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IC: S1:E4 "Quit Yer Witchin'!"

Dave ST

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Valerie rolled her eyes and  shook her head at Horace's comments about her costume, body, his own color fetishes and even his evaluation of her in general. He had a type of charm, and had developed a special way with words that could drag 'sexy' into 'sleazy', though Valerie was unsure if it was due to some gift from his Ichor or his own innate slime.

"And that's a secret that you're never gonna uncover." she pointed out flatly, yet firmly.

"Really? 'Cause I would 'uncover' you anytime." he offered, grinning. "..and then cover you with something else." he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows..

"See? Fucking gross, dude." she said as she gave him a small shove, trying to make more space between them.

"Damn girl! Can't keep your hands off me, can you?" he teased. "It's okay, we can find an empty room if you are that impatient."

A flash of anger washed over Valerie as she balled her free hand into a fist and clinched the beer bottle tighter. Horace had a knack for verbally pushing her buttons. He knew her better than most anybody due to their previous years of friendship, only know he used that knowledge to torment her, and not matter if she admitted it or not, there still was some part of her that cared, no matter how tiny or well buried that part may be.

"Damnit Horace! Why do you gotta make everything... Uggggh!" was all she could manage to get out in her frustration, fighting her urge to throw the beer bottle in her hand just for the cathartic satisfaction of breaking something. She then thought to herself and her mother, and what she had said to her that night not long ago. Slowly her fist unclenched and she lifted her hand to her upper chest, resting it there to feel her necklace beneath the crop top as she slowly inhaled and exhaled with her eyes closed.

"Damn. Look at those things move." Horace commented at his observation of her chest as she took in the deep breath and let it out.

"You're not going to ruin this party for me." she said to him through gritted teeth as she battled internally to control herself.

"Ruin it? A little Horace makes everything better." he grinned.

Edited by Valerie Vaskr
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Was Lancia a car brand? Because it was fitting that the witchly three - great, now Nadya was getting into his head there - would bear the names of fancy cars with great looks, and terrible, terrible costs. Fisher had been fortunately enough to generally avoid their attentions, because he'd already had the unfortunate attentions of Eric Donner to begin with. Nadya, thy sacrifices for the good of all have been noted, and the multitude shall, in their hearts, render infinite thanks shielding them from dat ass-

No! Fisher jerked his eyes away from Porsche's ample, bouncy booty. EVIL BOOTY! Steel yourself, Scion of Izanami, from unclean temptations fueled by hormones. For they are Medusa reversed. Hot chick on the outside, snakes absolutely inside. Remember the pure charms of Darcy! Fisher focused on trying to pull something together from the drink options. With the divine constitution of one with the grave in his ichor, Fisher figured he'd be fine as long as he only served himself his concoctions.

Thus, he began experimenting with elixirs, one ear picking up the two harpies (not the literal ones, sadly, you could spear those without consequences or potential remorse) flirting with the gormless guys around. So the gin was there, and the vermouth - a pair of black olives packed with juice to squeeze in... wait? What was that?

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Austin had been content to mingle, not really getting too involved, and even as he was about to get a breather outside, someone, a very lovely someone,  grabbed his arm and turned him around, practically commanding him to dance.  He'd seen enough already tonight that he couldn't unsee, and the young woman was a breath of fresh air on her own comparatively.   He didn't recognize her, though that was something he could say for many in attendance.

She was beckoning him along, and his thoughts turned to Yokiko, who he'd not actually seen yet, but knew she was here because he'd seen others from the Donner Band.  He shrugged his shoulders imperceptibly,  this was just some dancing, surely it would be fine.  "Alright, then, lead on."  He smiled back her, wondering silently what exactly he was getting himself into.

He allowed her to lead him out to the dancefloor without further comment.  He didn't know her name, and something made him reluctant to give his at the start.   Besides, she'd not given hers either.

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Nadya strutted into the party arm in arm with Dane as though it belonged to her, as fluidly and naturally as a bird of prey in the air. She could feel every note of pounding, energetic music bouncing off her bones, scintillating, flashing lights reflected off her silver-grey eyes. Her mouth was wide in a shameless grin as she wove through the press of bodies, the TikTok Witch 'casting' her witchy spells spells and curses and hexes with a swat of a wand from her wicker basket, a bump of her hips, or a slap on the ass, iTeru III out snapping pics.

The Romani Witch and the Scandi-Californian quickly parts ways to circulate in their own fashions. Nadya scoped a drink from the bar being served by a man with a jackal's head - or maybe it was his actual head - something green and bubbling and sweet, then downed a pair of Skittles that certainly were not Skittles, giving every impression she was subsuming herself into the debauchery of myth and mortals.

The first time she'd gotten drunk was at Mercedes' place, swiping some of the good stuff from her parents' liquor cabinet. Mercedes had taken a few sips, but she'd been bolder - or maybe just less concerned with consequences - and taken more than just a few sips. She hadn't regretted at the time, didn't regret it, but she had certainly regretted her first hangover. Her father had thought it a good lesson.

She'd been here before, but the mansion seem so much... more than she remembered. Maybe it was because it'd been a few years, maybe it was because she'd changed, or maybe because the place had changed, rather due to the influence of the fantastic or not. Still, they were here for a reason beyond fun. As she danced deeper into the mansion, her thief's eyes circumspectly cased the place with experienced regard, trying to suss out where something precious, something needed might be hidden or guarded. At the same time, she tried to notice if any of the women she knew - assuming the witches weren't so progressive as having possessed a boy's body - were acting out of the ordinary.

"Child of Bastet," said a voice in greeting, just barely audible above the music. It was deep, almost reverberating, and accented, maybe Middle-Eastern, by way of schooling at Oxford.

Nadya glanced back, then up. The man was tall, a foot or more taller than her, even in her heels, slim and sallow skinned, with a long, ascetic face and narrow beard. She couldn't put an age to the guy, but that might have been the bird head mask (or not mask) he was wearing. He seemed to emanate bemused ennui.

"My man!" Nadya called back. She had little inkling of her divine heritage, maybe it was time to learn? Some anyway. "Cousin?" She gestured towards the drink in his hand with her own. "How do drink with the-" She raised her drink so it was in front of her face, then extended it forward, alluding the the vicious curved beak."-y'know?"

"With great difficulty," the man - god? - intoned wryly. His heavy tumbler was nearly empty, but his shirt was dry. "As for cousins, perhaps, somewhat removed. I am Khenti-Khas." Nadya blinked. The man sighed in a way that suggested he was used to his name not being recognized. "I protect the noses of the dead, so that those who pass to the afterlife do so whole."

Nadya blinked again. That seemed rather niche to her. Then again.... "God of nose-jobs, gotch, dude. There a god of boob-jobs, too? Just asking." She nodded down at her corset doing a damned good job of presenting her chest. "Sometimes I think I could use another cup or two to make an outfit really pop, y'know?"

Khenti-Khas mumbled, grumbled, "Every, bloody time. No, there is not. Mine was a noble endeavor, a blessed a charge."

Nadya nodded along in agreement, not seemingly mocking the tall man. She considered herself Romani, Reform, maybe. She understood tradition... And she understood that it had to adapt, or at least, that it should.

"I don't doubt, Khenti-baby. Some people have hideous noses. They need the help. But serious dude, you ever think of expanding your, erm, operation? Modern times, man. People aren't building pyramids anymore. But plastic surgeons are building better noses, faces, boobs, and most of the rest, every day. Just got to redefine what you think of as a temple."

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  • 2 weeks later...

[Grimsley]  “Well,” the man said, his accent taking a steeper pitch.  “Would it be too much to ask that you stop trying to slow my plans?  I’d say stop, but inevitability is on my side, and I’m not being arrogant, I’ve just been at this far longer.  After a bit, patterns emerge.”

“To be quite honest, and we’re both men of intellect and character, so I feel honesty between us is important; your band is not strong enough to stem the tide of what is coming.”  He sipped his expensive whiskey and took a moment to savor its taste.  “Do you and yours even know what I’m doing?  Why I’m doing it?  You and your allies have nary a clue as to what you’re up against and yet you stumble along blindly, why?  To be the Hero?  To prove to your parent that you’re worthy?  Grimsley, you’re better than that.  Do you even know why you’re fighting?”


[Fisher]  While he waited, Salem’s resident anime expert mixed himself a drink.  His ears stayed perked but through the music, all the guests yelling their conversations and all the other assorted background noise he had no real means of filtering all that out, not like, say Rachel, whose senses were hyper keen.  Still, he watched them while took a bit of this and that and gave it the old bartender Hail Mary play until he had something he was pleased with.

Lancia and Porsche had always been Mercedes’ enforcers, keeping the lesser people away from getting too close but for the most part they were generally silent and didn’t interact with the student body ll that frequently.  He’d only really seen them in passing, but after realizing Mercedes’ heritage, it made sense that the two young women, who’d suddenly transferred in from seemingly nowhere, were likely followers or cohorts assigned to keep the Goddess of Love’s daughter safe.

Tonight, however, they were far from silent.  Lancia, while flirting at first with the pair of guys Posche had lured over to them, didn’t seemed to be alright with something and after a small, but animated stand off with her counterpart stepped aside in irritation while Porsche led them both away, most likely to have them all to herself.  It was the most emotion and animation Fisher had seen form either of them in the year they’d been at the Scion’s side.

After a moment he frustrated Orphan Annie approached the island I the kitchen just across from Fisher while he was taste-testing his handiwork.  It wasn’t the best, a bit strong, but it was a decent mixture of flavor and kick.

“Don’t suppose you could mix me one of those?”  The frustrated Lancia asked from across the island, and Fisher realized that it was the first time he’d ever herd her speak.  Her voice was beautiful as she was.


[Valerie]  A little Horace did, as point of fact, not make everything better.  “Now, c’mon, relax.  Where were we?”  His slimy paw reached out for her again as a grin widened on his lips.  She swiftly slapped his hand aside, balling her fist and tensing in warning that one more attempt to touch her might result dental work in his foreseeable future.

His expression darkened to a man rejected once to many times, an expression Valerie recognized from television dramas.  Her tormenter braced to say something, but a hand on his shoulder drew his attention.  Arron Tigrillo, who was dressed like an Aztec Jaguar warrior (whose shirtless body displayed an obvious discrepancy with his and Horace’s workout regiments), was behind him and once Horace’s attention was on the taller, certainly more attractive, young Latino man, all that was said was a simple head movement to the side to indicate that Horace was needed elsewhere.  Horace offered no argument so she assumed it must be important and private between them.

Still, as Horace left her alone and Aaron turned to leave, he offered the dark-skinned Aesir a wink before silently melding back into the crowd of dancers and revelers.


[Austin]  Allowing himself to be led to the ‘dance floor’, which was nothing more than a large room cleared of furniture, his mystery girl quickly showed him that she was far from shy.  Turning around and raising her hands to the ceiling she pressed her back against him and let her hips sway with the music.  After a few moments she reached back and grabbed his hands, resting them on her hips while her body slowly swayed to the rhythm.  Whomever she was, it seemed obvious that she was interested in him, if not for the long-term than at least for right now.

After a few very comfortable and not so comfortable moments of vigorous gyrating she spun about and rest her arms on his shoulders, still swaying with the beat.  “Not the talkative type, I see.”  She smiled and allowed her eyes to trace over him like a women who’d found something she certainly felt pleased with.  “Name’s Yuki.  Do you have a name, or do you always just stand about while women have their way with you?”


[Laurie]  This was definitely not her scene yet the affluent young woman threaded herself through the crowds of party goers.  Increasingly displeased by the number of jostles and near spilt drinks on her, she decided to find a safe place to stop and assess the party.

Still, she wasn’t overly judgmental, all of these people were having a great time it seemed and if that were the case, her scene or not, a part of her was content to be content in their enjoyment.  Still, she wasn’t sure what she was looking for, or how she was going to find-

An arm the size of tree trunk rested itself just to the side of her head and it’s owner, a tall, handsome young man with short red hair wearing nothing more than a ‘X’ chest guard and fur underwear (complete with his butt cheek dimples hanging out of the back of them), relaxed and leaned into greet the lovely blonde Scion of Apollo.

“There you are,” Eric Donner said as he leaned in far closer to Laurie than she felt any guy should be.  He already alcohol on his breath, but that didn’t surprise her in the slightest, everyone here had it on their breath.  “Haven’t called since the dance.  Be easier if you just gave me your number, you know that?  Wasn’t sure this was your scene, but glad you dropped by.”


[Nadya]  “I see why your mother is under such scrutiny with the others of the Pesedjet, young Nadya.”  Khenti-Khas replied in perfect ancient Coptic, a language that Nayda had to take a moment to realize she could even understand!  “You are out of balance.  We do not redefine ourselves.  We are at harmony with the tasks we have been blessed with the opportunity to fulfill.”

“Still,” he offered her a caring smile.  “There are no rules that say I could not broaden my horizons here in The World.  Perhaps, to cure some of the ancient boredom I will look into such a venture.  You however, you have to wise up young lady.  You must become Pesedjet and to do that, you must come much farther than the girl you are now.”

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Austin smiled.   "I'm Austin, it's nice to meet you Yuki."  She was very forward, and to be fair, he was somewhat concerned about Yukiko, but there was nothing here, despite how close they were dancing, at least in his mind.   "As to just letting a woman have her way with me, It's a novel experience, something I've not had happen before, so I'm enjoying it."

"It's refreshing to try something new, every now and then."   She was easy on the eyes, he'd give her that, though her own eyes gave her away as not being a normal human.   He silently lamented his lack of knowledge beyond greek mythology, and some Norse, knowing he'd need to study up on other mythos going forward.  

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Huh. It was the first time Fisher, in his admittedly limited exposure to the popular types, had seen a rift show between Mercedes' posse. Their characteristic silence obviously played a large part in this image of unified oppression over geeks, nerds, and anyone else Mercedes felt like stomping into the dirt to demonstrate her dominance or because she just felt like it.

"It's not exactly professional." Fisher warned her.

"I'll take my chances." Lancia replied, her voice making a reckless leap into amateur alcohol sound like an elegant swan dive into some lush glade pool. She really was one of Aphrodite's handpicked people, wasn't she?

Fisher shrugged and repeated the process, fixing another glass of his concoction, before offering it to her. "Hope you enjoy." To his surprise, Lancia downed it quickly. "Seems fine to me." She flashed him another smile, and Fisher recognized how guys could go crazy so easily. "Another one, please."

Really? Well, Fisher figured, if she really wanted to put her liver to the test... He shrugged. "Your funeral." The Scion of Izanami observed the near-empty jar of olives and started looking for another.

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On 8/1/2021 at 5:29 AM, Dave ST said:

“Do you and yours even know what I’m doing?  Why I’m doing it?  You and your allies have nary a clue as to what you’re up against and yet you stumble along blindly, why?  To be the Hero?  To prove to your parent that you’re worthy?  Grimsley, you’re better than that.  Do you even know why you’re fighting?”

"Saving the world."  Grim shrugged, as he took another sip of bourbon.  "I plan to travel and see it someday - I'd kinda like it to still be there."  He affected an air of thinking deeply.  "Falling in love someday, maybe? Again, needs a world in order for said world to move.  Sampling more good drinks - once more, needs a world.  Oh, and kittens."

"Kittens."  Marius replied flatly over his bourbon glass, one eyebrow arching in a mixture of amusement and mild exasperation.

"I like kittens."  Grim said with another shrug.  "More than I like people.  You're right, though, sir."  he went on less flippantly, his mismatched eyes meeting Marius' gaze.  "Partly, at least.  I don't really know why I'm fighting you.  You're intelligent, a chess and poker player in a world of people playing blind man's bluff and pin the tail on the donkey.  Why do you want to destroy the world?  Nobody ever really explained that part to me.  I got the condensed briefing - you know how that goes.  Just the high points:  Marius is a Bad Guy and Up To No Good.  Which, on the face of it, seems to be mostly true based on what you appear to be doing - no offence."

"None taken."  Marius smiled very faintly.

"So, if you'd explain to me why, I can't promise I'd stop opposing you.  After all - its kind of still in my own best interest to save the world and all that.  But at least I'd understand, which means a lot to me."  Grim went on earnestly.  "I mean, you're not a dribbling idiot who hears voices, so you must have your reasons.  I just want to know what they are."

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