Owner	Pose
Zatanna Zatara	It has been a couple days since Zee and Satana's last little adventure. Sadly, work came up and forced the magician to pull on her fishnets and entertain an audience again. Oh, and she had to fight zombies or something silly like that.     Her life isn't always weird in a good way! Sometimes it's just weird.     Tonight, though... tonight she had a plan. She sends Satana a message (it just kind of appears, magically, cause Zee hates her phone) to meet her at a romantic spot overlooking New York. She's making the most of a penthouse she's been given access to. It has a lovely balcony on which a cozy table with a red tablecloth awaits. She's even got candles set out and has food just waiting to be served.     Zee waits just inside, checking herself in a full length mirror for the tenth-no, fifteenth-time. She's wearing a positively gorgeous red dress, with a left thigh slit that may violate decency laws on the streets below. Other than that, though, it's actually just very flattering and pretty. And expensive. Really expensive.     She checks the clock on the wall. "Okay, she'll be here any minute..." She has so many butterflies in her stomach. One would think this was a first date.
Satana Hellstrom	Work came up for both. And Satana's expenditures in bedtime entertainment brought her hunger on a bit earlier than usual. It was time to top off the tank, and ... probably best that Zee not witness that. So she herself had gone hunting in her usual haunts for sinners to damn for all time and found a perfect target. Thus it is that, sated, she was ready for the invited dinner. Of course she was only spiritually sated, not with food. Or sex. Well, not that she could ever really BE sated with the final one... At the provided time sharp ... nothing happens. No, Satana knows better how to play emotions like a cheap violin. She knew that Zatanna would be watching the clock, fretting and ... this was the time. She's looking around. Disappointment is starting to register. Self-doubt. And ... ...NOW! A baleful red portal, ringed by black smoke, with the eye-twisting effect of always looking like it's perpendicular to the viewer no matter what, opens in the middle of the penthouse, heralded by the screams of the damned in the distance. There's a lot of damned people screaming... Moments later, a bare leg comes out the portal, followed by the rest of Satana, dressed up as, of all things ... a very naughty ... is that supposed to be a firefighter? She'd be at risk of severe burn damage in that outfit... "Darling! ..." Satana cuts off the greeting as she takes in the woman before her, noting the outfit. "Oh, sorry. I misinterpreted. I thought we were playing." And in a flash, the sexy firefighter outfit is gone and replaced by a gown made of multiple layers of almost transparently sheer fabric ... enough layers to not actually let what's underneath be seen, but instead an invitation to unwrap at desire. "There, I think this is a better fit." That look in her face. This was planned mischief.
Zatanna Zatara	Zee would be ashamed to know just how obvious she is to Satana. It doesn't take long for her to hit that stage, where the beautiful reflection in the mirror is reduced to flaws and shortcomings. Exactly the problem that Satana noticed when Zee was in bed, alone.     But the portal, screams and all, leads her to spin and-of all things-smile. She's relieved. She breathes out the woman's name, "Satana." Could she could she sound any more needy? The first appearance of Satana gets her laughing. "I... will keep that other look in mind," Zee says playfully. "It gives me ideas."     But then Satanna outdoes it. The distance is closed immediately and Zee reaches out to pull her girl close. "You look amazing as always." She wants to go for the kiss, but there's that little lack of confidence, holding her back.
Satana Hellstrom	There's no return lack and Zee's attempt to hold back is defeated by simple virtue of a hand snaking out to catch the back of her head, fingers splayed to run through hair first, pulling those lips to her own. Then pushing Zee back a bit. Then a sneaky move with a leg to cause Zee to start going down until she's gently deposited on her back, lips still locked hungrily, while Satana lies atop her. Finally her head separates and she whispers, "You're the main course then? Delicious!" She winks playfully and gets back to her feet, offering Zatanna a hand up. "Darling, don't hold back on my account. I'm always up for a lip wrestle with you." Wicked grin as she makes eye contact. "Whichever lips." And now the salacious wink.
Zatanna Zatara	Zee is putty in Satana's hands. Even when she's lowered onto her back she doesn't fear for a moment. She's truly lost herself in this relationship. The arrangement part of it is more distant a concern to her. A thing to race against, to not think too much about.     Zee takes the hand and gets up, still very flustered. "I.. umm. Damn. How do you always do this to me? And yes." She laughs, nervous and self-conscious. "I feel more like a teenager with you than a woman. I'm afraid I'll wake up and this will just be a dream."     She moves close, slides a hand to Satana's back. And then down to squeeze somewhere /else/. "Were you busy today? I hope work wasn't too stressful." A pause and she teases, "I could definitely massage it out of you, though."     She is the very picture of etiquette, reaching out to pull out Satana's chair at the table. "You are going to love what I have prepared for you." She cooked! She totally did it!     But before she can boast about the offering on the menu (and her idea of dessert), a bright light appears in the evening sky. It's a shimmering, golden line that turns, revealing a scene of beauty and peace.     "Satana, my dearest, did you invite over a friend?"     And a moment later, a very biblically-accurate form of an angel strides through the portal. Zee would just call it damned ugly, with a whole bunch of eyes and wings.
Satana Hellstrom	"I didn't invite anyb..." And then the angel enters, and almost as quickly Satana is standing, the chair flying out behind her as she takes a step back, her wings billowing out behind her, unfolding as they tear out of her body, while rams' style horns curl out of her head. Her mouth fills with fangs, her eyes go black but for the Hellfire in the pupils. Already foul syllables of Infernal are flowing from her lips as her arms wave to quickly put up a shield around her (and by extension, since she was right there helping Satana sit, Zee). "Selaphiel!" she spits out, positively venomous as she stares at the invading angel. "You're not meant to be here in the mortal world!" She pulls back her lips into a sneer. "Aren't you meant to be up at the Whoreson's throne decreeing what music is acceptable or something?!" Strangely she's positioned herself between Zatanna and the angel. Despite being the person most at risk from same. "I was about to have dinner. Maybe I can convince my hostess to serve up angelic liver with a nice chianti!"
Zatanna Zatara	Zee goes from unsure to attack with little space for thought between. She never cared for angels, and she hates having her private time interrupted.     "Sretnilps fo lassyba ssalg, dner sih sgniw!" she calls out.     She makes a motion rather like she is about to throw something, and when she does, the air above is full of small sharders of black glass. Along its surface glide faces drawn in endless torment, their mouths open in wordless screams that cut through the air. It is a hideous discord. She was listening to the bit about music. It seems that, more than the flesh-shredding glass itself, causes the angel some pain.     Selaphiel doesn't exactly speak or cry out, but to someone 'mortal adjacent' like Zee, its displeasure alone is enough to drive her to her knees. But her eyes are full of hatred still, and she is already pushing herself up, ignoring the blood coming from her ears.
Satana Hellstrom	"Nice choice..." Satana, visibly impressed at Zatanna's quick comprehension of the line of attack to use against the Keeper of Divine Music, nods begrudgingly. "Brains as well as a gorgeous pair of tits." That she says while staring at said tits, then swiveling her gaze to Selaphiel with a widening malicious grin. "And they say I only like the bimbos..." "But now it's my turn, and you're heading for a fall." She pauses a moment. "Not the fun kind either." Arms spread wide, the fell tongue of the Inferno spills from her lips, fluently timed to gather the magical forces needed to ... Well, let's hold on a sec and see what happens. "Narakako sangita, yasa pariko kana cyatnuhos ra yasako dimaga bahira nikalnuhos!" she calls out, and Hellfire, with black, oily smoke, wreathes the shield she put up between her and the angel. A portal not entirely dissimilar to the one the angel arrived in, but far larger, opens and in spill a dozen demonic forms, feminine in shape, but not even slightly attractive to the eye of any but the most depraved. Naked, filthy, with long talons, tattered bat-like wings hanging limply behind them, and blind. Their eyes torn out, hanging down their faces in some cases, they step in and huddle in three knots: one of three, one of four, and one of five. And they sing. They sing music so discordant it barely qualifies as such. They sing with such ugly vehemence that a black metal vocalist would be taking notes. And the music they make shatter mortal minds that hear it if they're not protected by a barrier. Like the one surrounding the 'tan(n)as. But not surrounding any neighbours who might be in the building. Oops. The impact on Selaphiel is visible. The body of the angel puffs up, like instant anaphylaxis, and its skin even starts tearing open before it manages to cast up its own wards. Its counter-attack is both sudden and brutal; in a quick swipe of a wing it brushes aside the keening demons huddled before it, throwing them over the edge to fall, screaming, into the night, their useless wings flapping ineffectually until they strike Earth far below. Cleanup on 5th Avenue... Then it opens one of its mouths and sings, straight at Satana. The demonic shield holds for a few seconds, Satana straining hard to keep it up, before it collapses and the sound strikes Satana full-on, sending her flying back and embedding her in a wall. It's probably best for Zee's sanity that Satana's scream of agony isn't audible over the angelic song.
Zatanna Zatara	The way Satana fights is awesome. And that's not just cause Zee is falling for her. Nor is it just because she's mind-blowingly sexy. Not that those things hurt.     Zee has managed to get herself upright, and she begins to think, perhaps, that it's already over. That the enemy might be beaten in the first attack. But she is, unfortunately wrong.     What is not immediately obvious, though, is who shall be the unfortunate one.     When her lover is struck back, and clearly hurt, something changes in Zee. There is always a veil over her power. She holds it back. Fears it. She cannot afford to let go, after all. Her mistakes even when she is restrained have nearly ended the Earth on more than one occasion.     "gnitnelernu mrots fo tnadrocsid semeht! Tnemgduj fo eht tentnepernu dna suoethgir-fles!"     Enraged by the threat to the one she loves, Satana keeps going. She raises her left hand to her ear and gathers, then casts the blood before her, "Elcric fo doolb, deeh ym llac!"     Her first spell hits hard, and a horrific cacophony of thousands of poorly played themes blare around the angel. On and on they go, joined by every putrid, poorly played monstrosity that any child has ever subjected a parent to. Added to this is a mad gibbering as the black souls of hell-cast judges cast forth their decrees. A thousand times a thousand deaths, all evil, all cruel, all in the name of the Whoreson himself.     And the last Zatanna can manage is the blood circle. Her blood splahes out into the form of a pentagram, but she can do little with it before the angel responds. Its music is like a lance and it stabs through her side. Not mortal, perhaps. Not if she has a chance to heal herself, at least.
Satana Hellstrom	Satana stirs after a moment's inactivity in the rubble, assessing the damage done to her. Thankfully her shield took most of the brunt. She still exists. She brings herself to her feet, strongly favouring a leg, the left side of her face split like a ripe melon, black blood oozing out. Her left wing, too, hangs limply behind her, useless. "That... was a mistake." What was? Attacking an angel? Or the angel attacking back. Clarification is needed. Satana's eyes fall on Zatanna, taking in the injuries, and her eyes flare again. "She is under my protection, you self-righteous cunt!" she hisses between her fangs. "Now the gloves are off." Apparently the chorus of Hell was gloves-on... "BASILISK I CALL UPON THEE!" Anybody in demonism circles would be staring wide-eyed ready to run, or if incapable of that, praying for their mortal soul before their inevitable demise. The name Basilisk is known and feared by even the ranks of angels or lesser Hell Lords. A primal force of rage and destruction that doesn't care who or what it is destroying as long as destruction is there. And Satana just invoked him. Satana's body glows with Hellfire until she is completely immolated, her flaming body splitting in two to make way for a head. Then a neck. Then a long serpentine body. Then a long tail. Ten metres of flaming, roaring, screaming monstrosity exit her before her halves rejoin and the flame goes out. The serpentine dragon-like creature takes to the skies, screaming fury and hatred at the world, ready to fly off and obliterate everything in its path. Its serpintine path. Selaphiel stares at Satana, all of its eyes wide in shock that she would do something so monstrous. Satana's face, twisted into something ugly by rancor and rage, grins a feral grin back. "It's your call, Selaphiel!" she spits out. "Basilisk is under my control ... but only barely. Keep up this grudge and there will be ten thousand souls newly added to Hell tonight. Or fuck right off back to the Whoreson with your wings between your legs and I'll bring Basilisk back to its prison!" To emphasize she controls Basilisk, she makes an arm gesture and the monster, raging and screaming in fury at the interference, is stopped in its tracks and is forced to turn around ... heading straight for the angel with murder in its very fibres.
Zatanna Zatara	Zee finds she cannot hear. The strike upon her did something and the world is now silent, save for the horrible sense of vibration that comes from the very concept of music that has torn through her body.     She feels the power shift in her. It is cause more damage yet, as it sends themes of condemnation through her. So it is that she has her eyes shut and does not realize that the day is won. Satana has played the ultimate trump card.     But Zee has enough anger of her own left to do another cruel bit of magic. And with so much blood spilling from her, the circle is more powerful than ever before.     It is such a simple thing she relies upon, and in its simplicity is its power, and its consequence.     "Eb tnelis!"     Her hands reach out and when the magic takes form, the angel's gut is pierced by a thousand lights, pouring from inside it. These Zee draws to her fingers and she casts her arms wide, tearing this luminance from the very soul of the Selaphiel. Faster and faster she moves, driven by an urgency that she will not admit.     She's dying. Knowing nothing but that Satana needs her, she does not stop.     It's rather like thread being ripped from a spool, and faster and faster she goes, her magic fueled by her swiftly spilling blood. Deaf and blinded now, she is desperate to protect Satana, until, at last, the weapon that was employed against her is itself consumed, leaving her to collapse on the floor.     At last she can do no more. She has maimed the enemy, to be certain, and his power lies in great lengths of rapidly dimming thread cast all about Zee.
Satana Hellstrom	Zatanna is the lucky one. She can't hear as Selaphiel's voice screams in pain (and more than a little anger) until it is silenced. The same cannot be said for about a five-block radius. There will be hearing damage tonight, and trauma from an unknown source that fuels nightmares for years. And then Basilisk is on the angel, jaws wrapped around where Zee opened the Heavenly assailant, breathing fire and venom while shaking its head back and forth to set its teeth in more firmly. In desperation Selaphiel literally tears itself out of the demonic dragon's mouth, dripping angelic ichor and leaving behind bits of its flesh as it flees straight to its portal. Before Basilisk can follow, the angel is gone, the portal closed, and the monster just leaps through nothingness. And now comes the choice. Save Zee? Or bring Basilisk back into the prison it doesn't want to be in. It takes Satana more than a few heartbeats to decide before, putting on a resolute face, she pulls at the spectral leash and starts drawing it back. Drop by drop Zatanna's blood falls out of her. Inch by inch the demon is forced back toward Satana. It's a race between her power and Zee's life. And Satana clearly doesn't like the choice. Eventually, with tremendous exertion, Satana forces the Basilisk back inside of herself, clamps it in place with the wards purpose-placed to do so, and then falls to her knees, exhausted. She crawls to Zatanna and reaches out to touch the wound, trying to muster something to heal it and ... fails. As a last-ditch effort she instead uses Soulfire to cauterize. To stop more blood from flowing. Painful. Damaging. But perhaps life-saving. Before she faints away into an intense coma.
Zatanna Zatara	Zee is drifting. She cannot sense the world. At least not for a time. She is fortunate to be deafened, though her fortune is not to last much longer. She would never question or doubt Satana's choice. Despite her many failings, Zee cares about people. The damage Basilisk might do is unthinkable.     It is hearing that comes back before anything else. It's the first thing that tells Zee she isn't dead after all.     As for the next reminder of being alive? It is pain. The agony of soulfire cautering the wound in her body. Now, now she can hear. She can hear her own screaming. It sounds like it is coming from someone else, really. But she no longer bleeds.     It buys her time.     "Laeh em."     It will no undo the pain, nor does it completely undo the damage utterly, but she is alive. And she can see again. She can see that Satana is hurt.     Zatana is able to reach Satana in moments. Her hands are shaking as she reaches out to touch her lover. "No, no.. I will not lose you, god dammit!" She thinks carefully and decides to rely on magic.     "Gnirb reh kcab ot em. Laeh reh!"     Healing spells require focus, concentration, and desire. Zee has never been more focused, or wanted anything more than this.
Satana Hellstrom	Satana is in her happy space. Were an outside observer to picture her happy space, it would not look like this. To those who think they know here, her happy space is something rawly sexual. Probably involving as many orifices and members as possible in an awesome kind of depraved display. They wouldn't picture a church. With a smiling, elderly priest. The healing spell works, augmented as it is by the rather phenomenal natural healing abilities she has. Her happy space is torn from her bringing her back with a rush to her reality. It may be ugly, but it is hers. And uglier still is the pain wracking her body as flesh knits with the brutal efficiency and logic of Zatanna's magicks. Heal her. Not nurture her. Not remove her pain. The cry that escapes Satana's throat is primal. Like the first cry of a newborn; both an expression of shocked pain as well as an affirmation of life. "Zatanna!?" The demon sits bolt-upright, turning in the direction where Zatanna was when she collapsed, colliding face-first with the magician. *Sigh* Succubus. Even when it's purely accidental, and even when there's pain and suffering at stake, the collision ends up with her face colliding with Zatanna's chest. The situation catches up. Zee is alive and well. She can relax. A bit. "If there are better ways to be woken up, I don't want to know what they are," she says, her voice emanating from Zee's cleavage where her mouth is buried.
Zatanna Zatara	Zee is still trying to catch up with the moment. There are bits of the past sixty seconds that evade her. But they don't matter.     "Satana, you are okay!" She hugs her tight, holding her where she is. Zee doesn't care that her girl's face is buried between her breasts. That's more of a perk than a problem to her.     "I'm so sorry, I should have healed you more carefully! I am always so heavy-handed. I thought I was losing you!" Satana may notice moisture. Not the usual kind. Tears. "That was so reckless!"     She hasn't a leg to stand on with that argument, but she's not thinking. Zee is just feeling. Right now all she is feeling is that sense of terror that comes only after the fact, when a calmer mind realizes the horrific price that was almost paid.     Zee's mind is not much calmer. And hey, she got a little scar from this moment. Satana's soulfire left a unique shape in her otherwise smooth flesh.
Satana Hellstrom	Satana hugs back, being careful of where she cauterized (not yet aware it's been healed). And happy at being smothered where she is. Because succubus. Finally, however, her sardonic voice vibrates against the magician's chest. "Uh ... Zee? You need to stop touching me. Fast." Satana's head rises, and her eyes are glowing in a way that Zatanna has never seen before, her face worried. "It takes a lot out of me to control Basilisk, and even more to put it back inside of me." Wait. Inside!? "And now I'm hungry. And not for ..." She mutely gestures to the destroyed table. "If you keep touching me..." The face is slowly moving from worry to fear. Something is happening that frightens Satana...
Zatanna Zatara	"We need to find you a meal, fast," says Zee. She understands what is at stake. "Where can I take you?" She hates to do it, but she knows that Satana is scared, so she cannot hold her. She cannot physically comfort her. It's time to get up and find, well, a piece of shit who deserves to go to hell.     She is all ready to teleport them somewhere. Hell, she's already thinking of places in New York where one might get a snack in. In a city of millions, there are a lot of people ripe for the picking.
Satana Hellstrom	"You ... you can't see this." Satana backs away from Zatanna, hands held up in a psychological defence posture. "I'll be back soon. Just ... don't follow me." *Because if you follow me you'll hate me for what I do and that's the end of the contract.* That's what Satana's telling herself anyway. Her form shimmers and when it's over, Satana is a streetwalker to end all streetwalkers. (New playtime costume for later? Take notes, Zee!) "Please ... don't follow." And with that, a portal opens behind the demon queen and she steps back into it. Souls screaming in agony call out form it briefly before it closes.
Zatanna Zatara	Zee protests, but it doesn't seem to change things. "I won't change. You deserve to feed. You deserve to live." She wants to convince Satana that it is okay. But ultimately, her lover is gone.     This leaves Zee to talk to herself. "I can't follow her. She doesn't want me to. But is she okay? What is another angel comes for her when she's weak?" She pauses, still talking to herself, "They wouldn't, would they? It's only been a moment. And they wouldn't know where to find her, right?" A pause. "They found her here, Zee."     "Shit. Shit shit shit!" What can she do? "I love her, and it's not changing. How do I prove that to her?" Obviously she could go and prove it. She shakes her head.     "No. No I will not. I won't violate her trust. But I have to make sure she is safe somehow. But how?"     And then her eyes drift to the blood, to the circle that remains, charged with so much of her life energy it's practically glowing with potential.     "With that I could probably work something up. But what was that spell? A proper ritual." Zee doing non-logomancy is quite a thing. Usually not a good one.
Satana Hellstrom	It doesn't take Satana long. A quick launch into the astral realm. A quick hunt for the right scent. The right taste. And ... there! That one will do. An investment banker. Abusing his long-suffering wife, leaving her bruised and in tears behind him as he heads off to his mistress. It's easy to take that form and... The elevator door opens up and... "Going down?" "Elsie, you can't be seen here in this..." The elevator doors close behind him and as the elevator descends, so too does Satana, belt opening and pants parting with practiced ease. Anselm's objection gets thrown completely off as the situation takes a turn for the naughty. Yes. Anselm. His name is Anselm Arthur Vanacker. And this is going to be his last blowjob. The best he ever receives ... until his soul is pulled out of his body into Satana's hungry, empty hole. (No, not that one. The one in her soul.) 21 floors the elevator goes down as Satana does. For 17 floors Anselm is in heaven, or so he thinks. Then the pain starts. Then his soul passes out of his body and feeds Satana's hunger. Moments later, when the door of the elevator opens, the people waiting for it scream as they see the dessicated body, trousers down, still visibly in a state of physical arousal, even though the face is twisted in pain and terror. And Satana? She's passing up the elevator back to the penthouse. Because there are sinners everywhere and why travel far for food? "I'm back," she says, popping into existence in the shattered battlefield she'd so recently left behind, positively glowing with arousal and satiation. She pauses and looks around the place. "Wow. What a dump. How 'bout I get a few imps to clean and rebuild while you and I go grab a pizza or something?" Annoyed momentarily at missing something, she carefully wipes a drip off of her chin, idly sucking the finger that got it before continuing. "I think you and I have things to talk about. And then I have to reward you for coming to my defence like that." Malicious grin. Eyes filled with mischief. "I'll have to leave you begging for mercy to pay you back properly..."
Zatanna Zatara	While Satana is away, Zee settles in the midst of her blood circle. Considering her clothes were already ruined, it hardly makes a difference. She has to think back. What were the words?     It comes to her in a few moments, and she begins to chant. The words don't mean anything to her. Some ancient language she encountered in the tomes of Shadowcrest It is a tonguewister of a spell. It must be said continuously, but the words have to be sorted again and again in a cryptic pattern. And the invisibility that she wields to ensure no one can track Satana only lasts so long as she is chanting.     It is tiring, of course, and part of her feels dizzy. But she has the willpower and focus to keep going. And there is her blood. It has so much power.     She stops when Satana speaks. The spell goes out in flicker, and with it, the last of Zee's blood is burned away, leaving only a sticky soot behind.     She pushes herself up to her feet and looks at Satana closely. She's not wary, just concerned. She notices the wiping of the drip and for a moment, inside, feels a bit of concern that she didn't know she had. She has to remind herself that Satana was only eating, and that, well, she is a succubus.     "I could just restore it with magic," she says, her voice sounding raspy, hollow. She laughs softly, "But maybe the imps are okay. If they don't get bored and burn the place down."     Zee so obviously wants to hold Satana, but she doesn't. Not yet. "I suppose we do. Though talking hasn't really been a key part of our relationship thus far."
Satana Hellstrom	"Unless you screaming out my name and demanding more counts, no, we really haven't talked," Satana says, laughing. "And spare your power. I can feel how drained you are. The imps will do anything to please me in the hopes I elevate them to fiends or something specialized." She cocks her head, regarding Zatanna. "I'm perfectly safe to touch now. The hunger is gone, and so is another abusive sociopath whose entire life was made from the suffering of others. I can't abide people doing my job for me!" A self-deprecating laugh follows. "Where do you want to talk?"
Zatanna Zatara	Zee looks at Satana for a moment. She just stands there, and the silence draws out. Her emotions are in a knot and she doesn't know what to make of them. Every experience she has with romantic love ended in pain. Usually ended several times in pain and abuse.     With Satana, though, she has someone who is under contract to love her. And who has managed to already win Zee's heart. And she almost lost her.     There's a longing not to think. To just let it all go. To deny what her fears are. Zee wants so badly to just entice Satana to make love to her again.     "Maybe..." She looks around. Everything is rather ruined now. "So much for a romantic night. I don't know. Anywhere? Somewhere that doesn't smell like blood, though." Says the woman whose clothes are saturated. Anywhere but here. Anywhere that can make her stop thinking.