citylogs | [closed]

That catches her attention. "Reading what? Find anything good?"

[ Midnight laughs. ]

Lovely. I wouldn't imagine any less out of you. I do wish I had your nerve, back at that age... I was quite shy, you know.

It had its drawbacks. I got in with a bad crowd. Or was the bad crowd, depending on who you asked.

When did you get over being shy? I can't really imagine it.

That sort, huh... Yes, I would have been in great fear and admiration of you, but mostly the fear.

[ Midnight grins ]

Well, I had to grow out of it, didn't I? Wouldn't have attracted a single customer if I couldn't look them in the eye. Had to be a bit more like you, in fact: an aggressive lack of interest in what others thought of me got me very far, in the end.

[ She grins back, squeezing his arm. ]

I'd probably have found you very mysterious and intimidating, if it's any consolation. The pretty shy boy in the back row? Catnip.

[ This may or may not be entirely true; it's equally likely that she just wouldn't have noticed him. But the flirtation now is more the point. ]

It's a useful skill, not giving a shit.

[ It doesn't have to be a real place? Maybe he can do that. If he makes the feeling really strong.

Maybe... if he thinks about what would feel safe. A real life place he already knows, but better.

Yeah. He can do that. He'd thought about it many times before, after all. Everyone does, right? Imagines how things could be. Watches a movie where the mom is a little like yours, has the same hair and eye colour and maybe dresses the same, except she can actually stand the kid, and they do things together, and they enjoy each other. You wish your mom could be like that. You imagine that she is. Peter hasn't imagined things like that since he was a little kid, but he can again.

He nods, then— his eyes widen, startled. Draw... on the floor? It's a bit of a frightening thought, but he's not about to second-guess the exorcist lady. ]

Yeah, sure. [ He moves to one end of it, going ahead and tugging the thing up and propping it against the wall. A mess of clothes fall off in the process, which Peter nudges aside with his foot. Totally fine. ]

What uh... are you gonna draw with?

Just chalk. [ She helps with the mattress before going for her own bag to start pulling out supplies. ] You'll get the deposit back, don't worry.

[ Conversation pauses for a few minutes while she gets to work. She's aware of Peter as she moves around, always keeping him in the corner of her eye, but she can't take care of him and make sure her lines are straight at the same time.

What takes shape over the next little while is a hexagram drawn in white chalk, taking up most of the open space on the living room floor. The triangular points are just barely big enough that a person could sit inside one without touching the sides. Johanna moves very carefully as she completes her drawing, making sure every line is solid and that she doesn't smudge or break any of them as she steps around to dig a box of plain white candles out of her bag. ]

Stupid question, but you don't have any candle holders, do you?

It is. Which is why I can promise you, without a doubt, that I would never have caught your eye.

[ Midnight gets in very close, his voice conspiratorial. ]

Although it's very kind of you to say that. Perhaps a bit too kind. It makes me very glad I caught your eye, you know. Now that I'm a bit more grown.

[ Honestly, he's not super worried about the apartment or anything like that. He just... has no idea what to expect, with this. And maybe a braver person would ask more questions, since there's a shitton to ask, but Peter finds himself anxious by the thought, falling silent as he watches her work, standing off to the side, well away from the lines she's drawing.

As it becomes revealed, his heart's giving a funny flop in his chest, and his breathing feels a bit tighter again, and he's trying to coax himself to stay still and calm. But it's... fucking terrifying, really, seeing a shape like that on his floor. He may not know shit about this kind of thing, but he's seen some movies, you learn things. A shape like that... it reminds him of something from some horror movie. It's weird, it's creepy; every part of him wants to flinch away from this.

(And he remembers, again, the circle of candles up in his attic, and the picture of himself inside it, and he's flinching in startle when Johanna speaks up to him again, eyes snapping right to those candles she's pulling out.) ]

Wh— oh, no, I uh. I don't think so? [ A beat. That anxious feeling in him is getting worse, and he swallows, looking a bit green around the gills. Alarm rings, but it's all still kind of numbed down, and through it he's remembering something, projects Charlie used to make. She loved using hot glue and candle wax, fusing things or melting things down, reshaping them into something new. He remembers something she'd made once with a candlestick in a bottle. If they're thin enough, they could fit. ]

....I've got like, soda bottles, though. Could that work?

[ The way he startles is concerning. If he panics during this, who knows how it could throw things off? ]

Yeah, probably, if you've got four.

[ Probably to be expected, if he's scared of people doing weird rituals. That can't really be helped. Maybe she can get him re-focused, though. ]

Did you think of somewhere safe?

I should, let me just— [ Peter ambles towards the small apartment kitchen, and it's one time that the state of things actually comes in handy. There's three half-finished sodas in the fridge, which he dumps down the sink, and the fourth is secured out of the garbage, which hasn't been taken out. Awesome.

Bottles tucked in his arms, he returns to Johanna, handing them over to her. ]

I think I've got it, yeah. Do I need to say it aloud, or just... think it?

[ And, once she starts getting to work on the candles, he'll add something, because okay he can't help asking a few questions here and there... ]

Why're candles... important? For things like this.

[ Johanna chuckles, tipping her face up towards him. ]

God, you are incredibly charming.

[ She says it softly, and it does sound like a sincere compliment. Uh-oh. They may be entering drastic territory. ]

[ Midnight grins back. He's about to get a kiss or a bite on the nose, and he cannot wait to find out which it is. ]

Well, sure. So are you. What are we to do about such revelations? Two incredibly charming people on a lovely evening walk... Surely there must be something.

[ Amused, Johanna stops them in their walk, tugging him to turn and face her. Around them, the oddly empty fair attractions whizz and whistle. ]

One or both of us are probably pretty stupid, too, to be honest.

[ Reaching up, she catches his chin in her head, and then goes up on her tiptoes to give him a soft kiss on the lips. There's a certain inevitability to some things, and she may recognize it, but she's not immune to it. Sometimes you just need to kiss someone to find out what it's like. ]

Just think it. Hold it. Really try and feel yourself there.

[ She pulls out a lighter and lights one of the candles, using the flame to melt the base of another and get it situated in the bottle. The old occultists probably wouldn't approve, but she thinks it'll get the job done. Hopefully without ruining Peter's floor. As she answers his question, she carefully gets the four candles situated in four of the points of the hexagram, leaving two empty points opposite each other. ]

Well, fire is powerful. It's energetic. It sustains life, but it can destroy as well. Lots of symbolism to it. And when you're cleansing, it's a purifying force. Burning out the impurities, like.

And candles just help you focus. Think of 'em like the ones on your birthday cake, if it helps. At the end we'll blow them out and start something new.

[ Oh, that is nice. Midnight closes his eyes, accepts the kiss, returns it with a second, just a light bit of pressure on top of the first. He doesn't look to deepen it right away, just leans back when he's done, looking down at Johanna and her cute little nose. Enjoying the smile on her face. ]

Wait, I blinked. Missed it. Silly me. Can you do it again?

[ A grin. What? He did. ]

Oh, see, stupid, like I said.

[ She moves her hand from his chin up into his hair, pulling him down for another kiss, this one a little longer. Not truly heated, not yet, just experimenting, trying out how they fit together. ]

"There's a bookstore near one of the tube stations." It's a delicate balance between Marc not wanting Steven to spend the whole day holed up in the bookstore and Steven not wanting to help himself to the entire store and clutter up the apartment they're staying in.

Besides, the way the bookstore works, Steven has to trade stories if he wants to take other peoples' stories, and while he's full of stories, some fiction and some nonfiction ~~and some mental illness~~ he doesn't want to fill the bookstore with himself just because he's knowledge-hungry.

"I'm sure there'll be a library in the university or near the town hall or something but I haven't gone exploring much..." It's awkward to say that Marc gets anxious if he goes out alone without adult supervision, so Steven leaves it at that.

"I think mostly it's stories from other people who were pulled in here. Historical events from their place of origin, creation myths and whatnot. Have you been to the bookstore yet?"

[ He knows it's coming, but Peter can't help a kneejerk flash of anxiety, and it's brighter than he expected it to be. It's like a flare going off behind his eyes, making his vision strange, his head dizzy. He blinks, staring at the flames she starts spreading, watching them flicker.

His mom never struck the match, he woke up before she could, but in his nightmares it's struck, it's spreading, it's all over his body, and he's screaming and screaming, and Charlie's beside him just as wet, coated all in paint thinner the same as he is, but she isn't screaming. Isn't reacting at all. It's like she's already dead, and it's just him, alone, screaming. There'll be nothing of him left — no, that's not right. There'll be something, he saw it in his living room, what it'd be like. Charred up black, fingers curling inwards, looking more like some puppet than a person anymore. It's what happened to Dad. What she did to him. What she was trying to do to him and Charlie, too.

He can't forget the smell of it.

Peter's throat convulses all of a sudden; he almost gags. He's trying to listen to Johanna's words, hears most of them, but he's remembering that circle of candles in the attic again, and he doesn't want to get anywhere closer to this thing she's drawn on the floor. ]

I don't like fire. [ He admits, staring down at the hexagram. ] Do I have to go in there?

[ Johanna looks up from placing the last candle, making sure it won't fall over, and takes a deep breath. Christ. What does this kid like? What a mess. He needs a hippie who wears loads of silk scarves and smells like potpourri. Or maybe a ketamine trip. Something.

Well, he's got her. She shrugs. ]

It's like going to the dentist, luv. You've either got to muscle through it or we call it off here.

[ A light growl as he's pulled down, pleased and anticipatory. He does like it when his hair is touched. A hand comes up to touch her on the jaw, his head tilting as he returns the second kiss with his own, his eyes fluttering half shut. When his next breath comes in, it shakes a little. He really, really likes kissing, and he likes kissing in good company.

He'll go in for another if she's willing. And another, and another... He's very eager, but he's polite enough to give them both breaks to breathe, at least. ]

[ He should back out of this, he thinks, suddenly. Maybe it's not too late. It's not like last time he... participated in some weird shit, with Mom grabbing his arm, desperate, begging him and his father to do the séance or whatever the fuck it was, with her. He can say no this time.

....But what if this really can... help him? Fix some things? Protect him from.... the after-effects of a curse, or whatever's going on with him? And keep any of those people out if they show up? And keep him safe?

What if?

The teen stands there, clearly angsting over it, chewing at his bottom lip so hard that it turns raw and red. His heart's beating like a hummingbird trapped in his chest, and he's light-headed, and he's so fucking afraid. ]

.....Will it hurt?

[ Whatever she's going to.... do. Will he feel it? Will it be painful? ]

"Oh! Right."

She looks mildly disappointed for a second before she nods.

"I thought you meant something from the City. I poked my head in. Glad someone's doing that." A wry smile. "Guess it does say a lot about the place that all we've got to read is each other's campfire stories, doesn't it? Bloody Chaucerian."

For her own part, she's thought about contributing a story or two -- maybe what she remembers of something like Peter Pan, or the fairy tales her gran used to tell her. What exactly is stopping her, she couldn't say. Misanthropy, distraction, take your pick.

"You said Marc doesn't want you going off on your own? 'S a bit controlling."

[ Naturally, they drift closer together, until they're chest to chest -- or close enough with the difference in their heights. One of Jo's hands ends up cupping the back of Midnight's neck, while her other arm loops around his waist.

He's a very good kisser. That's to be expected given his background, she supposed, but that doesn't make it any less enjoyable. For a little bit, she can just let herself get lost in that, in the physical pleasure of lips and hands and shared warmth.

And yet -- for a second, when they break apart to catch their respective breathes, Johanna looks uncertain. Not like she's about to run away or anything, but like she's second-guessing herself. ]

[ Johanna stays where she is, squatting by the last candle she placed, elbows on her knees and hands loosely clasped, and watches him think. Come on, kid, let her help. Let her do something that makes something better for some-fucking-one. ]

I don't think so. Not going to lie to you, though, I can't say for sure. But I don't think so. And if it starts to hurt, you tell me, and we'll end it.

[ That's the lie. If it starts to hurt, and he tells her, and she thinks it's a good idea, she'll end it. If he tells her and she thinks it's a better idea to push through, she will.

But it's a lie she tells with complete sincerity and steady eye contact. She can't think of any reason it would start to hurt. ]

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cw: nightmare description of being on fire.... and a dead body

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