Log:Machete of Destiny

Machete of Destiny
"There's a tattoo on the back of your right wrist," Calm says, turning to look over at Teagan. "Is it true?"
Participants Teagan, Calm	24 October, 2017 A machete, its wielder, and an oracle. What could go wrong?
Location
At ten on a Monday night the streets aren't empty, but in this part of town there are very few people are cars on them. Right now, in this part of Tamarack Falls, the only other people who seem to be around are those in the other cars pulling up to the same four-way stop that Teagan is, at about the same time. As her Civic is coming to a stop, even if it's just a rolling stop, a figure breaks away from the shadows that concealed the doorway of the shop on the corner and takes quick strides across the sidewalk and leans down to tap knuckles on the window. It's a figure of absolute darkness, surrounded by a thin white corona of radiating Wyrd and draped in blood-red fabric, peering through the passenger window with eyes like two nebulae. Speaking through the window her weird, ethereal voice seems to come from all around, instead of just from within her. "Hello Teagan. May I come in? I have something to show you." Totally normal, right? They were on their way back to Green's house, after picking up groceries, which for Teagan usually means beer and smokes. But also this time actually like, food, to feed Green with, because Green mostly eats microwave dinners and Teagan is getting kind of sick of those. Anyway, when they pull up to the four-way stop and Calm's tapping on their window, they blink a few times, then push their unlock doors button. It doesn't work. They end up leaaaaning across the car and pushing the button manually on the other door. "Hop on in." Calm slides into the car, moving like someone dancing with every gesture, and gathers the fabriv of her cloak to be sure it doesn't get caught in the car's door when they shut it again. "Thank you. You should turn right," she says without looking over at Teagan. "We have twelve minutes, eighteen secondsd. Is it safe to assume that you have your machete with you, since you're a Squire?" By this point someone else has pulled up behind the car and they give their horn a quick chirp of a honk. The other two cars have both gone. "... okay," Teagan agrees with the estimate of time that Calm gives. They don't rebut it or disagree with it: generally speaking, disagreeing with someone who is the void of space about time is ... not the most intelligent of answers. And while Teagan isn't particularly mundanely educated, they are absolutely very well-educated in the ways of Lost. "Twelve minutes, eighteen seconds until what? And yes, I have Baby with me. Which way am I going to whatever destiny has in store for us?" Reflexively, Teagan's left hand comes up and flips the car behind them off. "There's a tattoo on the back of your right wrist," Calm says, turning to look over at Teagan. "Is it true?" She points to the right, as if it indicate what way Teagan should go. "We have eleven minutes and forty seven seconds to the park on the shore of the Tam by the Meadowhame Cottages if you want to stop it. Do you know how to get there, or will you need directions?" She doesn't sound like she has any sense of urgency herself, beyond the precision timing that she seems to be able to offer. Like this doesn't really matter to her, though it seems like it matters enough that she came to get Teagan. There's a sudden ... blankness that comes over Teagan's face, then, followed by a none-too-subtle shifting of their expression. It's not even ... a shifting of their expression so much as it is that their face changes. At first it becomes only subtly less Teagan, after which point it becomes completely less Teagan, their hands gripping around the steering wheel of the car. "It's the only thing about me that's never changed," the white femme who's now behind the wheel answers, gripping their hands tight around the steering wheel and shaking her long, sleek red hair: they slam their foot down on the pedal and tear away from the stop sign like the very bats of hell are chasing them. (As opposed to Ziv and other non-hellish bats.) Calm watches all of this with features difficult to read, given that all that's really visible of her face is its shape and the colorful glow of the myriad points of light that make her eyes. When Teagan speaks Calm's head tilts, like she's curious about something, and the car is already under way at that point. "I see," she says, and then she turns forward again and leans her head back against the rest, watching where they're going. "If we get there before they do it, are they rapists yet?" She asks like it's an important philosophical question, and one she's interested on Teagan's take on, but before they can reply to her she says, "slow down for a couple of miles. There's going to be a patrol car. Once we're past them you should be clear the rest of the trip." They ease off the gas, their hands still gripping the steering wheel like... well, like it was someone's neck, let's be honest. Teagan-not-Teagan's eyes narrow, their much-fuller-than-usual lips pressing together. "Yes." They don't even need to think about the answer to that question. Maybe some things exist in a greyscale where morality's concerned for Teagan, but this isn't one of those things. It exists in black-white, yes-no, and the why of it follows up: "If they exist in reality in such a way tht you can forsee that shit and give us a time frame? If they have that shit in their fucking hearts?" They hunch their shoulders. "Fuck." It's hard to not slam the gas pedal down: Teagan's Mantle turns the inside of the car into essentially an oven set to broil, with over-and-over radio calls echoing back and forth, more and more urgent. medic, medic, If only Calm could harvest the emotions of other Lost, the anger that's working on turning the car into a sauna would be delicious. So, too, would probably be the desire to do something about it. Those emotions aren't hers to soak up, though. As for her own, Calm's emotions fit her name, at least as far as she lets on. "I can see your point of view, and I share it," she says. "That tends to be my perspective as well." Sure enough, at an intersection ahead a police cruiser rolls on past, right where they would have blasted through in front of them if they had been speeding the whole time. Calm's, well, calmness, doesn't help much. Teagan stays broilingly angry the entire time that they're in the car. The fact that the cop car pulls out in front of them exactly on cue? That's not actually surprising to the Harbinger -- though it may mildly surprise Calm that Teagan doesn't even react. Some people see the future. Sometimes one of those people is Teagan. "Okay. Can I floor it now?" Because Teagan is beyond antsy. Once the car goes by Calm says, "as far as I've been able to see, we should be set. We have plenty of time still." And as the car undoubtedly picks up speed the moment she says they're clear, she continues to speak. "I was born on Jekyll Island, in Georgia, in the spring of 1862," she says, like it's apropos of something. Maybe it is, but she doesn't explain further. She doesn't clarify, or continue the story. She seems to think that says, or implies, everything that it needs to. Maybe it does. Teagan has seen her with her Mask strengthened, and knows that she's a black woman, not just a scary void. And the miles fly by as Teagan pushes the Civic to its limits. Calm doesn't seem to be nervous about the driving, even though she isn't wearing a seatbelt. "Ah." Actually, it does tell Teagan everything that needs telling, to be totally honest. They get it. "South Philly. We're not sure how long ago," Teagan answers. "Long enough." Their hands tighten around the wheel, and while they're thinking about it, that changes too, those hands becoming more delicate, pale-fingered. The scars across their hands? Those never go away. The machete's mark on their palms is forever. "Long e-fucking-nough." The car speeds up, and Teagan tears through the streets as fast as the shitty old Civic will let them -- but they stop a block away from the address, shutting off the engine. What, like they're going to drive their seriously recognizable car up to an asskicking? Calm looks turns away from the road ahead of them to look at Teagan when they share where they're from, and after a few seconds she nods in understanding and then turns back to the road, letting the last of the distance vanish in silence. The block's distance from the park also goes unremarked as she pops the door open and begins to slide out, shedding her blood-red cloak as she moves. Under it she has on a pair of shorts and a tank top, which might not stand out so much if it wasn't October, and she wasn't barefoot. It stands out less than the cloak does, and is less easy for a witness to recognize. "We still have three minutes, thirty six seconds," she says as she heads toward the park, while pausing just to make sure that Teagan is with her. "It should be plenty of time." -> >> Teagan to Here << <-============================================ Rolled 4 Successes < 2 3 4 5 6 6 7 8 9 10 10 > ====================================-> >> Wits + Wyrd No Flags << <- -> >> Teagan to Here << <-============================================ Rolled 5 Successes for an exceptional success. < 1 1 2 3 3 3 4 4 4 5 6 7 8 8 8 9 10 > -> >> Dexterity + Stealth.Shadows_Shadowing_Shadowily + 1 + 4 9-Again <<==== A moment's thought, and Teagan -- still so unlike themselves in appearance -- buttons the top button of their hoodie, which falls to mid-thigh, concealing (for the moment) their machete. They draw the shadows up around themselves, and invoke the contract so they'll leave no contract, as if they've never tread there at all. They slide out of the car, following after Calm. "Not gonna ghost entirely until probably after," they inform Calm easily. "I'll be here, even if you can't see me." Three steps behind, one to the left, and the darkness of the night makes friends with the Darkling, as well it should. Calm moves like someone with purpose, but not at a run. It's the kind of pace a woman walking alone in a dark part of town at night wearing too little clothing might be expected to have, to tell the truth. When Teagan gives her some warning about they way they work she simply nods and says, "I don't really expect this to be much of a fight, or that we'll run into anyone else. If we get separated for some reason, don't worry about me." When they reach the park, Calm turns down a path that heads toward the river, to where another, larger path winds along its shore. When they get closer to the water they start to be able to hear voices, like a pair of men who may have had a few drinks are headed their way. Fallen back in the shadows, Teagan's machete drops into their hand as easily as breathing -- it may very well be as easy as breathing to them, to be honest. Baby fits in their hand like an extension of same, and at the moment the machete's handle hits their palm, it's like nothing before or after this moment matters. Those eyes that Teagan borrowed from someone else glitter in the shadows, that pretty long hair that they stole shifts over their shoulders. No tracks, no marks. Just the Shadowsoul's shadows hugging them as their forehead wrinkles up, and they follow Calm, their face a puzzled, but otherwise still, mask. The two are maybe thirty feet from the trail that runs along the river when a woman, who had been concealed from view behind the trees and bushes along the track, goes jogging by in the direction of the voices, headphones stuck in her ears. When she goes by Calm's pace picks up, and she doesn't even look to see what Teagan is doing; she breaks into a jog of her own, her bare feet almost silent on the paved path as she heads after the woman. She doesn't seem to have any intention of getting there first, but at that pace she will get there soon enough. If she's right about what's going to go down. A low snarl in Teagan's throat is the only sound that they've made since they got out of the car, and when Calm's pace picks up? So does Teagan's. Their booted feet leave no tracks, and their passage leaves no trace as they hurry after the jogger. Baby's held close alongside them, loosely at the read in their left hand. (Of course Teagan is sinister. Of course.) Moving through the underbrush, along the trail, they click their tongue against the roof of their mouth once, twice, and then go silent again. Everyone needs some random creepy sounds now and again, even if they're not Autumn. Calm and Teagan aren't too far behind the woman when she rounds a bend and runs straight into one of the two men, where she lets out a loud yelp as they both tumble to the ground. The man she ran into groans as he slams into the ground with her on top of him, and his buddy lets out a laugh. "Man, you get all the luck!" he says. "Women just falling into your lap. At least this time you can't miss the signals." He sounds like he's teasing his friend a bit, but he fellows that up saying, "damn, what a piece of ass too." The woman is starting to try to get up, apologizing, but the man under her grabs one of her wrists. "You really should watch where you're going," he says. "That kinda hurt." She's still trying to get up, but he grabs her backside with his other hand and pulls her down. "What are you going to do to make it up to me?" It's at this point that Calm slows, back far enough that she hasn't been noticed, and turns to look at Teagan. It's hard to read her expression when not much is visible beyond the slowly swirling lights of the nebulae that serve for her eyes, but if anything she looks expectant. GAME: Teagan spends 1 Glamour with reason: Shadowsoul Blessing It's weird how even at night, sometimes it gets darker. And not just darker but like darker. Maybe clouds covered what's left of the moon, maybe ... who knows. But it's suddenly almost impossible to see, not long after Teagan comes 'round next to Calm -- the proto-Gentry can't see her, but Teagan clicks their tongue against the roof of their mouth, a small, deliberate sound so that Calm can track her. Maybe it even works as intended. "Boys, boys, boys," trills a sweet, femme voice, the voice of the face that Teagan borrowed, as they drag the machete along a rock on the left-hand side of the trail. There's a long, shuddering, metallic sound from the token blade as it's dragged along the rock, something ugly and unearthly. "Don't you know women don't owe you anything?" "Now. Hands off the lady, boys, and run along, now, before someone gets hurt." The voice is smooth as honey and slick as silk, pouring liquidly over their words. Not a threat but a promise. -> >> Teagan to Here << <-============================================ Rolled 5 Successes for an exceptional success. < 1 2 3 3 4 4 4 5 7 7 8 8 9 10 10 > =============-> >> Presence + Intimidation + Wyrd + 2 No Flags << <- Calm, being a shadowsoul herself, isn't surprised by this falling darkness. She's not bothered by it either, though it stops her from seeing Teagan just as much as it stops the men. She moves a few steps closer through that darkness, toward the trio of mortals, silent as the darkness itself. The woman screams, "help! Let go of me you asshole!" And then she knees him as well as she can from her position, which isn't too well, but it is a knee in the man's thigh, and he lets out a sharp "ow! Damn it, bitch. Stop fighting! You'll like it anyway. So will your friend over there." He probably means Teagan? He's kind of too busy fighting with her to pay much attention to what Teagan is saying. The other guy takes a step away. "Hey man," he says to his friend. "Maybe we should just get out of here. We didn't mean nothin anyway, lady," he aims toward Teagan this time. "She ran right into him, we're just making sure she knows she should be more careful." Calm remains silent, watching and listening. Letting Teagan do her thing. Did she bring Teagan all the way out here just to be a voyeur? She is a Spring. Maybe she gets off on vengeance porn or something? Honestly, Calm might as well not even exist to Teagan right now. They're busy. This is their darkness, and they maneuver through it as easily as water. Not as easily as they might like, of course, but they took markers on where people were before they brought the darkness up, and they're trained in observation, listening as well as watching. "Tsk, boys, I didn't ask for excuses," that femme voice trills. "I said run along now." They move up through the darkness, just outside of arm's length, dragging their machete along another rock at the trail's side. Thank you, Vermont, for all your rocky outcroppings. They make such magical accessories. That voice is low, sweet, and dripping with malicious, angry heat. "Let her go, before things get ugly. Last warning. Fuck off." "Let me the fuck GO!" the woman yells again, struggling more. Then she leans forward and BITES the man's shoulder as hard as she can. He lets out a pained cry and pushes her away from him, and as soon as her teeth aren't on him any more she starts screaming again. "Help!" she shouts as she rolls onto the trail beside him, while he's scrambling to his feet. "Alright, alright," the one who was on his feet the whole time says, holding up his hands in surrender. "Calm down, we're just messing around. Fuckin bitches take everything so seriously." But he is moving away, stopping just to help his friend get up. That friend doesn't seem to have much to say now beyond, "dude, she fucking bit me!" Calm slides to the edge of Teagan's darkness and watches from there, first regarding the two men with unblinking eyes, and then turning to peer at the woman who they were harassing. She's still silent, and none of the mortals seem to have noticed her since she's standing in the darkness just off the path, a bit away from both Teagan and the runner. Drunks have a chance of seeing through the Mask. Teagan's a lot of things, but incautious isn't one of them. They suffer, perhaps, from am overabundance of caution, if anything. They stay in their darkness, for now, their machete swinging easily and chopping through the leaves on a tree, once, twice. They don't plan to do much except make creepy fucking noises, mind, and scare off the drunks. At least, not yet. "Oh, honey, I ain't even got a little bit un-calm yet," drolls that sweet femme voice. "You wouldn't like me if you could tell I was angry." Like The Hulk, high-Mantle Summers are always angry. "Get gone, boys. I was thinking I might want a new pair of earrings, and your balls are just small enough that if I take both pairs, it might do. Shoo. Ya bore me." And then they're crouching by the woman, who is their primary concern. "Y'alright?" A rough-skinned hand gently touches her shoulder, then withdraws. "Fuck off, we're going!" Yells the first of the two men, while giving Teagan the finger over his shoulder. His friend is limping and quiet, but also going. They seem to have decided that these pickings aren't as easy as they'd like. The woman startles when the hand touches her shoulder, lets out a yelp, and then puts her hand on her chest and breathes heavily for a few moments afterward. Then she starts to get to her feet. "Thank you," she says, climbing unsteadily. "I don't want to know what would have happened if you hadn't come along. I'm alright, I think. Nothing serious anyway." Calm hasn't moved, except that her eyes are locked in the direction of the woman. She might not be able to see through the darkness, but she's looking that way anyway. She doesn't seem to be interested in the men. -> >> Teagan to Here << <-============================================ Rolled 0 Success < 2 4 6 6 6 7 7 > =================================-> >> Wits + Empathy No Flags << <- The darkness fades away, and the woman whose face Teagan stole smiles ever-so-brightly up the hill at the men after Teagan hooks that machete back on their waist. There's something delicious in putting a femme face to chasing men off. They blow the retreating pair a kiss, fluttering their eyelashes. "Bye, boys!" That rough, worn hand on her shoulder extends to help the woman up, and Not-Teagan rises to their feet, too. "Don't think about it too much. It didn't happen," they answer quietly. "Where are you headed? I'll make sure you get there. Those guys were drunk fuck-ups, but let's be sure you get home without being bothered anymore." Their gaze slides over the woman, a vague half-smile. "Yeah, you're fine." Physically, anyway. These things tend to resonate, near-misses or not. Teagan doesn't call any attention to Calm's presence -- she doesn't really set mortals at ease, does she? GAME: Calm spends 1 Glamour -> >> Calm to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 3 Successes < 2 3 3 3 5 6 6 7 7 7 7 8 8 9 > ===============================-> >> Dexterity + Wyrd No Flags << <- -> >> Calm to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 4 Successes < 1 2 4 4 5 5 6 6 7 7 7 9 9 10 10 > ====================================-> >> Wyrd + Wits No Flags << <- GAME: Calm spends 2 Glamour -> >> Calm to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 12 Successes for an exceptional success. < 1 1 2 2 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 5 5 6 6 7 7 7 8 8 8 8 8 9 9 9 10 10 10 10 > =========-> >> Dexterity + Brawl.Striking + 3 9-Again and Rote << <- -> >> Calm to Here << <-============================================== Rolled 3 Successes < 1 1 1 2 2 3 3 3 3 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 5 5 6 6 6 7 7 7 8 9 10 > =========-> >> Dexterity + Brawl.Striking + 3 9-Again and Rote << <- When the darkness drops, Calm glides forward like an apparition, moving with a precision that's almost -- but not quite -- inhuman, and before the woman has a chance to even register that the Fairest is there, one of Calm's hands lashes out in a knife-blade strike that catches her in the throat with enough force to not only knock the runner off her feet again, but to crush her windpipe and break her neck with the savage force of the blow. It happens in a split second, and the woman is dead, laying on the ground with a few final twitches passing through her body, and the Void standing over her look as impassive as she has been this entire time. A heartbeat passes, another, and then Calm looks up at Teagan. "I suppose that you might want to know why I did that," she says, in a tone that suits her name. GAME: Calm spends 1 Willpower -> >> Teagan to Here << <-============================================ Rolled 3 Successes < 1 3 4 6 7 8 8 9 > ============================-> >> Resolve + Composure No Flags << <- For half a second, they're totally dumbfounded. "What the fuck?" Even in their absolute fury, Teagan's voice drops into a raspy whisper, the machete dropping into their hand; they spin on Calm, and there's something in those femme eyes that makes it very clear that as Sublime as Calm is? Teagan ain't put off. The machete gleams in the low light of the moon, the darkness gone. "An explanation would be a good fucking idea, yeah." Their anger broils the air around them, and the radio calls get sharp and desparate. Baby swings easily in the air. Can anyone fault Teagan for their reaction? Not anyone sane, because it's a pretty sane reaction to have to someone apparently murdering a woman in cold blood after dragging you across town to rescue her. Calm, who might not literally have blood on her hands but certainly does figuratively, turns to look down at the corpse she just created from a living woman through violent alchemy. "She was a monster," Calm says, her ethereal voice steady and resolute. "The kind of monster who abuses her own children. The weaving of their fates grew snarled because of her presence in their lives, and this is only the beginning of my work to try to fix the pattern." She looks up again. "She was a monster, but not even a monster deserves what those men were going to do to her." -> >> Teagan to Here << <-============================================ Rolled 2 Successes < 2 3 4 5 6 9 10 > ==========================-> >> Intelligence + Occult No Flags << <- They just stare at Calm for a full fifteen seconds, just: completely blank. Dead quiet. Assimilating all of this information, perhaps, or maybe just watching the way the light gets sucked into the darkness that is the proto-Gentry. The femme voice that Teagan's speaking with now doesn't do justice -- not really -- to their anger. They chose it for its sweetness, because there's something -- as noted -- delicious about telling men to fuck off with such a sweet voice and a threat of violence. "... then why even involve those assholes at all? That's just loose threads. They're gonna be the last people to see her before she disappears, and ... fuck. This was a good face," Teagan snarls, apparently as angry about the fact that they can't use this particular face again as anything else. "Why did you make such a fucking mess?" Calm looks off in the direction the men went just a couple of minutes earlier, and then she looks back at Teagan, first at their face and then down at their wrist. "I thought that you were going to kill them," she says, like that's the explanation. "Isn't that what you do? Aren't they monsters too, of a different sort?" She sounds, if anything, like someone who thought they were giving a gift, and then found out that the recipient didn't actually care for it. A mixture of apology and a little bit of hurt. "Not in front of her," Teagan spits angrily. "Don't make witnesses and don't cause trauma in the name of stopping other trauma." They raise one hand and drag it down their face, distorting that pretty borrowed face. "If they'd been away from her, or ... FUCK." Their machete's in their hand again. "Fuck." They look up the path after the men, as if perhaps judging how far away they've gotten. Their right hand comes up, forefinger pointing at Calm. "Thirty seconds ago I was going to kiss you." Thank you, non-sequitur.