11612/Life Becomes Her

Life Becomes Her
Date of Scene:	15 June 2022
Location:	Sanctuary Church, Hell's Kitchen
Synopsis:	Chas comes to Lady Death looking for training, so she sends him to Hell.
Cast of Characters:	Hope Svelgate, Chas Chandler

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Hope Svelgate has posed:
    It has been awhile since most of her acquaintances have seen Lady Death. With the Endless Graveyard destroyed and her territory in Hell lost, she has been at loose ends on Earth following the banishment of the angelic armies and death and rebirth of Michael.

    One could say it has been going well insofar as no city blocks have been leveled in the intervening time, so it has been going well for the human populace at large. But for Lady Death herself, the Reaper's mantle has begun to chafe, humans haven't changed and yet simply killing them all is off the table. For awhile she attempted to mingle among the populace, for awhile she was still seen in the occasional dive bar, but eventually Hope Svelgate aka Lady Death seemed to drop off the face of the Earth entirely.

    That is of course unless one knows where to look and is brave enough to set foot there uninvited. Hope Svelgate, clad in leather pants, a leather halter top, stompy boots and a whole lot of chrome jewelry, spikes, and chains, sits sprawled out on a broken ottoman that she must have dragged in hear after someone left it curbside to be thrown away. In one hand is a bottle of Asgardian mead with only a quarter of its contents remaining. Chances are high it was all drunk very recently. Chances are high she may be drunk. In short, she looks like shit, sitting there in her Sanctuary trying to drink the human world away.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas had been debating on making this trip for a long, long time. On the one hand, he owed the woman an apology and his gratitude. He would likely still be on the door if not for her actions. And she would likely still be in control of her domain well. On the other hand, the woman was likely the most formidable creature he's ever had the experience of dealing with. If one could call the combination of fear and distrust he held for her 'dealing.'

    But eventual prodding from his current mentor and a guilty conscience would win out every time with Chas these days. He opens the door to the Sanctuary and strols in. His clothing is nondescript. Jeans, a plum colored tee, work boots, and a light coat against the lingering chill of the night. He's not making an effort to hide his presence and likely she would feel the well of power inside his body even before he entered her sight. Angelic presences had a way of making themselves more known to those like them than others and as much as she's changed Hope Svelgate is still, at least in part, an angelic presence.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    The Sanctuary is much as it always is. Lady Death was never one for house work from the start and the Earthbound spirits that dwell within probably wouldn't go for it anyway. Dust covers almost every surface, the feeling of decay hangs in the air, and if anything the chill of that air is even colder than the night outside.

    It does not take long to spot the disaster that is the visibly inebriated woman, bottle in hand, sprawled out on the broken ottoman like some cheap echo of her former throne.

    "What the fuck?" Her head rises a bit as she sits up slightly sensing the Angelic presence. The hand not holding the bottle going to her head almost as if to steady it "Which one of you bastards wants to die this time?" For a moment it seems like she might throw the bottle towards the door, but seems to think better of it and takes another drink instead.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas gives Hope a look of... pity? Amusement? Sympathy? It's hard to tell. "I'd rather keep what semblance of life I have for the moment, thanks" he says. "I expected to find you in... different circumstances. Defintiely not drunk off" he sniffs the air, "Asgardian mead." He approaches her more and shoves his hands in his pockets.

    "I came to say I'm sorry... for all that happened... for what it's worth" he says. "But... given your state I'm not sure how much you'd remember an apology tomorrow." His face twists in minor irritation. "Why the wallowing? If I might ask?" He looks around as if he has an idea of what her reason might be; but investigation still holds some merit.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    Hope sits up, leaning forward as she sits balanced precariously upon the broken ottoman. "Oh, it's you." She winces as she says it, probably has a headache, but nothing more alcohol won't solve. Several other empty bottles around the room speak to the previous employment of this strategy.

    "Apologize?" She scoffs. "Michael would have done his shit anyway, whether he found you or another patsy. It's what they fucking do, what they were made for, Order, Control, being assholes. And people still worship that shit. You want to apologize for something, apologize for leaving the gates still standing when you left, might as well apologize for the sacks of absolute shit that people are while you're at it. Five hundred years later they're still the same ignorant selfish bastards they ever were. Still engaging in Witchhunts, still fellating a god that just wants to keep them chained." She takes another drink, the bottle getting closer and closer to empty.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas has more connection to the uncaring and aloof entity known as the Presence than most on the planet. But even her words bring a frown to his features. "I... don't really have a right to apologize for their actions or the actions of the Presence. But you're right... they serve someone they don't realize cares little about their true plight." Hefinds an overturned chair. It's dusty and a little wobbly but it's strong enough to support his weight as he lowers himself down to it.

    "The Silver City serves a purpose... even if it isn't what most people think is is. So... I'd rather it stay standing." He frowns. "But you didn't answer my question."

    "Why are you..." he gestures to her. "Wallowing? For lack of a better word. I mean, I like getting drunk as much as the next... or well, liked. Not something I can very well do these days being... what I've become." He shrugs. "But... you have better things to do than lay around here, don't you?" he asks with an arched brow.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    The notion that the Silver City serves a purpose elicits a full throated laugh from Hope as she almost falls backwards. "One of these days I'll tear the Silver City down, burn it to the ground, piss on the ashes and salt the Earth." There is at least some fire remaining in her it would seem.

    "Can't get drunk? More like just don't know how. There isn't a being in the cosmos that can't get drunk. It just takes the right drink. Asgardian Mead isn't bad, they make some stuff in the Hells though that would knock Lucifer himself on his ass. Mortal piss water isn't worth a damn though." Which is unfortunate as far as she's concerned because she hasn't been mortal in over 500 years.

    The bottle comes back again for another long drink, the rate at which she is downing Asgardian Mead it is no wonder she is drunk even with the fortitude of a goddess. Fiery eyes lock upon Chas, "It's fucking ironic, Death's Champion is the Champion of Life, because Death can't exist without Life, when the last living thing dies so too will Death. For centuries I wanted to return to this world after becoming trapped in Hell. I was willing to wipe out all humans to break the curse Satanus placed upon me binding me there. Death convinced me to be her Champion, that walking this world again Humans must be tended to like grain, preserved until ready to be harvested. But it's a crock of shit. They haven't changed at all in five centuries, no different from the villagers who tried to burn me at the stake, they should all just die." Except she can't do that anymore, not in her current covenant anyway. At the very least, the drinking is probably better than a return to Megadeath.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "What does it matter that humans haven't changed in thousands of years?" Chas asks the woman before him. His tone is... oddly philosphical. "It's not what -people- do that truly matters in this life or any other. It's what -individuals- do. Individuals with power can affect true change." He adds quickly, giving her a pointed look. "And that change doesn't have to mean the destruction of all sentient life. It can be big, small, or any size in between."

    He gesture to her. "You are someone with that sort of power. It's just up to you to decide how to use it." He smiles then. "Or... you can continue to lament your lot of having the tend to the lives of humanity as the agent of Death." He shrugs. "To me that seems like an awful waste of space and power." Is he trying to rile her up? Maybe. But Chas wasn't known for his subtlety, in anything.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    The last of the alcohol disappears down the throat of the white haired woman, maintaining the illusion of life beginning to require more effort than its worth in her mind. She holds the bottle up to her eye peering into it like she might spy some leftover bit that was hiding somehow. "Like what you did as an individual with the power to Summon Michael down on New York?" It's a pointed vicious barb and she knows it.

    "Fuck Death." The bottle is tossed aside, sent skittering across the floor. "Is this what you came here for, looking to die then?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas' lips jerk up in either a nervous tick or a smirk. "Maybe so" he says in response to the jab. To her second question he shakes his head. "No. I came looking to do exactly what I did. To apologize for what you endured." He frowns. "Beyond that?" he shrugs. "Maybe I came looking for teacher who has at least similar powers to my own? Maybe I came seeking to see if you wanted to be more than a sometimes ally? Maybe I came to see if I could overcome my fear of you."

    He stands. "Maybe you taking a swing at me--minus the scythe is part of that" he says. "I don't know. What I do know is that I respect you and I see you as more than just some wallowing anger spike against reality." He looks around the abandoned church. "You could do better... but then again, you could do worse too."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    With the bottle's contents expended and no other near at hand, Lady Death can already feel the effects of the alcohol begin to bleed away, though its aftereffects are thankfully equally brief thanks to her inhuman constitution.

    She doesn't so much rise from where she was sprawled as use the Energy Arcane to move her to a standing position. "Minus the scythe? Aren't you just full of conditions and demands. You want me to train you?" This is seemingly quite funny to her, not even attempting to stifle her laugh. "Why should I? Join your merry little band? Take orders from whoever you've decided to be in charge? Are you serious?" Though a smirk begins to spread across her expression. "I suppose I could show you how I learned." There is something dangerous in that expression, as she leaves one to guess what that might entail.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "Hope... there are only two people I know who utilize the same power as you and I do" Chas replies with a frown to the woman. He raises a hand and golden light surrounds the appendage. It's a different color than the expression of the power Hope employs, but she can certainly tell it is the same product. "One of them is my girlfriend and I don't think asking her to take out her frustrations on me to see if I can grow in it's use will happen. So that leaves you."

    "I'm not keen on dying permenantly, so that is why I ask for your help without the use of the item the Endless gave you. If you kill me outright another way?" He shrugs. "I figure I'll end up coming back sooner rather than later. But since you brought it up..."

    He places a hand on a hip, letting the golden glow fade from it. "Maybe joining our little band of misfits wouldn't be such a bad idea. We don't give orders... as far as I know aside from don't slaughter or erradicate teammates. But since you're working with the Endless that shouldn't be a problem. It'd sure as hell beat drinking the hours away in here. That's for sure."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    "I don't know, that first one might be fun to watch." Hope replies still smirking. "First, I still haven't heard what's in it for me. Second," She laughs inwardly like she can't believe she is even contemplating this. "I wasn't kidding, if I do decide to help you then you'd better be prepared for what that means. And it'd begin with a test."

    She folds her arms beneath her chest. "Third, you don't want me in your group unless you're trying to destroy it. Nothing but violence and death follows me." And not even always of her own making!

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "Action... for one... you're a creature of action, Hope. I know that much from even before I had my eye on you from the Gate" Chas replies. "We aren't inactive, even if most of what we're fighting against is focused within the Castle and focused on what it means to be a team. It's still action." At her other offer. "I wouldn't have come if I didn't expect a test from you."

    He adds a shrug. "And the rest... maybe so, maybe not. I'm willing to give you a shot at changing that though." He smirks a bit. "Could be you just haven't been paired with the right crew to suit your particular brand of chaos and strife. Could be the JLD is the right crew. What harm could there be in trying? If it doesn't work out, you can always come back here and continue to drink away the rest of your existence until the heat death of the universe."

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    The smirk wanes from Hope's face. Action was perhaps not what she was wanting to hear. "Action? Sounds like a roundabout way of asking me to fight your battles for you." Her opinions on team work or lack thereof are left to the imagination for the moment.

    "How about we take this one step at a time, first we'll see if you survive the test. Maybe I'll let you annoy me with your recruitment pitches, if you can survive that." The smirk by this point has returned.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "Not quite but... very well. I'll adhere to your request," Chas says, relaxing in place and letting his hands rest at his side. "Just try not to trap me in a hell dimension for -too- long" he says with a small smile at his guess. "I'm ready.... test away" he says with a nod.

    As he says it, Hope can feel the restraints on his powers loosening and releasing, letting the pure power of The Source pour into him. At the same time a gold and blue light starts to surround his form and fill the sockets where his eyes were. He -is- ready.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
    "Well then," The illusion of Hope melts fully away leaving only Lady Death. A hand is raised and the Death Scythe summoned into it, a glow with mystic power and entropic energies. "We'll see how long it takes you to regret this decision."

    The weapon swings through the air cleaving a gash through the fabric of reality itself. "That leads to Hell, the remote wastes of Hell. Your goal is simply to survive. I'll come see what has become of you in a week or two." Not exactly committal on that number. "I'll even give you some free advice, try and reach the City of Dis. Not that its much more survivable than the wastes."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas looks at the opening and then back at Lady Death. "Survive huh?" he shrugs. "Sounds easy enough. I've heard of Dis... we'll see if I can find it. See you in a while... hopefully." He then steps forward and presses against the portal. The ambient energies of Hell scream in protest at the intrusion of a Dominion level angellic force but he presses harder and the natural order gives way to him with a shriek of the damned.

    He stops there and offers a wave to her before he starts along, shoving his hands in his pockets as the winds of hell blast against his angellic holy aura. It's not long before he's out of sight but... hopefully, not out of mind.