7705/Nettie and John: House Call
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| Nettie and John: House Call | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 05 September 2021 |
| Location: | House of Mystery |
| Synopsis: | (Unfinished, previous John player, plot canceled) |
| Cast of Characters: | Nettie Crowe, John Constantine
|
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
It was a mysterious thing. A short message, the witch had stopped her immediate investigation into particular kinds of graveyard dirt that she could bring into the shop to sell to really snotty little baby witches, but John took priority.
When she arrived, it was via broomstick, the fastest mode of her transportation to that unassuming door. Corvax on her shoulder as she made her way to the door from an alleyway, raising her hand to knock on the door to the House of Mystery.
- John Constantine has posed:
The knock doesn't even happen before the door opens. ...straight into the library. Nettie should feel honored. And perhaps a little overwhelmed. The entirety of the library doesn't even seem as if it should fit into the whole house, let alone one room of it. Floor to ceiling of bookshelves packed full, little rolling ladders, a couch or three, tables and desks, a few overstuffed chairs. It's near big enough to be a literal small town library.
But these aren't books any mundane student in a small town would be looking to read.
A battered, loved and comfortable Pistols t-shirt and a pair of those ridiculous pajama pants sporting little dancing skeletons in purple hats over a black background are John's clothing of choice, if by choice one means he picked them up off the bedroom floor and threw them on before heading here.
Currently he's on the rung of one of the ladders stretching over precariously far in an attempt to reach a tome bigger than War and Peace by leaps and bonds. It seems he finally remembers he's a magician however, when he leans back to safety and floats the thing to him.
A stack of books on one of the desks is about four foot tall by now. Someone's been busy pulling books off shelves.
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
She does. She's seen the library once. Through a different door. And she whispers "Oh, you magnificent, beautiful house!" to the house, passing through the door with Corvax on her shoulder as she makes her way into the library. She's got a couple grass stains and dirt patches on her jeans, and was wearing a T-shirt advertising a tour of The Cure beneath her vest as she walks into the library.
"Jimineys, John. A little light reading?" she questions, pulling off her old leather backpack and tucking it to the side.
Corvax alights off her shoulder, and then comes to sit on a top rail, his tail fanning out as if he were just thinking of crapping on one of the books, but he gets a feeling of Impending Danger.
He decides, instead to greet John with: "These all look /way/ more complicated than your normal trash."
- John Constantine has posed:
"Paulie called," John explains and that it for a moment, as if that should just explain everything, of course it doesn't. His voice is distracted, his faded denim blues ablaze with a wild sort of intensity. Big book in hand, he comes back down the ladder and adds that one to the growing stack before going back for another.
He's halfway up the ladder he needs before he finally adds, "Been three in Liverpool, just like here, but seems they appeared at the sites of some sort of ritual. Did some digging, been a half dozen in India, a few in Australia, a handful in Romania." Still there's that distracted thing going on with his tone, like he's almost talking more to himself than Nettie.
He doesn't even throw snark back at the bird.
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
"Paulie --" she pauses, and she blinks a bit in surprise. She looks up at John as he goes back up.
"Thinnings, you mean? Or piercings of the veil?" she asks, reaching to steady the ladder as John goes up. "So it's not localised, it's going through all manner of places. What kind of ritual? When was it performed? Is this something we have to start in on re-upping protections and checking maintenence against?" she asks, looking at the pile of books on the table. She doesn't go looking -- house might like her, but she knows who the master of the house is.
- John Constantine has posed:
Paul (Paulie to John) Ramsey, one in a long line of individuals that can be held responsible for the fact that there's still a John Constantine around to be frantically digging through books in his skeleton PJ bottoms.
"I thought it all might be related to all the shite upside down with Death, but I dunno anymore, it might be something different. It just doesn't make any bloody sense." Rambling! He's rambling.
"It's happened in the past, it happened in Guyana right around the time Jim Jones put his roots down in Guyana. Usually it's the result of a big amount of idiots fuckin' with something they don't know unwittingly. Usually bringin' something Big through. In the end, if it isn't stopped, it winds up possessing someone." Like Jim Jones? "Always tragic in the end. But it's never ben this *wide spread*." Ramblebabble. His words are all one on top of the other and as frantic as the look in those eyes.
He snags another book, hops down off the ladder and puts it in the stack. "I'm missing something."
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
"-- we have to stop it. There's enough going on that all our cohorts are already spread too thin." Nettie states, and she reaches for one of the books.
"I heard there was one right outside your bar last night. Chas all right?" she asks, "Figure out who's doing what that's making all this shite happen across the globe, unless we got a bunch of Tumblr Witches who decided to hex the fuckin' /moon/ again." she mutters. "That was a mess."
She thinks back to Paulie, and those gentle, sad eyes with such *intensity* behind them. Definitely on her list of 'if it had to be a man'.
"So we are looking at stopping multiple cults then?"
- John Constantine has posed:
"I dunno yet," John admits. But he'll find out, one way or another, he usually does... oft times not until he's run ragged through and through and slowed to at least a walk, if not all the way to crawl, but he gets there.
"It's the only thing that matches, that makes sense, but the it doesn't." Match or make sense. It's the way of it innit? Magic.
"Wait... wait wait wait..." He snaps his fingers and dashes off for another book, this one lower on the shelves, no ladder needed. He shuffles through pages rapid fire and scans one quick, finger running down the page as he reads. He slams it shut again, "Bollocks, not it." He tosses the book down on a nearby table, it vanishes only to reappear in its rightly spot.
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
"Bugger all." Nettie breathes out, and she picks up one of the books herself, then, cracking it open, she begins to read as she draws back to her backpack, her eyes narrowing a moment as she searches for information, anything she can fire back at John.
"What has been experienced so far? Nightmares? The Kraken in the Husdon?"
- John Constantine has posed:
"Murderous spirits, Phoebe mentioned something about sheep and a dog in Gotham," John murmurs, distracted. He picks up one of the books in the stack. "What doesn't make sense, from what I've been able to dig up so far, is that there aren't any connections. There aren't any cults in any of the areas of occurrence yet that come close to worshiping the same bloody sorts of things."
He slams the book shut when the chapter he thought might have answers doesn't turn out to. He tosses it into the air, it gets re-shelved in a blink. "Paulie wasn't turned on to the info from Liverpool until way after the fact, he's working in Whitechapel these days. So, eyewitness to what happened there is all over the board. Said one of them might have involved a small dragon, maybe a demon lizard... one bloke said it was a bloody Charizard. I'm gonna need to make the trip soon if I want reliable answers."
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
"Take your protege with you. Leave Chas here. I could use him if anything happens while you're out." Nettie comments as she grabs a couple of items from her bag -- a thin dagger, blade kept sharp over many years by constant care. Made before pocket knives were A Thing, and a couple of blank, white pieces of parchment paper. She looks at the knife. "Really should get a new one, one of these days. Pity the smith that made this one is hundred years dead." she mutters, and she sits at the table with the pile of books.
"Think the house will mind if I try and track some information down?" she asks, looking up to Joh.
- John Constantine has posed:
Coming up from the pages of another book that just ends in a frustrated growl and a toss aside to be whisked back to the shelves, John says, "Wha? Oh... no... don't think so, luv. If you're lookin' for a book, dunno what good it'll do though. These are all the ones the wretched thing already marked when I asked. Plus a few more I thought might have it."
He blows out a breath between his lips that comes out all soft raspberries and explains, "It may seem like it sometimes, but it doesn't know everything... just round abouts of it sometimes. Others it points out one and it has all answers I need." If it were any other way but that, he'd be successful way more than he tends to be.
- Nettie Crowe has posed:
"Figured it's more polite to ask than stab my hand and get blood on the table -- or the books. It'd be /rude/." she states, and the Witch draws out Her Deck. The special, old cards that she does *not* tell fortunes or try to divine for others with. The thin bits of paper and horn, colored with once toxic and rare materials, picked up on her way from France to Italy and beyond. They are Old.
Older, in fact, than her.
She takes the cards, face-up, and using both hands fans the cards out, and draws.
Three of Wands
Page of Swords
The Magician
The Papess -- which later would be dubbed The High Priestess. The cards have no markings, other than the images on the cards. No numbers.
And she arranges them on the table, with the white parchment lain in the middle, each roughly facing a cardinal direction.
She takes the dagger in her right hand, and slices accross her palm neatly, closes her hand to spread the blood around her palm, fingers and thumb, and then presses it to the parchment.
She begins to recite a spell in Middle English, trading blood for knowledge.
If John can translate it, it would turn to be a plea for knowledge from beyond to show her where answers lay, trace the paths they should follow in wandering over pages.
And Corvax flits from his perch to somewhere near John's head.
"... you must have got her in a tizzy the last time you two spoke. She hasn't done that spell since Addie was killed."
