15674/Incubus/Succubus

Incubus/Succubus
Date of Scene:	04 October 2023
Location:	The Blue Lady, Fort Joseph
Synopsis:	Thomas and Satana discuss terms.
Cast of Characters:	Satana, Thomas Raith

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Satana has posed:
Harry has mentioned the Raiths in passing in conversation, and the name rings a bell.

Big Ben's bell.

A little bit of research to refresh her memory on the White Court and ... well ... it's time for the Devil's Daughter to parley.

But first the charms.

It goes without saying she's going old school in her most recognizable outfit: the too-tight catsuit with snow leopard boots, the golden skull belt, and the patches cut out to reveal more flesh than a Vegas streetwalker. But tucked away in various places are wards. Counterspells. Little bangles she can release massive psychic attacks from. And even a tattoo that should give his Hunger something to think about should he somehow get past her other defenses, plus her extemporaneous casting.

As a professional courtesy she doesn't mask her eldritch power. She flaunts it in the same way she flaunts her curves and skin. Any being capable of seeing the astral realm or sensitive to any form of magicks--especially the magicks of Hell--will be blinded by her light, revved up like a deu...

Never mind.

When she steps up to the bar she walks past the lineup, ignoring protests, greets the bouncer courteously, and walks past, working her form for maximal male (and some female) disruption.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Axe is called such because he wears a pair of tomahawks at his belt in lieu of guns, And for just a second he is completely befuddled by the enchanting demoness's presence to remember his job. Still the door man manages to call out to her before she can cross the threshold into the club proper. "Ma'am! Ma'am don't go in there!" It should be noted his tone isn't that of someone upset or angry, but the slightly paniced notes of someone trying to protect another from danger. Like he is trying to stop her from stepping off a curb in front of a bus. He takes a few more deep breaths, assuming she does stop and says "If you go through those doors, with that much magic on you, you're going to set off the Club's anti magic system and you are going to get soaked to the bone."

Satana has posed:
Satana stops, looks over her shoulder and winks, "Tell me you don't want to see me wet, big boy."

That's every male (and some females) in earshot having their brain rescrambled at the image she just brought up.

"But I'm afraid you're going to have to find a way to cope. Most of the magic you're sensing is me, darling." She lets the flames of Hell burn in her pupils a moment. "And I can't really turn myself off."

She slithers up to Axe, resting a hand on his chest, pressing against him. "But I'm easy enough to turn on, if you play your cards right."

Again the wink, though it's probably not Satana's face Axe is looking at given what is pressing against him and how.

"Could you have Mr. Raith notified of my presence and possibly arrange a safe passage?"

Fingers walk along Axe's pecs. "I would be ever so grateful."

Thomas Raith has posed:
The poor guy is only 25, is happily engaged with a beautiful little girl... A fact he completely forgets as Satana works her charms on him. "I... I... I... sure... lemme just call him.." he says with a cough though he then has to remember how his body works to make it to the phone. It takes only a few moments for Thomas Raith to arrive. Handsome is not the right word for the man. Beautiful perhaps. Sinfully so. He gives a wicked smirk and says, "I've disabled the security system, if you'll follow me to my office we won't have to give my guests an impromtu shower." The white Courtier's lips dancing with amusement that does not reach his ocean blue eyes.

Satana has posed:
"Thank you," Satana purrs into Axe's ear, her thrilling, low contralto slithering into his ears, seeping into his brain to wrap around his hypothalamus, purring. "You've been very helpful. However shall I repay you?"

As if his brain could leap to any other possible image which makes Satana giggle quietly as she senses the answer.

Then Thomas comes out and gets checked out top to bottom. Bottom to top. A more languid journey from top to bottom again, then an even more languid one, complete with side journeys, on the way back up.

"You'll do," she says, lips pursed, nodding.

As she follows Thomas, she comments, "I hope I didn't too seriously discombobulate your bouncer. He seems nice. Has a charming naivete about him. I'd probably enjoy corrupting him."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith gives an amused smirk, "His fiancee and three year old daughter would probibly prefer that you didn't. He had a rough start, pulled himself up. It would be a shame if he were to revert to old habit." The white Courtier says amused tone. There are several other Supernaturals in the Club. At least another white Courtier working as a Cigerette girl, and the head bouncer who gaurds the door to Thomas's office who gives off so much life force he is almost blinding... Up the stairs, Thomas flips a switch which reactivates the security system in the main club. "So can I offer you a slow Comfortable Screw up agienst the wall?" He asks amused.

Satana has posed:
"Well, a slow comfortable screw sounds fine, but I'm not that terribly big a fan of Galliano. I'm more a fan of slow comfortable screws between the sheets, if you don't mind? Rum is a favourite."

Satana's smile is genuine, or at least seems so.

"And I'll leave your bouncer alone as a courtesy, delicious as he seems. His reactions were so adorable, though, it's going to be hard to keep my hands off."

Satana sits on whatever waist-height surface might be present, cross-legged, facing Thomas.

"I'm dropping by as a courtesy since you're affiliated with ..." Her mouth forms a cruel smile. "...a new ... friend of mine. Harry Dresden, I understand, is in your circle?"

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith smirks a bit walking over to his own personal bar and starting to assemble the drink in a steel shaker. "You know, in all the years I have been running this Club, you and a crazy psycholigist are the only two to know what I was refering to." He says as he prepares the drink for her, then pours something amber colored out of a crystal decanter for himself. "In my circle is a good way of putting it. Under my protection would be another."

Satana has posed:
"Oh, darling, if it's a form of debauchery it's in my field of study," Satana says. "Everything from complicated cocktails to cheap moonshine when it comes to alcohol. But if it's something people do for pleasure, I know it."

She leans forward, letting the reverse decolletage threaten a wardrobe malfunction (that never delivers).

"Sex is a speciality, but not the only. It's like ... a good concubine is a companion first, a sex partner second."

She straightens out.

"I see we're going straight to business. I do so hope that this is pleasant so that it doesn't spoil the more ... physical ... pleasures I'd had planned."

She takes in a breath (distracting). Expels it (just as distracting).

"I have no intention of harming Harry. His soul's ownership is too complicated for me to bother fighting over; I'm not a fighter, I'm a lover."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith nods slightly and while a mortal would likely miss it, someone of a more supernatural persuasion can defiantly see the tension leaving his body. "Well then, as long as your intentions are more carnal then consumptive have at him. Honestly might do the poor bastard some good." He says sipping the drink that, if she can sense such things contains exactly zero alcohol. Iced Tea? He gives her a slow look over and shakes his head. "I have to admit, I am impressed. I feel like a novice painter beholding Divinci at work..."

Satana has posed:
"Oh, don't knock yourself, my White Court friend," Satana purrs. "I've a few charms up to bolster resistance to your own ..." She licks her lips, eyes blazing momentarily. "... attractions. There's two ways to draw eyes. Flaunt--my style--or conceal--yours. Both draw eyes: one imagining the sensation of touching and being touched by what's seen, the other imagining what's beneath to be revealed. You have that second one sewn up."

She raises her glass in a salute before taking a sip and closing her eyes as she lets the flavours infuse her.

"How many ostensibly-straight men do you get staring at you? I get a lot of 'straight' women staring at me. Drooling a little. When they're not consumed with jealousy, I mean."

Satana titters politely, then puts on her serious face. "Harry is ... an interesting case. I think I'll be playing with him a while, but I promise you that I will do no lasting harm to him. I just think ... a world with him in it is more interesting than one without him. I get VERY bored, after all." She rolls her eyes. "At one point I bought a road repair company in Pennsylvania just so I could rename it. It's now the Good Intentions Paving Company. That's what boredom does to you. Watching your friend? Brother?" She pauses, seeming to widen her nostrils as if sniffing. "Closer than friends, but not full blood. Intriguing. Anyway, watching Harry ... well, that little rescue of the fae girl of his was some of the best entertainment I've had in a while. And playing with his sense of extreme danger, pitting it against his desire to be the white hat hero, was so stimulating."

She squirms in her cross-legged position. "And when he went all Hellfire and Brimstone on the girl's captors, I am not ashamed to say I would have taken him then and there if he'd not been busy."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith smirks a little bit, "Oh, I couldn't agree more, the world is a much more interesting place with Harry Dresden in it." He says and takes a seat in the conversation area, though notably in one of the large chairs rather then on the love seat. To her other question he shrugs slightly, "I don't take much notice. It happens but I never pursue men. Not to my taste My cousin, Marius, he makes a sport out of that, but since my own predilections are focused exclusively on the fairer sex, the side effect of occasionally having a man check me out doesn't really read on my radar." When she comes close to sussing out his relationship with Harry he shrugs. "Half brother. We share a mother, I'm older by about five years." Her reaction to describing Harry in battle causes him to smirk slightly however. "I know the feeling. I've dated Vampire Slayers in the past. Watching them work is... extremely enticeing. Their Life force bubbling right at the surface...

Satana has posed:
"So it's not just me!" Satana exclaims, gleefully clapping her hands together and bouncing. And that latter part, distracting as it may be, doesn't seem to be calculated; carnality just drips from her like honey from an overfilled hive. "Mortals are so intriguing when they get fired up. I sometimes positively *gasp* at how much their souls light up when they are fired up by a cause." She snorts. "No offense to your brother, but he's not much to look at; impressive, yes, but not exactly the object of desire. Yet I was filled with an overwhelming urge to just take him when he started killing in the name of protection. I even ended two souls for him without a trade!" That part seems to cause her more amazement than being sexually charged by intense violence. "I've met one of the Slayers, I think, but not seen her in action. I should visit Sunnydale more often. Maybe buy a house and pass myself off as a suburban housewife divorcee who made good with the divorce settlement..."

Her voice trails off as she thinks a while, then she shakes her head.

"But that's not what I'm here for. I'm so glad we've come to an agreement on Harry. I promise I will not cause him any lasting harm, but I don't promise that I won't play with him like a cat plays with a bird. Is that fair?"

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith smirks a bit, "As long as when you are done playing he's still able to fly away, not only do I consider that a fair deal, I encourage it. My poor brother tends to be so pent up that it absolutely can not be healthy for him." He smirks a bit shaking his head slightly, "Though to be fair I doubt the poor man would know what to do with someone like you." He adds with a chuckle, sipping his tea. He shakes his head, amused, "See now you are teasing me, Bored and lonely Housewives are one of /my/ personal weaknesses.

Satana has posed:
"I tease all and sundry, my dear White Court friend," Satana says with a wink. "It's in my nature. It's how I corrupt souls and lead them to the path of Hell, were I one of the working succubi instead of the ruling class." Her face darkens a bit. "It's also how I feed this curse of mine." The voice is as dark as the facial expression. "And of course it's much easier to do things if you enjoy them, right?"

She tilts her head and, closing her eyes a bit, stands up from the desk, her form unchanging, but her hair getting larger, frillier, and her outfit morphing into a a pair of too-tight psychedelic yoga pants (the kind that would allow one to easily answer 'what brand of underwear is she wearing?' were she wearing any ... which she isn't) and a too-loose men's collared shirt, left unbuttoned down the front, revealing the continued pattern of too-tight in the form of a tube top that almost, but not quite, covers her breasts top and bottom. In her hands she now has a handheld mixer and a mixing bowl. Her hair has been lightly dusted with flour, as has a smear across her face.

"Bored housewife, you say?" she asks in a sultry voice, grinning wickedly. "Never tell me your weaknesses." Beat. "I prefer to discover them myself."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith looks /highly/ amused by that, sipping his tea but shaking his head. "Lead me not into temptation Demon," He says with a wicked smirk. "I n fact, I know a short cut." he says with a chuckle, though he stays firmly in his seat. He definately knows better then to take a bite out of /that/ apple.

Satana has posed:
Satana's eyes glow in amusement. No, literally glow, not some metaphorical thing. The clothing morphs back, the mixer and bowl vanishing. "Well, I think that this was a fruitful discussion. We've established that as a professional courtesy I won't mess with your bouncer, that the world is more interesting with Harry Dresden in it, so I'll mess with him, but not in ways that cause him lasting damage, and that if I ever wish to corrupt *you*, housewife it is." She feigns ticking off a box with each one of these before draining her drink. "Oh, and that you make a mean cocktail; I'll be back for more. Maybe next time with a porn star on the side."

Yes. She knows her innuendo-laden drinks well, she does.

"I gather that hunting here when my curse starts to flare up is also off the table; I'll throw that in as a given by way of professional courtesy again."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith nods slightly, "Don't misunderstand, I use this club as a Hunting ground myself. So does Didi Out there. But I insist if you grab take out, that the container be left in tact when you are done." He says mildly mused, pausing to add, "Oh, also cheerleaders. Just so you know."

Satana has posed:
"Oh, I rarely harm the surroundings when I feed. At most there might be some spilled fluids." Beat. "Wine glasses, that sort of thing. And body disposal I leave to my little pet, Spot. He's quite adept at ensuring there's nothing left hinting that a crime has occurred. I'll keep your place clean if I need to. I just ... I'm not sure that there's enough vile people here to fill my needs. 'Decent' 'normal'..." She pours disdain into those words. "... people are bland like uncooked tofu. I like the souls of murderers, child abusers, or politicians."

She snorts then. "Cheerleaders!? Really, Thomas!" Apparently they're a first-name basis now.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith shrugs a little bit, "I grew up in Silverlight Manor. I developed a thing for costumes very very early on in life." he says completely unashamedly. "Can you imagine what it was like to be a gawky teenaged boy surrounded by scantilly clad women with the best bodies money could buy?"

Satana has posed:
"No, I really can't." She is, after all, one of the kind of women Thomas grew up with: scantily clad and with whatever body any given man could or would desire. "I lack all empathy, or so my therapist said while I was riding him on his couch." She winks. "Not that he was complaining until the ... final two minutes or so. Then he was begging for his soul." The cruel mouth twists. "He'd been a child therapist, you understand, until ... well ... there were indiscretions and these were swept under the carpet so he could continue practicing as a therapist. Lovely piquante flavour that brings to souls. His bosses were more earthy. I fed well from that HMO for months."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith looks mildly amused and shakes his head, "I should introduce you to my family. You could go years without going hungry." He says with not nearly enough sarcasm to cover the fact he means exactly what he is saying. "Murders, rapists, and worse from top to bottom. Well there are a few exceptions but still."

Satana has posed:
"Well, if you're offering up your family, I'm sure we can come up with some kind of equitable arrangement. I'd feel terrible eating the souls of your family, however, without some form of recompense. What would you ask of me in return?"

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith chuckles slightly, shaking his head. "Satana, if you were to take the White King off the board, I can assure you that there would be absolutely no debts between us." He says with enough utter hatred in his voice that it makes clear that 'Father' is a phrase of paternity, not affection.

Satana has posed:
Satana tilts her head curiously and her garb now shifts into a pornographic mockery of what looks to be some kind of psychotherapist, complete with glasses and a notebook.

"Oh, please do tell me. I adore it when I'm told I can put myself into danger on another's behalf for no clear benefit. Tell me, in short words only, the first words that come to mind when I mention your father."

She poises the pencil over her notebook with a serious look on her face and mischief in her eyes.

"Come now, Thomas, you must know that I don't extend myself without reason. You clearly want your father dead. This I can respect. I love my own father fine, as irritating and grandiloquent as he can be. I don't want to be part of his plans to storm the mortal world and then the Gates of Heaven themselves. But I don't want him dead either." She shrugs. "What can I say? I'm Daddy's little girl."

Her eyes fall on Thomas. Calculating. Burning with fire.

"But not all are so fortunate. I understand this. So ... if you want your father dead, let's talk. If the benefits are worth the risk, I'll rip his head off myself and take in that beautiful, beautiful soul, shitting it straight to Hell!"

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith drains his iced tea, walks to the bar and refills the glass with something considerably stronger. "Among other crimes too numerious and vile to mention? He murdered my mother. He's tried on numerious occasions to kill me, by proxy. He's forbidden anyone to tell neophyte White Courtiers about what will happen on their first feeding. And as for what he has done to my four elder sisters... let's just say I am glad that all he's ever done to me is try to have me killed."

Satana has posed:
"That does sound indeed like a reason for you to hate him." Satana's voice goes deadpan, eyes boring into Thomas'. "What's in it for me?"

Demon does as demon is.

"I'm not like most of my kind. I can be paid in more than just gross accounting terms like number of souls. I let Stephen Strange free from my lands in exchange for Jim Morrison."

She shivers and closes her eyes, biting her lower lip.

"That man's voice ... does things to me when he sings."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith shrugs slightly, "What's your price? And I should warn you, compared to my father my own abilites ammount to those of a 16 year old boy in the back seat of his mother's sedan. There is a reason he's been the White king for several centuries."

Satana has posed:
"I'm confident I could remove him. Permanently." Satana's voice is without the bragadoccio of most of her kind. It is just supremely confident. "I am a Lord of Hell, after all, with all the power that entails." Her lips quirk into a smile. "And the resources. Like endless waves of demons that even as he take them out by the score are putting little nicks into him until he succumbs. The question is how many of those resources am I willing to spend." She waves her hand dismissively behind her. "I don't care about the demons. It's easy to make more. Souls pour into Hell daily in a torrent; and being the Devil's Daughter gives me my pick of the cream of the crop. What I care about is having others take opportunities while I'm occupied."

She ponders a bit.

"Territory, on the other hand. That I could be bought with. Indeed for territory I'd kill your father after spreading my legs and letting him have his way with me until he passed out from exhaustion, however long that took. So ... what territories would you be willing to cede of your father's demensne if I ... remove him?"

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith shakes his head slightly, "As far as I know you've been nothing but straight with me, so I will extend the same curtesy. I've already ceded any inheritance I would have gained from my father's death to my sisters, and I have no designs on the Gilded Throne. Any actions I take in court are to protect my youngest sister, Inari. She hasn't... Her Hunger hasn't awoken yet. I want to keep it that way as long as possible.

Satana has posed:
"Pity. I would have loved more territory. Just enough to piss off Mephisto..." Satana smirks as she pictures Mephisto out with a measuring tape and gnashing his teeth. "If you can think of some other payment, feel free to contact me, Thomas. I won't even be usurous. I like you. You can probably easily enough find me through Harry. I'll be spending time with him messing with him. He's ... so much fun. And so VIRILE when he goes off!"

She pauses and glances at the door.

"I look good wet. What am I saying? I look good no matter what. Would your guests mind, however? Or would it be best to temporarily turn off your little trap while I head to the door?"

She winks at Thomas. "I don't mind either way. Especially if the water is sudsy. That just adds so much attraction to the wet look."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith chuckles but flips a switch on his desk that turns off th magic warding, "If you think of something that I can offer that would make it worth your while, feel free to contact me as well. If it means protecting my sister from my father, you can imagine the prices I will be willing to pay."

Satana has posed:
"I'm sure I'll think of something, Thomas. Mind if I leave with one of your guests? I spotted this magnificent man on the way in and I'd love to get to know him better after I leave." She glances across at Thomas. "I'm not hungry now, so he'll live. I will spoil him for mortal delights, however."

After winking, Satana saunters--slithers, really--out of the office, proving the adage about looking as good going as she does coming. And if Thomas plays his cards right he might see her coming too.

"Ta-ta, Thomas. Don't be a stranger. I have my own club, though ... it's not to your standards probably. The Happy Heterae."

And with that she's out the door, picking up her ... other form of prey and leaving that man's date in a flummoxed fury behind her.