goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"You gotta know the right rules for reversal for luck and weather. Besides- if someone already knows what they're doing and are strong enough to make a big thing of it? They aren't watch'n my shit." At least he hopes not. The thoughts' enough for him to mark the 'maybe hide this shit' to 'def hide this shit'.

Of course the idea of a strong mage before now was kind of impractical to him but- if he could do this? Someone that knew better could too.

But hey, there's an idea. Impractical summoning. Could make it funny. That'd get him paid and make this less of a waste. Yeah. "That is a really good idea. Thanks Carolina!"

He grins over the back of the sofa at her, scooping up the last of the bottles and food containers before knotting the bag up. "So if you're stuck with me till I die or you die or whatever you're probably gonna need a room. Which is good, cuz I have a spare. Mostly I keep books in there but I can move 'em out if you wanna decorate and make it cozy for you."

Hmm. He has a point. Of course: "Or they watch, to see how much you truly know. To see if you might be a threat." Because that's not worrying or anything.

Smile becomes a smirk at the thanks, and she shrugs lightly. "Make sure it will be useful before offering praise." But she's certain he can make it work. Humour of course will always be subjective.

"I suppose," the offer of a room is..unusual. Most summoners have never cared for her requirements beyond basic sustinance. But to offer her a room? "..Sleep isn't something I require much of. But if you have no other use for the space, I can make do."

"Even if you don't need to sleep you still have a right to privacy, right?" No reason for him to demand her to hang around him all damn day. It'd get boring for her pretty quick. "Just lemme know if you want the books in or out and if you need like. Furniture or antyhing. I think there's a desk in there and a twin sized bed."

"Books can remain," reading isn't something she's had much opportunity to do either. Though her amusement is plain. "You think?" One would think he'd have a better idea to the contents of his property.

"so what is Journalism? What is the purpose of such study?"

"Haven't looked in there for about a month. Haven't had to." He shrugs and flops back down on the sofa, head tipped back to blink at the ceiling. Okay. Cleaned up the apartment. Summoned a demon. Gave demon a name and a room. That's enough adulting for one day. "Reporting the news in an informed and unbiased manner to the unknowing masses. Or spinning bullshit that's shocking and entertaining enough to get attention and get paid without any real integrity. Depends on the day."

York has some very interesting concepts of adulting running through his head. "I see that communications have become much more complex since the last era I was summoned." Which, admittedly, wasn't so long ago in the grand scheme of things, but humanity's efforts have jumped ahead in leaps and bounds when it comes to technology. "It makes sense then that such power over 'unknowing masses' requires training."

Shifting her wings a bit, she does regard him coolly a moment. "What do you plan to do with such a thing?"

"Wartime journalism. Tell people what's really going on out there. At least that was my original idea but no one likes hearing about how awful it is if it doesn't come dipped in sugar and wrapped up with a nice big hollywood happy ending tacked on the end." Bitter? Him? Hell no.

Okay hell YES but he's working on it. "I get here and all I'm told is 'don't rock the boat, that's a good way to get blacklisted or get dead' and I"m just- I've BEEN out there. Writing an article is not gonna be the thing that kills me. Pissing people off is not something I'm remotely afraid of anymore."

"Endings rarely happen as expected," she notes, mentally marking the salt in the wounds she hadn't looked for. "So. What will get you from here to there?"

"Perhaps you should be," is the challenge, the newly dubbed Carolina leaning forward a moment, wings parting just enough to shift and relock claws under her chin. "Caution keeps you alive, fear makes you wary, keeps you alert. Makes you aware of details you might otherwise miss."

"PTSD makes me wary and alert. I don't need to be more afraid on top of that." He mutters, but takes the advice in the spirit it's given. Survival. That's a langaug he remembers well enough.

"Good grades and money. First ain't all that hard. Second one is why I'm writing up stuff on mythology, magic, and debunking it. It's not much but it pays."

"Then I will ensure you have no further reason to be afraid."

...Well. That's certainly spoken with a confident air, a shrug of aqua blue shoulders taking on the burden of that concept almost too casually. Yet Carolina has no doubt she can manage such things. The term PTSD doesn't mean anything to her, yet, but no doubt she can educate herself in due course.

"And you do not use that which does work to increase the money you do gain?" That's unusual. then again, hadn't he admitted to believing all of this was bunk to begin with? "What else have you in place, should such payment fail?"

"Cuz while I think most of it is bull I do remember what my Grandma taught me about what goes around coming around and gett'n greedy ending real bad? Monkey's paw, shit like that." Beware what you ask for, that sort of shit. He hasn't really dug into the bigger shit because some of the smaller shit sort of worked. Because the temptation was there. Someone told him forever ago he was a thief by nature.

He didn't want to tempt himself too badly and see what that would mean in the long run.

"Uh. Well I got my severance pay from the military. Honorable discharges tend to pay pretty well, apparently. Some money left in a trust fund. Uh. Worst comes to worst I guess I could start stripping again." He'd done it as a joke his freshman year before the military- he's bulked up since so- more muscles, more money? "I got options."

"Your grandmother is a wise woman." Likely a witch of no small repute, or at least trained by one, even if the seed of magic was passed on again to a son and not a daughter. Even if said (grand)son proceeded to summon a demon.

Her brow arches slightly at the mention of a monkey paw, and her tail twitches, before slinking forwards, wrapping around her leg as she ponders his words, the last earning the cant of her head, brow ridges rising. "'Stripping'?" The other terms she can translate easily enough, but she's not certain she follows that last one.

But yes, options. He has many, and now, he has her to contend with - or work with - as well.

"Dancing on a stage while removing my clothing to music for the enjoyment and entertainment of others. Occasionally pole work. I can probably do more now than I used to, now that I think of it." More core work and upper body strength. It'd be a good way to stay in shape. Not that he's out of shape- he'd have to remember to eat more to gain all that much weight.

But it bore thinking over.

As did what he's gonna do with his new roomie. Aside from the books and the room and the. Everything. What did demons do for fun? For entertainment.

How does the power dynamic work?

Yeah, he's fucked.

"When was the last time you got called to this plain of existence?" He was gonna say 'up here' but who knows where hell is and just because she's a demon doesn't mean she's from Hell. Just from an infernal realm. Of course that's half lore that he knows and half D&D bullshit but- it might be applicable?

"From military to brothels?" Not that the latter is demeaning work, when run properly, but that hardly seems fitting for someone who summoned her, and her nature - pride and ambition both leading the charge - means she can't approve of that life style.

Her tail curled until it was settled around her knee, pointed tip occasionally twitching. Not unlike a cat's tail, really. There were plenty of uses that could be found for a summoned demon, and it was likely for the best that most of those ideas hadn't occurred to York.

Technically, he was the summoner. Her 'master'. He didn't seem likely to play that role in a traditional sense, however. And he had promised her dinner..

"At the start of the nineteenth century," is the prompt reply. Meaning she'd missed quite a few developments over the years. "It was a brief visit. I was called upon to change the stakes amidst a war for independance." In Peru, she thinks, or some southern hemispherical land. A shrug follows. "The plane and the one that you called me from do not share the same flow of time."

"The world's two oldest professions." He shrugs and settles back on the sofa, looking over his notes from the summoning. He got a lot right. That's- disconcerting. That he got a lot right. It's good, but it's also wrong. He's pretty sure he hadn't meant to summon anything near as big as Carolina. So it's something of a surprise.

"...wow you've missed- a lot. Mostly in the past decade, tech wise. Socially a lot of shit's the same. Lemme-" He pulls his spare tablet over and checks the battery, mostly full. Good enough. He brings up 'wikipedia' and slides it over. "You got questions you can get most of your answers from that website. Just type it in the search function. Take it with a grain of salt but they're pretty good about keeping the information accurate. When in doubt, check the books in your room."

"And yet, here you are." Hardly necessary to fall back to the latter. Not while she's here, she thinks, shifting her wings for comfort. Be it because of blood or be it because of luck (or the lack there of), she is here now. And the circle he'd made is now less than dust.

Perhaps the video might shed some luck. Something he can check while she is distracted by the tablet he slides her way. She gives him a somewhat disbeliving look, before carefully picking it up, mindful of her claws as she touches the reflective surface cautiously. Her tail stiffens, then flicks about, unwinding from its coil about her leg as she sits up. Attention held. "What is this." Even as she asks, she's examining it, eyes brightening.

"Tablet computer. It's like a laptop without the keyboard, touch activated." A beat. "It's- technology? right now you're on a web browser connected to the internet, which should be a repository of all the knowledge and talent of mankind but we actually just use it to post kitten pictures and argue with each other about petty bullshit. But- wikipedia- is pretty much what it should be. A cited network of articles about history or- anything really. It's user created and edited, hence using what you learn with a grain of salt. Sometimes people put bullshit on there."

He had spoken of 'techology' but even this seems like sorcery. She's impressed, either way, though his comments about knowledge online gets a small snort. "You say this as though conquerors did not paint the world in their own image and the past with their own intent." This is simply...faster.

She doesn't purr, but she's clearly pleased as a cat with this 'offering'. "This will be most useful." You've given a demon access to the internet and all that contains. Was that wise, York?

"It's the best way I can think of to help you catch up." A beat. "...I'm just gonna recommend you don't read comment sections of any article. Ever. Trust me, it's a bad idea. Read the article and move on. Also when the battery gets low-"

He pulls the cord out from under the sofa, motioning to where the other end is plugged into the wall. "You plug it in to charge."

Charge? Her head tilts at the cable, words committed to memory, before she looks back to York. Looks at him, as though reassessing him.

No other summoners have cared that she know the extent of this reality before. Have helped her, or tried to, rather than command her outright.

"and then dinner?" Or breakfast - several decades worth of meals have to start somewhere.

"Right. Food should be a thing- not for you. Greedy thing." He mutters, scratching the ears of the cat that appeared as soon as Carolina said 'dinner'. "You still have- well no you don't. Okay. Feed the cat, then feed us. What do you like?"

He pushes away from the sofa and weaves his way to the kitchenette, pulling down a tin of wet food and dumping it into the cat's bowl as a starter. For them he's got-

Well.

Lunchmeat. Sort of. He's got cheese and some dried up strips of turkey that might be okay.

She's still holding the tablet as he gets to his feet, attention returning to the device. She's mindful not to accidentally scratch it with her talons, shifting to press the pad of her digit to the screen, attention on 'wikipedia' while York deals with his delightful feline minion.

It's only when the refrigerator opens that her head comes up.

And then she's directly behind him, curls of black smoke swirling between and around them, before she peers about to eye the contents of the coldbox, one wing shifting so that the claws rest lightly on his shoulder.

"Surely you have better fare than this for yourself."

"Holyshit!" okay, boundaries, they might need to make a few. He jerks forward from the sudden sound and smoke and contact- it's only the surreal nature of the CLAW on him instead of a hand that keeps him from jamming an elbow back out of reflex. For three seconds he's stuck breathing shallow and sharp and waiting for the crack of a gun or- something before he manages to cram all that back in the corner of his mind where he can ignore it. And be calm.

Okay.

"New rule: No sudden movements this early in the morning. Or late at night. Just- no sudden movements. I get- I have. I was in active combat and I might do something stupid out of reflex." He's under no illusion that he could hurt her, but he really doesn't wanna hit her. "ANd this is about it. Haven't been to the store in- awhile. Mostly done takeout."

Her hand catches his elbow, though Carolina goes still when he does, watching his movements, noting his breathing. She keeps her mouth from smirking, amusement at his reaction kept at bay, but she's not dismissive of his reasoning. If anything, it's a rare man, former soldier, who can admit to heightened awareness due to his experience rather than deny there might be anything wrong.

Her wing claw remains over his shoulder, however, as she reaches past him and closes the door to the fridge. 'Takeout' doesn't mean anything to her, but stores are something she's aware of. She withholds a sigh. "And if you had been, what would this contain?"

"Another thing- I uh. Might have screaming nightmares. Sometimes. I'm not dying and I'm not being attacked, it's all in my head." Course that doesn't make it better for HIM but if she ever feels a need to check in on him, there's an excuse. Reason. Thing. "Haven't had them lately but- yeah."

Okay. Food. Focus on the food. And the absurdly empty fridge- there's not even a full can of redbull in the back. "Well. Chicken's cheap so, that. Lunchmeat. Cheese. Apples and tomatoes and that kinda stuff, I'm try'n to eat more healthy. Milk, butter, eggs, green onions, maaaaabye shrimp if it was on sale and I made big sad eyes at the lady behind the counter. She's sweet on me. Man. I really need to go shopping."

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