2022-01-13: Caught Out in a Den of Iniquity
- Log: Caught Out in a Den of Iniquity
- Cast: Loren Voss, Magilou
- Where: Guara Bobelo - The Drag
- Date: January 13, 2022
- Summary: Loren meets Magilou again. He regrets this.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
There are places on Filgaia -- and Lunar -- that are more or less tolerable, Loren's come to think. It's been a thought that has been rather slow in coming, but there it is, for whatever it's worth. However, there's also the flip side of that particular equation--
Here, it's dim, the electrical lighting (on the fritz) barely illuminating this particular street. Someone, somewhere, is screaming. He's not sure if he should get involved, if it's expected that he should get involved, that he wants to get involved.
He's not even sure if it's the sort of scream that suggests that someone is having an actual problem, or if it's just the sort of thing that happens here. Someone nearby roars in laughter.
All this, against the background of the constant roar echoing from the coliseum, of the bits and pieces of various conversations that seem to invade whatever passes as his personal space-- oh, and the physical presence of the crowd itself. How can people look so threatening? So desperate? So... unwashed? Even in the most remote places of Ignas it hadn't looked anything like this.
...And why does he feel like he's being watched? He pulls at the front of his jacket, fighting against the sudden chill -- dressed like this, he probably looks like any other Filgaia, but he can't help but feel like he sticks out like a sore thumb. It's been a long time since he's felt like that, walking amongst the surface-dwellers. It's almost like the last five years didn't happen.
He looks up and down the street, as surreptitiously as he can. Where the hell was Nusakan? He was supposed to rendezvous with him here, but there's no sign of the man. If he'd run into trouble...
He's palmed a smooth stone from the depths of his pockets and begun to fidget with it.
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
"Go fish, babe."
They're playing poker, but that's never stopped Magilou from making annoying comments, winking brazenly to the behemoth opposite her at the card table. She lays down her spread; it outmatches his by a matter of royalty.
"What are you playing at?!" That ruffian demands, as he stands, abruptly, from his chair. A few other tables in the gambling den look up, to see the new entertainment.
Magilou rests her chin on her palm, elbow on the table as she grins up at him with eyelids half-lilted. "Oooh, playing 'reverse'. How troublesome for me!" They're DEFINITELY not playing Uno. She reaches down to her hip, and from a book compartment, flicks out an ancient tarot. "Say, is this your card?"
He leans over, to examine it with his one good eye. "Why the hell's that fella got TEN swords in his back?"
"Better watch your step," Magilou yawns, as she tosses that card over her shoulder, and pulls a shikigami from her sleeve.
"Why would I --"
"Flood Wall."
Anyway, the reason there's a man screaming is because he's been blasted up into the ceiling by a torrent of water, and... hmm, let's say he's deeply scared of heights. It's all RIOTOUSLY amusing to the rest of the den.
Meanwhile, Magilou, who caught that errant tarot card before it hit the ground, has tucked it in the corner of her bifurcated jester's hat as she strolls out into the street. She appears alone, of course, because there's not just one strange man in Guara Bobelo who's uncomfortable with the locals. And Magilou, who does stick out like a sore thumb in her book skirt and mixed colours, moves through the town as if it were a second home.
So, of course, she spies Loren immediately, because sometimes the sense of being ill-fitting isn't a matter of clothes at all. She leans by an alleyway for a few minutes, watching him look this way and that.
And then she strikes, prancing -- prancing -- out into the middle of the road as she approaches Loren, the flicker-fritz of the light casting her in a frightful shade. "How tragic!" She declares, with no regard for volume. "How horrifying! The gentleman has been stood up! Oh, cruel fate..!" With a twirl, she brings a hand to her heart, the other resting delicately at her forehead. "And now he is left here, a square peg in a round hole... how terrible! How heartwrenching!"
Oh no. It's Magilou.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Something about Loren just reads as 'prey' to most people, it would seem.
One moment, he's more or less minding his own business, looking for his still-apparently-AWOL contact who was supposed to be here, dammit, and in the next...
...In the next he's set upon by some garishly-coutured lady declaring how dreadful his fate. Because he has been... stood up?
There's no missing it, though it could be mistaken for anger: her remarks have caused him to flush. Okay, okay, so Nusakan is pretty good looking for a Second Class-- hey, wait a minute.
On the defensive, Loren leaps ahead into the offensive, jabbing a finger at Magilou.
"You...! Don't I know you? --You were on the ghost train! You're..."
There is a long pause. His accusatory finger wavers in the air.
"...Maria? Magenta?"
He doesn't remember her name.
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
"Why, yes, my intensely incredulous friend! It is I!" Magilou croons, clapping her hands together. Except --
Then he doesn't say her name.
And keeps not saying it.
And Magilou's hands l o w e r as she just gives him this sceptical expression, as his accusation wavers.
And then the REST of her lowers, as Magilou slumps to the ground, a hand grasped to her heart. "Ahhh... what cruelty! What remorseless disregard! I shall perish at the thought...!" Her hand slumps over her face, and for a horrible, silent moment, she goes dead still.
...
...
...
until ALL AT ONCE Magilou goes into a backwards roll to handspring back up, a tarot card fluttering into the air. "Clearly, you need an education! Some instruction! The intention of erudition!" A hand snaps up, to grasp the Ten of Swords, and Magilou flourishes, covering an eye with the card. "For you see, whom stands before you is the Tower of Sorcerous Achievement," her hands sweep aside, only to reveal the bangs behind the card, "she who walks from midst the claws of dragons," Magilou reaches a hand to the heavens, "whose cauldron is the very volcano which feeds the world!" With her exclamation, Magilou brings her finger down, to point right at Loren's chest. "Mazhigigika Miludin do Din Nolurun Dou stands before you, a witch of elder might! Magilou, Magilou! I am no gentle Maria to birth salvation, and nor are my colours my name! Get it right!"
A beat, and flashes the Ten of Swords, with a sharkish grin. "Or else, perhaps this is your card." It's not as loud, but how does that sound like the most grievous threat..?
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Is this... really happening? Loren looks about himself, as if to determine whether this is some sort of prank everyone but him is in on, only to come to the obvious but tragic conclusion:
Yes, this is really happening. But it seems that everyone else is taken aback by (or is simply bemused/intrigued) by this particular turn of events. Of which he is caught in the epicentre thereof.
Fleetingly, he debates running. But it probably wouldn't help. This lady sort of looks like she'd hunt him down if he did. ...Why does this keep happening to him, anyway?
He can't even remember what her name is.
Which seems to have mortally wounded her...?
"Uh," Loren vocalizes. "We only met once. Just get it to--"
This is when she rolls away from him, accomplishing in a bare eyeblink the sort of movement he can -- even with all his training -- only dream of achieving.
"Can you stop," he asks her, but it's far too late for that. She is on a roll, so to speak, and like a rolling stone, she will gather no moss.
Or... something like that. Like a rabbit detected by a predator, Loren has fallen quite silent as she continues, drawing the attention of just about anyone not otherwise occupied in the immediate radius. He has also gone quite still.
"Got it. Right. Magilou," he manages at last, blinking in the face of that demonstration. His gaze has turned towards the card, a man (?) bristling with swords. He goes a little bit cross-eyed.
"...Is that a murder?" he asks. He blinks, then looks up at her, bewilderment leaving the stage for no small amount of indignation. "Is this a threat?"
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
Tragically, by now, most of the locals are at least peripherally aware of Magilou, which means no one else is blinking about the theatrics going on in the road. Magilou just does this. All the time!
He asks if she can stop, and she doesn't even think about answering, because the answer is plain as day: Magilou is incapable of stopping.
She at least pauses long enough for Loren to acknowledge his grievous mistake, though. And then he asks the obvious question, again, and Magilou -- laughs. She laughs, right in his poor, bewildered face.
"Oh, honey!" Magilou says, waving the card around, before she tucks it back into one of her detached sleeves. "It's not just a murder, it's a completely excessive murder. Ten whole swords! What misfortune! But if you think it's a threat, you're wearyingly straightforward. Tarot is a metaphor..!"
She taps her fingers, now free, to her temple; her head cants to the side, chipper. "The ten of swords is the card of victimhood and misery and martyrdom! Perfect for a kid in over his head like you, don't you think?" She gestures to him, open-palmed, and places that hand on her hip.
"Now," she moves on, smoothly, as if they're the best of friends, "why on both the stars would a sweet little boy like you be caught out in a den of iniquity like this, anyhow?"
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Which means that, unfortunately, the likely target of their attentions is... Loren.
The general mood is probably angling something towards cruel amusement at this point!
Especially when she laughs right in his face. His own reaction is to just blink at her, stuck somewhere between bewilderment and indignation. "I can see that!" Ten swords is a lot of swords, he's not stupid, and the poor sap on the card doesn't look like they're going to be getting up again anytime soon.
If ever.
"Tarot...?" It's a familiar word, if not one he's heard since...
SOME TIME AGO
Loren palms off a rather risque deck of cards that had come into his possession thanks to Margaret onto Lan. He doesn't want any part of these.
NOW
"...Isn't that some... Lunar fortune-telling thing?"
It's about metaphor, she tells him, and then launches into a description of this card's particulars, which provokes quite the definition of 'I'm in this picture and I don't like it' in the expression that crosses Loren's face. "I'm not a kid," he tells her, drawing himself up to his full (5'8) height.
The rest of his response is even blunter: "Look, I'm here to meet someone. It's not of your business, so go away and leave me alone." He looks away from her, as if he could thus exclude her very existence.
If Nusakan has any sense, he's probably -- assuming he's not also waylaid somehow -- laying low until this blows over.
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
"It suuure is!" Magilou confirms, cheerfully. She doesn't know if there's a tarot tradition on Filgaia, of course, but that won't stop her from assuming. Nothing has ever stopped Magilou from doing anything!
Let us note here that at 5'8", Loren is a full six inches higher than Magilou, so she does in fact technically have to look up. This may do nothing to impinge upon the fact that she is metaphorically towering over the entire street.
He looks away, and Magilou...
... sashays over to the side, her whole body tilting that her head can enter his field of view again. "Aww, did I hurt your feelings?" She asks, and probably isn't asking genuinely, by the sound of that rising tone. "Really, if I had one, my heart would go out to you..!" Magilou gestures out from her chest, as if she could send her nonexistent heart over to Loren.
"You say you're not a kid," Magilou wags a finger like a metronome, keeping time to some beat only she can hear. "But your worldly experience tells another story! What shall you do if you meet a ghost on the road? Why, I'd be remiss if I were to leave you to the wolves out here, dear --"
All a sudden, Magilou stops, and Magilou taps a finger to her lips, surprise crossing her face with just as much theater as all her other expressions. "Say," she interrupts herself, with no shred of irony, "what did you say your name was, again?"
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
Height advantage, as Loren has noted before, is at once both completely fake and absolutely real. It doesn't matter in this moment that she's technically shorter than him, she still (metaphorically) towers over him, in a way that is at once both completely understandable to his inner selves...
...and absolutely frustrating, particularly to the part of him that is screamingly counter-phobic. What's wrong with him, why is he just letting this...
But that part of himself can rail about his current trajectory all it wants. He's already deeply, tragically, inertially on a crash course and there's no will to turn the wheel to the left.
"What gave you that idea," he says to her flatly, scowling in her general direction. "Can't you take a hint? Leave me alone." He takes a step back, as if to try to make it plain that his personal space starts here and that she should respect that.
...Even though he knows her type. She's not going to. She's going to...
"There aren't any ghosts here!" he blurts out. "Just-- some witch who doesn't get when she's not wanted! Look, I'm trying to--"
'I'm trying to work here' is a line that might work on Lan, but it is perhaps not the smartest thing to say to someone who is hell-bent on giving him grief.
"...The only wolf I see here is you, lady!" It may not be the cleverest retort in the history of retorts but it might suffice under these circumstances.
What's his name, though?
"Lor-- Thomas," he corrects himself with, appending that old pseudonym he'd dropped using some time ago, generally speaking. "Just Thomas."
It's clearly not his real name.
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
"Why would I ever do that?" Magilou wonders, on the topic of leaving him alone. She's having the time of her life batting this new cat toy around.
She seems to think Loren's appraisal of her as an unwanted witch is hilarious, because she hears it, and she just starts laughing again. Hand to her belly, hand to her mouth, she chortles merrily, and it just means that when she next looks to him she's particularly toothy.
"Awoo~" she croons, because Magilou, who has holdings in several places, can absolutely afford a $200 penalty. She claps her hands together, resting her cheek to one side of them, with a far too cheerful grin.
But he gets around to introducing himself, and tragically, Magilou only looks more interested. "Lor-Thomas, huh..?" She asks, and leaves it ambiguous whether she's missed the point or hit it succinctly. "Well, far be it from me to police someone else's nicknames. Justhomas it is!"
Here, Magilou blows a kiss, because it just couldn't get any worse.
"Well, Justhomas, I'd love to stand here arguing about how mugged you're about to be, but if you can't even sense the ghosts right in front of you, I think I had better drop you back in the deep end!" Magilou grins, with far too many teeth, forming a heart with her hands. "Try not to die before I meet you again, would you? You're such fun!"
Magilou, bouncing on a heel, turns as if she's going to disappear into the darkness just like that...
... but Loren might get the uncomfortable feeling he's still being watched, for a while.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
He'd known she'd do something like that. Somehow. Nevertheless, he narrows his eyes, grits his teeth and glares, as if he could strike her down by looks alone. "Tch..." At his sides, he's curled both hands into fists. Guara Bobelo doesn't really have a police force as such but it does have its own means of dissuading too much chaos and fighting in the streets. Which is not even taking into account the fact that he's not sure what he'd be dealing with going up against her, even if that was an appropriate solution to his current crisis. It really is an impotent gesture, at least if he wants to actually complete today's assignment successfully.
Oh, but it gets worse. When she makes that particular sound in his direction, he flushes.
It renders her mangling of his 'name' to a mere mild nuisance by comparison. "Fine," he says, shoulders slouching as if he were resigning himself to this fate. "Justhomas."
Then she blows him a kiss and it's just super bad again.
Then he blinks. "Mugged? Wait-- is that what you meant?" His hand has flown to the sword at his hip, but it's the way that he positions himself that might really give himself away.
There's a well-drilled precision to it in his body language, if Magilou is watching carefully. This man is no swordsman proper -- an apprentice at it, perhaps even a journeyman -- if one judges the way he reaches for his weapon, but every other part of his body language as he readies himself echoes several years of training for battle under an instructor's watchful eye.
"Damn it," he mutters, his attention shifting from her at that critical moment when she begins to remove herself from this immediate area and towards the fact that...
...yeah, she's not wrong. They may have been an amused crowd moments ago, but they're still vultures. And to them, he looked like a dead body.
"...Guess that's why he's not here," Loren remarks, sliding the blade from its sheathe. "Well, fine. If you want my money, then you'll have to try to take it!"
This is not, he reflects moments later, a sufficiently badass one-liner. It's pretty weak, actually. ...Oh well.
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
One of those vultures, coming in from behind, ends up yelping and hopping around on one foot and entirely giving the game away, which conveniently means he hops away from Loren instead of causing more problems.
Tragically, the other guys are too occupied with an actual sword to explain that that sucker stepped on a fire mine, which means the question of why there was a fire mine there goes unasked and unanswered.
It's probably fine!
He's probably fine.
"o/`"