craft, an occult bookstore, and Ace of Cups, a small cafe. Each have quaint exteriors, hiding the mystical attributes hidden inside.
It is night, about 37F(2C) degrees, There is a first quarter moon.
Miles and Tabitha arrive on the street alongside a couple of shops, in a shimmer and sparkle of fairy lights. Within the epicenter is a pretty woman, who, with a single wave of her hand, starts to disappear, the light fading into a pinprick. One might even think they hear a little 'pop' when the light finally is gone.
Miles sways on his feet somewhat, and then tries to get his ears to pop with a few audible 'mwap' sounds. "I don't think I'll ever quite get used to that." He whispers aside to Tabitha, blinking slowly as his eyes adjust to the light in the area.
Just when there is no connection in order to contact whomever has texted her, there is a text. And Tabitha groans. She eyes Miles a moment and shakes her head. "You are going to be the death of me Deputy Mies Hull." She stores her phone away into her coat pocket, awaiting for others to arrive. Or at least, find them on the street.
Waiting there is Jack, having pathed in a little while ago. There's a frown in Tabitha's direction. "You could have asked," he says to the redhead. "I would have brought you without complaint." There's some shake of his head, with the faintest frustration at his eyes.
Alexander offers a polite wave, patiently set up wherever there is room for him.
"I'm innocent." Miles assures Tabitha, despite having no idea about whatever it was that caused her to groan out. There's a little shrug afforded to her, before he peers over at Jack. There's a little raise of the eyebrow toward the man, but he doesn't comment on his words. "Alright, Jack. Alexander?"
Alexander chuckles softly. "Gentlemen, please, we can all desire Tabitha's company and stay civil."
It is a temperate day, as in it is warm and sunny with enough cloud cover to escape the sun if one needed to. It is still early enough that the streets are not packed, and the little cafe to the north of them seems quiet, perhaps unusually so.
"We're here to help a cause we all care about it," Jack tells Alexander. He shifts, his sleeves rolled up in the tropical morning. "I've had my share of mishaps in this town, though: be mindful. We are a long ways from New England." He nods to Miles. "Deputy," he greets Miles. "Miss Matheson."
"Solomon. Texted about the cameras." Tabitha mentions to Miles, pulling her hand out from her coat and gazing at Jack. There is a little frown from her too. "I was at home and Sarah offered. It is not that big of a deal, Jack. Next time, I'll come calling." She gives Alexander a little sideeye. And crinkles her nose. "Oh come on, lets go.."
"Not in Kansas anymore," Alexander mutters. He turns his gaze to Tabitha, then to Miles and chuckles. He looks over to Jack. "Of course, father." He nods his head.
There are a few steps to climb up toward the entrance of the cafe, Ace of Cups. From the outside, there is nothing very special about it. It blends in with everything else asthetically. There is a little bell on the door that chimes when the door, already slightly propped open, is oened further. This is led by Tabitha calling out, "Hello?" At first there is no sound from within.
"Yeah, I figured that he'd be able to see them." Miles notes aside to Tabitha with a shrug, "But, hey. A little extra pressure on the man isn't a bad thing." He glances over toward Jack and Alexander then, and shakes his head somewhat at the laters words. "We didn't take JackDash, but we're here now. Does anyone speak, well, the language?" He queries, moving to follow Tabitha.
"Please, Miles, can we not ..." Tabitha starts, pausing to take a look at Jack, a softening there for him. "Anyway, this is a tourist town really. The owner spoke English with me when I called. And there's always Google translate." She turns back to Jack, "And I'm sure Jack here is a master of many tongues." She cants her head to the two men at odds, and then Alexander.
There's a slow, careful glance around. "I've never fought a krasue," Jack shares with Miles, Tabitha, and Alexander. "I once had a penanggalan track me through the jungles of Bali, but she never caught me and I never caught here." The ringing of the bell provokes some twitch-nervous caution, pushing the disrespect he feels at Miles' continued informality down with the practice of a ghost-hunter's paranoia. His eyes scan the surroundings as he reaches inside his shirt to produce the assembly of charms he wears. "At least it isn't night," he comments.
Alexander blinks at Tabitha's entendre double or otherwise. Then rubs the back of his head. "I've fought 'em, all the time in fact. Regular Krasue warrior." He gazes at Tabitha. "Er remind me what they are?"
When the group steps into the building, there is an eeriness that has settled in, some magic that hangs very heavy in the air, suffocating to those with an arcane sense about them.
Jack would feel the remnants of some presence, dark and sad. It is the sadness that hangs heavy on Tabitha. Alexander would feel it too. Something was there. Something fed. There is a little old man hunched down over a mess of broken things. Glass, ceramic, decorations that have been torn and tossed about like the room had been privy to a hurricane. The old man startles when he notices the group standing at the entrance. He scutttles up to his feet and says, "Oh!" It is in his own language. "Store not open today." He shoos his hand at Tabitha, Miles, Jack and Alexander.
Tabitha stands in the doorway with Miles, her hand seeking to take his in some little reassurance, in the squeeze given. But when spoken to she releases his hand and says, "Chakrii? I'm Ta.." She stops and pulls out her phone to speak into it, hoping for the best in translation. "I'm Tabitha. I called you? These are my friends."
There is a low prayer, murmured under Jack's breath, and then he crosses to the man. "Whatever you believe," he tells the man, his English slow. "You are not alone. God is with you," he says, and then he reaches out with his mind, seeking to give the man some peace. He glances back over his shoulder at Tabitha. "Something has been him," he tells her. "-At- him. Some supernatural creature, feeding in the night."
Alexander follows along with the others. He winces as that feeling presses against his mind. He grumbles, plucking at it like peeling away cobwebs.
There's a squeeze of Miles's hand in turn, then he allows Tabitha to drift away as she speaks to the man. With the others speaking, the Deputy turns his attention to glancing around the place, taking in the mess and damage.
The old man, Chakrii, nods a few times then and motions for Miles, Jack, Alexander and Tabitha to come in, further. "Close door. No one must see. Too much explaining already." He steps over a broken chandelier made of murky crystals, and some tea soaked astronomical graphs.
Alexander closes the door after everyone enters and moves to close in.
Rising, Jack nods, stepping back from Chakri.
It may not be night, but something in the night came. It raged and took out its frustrations here on this little cafe. Things that were so very loved are now rubbish, magical implementations broken by being tossed. As for fed? Chakrii does look tired, but it could be that he had to deal with all the vengefulness of the spirit, and the subsequent cleanup. Chakrii even says, "Not fed. Other than on sorrow. My wife ---" He gestures to a framed picture that is still hanging on a wall, the shrine beneath it, however, destroyed. The picture has had something splattered against it. Reddish. Oozy. "Apinya." The man starts to wipe the sludge from the picture and tries to right the fallen candles.
Miles finds himself in that awkward position of being unsure whether or not he should help the older fellow tidy up. He makes a few stop and start motions before bending at the waist and knees to try and collate some of the damaged objects. His gaze often flicks between what he's doing and Chakrii as the man speaks.
Alexander grimaces. He takes slow steps around, taking in the sight, not disturbing anything. He makes a mental map, curious. He pauses and listens to the man for a moment, then back over toward Tabitha.
Jack asks someone, "Was she taken?" He pauses. "Or worse?" He, too, is relying on his phone for Google Translate; he's a cunning linguist, to be sure, but Thai is only occasionally in his repertoire. There's a gentleness in his tone, though -- while it's been a long time since the demon hunter was a simple parish priest, that is what called him so long ago to God.
Jack asks Chakrii, "Was she taken?" He pauses. "Or worse?" He, too, is relying on his phone for Google Translate; he's a cunning linguist, to be sure, but Thai is only occasionally in his repertoire. There's a gentleness in his tone, though -- while it's been a long time since the demon hunter was a simple parish priest, that is what called him so long ago to God.
Tabitha offers Chakrii a sad, empathic smile, eyes turned down in a shared sorrow. She approaches the hunched, old man, and puts her hand on his shoulder for support. She does not say anything, however, now that Jack has tried to address him. Only stepping back to let the man finish rearranging the woman's shrine. She returns to Alexander and Miles, simply helping with picking up a few items.
Miles is really good at picking things up, it seems. He pauses as he catches sight of the paper, plucking it up and humming softly under his breath. There's a wordless flutter of the image toward the others while Chakrii busies himself in repairing the shrine. He doesn't shout across the room that he'd found as much, prefering to let the image do the talking for him, rather than talking about the fellows apparently dead wife right in front of him.
Chakrii accepts Tabitha's hand on his frail and curved shoulder, not turning to face her or the others while he speaks to the shrine picture and Jack. Taken. It depends on the definition of the word. Chakrii might think so, afterall, and it is a moment before the old man says, "Yes. Evil took her." He may not be, however, speaking about whatever has caused all the damage.
Alexander occupies himself with the cleaning up the shop. He takes slow careful strides around the space, looking for things out of place. He lets the others manage the more specifics right now.
There's just so much that has been destroyed and broken in this shop, including old men's hearts.
The interrogator. "Evil how?" Jack asks Chakri, crouching down next to him. Looking over at Alexander, he says, "If you can find something that was the object of some magic, Mr. Murphy, we may be able to trace it." At Miles. "It's weak, likely, in the morning, but may be nearby. Did your Temple issue you any of their more special weapons, Deputy Hull?"
Alexander nods knowingly.
There's something about what Jack had said that doesn't quite sit right with Miles, but he responds with a chirped, "Nope.", despite this. After a few moments of consideration, he tucks the photo into his jacket pocket, intending to return it later.
"Buried her three days ago. She come back every night. Every night she cries and howls. Every night, she calls." Chakrii says, lovingly removing the ichor from the picture and frame. It looks a little like stomach bile.
"Less than ideal," Jack shares with Miles. "We didn't always agree, but I found your colleagues to be -- fellow travelers, often, on the road to rid the world of Satan." He pauses. "It's my suspicion that one of them is who built the machine we have at the clinic."
As Chakrii relays the story, recognition dawns, and there's a low, sad grief. "I am sorry," the former priest tells the man, and he reaches for his hand. "What was her name?"
Tabitha steps over to Jack to speak quietly to him. "She killed herself.." It is all that she says, placing her hand on his arm for a moment before stepping away. "I'm fairly sure that if you try to run a trace on anything in here, you'll come up with multiple names and, it would not matter much. But if we can find anything here to use, instead?" She nods.
Alexander grimaces and looks away from Tabitha, Jack and Miles. He shifts back and outside and murmurs something before shifting back
Chakrii repeats, "Apinya." Then puts a hand to his heart. The old man shuffles away from Jack to go and find something else to busy shaking, arthritic hands. When looking at the portrait on the shrine, she is a young and vibrant woman in comparison. Younger, anyway. Forties, maybe, with just the first signs of crows feet. Her long dark hair is up in a bun, held by .. "Here." Chakrii hands over a pair of ornate looking hairsticks to Jack.
"Anything?" Jack asks Alexander at Tabitha's prompting, checking in on his searching before he turns back to look at Chakri with concern. He takes the hairsticks. "These, perhaps, can lead us to her," he says. "But where was she buried?"
Alexander looks over to Jack. "No," he says quietly. "Nothing but soured vibes." He grimaces. "What's the goal here?" he asks.
"There's a spirit," Jack tells Alexander. "We're going to need to find her and..." He looks over at Chakri, pitching his voice a little quieter. "Quiet her." He glances at the stairs, up, and then crosses himself. "I'd like to be away from Chakrii when we do," he says quietly to Alexander. "I don't know that it will be pretty. These kinds of spirits?" he says.
Alexander shakes his head. "I never enjoy being around them, miserable and dark. It always pulls at me," he admits. "But, I suppose it helps me empathize."
Chakrii nods with eyes that are watery. "Bring them back," he says to Jack of the hairsticks, not quite ready to let them go. But soon he does, and there is another chime of the bell. A young man comes in, and walks over to Chakrii. "Father." Concern strikes him, and then caution. He asks, "You are here from America to help?" Seems he is gathering this by their speech and attire. The young man looks them over skeptically, one by one. Jack, Alexander, Miles, Tabitha.
Alexander offers Chakrii a nod. He can only accept the gaze and wait for something else.
"Yes," Tabitha says, rounding about some of the angry mess left by a mournful and vengeful spirit, to Miles. "What did you find?" she asks, having spotted that he put something in his pocket.
There's a little so-so sort of gesture as Miles considers the question, I mean, he's not American. But he did come from America. Does that matter? That's not really what the guy was asking, was it? It was really more about the help. Thankfully Tabitha answers before Miles can further descend into this recurse loop of thought. He clears his throat, plucking the image free from his pocket and extending it toward her, "If we go searching, this might help."
Tabitha takes the paper and looks it over. "We came to help. But being the daytime..." SRTabitha says to the younger man, then gives a look to Alexander, Miles and Jack. "There's not a lot we can. If it were -night-." She lowers her voice, "I don't want to upset your father further. Is there somewhere we can talk? Or can you..." She taps at the paper, the funeral announcement. "Tell us where this is?"
"Let's look upstairs," Jack suggests to Miles, Alexander and Tabitha quietly. His eyes raise to Chakri, and there's not even a need for Google Translate, here. "We promise." If heartbreak can be exorcised with words, the priest will try it. "Let's talk upstairs," he suggests.
Hello, boys. It looks like they might be trying to do some good old fashioned gravedigging? There are options to be had, and three capable arcanists, as well as one muscular, slightly dad-bod Deputy with a unique set of skills of his own.
Alexander nods and follows Jack's uggestion. Moving along. He had powers that might help with such an act.
The young man gestures up the stairs, littered with items that were once not only on display but also for sale. "We could have handled this without outsiders, but since my Father invited you here ... please."
The trio start up the stairs, and while Alexander has not gone to the loft just yet, the young man and Chakrii have started to talk in their native language. Occasionally the young man gestures upstairs, and shakes his head, othertimes it is at Alexander.
Alexander blinks for a moment and hesitates, but, he lingers only a moment longer before heading up.
"We're going to need to dig up the grave," Jack tells Tabitha, Miles and Alexander plainly. "The head is with the body, during the day," he shares. "-Probably- burning it will be enough." He says that with some doubt. "It will at least stop it being a floating vampire head and turn it into... some other kind of terrible monster."
Alexander grimaces. "Couldn't we simply do so when it...travels? Stead of digging it up?" He asks curiously
From below, the gang can hear the two men arguing in their native language. The older man starts to sob and suddenly the arguing is over, and the young man can be heard trying to sooth his father.
"Wouldn't you rather deal with it while it's asleep, and weak?" Miles suggests back in response to Alexander, before pausing and glancing back to Jack and Tabitha, "I assume that'd be the case, right? During the day?"
Alexander grumbles. "I don't want to have to dig up a corpse I guess," he says guilelessly
"It would have to be night time for that, Alex. These ... what I read on them... they are nocturnal. And they return to the body in the day." Tabitha looks very disturbed at something, seeking to self-sooth herself by rubbing at her arms. "These things only happen when they've tried to take on too much..." She doesn't say it. She doesn't want to. She does nod at Miles. "It would probably be easier except that she is buried in a cemetery and it is day time."
There's a so-so question to Miles. "It's uncertain," Jack admits to him. "We can definitely destroy the body during the day, but there's a risk of the evil essence not being touched. Some legends say the bad spirit returns only a night," he shares. "So destroying the body will stop the krasue from rising -- but the vengeful ghost may remain." He pauses. "I wish there were defined answers in magic, but there are not." He glances at Tabitha. "Also... how much time have you all spent digging up graves?"
The decisions. Either way, it is the day, and it is going to be coming up on lunch time soon enough. Magic. Mythology. Where do the lines meet and were do they end?
Tabitha admits, chewing on her inside cheek, "None?"
"Definitely none?" he says with raised brows, gazing between the other three present. Alexander shakes his head. "No I don't do that a lot weirdly enough."
"Some." Miles admits with a simple raise and fall of the shoulders.
Tabitha blinks at Miles, "Some?"
"As one does," Alexander mutters under his breath
"Well," Jack tells Tabitha and Alexander, his voice grim. "How do the kids say it?" He looks between his companions. "Perhaps it's time to pop your cherry." He pauses, glancing at Miles -- there's a knowing nod. The priest, it seems, has spent his fair share of time in the resurrectionist's trade. "I think we should go now, during the day. If we have trouble, there are magics that can quiet them," he says. "I don't like wiping memories, but sometimes it's better than the alternative." Ah, the priest, so cavalier with people's minds.
Alexander grimaces. "Oh my god, the kids do -not- say that anymore."
"Some." Miles confirms for Tabitha, without further explanation. He flicks a look toward Jack, "I'm assuming you're in the same boat as I am." The nod confirms it. "Mm." He glances back to the group at large, "There will likely be the tools we need at the graveyard, either way. At least we won't have to drag shovels around town with us."
There is something that prickles at the nose. A scent. But there are a lot of scents in this place, what with the healing potions, love potions, oils and other essences. As the group decide what they are going to do, the sobbing from below finally does stop, as does the clamoring, likely, the old man has been taken to bed to get some rest.
"Alright I mean, game plan. What's the penalty for grave desecration in this country? Just. Asking for a friend." Alexander may be his own friend.
"Firing squad." Miles answers without missing a beat, or really thinking about it, frankly.
"Alright, so we are going to ... This." Tabitha says, pointing at the printed map on the funerary notice. She smiles a little, trying to shake of some of her mood, her insecurities now present in her self-sooth rub of her arms. "It probably is..." she murmurs to Miles and Jack from Alexander's question.
"Cool, cool cool cool cool cool cool," Alexander mumbles.
"The penalty is me pathing us out of here," Jack shares with Alexander and Miles. "But I'm a priest." Was a priest. "We can probably talk our way out of it," he says. "Or give us enough time for the ritual to get free, at least." He nods to Tabitha. "We should hurry. As the afternoon draws on, people will be going to see their loved ones after work."
"I am but an ooold man, robbing a grave, pay me no miiiind," Alexander adopts a rather goofy voice. He grimaces. "Alright, let's roll."
There's a crisp nod to Alexander, and then Jack is falling in line with Tabitha and Miles to head to the grave. As he goes, he says, "There's a lot of ways this can go wrong," he shares. "If it comes to it, run." Never mind that the priest is the one who can path. "In the worst of times, there are plenty of places to hide in this city, and I have -- well. There are ways to fight."
Tabitha nods and stops caressing herself to fing Miles's hand and do it to him, that rub, with her thumb, between his thumb and index finger.
"It'll be alright." Miles notes aside to Tabitha, making an assumption on what she's feeling based on her body language, but then he's nodding at Jack's words. "If we get seperated, and need to run? We'll meet back here, at the shop, yeah?" He doesn't accept the map, just this once, having been burned lately while being a smartarse about directions.
Alexander takes the map contentedly. He's got a pretty good head for these, most of the time
"If I don't meet up," Jack tells Miles. "Can the Temple get you all out? Or I can give you directions to a Watcher cell," he says. "They owe me some favors, still." Probably. There's a look. "Since I doubt any of you brought your passports, and having had to smuggle myself back into the country on a tramp freighter before?" he says. "I don't recommend it."
Alexander shrugs. "I'm an illegal citizen back in the US anyway sooo," he murmurs. "Order contacts can help."
"I can find us a way out, if push comes to shove." Miles assures Jack after a few moments. There's no mention of the Temple as part of this, however. He worries at a tooth then, flicking a glance about the place. There's a squint aside to Alexander at that admission of his.
Jack glances at Alexander. "Really?" he says -- a shake of his head, before he heads to find the graves.
Alexander shrugs. "I hopped on a bus from Canada, I was 'staying a few days' stuff happened."
"Well, he's not the first, and he definitely won't be the last. The law has a habit of stopping right at the borders of our sleepy little town." Miles opines aside to Jack, though he includes Tabitha and Alexander in this observation.
"I thought you were the law?" Jack asks Miles wryly.
"And I encourage you to keep thinking as much." Miles grins back to Jack with mild amusement.
The wind has picked up here, the cloud coverage blocking the sun enough to make the walk Jack, Alexander, Miles and Tabitha have ahead of them much more pleasant, as it would probably be a bit unbearable otherwise. There are twists and turns through city streets, confusing corridors here and there to take as shortcuts. Some houses are large and elaborate, some neighborhoods are old and poor. It is no different, really, than Haven in that respect. The Haves and the Haves Not still apparent.
Alexander shifts his hands into his pockets and makes his way along. The amusement shifts and fades within him, a grim countenance marking his features. Something in the air perhaps
"Where are we going?" Jack asks Alexander -- the man with the map.
"I didn't want to ask that poor old man how it happened," Tabitha admits. "But my studies all pointed to the fact the Krasue are women who have committes suicide, overwhelmed by their desires for things like ... freedom, power... whatever the desire..." She falls silent a moment, her attention drifting from Alexander, whom she's been meandering after, to Miles. Her lips purse. "It turns them into this voracious vampire. A head. A stomach. A heart. That is all."
Alexander takes in the signs, and focuses on the landmarks. He knows his position pretty well and pivots heading down whatever street, going to the east.
Alexander says "This way"
"I have some power over vampires, if it comes to it," Jack says to Tabitha. "So do you." A pause. "But it makes you wonder what she didn't have?" he says. "What of the old man did we miss?" He follows Alexander, glancing at Miles. "I'd be asking you to look for domestics, if we were at home."
Despite the wind and the cloud coverage, Miles raises his free hand to somewhat loosen his already loose tie, and fan himself a little. The rapid change in temperature hasn't given his body time to quite adjust to the heat of the city. "..Ah." He exhales softly in response to Tabitha, a frown playing over his features. "Old mate seemed rather upset, but you can't always rely on someone's response to something like this, I suppose."
Alexander says "Are we sure this was a suicide? Do we know them well?"
What feels like an eternity of left turns, the group finally can see the entrance to the Bangkok Protestant Cemetery. It a welcomed sight as houses give way to just road, and the shade that the homes did provide is gone, despite the clouds. Its a wet and muggy feeling.
"It's hard to ever say for certain," Jack tells Alexander. "But Miss Matheson is right. It's the -- likely outcome." At the cemetery, he starts searching for the grave as he asks Miles to grab shovels. "Can you sense anything, Miss Matheson?" he asks Tabitha.
"Shame." Miles exhales a little wryly as he notes the Protestant nature of the cemetary, "If it was Catholic we'd just be able to toss a bit of cash in exchange for an indulgence and get her right into heaven." He makes a little religious joke of sorts, affording Tabitha another squeeze of the hand before going off wandering in search of a workman's shed.
The toolshed looks like a mausoleum in order to keep up the appearances of the lovely cemetery land, and Miles would find no trouble in peruading the lock to open for him.
There's a look at Miles as he wanders off, Jack frowning.
"Don't worry, I'll be gentle." Miles mutters under his breath as he produces a lockpicking kit from his jacket, and goes about convincing the lock to open up to him. The comment is really for himself, and serves to fend off some of the lingering thoughts about the consequences of their actions should they be caught. With the lock opened, Miles slinks inside, emerging after a few moments. Two shovels, and a little wooden stake usually used for mapping out the boundaries of a new gravesite.
Tabitha watches Miles pick the lock on what appears to be a mausoleum. And hopefully he's not wrong, and it is a toolshed, not some creepy locked grave where a woman in a white gown and bloodied fingernails will come rushing out. She holds her breath. "No... I don't really get a sense of anything ... bad. It's all rather serene."
"You know," Jack comments to Tabitha. "When I come to a graveyard now and I don't sense something off?" A pause. "It bothers me. It feels like something is wrong in the world." When Miles returns, he heads to look for the grave.
"I think that maybe it is different here than in Haven, since we are so close to so many gates there." Tabitha speculates, being rather cautious about where she steps, regardless of her words. No need to go dancing on someone's grave afterall.
Alexander takes a slow tour of the cemetery. His eyes trace the tombs, people he'd never met, died long ago. Another world away. He is careful how he strides, feeling more out the energy of the place than with any true intention. He turns his gaze at Miles and but remarks little in his expression, then to Jack and then a pause. He humms. What if leaving was necessary...?
"It may be more of a reflection on why I go to cemetaries," Jack tells Miles, Alexander and Tabitha with gallows humor. "Did you find it?" he asks Alexander.
"Should it not be, well, sanctified, as it were?" Miles wonders of the trio of arcane specialists as he wanders after them, leaning a little closer to Alexander to hand off the stake, while continuing to carry the shovels himself.
Jack tells Miles, "Protestants."
There's a little quirk of Miles's lips at that, almost a smirk.
Alexander did pause to memorize that name, if he sees it, he lets them know.
"Alex, who are we looking for?" Tabitha asks, as she takes the time to study some of the more ornate headstones. She looks up at him, and smiles a bit. "The sooner we find it... we can get out. I'm pretty sure that its common for tourists to wander around here, but we might get some eyes with the shovels."
Alexander says "Apinya Boon-Nam. I can show you the uh, Pinyin."
Alexander says "Wait no not pinyin..."
Alexander rubs his eyes.
Tabitha does not look like she is going to be one to dig, but then, that does leave her to be the one to desecrate the body with a stake and fire.
Alexander says "I can use the earth to deliver the body."
"Is this the grave?" Jack asks Alexander, pointing to the grave he may be near. "And -- truthfully?" he says. He scans around, looking for those who might be near in the cemetery. "That would be a convenient magic," he murmurs. He's keeping his eyes and senses peeled for the un-dead.
"Well.." Miles exhales quietly as he notes Alexander's offer, and then peers down at the shovel's he'd been lugging around. "Is it fairly precise? Subtle?" He clarifies of the magicman, while leaning the shovels against another grave, and affording it a gentle pat of thanks.
"It will still be in a coffin though. But not having to dig..." Tabitha says, as if she had any intention to do so anyway.
Alexander shrugs gently. "We'll see," he muses, doublechecking the grave. "Please be the right one, fuck..." He holds up his ringed finger and it takes on a green glow as he reaches out, to use the vines to emerge the casket, softing the dirty into a kind of malleable quick sand first.
Jack shares with Miles, "Magic or not, shovels are useful for hammering in a wide variety of things." He looks at Tabitha. "The likelihood of you digging?" he says. "Do you remember how upset you were when you had to wear a hair shirt for half a day?"
"It was awful, Jack," Tabitha tells Jack with a twist of her lips at the memory. "I did not deserve it." She flicks her flame red hair back off her shoulder, and them swipes softly along her neck to remove her -glisten-.
"..The heck is a hair shirt?" Miles chirps up at that, glancing toward Tabitha for a few moments before his attention is drawn toward the quicksand, and emergence of the coffin.
Jack tells Tabitha, "You got busy before we began to discuss the dirty work of magic." There's a gesture at the grave which goes to take in Miles and Alexander. "And now you have minions to do the dirty work for you." He tells the men, "I never had minions to do my digging," he explains.
"I'm not a minion." Miles blurts back out to Jack, snappishly, with a more severe reaction than what was likely a joke deserves. He turns his attention more readily upon the grave, and the coffin then, marching closer toward it to glance over it for signs of damage.
It is not long until there are some lovely green vines growing from the ground, blossoming white blooms, fragrant and light on the air. Alexander's devotion to the study of natural mancing revealing itself in the strengh of the vine and the beauty of the flower. Little by little the earth shifts, slowly revealing the coffin that was beneath. It is not top of the line, but it is respectful.""
Alexander bows his head respectfully. To the coffin, the dead, perhaps to the spirit of nature which answered his call.
"You aren't a minion. But I do have a minion." Tabitha says to Miles, the clay from creating and recreating the beast under her nails.
When the coffin emerges on its floral bed, Jack bows his head. He crosses himself, murmuring a prayer, and then he tells Miles, "Let's get it open, shall we?" He's more than happy to participate in this, but he's keeping his ankh close to hand, murmuring some syllables under his breath for protection as he does. They aren't English, or even Latin; it sounds like Ancient Egyptian, quotes perhaps from the Book of the Dead.
The vines and flowers begin to rot, shrivel to nothing, now that Alexander is no longer focused on them, their job done and given reverence. The coffin sits atop the ground now. And while Tabitha tries to look like a grieving woman, the boys, her -minions- are looking over the casket, seeking to open it. It has been a few days, under ground, with no A/C...
Miles doesn't immediately go about trying to crack the thing open, he checks over it first, seeking to see if there are any signs of the creature within having escaped in a physical sense. The fellow doesn't quite under this particular monster as well as the arcanists do, so he's being a little more wary.
Alexander shifts back. He is not going to enjoy the putrefaction.
If Miles were likely to ask Tabitha, he'd probably get a shrug, but she does say, as he inspects. I don't think that it physically leaves. It is a spirit. But then spirits can affect the real world.. So-- Maybe just open it?""
Digging into his satchel, Jack finds some vapo-rub. Apparently 'some' corpse digging up is enough to leave him prepared. "Let's open it," he says to Miles, glancing at Tabitha and Alexander. "I've seen them physically leave," he says. "There was one in a cave..."
It looks like Miles is the sacrifical minion today, he peers up at the others, notes their preparations and then grimly sets his lips. The deputy collects one of the shovels, guiding the sharp edge of it's bladed tip into the space between the coffin lid and body. He grunts as he tries to wedge it open, shifting around as he manages to loosen each nail in turn. While Miles wasn't quite as prepared as Jack, he does elect to breath through clenched teeth rather than his nose.
Miles has some muscle behind him, through years of training in various activites through out his life time, and with the aid of the shovel, the nails that have sealed the casket shut start to give. Creeeeeeak, craaaaack. When the lid finally gives and it flings open. What everyone was waiting for, with Jack cautious with a slather of vapo-rub on his nose, Miles breathing though the filter of his teeth, Alexander stepping a ways away, and Tabitha covering up her nose and mouth with a hand like she's sobbing -- there is..
Nothing.
Alexander says "Hm. "
Alexander says "Think we oughtta head back to the house?"
Strands of black hair are stuck to the pillow which a head definitely did rest on. There is an indentation on the pillow that a body was there. The satin along the rest of the coffin length disturbed, as well. But as for the actual body of Miss Apinya Boon-Nam? Nothing but the faintest little whiff of death.
"I think we definitely ought to head back to the house," Jack tells Alexander. "Since the corpse isn't here!" There's a little concern in his tone that the uncharitable might call the edge of panic. "We've gauged something wrong," he says to Miles and Tabitha. "I don't what, but it isn't here -- and that means it is close at hand, indeed." Some swift movement. "Let's hurry." Leaving an empty casket, apparently.
"..Ah." Miles isn't sure if he's disappointed, or relieved that there isn't a rotting corpse to glance upon. It's probably the former more so than the later really. He glances between the others, ensuring they also see nothing. He moves to inspect the top of the coffin then, looking for any signs of manipulation, other than their own. "Just.. one second. You guys can't sense if someone else has been here? There's no traces?"
Alexander would re-entomb it...but part of him doesn't wish to...hide this grim act.
"I don't sense magic here," Jack tells Miles. "I could try a ritual, but that's fifteen minutes standing over an open casket in a cemetery in the middle of the day." A pause. "I'm not sure I want a firing squad, all things considered. We may laugh off being shot in Haven, but there's no Sanctuary out here."
The relief that Miles feels is immense as he catches sight of a wee bit of evidence. A sigh escapes the man, and he reaches into his jacket once more, producing a small evidence baggy and a pair of tweezers. I mean, this is likely to be obstruction of justice, and tampering with evidence, but hey, this is a supernatural police force problem, really. At least that's how he justifies it. The single, shining grey hair that Miles finds is collected, and sealed up, before being wiggled toward his compatriots. "We weren't the first folks here." The man points out what is likely obvious to the rest of them.
Tabitha isn't laughing. She looks westard, sympathetic. "That poor man. So grief stricken that he took his wife's body. And then she turned into that..." She turns, trying to distance herself from the casket. "We should get moving..."
"Yes," Jack tells Tabitha, with urgency. He looks back at Miles. "Some people want to control a woman in life and death," he tells the deputy. "I don't know if it's grief. Or it's grief, with all the other things." He looks to Alexander. "Got that map? We need to move."
With that said and done, Miles peels back and away from the coffin, dusting his hands off on his pants as he does so. "We're just going to leave this out here?" He checks with the others, though he's ready to move anyways.
Time is of the essence, as Jack mentioned. It is now near two in the afternoon, and the sun will start descending within a few more hours, leaving them vulnerable not only to the entity, but the longer they dally, they reach critical mass. And the cops start to poke their noses in.
At least if we bury it, we bury our DNA, right?" Tabitha says just as Miles easily found some. But, she too is wandering away, leaving it to the groundskeepers, and by the time they look at any video, they'll be gone anyway, right?"
Alexander says "Right... "
"Let's bury it then, but quickly!" Jack says. "Mr. Murphy," he says. "There is a spirit on the loose, and we need to get to it."
Alexander brushes himself off and gazes at the casket. "They won't have our DNA on file, we're in another country," he exhales. He raises his hand up and snaps his fingers, pulling it back into the earth, empty, and tries to shake off the feeling of wrongness.
"Why can't it simply be the man's grief? The loss?" Tabitha says, lovelorn, and maybe a little naive.
"I have grieved," Jack tells Tabitha, his voice low. "But I have never dug up the corpse of someone I care about and kept it in my home because of grief."
"Well, that might be a cultural dif-" Miles starts to point out to Jack, before shaking his head, "The reasons don't matter, in the end. It's the consequences that we're here to deal with."
Alexander strides. "Jack, if you learn one thing in life, let it be that your journey is not the default," he murmurs, making haste.
Once the casket is returned to the earth, six feet beneath it, and the group prepares to leave, there is an upcropping of lovely flowers, to commemorate the woman, despite that she is not physically there.
"..Yes, I am sure that's exactly what happened." There's a little dryness to Miles's response as he attempts to nip it in the bud, as it were.
"We need to go inside," Jack tells them all. "Are you ready?" His eyes turn from Tabitha to Miles to Alexander. "I can't promise what we'll find," he says to them. "But I promise -- God is with us."
Alexander gestures. "Let's get the horror show over with," he mutters grimly
"I don't think he took it for evil purposes. Did you not hear his sobbing? Why give the hairsticks, why even talk to me and convince me to come? I think he thought he could have her back and she was not what he remembered." Tabitha narrates. Even if it her own story.
"Like Pet Semetary... when the wife died." Tabitha tries to use as an analogy.
"I hope," Jack tells Tabitha. "I hope." Then, striding forward, he opens the door.
Stepping inside, Jack raises his voice. The hairsticks are in his hand, now. "Chakrii!" he cries out. It's a summons, his voice carrying through the house. "We hear your grief, but there must be an end to this!"
On re-entering, there is no sound. No comments back to Jack when he's summoned Chakrii. This are calm. As they say, calm before the storm?
Alexander says "... "
Alexander strides forward, quiet, listening.
SRTabitha can english, promise.
There is no sound to be heard even as Alexander steps forward, seeking out scuffs or scrambles. But there is none.
"Search the first floor," Jack tells Miles and Alexander, wary. His eyes are on the stairs upward, and the former priest has his hands raised. He glances at Tabitha. "I cannot see any ghosts," he tells her. "And yet, the silence. What do you smell?"
Alexander nods to Jack and makes his way, slow and steady.
Tabitha sniffs. "I mean, I don't have a super sniffer. I just smell herbs and ointments."
Alexander says "What a crew, not a super amongst us"
The cafe does really smell strong of florals, herbs, ointment and oils. But there have been multitudes of bottles broken over the course of the night. It is not illogical to have that smell.
"There's a prickle that magic has," Jack murmurs to Tabitha. He looks back at her, studying her figure for a moment, before he looks at Alexander. "We're all God's children," he says, and then he looks back up at the stairs. It's not clear at all how much he is a child of God, or even human at all, anymore.
"Mhmm." Miles exhales softly, filling his hand with a tranquilizer pistol as he steps toward the stairs, moving warily, and slowly. He's checking angles, and watching for movement and signs of shadows.
Jack nods to Miles. He doesn't have the Deputy's formal training, but he has a lifetime spent clearing corners with the scars to show him how to do it right. "Watch me as I go up," he says to Miles. There's a look at Tabitha and Alexander, neither of whom have all of his abilities, however powerful they may be in magic. "Let's see what's up here." Then he begins to ascend.
There is also nothing really to see or seek out on the first level. There's a lot of broken glass. The shift of the sun is indication that the sun moves across the sky, and if possible, the team should be gone before sundown.
Alexander gazes at Jack curiously. He grimaces then nods, following alongside the rest, a hand touches against his weapon.
The bookcase. Jack looks to Tabitha, then to the bookcase. "Mr. Murphy?" he asks Alexander. "Can you get the bookcase while Deputy Hull covers us?" He's shifted, the older man in front -- the tank, for all of his age.
There's a nod back to Jack, and Miles does exactly as asked, covering the man as he moves upstairs. The deputy shadows him a few moments after, his non-lethal weapon held up, and ready to fire.
Alexander nods and moves towards the bookcase. Heave ho, he takes a moment and puts his back into it, though it may be easier than he expects
As it was before, this little salesfloor is mundane enough, in circles of magic. The scent flowers is potent. Sneeze potent, in fact. And when Alexander goes to show on the bookcase Tabitha sneezes to let anyonbe behind that bookcase know at least that she is here. And Alexander. He goes tumbling right on through.
Alexander says "Wah! "
.... and then Alexander keeps tumbling and stumbling, right across the body of a corpse, bloated with gas, slick from decomp.
Alexander lets out a very manly noise.
Alexander says "AHHHHHHHHHHHH! "
Praise Jesus for vapo-rub. Jack merely gags over the corpse as Alexander trips into it, but there is nothing good at all about that smell.
Miles does his best to swallow a gag, flashing the weapon up to check the rest of the room while avoiding looking at Alexander and his accidental embrace of the corpse. The deputy switches right on back to breathing through his teeth. "Chakrii?" He calls out, peering about the place.
In the middle of the room, there is a corpse of a woman. She is bloated and in various stages of decomp, but despite this, she's been taken care of enough to know that it is one Apina Boon-Mah. Her hair has been washed and about her in a circle are flowers, and herbs. And seated at her feet, washing them, is Chakrii.
Alexander panics and throws himself out of the room a moment, to vomit, or fight back the urge to vomit, time will tell.
"Chakrii," Jack tells someone. "This is not right." He's not stopping for Google Translate, not now, but at least he is speaking Slowly and Loudly -- which as all men of a certain age know is tantamount to translation. "You cannot," he says. His eyes are on the corpse. "Deputy," he says, sotto voice. "We need him away from her." Then Tabitha. "We need to quiet this thing," he tells her. "Help me?" Perhaps he should be helping her, really.
"Chakrii," Jack tells Chakrii. "This is not right." He's not stopping for Google Translate, not now, but at least he is speaking Slowly and Loudly -- which as all men of a certain age know is tantamount to translation. "You cannot," he says. His eyes are on the corpse. "Deputy," he says, sotto voice. "We need him away from her." Then Tabitha. "We need to quiet this thing," he tells her. "Help me?" Perhaps he should be helping her, really.
Chakrii scrambles to his feet, hands up in the air at Miles and his weapon. He has been weeping. His eyes are red from it. His cheeks are stained. The man does not seem to be putting up a fight, or trying to protect the dead body from the American guests. But it looks like he had been preparing her for ... a second death? It is hard to say, and harder when grief blurs one's vision. To want to have her, when she has become ... a creature, who was consumed by a fire in her belly to be more.
While Miles doesn't quite holster the weapon, he does lower it a little. There's a wariness to use it. The man is old, and god only knows how many preexisting conditions he might have. "Right, you know we're here to help." Miles drawls out softly, gently, stepping closer to sort of shepherd the man away from the body. "We just gotta give the others some room to work."
The compassion shown by Miles, even in his wariness, is greeted by the older man with a nod. "She was my life. I would do anything for my Apinya." Along the walls there are pictures. Of the members of the Coven. If one were to take a close look at them, they would see a picture of a middle-aged couple. One definitely being the corpse, with its distended belly, and the other of a dark haired man, smiling, his hand around the woman's waist. The woman is not quite smiling, however. The man resembles Chakrii in many respects, you'd nearly think it was him. The date, however, on the photo is only a few years past. How would he be so old, and she, with just the starting of crows feet?
Alexander begins to collect himself, he winces and takes a breath but tries not to use his mouth at all. he takes several long moments to finally re-enter the space properly. He studies the form the body and exhales. "We can't delay, it's almost time," he murmurs.
There's a long look at the photos -- something white, perhaps, in Jack's face, and then he turns away. "We need to cleanse the body," Jack tells Tabitha and Alexander, and there's a hard note in his voice. "Seal the spirit in tonight, and then make sure it is burned tomorrow." He looks at Chakrii for a moment, and then at Miles. It's a long, low moment. "He wasn't the one controlling her," he says at last to the deputy, and then he goes to take his position at the head of the corpse, indicating for Tabitha and Alexander to form the other parts of a circle. He begins to chant in Latin -- the Rites for the Dead -- but the inflection is not quite right, as if the tones themselves are a second underlaying chant to summon magics to cleanse and bind.
There's a flick of Miles's gaze toward the photos, the body, Jack and then finally back to withered old man following the priests theory, or revelation. "..Ah." The quiet exhale deflates the Deputy further yet, and he clears his throat lightly. "That's.." The words get stuck, and he gives up on them, moving to guide Chakrri out of the way of the arcanists.
Alexander knows how to work within outs paradigms, at least in spirit. It's a subtle act, one of support, of righting the shifts of energy within the space, maintaining his aspect of the circle, symbolic.
Alexander works within others paradigms, that is
Tabitha seeks to assist Jack in any way that she is able, but the woman seems more than content to let the priest take the lead in cleansing. She wears her heart there on her sleeve, and in her eyes, the empathy roiling from her as she looks between the four men, each in turn given the softest of eyes, blues watery, and spilling down her cheek.
At last, the ritual is done -- Tabitha and Alexander can feel the magic as it settles like a net on the bloated body, trapping the spirit inside. When the sun sets, it will try to stir, but it won't be able to; it will writhe, bound, inside the corpse. The scene tonight will not be pretty, but it's perhaps only Jack who knows what will transpire. "It will be safe tonight," he tells Chakri. "But --" and his voice here swells with supernatural power "-- when the sun rises, you must take the body and burn it." He looks between Miles, Tabitha and Alexander. "And we," he says. "We should return home."
"She is gone," Alexander says quietly, to Chakri. Perhaps unknown given his language. "She has been this whole time. What she left...this pitiful echo. It's nothing compared to what remains within your heart...your memories." His voice is soft, caring, and tense. He knows the scene, it plays out in his mind in a slow horror show.
As the night does creep in through the windows and the moon shines down on the bloated body, it does stir. The eyes open, and the head tries to detach from its neck, the veins stretching and bursting, but yet not disengaging. There are shrieks and howls, as it is trapped in a dead and ugly body, famished. It is all that Chakrii can take, over the course of the evening. But he would do as asked, and with the help, even, from his son, to burn the body, and say a prayer for the last time.
There's been more than enough words for now, between the ritual, and instructions and empathy offered by Alexander. Instead of adding his own to the chorus, Miles reaches over to gently squeeze at Chakrri's shoulder. A mild attempt at reassurance, or further empathy.
As for Jack, Alexander, Miles and Tabitha, they are left to leave the scene while still daylight, wrestling with their own demons, should they have any of their own.
It's a ritual circle to path them all back to someone -- JackDash, as Miles said. For his part? Jack is stone-faced, wrestling with his own demons as Tabitha and Miles go back to fight theirs.
It's a ritual circle to path them all back to Haven -- JackDash, as Miles said. For his part? Jack is stone-faced, wrestling with his own demons as Tabitha and Miles go back to fight theirs.
Alexander exhales stuffs his hands in his pocket, marching off.
The team is drawn into a distressing situation involving Chakrii, a grief-stricken man who has taken drastic measures to reclaim his dead wife, Apinya, from the clutches of death. The old man's sorrow is palpable, having resorted to necromancy in a desperate attempt to reunite with his beloved, only to find her transformed into a Krasue – a vampiric entity driven by insatiable hunger.
Their investigation leads them to the Protestant Cemetery of Bangkok, where they unearth Apinya's coffin, only to find it empty, save for signs of recent disturbance. This discovery prompts the group to suspect that Chakrii has exhumed his wife's body in a tragic misunderstanding of her undead state.
The team's search takes them back to Chakrii’s residence, where they find the old man tending to Apinya's corpse in a heart-wrenching display of love and denial. The room reeks of decay, a stark testament to the lengths to which grief can drive a person. The scene forces the group, especially Jack and Tabitha, into a somber reflection on the power and consequences of magic and love.
Jack takes charge, initiating a ritual to bind Apinya's tortured spirit, preventing it from causing further harm. The ceremony is emotionally charged, demanding everything from the group as they fight to contain the darkness summoned by Chakrii's actions. Their efforts are successful, and they instruct Chakrii to burn Apinya's body at sunrise to finally lay her restless spirit to peace.
The ordeal leaves the team profoundly affected, grappling with the complexities of love, loss, and the ethical dilemmas inherent in their line of work. They leave Bangkok not just with the knowledge that they've prevented a tragedy but also with heavier hearts, having witnessed the destructive power of grief and the unpredictable nature of the supernatural.
In the end, this story is not just about the battle against a dark entity but also a poignant examination of the human condition, the depths of love, and the irrevocable consequences of actions borne out of desperation. As they return to Haven, each member carries with them a piece of the sadness and the haunting reminder of the fragile boundary between life and death, love and obsession.
(One Night in Bangkok...(SRTabitha):SRTabitha)
[Fri Mar 15 2024]
On Nak Niwat Road
This particular section of Nat Niwat Road is showcase to two witchcraft related stores: The Craft, an occult bookstore, and Ace of Cups, a small cafe. Each have quaint exteriors, hiding the mystical attributes hidden inside.
It is night, about 37F(2C) degrees, There is a first quarter moon.
Miles and Tabitha arrive on the street alongside a couple of shops, in a shimmer and sparkle of fairy lights. Within the epicenter is a pretty woman, who, with a single wave of her hand, starts to disappear, the light fading into a pinprick. One might even think they hear a little 'pop' when the light finally is gone.
Miles sways on his feet somewhat, and then tries to get his ears to pop with a few audible 'mwap' sounds. "I don't think I'll ever quite get used to that." He whispers aside to Tabitha, blinking slowly as his eyes adjust to the light in the area.
Just when there is no connection in order to contact whomever has texted her, there is a text. And Tabitha groans. She eyes Miles a moment and shakes her head. "You are going to be the death of me Deputy Mies Hull." She stores her phone away into her coat pocket, awaiting for others to arrive. Or at least, find them on the street.
Waiting there is Jack, having pathed in a little while ago. There's a frown in Tabitha's direction. "You could have asked," he says to the redhead. "I would have brought you without complaint." There's some shake of his head, with the faintest frustration at his eyes.
Alexander offers a polite wave, patiently set up wherever there is room for him.
"I'm innocent." Miles assures Tabitha, despite having no idea about whatever it was that caused her to groan out. There's a little shrug afforded to her, before he peers over at Jack. There's a little raise of the eyebrow toward the man, but he doesn't comment on his words. "Alright, Jack. Alexander?"
Alexander chuckles softly. "Gentlemen, please, we can all desire Tabitha's company and stay civil."
It is a temperate day, as in it is warm and sunny with enough cloud cover to escape the sun if one needed to. It is still early enough that the streets are not packed, and the little cafe to the north of them seems quiet, perhaps unusually so.
"We're here to help a cause we all care about it," Jack tells Alexander. He shifts, his sleeves rolled up in the tropical morning. "I've had my share of mishaps in this town, though: be mindful. We are a long ways from New England." He nods to Miles. "Deputy," he greets Miles. "Miss Matheson."
"Solomon. Texted about the cameras." Tabitha mentions to Miles, pulling her hand out from her coat and gazing at Jack. There is a little frown from her too. "I was at home and Sarah offered. It is not that big of a deal, Jack. Next time, I'll come calling." She gives Alexander a little sideeye. And crinkles her nose. "Oh come on, lets go.."
"Not in Kansas anymore," Alexander mutters. He turns his gaze to Tabitha, then to Miles and chuckles. He looks over to Jack. "Of course, father." He nods his head.
There are a few steps to climb up toward the entrance of the cafe, Ace of Cups. From the outside, there is nothing very special about it. It blends in with everything else asthetically. There is a little bell on the door that chimes when the door, already slightly propped open, is oened further. This is led by Tabitha calling out, "Hello?" At first there is no sound from within.
"Yeah, I figured that he'd be able to see them." Miles notes aside to Tabitha with a shrug, "But, hey. A little extra pressure on the man isn't a bad thing." He glances over toward Jack and Alexander then, and shakes his head somewhat at the laters words. "We didn't take JackDash, but we're here now. Does anyone speak, well, the language?" He queries, moving to follow Tabitha.
"Please, Miles, can we not ..." Tabitha starts, pausing to take a look at Jack, a softening there for him. "Anyway, this is a tourist town really. The owner spoke English with me when I called. And there's always Google translate." She turns back to Jack, "And I'm sure Jack here is a master of many tongues." She cants her head to the two men at odds, and then Alexander.
There's a slow, careful glance around. "I've never fought a krasue," Jack shares with Miles, Tabitha, and Alexander. "I once had a penanggalan track me through the jungles of Bali, but she never caught me and I never caught here." The ringing of the bell provokes some twitch-nervous caution, pushing the disrespect he feels at Miles' continued informality down with the practice of a ghost-hunter's paranoia. His eyes scan the surroundings as he reaches inside his shirt to produce the assembly of charms he wears. "At least it isn't night," he comments.
Alexander blinks at Tabitha's entendre double or otherwise. Then rubs the back of his head. "I've fought 'em, all the time in fact. Regular Krasue warrior." He gazes at Tabitha. "Er remind me what they are?"
When the group steps into the building, there is an eeriness that has settled in, some magic that hangs very heavy in the air, suffocating to those with an arcane sense about them.
Jack would feel the remnants of some presence, dark and sad. It is the sadness that hangs heavy on Tabitha. Alexander would feel it too. Something was there. Something fed. There is a little old man hunched down over a mess of broken things. Glass, ceramic, decorations that have been torn and tossed about like the room had been privy to a hurricane. The old man startles when he notices the group standing at the entrance. He scutttles up to his feet and says, "Oh!" It is in his own language. "Store not open today." He shoos his hand at Tabitha, Miles, Jack and Alexander.
Tabitha stands in the doorway with Miles, her hand seeking to take his in some little reassurance, in the squeeze given. But when spoken to she releases his hand and says, "Chakrii? I'm Ta.." She stops and pulls out her phone to speak into it, hoping for the best in translation. "I'm Tabitha. I called you? These are my friends."
There is a low prayer, murmured under Jack's breath, and then he crosses to the man. "Whatever you believe," he tells the man, his English slow. "You are not alone. God is with you," he says, and then he reaches out with his mind, seeking to give the man some peace. He glances back over his shoulder at Tabitha. "Something has been him," he tells her. "-At- him. Some supernatural creature, feeding in the night."
Alexander follows along with the others. He winces as that feeling presses against his mind. He grumbles, plucking at it like peeling away cobwebs.
There's a squeeze of Miles's hand in turn, then he allows Tabitha to drift away as she speaks to the man. With the others speaking, the Deputy turns his attention to glancing around the place, taking in the mess and damage.
The old man, Chakrii, nods a few times then and motions for Miles, Jack, Alexander and Tabitha to come in, further. "Close door. No one must see. Too much explaining already." He steps over a broken chandelier made of murky crystals, and some tea soaked astronomical graphs.
Alexander closes the door after everyone enters and moves to close in.
Rising, Jack nods, stepping back from Chakri.
It may not be night, but something in the night came. It raged and took out its frustrations here on this little cafe. Things that were so very loved are now rubbish, magical implementations broken by being tossed. As for fed? Chakrii does look tired, but it could be that he had to deal with all the vengefulness of the spirit, and the subsequent cleanup. Chakrii even says, "Not fed. Other than on sorrow. My wife ---" He gestures to a framed picture that is still hanging on a wall, the shrine beneath it, however, destroyed. The picture has had something splattered against it. Reddish. Oozy. "Apinya." The man starts to wipe the sludge from the picture and tries to right the fallen candles.
Miles finds himself in that awkward position of being unsure whether or not he should help the older fellow tidy up. He makes a few stop and start motions before bending at the waist and knees to try and collate some of the damaged objects. His gaze often flicks between what he's doing and Chakrii as the man speaks.
Alexander grimaces. He takes slow steps around, taking in the sight, not disturbing anything. He makes a mental map, curious. He pauses and listens to the man for a moment, then back over toward Tabitha.
Jack asks someone, "Was she taken?" He pauses. "Or worse?" He, too, is relying on his phone for Google Translate; he's a cunning linguist, to be sure, but Thai is only occasionally in his repertoire. There's a gentleness in his tone, though -- while it's been a long time since the demon hunter was a simple parish priest, that is what called him so long ago to God.
Jack asks Chakrii, "Was she taken?" He pauses. "Or worse?" He, too, is relying on his phone for Google Translate; he's a cunning linguist, to be sure, but Thai is only occasionally in his repertoire. There's a gentleness in his tone, though -- while it's been a long time since the demon hunter was a simple parish priest, that is what called him so long ago to God.
Tabitha offers Chakrii a sad, empathic smile, eyes turned down in a shared sorrow. She approaches the hunched, old man, and puts her hand on his shoulder for support. She does not say anything, however, now that Jack has tried to address him. Only stepping back to let the man finish rearranging the woman's shrine. She returns to Alexander and Miles, simply helping with picking up a few items.
Miles is really good at picking things up, it seems. He pauses as he catches sight of the paper, plucking it up and humming softly under his breath. There's a wordless flutter of the image toward the others while Chakrii busies himself in repairing the shrine. He doesn't shout across the room that he'd found as much, prefering to let the image do the talking for him, rather than talking about the fellows apparently dead wife right in front of him.
Chakrii accepts Tabitha's hand on his frail and curved shoulder, not turning to face her or the others while he speaks to the shrine picture and Jack. Taken. It depends on the definition of the word. Chakrii might think so, afterall, and it is a moment before the old man says, "Yes. Evil took her." He may not be, however, speaking about whatever has caused all the damage.
Alexander occupies himself with the cleaning up the shop. He takes slow careful strides around the space, looking for things out of place. He lets the others manage the more specifics right now.
There's just so much that has been destroyed and broken in this shop, including old men's hearts.
The interrogator. "Evil how?" Jack asks Chakri, crouching down next to him. Looking over at Alexander, he says, "If you can find something that was the object of some magic, Mr. Murphy, we may be able to trace it." At Miles. "It's weak, likely, in the morning, but may be nearby. Did your Temple issue you any of their more special weapons, Deputy Hull?"
Alexander nods knowingly.
There's something about what Jack had said that doesn't quite sit right with Miles, but he responds with a chirped, "Nope.", despite this. After a few moments of consideration, he tucks the photo into his jacket pocket, intending to return it later.
"Buried her three days ago. She come back every night. Every night she cries and howls. Every night, she calls." Chakrii says, lovingly removing the ichor from the picture and frame. It looks a little like stomach bile.
"Less than ideal," Jack shares with Miles. "We didn't always agree, but I found your colleagues to be -- fellow travelers, often, on the road to rid the world of Satan." He pauses. "It's my suspicion that one of them is who built the machine we have at the clinic."
As Chakrii relays the story, recognition dawns, and there's a low, sad grief. "I am sorry," the former priest tells the man, and he reaches for his hand. "What was her name?"
Tabitha steps over to Jack to speak quietly to him. "She killed herself.." It is all that she says, placing her hand on his arm for a moment before stepping away. "I'm fairly sure that if you try to run a trace on anything in here, you'll come up with multiple names and, it would not matter much. But if we can find anything here to use, instead?" She nods.
Alexander grimaces and looks away from Tabitha, Jack and Miles. He shifts back and outside and murmurs something before shifting back
Chakrii repeats, "Apinya." Then puts a hand to his heart. The old man shuffles away from Jack to go and find something else to busy shaking, arthritic hands. When looking at the portrait on the shrine, she is a young and vibrant woman in comparison. Younger, anyway. Forties, maybe, with just the first signs of crows feet. Her long dark hair is up in a bun, held by .. "Here." Chakrii hands over a pair of ornate looking hairsticks to Jack.
"Anything?" Jack asks Alexander at Tabitha's prompting, checking in on his searching before he turns back to look at Chakri with concern. He takes the hairsticks. "These, perhaps, can lead us to her," he says. "But where was she buried?"
Alexander looks over to Jack. "No," he says quietly. "Nothing but soured vibes." He grimaces. "What's the goal here?" he asks.
"There's a spirit," Jack tells Alexander. "We're going to need to find her and..." He looks over at Chakri, pitching his voice a little quieter. "Quiet her." He glances at the stairs, up, and then crosses himself. "I'd like to be away from Chakrii when we do," he says quietly to Alexander. "I don't know that it will be pretty. These kinds of spirits?" he says.
Alexander shakes his head. "I never enjoy being around them, miserable and dark. It always pulls at me," he admits. "But, I suppose it helps me empathize."
Chakrii nods with eyes that are watery. "Bring them back," he says to Jack of the hairsticks, not quite ready to let them go. But soon he does, and there is another chime of the bell. A young man comes in, and walks over to Chakrii. "Father." Concern strikes him, and then caution. He asks, "You are here from America to help?" Seems he is gathering this by their speech and attire. The young man looks them over skeptically, one by one. Jack, Alexander, Miles, Tabitha.
Alexander offers Chakrii a nod. He can only accept the gaze and wait for something else.
"Yes," Tabitha says, rounding about some of the angry mess left by a mournful and vengeful spirit, to Miles. "What did you find?" she asks, having spotted that he put something in his pocket.
There's a little so-so sort of gesture as Miles considers the question, I mean, he's not American. But he did come from America. Does that matter? That's not really what the guy was asking, was it? It was really more about the help. Thankfully Tabitha answers before Miles can further descend into this recurse loop of thought. He clears his throat, plucking the image free from his pocket and extending it toward her, "If we go searching, this might help."
Tabitha takes the paper and looks it over. "We came to help. But being the daytime..." SRTabitha says to the younger man, then gives a look to Alexander, Miles and Jack. "There's not a lot we can. If it were -night-." She lowers her voice, "I don't want to upset your father further. Is there somewhere we can talk? Or can you..." She taps at the paper, the funeral announcement. "Tell us where this is?"
"Let's look upstairs," Jack suggests to Miles, Alexander and Tabitha quietly. His eyes raise to Chakri, and there's not even a need for Google Translate, here. "We promise." If heartbreak can be exorcised with words, the priest will try it. "Let's talk upstairs," he suggests.
Hello, boys. It looks like they might be trying to do some good old fashioned gravedigging? There are options to be had, and three capable arcanists, as well as one muscular, slightly dad-bod Deputy with a unique set of skills of his own.
Alexander nods and follows Jack's uggestion. Moving along. He had powers that might help with such an act.
The young man gestures up the stairs, littered with items that were once not only on display but also for sale. "We could have handled this without outsiders, but since my Father invited you here ... please."
The trio start up the stairs, and while Alexander has not gone to the loft just yet, the young man and Chakrii have started to talk in their native language. Occasionally the young man gestures upstairs, and shakes his head, othertimes it is at Alexander.
Alexander blinks for a moment and hesitates, but, he lingers only a moment longer before heading up.
"We're going to need to dig up the grave," Jack tells Tabitha, Miles and Alexander plainly. "The head is with the body, during the day," he shares. "-Probably- burning it will be enough." He says that with some doubt. "It will at least stop it being a floating vampire head and turn it into... some other kind of terrible monster."
Alexander grimaces. "Couldn't we simply do so when it...travels? Stead of digging it up?" He asks curiously
From below, the gang can hear the two men arguing in their native language. The older man starts to sob and suddenly the arguing is over, and the young man can be heard trying to sooth his father.
"Wouldn't you rather deal with it while it's asleep, and weak?" Miles suggests back in response to Alexander, before pausing and glancing back to Jack and Tabitha, "I assume that'd be the case, right? During the day?"
Alexander grumbles. "I don't want to have to dig up a corpse I guess," he says guilelessly
"It would have to be night time for that, Alex. These ... what I read on them... they are nocturnal. And they return to the body in the day." Tabitha looks very disturbed at something, seeking to self-sooth herself by rubbing at her arms. "These things only happen when they've tried to take on too much..." She doesn't say it. She doesn't want to. She does nod at Miles. "It would probably be easier except that she is buried in a cemetery and it is day time."
There's a so-so question to Miles. "It's uncertain," Jack admits to him. "We can definitely destroy the body during the day, but there's a risk of the evil essence not being touched. Some legends say the bad spirit returns only a night," he shares. "So destroying the body will stop the krasue from rising -- but the vengeful ghost may remain." He pauses. "I wish there were defined answers in magic, but there are not." He glances at Tabitha. "Also... how much time have you all spent digging up graves?"
The decisions. Either way, it is the day, and it is going to be coming up on lunch time soon enough. Magic. Mythology. Where do the lines meet and were do they end?
Tabitha admits, chewing on her inside cheek, "None?"
"Definitely none?" he says with raised brows, gazing between the other three present. Alexander shakes his head. "No I don't do that a lot weirdly enough."
"Some." Miles admits with a simple raise and fall of the shoulders.
Tabitha blinks at Miles, "Some?"
"As one does," Alexander mutters under his breath
"Well," Jack tells Tabitha and Alexander, his voice grim. "How do the kids say it?" He looks between his companions. "Perhaps it's time to pop your cherry." He pauses, glancing at Miles -- there's a knowing nod. The priest, it seems, has spent his fair share of time in the resurrectionist's trade. "I think we should go now, during the day. If we have trouble, there are magics that can quiet them," he says. "I don't like wiping memories, but sometimes it's better than the alternative." Ah, the priest, so cavalier with people's minds.
Alexander grimaces. "Oh my god, the kids do -not- say that anymore."
"Some." Miles confirms for Tabitha, without further explanation. He flicks a look toward Jack, "I'm assuming you're in the same boat as I am." The nod confirms it. "Mm." He glances back to the group at large, "There will likely be the tools we need at the graveyard, either way. At least we won't have to drag shovels around town with us."
There is something that prickles at the nose. A scent. But there are a lot of scents in this place, what with the healing potions, love potions, oils and other essences. As the group decide what they are going to do, the sobbing from below finally does stop, as does the clamoring, likely, the old man has been taken to bed to get some rest.
"Alright I mean, game plan. What's the penalty for grave desecration in this country? Just. Asking for a friend." Alexander may be his own friend.
"Firing squad." Miles answers without missing a beat, or really thinking about it, frankly.
"Alright, so we are going to ... This." Tabitha says, pointing at the printed map on the funerary notice. She smiles a little, trying to shake of some of her mood, her insecurities now present in her self-sooth rub of her arms. "It probably is..." she murmurs to Miles and Jack from Alexander's question.
"Cool, cool cool cool cool cool cool," Alexander mumbles.
"The penalty is me pathing us out of here," Jack shares with Alexander and Miles. "But I'm a priest." Was a priest. "We can probably talk our way out of it," he says. "Or give us enough time for the ritual to get free, at least." He nods to Tabitha. "We should hurry. As the afternoon draws on, people will be going to see their loved ones after work."
"I am but an ooold man, robbing a grave, pay me no miiiind," Alexander adopts a rather goofy voice. He grimaces. "Alright, let's roll."
There's a crisp nod to Alexander, and then Jack is falling in line with Tabitha and Miles to head to the grave. As he goes, he says, "There's a lot of ways this can go wrong," he shares. "If it comes to it, run." Never mind that the priest is the one who can path. "In the worst of times, there are plenty of places to hide in this city, and I have -- well. There are ways to fight."
Tabitha nods and stops caressing herself to fing Miles's hand and do it to him, that rub, with her thumb, between his thumb and index finger.
"It'll be alright." Miles notes aside to Tabitha, making an assumption on what she's feeling based on her body language, but then he's nodding at Jack's words. "If we get seperated, and need to run? We'll meet back here, at the shop, yeah?" He doesn't accept the map, just this once, having been burned lately while being a smartarse about directions.
Alexander takes the map contentedly. He's got a pretty good head for these, most of the time
"If I don't meet up," Jack tells Miles. "Can the Temple get you all out? Or I can give you directions to a Watcher cell," he says. "They owe me some favors, still." Probably. There's a look. "Since I doubt any of you brought your passports, and having had to smuggle myself back into the country on a tramp freighter before?" he says. "I don't recommend it."
Alexander shrugs. "I'm an illegal citizen back in the US anyway sooo," he murmurs. "Order contacts can help."
"I can find us a way out, if push comes to shove." Miles assures Jack after a few moments. There's no mention of the Temple as part of this, however. He worries at a tooth then, flicking a glance about the place. There's a squint aside to Alexander at that admission of his.
Jack glances at Alexander. "Really?" he says -- a shake of his head, before he heads to find the graves.
Alexander shrugs. "I hopped on a bus from Canada, I was 'staying a few days' stuff happened."
"Well, he's not the first, and he definitely won't be the last. The law has a habit of stopping right at the borders of our sleepy little town." Miles opines aside to Jack, though he includes Tabitha and Alexander in this observation.
"I thought you were the law?" Jack asks Miles wryly.
"And I encourage you to keep thinking as much." Miles grins back to Jack with mild amusement.
The wind has picked up here, the cloud coverage blocking the sun enough to make the walk Jack, Alexander, Miles and Tabitha have ahead of them much more pleasant, as it would probably be a bit unbearable otherwise. There are twists and turns through city streets, confusing corridors here and there to take as shortcuts. Some houses are large and elaborate, some neighborhoods are old and poor. It is no different, really, than Haven in that respect. The Haves and the Haves Not still apparent.
Alexander shifts his hands into his pockets and makes his way along. The amusement shifts and fades within him, a grim countenance marking his features. Something in the air perhaps
"Where are we going?" Jack asks Alexander -- the man with the map.
"I didn't want to ask that poor old man how it happened," Tabitha admits. "But my studies all pointed to the fact the Krasue are women who have committes suicide, overwhelmed by their desires for things like ... freedom, power... whatever the desire..." She falls silent a moment, her attention drifting from Alexander, whom she's been meandering after, to Miles. Her lips purse. "It turns them into this voracious vampire. A head. A stomach. A heart. That is all."
Alexander takes in the signs, and focuses on the landmarks. He knows his position pretty well and pivots heading down whatever street, going to the east.
Alexander says "This way"
"I have some power over vampires, if it comes to it," Jack says to Tabitha. "So do you." A pause. "But it makes you wonder what she didn't have?" he says. "What of the old man did we miss?" He follows Alexander, glancing at Miles. "I'd be asking you to look for domestics, if we were at home."
Despite the wind and the cloud coverage, Miles raises his free hand to somewhat loosen his already loose tie, and fan himself a little. The rapid change in temperature hasn't given his body time to quite adjust to the heat of the city. "..Ah." He exhales softly in response to Tabitha, a frown playing over his features. "Old mate seemed rather upset, but you can't always rely on someone's response to something like this, I suppose."
Alexander says "Are we sure this was a suicide? Do we know them well?"
What feels like an eternity of left turns, the group finally can see the entrance to the Bangkok Protestant Cemetery. It a welcomed sight as houses give way to just road, and the shade that the homes did provide is gone, despite the clouds. Its a wet and muggy feeling.
"It's hard to ever say for certain," Jack tells Alexander. "But Miss Matheson is right. It's the -- likely outcome." At the cemetery, he starts searching for the grave as he asks Miles to grab shovels. "Can you sense anything, Miss Matheson?" he asks Tabitha.
"Shame." Miles exhales a little wryly as he notes the Protestant nature of the cemetary, "If it was Catholic we'd just be able to toss a bit of cash in exchange for an indulgence and get her right into heaven." He makes a little religious joke of sorts, affording Tabitha another squeeze of the hand before going off wandering in search of a workman's shed.
The toolshed looks like a mausoleum in order to keep up the appearances of the lovely cemetery land, and Miles would find no trouble in peruading the lock to open for him.
There's a look at Miles as he wanders off, Jack frowning.
"Don't worry, I'll be gentle." Miles mutters under his breath as he produces a lockpicking kit from his jacket, and goes about convincing the lock to open up to him. The comment is really for himself, and serves to fend off some of the lingering thoughts about the consequences of their actions should they be caught. With the lock opened, Miles slinks inside, emerging after a few moments. Two shovels, and a little wooden stake usually used for mapping out the boundaries of a new gravesite.
Tabitha watches Miles pick the lock on what appears to be a mausoleum. And hopefully he's not wrong, and it is a toolshed, not some creepy locked grave where a woman in a white gown and bloodied fingernails will come rushing out. She holds her breath. "No... I don't really get a sense of anything ... bad. It's all rather serene."
"You know," Jack comments to Tabitha. "When I come to a graveyard now and I don't sense something off?" A pause. "It bothers me. It feels like something is wrong in the world." When Miles returns, he heads to look for the grave.
"I think that maybe it is different here than in Haven, since we are so close to so many gates there." Tabitha speculates, being rather cautious about where she steps, regardless of her words. No need to go dancing on someone's grave afterall.
Alexander takes a slow tour of the cemetery. His eyes trace the tombs, people he'd never met, died long ago. Another world away. He is careful how he strides, feeling more out the energy of the place than with any true intention. He turns his gaze at Miles and but remarks little in his expression, then to Jack and then a pause. He humms. What if leaving was necessary...?
"It may be more of a reflection on why I go to cemetaries," Jack tells Miles, Alexander and Tabitha with gallows humor. "Did you find it?" he asks Alexander.
"Should it not be, well, sanctified, as it were?" Miles wonders of the trio of arcane specialists as he wanders after them, leaning a little closer to Alexander to hand off the stake, while continuing to carry the shovels himself.
Jack tells Miles, "Protestants."
There's a little quirk of Miles's lips at that, almost a smirk.
Alexander did pause to memorize that name, if he sees it, he lets them know.
"Alex, who are we looking for?" Tabitha asks, as she takes the time to study some of the more ornate headstones. She looks up at him, and smiles a bit. "The sooner we find it... we can get out. I'm pretty sure that its common for tourists to wander around here, but we might get some eyes with the shovels."
Alexander says "Apinya Boon-Nam. I can show you the uh, Pinyin."
Alexander says "Wait no not pinyin..."
Alexander rubs his eyes.
Tabitha does not look like she is going to be one to dig, but then, that does leave her to be the one to desecrate the body with a stake and fire.
Alexander says "I can use the earth to deliver the body."
"Is this the grave?" Jack asks Alexander, pointing to the grave he may be near. "And -- truthfully?" he says. He scans around, looking for those who might be near in the cemetery. "That would be a convenient magic," he murmurs. He's keeping his eyes and senses peeled for the un-dead.
"Well.." Miles exhales quietly as he notes Alexander's offer, and then peers down at the shovel's he'd been lugging around. "Is it fairly precise? Subtle?" He clarifies of the magicman, while leaning the shovels against another grave, and affording it a gentle pat of thanks.
"It will still be in a coffin though. But not having to dig..." Tabitha says, as if she had any intention to do so anyway.
Alexander shrugs gently. "We'll see," he muses, doublechecking the grave. "Please be the right one, fuck..." He holds up his ringed finger and it takes on a green glow as he reaches out, to use the vines to emerge the casket, softing the dirty into a kind of malleable quick sand first.
Jack shares with Miles, "Magic or not, shovels are useful for hammering in a wide variety of things." He looks at Tabitha. "The likelihood of you digging?" he says. "Do you remember how upset you were when you had to wear a hair shirt for half a day?"
"It was awful, Jack," Tabitha tells Jack with a twist of her lips at the memory. "I did not deserve it." She flicks her flame red hair back off her shoulder, and them swipes softly along her neck to remove her -glisten-.
"..The heck is a hair shirt?" Miles chirps up at that, glancing toward Tabitha for a few moments before his attention is drawn toward the quicksand, and emergence of the coffin.
Jack tells Tabitha, "You got busy before we began to discuss the dirty work of magic." There's a gesture at the grave which goes to take in Miles and Alexander. "And now you have minions to do the dirty work for you." He tells the men, "I never had minions to do my digging," he explains.
"I'm not a minion." Miles blurts back out to Jack, snappishly, with a more severe reaction than what was likely a joke deserves. He turns his attention more readily upon the grave, and the coffin then, marching closer toward it to glance over it for signs of damage.
It is not long until there are some lovely green vines growing from the ground, blossoming white blooms, fragrant and light on the air. Alexander's devotion to the study of natural mancing revealing itself in the strengh of the vine and the beauty of the flower. Little by little the earth shifts, slowly revealing the coffin that was beneath. It is not top of the line, but it is respectful.""
Alexander bows his head respectfully. To the coffin, the dead, perhaps to the spirit of nature which answered his call.
"You aren't a minion. But I do have a minion." Tabitha says to Miles, the clay from creating and recreating the beast under her nails.
When the coffin emerges on its floral bed, Jack bows his head. He crosses himself, murmuring a prayer, and then he tells Miles, "Let's get it open, shall we?" He's more than happy to participate in this, but he's keeping his ankh close to hand, murmuring some syllables under his breath for protection as he does. They aren't English, or even Latin; it sounds like Ancient Egyptian, quotes perhaps from the Book of the Dead.
The vines and flowers begin to rot, shrivel to nothing, now that Alexander is no longer focused on them, their job done and given reverence. The coffin sits atop the ground now. And while Tabitha tries to look like a grieving woman, the boys, her -minions- are looking over the casket, seeking to open it. It has been a few days, under ground, with no A/C...
Miles doesn't immediately go about trying to crack the thing open, he checks over it first, seeking to see if there are any signs of the creature within having escaped in a physical sense. The fellow doesn't quite under this particular monster as well as the arcanists do, so he's being a little more wary.
Alexander shifts back. He is not going to enjoy the putrefaction.
If Miles were likely to ask Tabitha, he'd probably get a shrug, but she does say, as he inspects. I don't think that it physically leaves. It is a spirit. But then spirits can affect the real world.. So-- Maybe just open it?""
Digging into his satchel, Jack finds some vapo-rub. Apparently 'some' corpse digging up is enough to leave him prepared. "Let's open it," he says to Miles, glancing at Tabitha and Alexander. "I've seen them physically leave," he says. "There was one in a cave..."
It looks like Miles is the sacrifical minion today, he peers up at the others, notes their preparations and then grimly sets his lips. The deputy collects one of the shovels, guiding the sharp edge of it's bladed tip into the space between the coffin lid and body. He grunts as he tries to wedge it open, shifting around as he manages to loosen each nail in turn. While Miles wasn't quite as prepared as Jack, he does elect to breath through clenched teeth rather than his nose.
Miles has some muscle behind him, through years of training in various activites through out his life time, and with the aid of the shovel, the nails that have sealed the casket shut start to give. Creeeeeeak, craaaaack. When the lid finally gives and it flings open. What everyone was waiting for, with Jack cautious with a slather of vapo-rub on his nose, Miles breathing though the filter of his teeth, Alexander stepping a ways away, and Tabitha covering up her nose and mouth with a hand like she's sobbing -- there is..
Nothing.
Alexander says "Hm. "
Alexander says "Think we oughtta head back to the house?"
Strands of black hair are stuck to the pillow which a head definitely did rest on. There is an indentation on the pillow that a body was there. The satin along the rest of the coffin length disturbed, as well. But as for the actual body of Miss Apinya Boon-Nam? Nothing but the faintest little whiff of death.
"I think we definitely ought to head back to the house," Jack tells Alexander. "Since the corpse isn't here!" There's a little concern in his tone that the uncharitable might call the edge of panic. "We've gauged something wrong," he says to Miles and Tabitha. "I don't what, but it isn't here -- and that means it is close at hand, indeed." Some swift movement. "Let's hurry." Leaving an empty casket, apparently.
"..Ah." Miles isn't sure if he's disappointed, or relieved that there isn't a rotting corpse to glance upon. It's probably the former more so than the later really. He glances between the others, ensuring they also see nothing. He moves to inspect the top of the coffin then, looking for any signs of manipulation, other than their own. "Just.. one second. You guys can't sense if someone else has been here? There's no traces?"
Alexander would re-entomb it...but part of him doesn't wish to...hide this grim act.
"I don't sense magic here," Jack tells Miles. "I could try a ritual, but that's fifteen minutes standing over an open casket in a cemetery in the middle of the day." A pause. "I'm not sure I want a firing squad, all things considered. We may laugh off being shot in Haven, but there's no Sanctuary out here."
The relief that Miles feels is immense as he catches sight of a wee bit of evidence. A sigh escapes the man, and he reaches into his jacket once more, producing a small evidence baggy and a pair of tweezers. I mean, this is likely to be obstruction of justice, and tampering with evidence, but hey, this is a supernatural police force problem, really. At least that's how he justifies it. The single, shining grey hair that Miles finds is collected, and sealed up, before being wiggled toward his compatriots. "We weren't the first folks here." The man points out what is likely obvious to the rest of them.
Tabitha isn't laughing. She looks westard, sympathetic. "That poor man. So grief stricken that he took his wife's body. And then she turned into that..." She turns, trying to distance herself from the casket. "We should get moving..."
"Yes," Jack tells Tabitha, with urgency. He looks back at Miles. "Some people want to control a woman in life and death," he tells the deputy. "I don't know if it's grief. Or it's grief, with all the other things." He looks to Alexander. "Got that map? We need to move."
With that said and done, Miles peels back and away from the coffin, dusting his hands off on his pants as he does so. "We're just going to leave this out here?" He checks with the others, though he's ready to move anyways.
Time is of the essence, as Jack mentioned. It is now near two in the afternoon, and the sun will start descending within a few more hours, leaving them vulnerable not only to the entity, but the longer they dally, they reach critical mass. And the cops start to poke their noses in.
At least if we bury it, we bury our DNA, right?" Tabitha says just as Miles easily found some. But, she too is wandering away, leaving it to the groundskeepers, and by the time they look at any video, they'll be gone anyway, right?"
Alexander says "Right... "
"Let's bury it then, but quickly!" Jack says. "Mr. Murphy," he says. "There is a spirit on the loose, and we need to get to it."
Alexander brushes himself off and gazes at the casket. "They won't have our DNA on file, we're in another country," he exhales. He raises his hand up and snaps his fingers, pulling it back into the earth, empty, and tries to shake off the feeling of wrongness.
"Why can't it simply be the man's grief? The loss?" Tabitha says, lovelorn, and maybe a little naive.
"I have grieved," Jack tells Tabitha, his voice low. "But I have never dug up the corpse of someone I care about and kept it in my home because of grief."
"Well, that might be a cultural dif-" Miles starts to point out to Jack, before shaking his head, "The reasons don't matter, in the end. It's the consequences that we're here to deal with."
Alexander strides. "Jack, if you learn one thing in life, let it be that your journey is not the default," he murmurs, making haste.
Once the casket is returned to the earth, six feet beneath it, and the group prepares to leave, there is an upcropping of lovely flowers, to commemorate the woman, despite that she is not physically there.
"..Yes, I am sure that's exactly what happened." There's a little dryness to Miles's response as he attempts to nip it in the bud, as it were.
"We need to go inside," Jack tells them all. "Are you ready?" His eyes turn from Tabitha to Miles to Alexander. "I can't promise what we'll find," he says to them. "But I promise -- God is with us."
Alexander gestures. "Let's get the horror show over with," he mutters grimly
"I don't think he took it for evil purposes. Did you not hear his sobbing? Why give the hairsticks, why even talk to me and convince me to come? I think he thought he could have her back and she was not what he remembered." Tabitha narrates. Even if it her own story.
"Like Pet Semetary... when the wife died." Tabitha tries to use as an analogy.
"I hope," Jack tells Tabitha. "I hope." Then, striding forward, he opens the door.
Stepping inside, Jack raises his voice. The hairsticks are in his hand, now. "Chakrii!" he cries out. It's a summons, his voice carrying through the house. "We hear your grief, but there must be an end to this!"
On re-entering, there is no sound. No comments back to Jack when he's summoned Chakrii. This are calm. As they say, calm before the storm?
Alexander says "... "
Alexander strides forward, quiet, listening.
SRTabitha can english, promise.
There is no sound to be heard even as Alexander steps forward, seeking out scuffs or scrambles. But there is none.
"Search the first floor," Jack tells Miles and Alexander, wary. His eyes are on the stairs upward, and the former priest has his hands raised. He glances at Tabitha. "I cannot see any ghosts," he tells her. "And yet, the silence. What do you smell?"
Alexander nods to Jack and makes his way, slow and steady.
Tabitha sniffs. "I mean, I don't have a super sniffer. I just smell herbs and ointments."
Alexander says "What a crew, not a super amongst us"
The cafe does really smell strong of florals, herbs, ointment and oils. But there have been multitudes of bottles broken over the course of the night. It is not illogical to have that smell.
"There's a prickle that magic has," Jack murmurs to Tabitha. He looks back at her, studying her figure for a moment, before he looks at Alexander. "We're all God's children," he says, and then he looks back up at the stairs. It's not clear at all how much he is a child of God, or even human at all, anymore.
"Mhmm." Miles exhales softly, filling his hand with a tranquilizer pistol as he steps toward the stairs, moving warily, and slowly. He's checking angles, and watching for movement and signs of shadows.
Jack nods to Miles. He doesn't have the Deputy's formal training, but he has a lifetime spent clearing corners with the scars to show him how to do it right. "Watch me as I go up," he says to Miles. There's a look at Tabitha and Alexander, neither of whom have all of his abilities, however powerful they may be in magic. "Let's see what's up here." Then he begins to ascend.
There is also nothing really to see or seek out on the first level. There's a lot of broken glass. The shift of the sun is indication that the sun moves across the sky, and if possible, the team should be gone before sundown.
Alexander gazes at Jack curiously. He grimaces then nods, following alongside the rest, a hand touches against his weapon.
The bookcase. Jack looks to Tabitha, then to the bookcase. "Mr. Murphy?" he asks Alexander. "Can you get the bookcase while Deputy Hull covers us?" He's shifted, the older man in front -- the tank, for all of his age.
There's a nod back to Jack, and Miles does exactly as asked, covering the man as he moves upstairs. The deputy shadows him a few moments after, his non-lethal weapon held up, and ready to fire.
Alexander nods and moves towards the bookcase. Heave ho, he takes a moment and puts his back into it, though it may be easier than he expects
As it was before, this little salesfloor is mundane enough, in circles of magic. The scent flowers is potent. Sneeze potent, in fact. And when Alexander goes to show on the bookcase Tabitha sneezes to let anyonbe behind that bookcase know at least that she is here. And Alexander. He goes tumbling right on through.
Alexander says "Wah! "
.... and then Alexander keeps tumbling and stumbling, right across the body of a corpse, bloated with gas, slick from decomp.
Alexander lets out a very manly noise.
Alexander says "AHHHHHHHHHHHH! "
Praise Jesus for vapo-rub. Jack merely gags over the corpse as Alexander trips into it, but there is nothing good at all about that smell.
Miles does his best to swallow a gag, flashing the weapon up to check the rest of the room while avoiding looking at Alexander and his accidental embrace of the corpse. The deputy switches right on back to breathing through his teeth. "Chakrii?" He calls out, peering about the place.
In the middle of the room, there is a corpse of a woman. She is bloated and in various stages of decomp, but despite this, she's been taken care of enough to know that it is one Apina Boon-Mah. Her hair has been washed and about her in a circle are flowers, and herbs. And seated at her feet, washing them, is Chakrii.
Alexander panics and throws himself out of the room a moment, to vomit, or fight back the urge to vomit, time will tell.
"Chakrii," Jack tells someone. "This is not right." He's not stopping for Google Translate, not now, but at least he is speaking Slowly and Loudly -- which as all men of a certain age know is tantamount to translation. "You cannot," he says. His eyes are on the corpse. "Deputy," he says, sotto voice. "We need him away from her." Then Tabitha. "We need to quiet this thing," he tells her. "Help me?" Perhaps he should be helping her, really.
"Chakrii," Jack tells Chakrii. "This is not right." He's not stopping for Google Translate, not now, but at least he is speaking Slowly and Loudly -- which as all men of a certain age know is tantamount to translation. "You cannot," he says. His eyes are on the corpse. "Deputy," he says, sotto voice. "We need him away from her." Then Tabitha. "We need to quiet this thing," he tells her. "Help me?" Perhaps he should be helping her, really.
Chakrii scrambles to his feet, hands up in the air at Miles and his weapon. He has been weeping. His eyes are red from it. His cheeks are stained. The man does not seem to be putting up a fight, or trying to protect the dead body from the American guests. But it looks like he had been preparing her for ... a second death? It is hard to say, and harder when grief blurs one's vision. To want to have her, when she has become ... a creature, who was consumed by a fire in her belly to be more.
While Miles doesn't quite holster the weapon, he does lower it a little. There's a wariness to use it. The man is old, and god only knows how many preexisting conditions he might have. "Right, you know we're here to help." Miles drawls out softly, gently, stepping closer to sort of shepherd the man away from the body. "We just gotta give the others some room to work."
The compassion shown by Miles, even in his wariness, is greeted by the older man with a nod. "She was my life. I would do anything for my Apinya." Along the walls there are pictures. Of the members of the Coven. If one were to take a close look at them, they would see a picture of a middle-aged couple. One definitely being the corpse, with its distended belly, and the other of a dark haired man, smiling, his hand around the woman's waist. The woman is not quite smiling, however. The man resembles Chakrii in many respects, you'd nearly think it was him. The date, however, on the photo is only a few years past. How would he be so old, and she, with just the starting of crows feet?
Alexander begins to collect himself, he winces and takes a breath but tries not to use his mouth at all. he takes several long moments to finally re-enter the space properly. He studies the form the body and exhales. "We can't delay, it's almost time," he murmurs.
There's a long look at the photos -- something white, perhaps, in Jack's face, and then he turns away. "We need to cleanse the body," Jack tells Tabitha and Alexander, and there's a hard note in his voice. "Seal the spirit in tonight, and then make sure it is burned tomorrow." He looks at Chakrii for a moment, and then at Miles. It's a long, low moment. "He wasn't the one controlling her," he says at last to the deputy, and then he goes to take his position at the head of the corpse, indicating for Tabitha and Alexander to form the other parts of a circle. He begins to chant in Latin -- the Rites for the Dead -- but the inflection is not quite right, as if the tones themselves are a second underlaying chant to summon magics to cleanse and bind.
There's a flick of Miles's gaze toward the photos, the body, Jack and then finally back to withered old man following the priests theory, or revelation. "..Ah." The quiet exhale deflates the Deputy further yet, and he clears his throat lightly. "That's.." The words get stuck, and he gives up on them, moving to guide Chakrri out of the way of the arcanists.
Alexander knows how to work within outs paradigms, at least in spirit. It's a subtle act, one of support, of righting the shifts of energy within the space, maintaining his aspect of the circle, symbolic.
Alexander works within others paradigms, that is
Tabitha seeks to assist Jack in any way that she is able, but the woman seems more than content to let the priest take the lead in cleansing. She wears her heart there on her sleeve, and in her eyes, the empathy roiling from her as she looks between the four men, each in turn given the softest of eyes, blues watery, and spilling down her cheek.
At last, the ritual is done -- Tabitha and Alexander can feel the magic as it settles like a net on the bloated body, trapping the spirit inside. When the sun sets, it will try to stir, but it won't be able to; it will writhe, bound, inside the corpse. The scene tonight will not be pretty, but it's perhaps only Jack who knows what will transpire. "It will be safe tonight," he tells Chakri. "But --" and his voice here swells with supernatural power "-- when the sun rises, you must take the body and burn it." He looks between Miles, Tabitha and Alexander. "And we," he says. "We should return home."
"She is gone," Alexander says quietly, to Chakri. Perhaps unknown given his language. "She has been this whole time. What she left...this pitiful echo. It's nothing compared to what remains within your heart...your memories." His voice is soft, caring, and tense. He knows the scene, it plays out in his mind in a slow horror show.
As the night does creep in through the windows and the moon shines down on the bloated body, it does stir. The eyes open, and the head tries to detach from its neck, the veins stretching and bursting, but yet not disengaging. There are shrieks and howls, as it is trapped in a dead and ugly body, famished. It is all that Chakrii can take, over the course of the evening. But he would do as asked, and with the help, even, from his son, to burn the body, and say a prayer for the last time.
There's been more than enough words for now, between the ritual, and instructions and empathy offered by Alexander. Instead of adding his own to the chorus, Miles reaches over to gently squeeze at Chakrri's shoulder. A mild attempt at reassurance, or further empathy.
As for Jack, Alexander, Miles and Tabitha, they are left to leave the scene while still daylight, wrestling with their own demons, should they have any of their own.
It's a ritual circle to path them all back to someone -- JackDash, as Miles said. For his part? Jack is stone-faced, wrestling with his own demons as Tabitha and Miles go back to fight theirs.
It's a ritual circle to path them all back to Haven -- JackDash, as Miles said. For his part? Jack is stone-faced, wrestling with his own demons as Tabitha and Miles go back to fight theirs.
Alexander exhales stuffs his hands in his pocket, marching off.