Milk and Roses (closed for Apollo Wilde and Rajura)

[Apollo Wilde]

Oh, this was bad.

This was really bad.

But, to be fair, how was she supposed to know that this whole thing was going to go sideways? It started simply enough: she’d gotten a tip from a “trustworthy” source that a Loupes Garou was going to make his appearance tonight. Made sense – even if she did question the use of the French term instead of just “werewolf.”

It was a night of a full moon – and not just any moon, but one of those super moons she’d read about. Big deal, right? It just meant the moon was going to appear larger; not that it actually got bigger or closer. Or WAS it actually closer? Hadn’t Carl Sagan said that everything essentially wobbled on its own ellipses around the sun, because technically the planets didn’t move in perfect circles? Man; that was a good documentary. She should rewatch it soon -

“GROWR!” A massive hand, armed with five glittering claws, raked down her chest. The claws came away with scraps of her shirt; she’d been incredibly lucky –or maybe she was just that good- that it hadn’t come away with a good portion of her chest with it. As it was, she was now standing several feet away, grasping the tattered remains of her shirt and her bra with one hand, the other holding a yellowed piece of paper. Mumbling beneath her breath, the paper began to glow, yellow at first, then brightening to white as she continued to channel power into it. With a final utterance, she tossed it at the creature. Lumbering in front of her, it seemed to grow bigger with each moment. Silhouetted against the supernaturally large moon, his fangs and claws glittered, his eyes sickly amber with malice. As the glowing paper landed at its feet, it merely raised its dark lips along its muzzle in a parody of a grin. If she hadn’t been so distracted by thoughts of “Billions and billions” Carl Sagan, she’d almost be scared.

How had she gotten to this point from an otherwise pretty standard hunt?

He’d discovered her first, turning his grotesque - still human, at the time- nose up in the air, giving a few exaggerated sniffs. “Mmm…milk and roses,” he growled, slowly turning to face her. She’d thought she had the upper hand. Though by all appearances, it would seem that she had tailed him, but the truth of the matter was that for the past few hours, she’d been steadily driving him to an abandoned park near the outskirts of town. This far out, there’d be no innocents around to get caught up in whatever was going to happen next. That was automatically a win for her: she wouldn’t have to exert any additional magic wiping minds and diffusing situations and doing all sorts of “back end” clean up. She abhorred sloppy work; more than once she’d gone after other hunters for leaving blatant calling cards with paper thin excuses behind. Oh, the sewer was blown up? Someone dropped a match down there. Just one match, huh? One match to level an entire city block because of sewer gas. Right. It was because of sloppy hunters that people believed in such silly things like unicorns and fairies in the day of Facebook and Twitter.

He turned to face her. An ugly grin crossed an even uglier face, and she sighed. He couldn’t be one of the hunky werewolves. He had to be the whole horrid man, horrid nature werewolf from the 1800s. She wasn’t sure what to make of his appearance. He was hideous, yes – eyes too close together, a nose that had been broken several times and hadn’t ever healed properly, nasty lip curling scar on his right cheek- but then, he was so bizarrely modern in his dress that she had to do a double take. Skinny jeans and flannel, several tattoos on his neck and forearms. The tip on the iceberg was the clearly well-taken care of mustache with the tips curled up with wax.

“Huh,” she muttered, knowing there was no need to hide. He was calling her out. “I thought I’d seen everything. But a hipster werewolf? That’s all kinds of gross.”

“Milk and Roses,” he snarled at her, like it was her name. “Smelling that sweet, I thought’d you’d be milky pale and so, so pink. Delicious pink, delicious like you smell,” he ran a long tongue along his lips. “But you’re just a black wench. Dark and ugly.” He looked at her then, sizing her up. Stepped closer. “Never had a black one. You pink where it counts? I bet so, after I scrape off all that nasty black. Make you scream.”

She fought the urge to shudder, because, wow, gross. “The mouth on you.”

Bizarre racism still happened among magical creatures. Even after being in the business this long, she still didn’t get it. Not like the racism was all that bad – it was the thought of him literally salivating as he undressed her with his eyes that made her want to hurl.

“Milk and Roses, milk and roses, let me see, let me see, how pink, how pink, even an ugly black girl can be,” he sang, moving closer. She held her ground, watching. He’d attack first, be sloppy. And then she’d put a ward on him before he could change, effectively trapping him, give him a good talking to and boot him out of town, and then she’d be home in time for a late night pizza. Done.

And then the mistakes started.

Mistake number one: Not being proactive.

So, about not being proactive – by standing her ground (and being overconfident), her “prey” had stepped forward into the moonlight. And he transformed, with a great racket of howling and the ripping of clothing and folding over and all of that other werewolf transformation goodness. He’d transformed so quick and caught her off guard that she hadn’t been able to fill a ward with power to throw at him. No problem, though. She was a clever girl and could think on her feet. The ward would keep him at a “manageable” size, unable to access his full power. It was sort of cheating – but, realistically, a human versus a werewolf wasn’t really a fair match to begin with. Ward in hand, she began to channel her power into it -

Mistake number two / three? IT WAS A LEGITIMATE SURPRISE THAT MOST HUNTERS WOULD HAVE MISSED:

Bing directly in the moonlight meant that apparently it was a bigger boost to his power – and realistically, how the hell was she supposed to know that because literally the moon had no specific power on werewolves but apparently it did and no one thought to write that down! To her absolute dismay, his transformation didn’t stop once he’d reached the “average” size. No, not at all. He went from being a werewolf to a literal fanged and clawed monster that towered above her, each massive forearm about a foot across. The girth of his thighs alone had to be two feet. In a panic-induced flashback, she suddenly recalled a museum visit as a child, standing in front of the massive height and size of a wooly mammoth.

She was a big enough woman to admit when she made mistakes. And if she made it out of this one alive, she would make sure to add in her magical creatures 101 that apparently Loupes Garou, long thought to just be a fancy name for werewolves, were actually some sort of sub-species that, depending on the phase of the moon, could transform at will and also get big as fuck. She’d never seen such a transformation in a regular werewolf, and it was now all too apparent that the second ward she’d been working on wouldn’t do more to him than produce a warm breeze. She’d been working on putting more power into it when he finally attacked.

Finally snapped out of her Carl Sagan revelries (to be fair, that was the anxiety / fear. The day that she ran into a hunter without fear / some sort of coping mechanism was the day she either ran across a zombie or a sociopath. Out of the two, she would prefer the company of the former), her focus was pulled back into the battle in front of her. Before her brain could succumb to fight or flight, her body kicked in, jumping, twisting in motions that had been drilled into her for years. To an outsider, it would be a surreal midnight acrobatic show. No longer bothering to hide her chest, she nimbly dodged one sinister claw swipe after another, dancing closer to the barrier of the trees. It was a calculated move - in the midst of the trees, there would be less room for him to move.

Also less moonlight.

But before she could finish, she realized what her biggest mistake was.

She hadn’t thrown up any wards to keep them in a barrier. A barrier wasn’t so much as a pocket of “non-space” as it was a sort of two way mirror of the world around them. People walking by would only see a reflection of the park. Those that were magically inclined, and if their skill was on the level of hers, would see a woman and a massive beast facing off under the moonlight. She figured they were far enough out that the slight magical trace he was giving off now would be non-existent.

Apparently that wasn’t the case.

 

[Rajura]

Hunting had always been an example of Murphy's Law at its finest. The best laid plans often ended up just another cobblestone on the path of good intentions and everyone knew where that led. It was always a good idea to have a backup plan for your other three backup plans. At least that was how he liked to operate. Sometimes, more often than he ever liked to admit, even that wasn't enough. Hunting was hard work. Tackling the things that went bump in the night wasn't an exact science, for every one encounter that went by the book there were a dozen more than veered off kilter into the realm of the unknown. Most hunters liked to think they knew everything there was to know about the things they hunted, whatever helped them sleep at night; as the old saying went: even samurai have teddy bears and even teddy bears get drunk. Or something like that. He saw that on the Internet once, so it had to be true.

He tried picking his prey as an overized teddy bear, one with razor sharp claws and a jaw strength that could pop your head like a melon. It didn't really help with the nerves much, but it was just something to occupy his mind a bit. Wouldn't it be hilarious if it actually was a teddy bear? Best not ponder on that too long, no doubt he'd eventually run into one possessed by some malevolent spirit. That's how things worked, but that was ghosts for you. Tonight he wasn't hunting for the undead, thankfully enough, but another one of the staples of the hunting legacy, werewolves. He never really liked shapeshifters, what with their ability to shapechange and all, it always made things far more difficult than they had to be. If it wasn't a doppelganger taking the appearance of your Grandma wanting to eat your face then it was a seven foot tall dogman on steroids ready to slice the rest of you into mincemeat.

Why did everything always have to be food related? He really should have stopped for a burger or something before stalking out into the woods, but he worked better on an empty stomach, kept his senses sharp and alert. Not that stalking wild were-doggos was particularly difficult for a Hunter of his caliber. His own sources had given him a heads up about some suspicious deaths and animal maulings in the area. That M.O. lined up with several critters on the kill list, but there were also rumors around the water cooler of something called a Loupes Garou. He just thought it was just fancy French slang for werewolf. Unfortunately he was wrong about that little caveat.


He was in full hunting mode by the time he heard that rather frightening howl of a pissed off werewolf. The intensity was far more than he expected, either this pupper was really pissed off or he was dealing with something else entirely. There was on one way to find out.


His typically storm gray eyes shone with a green reflective radiance when the moonlight hit them, which happened over and over causing them to flicker and flash as he rushed through the underbrush towards the snarling roars. The simple cantrip he invoked allowed him to see in the dark, a nifty little trick when one wanted to be stealthy. That had been the plan, but it at the moment skulking around in the shadows had passed. Without really thinking it over he began to run, hurtling himself through the trees. The branches lashed out at his face as he rushed by, the sting felt across his face and arms but he kept moving. All too quickly the woods gave way and he came stumbling out, skidding to a halt and busting his ass on the cold hard ground with a grunt and a thud. The moonlight was intense and bright out in the clearing, especially with his magically enhanced vision. It caused him to squint, the disorientating feeling passing quickly once he dismissed. The change in brightness caused the world around him to grow exceeding dark, it would take a few moments for his eyes to readjust. From the sound of the animalistic growls though he didn't have very long at all. Along with those noises came sounds of battle, or at least of someone trying to avoid it. First guess was some helpless poor soul that just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He couldn't rightly see just who it was, from his spot several yards away all he saw was a giant hairy back of something humanoid, angry and loud. Luring the thing into the woods was a great idea, not that he knew what the game plan was or that there even was one. Instinct took hold and he did what he always did despite years of training and advice: he played the hero.

“Hey! Fuzzbutt! Yeah I'm talking to you, yah stinky ass mutt!” He called out over the growling, projecting his voice as threateningly as he could. Far from an intimidating man, at least compared to something like this, he still stood up and puffed out his chest. A rock was clutched in his right hand, which he gave a few practice tosses into the air before he wound up and lobbed it straight for the back of the wolf's head.

“Why don't you pick on someone ye--” He began, his eyes widening when he caught sight of the figure nimbly flipping and weaving between the deadly claws. It was familiar but what he noticed most of all was the fact that her shirt was nothing more than tattered drags about her torso. That would have been enough to give any man or woman pause, it didn't help that it also happened to be...her. He felt the familiar cold chill that ran through him every time he saw her. Funny how even in the midst of a life and death struggle he still felt oddly nervous around her. While he hated her methods she was still damn good at her job, though it was always for the wrong reason. Such a conflict of interest there.

It wasn't his best moment, thrown off guard on several levels, he didn't even bother to think about the normal protocols that should have been in place at the moment. Any other time he would have been able to spot, or at least notice the absence of any barrier. But at the moment there was one giant werewolf trying to slice and dice a fellow hunter into Julienne fries. There he went with the food references again.

“There's only room for one potato tonight and that's you!” He called out to the werewolf, forgetting for the moment that his inner monologue was actually inside. Hey, he was distracted here, give the man some credit.

He quickly rolled up his left sleeve and revealed the intricate ink work that raced up and down his forearm from all sides. Two fingers from his right hand brushed over one of the interconnecting sigils tattooed onto his flesh and a tiny spark of crimson fire ignited in the air before him. Quickly it took the shape of a dagger or dart, composed entirely of flame. He snatched up the dart and tossed it the werewolf with all his might, unerringly flying through the air towards the slavering beast. Fire might not be one of its primary weaknesses, but he was pretty confident that werewolf fur was inflammable.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Now her night had officially gone to shit.

Here he was, your friendly neighborhood hunter - loud-mouthed, flashy, and all around obnoxious. And his attitude? Nag-o-rama. She had this perfectly under control - as she would quickly show. Under the howling and general unearthly racket that the Loupes Garou was making, through the flames, a shining band could be seen round his neck - a lasso. And she was holding firm to the other end of it, its pale yellow light bathing her in a butter glow. She was mumbling rapidly under her breath, looping one knot of magic over the other, weaving them. Combining it with her chi.

Digging her heels into the sod, the monster howled, first in indignity of being lassoed, then in pain at having his fur caught on fire. Smoldering, his eyes were bloody murder, torn between who to gut first - her, or the new guy. Deciding that the one who had the lasso around his neck would be the best place to start, he lunged forward, one swipe after another. Wrapping the magic lasso tighter around her arms, focusing as much as her screaming brain would allow, she jerked down with all of her strength. Combined with his forward momentum, it knocked the creature off of his feet, sending him skidding across the ground, and colliding head on with the trunk of a tree. Nimbly jumping out of the way, she dropped the lasso, the magic spent. She hadn’t created it to last long; just needed some way to channel the magic that she’d already poured into her ward before it looped back on her.

The lasso dissipated into golden butterflies around her. She glared at him. “I have this under control, jackass!”

Uh, yeah, about that.

Her shirt was little more than a collar and half of a sleeve on her body. She wore jeans, stylishly worn at the knees. Beat up black Chinese slippers, and her hair was in utter disarray. Not exactly an appearance to inspire confidence.

She’d give him more of a tongue lashing, but now wasn’t the time for it. The beast was slowly getting back to his feet, shaking its head. The tree, its trunk now dented, stood firm. If he had been pissed before, he was absolutely livid now. Without any further preamble, he attacked again, this time without announcing himself with a loud growl. No matter for her; she was prepared. Though he ran his mouth a lot and always seemed to pop up at the worst times to nag her, he was a capable enough hunter that she didn’t worry about him.

Good for her, because all of her concentration needed to go into saving her own skin. Still dodging, she lead the creature deeper into the woods. The woods protested by blocking her way at every step - an exposed root here, a low hanging branch there. The only consolation was that with as much difficulty as she was having moving deeper into the woods -uh, this seemed unnaturally overgrown; way too much for something that was still relatively close to a city; almost like the forest was moving-, it slowed down the beast even more. More than once, when she was right in his sights, all he could do was lunge forward, only to be blocked.

Standing a few feet in front of the creature, she was barely breathing hard. Rather than fill a ward with her power, she was now channeling it into her bare fists. Her forearms glowed from the inside, as if her bones had turned to pillars of light. Indeed, under the dark flesh of her arms, the ornate skeletal structure of her forearms shone clear. She was mumbling again, reinforcing the combination of chi and magic that she was tapped into. If she could just land one punch…well, in theory. In theory, what she was using now should serve as a power drain. It may not take him out of his werewolf form, but it would be enough to siphon off some of that extra juice and channel it back into her. It was a nifty little spell that her line of hunters had apparently learned from an accommodating succubus generations before. Problem was, she had to actually touch the beast in order to draw the power from him. It was a matter of watching and waiting, trying to discern a gap in the spittle flecked fangs and swiping of claws.

Now! While the beast was snarling, caught in a thicket of branches, she dashed forward, and, her hands flying through intricate motions, fingers interlocking in and out of each other, with sharp guttural sounds from her. One touch against the creature’s chest, and he howled. The sound was different this time - agonized. He seemed to be visibly shrinking, his form melting into himself. However, he had enough strength to lash out one last time, sending her flying backwards, and colliding with a sickening thud into a copse of branches. She groaned, and lay still.

 

[Rajura]

Well that seemed to do the trick. Kind of. The werewolf was on fire, if that had been his primary intention it would have been a job well done all around. But all he really did was piss it off more and now it stunk like burning fur to boot. Great job. It took him a few moments to realize just what was going on with the smoldering beast, the way he jerked about opposed to how she kept moving in front of him. Not until he was a few feet away did he realize she had the doggo on a leash. Now why didn't he think of that? She was always doing that, throwing him off with her rather ingenious displays of magical prowess. He honestly had no idea where she got it from, the style and manner of her ability to channel magic was pretty foreign to him, not that his own was all that commonplace either.

He watched as the wolf was knocked to the ground and came slamming to a halt with a good old head thump to a tree trunk. The impressive display of Wonder Woman action intrigued him all the further, but she did have that affect on him. She was awe inspiring, kind of terrifying, completely infiltrating, really cute, and...completely hanging out. Her glare might have had more of an impact on him if she weren't full amazon warrior on him. He felt a heat rise to his cheeks as his gaze instinctively dipped down to the feminine dips and swells he had yet the pleasure of taking in. Standing there like that, with the nasty look on her face, the golden halo of butterflies fluttering about her, it was like she stepped right out of some awkward wet dream he had when he was a teen. He would have gladly given her a rebuttal, especially what with the jackass part she threw in there. That was just mean. Unfortunately their quarry was already getting to his feet, the headlong slide into first only a momentary distraction. The witty comebacks would have to wait.

“H-Hey!” He called out as she darted off, disappearing into the trees with the werewolf hot on her heels. He couldn't help but recall the quote 'I hate to watch you go but I love to watch you leave', it was pretty spot on right now. With a regretful sigh he shook his head, cleared his thoughts and took off after the two. Why did he always have to play catchup with her?

The woods closed in on him in a very claustrophobic kind of way, watching on his camouflage jacket and his dark brown hair. It seemed like a good idea to lure the beast in here, but as the foliage kept pushing in on him after every step he couldn't help but think it was more foolish than tactical. He could barely keep the werewolf in his sights as they trudged through the forest, it felt like he tripped over every damn root, got slapped in the face by every long hanging branch and every little stinging, biting insect was crawling up under his shirt. Fuck the great outdoors.

“Gah!” He yelped, bursting from the bushes once more, only to eat a mouthful of dirt when his boot caught another root. He barely managed to look up in time to see another impressive display of magicktry (he had coined that word awhile ago even if no one else liked it). She zapped him square in the chest, literally knocking him down a peg or two, or at least a foot or two before she took a direct hit and soared out of sight. He cringed outwardly at the sound of her body smacking into something woody, hopefully not a tree trunk.

“Aw, fuck..” He sighed, pushing up to his feet, spitting out some dirt. His gray gaze narrowed on the thrashing beast, who seemed diminished but not out of steam yet. Both sleeves were tugged up, displaying further intricate artwork upon his otherwise pale skin. A few thin lines of ink started to glow a faint crimson, trailing down from under his jacket sleeves and running down his forearms, following the rest of the tattoos to the back of his hands and knuckles. He felt the warmth coursing through him along with a overwhelming rush of power. It was like downing a dozen espresso shots and chasing it with several energy drinks. He felt like he could take on the entire world, maybe even could for a few seconds. But right now all he had to deal with was the big nasty in front of him. Her attack and his counter was a momentary distraction he used to his advantage. With no subtly but lots of gusto he came rushing in, bellowing a wordless battle cry like some berserker charging into the fray. The red hot lines on his arms flared brilliantly as his fists landed soundly upon the torso of the wolf, a nice and dirty kidney punch followed up with a left hook to the ribs. The werewolf, now a slightly more manageable size lashed out at him, though he ducked under the quick side swipe and landed a hook across his muzzle.

“Bad dog! I'm gonna have to rub your nose in it aren't I?” He called out to his foe, not really sure if the brute could understand him to such a degree he could understand an insult when it was directed at him. The wolf seemed to get it, the look he gave him was pretty peeved but then again when wasn't a werewolf angry? With a vicious bark the werewolf lunged at him, taking several fierce swings with both arms that could have easily torn straight through him. He managed to bob, duck, and weave his way through them all, the preternatural rush of thew and legerity adding to his already cock nature. He egged the werewolf on, barking back at him while he ducked under another attack and planted his knuckles right under his chin, delivering a brutal uppercut that would have knocked even the stoutest creature senseless.


Or so he thought.

As he took a second to bask in his stunning display of martial prowess the werewolf shook of the initial stun and came lunging back straight at him. He took a hit straight to the chest before a huge hand clamped down onto his head and hoisted him into the air. He wasn't sure what kind of sound he made as the werewolf flung him into the air like a ragdoll, his limbs flailing about him as he spun head over heels into the brush, breaking branches and making a general raucous the entire way. While he expected the impact to hurt, he also expected that his current magical effect would bear the brunt of the force. It might have worked out that way if he hadn't of crashed into something far more solid than branches. It felt like he had crashed straight into a brick wall. The air rushed from his lungs from the impact and he slid down to the ground to land on his head, toppling over himself in the process.

“Ugh..izat...all yah got?” He grunted, the crimson veins of arcane strength on his forearms throbbing, only to start to slowly fade. The effect wasn't that long lasting, especially not after the rather unheroic way he was tossed aside. He wasn't sure what was hurt worse, his body or his ego. One hand slid out to brace himself as he pushed up, only to feel the coarse surface of a solid object against his palm. It wasn't a tree trunk or a rocky outcropping, no, it was...a brick wall. Huh...he really did get hit by a brick wall. That would have been funnier if his ribs didn't feel like they might be fracture or at least bruised. Oh and there was the still really pissed werewolf to deal with.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Just as he’d braced himself, an unknown, howling, spitting force slammed into the werewolf, and knocked him and the werewolf heels over teakettle backwards through the “wall,” effectively destroying it and all that lay behind it. Exploding onto the smooth ground behind the wall, fabric and wood flew. Really, it wasn’t an “errant” magical force – it was her. In siphoning off his power, she became a beast herself – one with a notable flicker of humanity in her wild eyes. It was through the continual reinforcement and reassertment of her chi that she was able to keep her humanity. Without that, she would have sucked his power dry, and the other hunter would still be left with a werewolf, and then an “innocent human” to boot.

Over and across the smooth floor they went, with the “original” Loupes Garou growing smaller and smaller. She was continunally siphoning off what was left of his magnified power from the full moon. Here, though, through the wall and in the secret heart of the forest, there was no moonlight to filter through the trees. It was dark; abnormally so. Only the golden glow of her magic provided light. And it wasn’t just dark – it was silent. No wind, no rustling of leaves. Nothing but the sound of two werebeasts fighting. If the hunter had been listening when they all went through the wall, there was a low, mournful groan, the sound of an ancient guardian breathing his last. It would have been faint, but the ripples in the magic around them would have been hard to shake.

The snarling crescendoed – and a sharp yelp brought all of the ruckus to an end. Unbelievably, she stood above the Loupes Garou, her chest heaving, covered in blood and claw marks. Her head was held high. Under her, the Loupes Garou cowered, covered his face with his hands and rolling to his back to expose his stomach. The victor was clear. Though she was still smaller than him in her borrowed form, she apparently had been the better scrapper. Still curled onto his back, the Loupes Garou faded into the ugly man he was before, his form rippling and shrinking. Naked as the day he was born, he still lay at her feet, unable to move. She lifted her taper muzzle to the sky and let out a long, victorious howl, before her own werewolf simply shattered in a flurry of golden butterflies, leaving behind an equally naked and covered in blood woman. She stepped forward, and placed her foot solely on the man’s neck. He yelped, and she pressed harder. His face turned red as he struggled to breathe, and she leaned down over him.

“This is my city. Get out.”

Lifting her foot, she took a step back. He looked at her, a combination of awe and complete submissiveness. He slowly, painfully, got to his feet. As bad as she looked, he was much worse. The magic projectile from the other hunter had left him with burns across his back and neck. Deep punctures alined the side of his neck, his arms, his chest. Claw marks bled down his thighs. As humanity slipped back into his eyes, he looked around, his eyes drifting down her body and widening. At her absolutely disgusted sneer, his gaze instantly dropped, and he physically cowered.

She sighed.

As if the sigh from her gave him permission, he spoke, stammering, “But…I don’t have any clothes. And where am? What happened?” His hands dropped to cover himself, and he looked pitifully at her, a dog caught in the act of chewing up a rug.

She could have been spiteful. She had a dozen wounds, all screaming at her to pay attention to them, and she was rapidly feeling the chill of the night against her bare form. But…she wasn’t. When she spoke next, her voice was gentler, kinder.

“Was this your first transformation?”

He looked at her, and shook his head no. “I’ve managed it before…This time it was different. Uglier,” and he grimaced. “I felt it for a few days. I became nastier, meaner. Said horrible things.” Sick realization dawned across his face. “Did I say something to you? Oh, God, if I did, I’m so sorry, I’m not a racist, that was my grandfather, I mean, I make artisianal chocolates and work with poor families out of Ghana, and, I know this is awkward, and I’m not a misogynist in any way, shape, or form, I’m a total believer in feminism, which is also why it’s so great that you just won, but I have to say, I find you very attractive, like, wow, I mean, you’re goregous, so I can’t possibly be racist-”

Her face was incredulous. “Okay, so, first off, why did you automatically assume that you said something racist unless you totally do that all the time anyway? And second off, I don’t care; I get called everything but a child of God doing this. So it’s whatever. But if you want to pay your debt back to society, you can certainly do a few things for me…” She trailed off, wondering precisely what he COULD do for her. A lifetime of free ‘artisinal chocolate’ sounded appealing –at the very least she could sell it and get some pocket change-, and she might keep that on the table, but what she wanted more than anything was knowledge. He wasn’t a typical werewolf, and she needed to know more about that. The sooner the better.

 

[Rajura]

It was turning out to be a pretty rough night even by his standards. He was use to getting slapped around by beasties with supernatural might, even getting his ass handed to him on a few occasions. Nobody could win them all. Just when he was starting to get some feeling back into his legs and shook some of the haze from his brain he felt the full weight of a big furry body slamming into him. There was a odd howl, not originating from the one currently flipping ass over tits with him, but that didn't really matter at this point. What did matter was just how hard a brick wall could be. Who'd have thunk it?

The last remaining vestiges of superhuman endurance bestowed upon his arcane thew left him after his head cracked against brick and mortar. Thankfully some fortune smiled upon him, it was just enough to keep him from being another 'this is your brain on drugs' statistic. Even through the pain and general discomfort he couldn't help but desire some fried eggs right about now. He barely noticed the added crunch as the brick wall gave way and fell with them, their combined weight ensuring that whatever was behind it was throughly ground into dust.

A low and sorrowful groan escaped him. Or so he thought. But it was too deep, so inhuman to be from him, so it must have come from the furball that went along for a ride with him. Nope. That was ruled out. He was getting dominated by a glowy werewolf that he could only assume was his hunter counterpart. And she called him flashy and dramatic. He tried to concentrate on what was going on, the banter between the two more of a dull throb in the back of his head that hurt to focus on. His hands and knees scraped over the broken remains of the wall, ripping at his jeans and leaving that lovely taste of powered brick and concrete in the air. All of that was irrelevant now, even the constant ache of his poor poor body, which was insignificant to the slowly building sense of dread. The hairs on his forearms and the back of his neck stood on end, the cascading force of the arcane still crinkled about them. The ripples were a side-effect of a very big rock slamming into a tiny pond.

“Uh...guys..” He finally managed to get out, though neither of the two seemed to notice. By the time he got to his feet he realized another thing: they were both butt ass naked. That was a little embarrassing and awkward, at least when he saw the little guy with his fine mustache. How did he keep it so damn straight and perfect even after the fight? But when his eyes fell upon her in all her radiant glory, well, he certainly felt awkward but in a totally different kind of way.

“Guys. Seriously.” He started again, even as he devoured her curves, tucking them away in the vault for later. The sensation of something very wrong was waging battle with his libido, but for once his little brain lost the fight. But not the war!

“Hey!” He barked gruffly, clapping his hands and waving them above his head like a little kid trying to catch the attention of his parents. “I really hate to break up this little bonding session, but we got bigger issues right now. Don't get me wrong...you had me at chocolate, but right now yer furry ass is the least of our concerns.”

It didn't matter that his ass was currently de-furred (he added a new word to his list), if it got their attention then it was a job well done. Already he hunched back over him and began to paw at the bricks, tugging them aside one after another. What he would find he wasn't really sure, but he was pretty damn sure that the foreboding sense of bad bad juju was emanating from just underneath what remained of the wall. Hopefully it wasn't as bad as the little voice in his head was telling him. After all, the night couldn't get any shittier than it already was, right?

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She'd been so caught up in the finer details of finding out where the Loups Garou lived (for "further follow up," she'd assured him, reminding him, "My eyes are up here, for Christ's sake." Finally getting so annoyed with his wandering eyes and his profuse apologies for being a "disgusting man that was raised better than this," she conjured some clothing for the both of them out of her "pocket" space. It was a magical sort of odds-and-ends space that her family had used for generations, back when there was a magical uniform to go along with the whole "Hunter" title. It was some marginal swearing that she realized that her grandmother had gotten to the space before her, and left her with no recourse BUT to wear the old hunter's garb) that she hadn't heard her fellow hunter. Then she'd tried to consciously tune him out: whatever he was babbling about could wait. She was on the verge of a breakthrough here!

His raised voice and clapping was too much to ignore, and she finally whirled around to face him:

"WHAT?!"

Well...she looked different. If he thought she was "glowing" before, she definitely was now. Instead of her causal wear from before, she was dressed in a second skin Chinese frog-collared dress that left her arms bare, and was a luminescent white, shot through with bands of red, yellow, blue, and green. In the center of her chest blazed the kanji for the Five Elements in a circle, with the kanji for Ku (the Void) the largest in the center. Slit up to her waist on either side, the outfit was completed by a pair of baggy black pants that reached to her knees, white stockings with black laces and flat black shoes rounding it out. Ornate malas looped round both arms, complete with brass rings that chimed with every movement.

She waved away the after effects of the glamour like a swarm of gnats. "Goddamn it," she muttered, dusting sparks of gold from the outfit. She hadn't worn it in ages - not since she was a teenager. Midway through sending glittering clouds of gold away from her face, she paused - realized what he was pointing at. And as for their "wolf friend"? Seeing them distracted, he used the opportunity to make his escape, calling out apologies over his shoulder.

She blanched, and rushed to his side, attacking the rubble with renewed energy. Luckily enough for her, part of summoning the old costume meant a healing of wounds - she looked as good as new. This close to him, the magic on her was tangible, fragrant, even, redolent of incense, running water, and sacred places.

"Shit," was all she said, when their digging was complete. Under the remnants of the wall were the crumpled remains of an ancient shrine.

"Grandma is gonna kill me," she lamented. "I can hear it now - 'I can't believe you'd besmirch the Mano name like this!'" Quick as lighting, she turned on him - "This is all YOUR fault! I had this whole situation under control and you just came barreling in like a glory hound jackass!"

 

[Rajura]

He unfortunately missed the part where she magically kitted herself out in appropriate but ancient set of hunter's garb. Since his last expulsion of air trying to catch her attention his own had gone straight to finding just way lay at the bottom of the rubble. That foreboding feeling was only getting worse the further he went and with it started a sickeningly serious clenching of his innards as the realization started to kick in. Shit was getting way too serious. He answered her with a grunt as she hunched down and started to claw at the rubble along with him. The wear and tear of the battle was still clearly visible, his jacket and shirt were scuffed and torn, blood seeped from a cut on his cheek, but considering he had gone through a brick wall he didn't look too worse for wear.

With a grunt he hoisted one final chunk of stone aside to reveal what remained of the shrine. It wasn't much to look at but this was certainly where that all too serious ebb of energy came from.

“Well fuck,” He sighed as his gaze drifted over the remains. The glum look lingered on his face for several long moments, almost a pout as his brain tried to catch up to the moment and finally make a decision on just what to do. By then she was back to herself, spouting off accusations and insults in rapid fire succession. It took him a minute to reaction though once he did he put on his best offended face and shot an accusing finger right back into her face.

“Hey hey hey! Words hurt! Yer the damn glory hog, what with all that glowy stuff and turning into a werewolf and stuff. It was you that tossed that damn furball right at me and into the wall! If anyone's to blame it's YOU!” He sounded more like a pissed off sibling than a rival hunter at the moment. But there she went being all bad ass again and at the same time blaming him for all her own mistakes. Most of them at least. It took him a few moments to actually realize that she was fully dressed now and in a getup he never thought he'd see her in. After the initial outburst he took a moment to absorb the whole scene, that scene being her. As annoying and underhanded as she was, she was still a looker and that part of his brain that appreciated that was really appreciating the hell out of it now. It was more the remembering when she was naked and glowy part though, that just kind of made everything...different now.

“Lookit we can sit here blaming each other till the cows come home, but shouldn't we like, report this or somethin'? I ain't got a clue what that little shrine was about but it doesn't take a scholar to figure out it's bad. And where did that fudge making werewolf get off to?” He went far too many ways at once, too many thoughts crossing streams and ultimately getting him more confused than when he started. With a huff he pushed up to his feet and dusted his hands off on his jeans. A look around proved fruitless, the fudge making hipster werewolf with the awesome mustache was long gone. It was probably for the best, at least for the hipster, since he was pretty sure he was going to have to off the poor bastard, just so he wouldn't cause any undue harm. But that situation had come and gone, now he was left with something far more serious and far less fun.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“Words will be the LAST thing you need to worry about hurting you!” she snarled, whirling to face him. “I did what was needed to take down the Loups Garou - something YOU couldn’t even try! And now grandma is gonna KILL ME,” she practically wailed. It was a little silly - considering that she was an adult woman. This “Grandma Mano” must be quite the character. “And I bet you there’s no need to report it because the COUNCIL ALREADY KNOWS GOD DID YOU JUST START THIS JOB YESTERDAY?!” She swore at him in Japanese, before scowling. Odd - considering that she was very much not.

But before her rage could culminate in more yelling, a rustling in the woods, combined with the sound of distant bells caused her to hold her tongue. She visibly shrank - fidgeting with the malas looped around her forearms. Finding the ability to speak again, she hissed at him, quiet as ever, “If I go down, I’m taking you with me, you jerk!”

Out of nowhere, a staff with brass rings came down on the top of her head.

“Ow,” she whined, rubbing at her sore scalp.

“Bernadette Hinageshi Mano, I did not raise you to speak to other hunters in such a crass manner! Be charitable, courageous, and helpful at all times: one of the tenants of the Mano School.” The voice came from behind them. It was female, wizened. Nudging her way between the two of them, a short woman, her gnarled hand wrapped around an ornate cherrywood staff topped with brass rings. She was dressed in a similar outfit to what Bernadette had on - except far more modest. Rather than a dress, her top was a large “shirt”, belted around her waist several times with a black sash with ornate golden mandalas woven into it. The same black pants, white stockings, and black slippers finished out the old woman’s outfit. Her hair was white, and held back from her face in long loops and braids, held by jade bands. Her skin was tan, illuminated by the golden glow she emanated.

“Grandma,” Bernadette started - only to be cut off by a menacing wave of the staff.

Clearly, there was no resemblance between the two women. Bernadette was a foot taller, with the lean body of a swimmer or an ice skater. Her dark skin was illuminated as well, though not to the same extent as the old woman’s. Her hair was pulled back in similar braids and loops, cascading about her face and shoulders, falling to her mid-back.

“My my,” the older woman sighed, looking at the remnants of the shrine. “The Council isn’t going to like this. And I should know; I’m on the Council,” she cackled, the rings on the staff jingling. “Now, young man, can you tell me what my bone-headed granddaughter has done?” She turned to face him, folding her arms behind her back. Though her face was kind, there was an aura of sheer malice about her, and the rings on her staff glittered balefully.

 

[Rajura]

“Hey! I was right in the middle of trying when you went all Super Saiyan, yah show off! How the hell do you even manage to get shit done with all that glowy butterfly shit?” He growled right back at her, meeting her fierce anger with something far more reactionary and defensive than true anger. It was hard to stay angry when every few moments there was something else that was popping up to confuse or distract him. The sudden switch in languages made him take a step back and raise his fists up defensively, a knee jerk reaction as he thought she was starting to cast another spell. There really was no telling with her. It didn't help he really knew nothing of her own magical technique other than she had the power to 'leech' off of people and creatures, sucking up their magic goo-juice and using it for her own profit. Well usually. It was an odd approach, but then again everyone had their own unique way of handling things. His own practice relied more on 'borrowing' energy than he would readily admit, at least to her. But that was a complicated issue for another time.

The twinkling of bells caught his attention and made him screw up his face in confusion. Instantly he thought about the sweet siren's call of the ice cream man's incessant bell. Damn he could really go for a fudgsicle right about now. The odd reaction she gave to the bells only peaked his curiosity, that was before the rather venomous threat and needless name calling got him riled up all over again.

“You-” He started, with a retort that that he thought was pretty damn good and would throw her for a loop, but got cut off by the loud clanking of the brass rings and the unceremoniously clunk of the staff they belonged to came dropping down on her head. He cringed himself and vicariously shared her pain, rubbing the back of his head more so in a nervous twitch than anything. The chastising began in earnest and it nearly took him to the end of the entire sentence to find out where it was coming from. By then the diminutive woman was wiggling her way between them, carrying that staff that seemed a bit too big for her to even carry. She was kind of adorable, especially since the two were wearing match garb, but that rather intense aura of power crackled in the air between them. This was one bad ass adorable little old lady. One that she called Grandma.

“Wait. She's yer Grandma?” He scoffed, trying and failing to hold back his laughter. “And your name is Bernadette? Now I'm all kinds of confused...” He put his hands on his hips and tried to get a good grip of the situation. The names intermingled in a weird way on his tongue, as did their appearances. At least what he could make out of the little old lady. It was kind of hard to tell, for all he knew she could have been either sixty or a hundred. They just went from crazy beautiful to wizened in the blink of an eye. Of course he didn't say that out loud, he saw how quick she was with that staff, though at this point he wasn't sure if she could read his thoughts. He'd never put it by one of her relatives. His eyes kept darting back and forth, as if he were trying to piece their family history together right then and there. He didn't have much time though, since after lamenting over the desecrated shrine she announced with a rather sinister cackle she was part of the Council. That made him go a little rigid on the spot, as did the palpable way her aura was starting to creep over him when she finally turned her attention upon him fully. She had that adorable old lady look on her face, but he knew that things were rarely what they looked like on the outside.

“Guh...uh...well...I wouldn't say it was all her fault!” He started in, the sudden switch of blame catching even him off guard. It didn't feel right blaming it all on her, at least not to her Grandmother. That just went against all the rules that got reinforced in him as a kid, some habits were harder to break than others. “And I don't think it's all that bad...I mean...it's pretty shattered and squashed...but...maybe with some super glue and a steady hand...” He started to ramble, before his manners finally caught up to him.

“Whoa, uh...It's pretty rude of me. The name's Cassius Curio, but you can just call me Cash. Well...if you want to that is,” He introduced him with with a little flourish of a bow, before he took a step back and inadvertently crushed another piece of the shrine into dust under his boot. He flinched and coughed, his hands rising up defensively as he looked back at the two.

“S-Seriously though. How bad can it be?” Cash added needlessly. It was never a sentence that ended well. He could already feel the rumbling under his feet as if Gaia herself was ready to show him just what kind of shit storm they had unleashed.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

The fact that he’d come to her defense caught Bernadette by surprise. She blinked, looking over at him, completely agog that he would say anything. Not like they’d ever talked before, and she knew he didn’t like her and her “methods.”

Well, I’ll be, she mused to herself.

“Oh, it’s quite severe, young Cassius,” murmured the older woman as she stepped closer to inspect the remnants of the shrine. Noting that in his haste that he’d further stepped on it, she peered up at him with raised eyebrows until he stepped back.

Whirlpools of light opened in the midst of the dark forest. Bernadette instantly kneeled, her forehead low to the ground. It was a complete 180 from the woman who was cursing at him not even ten minutes ago. From the circles stepped eleven hooded figures, hands clasped in front of them. One stepped front and center, pulling his hood back to reveal a kindly face, deeply scarred on the right side. His hair was a wild tangle of salt and pepper that surrounded his head like an electric corona. The sheer magical ability emanating from him was enough to make one’s teeth rattle. His sharp pale blue gaze was fixed on Cassius. “Grandmaster Mano is correct, young man,” he said, his tones deep and resonant. “This is indeed a grievous matter.”

“Oh, it is nothing that cannot be fixed, High Druid,” the older woman spoke, tapping her staff thoughtfully on the ground. “I have full trust in the abilities of the 109th of the Mano line to contain this.”

There was a dreadful moment of silence, while the High Druid seemed to be considering Grandmaster Mano’s words. His gaze went from Bernadette back to Cassius again. Being under his direct eyesight was to have one’s soul probed – every secret exposed without a single incantation spoken.

“Grandmaster Mano,” he spoke, “Your senses are impeccable, as always. But as this was a mutual error, the burden should not fall entirely to the 109th. You, young man,” he pointed a gnarled finger at Cassius, “you are to be an equal partner to the 109th until this is resolved. Grandmaster Mano, as the 109th is your successor, it is your responsibility to watch over these two, and ensure that this is contained. Pass their punishment as you see fit.” With a sucking in of air, the immense magic was suddenly dispelled, and the whirlpools of light were gone, the forest still as if nothing happened.

The older woman’s face was grave as she watched the Council vanish. She then turned to the two behind her, holstering her staff behind her.

“You may rise, 109th.”

Bernadette hesitatingly rose to her feet, her arms near her sides. To her credit, her face didn’t give away the immense fear and shame that was running through her. Stepping in front of them, Grandmaster Mano knelt in front of the ruins of the shrine.

“This shrine, you see,” she said, as she turned over a piece with her staff, “was part of a seal. Even for the greatest hunter, the powers of wards and seals fade over time. This seal has been fading for decades – only hastened by the grief, fear, and hatred of the growing city. What was contained was growing stronger – calling to those with corrupt natures.” She sighed, inspecting the faint writing on one of the boards. Under her touch, it flared defiantly with one last burst of magical power, before fading into a wisp of smoke. “There’s no new breed of werewolf, child,” she gently said, looking back at Bernadette. “That was the influence of this evil. But a small sample of what yet could be. It is no mystery as to why you were drawn to that beast and to this area. Great power beckons great hunters, and as a Mano, you are one of the best in the world.”

Grandmaster Mano touched the tip of her staff to the underside of Bernadette’s chin, lifting her head up. “What did I tell you, all those years ago?” Her voice was kindly. The roles of “Master” and “student” were gone, replaced by loving grandmother and granddaughter.

“That raising devils is a part of our karma,” Bernadette sighed, grabbing one of the ornate loops of hair and playing with it. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Oh, once a generation we have to deal with some world-ending fiasco, child. I have faith in you, and this young man as well. This shrine couldn’t have even been demolished without great power. It was an accident, yes, but one that I am sure you and he will correct.”

“Yes, grandma- wait, what do you mean, me and him?”

The old woman gave her an impish look. “I seem to recall that the High Druid said that he would be an equal partner to you. So my interpretation is that the two of you are to work together from now on. In fact, I quite think that the two of you should live together to best be able to pool your resources.”

Bernadette turned pale, then red.

“I can’t have a strange man living with me! Grandma, please stop joking; it’s not funny! Working together is bad enough-“

“Are you speaking against a member of the Council, 109th?” The sharpness in the old woman’s tone caught Bernadette short, and instantly, the younger woman kneeled. Muffled against the ground, Bernadette spoke.

“I accept your judgment, Grandmaster Mano. Please forgive my indiscretion.”

“Forgiven, 109th. You may stand.”

Standing again, Bernadette kept her focus on the ground. Only a tenseness in her jaw betrayed her actual feelings.

“You’ve got to learn to control your temper,” sighed the old woman, her staff jingling. “But you have made great strides. You, there, Cassius,” and she pointed the staff at him, “Please escort the 109th to her home and stay the night with her. I expect you to move into her home within the week.” Tapping her staff to the ground, she looked into the bright light of the supermoon. “I shall meet with you two tomorrow to provide further information on what you have unleashed. There is much to be discussed, and it is late as it is. Go home, get some rest.”

And with a two handed swing of her staff, the Grandmaster was gone, leaving Bernadette and Cassius in the woods alone.

Bernadette’s shoulders sagged as she let out a long breath. That could have gone much, much worse. Still, the guilt was gnawing at her. Her grandmother was staking so much on her and her abilities – so much that she felt she still had to learn, had to live up to. And now

“…I need a drink. You coming?” She turned to look at him, the hatchet momentarily buried.

 

[Rajura]

With the flashes of light came a subtle change in the air. It was like the change in barometric pressure before a storm. Perhaps more like the sucking silence in between a lightning flash and the thunder. And indeed the thunder came, unseen but felt deep down inside oneself. It made Cash uncomfortable to say the least, an unsettling rumble in his gut that threw off his digestion. All of it came from the sudden figure that appeared, one that had its pale blue eyes locked right onto him. He felt like a little kid getting scolded by an adult and it wasn't really that far from the truth. He was but a babe amidst such great power and all Cash could do in response was nod blankly, a hand still rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh. Well, righto then. My bad. Uh, Sir.” He started, cringing at himself briefly. Thankfully Grandma Mano was there to keep the conversation going. “Oh right. High Druid. Sir.” He added on the end of that. Ugh, titles, it was hard enough to remember his own name somedays. Cash was able to breath a sigh of relief once the High Druid looked away, the pressure removed from his guts at least for a few moments while he looked upon the prostrated Bernadette. That was, kind of odd, the change in demeanor was night and day and wasn't lost on him. He'd have to do some digging on that later, Cash always stuck his nose where it didn't belong.

Before he could linger more on the thought he felt the finger jabbing at him, like a poke to the chest that snapped him back to attention. His back went straight and he tried to give off an air of intense concentration, as if he really had any clue what they were talking about. It was all really over his paygrade. Shrines and seals, curses, High Druids, Grandmasters, it was all so very difficult to keep his thoughts on the here and now.

“For sure, Sir High Druid, Sir.” Cash agreed, not that anyone really asked him his opinion on the matter. They more or less just told them what was going to happen. He'd do just about anything at the moment to get that gaze off him and directed somewhere. He never felt more like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar than now. Well maybe that one time. Cash resisted the urge to blurt out all his dirty little secrets, that gnawing feeling in his gut only intensified further before it was gone with a flash of light. Gone too was the High Druid and in that moment Cash was never more thankful to be alone with Bernadette and her Grandma than he was right then.

“Is he always that intense?” Cash asked with a sigh. He took a few causal steps closer now, mindful of stepping on anything else and getting another scolding look from Grandmaster Mano. The smack of that staff looked like it really stung. With a tilt of his head he watched the faint writing glow brightly and die with one last pop of eldritch energy, fizzling out like a cigarette butt in an ashtray. Cash wanted to ask a million and one questions then. Devils and karma, world ending evil and hipster werewolves, things started out weird and were getting down right dramatic now. He opened his mouth a few times to interject a question or opinion though never did quite get one or the other out. Not before there was a flare of that familiar attitude that he had come to appreciate like a hangover.

“Whoa, hey wait a sec. Time out here. I didn't agree to shack up with...wait...I'm not a 'strange man',” Cash said the words in a mocking tone, putting his hands to good use as well to get the point across. He was a lot of things but the way she said strange was just down right offensive. His arms folded over his chest and he really could do nothing but pout and shoot dirty looks at the old lady when she wasn't looking. Though no doubt she was always looking. Once again his opinion wasn't asked, he was just expected to click his heels and hup and harch along like a good Nazi. Alright maybe the Nazi part was going a little too far, but things were getting ridiculous. The jingling of that staff caught his attention and Cash narrowed his eyes briefly upon it as the Grandmaster addressed him once more.

“I...uh...don't think I signed up for a roommate there...maybe we can just swap digits and text?” He offered as a acceptable alternative. Instead of getting a legit answer the tiny little woman swung her staff and was gone in the blink of an eye.

“Ugh. I wish they'd stop doing that,” He sighed, his hand one more returning to rub the back of his head. With all the high ranking magic users gone and the shrine desecrated the woods felt so empty, quiet and alone. He breathed another defeated sigh before his gaze turned to Bernadette and it seemed for the moment at least they were on an even playing field. Cash just shrugged and offered a defeated nod, kicking out one leg as he stepped closer, careful to avoid crunching anything else further under his boot.

“You said the magic word, sister. I feel like getting within a few inches of alcohol poisoning right now. And maybe a burger...” He stuffed both hands into his back pockets and came to stand at her side, giving her another look over. “So...yer not gonna like...walk around in that getup all the time now are you?”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Without the daunting presence of mind-bendingly powerful magic around, Bernadette was back to her usual self – and announced it as such with a ball-chilling glare in his direction. She opened her mouth, about to let loose with the fury of Hell itself, then, looking at his rumpled form, closed it. And sighed, rubbing her temples.

“Could you not, for five minutes? Just…don’t talk.”

Willing her waning patience to come back to her, she took a deep breath. Focused on the Five Elements. On the thrum of energy that now easily flowed through her body, freed from the excitement of battle. “I don’t have a choice,” she ground out, choosing each word very carefully, “If I get rid of this, then I’ll be left in the state I was before they appeared.” She pointedly raised her brows at him, waiting for the pieces to fall into place in what he laughably called his brain.

God, what a mess. “What did you say your name was? Cassius? What were your parents on?” she scoffed, starting to pick her way over the remnants of the wall. They really had done a fine job of demolishing it. Once over the wall, she made her way back to the original scene of the fight. The moon was starting to sink low into the horizon, but the sky had yet to lighten with the dawn. Closing her eyes, she clasped her hands together, gripping the mala beads between them. Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears, and her body began to glisten a gentle gold. A near audible snap in the air, and, in front of her, a golden series of mandalas appeared, spinning round a gap in the space around them. In the center of the mandalas was the front of a café, illuminated by orange street lights. In front, a man was singing “Ave Maria” in a magnificent tenor, an upturned hat at his feet. The scene moved in front of them, as if they were watching it from a window.

“Come on,” she gestured towards the portal in front of her with a toss of her head, before stepping through. When he followed her, the mandalas dissipated with a low “om,” leaving behind the clean smell of agar wood. Now on the street in front of the tenor, she re-adjusted the malas on her arms, as if she’d simply walked across the street, not transversed great distances in less than a second.

The tenor hadn’t paused for a moment, only giving her a kind smile in the midst of his aria. And, wonder of wonders, she blushed faintly, giving him a shy smile back. Reaching into the pocket of her pants, she dropped a nugget of gold into his upturned hat. A hat, which upon closer look, was filled with similar pieces of gold, gems, ancient coins, and various small items that glowed with internal power. Noticing that she added to it, he gave her a nod, and his voice swelled as he hit the peak of his aria. As he did so, though it was only him singing in the street, the sound was bolstered by an unseen string orchestra. She stopped for a moment, taken by the beauty of it all. As if realizing that Cassius was still by her side, she simply laid her hand on the tenor’s shoulder, before she went inside of the café.

Clearly, she hadn’t taken him right down the street.

Inside, the space was cozy, lit by myriad candles and floating ghost lights. Serving fairies flitted from table to table, crystalline and in all colors of the rainbow. Different creatures sat at each table – some quite human, others beastial. In fact, two unicorns stood side by side in one of the back corners, engrossed in some conversation or the other, their horns glowing pearls. There was an elf, deeply engrossed in his drink, and a coalition of brownies at another table. In an alcove close to the door, a jazz band played; the members ranging from cat people to imps.

All of the creatures seemed completely disinterested in the fact that two hunters walked through the door.

“109th! It’s been a while,” chirruped a voice somehow above and beside them. With a weary smile, Bernadette fiddled with one of her braids.

“You know how it is, Frostborne. Can I get a table for myself and this idiot?” she jerked her thumb back, rather uncharitably, towards Cassius.

Though the fairy was about the size of Bernadette’s hand, her face was expressive enough to be seen from where Cassius was standing. And she was giving him a side-eye, as if she felt he wasn’t good enough to be there.

“…Sure thing,” she chirruped, darting ahead of them in a sparkling of cotton candy blue light.

“Don’t stare, don’t start anything,” Bernadette hissed as she began to follow Frostborne. “This is scared ground, and they have the best booze in the tristate area. So just…don’t.”

They were seated soon enough, in a pleasant back corner of the café, not too far from the unicorns, who, in an odd act of deference, paused in their conversation long enough to incline their heads towards Bernadette in recognition. She returned the gesture with the same amount of gravitas. Thankfully, their seats were a bit past the unicorns, in a quiet, secluded corner. Directly above the table, a heavy honey colored gem provided the area with light. Sitting down, she exhaled, the weight of the day catching up with her.

After settling in, she turned her attention back to Cassius.

“I don’t like you,” she said, flatly. “I don’t like how you think you’re so much better than me when it’s clear you have no idea what you’re tampering with, and nearly every encounter I’ve been unfortunate to have with you has always been this,” and she snapped her fingers for emphasis, “close to disaster. And now a great big fucking disaster has actually happened, thanks to you and your meddling. But tonight, right here, right now, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

Two giant steins were placed in front of them – how Frostborne managed would be anyone’s guess.

“I’ll be back for food,” chimed the fairy, giving Bernadette a knowing look before she flitted off.

Taking a long gulp from hers, Bernadette sighed in contentment before she turned her attention back to Cassius. “So who are you, and what is your thing for me? And how did you even get into this line of work knowing absolutely nothing of the magical world and its forces? I mean, come on. Did you just pick up a grimore from Goodwill and decide to teach yourself magic? ‘Let me just call myself a demon hunter and get the bad guy’, was that it? You have no grace, no schooling - but a considerable amount of skill. I will give you that," she said, licking the foam from her lips.

 

[Rajura]

Cash opened his mouth, as if to retort but instead his hands shot up in the universal sign of surrender. As much as he did want to argue, and believe you me, he did, even Cash had a limit to the amount of energy he could expend at any one time. The fuzzy semi (now that sounded perverted) that had run him over left visible signs from head to toe. He didn't have any fancy magic to clean himself up, which was unfortunate now given that he looked like he had gotten slapped by several shit sticks one after another. His held tilted to the side as she spoke in that low, clearly angry tone, though so far all he got now that the adults were away was a nasty bark. She must have saved the bites for later. Take that as you will.

“I don't mind it really, the 'state you was before' wasn't too bad,” Cash blurted out, though one hand slapped over his mouth all too quickly after the fact. “Right. Five minutes. We'll start over...” He paused for effect and then nodded in her direction. “Now!”

He followed after her, only to be insulted once more as she scaled the side of what remained of the shrine's walls. His brows furrowed above his storm gray eyes and for the first time he seemed actually offended, not that she happened to look back at him. He scowled after her from his side of the wall before he clambered over the crumbled remains and landed with a heavy thump and grunt.

“You got me, Bernadette.” Cash let her name get drawn out in the best sarcasm tone he could muster at the moment. “I don't know them. Or at least I did but don't now. Picked the name out myself, I thought it sounded pretty cool and mysterious. Yer just jealous that I got so many cool nicknames...”

He kept going, oblivious to the fact she was focused on gathering her energies and projecting them out in another impressive display. Cash had rambled off a few other nicknames by the time the gold glow surrounded them and the orange gleam of a street light caught his attention. His stomach clenched sharply and he let out an audible groan of discomfort at the mere sight.

“Ugh, really? Portals? I fuckin' hate portals,” He whined, though Bernadette didn't seem to notice, more likey she just didn't care. By the time he caught up she had stepped through the portal, the curious scent lingered in his nostrils, though his attention focused on the interesting man belting out some impressive singing. Cash couldn't carry a tune, but he at least could respect the talent. Well, he would have if he hadn't felt the sudden wave of nausea wash over him. Teleportation did it every damn time. Regardless of how smooth the transition was, there was just something about teleporting that wrecked havoc on his senses. He always blamed his own form of magic, the one etched into his skin and soul, mostly hidden underneath his clothing. Why it reacted to such magic he could never figure out, nor did he have anyone to consulate either.

Cash followed after her, though he had nothing but lint to offer as a tip to the impressive singing of the tenor. Instead he gave him a stout nod of respect and a good old thumbs up. That was just as good, right?
For a moment Cash felt disoriented all over when they entered the cafe. It was like he stepped into a scene from the Twilight Zone, one where the character just realized he was in the wrong world, where everything existed in some freakish abstract of what he remembered as normal. He saw fey creatures, elves, two unicorns and half a dozen other creatures he couldn't categorize with a quick glance but they all had one thing in common: they were creatures of the supernatural. That in itself made him tense up and the carefree attitude feel away in the blink of an eye. He hesitated long enough to catch some attention, but once more Bernadette's reputation seemed to proceed her. He should have guessed it honestly, no doubt she had connections and her thumb in all kinds of freaky pies. The high pitched voice made him jolt, one arm instinctively brought before him, a flicker of light flashed under his sleeve but was quickly doused as the realization the voice had spoken to Bernadette, or 109th as she seemed to be affectionately known as.

“Hey...” Cash said defensively to the idiot comment, but it was too little too late. The look the little fairy gave him was reciprocated all too easily, though that was all he would do for the moment. They started to move and Cash's eyes were already on a couple of...things at a nearby table. They were some kind of fey creature, weird, kind of cute but no doubt deadly. Even the most friendliest of the lot took pleasure in confounding mortals, even got a giggle when they died because of their shenanigans. At least that was his opinion of them.

“Did they get the memo on not starting shit? Cuz...” Cash just trailed off, not entirely sure where he wanted his thinly veiled threat to go. So instead he just huffed and flopped down into the seat. He couldn't help but stare at the unicorns as they exchanged nods and looks with his newest 'friend', though his mind already began to wander. Just what did a unicorn order at a cafe anyway?

“You coulda made that more obvious,” Cash said with a sigh as she started in on him. His elbows thumped down against the table and his chin promptly came to rest upon the palm of his right hand. He wore a glum expression as she went on, his gray eyes drifted about the room and took in the sights. So much for not staring. Was that elf a dude or a chick? It was so hard to tell without seeing their junk....even then...

He didn't snap out of his daze till Frostborne set the massive steins in front of them. They were so big they blocked his view and that cotton candy glow was only slightly distracting. Cash hoisted up the stein and quirked a brow back at Bernadette.

“What were you saying again?” He asked before his head tilted back and he took a long, drawn out pull. Well he had to give it to her, she was right for once. The stuff that he chugged was pretty damn good, but after a night like tonight he would have sucked turpentine from a sponge just to get a good buzz going. He held the stein for several more swallows before it came back down to the table with a thump. He licked his lips, took a breath and let out a belch before his attention drifted back to her.

“So this where I tell you my life story? Alright,” Cash gave another sigh, his gaze drawn from Bernadette back towards the stein before him.

“You've heard of Atlantis, right? Well, the place is real alright...uh...well...was real. It existed, it got blown to shit but not everyone died. Some people managed to escape, or just weren't there, or so the story goes. The Atlanteans were suppose to be some big bad ass race of super humans. They used technology and magic, creating ridiculous cities of gold and...fuck I dunno...more crazy ass shit I bet. Rom Ran never really told me much about them....anyways. They knew all kinds of weird magic, inter-dimensional travelers when the world was still young. Who do you think helped make the pyramids? Yup, that's right. They also had a crazy new magic they were playing around with. Well, new to them. Ever heard of Tattoo Magic?” Cash pulled up a sleeve and showed off his forearm. Intricate tattoos lined his skin, started at the back of his hand and disappeared under the sleeve of his jacket. They had a nordic design to them, runic almost but not entirely. There were curious shapes amidst the lines, some looked faintly like weapons and the occasional animal.

“See, they tat the magic right into yer skin. Becomes part of you, even if you sliced the skin off it would be there when it grew back. No regretting them a decade later,” He guffawed at his own comment. For a moment he paused to wet his whistle, though before long he was off again.

“I'm not really sure on the details. But at some point the Atlanteans fucked up bad. Some global catastrophe that fucked everything up, including them. Rom said it was like Pandora's box. They let all the evil shit into the world...” Cash trailed off as his eyes lifted up from the table and pointedly lingered upon the crowd of the quaint little cafe. “Some worse than others...Dun matter much though. Cat got outta the bag. They attracted the attention of some serious baddies. Splu...uh...gloroth...something like that. Some big, nasty, slimy fuckers...inter-dimensional slavers. So I'm sure they were real swell guys. They came swooping in after the fact, snatched up whatever tech they could and used it for themselves. See where this is going yet?”

Cash paused again to finish his drink, perhaps a bit too quickly, especially on an empty stomach.

“They are total boogie men, snatchin' people up at night. They love humans mostly since it seems only a few select races could use tattoo magic. Humans were far easier to catch than ogres or dragons. That's where I come in. Not that I remember, but Rom Ran said they musta kidnap me as a youngin, probably along with my parents. They liked them young, easier to jam 'em full of more tats I guess. That's how he found me, bugged out of my mind, literally...”

That made Cash smirk, which was never a good look for somewhere, ever. His gaze drifted back to Bernadette and one hand raised to tap at his forehead.

“Ever heard of bio-magic? Fun stuff, no clue how it works but they use these critters in all kinds of fun ways. The one I had burrowed into my skull, latched on and made me a good little Nazi. Not sure how he got it out without crackin' my skull open like a boiled egg. Anyways...he saved me somehow, I only had a few tats then. The rest is an awesome 80's movie montage, me and good ole Rom Ran. He was a dragon, not sure what kind, said his kind first developed Tattoo Magic. I guess he felt bad that it got used in that way, the Splu...fuckit...Slug dudes liked to magic super soldiers outta people and sell them to the highest bidder. Not sure if he saved anyone else, never met anyone like me. He helped me control my power though, even added a few more along the way. Thailand is a pretty crazy place. And fuck could that dude drink!” Cash finished off with a great laugh, a smile tugged at his lips for a brief moment before they slowly drew back into a saggy melancholy line. It had been a rather forceful expulsion of facts and stories, though no doubt it didn't seem to fit into a direct and free flowing narrative.

“As for my thing for you. I don't. Have a thing. For you, I mean,” He corrected himself before it went too far. “You just happen to be up to your crooked ass shit whenever I come a callin'. Maybe it was just fate,” He added at the end with a twist of that sardonic smirk to his thin lips.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Several times, it was clear that she was holding back a biting comment.

As Cash’s story unfolded, the sourness left her face, and there was open pity and empathy there. And no fair shortage of wonderment and curiosity. It was a raw, unguarded moment, the first that she’d really shared with him. During his story, she didn’t interrupt him once. In fact, she ended up so mesmerized that she didn’t take a single sip as he spoke.

The moment couldn’t last forever, though. He was so close, he tripped at the finish line. Her look of sorrow creased into that of impotent rage. Under the warm lights of the cafe, her aura rippled around her, deep red, before it faded into nothing.

To calm herself, she reached for her stein, and took a deep sip. Setting it down, she reminded herself of the sorrows he’d gone through. The sadness and the isolation she could relate to. And, above all, remembering all of the knowledge he’d just given her. Knowledge that was immeasurable, valuable beyond anything else she could ask for.

“…Do you know what it costs to live in the city?” She let the question hang in the air - and spoke before he could answer. He told her his story; now it was time for him to hear hers. “Used to be, in times past, demon hunters were taken care of by their community. Like wandering monks; it was considered a blessing to house them and to take care of them. Things and times change. Don’t get me wrong,” and she licked her lips again, a slow caressing of them that in any other light, any other situation, would be clear enticement, “the community does what it can for me. And I don’t just slay demons because the pay is good. I do it because I’m a Mano - the 109th. But for what they don’t provide for me, I take from others that have it to spare. And no; I’m not explaining this for you to forgive me, because I frankly don’t care what you think of me. Just thought that you should, for once, get the entire story. That’s one of your biggest problems. You just jump into everything without thinking and don’t see the long term. Or even understand it.”

Though her words were harsh, her tone was notably softer.

“Lemme guess - you don’t know anything about the Manos, or why I’m the 109th, do you?” She lifted her hand, and instantly, Frostborne was hovering over them.

“The usual, 109th?” she tittered, hovering near Bernadette’s hand. Closer now, it was easier to see her crystalline form, as beautiful as a delicate Christmas ornament. Like many of the other fairies flitting about, her small form was entirely nude, clad only in the sheerest of dresses. As her name suggested, the dress seemed to be made of frozen dew.

“That’d be great, Frostborne.” Bernadette smiled at the small creature, the expression bringing warmth to her face. “He’s never been here before,” and she gestured towards Cash, “so, if you want to do the honors?”

The fairy batted unnaturally large, limpid violet eyes at Cash, sizing him up again. She apparently knew that something had happened between the two of them; that much was clear in how, well, “nice,” Bernadette was being.

“…Sure thing,” she chirruped. “Whatcha in the mood for?” She flitted to hover right in front of Cash, and, with a wave that wouldn’t be out of place for a particular brand of animated film, a massive menu appeared in front of him.

 

[Rajura]

Cash fiddled with his stein and wished it was still full. She was right, the booze was good, damn good. Maybe it was his empty stomach, or the wear and tear of fighting the first and hopefully last hipster werewolf, or maybe it was just the atmosphere but he already felt a little tingle at the tip of his nose and the disorientation that came with tipsiness. Rarely did he like to let his guard down this much, but there he went letting his defenses drop fully. His eyes remained fixed on the open stein though, his thumb on the lid as he slowly opened and closed it over and over. After his little story, something he had never actually told another person now that he thought of it, Cash felt a little reflective in spirit. He completely missed the look, both of them actually. He was pretty oblivious to people's emotions, but she already knew that 'people skills' wasn't high on his list of priorities.

But he let her talk, it seemed only fair since she hadn't interrupted him one time. It was that whole common courtesy thing, something that they started tossing around tonight, at least when she wasn't calling him an idiot. The first thing she started in on was a question and for a moment he wasn't sure if she really wanted an answer of if it was really rhetorical. His gut told him to go with the former, so as she let it hang there his lips parted and he already had a sentence begin to form on his tongue. Cash had to bite down to keep from blurting it out, not that his intelligible ramblings about the rent on one bedroom apartments was anything close to interesting.

Those gray eyes lingered upon Bernadette as she spoke and as he listened he couldn't honestly fathom either side of it. The community aspect was foreign to him and he started to squint as he attempted to capture an image of it in his mind's eye. All he could see though was himself, alone, left with little direction and far too many questions. None of it was intentional of course, but the best laid plans of mice and men...well...dragons and men...

Despite the change in her tone, the words still had bite to them and Cash couldn't help but feel a sense of sobriety bringing him back to the here and now. Those words cut far too close to home for him, a painful reminder that he still was and probably would always be the odd man out.

“Yer right. I don't know shit about you or where you come from. I didn't get the play book, I don't know the rules or the proper protocol and procedures. I'm not the forgiving type but honestly, just like you said...I don't give two shits about what you think of me. I'm not here to impress you or your woodland buddies. I got a job to do and come hell or high water I'm gonna see it done.” His tone was far too serious for the moment, despite what he said about not caring about her opinion, it was painfully obvious he did. But he just reacted to the sting with anger, a natural reaction at least to someone as emotionally stunted as Cash was. Thankfully though the glowing fairy offered a grand distraction to lighten the mood. And that she did, positively glowing in her see through little dress. Sure she was tiny, but that didn't mean that she wasn't hot. She easily caught his attention and gray met violet as they both sized one another. Soon enough though she presented a rather sizable menu from no where and his attention was drawn to it fully. Cash snatched it up and began to flip through it hurriedly, the pressure to decide starting to build as he imagined both sets of eyes staring him down.

“Uh...Hmm. This thing's a novel,” He muttered under his breath as he started to thumb back through the pages. It only took him a minute before he gave up and set the menu down on the table in front of him and folded his arms over it.

“How about a juicy ol' cheeseburger and fries?” He posed the question to the fluttering waitress, his attention flicking to the movement of her wings and the curious glow that surrounded her. It was a quick little distraction before he fixed his gaze back on her.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

If his snide comments had not be on the heels of his story, she would have tossed what was left of her drink in his face and left him in what would be an instantly hostile environment. The café was one of her safe houses; little did he know, but they were more or less surrounded by people and creatures that the Manos (and some, she had done so personally) helped over the years. Centuries, in some cases. But, realistically, what was the fun in beating him up when he didn’t know how badly he just screwed up?

In fact, there was a sort of hush that’d fallen over the room, and eyes were on them, watching to see how she’d react to being spoken to so brazenly. While he was distracted with the menu, she lifted her hand, a universal signal of “stand down” to those in the room. Poor idiot. He had no idea who he was dealing with. Believe it or not, her thoughts were free from arrogance; it’d been beaten into her years prior that being a Mano did not mean being prideful. In her dealings with him, it was less “pride” and more “annoyance” at his inability to fully register what he was doing. At first, she’d initially thought that he’d just been some adrenaline junkie with some magic ability; there was no rhyme or reason to what he did, and it was clear that he wasn’t affiliated with any school or freelancers that she knew of – and her knowledge network was extensive.

She took a deep breath, followed by another long pull from her stein, effectively draining it. She’d expected some humility from him, maybe just a little, some semblance of having a brain in there, or at least some social graces, but it was becoming all the more apparent that she was dealing with a real moron.

“Okay,” she said, more to steel herself than him. “Look. I am the 109th Hunter of the Mano line, of the Mano School of the Way of the Void. We have been hunting demons, devils, evil ghosts, what have you, since before written history. The First Grandmaster was originally from China, but her teachings spread through Asia. The Mano Family became the main practitioners in Japan, but kept their ties to China and the Chinese schools. Every 5 years, the schools meet and trade skills and techniques. There are three main schools that are active today – the Mano School in Japan, headed by my grandmother, the Yen School in China, headed by Yen Ji-Dan, and the Rai school in India, headed by Priyanka Rai. And no, I don’t expect you to remember any of that. All that you need to know is why I’m called the 109th, and my place here.” Her tone wasn’t lofty as so much explanatory, the tones of a beloved teacher explaining to an interested audience (though she knew he wasn’t paying her any mind. Whatever – she wasn’t about to take his comments personally).

“What I need to know from you is why you’re doing this and what you hope to achieve.” She swallowed hard now, knowing she was venturing into risky territory. She wasn’t presumptuous enough to offer herself as a teacher (she knew she was nowhere near experienced enough to take on that role), but it was clear that he needed some guidance. And if was forced to work with him, she wasn’t too eager to get killed because he didn’t know what he was dealing with. Besides, she was slipping into “hunter” mode – she truly loved what she did and learning more about the world that lay beyond the veil of humans. And right in front of her, rough, ignorant edges, she had an appetizing example of gaps still in her knowledge. She couldn’t straight out tell him that she wanted to study him (ha!) – and thankfully, that was when Frostborne arrived with their food – again, how she carried the massive trays was a trade secret.

“Careful; hot plate,” she tossed over her shoulder at Cash as she set down the heaping tray in front of him. If he could imagine the burger of his dreams and then that burger had a dream of eternal greatness, that’s what was on his plate. And for Bernadette? A piping hot bowl of ramen with cheery fish cakes and tender pieces of pork belly. With the food came refills – and with Bernadette’s, a shot of luminous blue liquid.

“I didn’t order this,” she looked up at Frostborne.

“ ‘cha, I know,” the fairy tittered, the sound like tiny bells, “Compliments of Marquis Smoothbark,” and she tossed her small head in the direction of the bar. The lone elf that had been drinking at the bar, as if by magic (ha), turned to face the two, and lifted his glass. Even the warm darkness of the café couldn’t dull his beauty, and, wonders of wonders, Bernadette blushed. Again.

“Send him my thanks – and the next drink of his choice is on my tab. As is this,” she gestured to Cash’s food. “My treat – for standing up for me back there,” she added, looking at Cash. Truthfully, she was waiting for him to act like a jerk, but as far as she was concerned, her debt to him was repaid. Hey, who said that a grade A meal and booze wasn’t repayment for him (equally) taking the blame for the destruction of the shrine?

 

[Rajura]

Cash really didn't have a choice but to listen. His cup was empty, which was down right depressing at the moment and he wasn't even sure if the fairy got his order right, not that he was very specific, but you just couldn't trust a fairy (at least from his own experiences). He tried, really tried to pay attention, but the longer she went on the longer it felt like a history lesson. Mano, Yen, Rai, they were easy enough to remember but then came the names, the places and he just...got distracted. His gaze drifted towards the empty stein, taking in the intricate designs etched over its surface. He started to run a finger over the fine lines, digging his fingernail into it with no real purpose in mind.

“Oh thank Gebus, I really was hoping there wasn't a test after this,” He sighed in relief, his hand instinctively going back to his drink only to be reminded once more it was empty and sad. She turned it around on him soon enough though, asking the million dollar question. Cash let his gaze drift up from the mug and come to rest upon her face. It felt like it was the first time he had looked at her, at least from this angle and lighting. There were hints of the arrogant prick he had come to know and despise, slowly but surely though the picture was fleshing out and she was turning out to be rather human. That was a real shame, it was really hard to hate someone when you thought of them as a real person, not some abstract ideal they represented. Of course if they were a prick it was easier, but despite himself he had a hard time thinking of her like that now. She had a fierce bark and a pretty nasty bite as well, though all he felt tonight was the wind from her voice (if you didn't count her sending him through the wall). For a long moment he just looked at her, as if he were debating on just what to say or maybe just what to think of her. Just as his lips parted and he sucked in a breath to speak Frostborne was back, slapping down a plate in front of him that all too quickly stole every bit of his attention.

“Holy shit on a stick,” Cash whispered and for the first time in awhile those eyes lit up light a string of Christmas lights. What sat before him on his plate was a thing of beauty, hard to describe with mere mortal words and ideas. If there was such a thing as a perfect burger, this was it, picked from the Blessed Fields of Elysium, the Celestial plane of idyllic goodness and the destination of souls who sought always to further the cause of good without regard to law or chaos. This burger was the herald of some Culinary God that Cash had no name for, but even before he touched it he was praising them a thousand times over. He finally looked up from his plate, to Bernadette, then Frostborne, then back to the plate, as if he expected one of them to disappear, or jump out and slap his face only to scream “Surprise, Motherfucker!”

With as much reverence as she, her Grandmother and the Council had shown the desecrated shrine, Cash reached for his meal and brought it aloft with a delicate touch. The bun was firm but still soft, juice dribbled from the patty as he instinctively gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Oh man,” He muttered, holding aloft this epic burger of epicness before him and basking in the golden glow that emanated from it (that part was probably just in his head). It was hard to decide just where to bite, Cash took several long contemplative moments to find just the spot before he brought it to his mouth, his head craning in to meet it half way. He took a full but delicate bite, afraid that his teeth might shatter upon the golden lightly toasted bun due to his own imperfections as a mere mortal. Yet the bun gave way, followed by the ethereal crunch of lettuce, the exquisite crunch of bacon and a flavor explosion that filled his entire mouth and made him moan aloud.

“Amgawdmf!” He groaned with a mouthful of burger, unable to close his mouth or display even an inkling of table manners. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy and before he was done with the first bite he was already going in for another. Cash ate like a starving man, how he could savor let alone taste his meal was beyond comprehension with the rate at which he consumed it. So wrapped up was he in that blissful burger that he almost missed the rest of the conversation.

He just happen to look up at the same time as the beautiful elf turned to give them a look and a smile. At first he wasn't entirely sure who he was smiling at, so with one cheek still bulging out he lifted his burger up in a salute as well. He chewed thoughtfully, his attention locked on the alluring creature with that fetching smile. That was until Bernadette happen to say 'him', which made Cash do a double take.

“Whoa...wait a sec...that's a dude? No waaay...” He muttered with a full mouth, giving his best valley girl impression that he could muster, which wasn't all that good. “Dude looks like a Lady. You go girl...”

Cash tucked into the rest of his food and was done before the first bit of their conversation could even begin to settle. He was busily munching fries by the time his brain came fully circle and he recalled the question she had posed to him minutes ago.

“Er, right. Anyway...back to what you were saying...shit these are good...They'd be even better if you covered them in some 'Slap ya Momma'...” He couldn't even finish the thought before he was stuffing a few more fries into his gaping maw. “Anyways...Why do I do what I do and what do I want? Well...” He trailed off, giving a mindful chew before a lopsided smile started to tug at his lips. “I do it because I love to chew bubblegum and kick ass...and I'm all out of bubblegum...” He just couldn't quit sometimes. Cash let out a hearty guffaw before he stuffed a few more fries into his mouth and munched down quickly.

“Seriously...what do you want from me? Rom Ran never laid out a schedule for me. I never got the memo on when hunting class started...so I'm wingin' it. He died before we got to that part. All I knows is there's two things in the world him and his Atlantean tattoo buddies hated the most: Vampires and all the other supernatural nasties that go bump in the night and like to treat humans as finger foods. Just who fell into the second category...well...I'm learnin' as I go. But vampires totally blow...or should I say...suck...” He snorted, covering his mouth to keep from giggling at his own horrible joke. “Really though...that burger was the fuckin' bomb. You think I can get one of them to go? I think that should even the score there...”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

How did the saying go?

“Stroke even the face of a Buddha three times, and his anger will be roused?”

Though Bernadette had learned great control over her temper, she could only be pressed so much. Even as she spoke to him, excited to share, to teach, his absolute lack of…reverence (okay, maybe that wasn’t the right word – severity? Whatever) of…giving a shit continually grated on her. And time after time, she found one excuse after another for him. He wasn’t raised in this world. He was kidnapped. He’s been on his own.

And all of that seemed to grow dimmer the more her fury rose. He wasn’t even trying to learn about his world. He didn’t care. He had the potential to be something great, to do some real good, and he couldn’t farther than his own stomach. The return of that crimson aura flickered around her, and abruptly dispelled as she stood up swiftly, nearly knocking over the table. “Think about what YOU want, Cash,” and the annoyance in her voice was clear, as well as resignation that she would have to remove herself from the situation before she truly lost it. “What do YOU want out of your life? What do YOU want to learn? You can be a brash glory hound for the rest of your days for all I care, but you will not do it on my watch and you will not get me killed because of your lack of understanding. You may not give a shit about anything else, but I do. Excuse me.”

In her haste to get away from the table, she nearly ran into Frostborne. “He’ll have another one of those to go,” snapped Bernadette as she stalked off.

“Wait, 109th..!” Frostborne hovered, watching Bernadette leave – before she turned the nastiest look to Cash. “What did you do to her, you idiot?!” Before he could answer, she was watching Bernadette again – and her jaw dropped. Bernadette had made her way to the bar – only to be stopped by the elf. In a rare show of deference, she bowed low before him. His hand on her shoulder made her stand up straight, and the smile he gave her was tender, beatific, and heartbreaking.

“Oooo….” Sighed Frostborne, excitement clear on her face. “I’ll be back!” she shouted, as she took off again.

Leaving Cash by himself at the table.

To be fair, he wasn’t alone for very long. Frostborne returned quickly, a take out box in tow. Using whatever unknown magic she had, she set it down in front of him. “You are some kind of moron,” she sighed. “No respect. But at least she finally got to see the Marquis.”

To his quizzical (or, more than likely, disinterested expression), she sighed dramatically.

“You really…don’t know anything,” she murmured, with a chiming click of her tongue. She pointed to the elf again. “That’s the Marquis Smoothbark. He wouldn’t BE here if it wasn’t for the Mano line.” Seeing that she would need to make herself comfortable, she flitted over to Bernadette’s abandoned stein, and primly sat down, crossing her long legs.

“Afew decades back, during what you humans called World War II, there was a buncha disruption in the Magical World. It was…awful.” Though the interior of the café was warm, she plainly shivered, remembering it. “The Dark Elves decided to use the chaos of the human world as a perfect cover to attack the Light Elves – that’s what the Marquis is. And in the human world…everything was falling to pieces. It was a terrible, terrible time. There was infighting in the schools. The Yen vs. the Mano – do I need to explain that?” She paused, looked at his blank face, and rolled her eyes. “Japanese and Chinese were fighting each other during the war. The Manos stuck by their Chinese relatives and the Chinese branch, but the hunter of that generation, I want to say…” she counted back on her fingers, “The 107th of the Yen didn’t think that the Manos were doing enough. So she went in league with T’ai-Shun – who you probably have no idea who that was. Bad guy. Very bad guy,” she spoke slowly now, as if to an ignorant child.

“T’ai-Shun promised the Yen 107th power to end the war, but he needed something from her first. Turned out that T’ai-Shun was aligned with the Dark Elves – and together, they attacked the Light Elves. The Manos were there to stop them – the 107th. The Marquis was young, then, about 60.” Frostborne seemed to have trouble speaking next, but soldiered on. “The 107th of the Mano line fell protecting him. The shock of killing her sister snapped the Yen 107th out of it – and though she died, she helped to defeat the Dark Elves and sealed away T’ai-Shun.”

Across the floor from them, the Marquis had his hand delicately on Bernadette’s back, tracing a long line from the top of her right hip to her left shoulder. Bernadette didn’t appear to lean into the touch.

“It devastated the Marquis that the 107th fell. Rumor has it that he was in love with her – even that the 108th might have some elven blood in her because of that.” Frostborne shrugged. “Hard to tell with the Manos – they’re either naturally long-lived as hunters, except when they’re not,” and she drew a line across her throat. “Lot of them die. Though they usually have the luck of having an apprentice in place before that happens. Probably why they start them so young. When the Dark Elves rose again against the Light Elves, this time the 108th and 109th were there to stop them. The 109th was a child – a literal child. Couldn’t have been more than 16 years old.” The fairy smiled then, her wings flittering. “The Marquis was older then, the leader of his own army, but the 109th took a sword slice that was meant for him. Tore her open all across her back – it was so bad that even elven magic couldn’t completely heal it. The Marquis says he’s been in their debt since then.”

For an Elven lord, his touch was presumptuous – downright brazen. Catching a loop of intricately wound hair and moving it away from Bernadette’s face, he gently began to untie it.

Frostborne let out a long, lovesick sigh. “It’s sooo tragical. He’s totally in love with the 109th, but he can’t be with her. Has to have an Elven wife in order to carry on the bloodline. The High Elves have been after him since…what you humans would call the 1950s, right after the Dark Elf War, to have an heir in case of another war. He finds one way or another to dodge it.” She leaned forward now, conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I can’t say that the 109th feels the same way. Once he found out that she came here a lot, he started showing up, hoping to see her. And that’s when she stopped coming. Is why I was so surprised to see her here today. And with you,” she sniffed, almost turning her nose up, “A complete know-nothing.”

At the bar, the Marquis’s long fingers were tangled in Bernadette’s hair. Her gaze was on the floor, deceptively shy. She said something, and his fingers slipped through her hair.

Frostborne had to stop herself from squealing – but only partially succeeded. A high pitched whine left her.

More words passed between Bernadette and the elf, and he suddenly looked up across the café, his gaze landing on Cash. Bernadette’s lips were moving, but his attention was focused on Cash. A slight narrowing of the eyes, not in anger or in a threat, but in a summation. The Marquis was trying to suss him out; trying to figure out what to make of him. And the Marquis moved off of his stool, turning to face Bernadette again. He gave her a courtly bow, arm folded in front of him, as he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. Rising, he nodded in acknowledgement to Cash, before looking at Bernadette again. Even from this distance, there was an immeasurable amount of sadness in his eyes that only emphasized his ethereal beauty. He caressed the side of her face, and then was striding out of the café.

Slightly flustered, Bernadette made her way back to the table. Frostborne gave her a smug, knowing look, and Bernadette shook her head.

“Remember what we talked about,” cooed the fairy, flying away.

“What was that about?” Bernadette asked, sliding back into her seat. Her hair was unbraided now, and fell about her face and shoulders in thick waves. Girl had some hair – that much was clear. “Frostborne’s a horrific gossip,” she added, with a raised eyebrow at him. It was clear that she had no idea what the fairy could have been discussing with him, but also that whatever it may have been, she didn't really approve of it. “But one of the best sources of information on this side of the Rift. Been a family friend for decades.”

 

[Rajura]

It was certainly for the best that she made with a hasty retreat from the table, since Cash's initial gut reaction to the question would probably only infuriate her even more. He just sat there with a confused, slightly angry look that grew deeper as she went on until she was gone. Then it was just confusion. The silence was a little deafening after that, so much so Cash wasn't sure if he should be angry or contemplative. He didn't like people getting pissy in his face, but then again who didn't? That was just a gut reaction, just like the thought of answering her question with 'another burger'. If there was one thing he learned tonight already it was that his gut reaction wasn't always spot on.

He didn't have much time to ponder over it, within moments there was that flittering flutter that was the little fairy waitress. Cash couldn't remember her name, he was pretty bad at that and calling her little fairy waitress was probably a bad idea anyway. The confusion only grew on his face as she clung that nasty look at him, her words more of a slap to the face than the glare.

“Hey now....wait a gods damn minute here, I didn't---right. Yer leaving. Fine I didn't want to explain myself anyway,” Cash felt the wind slip through his sails as the fairy took off like a leaf on the wind. He was left to himself, again, this time far longer than before. There wasn't much to look at, well, besides the unicorns in the corner. He still couldn't get past how they got in here without any thumbs, but he kept his curiosity in check. Instead he found his attention drifting towards the bar and back to Bernadette. At first the sight was intriguing, just what was going on? He felt a certain stirring within his loins he hadn't felt in awhile, it was instinctual, basic and primal.

The takeout box for lack of a better work 'magicked' its way down in front of him. Frostborne was back and not just with food, but a handy insult as well. Cash was use to it by now, by comparison his ego had taken more of a bruising tonight than he body had and that was counting flying through the brick and motar wall. He made a face at the fairy when she called him not just a moron, but some kind of one, which sounded slightly better than just plain moron. The look on his face could easily have been interest, or at the least confusion, since Cash wasn't sure just what he was watching unfold at the bar but he kind of secretly liked it.

“That's right. I'm a regular John Snow...” He muttered, mostly tuning Frostborne out, much to his own folly. It took him a good moment or two for his brain to catch up to her story, by then she was going on about Dark Elves and World War II. He didn't remember ever seeing that episode of war on the History Channel. But that wasn't what he was concerned about, no, his attention was focused entirely upon the Marguis Smoothbark.

“Wait. Wait. So yer tellin' me...that's a dude?” Cash pointed at the scene, which rapidly twisted the feeling in his stomach from some kind of kindling lust to full on jealousy. He didn't have to point out the obvious that he thought what he was watching was something unfolding straight out of a D&D nerd's erotic fantasy. Instead of two hot chicks, it was a hot chick and a pretty dude, now that was depressing...and only slightly confusing to his sexuality. He shook his head, trying to focus on the story at hand since Frostborne gave him a look that reeked more of his new moronic status. He honestly gave it a try, but there were so many numbers and names that by the end of it Cash was as confused as he had been in the beginning.

“So...when did the Fire Nation attack? Or did you already cover that?” Cash pointed in one direction, only to point in the opposite direction with his other hand and scrunched up his brow. While the background of the families and the secret war that raged across the land left his mind as quickly as it came, he did manage to focus long enough to comprehend just what relationship or lack thereof was between the elf and human. It was interesting to say the least, a bit of depth that made the cold, calculating broker of supernatural creatures and magical powers far more human and less villainous. It was hard to outright hate someone that had such human qualities, ones that could be easily relatable. But then again he got the raw end of the deal, another jab at him for being himself. His tale had enough to make some go 'awww' as well, but to the fairy and most he was an ignorant glory hound. He snorted as Frostborne sniffed, returning the insult with a nasty glare.

“Hey if you got a problem with it take it up with Granny Mano. I ain't got much say in the matter,” He stated bluntly, only to be drown out by that little whine that ran up his spine like nails on a chalkboard. He grimaced to display his displeasure, though it was by then that he caught the sudden look from the Marquis. It was a familiar stare, one that he seemed to have gotten a couple times already tonight. Yet for once it wasn't as contemptuous, which was a little surprising and a bit refreshing. He straightened up his shoulders and offered a head bob of recognition, surely not the most proper way to acknowledge someone of noble birth but it worked. Once more he felt a sudden rise of an unfamiliar sensation in his stomach when the gaze drifted from him and the scene played out before him. The affection towards Bernadette left him with an unsettling case of jealousy, which shocked and offended him more than anything. Why in the seven Hells did he care who she fiddled around with? Sure when he thought the Marquis was a woman it was a little hot, but now...

Everything happened so fast that Cash was once more left with his pants around his ankles, exposed and quickly confused. He caught the tail end of the fairy's words, though as he went to answering them Bernadette had returned. She looked so different with her hair down, while it was a lot of hair he really liked it. There went that odd feeling again. He wrinkled up his nose as if he smelled something foul, only to shake his head dismissively.

“She was telling me about when the Dark Elves fought back the Nazi's in the World War the Second. Or something like that,” He said while waving his hand around for effect. His attention lingered on her for a few long moments before it went back down to the takeout box, then back up to her as his head tilted to the side like a curious puppy.

“Well...She does know how to gab I will give you that. But...you alright?” Cash got that look on his face, a familiar one that he had displayed for a few moments a few hours ago when he had suddenly come to her defense. “Lookit. I don't mean to offend, for real. But I'm a stranger looking in from the outside. I have no idea what I want and I don't know how to find out. So I do what I've been doing. It's all I know how to do. It feels right and I've saved more than a few people from...” Cash drifted off, becoming self conscious as his gaze darted about the room. He knew much of the dark side of the supernatural, of the creatures that went bump in the night and roasted little kids for shits and giggles. But these people here he knew absolutely nothing about. It was easier to lump them altogether into the same category and call it a day.

“Maybe. I mighta be a bit over zealous at times. But. Had I known that these things existed-” Cash pointed to the takeout box like a kid pointing at his favorite new toy. “-I woulda paused to consider. Someone that can make something this good can't be all bad. Unless it's made of babies...There's not a Kinderfresser back there in the kitchen, right?”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

….Why was he looking at her like that?

Suddenly incredibly self-conscience, she started to wrap long coils of her hair about her hand, trying to wrangle it into some sort of a style. Her eyes settled on the table, then back to him as she started to pull her hair back into a braid.

“I guess she felt like she should explain things to you.” Wrangling the braid into a thick coil, she looped it round the back of her head, and, with a few more deft twists, seemed to pin it there. “Welcome to the Other Side.” Her tone was a bit more conversational; definitely warmer than it had been before. But it was all too clear that she wanted to change the subject. “But there won’t be a test over it. I had a hard time keeping track of all of the numbers too. Once you take on the mantle of Hunter, you don’t really have a name anymore. You literally become that number.”

When he spoke next, it would be the second time that he truly caught her off guard. Shocked by the moment of candor from him, she openly stared. It wasn’t a bad stare - not like the ones she’d given him before, when it was all too clear that she thought him a complete idiot. This stare was…almost sweet? Like she was beginning to see him as a real person instead of a hopeless moron.

“I…uh…I’m fine…” she stammered, quickly fiddling with the malas on her arm.

If I say anything else, he’ll ask me about the Marquis I really don’t want to talk about the Marquis right now why in the hell is he being so nice to me it’s so damn unpredictable and I just -

“No, no Kinderfresser here,” she said, far too quickly. “I haven’t seen one in my lifetime. I thought they died out ages ago. Have you seen one?”

There - turn the tables on him! See how he likes it.

 

[Rajura]

“Huh...well I got to pick this name...do I at least get to pick the number? I think I want forty-two,” Cash said in an all too thoughtful tone. If he noticed her reaction to the change in his own tone he didn't show it. The guy could only come so far in one night. And when Bernadette turned the tables on him it worked perfectly. He brightened up considerably, going from thoughtful to the more familiar smugness from a few hours ago.

“Well, I thought I did. But it turned out to be a Boglin. He was just stealing babies to sell them, not eat them. Nasty dude, that Boglin. I didn't know they could bite so hard, nearly took my left hand off at the wrist...” Cash started, more animated than even when he was talking about how good his magical burger was. He went into excruciating detail about the ordeal, including how he tracked it down and managed to kill it, rescuing a few babies in the process.

“I dunno what it is with goblins and babies...maybe they all watched Labyrinth way too much,” He ended on another high note, which was his typical approach she'd recognize by now. His hands had been moving the entire time he talked, though as he finished they began to pick and poke at the takeout container in front of him. He had a hard time sitting still, his hands usually in motion some how, his stance shifting in his seat from lazily reclined to hunched over with weight on his elbows.

“So...Can you do that teleporty thing anywhere? I'd really like to get a few things....that and my roommate would probably like to know I'll be shacking up elsewhere. Hm, that sounded inappropriate, didn't it?” Cash scrunched up his nose and finally looked at her after being so absorbed in himself that he really seemed confused for a moment. Her hair, mostly, it had gone from big to at least somewhat tastefully pulled back and pinned. His gaze drifted about, his attention catching on the little strands that dangled here and there.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

I must be getting tired.

For rather than shooting him a death glare, she simply let out a soft sigh. “Our number correlates to the generation we are. So, no, we don’t get to pick the numbers.”

And then he was off, spinning his yarn about the Boglin. He was so involved in his story that he didn’t notice she was only half-mindful of it, but was careful to interject the occasional, “Uh-huh,” “Really?” “Huh,” at the appropriate “lulls” in the conversation. While she wasn’t fiddling with her hair (it took her all that time to pin it up; she wasn’t about to screw with it), and she showed none of the same energetic fidgeting, she had her own tells. Lingering too long on a particular bead of a mala. The line of her lips.

Still, she wasn’t caught off guard when he asked about the “teleporty thing.” She scoffed, though not too harshly. “It’s a little different in ‘our’ world..” And she actually looked a little sheepish. “I’m not strong enough to move us from place to place in our world – and I can’t move us to a place I’ve never been, at least, not yet. Travelling between rifts, that’s a little easier,” and she gestured to the café around them. She was prepared to explain to him just how the magic worked, but a second look at his face made her reconsider. “I’ll explain it later,” she said. “If you care,” she added, though, again, not unkindly. “Not sure if your magic capabilities would lend itself to travel between, but I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t…”

She caught herself before she tripped headlong into another lengthy discussion. “Let’s get back to our world, and we can figure out our options.” She wanted to pick at that whole ‘roommate’ thing, but she had to figure out the logistics of their travel first. And she already had an idea in mind…

____

Once they were outside of the café, she did something unexpected.

She grabbed his hand.

Holding onto it, she began to cast the simple spell to get them back into their world. This close to her, he could feel the warmth of her magic, comforting and redolent of incense smoke, surround him. When she pulled the two of them forward, they were back in their world, back in the woods from where they’d originally left.

“Now,” she said, letting go of his hand without comment, “Whereabouts do you live? I’ve got an idea, but I’ve never tried it before, and I don’t have the strength on my own to actually make it happen. Soo…” She steepled her fingers together, peering over him with a wheedling grin, “I’ll have to borrow some of yours. It totally won’t hurt, by the way. Or like, kill you. You won’t even feel it. At least I don’t think you will. Your magic ability is off the charts, this’ll be like, a mosquito bite. Whaddya say?” And yes, she deliberately mimicked his use of language to try and soothe him. Really, though, her idea was brilliant! And if he agreed, she’d know that much more about his unique power.

 

[Rajura]

“Oh,” Cash replied, a frown slowly drawing out over his face. It only lasted for a few moments before something lit up behind his eyes and that stupid smile returned. “So then I'd be numero uno, since I don't got anyone before me. That's awesome, you totally gotta say 'Make it so, Number One' then. It'll be sweet!”

Once more though the confusion over how things worked around here set in and his brow furrowed once more. The talk of worlds really threw him for a loop, while he knew they existed it was clear he had no real concept of them or how many types of magic worked at all. He fidgeted a bit, giving her a look between absolutely blank and completely lost. That seemed enough to keep her from explaining it any further, at least tonight.

“Uh...well...I can't actually...'cast' spells,” Cash held up his hands and flashed air quotes at the word cast. No doubt that would be another lengthy conversation in itself as well, so before she could jump on the topic Cash was up from the table with his takeout container in tow. “Right. Let's blow this Popsicle stand!”


The moment she grabbed his hand he instinctively flinched and drew back. He was pretty sure she was going to punch him, or at least slap him, that just seemed her bag after all. But nope, it didn't come and he was left mid block looking rather moronic with the takeout container in his free hand. All too quickly he was enveloped in her warmth, an odd sensation that he honestly enjoyed and wouldn't mind experiencing again. All too short lived though, just like the hand holding, which he was still on the fence about how he felt.

No time to ponder about that though, she turned on him with that grin and Cash felt like flinching all over again. What she had to say didn't help any either, the first thing he did was give her an skeptical squint as he sized her up.

“I dunno...” He started, though the longer the stared the more he felt the peer pressure. There wasn't much she could do to him, or at least that's what she said, so why was he so hesitant? It was far too much of a weakness and dent to his male ego to refuse, so before he could even really consider what it all meant he nodded and held out his hand.

“Make it so....Number One...hundred and nine. No...doesn't have the same ring to it. Just do it,” He held his arm outstretched before him, palm up and with an expectant look. It was then he realized he hadn't bothered to give her his actual home location.

“Oh and the apartment complex is called Park Village Place. Right off of Main and Vine. Not too far from here...uh...that way...” He pointed to the east with his takeout container holding hand.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“Okay, so, the theory behind what I’m about to do is sound. Like, really sound,” and for the first time that night, a sliver of her “actual” personality slipped through. Her eyes grew wider, and her movements far more animated. She was very much a woman who “talked with her hands,” per say.

“Really, really sound. But I’m not going to lie and say I’ve done it before. And honestly, I think I know where you are in the city. But I’m going to need you to focus on your home and only your home because if you don’t we could potentially end up being trapped between realms.” She said the last in a long rush of words. Being trapped between realms would have been them getting off mildly if she failed, but hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained. “And your magical ability is way off the charts so I’m not really worried.”

That…was a lie.

Well, sort of. His magical ability WAS off the charts. Everything else was a giant question mark. The workaround, she’d figured, was that she would channel his power into getting them where SHE knew was an actual place - her house. They could catch the bus later. No big.

“Okay, so…” She paced lightly around him, muttering to herself. Would she need to draw a circle? Cast a shielding spell first? Hm. The last time she saw the spell, or, really, a variant of it, there was a magic circle and a bit of hair from the person that the caster was trying to locate…

“That’s IT!” she suddenly exclaimed. Instead of the hair, she had the whole person. And since she HAD the whole person, then she could totally fudge the circle. Whirling to face him, she grabbed his hands, mumbling under her breath again. This time, instead of her talking out her thoughts, she was casting. The mala beads on her wrist began to glow, warm and golden. Her grip on his hands was easy, as tender as a lover. Her eyes snapped over, glazed over and deeply illuminated by gold.

Her lips were steadily moving, her words a guttural chant. Then she staggered, nearly falling into him, with a soft gasp. Her eyes flickered from gold to their natural brown, and for a moment, she was visibly shaken, fighting to maintain control. Her hands tightened on his. Rather than being painful, the grip was desperate, seeking reassurance.

True to her word, it wouldn’t hurt when she began to siphon his power. For her, it was akin to suddenly finding herself under Niagara Falls. The sheer amount of power he possessed, even though she had only opened a minor channel, tumbled over her, relentlessly. “Cash…” she managed to gasp out, “I’m gonna….” She shook her head violently. She still had her pride. “Think about your home, now!” she managed to snap, harsher than she intended, but his power, it was too much, she could only hold control over it so long before it overtook her, before it pulled her entirely into him and out of her own body, “You gotta do it!” Her voice was shaking from the strain, sweat beading from her forehead. Two fat tears, shimmer like gold nuggets, collected at the corner of her eyes.