16174/The Definition of Sanity

The Definition of Sanity
Date of Scene:	08 April 2024
Location:	A modest bar in New York City
Synopsis:	Zee encounters Satana after a performance and after a very stressful wave of personal setbacks. A unique conversation leads to a most unconventional solution.
Cast of Characters:	Zatanna Zatara, Satana

---

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    It's a rainy night. Not a gentle spring rain, but a moody, spring storm, punctuated with rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning. It suits the feeling this night, as Zatanna is holding down a distant table all on her own. In front of her is some kind of fruity martini drink. It's not forgotten, exactly, but it's only half drunk. A more properly finished series of shotglasses sit near it.

    As for Zee, she is perched on a high chair with a strange posture. Despite her fame, despire her looks, there's an aura of 'stay away from me' that seems to be pretty effective. A few guys may be whispering about what they'd like to do with her at the bar, but they aren't brave enough to approach.

    She's dressed as if for a show. After all, she was working just hours ago. The only thing missing is her top hat. It's immediately clear that she didn't protect herself from the elements. Her hair hangs flat due to the rain that still wets the locks.

Satana has posed:
Coming in from out of the rain is a tall redhead with skin the colour of fine marble, amber eyes, wearing a red brocade Chinese gown--a cheongsam--that has been tailored to fit her like a pair of tailored gloves.

Which she's also wearing. Tailored, red satin opera gloves that leave the fingertips visible and cling to her up to mid-upper arm.

The slits on either side go up well past the hip, with only a single frog on each side holding them closed just below the hip, causing her endless legs to be revealed in alternation with each hip-rotating step. The endless legs clad in sheer white silk, tied at the top with a black velvet bow.

"I do so adore the rain," she announces as she steps in. "It's so refreshing."

Strangely, despite the lack of an umbrella or raincoat or any kind of protection she doesn't seem to be suffering from any of the effects of exposure to said beloved rain. Her hair is full of life, bouncing with her movements. Her clothing and skin are fresh and dry. If her form and clothing weren't so distracting, some might utter a thought vaguely similar to *you know, rain sticks to most people*.

But sadly the audience she is performing to isn't looking for incongruities. They're looking at the sculpted clothing that somehow manages to utterly fail at keeping what's underneath out of sight in the imagination.

She sweeps her eyes over the clientel, as if seeking out ... something. Amber eyes that fall on Zatanna and stop.

The legs then start carrying her straight to the stage magician, ignoring her 'keep away' signs and trampling on her grass, so to speak.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    Zatanna doesn't immediately notice Satana's entrance. It's the succubus' voice that first slides across her mind. There's a momentary feeling of danger. Still, Zee doesn't raise her eyes from the table until Satana's inside her very personal bubble.

    There's something wrong. In her eyes, that is. Zee is tired in a way that no stretch of hours would explain. "I see," she says without preamble, "That it may be your lucky night."

    She sits up a little straighter, but she it is just habit. Her shoulders are rounded, rather defensive. She lifts her martini glass and drinks from it rather deeply. "I did not expect to encounter someone with your... presence in a place like this."

Satana has posed:
"May I sit here?" Satana asks while sliding into the stool next to Zatanna. "I caught your act," she continues, blithely ignoring the fact that she's continuing to trample on Zatanna's personal space. "It was quite impressive. I couldn't figure out a single one of your tricks."

She leans in a bit and lowers her voice. "Even though I had every conceivable magic detection scry up and active."

She straightens out again. "It's not often someone can confound me, so when I saw you through the glass door..." She gestures in the direction of her entrance. "...I simply had to meet you."

Beat.

"I do hope I'm not intruding. Were you waiting for someone?"

Her eyes flick toward the drink and somehow indicate that a woman drinking alone, bedraggled especially, is somehow ... sad.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    "It seems you are," Zee replies. Her lips tug into a bit of a grin, but it lasts for just a moment. "Well, you have to understand, my most incredible tricks don't use magic at all. Just a case of misdirection, setup, and psychology. And frequently a talent for getting out of straight jackets and fitting into spaces far tighter than others imagine I could."

    She either doesn't believe the scrying matters or she simply isn't bothered by it. "You had to meet me," she repeats quietly. "I wonder..." A hand darts out of sight, and a moment later she draws out cards. Sadly, they are quite ruined by water. She sighs softly. "I fear these are beyond saving. A pity, they were given to me by... hmph."

    She pushes that thought away and looks intently at Satana. "I was waiting for something." Her eyes flick down in a quick study, then back up. "Perhaps it was you all along? But that depends on your intentions, now that we have met."

Satana has posed:
Satana chuckles at the poor state of the cards and gently takes them from Zatanna's fingers. "Oh, I don't think it's hopeless at all. Here, let me try."

Putting her hands over the sodden box, she presses them together and concentrates (closing her eyes to conceal their change as she channels her Soulfire into the deck). For a few seconds steam erupts from between her hands. Then she opens her eyes (back to normal) and separates her hands, revealing ... a perfectly dry set of cards.

Same brand. Same packaging. Was there some very fancy sleight of hand at work?

"There you go, Ms. Zatara. Good as new."

There's a sparkle of mischief in Satana's eyes as she hands the cards back.

"Your stagecraft is exquisite. I'd love to see what you can do up close with those hands..."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    Zee takes the cards back and gives Satana a more curious look. "You have an advantage," she says quietly. "What is your name?" She knows Soulfire when she sees it. She knows well what she is dealing with. But tonight? She just doesn't care to start calling out spells and shields and slugging it out.

    She smiles and without much thought starts putting those cards to use. But they are not playing cards. No. The first card dealt is the six of cups. "Of course it is," Zee whispers, sneering at the card. "He would be the past that lingers on my mind. Damned man. Damned men." She looks up and turns the next card, and flips it up. "The Lovers."

    She meets Satana's eyes with something rather like a glare. "I suppose your little gift did that, did it?"

    She settles her fingertip on the third card. "But this.. what shall this say, you think?" She pauses and breathes out, "Laever krad cigam."

Satana has posed:
"My little gift?" Satana seems genuinely puzzled. "I mean, OK, yes, my little gift dried them, but I'm not sure what else you're talking about."

The invocation Zee makes does indeed reveal dark magic. It reveals to Zee's eyes that which she already knew: the creature opposite her is practically made of it.

But the cards, aside from mild traces left over from the heating and thus minute traces of the demonic taint from the touch, have no dark magic about them.

"Please do give me some credit, Ms. Zatara. I'm not the kind of person who would so carelessly start a war with a foe as ... formidable ... as that which sits opposite me here."

Further conversation is stifled when the bartender approaches to ask for Satana's order,after having filled the orders on the queue. There's a brief flash of temper in Satana's face at being interrupted in her little game before her face turns blandly pleasant and she faces the bartender.

"Damn the Weather, please," she says as her thrilling contralto slips into the ears of all present and curls up around the amygdala, purring. "But a light touch on the vermouth."

She waves as she turns back to Zatanna and the bartender jerks into action, briefly looking like he's on puppet strings as he walks away before pausing, looking confused, then shaking his head to start mixing the cocktail.

"Where were we?... Oh yes. I'm a lover, not a fighter. So I don't pick fights with people who might actually be able to cause me pain."

Beat.

"Of the not-fun variety, of course."

A slight smirk quirks the corner of one side of her lips, paired with a slow wink.

"But where *are* my manners? I'm Satana Hellstrom. Of the Boston Hellstroms."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    Zatana sees that her deck is unaltered. At least not by magic. Zee knows there's no chance that her deck could have been set. She shuffled it herself. Which gives her pause. She does not like this reading, clearly.

    "Damn the weather, indeed," she says calmly. She is silent for a time, letting Satana work through her playful comments. In the end, Zee says, "Ms. Hellstrom, then, it is... interesting to meet you here." She focuses her attention on the succubus. As she does, she finally flips the third card.

    "The two of cups," she says. It is indeed. But she's not even looking. She just knows. "Which begs me to ask, Satana, as if it were not rather clear, what is it you would like me to do for you? Is there an enemy you are having trouble with? A summoning gone wrong? Some human did horrible things to you and you just barely got out in time and are now on the run?"
%

Satana has posed:
Satana peers curiously at the cards. "I don't see the trick," she says, confused. "Is this one of those magic tricks for magicians? Because I'm not a stage magician. It's probably going over my head. Personally my favourite trick was the one where your head was floating around the stage separated from your body. I genuinely couldn't work out how you did that. If I did it it would leave traces I could detect, after all."

She looks Zatanna up and down thoughtfully. "You, however, don't look happy. Happy people take care of themselves. Sad people sit, bedraggled and drenched, in a bar drowning their sorrows."

She reaches out to touch Zatanna's shoulder. "If I may?..." she asks, and without waiting for permission she touches and mutters some syllables in a tongue that Zee recognizes, likely, as Infernal.

Blazing heat infuses Zee's clothing and skin and hair, but for such a short instance that before the heat can even register it's gone, leaving a slightly warmed sensation in its wake.

And perfectly dried clothing, skin, and hair. Rather like the cards.

"You've confounded, Ms. Zatara, one of the premiere spellcasters in the mortal plane. You have nothing to be bedraggled about and every reason to feel pride."

Did that heat linger in certain spots of her body...?

"I hope you don't mind my imposition, but I couldn't stand to see you like that."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    "Well, Ms. Hellstrom, a magician can never reveal all her secrets," replies Zee. In a twinkling she makes the tarot cards vanish. "And it is not a trick, it is a reading. A tarot reading. Somehow I find it surprising that you haven't heard of it. But it is viewed by most as an innocent hobby, something to amuse one's self with. A conversation piece and no more."

    A smirk curls her lips, then, "But I am not amusing myself, nor are my readings a matter of dumb chance." Her blue eyes search Satana's face in curiousity. "So there's nothing? Oh.."

    That warmth flows through her and she shivers in surprise. "Oh, that was... strangely kind of you, Satana." A pause follows. A moment to think things over. A road to travel or not. Her eyes flick to the door, but soon they are back, studying the woman she is sitting with. "You can call me Zee. Did you really think I looked so sad?" She manages a smile, but it's probably unconvincing.

Satana has posed:
"Ms. Za... Zee." Satana smiles warmly, keeping the hand on the shoulder. "My entire existence, practically, is devoted to making mortals feel good. Physically. Psychologically. Sensual pleasure, as well as feeling good about themselves. I can sense a soul in need from a thousand yards."

And then approach with laser focus to tempt them into eternal damnation. But Satana eschews mentioning that part as being impolitic.

"So yes, believe me, you looked that sad. You're one of the finest stage magicians in the world." And again she leans in, letting her presence and her scent fill Zatanna's perceptions as she lowers her voice into a husky, but secretive, intimate level. "And I happen to know one of the best in non-stage magic as well." A brief wink and Satana straightens back up.

"It would have almost broken my heart to see you in that state if I had one to break." Apparently there's no pretense anymore, not that she was particularly hiding from Zee... "But still, the tragically lonely, tragically unhappy soul calls to me. And so I came."

Beat. Mischievous grin.

"And after that, I dropped by."

There's that salacious wink again.

"You don't have to be lonely, Zee, nor unhappy. I can be your heart's desire. Whatever your heart aches for." A slight, briefly stifled giggle follows. "Or whatever your loins ache for, I can provide it."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    For the most part, Zee shows little reaction. She can neither confirm nor deny Satana's suggestions. She can, however, find the whole presentation amusing. "Well, that is quite the sales pitch, succubus," she says gently. "And you certainly do look the part. I have no doubt you could make any man or woman forget their sorrows. For a time."

    She reaches for her glass, then in one smooth motion empties it. "However, my sorrows are not so simple. My heart's desire?" Zatana is amused. "Are you so very, very sure that you can do all that? What my heart aches for?"

    She gestures at the table and whispers, "enacra tcartnoc." A piece of beautiful hanji paper appears in a scroll, then flattens itself. A pen lays nearby.

    She repeats, "What my heart desires? What it aches for?" She laughs, now amused, with just a touch of bitterness. "I want to fall in love and to have that love returned. To have a lover who cares for me, who expresses that care sincerely, and considers me more important than work, or magic, or anything else. But let's be real, Ms. Hellstrom. That kind of love doesn't exist."

Satana has posed:
For a moment Satana stares as Zee produces a contract--for a moment she seems ready to object that that's *her* line!--and narrows her eyes as Zee tops this off by claiming something that Satana cannot abide: the claim that she can't do something that involves human emotion.

For a half-demonic entity she has, after all, genuine feelings that aren't rage and hatred.

She stares at Zee a good long time. And that stare takes in everything. The body obviously...succubus does what succubus does...but also locks gaze with Zatanna, peering as if looking deep into the Homo Magi's soul.

Which she probably is.

Satana unconsciously wets her dry lips.

"Interesting..." she says, then purses her lips to consider.

"So my part of this contract is to give you a true love. What is the consideration? What do you give if..." A slight smile. "...when I deliver that? And what, if any, are the penalties if I don't?"

A quick wave of her hand and the contract vanishes in a flash of flame and acrid, sulphurous smoke. Moments later it reappears in that same flash of fire and choking smoke, with many, many, many red flags of the post-it variety on it, notes added in unfamiliar text whose handwriting seems increasingly agitated.

Satana glances down at it and snorts.

"Legal is always fretting about things." She then turns her attention back to Zee.

"I wouldn't trust this with a run-of-the-mill sister or brother," she says. "If it is acceptable to you, I will, once we come to full terms, take on the contract myself."

The queen of the succubi throws down back. Hard.

"And I do so look forward to the challenge..." she adds with a purr and a smile.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    Zee doesn't cross her arms, but one gets the feeling that is doing so mentally. She does not shy away from that search. As for what Satana might see there? Zee is not pulling some elaborate trick. There is her declared motive and nothing more. Well, that and a whole bunch of curiousity. Satana will no doubt be pleased to realize that yes, her charms are working on a woman who is quite heterosexual. But considering how that has gone, Zee is ready to throw out all her natural predilections.

    "Oh yes, the consequences. Of course. Well if you love me and I love you, well... there is a lot I might do for you. But to sate your legal department, let's say that each month we are together I will assist you in your work, provided you target only the guilty and not the innocent. And once a year, I will direct my considerable talents to put one of your rivals in whatever place you wish me to place them." And she has the power to do it.

    This makes her consider the other side. "Honestly, if you fail..." She frowns. What would be a consolation prize? What does she want? "Then you must serve me however I wish for one day a month, for as long as I live. Further, you must always act to protect me from harm." It's vague, but there's a strong sense of, well, her not really caring.

    "And I am operating in the understanding that /you/ will be the one working on this with me. Or are you truly heartless and incapable of falling in love?"

Satana has posed:
"If you would prefer another," Satana says, her voice dripping with wounded ego. "I would naturally let you select from among our available 'cubi. But I would very much prefer taking on a contract of this difficulty and complexity myself. You see, I like to take the high profile cases on instead of trusting them to underlings."

She pauses and gives Zee a deep stare. "I didn't tell you all of my positions. Perhaps the one most salient here is 'Daughter of Satan'." A tight, wounded-ego smile. "This is literal, not figurative."

Satana picks up the contract and muses over it, waving her hands to alter terms here and there, paying attention to some, but not all, of the red flags her legal department has highlighted.

She sighs.

"Always the smart ones. They're the most difficult. It would have been so easy to deliberately fail to deliver and then do what you wished for a single day before killing you, but no, you had to close that loophole." The wording and tone are strict, but Satana can't keep a pleased smile from peeking out behind her lawyer mask. Apparently, despite the complaints, she likes the challenge of a smart contract negotiator.

"And darling," she adds in an aggrieved tone of voice, "I only ever target the guilty." Beat. "The innocent have souls that taste bland." She makes a face like someone eating an 'acquired taste' item for the first time. "That is my role in the Whoreson's world, after all. Eternal damnation and punishment of the guilty."

She pushes the altered contract to Zee for approval. "I'm afraid it has to be signed in both your blood and mine to be binding in Hell."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    "If you passed me on I'd be insulted, daughter of Satan," replies Zatanna. She smirks, "And honestly, I added that to protect you, as well. If you failed me and then tried to attack I'm afraid I would respond poorly." The magician looks over the contract. She's done this before. A few terms are knocked out. Things that 'legal' probably was trying to slip in.

    "Insulting little creatures, these lawyers of yours. No access to Shadowcrest Manor is allowed to them. You may be invited there, of course, if your heart is mine and mine is yours. Hm. You know, if you do succeed, it will be a remarkable contract. Would any other succubus even dare something this bold? To accept a contract of love? I imagine your father may not be proud of it, though." Her own father wouldn't. But that's not her problem.

Satana has posed:
"My father ... is not really my concern," Satana says, voice clipped. "We are not on the best of terms."

It's a story as old as time. Daughter loves her father ... but hates him with a burning passion as well and rebels to piss him off. What woman hasn't had that experience for at least some part of her life?

"But yes," she adds, her voice warming, "it is a remarkable contract. Another 'cubus might dare this. And of course if I order it they'd have no choice." The voice swells with demonic pride now. "But I am likely the only one who could sustain it."

Because she's the only one who has ever actually loved before, though it's buried deep in her memory and paired with soul-searing emotional pain.

"It will be an interesting challenge to love without a heart. This will be FUN!"

And her voice on that final word is half-genuine and half-predatory. She seems to mean it.

"I've observed enough people in love that I'm sure I can learn this."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    "Mriffa ym tnesnoc."

    Zatanna draws out a silver knife and slices open her left palm. The blood flows into the pen and she picks it up. This part, she need not enhance with logomancy. "I offer this signature of my free will. To find love and be loved, to be true to heart and soul, and if I should fall as I most wish, to serve the holder of my heart."

    But there is more to her intent than the previous text captured. Because her love has specific meaning that even she cannot properly express. The loyalty, the protection, the forgiveness, so much more is wound into the contract. Layer upon layer of print so fine that it may just drive others mad. All things that Satana can expect, if she manages to pull off true love.

    "Well, it seems that you get a sweeter deal indeed.... funny thing, promising love, don't you think? It adds so much more than we ever expect it to. The chains we yearn for."

Satana has posed:
Satana doesn't cast any spells or make any invocations. She just grows a long, sharp talon in place of her left hand's pinky fingernail and cuts a bloody swath across her right palm. This she then dips the pen into and signs with her left hand. The contract glows briefly in the Aetheric Realm before fixing in the contract's text and signatures with bonds which none but the 'Whoreson Himself' (as Satana would say it) can break.

Satana expels her breath.

"OK, this is going to be an adventure," she decides, using her talon to seal her palm closed again with what looks like it's a very painful application of fire, though it leaves no scarring in its wake.

Probably just showing off.

The contract replicates itself on the bar, with one copy doing the burning to Hell routine. And is that a collective, panicked groan Zatanna hears as the portal closes?

"That's your copy," she says. "Now let's start this off on the right foot. I'm Satana and I'd like to buy you a drink."

She waves her hand and the bartender, who'd been staying away a suspiciously long time, returns, dropping off Satana's order as well as a repeat of Zee's earlier drink.

"To love..." she purrs, raising her glass to salute Zee's way.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
    "Elif siht yawa," murmurs Zee. Her copy races off to Shadowcrest, where it will be stored away neatly, under lock and key and genie protection. The whole treatment. She looks to her hand and sighs. "Laeh em." It seals the wound, though the blood remains.

    And then, Zee perks up. She's already rather curious. She's never done a contract that didn't involve horrific deeds and blood prices. Still, she knows this one is so, so much more dangerous. And yes she's excited, even perhaps jubilant.

    "My name is Zatanna, and it's wonderful to meet you, Satana. And wow, our names are so alike. That's... kind of an interesting coincidence, isn't it?"

    Her drink is accepted with a pleased sigh. Granted, this will definitely push her into giggly territory, but well, she's pleased with herself.

    "To love," she replies, raising her glass and winking at the succubus. "And all that it entails."

Satana has posed:
Satana smiles indulgently and downs her drink together with Zatanna. She then leans forward, resting a hand on Zee's thigh. "I have a year," she says, "according to the terms, for us to fall in love with each other." She leans closer, murmuring to invite Zee into a closer, more intimate distance. "But ... lust can happen at any time," she says. Her hand slides up. "And it's the gateway to love I'm given to understand. Shall we... open that gate?"