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mieux le Diable que tu connais
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Roach Lee
Bayou Hazard
Adult Wyrm
Adult Wyrm


Joined: 21 Aug 2011
Posts: 226
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12329.92 Silver Crowns

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PostPosted: Wed Mar 01, 2017 12:49 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Maple-mouthed, droplets of syrup speckling her lower lip, the girl watched the Bluesman with an intensity as he spoke, trying to keep up; it was a lot to assimilate in her mind. Everything from his pointers on what to expect in the LotD with all those needful spirits and grievous beasts, the murky history that Metisse shared in with her around The House of the Rising Sun, his personal opinion on her and the value of her lighter.

As for the apples, she would add them to Owen's list of things he required for his own shenanigans.

"No green apples, got it." She gave him a softer look and then reached for another chip, the taste of the sugar and the syrup beginning to grow sickening. It reminded her of the air down at the bayou. Fragrant, stuffy, overwhelming. A mixture of moisture, of wild floral accords and decay. Pushing the bowl aside, she answered his question, a question she had had to contemplate in the wake of the incidents in late 2016.

"I'm not sayings it don't got it's merit. But I'm like Cinderella before the *** dress and shoes and I never wanteds to go to the *** ball."

She looked down at the white tablecloth and her skinny white hand against it with the chipped nails. "I knows it could give me more than I've evers had, Metisse. I knows there's a whole tonne of significance on the title. Of wearings it. But it's all tied up for me in something I can'ts believes in. It's been... it's like..." she looked outside on the street, relieved to see the ghost of the dead man had gone. Just passerby. Just a street performer, juggling knives.

"This whole scenario was tied up in Jimmie and me signing offs my soul. I can't put the two apart. And, mosts of all, it isn'ts just about me, Bluesman. It's Robbie. He's... " she took a deep breath and lifted her eyes again to meet the loa's. "Robbie made compromises for me. I cares about him. It's kindsa complicated with us cuz... we shagged. But... we don't love each other. We're not in love. And beings this ... person I'm really not, it's me just living this... fake ass life. And I don'ts got to hide anymore. Rather... I'm not going to do it. I've been doing it for years and years man. I can't.. I can't. I hide in drugs, in alcohol, in sleep, in sex. I know what the *** I am doing.... but what happened to me woke me the hells up. My Doc back home... he...he's helped to make sense of shiz for me" and yeah, Rhy'Din was home now. Not New Orleans. Not New York. Rhy'Din. There would always be ties to this city, but it could not be home for her now.

"If I do this, if i stay here..." she poked her index into the table and tapped it. "If I stay heres, Metisse, I'm participating in something I nevers wanted to be in. And it'd be easier, it'd be a hell of a lot easier to just... pretend this wholes life with him. But I don't wants it. It's what I told you earlier... it's all a spell. It's ***. It's based on ... on some backwoods, bayou cult. Their believing in me. And frankly, who the *** am I to be reviled?" She laughed out loud at that and hard. "I'm not that. Never was."

She sat back in her seat and pulled her jacket back over her shoulders as thought a chill had taken her. But it was the conversation, it was her awareness of spirits at the edges of her vision, it was the heat and magnetism and zhebe coming off of Metisse like a mirage. "Once upon a time, Metisse. Once upon a time. Might have takens it all on and been greedy with it. But, I isn't that girl no more."

Fastening the jacket, she fluffed her hair from under its colllar and cast her eyes over the restaurant, filling up with more early evening diners. And more spectres. And outside, the Skullies, who pranced around tourists completely unaware; one with a parasol she spun in the air above her head, balancing a very smart looking black crow at its peak and before her the snap of a tailcoat and white, shiny doc martens smattered in chicken blood and with soles lined in graveyard dirt. Lizzie strained to see Morrigan but the St. Louis One skull kid was too quick and her party of attendants and revellers and friends had already faded from view.

"Tell me everythings I need to make this happen and to do so safely. You're the ferryman, you know how it's done. I needs to know how I get back." Lizzie exhaled and frowned. "And what it is I owe you, in exchange."
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MaitreKalfou
Wyrmling
Wyrmling


Joined: 20 Feb 2017
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Can Be Found: The Crossroads of New Orleans
673.36 Silver Crowns

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PostPosted: Thu Mar 02, 2017 11:17 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Part of him was curious to ask about the place she now called home since it wasn’t New Orleans anymore. He was curious about her doctor and her current relationship with the Hades of New Orleans but there was no place for friendship in business so he pushed his thoughts aside and focused. He pondered on what manner of items she would need to collect to get her through the far reaches of the veil into the land where only the dead should be as she spoke. By the time she was done, he’d thought about the ingredients and procedures she would need to take care of and some that he would need to deal with himself.

“Well, Cinderelli, let’s get y’back into yo comfortable rags den if dat ball gown aint wha’cha really want, ah?” He clapped his hands together, drawing some attention from the others in the restaurant briefly before he rubbed them together. He rubbed them hard and fast until they were warm and tingling, just shy of burning with the friction of his pale palms against one another. Before he started speaking he stopped and leaned his arms on the table.

“Location and time, y’gunna meet me at midnight when d’moon full, out back a Theatre Olympia. Y’know where dat at?” One of his dark eyebrows arched briefly at the question to check in with her before he continued, “Y’gunna need t’find some sorta thang t’tetha yous to dis here world. If y’don’t got somethin’ to hang onto, y’gunna get lost over dere. And it easy to get lost over dere. Sometimes, d’spirits talk sweet thangs in y’ear dat make it seem like dey can do no wrong but dere all sorts, Lizzie. Just like ‘ere. Good, bad...but dey all got one thang in common and dat is dey dead.” He paused to level a rather serious look at her, “You isn’t. So yous gunna light up like a god daym christmas tree if we don’t do dis here thang propa.”

He sighed and relaxed a little, scratching his fingernails into his goatee as he thought outloud, still formulating a plan, “D’best way t’get you in and out again in one peice is gunna be t’make you seem like y’dead too. You gunna needs to blend.” He paused in his scratching to point at her, “Can’t be plastic and it can’t be anything’ dat is frivolous or impersonal. It gotta mean somethin’. It gotta be honest like. I was thinkin’ dat your lighter would work but d’more I think on it, d’more I realize dat won’t do. Can’t be anythin’ dat ain’t natural or is man-made. It can be metal but only d’pure ones. High heat resistance is also betta, so gold and aluminum wouldn’t be as good as say tungsten or titanium.”

“For d’ritual, y’gunna need t’take a bath before, like hair-still-wet-when-you-arrive, right before. Brush it nice but don’t dry it. Yous gunna need to wear white too.” The corners of his lips curled upward briefly in a twitch of a smirk as he didn’t think he’d ever seen the girl in anything other than black or dark tones, it would be a first. “Not all white, but a good eighty percent of it. Get a box a matches. Bottle a rum, white preferably. .40 caliba bullets...six a dem worth a gunpowda outta do it. And a doubloon from eitha d’yea yous born or d’yea y’got all tangled up in dis life.” He gave a wave of his hand, “It don’t make no nevermind which Krewe’s, just d’yea.”

Finished with listing off the items, he leaned back in his seat and folding his arms over his chest, looked pensive for a moment, “Dere some otha thangs I’ll have t’take care of on my end but we got a li’l time.” Steupsing sound made again, he looked around the restaurant, people had returned to their conversations and activities once again ignoring the pair and their conversation.

When he returned his attention to her, he sighed, “Now...when we gets ova dere...I’m only gunna be able t’take yous so far, Li’l bug. Y’gunna be doin’ most a d’searchin’ on your own. But I think dat’s good. But dat’s where dem apples I tell you need t’get gunna come in. Since y’alive and not dead, d’Othaside gunna take a toll on your body. Dem apples gunna sustain ya. I suggest two for lookin’ and two for gettin’ d’hell outta dodge cause as soon as things know yous tryin’ to take away from dat place, you gunna have trouble.” He pursed his lips and lowered his voice again, like the idea of what they were talking about was dangerous, conspiritus. In a way, it was, “If y’get in too deep...if y’think y’ain’t gunna be able t’make it back in time or somethin’ trap ya….” He looked to the table and frowned a little, “Y’can call for me. Y’gotta use my title dere though. And only my title.” He lifted his eyes and wagged his finger a bit at her, “Use my name and you gunna damn me further den dis gunna do as is.”

He cleared his throat when he was done with the warning and the dire situation before going on, “Y’gunna be lookin’ for the thang dat hold your soul. Usually some sorta vessel: Jar, bottle, hells, I even had a fella with his in a guitar case. Now…what dat gunna be for yous, I’m afraid I can’t say. It different for everybody...but yous gunna know it when you sees it. Feel it even. Only dem folks involved in the contract and contact with your soul gunna knows it: You, Hades and Jimmie.”

“So, li’l miss Theseus,” Metisse gave a wide toothy grin of amusement at the humourous similarity - a living person, heading to the land of the dead, in the name of Persephone, “Y’got any questions? Or it all clear as mud?”
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