9769/Payment Due

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Payment Due
Date of Scene: 22 January 2022
Location: Candle, Booke and Belle
Synopsis: With debts paid and tea shared, two friendly sorcerors talk history and future plans.
Cast of Characters: Nettie Crowe, Atrun Rai




Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie had been a busy, busy crone. Upkeep of the wards. Sheltering those in Supernatural New York who couldn't leave, quietly playing host to ghosts and the things that go bump in the night in her shop, with its 'CLOSED DUE TO ANGELS' sign out front, and 'Sorry we missed you!' notation.

    She was in the shop proper, having set her old bones down in one of the overstuffed seats, and she purses her lips, thumbing through an ancient tome. Not one of her usual boddice-rippers that she reads for fun when people come to call, no, this was something more serious, its leather-bound cover spread open across her lap as she mouths Old English at the book.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    Yes, yes, terribly ancient, despite the fact she's still got the body of a twenty-whatever. Essence leads how one feels - and speaking of old people with young bodies, there is a knock at the door. Polite, of course. Atrun-Rai stands on the other side, looking in. Smiling, like a particularly cheerful, sociopathic cat.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Thirty-something, but who's counting?

    Nettie sits up a moment, pursing her lips as she feels a little tingle, like cold hands down the back of her neck, and she looks to the door, and seeing the familiar face of one Atrun-Rai, she waves a hand, and the door opens. Don't even have to say 'friend!'

    "Good afternoon, Atrun-Rai. Come out of the cold and warm yourself by the fire, yeah?"

Atrun Rai has posed:
    Who indeed. And into the place he comes, smiling still, looking about the place with hands tucked behind his back. "I thank you," he says to her with a nod. "Your hospitality is always welcome."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Above Atrun-Rai, there's a flutter of feathers, and a crow with brilliant red eyes glowers down at him. "Oi, Nettie, didn't know we were keepin' up with collectin' Strays." the brogue of one Corvax, familiar spirit to Nettie Crow, hums as he flaps over to the wingback chair Nettie is settled in, and lands himself on the back of it, glowering at Atrun-Rai.

    "And your friendship is also always welcome." Nettie smiles, motioning to the overstuffed chair across from her as the fire crackles and pops, warming the room. There's no flue, so who knows where that smoke is actually going?

    "I did want to speak to you on something I have noticed... please, have a seat. Can I set you up with tea? Scone?"

Atrun Rai has posed:
    His hand lifts into a stopping gesture. "In a moment," he replies - and, then, draws from within his sleeve a small pyramid of red-gold metal, hanging from a loop of the same extruded from its point. "One ounce-weight of orichalcum," proclaims Atrun-Rai, setting it upon the counter. "Pure and unalloyed. The transmutation has ensured that it is purified."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Huh. Keeps his word, this one. Better than the last poor bastard." Corvax caws, and swoops down, picking up the pyramid of red-cold, and flies back up to the rafters to stash it away for Nettie's examination later.

    She trust Atrun-Rai, that much was true. And she breathes out a moment.

    "Thank you, Atrun-Rai. I had faith it would find its way to me. I appreciate it." Nettie states warmly, closing her tome and setting it to the side. She picks up her blue-and-white teapot, and pours a cup of tea for the other mage.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Indeed." And then he goes to sit where she requests, crossing one leg over another as he watches the crow collect the metal. Hands folding upon his knee. Almost modern, this one, as well as trustworthy. "But I apologize for its tardiness. By the time I finished with the lance and quenched it in the archangel's blood, battle had commenced - though of course, I am no longer needed in that fight. Thank you for your help in fighting off the being down in the hills. I have learned more about it since the other night."

    He goes to take a sip of his tea. Smiles. "Delicious, thank you. But before that -- you have something you wish to speak about?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "I had, actually. Zee is young and may not be quite as savvy, but I have spent many years studying the last grasping at the straws of life and railing against that final trip to the void." Nettie sips her own tea, her too-bright-to-be-human eyes settling on Atrun-Rai.

    "You are not made of the same stuff we are, not anymore, I surmise. Even for all my power restored, those flames would not be something I could easily withstand."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    He smirks faintly. "I wondered if you would comment upon that," Atrun-Rai comments over the rim of his cup. "Mmm. I have no made it common knowledge, but as I am no longer in the vicinity of Doctor Sims and his mission, I suppose I can." But it /does/ give him some pause, and so he's quiet for a moment longer before finally speaking. "I said that my mission coming back was to preserve reality - which is absolutely true. What I did not mention was that, due to their interests being very much in the direction of not letting angels destroy existence, those who destroyed me decided that I was the proper one to bring back to serve their interests in that respect." A beat. "That is to say, I am the agent of the Old Ones. All of them."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie's teacup pauses half way between the saucer and her lips, and she gives a soft 'oh'. sound, setting her cup down and looking over to Atrun-Rai.

    "That... must set you in a very odd predictament. The preservation of reality until such a time as you are no longer needed to preserve it? Or now is this business of keeping the creatures in the dark an extension now of your mission?" she questions, her eyebrows rising up as she regards the man.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "The preservation of reality until such time as the stars are right and the Old Ones come to consume it all." He shrugs. "They know that I will resist any destruction of this universe, such that I sacrificed myself to protect it last time. It is useful to them to have me seek to preserve. I expect that, in time, they may decide to remove me from reality once more should I become irritating or unnecessary." Another sip of tea. "This really is lovely. What plant is it from?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "It is Asaam; I became familiar with it while I was hiding with my younger brother in India. The Crowe Shipping Company was started by us, you know, though he took over much of the operations as I am not... well." she gives a slight smile. "It was much more difficult for women, then, to own and run a business. Doubly so in India." she explains to Atrun-Rai, and she draws up her teacup again.

    "Well. I hope you remain as unirritating and quite useful to them here for some time. I'd m iss the companionship."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Asaam," he repeats, considering. "And yes, I am familiar with the utter degeneracy of women's rights under post-Atlantean development. One of the worst collapses of moral structure, I feel, which took place once the continent sank. Although I understand that women weren't nearly so much the equals to men they were in latter ages than they were during my time." Atrun-Rai heaves a deep sigh. "Truly, people just kept getting dumber about things for a long time. It is why I have hope for the future, eh? People are at least /starting/ to understand that men were never superior organisms."

    That said, he takes another sip of tea and shrugs. "I will serve as I can. Currently, as you might have noticed, things are...stirring in the dark. Creatures, cults. People who see the events here in the city as being a perfect excuse to rise and victimize humanity while all eyes are on Manhattan. It is for this reason why the Old Ones have called me away from the battle - that, and they seem fairly confident that mortals will win out in this test. Thus have I been sent out to extinguish these other forces."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Which as I certainly have no interest in toying against the forces of Creation, I'm much more comfortable with those of destruction regardless. Right prats if you ask." Nettie explains with a slight smile as she looks to Atrun-Rai.

    "Well. Since you have been honest with me. I toyed around with necromantic forces as a young witch, and cost me the color of m' hair and eyes. I used to be a brunette." the Greywitch explains with a small smile. "Unfortunately it also cost me my life. My father and uncle were quite clever in the meantime, and bound my soul to the skin of my back, using special markings and now-lost knowledge. Alas, I cannot wear backless dresses anymore -- not that I did, anyway. Rather stuffy most of those events anyway." she gives a soft sniff.

    "So, one hundred and sixty seven years I've lived, never appearing older than my -- oh, late twenties, early thirties."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    He frowns very faintly. "I'm unsure what you mean," says Atrun-Rai. "Are you saying that your flesh was flayed from your back?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "No, not so... easily explained, I suppose." Nettie frowns, and she looks at her hands.

    "I suppose the best way to say is that they cast back my soul in such a way that it has become abhorrant to Death itself. They bound my soul back to me through points along my back, magically imprinted tattoos and markings, so that my soul shan't separate from my body. I imagine it was supposed to be a temporary measure... but then they were killed by witchhunters."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "But I don't understand why you can't wear a dress," he points out. "Do the tattoos cause death to see them?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Oh no, they're just unseemly and if anyone touches them they get visions of their own violent passing in many horrible ways, all at once." Nettie replies, and she sips her tea calmly.

    "The same occurs for most people who remain in my company. Hence why I've moved so much and don't partake in some of the games others do."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Then I will be certain to make sure you have a shawl whenever you must go dancing and I am present." He chuckles at her, shaking his head very faintly. "But so that you know, that is why I am able to wield the Gray Flame. And so that you also know, I have no intention of bringing harm to anything but the beasts and the darkness in this world. There are, indeed, many."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Very kind of you, considering I've not gone dancing since my wife was killed." Nettie just gives a bright grin at that -- another story for another time. She leans back in her chair, bringing up her legs and crossing them beneath her skirts, assuming a lotus position, giving a soft hum of breath.

    "I know you have no intention to bring harm to any that might require we fight on separate sides, Atrun-Rai. I'd like to think myself a good judge of character."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    Another smirk lines Atrun-Rai's full mouth, and he shakes his head. "I'm certain something will come up," he replies. "Wizards and their nonsense. The League, for example. I rather am certain I'll not be terribly useful to them in future. Mayhap something will occur to set the League against other sorcerors. Who knows?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Mm. I'm only so far attached as that I owe it to Chas and John, after a fashion, but leading the action is not so much my task anymore. I'll leave that to the young bucks, and simply steer those in the direction they were meant to go. Dr. Sims, for instance, arriving to my shop and producing *two* Death cards from my tarot deck was quite remarkable. It breaks up the monotony, at least." she gives a small smile.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Doctor Sims needs to make peace with his death." Atrun-Rai shrugs again. "I've died once since coming back, and it's all but certain he'll return whenever his fated demise. He will change, certainly, but all of us do."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Mmn. Nothing changes your mind about life quite like a temporary encounter with Death. Does tend to shift your paradigm, doesn't it?" Nettie gives a wry smile, and she nods. "He has made peace with it; he knew after my reading that it was going to happen whether he wanted it to or not. However, I would like to think that I... somewhat softened the blow. They've got a lot on their shoulders, these kittens and pups."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Has he? Good." The Atlantean shakes his head. "He was being...rather dramatic about it. But I suppose that's to be expected. I am likely being uncharitable about it, given my own situation."

    Atrun-Rai finishes his tea, setting the cup aside. "At any rate. As I say, my patrons believe that mortals have the right side of it. He will die, he will come back. Things will change, some for the better, some not. But reality will be maintained. The universe will not end. And that is what matters."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "When last I spoke to him he was making some pretty grand comparrisons, but I've not spoken to him for a few weeks now." Nettie replies, "I've been here providing shelter for those who cannot leave the Island, whether by geas or by superstition, but it's all right. They're safe, and so am I. And if the universe is not to end, then we have no fear until it's over with." she gives a small smile.

    Corvax flaps back down, and glowers at Atrun-Rai from behind Nettie as he perches on the back of her chair.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "As long as he isn't comparing himself to Jesus," the Atlantean points out to a wry smile. "Really, though. It's a burden. I'm pleased to see it properly shouldered. And aye, good for you. I would form a freehold, temporary as it is, but my magic..." Atrun-Rai leans forward a tad. "My sanctum lies in the Void. Do you really want to go there?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "I have no fear of The Void, Atrun-Rai, nor what lies within it. Madness or monster or man." Nettie smiles, "I've encountered hags and witches and void-users whose bodies began to currupt before their mission was through, and as curious as I am to see your sanctum... I'm not sure if I would survive the trip." she gives a slight, crooked grin. "Just because /Death/ has rejected me doesn't mean I cannot be destroyed utterly."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Rather the point I was trying to make," Atrun-Rai replies with a nod. "I am not certain how corrosive spending too much time in that world would affect you. I certainly know that the longer I spend here, the more my presence affects reality - like a mild acid. Entropy is entropy."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Mmm. How disappointing. I suppose a week-long camp out is entirely out of the question then." Nettie smiles. "Although it's rather nice to have the company of someone with a similar effect. I just tend to bring the mood down when I'm in a group too long. Eventually every conversation starts to turn morose. People have a tendency to die, when they're around me too long... or within physical contact too long..." she trails off a moment, her face looking pensive.

    "I don't suppose you have such trouble as causing the advancement of entropy when you touch someone, Atrun-Rai?"

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "No," he replies, quirking a brow. "But I can't be certain. I am, after all, an abomination made flesh."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "And I am Flesh made into an Abomination. We really should start a club." Nettie remarks with amusement evident in her voice as she pours herself another cuppa. "May I refresh your cup?"

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Please." He squints faintly at Nettie as she goes to do so, pondering. "So I must get another spear," Atrun-Rai finally says. "I left the one quenched in Michael's blood with the League. What metal do you recommend? More orichalcum? Something more...fitting...with my nature?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie refills Atrun-Rai's cup, and she gives a soft hum. "Bloodsteel, perhaps. Dependant on if we can justify the means to make it. And there is the old classic of bone, strengthened through dark magics, howling in the light of the full moon..." she gives a small grin to Atrun-Rai.

    "What are your thoughts on such, Atrun-Rai?" she questions thoughtfully.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "I rather think perhaps we might go a different way," replies the sorceror. "Something to think about. I have the shaft for it, at least. Living wood from a sacred selodendri -- that is, the precursor to the olive tree, that once grew in my time among the hills of the continent. There are some still growing in the world." He smiles. "I do not know that I wish to turn it, too, into a monstrosity. The last lance was bad enough, quenched as it was. And I doubt I shall be able to make that much orichalcum again."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Then perhaps orichalcum is not the best material to use for this next one. Hmmm. What if it were a light-imbued weapon, against the creatures of the void?" she considers, tilting her head to the side.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Orichalcum is the best option that is not immediately horrific," he replies, shrugging slightly as he oes. "Perhaps in future I'll go to my home. I've wondered if any of the diamond towers still survive down there in all that water. Or perhaps the Red Palace. But forty thousand years ago..." Atrun-Rai heaves a sigh. "Well. We shall see what we shall see, I suppose."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Now, that would be a trip most curious -- to the bottom of the sea, to track down any sign of a forty thousand year old city..." the Witch replies, getting a sort of devious look about her as she considers. "I would be happy to accompany you."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "You would, of course, be welcome to do so." He smiles. "After all, as you are able to use magic, it would be your heritage as well."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Yes, considering I'm from a blended Homo Magi bloodline, I suppose should I desire to trace my way back it might have even been someone you knew who I was related to. Wouldn't that be hilarious?" Nettie muses. "Forty thousand years, that's... mm, what, one thousand, five hundred generations, removed?" she considers.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    He snorts. "Something like that," he replies. "But yes. Atlantis - before the flood - is the heritage of every human sorceror. We must try and see what might lie down there that the water-breathing descendants did not find."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "All and all an interesting trip all the same." Nettie gives a smile. "I've never been to the bottom of an ocean. SOmething about the pressure and my sinuses." she offers a slight joke with a wry grin.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    Nettie gets a look, but he smirks all the same. "Yes, well." Atrun-Rai moves to get to his feet. "I'm afraid I need to move on. The beast from the hills stirs again - we must find it and slay it before it no doubt feeds upon the town. You will aid us, naturally."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Naturally, Atrun-Rai. I'd be horribly remiss if I were to start something but not finish it. Not my style." she gives a small smile, and goes to stand as well. "Do visit me again any time you so wish."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "I shall." He smiles, then, and bows. "Be well, sister. We will meet again, soon." And with this does the Atlantean depart, closing the door behind him and striding out into the streets of the city, still laden with angels and angry spirits...