Magical Adventures

“You don’t actually have any clingers, if that helps at all….” She trails into silence again, awkwardly clearing her throat in a vague attempt to make it seem like any bit of this conversation was normal. “And I mostly try to fly under the radar because of some past assassination attempts, so. I’m not exactly noticeable, by design.”

Her face flushes, and she has to fight the odd urge to shrink into herself. Now was hardly the time to lean in to her obvious inexperience or obliviousness. With any luck they could flit right past that part of the conversation and never circle back to it again.

“It’s a curse? Can’t curses be broken?” Her head tilts, eyebrows furrowing like she had any real way to catalogue any of this information. Like she could somehow manage to be scientific about it instead of just clueless.

“It... actually does, yeah.” He wasn’t about to explain or even consider elaborating, because this wasn’t about him. Well technically it was, but this was about Liv getting answers she deserved. Plus, that meant more energy to dedicate to story time. 

Because this story was about to be long. 

“It ain’t magic if that’s what you’re asking...” Manny shrugged. “Story I grew up with is how some priests of Xolotl got the idea of stealing the power of transformation from Tezcatlipoca. They were successful, but cursed, as Tezcatlipoca gave them exactly what they wanted... unending transformation but there’d never be enough for them to return to normal. Xolotl had apparently found this funny and so he stabilized the power t’ give them what they wanted. And ‘cause it was so funny that Tezcatlipoca was offended, it came with a deal: spread it to the ends of the Earth. If they refused, he’d just let them continue their unending transformation ‘til their bodies were nothing more than vaguely sentient flesh that felt nothing but pain.”  

“Sure, yeah …”

She blinks a few times in rapid succession. He wouldn’t have been wrong to assume she was reviewing … well, everything. The thousand and one minute signs, the inklings of something different roiling underneath his skin. It would have been funny if she hadn’t been objectively pissed at herself for not putting two and two together at any point.

What a terrible god damn psychic she was, couldn’t even hash out what was right in front of her.

“Uh …” She trails into silence, nodding absently. It wasn’t like she didn’t get it, she hadn’t exactly ever figured out how to spit ‘I see dead people’ out in casual conversation, so it wasn’t like she could hold it against him in turn. She does wish she had a shot of vodka, or a glass of wine, or literally anything to momentarily disrupt her sudden spiral. Breakfast will have to do.

“Sorry, have you always — ? I mean, were you born like that, or …?” Maybe that’s too personal to start with right off the bat, but it’s the only question she can process at the moment, fingers reaching to fiddle with the offered fork just to keep her busy.

“Yep.”

Easy enough of a start at least, though her own admission had him raising a brow between scoops of egg. “... Huh. Surprised y’ haven’t had a pup or three wanting to pass on some message ‘bout how I’m a fucking failure then.” For him it was some light deprecation. For anyone else that was probably the most alarming thing he could’ve said.  

Oh well, more food to stuff that can of worms. 

“Seventy.... three, I wanna say and no, not by biting. It’s by blood. The curse is just—weirdly virus-ish? I dunno, I ain’t smart enough to understand most of how it works.” Manny chewed idly on another scoop and thought for a moment. It was a lot, and hell he was pretty impressed by the fact Liv hadn’t just bolted out almost immediately. 

do you remember what you said to me on our wedding night?

can we do it again?

you said that god brought us together for a reason.

the devil exists. god exists. and for us, as people, our very destiny hinges upon which one we elect to follow.

we've been called ghost hunters. paranormal researches. wackos.

when the music stops, you'll see him in the mirror standing behind you.

want to play a game of hide and clap?

there's a case in long island he'd like to discuss.

diabolical forces are formidable. these forces are eternal, and they exist today.

the fairy tale is true.

look, i gotta tell you, you have a lot of spirits in here, but this is the one that i'm most worried about because it is so hateful.

sometimes it's better to keep the genie in the bottle.

hear that?

i don't hear anything.

that explains a few things.

what's an inhuman spirit?

it's something demonic.

there's a lady in a dirty nightgown that i see in my dreams.

it scares us just thinking about it.

when you hear it, you're gonna think we're insane.

try us. please, from the start.

everything you see here is either haunted, cursed, or has been used in some kind of ritualistic practice. nothing's a toy.

don't touch it.

stop farting. it really stinks.

don't blame that on me. it's you.

i'd take a guy with a gun any day.

yeah, i don't know what her problem is.

we can't leave her out there.

we keep everything locked in here.

feel free to look around. just don't touch anything.

this clock stopped at 3:07 and so did the one in the hallway.

that's weird.

there's something horrible happening in my house.

If it wasn’t Maze, he wouldn’t be asking. Lucifer much prefers to handle these things himself, after all, but even the devil knows when to call in help and so far nothing he does has turned up anything useful.  

They may not always get along but, Lucifer knows if anyone has any luck of finding her, it would be John Constantine. If he finds her and helps her get back safely, maybe he’ll even forgive any past transgressions in their history. Mazikeen means the world to him, and he’ll tear down both heaven and hell to get her back. Nothing will stand in his way. 

“List? Oh, no, no. I’m going with you.” If Constantine thinks he’s going to hand him a list and sit around to wait for John to come back? He’s deeply mistaken. He will not sit idly by while someone so precious to him could be in an intense sort of danger. 

“Did--did you not just friggen ‘ear what I said?” No, he did. He definitely did, but this was Lucifer. And this was Lucifer’s literal right hand that was missing. Of course the possibility of near extermination for deciding on a ‘retirement plan’ wasn’t about to stop him any more than any other normal selfish-riddled day...  

“Gettin’ me tadger twisted off all ‘cause no one’s gonna listen to ol’ Johnny... par for the fucking course.” A groan, suddenly the tabletop seemed like the most solid thing in the room and so John just sort of... thunked his forehead against it. Alright, this was now easily about to be number one on the list of things he’d be doing to piss that guy off. 

 He waved a hand. “Fine. Fuck it. Just—make yourself a little less you while we’re down there. Can get out on me own just fine, don’t fancy finding out who’s wrath you’d be risking if you’re felt.” There’s a pause. “... Can’t go down your way either. He’ll pick you out faster than you can spout the ol’ litanies.” Luckily, John had his own ways. 

“MacCready,” she echoes, committing it to memory. “So you’re a freelancer, huh? Is guarding caravans your usual tune, or do you have a finger in more than one jello cake?”

On the road, one meets a number of precarious people, but Lucy can’t say the armor sounds familiar. Sounds like she’s been lucky, so far. And that’s saying something.

An assaultron? Well, sugarfoot…

“Mercenary work pays better than you’d think, though this one’s Kessler cashing in a favor I owe her.” The fact that no one else seemed willing to take on the job? Probably smarter than he was, but Mac didn’t like the idea of new variables already choosing the shoot first option on one of the few places that’d be open to business. 

The answer hadn’t been one he expected, but it was something worth filing away for now. “Well I took care of him all the same but we’ll  have to keep an eye open. Where there’s one raider there’s bound to be more—unless he was a scout.”  

Which wasn’t a good thought and was enough for MacCready to grab the binoculars on his waist. Look, keep walking, gather as much of a feel for whether or not they were marching through a trap. Simple enough. 

"not a killer," she says lightly. "and you? because you certainly don't belong with the cops out there." looking away from the body on the floor, cassidy turned to look directly at the man that had just walked in. he didn't much look like a hunter either, making her all the more curious.

“Nah but the bloke who’s lookin’ like he’s gonna lose yesterday’s dinner in the gutter likes t’ pay me a couple hundred quid when he finds something he doesn’t know and don’t wanna file in th’ case log.” The piles of books stacked in the hall that had his ears ringing just for existing near them was weird enough, and an understandable reason for why he got roped in already. 

Didn’t need to burn any part of the forty-five minute time limit to figure out why that was. 

The copper and bile was thick enough that to anyone with a weaker constitution it might’ve knocked them cold. John was willing to take it as a sign that there was definitely more at hand than the victim waking up to their neck spontaneously clawed out. “Y’ find a key for that?”  

"Cute?" Robby questions with an arched eyebrow. He won't deny that maybe he is kind of desperate. It feels pointless when they both know the need that Robby feels right now borders on desperate. The way he wants so much more than what Jack is currently giving him, and his words spoken reek of desperation, too. Robby can't be bothered to care. 

Something tells him Jack likes him desperate, anyway, and that's just fine with Robby. 

Wide desire filled brown eyes that seem to be plead without Robby fully meaning to, flicker down to Jack's hand, watching as Jack trails his own hand down his neck and shoulder.   

Yeah, he wants Jack's hand, but he wants so much more than that, too. He wants Jack's lips on his own, he wants Jack inside of him. He wants everything and fuck, he feels greedy, but he doesn't care either. Not when it comes to Jack and having him. 

Jack's hand lifting stops Robby from moving forward like he wants to. Instead of disobeying, Robby decides he's more of in a mood to obey him. Besides, he likes the way Jack looks at and watches him. Like he's the only man on this earth that fucking matters and how can he not chase that high? 

He obeys almost instantly. The hoodie comes off first, tossed aside, followed by the t-shirt, jeans, and underwear that he all tosses somewhere to the side to expose himself completely to Jack. He's achingly hard, cock fully erect and leaking once he settles back down in his spot. 

“Yeah. Cute.”  

Not meant to be demeaning in any sense, more that it was... fascinating, no matter how many times that he was the one that got to see Robby like this. Still new, still something just for his eyes, Jack would be a downright fool to not treasure this sight like any other. 

There was probably something clever to be said about age and beauty, but right now Jack didn’t want to even try and think about it. 

“You’re doing so good, Robby...” A slow inhale, definitely trying to not sound as heated up as he was though it was hard not to. Jack needed to find some kind of focus but it was already pretty hard to try and keep cool. “Good... good... you can stop now. I don’t want you to finish just yet.” 

He replaced his hand against bare skin, using his touch to draw Robby back up. Having to reach upwards for a kiss wasn’t much of a problem, but it definitely made the scene he was trying to paint just a bit silly. Oh well, Jack got this far, he could make up the rest. “I’m gonna take you outta your own head if you’ll let me... and when you finish, you’re not gonna know where you are.” 

One of his own hands took Robby’s remaining to place on his own hip. A tease, a sign, just to let Robby uncloth his reward if he wanted. And fuck did Jack really want him to, even if he barely felt like a restrained animal wanting to shove his dick into just something. 

The familiar itch scratched in the back of his head. Daylen wanted to see some red. Spill blood, rip out guts. His twitching knife hand had been dry too long.

"I don't answer to that cunt. I don't answer to anyone!"

Daylen hadn't been associated with the Warden's in a long time. It felt too small, being in that fortress. Leading men against Darkspawn. It wasn't satisfying. And now? The world was imperiled again. He'd kept his nose out of that bullshit with the Inquisition, mostly. And now? Shit was falling apart around him.

“You’re angry. Good. Maybe think about putting that to use to help these people rather than winge about it, because trust me beautiful, this all is very real.”  

The storm wasn’t aimed at him but rather up. Higher, cliffside, where they could see the ogre picking up yet another piece of ruin. Evka hadn’t been kidding about the bigger ones trying to get creative on how to squish the survivors... never a good sign. 

A big target for the dead storm, at least. Something for the anger to rip its way into. A snap of fingers, the sickly green already dissipating set to chase up the rockside to tear into the beast. 

god forbid, if something happens to us, they know where to retrieve our bodies.

your appearance fascinates me on so many levels.

i look forward to getting to know you.

i've met few as unremarkable as you in my travels.

i have some business to take care of here in the city before we go ahead and head off.

it's really quite painless. it's pretty cool.

i wonder if someone knows about a cavern under the lake.

maybe we need to breathe under fricking water.

is there a library nearby?

are you just going to stand there and watch me peruse then?

just kill him!

damn it! it hurts! it hurts me in my soul!

i kind of respect you. i'm a little impressed.

we've finally gotten to the end of your list of good names.

do your holy shit when we go there, all right?

i want to hear more about this.

this is beautiful. can i hit something with it?

i thought you were going to tell me a dirty joke or something!

i killed him! he's all over me! his bits are all over me!

can you give me a swig of that?

context is everything.

we're like a giant fart.

we probably should have talked out our plan before we did this.

at this point, i don't give a shit.

can farts travel underwater?

how far away is it under the ice?

we did some science!

let's try to set up camp in the trees, so we're not on the ground.

sit on the ground. your hair's a mess.

i saw something strange down there.

let me go take a look real quick.

it's going to be a big day tomorrow. we should probably get some sleep.

it's getting weird tonight.

why are you making it weird?

what the fuck are they talking about?

where did you get them? did you buy them?

i stole them, dude.

i believe you are a good man.

i've been thinking a lot about why we're together and what we're doing.

i think we're very broken people, but i think together, we are far greater than the sum of our parts. i like who we are together, and i think that's important.

it's good to want things.

i'm in a place where i'm realizing that i have to make decisions about what's important.

i'm sorry if i've done anything to offend you.

we're a bit of an awkward family, but we are trying.

we will rise. or if we fail, no one will ever know.

you are really fucking cool. you know that, don't you?

i've seen you checking out some of the members of our little group here.

i see the way you've been flirting with him. it's adorable.

it's not often you meet a man like that. so you run towards him. some would say, with your spear out.

can you guys talk a little quieter? some of us are sleeping.

for the love of god, let something attack us.

hey, you know what? we're not doing anything for you, you fuck, 'cause you didn't even try to help us.

you're all going to die. all of you.

can't you climb on shit?

hey guys. i don't trust this goo. it creeps me out. just be careful.

do you need more light?

i need popcorn for this.

i think someone has a crush!

i have a sword.

there's a big fucking hole in the way.

i could totally parkour that.

i can read bullshit.

happy anniversary, you dicks!

there's a fuck-you beam, too. there's literally a fuck-you beam.

oh, son of a fuck!

did you pee your underoos?

the fuck happened?

oh my god, i'm shaking.

i feel so cold.

why are you crying?

you fucking died.

did you set off a trap? is that how i died?

you know, he loves you very, very much. so very much.

walk with me for a moment.

i'm not sure what just happened, but i need you to know that you're very dear to me.

i want you to kill it. and i want you to write me and tell me how you did it.

you're a good guy too, even though you try really hard to pretend not to be.

stay near him.

you didn't need to apologize for stealing that kiss before.

the hand that had instinctively gone to her hip, thumb brushing the grip of the pistol holstered there, remains despite the stranger's protestations - but it moves no further as Devya eyes him, up and down, considering for a long moment. Back-up or twisted competition? the tension in her shoulders eases slightly, gaze flickering briefly toward the caravan and back.

“Lying? Y’ kidding? I’d be friggen stupid to piss off anyone at one of the few locations that actually like me.” The fact that this seemed like a good opportunity to get back at that Tower Tom prick for killing one of his favorite clients and stealing his package?  

Afterthought, really, just ignore that he had agreed to do this one for free. 

“Doc brought you on? Then guess the caravan’s got more than food and basic trade this time.” Bad for them, that just made the operator the largest target. Worse for Bunker Hill when it’d inevitably get struck. Well, shit.