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@discipulusmaleficus
[text]: shocked you could dredge any up to start with. [text]: what has humanity done this time?
[txt] wont stop moving my plants
[txt] keep trying to talk to me while im putting things away
[txt] was working register and someone started yelling at me
[txt] am going to lose job for biting someone
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+ “Oh God, something is wrong with me.”
spooky scary demon possession ･ﾟ✫ @discipulusmaleficus
In all fairness to Hana, she had been the one to summon this demon; after all, summoning was something of her speciality, and she couldn't let him have all the fun. He had been the one to fetch some more exotic items she'd required for the summoning, items which she would not be able to source herself. There had been no need for Kalmar to stick around, but it wasn't exactly like Hana had told him that he had to go. Now look at the situation they were in. 'Okay, okay, it's fine,' Hana said through deep breaths. The demon had decided that it had more interest in the weird guy who must have been the one that summoned it than the sweet little lady, dressed in clothes too pastel to be anything more than an innocent bystander. 'I should have something to fix this.' She hurried away from Kalmar and over to the tote bag filled with various oddities and began ruffling through them all, gentle enough to make sure she didn't bring harm to anything particularly fragile. 'Have you ever been possessed by a demon before?' she asked all too casually. 'Just... hang in there, okay?'
discord rp stuff featuring @discipulusmaleficus and @desertfragments
[ ask ; @discipulusmaleficus ] "Oh, I know," says Kal. His voice is easy, blasé, but hell if he doesn't. He remembers the oppressive sensation of being stuck within the walls of the Academy, stuck trudging through the bog around his aunt's mouldering farmhouse or dying in her loft. Of fate and obligation laid out immovable in front of him. Everything that drove him to run away and never look back. And now he's stuck here. And he's not even a nurse. Not even a mage. He's -- Kalmar takes another shot. Smirks. "Well, I suppose you can walk away any time you want, hm?"
"Right." Rowan can't quite muster up the enthusiasm to make that sound true. He still stuck to his story: he had come here to escape his shitty roommate, and he worked to pay his rent. It was all his choice to be here.
He could, theoretically, break his deal with Chester and go anytime. It would fuck over a valuable friend contact, and a thousand cops would be on his ass to drag him back to jail, but he could skip town. He knew how. But then, Nat would be left here alone. But then, he wouldn't be able to contact Garrot if he needed him for something. But then, Sofi.
"But then, I wouldn't get to see whatever it is that finally kills you." A ghost of a smirk passes across his face. He lays back, letting his head hang over the railing of the bed. "Besides, it's fucking nice having a bed."
Rowan gestures with his empty cup. "Your turn."
they have just executed a successful theft together, kalmar and bark, bark and kalmar. no, bark has no any real knowledge of who kalmar really is and his story, but blindly went off his vibes.
which turned out to be a pretty smart decision. they are smuggly walking besides him, a good dog heeling their man for the day.
and then they see something. they don't say what to kalmar, but they realize they need his cut. not whole, few more bucks will suffice. they stubbornly sit, puppy eye-ing him the best they can.
@discipulusmaleficus says: "Are you trying to be adorable with me? Does that usually work for you?"
and yes, while it does, bark doesn't outwardly says so. instead, opts for begging with more than just their gaze.
C'MOOOOOON, a whiny voice starts, i just want two more bucks, my man-dude, two more bucks and i'll be off your back! spare me two more bucks, please??
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(Continued from here with @discipulusmaleficus )
discipulusmaleficus:
“Information. On diagnosis, for a start, perhaps more if you prove yourself useful.” A subtle challenge, as if he doesn’t expect him to. “You could say I'm…” He sits still, unconsciously grinds his rings against each other with a tiny, metallic noise. The smile and the lightness of his voice stay set, masklike. He’s not nearly close to reading Clemcy’s mind, but he can feel enough to feel uncomfortable. “Investigating the source of an anomaly. On behalf of a client, of course.” He’d wrung his brain for a better lie and found none. Delivered it with passing confidence and a dry mouth. “The literature on all of this is sparse, I’m sure you understand.”
Clemcy makes cold, deliberate eye contact at the implied challenge; unimpressed, disapproving. (Annoyed. He has nothing to prove to this child, knows better than to rise to the bait, but… the desire to extract the respect he is due still exists, nonetheless.)
His flat expression shifts to a faint frown at the mention of a third party. “Ah. A client. I see.” Does he believe that claim? It hardly matters; his response is the same regardless, and Kalmar will just have to sort out his own priorities from there. Clemcy sits up and shuffles briefly through his desk, pulling out a blank notepad and his basic consultation fee sheet.
“The literature is sparse, yes — due to knowledge hoarding and cultural taboos, of course, but also because souls simply are not well-characterized by language or generalized ritual. Understand that without performing an in-person examination I cannot provide a diagnosis,” he says. “Anything we discuss like this is information, as you say; consultation, not action.”
“ WAIT. OH.MY.GOD!” Ellie exclaims, a little bit dramatically, a little bit theatrically, but in a fully Ellie way. She withdraws, physically and mentally, from whatever ritual they are about to do (she has no what idea if they are actually going to do some kind of a ritual or @discipulusmaleficus just turned around to take a sip of his water - she is already assuming things!).
“ I have to ask you something before we begin. It's SUPER important. ---- are you a feminist?”
@discipulusmaleficus {x}
He grins a showman’s smile, more out of habit than anything else. Gaara will find no bones beneath the shell – no ability, no power, no remaining wealth.
Kal’s fingers tighten around the arm of the wheelchair. Frankly? He’s bitter. How could he not be? “And what exactly are you expecting from me now, sir?” It’s not like he has anything to offer.
It is a reasonable question. Frankly, Kalmar looks terrible, a shell of the man he was when they last crossed paths. Perhaps he hoards a secret stash of wealth beneath his broken body, but Gaara doubts it. The outcome remains unchanged regardless. Kankuro would not be running any sort of respectable business if he simply forgave the debts of those who claimed they could not pay.
They could always pay.
“A balanced ledger. In monetary repayment, or something of equal value.”
He does not even bother to summon his sand.
