785/Gwyllgi and the Black Doug

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Gwyllgi and the Black Doug
Date of Scene: 27 March 2020
Location: St. Mark's Church, The Bowery
Synopsis: What happens happens.
Cast of Characters: Douglas Ramsey, Illyana Rasputina, Samuel Guthrie, Alexis Carr




Douglas Ramsey has posed:
    Doug said, simply, "I have to go take care of something for Shadowcat. I'll be back in a day or so." And then he went. He didn't say where he was going or what he was doing, simply that he had to go.
    In about a day and a half he was back... but the black mood over him had presence. It had weight. He simply tossed his stuff down and crawled somewhere to sleep... and can't be roused. He's just staring at the wall.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Time means less to Illyana than most. A day their time, a sennight or a fortnight by hers. Dipping through the golden-fringed portal with a wreath of halcyon flame causes her to vanish out of keeping and sight from all but the most potent diviners. Finding her when she wishes not to be found is another matter altogether. Only those rumours suggesting she haunts corners of Westchester County in close proximity to Salem Centre and the school at all indicate her activity, and no one's found another of those peculiar dice covered in strange sigils that tend to move around of their own accord. Tad disturbing to see a d20 fluttering by on ice-shard wings or a jet of falling vermillion motes, like an inanimate salamander.

Perhaps the pair exchanged roles, Doug grumpy and her whimsical. But, be as it may, the inevitable knock across realities gives some sense of privacy. Sort of. It comes from a courtyard in the Bowery, behind a cold iron gate (and inestimable proof New Yorkers are superstitious for all their historical religious predilections). Standing in the garden of the second oldest building in Manhattan, the blonde Russian faces the adjacent excuse of a churchyard. Mostly. A chalked symbol here or there appears on the mislaid bricks in decorative cruciform patterns fringing a drunken cobbled path through the dormant trees and omnipresent ivy. Unlit taper in hand, chalk palmed flat to the waxen candle, Illyana creates a vertical line for her rather inconspicuous portal. Tap-tap-tap: the bell chime resonates through Limbo and across to the other side where comfort swaddles an unhappy soul. Someone could just, you know, use a cellphone. They didn't have cellphones in Russia.

Or Hell.

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie is looking at apartments with Alexis. They have come to look at some other places after a bit of a stop for some power practice earlier. He walks along with his arm around Alexis, and will stop in his tracks at seeing a familiar blonde in the courtyard "Ok thats odd." He will say to himself.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    There were a couple of places within Manhattan that Alexis had considered, but she stops a moment, and she tilts her head, looking at the blonde at the wall.

    And she makes a face.

    "Isn't... that the blogger who tried to buy his way into the gala?" she questioned to Sam in a very, very quiet tone, and she steps a little behind the taller Guthrie to hide. No use being recognized by someone who 'admired' her father's work, after all.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
    Sometimes you get bit by the black dog. Now that Doug's out on the balcony, he's... well, he looks like a haystack in a hurricane. Unshowered, unshaved -- he did remember to tense the mental muscle to change the tone of his right arm to skin, though, and he curls his fingers around the balcony before he looks down at Illyana, his gaze someplace else.
    "I'm up," He says to her, "I'm up! Geez..." Then he looks up, and his mouth flattens into a line. "...Why me, Lord."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Something got free," comes from the golden-haired sorceress. The candle in hand isn't lit. She is visible through the portal to Doug, albeit only just, the tear contained to the thinnest fissure. "Why you? I have no faith in the eyes of God. -You- do. Enough to count. It will be checked by that, perhaps before it feasts again." She holds out her hand in the dark to him.

This is the delightful scene upon which Sam and Alexis wander up, a girl on the other side of an open fence in a place she probably doesn't have any business being unless she is on the latest haunted tour. Quite a few of those through Manhattan, in fairness. But it's not like a teleporter behaves according to principles like doors, locks, the like.

Few lights manage to swathe the side of St. Mark's. Shadows drown the place in darkness, washing the sides of the church to the soil in unmitigated nightfall that even March shouldn't sink in quite so much. The place feels off. Sensitivity to emotion makes this even worse; a fugue dwells under the cherry tree, the great maple stretching branches across a sense of general anxiety, tempering the hairs on the back of the neck to rise. Doubtful she can even sense it. Maybe. Flat markers set into the weathered west yard alone suggest the presence of the dead interned between patches of sprawling ivy and winter-dessicated weeds only starting to rouse themselves from deep sleep. Illyana has triangulated to a spot between three, placed perfectly in the center as she goes about providing her own source of illumination. Eventually.

Reading the ancient slabs of Hudson Valley limestone or their occupants awaiting the Second Coming is rather difficult even up close. One of them is directly cracked down the middle, and the other stained by the crumbs and remnants of a meal. Possibly a picnic, if using a gravestone as blanket, plate, and cutting board is appropriate.

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie looks over and says "Um, well actually, thats a couple friends of mine, who Ah asked to help me make sure you were ok." He says rubbing the back of his neck. "Illyana and Doug." He will start to lead Alexis toward so they can get a better look calling out "Illyana, Sam on your six."

Alexis Carr has posed:
    Allegra Caradenza has very strong feelings about using gravestones as anything except markers -- or at least picking up your litter!

    The dark-haired girl follows Sam, her eyes going wide a sshe swallows nervously, making their way towards the pair and portal.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
    "I don't know what I believe in anymore, 'Yana," Doug says, with a sigh, "Except maybe you."
    He looks up, and then huffs out a breath. "Here we go... I don't even have time to shower and put myself together. All right Douglas, you can do this." He steps back a bit and says, "...Just let me get dressed and comb my hair and then I'll take a look. Okay?" He turns to head back inside.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"I cannot even try. You have a stronger core to hold it back," murmurs the blonde, holding out her hand to Doug half a borough away. "Come to me when you are ready, volchonok." Maybe half a world. Certainty given in that gesture welcomes him to take the time required, the portal sustained in the meantime as an even thinner crack between here and there.

Which leaves a witch, a wrecking ball, and a pyromancer in a churchyard pondering the nature of things. Shadowy moss drips off a few of the stones fringing the path. The gravestones in their sorry rectangular state date to the 18th and 19th centuries at latest, with more than a few prominent surnames of the Dutch families that dominated cultural and social life. In death, they're unimpressive as plaques on shady avenues. "Da?" she says to that other boice blending in. No need for the sword, and if anyone is alarmed by her delicate unlit taper, they're on their own. Nothing to show why she's wandering around in the dark. "Sam," she intones, laconic as ever. The salute of the candle is lifted an inch or two. To Alexis, she inclines her head. Those long bangs do a great job blunting her frosty gaze, but no one gets a warm look out of her if they aren't black tea or borscht.

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie looks over and says "Whats going on? Alexis and I were just headed to look at a place, and saw you out here." He turns to Alexis "They are mutants as well, and if Illyana is out here checking something out it could be dangerous, stay near me hon, and if I tell you Lizard think you can give it a warm welcome?" He stresses the word warm.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
    A few minutes later, Doug comes out with a wool cap pulled onto his head, in a T-Shirt that just says 'QUE?', skinny jeans and his chelsea boots, and a spring jacket - he takes Illyana's hand and steps through the portal and he turns to look back and then says, "Oh cool, one of the busiest streets in New York could see me in my Calvins." His eyebrows shoot up and then he turns to look back to Illyana, and then back at Sam and Allegra.
    "Guess that cat's out of the bag, huh." He rubs the back of his neck.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    On the tea, Allegra and Illyana agree, and the dark haired daughter-of-a-mutant-hater gives a slightly awkward wave to Illyana with the brief introduction, and she blinks at Lizard as the code word.

    There is a *very* stern look shared to Sam.

    "His name is Eroll, thank you very much." she states, but she breathes out.

    "About your underwear?" she questions, and rubs the bck of her head. "You're much more charming out of character."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana's brows arch a fraction, but for her, that ought to be closer to an inch. The immaculate curve frames those opaque eyes delivering a stare with the force of a falling guillotine blade on an unprotected neck; an oblique look to Doug mitigates some of that. "Hardly. Distorting glamours," she murmurs. Slim shoulders lift in a slight shrug, giving more impression than simply standing there. "Some things are not for everyone."

Edging around the fringes of a bigger conversation there, but she doesn't explain further on the matter. Not with the position held that puts her to Doug's back, a simple exchange once he steps through. The portal vanishes. Some of the strain leaves her back. "Alexis. Sam." This is how you say hello in brusque demonic. It's probably not personal.

The candle is still in hand, though squeezed a little by the warmth of her skin, compressed here and there. She fishes out a box of matches from the back pocket of leather pants that have no business owning pockets at all, striking one quickly. The flame isn't golden, but a rather dull grey. Its radius isn't very far at all, the flame shrunken and weak. It struggles to take to the wick. "Way to show a path. Do you feel anything here?"

They get a few moments to answer. "The sanctification is gone."

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie looks over to Alexis, yea but you don't want to hurt Eroll, was thinking more on things we would want to hurt. I know this seems insane, but if illyana is here, there is something dangerous here... besides her. Ah would send ya back to the car, but in this deep, I want you near me, to stay safe. "They are some of my best friend in the universe." he tells her of the two.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
    "How does that reflect on New York City seeing me in my underwear?" Doug asks Illyana.
    He rubs his chin, and then says, "...I had to go back to Genosha. And... well... I feel like I owe you two the truth. I was reminded that... I never really planned to come back. I had a life there. I had a job. I had - friends. I had a future." He shakes his head, and says, "And all of that's gone now. That kid they pulled out, she's so *righteously angry* but when I look at that spot inside myself... I'm just numb."
    He turns back to Illyana, and puts his hands on his hips. "...Tell me what to do, 'Yana. If I'm going to be depressed I might as well be useful."

Alexis Carr has posed:
    There is an absolutely immense weight suddenly on Allegra's shoulders. The color drains from her face as she listens to Doug, and then she frown, and curls her fingers slightly. Anything she could say felt empty.

    For all she knew, he used Geonosha's blood as rosin at the gala. Her fingers sought out Sam's, and she whispers to him: "You cann't always stand in front of me, Guthrie."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"New York did not see," replies Illyana. The dull flame bites into the wick, blackening rolled cotton, and spitting fitfully. She frowns at it, concentrating on holding her candle completely still. No warm buttery glow surrounds the lot of them, just a pewter cast like a noir film. Oh, their clothes and the surrounding buildings have colour, though the deep darkness saturated into the churchyard refuses to relinquish its rule so easily.

It takes the better part of a minute of looking past Sam's head to the staccato of a city skyline, a city never her own. Maybe none of their words reach the petite girl, lost in her own creepy ass world as she so often might be. Perhaps the lovebirds entangled in a mutant-hating conspiracy are translucent as glass right then and there.

Her eyes are completely blank when she lifts them, the chiaroscuro mask of grey charcoal thrown over her features sketching out the prominence of arrogantly high cheekbones and the generous set of her mouth. "It's coming."

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie frowns, and says "Maybe not always but I can now, and until, you have learned a bit more, it is sorta what I do. He doe send his gaze to the sky, and says "If you hit something with fire, and it does not effect it let one of us know. If we get seperated stay near Doug." He tells her.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"It is what he does." Doug says, turning to look. "Beachten Sie, dass Sie im Kampf gegen Monster selbst kein Monster werden ... wenn Sie lange in den Abgrund blicken. Der Abgrund schaut auch in dich hinein." He tightens his jaw.

"All right, priorities people, eldritch horror first, personal problems *after*...!"

Alexis Carr has posed:
    Alexis breathes out, and he stands beside sam, looking grimly about before she curls her fingers around, and her hands glow with a warm light, heat waves coming out of them.

    "Really, trying to be positive with Mr. Nihilist himself?" she grumbles.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
A swivel of the blonde at least turns her attention over her shoulder, since she keeps dead center of the triangulation between three of those ground-level, flat stones marking vaults. Her boots don't touch any of them, but she circles relative to Doug. "He who has a why to live can bear almost any how." Throwing that back comes edged, easier. "That which does not kill us makes us stronger. Use someone other than Nietzsche on me."

An inhalation disturbs the fraught little flame, struggling as it does to keep a mooring on its curling, burnt wick. It slants a little around, tugging straight. Sucking down more air is a patently unpleasant experience for Illyana, suggesting she just swallowed a blackberry bramble, thorns, leaves, and cane. She holds her breath long as she can, and then blows it out over the taper enough that its smoke finally takes and exposes a blotchy patch in the air. They can probably see it like watercolour, stagnant mildew staining the air. Grey and dank, washed of life, a serpentine rivulet of blotches meandering through the churchyard and making a path for the street. Out from the street. "Black dog," she explains, toneless. "Psychic vampire."

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie will wait, he is lining up, waiting for the thing to start a dive. am plans to meet it's downward motion with his own upward blast. "Ok, see the thing in the air, it is going to try to eat us I wager it does nt like fire.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"Please, beautiful..." Doug says, "The Abyss gazed into you -- and it blinked." He steels himself, and says, "I don't know what my future holds, now -- but that doesn't mean I don't have one." He lets his arms drop to his sides, fairly confident that this isn't going to be that kind of fight. "I've been possessed by the Shadow King. This thing doesn't scare me."

Alexis Carr has posed:
    "... I may be a little out of my depth." Alexis admits quitely as she draws herself up a little beside the taller teens, and she bites her lower lip. "Do we follow it? Get its attention?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The ashy path wanders off ahead of them. It weaves past the bars of the fence and the gate, flowing ahead into the city proper. Smoke sways back and forth, the scent peculiar for anyone who enters the tarnished path. Dusty and cloying, a blend of incense and moldering books wreathes them. When in the thick of the cloud, the smoke carries on, veering up past a theatre with third-run affairs advertised on its billboard and beyond the gentrified tenements chockful of random shops and hip cafes. The direction trends east, not west, slip-sliding past irritated pedestrians and the occasional hipster on a scooter.

Stuy-Town, the great landmark squashed up against the violent artery of FDR Drive.

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie keeps on guard as they follow this and don't seem to be going to have to fight it right there. He looks over to Alexis, and says "When it has hints of magic to it Ah follow her lead. Ah trust both of them with my life." and what he dosn't say is he trusts them to look after her as well, which means more in his book.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug looks up at the trail, and then he says, "...This is pretty much well within our wheelhouse. The first rule is -- you're always out of your depth." He narrows his eyes, and then sets off, following the trail of gloom, ducking out of people's way as he makes his way through the crowds.

"Parasitic psychic entities are always drawn to the richest, closest available source of sustenance... depending on their sophistication."

"The 'Shadow King' I referred to is the most sophisticated psychic entity - he's a Dybbuk, a possessing entity, a disembodied psychic consciousness that exists in the Astral Plane when he's not possessing a host."

Alexis Carr has posed:
    "My wheelhouse is in operatic and classical performance, not hunting down astral vampires." Alexis reminds Doug, but she follows behind, keeping her hands down low. "So, what they go for the most hopeful individual? Or richest as in monetarily? I have never heard of the Shadow King or a Dybbuk an *good lord* this is not how I expected partment hunting to end!"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The first rule of horror: never go down the dark alleyway that the smoke clearly directs them for. Blotched, black paths only seem to stand out for long among those in the dim candlelight, and by night, a dim candle isn't a common thing. Though the bystanders look oddly at Doug and Sam and Alexis, then very much at Illyana, who completely ignores them. Yes, she has a grey-lit candle, protecting its weak wiggling flame with her palm.

The zigzagging wander cuts past a pair of parked cars and approaches the vast, post-modern sprawl of Stuytown, eighty acres of World War Two styled brick buildings and highly gentrified buildings that once housed the backbone of the working class. Four thousand a month in rent doesn't buy much in the kludgy lanes bisecting the properties where they squeeze too close, showing dumpsters and bits of graffiti just like anywhere else. Even richer New Yorkers know the underbelly of poverty.

Apartment hunting: literally. They're hunting /through/ apartments in perhaps the largest conglomeration of public housing in Manhattan. No one told Alexis or Sam they'd be hunting a hunter while they were at it? Well, just wait until they hear about predatory lending.

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie looks back over his shoulder, and says "I didn't either, but you said yourself people with powers need to be responible, and part of that is watching out for those who can't. But you can do this,you have amazing control for someone who has not spent a lot of time practicing.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"Rule one: You're never prepared. Rule two: Do it anyway, because if not you, who?" Doug says, as he follows the trail down the alleyway. "Rule three..." He sighs, "Trust your teammates." He looks at the graffiti, and then says, "Welsh. Weird. Well, whoever wrote it has no sense of meter." He turns back, and says, "You think of one thing at a time. Right now, we catch it. Then, we figure out how to stop it."

Alexis Carr has posed:
    Allegra pauses a moment, listening to Doug, and she looks up as the greasy, grim trail leads upwards. She narrows her eyes an then, on a hunch, she looks back to Sam and Doug and Illyana, and not trusting Sam's field to blow out that gray candle, she breathes out, squares up, and drops her own flame.

    An then the odest thing happens. She takes a few big steps back, takes a running jump and RUNS up the wall before catching a winow ledge -- and then begins to climb after the grim, greasy trail of gloom.

    Do it anyway, right?

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana's role here is to be the candle-holder and, occasionally, look into the shadows with those inscrutibly blank eyes. Anyone looking past her shoulder probably doesn't have cause to be worried about the deep darkness of night. Night with no light, shadows with no end. Vantablack oozes out from a window under the auspices of cloying smoke. The sorrowful trail seethes up and up as she holds up the candle far as she can. Running from step to step isn't quite so possible, constraining her to move at a walk. But she trails behind them while Alexis takes off and that sight is a strangeness all the same.

The brick building topped by concrete is ten stories, and the trail cuts out at a balcony and a window staring down mournfully at a courtyard dusty with crumpled flyers and wrappers. Cheery attempts at flowers have wilted in a little windowbox put out too soon. But it's the problem inside, for those who climb or fly or take the elevator like civilised residents of a much too expensive ultramodern space. Debris from an overturned shelf in the kitchen spills over the floor. Water puddles thick and brackish on the floor. A woman sits, listless, staring in that tub, arm slung over the side. A man slumps against the wall in the hallway, unmoving, contemplating a gun. The next apartment is worse.

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie will offer Doug and Illyana a hand to take them up after Alexis, it takes him a moment, as he did not expect this to happen "Ok, guys no letting her show us up."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug looks over at Sam, and while he doesn't muster the same stylistic leap that Alexis does, with a small boost from Sam he catches himself and goes up the wall on his own. "Hup." Once he has a handholed he reaches down to help the others up, and then he turns and looks around the interior.

"Okay... found it." he takes out his phone and turns on the flashlight function. "I wish Karma was here."