660/Breaking a Curse

Breaking a Curse
Date of Scene:	20 March 2020
Location:	A seedy cafe in South Bronx
Synopsis:	Cheetah meets with Satana about ending her curse, leaves with a new contact.
Cast of Characters:	Satana Hellstrom, Barbara-Ann Minerva

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Satana Hellstrom has posed:
It's not often that Satana gets called for her professional help, mostly due to her reputation. Someone would have to be pretty desperate to call on a succubus who commutes from Hell, after all. In order to test that, the redhead picks a location that isn't in the best of neighborhoods.

New York City: South Bronx. The cafe is called Gino's, although the neon 'o' is only flickering on about a quarter of the time. It's 10pm, and Satana only had to fight off two muggers to get here. Probably something to do with the way she dresses, right?

The redhead is sitting at a table near the back, wearing her traditional tight leather and sipping coffee.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
The little bell above the entrance sounds a faint warning as the door beneath it opens briefly to admit another redheaded succubus: Barbara-Ann Minerva. Not that anyone would be able to prove that. She's not carrying any identification and, if pressed, will claim her name is Deborah Domaine (one of her many, many aliases). She's dressed discreetly. Or as 'discreetly' as ego will allow. Nobody pays her much attention in any event.

'Deborah' casts a disapproving eye around the premises. What kind of sorceress meets in a dive like this? Everybody knows the respectable covens prefer Starbucks. And this neighborhood. Ugh! She had to eat three muggers just to get here...

Through the flotsam and jetsam, Cheetah spies Satana. That must be her contact. Minerva knows expensive leather when she sees it. Nobody who actually lives in this neighborhood could afford such an ensemble. Minerva approaches Satana's table.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana looks up when the little bell sounds, a small smile touching her lips. Part of the reason she chose this place was because of the lack of customers at this hour. Her unusual eyes are hidden behind cheap sunglasses... even at this hour... and she watches as the woman approaches.

Just barely five feet away, and Satana's weird-shit-o-meter goes off. Other than wrinkling her nose, the redhead doesn't show any reaction. She raises her coffee cup in salute, however, licking those red lips.

"I heard a rumor that you know a girl who's got a particular problem she'd like to sort out."

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
Cheetah smiles graciously as she takes up residence in a chair at Satana's table, "And who isn't afraid to pay top dollar for some assistance." One can detect a muted English accent in Minerva's speech. She places her hands, palms down, on the tabletop. It's a conscious habit she's picked up from previous seedy dealings meant to help put dubious interlocutors at ease. In this instance she rather wishes she hadn't done so: the table is sticky. Like everything else in this dump.

"You come highly recommended. I hope I'm not wasting my time." For a split-second Minerva considers ordering something; the cloying feeling of the table top clinging to the skin of her hands as she adjusts position put this idea to bed.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana definitely notices the unease in the woman sitting across from her, and takes some private glee in her choice of venue. It's her contrary side coming out, more than anything else. She wants to see just how BADLY this woman needs help.

And now that they're sharing the same table, she gets an idea.

Sitting up a bit, she leans in as well... careful not to touch the table. "Well for starters, honey, if you were packed with any more magic shit you'd be radioactive. I could tell that pretty much when you opened the door." Shifting in her seat again, she draws a knee up and rests an elbow upon it.

"Since there's so much going on, why don't you tell me what you'd like to keep and what needs to go."

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
Cheetah's expression doesn't change, though Satana's weird-o-meter might detect a sudden spike in Minerva's mystic 'aura' as sometimes happens when Minerva is...irked.

"You're direct. I like that." She doesn't, actually. "I'm in something of an inconvenient relationship. My..." she pauses as though the next word has stuck in her throat like a barbed hook "...husband...is somewhat demanding." Her voice drops an octave, "I need to cut the ties that bind." An eyebrow arches as if putting Satana on notice: put up or shut up, Honey.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana nods slowly, understanding crossing her features. She removes the sunglasses to perch them in the mass of crimson curls, showing eyes of red flaked with black. Definitely NOT a native New Yorker, here.

"I understand. Hold out a hand for me. I need to see your palm, and no I'm not going to read it. That's amateur shit." Yeah, hand out. Sticky-side up. "I'm pretty good with spirits and the supernatural, as a rule. Something I grew up with. Give me just a sec, now..."

And even before the hand is presented, Satana draws a slow breath and begins a simple incantation.

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
A ripple of muted disgust undulates across Minerva's face as she pries -- nay, wrenches! -- a palm away from the surface of the table and offers it to Satana.

Satana's eyes don't appear to prompt a reaction. Minerva has seen some weird stuff in the past few years. Usually in the bathroom mirror. If nothing else, the blacken sclera may add some cred to these proceedings. She listens intently to Satana's incantation trying to zero in on words or phrases. The language is unfamiliar. A thought suddenly occurs: Urzkartaga, her demon king of a 'husband' can't hear any of this...right?

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana's words are gibberish, at least unless someone is fluent in the magic language of Hyperborean. It's a short spell, at least, a simple augury enhancement just to more fully awaken magical senses. She watches the other woman's eyes all the while, and only when her fingertip lowers slowly towards the offered palm do the demoness' eyelids flutter closed.

The contact is brief, and Satana jerks her hand back like she'd touched the third rail on a subway line. She blinks a couple of times, and now it's the demoness' turn to look unhappy. "Honey, what you've got is fucking DIVINE. Which means I can't help you. My suggestion? Say your prayers, do your catechism, run the prayer beads, or whatever the fuck you do to keep your god from being pissed off."

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
At Satana's touch Minerva let's out a shocked half-snarl, which she only just manages to contain. Of the few other patrons sitting hither and tither in Gino's, not a one so much as looks up. Barbara-Ann runs the back of her hand against her mouth, expecting to find blood. When she speaks her voice is raw and husky, "Divine?!? There's nothing divine about it. He's just some god damned jungle...THING!" She leans forward as if to impart something important, "...he lives in Africa for heaven's sake." Because Africa is disqualifiying. Obviously.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana's gaze narrows as well, even before Minerva actually half-snarls. "Whatever YOU may think of him, the being known as 'Urzkartaga' is definitely not your typical drug dealer from down the block." she explains. "I got enough of a read on him to see that. His base of believers originated in Africa, but don't disqualify him just because he doesn't conform to Judeo-Christian standards."

Satana leans back, then. "He is as divine as I am infernal." Then she adds, almost reluctantly. "I'm sorry. If you wish, I can do more research on him but I don't see divorce in your immediate future."

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
Cheetah hisses in frustration. For an instant -- those little blips that exist between seconds -- her 'true' form takes hold of her already cruel face before fading once more. "Intolerable. Nothing has even been consummated." Yet. That's probably her plan 'B'.

Minerva leans closer, "There must be something you can do. You have connections, yes? Someone is higher up on the chain than you." That's right. Cheetah would like to speak to Satana's manager.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana's gaze flickers at that, and the redhead laughs. Still laughing, she shakes her head a couple of times. "Oh, believe me. You really *don't* want to meet the next one up the chain from me. Marduk Kurios is -also- infernal, which means he can't help you anymore than I can." Satana pauses, then adds. "He's also a real prick, and I'd even bet he's got a bigger ego than your African diety."

The woman considers, then. "Any help you'd get would have to come from likewise-divine sources. While I may not always get along with those folks, I do know a few. Can't promise anything, but let me ask around."

Barbara-Ann Minerva has posed:
Cheetah clutches at Satana's not-really-a-promise like a drowning sailor, "Please do. You will be handsomely rewarded, I assure you." That a demon princess would find little inducement in money never factors into Minerva's thinking. Though high-quality leather ain't cheap.

"Well," Barbara-Ann starts to sit back but quickly thinks the better of it, "I believe our business here is concluded." She starts to rise from her seat. "You know how to reach me?" This last is almost a rhetorical question. But it never hurts to ask. She wipes the palms of her hands against her coat as nonchalantly as possible. Which is to say not at all.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Satana watches the unusual woman rise and turn towards the door. "And you know how to contact me as well." she replies. While the demoness may not have been able to help, it's a pretty fair bet she learned quite a lot about Barbara-Ann's condition in that brief energy-blast. "Don't be shy about calling if you need help with anything else, as well."

Just because Satana was out of her league in THIS particular problem doesn't mean she wouldn't be of help some other time.