8475/A Bored Mairin is a Dangerous Mairin

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A Bored Mairin is a Dangerous Mairin
Date of Scene: 29 October 2021
Location: Candle, Booke and Belle
Synopsis: Mairin learned not to touch any of Nettie's things without permission, as well as getting a first hand lesson in exorcism.
Cast of Characters: Mairin Moran, Nettie Crowe, John Constantine, Tynan Ireton




Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin might not be confined to the Candle, but ever since she started sleeping here, it's almost as if she is. She's spent nearly every waking moment in the store, with a few trips out to get things from her appartment. It seems she's taken some vacation time from work (she had plenty having never taken any before) until the whole Demonic posession thing was taken care of. And even though she's been told multiple times that its safe for her to leave, she just feels far safer here.

    Or... perhaps it has far more to do with sharing a space with Nettie. Which, she's learning, has it's own share of bad along with the good. Such as Nettie always ordering take-out. Which is why Mairin has taken the opportunity during one of Nettie's outings, to attack the kitchen.

    By the time Nettie comes back, the room is spotless and sparkling, with the smell of fresh lasagna baking in the oven.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    The Kitchen -- if it could have been called that -- was a windowless space of deep pots with suspicious chemical smells. The stove was something that was avocado colored and born of the atomic age design in the 1950's. Its fridge was labeled a Kelvinator.

    Everything in it was old, but miraculously still working. Unfortunately, there was an awful lot of... mysterious substances. Items that were marked in Mandarin, or Lhasa, Japanese and French. A few that if opened would emit GHASTLY smells or even little screams.

    It also reeked of seventy years off-and-on of cigarettes and the tang of bodily fluids better left unsaid. Safe to say that obviously, this kitchen had not been meant for cooking... real food. Probably. Which is at total odds with the extremely neat and clean shop in the front, and Nettie's workspace behind. This was before you would even reach Nettie's private rooms. Those were Locked.

    So when Nettie comes into the kitchen, stepping down out of the workspace she just...

    ... stops.

    "... sweet mother of mercy what happened in here?"

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin turns around, one hand still stirring a pot as seveal small bots scurry around collecting ingrediants, putting things away, scrubbing at particularly stubborn spots, or sweeping little piles of dirt away into piles. It's like a little Disney princess surrounded by her mechanical forest friends.

    As for all of the chaoticly organized reagents and ingrediants, they are nowhere to be found.

    "Oh! Welcome back!" Mairin says with a cheerful smile. "I wanted to surprise you with dinner. It's been so long since we had something home made."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "No... no no no Mairin this is not a room for cookery this is a room for spellery and dead things and *where are the reagents*." Nettie asks, opening up the fridge and finding it... clean?! Stocked with groceries?!

    "MAIRIN there are VEGETABLES where there should be mantis eggs!" she states, her voice rising to a panic as she takes a deep breath, and her shoulders rise up. She lets out the breath, and she stretches her fingers out.

    "Mairin. I appreciate the effort, but I dry out animal remains in that oven and I'm decently sure I have used formaldihide in that pot."

Mairin Moran has posed:
    The pot bubbles loudly as if to accentuate Nettie's point.

    Mairin looks from the pot, to the oven, then back to Nettie, her face a bit confused. "Obviously I cleaned everything thoroughly. I had to disinfect everything multiple times, granted, before I could get rid of the smell, but..." She quirks her head to the side slightly. "But I put all of your reagents away in their own place. I even organized them as best I could. They didn't seem to really be labled well, but I arranged all of the dry ones in the pantry, and put all the cold ones in a travel cooler until I could bring in a specimin cooler for them."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie sets her jaw. She brings her fingers up, steepling them and putting them over her mouth a moment before she states:

    "I appreciate the effort you have put in, Mairin, Rabbit, but... you came into my space. And cleaned it without instruction or knowing what was here. What if I had something that was cursed? Or trapped?" she asks, trying to remain calm, and man does her voice strain with it.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin looks about the clean space, still stirring her pot, even as a bot scurries across the floor right between her and Nettie. Her expression shifts through several different phases as she processes what Nettie is saying, before she finally focusses back on the witch.

    "I should have asked you first?" she states as much as asks. She bites her lip, looking very much like a chastened child. "I'm sorry, Nettie. I just... I wanted to surprise you with something nice. I'll... I'll fix it." She nods emphaticly.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "... what's done is done, Poppet. You're not going to re-saturate the pots with chemical agents. Just know this -- it's the equivilent of taking a mechanical scrub to a well-seasoned cast iron pan." Nettie warns quietly, and she begins to riffle through the cabinets to make sure whatever needed to go back into cold storage gets there.

    "... I understand wanting to do something nice for people, Mair... especially since..." she lets it hang off a moment there, and she takes down a few objects.

    "Or if I were to go into your shop without knowing what this bob or that bit does, and re-arranging to my liking." she adds.

    "I won't say I'm not angry, because I would not lie to you, but I understand this was done from a place of... well. Good Intentions."

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin says nothing as she starts to hurry around, collecting things she moved to other places and placing them on a counter for Nettie to put where she wills. Her bots, confused, just stop their work and she spends a quick minute getting them rounded up and out of the way. But then... unable to think what else she might do, she just finds an out of the way place to stand while Nettie tries to recover as much as she can.

    It wouldn't be fair to say she's sulking, as that would imply unrepentance, but she is certainly deflated. So she stands, staring at her hands as they twist and wring a towel back and forth, and wondering how it is that even whens she tries to do something right for Nettie... it's still wrong.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Mind your lasagne dear -- don't want it to burn." Nettie states gently, and she shoos some of the bots away with a gentle wave of her hands. It's quick work -- she knows her stock of magically malicious items that should be kept on the cold side, and others that are shelf-stable. Things are labeled in such a way that she can read them at a glance, and once things are settled, she hops herself up to sit on the big kitchen island in the middle, that doubles as a workspace and cutting board with its thick butcher block top, and she takes a deep breath.

    "Mair. Take a breath poppet and look at me." she states, her tone was even and steady. She places her own hands on her lap, wearing jeans and a worn Sex Pistols T-shirt under an old denim jacket.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    She does check her lasagna, and pulls the pot, that Nettie would see is a stew of some kind, off the heat before taking a deep breath and turning around to face Nettie.

    "I really am sorry, Nettie," she says with a steady even tone. "I promise it won't happen again. I should have asked you before touching anything that was yours."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie sets her fingers on her knees and regards Mairin.

    "I'm going to blame this one on the demon that's been affecting your dreams wanting to wreck a bit of revenge on me." Nettie states. "So I'll be cross at your hitchhiker and not you. This once. Now. You've learned not to touch a witch's things without asking."

Mairin Moran has posed:
    "Oh but it wasn't--" Maririn cuts off suddenly... and just nods. No sense pressing the matter and asking for some kind of punishment.

    "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

    She takes a deep breath... lets it out... and tries a tentative smile. "Do you want to try the stew? It's my mother's recipe."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "I'm all right at the moment, Rabbit." Nettie comments quietly.

    "But I have been in touch with someone who can solve the problem of your hitchhiker." she pauses to pull out an antique looking pocket watch. "Should be here any minute, in fact." she states, and goes to hop off the butcher-block in the middle of her now extremely very clean prep area for her reagents, and breathes out "I'm never going to get the smell of lemon cleaner out of that room." in a moody fashion, but at least she's not overly angry with Mairin any more.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin nods once, glances back at the stew, then remembers her lasagna and reaches for a hotpad. "I'll be up in a second. I just need to take care of this."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "All right. You can put it on the counter. It's not going to hurt anything." she comments to Mairin, and she goes back up into the shop proper to turn off the 'open' sign and just... considers things. With the door set to 'closed' only the people who can pass the wards -- her students, her familiar, her dearest friends -- should be able to pass through the wards. She just sits behind her counter, and puts her head in her hands. NEvermind the bruises she's gotten all over the backs of her hands and shoulders.

John Constantine has posed:
    When John walks through the door, it's clear from the get that he's in a Bad Mood. It's a wonder the things on the hinges the way he shoves through it, truly it is. He looks like straight up shite. He died yesterday, literally the man *died* yesterday. It was only a beat in time, but he *died*, not halfway, not just a little bit. His heart stopped, he wasn't breathing, he was dead.

    ...and it shows. Especially considering there wasn't much in the way of rest after he died, no.... there's no rest for the wicked.

    "Nettie!" he bellows. "I'm HERE!"

    No shit, John, what gave it away? The banging of the door or the bellowing of the Witch's name. He's carrying an old beat up leather duffel. At least he came prepared?

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "No shit, mate. Totally would have missed you." Nettie comments before she draws her head up and then... she looks at him. Really looks at him. She's wearing a denim jacket with patches and a Pistols T-shirt like she walked out of the early nineties but John --

    "... holy mother of macabre, John you look like you've been through the wringer. I've never seen you so fucking maliciously awful." she states.

    She just stops. "... she's fine as long as she sleeps upstairs, lad." she states as she looks to John.

    "... is it your girl's mad cousin keeping you up? The Thinnings?"

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin sets the lasagna on the counter to cool, sets one of her bots to watch over both it and the stew, just in case she forgets about them, then takes a minute to just stand there staring at the emoty counter. A few shed tears later she takes a deep breath, wipes her eyes, locks all of that wishy-washy emotional baggage away, and puts on her brave, professional face before walking upstairs. By the time she reaches the top, she's all business.

    She flinches slightly at John's entrance, caught just in the doorway downstairs, then she just sighs a little. Well as long as he gets the job done she really doesn't care what kind of mood he's in. And she's long past being concerened how he acts toward Nettie, since his moods are aobviously just an old hat to the woman.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I wish..." John quips in return, voice all snappy and irritated. So something worse happened? Than Bitch Cousin and Thinnings. "I was electrocuted yesterday, Nettie." He's too... pissy to not just come out with it. "...by Jubilation's girlfriend during a ritual. Heart stopped, wasn't breathing. Was only about two minutes..."

    Two minutes and he's alive and walking now, not a big deal right. Unless one factors in that time doesn't pass the same way in the far reaches of Hell as it does topside. How long *is* to minutes down there? Does anyone really want to know.

    "So, what the bloody Hell's going on with the kitten?" Faded denim blues flicker to said kitten and then back to Nettie, eyebrow raised slightly.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    ". . . oh God, John --" Nettie begins, and she glances from JOhn to Mairin, and she takes a breath. She is Not going to mention how she got the bruises all along her back.

    "No, no no you need --" she blinks a moment. "You need a fucking day to RELAX John. Being dead for a single minute's a trip and ahalf let alone two minutes, holy Hell, was that what all the noise was about yesterday?! Jiminey Crickets that's.." Nettie breathes out.

    "No, no no no, I'll bloody do it. You just tell me what to do!" she snaps.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin isn't sure why, but hearing John use the nickname just ruffles her fur in a way no one else does. Not to mention that she *hates* being talked about like she isn't there. So yes. She bristles. But she doesn't let it get to her too much. She just walks froward to stand at the counter near Nettie, gazing calmly from one to the other

    Even if inside she's in a near panic over what might be about to happen.

John Constantine has posed:
    "I'm fine. It'll be faster if I do it myself." John's eyes narrow ever so slightly at Nettie's condition. Maybe he doesn't know robots and science, but some in the right circles do whisper about the man's genius. His just applies to the mystical and magical because that's... all he's ever known. She doesn't speak of it, but he can guess.

    "Sacred Heart up in Lake George got hit with something last night. Thing that tried to get through up in Maine... made it." Spiders of Unusual Size, they rank right up there with two minutes in Hell for John. Give him a clown any day over a fucking spider.

    But rather than speak more on that bit, those faded denim blues shift to Mairin. "Well then, let's see what we have going on here, kitten." Those lanky legs of him carry him forward, one hand raised, palm out to make contact with Mairin's forehead. He drops the bag and places his right hand to his own head. It's a reverse of the 'Show Them' thing he does so often when he needs to share that which he can't find the words to 'tell' with friends. "Show me..." The words are snapped out in Latin, deep, booming, commanding and so much power behind them.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin locks her own dark blue eyes on John's, using them as a focus to block out all of the anxiety and fear that wants to tell her to just run away. But she doesn't. She just opens her mind to John as much as she can, and trusts him.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "... is that what Annie came back around for?" Nettie asks, looking a little unnerved by the idea of such a small parrish getting hit.

    "What in the world is going *on* with it." she mutters quietly, but she leans back, giving John room to work. Whatever conversation he wants to have about her bruises, it can happen a different times.

    And she brews tea, quietly.

John Constantine has posed:
    John's reaction to what he's shown is minimal. Does it speed his heart rate? Sure it does. Does it even tug his heart strings? Of course. Does he show any of that outwardly? Not bloody likely. "Well, that's lovely," he murmurs under his breath before his hand drops away from Mairin's head.

    He kneels down to unzip that bag and start rifling through the thing. The first thing he pulls out is a small silver medal of the Archangel Raphael without a chain. Next? A rosary that might just date back to the first of them, next comes a small bottle of Holy water complete with the little cross on the side and a chain to keep the lid attached when its opened. Finally? A dagger with an ornate Cross hilt.

    "Open your mouth," he tells Mairin and yes, it sounds like an order.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    She complies. Silently, almost woodenly. She's obviously trying to think as little about what is happening to her as possible. Possibly letting her mind picture whatever it is Mairin's mind concieves of as a happy space. A room full of bots? Endless work and no one to bother her? Who really knows. What's clear is that she wants to be as mentally elsewhere as humanly possible.

John Constantine has posed:
    John places the silver medal inside Mairin's mouth, a top her tongue and murmurs, "Close." Then he pops the top on that little bottle of Holy water and wets the index finger of his left hand as one might if using a perfume bottle. He traces a cross on Mairin's forehead and then one over each eye. If she doesn't shut them before the finger gets there, well, that's on her innit?

    He hangs the rosary around his own neck, kisses the crucifix and wets the fingers of his right hand with that water. He performs the sign of the Cross on himself and then offers a gesture of the same with his hand toward Mairin. He picks up the dagger.

    Then it begins. One might think it would easier to remove influence than to remove an actual *demon*. It isn't. With an actual possession, the demon is right there for the yanking and the banishing. With something like this... the influence needs to be traced to the source and the link severed. This might take a minute.

    His words are Latin, some mumbled mumbojumbo about protecting the mind and soul, finding the root of evil planted within both and cutting it off.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie quietly sits while tea steeps, watching John work. It really was his wheelhouse, his bread and butter, and she breathes out a breath, and taps her foot against the ground. The whole of this shop was her domain. She was a follower of her old ways, and as John speaks words for protection, she speaks words of defense, like thorns raising up around her little comeraderie.

    A rabbit, hiding in a bed of thorns from the hounds of hell.

John Constantine has posed:
    The thing is, in order to sever that connection, John has to tug on it, reel it in like a fish on a hook. That means reeling the source of it closer in the process.

    It's a fish that doesn't *want* to be caught and it struggles like a fish... that doesn't want to be caught. A big fucking fish. It can't get off the line, John has it trapped.

    The coin inside Mairin's mouth burns the flesh of her tongue. The Holy symbols on her eyelids and forehead begin show themselves in blistering burns as the demon attempts to break itself free. That, in of itself, if John would allow it, would stop the dreams. ...for a day or two, until it decided to come back. No, he has to find the connection and cut it himself.

    It's a back and forth battle to see who wears out first, John or the demon? Is anyone betting on the demon? Even as sweat beads on his forehead, even as his hands shake and his legs turn to near jello, is anyone really betting on the demon?

    Through the worst of it Mairin might feel as if her mind's being turn apart, the images from her dreams flash through it even brighter, more horrific... she even sees herself being ripped asunder by those bots this time.

    John's heart races wildly in his chest, the beat of it irregular and off. The sweat soaks his hair at the hairline. His face pales. But he doesn't stop. Likely won't until it's over or maybe kills him with the strain added to an already tired heart that gave out on him only yesterday.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie's head tilts forward slightly, and she grips her hand. Her speciality was darkness, blood magic, and she reaches down and slices her left thumb on a sharp knife. She can *FEEL* the struggle. She breathes out, and scribing herself on her right hand with a bloody, tiny magical sigil, she reaches out and puts her right hand to John's left shoulder. The one who she could touch without fear.

    She recites the words with him, and her meaning was clear -- she had the power, stored inside those marks on her skin that he knew well.

    Pull on me.

    Save my pup.

Mairin Moran has posed:
     Can you scream with youur mouth closed? Well Mairin does. A deep throated full bodied scream as her whole body clenches against the pain, both very real, and purely mental. Tears fall freely down her cheeks as she weeps, her hands clench on anything she can find, and her jaw grinds. But she bears it. She bears it and wills herself to keep bearing it.

John Constantine has posed:
    It's like fighting a shark on the other end of that line, a BIG one. With Nettie's power loaned, it backs down to just ... maybe a Marlin. But eventually he gets it where he wants it. *Right there*.

    There enough that it's not quite inside Mairin, but close. Close enough to influence her voice when she speaks, turning into a rasping, lisp of a thing. "John Consssstantine..." There's malice there, a threat in just the name.

    The thing doesn't get to finish speaking before John takes the dagger in his hand and sweeps it toward Mairin's face! ... only to chop off a large lock of hair that he subsequently burns with a little Hellfire dancing on his fingertips.

    The stench of burned hair is never a pleasant thing. Neither is having a demon that up close and in one's personal space.

    As soon as the last of that bit of hair burns away, the presence is gone. John staggers back a few steps, dizzy and disoriented. It's just a split though and he's back up on solid footing. Did Nettie notice it? The he dropped the dagger to grab his left shoulder and squeezed it through that stagger?

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Marin's young. She'll be all right. And Nettie can't touch her as she is at right this moment. She should have had John do this over a chair or a bed but no --

    She grits her teeth, and she grabs for Mairin.

    Her thumb is still bleeding. She holds the younger woman tightly, supporting her as she breathes out.

    "Mairin, /Mairin/." she shakes her like a naughty kitten, holding her tightly to keep her upright. Some of that Uncomfortable, Uneasy, Unnatural feeling may slide through. Or she may be safe, for now.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin *is* the line. Stretched taut between the demon and John. Strung out and only holding on by sheer force of will that won't allow herself to break. And then it's there. As near to inside her as it can get without posessing her, and that will very nearly breaks. Had John been any longer, it would have.

    And then it's gone. And Mairin collapses. No stregth, either physical or mental, left. She simply colapses into a crying, choking mess in Nettie's arms. She even rolls into the witch a little, one hand, palm bleeding where her nails pressed into it, reaching shakily to grasp her.

    If she suffers any effect from Nettie's curse, she doesn't show it. Or, perhaps what visions she does have simply pale in comparison to what she just witnessed.

John Constantine has posed:
    John slowly bends to pick up the dagger. He removes the rosary and places everything back in the bag other than his coin. In regards to that, he murmurs, "Bring the coin by later." He's not so much expecting, or even wanting really, to be heard.

    His job's done, but he does also mention, "Same thing that's causing the thinnings did this. I can ward her directly later, against further attack."

    He picks up that bag and turns for the door, making quick strides through it. He's the 'get'er done and *fix it*' bloke, not the comfort mewling kittens bloke.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "John -- don't go yet. Please." Nettie asks quietly, holding Mairin. "For your sake -- and your girl's -- I saw. John. You just... take a moment." Nettie asks, and she's smoothing down Mairin's hair.

    "I used to be able to remove this shit, John." she murmurs quietly, and she carefuly extracts the coin from Mairin's mouth.

    "Cup of tea. And then you can go without this old lady fawning and fretting."

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin just clutches, and weeps, until she doesn't even have the strength for that anymore. But she still doesn't open her eyes. She just lays there, eventually going very still. Not asleep, but not cogent either. As if her mind were huddled, shaking in a thorn bush, too wary to attempt emerging. Not certain if all the foxes and wolves were gone or not.

John Constantine has posed:
    "You know I don't drink tea, Nettie." What self respecting Brit doesn't drink *tea*. But since when is John really self respecting? But the truth of it, all that weeping and such? It makes him so very uncomfortable, like he should be doing something to help and just *can't*. Pull a demonic influence and sever it? Hell yeah, he's all over helping with that.

    Dealing with the aftermath of it? He hasn't a clue.

    That sort human interaction was never something he really learned. Not to mention that he doesn't even deal with his *own* aftermath ninety percent of the time.

    "I'm all right, Nettie. I just need to get home."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Bullshite pally." Nettie states quietly, and she continues holding on the pup, her eyes narrow at John.

    "I'll clean off the medal and bring it by, yeah?" she comments quietly, and continues to smooth down Mairin's hair as she breathes out.

    "You're sick, lad. And I worry. Just... sit a minute. I'll set her in the reading chair with a blanket and she'll be right as rain a moment or five."

John Constantine has posed:
    "I'm just *tired*, Nettie and I have a bunch of people I have to deal with tonight, pretend to know that I know what the fuck I'm doing here," John replies. "I need a minute before that..." Because ewwwwww, people, all of the same time, just. It's worse than Spiders of Unusual Size.

    His hands in his pocket, and she might hear that subtle click open of his zippo, close again, open. Not all the way open, just that little flick of the top. It comes with a sort of distant look in his eyes, far away, distracted.

    He's talking Chas.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "... all right... but... say you come by this weekend? I'll pop in an old movie and you can just let your mind blank a little while, aye?" Nettie asks quietly as she guides the recovering Mairin to the overstuffed reading chair.

    "... I don't know what I would do without you, John. My cards and crystals show more than even I let on. I don't care to bid another piece of my heart goodbye before its time is well up. You hear me?" she asks, talking to John, but wrapping poor Mairin in a blanket and setting her down.

    "Open." she states, and fully removes the metal.

    "Maybe I send her by to speak with your girl and have those burns looked at."

John Constantine has posed:
    John barks out a mirthless little laugh. "Movie night?" The 'like there's time for it' is implied. "I'll see what I can do. I'm not going anywhere, Nettie. Death doesn't stick, remember?"

    Except for maybe that one time when it does?

    "Yeah, Phoebe'd like that. Just don't make a habit. I know she likes to feel useful, but she's also not my walking A and E or anyone's, aye?"

    With that bullshit grin and a little wink that's supposed to prove he's okay, but might fail with Nettie, John turns to head out the door and go home the same way he got here, the mundane way, calling a cab that isn't driven my his best mate... just to give him a minute between now and whatever crisis might be waiting in Hell's Kitchen.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Aye, I know. Protective dads an' all." Nettie leans back, her hands folding against her jeans as he leaves, and she takes a deep breath.

    "If I still have a lick of favor up there, someone look over my pups and my idiot." she murmurs in a quiet prayer, then leaving Mairin swaddled in blankets to recover from her ordeal, she turns and takes a deep breath.

    Right now, stew and Gin sounded golden.

Mairin Moran has posed:
     It takes more than a few minutes for Mairin to do anything but stare blankly at the wall, even wrapped as she is in the afgan. But eventually, she shifts, turning her head to track Nettie, and her gaze focuses on her.

    "He did it?" she states as much as asks.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie, meanwhile, is at the little bar sink, scrubbing a St. Raphael medal off.

    "Aye. He did. Whatever was affecting your dreams was trying to move in. He severed the connection. You shan't be pestered no more. We're going to work up a warding for you." she states, and she unclasps the chain and hangs the medal over the sink to dry.

    "In my family, they used to be worked up by brands into the skin. He prefers tattoo work, which I think would work best for all involved. You can pick something pretty to hide it in, and then it won't be as obvious to some of your friends outside the small circle."

Mairin Moran has posed:
    She just nods a bit, perhaps thinking of how that's going to work out, or maybe still just processing the experiance.

    "I felt you there," she says softly. "Around me. Protecting me. Like a shelter for me to hide in." She shakes her head a little and shifts in the chair, getting more comfortable. "Were you helping him?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "I was. John's..." she frowns a moment, trying to balance how much she should say "... sick. I just gave him someone to lean against, and bolstered my own wards." Nettie replies gently. "An' he's not one for the comforting aspects. So I made sure you were at least to a comfortable place to recover."

    Nettie gives a soft sound of peturbedness, and glances to Mairin.

    "Are you sure you want this life, Mairin?"

Mairin Moran has posed:
    She squints at Nettie, gears still coming up to full speed. "You carried me?" It's barely whispered, Nettie might not even hear it. And she moves past it fairly quickly.

    "What do you mean? Of course I do. Why else would I be your apprentice?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Mairin. Within the span of a couple of weeks, you have had a demon attempt to possess you and sat through a light exorcism done by the best, a vampire follow you around, been attacked by toys, and have been charged with fiddling out a way to merge closing thinnings with your machines. It's a big change. It's been chaotic. There's a reason why I'd retired some years ago from being active... an' yet get called back in." she states. She looks at Mairin.

    "... you could have been killed instead of having a burnt tongue and a couple of blisters, Rabbit."

Tynan Ireton has posed:
    Well, Ty heard about how Mairin was locked up a bit, so the woman went back to her place, and grabbed a dash pack she had set up inside the house. Just basic stuff for if she had to make a run. The woman heads back to the Candle, and pauses.

    Ty takes a moment to close her eyes, and places her hand on the frame of the door. She reaches deep inside herself, and finds the live wire connection, and then channels a little bit into the frame of the door. Just enough to let Nettie know that its Ty. She's really been working on how to focus her will and power as to help out with learning how to enchant things, as well as work on her her one spell. After a few seconds, Ty tries the door, and walks in.

    The merc walks in, and puts a small shot glass of rum up on Corvax's perferred perch. She heads to where she last remembered Mairin being placed. Speaking of places...Under Ty's riding outfit is a rather unusual outfit...Those who know of her would recongize it as The Black Cat outfit. Ty hasn't really gotten much sleep after the Hellfire party last night. She opens her dash pack, and pulls out a basic field medic pack. "I have some light military grade painkillers if needed.", she offers.

Mairin Moran has posed:
    Mairin is about to answer Nettie, when Ty comes in and offers her pain meds. "Thanks... That might help." She does look a right mess, burnt tongue making her sound all wierd, blisters on her eyelids, grimy and dirty and miserable. But she's got that focussed look back in her eyes, and she turns that look to Nettie.

    "Nettie. I wouldn't trade the past few weeks for anything. Has it been hard? Yes. Has it drained me in ways I never knew I could be? Yes. But I've seen increadible things. I've *done* increadible things. Things I never in my wildest dreams imagined I'd be able to do. And I've met some truly increadible people." She grins at Ty, but looks back to Nettie. "Some of which I can't imagine being without now.

    "So, yes. I do want this life. I can't imagine going back to things the way they were. I can't imagine leaving.... all of this, behind."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie looks mildly affronted. "Tynan, I'm decently sure If have stronger items." she states quietly, and then shelooks Ty up and down a moment, and then decides it's not as if she's one to judge.

    She takes a deep breath, and then lets out.

    "Well. NO one would blame you... but we are now looking at warding you, POppet." she states to the rabbit, and then Nettie stands, looking sore and bruised and her thumb is still bleeding where she's slied it.

Tynan Ireton has posed:
    Ty shakes her head. "I wasn't looking to get you mad, Nettie. I just keep a dash pack in case I have to take off running. And it has a med pack in there.", she tells. "And late costume party at the Hellfire club.", she tells. "Somehow...Wade was convinced to take off his...red suit. He showed up jacked as all hell, yelling Catchphrase, most of the night. I don't get the blue t-shirt tattoo he had.", Ty tells.

    "Either way, I'm going to stay with what I said. I'm not going to learn anything offensive. It grows too fast, and attracts too much attention.", she tells. The woman nods at Mairin a bit. "But I think I need to practice basic defenses though. Maybe enchantments?", she asks.