3701/Vendredi le treizieme!

Vendredi le treizieme!
Date of Scene:	23 January 2018
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Deadwatch, Scarlet Witch

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Deadwatch has posed:
On the edge of Gotham's China Basin, between touristy backdrops and gentrified reclaimation is a small shop. It's once vivid storefront, with it's large windows, has been boarded up for years, the door barred, and the painted sign once proclaiming it as 'Vendredi's Antiques' has faded with age and lack of maintainence.. much like many other shops around it.

And for those many years the shop has been forgotten, passed by, as if it had somehow forced it's way out of people's memories and percptions.

Until tonight...

... The rear door, bolted and boarded, had been forced open by someone.. make that a small group of someones.. Kids, maybe.. or teenagers, more likely.. Young adults to be sure. Something caught their eye, something made them see this old seemingly abandonded shop that everyone else just kept in missing. Young man and women hungry for a score...

Less then a dozen minutes after they broke in there was a scream and the storm clouds above Gotham lit up in lightning.. roared in thunder.. A thunder that echoed like a demonic laughter...

And for miles around, be they dozens or hundreds, a wave of something.. demonic.. cthonic.. pulsed outwords. Nothing large. Nothing world shattering. Only those close or sensitive enough to feel it would have felt it.. barely.

But it was there. A small warning of what was yet to come.

Nolan Voight stands in the alley behind the shop. starring at the dark maw that was the ruined back door to Vendredi's. The storm has slackened, the sleet pretty much finished. The detective shivers a bit, leaning heavily on his crutch and stares into that shadow beyond which he knws he felt that.. whatever it was. He had been mere blocks away, looking for a missing child, when the sky lit up.. When he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.. A dark, chaotic power that washed over him. All the spirits in teh vicinity seemed to run, and the only way he could figure out what was going on was to move in the direction from WHERE there were running, unheading his call.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
If it had been just a wave of power, she might have missed it.

If only things had been so easy..

Wanda felt it long before she knew what it was. It was a feeling of unrest that she couldn't pinpoint. She couldn't seem to still the feeling within her that something was wrong. Unwell. That there was something.. something that she was supposed to be doing. Attending to. Something..

And then the wave hit.

For some it was nothing. They went about their evenings without a single iota of awareness that their world had changed. Stoplights flickered from red to green and back to red again without notice. And then back to green. Cars pushing forward with the monotonous movement of acts repeated so often they weren't merely rote, they barely registered.

For others, there was a ripple. A thing of power undisturbed. A shift in the nodes and leylines that said something had happened. A thing without direction. Merely a blip of power that sent prickles of awareness along spines and set hairs on edge. More than one who could feel such things found themselves unexplicably irritable. Suddenly shifted from focus. Certain that there was something they were supposed to have been doing. To have done...

But there was one for whom the wave was a clarion call that cut through the darkness and called to her. Like a homing beacon, the nexus of it stood out, a brightness in her field of vision on all the planes she knew to look. She could not avoid it.

Thus it was that Wanda found herself drawn inexorably to the focus of that nexus, uncertain of what she would find, but certain that she needed to be there.

Deadwatch has posed:
And While Wanda was following the echoes of that beacon, extingushed as quickly as it flared, Nolan slowly limped to that unwelcoming darkness of the broken door, his brows furrowed. Unlike many wizards and other magically senstive, the cripple 's sight works at all times, overlaying one reality over another in a kind of double vision that can be disconcerting if it wasn't for years of experience... and perhaps a few happy pills he takes, washed down sometmes by something alcholic.. all medicinal of course. But the coolness of the night, that surge of power, has scoured away any haze and he is seeing things with a kind of clarity he usually tries to bleach away.

And still he see's nothing.

He can feel wards, or at least the remanants of them, but he cannot /see/ them.. they should look like lit up script and runes running over the walls beyond human sight, but he can't /see/ them.. Not like Wanda or those like her would. But feeling is enough and he pushes himself through the door carefully because even if the wards are depowered, or something like it, that doesn't mean there isn't danger. Damn, he wishes there were some ghosts about, spirits he could ask what was going on, but they fled.

A few feet into the store, ambient lighting from the streetlights peeking through cracks in the boarded windows, he squints around at the interior of the abandonded store.. which still has a lot of stock. Strange knick knacks, momentos, things of that nature on shelves. "Hello?" he calls out, carefully, while wondering why an abandoned antique store would be fully stocked...

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Once the beacon has called her, she needs no sight. It's the way that birds know where to winter, or how butterflies find their way to remote islands south. It's a thing within the genes. Or the soul. If such things can be believed to have souls. But for Wanda, it is part of what she is. There are notes of her being in that call, and she can not only not ignore them, they can not ignore her.

She allows herself to slip along spaces and between the realities where echoes of that call remain, the remnants pulsing within her like a heartbeat. The thrum of the thing growing stronger and more excited as she gets closer.

And then, nothing.

Nothing, that is, but a voice that calls out in the darkeness she occupies, 'Hello?'.

And though she does not know where she is, or who the voice belongs to, she finds herself answering in kind, "Hello? Hello?"

It's like a game of hide and seek, only both are hiders, and both are seekers. The stillness around them creating a hush. A sense that all else has ceased to exist, though it may only be that the moment reflects their uncertainty, waiting for them to take action and commit to the creation of a future.

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan really didn't believe that anyone would respond... After all, the shop is abandoned. Why does he know that? The longer he stays within the show room the more the fog clears, a filter that had altered his perception of the store just like it had every single other person for years... until now. And he KNOWS it was a filter. AT least now he does.. Which bothers him even more. Never has something bene this well hidden from him, and he isn't sure what is worse.. thats it /had/ been hidden, or that he remembers NOT remembering the store was here...

But thats neither here nor there right now. He /hears/ someone saying hellow and it isn't his own echo. And the voice isnt coming from /here/.. Not yet. It was a faint thing, reverberating across the boundaries between realms... Something he /is/ attuned to.. And because he is senstive, the sound found a way to breach those unseen wards, making them reverberate further.. making them weaken as they found the path of least resistance from whoemever is calling back to him, and he himself.

He suddenly sees a shadow in the dimness.. a darker shape against a grey-dark background of dusty kitsche. He can't tell it is vaguely feminine, only that one moment it wasn't there and then that after the feeling of reality swelling for a moment it /was/ there. Surprised at BEING surprised he limps backwards, the sturrup of his leg brace catching something, and he flails as he falls backwards... Yelping.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Well, now, /that/ was unexpected. And though she shouldn't, Wanda finds herself laughing. It's just that in the midst of this all, that sudden break in the serious firmanent of reality, that small yelp, is a sudden awareness that not all is written in stone. That there are paths. And mostly, that no matter the call of the place, or her own uncertain nature, she is also human.

As is the one yelping.

Even as she knows that this is also a lie. They are, neither of them, truly or fully human. But that, too, is a reason to smile.

She finds herself moving to find and help the source of the plaintive sound. "You are well? Not hurt?"

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight rubs at the back of his head, where he hit it on the edge of a cabinet, and groans... The cripple mumbles some VERY unpolite words and opens his eyes, the stars and fog cllearing from his vision... And inhales sharpley as he sees the young woman standing a few feet away... laughing.

His Sight, his Darkvision as he calls it, shows him more than just a pretty woman with lustrious auburn hair. In The Dark she glows, all the shades of red from pink to crimson, emenating from her in waves like water lapping against a stone in a pond. She radiates /power/ and, well. he might be a bit intimidated.. at least subconciously.. He brings up his hand and makes a gesture and the matrix of magic that magic weilders form (ala Doctor Strange), appears as he prepares a spell to protect himself from this Scarlet whatever she is..

But inlike most magicians his is black.. Not evil OOoOOooOooo black. There is no emotional connotation to it. It is just the opposite of light..

But he never lets loose the spell.. because she walks over and seemingly offers him a hand and asks if he is all right..

The brow over his cerulean blue eye rises, warily, as he searches for any deception... And when he finds none he 'releases' the spell, the anti-glowing shapes that floated around his hand like a hologram made of darkness fading away. "Only my ass and my ride are hurt.." he mumbles and.. accepts the hand.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
The laughter is a thing that becomes her. She so rarely finds it within herself to feel such things. Especially these days as her soul is troubled by so many things that she is uncertain about. So many things that would be easy to change and direct... only the consequences of such actions would carry their own weight. Their own unbalance. And she finds that she is unwilling to let such things loose, even if they will end the sorrows she sees coming. Sorrows that she can not think any other way around.

This man.. this weilder of the dark, without darkness - no, it is not that, it is not that there is no darkness, it is that the darkness is not within him, it merely shapes itself around him and at his will, without inflection or scar - he has caused a lightness within her that she is grateful for.

Were she to know it, the reds and pinks of her shine brighter for a time, not so touched with their darker cousins and deeper hues.

She sees him gather his magics to himself, but there is no fear within her. He can not touch her. And if there is truth, she has no wish to touch him. Not yet. Not with power. For the moment she has the singularly most unusual desire to make physical contct. Reaching out with a hand, even as she hunkers down, offering to help him.

"It is that I am sorry I have laughed at you. Perhaps we begin this again. Please, let me help you up. My name is Wanda. And you are.. you are.."

Words fail her. It is a thing she has known so very rarely that she merely lets her voice trail off and regards the young man. Let's him explain himself as he will.

Deadwatch has posed:
Without darkness.. if only that were true. She may not be able to see it, but it is there. It isn't a thing of evil. Evil is a construct. His darkness is more.. primordeal. It may power his magic, but the gift he bears, and the curse, is a step above and a step below magic.. It is not Death but that which comes after it... and before..

And it hides the hole in his soul VERY very well... even from him.

That she didn't falter, or even try and protect herself from him when he was pulling power is.. telling. It only fuels his suspicions that she is, indeed, a powerful weilder of the arts. Someone trained in them AND posessing prodigious talent..

HE looks at the offered hand a moment, contemplating whether he should take her hand or not. He can feel her sincerity and would hate to insult anyone (well no, he LOVES insulting most people) but.. He can't bring himself to reject her. He notes her hand is not gloved, which is a GOOD sign that she trusts people.. for him not so much, though, since touch can sometimes trigger his gifts if he isn't prepared.. Luckily, though, he is wearing his own gloves and he takes the offered hand.

"No no, it's fine.. people laugh at me all the fuckin time..." he says as she helps pull him up.. He is not seriously heavy.. some mught say his is way too thin. He winces as he straightens his leg, the pain wracking his body a mmoment as he gets stable. "Sorry.. all the /freakin/ time/.." he ammends quickly, almost apologetically. "And, uh.. Thanks. Wanda is it?" he asks.. He thinks for a moment.. Lie or Not Lie? Screw it. "I'm Nolan... What are you doing here?"

Scarlet Witch has posed:
She does not ward or shield herself, though some might find that an oversight, or foolishness. In truth, she does not fear the incidental. If only because those things that happen around her seem to have purpose. And those things that are not meant to be, most often do not occur.

That she is here, now, within this space, where the taste and feel of herself and soemthing deeper is, as well as this young man, and his darkness, tells her it is a thing that should be. That to embrace it will be either a blessing given, or a lesson earned. Perhaps both. Often, that is the case.

"I should not laugh at you. I confess, you sounded so much like.. oh, how do you say it.. innocence." Though his pain draws a furrow of her brows. "You are hurt, only, no. It is not the fall. It is.. more. It is you, yes? You /are/ Hurt."

She says it as though it is a title he wears and is, not a thing he bears.

"Nolan." The name returned to him, and tasted by her mouth for the weight of it. "I came because I was called. Only now that I am here, I do not know why. Perhaps to find you?"

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight finds the strange lilting grammar of her speech... intriguing.. He guesses she is eastern european or something, english not being her first language. Not that he cares... A lot of people he knows, even grew up with, weren't native english speakers after all. Thats the way of the streets of Gotham, after all. The home to the dipossessed.. and who is more dipossesed than an immigrant, right?

He raises that brow again, looking skeptical. "Innocence? I haven't been described as innocent since i was.. well.. lets just say never." he tells her, then shakes his head. "I am not /hurt/. Hurt denotes I am injured. I am not injured. I am just.. this way." he says, trying to wave it off. "Don't worry your pretty head 'bout it. ANd stop cheating." he says, suddenly a bit more serious.

"I don't have enough luck to be expecting someone like you to be coming after me, not unlss you were trying to cut my heart out or something.. And since you don't seem to be a demon of some other spirit, and teh act that I /know/ you have some mojo in you.. That means you felt.. whatever the hell it was. That wave.. That pulse."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
There's a sudden, lilting laugh. A thing bright and free. "Cheating? How do I cheat? You say that like I am peeling you open like an onion and peeking inside to see all the secrets of you."

Her lightness becomes the space they occupy. There is still only the barest of light in the room, but the feeling is suddenly lighter. Brighter.

"Innocence is many things. You do not have any stench on you. Not of things that should not be. How do you say.. evil? Yes? Not that. You merely are. Those things are by definition innocent. Only, you are not so malleable, no? I think you are..hrm."

She pauses in thought, searching for the right image.

"It is that the there are the Three who hold the plight of mankind in their hands. The lore is long and wide, like a tapestry. Like the very tapestry that they weave. One to spin the threads. One to measure. One to cut. Their hands a lightning speed along the loom. Only, they leave the spaces, for the light to come in. Some say those are the stars. When we look to the heavens, the stars peek through. Only, it is also that there is darkness. If light can find a space, so too can darkness."

Wanda smiles, a small, gracious thing that speaks of apology.

"There are some few of us who walk those spaces. Along the threads but not of them. We are the knots and gnarls along the tapestry. Where colours change and bleed. Or, merely where the darkness and light vie, each on their own side, seeking to see the vision of the other. All of mankind, written in threads, and then.."

Her hands spread wide.

"Those of us who write our own."

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan hrumps a little, eyeing her with some light suspicion. "And you're saying you couldn't do just that? Peel back my 'layers' and take a peek?" he asks, half seriously.. Though it really could be a totally serious question, considering the world they live in and the fact that part of his own gift straddles the psychic realms.. where the mind is more than a fleeting ephemeral component.

As she tries to explain just what /she/ means, his face scrunches up a bit more in thought, trying to follow her. "You're talking about The Morae.. The Fates.." he says. "Klothos, Lakhesis and Atropos..." See, he isn't a completely uneducated heathen after all! "But if the world is a tapestry, are we all just the picture being woven in itself, or the muse for the picture being loomed?" he asks

Then he blinks and gahs.. and rubs at is eye with his crippled hand. "Now you have me getting philosophical..." he grumbles, then drops his hand to hang at his side. "Look.. Wanda.. I don't know what you /see/ when you look at me... If you see Darkness of one form or another, thats cool. But don't think that pretty words from dead mytholgies and religions can describe what it is... because they don't know. None of them do. They guess. They athropomorphasize. The Dark is always here... People are just too Bright too see it for what it truly is."

He then looks around the musty dimness of the empty shop... "And speaking of brightness.." He switches his cane to bad hand and raises the good one, uttering a few arcane words. The room doesn't brighen, it isn't illuminated per se, but the darkness.. it seems to get peeled back.. to get drawn away.. being pulled into a knot in the palm of his hand untilit is easier to see the room around them.

The Shop has to have been abandoned for a while, if the amount of dust layers on everything is any indication. Years worth coating every strange antuique that would not be out of place on American Pickers. Knick-knacks and curios and gee-gaws.. every kind of what knot spanning various eras, all dulled with the pantina of time. To those with Power, however, it can be felt that some of these items, as 'normal' as they seem, hold Power themselves. Maybe not a lot, but some.. and none of it benign. There is wrongness.. something diabolic in the taste of the air here.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
There's a light trill of laughter from Wanda as Nolan rightly questions what she can and can not do. "See? You are more than you look. Not so many know already what you know about me." Her shoulders rise and fall easily. "I can do that, but I do not wish to. Not unless you give me reason."

Her head cants to one side, "Have you secrets I should be afraid of?"

As he wanders along the philosophical path, there's a smirl that lights upon her lips. "There are many names for them. But those are the most known, yes? As for whether we are picture or muse, some believe we are both. Reflections in all other realities. In this one, though, we are nothing more than the tapestry."

Again she laughs when he grows more serious and scolds her. "I will behave, then. And that trick you do with the darkness, it is interesting, no? This place, too." Her gaze drifts around, the smile fading as she considers what she sees lying about.

"There are things here that should not be. Or the memory of it. I can not tell which just yet. Do you feel it?"

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight's eyes trace over the various.. things.. on display around them, holding his hand up like it is a torch, though insted of producing light is is actually just mutingthe darkness (and yes there is a difference). "Lovely, you have no idea the secrets you /should/ be afraid of.." he murmurs as he leans over a display case and looks at the victorian poweder tins within.

"And We are oh so much more, and less, than than the Tapestry. And sometimes reflections are reflection, but something looking back at one through a dusty window.." he says and blows the dust off the display with a breath.. then coughs a few times...

Oh yes, with the darkness muted one can see that some of the dust has been disturbed recently, and not just by them. There are a number of footprints on the ground.. things have been moved.. and there are a few dustless spots where things used to be.

"It's not a trick.. It's a favor of the darkness..." he says and straightens up a bit. "And yes, I can feel it. SOme of these things are.. dangerous.. But.. I think it is more a case that there are things that /should/ be here..." he bites his lower lip. "So yeah, a memory.." he reaches for a small handheld mirror that looks undisturbed but.. stops a mere inch from touching it and pulls his hand back. "We hafta be careful here.."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
For a moment, Wanda regards Nolan, eyes looking older and wiser than her years. "There are many things to fear. Did you really wish to be one of them?" She holds him in that regard, gaze placid and considering. "Though I could say the same in return. Perhaps we all can." Though he likely knows by now that she falls outside the norm of secrets that others hold and hide. As does he.

And with that, her gaze drifts about the room again. Taking in the muted darkness that she does nothing to change, letting it be his to deal with. And the dust that bears the traces of other beings upon it, prints and marks showing sure sign of being disturbed.

"Of course there are things that belong here," she agrees, until he reaches for the mirror. That she does not need his warning for. "But there are things that should not be here regardless. They should never have been here."

She nods, all the laughter gone from her now. "There are magics at play here that do not belong to this realm. They will try to decieve us, and twist those who think to use them. The echoes are here. Only, I do not know what the echoes are from."

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight tucks his cane like crouch under his arm, and peels off his gloves.. Both hands are heavily tattooed. We're no talking mystical tattoos, though there are a few of those.. We're talking older tattoos. faded. Gang affiliatons. Prison tats. One hand is normally shaped, if thin. The other is scarred, heavily. The fingers slightly gnarled.

"Do I want to be feared? Sometimes, yes." he says, if a bit gruffly as he flexes the damaged hand, wincing a bit. "Most of the time, not so much. Luckily, most people just think I am a nut jobs.. that helps alleviate fears." he tells her.

"Whose ta say what magics belong where, anyways? And don't answer that.. I was being rhetorical." he tells her as he holds his hand over the handle of the mirror again.."But the responsibility for magic isn't always to those who give it, but those who /accept/ it. Even /could/ have refused the apple, after all." he then looks over his shoulder. "No offense. To be fair, Adam could have to. But guys get dumb when boobs are involved...." he blinks then.. and actually blushes? "Uh, forget I said that."

He looks back at the mirror and takes a deep breath. "Whatever happens... Don't interfere. I'll be fine... Probably.." and he reaches for the mirror's handle, curling his fingers around it.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
If she was meant to shrink from the markings upon him, she doesn't. They either hold no weight with her, or she is unaware of what meaning they should have. Perhaps a bit of both. Though from her accent, there must be some understanding of how tattoos are a message to those who view them; a warning.

"Ah, that story. It is only the one we hear most often, no? There are tales older than that, Nolan. They say other things." Then her lips fall into a thin-lipped smile. "I have noticed boobs seem to do that to those of your sex. But I can forget if you wish." Clearly amused by him.

She watches him as he goes to deal with the mirror, about to say that she can help, only he doesn't wait for her words, and, as is so often with magic, it is safest then to watch. At least until it is clear there is no other way.

She nods to herself. "Yes," she agrees, softly, speaking under her breath, with words that do not carry, "It is our responsibility."

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight really wishes he had the time to snort at her remark about his gender but a) He's already blushing profusely, and b)....

Fingers curling around the tarnished mirror's handle, his body suddenly goes stiff.. liek an electric shock has run through him.. Muscles tightening, head tilted back and teeth clenched. This isn't 'magic' per se.. this is the OTHER half of his gift. His eyes don't roll back but the pupils dialte wide.. swallowing the mismatched irises.. swallowing the entire eyes until they are wholly black, like onyx. That hole in his soul resonnates as it synchs with the 'spirit' of the item.. the life it was given... the life it was imparted by memories..

He gasps and almost kneels but forces himself to stay on his feet as the mirror darkens.. the reflective surface rippling... a rippling that becomes a face, as if it was pushing itself through black latex.

"FEEEEEEED meeeeee." Nolan/The Face in teh Mirror say as one. "FEEEEEED me your enemy's years and I shaaaaall make you yooooung and beeeeautiful!"

Scarlet Witch has posed:
The warning is really all that stills her hand, Wanda watching with wide-eyed interest, especially when what she witnesses isn't magic per se, but a whole other level of abilities. It's not that she can't follow - indeed, she has many things of her own that are not reliant upon magic as much as they are upon herself - but, still, to witness it in this situation is difficult as much as it is fascinating. She wants to help him, even as she knows such things are personal and specific. That her intervention might create exactly the chasm and the void that will swallow him whole.

Still, none of that prepares her for the eerie wail of 'FEEEEEEEEED me...' Even if she knows the tale, bastardized as it is by literature.

Deadwatch has posed:
Well.. there is a weeeeeee bit of magic involved with this feat.. maybe.. But yes, it has a lot more to do with the, how do we describe it; The connection that Nolan has with souls and spirits. The entity within the mirror, trapped as it were, is a dark one.. something born of the cast offs of souls and the abstract emotions of the vain and the desperate. Not a human soul in and of itself.. Maybe it started that way but...

Nolan blinks his pure black eyes, gritting his teeth, and pushes back at the entity with the Darkness within himself.. Like a tide he washes aside it's influence... The veins of his damaged hand stand, turning black, and black tendrils slide from his fingers and envelope the mirror's handle...

"Oh no you don't.." he grits, and his damaged fingers/tendrils squeeze the mirror and it almost seems to bulge.. like the metal and glass are being choked. The inky face in the mirror coughs.

"No.. NooooOooo. Meeeeercy, please!"

Nolan grunts and looks at Wanda. "I can control it.. but If I slip I need you to knock me out.. Can you do that?" Nolan grimaces and closes his eyes as he feels the thing's.. well.. memories... As it's history starts seeping into his brain, drawn by the negative pressure at the heart of the hole in his soul. "I mean it.. if I start.. acting like it is controlling me.. you need to knock me out /good/."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
The young woman draws hersself up, hints of consternation marring her brow. It's clear 'knocking someone out' is not in her actual nature as she knows it now, even as it's also clear that there is a steelyness to her nature that will not be denied. That she had taken, and will continue to take, actions that bruise her soul, merely because they are the only actions that will suffice.

"I will not allow you to fall victim. If it is needed I will strike you down."

More ominous than the knocking him out that he asks for, but hopefully she doesn't mean anything more insiduous than what he's asked.

Deadwatch has posed:
So, this 'Wanda', so nice and seemingly innocent, isn't. Good to know. He can recognize it in her voice, which to him is a good thing. He hates dealing with namby pamby White Hat types.

Nolan slowly turns to face yer and holds the mirror up, between them, as the entity with struggles against Nolan's 'bonds'. Nolan shakes his head, keeping up the mental shields that seperate him from the entity itself, but allows enough of a connection for him to.. push.. at it's mind.

"What happened here?" he asks, his voice rough. The mirror's face grimaces with reluctance but NOlan's darkness compells it.

"The Old man though he could hide ussssss. Thought he could could renege on our massssster.. /He/ master... After all the massster did for him..." the mirror hisses, and it's surface tries to bulge, to reach for Wanda.. "Ssssss lovely... I could make you lovely foreverrrrr... " it croons but Nolan squeezes the handle harder and the mirror screams.

"Yeah, by stealing her soul.. or teh soul of her enemy..." NOlan growls. "Now what do you mean 'Us?" he asks.

The mirror grimaces again. "Vendredi made a deeeeal with the massster.... The master gave him power if Vivendi tempted people with specific.. wares..." He makes a sound of pain. "That isss all.. We are just small little feeders.. we are haaaarmlessss."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
She watches, Wanda, in silence. Much can be learned that way. That, and her part in this is the wall of last resistence. If it comes to it, she will make certain that whatever it is goes no further than this room. He is right in his assessment of her: she is many things, most of them good and right, but beneath it all is a core deeper than earth that understands that storms exist for a reason. That without darkness, there can be no light.

If she must, she will strike him down, and shatter the mirror as well. Even if she already knows that surge of power will leave her more isolated and alone than she already feels.

Sometimes, that is how it is, to reach, to act upon her potential, removes her from the humanity she so desperately wishes to remain a part of, even as she understands that perhaps that isn't her fate.

Still.. is it so much to wish for? To know and understand human comfort?

Quietly, her powers within reach, waiting, she watches.

Deadwatch has posed:
She may not know it, but Nolan is drawing strength from her. It's not magical or psychic.. It's just the act of her /being/ there.. watching his back. Sometimes the best magic, the greatest power, is in simple things.. in mundane yet symbolic acts.. Even if provided by a stanger. /Especially/ if provided, freely, by a stranger. He can see her aura, cleanly now, as he is in the mid depths of his own abilities and it fascinates him.. he's never seen anything quite like it.. But then realizes he has a job to do, and focuses his attention on the mirror.

"Not.. harmless.. You feed on souls!" he growls, sounding angry now. "Where is this Vivendi guy?!? You tempted.. you manipulates.. and you /fed/ just so this vivendi could have power, yes? And through him give power to his master?"

The mirrors thrashes, as much as a mirror can, but it cannot escape. "YESSSSssss! It is what we were bid to dooooo!" it keens. "Vivendi is gooooone. We not know where.. But someone came tonight... someone took the other..."

"The other what?!" Nolan demands.. and in the mirror images start to materialize.. fading in and out like ephemeral memories...

A teacup decorated with ivy. An antique scalpel with an ivory handle. A pair of victorian boxing gloves. A brass lantern. A red-and-black demonic-themed patchwork quilt. An antique photographic camera. A Fog horn. A voodoo mask. A Pocket Watch. A silver chain with a blank car key. A silver syringe. A full length floor mirror. A roman coin....

Scarlet Witch has posed:
It isn't so much that she knows it on a level where she could put a finger on it and say *this* THIS is what is being done, but on a deeper, more primordial level, it is a thing she was born for. You do not reflect the nature of reality in all the planes of existence without having a wellspring of power and a depth to you that lends itself to the grounding of these very sorts of things.

Her aura.. is nearly endless. Layer upon layer upon layer. Clear. Crystalline. Even as the edges are touched by a darkness so inky black it threatens to absorb all light around it.

She is both.

Now that he is in the depths of what he does, she tends to the space they are in. Where he pushed back the dark, she invites the light. There is no source, unless you count her. And where the light is, there is no dark. It is not so much a brightening of the space as a lessening of the dark. Not the same as Nolan's work, but akin. She merely compels it not to be. But the space she creates is personal, and limited to just they two.

Deadwatch has posed:
See, that is definately where they differ.. she is, in essence, potentially endless. She represents what could be, infinite diversity in infinite combinations... Which of course he /doesn't quite know.. His own abilities are much more limited. But where she represents all those infinite realities that could be, he represents something singular.. HE represents where /every/ evenetually goes. In a universe of infinite lights, ther is a singular Darkness. That which comes /after/.

As she invites the light, a few other items seem to glow with the opposite of illumination.. Like the mirror.. like the item's that were taken. Objects that hold cursed entities, all hungruy, but week. There is something about this store, part of it's wards, thatwere not just meant to keep things out but.. to hold these things in..

And now 13 items have escaped.

"Wanda..." Nolan rasps.. "Something damaged the ward..It's what kept these things trapped here... What made the store invisible to the minds of mortals" The mirror keens again and he finally drops it with a metallic rattle on the display case, and has to leans against it to hold hismelf up. "Whoever stole these things.. they broke the ward.. If it isn't put back in place the rest will find there way into mundane hands.."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
As the darkeness weakens, letting its hold on the room go in face of the soft welcome of light, she sees where the wards are missing. How there are gaping wounds in what should be in place. Another might only see places where the power has failed, or thinned. To her, they are swirls of darks and blood reds fighting against the clear whites and blues of what should be holding all in place. What should be hiding this space from all eyes but those who know what to see, and even then, only those who know enough of power to slide between the wardings and enter into the space unbidden.

It is a thing she can deal with, though, left to her, it will become a greater thing. There will be no sliding between the wards by those who understand enough to create keys. Neither dark nor light will pass without her will.

It might not be what he asks for, but it is the thing she chooses in this moment. It is a matter that she can tend to in the future should her decision falter. But for now, it will remove this space from the here and now and make it invulnerable to whatever it was that had already happened.

It is then that he might see her true power. It swirls about her like a growing storm, only more so. The way that light is given birth to each morning. Or how universes are begun from explosions. The whisper of power begins and grows, enveloping the magic shop, bending reality around it until the space is no longer a part of any known but one held in her mind. It literally has become its own reality - one she controls.

And then, because she also understands enough of what drew her here, she sets wards within that as well. None might pass who can break beyond what she has done setting it apart from reality without her being drawn here. It is of herself as much as anything can be of a person.

When she is done, the light in the place falls. It is not a thing she can hold anymore. She has spent her breath and being on the other, and for now darkness will be their companion unless he chooses otherwise.

Deadwatch has posed:
The mirror lays face up on the counter, and screams as it feels it's tether to the world, the worlds, become severed.. or at least blocked by the ward itself. "No.. NO! You will not! you CANNOT!" it cries, the face shaped surface of the mirror bulging and writhing in agony.

In /The Dark/ Nolan can see what she is doing and, despite his current weakness he is in awe at the complexity.. So many layers... so much untapped power... It should blind one so steeped in The Dark but he prevails.. Squniting as he sees power looped upon power, woven into new patterns.. He sees what she is trying to accomplish but also sees that there are holes, knows it on a deeper level even though he is not in her league..

But where she has power, he has a little bit of experience.. He can see the few little gaps she has missed.. small things.. tiny holes.. a rent here.. a rend there.. Her barrier, her veil, would hold back hell itself possibly but...He deals in the little things.. The places that people miss where evil can creep in, unseen.

Standing straight as he can he starts making motions... arcane seeming gestures.. but they are just a way of focusing hismself.. His aura coalesces around him, dark as the final knight and tendrils of ectoplasmic Dark slither from his hands.. weavinga round her lines of powers.. reinforcing the small gaps, the holes, like spirtual spackle...

The Mirror.. the OTHER items still here.. they all chry in a terrible unison.. a chior or horrors. "Our master will hear of this. He will come for us. You will pay, Witch of Scarlett and The Thrice Died! MEPHISTO WILL COME FOR YOoOOOOoOOOOU!"

And then the ward PINGS! And all falls silent... except for their breathing...

Scarlet Witch has posed:
When it is over, and it is only them, in the darkness, she is a wilted memory of the power she drew upon. And were it necessary to draw again, she could, but it is some measure of her nature that she is given these spaces where she is human. That she has taken the path of to whom great power is trusted, also great responsibility. That she has chosen to allow an understanding of the frailties of human, and the life of a soul's existence to frame her.

Even so, she sees what he has done. And in another it might be a place to be chagrined or to feel belittled. Even a place others might call upon pride to chastize the other. Instead, she turns the gentle of her gaze upon Nolan and nods her thanks. "It is that your vision sees where mine is reluctant. I would not have thought of that. And between us, we have made it whole." There's a pause, then a considered, "You are well?"

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight pants slightly... It's been a while since he extended himself like this. The complexity more than the actual power, that is. He rests a hand on the counter, not doing anything to dispell or alleviate the darkness, the mundane darkness, they find themelves in. He can see in it just fine, a side effect of his gift. His eyes are no longer solid black but their usual one being bue and one being amber. he looksa round the room, noting that the entities inhabiting the various items are asleep, which is good, and he notes that the ward is humming the way it should..

FInally he looks back toe Wanda and nods slowly... shakily. "I'm fine." he lies, though not meanly. He is just used to always saying that, is all. He /is/ in pain but it is his /usual/ pain so, in a way, he isn't technically lying. It is literally his default setting chronic pain.. well.. maybe a BIT more but it's not like it hasn't been worse.

"I didn't mean to add my own to yours.. You did more than fine. Better than I could. I just.. You're right. I see things others, even those liek us, don't. But you see things I don't either so I think we're even.. well.. Not /even/.." he murmurs. "You.. you are.. Who /are/ you. /What/ are you?!?"

Scarlet Witch has posed:
His lie she lets be, as the only answer to it would be to impose herself upon him, and while she might, she also knows that it would change him in ways that would be inexcuseable. And the smaller lie of it, his exhaustion, well, she is that, too. It is a thing that they might share; a thing that will pass. Best experienced and savoured as part of what they are, and part of the necessary than to dismiss.

"I am..." Her words falter. What is it that she can say of herself? That she is a child of too many? That she is and is not the fabric of reality? A witch who walks paths unseen and unknown? A child of a madman? An elder god whose very nature is demon? A sister to one who struggles with darkness not unlike his own, while desperately reaching for the light? The embodiement of hopes and dreams that are not her own, even as she straddles guilts she can not assuage, trying to find her own being in this life she lives?

She wants to tell him she is a storm. She wants to tell him that she is all things and none.

She wants to tell him that sometimes she is frightened.

Instead, she whispers, "I do not know."