PSL; [YOU MAY BURY MY BODY]

[makimavellian]

( me and the devil walkin' side by side )

Comments

[spellbent]

[ Warren is already there, just straightening up the sleeves of his jacket when she enters. He gives her a pretty clear once-over, eyebrow arching. ]

Are you hoping to rope the demon into a conference call, or-?

[ What's that? A hint of a joke? ]

[makimavellian]

[He's pragmatically dressed but it looks nice, as to be expected. But... is that a hint of a JOKE? Do her ears deceive her?

She plays at arching a brow, but it's clear there's very faint amusement in her own tone.]

It's practical. [It's like her government outfit.] Should I have shown up in my bathing suit instead?

[spellbent]

[ He breathes out a small sound, one might even call it a chuckle. ]

You could have at least opted for a darker blouse.

[makimavellian]

[Her unimpressed facade falls right off at that, and she laughs. Even if the subject matter is a little macabre.]

But I look good in red. You'll see.

[spellbent]

I suppose I will.

[ Like he didn't splatter her with blood (some of it even her own!) and viscera when they first met. This is different. Somehow.

Before they make ready to finally depart, Warren summons his gun into his hand with a quick motion, popping the magazine out to replace it with another one — also conveniently materializing in his hand from whatever pocket of space he uses for that stuff. ]

Now then. Ready?

[makimavellian]

[It's different when it's the blood splatter of ~teamwork~

That hammerspace magic of his sure is convenient, isn't it? However, you know what's more convenient? Not needing ammo for your "gun" in the first place!

Still, she watches with some interest.]

Ready. I'll be following your lead in general until we get to the actual demon-fighting part.

[spellbent]

Then if you'd be so kind as to grab that— [ He motions to a duffel bag sitting on the couch, inside which are some books and other items they'll be needing for the summoning. ] —we can be on our way.

[ While she's taking care of the bag, he begins etching a series of runes into the air, and soon enough reality shimmers and tears open in front of them, revealing a small, muddy patch crammed between two buildings. It's dark and very hard to make out much beyond the press of buildings to either side. ]

Ladies first.

[makimavellian]

[She does as requested, crossing over to take the bag and gently sling it over a shoulder. By the time she turns around, she’s met with a tear in reality — leading somewhere close to their intended destination, she can only assume.]

Now where’d the portal come from?

[She asks as she steps forward, but not through just yet.]

[spellbent]

I made it.

[ Easily. He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. ]

It's just a small part of a much larger network.

[makimavellian]

Somehow, this shouldn't surprise me. You're all sorts of versatile, aren't you?

[And it doesn't at this point. A man as well-connected as him of course needs to get around, and to get around quick. Of course he'd have a retinue of portals at his disposal in order to make that possible.]

Well, here we go.

[She steps through!]

[spellbent]

[ He grins at her over that assessment. He’s versatile where it counts, in terms of the sheer amount of resources at his disposal, and within the confines of his own Specialization. There’s a certain nuance to Destruction that no one ever bothers to study enough to learn.

Anyway, Makima steps through into a narrow alley, and the air is cool and crisp, far removed from the coast where Warren’s house sits. He steps through after her, waving the portal closed with a motion of his hand, and angles his head at her as if to say, “follow me.”

They’ve found themselves in a small town about an hour or so away from the site of the old house, and parked in the lot of one of the gas stations just off the main thoroughfare is a plain, black van.

Where did it come from? How did it get here? Don’t worry about it.

He motions to the dingy little convenience store, fluorescents humming like the louder they are, the more they’ll be able to cling to life. ]

If you want anything for the trip, now’s your chance.

[makimavellian]

[Oh? The change in weather all but seems to hammer home how far they've traveled. The breeze plays at the tips of her hair, pleated back into its usual braid.

She notes the van first. Where did it come from? Yes, don't worry about it.

And then the convenience store as she follows diligently behind. What a quaint little town.]

Hm? And how long's the trip?

[spellbent]

About an hour. Much longer on the way back.

[ Since they'll be going from here all the way to the house, but by then she'll have some demon bits to snack on. ]

[makimavellian]

An hour... All right, then let me hop in and grab a few things for the trip.

[Like this is for pleasure, not business. She heads that way, then turns on her heel.]

You want me to get you something, too?

[spellbent]

[ Can the two things not go together? Warren straightens from retrieving the van’s keys, stashed on the inside of the wheel well and seems to consider. ]

Coffee, if you don’t mind.

[ It’s bound to be a long night. ]

[makimavellian]

[Likely so.]

Coffee, then. Be right back.

[With a smile and a full turn, she slips into the convenience store to gather whatever catches her eye -- plus Warren's coffee.

Just a few minutes pass. And when she returns, she coming out with two plastic bags full of snacks, a movie magazine tucked under her arm (how retro!) and a cup of fresh coffee for Warren.]

I might have gone a little overboard, but the employee working the register really took a shine to me. [Translation: she just got all this shit for free because maybe she employed a bit of control over a poor 20-something working in a convenience store. Just for fun.] I figured why not take advantage of it.

[spellbent]

[ The look Warren gives her suggests that he understands exactly how she came by all of that stuff. It also suggests that he doesn't really care that she might have just cost some kid his job. ]

Just how long are you expecting this little road trip to take?

[ Said as he swings the passenger's side door open to admit her before he moves around to climb into the driver's seat. ]

[makimavellian]

[Yeah, Makima doesn't care, either.

She scoots into the passenger's side and reaches over to close the door. The plastic crinkling of her bags accompanies her nearly the entire time, almost comedically so.]

Not long enough to go through all of this, but we can bring some home.

[You have something against snacks for later, sir?

She hands him his coffee once she's in the driver's seat in case he wants to take a sip before he sets it down in the nearest cupholder.]

[spellbent]

[ It’s almost automatic, the way he accepts the offered cup of coffee for a sip before setting it down. Warren is so used to working alone that this strange way he’s fallen instantly in tandem with another person doesn’t even occur to him. It’s just… happening.

Warren turns the key in the ignition, and as they depart the dingy little gas station, his eyes catch sight of the magazine she brought with her. ]

What is your fascination with film, anyway?

[makimavellian]

[Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle. Makima sets the bags down at her feet, and Warren’s question is timed well: she then straightens and opens up the magazine, greeted by glossy pages. Set photos, articles and interviews with actors she both can identify and can’t.

And the answer to that question is a multi-layered one. She could answer shallowly or with far too much vulnerability — of course she’ll choose neither, and settle somewhere in-between.]

I like the stories they tell. Things that happen in the movies… they’re like nothing you can see in real life.

[For a demon riding in a van with a wizard, this is almost a laughable statement. But clearly she means something a bit more ambiguous than that — the characters, their relationships, their journeys.]

But in a way, they’re close enough to still be intriguing.

[spellbent]

[ Makima always gives him just enough to pique his curiosity. While he doesn’t suspect that she’s lying to him, he gets the sense she’s not telling him the whole truth. Newly contracted and acquainted as they are, he can’t blame her for keeping some things to herself.

But he does have to wonder if she’s talking about “real life” from the perspective of a human, or a devil. The distinction is probably important, so he ventures: ]

They’re like a little window into humanity, hm?

[makimavellian]

Hm. [A half-moment passes where she wonders how to answer, but then decides there's no harm in honesty right now.]

Yes. Humanity is just very interesting to me. The way they think and feel.

[But then she looks over at Warren with a placid kind of smile, attention briefly sliding away from her magazine.]

But don't get me wrong. I like movies, but that doesn't mean I can't criticize them. Most I've seen? They're mediocre at best.

[spellbent]

[ Ah, so a little of column A and a little of column B. It occurs to him that he still owes her a list of movies to view, and briefly wonders if any of his considerations would be considered worthwhile or not? ]

Now you have me curious about what your standards for a good movie even are.

[makimavellian]

[Only one way to find out!]

You still owe me a list of recommendations, don't you?

[She Has Not Forgotten.]

Don't worry, I'll pass my judgment on each and every one we watch together [TOGETHER] and you'll learn soon enough.

[spellbent]

I suppose I do.

[ Too bad I, Ramey, have FORGOTTEN WHAT THEY WERE. ]

Not even going to give me a hint? How cruel.

[ He doesn’t sound bothered at all.

The idle chatter and bouts of silence save the low drone of something or other on the radio get them through the next hour or so fairly uneventfully at least. At last, Warren eases the van off the main road onto a stretch of gravel and dirt that is partially grown over, maintained only by the occasional enterprising urban explorer passing through. It gets rather bumpy, winding up, up, up the hillside and through the trees, until finally the headlights pour through the trees to illuminate the decrepit edifice of what was probably a very impressive bit of Hollywood architecture at one point.

Now, the place is falling apart, the paint all but stripped away by the elements, the windows long busted out. It’s overgrown and dark and perfectly intimidating there in the light of the van’s headlights. It’s about what he expected. ]

In the vein of movies, this looks like the sort of place where a bunch of kids with a camcorder would go missing.

[ Was Blair Witch after her time? It might have been, if only by a couple of years. ]