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Summary: Fiona walks into New York, and finds herself neck-deep in trouble. Again
Date: Februaby 27, 2012
Log Title: School Is In Session
Rating: PG-13
NYC — Hell's Kitchen
The rough neighborhood in Midtown West New York known as Hell's Kitchen almost has a darker tone to it. Once you step into this neighborhood the city takes on a different feel, the buildings are shorter but everything feels darker. There is real grit to this part of town where many of the New York City criminals see to make their home.
It has been a crazy week for Fiona. Rejecting her demon, getting picked up and taken to Barnes by some random possibly mutant guy - and then this stuff in Westchester. She's just trying to take it all in, but her head is a veritable cacophony of thought right now - especially with Norg's mettlings and his voice in her head off and on throughout the day. Any time he seems to see a weakness, a moment of anger… he's there, egging her on. 'It's like the Dark Side in the Star Wars movies,' for crying out loud, she thinks. It's late, the crescent moon hanging in the sky - far too late for a girl Fiona's age to be walking along by herself in this area. The criminal element seems to be leaving her alone, however, in part because she's not visibly carrying any valuables, but probably mostly because of the pulsing purple glow of her eyes off and on. She really doesn't look like she's in a mood to be fucked with. Quite grimdark tonight, aren't we!
And in the darkness of a passing alleyway, it would seem, things are quite possibly about to get much, much worse. For somewhere close by, yet far enough to be difficult to pinpoint…. *something*…. draws near. With Fiona's vast deficit in magical education, *what* that something is is entirely unknown. What is certain, however, is that behind the presence, there's a sense of something vast, ancient, and terrifyingly evil… something that is to Norgatraz, as a drop of water is to an ocean.
Again, due to her lack of magical education, Fiona doesn't really have a good grasp on sensing magical energies around her - but she does know what her own feels like, and when something is that big, well, it can't help but send a chill down her spine. She pulls the long, black jacket that she's wearing over her regular clothes a bit closer about her person, as if to ward it off, but it does not really seem to help. "Great. Just fucking great. I mean really. W-what else could go wrong." But she's not scared! No, no she's not! That's why she's ducking into the the entranceway of a closed shop. Maybe if she can just get out of the wind… "What is it?! Who's out there! I can sense you! Show yourself! NORGATRAZ, IF THIS IS MORE OF YOUR TRICKERY, IT WON'T WORK! I KNOW YOU'RE TRAPPED IN THAT BACKWATER DEMON-HICK PLANE FOR GOOD! Y-you don't scare me!"
Perhaps raising one's voice was a bad idea… for now, what was once a vast but unfocused presence, is much, much more tightly-dialed-in. And closing in on Fiona, as the shadows around her hiding place start to warp, thickening and… reaching? toward the rooftop.
Okay… visual changes… that's new, but Norg has shown her stuff before… 'Forget it girl, this isn't him. Run!' And so that is exactly what she does - boots thunking down the sidewalk as she starts, first at a jog, and then at a breakneck sprint, long ponytail, skirt, and jacket flowing behind her. 'Fantastic, fantastic. My life has become a horror movie. At least I'm not-' and at that point she falls face first, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk in the dark. "Oww… Great." There is one upside though - Norg seems to have shrunk back into whatever hole he crawls into when he's gone. Seems even he's afraid of the shadows!
As well he should be, for a few heartbeats later, even the streetlights seem to dim, leeched of light and warmth, as a pitted, scarred black ball of steel launches itself from overhead, the chain trailing behind it singing, and slams into the pavement with a sickening crunch if distressed concrete. "Well well well," a high, lilting voice says from overhead. "What *do* we have here… Thank the Lady, but I was getting tired of the same old boring hoodlums. And whose arse are *you* buried face-deep in, my dear?"
Fiona shrieks a little as the ball hits the ground. "N-Nobody's! who are you?! What do you want from me? I-I don't really have much that's worth anything - just enough money to get by." She begins to feel a bit like that little nerdy girl who got bullied a lot in school - before all the demonic stuff happened. "I don't want any trouble! But don't push me! I'm n-not helpless!" She stammers, clutching at her portal keys. Concentrate. Work! She manages to open one, pulling out her demonically-charged wands.
Finally, a light in the darkness… but not in the least a pleasant one. On the other side of Fiona's head, far enough away to leave her unwounded, a thin bolt of lightning streaks out, digging a much deeper hole in the sidewalk and pelting the girl with chips of paving. "Ah-ah-ah, that will not do at *all,* my lass. Put it down, before I stop being nice. You *do* want me to stay nice, don't you? Why don't you tell your sweet little Auntie Stormwaltzer just who gave you that little thing, hm?"
Fiona looks up and around - still trying to locate the source of the noise. "I put them down, and then what? You kill me anyways, or take it away and leave me helpless? I don't think so!" she says with a bit more conviction in her voice this time. "Either way I'm dead or end up in some padded room somewhere!" her eyes glow brighter, even as she begins tearing up a little. "Why don't you at least show me who I'm dealing with?!" she powers up one wand for a moment, sending a glowing orb into the sky - which then explodes at altitude like fireworks, temporarily helping to illuminate the area with a violet glow. That should help - or get her killed. One of those.
Perhaps both; dangling from the fire escape overhead, one leg wrapped round a support strut and one hand bracing herself against the building, is…. something female, at least. Dressed in what looks to be a leotard of black leather, knee-high boots, with of all things, a book, bound in iron, chained about her waist, and a killer's grin set in very nearly chalk-white skin. "Hi there!" And she lets go, her free hand whipping toward Fiona, sending a second steel ball singing toward her wand arm.
Thank god she's got two of those! And two wands, in fact! However… She's not actually all that combat experienced. "This is ridiculous!" she fires a purple bolt at the incoming projectil, but misses, and it scrapes down the side of said arm, leaving a nasty bruise/cut and her clutching her it. It hangs limply - though she can still feel it and move her fingers. She's unsure if anything is broken. "Ow! What the hell? What do you WANT?!" she says, using her remaining good arm to fire a strong blast of energy in Donna's direction - strong enough to blow apart a piece of that brick wall that she's clinging to, but with not-exactly-fantastic aim. This is, most likely, a terrible idea.
"It's like this, little jay—whup!" Landing in a deep three-point crouch, the almost ridiculously small woman launches herself in the air again, propelling herself *over* the path of the bolt. "You've been very, *very* naughty, you see. You've got a little friend, way down deep in your soul. What did you call him again? Oh, it doesn't matter. Now that I know you're here? I can fix that little problem, and make sure he doesn't hurt anyone, ever again." WAFFENLICHT! As the German word echoes eerily up and down the streets, bright white runes flare to life along the lengths of chain attached to those black steel balls. A hearbeat later, the weapons explode into light, crackling and spitting, sheathed in arcs of white electricity.
This is, of course, what Fiona has been looking for, but right now she happens to be terrified-as-fuck. "I swear, it wasn't my fault! The whole thing was an accident and - and I didn't know he couldn't hurt me until just last week! I swear I wouldn't've done those things if I had known, and - it's awful and ohgodpleasedon'tkillme," she finally breaks down, dropping her weapons and curling up, hugging her knees to her chest with her good arm and shutting her eyes as electricity starts to go off all around her. This is not what she wanted to do tonight! 'RUUUUN! KILLHERRUN! SSSOMETHING!' hisses Norg's voice in her head, as he senses that the jig is, in the colloquial sense, is about to be up. "NO! LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T WANNA HEAR YOU ANYMORE! GET OUT OF MY HEAD YOU STUPIDFACE JERKBUTT DEMON!"
Words which, for some reason, bring the woman to a halt. Weapons still spitting and sparking, she stands there, dumbfounded for a moment. "….*Damn* it all," she mutters, nose wrinkling. "Now I won't get *anything* done tonight…" Closing her eyes, she lets out a rough, ragged breath, jerking the steel spheres back to thump and crackle at her feet. "Oi. Child. Speak up. You looking to tell me you didn't *want* to serve your little infernal bastard, there?"
"N-no? Why would WANT to be evil?" sniffs Fiona, "It was just a game! Like Dungeons and Dragons or something! I drew a circle and then there was a hole and I fell through and it was like forever in there and he made me drink his BLOOD and said he was gonna kill my family if I didn't help him but then he," she takes a deep breath, panting, maybe hyperventilating, "Then he gave me powers and sent me home!" she sighs, flopping down on the street on her back, "And then! And then he made me run away from home. And I even almost killed someone for him! But I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it!" she sobs, "I couldn't kill that boy. And then, that's when I knew. So I came home. But I can't go home like this! I'm crazy. I'm a carzy person. I'm going to end up like a bag lady or something. I don't want to be a bag lady."
"Oh for the love of—" The grumbling cuts off abruptly, as does the flickering light, and the sound of hard boots on harder pavement rapidly approaches. "…Okay. So we're in a little bit of a weird spot here, little jay. See… I don't think I'm going to kill you anymore. The *problem* is, you are *very much* too dangerous to be roaming around making yourself miserable. So… let's make a deal, shall we? I give you a couch and something to eat for the night. Oh, and don't murder you, that's quite important. In return, *you* don't do anything silly like listening to that fiery shitball in your head and do some damnfool thing like try to murder *me.* How's that sound?"
"R-really? O-okay," Fiona nods. She thinks about it. "How about. I guess. Since you could kill me anyways. If I give you these? For safe keeping?" she lays her wands out in front of her. In the next second, she opens a portal and begins rooting around. "And this, too!" she fishes out a crystal ball. And backpack, crammed to capacity. She found putting clothes in her storage portals unpackaged led to embarassing disasters sometimes. Plus, a backpack is convenient anyway. "You can hang onto these. While I'm there. If you want." She wipes her face on her sleeve, smearing eyeshadow on it. "That way, you know. Besides, I think I'm way too afraid of you to try to kill you. And I guess I have no reason not to trust you anyway, since you could just kill me right here." That much is pretty obvious to her.
Donna picks up the wands, the chains disappearing the moment her hands leave them; likely to a similar pocket dimension of her own. The wands are held at the bases, pinched between thumb and forefinger, exactly as one would hold a pair of dead and rotting fish. "Oh, child, we *must* do something about this… Take your pack. I'm carrying quite enough, thank you. And that… ball. We'll see what we can manage once we've got you under a roof, hmm?" And without checking to see if Fiona follows, the woman turns on her heel and begins to stalk down the street, the shadows warping and thickening around her, easing back to normal in her wake.
Fiona pulls her pack onto her shoulders - something she has not done in a long time, mind you - and follows after Donna after pausing to fiddle with the straps on them. She toys the ball back and forth in her hands, and re-hangs her portal keys around her neck for now. "Sure, okay!" she follows behind Donna like a little duckling. It's almost like she was looking for something like this to begin with! If only it had been so easy!
It's not far; apparently, Fiona's mad rush through Hell's Kitchen stirred the woman from her haunt. Wordlessly, she leads them up four flights of stairs — scented with that lovely aroma of stale urine and boiled cabbage that marks the dens of the lowest of the low, through a dingy, half-lit corridor liberally scrawled with graffiti and large amounts of suggestions for who to call and what to do with them once you've called them. Finally, she stops at a door, only *now* glancing back over her shoulder. The one eye that can be seen through her straight black bangs is piercing, measuring, and without breaking her gaze, she opens the door and steps through, turning to face the young girl. "…So. First test; how stupid are you, really?" And with that, she turns and walks into the apartment completely, leaving the door open and Fiona outside in the hallway.
Fiona just sort of blinks. Of course, nobody considers themselves stupid, but after everything she has been through, Fiona can't say that the decisions that she's made along the line have been exactly smart. Maybe she should just admit she's dumb? She shakes her head a little. No dice. Still confused. "I… what? What do you mean? I know you're not gonna hurt me. You already would have. So the apartment is probably not that dangerous. On the other hand," she pauses. She could use this opportunity to run. But go where, exactly? And do what, now that Donna has her wands and she's /PROBABLY NOT GETTING THEM BACK FOR A WHILE./ "Fine! I'm really dumb, okay? Dumb enough to play with magic and let a demon take control of me!" she steps through the doorway. "But I know one thing. You CAN help me, I know it." Huff! She gathers all of her remaining confidence and balls it up in her chest. "You know something about this, don't you? You could reverse it! I could maybe even go back to normal."
"…Not the question," the woman calls, more than a little amused. "Are you coming in, or not? Which will answer; *how stupid are you?*"
"Fine! I'm coming inside." She takes one booted foot and steps over the threshold, and then the other. "See? I'm inside now. Now what?"
"Wrong answer," Donna says softly; as the second foot lands over the threshold, there's a soundless explosion of scarlet light, and a deep, lancing pain that starts behind the eyeballs, and swiftly travels through the girl's entire body. For a moment, an endless span of seconds, every nerve in Fiona's body seems lit on fire, and the feeling only ends, when the girl is hurled bodily out of the doorway, and against the wall a few feet behind her.
Fiona slides down the wall, landing on the floor in a jumbled up mess. She stretches her limbs to see if they still work. "Ohh god, what the hell just /happened?/" the teen groans, picking herself up off the floor slowly and smoothing out her skirt. "Okay so, a trap spell or something? You… don't want me to come in? Is there a password?" she seems confused. Given the fact that she actually knows very little about magic, it IS somewhat hard to blame her.
Donna walks up to the doorway, crouching down to look at Fiona, eye-level. "You've forgotten your manners, haven't you, stupid little jay? What, I ask, would have been the *polite* thing to do, hmm?"
"S-sorry! May I come in? Please?" Fiona asks finally. Obviously, kids these days have no manners. No manners at all! She does realize, at this point, that she doesn't actually know this woman's name. And there's no way in heck she's going to call her Stormwaltzer! That's ridiculous. "Would you mind it if I… also asked you your name? Mine's Fiona. F-fiona O'Mally."
Donna stands, stepping back and nodding. "Yes, Fiona. I invite you into my home." Should Fiona screw up her courage to try again, she finds the complete absence of pain and suffering and bodily ejection. "I don't mind… but not quite yet, I think. Since you'll be staying here the night, and — depending on whether or not you try to kill me — possibly longer? I think I'll know who you're talking to, when you need to."
Fiona tentatively steps across the doorway again, poking her toe down to check and see it's solid ground. When it is and she's not shocked, she steps in the door. "I won't! Really. I don't think I could. I'm not that strong anyway." Then again, the whole thing could be a ruse! She could be terribly nefarious and only ACTING completely terrified of her own shadow at this point! She does seem to relax, just a tad though, looking around the apartment. A home can tell you a lot about a person.
And if the apartment were to say anything about *this* person, it would be 'Dirt! Poor!' An apartment that is saved from being a studio only by dint of the wall that separates the kitchen from the bedroom, the furniture is shabby and old, the fixtures in need of a sledgehammer and possibly fire, the lighting dingy and casting a sickly yellow light over everything, and where a TV should be, there is apparently a fold-down…. something… shoved up against the wall. It's a place that feels like it *ought* to be crawling with roaches, but thankfully, nothing of the sort seems in evidence. "Child," she says wearily, leaning against a wall, "let's think this through rationally. You were screaming at a voice in your head. Now *I* know for certain that voice is in fact a demon — perhaps not terribly powerful, but *quite* evil and more than willing to talk you into cutting me a new asshole while I sleep. Follow?"
Well, that glance around the apartment was… enlightening! "I follow," she nods, "But I'm still not gonna try and kill you. You'll see. I already avoided killing one person!" Not that… she thinks she'll get much sleep, either.
"That's probably what saved your life, truth be told," the woman says, nodding to a lumpy and leaky couch. "Ain't exactly the Ritz, but, I pay in cash and don't get asked questions. Well enough, mh? So… let's first give you the hard news. ….I don't know that there's a way to cut you off, Fiona. Believe me, *believe* me when I say that if I knew how, I'd've learned all I could."
"Oh…" Fiona trails off, looking disappointed. "I thought maybe. So, you're saying - he's always going to be bugging me?" she thinks back, "Maybe I shouldn't… I dunno," she shrugs.
"No child, I can't take him away," Donna says, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "That doesn't mean I've nothing to teach you, mind… you've got a spark, and maybe you can make that into a proper talent for magic. That, I *can* teach you. ….And what I had to learn on my own; how to live with something trying to sand down your will, little by little, every minute of every day." As she says this, she gives the iron-bound book chained to her hip a sharp, angry rap. "You're going to be miserable, child, if you say yes. As miserable as I can possibly make you… and believe me, little jay, I learned misery from the best."
"But… what's the other option? Go back home? Death? Be locked up in a padded room forever and ever, and not get to see any of my friends again? Do you know what they DO to girls in asylums?" Fiona shakes her head. She read books one time. "I already AM miserable. I was going to kill myself, but the boy who I was supposed to kill told me not to. And I don't think it would be fair to my family. So that'd be selfish, no? I guess. That's what my brother always said."
"Just because the other choices are shit," Donna says, quirking an eyebrow and spreading her hands, "doesn't mean they're not choices. You could. You might even wish you had, one day. That's the thing about demons. They can't *make* you do anything, child. They only wear you down, until you damn yourself by doing what they want. People like you and me… we're called 'thralls,' since usually by the time we do much that people notice, we're already little more than a puppet that needs its strings cut."
"Oh but… you're really powerful! Couldn't you just, I dunno, kill the demon? I mean, I don't know if I've EVER seen anybody as strong as you yet," Fiona nods, "I mean, my demon is in my head and he mostly ran and hid when you showed up! What would happen then? I mean if you were that strong…"
Donna stares at Fiona stunned into silence, then throws back her head and laughs. It's mostly humor, but there's a harsh, bitter edge to it. "Oh, silly little jay… I'm actually fairly shit, as far as sorcery goes. And I'll never be much better, thanks to this little sack of asses." The book at her hip gets another harsh rap. "I imagine you say that, 'cos you felt me the way I felt you, yes? Well, while your little friend is more or less a water-boy as far as evil overlords go… I ended up chained to one of the Big Bads hisself; Shuma-Gorath." A ripple of nausea seems to course through the woman at the very *name* of the creature. "And believe me, child, you can't do much worse than that."
"Ooo…" Fiona murmurs. Of course, she hasn't heard the name. But the /style/ the name is in - she's read plenty of books with references to names like it, and they're never exactly good. Of course, most of the books didn't really have that much useful information. Just rantings of cultists at best. "That's… awful. But." She murmurs, "But Norgatraz is much weaker than that. He might be possible to kill." She still, apparently, wants to hold out hope. "Or at least, be easier to deal with…"
"The latter, more likely," the woman agrees, running a hand through her hair on the side that leaves her face revealed. "But since you're like to be slinging magic about, might as well get you settled on how to do it *properly.* Tomorrow night, anyway. Right now? Shower. You smell like ten miles of bad road. There's books by the bed if you're bored, probably food in the fridge and the stove hasn't blown up yet. I'm locking you in, child, and best not touch anything that isn't already open, else what happened at the door'll seem like a tickle."
"O-okay," Fiona nods, stretching. She FEELS like ten miles of bad road, too! And it's true that she hasn't really showered in a week. Though, she'd gotten kind of used to it… "I'll just… go do that, then," nods the girl. Nodnod. Nod. Whatever you say crazy scary magic lady! Soon, she is shut up in the bathroom, with steam and hot water and whatnot running. She is in there for a good, long while. After which, she comes out wearing… My Little Pony PJs. With all of the grimy black clothing off, she looks a lot less dark and dreary, for sure. There's definitely a touch of immaturity there.
Apparently, the woman has already left; the door securely locked, with a glowing red sigil visible on the wood, the fridge, small bookcase, couch, and bathroom door all plastered with Post-It noted bearing :) on them. The fold-down thing, the bedroom door, and the front door all bearing similar tags, only labeled >:( Left alone by a nameless crazy magic lady, in the shabbiest of hovels ever to be paid for, and locked in for good measure. A wonderful end to a perfect day.
Fiona hrmphs. Well, she might as well lay down. And, you know, try and get some terrible nightmare filled sleep. Oh well, right? She stretches, rifling through the books. Being dog-tired though, she doesn't end up reading any of them, instead falling asleep before she even manages to get under the covers, sprawled out with one leg hanging off the bed.
