1508/New Roommates

New Roommates
Date of Scene:	04 May 2020
Location:	A loft in East Williamsburg
Synopsis:	Satana and Sinclair meet!
Cast of Characters:	Death Reaper, Satana Hellstrom

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Death Reaper has posed:
    There was supposed to be a pink-haired mercenary there to do introductions and help move things; unfortunately, Death Reaper sees her on the way in while pinky is on the way out, with just enough time for a hurried handing over of a spare key and leaving Death Reaper to carry her stuff herself. Bothersome. Doing this herself without the roommate she's met or the one that's been suggested does leave her in need of a break afterwards; there's a stack of cardboard boxes, that used to carry various kinds of alcohol and now carry various kinds of books, bric-a-brac, and even the occasional bit of clothing that isn't conjured out of the Darkforce. As for Reaper herself, she's reclining in one of the semi-sprung, possibly freecycled - aka, poached from curbside pickup - with her legs up over one end of the couch and light reading material to go through; a battered copy of 'The Agrippa,' paperback, missing a cover but with the portrait of H. C. Agrippa still visible on the back.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
    There's a knock at the door, but it's only given in passing on Satana's way into the new place. The redhead was given the address by the same pink-haired coordinator of all this, but Rachel's absence doesn't deter her much. "Helllloooooooo!" she calls, booted feet clunking softly with every step. For her part, Satana is dressed in her typical skin-tight black leathers... low-rise pants and a halter top, with an open jacket over. Looking around long enough to spot the street-couch with its occupant, she offers a playful smile. "Hi there. I'm one of the new roomies."

Death Reaper has posed:
    From the knock onwards, the book is marked with a thumb and held loose at the side, and then when Satana is walking in, Death Reaper tilts her head back to sort-of slink over that edge of the couch. Looking over Satana from that upside-down perspective, hair hanging down in loosely curled/wavy curtains, there's a grin in place. Or maybe it's a frown without correcting for positioning, "You know, Rachel said to expected 'a' Satanic sorceress. Not /the/ Satanic sorceress. She's devious." Admiration is there of course, with Reaper leaving a squiggly bookmark of extradimensional shadow in the book before setting it down, and then sitting up with a sudden bounce and stretch upwards, removing some of the creak from her shoulders and arms. And it's a casual day; her 'clothing,' such as it is, has contracted to a chemise and shorts while taking a break after moving in. "Death Reaper Sinclair. Wow. Color me impressed." Though it's doubtful how much space is left on her skin for coloring of any kind.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
    Satana's jacket rides low off of her shoulders, carried more as an accessory than worn as an actual garment. She returns the grin with one of her own, leaning a bit closer to examine the raven-haired woman. "Yeah, I'm Satana Hellstrom. My dad didn't have a very original sense of humor." she offers. Her red-black eyes shift towards the casual shadow summoning, the smile becoming wry. "Death Reaper? Okay, so we could be bookends or something." She offers a hand, the nails long and red and neatly manicured.

Death Reaper has posed:
    "Not much of a line between bad parenting jokes and infernal torment, come to think of it. I don't know, I never asked, but I think mom wanted one of those 'it means this in my language' names, but the native tongue was just english." Shrugging as she sits up straighter, Death Reaper takes the offered hand and gives a squeeze. Curling her legs underneath her, she remains seated on the couch just in a comfortably resting slump against the armrest, "So, I am surprised. I mean, it's not that Diamondback and I are best friends since forever, but I didn't think she was getting into the mystical side of things so deeply." With her other hand, she props an elbow against the back of the couch, then her chin to her palm, fingertips tugging thoughtfully at her lower lip, "Been in the city long? I've only been in New York a little time myself."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
    Satana's grip is firm and business-like, in contrast to her manner. Shrugging out of the jacket completely, she half-rolls onto the sofa to perch at the opposite end as Death Reaper. "Actually I think it sort of came as a surprise to her as well." the demoness replies wryly. "We sort of... crossed paths... and hit it off pretty well." Tucking one leg up under the other, she -lounges- against the back of the sofa, not unlike an Egyptian goddess. "Oh, I was summoned here a few months ago, but something went haywire and I still haven't figured out who sent for me. Or why. So I'm sort of running free in the mean time."

Death Reaper has posed:
    Nodding along, there is a faint smirk that shows up first, "Crossed paths 'running gun battle,' crossed paths 'too much to drink,' or something like that?" Picking up on the reticence first there is a gossip-reaping streak there for DR, but it passes after a moment. Mostly because she's comfortable and the Agrippa wasn't really bearing fruit despite the lineage to it. "I think we're both in similar circumstances; making a new start, kind of scraping for it. But." Shrugging, her hands come up in gallic fashion before letting herself lean back and sort of stretch out a little, since there's enough couch space to go around for everyone. "It's good to have like minded individuals around. Y'know, relaxed moral attitude, not bound to the strictures of law and et-cetera et-cetera," Yes she actually pronounces it 'et-cetera,' "Appreciation for sharing fridge space and/or scheming details."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
    The redhead continues lounging in a rather feline manner, her smile betraying nothing as Death Reaper starts making guesses. "Let's just say that our first meeting was enough for her to decide that I'd be a fun roommate. And I agreed with her." she offers somewhat cryptically. When the black-haired woman stretches like that, Satana extends one foot and toes off the boot with the other. Then she repeats it, wiggling bare toes. "So what do you like to be called, then? Death? Deathie? Reaper? Miss Reaper? Am I getting warmer?"

Death Reaper has posed:
    "Oh. Ohhh." Eyes closed to impart a sense of gravitas, there is a stoic nod from Death Reaper at the slightly expanded explanation. Also a brief snickering too when the eyes come back open. Shrugging once more, this time she just raises a hand in a 'see saw' gesture. "Sinclair is fine. Probably makes Satana seem a lot more reasonable now, doesn't it? You can just go right to 'Tana' for cuddly pillow-talk sobriquets." Her grin reappears too while she's leaning more against the back of the couch, slanted slightly towards Satana and with hands folded together on top of each other there, "Though I think I get where mom was going. Nothing unravels a plan faster than getting too cute with aliases, you know? Not a lot you can do to make 'Death Reaper' less obvious." Though after a moment, she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, "Maybe 'Dearie.' D-Rie, get it? But no one would put that on a business card anyway."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
    Satana chuckles at that, extending both feet along the couch now and likely vying for a spot on Sinclair's lap. "Sinclair it is, then. And I've been called LOTS of things during pillow-talk; some of them even qualifying as cuddly." she adds. "And yeah, that's sort of a stretch, Dearie." She rolls it around in her head for a few moments, then nods. "I like that."

Death Reaper has posed:
    Looking down at the feet that eventually end up in her lap, Death Reaper - Sinclair in confidential circles, 'Dearie' in ones where people can put their feet in her lap - considers thoughtfully while tapping at one of the larger toes. "Benefit of roommates, I'm fairly good at polish." She holds up her hand like displaying a winning poker hand, though in this case it's monochromatic 'Dazzle' pattern for her own fingernails. "Among other talents; mostly confidence games since I've been working on my own for a lot of the time, and a lot of the things I'm after in life seem to come my way through a bit of deceit and.. well, not to put too fine a point on it, sleazy honeypot traps." Her grin hasn't entirely gone away; just more prominent on one side, with a thoughtful 'clk' of tongue-stud against tooth enamel. "Been active in this city, or on more of a cheap thrills kick?"

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
    Satana wiggles her toes and grins at that. "Good, because I never had the patience to give myself a manicure." One foot crosses over the other, then, and Satana leans against her end of the couch. "And Dearie, I'm both a sorceress AND a succubus. Sleazy honeypot traps are my bread and butter. Really sort of depends on the day, with me." Her gaze wanders a bit, then she nods as if deciding something. "Okay, then. I think we can work together, and more importantly I think we can LIVE together. At least with a minimal amount of bloodshed. As for me? I'm really just bored and looking for a new gig."

Death Reaper has posed:
    "Mm. Some bloodshed; I know, it's a bit of a cheat, but I don't really have the.. resources, to do much with my magical talents the usual way." There's a brief wrinkle of her nose, a moue of distaste, from Death Reaper. "And I'm not into the whole 'white witch' thing either. That's at least part of why I picked New York; some hope of finding a grimoire that the Sorcerer Supreme hasn't pitched into a self-righteous bonfire." Though while they're there, she gives a speculative eye to Satana's feet before pushing them up. Necessary for her to readjust and sit, legs still folded underneath her in a springy sort-of seiza position, which at least seems fairly consistent with her japanophile style of tattoos. Or at least for the visible ones. "And that's good to hear; you know, I think we can work together nicely~ Though if you want to consider 'sadistic and sultry mentor to power-hungry sorceress' as a gig in addition to any other capers, well."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
    Satana laughs softly at the 'white witch' reference. "Dearie, if I was gonna pretend to be a 'white witch' I'd have to change more than my clothes and my hairstyle." Her head tilts, then, and she looks over the black-haired woman a bit more closely. "If you've got the potential... and the stomach... for it, I don't mind taking on an apprentice. Or we can call it something else, if you prefer. My specialties are summoning demons and extra-planar creatures, but that's a pretty narrow niche. Daddy did ensure that I received a well-rounded education, however."

Death Reaper has posed:
    "Any tuition has to be on an installment plan. Or a better cut of any jobs undertaken." Dropping a wink, it comes with a little quirk of her lips and click of her tongue too, before Death Reaper goes ahead and leans over onto Satana's side of the couch. Propping her arms up on the armrest behind Satana's head, she 'looms' over her fairly close and comfortably. Close enough, too, for some of the preternatural chill that comes off her molded-Darkforce chemise to be felt. "And that's fine. Mom made sure I had.. well, the 'liberal arts' variant of an occult education, and I've picked up a little here and there. ..just as long as it doesn't involve the Fey. I've had bad experiences there - it's like a fun-sized 'tween concert backstage."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
    Satana shifts a little, laying back as Sinclaire looms like that. She grins up at the black-haired woman, one hand reaching slowly for the Darkforce-fabric at the woman's hip. Without actually touching it, of course. "Well, Dearie, I'm demon-taught, and if the Underworld had an Ivy League I would've graduated suma cum laude. Or something." Her head shakes slowly, and when she raises that hand so that it's within Sinclaire's peripheral vision. Fingers curl, and a ball of Soulfire blazes upon the palm. "I'm sure we can work out some sort of... arrangement." The fire whooshes out just as quickly, then she asks. "Got any ice cream around here?"