goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

Her left hand moves away from the cat, even as her left wing shifts about, claws curling into a fist that she can rest her cheek against even as hand proceeds to gesture. "It makes very little sense. Why would they keep this from you?" It is clearly evident to her that they have denied him this knowledge.

And almost thirty is still a twenty-something! ~~don't even think about asking her age either~~

"Maybe cuz my dad's a muggle?" All that side of the family is very tech based. Very logic and sciences.

"Muggle?" A blank look.

She hasn't gotten to the ebook copies of Harry Potter, yet, clearly.

"Harry Potter books, look 'em up. Kind of entertaining, I think I actually have all of them and the supplemental material in your room. But yeah, muggle. Not magic user. Not magic anything. Unaware of the weirding world." Him, basically, till a few months ago.

There's a faintly disbelieving look. When there's that much magic running through one side of the family, it always shows true in those that have it. Wedding bonds rarely lasted where such details were concealed. "All right. Supposing that's true. What purpose would sealing your power away have?"

Unless he'd been especially strong? Her nose wrinkles slightly. ...No. She didn't get that sense from him. But that didn't mean she couldn't be wrong.

Burdgeoning power could only be kept contained so long, particularly without renewal spells. Would summoning her have been the final crack on an already fragmenting seal?

"Dunno. I stopped spending as much time around Grandma and that side of the family- we used to spend whole summers at their place- when I was about...I wanna say nine? Ten? Round them. Still go in for christmas every year- except when I was deployed, but it's kind of a thing. Everyone comes in, we eat, drink, swap stories, that kinda shit." Some of the punch is always a little weird tasting but Gran insists and, well. Gran is gran.

You don't argue with her.

"Maybe dad got tired of it?"

To her credit, she doesn't transfer herself across the room in a whirl of dust, or teleport to his side unexpectedly since he made it a rule, but that doesn't stop Carolina from rising from her seat in a swift fluid motion, approaching him with quick strides. Not many, mind - he's not seated that far away. The cat is neatly deposited and confused a minute later that she's no longer on a lap.

Personal space is, well. Still something of an issue, given how she looms over him, leaning close to murmur into his like -- well, the devil on his shoulder. "And when you were nine or ten, you stopped being afraid of the things lurking in the dark."

"Stopped seeing your imaginary friend, too. Am I right?"

He won't ever get used to how FAST she can be when she wants. It's not as sudden as the dust or the smoke, he sees her coming, he always does since that first time, so there's no reason for him to tense up. By now? he's quit. It's just- a little weird how intense she's being about this.

Something he doesn't know about himself? About his family?

"...yes. What aren't you telling me?" Something's up and he'd rather have it figured out before he has to go to Grandma's for christmas this year.

Green eyes meet blue, intently measuring...something. But it's clear, so very clear, that whatever it is, he doesn't know. Or better to say, he doesn't remember. That isn't due to spells. Due to trauma, perhaps?

"..Family shouldn't keep things from each other," she says at last, reluctantly. Her tail is too still. "I can choose to judge them for what they have done, but I am outsider, not human. You should have a care to consider why they might choose to bind your magic rather than allow you to grow into it."

"And what they might do once they realise their seal is gone."

"..." Well shit that's ominous. Very ominous. What didn't he remmeber from being nine? He'd liked Delta, he'd kept him safe, told him stories, helped him keep away from the scary shit in the forest. He'd been happy to help, he'd said, and even now he remembers the crisp little voice and almost birdlike tilt of his head when he spoke.

It'd been nice.

Now, though, he wonders. He worries.

"Basically you're telling me shit is gonna go down by the punchbowl when Gran gets a good look at me." That'll be fun.

"If not from the moment you step through the door." He's learning control, and now she knows there's a deadline, she'll step that up, consider shielding techniques..

..And none of this is something she'd ever done for other summoners. Her so-called masters could live or die by the merits of their own training and stupidity. Pretty as this one was, that was hardly a qualification to have her extend so much effort and attention.

She wonderd. Then sets those thoughts aside. For now. "It may be that nothing will happen." It's a careless additional comment, but the shrug is dismissive for a reason.

"You have not met my grandmother." The woman is kind, compassionate, and exacting. There's a reason he found the military to be an agreeable profession up till it blew up in his face. "Yeah I'm gonna get yelled at. Shit."

A verbal dressing down from Gran is why being bitched at by drill sergeants was a cake walk, really.

"At least you have many months until Yule?" Time to shore up some of that confidence you've been slowly gaining there.

"Yeah. There's that. Think you can teach me how to make myself invisible before then? Teleporting would be a good trick too."

"No," and while there's sympathy, she can't help derive a little amusement from his situation. "You are not a demon. Though you may have the skill for at least one of those spells by next year at the earliest."

"Killjoy." He snorts a soft laugh. "I'll take what I can get."

She pats his shoulder lightly, then slinks her way back over to the couch, where abandoned cat and tablet still lie. "In the mean time, you still have work to be doing. You'll just have to deal with your family when the time comes."

"I'm gonna get too busy to make a plan, get there, and freak out. Fun times." God he hates the idea. Last year he'd managed to not, citing school and recovery and finals and he'd managed to wiggle by. They haven't seen him since his deployment and it's a little- yeah."

Her wings close about her as she sits down. "Is 'freaking out' a normal activity for you around your family?" He'd been incredibly social towards her, for all his reduced nerves when it came now to interacting with those at his college, but outside of anecdotes, he didn't talk about his family much.

"...Depends on what shade. I've had an episode over there right after I got back. It's why I haven't BEEN back in so long- didn't wanna deal with the fallout. Punch does not make everything better, neither does hugs and casserole." Therapy. Time, therapy, and being a productive member of society.

"Because you are embarrassed," she hazards a guess, letting him talk though she is. "Or perhaps they have simply offered you the wrong sort of punch." A much more physical therapy would not go a-miss, though if he doesn't like punches, there are always kicks.

"I do not like that I lost it around them, no. I don't think it'll happen again, I've been keeping up with my treatment." He shrugs, settling back on the sofa. "Nah. My cousins are all happy to throw a punch. I just don't wanna break their arms on accident if they try."

Treatment? That earns a puzzled look, before her expression clears. "You would not break mine," she points out with a hum. "Though I would have to restrain my strength in turn. But I understand. It is hard to come back from war to those who have only ever known a peaceful life."

Something to protect as much as it is envy. Or destroy, depending on your temperament.

"You're also very good about not setting me off." Which is really strange and really, really relaxing. To not have to worry about that. Not everyone was so considerate.

But she was right, they had time. He had time. "Have not made any headway in the 'get Carolina unbound from the building' project but I did find some interesting notes on glamour? So when we get that getting you out and about thing sorted you can probably not draw too much attention if you don't want."

Considerate, or planned? She is, after all, a demon. They aren't exactly known for compassion.

Then again, what do books written by mortals really know?

"I can use it, if required." Her tone indicates some disinterest, however, as her hand lifts and drags her fingers before her face. A face that. Vanishes. Along with the rest of her. Maxine the cat floats above the couch on her invisible lap curl-perch.

Then she returns with a shimmer and a faint whaft of smoke that's gone as soon as it arrives. "Or I can veil myself."

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