Hi, my name is Tania, I work at Gotham City Public Library, and I made this blog to keep track of stuff. On or off the clock. I've been working here for a while, and things get interesting sometimes. (But I also need something to keep myself busy.)
📚📘📗📕📚
Pronouns: they/them, he/him, she/her
Current project: trying to plan an ASL class for the library
Dislikes: Doctor Jonathan Crane coming into the library to do research. People messing with my stupid little garden. That one guy who stole my taser last week.
Name: Tania Emrys Sinclair
Age: 24
Species: Homo Magi
Residence: Gotham
Occupation: local nerd at the library. Freelance writer
Height: 5'3"
demigender, genderfluid, pansexual, demiromantic
ADHD as fuck, stubborn, someone who looks for ways to help in small ways, loves learning new things.
Skills: level-headed, basic self defense and slightly above average bladework, maneuverability, eldritch blades, wards, advanced first aid, researcher, above average intelligence and willingness to learn and adapt. Willingness to try to find ways to help even if indirectly.
Weaknesses: sees self as weak, distractible, scatterbrained unless forced to focus, has trouble letting go of things.
((Hi hi hello, working on getting back into rp. My name is Glitch, and I'm in my 30s, welcome to my blog, will add more to this later))
((Rules:
Open to pretty much anyone and anything, just don't be an asshole ooc? And feel free to talk to me about stuff
This blog is selective, but not necessarily private, and 16+. All rps are a seperate timeline unless discussed otherwise
If i do any nsfw, it will be under a cut and i will tag it))
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"Hey..." A bemused expression, followed by a sigh that said 'this might as well happen' more succinctly than words. "Not so much? I... what brings you to Gotham?"
He raised a brow, looking the man over with a flicker of recognition. Not personal, but certainly by reputation. "Sorry. Seem to have left my manners in my other jacket. You can call me Tan."
A click of her tongue, tilting their head up to look at him a bit better. "Heard some rumblings about Slaughter Swamp. Grundy might be waking up again soon. Know a few people that keep track of Bat sightings, but..."
A gesture, before fidgeting with their bracelet, considering the situation. They're off the clock, at least. If they had to deal with this guy and maintain professionalism, they might explode something in the process. "Most people aren't the most privy to their movements and plans, unless you're looking for the gossip side of things."
There's a dry sort of humor to that as they shrugged.
John considered them for a moment, something curious in his gaze as he looked Tan over. “Well let’s hear it then. You’re nervous enough you probably know who I am, so what’s the gossip side of it all.”
He didn’t generally meddle in Gotham or Blüdhaven often because he respected the Bats, but he’d never admit that.
"Well, I doubt you're interested in my friend's PowerPoint presentation on her theory that the bat is Bruce Wayne's sugar baby." An edge of a grin as they take out their phone, scrolling through a few things with a quick, practiced motion.
"And yeah... know enough that your reputation precedes you, a bit. Curious enough to not just leave you high and dry." A glance up.
"Most recent posted sighting of the big guy himself is in Coventry, by the way. He's with Robin, or was about thirty minutes ago." A hum, checking on something else.
"Someone's on a 'the butts match' thing again. Which I sort of think is a reductive way of trying to figure out identities, personally. It does look like they're more on the outs with the cops than usual, though the pendelum will always swing on that one."
“I have a reputation?” John asked sarcastically. And then he waited to hear if they’d tell him what said reputation was. Everyone called him something different, and he was known for more oddities than not.
"In certain circles." A wry twist of their lips as they locked out the phone again. They weren't as in the know on things as they would like, but they did their best to keep an ear to the ground.
They made gesture, as though picking through a mental filing cabinet. "I believe, no offense, the verdict tends to be 'don't trust under any circumstances' and that you tend to leave a lot of collateral damage at times."
He nodded in agreement. “Bloody fair assessment,” John assured them. “Not looking for trouble tonight though, Squire. But as we're dropping all pretenses, hi, I’m John,” and he offered his hand to shake. “John Constantine.”
They tucked away their phone again before taking his hand for a moment and giving it a firm shake. "The rest of the verdict is that you're damn good at a lot of things in spite of the previous verdict."
A slight smirk, before stepping back and shrugging one shoulder. "Nice t'meet you off the game for the moment, Mister Constantine."
There was a slight buzz of magic around the bracelet they'd been fidgeting with, something careful and protective.
“Ah, nifty little bugger you've got there,” John commented with an amused grin as he shook their hand then let go. “Probably detects my tainted blood. The rumors of why I don’t age are numerous, but it all comes down to demon blood.” He’d cheated Death so many times now he owed her dinner or something truly.
"Ward an' shield combo. Kept me from getting shot or the like more times than I prefer to count." A hum, eyes brightening slightly as they rock back on their heels. They don't exactly get to talk shop much, so it's definitely an interesting situation for them.
"Also ah... yeah, no, that would explain a bit." A wiggle of their fingers. "Demon blood'll complicate so many things. With the way the city is, i'm sometimes surprised, but glad, we don't have more demon activity, to be honest"
A slight shift of weight, adjusting their bag. "Sometimes feels like even they don't want to deal too much with the nexus of shit under this place."
”The Bats keep a clean house,” John agreed, thinking of Gotham. “Most of the underworld sticks to Blüdhaven if they’re getting peckish enough to come to the surface, but that’s less than you’d think.”
“Well, synchronicity led me to you here in Gotham, so you must have some expertise in what I’m looking for. It’s a book, very old and very powerful. Rauðskinna is what they call it, ‘The Book Of Power.’ And rumor has it someone brought the piece to Gotham recently.”
A gesture, narrowing their eyes. "It would be a book matter that dumps you at my feet. Walk and talk. Sadly, the elevator's busted and the landlord's shit. I need to grab some stuff if i'm going to make myself useful, though."
They flash him a slight smile, vrows raised curiously. "We talking an individual, a cult situation, or someone trying to auction it off?"
All the options were sort of out of Tan's area of expertise, but they'd make do. They didn't really get themself too involved with the big movements in the city, but they could at least point him in the right direction.
Their gut told them that wasn't going to be the end of it, though.
A hum as they take the stairs quickly, pausing at the landings to look back at John.
Ah herein lied the problem to answering most of these questions—John didn’t have the answers. And it showed on his face, a brief expression of hesitance and almost irritation with himself.
“My source wasn’t very forthcoming with the information. I was damning him at the time you see, so he didn’t have much to lose and few reasons to give up information. Honestly may have sent me here as a laugh, but just in case…”
John looked at them when they paused. “If I had to guess, given Gotham’s history, it’s a cult. Hopefully not the Owls, but…” He shrugged in a ‘what are you gonna do?’ kind of way.
"Heavily assume the worst, hope for the best, basically. Right." They shook their head with a sigh, finally reaching the right floor and exiting into the hallway. The building was run down, but it could be worse.
They paused and slipped a piece of paper under the door next to theirs before pointing sternly at John. "I'm going to grab a few things, and you can either stay put in the hall for a minute or make me sigh at you by tripping my wards when you come in."
Cult. Right. Owls or not, that's a problem, given what information they're able to dredge up in the back of their mind about the book in question. They're not good at all this stuff, but hell. He'd probably find the damn thing without her, but if it was in the hands of someone who could actually make use of it, taking extra time could be an issue.
John watched with curiosity, hands in his coat pocket. He took them out and held them up in mock surrender. “Not looking to poke holes in the boat ferryin’ me across Styx,” he assured them. “You help me, I have no need to poke my nose in your business now do I?”
He nodded and slipped into the apartment, taking a moment to steady himself before moving off to grab a bag from his closet, as well as shucking off his work clothes and trading them out for something more serviceable if trouble... inevitably, came knocking.
A few objects were plucked from the shelves and shoved into the bag, before he slid on his boots and tightened the laces. Okay. Okay. Right. They were probably going to regret getting involved with this, but fuck it. If Constantine screwed them over or they got caught up in the trouble on the side, at least it would be better than sitting and doing nothing.
All in all, it was relatively quick and they were mid braiding their hair to keep it out of the way as they stepped back out. "Okay... so. First things first, we need to figure out where the thing currently is... the who and the how would also be useful, but, you know."
John’s gaze narrowed in a studious way as he mentally went over all of his options, taking a drag from the cigarette he’d lit while waiting (never ask for permission, and rarely apologize later was his motto.)
“There are ways to speak to the soul of this city and have her give up her secrets,” John mused. “Seems to me she’d want to protect the people from a book this powerful and might want to help us find it, but it’ll be an odd ritual,” he warned. “Takes two if you’re up for it, unless you’ve got a better way?” Part of him hoped they did.
A slight grimace and a roll of their eyes, but they didn't fuss about the cigarette, making sure their bag was secure. His question caused a pause, a hint of frustration flickering through their expression.
"I don't really... do this kind of thing much." They glanced away, scuffing a toe of one of their boots on the floor of the dingy hallway. "I could do a map scry and try to triangulate a location, but if they've gone underground, literally or figuratively, or know what they're doing, that might not help much."
His voice is uncertain, though he's obviously trying to rifle through options. "... how odd of a ritual?"
A raised brow as they looked up at him, eyes narrowed.
“Scrying will get you ballpark,” John agreed, thinking it over.
He took another drag and blew the smoke out his nostrils before speaking again. “We'll need a leech for it—don’t worry, I know a guy—and I’ll need the blood of someone who lives in this city.” Ergo two person ritual. “Simple as letting the creature feed and then we say the right words and send it to the right god. Those buggers are like popcorn to them, and blood freely offered is the butter.”
"No getting me bound, maimed, or otherwise taken from being in working order involved, at least in the ritual, I would hope?" Their voice is slightly deadpan as they watch him closely. Despite their words, there was a distinct curiosity in their expression, and a hint of humor to the question despite them knowing it may well be a valid concern.
There's a hint of a grin as they move back to the stairwell and start downstairs again. "I admit, I'm interested."
“No this god trades in places. He’ll get a map of the city drawn in your blood to preserve as a reward, and we’ll get a location,” John explained. “Ptah,” he explained. “Ancient Egyptian god of architects and the like. He enjoys floor plans,” he joked.
Another of those small pauses, as though mentally rummaging through information. "I... you know what? Fine."
A slight grin, skipping the last few steps and landing to turn and look up at him, mismatched eyes meeting blue. There's still a sharpness there, wariness bred into them by the blood-ridden city that's raised them, layered over the warmth that peeks out. They seem settled on their decision, though.
"Good, okay... so, this... is definitely not going to be boring, huh?" A major understatement, and they know it. "... what's your plan once you knowcwhere you're headed, or are you planning on just winging it?"
There was a hesitance there he respected. Most were entirely too gullible, but they seemed to at least consider saying no first.
“Boring is for people with office jobs,” John told them with a grin, something mischievous behind it now that they’d agreed. “We’ll need a secure place to do the ritual once I get the ingredients. Anywhere you might suggest as a local?”
"Does a library count as an office job? Wouldn't want you to think I'm too boring." A smirk as they tucked their hands into their jacket pockets, considering options.
"... I. Hm. Does breaking into an abandoned building count as secure, if the place can be closed back up? Because I might know a place, though it's a bit of a mess." A grin, flexing their fingers as they considered. "I would consider the basement of the library since it's after-hours, but I would feel weird breaking into there, and would like to keep my job."
”No, see. You lot have your own brand of magic,” John told them. “Being a keeper of books is a form of power.”
“The more abandoned the better. We can set up a barrier so that nothing gets out if it all goes wrong,” he explained with a grin. “Give us your hand and think of the address and I’ll see it,” he said, muttering a few words in Latin before offering his hand. It lit up with magical lines of ink that were as protective as they were dangerous.
"Always been a big proponent of freedom of information." A shrug, scuffing their boots. There were benefits to having access to things when you enjoyed learning new stuff. When you needed to keep figuring stuff out.
They tilt their head, watching him curiously, before sliding their hand into his with a tiny flicker of blue-green light as skin contacted skin. The place was and old abandoned rec center. It was unfortunate that it had fallen out of use, but as long as nobody was currently squatting in the place, it could be serviceable, including a larger open space for working on stuff in the building's small gym.
He grinned, something knowing in his eyes because he understood firsthand that knowledge could also be a dangerous burden. Especially in the wrong hands. He figured they understood that or they wouldn’t be helping him find the Rauðskinna at all.
His hands being the right hands was debatable.
“Cheers, I’ll meet you there in an hour?” John asked, letting go of their hand.
They were aware of the irony of those words, given the situation and company, but just flashed him a slightly sardonic grin. Other options were sparse on the ground right now, and getting the damn book secured was the focus for the moment. Some things were better not being used.
The afterwards could be figured out as needed.
They nodded and rocked on their heels. "Sure thing. I'll get the place unlocked and scout it out. See you in a few... don't have any attempted muggings or anything."
A wink as they shoulder their bag and turn to make their way with a wave over theor shoulder.
“It’d take more than a simple minded mugger to take me down, sorry to disappoint,” he joked with a wink as he turned coat and started away.
It didn’t take him the entire hour to get what he’d needed. The shaman he’d gone to for the leech and a few other needed ingredients had taken a little bit of convincing since John’s reputation proceeded him, but John arrived at the promised location with a bag in hand and a jar with the leech in it on time.
He pulled out his pack and lit another cigarette as he waited outside the building for Tan.
A flicker of light inside the building and movement. It took a moment, but Tan popped out of the alley and waved him over. "Side door. Less likely to draw attention with the whole breakin and enterin."
Tan was once again glad that their younger self had taken their brother's bait and learned to pick locks out of sheer spite when he told them they couldn't. It had come in useful a surprising number of times. It probably would continue to be.
They snagged a small, battery powered lantern, the type someone might take camping or keep in case of a blackout, from where they had left it, and flicked it on. The place wasn't fully falling apart, but it was clear that nobody had been taking care of it for at least a year or so.
“This place is built on an ancient burial ground. That’s good. It’ll add to the energy of the spell,” John explained as he followed Tan and looked around at the place. He saw it for what it had been, a place of mourning and celebration of life, the energy still seeped into the ground, ghosts walking about stuck in their patterns and cycles.
“You know a basic circle of protection, yeah? I can draw one, but if we’re using your blood it may be better if you do.” Power of intent was a powerful thing.
A hum, looking down for a moment. "... I do, yeah."
They seem uncertain though, as they move to rummage through their backpack with a small frown. That hesitation is back, but it's directed inward rather than toward John.
Someone walking on ground they aren't practiced at traversing. "I can do it, you'll probably need to check it over before it's locked into place, though. Just to be certain."
A quick glance in his direction, tilting their head. There's a slight flicker of light as they run through some of the needed symbols, sketching them with the fingertips of their free hand.
John raised an eyebrow at that reaction. It lacked the confidence they’d had moments before.
“Would you like to know a soddin’ secret about magic, mate?” John asked, trying to catch their visual focus. “It is what you shape it into. Think of it as clay that can take almost any form if you’re skilled and patient enough. The power of belief is more powerful than magic incantations or potions. You have to believe it’ll bloody work, and then it will.”
“So the circle doesn’t need to be perfect,” he explained. “It just needs to be believable.”
"Let's just say i'm more practiced in theory than application on some things." A slight sigh, looking over and pausing to consider what he'd said before nodding. "... Right."
"Sorry, need to not get so in my head about it, yeah? Had some time to overthink things while you were busy getting supples, s'all." A shake of their head, moving forward with a deep breath as they began to move debris out of the way on the gymnasium floor, making a space to set up the circle. A steadying breath as they worked.
"Intent and belief..." a huff of breath that's halfway a laugh as they pause and pull out some chalk, twirling it between their fingers as they consider it. After a long moment, they take a deep breath and look back over at him. The nerves are still there, but it's backed by the resolve they'd shown earlier. "Yeah, I can do that."
John set the bag on the ground and sat down beside it, eyeing Tan as they worked. In truth it was partially a test to see how confident they were or if it was all an act for the infamous John Constantine. He’d need real belief for this ritual to work.
Opening the jar, he looked at the leech and made a face before pulling his cigarettes out. He lit one and left it between his lips while pulling out the other ingredients to mix them into the jar. “Eyelids of an executed man, the large toenail of a widow, and iron nails from Rome,” he explained, taking a drag from his cigarette.
And then he closed the jar again, said a few words, and watched as a puff of smoke exploded in the jar. When he opened it again to clear it, the leech was glowing.
A mutter under their breath as they swept a hand through the air as though knocking away cobwebs, before they bent and began to draw. Their movements are steady as they marked the boundaries and directions.
As they worked, they seem to fall into a rhythm, almost seeming to forget their company, though they nod in response to his explanation. There's an occasional pause as they sit back on their heels, looking over what they have so far. A slight frown as they move to correct something, not perfectionism, but specificity. The steel is back in their spine as they work, lips slightly pursed.
The air seems to weave itself together as they work, layering over itself. An unsteady breath as they flex the fingers of their free hand, adding a final stroke to a section that looks to define Gotham as a location.
Cursed yet loved, Home, steeped in pain and fear, the refusal to let go, the refusal to leave, the vulnerability of the least of her people, the way that the highest seem untouchable, the way things are drawn here, the city as defined by both stagnation and change, the sacrifice of those who try to protect her.
A slight shudder as they seem to come back to the present moment, standing slowly and looking across their work. "... Okay. Okay."
John kept a csreful watch in them and their interaction with their work. The tedious details were done with care, and John was honestly a little impressed at their precision.
“Alright, so you let this little bugger suck on your arm for a moment—doesn’t hurt, I’ve had it done before—and then we’ll call on Ptah, and I’ll do that part so you don’t have to worry. Makes sense?”
A hint of a grimace as they shift positions to look at him, but they roll their eyes and move over to his side, shrugging out of their jacket. "Gross."
But there's no actual protest behind it, just stating it like it's a fact. A slightly amused glance, seeming steadier now that they had gotten past the stumbling block they'd put in their own face. They drop down next to him, shoving up the sleeve of their shirt, pulling a knee to their chest.
"But yeah, makes sense..." a tilt of their head, listening to distant sirens outside in the street. Nothing nearby, at least for now.
John grinned a bit at that reaction. “You should see the spells for gods that prefer maggots,” he told them with amusement. “Be glad this one craves blood. And this’ll heal better and far bloody quicker than the cliche slice on the palm, yeah?”
The conman held out the jar towards Tan in offer. “Trust I’d use my blood if they’d take it, but most gods won’t.” And location spells did best with locals, that was the entire point.
They pull an overdramatically icked out face at the talk of maggots, sticking out their tongue before laughing and taking the jar carefully. "C'mere you wiggly little shit."
"To be fair, I haven't done much digging on god-work or the like. Could probably get my hands on resources, but it's just..." a slight hiss of breath as they let the leech latch onto them. "Hasn't really come up... there's a lot of interesting concepts there, though."
“Gods are so in name only. They only ever have the power people give them with belief,” John explained. “So I believe in them just long enough then move on,” he added sarcastically.
He lied. Lied about believing. And he had such a skill for it that most cosmic beings believed him until it was too late.
A hum, nodding slightly as they considered that. They probably weren't going to take that chance any time soon, but it was something to think about. "... Who’s been the most interesting Power you've poked with a metaphorical... or literal stick?"
A tilt of their head, lookin down to watch the leech do its job, their free hand coming up to tuck their hair out of their face before steadying their arm again.
“I snorted Santa’s ashes once. He was a right bastard, so he had it coming,” John assured them, watching the leech with mild amusement. “But that’s not the story most people want to hear about.”
"Good thing I asked your opinion on most interesting, not most people's." A roll of their eyes before looking at him again. They look curious, definitely weighing if he was bullshitting them or not, but down to hear more.
He scoffed in amusement at that. “You want me to give away all my secrets now?” John joked, taking a drag from his cigarette as he considered how to respond. “I don’t know.” He breathed the smoke out through his nostrils. “Aliens and metas are par for the course these days, especially in this soddin’ city. What do you consider interesting?”
"Nah, I would never ask someone to tell me everything on a first... meeting." A small smirk as they weigh their words.
"An' i don't know... I don't get involved in a lot of shit like all this beyond feet on the ground stuff. I would say the bar is in hell, but i would fear you'd take that too literally." They paused, considering.
"I guess some context on the Santa thing, since you're the one who brought it up?"
“Human remains have power. Even after death pieces of the soul linger on. With someone like Agios Nikolaus, who was essentially Santa as you've heard of him, those remains can yield information and help questions be answered from the spirit world. I used them in a ritual for information then snorted the rest for a laugh. It was a white Christmas all around.” He chuckled at his own joke.
They tilt their theor head, looking at him forca moment before looking back down at the leech again. "Hm... cool."
"See, could be worse, me being a nosy little shit. I could let myself be so annoying about it." A slight laugh as they glanced back up, looking across the empty gymnasium consideringly.
“I suppose this is the part where I give you the ‘don't do drugs’ speech, but that’s a load of bollocks. Drugs are great,” John told them. “And human remains are a hell of a drug. I don’t make a habit of it for obvious reasons though.”
He watched the leech and nodded towards it, “That’s probably ready if you want to peal it off and pass it to me.”
A slight laugh at that, shrugging. "Unfortunately, I am mostly currently non-recreationally medicated, except for a few exceptions, which i probably shouldn't be making, but fuck it. Not listing the exceptions."
"Got a friend who does parties out in some of the abandoned warehouses, though. It gets... interesting." A slight curve of they lips before they shif their attention to the leech and sighing before carefully pulling it loose from their arm.
John nodded, cigarette resting between his lips as he held both hands out for the leech. He spoke with it balanced there still, “Your partying days are over, is that it?”
They passed over the leech, pausing and tucking their hair back out of their face. "Haven't been to one lately. Work and playing at being domestic. I fear I may have become... boring."
It's said with a bit of drama, but they look slightly amused. "I should look them up, though... if nothing else, I miss the scene. Always a tossup on if it'll get raided by the cops, a bat, or someone who wanted to use the place as a base of operations."
John placed the leech in the center of the circle between them, then reached for the jar and placed it atop to trap the creature so it couldn’t wander off. “Well this is probably a laugh for sure for you then?”he teased. Back alley magic always was a thrill, and he’d seen people as addicted to it as cocaine.
Hell, in his younger days, before Newcastle, he’d dabbled more than he should have himself. Now it was done out of necessity and as rarely as he could get away with.
This book was too powerful to not go after though.
They snort, scrubbing their hands over their face before they glanced at John from between their fingers. "Why d'you think i had a minor crisis as soon as I had time to get too in my head?"
A raised brow as they lower their hands and lean forward slightly to watch him. "I know there's more I can do. Knowing things academically and applying them are different, though."
John studied their face for a moment in silence, considering what they said and what they didn’t say. His grin was almost sly as he finally announced, “Than you have a leg up on others.”
He looked at the leech and spoke some Egyptian, magical ink on his arms visible for a flash as the jar filled with smoke. “I humbly offer this gift for one answer,” he said, closing his eyes and waiting.
Ptah appeared as a looming shadow that nearly enveloped them and spoke with a thousand voices. “We will only answer the source of this gift, John Constantine.”
Oh good, he’d heard of him.
Opening his eyes, John glanced at Tan. “Think he means you, so ask bluntly. No extra words.”
A slight sound in the back of their throat as they straighten slightly. Right, of course. Some part of them wants to shy away from this. From the presence of the god. But their expression sharpens as they force themself to focus on the situation.
Not the time to chicken out. You can freak out later.
They frown slightly, considering their words. "Would you help us locate the book known as Rauðskinna?"
And John cringed just a bit because if he’d been the god he would have replied ‘in theory yes I would,’ but he was aware of what an arse he was. He held his breath a moment waiting for Ptah to reply.
The shadow overtook the jar, and a shatter of glass later it dissipated to show no leech. “Your gift is an acceptable taste of power,” the voices echoed in the room. “Deep within the Heart of the city you call Gotham.”
“Bollocks, why would it be there?” John asked.
The shadow god put out his cigarette and laughed at the magician before disappearing entirely. And John knew exactly where the book was now.
They noticed the slight cringe and tilted their head in assent. They know they could have probably phrased that better, but what’s done was done.
Tan listened to the god and frowned slightly at the response, opening their mouth slightly to say something, but he was gone. They pushed themself to their feet and bent to snag their jacket. "... Arkham. This might as well happen."
They close their eyes and blow a breath out of their nose as they begin to shrug into the jacket. "In for a penny, in for a pound, or whatever, yeah?"
"I think you dropped this." Barry said, holding out the book he'd found on the floor.
- @wanted-to-do-more
"Ah sh-... I mean thanks, sorry. " a slight grin as they snagged the book and checked it over curiously. A restless scuff of boots against the floor as they glanced at Barry, offering their free hand. "Hi, thanks... where'd you find this? I'm Tan, by the way."
At their hesitation, Barry smirked. "Meta activity?" He asked. It wouldn't surprise him if that's what they were referring to. Some people had even moved away from Central City to get away from the metas. It had all become a normal part of his life, now. Well, semi-normal. He was a meta, too, after all. But she didn't need to know that.
"Oh, yeah? Your brother? What does your brother do?"
He chuckled at her teasing. "Yeah, okay." He rubbed the back of his neck shyly. "I guess I just didn't want to offend you. A criminal and a villain aren't necessarily the same thing...." He thought briefly about some of his own villains, whom he had managed to rehabilitate. They still had criminal records, but they did good things now.
"Oh." Barry shrugged. "I mean, I'm not in a rush. I mostly just needed to know where the science section was so I could orient myself in this place." He chuckled again.
"Yeah... metahuman activity isn't AS common around here, in spite of everything else going on." A wry twist of their lips as they shrugged slightly. It was something, at least.
"Oh, so, Laurie works in meteorology and the study of natural disasters." A slight grin, tilting their head as they shifted positions to check the shelves for more things out of place. The movement was habitual, as though they were used to needing to keep themself busy. "He's a pain, but he's really smart about that kind of stuff."
"Also, to be fair, one is a legal classification, and the other is a moral classification, and there's overlap at times. But not always, of course." They sound distracted as they put their hands on their hips for a moment before glancing over at him.
Barry smiled. "Huh. He must have had a field day when Weather Wizard was active." He chuckled softly. "Though, admittedly, Weather Wizard isn't the only meta that effects the weather." Barry would be lying if he said he hadn't given the meteorologists in Central City a run for their money himself once or twice. Of couse, he couldn't tell Tan that.
Barry noticed them looking at him and he shrugged. "What?" He asked, suddenly feeling shy. "Did I say something weird?"
"Oh, he yaps so much about some of the stuff that happens out there, but i told him, you know, at least it's not boring?" A broad gesture. "Between the Flash and Weather Wizard and other stuff going on, on top if the fact that you guys already get a lot of weird weather without any help, he's a busy guy."
She looks amused as she shifts position, stretching her arms up over her head before shrugging. "And nothing much, just thinking, promise you didn't say anything weird or nothing. If you need any recommendations of places to stop by while you're in the city, if you have any free time when not working, let me know, I'd be glad to help find stuff for tou."
Barry chuckled. Yeah, Central City had been a bit odd before the Particle Accelerator incident. Maybe that's why Harrison Wells had chosen to build STAR Labs there in the first place.
"Actually, I might take you up on that." He said in regards to her offer for recommendations. "My, uh...host is a pretty busy guy. He doesn't have much time to show me around. I wouldn't mind having another friend to turn to when I'm trying to orient myself around this big city."
A pause, humming slightly "Sure, yeah. I can tip you some places to tourist around if you want, and places to eat. There's lots of really good restaurants around... admittedly a lot of them are fronts, but those sometimes have good enough food that nobody cares."
A slight smirk, darting an amused glance at him. "And yeah... no, leaving you adrift in Gotham? Bit rude of whoever you're staying with, but hopefully you'll manage to do okay despite the everything."
"Hey..." A bemused expression, followed by a sigh that said 'this might as well happen' more succinctly than words. "Not so much? I... what brings you to Gotham?"
He raised a brow, looking the man over with a flicker of recognition. Not personal, but certainly by reputation. "Sorry. Seem to have left my manners in my other jacket. You can call me Tan."
A click of her tongue, tilting their head up to look at him a bit better. "Heard some rumblings about Slaughter Swamp. Grundy might be waking up again soon. Know a few people that keep track of Bat sightings, but..."
A gesture, before fidgeting with their bracelet, considering the situation. They're off the clock, at least. If they had to deal with this guy and maintain professionalism, they might explode something in the process. "Most people aren't the most privy to their movements and plans, unless you're looking for the gossip side of things."
There's a dry sort of humor to that as they shrugged.
John considered them for a moment, something curious in his gaze as he looked Tan over. “Well let’s hear it then. You’re nervous enough you probably know who I am, so what’s the gossip side of it all.”
He didn’t generally meddle in Gotham or Blüdhaven often because he respected the Bats, but he’d never admit that.
"Well, I doubt you're interested in my friend's PowerPoint presentation on her theory that the bat is Bruce Wayne's sugar baby." An edge of a grin as they take out their phone, scrolling through a few things with a quick, practiced motion.
"And yeah... know enough that your reputation precedes you, a bit. Curious enough to not just leave you high and dry." A glance up.
"Most recent posted sighting of the big guy himself is in Coventry, by the way. He's with Robin, or was about thirty minutes ago." A hum, checking on something else.
"Someone's on a 'the butts match' thing again. Which I sort of think is a reductive way of trying to figure out identities, personally. It does look like they're more on the outs with the cops than usual, though the pendelum will always swing on that one."
“I have a reputation?” John asked sarcastically. And then he waited to hear if they’d tell him what said reputation was. Everyone called him something different, and he was known for more oddities than not.
"In certain circles." A wry twist of their lips as they locked out the phone again. They weren't as in the know on things as they would like, but they did their best to keep an ear to the ground.
They made gesture, as though picking through a mental filing cabinet. "I believe, no offense, the verdict tends to be 'don't trust under any circumstances' and that you tend to leave a lot of collateral damage at times."
He nodded in agreement. “Bloody fair assessment,” John assured them. “Not looking for trouble tonight though, Squire. But as we're dropping all pretenses, hi, I’m John,” and he offered his hand to shake. “John Constantine.”
They tucked away their phone again before taking his hand for a moment and giving it a firm shake. "The rest of the verdict is that you're damn good at a lot of things in spite of the previous verdict."
A slight smirk, before stepping back and shrugging one shoulder. "Nice t'meet you off the game for the moment, Mister Constantine."
There was a slight buzz of magic around the bracelet they'd been fidgeting with, something careful and protective.
“Ah, nifty little bugger you've got there,” John commented with an amused grin as he shook their hand then let go. “Probably detects my tainted blood. The rumors of why I don’t age are numerous, but it all comes down to demon blood.” He’d cheated Death so many times now he owed her dinner or something truly.
"Ward an' shield combo. Kept me from getting shot or the like more times than I prefer to count." A hum, eyes brightening slightly as they rock back on their heels. They don't exactly get to talk shop much, so it's definitely an interesting situation for them.
"Also ah... yeah, no, that would explain a bit." A wiggle of their fingers. "Demon blood'll complicate so many things. With the way the city is, i'm sometimes surprised, but glad, we don't have more demon activity, to be honest"
A slight shift of weight, adjusting their bag. "Sometimes feels like even they don't want to deal too much with the nexus of shit under this place."
”The Bats keep a clean house,” John agreed, thinking of Gotham. “Most of the underworld sticks to Blüdhaven if they’re getting peckish enough to come to the surface, but that’s less than you’d think.”
“Well, synchronicity led me to you here in Gotham, so you must have some expertise in what I’m looking for. It’s a book, very old and very powerful. Rauðskinna is what they call it, ‘The Book Of Power.’ And rumor has it someone brought the piece to Gotham recently.”
A gesture, narrowing their eyes. "It would be a book matter that dumps you at my feet. Walk and talk. Sadly, the elevator's busted and the landlord's shit. I need to grab some stuff if i'm going to make myself useful, though."
They flash him a slight smile, vrows raised curiously. "We talking an individual, a cult situation, or someone trying to auction it off?"
All the options were sort of out of Tan's area of expertise, but they'd make do. They didn't really get themself too involved with the big movements in the city, but they could at least point him in the right direction.
Their gut told them that wasn't going to be the end of it, though.
A hum as they take the stairs quickly, pausing at the landings to look back at John.
Ah herein lied the problem to answering most of these questions—John didn’t have the answers. And it showed on his face, a brief expression of hesitance and almost irritation with himself.
“My source wasn’t very forthcoming with the information. I was damning him at the time you see, so he didn’t have much to lose and few reasons to give up information. Honestly may have sent me here as a laugh, but just in case…”
John looked at them when they paused. “If I had to guess, given Gotham’s history, it’s a cult. Hopefully not the Owls, but…” He shrugged in a ‘what are you gonna do?’ kind of way.
"Heavily assume the worst, hope for the best, basically. Right." They shook their head with a sigh, finally reaching the right floor and exiting into the hallway. The building was run down, but it could be worse.
They paused and slipped a piece of paper under the door next to theirs before pointing sternly at John. "I'm going to grab a few things, and you can either stay put in the hall for a minute or make me sigh at you by tripping my wards when you come in."
Cult. Right. Owls or not, that's a problem, given what information they're able to dredge up in the back of their mind about the book in question. They're not good at all this stuff, but hell. He'd probably find the damn thing without her, but if it was in the hands of someone who could actually make use of it, taking extra time could be an issue.
John watched with curiosity, hands in his coat pocket. He took them out and held them up in mock surrender. “Not looking to poke holes in the boat ferryin’ me across Styx,” he assured them. “You help me, I have no need to poke my nose in your business now do I?”
He nodded and slipped into the apartment, taking a moment to steady himself before moving off to grab a bag from his closet, as well as shucking off his work clothes and trading them out for something more serviceable if trouble... inevitably, came knocking.
A few objects were plucked from the shelves and shoved into the bag, before he slid on his boots and tightened the laces. Okay. Okay. Right. They were probably going to regret getting involved with this, but fuck it. If Constantine screwed them over or they got caught up in the trouble on the side, at least it would be better than sitting and doing nothing.
All in all, it was relatively quick and they were mid braiding their hair to keep it out of the way as they stepped back out. "Okay... so. First things first, we need to figure out where the thing currently is... the who and the how would also be useful, but, you know."
John’s gaze narrowed in a studious way as he mentally went over all of his options, taking a drag from the cigarette he’d lit while waiting (never ask for permission, and rarely apologize later was his motto.)
“There are ways to speak to the soul of this city and have her give up her secrets,” John mused. “Seems to me she’d want to protect the people from a book this powerful and might want to help us find it, but it’ll be an odd ritual,” he warned. “Takes two if you’re up for it, unless you’ve got a better way?” Part of him hoped they did.
A slight grimace and a roll of their eyes, but they didn't fuss about the cigarette, making sure their bag was secure. His question caused a pause, a hint of frustration flickering through their expression.
"I don't really... do this kind of thing much." They glanced away, scuffing a toe of one of their boots on the floor of the dingy hallway. "I could do a map scry and try to triangulate a location, but if they've gone underground, literally or figuratively, or know what they're doing, that might not help much."
His voice is uncertain, though he's obviously trying to rifle through options. "... how odd of a ritual?"
A raised brow as they looked up at him, eyes narrowed.
“Scrying will get you ballpark,” John agreed, thinking it over.
He took another drag and blew the smoke out his nostrils before speaking again. “We'll need a leech for it—don’t worry, I know a guy—and I’ll need the blood of someone who lives in this city.” Ergo two person ritual. “Simple as letting the creature feed and then we say the right words and send it to the right god. Those buggers are like popcorn to them, and blood freely offered is the butter.”
"No getting me bound, maimed, or otherwise taken from being in working order involved, at least in the ritual, I would hope?" Their voice is slightly deadpan as they watch him closely. Despite their words, there was a distinct curiosity in their expression, and a hint of humor to the question despite them knowing it may well be a valid concern.
There's a hint of a grin as they move back to the stairwell and start downstairs again. "I admit, I'm interested."
“No this god trades in places. He’ll get a map of the city drawn in your blood to preserve as a reward, and we’ll get a location,” John explained. “Ptah,” he explained. “Ancient Egyptian god of architects and the like. He enjoys floor plans,” he joked.
Another of those small pauses, as though mentally rummaging through information. "I... you know what? Fine."
A slight grin, skipping the last few steps and landing to turn and look up at him, mismatched eyes meeting blue. There's still a sharpness there, wariness bred into them by the blood-ridden city that's raised them, layered over the warmth that peeks out. They seem settled on their decision, though.
"Good, okay... so, this... is definitely not going to be boring, huh?" A major understatement, and they know it. "... what's your plan once you knowcwhere you're headed, or are you planning on just winging it?"
There was a hesitance there he respected. Most were entirely too gullible, but they seemed to at least consider saying no first.
“Boring is for people with office jobs,” John told them with a grin, something mischievous behind it now that they’d agreed. “We’ll need a secure place to do the ritual once I get the ingredients. Anywhere you might suggest as a local?”
"Does a library count as an office job? Wouldn't want you to think I'm too boring." A smirk as they tucked their hands into their jacket pockets, considering options.
"... I. Hm. Does breaking into an abandoned building count as secure, if the place can be closed back up? Because I might know a place, though it's a bit of a mess." A grin, flexing their fingers as they considered. "I would consider the basement of the library since it's after-hours, but I would feel weird breaking into there, and would like to keep my job."
”No, see. You lot have your own brand of magic,” John told them. “Being a keeper of books is a form of power.”
“The more abandoned the better. We can set up a barrier so that nothing gets out if it all goes wrong,” he explained with a grin. “Give us your hand and think of the address and I’ll see it,” he said, muttering a few words in Latin before offering his hand. It lit up with magical lines of ink that were as protective as they were dangerous.
"Always been a big proponent of freedom of information." A shrug, scuffing their boots. There were benefits to having access to things when you enjoyed learning new stuff. When you needed to keep figuring stuff out.
They tilt their head, watching him curiously, before sliding their hand into his with a tiny flicker of blue-green light as skin contacted skin. The place was and old abandoned rec center. It was unfortunate that it had fallen out of use, but as long as nobody was currently squatting in the place, it could be serviceable, including a larger open space for working on stuff in the building's small gym.
He grinned, something knowing in his eyes because he understood firsthand that knowledge could also be a dangerous burden. Especially in the wrong hands. He figured they understood that or they wouldn’t be helping him find the Rauðskinna at all.
His hands being the right hands was debatable.
“Cheers, I’ll meet you there in an hour?” John asked, letting go of their hand.
They were aware of the irony of those words, given the situation and company, but just flashed him a slightly sardonic grin. Other options were sparse on the ground right now, and getting the damn book secured was the focus for the moment. Some things were better not being used.
The afterwards could be figured out as needed.
They nodded and rocked on their heels. "Sure thing. I'll get the place unlocked and scout it out. See you in a few... don't have any attempted muggings or anything."
A wink as they shoulder their bag and turn to make their way with a wave over theor shoulder.
“It’d take more than a simple minded mugger to take me down, sorry to disappoint,” he joked with a wink as he turned coat and started away.
It didn’t take him the entire hour to get what he’d needed. The shaman he’d gone to for the leech and a few other needed ingredients had taken a little bit of convincing since John’s reputation proceeded him, but John arrived at the promised location with a bag in hand and a jar with the leech in it on time.
He pulled out his pack and lit another cigarette as he waited outside the building for Tan.
A flicker of light inside the building and movement. It took a moment, but Tan popped out of the alley and waved him over. "Side door. Less likely to draw attention with the whole breakin and enterin."
Tan was once again glad that their younger self had taken their brother's bait and learned to pick locks out of sheer spite when he told them they couldn't. It had come in useful a surprising number of times. It probably would continue to be.
They snagged a small, battery powered lantern, the type someone might take camping or keep in case of a blackout, from where they had left it, and flicked it on. The place wasn't fully falling apart, but it was clear that nobody had been taking care of it for at least a year or so.
“This place is built on an ancient burial ground. That’s good. It’ll add to the energy of the spell,” John explained as he followed Tan and looked around at the place. He saw it for what it had been, a place of mourning and celebration of life, the energy still seeped into the ground, ghosts walking about stuck in their patterns and cycles.
“You know a basic circle of protection, yeah? I can draw one, but if we’re using your blood it may be better if you do.” Power of intent was a powerful thing.
A hum, looking down for a moment. "... I do, yeah."
They seem uncertain though, as they move to rummage through their backpack with a small frown. That hesitation is back, but it's directed inward rather than toward John.
Someone walking on ground they aren't practiced at traversing. "I can do it, you'll probably need to check it over before it's locked into place, though. Just to be certain."
A quick glance in his direction, tilting their head. There's a slight flicker of light as they run through some of the needed symbols, sketching them with the fingertips of their free hand.
John raised an eyebrow at that reaction. It lacked the confidence they’d had moments before.
“Would you like to know a soddin’ secret about magic, mate?” John asked, trying to catch their visual focus. “It is what you shape it into. Think of it as clay that can take almost any form if you’re skilled and patient enough. The power of belief is more powerful than magic incantations or potions. You have to believe it’ll bloody work, and then it will.”
“So the circle doesn’t need to be perfect,” he explained. “It just needs to be believable.”
"Let's just say i'm more practiced in theory than application on some things." A slight sigh, looking over and pausing to consider what he'd said before nodding. "... Right."
"Sorry, need to not get so in my head about it, yeah? Had some time to overthink things while you were busy getting supples, s'all." A shake of their head, moving forward with a deep breath as they began to move debris out of the way on the gymnasium floor, making a space to set up the circle. A steadying breath as they worked.
"Intent and belief..." a huff of breath that's halfway a laugh as they pause and pull out some chalk, twirling it between their fingers as they consider it. After a long moment, they take a deep breath and look back over at him. The nerves are still there, but it's backed by the resolve they'd shown earlier. "Yeah, I can do that."
John set the bag on the ground and sat down beside it, eyeing Tan as they worked. In truth it was partially a test to see how confident they were or if it was all an act for the infamous John Constantine. He’d need real belief for this ritual to work.
Opening the jar, he looked at the leech and made a face before pulling his cigarettes out. He lit one and left it between his lips while pulling out the other ingredients to mix them into the jar. “Eyelids of an executed man, the large toenail of a widow, and iron nails from Rome,” he explained, taking a drag from his cigarette.
And then he closed the jar again, said a few words, and watched as a puff of smoke exploded in the jar. When he opened it again to clear it, the leech was glowing.
A mutter under their breath as they swept a hand through the air as though knocking away cobwebs, before they bent and began to draw. Their movements are steady as they marked the boundaries and directions.
As they worked, they seem to fall into a rhythm, almost seeming to forget their company, though they nod in response to his explanation. There's an occasional pause as they sit back on their heels, looking over what they have so far. A slight frown as they move to correct something, not perfectionism, but specificity. The steel is back in their spine as they work, lips slightly pursed.
The air seems to weave itself together as they work, layering over itself. An unsteady breath as they flex the fingers of their free hand, adding a final stroke to a section that looks to define Gotham as a location.
Cursed yet loved, Home, steeped in pain and fear, the refusal to let go, the refusal to leave, the vulnerability of the least of her people, the way that the highest seem untouchable, the way things are drawn here, the city as defined by both stagnation and change, the sacrifice of those who try to protect her.
A slight shudder as they seem to come back to the present moment, standing slowly and looking across their work. "... Okay. Okay."
John kept a csreful watch in them and their interaction with their work. The tedious details were done with care, and John was honestly a little impressed at their precision.
“Alright, so you let this little bugger suck on your arm for a moment—doesn’t hurt, I’ve had it done before—and then we’ll call on Ptah, and I’ll do that part so you don’t have to worry. Makes sense?”
A hint of a grimace as they shift positions to look at him, but they roll their eyes and move over to his side, shrugging out of their jacket. "Gross."
But there's no actual protest behind it, just stating it like it's a fact. A slightly amused glance, seeming steadier now that they had gotten past the stumbling block they'd put in their own face. They drop down next to him, shoving up the sleeve of their shirt, pulling a knee to their chest.
"But yeah, makes sense..." a tilt of their head, listening to distant sirens outside in the street. Nothing nearby, at least for now.
John grinned a bit at that reaction. “You should see the spells for gods that prefer maggots,” he told them with amusement. “Be glad this one craves blood. And this’ll heal better and far bloody quicker than the cliche slice on the palm, yeah?”
The conman held out the jar towards Tan in offer. “Trust I’d use my blood if they’d take it, but most gods won’t.” And location spells did best with locals, that was the entire point.
They pull an overdramatically icked out face at the talk of maggots, sticking out their tongue before laughing and taking the jar carefully. "C'mere you wiggly little shit."
"To be fair, I haven't done much digging on god-work or the like. Could probably get my hands on resources, but it's just..." a slight hiss of breath as they let the leech latch onto them. "Hasn't really come up... there's a lot of interesting concepts there, though."
“Gods are so in name only. They only ever have the power people give them with belief,” John explained. “So I believe in them just long enough then move on,” he added sarcastically.
He lied. Lied about believing. And he had such a skill for it that most cosmic beings believed him until it was too late.
A hum, nodding slightly as they considered that. They probably weren't going to take that chance any time soon, but it was something to think about. "... Who’s been the most interesting Power you've poked with a metaphorical... or literal stick?"
A tilt of their head, lookin down to watch the leech do its job, their free hand coming up to tuck their hair out of their face before steadying their arm again.
“I snorted Santa’s ashes once. He was a right bastard, so he had it coming,” John assured them, watching the leech with mild amusement. “But that’s not the story most people want to hear about.”
"Good thing I asked your opinion on most interesting, not most people's." A roll of their eyes before looking at him again. They look curious, definitely weighing if he was bullshitting them or not, but down to hear more.
He scoffed in amusement at that. “You want me to give away all my secrets now?” John joked, taking a drag from his cigarette as he considered how to respond. “I don’t know.” He breathed the smoke out through his nostrils. “Aliens and metas are par for the course these days, especially in this soddin’ city. What do you consider interesting?”
"Nah, I would never ask someone to tell me everything on a first... meeting." A small smirk as they weigh their words.
"An' i don't know... I don't get involved in a lot of shit like all this beyond feet on the ground stuff. I would say the bar is in hell, but i would fear you'd take that too literally." They paused, considering.
"I guess some context on the Santa thing, since you're the one who brought it up?"
“Human remains have power. Even after death pieces of the soul linger on. With someone like Agios Nikolaus, who was essentially Santa as you've heard of him, those remains can yield information and help questions be answered from the spirit world. I used them in a ritual for information then snorted the rest for a laugh. It was a white Christmas all around.” He chuckled at his own joke.
They tilt their theor head, looking at him forca moment before looking back down at the leech again. "Hm... cool."
"See, could be worse, me being a nosy little shit. I could let myself be so annoying about it." A slight laugh as they glanced back up, looking across the empty gymnasium consideringly.
“I suppose this is the part where I give you the ‘don't do drugs’ speech, but that’s a load of bollocks. Drugs are great,” John told them. “And human remains are a hell of a drug. I don’t make a habit of it for obvious reasons though.”
He watched the leech and nodded towards it, “That’s probably ready if you want to peal it off and pass it to me.”
A slight laugh at that, shrugging. "Unfortunately, I am mostly currently non-recreationally medicated, except for a few exceptions, which i probably shouldn't be making, but fuck it. Not listing the exceptions."
"Got a friend who does parties out in some of the abandoned warehouses, though. It gets... interesting." A slight curve of they lips before they shif their attention to the leech and sighing before carefully pulling it loose from their arm.
John nodded, cigarette resting between his lips as he held both hands out for the leech. He spoke with it balanced there still, “Your partying days are over, is that it?”
They passed over the leech, pausing and tucking their hair back out of their face. "Haven't been to one lately. Work and playing at being domestic. I fear I may have become... boring."
It's said with a bit of drama, but they look slightly amused. "I should look them up, though... if nothing else, I miss the scene. Always a tossup on if it'll get raided by the cops, a bat, or someone who wanted to use the place as a base of operations."
John placed the leech in the center of the circle between them, then reached for the jar and placed it atop to trap the creature so it couldn’t wander off. “Well this is probably a laugh for sure for you then?”he teased. Back alley magic always was a thrill, and he’d seen people as addicted to it as cocaine.
Hell, in his younger days, before Newcastle, he’d dabbled more than he should have himself. Now it was done out of necessity and as rarely as he could get away with.
This book was too powerful to not go after though.
They snort, scrubbing their hands over their face before they glanced at John from between their fingers. "Why d'you think i had a minor crisis as soon as I had time to get too in my head?"
A raised brow as they lower their hands and lean forward slightly to watch him. "I know there's more I can do. Knowing things academically and applying them are different, though."
John studied their face for a moment in silence, considering what they said and what they didn’t say. His grin was almost sly as he finally announced, “Than you have a leg up on others.”
He looked at the leech and spoke some Egyptian, magical ink on his arms visible for a flash as the jar filled with smoke. “I humbly offer this gift for one answer,” he said, closing his eyes and waiting.
Ptah appeared as a looming shadow that nearly enveloped them and spoke with a thousand voices. “We will only answer the source of this gift, John Constantine.”
Oh good, he’d heard of him.
Opening his eyes, John glanced at Tan. “Think he means you, so ask bluntly. No extra words.”
A slight sound in the back of their throat as they straighten slightly. Right, of course. Some part of them wants to shy away from this. From the presence of the god. But their expression sharpens as they force themself to focus on the situation.
Not the time to chicken out. You can freak out later.
They frown slightly, considering their words. "Would you help us locate the book known as Rauðskinna?"
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"Hey..." A bemused expression, followed by a sigh that said 'this might as well happen' more succinctly than words. "Not so much? I... what brings you to Gotham?"
He raised a brow, looking the man over with a flicker of recognition. Not personal, but certainly by reputation. "Sorry. Seem to have left my manners in my other jacket. You can call me Tan."
A click of her tongue, tilting their head up to look at him a bit better. "Heard some rumblings about Slaughter Swamp. Grundy might be waking up again soon. Know a few people that keep track of Bat sightings, but..."
A gesture, before fidgeting with their bracelet, considering the situation. They're off the clock, at least. If they had to deal with this guy and maintain professionalism, they might explode something in the process. "Most people aren't the most privy to their movements and plans, unless you're looking for the gossip side of things."
There's a dry sort of humor to that as they shrugged.
John considered them for a moment, something curious in his gaze as he looked Tan over. “Well let’s hear it then. You’re nervous enough you probably know who I am, so what’s the gossip side of it all.”
He didn’t generally meddle in Gotham or Blüdhaven often because he respected the Bats, but he’d never admit that.
"Well, I doubt you're interested in my friend's PowerPoint presentation on her theory that the bat is Bruce Wayne's sugar baby." An edge of a grin as they take out their phone, scrolling through a few things with a quick, practiced motion.
"And yeah... know enough that your reputation precedes you, a bit. Curious enough to not just leave you high and dry." A glance up.
"Most recent posted sighting of the big guy himself is in Coventry, by the way. He's with Robin, or was about thirty minutes ago." A hum, checking on something else.
"Someone's on a 'the butts match' thing again. Which I sort of think is a reductive way of trying to figure out identities, personally. It does look like they're more on the outs with the cops than usual, though the pendelum will always swing on that one."
“I have a reputation?” John asked sarcastically. And then he waited to hear if they’d tell him what said reputation was. Everyone called him something different, and he was known for more oddities than not.
"In certain circles." A wry twist of their lips as they locked out the phone again. They weren't as in the know on things as they would like, but they did their best to keep an ear to the ground.
They made gesture, as though picking through a mental filing cabinet. "I believe, no offense, the verdict tends to be 'don't trust under any circumstances' and that you tend to leave a lot of collateral damage at times."
He nodded in agreement. “Bloody fair assessment,” John assured them. “Not looking for trouble tonight though, Squire. But as we're dropping all pretenses, hi, I’m John,” and he offered his hand to shake. “John Constantine.”
They tucked away their phone again before taking his hand for a moment and giving it a firm shake. "The rest of the verdict is that you're damn good at a lot of things in spite of the previous verdict."
A slight smirk, before stepping back and shrugging one shoulder. "Nice t'meet you off the game for the moment, Mister Constantine."
There was a slight buzz of magic around the bracelet they'd been fidgeting with, something careful and protective.
“Ah, nifty little bugger you've got there,” John commented with an amused grin as he shook their hand then let go. “Probably detects my tainted blood. The rumors of why I don’t age are numerous, but it all comes down to demon blood.” He’d cheated Death so many times now he owed her dinner or something truly.
"Ward an' shield combo. Kept me from getting shot or the like more times than I prefer to count." A hum, eyes brightening slightly as they rock back on their heels. They don't exactly get to talk shop much, so it's definitely an interesting situation for them.
"Also ah... yeah, no, that would explain a bit." A wiggle of their fingers. "Demon blood'll complicate so many things. With the way the city is, i'm sometimes surprised, but glad, we don't have more demon activity, to be honest"
A slight shift of weight, adjusting their bag. "Sometimes feels like even they don't want to deal too much with the nexus of shit under this place."
”The Bats keep a clean house,” John agreed, thinking of Gotham. “Most of the underworld sticks to Blüdhaven if they’re getting peckish enough to come to the surface, but that’s less than you’d think.”
“Well, synchronicity led me to you here in Gotham, so you must have some expertise in what I’m looking for. It’s a book, very old and very powerful. Rauðskinna is what they call it, ‘The Book Of Power.’ And rumor has it someone brought the piece to Gotham recently.”
A gesture, narrowing their eyes. "It would be a book matter that dumps you at my feet. Walk and talk. Sadly, the elevator's busted and the landlord's shit. I need to grab some stuff if i'm going to make myself useful, though."
They flash him a slight smile, vrows raised curiously. "We talking an individual, a cult situation, or someone trying to auction it off?"
All the options were sort of out of Tan's area of expertise, but they'd make do. They didn't really get themself too involved with the big movements in the city, but they could at least point him in the right direction.
Their gut told them that wasn't going to be the end of it, though.
A hum as they take the stairs quickly, pausing at the landings to look back at John.
Ah herein lied the problem to answering most of these questions—John didn’t have the answers. And it showed on his face, a brief expression of hesitance and almost irritation with himself.
“My source wasn’t very forthcoming with the information. I was damning him at the time you see, so he didn’t have much to lose and few reasons to give up information. Honestly may have sent me here as a laugh, but just in case…”
John looked at them when they paused. “If I had to guess, given Gotham’s history, it’s a cult. Hopefully not the Owls, but…” He shrugged in a ‘what are you gonna do?’ kind of way.
"Heavily assume the worst, hope for the best, basically. Right." They shook their head with a sigh, finally reaching the right floor and exiting into the hallway. The building was run down, but it could be worse.
They paused and slipped a piece of paper under the door next to theirs before pointing sternly at John. "I'm going to grab a few things, and you can either stay put in the hall for a minute or make me sigh at you by tripping my wards when you come in."
Cult. Right. Owls or not, that's a problem, given what information they're able to dredge up in the back of their mind about the book in question. They're not good at all this stuff, but hell. He'd probably find the damn thing without her, but if it was in the hands of someone who could actually make use of it, taking extra time could be an issue.
John watched with curiosity, hands in his coat pocket. He took them out and held them up in mock surrender. “Not looking to poke holes in the boat ferryin’ me across Styx,” he assured them. “You help me, I have no need to poke my nose in your business now do I?”
He nodded and slipped into the apartment, taking a moment to steady himself before moving off to grab a bag from his closet, as well as shucking off his work clothes and trading them out for something more serviceable if trouble... inevitably, came knocking.
A few objects were plucked from the shelves and shoved into the bag, before he slid on his boots and tightened the laces. Okay. Okay. Right. They were probably going to regret getting involved with this, but fuck it. If Constantine screwed them over or they got caught up in the trouble on the side, at least it would be better than sitting and doing nothing.
All in all, it was relatively quick and they were mid braiding their hair to keep it out of the way as they stepped back out. "Okay... so. First things first, we need to figure out where the thing currently is... the who and the how would also be useful, but, you know."
John’s gaze narrowed in a studious way as he mentally went over all of his options, taking a drag from the cigarette he’d lit while waiting (never ask for permission, and rarely apologize later was his motto.)
“There are ways to speak to the soul of this city and have her give up her secrets,” John mused. “Seems to me she’d want to protect the people from a book this powerful and might want to help us find it, but it’ll be an odd ritual,” he warned. “Takes two if you’re up for it, unless you’ve got a better way?” Part of him hoped they did.
A slight grimace and a roll of their eyes, but they didn't fuss about the cigarette, making sure their bag was secure. His question caused a pause, a hint of frustration flickering through their expression.
"I don't really... do this kind of thing much." They glanced away, scuffing a toe of one of their boots on the floor of the dingy hallway. "I could do a map scry and try to triangulate a location, but if they've gone underground, literally or figuratively, or know what they're doing, that might not help much."
His voice is uncertain, though he's obviously trying to rifle through options. "... how odd of a ritual?"
A raised brow as they looked up at him, eyes narrowed.
“Scrying will get you ballpark,” John agreed, thinking it over.
He took another drag and blew the smoke out his nostrils before speaking again. “We'll need a leech for it—don’t worry, I know a guy—and I’ll need the blood of someone who lives in this city.” Ergo two person ritual. “Simple as letting the creature feed and then we say the right words and send it to the right god. Those buggers are like popcorn to them, and blood freely offered is the butter.”
"No getting me bound, maimed, or otherwise taken from being in working order involved, at least in the ritual, I would hope?" Their voice is slightly deadpan as they watch him closely. Despite their words, there was a distinct curiosity in their expression, and a hint of humor to the question despite them knowing it may well be a valid concern.
There's a hint of a grin as they move back to the stairwell and start downstairs again. "I admit, I'm interested."
“No this god trades in places. He’ll get a map of the city drawn in your blood to preserve as a reward, and we’ll get a location,” John explained. “Ptah,” he explained. “Ancient Egyptian god of architects and the like. He enjoys floor plans,” he joked.
Another of those small pauses, as though mentally rummaging through information. "I... you know what? Fine."
A slight grin, skipping the last few steps and landing to turn and look up at him, mismatched eyes meeting blue. There's still a sharpness there, wariness bred into them by the blood-ridden city that's raised them, layered over the warmth that peeks out. They seem settled on their decision, though.
"Good, okay... so, this... is definitely not going to be boring, huh?" A major understatement, and they know it. "... what's your plan once you knowcwhere you're headed, or are you planning on just winging it?"
There was a hesitance there he respected. Most were entirely too gullible, but they seemed to at least consider saying no first.
“Boring is for people with office jobs,” John told them with a grin, something mischievous behind it now that they’d agreed. “We’ll need a secure place to do the ritual once I get the ingredients. Anywhere you might suggest as a local?”
"Does a library count as an office job? Wouldn't want you to think I'm too boring." A smirk as they tucked their hands into their jacket pockets, considering options.
"... I. Hm. Does breaking into an abandoned building count as secure, if the place can be closed back up? Because I might know a place, though it's a bit of a mess." A grin, flexing their fingers as they considered. "I would consider the basement of the library since it's after-hours, but I would feel weird breaking into there, and would like to keep my job."
”No, see. You lot have your own brand of magic,” John told them. “Being a keeper of books is a form of power.”
“The more abandoned the better. We can set up a barrier so that nothing gets out if it all goes wrong,” he explained with a grin. “Give us your hand and think of the address and I’ll see it,” he said, muttering a few words in Latin before offering his hand. It lit up with magical lines of ink that were as protective as they were dangerous.
"Always been a big proponent of freedom of information." A shrug, scuffing their boots. There were benefits to having access to things when you enjoyed learning new stuff. When you needed to keep figuring stuff out.
They tilt their head, watching him curiously, before sliding their hand into his with a tiny flicker of blue-green light as skin contacted skin. The place was and old abandoned rec center. It was unfortunate that it had fallen out of use, but as long as nobody was currently squatting in the place, it could be serviceable, including a larger open space for working on stuff in the building's small gym.
He grinned, something knowing in his eyes because he understood firsthand that knowledge could also be a dangerous burden. Especially in the wrong hands. He figured they understood that or they wouldn’t be helping him find the Rauðskinna at all.
His hands being the right hands was debatable.
“Cheers, I’ll meet you there in an hour?” John asked, letting go of their hand.
They were aware of the irony of those words, given the situation and company, but just flashed him a slightly sardonic grin. Other options were sparse on the ground right now, and getting the damn book secured was the focus for the moment. Some things were better not being used.
The afterwards could be figured out as needed.
They nodded and rocked on their heels. "Sure thing. I'll get the place unlocked and scout it out. See you in a few... don't have any attempted muggings or anything."
A wink as they shoulder their bag and turn to make their way with a wave over theor shoulder.
“It’d take more than a simple minded mugger to take me down, sorry to disappoint,” he joked with a wink as he turned coat and started away.
It didn’t take him the entire hour to get what he’d needed. The shaman he’d gone to for the leech and a few other needed ingredients had taken a little bit of convincing since John’s reputation proceeded him, but John arrived at the promised location with a bag in hand and a jar with the leech in it on time.
He pulled out his pack and lit another cigarette as he waited outside the building for Tan.
A flicker of light inside the building and movement. It took a moment, but Tan popped out of the alley and waved him over. "Side door. Less likely to draw attention with the whole breakin and enterin."
Tan was once again glad that their younger self had taken their brother's bait and learned to pick locks out of sheer spite when he told them they couldn't. It had come in useful a surprising number of times. It probably would continue to be.
They snagged a small, battery powered lantern, the type someone might take camping or keep in case of a blackout, from where they had left it, and flicked it on. The place wasn't fully falling apart, but it was clear that nobody had been taking care of it for at least a year or so.
“This place is built on an ancient burial ground. That’s good. It’ll add to the energy of the spell,” John explained as he followed Tan and looked around at the place. He saw it for what it had been, a place of mourning and celebration of life, the energy still seeped into the ground, ghosts walking about stuck in their patterns and cycles.
“You know a basic circle of protection, yeah? I can draw one, but if we’re using your blood it may be better if you do.” Power of intent was a powerful thing.
A hum, looking down for a moment. "... I do, yeah."
They seem uncertain though, as they move to rummage through their backpack with a small frown. That hesitation is back, but it's directed inward rather than toward John.
Someone walking on ground they aren't practiced at traversing. "I can do it, you'll probably need to check it over before it's locked into place, though. Just to be certain."
A quick glance in his direction, tilting their head. There's a slight flicker of light as they run through some of the needed symbols, sketching them with the fingertips of their free hand.
John raised an eyebrow at that reaction. It lacked the confidence they’d had moments before.
“Would you like to know a soddin’ secret about magic, mate?” John asked, trying to catch their visual focus. “It is what you shape it into. Think of it as clay that can take almost any form if you’re skilled and patient enough. The power of belief is more powerful than magic incantations or potions. You have to believe it’ll bloody work, and then it will.”
“So the circle doesn’t need to be perfect,” he explained. “It just needs to be believable.”
"Let's just say i'm more practiced in theory than application on some things." A slight sigh, looking over and pausing to consider what he'd said before nodding. "... Right."
"Sorry, need to not get so in my head about it, yeah? Had some time to overthink things while you were busy getting supples, s'all." A shake of their head, moving forward with a deep breath as they began to move debris out of the way on the gymnasium floor, making a space to set up the circle. A steadying breath as they worked.
"Intent and belief..." a huff of breath that's halfway a laugh as they pause and pull out some chalk, twirling it between their fingers as they consider it. After a long moment, they take a deep breath and look back over at him. The nerves are still there, but it's backed by the resolve they'd shown earlier. "Yeah, I can do that."
John set the bag on the ground and sat down beside it, eyeing Tan as they worked. In truth it was partially a test to see how confident they were or if it was all an act for the infamous John Constantine. He’d need real belief for this ritual to work.
Opening the jar, he looked at the leech and made a face before pulling his cigarettes out. He lit one and left it between his lips while pulling out the other ingredients to mix them into the jar. “Eyelids of an executed man, the large toenail of a widow, and iron nails from Rome,” he explained, taking a drag from his cigarette.
And then he closed the jar again, said a few words, and watched as a puff of smoke exploded in the jar. When he opened it again to clear it, the leech was glowing.
A mutter under their breath as they swept a hand through the air as though knocking away cobwebs, before they bent and began to draw. Their movements are steady as they marked the boundaries and directions.
As they worked, they seem to fall into a rhythm, almost seeming to forget their company, though they nod in response to his explanation. There's an occasional pause as they sit back on their heels, looking over what they have so far. A slight frown as they move to correct something, not perfectionism, but specificity. The steel is back in their spine as they work, lips slightly pursed.
The air seems to weave itself together as they work, layering over itself. An unsteady breath as they flex the fingers of their free hand, adding a final stroke to a section that looks to define Gotham as a location.
Cursed yet loved, Home, steeped in pain and fear, the refusal to let go, the refusal to leave, the vulnerability of the least of her people, the way that the highest seem untouchable, the way things are drawn here, the city as defined by both stagnation and change, the sacrifice of those who try to protect her.
A slight shudder as they seem to come back to the present moment, standing slowly and looking across their work. "... Okay. Okay."
John kept a csreful watch in them and their interaction with their work. The tedious details were done with care, and John was honestly a little impressed at their precision.
“Alright, so you let this little bugger suck on your arm for a moment—doesn’t hurt, I’ve had it done before—and then we’ll call on Ptah, and I’ll do that part so you don’t have to worry. Makes sense?”
A hint of a grimace as they shift positions to look at him, but they roll their eyes and move over to his side, shrugging out of their jacket. "Gross."
But there's no actual protest behind it, just stating it like it's a fact. A slightly amused glance, seeming steadier now that they had gotten past the stumbling block they'd put in their own face. They drop down next to him, shoving up the sleeve of their shirt, pulling a knee to their chest.
"But yeah, makes sense..." a tilt of their head, listening to distant sirens outside in the street. Nothing nearby, at least for now.
John grinned a bit at that reaction. “You should see the spells for gods that prefer maggots,” he told them with amusement. “Be glad this one craves blood. And this’ll heal better and far bloody quicker than the cliche slice on the palm, yeah?”
The conman held out the jar towards Tan in offer. “Trust I’d use my blood if they’d take it, but most gods won’t.” And location spells did best with locals, that was the entire point.
They pull an overdramatically icked out face at the talk of maggots, sticking out their tongue before laughing and taking the jar carefully. "C'mere you wiggly little shit."
"To be fair, I haven't done much digging on god-work or the like. Could probably get my hands on resources, but it's just..." a slight hiss of breath as they let the leech latch onto them. "Hasn't really come up... there's a lot of interesting concepts there, though."
“Gods are so in name only. They only ever have the power people give them with belief,” John explained. “So I believe in them just long enough then move on,” he added sarcastically.
He lied. Lied about believing. And he had such a skill for it that most cosmic beings believed him until it was too late.
A hum, nodding slightly as they considered that. They probably weren't going to take that chance any time soon, but it was something to think about. "... Who’s been the most interesting Power you've poked with a metaphorical... or literal stick?"
A tilt of their head, lookin down to watch the leech do its job, their free hand coming up to tuck their hair out of their face before steadying their arm again.
“I snorted Santa’s ashes once. He was a right bastard, so he had it coming,” John assured them, watching the leech with mild amusement. “But that’s not the story most people want to hear about.”
"Good thing I asked your opinion on most interesting, not most people's." A roll of their eyes before looking at him again. They look curious, definitely weighing if he was bullshitting them or not, but down to hear more.
He scoffed in amusement at that. “You want me to give away all my secrets now?” John joked, taking a drag from his cigarette as he considered how to respond. “I don’t know.” He breathed the smoke out through his nostrils. “Aliens and metas are par for the course these days, especially in this soddin’ city. What do you consider interesting?”
"Nah, I would never ask someone to tell me everything on a first... meeting." A small smirk as they weigh their words.
"An' i don't know... I don't get involved in a lot of shit like all this beyond feet on the ground stuff. I would say the bar is in hell, but i would fear you'd take that too literally." They paused, considering.
"I guess some context on the Santa thing, since you're the one who brought it up?"
“Human remains have power. Even after death pieces of the soul linger on. With someone like Agios Nikolaus, who was essentially Santa as you've heard of him, those remains can yield information and help questions be answered from the spirit world. I used them in a ritual for information then snorted the rest for a laugh. It was a white Christmas all around.” He chuckled at his own joke.
They tilt their theor head, looking at him forca moment before looking back down at the leech again. "Hm... cool."
"See, could be worse, me being a nosy little shit. I could let myself be so annoying about it." A slight laugh as they glanced back up, looking across the empty gymnasium consideringly.
“I suppose this is the part where I give you the ‘don't do drugs’ speech, but that’s a load of bollocks. Drugs are great,” John told them. “And human remains are a hell of a drug. I don’t make a habit of it for obvious reasons though.”
He watched the leech and nodded towards it, “That’s probably ready if you want to peal it off and pass it to me.”
A slight laugh at that, shrugging. "Unfortunately, I am mostly currently non-recreationally medicated, except for a few exceptions, which i probably shouldn't be making, but fuck it. Not listing the exceptions."
"Got a friend who does parties out in some of the abandoned warehouses, though. It gets... interesting." A slight curve of they lips before they shif their attention to the leech and sighing before carefully pulling it loose from their arm.
John nodded, cigarette resting between his lips as he held both hands out for the leech. He spoke with it balanced there still, “Your partying days are over, is that it?”
They passed over the leech, pausing and tucking their hair back out of their face. "Haven't been to one lately. Work and playing at being domestic. I fear I may have become... boring."
It's said with a bit of drama, but they look slightly amused. "I should look them up, though... if nothing else, I miss the scene. Always a tossup on if it'll get raided by the cops, a bat, or someone who wanted to use the place as a base of operations."
John placed the leech in the center of the circle between them, then reached for the jar and placed it atop to trap the creature so it couldn’t wander off. “Well this is probably a laugh for sure for you then?”he teased. Back alley magic always was a thrill, and he’d seen people as addicted to it as cocaine.
Hell, in his younger days, before Newcastle, he’d dabbled more than he should have himself. Now it was done out of necessity and as rarely as he could get away with.
This book was too powerful to not go after though.
They snort, scrubbing their hands over their face before they glanced at John from between their fingers. "Why d'you think i had a minor crisis as soon as I had time to get too in my head?"
A raised brow as they lower their hands and lean forward slightly to watch him. "I know there's more I can do. Knowing things academically and applying them are different, though."
"Oh, definitely. You lot've been busy..." a hum, tucking their thumbs into their pockets as they rock back on their heels to look up at him with raised brows.
Their lips tilted in a slight grin as they shook their head, pausing to make sure the library was closed up properly. They were the last one out, again. Not the safest habit, but they made do. "You looking after yourselves too, though?"
It seemed almost silly, asking after one of the local vigilantes like that, but with how much gang activity had been ramping up again recently, it was a concern, at least in their opinion.
"City never sleeps which means we're never out of work." Robin joked back.
This librarian did good work. Kept their head down, got on with their job, had some unsafe habits but who didn't in this city. And apparently super sweet because Robin hadn't been expecting that question from a citizen. Everyone knew of Bruce Wayne's unfortunate death... the hero community hadn't said a word about Batman. Which... sucked. Grieving in private. But it protected his identity and it wouldn't be forever. Just until there was some time and distance between Bruce's announcement.
A little of that roguish charm shifted, the smile falling a little at the corners as he answered.
"We're doing our best." It's much quieter than earlier but painfully honest. "This area at least should be clear of gang activity for the night." He continued as he stretched. "Wouldn't want hard workers like yourself getting waylaid when you're just trying to get home."
A slight bounce on their toes, giving him a nod. They didn't know everything that was going on, but if you were paying attention, there was a difference in the way the bats were dealing with things lately. And Tan made a habit of keeping an ear to the ground.
A wry smile at his comment about having cleared the area already, and they placed a hand over their heart. "Kind of you. I'm usually pretty good at dodging folks at this point, but having to worry less about it is always nice."
They make sure their bag is secure and flash him a slight grin. "Heard some rumblings of stuff a while back, by the way, but it seems to have died down in the recent days. Cult stuff."
Robin hopped down from the lamp post at those words, seamlessly landing in front of the librarian.
"Well consider my attention caught." He grinned, calmly leaning on his bo-staff. "I'm all ears."
Even as he waited, he quietly scanned the area with his lenses, looking for- ah. Yup. There it is. That specific kind of wall grate. He was almost paranoid about them now, knowing what nasty things crawled out of there at the bidding of a certain group of people. Inside of Gotham's walls, indeed... jerks.
"This city is weird enough without cults adding to it."
A pause as they look up at him, before stepping back to sit on the steps of the library so they can rummage in their bag. Out comes a small notepad, and they quickly flip through it. "Lemme find it..."
There's notes and sketches on some of the pages, though some of it looks to be ciphered. They don't seem to care that much about what he might see as they look for the correct page. Rather, they sigh and pause at a page that's a list of dates and locations.
"Oh, this might be useful as well, if you guys don't already have them. Dead drop locations I've spotted in fairly recent use. Don't know if they're still in use." They mark that page with a finger before moving on to find the other page they're looking for.
Notes on an overheard conversation, and descriptions of the people involved. Not the most to go off of, but it's something. A small frown as they checked over the notes.
"Hey..." A bemused expression, followed by a sigh that said 'this might as well happen' more succinctly than words. "Not so much? I... what brings you to Gotham?"
He raised a brow, looking the man over with a flicker of recognition. Not personal, but certainly by reputation. "Sorry. Seem to have left my manners in my other jacket. You can call me Tan."
A click of her tongue, tilting their head up to look at him a bit better. "Heard some rumblings about Slaughter Swamp. Grundy might be waking up again soon. Know a few people that keep track of Bat sightings, but..."
A gesture, before fidgeting with their bracelet, considering the situation. They're off the clock, at least. If they had to deal with this guy and maintain professionalism, they might explode something in the process. "Most people aren't the most privy to their movements and plans, unless you're looking for the gossip side of things."
There's a dry sort of humor to that as they shrugged.
John considered them for a moment, something curious in his gaze as he looked Tan over. “Well let’s hear it then. You’re nervous enough you probably know who I am, so what’s the gossip side of it all.”
He didn’t generally meddle in Gotham or Blüdhaven often because he respected the Bats, but he’d never admit that.
"Well, I doubt you're interested in my friend's PowerPoint presentation on her theory that the bat is Bruce Wayne's sugar baby." An edge of a grin as they take out their phone, scrolling through a few things with a quick, practiced motion.
"And yeah... know enough that your reputation precedes you, a bit. Curious enough to not just leave you high and dry." A glance up.
"Most recent posted sighting of the big guy himself is in Coventry, by the way. He's with Robin, or was about thirty minutes ago." A hum, checking on something else.
"Someone's on a 'the butts match' thing again. Which I sort of think is a reductive way of trying to figure out identities, personally. It does look like they're more on the outs with the cops than usual, though the pendelum will always swing on that one."
“I have a reputation?” John asked sarcastically. And then he waited to hear if they’d tell him what said reputation was. Everyone called him something different, and he was known for more oddities than not.
"In certain circles." A wry twist of their lips as they locked out the phone again. They weren't as in the know on things as they would like, but they did their best to keep an ear to the ground.
They made gesture, as though picking through a mental filing cabinet. "I believe, no offense, the verdict tends to be 'don't trust under any circumstances' and that you tend to leave a lot of collateral damage at times."
He nodded in agreement. “Bloody fair assessment,” John assured them. “Not looking for trouble tonight though, Squire. But as we're dropping all pretenses, hi, I’m John,” and he offered his hand to shake. “John Constantine.”
They tucked away their phone again before taking his hand for a moment and giving it a firm shake. "The rest of the verdict is that you're damn good at a lot of things in spite of the previous verdict."
A slight smirk, before stepping back and shrugging one shoulder. "Nice t'meet you off the game for the moment, Mister Constantine."
There was a slight buzz of magic around the bracelet they'd been fidgeting with, something careful and protective.
“Ah, nifty little bugger you've got there,” John commented with an amused grin as he shook their hand then let go. “Probably detects my tainted blood. The rumors of why I don’t age are numerous, but it all comes down to demon blood.” He’d cheated Death so many times now he owed her dinner or something truly.
"Ward an' shield combo. Kept me from getting shot or the like more times than I prefer to count." A hum, eyes brightening slightly as they rock back on their heels. They don't exactly get to talk shop much, so it's definitely an interesting situation for them.
"Also ah... yeah, no, that would explain a bit." A wiggle of their fingers. "Demon blood'll complicate so many things. With the way the city is, i'm sometimes surprised, but glad, we don't have more demon activity, to be honest"
A slight shift of weight, adjusting their bag. "Sometimes feels like even they don't want to deal too much with the nexus of shit under this place."
”The Bats keep a clean house,” John agreed, thinking of Gotham. “Most of the underworld sticks to Blüdhaven if they’re getting peckish enough to come to the surface, but that’s less than you’d think.”
“Well, synchronicity led me to you here in Gotham, so you must have some expertise in what I’m looking for. It’s a book, very old and very powerful. Rauðskinna is what they call it, ‘The Book Of Power.’ And rumor has it someone brought the piece to Gotham recently.”
A gesture, narrowing their eyes. "It would be a book matter that dumps you at my feet. Walk and talk. Sadly, the elevator's busted and the landlord's shit. I need to grab some stuff if i'm going to make myself useful, though."
They flash him a slight smile, vrows raised curiously. "We talking an individual, a cult situation, or someone trying to auction it off?"
All the options were sort of out of Tan's area of expertise, but they'd make do. They didn't really get themself too involved with the big movements in the city, but they could at least point him in the right direction.
Their gut told them that wasn't going to be the end of it, though.
A hum as they take the stairs quickly, pausing at the landings to look back at John.
Ah herein lied the problem to answering most of these questions—John didn’t have the answers. And it showed on his face, a brief expression of hesitance and almost irritation with himself.
“My source wasn’t very forthcoming with the information. I was damning him at the time you see, so he didn’t have much to lose and few reasons to give up information. Honestly may have sent me here as a laugh, but just in case…”
John looked at them when they paused. “If I had to guess, given Gotham’s history, it’s a cult. Hopefully not the Owls, but…” He shrugged in a ‘what are you gonna do?’ kind of way.
"Heavily assume the worst, hope for the best, basically. Right." They shook their head with a sigh, finally reaching the right floor and exiting into the hallway. The building was run down, but it could be worse.
They paused and slipped a piece of paper under the door next to theirs before pointing sternly at John. "I'm going to grab a few things, and you can either stay put in the hall for a minute or make me sigh at you by tripping my wards when you come in."
Cult. Right. Owls or not, that's a problem, given what information they're able to dredge up in the back of their mind about the book in question. They're not good at all this stuff, but hell. He'd probably find the damn thing without her, but if it was in the hands of someone who could actually make use of it, taking extra time could be an issue.
John watched with curiosity, hands in his coat pocket. He took them out and held them up in mock surrender. “Not looking to poke holes in the boat ferryin’ me across Styx,” he assured them. “You help me, I have no need to poke my nose in your business now do I?”
He nodded and slipped into the apartment, taking a moment to steady himself before moving off to grab a bag from his closet, as well as shucking off his work clothes and trading them out for something more serviceable if trouble... inevitably, came knocking.
A few objects were plucked from the shelves and shoved into the bag, before he slid on his boots and tightened the laces. Okay. Okay. Right. They were probably going to regret getting involved with this, but fuck it. If Constantine screwed them over or they got caught up in the trouble on the side, at least it would be better than sitting and doing nothing.
All in all, it was relatively quick and they were mid braiding their hair to keep it out of the way as they stepped back out. "Okay... so. First things first, we need to figure out where the thing currently is... the who and the how would also be useful, but, you know."
John’s gaze narrowed in a studious way as he mentally went over all of his options, taking a drag from the cigarette he’d lit while waiting (never ask for permission, and rarely apologize later was his motto.)
“There are ways to speak to the soul of this city and have her give up her secrets,” John mused. “Seems to me she’d want to protect the people from a book this powerful and might want to help us find it, but it’ll be an odd ritual,” he warned. “Takes two if you’re up for it, unless you’ve got a better way?” Part of him hoped they did.
A slight grimace and a roll of their eyes, but they didn't fuss about the cigarette, making sure their bag was secure. His question caused a pause, a hint of frustration flickering through their expression.
"I don't really... do this kind of thing much." They glanced away, scuffing a toe of one of their boots on the floor of the dingy hallway. "I could do a map scry and try to triangulate a location, but if they've gone underground, literally or figuratively, or know what they're doing, that might not help much."
His voice is uncertain, though he's obviously trying to rifle through options. "... how odd of a ritual?"
A raised brow as they looked up at him, eyes narrowed.
“Scrying will get you ballpark,” John agreed, thinking it over.
He took another drag and blew the smoke out his nostrils before speaking again. “We'll need a leech for it—don’t worry, I know a guy—and I’ll need the blood of someone who lives in this city.” Ergo two person ritual. “Simple as letting the creature feed and then we say the right words and send it to the right god. Those buggers are like popcorn to them, and blood freely offered is the butter.”
"No getting me bound, maimed, or otherwise taken from being in working order involved, at least in the ritual, I would hope?" Their voice is slightly deadpan as they watch him closely. Despite their words, there was a distinct curiosity in their expression, and a hint of humor to the question despite them knowing it may well be a valid concern.
There's a hint of a grin as they move back to the stairwell and start downstairs again. "I admit, I'm interested."
“No this god trades in places. He’ll get a map of the city drawn in your blood to preserve as a reward, and we’ll get a location,” John explained. “Ptah,” he explained. “Ancient Egyptian god of architects and the like. He enjoys floor plans,” he joked.
Another of those small pauses, as though mentally rummaging through information. "I... you know what? Fine."
A slight grin, skipping the last few steps and landing to turn and look up at him, mismatched eyes meeting blue. There's still a sharpness there, wariness bred into them by the blood-ridden city that's raised them, layered over the warmth that peeks out. They seem settled on their decision, though.
"Good, okay... so, this... is definitely not going to be boring, huh?" A major understatement, and they know it. "... what's your plan once you knowcwhere you're headed, or are you planning on just winging it?"
There was a hesitance there he respected. Most were entirely too gullible, but they seemed to at least consider saying no first.
“Boring is for people with office jobs,” John told them with a grin, something mischievous behind it now that they’d agreed. “We’ll need a secure place to do the ritual once I get the ingredients. Anywhere you might suggest as a local?”
"Does a library count as an office job? Wouldn't want you to think I'm too boring." A smirk as they tucked their hands into their jacket pockets, considering options.
"... I. Hm. Does breaking into an abandoned building count as secure, if the place can be closed back up? Because I might know a place, though it's a bit of a mess." A grin, flexing their fingers as they considered. "I would consider the basement of the library since it's after-hours, but I would feel weird breaking into there, and would like to keep my job."
”No, see. You lot have your own brand of magic,” John told them. “Being a keeper of books is a form of power.”
“The more abandoned the better. We can set up a barrier so that nothing gets out if it all goes wrong,” he explained with a grin. “Give us your hand and think of the address and I’ll see it,” he said, muttering a few words in Latin before offering his hand. It lit up with magical lines of ink that were as protective as they were dangerous.
"Always been a big proponent of freedom of information." A shrug, scuffing their boots. There were benefits to having access to things when you enjoyed learning new stuff. When you needed to keep figuring stuff out.
They tilt their head, watching him curiously, before sliding their hand into his with a tiny flicker of blue-green light as skin contacted skin. The place was and old abandoned rec center. It was unfortunate that it had fallen out of use, but as long as nobody was currently squatting in the place, it could be serviceable, including a larger open space for working on stuff in the building's small gym.
He grinned, something knowing in his eyes because he understood firsthand that knowledge could also be a dangerous burden. Especially in the wrong hands. He figured they understood that or they wouldn’t be helping him find the Rauðskinna at all.
His hands being the right hands was debatable.
“Cheers, I’ll meet you there in an hour?” John asked, letting go of their hand.
They were aware of the irony of those words, given the situation and company, but just flashed him a slightly sardonic grin. Other options were sparse on the ground right now, and getting the damn book secured was the focus for the moment. Some things were better not being used.
The afterwards could be figured out as needed.
They nodded and rocked on their heels. "Sure thing. I'll get the place unlocked and scout it out. See you in a few... don't have any attempted muggings or anything."
A wink as they shoulder their bag and turn to make their way with a wave over theor shoulder.
“It’d take more than a simple minded mugger to take me down, sorry to disappoint,” he joked with a wink as he turned coat and started away.
It didn’t take him the entire hour to get what he’d needed. The shaman he’d gone to for the leech and a few other needed ingredients had taken a little bit of convincing since John’s reputation proceeded him, but John arrived at the promised location with a bag in hand and a jar with the leech in it on time.
He pulled out his pack and lit another cigarette as he waited outside the building for Tan.
A flicker of light inside the building and movement. It took a moment, but Tan popped out of the alley and waved him over. "Side door. Less likely to draw attention with the whole breakin and enterin."
Tan was once again glad that their younger self had taken their brother's bait and learned to pick locks out of sheer spite when he told them they couldn't. It had come in useful a surprising number of times. It probably would continue to be.
They snagged a small, battery powered lantern, the type someone might take camping or keep in case of a blackout, from where they had left it, and flicked it on. The place wasn't fully falling apart, but it was clear that nobody had been taking care of it for at least a year or so.
“This place is built on an ancient burial ground. That’s good. It’ll add to the energy of the spell,” John explained as he followed Tan and looked around at the place. He saw it for what it had been, a place of mourning and celebration of life, the energy still seeped into the ground, ghosts walking about stuck in their patterns and cycles.
“You know a basic circle of protection, yeah? I can draw one, but if we’re using your blood it may be better if you do.” Power of intent was a powerful thing.
A hum, looking down for a moment. "... I do, yeah."
They seem uncertain though, as they move to rummage through their backpack with a small frown. That hesitation is back, but it's directed inward rather than toward John.
Someone walking on ground they aren't practiced at traversing. "I can do it, you'll probably need to check it over before it's locked into place, though. Just to be certain."
A quick glance in his direction, tilting their head. There's a slight flicker of light as they run through some of the needed symbols, sketching them with the fingertips of their free hand.
John raised an eyebrow at that reaction. It lacked the confidence they’d had moments before.
“Would you like to know a soddin’ secret about magic, mate?” John asked, trying to catch their visual focus. “It is what you shape it into. Think of it as clay that can take almost any form if you’re skilled and patient enough. The power of belief is more powerful than magic incantations or potions. You have to believe it’ll bloody work, and then it will.”
“So the circle doesn’t need to be perfect,” he explained. “It just needs to be believable.”
"Let's just say i'm more practiced in theory than application on some things." A slight sigh, looking over and pausing to consider what he'd said before nodding. "... Right."
"Sorry, need to not get so in my head about it, yeah? Had some time to overthink things while you were busy getting supples, s'all." A shake of their head, moving forward with a deep breath as they began to move debris out of the way on the gymnasium floor, making a space to set up the circle. A steadying breath as they worked.
"Intent and belief..." a huff of breath that's halfway a laugh as they pause and pull out some chalk, twirling it between their fingers as they consider it. After a long moment, they take a deep breath and look back over at him. The nerves are still there, but it's backed by the resolve they'd shown earlier. "Yeah, I can do that."
John set the bag on the ground and sat down beside it, eyeing Tan as they worked. In truth it was partially a test to see how confident they were or if it was all an act for the infamous John Constantine. He’d need real belief for this ritual to work.
Opening the jar, he looked at the leech and made a face before pulling his cigarettes out. He lit one and left it between his lips while pulling out the other ingredients to mix them into the jar. “Eyelids of an executed man, the large toenail of a widow, and iron nails from Rome,” he explained, taking a drag from his cigarette.
And then he closed the jar again, said a few words, and watched as a puff of smoke exploded in the jar. When he opened it again to clear it, the leech was glowing.
A mutter under their breath as they swept a hand through the air as though knocking away cobwebs, before they bent and began to draw. Their movements are steady as they marked the boundaries and directions.
As they worked, they seem to fall into a rhythm, almost seeming to forget their company, though they nod in response to his explanation. There's an occasional pause as they sit back on their heels, looking over what they have so far. A slight frown as they move to correct something, not perfectionism, but specificity. The steel is back in their spine as they work, lips slightly pursed.
The air seems to weave itself together as they work, layering over itself. An unsteady breath as they flex the fingers of their free hand, adding a final stroke to a section that looks to define Gotham as a location.
Cursed yet loved, Home, steeped in pain and fear, the refusal to let go, the refusal to leave, the vulnerability of the least of her people, the way that the highest seem untouchable, the way things are drawn here, the city as defined by both stagnation and change, the sacrifice of those who try to protect her.
A slight shudder as they seem to come back to the present moment, standing slowly and looking across their work. "... Okay. Okay."
John kept a csreful watch in them and their interaction with their work. The tedious details were done with care, and John was honestly a little impressed at their precision.
“Alright, so you let this little bugger suck on your arm for a moment—doesn’t hurt, I’ve had it done before—and then we’ll call on Ptah, and I’ll do that part so you don’t have to worry. Makes sense?”
A hint of a grimace as they shift positions to look at him, but they roll their eyes and move over to his side, shrugging out of their jacket. "Gross."
But there's no actual protest behind it, just stating it like it's a fact. A slightly amused glance, seeming steadier now that they had gotten past the stumbling block they'd put in their own face. They drop down next to him, shoving up the sleeve of their shirt, pulling a knee to their chest.
"But yeah, makes sense..." a tilt of their head, listening to distant sirens outside in the street. Nothing nearby, at least for now.
John grinned a bit at that reaction. “You should see the spells for gods that prefer maggots,” he told them with amusement. “Be glad this one craves blood. And this’ll heal better and far bloody quicker than the cliche slice on the palm, yeah?”
The conman held out the jar towards Tan in offer. “Trust I’d use my blood if they’d take it, but most gods won’t.” And location spells did best with locals, that was the entire point.
They pull an overdramatically icked out face at the talk of maggots, sticking out their tongue before laughing and taking the jar carefully. "C'mere you wiggly little shit."
"To be fair, I haven't done much digging on god-work or the like. Could probably get my hands on resources, but it's just..." a slight hiss of breath as they let the leech latch onto them. "Hasn't really come up... there's a lot of interesting concepts there, though."
“Gods are so in name only. They only ever have the power people give them with belief,” John explained. “So I believe in them just long enough then move on,” he added sarcastically.
He lied. Lied about believing. And he had such a skill for it that most cosmic beings believed him until it was too late.
A hum, nodding slightly as they considered that. They probably weren't going to take that chance any time soon, but it was something to think about. "... Who’s been the most interesting Power you've poked with a metaphorical... or literal stick?"
A tilt of their head, lookin down to watch the leech do its job, their free hand coming up to tuck their hair out of their face before steadying their arm again.
“I snorted Santa’s ashes once. He was a right bastard, so he had it coming,” John assured them, watching the leech with mild amusement. “But that’s not the story most people want to hear about.”
"Good thing I asked your opinion on most interesting, not most people's." A roll of their eyes before looking at him again. They look curious, definitely weighing if he was bullshitting them or not, but down to hear more.
He scoffed in amusement at that. “You want me to give away all my secrets now?” John joked, taking a drag from his cigarette as he considered how to respond. “I don’t know.” He breathed the smoke out through his nostrils. “Aliens and metas are par for the course these days, especially in this soddin’ city. What do you consider interesting?”
"Nah, I would never ask someone to tell me everything on a first... meeting." A small smirk as they weigh their words.
"An' i don't know... I don't get involved in a lot of shit like all this beyond feet on the ground stuff. I would say the bar is in hell, but i would fear you'd take that too literally." They paused, considering.
"I guess some context on the Santa thing, since you're the one who brought it up?"
“Human remains have power. Even after death pieces of the soul linger on. With someone like Agios Nikolaus, who was essentially Santa as you've heard of him, those remains can yield information and help questions be answered from the spirit world. I used them in a ritual for information then snorted the rest for a laugh. It was a white Christmas all around.” He chuckled at his own joke.
They tilt their theor head, looking at him forca moment before looking back down at the leech again. "Hm... cool."
"See, could be worse, me being a nosy little shit. I could let myself be so annoying about it." A slight laugh as they glanced back up, looking across the empty gymnasium consideringly.
“I suppose this is the part where I give you the ‘don't do drugs’ speech, but that’s a load of bollocks. Drugs are great,” John told them. “And human remains are a hell of a drug. I don’t make a habit of it for obvious reasons though.”
He watched the leech and nodded towards it, “That’s probably ready if you want to peal it off and pass it to me.”
A slight laugh at that, shrugging. "Unfortunately, I am mostly currently non-recreationally medicated, except for a few exceptions, which i probably shouldn't be making, but fuck it. Not listing the exceptions."
"Got a friend who does parties out in some of the abandoned warehouses, though. It gets... interesting." A slight curve of they lips before they shif their attention to the leech and sighing before carefully pulling it loose from their arm.
John nodded, cigarette resting between his lips as he held both hands out for the leech. He spoke with it balanced there still, “Your partying days are over, is that it?”
They passed over the leech, pausing and tucking their hair back out of their face. "Haven't been to one lately. Work and playing at being domestic. I fear I may have become... boring."
It's said with a bit of drama, but they look slightly amused. "I should look them up, though... if nothing else, I miss the scene. Always a tossup on if it'll get raided by the cops, a bat, or someone who wanted to use the place as a base of operations."
"Hey..." A bemused expression, followed by a sigh that said 'this might as well happen' more succinctly than words. "Not so much? I... what brings you to Gotham?"
He raised a brow, looking the man over with a flicker of recognition. Not personal, but certainly by reputation. "Sorry. Seem to have left my manners in my other jacket. You can call me Tan."
A click of her tongue, tilting their head up to look at him a bit better. "Heard some rumblings about Slaughter Swamp. Grundy might be waking up again soon. Know a few people that keep track of Bat sightings, but..."
A gesture, before fidgeting with their bracelet, considering the situation. They're off the clock, at least. If they had to deal with this guy and maintain professionalism, they might explode something in the process. "Most people aren't the most privy to their movements and plans, unless you're looking for the gossip side of things."
There's a dry sort of humor to that as they shrugged.
John considered them for a moment, something curious in his gaze as he looked Tan over. “Well let’s hear it then. You’re nervous enough you probably know who I am, so what’s the gossip side of it all.”
He didn’t generally meddle in Gotham or Blüdhaven often because he respected the Bats, but he’d never admit that.
"Well, I doubt you're interested in my friend's PowerPoint presentation on her theory that the bat is Bruce Wayne's sugar baby." An edge of a grin as they take out their phone, scrolling through a few things with a quick, practiced motion.
"And yeah... know enough that your reputation precedes you, a bit. Curious enough to not just leave you high and dry." A glance up.
"Most recent posted sighting of the big guy himself is in Coventry, by the way. He's with Robin, or was about thirty minutes ago." A hum, checking on something else.
"Someone's on a 'the butts match' thing again. Which I sort of think is a reductive way of trying to figure out identities, personally. It does look like they're more on the outs with the cops than usual, though the pendelum will always swing on that one."
“I have a reputation?” John asked sarcastically. And then he waited to hear if they’d tell him what said reputation was. Everyone called him something different, and he was known for more oddities than not.
"In certain circles." A wry twist of their lips as they locked out the phone again. They weren't as in the know on things as they would like, but they did their best to keep an ear to the ground.
They made gesture, as though picking through a mental filing cabinet. "I believe, no offense, the verdict tends to be 'don't trust under any circumstances' and that you tend to leave a lot of collateral damage at times."
He nodded in agreement. “Bloody fair assessment,” John assured them. “Not looking for trouble tonight though, Squire. But as we're dropping all pretenses, hi, I’m John,” and he offered his hand to shake. “John Constantine.”
They tucked away their phone again before taking his hand for a moment and giving it a firm shake. "The rest of the verdict is that you're damn good at a lot of things in spite of the previous verdict."
A slight smirk, before stepping back and shrugging one shoulder. "Nice t'meet you off the game for the moment, Mister Constantine."
There was a slight buzz of magic around the bracelet they'd been fidgeting with, something careful and protective.
“Ah, nifty little bugger you've got there,” John commented with an amused grin as he shook their hand then let go. “Probably detects my tainted blood. The rumors of why I don’t age are numerous, but it all comes down to demon blood.” He’d cheated Death so many times now he owed her dinner or something truly.
"Ward an' shield combo. Kept me from getting shot or the like more times than I prefer to count." A hum, eyes brightening slightly as they rock back on their heels. They don't exactly get to talk shop much, so it's definitely an interesting situation for them.
"Also ah... yeah, no, that would explain a bit." A wiggle of their fingers. "Demon blood'll complicate so many things. With the way the city is, i'm sometimes surprised, but glad, we don't have more demon activity, to be honest"
A slight shift of weight, adjusting their bag. "Sometimes feels like even they don't want to deal too much with the nexus of shit under this place."
”The Bats keep a clean house,” John agreed, thinking of Gotham. “Most of the underworld sticks to Blüdhaven if they’re getting peckish enough to come to the surface, but that’s less than you’d think.”
“Well, synchronicity led me to you here in Gotham, so you must have some expertise in what I’m looking for. It’s a book, very old and very powerful. Rauðskinna is what they call it, ‘The Book Of Power.’ And rumor has it someone brought the piece to Gotham recently.”
A gesture, narrowing their eyes. "It would be a book matter that dumps you at my feet. Walk and talk. Sadly, the elevator's busted and the landlord's shit. I need to grab some stuff if i'm going to make myself useful, though."
They flash him a slight smile, vrows raised curiously. "We talking an individual, a cult situation, or someone trying to auction it off?"
All the options were sort of out of Tan's area of expertise, but they'd make do. They didn't really get themself too involved with the big movements in the city, but they could at least point him in the right direction.
Their gut told them that wasn't going to be the end of it, though.
A hum as they take the stairs quickly, pausing at the landings to look back at John.
Ah herein lied the problem to answering most of these questions—John didn’t have the answers. And it showed on his face, a brief expression of hesitance and almost irritation with himself.
“My source wasn’t very forthcoming with the information. I was damning him at the time you see, so he didn’t have much to lose and few reasons to give up information. Honestly may have sent me here as a laugh, but just in case…”
John looked at them when they paused. “If I had to guess, given Gotham’s history, it’s a cult. Hopefully not the Owls, but…” He shrugged in a ‘what are you gonna do?’ kind of way.
"Heavily assume the worst, hope for the best, basically. Right." They shook their head with a sigh, finally reaching the right floor and exiting into the hallway. The building was run down, but it could be worse.
They paused and slipped a piece of paper under the door next to theirs before pointing sternly at John. "I'm going to grab a few things, and you can either stay put in the hall for a minute or make me sigh at you by tripping my wards when you come in."
Cult. Right. Owls or not, that's a problem, given what information they're able to dredge up in the back of their mind about the book in question. They're not good at all this stuff, but hell. He'd probably find the damn thing without her, but if it was in the hands of someone who could actually make use of it, taking extra time could be an issue.
John watched with curiosity, hands in his coat pocket. He took them out and held them up in mock surrender. “Not looking to poke holes in the boat ferryin’ me across Styx,” he assured them. “You help me, I have no need to poke my nose in your business now do I?”
He nodded and slipped into the apartment, taking a moment to steady himself before moving off to grab a bag from his closet, as well as shucking off his work clothes and trading them out for something more serviceable if trouble... inevitably, came knocking.
A few objects were plucked from the shelves and shoved into the bag, before he slid on his boots and tightened the laces. Okay. Okay. Right. They were probably going to regret getting involved with this, but fuck it. If Constantine screwed them over or they got caught up in the trouble on the side, at least it would be better than sitting and doing nothing.
All in all, it was relatively quick and they were mid braiding their hair to keep it out of the way as they stepped back out. "Okay... so. First things first, we need to figure out where the thing currently is... the who and the how would also be useful, but, you know."
John’s gaze narrowed in a studious way as he mentally went over all of his options, taking a drag from the cigarette he’d lit while waiting (never ask for permission, and rarely apologize later was his motto.)
“There are ways to speak to the soul of this city and have her give up her secrets,” John mused. “Seems to me she’d want to protect the people from a book this powerful and might want to help us find it, but it’ll be an odd ritual,” he warned. “Takes two if you’re up for it, unless you’ve got a better way?” Part of him hoped they did.
A slight grimace and a roll of their eyes, but they didn't fuss about the cigarette, making sure their bag was secure. His question caused a pause, a hint of frustration flickering through their expression.
"I don't really... do this kind of thing much." They glanced away, scuffing a toe of one of their boots on the floor of the dingy hallway. "I could do a map scry and try to triangulate a location, but if they've gone underground, literally or figuratively, or know what they're doing, that might not help much."
His voice is uncertain, though he's obviously trying to rifle through options. "... how odd of a ritual?"
A raised brow as they looked up at him, eyes narrowed.
“Scrying will get you ballpark,” John agreed, thinking it over.
He took another drag and blew the smoke out his nostrils before speaking again. “We'll need a leech for it—don’t worry, I know a guy—and I’ll need the blood of someone who lives in this city.” Ergo two person ritual. “Simple as letting the creature feed and then we say the right words and send it to the right god. Those buggers are like popcorn to them, and blood freely offered is the butter.”
"No getting me bound, maimed, or otherwise taken from being in working order involved, at least in the ritual, I would hope?" Their voice is slightly deadpan as they watch him closely. Despite their words, there was a distinct curiosity in their expression, and a hint of humor to the question despite them knowing it may well be a valid concern.
There's a hint of a grin as they move back to the stairwell and start downstairs again. "I admit, I'm interested."
“No this god trades in places. He’ll get a map of the city drawn in your blood to preserve as a reward, and we’ll get a location,” John explained. “Ptah,” he explained. “Ancient Egyptian god of architects and the like. He enjoys floor plans,” he joked.
Another of those small pauses, as though mentally rummaging through information. "I... you know what? Fine."
A slight grin, skipping the last few steps and landing to turn and look up at him, mismatched eyes meeting blue. There's still a sharpness there, wariness bred into them by the blood-ridden city that's raised them, layered over the warmth that peeks out. They seem settled on their decision, though.
"Good, okay... so, this... is definitely not going to be boring, huh?" A major understatement, and they know it. "... what's your plan once you knowcwhere you're headed, or are you planning on just winging it?"
There was a hesitance there he respected. Most were entirely too gullible, but they seemed to at least consider saying no first.
“Boring is for people with office jobs,” John told them with a grin, something mischievous behind it now that they’d agreed. “We’ll need a secure place to do the ritual once I get the ingredients. Anywhere you might suggest as a local?”
"Does a library count as an office job? Wouldn't want you to think I'm too boring." A smirk as they tucked their hands into their jacket pockets, considering options.
"... I. Hm. Does breaking into an abandoned building count as secure, if the place can be closed back up? Because I might know a place, though it's a bit of a mess." A grin, flexing their fingers as they considered. "I would consider the basement of the library since it's after-hours, but I would feel weird breaking into there, and would like to keep my job."
”No, see. You lot have your own brand of magic,” John told them. “Being a keeper of books is a form of power.”
“The more abandoned the better. We can set up a barrier so that nothing gets out if it all goes wrong,” he explained with a grin. “Give us your hand and think of the address and I’ll see it,” he said, muttering a few words in Latin before offering his hand. It lit up with magical lines of ink that were as protective as they were dangerous.
"Always been a big proponent of freedom of information." A shrug, scuffing their boots. There were benefits to having access to things when you enjoyed learning new stuff. When you needed to keep figuring stuff out.
They tilt their head, watching him curiously, before sliding their hand into his with a tiny flicker of blue-green light as skin contacted skin. The place was and old abandoned rec center. It was unfortunate that it had fallen out of use, but as long as nobody was currently squatting in the place, it could be serviceable, including a larger open space for working on stuff in the building's small gym.
He grinned, something knowing in his eyes because he understood firsthand that knowledge could also be a dangerous burden. Especially in the wrong hands. He figured they understood that or they wouldn’t be helping him find the Rauðskinna at all.
His hands being the right hands was debatable.
“Cheers, I’ll meet you there in an hour?” John asked, letting go of their hand.
They were aware of the irony of those words, given the situation and company, but just flashed him a slightly sardonic grin. Other options were sparse on the ground right now, and getting the damn book secured was the focus for the moment. Some things were better not being used.
The afterwards could be figured out as needed.
They nodded and rocked on their heels. "Sure thing. I'll get the place unlocked and scout it out. See you in a few... don't have any attempted muggings or anything."
A wink as they shoulder their bag and turn to make their way with a wave over theor shoulder.
“It’d take more than a simple minded mugger to take me down, sorry to disappoint,” he joked with a wink as he turned coat and started away.
It didn’t take him the entire hour to get what he’d needed. The shaman he’d gone to for the leech and a few other needed ingredients had taken a little bit of convincing since John’s reputation proceeded him, but John arrived at the promised location with a bag in hand and a jar with the leech in it on time.
He pulled out his pack and lit another cigarette as he waited outside the building for Tan.
A flicker of light inside the building and movement. It took a moment, but Tan popped out of the alley and waved him over. "Side door. Less likely to draw attention with the whole breakin and enterin."
Tan was once again glad that their younger self had taken their brother's bait and learned to pick locks out of sheer spite when he told them they couldn't. It had come in useful a surprising number of times. It probably would continue to be.
They snagged a small, battery powered lantern, the type someone might take camping or keep in case of a blackout, from where they had left it, and flicked it on. The place wasn't fully falling apart, but it was clear that nobody had been taking care of it for at least a year or so.
“This place is built on an ancient burial ground. That’s good. It’ll add to the energy of the spell,” John explained as he followed Tan and looked around at the place. He saw it for what it had been, a place of mourning and celebration of life, the energy still seeped into the ground, ghosts walking about stuck in their patterns and cycles.
“You know a basic circle of protection, yeah? I can draw one, but if we’re using your blood it may be better if you do.” Power of intent was a powerful thing.
A hum, looking down for a moment. "... I do, yeah."
They seem uncertain though, as they move to rummage through their backpack with a small frown. That hesitation is back, but it's directed inward rather than toward John.
Someone walking on ground they aren't practiced at traversing. "I can do it, you'll probably need to check it over before it's locked into place, though. Just to be certain."
A quick glance in his direction, tilting their head. There's a slight flicker of light as they run through some of the needed symbols, sketching them with the fingertips of their free hand.
John raised an eyebrow at that reaction. It lacked the confidence they’d had moments before.
“Would you like to know a soddin’ secret about magic, mate?” John asked, trying to catch their visual focus. “It is what you shape it into. Think of it as clay that can take almost any form if you’re skilled and patient enough. The power of belief is more powerful than magic incantations or potions. You have to believe it’ll bloody work, and then it will.”
“So the circle doesn’t need to be perfect,” he explained. “It just needs to be believable.”
"Let's just say i'm more practiced in theory than application on some things." A slight sigh, looking over and pausing to consider what he'd said before nodding. "... Right."
"Sorry, need to not get so in my head about it, yeah? Had some time to overthink things while you were busy getting supples, s'all." A shake of their head, moving forward with a deep breath as they began to move debris out of the way on the gymnasium floor, making a space to set up the circle. A steadying breath as they worked.
"Intent and belief..." a huff of breath that's halfway a laugh as they pause and pull out some chalk, twirling it between their fingers as they consider it. After a long moment, they take a deep breath and look back over at him. The nerves are still there, but it's backed by the resolve they'd shown earlier. "Yeah, I can do that."
John set the bag on the ground and sat down beside it, eyeing Tan as they worked. In truth it was partially a test to see how confident they were or if it was all an act for the infamous John Constantine. He’d need real belief for this ritual to work.
Opening the jar, he looked at the leech and made a face before pulling his cigarettes out. He lit one and left it between his lips while pulling out the other ingredients to mix them into the jar. “Eyelids of an executed man, the large toenail of a widow, and iron nails from Rome,” he explained, taking a drag from his cigarette.
And then he closed the jar again, said a few words, and watched as a puff of smoke exploded in the jar. When he opened it again to clear it, the leech was glowing.
A mutter under their breath as they swept a hand through the air as though knocking away cobwebs, before they bent and began to draw. Their movements are steady as they marked the boundaries and directions.
As they worked, they seem to fall into a rhythm, almost seeming to forget their company, though they nod in response to his explanation. There's an occasional pause as they sit back on their heels, looking over what they have so far. A slight frown as they move to correct something, not perfectionism, but specificity. The steel is back in their spine as they work, lips slightly pursed.
The air seems to weave itself together as they work, layering over itself. An unsteady breath as they flex the fingers of their free hand, adding a final stroke to a section that looks to define Gotham as a location.
Cursed yet loved, Home, steeped in pain and fear, the refusal to let go, the refusal to leave, the vulnerability of the least of her people, the way that the highest seem untouchable, the way things are drawn here, the city as defined by both stagnation and change, the sacrifice of those who try to protect her.
A slight shudder as they seem to come back to the present moment, standing slowly and looking across their work. "... Okay. Okay."
John kept a csreful watch in them and their interaction with their work. The tedious details were done with care, and John was honestly a little impressed at their precision.
“Alright, so you let this little bugger suck on your arm for a moment—doesn’t hurt, I’ve had it done before—and then we’ll call on Ptah, and I’ll do that part so you don’t have to worry. Makes sense?”
A hint of a grimace as they shift positions to look at him, but they roll their eyes and move over to his side, shrugging out of their jacket. "Gross."
But there's no actual protest behind it, just stating it like it's a fact. A slightly amused glance, seeming steadier now that they had gotten past the stumbling block they'd put in their own face. They drop down next to him, shoving up the sleeve of their shirt, pulling a knee to their chest.
"But yeah, makes sense..." a tilt of their head, listening to distant sirens outside in the street. Nothing nearby, at least for now.
John grinned a bit at that reaction. “You should see the spells for gods that prefer maggots,” he told them with amusement. “Be glad this one craves blood. And this’ll heal better and far bloody quicker than the cliche slice on the palm, yeah?”
The conman held out the jar towards Tan in offer. “Trust I’d use my blood if they’d take it, but most gods won’t.” And location spells did best with locals, that was the entire point.
They pull an overdramatically icked out face at the talk of maggots, sticking out their tongue before laughing and taking the jar carefully. "C'mere you wiggly little shit."
"To be fair, I haven't done much digging on god-work or the like. Could probably get my hands on resources, but it's just..." a slight hiss of breath as they let the leech latch onto them. "Hasn't really come up... there's a lot of interesting concepts there, though."
“Gods are so in name only. They only ever have the power people give them with belief,” John explained. “So I believe in them just long enough then move on,” he added sarcastically.
He lied. Lied about believing. And he had such a skill for it that most cosmic beings believed him until it was too late.
A hum, nodding slightly as they considered that. They probably weren't going to take that chance any time soon, but it was something to think about. "... Who’s been the most interesting Power you've poked with a metaphorical... or literal stick?"
A tilt of their head, lookin down to watch the leech do its job, their free hand coming up to tuck their hair out of their face before steadying their arm again.
“I snorted Santa’s ashes once. He was a right bastard, so he had it coming,” John assured them, watching the leech with mild amusement. “But that’s not the story most people want to hear about.”
"Good thing I asked your opinion on most interesting, not most people's." A roll of their eyes before looking at him again. They look curious, definitely weighing if he was bullshitting them or not, but down to hear more.
He scoffed in amusement at that. “You want me to give away all my secrets now?” John joked, taking a drag from his cigarette as he considered how to respond. “I don’t know.” He breathed the smoke out through his nostrils. “Aliens and metas are par for the course these days, especially in this soddin’ city. What do you consider interesting?”
"Nah, I would never ask someone to tell me everything on a first... meeting." A small smirk as they weigh their words.
"An' i don't know... I don't get involved in a lot of shit like all this beyond feet on the ground stuff. I would say the bar is in hell, but i would fear you'd take that too literally." They paused, considering.
"I guess some context on the Santa thing, since you're the one who brought it up?"
“Human remains have power. Even after death pieces of the soul linger on. With someone like Agios Nikolaus, who was essentially Santa as you've heard of him, those remains can yield information and help questions be answered from the spirit world. I used them in a ritual for information then snorted the rest for a laugh. It was a white Christmas all around.” He chuckled at his own joke.
They tilt their theor head, looking at him forca moment before looking back down at the leech again. "Hm... cool."
"See, could be worse, me being a nosy little shit. I could let myself be so annoying about it." A slight laugh as they glanced back up, looking across the empty gymnasium consideringly.
“I suppose this is the part where I give you the ‘don't do drugs’ speech, but that’s a load of bollocks. Drugs are great,” John told them. “And human remains are a hell of a drug. I don’t make a habit of it for obvious reasons though.”
He watched the leech and nodded towards it, “That’s probably ready if you want to peal it off and pass it to me.”
A slight laugh at that, shrugging. "Unfortunately, I am mostly currently non-recreationally medicated, except for a few exceptions, which i probably shouldn't be making, but fuck it. Not listing the exceptions."
"Got a friend who does parties out in some of the abandoned warehouses, though. It gets... interesting." A slight curve of they lips before they shif their attention to the leech and sighing before carefully pulling it loose from their arm.
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"Oh, definitely. You lot've been busy..." a hum, tucking their thumbs into their pockets as they rock back on their heels to look up at him with raised brows.
Their lips tilted in a slight grin as they shook their head, pausing to make sure the library was closed up properly. They were the last one out, again. Not the safest habit, but they made do. "You looking after yourselves too, though?"
It seemed almost silly, asking after one of the local vigilantes like that, but with how much gang activity had been ramping up again recently, it was a concern, at least in their opinion.
"City never sleeps which means we're never out of work." Robin joked back.
This librarian did good work. Kept their head down, got on with their job, had some unsafe habits but who didn't in this city. And apparently super sweet because Robin hadn't been expecting that question from a citizen. Everyone knew of Bruce Wayne's unfortunate death... the hero community hadn't said a word about Batman. Which... sucked. Grieving in private. But it protected his identity and it wouldn't be forever. Just until there was some time and distance between Bruce's announcement.
A little of that roguish charm shifted, the smile falling a little at the corners as he answered.
"We're doing our best." It's much quieter than earlier but painfully honest. "This area at least should be clear of gang activity for the night." He continued as he stretched. "Wouldn't want hard workers like yourself getting waylaid when you're just trying to get home."
A slight bounce on their toes, giving him a nod. They didn't know everything that was going on, but if you were paying attention, there was a difference in the way the bats were dealing with things lately. And Tan made a habit of keeping an ear to the ground.
A wry smile at his comment about having cleared the area already, and they placed a hand over their heart. "Kind of you. I'm usually pretty good at dodging folks at this point, but having to worry less about it is always nice."
They make sure their bag is secure and flash him a slight grin. "Heard some rumblings of stuff a while back, by the way, but it seems to have died down in the recent days. Cult stuff."
"Oh, definitely. You lot've been busy..." a hum, tucking their thumbs into their pockets as they rock back on their heels to look up at him with raised brows.
Their lips tilted in a slight grin as they shook their head, pausing to make sure the library was closed up properly. They were the last one out, again. Not the safest habit, but they made do. "You looking after yourselves too, though?"
It seemed almost silly, asking after one of the local vigilantes like that, but with how much gang activity had been ramping up again recently, it was a concern, at least in their opinion.
A slight grin, nodding. "Yeah, I've been doing my best... got shot at again the other night, but you know."
A gesture to the fact that they're up and running around rather than in the hospital or dead somewhere "it could be worse."
A hum, leaning back against the wall. "But yeah, i wanted to check in on you with how things gave been recently wirh the weather and just... the city. Feels like everyone is so on-edge with the heat."
"Hey..." A bemused expression, followed by a sigh that said 'this might as well happen' more succinctly than words. "Not so much? I... what brings you to Gotham?"
He raised a brow, looking the man over with a flicker of recognition. Not personal, but certainly by reputation. "Sorry. Seem to have left my manners in my other jacket. You can call me Tan."
A click of her tongue, tilting their head up to look at him a bit better. "Heard some rumblings about Slaughter Swamp. Grundy might be waking up again soon. Know a few people that keep track of Bat sightings, but..."
A gesture, before fidgeting with their bracelet, considering the situation. They're off the clock, at least. If they had to deal with this guy and maintain professionalism, they might explode something in the process. "Most people aren't the most privy to their movements and plans, unless you're looking for the gossip side of things."
There's a dry sort of humor to that as they shrugged.
John considered them for a moment, something curious in his gaze as he looked Tan over. “Well let’s hear it then. You’re nervous enough you probably know who I am, so what’s the gossip side of it all.”
He didn’t generally meddle in Gotham or Blüdhaven often because he respected the Bats, but he’d never admit that.
"Well, I doubt you're interested in my friend's PowerPoint presentation on her theory that the bat is Bruce Wayne's sugar baby." An edge of a grin as they take out their phone, scrolling through a few things with a quick, practiced motion.
"And yeah... know enough that your reputation precedes you, a bit. Curious enough to not just leave you high and dry." A glance up.
"Most recent posted sighting of the big guy himself is in Coventry, by the way. He's with Robin, or was about thirty minutes ago." A hum, checking on something else.
"Someone's on a 'the butts match' thing again. Which I sort of think is a reductive way of trying to figure out identities, personally. It does look like they're more on the outs with the cops than usual, though the pendelum will always swing on that one."
“I have a reputation?” John asked sarcastically. And then he waited to hear if they’d tell him what said reputation was. Everyone called him something different, and he was known for more oddities than not.
"In certain circles." A wry twist of their lips as they locked out the phone again. They weren't as in the know on things as they would like, but they did their best to keep an ear to the ground.
They made gesture, as though picking through a mental filing cabinet. "I believe, no offense, the verdict tends to be 'don't trust under any circumstances' and that you tend to leave a lot of collateral damage at times."
He nodded in agreement. “Bloody fair assessment,” John assured them. “Not looking for trouble tonight though, Squire. But as we're dropping all pretenses, hi, I’m John,” and he offered his hand to shake. “John Constantine.”
They tucked away their phone again before taking his hand for a moment and giving it a firm shake. "The rest of the verdict is that you're damn good at a lot of things in spite of the previous verdict."
A slight smirk, before stepping back and shrugging one shoulder. "Nice t'meet you off the game for the moment, Mister Constantine."
There was a slight buzz of magic around the bracelet they'd been fidgeting with, something careful and protective.
“Ah, nifty little bugger you've got there,” John commented with an amused grin as he shook their hand then let go. “Probably detects my tainted blood. The rumors of why I don’t age are numerous, but it all comes down to demon blood.” He’d cheated Death so many times now he owed her dinner or something truly.
"Ward an' shield combo. Kept me from getting shot or the like more times than I prefer to count." A hum, eyes brightening slightly as they rock back on their heels. They don't exactly get to talk shop much, so it's definitely an interesting situation for them.
"Also ah... yeah, no, that would explain a bit." A wiggle of their fingers. "Demon blood'll complicate so many things. With the way the city is, i'm sometimes surprised, but glad, we don't have more demon activity, to be honest"
A slight shift of weight, adjusting their bag. "Sometimes feels like even they don't want to deal too much with the nexus of shit under this place."
”The Bats keep a clean house,” John agreed, thinking of Gotham. “Most of the underworld sticks to Blüdhaven if they’re getting peckish enough to come to the surface, but that’s less than you’d think.”
“Well, synchronicity led me to you here in Gotham, so you must have some expertise in what I’m looking for. It’s a book, very old and very powerful. Rauðskinna is what they call it, ‘The Book Of Power.’ And rumor has it someone brought the piece to Gotham recently.”
A gesture, narrowing their eyes. "It would be a book matter that dumps you at my feet. Walk and talk. Sadly, the elevator's busted and the landlord's shit. I need to grab some stuff if i'm going to make myself useful, though."
They flash him a slight smile, vrows raised curiously. "We talking an individual, a cult situation, or someone trying to auction it off?"
All the options were sort of out of Tan's area of expertise, but they'd make do. They didn't really get themself too involved with the big movements in the city, but they could at least point him in the right direction.
Their gut told them that wasn't going to be the end of it, though.
A hum as they take the stairs quickly, pausing at the landings to look back at John.
Ah herein lied the problem to answering most of these questions—John didn’t have the answers. And it showed on his face, a brief expression of hesitance and almost irritation with himself.
“My source wasn’t very forthcoming with the information. I was damning him at the time you see, so he didn’t have much to lose and few reasons to give up information. Honestly may have sent me here as a laugh, but just in case…”
John looked at them when they paused. “If I had to guess, given Gotham’s history, it’s a cult. Hopefully not the Owls, but…” He shrugged in a ‘what are you gonna do?’ kind of way.
"Heavily assume the worst, hope for the best, basically. Right." They shook their head with a sigh, finally reaching the right floor and exiting into the hallway. The building was run down, but it could be worse.
They paused and slipped a piece of paper under the door next to theirs before pointing sternly at John. "I'm going to grab a few things, and you can either stay put in the hall for a minute or make me sigh at you by tripping my wards when you come in."
Cult. Right. Owls or not, that's a problem, given what information they're able to dredge up in the back of their mind about the book in question. They're not good at all this stuff, but hell. He'd probably find the damn thing without her, but if it was in the hands of someone who could actually make use of it, taking extra time could be an issue.
John watched with curiosity, hands in his coat pocket. He took them out and held them up in mock surrender. “Not looking to poke holes in the boat ferryin’ me across Styx,” he assured them. “You help me, I have no need to poke my nose in your business now do I?”
He nodded and slipped into the apartment, taking a moment to steady himself before moving off to grab a bag from his closet, as well as shucking off his work clothes and trading them out for something more serviceable if trouble... inevitably, came knocking.
A few objects were plucked from the shelves and shoved into the bag, before he slid on his boots and tightened the laces. Okay. Okay. Right. They were probably going to regret getting involved with this, but fuck it. If Constantine screwed them over or they got caught up in the trouble on the side, at least it would be better than sitting and doing nothing.
All in all, it was relatively quick and they were mid braiding their hair to keep it out of the way as they stepped back out. "Okay... so. First things first, we need to figure out where the thing currently is... the who and the how would also be useful, but, you know."
John’s gaze narrowed in a studious way as he mentally went over all of his options, taking a drag from the cigarette he’d lit while waiting (never ask for permission, and rarely apologize later was his motto.)
“There are ways to speak to the soul of this city and have her give up her secrets,” John mused. “Seems to me she’d want to protect the people from a book this powerful and might want to help us find it, but it’ll be an odd ritual,” he warned. “Takes two if you’re up for it, unless you’ve got a better way?” Part of him hoped they did.
A slight grimace and a roll of their eyes, but they didn't fuss about the cigarette, making sure their bag was secure. His question caused a pause, a hint of frustration flickering through their expression.
"I don't really... do this kind of thing much." They glanced away, scuffing a toe of one of their boots on the floor of the dingy hallway. "I could do a map scry and try to triangulate a location, but if they've gone underground, literally or figuratively, or know what they're doing, that might not help much."
His voice is uncertain, though he's obviously trying to rifle through options. "... how odd of a ritual?"
A raised brow as they looked up at him, eyes narrowed.
“Scrying will get you ballpark,” John agreed, thinking it over.
He took another drag and blew the smoke out his nostrils before speaking again. “We'll need a leech for it—don’t worry, I know a guy—and I’ll need the blood of someone who lives in this city.” Ergo two person ritual. “Simple as letting the creature feed and then we say the right words and send it to the right god. Those buggers are like popcorn to them, and blood freely offered is the butter.”
"No getting me bound, maimed, or otherwise taken from being in working order involved, at least in the ritual, I would hope?" Their voice is slightly deadpan as they watch him closely. Despite their words, there was a distinct curiosity in their expression, and a hint of humor to the question despite them knowing it may well be a valid concern.
There's a hint of a grin as they move back to the stairwell and start downstairs again. "I admit, I'm interested."
“No this god trades in places. He’ll get a map of the city drawn in your blood to preserve as a reward, and we’ll get a location,” John explained. “Ptah,” he explained. “Ancient Egyptian god of architects and the like. He enjoys floor plans,” he joked.
Another of those small pauses, as though mentally rummaging through information. "I... you know what? Fine."
A slight grin, skipping the last few steps and landing to turn and look up at him, mismatched eyes meeting blue. There's still a sharpness there, wariness bred into them by the blood-ridden city that's raised them, layered over the warmth that peeks out. They seem settled on their decision, though.
"Good, okay... so, this... is definitely not going to be boring, huh?" A major understatement, and they know it. "... what's your plan once you knowcwhere you're headed, or are you planning on just winging it?"
There was a hesitance there he respected. Most were entirely too gullible, but they seemed to at least consider saying no first.
“Boring is for people with office jobs,” John told them with a grin, something mischievous behind it now that they’d agreed. “We’ll need a secure place to do the ritual once I get the ingredients. Anywhere you might suggest as a local?”
"Does a library count as an office job? Wouldn't want you to think I'm too boring." A smirk as they tucked their hands into their jacket pockets, considering options.
"... I. Hm. Does breaking into an abandoned building count as secure, if the place can be closed back up? Because I might know a place, though it's a bit of a mess." A grin, flexing their fingers as they considered. "I would consider the basement of the library since it's after-hours, but I would feel weird breaking into there, and would like to keep my job."
”No, see. You lot have your own brand of magic,” John told them. “Being a keeper of books is a form of power.”
“The more abandoned the better. We can set up a barrier so that nothing gets out if it all goes wrong,” he explained with a grin. “Give us your hand and think of the address and I’ll see it,” he said, muttering a few words in Latin before offering his hand. It lit up with magical lines of ink that were as protective as they were dangerous.
"Always been a big proponent of freedom of information." A shrug, scuffing their boots. There were benefits to having access to things when you enjoyed learning new stuff. When you needed to keep figuring stuff out.
They tilt their head, watching him curiously, before sliding their hand into his with a tiny flicker of blue-green light as skin contacted skin. The place was and old abandoned rec center. It was unfortunate that it had fallen out of use, but as long as nobody was currently squatting in the place, it could be serviceable, including a larger open space for working on stuff in the building's small gym.
He grinned, something knowing in his eyes because he understood firsthand that knowledge could also be a dangerous burden. Especially in the wrong hands. He figured they understood that or they wouldn’t be helping him find the Rauðskinna at all.
His hands being the right hands was debatable.
“Cheers, I’ll meet you there in an hour?” John asked, letting go of their hand.
They were aware of the irony of those words, given the situation and company, but just flashed him a slightly sardonic grin. Other options were sparse on the ground right now, and getting the damn book secured was the focus for the moment. Some things were better not being used.
The afterwards could be figured out as needed.
They nodded and rocked on their heels. "Sure thing. I'll get the place unlocked and scout it out. See you in a few... don't have any attempted muggings or anything."
A wink as they shoulder their bag and turn to make their way with a wave over theor shoulder.
“It’d take more than a simple minded mugger to take me down, sorry to disappoint,” he joked with a wink as he turned coat and started away.
It didn’t take him the entire hour to get what he’d needed. The shaman he’d gone to for the leech and a few other needed ingredients had taken a little bit of convincing since John’s reputation proceeded him, but John arrived at the promised location with a bag in hand and a jar with the leech in it on time.
He pulled out his pack and lit another cigarette as he waited outside the building for Tan.
A flicker of light inside the building and movement. It took a moment, but Tan popped out of the alley and waved him over. "Side door. Less likely to draw attention with the whole breakin and enterin."
Tan was once again glad that their younger self had taken their brother's bait and learned to pick locks out of sheer spite when he told them they couldn't. It had come in useful a surprising number of times. It probably would continue to be.
They snagged a small, battery powered lantern, the type someone might take camping or keep in case of a blackout, from where they had left it, and flicked it on. The place wasn't fully falling apart, but it was clear that nobody had been taking care of it for at least a year or so.
“This place is built on an ancient burial ground. That’s good. It’ll add to the energy of the spell,” John explained as he followed Tan and looked around at the place. He saw it for what it had been, a place of mourning and celebration of life, the energy still seeped into the ground, ghosts walking about stuck in their patterns and cycles.
“You know a basic circle of protection, yeah? I can draw one, but if we’re using your blood it may be better if you do.” Power of intent was a powerful thing.
A hum, looking down for a moment. "... I do, yeah."
They seem uncertain though, as they move to rummage through their backpack with a small frown. That hesitation is back, but it's directed inward rather than toward John.
Someone walking on ground they aren't practiced at traversing. "I can do it, you'll probably need to check it over before it's locked into place, though. Just to be certain."
A quick glance in his direction, tilting their head. There's a slight flicker of light as they run through some of the needed symbols, sketching them with the fingertips of their free hand.
John raised an eyebrow at that reaction. It lacked the confidence they’d had moments before.
“Would you like to know a soddin’ secret about magic, mate?” John asked, trying to catch their visual focus. “It is what you shape it into. Think of it as clay that can take almost any form if you’re skilled and patient enough. The power of belief is more powerful than magic incantations or potions. You have to believe it’ll bloody work, and then it will.”
“So the circle doesn’t need to be perfect,” he explained. “It just needs to be believable.”
"Let's just say i'm more practiced in theory than application on some things." A slight sigh, looking over and pausing to consider what he'd said before nodding. "... Right."
"Sorry, need to not get so in my head about it, yeah? Had some time to overthink things while you were busy getting supples, s'all." A shake of their head, moving forward with a deep breath as they began to move debris out of the way on the gymnasium floor, making a space to set up the circle. A steadying breath as they worked.
"Intent and belief..." a huff of breath that's halfway a laugh as they pause and pull out some chalk, twirling it between their fingers as they consider it. After a long moment, they take a deep breath and look back over at him. The nerves are still there, but it's backed by the resolve they'd shown earlier. "Yeah, I can do that."
John set the bag on the ground and sat down beside it, eyeing Tan as they worked. In truth it was partially a test to see how confident they were or if it was all an act for the infamous John Constantine. He’d need real belief for this ritual to work.
Opening the jar, he looked at the leech and made a face before pulling his cigarettes out. He lit one and left it between his lips while pulling out the other ingredients to mix them into the jar. “Eyelids of an executed man, the large toenail of a widow, and iron nails from Rome,” he explained, taking a drag from his cigarette.
And then he closed the jar again, said a few words, and watched as a puff of smoke exploded in the jar. When he opened it again to clear it, the leech was glowing.
A mutter under their breath as they swept a hand through the air as though knocking away cobwebs, before they bent and began to draw. Their movements are steady as they marked the boundaries and directions.
As they worked, they seem to fall into a rhythm, almost seeming to forget their company, though they nod in response to his explanation. There's an occasional pause as they sit back on their heels, looking over what they have so far. A slight frown as they move to correct something, not perfectionism, but specificity. The steel is back in their spine as they work, lips slightly pursed.
The air seems to weave itself together as they work, layering over itself. An unsteady breath as they flex the fingers of their free hand, adding a final stroke to a section that looks to define Gotham as a location.
Cursed yet loved, Home, steeped in pain and fear, the refusal to let go, the refusal to leave, the vulnerability of the least of her people, the way that the highest seem untouchable, the way things are drawn here, the city as defined by both stagnation and change, the sacrifice of those who try to protect her.
A slight shudder as they seem to come back to the present moment, standing slowly and looking across their work. "... Okay. Okay."
John kept a csreful watch in them and their interaction with their work. The tedious details were done with care, and John was honestly a little impressed at their precision.
“Alright, so you let this little bugger suck on your arm for a moment—doesn’t hurt, I’ve had it done before—and then we’ll call on Ptah, and I’ll do that part so you don’t have to worry. Makes sense?”
A hint of a grimace as they shift positions to look at him, but they roll their eyes and move over to his side, shrugging out of their jacket. "Gross."
But there's no actual protest behind it, just stating it like it's a fact. A slightly amused glance, seeming steadier now that they had gotten past the stumbling block they'd put in their own face. They drop down next to him, shoving up the sleeve of their shirt, pulling a knee to their chest.
"But yeah, makes sense..." a tilt of their head, listening to distant sirens outside in the street. Nothing nearby, at least for now.
John grinned a bit at that reaction. “You should see the spells for gods that prefer maggots,” he told them with amusement. “Be glad this one craves blood. And this’ll heal better and far bloody quicker than the cliche slice on the palm, yeah?”
The conman held out the jar towards Tan in offer. “Trust I’d use my blood if they’d take it, but most gods won’t.” And location spells did best with locals, that was the entire point.
They pull an overdramatically icked out face at the talk of maggots, sticking out their tongue before laughing and taking the jar carefully. "C'mere you wiggly little shit."
"To be fair, I haven't done much digging on god-work or the like. Could probably get my hands on resources, but it's just..." a slight hiss of breath as they let the leech latch onto them. "Hasn't really come up... there's a lot of interesting concepts there, though."
“Gods are so in name only. They only ever have the power people give them with belief,” John explained. “So I believe in them just long enough then move on,” he added sarcastically.
He lied. Lied about believing. And he had such a skill for it that most cosmic beings believed him until it was too late.
A hum, nodding slightly as they considered that. They probably weren't going to take that chance any time soon, but it was something to think about. "... Who’s been the most interesting Power you've poked with a metaphorical... or literal stick?"
A tilt of their head, lookin down to watch the leech do its job, their free hand coming up to tuck their hair out of their face before steadying their arm again.
“I snorted Santa’s ashes once. He was a right bastard, so he had it coming,” John assured them, watching the leech with mild amusement. “But that’s not the story most people want to hear about.”
"Good thing I asked your opinion on most interesting, not most people's." A roll of their eyes before looking at him again. They look curious, definitely weighing if he was bullshitting them or not, but down to hear more.
He scoffed in amusement at that. “You want me to give away all my secrets now?” John joked, taking a drag from his cigarette as he considered how to respond. “I don’t know.” He breathed the smoke out through his nostrils. “Aliens and metas are par for the course these days, especially in this soddin’ city. What do you consider interesting?”
"Nah, I would never ask someone to tell me everything on a first... meeting." A small smirk as they weigh their words.
"An' i don't know... I don't get involved in a lot of shit like all this beyond feet on the ground stuff. I would say the bar is in hell, but i would fear you'd take that too literally." They paused, considering.
"I guess some context on the Santa thing, since you're the one who brought it up?"
“Human remains have power. Even after death pieces of the soul linger on. With someone like Agios Nikolaus, who was essentially Santa as you've heard of him, those remains can yield information and help questions be answered from the spirit world. I used them in a ritual for information then snorted the rest for a laugh. It was a white Christmas all around.” He chuckled at his own joke.
They tilt their theor head, looking at him forca moment before looking back down at the leech again. "Hm... cool."
"See, could be worse, me being a nosy little shit. I could let myself be so annoying about it." A slight laugh as they glanced back up, looking across the empty gymnasium consideringly.
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