15548/Knick-knacks and baubles

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Knick-knacks and baubles
Date of Scene: 30 August 2023
Location: Lucifer's Penthouse, Melville
Synopsis: A trip to the Nightmarket served a surprise. The Flute of St Patrick... and all that that may bring, in the future within Lucifer's hands...
Cast of Characters: Sinister, Lucifer

Sinister has posed:
The beautiful thing about being as influential and affluent as this power couple are, is that once a notion is in motion on the ocean of possibilities, getting workmen in is relatively easy. Today, in the penthouse, there were panels being installed strategically. This however, is noisy.

Therefore, quieter perusings in the city itself were better for the general sanity of those involved and are considerably more exciting. As it must be said, is the black market. Mind, not that they would ahhh... knowingly partake of such things, but rumour has it that one of the 'occult auctions' is happening in one of the abandoned subway stations. Which is why Sinister is waiting for a train, dressed as inconspicuously as he can. They're going to the 'end of the line' and thus to the Night market...
Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer isn't dressed to impress, but also isn't dressed too far 'down' either. Then again, there's not much he can really do to not hold a certain presence regardless of what steps he takes. Also, who says Lucifer doesn't knowingly partake in the black market? How does one think he's able to do a lot of things for certain people... one does not just snap their fingers and shit happens.

Even if you are the Devil.

Never the less, he seems quite comfortable waiting on the train that will take them to the end of the line. "Just try not to buy anything that claims it's got ties to..." He glances around, shrugs his shoulders and a sort of *phwip* occurs around them. "Hoodo or voodo shit... cause sometimes... that can come with a price tag even I am not willing to fully pay."
Sinister has posed:
"Duly noted. I am going to guess in this respect you mean the actual mystical practices, rather than the holistic medicine approach. Some powerful pharmaceuticals have come out of juju and the like..." Sin glances down the line, waiting for the 'end of the line' train. This is new to him, after all.

"Did you just shunt us into a bubble of a different dimension with rapid wing fwippage?" Casually asked as he looks back to the delectably dark one. "I would probably avoid cursed objects, also. Honestly, this is just going to be unusual and potentially intriguing for me."

Now the new york subways are very distinctive caterpillars covered in grafitti. What's approaching is not that. It's an old steam train, though how it got into the tunnel is a matter for the magii, no doubt.
Lucifer has posed:
"Sort of. I did what you do sometimes by putting us in a bubble that doesn't let anything we say out... or at the very least changes what we're saying into nonsensecal stuff... but we can still be seen and can still see around. I wouldn't want to offend anyone after all." Which isn't a lie. As much as he doesn't want actual mystical things in his own home, that's not to say it wouldn't fit elsewhere for someone else. Just not him.

"Got enough cursed objects in my collection, but if I see something really rare...it's not a promise I'm making cause I will for sure break it." He smirks then.

The last train to nowhere. A steam engine in a subway. It's an interesting sight. And the trip might take an hour or so due to where they're going. But Lucifer thinks it will be worth it. Just to see Nathaniel's face when they first step off the steam liner.
Sinister has posed:
"Ahh, I see. A different way to do the same thing.... now I know you can do that as well." But then the plume of steam catches his attention and he leans around the devil a little to watch the incoming steamer. He blinks at it. "I feel suddenly like I did when I went to look at the history museum archives the other night. I feel as if I've slid sidelong into the land of the bizarre -- though I have a feeling we'll be sliding just a little further that way imminently." He looks back with a questioning brow-raise as the train coasts to a steamy stop and doors open all the way along it.

Ghostly shapes get in and out, people that aren't all the way there, human beings and otherwise, going wherever the end of the line takes them? Likely.

"I wager it all depends on the curse, in that instance. But I wouldn't dream of dropping a promise you cannot keep. We know how I feel about that..." He stares at the odd train. "...Do we just get on? Is there a ticket collector or something?"
Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer side eyes his companion for a moment before giving a smirk and guiding them to one of the middle cars. A conductor, dressed smartly and fitting for the train he works offers the Devil a smile. "Ah, Master Morningstar..." Though he glances to Nathaniel and then back. "Ferrying a soul the old fashioned way?"

"No, my good man. This is my companion to market. May I introduce Doctor Nathaniel Essex." The devil smiles.

"THE Doctor Essex? Well, traveling in style then I see. Your coach is prepared for you already, Master Morningstar. Complete with your whiskey and a few patches of The Otherworld to browse should you desire."

"Thank you my good man." Lucifer offers this and then reaches into a pocket, pulls something out, slips it into the conductor's hand and boards the train with Nathaniel still in tow.
Sinister has posed:
Intrigued, the tall figure of Sinister follows in the wake of the Lord of Hell. He looks over the conductor with a roaming eye, a penetrating regard, then abruptly is grinning ear to ear and tipping an imaginary hat to the man. He steps into the cabins, familiar with this design of train from the days of the Southampton and Portsmouth lines, travelling second class and longing to be in the privacy of the middle-train. Cabins. With /service/!

"And how does a conductor on a train that I've never once been on, that goes to a place I've never ventured to, know who I am?" he asks with a chuckle as the sliding doors behind them click shut. Wooden finishes, comfortable benches, hat-racks and luggage compartments, with a vanity and drinks cabinet! Eyes roam THIS area too, before he settles.
Lucifer has posed:
"Because, sometimes, I talk to the conductors on this train. And sometimes I tell them of the marvelous man who has somehow decided that /I/ am worthy of love. They may not precisely *know* you, but they know *of* you." Lucifer grins at this, and at the almost child-like love that passes over Nathaniel when they first enter the private cabin.

"The Night Market isn't the only stop this train makes. It goes to several places in the Etherworld. Every so often I might fancy myself a ride through... few places a..." He gives a sort of 'eh' wave of his hand. "You still have a soul attached to you... regardless of your mortality condition... there are some places you could not go...and I normally only ride it when you're otherwise preoccupied or won't be home." He smiles, sits, and then pulls out that silver case of cigarettes. "Smoke?"
Sinister has posed:
"Black and withered though it probably is. Soul. Wait," the rest of what was said there sinks in and he looks ever so slightly round-eyed at the sliding doors. There's the tea lady, the conductor, the cabin boys, the housekeepers. Oh, and doesn't Lucifer love to talk when he's in a good mood! There is a flutter of blinks, one of those half-smiles where one isn't quite sure if one should have a mild social panic and he looks back to the devil. "Well, alrighty then. -The- Doctor Essex."

A smoke is taken, the sliding window above the seats opened just a tad to draw the grey away and the tall gentleman settles with a stretch of legs and an arrangement just so, so he might look, look utterly confident within his own self and somehow seem artfully leonine, despite his pale complexion.

"Do you not have a soul then?"
Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer shakes his head. "Nope. Not of my own anyway..." This much said with a chuckle as he lights their cigarettes after they both sit in to be comfy. "No angel or demon has one...the humans got them as a sort of... gift. Though I suppose that also depends on who you ask..." He seems to actually thing on it for a hot second and then shakes his head again. "Anyway. No soul. No desire to have one. But a soul is not what makes an angel, demon, or devil."

The final call cries out and soon after the train begins to move. Lucifer takes the moment to open the drinks cabinet and pull out the whiskey and two glasses. "So the Greeks have Styx, the Norse have Valhalla, the Romans have...whatever they have. Anyway. There are plenty of other religions or beliefs or whatever the hell they're called... that use a very different way to get around. This train..is a part of that system. Though it can go most anywhere...physical, metaphysical or ethereal...or to a nightly black market ran by all sorts of creatures... just gotta catch it on the right time."
Sinister has posed:
Sinister contemplates that. No soul. It's a long contemplation as the train begins to depart the platform, he gazes out of the window, drawing steady breaths from the cigarette, the smoke corkscrewing up to be sucked away like an attenuated misty dream in the wake of a morning breeze. No soul. That shouldn't be a bother, or a strangeness, but it niggles at him from the way he frowns oh-so-slightly. "The entire train therefore, is a psychopomp -- a ferry of existence in one form or another. Traditionally, those tend to be the denizens of the vehicle, but I suppose that makes all the staff..." not exactly real, or human. Well done that man.

Sinister looks to the sliding doors again, struck by curiosity as the flash of subway lights gives way to the hint of a deep forest instead, the imagination of gnarled trees just out of easy sight. He looks back. "It lives in the same world as the Flying Dutchman, yes?"
Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer raises a brow after a moment. When the silence between them is long and almost deafening. Before he can actually break that silence with a question, Nathaniel comments on the train itself and Lucifer nods in response with a smile. "They appear as they need to depending on where they are." He says this much to sort of seal the thought. "And yes, I would surmise it lives in the same world as the Flying Dutchman..."

All that said and done, Lucifer gives pause a moment while pouring out two whiskeys. "What bothers you about my answer? About my not having a soul? Surely it cannot be that much of a surprise..."
Sinister has posed:
"No, it's not that it's a surprise, so much as... I don't know actually. It's niggling at me and I can't put my finger on -why- exactly that is." Sinister replies, honestly. He smiles though at his summise being right, reaching for the whiskey and with an elegantly fluid movement - a reach, a pivot, he settles in to the window seat beside Lucifer, thigh to thigh, as the black forest zooms by on the other side of the glass. He looks at the Devil's profile, eyes roaming the bone structure.

"It makes me wonder what the damn thing is in the first place, that makes it so valuable and so precious, I suppose. Clearly, it hasn't got any real function."
Lucifer has posed:
"And how would you feel if I told you that the soul is practically worthless? The only function it had was to give humanity 'free will'," Lucifer uses air quotes here, "and to maybe function as a form of payment because - to a Christian - their soul is either saved or damned. There's no middle ground. But essentially? Fucking useless." He lifts his own whiskey for a sip then, mostly to whet his whistle while they talk.

"And see. That proves another point. I'm not attracted to SOULS. It's not like I go out there peddling them on the corner or visit people at the crossroads like some claim I do. Have people bartered their souls to me? Sure. But what worth is a soul -really- when you'll sell it to learn guitar. Or get the person of your dreams to notice you? Poppycock. The lot of it."
Sinister has posed:
"Maybe that's what's niggling at me, because you definitely have free will. You wouldn't have done as you've done without it. But that's a metaphysical argument we've had before and it just ends up going in circles -- at least there's no de-facto ad hominem to condemn a point of view, eh?" Sin grins at that, clinking his glass with the devil's own. His cigarette is finished as the forest outside seems to be swaying, as if now they wander through an ocean of kelp with fronds a mile high.

Pale fish swim by on occasion, otherworldly and strange and full of teeth.

"What you do though, at cross-roads, on street corners, that's not so much any truth, but the nature of confabulation. People do that. If a bunch of neophytes were to stand up beside a living titanosaur after all, with no understanding of what it was they were looking at, the story of what they -actually- saw would turn into something far removed from the truth. So it is with all things men do not understand. You included."
Lucifer has posed:
"I could argue that I have free will because I broke away from my father's reign. But then I've also argued that I was meant to fall. Meant to betray. So is it really free will if it was already known? Already written? The free will would have been to decide NOT to betray my father." Lucifer offers this, setting his cigarette to ash in the wind before sipping at his whiskey.

"Anyway...moot points. And the scenery keeps changing. Isn't it pretty?" He's likely done with the hashing out religious theories and what not for the moment. More of the mind to enjoy the ride and the market that's waiting for them on the other side.
Sinister has posed:
"It's very interesting and something I am sure to try and analyze at some point later, as I would wager that the train knows where it's going, but that machines don't usually comprehend when they're set on rails. Predestined routes, through all of existence, and yet... you say this one goes to different places in different ways and it's a matter of knowing where to be, to catch it in the right way. Curious." And oddly relevant to the conversation that they've just had.

But that's done with and Nathaniel looks back at the profile. "My dearest monster, I do so love thee. Let me count the ways..." ignoring the scenery, the doctor turns from the black ocean to enjoy the black recesses of different depths. Eventually, they'll arrive at the end of the line, after all.
Lucifer has posed:
The Night Market.

No one can really explain what the Night Market is because it never really is ONE thing. It's a whole lot of this and that brought together from different realms, dimensions, and ways of life to bring the common consumer something a little... extra.

It's the witches giving out their best potions and elixirs. The fairies granting wishes. The aliens selling their weird technology. You'll find drugs, dreams, desires and more when visiting the Night Market.

Then there's the people who sell furniture. All sorts of it too. Things made by hand, by machine, or perhaps otherly ways. There's the cursed items, the blessed items, hexed, vexed, or otherwise.

Also. Food. Cause of course there's going to be food. Alien food, "local" food, dimensional food. Such a shame this marker only comes around so often.

"So!" The Devil finally declares as they step off the train. "Where to first?"
Sinister has posed:
The first thing, other than all the colours to hit a body? The smells. So many different ones, pleasing or noxious, there is a moment when Sinister disembarks, that it truly seems to overwhelm him. Now, to someone unclear on Sinister, it simply looks like him stopping, blinking and recalibrating a bit.

But to Lucifer, it all but screams 'culture kapow'!

"I... truly wouldn't know where to remotely begin to start. I believe therefore, I am in your capable hands and will try not to get all fascinated by something and wander off into a labyrinth of wierd and wonderful."
Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer gives a moment for things to settle for the good Doctor and then begins to lead the way in. "Well I suppose that all depends on how long you wish to linger here. If you're hungry... or actually want to look around at anything..." He says this as they arrive at a booth where someone is telling fortunes. With a hundred percent accuracy!

"I do think most places are worth a look. Some of the food can be nice. A few of the alien delacacies are like nothing you would eat on earth. And while that should go without saying, it is to more say that it is delectable. Your taste buds may actually begin singing..." He smirks as they continue on to pass a few booths of witchery and the like.
Sinister has posed:
Sinister paused at the fortune teller, attempting to study in a cursory glance, just how that accuracy might be achieved. And how might one know, for a fortune is future and the present is now! The conundrum! He backs up from the booth though, bowing without a palm crossed in silver.

He turns about then, falling into step and simply drinking in the atmosphere. The fairies get a good staring at; he has seen a few, some have come to Earth after all and he's had the fortune, or misfortune, of encountering one or two. But there's all kinds here and many he's never laid eyes upon before. Fascinating!

"I could have a strolling snack, like roasted nuts, or whatever might appeal... I shall leave singing tongues to you though. As well as the tasting of colours..." he winks, pausing then at charms and hexes. "Do any of these actually work?" The inquiry has him staring through a few of them, then looking askance, searching through booths with a scan of his regard.
Lucifer has posed:
There's a laugh at the joke about singing tongues and tasting colors. "Likely best to leave those to me, yes." Saying this much before stopping at another booth where a seven foot tall, lanky built alien stands. He passes along speech, a few items given and one returned. It /looks/ like candy floss shaped in a flame and the colors of fire. This gets passed to Nathaniel.

"They work if you believe they will. A lot of stuff like that tends to only work if you have faith that it will. Some though... work no matter what." Some of the fairies are the smaller versions that flit about. Others look more like little people with wings. There's also entertainment if one stops to look long enough. Fire eaters and magician types.

"The furniture dealers are a bit further down the way..."

The 'candy floss', when eaten, will taste like whatever food is on the mind. If it changes, so too will the taste of the floss change. But it will always be the *best* version of whatever is being thought.
Sinister has posed:
Perhaps Roald Dahl spent some time in the Night Market, wandering the stalls a woebegotten dreamer in a different world -- for that surely is a creation of Willy Wonka. Inspiration can come from many a strange dream... or unexpected reality. Apparently, Sin seems to think that they ought to taste like cinnamon bonbons, because there's a good 'hooo' of the heat when one is consumed and melted on the tongue. "How is all this paid for?" he asks, profferent the bag of flossies, to share one. "I can't imagine it's with good old hard cash, for the most part."

Eyes travel further on, to the mention of furniture, peering over some heads, being obstructed by others. A visual back and forth continues as they draw closer, occasionally viewing acrobats and crusty jugglers both.

"And I know the price of magic can be high."
Lucifer has posed:
"It varies by merchant usually. Or... you can exchange cold hard cash into market vouchers. And someone somewhere does all the mathing to know just how much of the merchant's currency to give when the vouchers are used for payment." Lucifer responds simply. Surely it cannot really be that simple but he shrugs. "Or you can be a divine entity and have credit with a lot of the merchants because that's also how things work. Give a lot when you first begin to show up, keep showing up, and they know you're good for it."

He reaches to pull a piece of the floss, seems to stare at it a moment before popping it into his mouth. A slight 'mmmn' from his as he decided he wanted a fully loaded baked potato. "Almost taste the real butter..." Is a side comment as they continue.

"Cause everyone here knows. Aliens know they're aliens. Dead people know they're dead. Angels, devils, demons, gods and goddesses... neutral space. Bad things happen if anything is tried and you're banned from the market for the remainder of your existence." He chuckles. "So it's good behavior."
Sinister has posed:
Sinister looks down at the bag in hand, a bit baffled by the 'butter' comment. He has another, because he's already got it in mind that they're supposed to be Cinnamon, that's what he continues to get. Drawing closer to the furniture, he pauses at the larger space made available and the... vertical levitation stacking of larger pieces. When you can't go out, go up. He seems inadvertantly small, as he gazes up at the tower of floating furnishings, his bag of alien bonbons in hand. Crane. Craaaaaaaane. Drop to the ground level once again and totter and putter about.

Fantastic and exotic as some of these pieces are, some designed for anatomy that has considerably different physiological features than human, it's to the mundane looking pieces that reminisce of the Empire, that he's drawn. Sometimes, it takes a while for him to get out of his own head, after all. A draw is pulled open. A cabinet door is peered inside, guaging dimensions.

"So what would my currency be? If a voucher, by the means you're describing, it could cost a small fortune for one. Or two. It seems... illogically logical."
Lucifer has posed:
"What flavor are you getting from this?" Lucifer wiggles the floss in his hand before taking another bite. He might have seen that look of bafflement no matter how long or short it lasted.

He lets Nathaniel do his thing for a moment. Poking and prodding at different things here and there while he wanders off a few steps over to the very small offering of possibly cursed items.

"Your currency? Well...if you had your true face on it would likely be gems. To match the one you proudly wear on your forehead. Also, each voucher has a top limit of worth. So lets say one voucher is a hundred dollars of our money. That equals this much in whatever currency. I think I didn't explain it right before. It's like exchanging money anywhere else. And then they can convert vouchers to their own currency or whatever."
Sinister has posed:
"What flavour? Cinnamon bonbon..." Sinister replies, holding up the flame shaped fire sweet as a gesture. But then he double takes, looking at it, the Devil and with a quizzical brow-crease, is derailed by gemstones. He squints at the middle of his forehead, a fruitless endeavor, then simply lets humanity melt away. With a shrug of the shoulders, his cloak billows free, moving occasionally of its own accord.

"I am going to suppose that this is not meant to be Cinnamon?" concluding the thought, he considers what else was said. "Ah, I see. Like carnival rides." Well, no, but the same basic idea. "Some of these are non-native wood. I can tell from the grains, but I do rather like them. They speak some of antiquity and exotic culture. That resonates with me."
Lucifer has posed:
"Actually. It's supposed to be whatever flavor or food you're thinking of. But it's like the five-star quality of that food or flavor. Always. Try thinking of your favorite food. Then eat it again." Lucifer says this much before looking back to the cursed objects. He picks up a circular porcelain looking container and seems to glance over it, under it, but never inside.

Then he looks back at what Nathaniel has been poking at, smiling even more now that the man has wiped away his visage to the truth behind the mask. "Ah. There you are." Saying this much before looking to the furniture piece. "Won't hurt to have something like that in the penthouse. It'd be a one of a kind."
Sinister has posed:
"Oh," -- the flame is considered, then in goes the treat. He looks quite surprised a moment, then just smiles gloriously -- "Ahem," a mild colour appears in palid cheeks at the throat clear and he makes a show of dusting off his vambraces and flexing his gloves with a creak, smiles less gloriously and more wickedly and looks to the cabinet once more. "I believe I shall want this one. Its depth and compartmentalizing is good enough for records, books that should not be visible and curios also. And the design is elegant." He informs, then turns about from the cabinet to attempt to find the vendor, catching sight then of what Luci is looking at.

"Can you sense anything from that?"
Lucifer has posed:
"Yes. But it's not dangerous. It's just... interesting..." Lucifer admits and then sets the bowl down. "Just not exactly something I would want in the penthouse either..." Admitting that much before he looks around and spies a box. A simple box. "This can't be Pandora's Box. I have that already..."

The vendor, a billowed cloaked being without a face, draped in black, comes over towards Nathaniel. It's voice is a rhaspy thing, like it's speaking from beyond. "How would you like to pay for it? And transport it?"
Sinister has posed:
"For aesthetic reasons, or potential mishap reasons?" Distracted by the vendor, he doesn't pay all that close of an attention to Lucifer with the box, which may or may not be a bad thing. Instead, he gestures elegantly to the Devil. "His Lordship can transport if it's set aside. As to payment, how much is in in vouchers? That was I can arrange an exchange. Unless there is something you desire more specifically, that I can provide."

Worth a shot, right?

But never take your eye off an unsupervised Devil. He might open things.
Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer knows better than to open things, especially in the middle of THIS market - thank you very much. "Both, perhaps..." He answers, though with a side glance sees that Nathaniel is now busy with the vendor and so he sets down the box and looks over a few other items. Then. He spies it. Yes. This. A flute. But not just any flute.

Saint Peter would roll over in his grave.

The vendor is quiet for a moment, but does look in the direction of who the 'Lordship' is that Nathaniel is referring to. "Ahhh. That one. You can pay five vouchers for this...and we'll let the flute go for free if he wishes it.."
Sinister has posed:
Flute? Glancing over toward Lucifer there's an arch of eyebrows at the choice of instrumentation, then a nod, back at the vendor. "I will return with the vouchers. Please hold it for a short while whilst I do?" and then to slither on up to the devil and quietly murmur. "Where do I actually -get- the vouchers? And is five a good amount?" He casts eyes over the items in this small collection, touching nothing at all.

"A flute, eh?"
Lucifer has posed:
"Not just any flute. This is THE flute that drove the pagans out of Ireland. Or so the story goes..." Lucifer says and then glances from the flute to the furniture Nathaniel wishes to purchase. "Only five vouchers. That's a good deal. Did you bring any money with you? If not, I have vouchers we can use...but that's really up to you and how you feel about paying for it. We'll also have to get it transported somehow..." Then he smiles that Smile(tm). "This is a good night..."
Sinister has posed:
Blinking, Sinister looks at the piece of instrument. It LOOKS ordinary. "Yes, only five." Pause, stare. He lowers his head, bending closer so that he can inspect the thing closer up, too.

"How the bejeebus can you tell?" he asks. "Does it just have a vibe? Or is it something specific that screams at you?" It's a genuine ponderment.

"I assume that the Train will return at some point? Else how does everyone get -back- from here? Regardless, I suspect we can transport it trivially. Where do I -get- the vouchers, my dear?" He pats his breast pocket, to indicate he did bring moneys.
Lucifer has posed:
Upon closer inspection, the flute does have some celtic knotwork inscribed upon it, and it looks fairly old. "Well. Saint Patrick used this to drive the rats from Ireland. The rats was a slang for pagans, in order to bring Christianity to the Emerald Isle. I can feel it... the energy of it and such."

How else can he tell certain things? Like a box was Pandora's and not just some ordinary trinket? He shrugs then before motioning.

"There's a man sitting at a booth across the way. The booth is labeled vouchers, and you can do the exchange there. I suppose we could take it on the train... no ones going to suspect much and once we're back we can transport it our own way." He smirks.
Sinister has posed:
Sinister turns about, hunting the set up around the area until he spots the booth. "Damn, this really is rather like the fun faire..." a chuckle. "Not sure why anyone would wonder at someone transporting something on a train, people do it all the time that I've seen. But..." he nods, glances to the flute again and considers, then grins crookedly.

"And therefore, I shall be right back and you can have that thing gift-wrapped, or whatever they do with it. An interesting one for your collection, my dearling."

And so, sashayeth the Sinister, to exchange paper for goods and services and only get -mildly- distracted by some pretty fabric that shimmers like the night. Maybe there'll be -six- vouchers bought.