Owner	Pose
Nettie Crowe	The Candle had remained closed. It's a wonder how Nettie affords the building at all with the fact that the shop hasn't been open in two months. The Witch inside is at her tea bar, as if expecting someone. She has her deck of tarot cards at her side, and was looking at a reading she's performed for herself, her lips pursed, her eyes narrowed. A cigarette hangs from her lips as she gives a soft hum, and sips from a glass of ice, lime wedges, and gin.
Jonathan Sims	It's chilly out there, enough for Jon to be bundled up beyond the sweater and jeans he's taken to wearing. His Monday's been spent on administrative tasks, trying to close down yet more of his practice. After all of that he comes to the Candle and knocks on the door before slipping inside.     "Hey Nettie," he says, somberly. He'd been looking better when Nettie first came back, like he was actually getting sleep; now he's got heavy dark circles under his eyes, standing out even on his brown skin. Maybe it's just the impending angelic invasion, but whatever's going on with him, it's... not great. "I, uhh... actually, I came for a bit of business."
Nettie Crowe	THe door doesn't even bar Jon. It opens. It closes behind him with a jangle of the witch bells that hang from it.     "I swear to me mum's grave Jonathan Sims if it turns out you perish on me, I'm haunting you!" Nettie calls out from her cards, and she brings her deck back together. She's wearing a T-shirt for a Beatles concert at the moment, her head tilting, silver-white braid falling to the side.     And there's a flutter of wings above them, as Corvax comes down and lands on the radio.     "Careful now Jonny-boyo. She's in rare form for her advanced age. Think it's the dimentia."
Jonathan Sims	"Welcome back," Jon says, peering at the crow. "Careful, she might wring your neck again if you talk like that."     He eyes Nettie for a long moment and steps further into the shop. "Ahh. That's... what I came to ask about, actually. I was informed by a Hell Lord who has the Death Sight that I'm going to be dead by Summer." He swallows. "I... wanted to find out if there's a way out of that. Any at all. You know, before I start panicking and figuring out how to refuse to go through the gates in the Duat."     He frowns, and then mutters, "Assuming they don't just toss my heart to Ammit, that is."
Nettie Crowe	"Could change religious affiliations." Nettie suggests, though it's clear it's not a serious suggestion. "Being Diest is all the rage in the 1700's, you know. The Almighty wound up the universe like a pocket watch and fucked off elsewhere."     She may be a little bit miffed.     "So. A Hell Lord walks in and tells you you're going to die by Summer and we're looking for ways out of it." she raises her eyebrows, and leans forward on the bar. "Did this Hell Lord offer to take guardianship of your soul and have you *signed anything* to that affect?"     "She won't wring my neck again. She's not as powerful when I'm away!" Corvax answers Jon.
Jonathan Sims	"No and no. She offered to 'reap' me but then thought better of the idea." Jon sighs. "Also threatened to leave me in Hell and let me find my way back out, which... obviously I talked my way out of. She's... well, I don't /trust/ her, but she used to be mortal, she can actually be talked to."     He shrugs. "Regardless... no, no deals, I've seen where /that/ leads." He quirks a brow. "I don't /really/ want to be falling out of the ceiling of a pub while totally starkers, after a stint in Hell. Seems like it'd hurt." Bluster and bravado. Nettie's known enough people staring down the barrel of a gun to hear the stark terror underlying his words.     "No, she just told me..." He sighs. "Look. Lucifer said I'm at the center of the wheel in this whole business. I had a Fate tell me I'm 'on the right path' and Uriel showed up in a church and told me the fate of all bloody Creation rests on /me/. Lady Death tells me that I marked myself out by giving myself up to Michael--not that he's going to kill me, but... that I'm on the track for it. I... I think I know what they want from me, but I have to... I need to ask someone who doesn't have reason to manipulate me. For all I know Lady Death was lying so I'd give up and get out of her way."
Nettie Crowe	"Nothing that used to be mortal can be trusted as far as you can throw them --" she pauses a moment, and she looks over to Jon, and she looks down and gives a breath out. "Yeah. Stints in Hell would hurt. They're not precisely known for their kind hospitality." she states as she pulls her cig from her mouth and taps the ashes in a clam shell.     "So you come to me because you think I have no reason to manipulate an Archivist for my own ends. I already expressed my disinterest in playing The Almighty's chess game and my peace with non-existence." she states, and she turns, and goes to set one of her big steam kettles on with water.     "That deck on the counter is nearly as old as me. I picked it up and learned Cartomancy in France while fleeing witchhunters. So be gentle with them. Shuffle them, and concentrate on *not fucking dying*." she states, her lip turning up a little as she climbs the thin ladder to get down some of her tea ingredients.
Jonathan Sims	"I also figure Corvax might blurt it out if you were trying!" Jon calls after her. And he has to trust /someone/. He's been down the 'trust no one' road and it /sucked/. People died.     He goes over to the counter, and looks down at the deck. Takes in a deep breath, lets it out, then focuses. Thinks of all the people who need him alive. Him specifically, because they care about him, or because they need him, or because without him they have to take on a burden they're too young to bear. Reasons to live. Reasons not to just march on up to Michael on the 6th and offer his own life in exchange for the world. That'd be a quick end to this whole thing, wouldn't it? But, no. People need him. And he doesn't really want to die.     He picks up the deck and shuffles it as he thinks. Not dying. He /can't/ die. If he goes and does something foolish and self-sacrificial, things will be /worse/. So... he can't.
Nettie Crowe	People always die. The bill always comes due. Nettie's seen it enough.     "Corvax encourages me to solve minor slights with swordfights and executions. He's *hardly* a reliable source of information, Jonny." Nettie comments as she comes back down, and breathes out.     "Is that where John Constantine was while everyone thought he turned over a new leaf and was being excedingly friendly then, and he fell buck-naked out of a pub ceiling? Poor lad."     And she comes back to the bar, and she looks at Jon.     "You've got a girl who's relying on you to find her. Millions of stories to be taken. People who care about you and who are willing to go to war against the forces of Heaven on your behalf. Think on them. Their faces. Your nan."
Jonathan Sims	"They shouldn't want to. Go to war on my behalf, I mean. For Chas, sure. Me..." Jon shakes his head. He can't fathom it, can't wrap his head around it. But he's been thinking about them all, and he shuffles the deck. Seven times, because that feels right for whatever reason.     He puts the deck back on the bar. "I don't want there to be a war. But I know it's necessary, sometimes." Huffs out a breath, then taps the top of the deck and steps back.
Nettie Crowe	"Don't be a prat. They love you." Nettie states. "The bright girl might be going to war for Chas's sake, but there's plenty right now who couldn't give a flyin' rip about our boy and are just pissed as hornets that you're in danger. So. Listen to the old hand at this bullshite. If any one of them were in your place, you'd be doing the same, concentrating on how not to get them killed while they fret about being good enough to go to war over."     She pours a cup of tea for Jon. The tea is a golden orange color and smells almost spicy.
Jonathan Sims	Jon takes the tea with a smile of thanks. "There's also plenty who don't care about either of us and are just going to try to protect Earth. And, well, some who are going to be fighting /alongside/ Michael." He sighs and shakes his head. "Foolishness," he mutters, and then takes a sip of the tea.
Nettie Crowe	"Wait, anyone I know fighting along with the bastard and not against him?"     "Can we kill them?" Corvax asks.     Nettie's hands begin to move. She spreads the deck out on the bar and she chooses from the deck a litany of cards, the warm paper with worn, gilt edges showing their colorful backs, faded though with age.     Nettie speaks something in middle French, and the cards re-arrange themselves.     She leans forward, and purses her lips.
Jonathan Sims	Jon shakes his head. "One of the Titans, Caitlin Fairchild, she... well, she's worrying me. Had a visitation from Michael. I don't think she'll get the other Titans on board, not after I informed Troia of what's going on, but..." He sighs.     "There are people that /believe/, Nettie. They'll see this as the promised days they've been longing for. They'll help the angels, or flock to them. I can't... I can't in good conscience... they're being misled. I've seen the things the archangels can do, the way they can get into your head. How can I kill someone who's being mind controlled? Hurt someone who's being manipulated?"     Bleeding, bleeding heart. He frowns and focuses on the tea.     "So," he says softly. "What's the verdict?"
Nettie Crowe	"Peh. Bunch of people following a book assembled by a group of limp-dicked Romans who wanted to control the latest cult out of Judah." Nettie mutters crossly, bringing her hand to her forehead as she narrows her eyes at the cards. 10 of Swords, The Tower, 9 of Swords, Death, 10 of Wands, The Moon, The Hanged Man, The Fool, 8 of Swords, 3 of Swords, 5 of Cups, Knight of Swords, Death. Yes, two deaths. She tilts her head a moment, and then gives a soft hum.     "That rarely happens."
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks slowly as he looks over the cards. Then he fishes in his pocket, pulls out a pack of Silk Cuts and a lighter. Offers a cigarette to Nettie before pulling one out and putting it to his lips to light himself.     Look, there's no way he's going to be able to handle /this/ news without an infusion of nicotine.     "...Two Deaths? Isn't that... I mean... isn't there usually only one per deck? Cartomancy isn't, err, exactly my... specialty. My mentor called it 'so much New Age poppycock' but my mentor also wanted to take out my eyes in order to steal my body to keep himself alive so who cares what he thinks?"     He's babbling. He does that. The reading looks... bad. Portentious, at the very least.
Nettie Crowe	"Cartomancy isn't an exact science, Tarot cards have been used for telling the future since their invention. Your ol' mentor can sit and spin, love." Nettie accepts a Silk Cut, looks at the brand with the absolute amusement, and then lights it. "You know, we really ought to quit these. They take yeeaaars off your life." she reflects, finding it apparently hilarious as she looks to the cards again, listening to the whispers of the Spirit of the Deck (WHICH IS NOT THE SAME AS THE HEART OF THE CARDS).
Jonathan Sims	"He can indeed," Jon murmurs, taking a step forward to look over the spread. "Thirteen cards... does /that/ mean anything? Does the order...?"     He shakes his head, and seems to decide to just keep his questions inside for the moment while Nettie... communes with the cards. Focuses on his cigarette instead. Look, it's the brand he grew up with, okay?
Nettie Crowe	Nettie smokes quietly, giving a soft humm of her breath before she goes to tap the ashes into the clamshell again. She breathes out as she wrinkles her nose. "So. You're currently in heavy crisis mode, with everything tumbling down around your ears as you try to build it back up and find that balance in the malestrom. It is literally all you think about, obsessing to the point where you are beginning to wear yourself down. You don't eat, you don't sleep unless it's exhaustion, and you're having terrible nightmares -- and who could blame you. If not for my friend the Beefeater, I probably would have a hard time sleepin' too." Nettie replies. This is no rank-and-file tarot reading. Jon would be able to see the bits of dark raven-wing blue about her eyes.     "Now. Death doesn't always mean Death. Often times it just means a change in state." she explains, and she waggles one hand around "Like transformin' an ice cube to water and then to steam, and then back to water, then back to ice. There's a cycle to all things -- aaaas you well know." Nettie gives a wane smile, and then she breathes out.     "So. On occasion, your Major Arcana mean big changes, big things happening and quite soon -- or they mean people. Some one you associate with strongly." she picks up her Moon card, and shows it to Jon. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/50/Jean_Dodal_Tarot_trump_18.jpg     "Like this one, for instance."
Jonathan Sims	Jon listens to all of that, frowning thoughtfully. "I eat," he mumbles, hunching his shoulders defensively. Eat, yes, though probably not enough. Sleep... not so much. He peers at the raven wings about her eyes, curiously.     He peers at the card as Nettie shows it to him. "Two wolves, a lobster... the moon." He quirks a brow and glances up. "I presume there's some kind of symbolism there and you're not talking about some kind of... lobster-themed supervillain I'm going to have to face." Smiles, wanly. It's not a great joke and he knows it.
Nettie Crowe	"I'm actually rather surprised there is not one I can name off the top of my head." Nettie admits, puffing and she sets the card down. "Illusion, anxiety, intuition. The latter two you've got in spades, lad, and you've got the brunt of an awful lot of information at your mind's fingertips." she taps the Hanged man, and The Fool. "These both are associated with people I know, though 'indecision' and 'a new journey and change' could also apply to you. You're still *very* green at all this heroic nonsense, aren't you?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon rubs at the back of his neck, looking slightly embarassed. "Yes," he admits. "I've had to rather learn as I go. I'm mentoring this group of teenagers and I keep thinking... at least at /this/ business they're all so much more experienced than I am..." He sighs and shakes his head.     "Who is it you know associated with those cards?" He raises his brows. "Just in case that's... I don't know... relevant? Useful?"
Nettie Crowe	"... teenagers are terrifying when they think they're immortal and they actually might be. Take it from one." NEttie gives a wry smile, and she looks to the Hanged Man.     "A man out of time, out of shadow, of light. Caught between his knowledge of Was and his growing understanding of Is. Held between two worlds. Which really, could be anyone with a day job and a side hustle." she gives a gentle smile.     "As for this one, this could equally be you -- dancing towards a cliff face, still new and at the beginning of your journey -- or a different magician, who laughs." she jokes, gives a snort, and then looks over the other cards.     "You're afraid of dying, aren't you, Jon?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon swallows. "Who isn't? Well, maybe not you." He smiles at her, and then turns away, to go flop down into one of the nearby chairs.     "If I honestly thought that walking up to Michael on the 6th and offering my life for the world would fix this... I'd do it. But I don't think it will. And there are /so/ many people who are hurt if I die... even aside from my husband and my friends, the next Archivist is a thirteen-year-old girl. She can't handle this, not yet. /I'm/ barely handling it."     He puffs on his cigarette and shakes his head. "There's a sort of... the way this tends to work, if an Archivist can last the first six months or so, they'll live to a ripe old age, and still be spry. We're /powerful/ once we have a handle on that power, and subtle enough to not be targets. But you have to get past the hurdles, the initial tests--even someone properly trained has to grapple with suddenly having the Archive, with the... compulsions to run into danger, with the enemies we have."     He sighs. "I've been worried I wouldn't make it, but things were... starting to look up. I have training, I have people at my back... and then this bloody Hell Lord tells me I'll be dead by summer, and I have good reason to believe her. There's a game being played out, and I'm smack in the middle of the whole thing, and 'die to save the world' sounds /just/ about right for the role they want me in."     He rests his head on the back of the chair and looks up at the ceiling. "But gods, yes, Nettie, of /course/ I'm afraid of dying. I... I have to find some way to... cheat the system. Avoid dying, or... die but not really or... gods, I don't bloody well know. /Something/."
Nettie Crowe	"I'm not afraid of dying because I can't. The only thing that'll happen to me once the soul is separated from the body is I either dwell in the Aether and go mad and someone like you or Constantine has to put me out of the collective misery of our extended supernatural community --"     And Corvax finishes "Or suffer from non-existence."     "Aye, suffer from non-existence." she comments, blowing smoke over her cards a moment.     "So the next archivist is a wee tot even compared to you. That's unhappy indeed." she comments quietly.     "Of course, plenty of people die and get better. Technically our boyo has been in Hell. Another lad's been unexistant for millennia. Who knows? Death is weird, and is the greatest mystery..." Nettie gives a slight smile "But Death likes to keep her ledgers tidy. There's always a price for trying to cheat Death." she gives a smile. "Besides, there's maybe one or two magicians who can imitate what keeps me going, and I'm neither of them."
Jonathan Sims	Jon chews on his lip, holding the cigarette away from him while he stares at the ceiling. "A price," he murmurs. "I guess the question is what I'm willing to pay."     He frowns as he brings the cigarette in to take another drag. "So was she right? Am I... marked? Or is it just great upheaval and misfortune and... I should probably keep an eye on John. And keep an eye out for cliff faces." He rubs his free hand along his face.
Nettie Crowe	"All magic charges interest, darling." Nettie replies, "Always." she frowns a moment, and she looks at the rest of the cards.     "You hang around magic long enough, you die. Hopefully in your sleep, and not being eaten by demons." she frowns, and she gives a small smile. "John will take care of himself. Always does. You have enough on your plate with teenagers a pleanty, goodness. No wonder you're not mad." she states, and she looks to the other cards.     "Eight of swords is your key to the victim mentality. Your negative thoughts, at the moment, are restricting you. Three of swords is heart break, regret -- curious, with the five of cups it generally means that you're either missing something because of a regret, but the knight is generally.. fiery ambition. Decisive movement." and Nettie frowns a moment, and she runs a finger over the knight of swords -- and then she picks up the extra Death.     She turns it over in her hand. She looks to Jon a moment.     "There's too much restricting what we can see. We have to play the game. If we don't..." she frowns. "We'll lose. But we should only be playing if we know a way we can win -- or a way we can cheat."
Jonathan Sims	Jon peers over at Nettie. "When are negative thoughts /not/ restricting me? I mean. When are they /useful/?" It's half-sacrastic, half-genuine. He sighs, and frowns thoughtfully. Working his way through the reading, maybe.     "Alright. So... the Archangel Uriel told me that this whole business is about some kind of... our universe is imbalanced, and threatening other universes in the... multiverse." He sighs. First he's really heard of the concept. "Normally that would just get the imbalanced universe destroyed, but I guess we get a chance to... balance ourselves? Undo whatever damage we're causing? And I'm central to the whole thing, somehow, partly by virtue of serving balance through Ma'at, partly by my own choices thus far. There were other people, but I stepped up, so..." He spreads his hands. Shrugs.     "Given what I know of the players and the game they're playing, my /guess/ is that I'm meant to..." He hesitates. He hates to say it, because it sounds /ridiculous/. "I think I'm supposed to, ahh, be the sacrificial lamb. Die for humanity's sins. Suppose I should grow out my hair and find twelve disciples, hmm?" He says it sardonically, with a roll of his eyes.     He drums his fingers on the arm of the chair. "I've been trying to figure it out. The rules. How to cheat. I just can't... that's not my forte, you know? That's John's. Which is why I mentioned him, really--maybe /he/ can help /me/ for once. Gods know he owes me."
Nettie Crowe	Nettie turns her head to the side. And she gives an eye narrow as Jon explains what's going on.     "... Christ Almighty." she mutters a moment. And she then leans her head on her hands, and looks at Jon.     "So, what we're going to have to do is get your replacement to a safe place. Do powers transfer at the minute of death, or is that something that can flicker back and forth? I know hereditary powers can be a bitch, lad."
Jonathan Sims	Jon smirks. "Yes, exactly. I keep asking why we have to do this all again, and I've landed on either the Book of Revelations was real or the archangels are so affected by all the people who /want/ it to be that they're playing the farce to the hilt." He rolls his eyes again.     Then he frowns deeply. "I... am going to have to do some digging, I think. Because yes, if I /do/ figure out a way to cheat death, I don't want to risk the Archive falling to Agnes even if I come back. But she'll be in a safe place anyway, I'm working on that. I need to better understand how things actually work down in Duat." He considers that. "I... do have the benefit of knowing where I'll go and being rather intimately involved in the mechanisms of the judging of a soul. I wonder how the Archive actually... does that...?"     He shakes his head. He's off on a tangent and he knows it. "I should look and find out precisely when Gran died, too. Which... means finding out /how/ Gran died, which I don't actually... /know/ yet. Ugh. But... given that Neith stepped in over Thoth in the lineup and evidently never told my predecessor, some of this isn't precisely automatic." He wrinkles his nose. "At worst, I might just have to wing it. Be a stubborn arse, refuse to move on past the scale or some such. I don't know."     He looks over at Nettie. "...What I'm /hearing/ is that I need to get more sleep and stop fretting so much. Let go of my fear of death because it's holding me back. Stop whinging about how unfair this all is, buck up, be decisive. That about the whole of it?"
Nettie Crowe	"That sounds obnoxious for both sides." Nettie gives a wry grin. "Could have Lydia quick-edit one of her books, release it for free on the internet-thingie, and then suddenly everyone starts having thoughts about Angels. Two ways that could go: Belief in Revelations is dropped and suddenly It's Raining Men-" she pauses for effect, and adds in "Hallelujah, and everyone's wearing skimpy leather loincloths." Nettie gives a bright grin.     "Worth a shot, anyway, just to see what might happen."
Jonathan Sims	Jon snorts and rolls his eyes. "Might be a thought," he agrees. "Certainly a... /novel/ way to solve the conflict." Oh, geez. Come /on/, Jon, that's /awful/.     He finishes off his cigarette and stands to go put it out. "So... do I owe you anything, for the reading?" A pause. "It... helps. It does. It's not some kind of inevitable doom, it's..." His brows furrow for a moment. "Part of the path, I suppose. I'm still getting used to being the one on the path, and not the one... guiding the people who are."
Nettie Crowe	"Oh great, we're taking a page out of the dad jokes book." Nettie replies, and she gives a small smile, and she shakes her head.     "Nah, luv. Like I told Attie, it's my responsibility ta try and preserve what's left of the world that we've got. I've got to live in it, after all." she states, and she looks at the cards again.     "Nothing is ever certain, Poppet. If it was, we wouldn't have endless multiverses, universes where maybe I had stayed, an' gotten offed at Newcastle. Or died in Paris. Or where you're a Chippendale dancer." she offers. "Not even a Hell Lord is one hundred percent. Otherwise John Fuckin' Constantine would have been proper fucked." she gives a wry smile.
Jonathan Sims	"The kids call me 'Thoth Dad,'" Jon replies laconically. "And I am, in fact, a father. Martin's better at the bad jokes though."     He eyes the woman a moment. Eyes her cards. "I cannot /fathom/ a world where /I/ would be a Chippendale dancer. I'd be /awful/ at it. For one, I think you have to know what sexy... is, right?" He quirks a brow. Evidently he... doesn't.     "I'll add you to my list of 'people I need to stay alive for' though. We'll figure this out, and have plenty of time for little things like a renewed Witch's War, hmm?" A sigh. "I'd best be going, though. I have meetings. /So/ many meetings. Lydia wants me to go to Asteroid M to meet with Mystique so... /that'll/ be fun."
Nettie Crowe	"Yes, but in that version of you, there is sexiness, machismo, and probably about three inches of height and six of width to your shoulders." Nettie gives a smile. "Thoth Dad. Does it feel right to you, to have children to care for again?" she asks, the cigarette hanging from her lips drawing horribly close before she plucks it, and snuffs it out in the clamshell.     "Mmm." she gives asmile, and a wave. "Good luck with that meeting, Jonathan. I like Lydia, not sure if I care for anyone who lives on an Asteroid and then claims to feel so bad for the world below." she gives a nod, and with a sweep of her hand, the cards join together -- save for that spare Death card. That she looks at accusatingly.