goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

Food. Lots of food. There's even extra beer to replace the ones he'd shared with her last night on the lower levels and draws. But each of the items he mentioned and a few more have been stuffed in. All fresh.

None of it looking at all deadly.

Pay no attention to the feline levels of smugness radiating from the demon surfing the internet over yonder.

"...is this metaphysical theft or like- conjuration? Was this once somewhere else and now here or is it uh- new? Holy SHIT that is tiger shrimp how did you do that?" He never gets the good shrimp- it's outside his budget and- damn. Stir fry tonight, holy shit.

He is gonna eat well.

"You are my new favorite person."

"You told me what you ate, so I brought it here to you. It exists now." Theft, conjuration - something is always exchanged for something, but she has power enough that giving some for this is hardly a hazard to either of their health.

"Hah." That little declaration earns genuine amusement. "And who was your former favourite?"

"The cat." Which says a lot about his social life. Or lack thereof. All his friends in his squad died in the ambush that fucked up his eye and gave him his ptsd and made him all angry, etc, etc, oldest damn story. He doesn't wanna get into it.

The cat doesn't judge him though, so. Favorite.

He snags a beer and an apple and saunters on out, checking his notes and the book he'd used to summon her in the first place again. Food will make this make sense. "You made it appear so- if you're hungry you can grab whatever. My house is your house."

It says a great deal, earning the feline several points in its favour. Cats are wiser than they appear, for the most part. And the Egyptians kept them as temple familiars for a reason.

"You need more friends," she drawls instead. Humans weren't made to be alone, and York's aura alone indicated a sociable person. She's not sure she likes how he keeps restudying those pages, however - hadn't he mentioned destroying the book? Carolina, for one, would be more comfortable if he did so. "So you have said. Though you may some day come to regret that decision."

She wags a claw at him, before returning to her reading. She's not hungry, not just yet. Taking something from the fridge can wait.

"Of course I don't say where I found this damn thing. Okay." He'll just make a note to keep an eye out for pissed of antique dealers. He's accidentally liberated some of their things before. It just happens sometimes- he hasn't figured it out yet. Notebook gets closed, an empty trashcan gets tugged over, book goes in. He has to pat around the sofa to find a half empty bottle of vodka but- hell, it's an accelerant.

"I need- well yeah, I probably need more friends. I have issues though and people don't exactly have Similar life experiences for us to bond over." It's unfortunate, but true. In goes the vodka.

A five finger discount? Or blood attracting that which is keyed to like?

"Or form new ones over which to bond." Bin, alcohol, book. She relaxes a touch, tail no longer twitching. "Is it so difficult to do here?" Perhaps then, they should consider relocation... Though that too might take time. Given his aforementioned lack of funds.

"Are there many places humans choose to congregate in this era?"

Shit just appears in his bags. He quit nicking shit that caught his attention when he turned sixteen. Things just keep falling into his lap and not all of it is worth the trouble. Somehow he feels like this might be one of those things- but Carolina's not that bad. Not really. SHe's gotten him food and is trying to help him do better so- could be worse!

"And now I can't find my lighter. Awesome." Not in his pockets- maybe in his coat? He checks the beaten leather thing hanging off the back of a chair, patting down the pockets till he finds a matchbook. Eh, it'll do. "I could join a club or something. Got an invite to a coven but- yeah. Not an actual practitioner. Got an invite to a school paper and also didn't...go well. Sort of got intense over military shit. They had an anti-war idiot running the stories on it and let's just say they have parents in high places or some shit cuz there's no way anything they're printing is unbiased."

It takes him a few tries to get the matches to take- but it does and he drops the whole thing on the book.

Part of him wonders if he'll regret it later.

The rest of him knows damn well how dangerous that shit was. Better that it burns.

"Not for this." A gesture. Towards the books. Towards the research he's done - and really, there's a lot more here than he's given even himself credit for. "Find other subjects. Find other activities. What do you do for physical exercise?" Not just that 'stripping'. He doesn't strike her as a horseman, but perhaps there might be something else of interest.

"There will always be bias. You cannot let yours rule both heart and head."

The most dangerous thing he could conjure is now sitting on his couch, concerned about his wellbeing. Who would have thought?

"Uh. Jog in the mornings and lift weights whenever I remember that's a thing? Yoga sometimes when my back gets tense but- doing that in a crowded area is kind of a no go." He motions to his eye, cataract and scar and all. "Cuz. Yeah."

Bias is bias and like always- and he'll never understand why but having Carolina here sort of makes it a little more obvious- the fire burns green. Green and gold and mostly without smoke. It's either the book or him but since any fire he lights forever and ever amen does this shit, he knows it's him. Makes for crazy bonfires.

"If you can't be unbiased in delivering the news you should at least be willing to show both sides of a story, not curbstomp over a fucking veteran because your precious baby fee fees got all hurt."

Green fire. That draws her off the couch again, and she stalks the bin, walking a full circuit around it before settling behind him. To his right. He's blind on the left, after all; better that he be able to see her, and not be further unnerved than he already is.

"Then I shall remind you," she murmurs, understanding his concerns regarding his eye. People stare, whether in awe or in fear, or at things they cannot explain away. Reaching her hand forwards, she lets it sink into the fire itself, lets the flames lap away along her scales as she measures the power within it. "You're not fond of fire of any kind, are you," she states absently while doing so.

Then she looks up at him. Pay no attention to the talons still baking in the fire. "Those with power will do as they will. Money is a form of currency for the powerful. But you have something they don't."

She walks around and that- a concession to his weirdness- that's kind. Kinder than a lot of his other roommates have been. That she settles at his right like she belongs there feels- well a little like it fits and a little like he should worry about it. But he doesn't. It's just a comment, just a reminder, and eventually he'll remember what it was about her page in the book that called to him to try.

"Thanks." Hand in the fire- talons in the fire and for a moment he's worried before he remembers, duh, demon. NOt bothered by it. "Uh...not really. I mean as a kid, sure, but every kid has a little pyro phase. After my deployment? Not so much, no."

Too many burning buildings. Too much smoke. Too many screams.

"A sense of perspective and a roguish, give 'em hell attitude?" A beat. "And you. Yeah?"

Better remember sooner than later, York. Might change your perspective on matters otherwise.

For all his scars and the bravado masking his fears and insecurities, there's a sweetness to this man, a noble core - albeit one likely bound up in notions that might yet get him in future trouble. Or killed. And Carolina has no intention of letting that happen.

Hence the smile in response, bright white teeth with pointed canines almost a little too pronounced. "And me," she agrees, tail twitching as she pulls a singular ball of flame from the fire.

And then tosses it to him. It is HIS fire, after all. He should learn how to control it.

It'll come back to him. It always does.

It's kind of nice though, standing here, burning a dangerous book, bonding with a demon he summoned kind of an accident. Maybe there was a little twist of fate at work, he'll have to look up his notes on checking for that. Big ones he couldn't ever pin down but the little ones, yeah. Tiny things.

Fate's a sneaky bitch, what can he say. But hey!

Bonding!

And then she lobs a fireball at him and his bright smile stops being so bright and becomes more 'oh mother FUCK', hands snapping up even though it's fire and he should DODGE but she's so damn close and it's on his hands it's on his sleeves it's green and they were so damn loud couldn't eat pork for weeks for months he still can't if he's around when it's cooking god the smell of hair and the sounds bones make when they crackle-

He's hyperventilating and locked up rather than flailing so- point for not burning the apartment down. None for self preservation.

Bonding!

And fire. Fire is EXCELLENT for bonding.

She watches his response, sees how he freezes. She watches how the flames sneak along his arm, flickering and slowly wrapping around to enclose his arm from wrist and moving up to his elbow. But there's no burning - it's his fire, it won't hurt him. But he's too caught up in the fear to realise it.

Talons extend, catch his left arm, lightly pressing against his skin. A point of contact to draw his attention. There's no dig, no scratch, as she then drags them in a slow trail downwards, and the flames flicker, shimmering as though caught in a net, before slowly rolling after her hand. Being drawn back to his palm, that she turns upright and holds in place until the fire is suckling on his fingers while the main body of flame dances in place.

"It's yours. Yours to command." And there's power written into it besides. Her head tilts, green eyes bright, waiting to meet his once the initial terror releases him. "I will show you how." So that it never controls him again.

Any person found in possession of magery needs to be taught. Or risk greater harm to themselves. It's a miracle that he hasn't done something worse to himself before now.

Edited 2015-08-20 21:13 (UTC)

He jolts back to the present at the press of her talons, head whipping to stare at her- is she crazy? He feels like he should ask if she's crazy but- his arm isn't burning. His clothes aren't burning.

What the fuck. This doesn't make sense. She drags it down like it's got some sort of weight to it, like cotton and it's just. Sitting in his hand. Like a cat. A burning cat.

Adrenaline is still thrumming in his veins and he can't make himself really stare at it in his palm for too long but- "This. This is new."

There wasn't even MAGIC in the fire he set- is this the book? The vodka? It sure as hell wasn't the matches. Wait- if he could control fire-

No. None of the ones he got caught in overseas were his. They were all dull and red and natural and ugly. Not this stupidly pleasant green. It almost...tickles. "...Okay. I- okay. Warning next time? Please?"

"Where's the fun in that?" But she's not entirely serious, hard as that may be to tell, as she strokes the flames a little higher, turns them at her command. Her free hand then motions to his, signaling for him to move his palm. "Close one over the other. The fire will gutter."

No heat, no burn. Not for him, the caster. Not for her, a demon to whom flames come a second/third nature. Her tail twitches a little, before she nods at him. "Warnings, then. Until you're better educated." After that. Well, he'll learn to think fast on his feet where magic is concerned. And if nothing else, this will give him greater scope for those videos he mentioned earlier.

"Fair point." Not fair at all but who's got a hand full of fire and wants to avoid talking about a mini ptsd flashback? THIS GUY! York does as he's told, slow at first to watch how the fire licks at his palm but doesn't actually hurt him. Okay. Closes his hands to gutter it and-

Curiously enough, lifts it again to see a more manageable, almost lighter sized flame. Huh. Playing with fire is a shit idea though, so he closes his hands and waits for the glow to fade.

FOr a moment he stares at his hands before his eyes flick up to hers, smile bright. "Holyshit that was cool."

And that, that is the start of control. "Not cold fire yet, but that might change, in time." It really will depend on the extent of his control, the extent of his power. It baffles Carolina that he could start exhibiting such magic now, at this age, with so little learning for control of it--

--unless it was sealed. It was in his blood, he had mentioned the matriarchs of his line. That, that made more sense than merely being a late bloomer. He smiles at her, that fear of fire at least temporarily abated, and there's potential here that she can't help but find interesting. His ambitions and hers could drive him far, if he allowed her that.

But first, patience. And learning. "Don't worry. You won't begin randomly starting fires. But that is a good beginning."

"Cold fire sounds like an oxymoron." Like jumbo shrimp and- well now he's hungry, but excited, and calmly satisfied that the book is burning so easily. He doesn't have any real classes today, he's got time and...

He kind of wants to test something.

The fire in the bin is still going strong- paper takes awhile to burn, and he checks her hands over before wiggling his fingers again. "So I could, in theory just- stick my hand in there and scoop some up like water like you did? Which was awesome by the way. You're awesome."

Summoning it to his hand is probably advanced level stuff and he is NOT that ambitious yet.

"Eventually," she confirms, back straightening. She doesn't purr, exactly, but it's clear that the praise pleases her. "for now, you can run your fingers through it." It will react, but collecting it will be a while away. Control, first. Once he has that, everything else child's play,

The day, for the most part, goes a bit more smoothly, perhaps more domestic that Carolina is used to and with expected consequences for York. Learning to live together does not take very long, but picking up on the idiosyncrasies of ones roommates is always a matter of trial and error. it's not all fun and games, not entirely. Take the first full display of demonic temper when, through thorough accident and no small amount of confusion, it became rapidly clear that whatever York had done with the summoning, he had bound Carolina not merely to this plane, but within the very walls if the apartment to boot. Every window was shattered in her rage, before she had vanished in a cloud of black smoke to sulk between dimensions -- and she was definitely sulking, even if York very pointedly didn't call her on that fact.

(She did at least fix the windows a few hours later.)

But having seen the sky and knowing it was denied her now just as it had been in times past was an unexpected disappointment. On the other hand, she's never been entirely obedient, and one evening makes a point to heckle him as her summoner tries to record a video on illegal substances that the movies say you need for spells that don't work. Witty enough that a couple slip into one recording and receive instant comments. It's not how she imagined, really. But there were more labourous was to make a living,

As far as roomates went, Carolina was pretty awesome. Little by little she fed him lessons on dealing with his magic, controlling it- the baby steps were less due to her reservations and more with York's. And his erratic sleep schedule. And his nightmares. But they managed to work through those pretty well. She didn't ask or comment and he pretended they never happened.

Progress!

The fridge was always full either through her work or his remembering, pointedly after teaching her how to text him with the tablet he gave her, to pick stuff up from the store on the way home from class. He still didn't get out enough beyond the jogging and the odd bout to the gym but- he was drinking less, sleeping better, and eating more often. It made him more bearable in crowds.

If only he could repay the stability having a demon in his life with actually letting her out. He went over his notes and the video so many times- and since the book is gone? He doesn't know what he did to bind her to the apartment. Maybe it's the apartment, maybe it's wherever he lives- because he will have to move in a few years. He'll burn that bridge when he gets to it.

Right now he's trying to sort out how to deal with all the questions about Carolina's commentary. It's the most popular video and blog post he's done to date and no one even SAW her. "Lina, you said all of six things during this video and I already got like, fifty bucks in paypal donations to 'bring the hot sounding chick on more often'."

Most would not consider having a literal demon in your life a good thing! Never mind one with a temper and bound by rules York doesn't completely remember putting in place to begin with. She's draped full along his couch, cat in her lap and tablet on the cat, a brow arching when he comments about the newest video.

"Heat does not sound like a human," she points out dryly. Her scales are much like armor, even as for fitting as they are -- but there's not exactly a /view/, so to speak. Unless one liked barbie doll anatomy. As it is, her wings still drape along her legs as she shifts a bit, all the better to look at him. "I presume this is a good thing, however?"

"It means you sound attractive." Which isn't wrong, but explaining slang is kind of something he's used to doing now. Part of catching her up- whatever the template doesn't tell her, he does. It works. "And yeah it's pretty great. Don't think I can ever really, you know, put you ON camera but if you wanna heckle me in the next few videos, that'd be cool."

It'd pay for the next month's rent at least if the donations keep coming in like this, damn.

"All Hallows'," she says, a dismissive flick of the wrist. "They might even believe it, if only for one night." But if he wants to be heckled, that's just fine by her. "What topics are you considering for your next video?"

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