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Post by Echo Ashaelyr on May 10, 2011 23:44:52 GMT -5
[[This is Echo's first appearance in London for a long time, and her first appearance in the storyline as well. Anyone's welcome to join in!]]
It looked like a dog-sized shadow had melded with a spider, and then decided to grow stubby bat wings and a lizard-like head. The demon, an uncommon grikkle, perused the trashcans for some form of sustenance. Perhaps a half-rotted dead cat, or a pile of maggots. It wasn't terribly picky.
Only hungry.
With a cackle-purr, the demon prowled towards a desiccated rat, reaching out a claw towards it. But something made it pause.
Shrieking in a high-pitched scream, the thing leaped back just as a flash of steel swept from the shadows. Screaming again, it backed away, flaring its wings at the woman who stepped into the pale orange streetlight. She looked like someone who had stepped from another time, wearing a weathered brown duster, grey leggings, tall boots, and a leather jerkin over a grey blouse. In her right hand she carried a sword.
Once more the demon screamed, then launched itself at her. Echo dodged to the side and woman and demon engaged in a furious battle-dance, swiping with claws and sword at each other, ducking and weaving. The grikkle moved with lightning-quick speed, but she was faster. Snarling with a grim smile, the thing swept a claw at her, and black fire followed its gesture.
Echo rolled aside, batting at the black flames that clung to her coat. She looked up, and her golden eye flashed. "I like to play with fire too," she waved her left hand, silently casting incendio in a circle around the thing.
It shrieked in fury as black-streaked orange tongues of flame reached for it. Lifting itself into the air with its stubby wings, the demon shot forward, hitting Echo and slamming her back against the wall. The woman gasped as she felt a broken spar of metal from the crumbling wall slice into her right side.
Gritting her teeth and glaring fiercely at the demon, she grabbed it in her hands and they both rolled to the ground. Delivering a punch to its nose that stunned it for a second, she reached for her sword, but it was just out of reach. She was on her feet, delivering a kick to the demon that gave her the opening to grab her sword and turn back to it, about to give it a final deathblow.
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Post by Nuriko Elsywth on May 11, 2011 0:16:51 GMT -5
A sword swept down in a glittering arc, slicing off the demon’s head. The young woman who held the blade grimaced, stepping away from the spreading pool of dark blood. Her attire was spotless, her face and hands fastidiously clean and her dark blonde hair was pinned up in a twisted bun, not a hair out of place. A sneer lifted one corner of her mouth briefly as she looked at the creature’s body.
She held the sword away from her, avoiding th blood that clung to it, yet she held it with confidence, if not a world of experience. “That’s nasty.” she commented, drawing her wand to clean the blade. “What is it, any way?” She asked, her eyes, the only warm thing about her, meeting Echo’s. They were dark green, startling in her pale face.
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Post by Echo Ashaelyr on May 11, 2011 0:30:56 GMT -5
Echo's eyes, one moss-green, the other a darkly burnished gold, met the newcomer's gaze with dismissive contempt. She wasn't needed. Echo had it all handled.
The strange woman waved a hand at the demon's twitching body and flames covered it, burning it quickly into ash. Echo grabbed the young woman by the arm and pulled her roughly away from the greedy flames.
"It's a demon, obviously. You'd better hope your blade is demon-proofed. Black blood disagrees with steel." Her own sword was now sheathed across her back.
The two witches contrasted greatly; Echo's own rough, weathered clothes and face with its strange burn-scar dragging across her right eye, and the young woman's impeccable attire and hair.
Ensuring that the fire was down to a few cinders, she turned and walked away down the alley. Once she turned the corner out of sight, she glanced down at her side. Blood was turning her shirt dark. Grimacing, the woman pressed a hand to the wound and looked around. That old pub was around here somewhere. She could patch up there. Limping, but pressing stubbornly on, Echo continued down the street.
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Post by Nuriko Elsywth on May 11, 2011 1:28:26 GMT -5
“Let go!” The blonde ordered imperiously, pulling away. She smoothed a wrinkle out of one long sleeve, her face that of annoyance. “I just saved your life!” She snapped, sheathing her sword at her side. She took a few seconds to adjust the leather belt, the only incongruous item, well, that and the sword. She smoothed her skirt under the belt, staring haughtily at the older woman.
"It's a demon, obviously. You'd better hope your blade is demon-proofed. Black blood disagrees with steel." Her own sword was now sheathed across her back.
“’Tis like no demon I’ve ever seen.” she shot back, casting one more disgusted look at the pile of cinders. No, that had been far too tame for the demons she had seen. “I’m Victoria.” She said, attempting to be friendly. The other woman turned and walked away. Outraged, Victoria strode after her.
“Hey!” the blonde cried after the departing figure. She then noticed something she perhaps should have noticed before. “Hey! You’re injured! Where are you going?!”
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Post by Echo Ashaelyr on May 11, 2011 2:44:23 GMT -5
Echo was trying to remember if the Leaky Cauldron was left or right at the next street when the young woman caught up to her.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Echo turned to face her, the duster sweeping around her form. Echo's expression was mildly irritated, but with a bored and dismissive overtone. "And thanks for your concern, but I'll be fine. It's a scratch. A big one."
She glanced at the intersection. It was left, she was fairly certain.
The tall woman started walking again, glancing down at her right hand. The silver band around her wrist was looking old and tarnished. Another one wearing out under the strain of binding. She'd need to find another inscriber soon, her stock of bracelets had dwindled since she'd left Germany.
But the London air was agreeing with her much more than Germany had. That place was thick with darkling scents, a murky fog overlying much of the areas, especially the Black Forest, with its shadowed depths.
Her face was becoming pale as the wound worked its draining force on her. She inwardly cursed her clumsiness, letting the demon push her around like that, not being aware of her surroundings. It was nothing life threatening, but certainly something that would ruin her night if she let herself pass out. Ugh, and then someone would most likely take her to a hospital.
She hated hospitals.
Plus things got complicated when doctors were combined with the complex issues of her...infection.
Gritting her teeth, feeling the warm, sticky blood creeping between her fingers, she rounded the corner, relieved to see the weather-beaten sign hanging over the pub.
Warm lamp- and candle-light washed over her grungy form as Echo entered the pub. Open at all times, thank Merlin. It was mostly deserted this time of night, however. Several warlocks huddled over darkly-glowing drinks at the far corner. A hag smoking a pipe against one wall, and several wizards playing cards at one table.
Finding a booth away from them all, Echo sat down gingerly. "Firewhiskey," she muttered to the server. "oh and several clean cloths, and a bottle of your strongest vodka."
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Post by Curse Kameren on May 11, 2011 11:51:09 GMT -5
"Curse."
The Hogwarts Potions Master's head snapped up from the bar, his eyes meeting the barkeep, Paul, attentively. He was waiting on a deal for some potions ingredients tonight, half-heartedly nursing the same firewhiskey for the last few hours. Though the change in his poison antidote allowed him to drink, the next day's hangover would be brutal, not matter how little he drank. Instead he chatted with Paul, an old friend from his Ministry days. He hadn't even noticed when the two women entered the bar, but now Paul was drawing his attention to them.
Paul dropped a bottle of vodka and some cloths on the bar in front of him. Curse arched a brow at him. He recognized what the objects were for, but didn't see what he was supposed to do with them "What? You'd know if I was bleeding." Paul looked at him, cocking his head in the direction of the two women's booth.
"We've got a bleeder, booth in the corner. You're the ex-Head Auror, I'm sure you know how to mend wounds."
He gestured over at them, keeping his voice low but edged with annoyance. "Send them to bloody Mungo's then, I'm not a doctor." Paul's eyes didn't falter from him, and Curse rolled his eyes. He gave in, muttering an insult towards Paul as he snatched the bottle off the counter, popping a cigarette in his mouth as he went. If Paul's making him work, then he better bloody let him smoke.
"Firewhiskey's on its way," The professor slid into the booth without asking, smoke escaping his lips as he spoke. He held up the vodka, unscrewing the top as he did. "In need of some healing though, I hear." He glanced between the two women as he exhaled his smoke, unsure which one was the one he was supposed to be helping.
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Post by Echo Ashaelyr on May 11, 2011 13:30:42 GMT -5
"Firewhiskey's on its way," The professor slid into the booth without asking, smoke escaping his lips as he spoke. He held up the vodka, unscrewing the top as he did. "In need of some healing though, I hear."
Echo glanced up, her eyes narrowed at the man who had brusquely sat down across from her. She waved a hand at the vodka bottle, it slid from his grasp and drifted across the table into her right hand.
"Didn't know I'd announced it to the whole bloody pub," she said roughly, leaning back against the cushioned back, then grimaced as her sword got in the way. Last thing she wanted was some good samaritan wizard who'd decide to take her to Mungos in some effort to be gallant. Plus, she wasn't good around people, being a loner came with the territory for her.
But as she glanced back at the stranger, her oddly colored eyes taking in his gaunt form and scarred face, she realized he had one of those odd 'scents' about him, a feeling rather than something tangible, but she couldn't quite trace it.
As if in answer to her question, her gloved right hand spasmed suddenly, shattering the bottle of vodka. She grabbed it with her bare left hand, ignoring the blood staining her fingers and pulled the hand back as if it had a life of its own.
"Bloody gorgons," she snapped, grabbing one of the cloths and offering it to him. They both were now doused in reeking vodka. "Sorry about that."
There was something about the man that was demonic in origin, enough to cause her own infection to react. She'd have to be careful around him.
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Post by Curse Kameren on May 11, 2011 13:49:01 GMT -5
"Didn't know I'd announced it to the whole bloody pub,"
"Friend of the barkeep," He gestured at the bar as he took a pull from his cigarette, "he's not a real fan of having open wounds in the middle of his restaurant. Can't imagine why." His blunt sarcasm seemed to wisp around with the tendrils of smoke from his mouth as one scarred face met another. He examined her as he spoke, his emerald eyes lingering for a second on her gold burns. She suddenly crushed the vodka bottle. Curse just watched as she did it, passively puffing his smoke. He didn't have the patience for this tonight. "If you try to make this difficult, I'll have to take you to Mungo's. And I'd really, really like to stay away from there." he had spent too many nights at the hospital of late, and he didn't want to go even if it was for someone else.
"Bloody gorgons," she snapped, grabbing one of the cloths and offering it to him. They both were now doused in reeking vodka. "Sorry about that."
"Can I bloody help you, then?" He cocked a brow at the woman, sending a look over at Paul telling him to bring another bottle. He mopped at the vodka that had hit him, his fingers glowing a soft white as he magically transferred the vodka from his jacket to the cloth. He hated smelling like alcohol around Max. "Despite evidence to the contrary-" He gestured at his own scars "-I'm actually quite good at fixing wounds."
He took his cigarette from his mouth, holding it between two fingers as he examined her wound. A waitress laid another bottle on the table, but hurried away before anyone could comment. His green eyes flashed up at her sword, then back down at the wound again. "The sword have anything to do with this? You know, there's this amazing new invention called a gun. You can kill a demon from a hundred feet away, and its a lot tougher to slice yourself with it if you know what you're doing..." He recognized what the armed women were doing. Why else would two magic-wielding people be out in the middle of the night with muggle weapons?
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Post by Echo Ashaelyr on May 11, 2011 16:16:39 GMT -5
For the second time, Echo paused to study the man. She liked his relaxed, careless attitude. Not trying to put on a show for anyone, or make people like him. Hiding her still twitching right hand beneath the table, she took the firewhiskey in one hand and quaffed it, feeling the tingling burn course down her throat.
Another second's pause, then she shrugged. "Might as well." She said shortly, pulling off her duster and draping it on a nearby chair. Her gloved hand was still spasmodically twitching, but it was growing less as she exerted a bit of control over it. Definitely time to replace the bracelet.
"I guess we'd both like to avoid the hospital then." She scooted over to give him room on the bench. The dark stain on her side belied the gash under her shirt, and she was starting to feel lightheaded from blood loss.
Gold eye flashed. "I know how to use guns. But they tend to... disagree with me," she said drily. "And I didn't slice myself. It was a grikkle... you know demons at all? Nasty quick things, grikkles, pushed me against a rotten wall with rusted bars. But" she shrugged, then winced, "that's one less demon in the streets tonight."
Echo lifted her shirt hem just enough to get a good look at the wound. It was worse than she'd first thought, a good five or six inches across. Probably rust in there too.
She sighed and remarked drily. "Not my best night."
Noticing the other girl had followed her, Echo's eyes narrowed. "I don't remember appointing you as my personal shadow."
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Post by Nuriko Elsywth on May 11, 2011 18:23:57 GMT -5
Victoria slid gracefully into the booth opposite the demon hunter, she still hadn’t gotten they woman’s name. And Victoria was adamant on things like manners. Manners dictated that after saving a person’s life she at least learn the person’s name, and ensure she got treatment for her injury.
She sat still for a few moments, watching the older woman. At first she didn’t want to get thrown from the booth (not that she’d go, no one forced Victoria to go anywhere) and then because a familiar man dropped to a seat beside her. She scooted away, taking advantage of the need to straighten her skirt and adjust her sword. She hoped to escape true notice by the man, for if he paid enough attention, she was afraid he’d recognize her. She sat up ramrod straight, her green eyes calm, and folded her hands serenely in her lap.
And just then she was showered by alcohol. She gave a little shriek, starting to jump before sense came to her head and told her she’d just bang her knees on the table. The booth didn’t leave much room for standing. Glad that Curse had vacated her side of the table to tend to the other woman, she slipped out, using her wand to tend to the alcohol on her dress.
Noticing the other girl had followed her, Echo's eyes narrowed. "I don't remember appointing you as my personal shadow."
Victoria lifted her chin, green eyes flashing. “I don’t remember requiring your permission to go anywhere.” She said icily, looking down her long nose. “Next time I shall just let you be roasted by that demon, at least then you’d be happy.”
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Post by Curse Kameren on May 11, 2011 21:01:09 GMT -5
"I know how to use guns. But they tend to... disagree with me,"
"I'll never understand the British aversion to guns," He rolled his eyes as he took a quick puff from his cigarette, his eye following her as the woman lifted the hem of her shirt. His brow furrowed as he examined the wound, his hand glowing gold as he lightly touched it. He frowned; this wasn't a sword wound after all.
"And I didn't slice myself. It was a grikkle... you know demons at all? Nasty quick things, grikkles, pushed me against a rotten wall with rusted bars. But" she shrugged, then winced, "that's one less demon in the streets tonight."
"I see. This might hurt," Curse hovered his other hand over her wound, pulling back slowly to pull the rust and larger toxins out of the wound. "You might really want to try a gun, though. Its better to kill them from farther away. You get more faster." He glanced up at her, his own experience flashing through his eyes. As many demons this woman may have dealt with, Curse was sure he'd done more. He grabbed one of the cloths from the table, carefully grinding out his cigarette before unscrewing the bottle of vodka with his teeth. One of his hands stayed over her wound, the light gold light warming the wound and numbing the pain as he worked. He had done this many times before, especially now since his poisoning. When your blood was as poisonous as his was, you couldn't afford to not know how to mend your own wounds.
"I don't remember appointing you as my personal shadow."
“I don’t remember requiring your permission to go anywhere.” She said icily, looking down her long nose. “Next time I shall just let you be roasted by that demon, at least then you’d be happy.”
He glanced up at the other woman as he spoke, his emerald eyes analyzing her. He recognized something in her voice. His eyes lingered on her, but decided not to pay it any mind as he went back to the other woman. He poured a bit of vodka onto the cloth, gently dabbing at her wound as he prepared to close it. He wanted to make sure it was washed out before he closed it, or she could get a nasty infection. Why, of all things, a rusty fence? those were always nasty with infections.
"Name's Curse Kameren, by the way. Figure you'd like to know the name of the person poking spells into your skin." He glanced up between the two women, his eyes lingering on the blonde one again. There was something just... off about her. Not a bad off, but a familiar off. It was odd.
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Post by Echo Ashaelyr on May 12, 2011 0:24:13 GMT -5
Echo grimaced slightly, bearing the pain of his administrations with stoicism belying long practice with battle wounds. He was quick and skilled, and her opinion of him defrosted a bit. But when he mentioned guns again, she chuckled drily.
"It's not an aversion. Guns just don't like to work for me. Besides, there's something more of an art form with sword fighting. Call me archaic...but there you go." She held still, trying to be a good patient and willing her blasted right hand to stop twitching.
"And with some demons, if you know anything about them, spelled steel works better than bullets. Of course, I've known a variety of hunters with different preferred methods." She said pointedly, probing at his own apparent knowledge of darklings and the hunt.
Echo looked up as the young woman retorted frostily, and a small smile of approval quirked one side of Echo's mouth. "Well, might as well sit and have a drink then," she said, as close to a welcome as normally came from her.
"Name's Curse Kameren, by the way. Figure you'd like to know the name of the person poking spells into your skin."
She paused, then shrugged slightly. "Echo. I'm Echo Ashaelyr. And...thank you." But his proximity to her was like an itch under her skin, and without warning her hand spasmed, flying out to hit him in the side of the head where he was bent to knit her wound.
"Oh in the name of..." she actually was a bit flustered now. The man would think she was mad for certain, randomly hitting him after crushing a vodka bottle. Echo sucked in a quick breath as the sharp motion opened the wound again. She drew back from him. Well, this was what she got for being sociable. It was the blasted man, something about him was overwhelming the binding on her hand. If she could just get a new band on it, then things would be better.
"Look, I'm really sorry, I didn't....um, do that on purpose." Gold and green gaze met his apologetically, darting to the young woman looking on.
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Post by Curse Kameren on May 12, 2011 0:52:18 GMT -5
He half-listened to the women's speaking as he wove spells around the woman's cut, disinfecting it and strengthening the immune system around it. Just as he was about to start closing the skin, however, she smacked him in the side of the head. He cocked a brow at her, meeting her eyes. "Nice to meet you too, Miss Ashaelyr..." He didn't ask about the slap; Lord knew he'd gotten hit by women for stranger things than introducing himself. He returned to her cut, his gold spell numbing it while he ran a finger down her side, mending the skin where his finger moved. She moved sharply, re-opening his work. He glanced up at her. "Could you hold still please?" Hell, his ten-year-old was better with him mending cuts than this woman was being.
His brow furrowed as he felt the inside of his right palm heat up; something was upsetting his curse. He quick finished the spell, closing his fist and putting his hand under the table, trying to stifle the spell before it could advance farther.
"Look, I'm really sorry, I didn't....um, do that on purpose."
"Don't worry about it, I've had worse," He shrugged, crossing his arms. He took out another cigarette, lighting it with his thumb before offering the pack to the women around the table. "So, grikkles, you say? Haven't seen one of those in the inner city in a while. Thought these new demons pushed all the others out." He shrugged, leaning his head up as he breathed out a lung full of smoke.
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Post by Echo Ashaelyr on May 12, 2011 2:35:53 GMT -5
Thank Merlin the man was skilled with healing. This was turning into a much more eventful night than just the usual business of demon hunting. In fact, Echo would much rather be facing a pack of darklings at this moment than dealing with humans. Especially when injured and fighting to keep her own hand under control. Sometimes fate really liked to laugh at her.
But oddly enough, Curse was taking everything in stride, enough to gain Echo's grudging respect. She thought it downright odd he'd shrugged off her spasmodic slap to the side of his head, but he had the world-weary bearing of a man who'd dealt with many situations most people - wizard or not - would never come across.
Looks like fate was laughing at both of them tonight.
And fate wasn't finished playing her little tricks either.
Echo sat back, feeling gingerly at the now-healing gash and nodded her thanks to the man. "Here, let me get you a drink, least I could do." She waved at the barkeeper and while she waited for him to come over, Echo studied the two sitting across the table from her. Realizing that Curse was asking her a question, she refocused her strange gaze on him.
"Yes, I thought so too. This one was particularly voracious. Wait...new demons? Have you seen them yourself? It's one of the things that brought me to this area, rumors of a new breed of darklings. I hear they're nothing like run-of-the-mill demons."
Maybe it was exhaustion from blood loss and the night's battle, or just the bracelet's time was up, but as she lifted her right hand to brush her hair from her eyes, the silver bracelet burned darkly, then crumbled into sooty shards. Her eyes widened, then several things happened at once. "Get awa-"
Futilely she tried to jump backwards out of the booth, away from the others. But at the same moment her right gloved hand shot forward and grabbed the man by the throat. The scars around her eye burned suddenly. But for someone who had just started choking another person, she seemed to be trying to pull back, but her hand was closing around Curse's throat with inhuman strength.
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Post by Curse Kameren on May 12, 2011 10:16:12 GMT -5
Luckily, Echo’s hand never made it to Curse’s throat.
The instant she started moving for him, Curse’s arms were up. It was his right wrist she grabbed, her fingers digging into his skin with inhuman strength. He needed to get her off; if she broke his skin and he started bleeding, he could kill her. A roaring blue fire suddenly burst from his other hand, covering the woman as he did. Echo was lifted from the ground, gravity losing its hold on her as Curse cast his spell. He moved his hand toward the wall behind him, and she followed, the spell slamming her against the wooden ‘Cauldron’s wall. Their table had been flipped by the action, with their drinks dumped everywhere. Curse paid it no mind, his emerald glare up at the witch who attacked him. She still had his hand, something about her not being able to let go.
“Who are you,” he growled. The blue fire pulsed brighter, applying more pressure to her against the wall. She looked apologetic, but most people were after they attacked Curse Kameren. “Who sent you? Obviously they didn’t tell you just who I am.” He pushed her harder with the blue fire; if she wouldn’t let go of him, he would have to push her harder. He had hoped days like this were passed, but he knew he still had dark enemies waiting for their chance to strike. Obviously, he was still ready for them. He was about to question her more when a different sound came from him.
Sssszszzzzzszzszsszzzzzzt.
Curse stopped, his anger instantly leaving him and being replaced with fear as the heat under his right palm in her hand turned to a sizzle. The smell of burning flesh filled the air between them. He kept his fist clenched tightly, now suddenly terrified. She couldn’t let his curse come free. “You need to let go of me. Now.” He glanced at her hand, still tightly wrapped around his fist. He looked at her burn scar and noticed there was some sort of magic emanating from it, possibly the same form coming out of her hand.
“I understand that you may not think you’re able to let go, but you have to. You don’t have a choice. I can kill you.” He said this with all sincerity, but without sinister intent. It was a warning. She could look into the ex-auror’s eyes and see: he was terrified.
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