8231/Mystic is just english for made up

Mystic is just english for made up
Date of Scene:	09 July 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Illyana is unintentionally summoned by nefarious means. Then sits with Zatanna over wine to discuss magic, preformance, and limbo.
Cast of Characters:	Zatanna Zatara, Magik

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Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Months of planning. Weeks spent searching the forbidden places of the world for the right reagents. Days spent examining eldritch tomes penned in blood and languages no longer spoken in those places still touched by the rays of the sun. Hours chanting in the summoning circle. The Most Inscrutable Order of the Ebony Pendulum have laid their plans carefully, and now it is time to bring forth Kh'nth'k'lax the Feaster and lay waste to Shadowcrest and all the world! Finally! Vengeance upon Zatanna, the witch who has foiled their plans at every turn! In the gloomy gardens that surround Shadowcrest, two hooded figures converse in hushed tones.

"How many diamonds soaked in the blood of a man thrice dead is it? Two?"

"You're the Grand Magus! You should know!"

"Oh, great, real nice, Brandon. Now I'm the Grand Magus. I'm putting in two."

"Okay, and I'll just do the chant - "

The voice begins, in it's most impressing, eldritch tone, to chant a series of words in an unknown language. As they speak, the air begins to shimmer and warp. Slowly, a veil between worlds parts and a portal grows. Wider and wider. The two figures watch in rapt anticipation, grinning with delerious glee beneath their hoods.

"Ahem."

They turn suddenly, spotting a dark-haired woman in a black bathrobe leaning against a tree: "It's three diamonds dipped in the blood of a man twice dead. You just dialled the wrong number ...

Magik has posed:
There is never anything to watch on television in Limbo.

This is going to become very important to the remainder of this summoning, so it's important to keep it in mind. Illyana Rasputin, Queen of Limbo, is tiredly sitting upon a raised throne in the middle of a crumbling city that looks a lot like New York, if it were turned upside down and dipped directly in blood. There's a red tint to all things, a haze in the air that looks difficult to breath, and a buzzing like a trillion insects all batting their wings at once.

In short, it is a terrible place.

Her throne is positioned so as to see the bank of old black and white televisions in what would be a storefront window if not for the half dead looking clerk working the desk. Jaw hanging slack, eyes glossy, he barely even registers a thing. Illyana flips through channels with growing sensation of boredom that is in nobodies best interest here.

Until a phone starts ringing. At first it is very much like a regular phone one would expect to find on the wall of any 1990s kitchen. The cord twisted until it's little more than a big cord knot, the ring is simple and irritating and never ending. "Is SOMEONE going to get that?" Illy shouts, staring pointedly at the Clerk who starts, if slowly, and reaches for the phone.

That's when the portal opens. A portal that has to be more entertaining than All in the Family.

Illy steps through after donning a black pair of jeans, black tanktop, and a sword big enough to look like it came directly from anime. Stepping out from the glowing portal onto Shadowcrest lawn... ---- You just dialled the wrong number...

Cold eyes look from Zee, who likely isn't responsible, to Brandon and the Grand Magnus who probably are.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna looks absolutely unphased by the arrival of the Queen of Limbo. Her nightgown is drawn close around herself and her bare toes curl and uncurl in the grass. She cranes her neck slightly, as though peering back through the portal may give her a better hint as to just where it goes. She raises an eyebrow - not exactly the most pleasant realm full of the most cheerful and kind-hearted souls, no.

As Illyana's eye passes over her, Zatanna jerks a thumb towards the two hooded figures: "These two were trying to summon Kh'nth'k'lax."

She tilts her head, putting one hand up to her face and performing a perfectly audible stage whisper for the Grand Magus and his Brandon: "That's not Kh'nth'k'lax."

The two hooded figures simply look from Illyana to Zatanna and then to each other. The Grand Magus, to his credits, raises a hand and opens his mouth as though to speak and cast some grand, terrible spell.

"Og emoh," Zatanna says through a yawn and a flick of her wrist, and the Magus simply vanishes in a puff of smoke. Brandon begins to look for an exit.

Magik has posed:
It is unpleasant, the picture image shimmering behind her through portal yander standing. Framed in white light bled through with black veins of some dark energy to stabilize it, the image is of that self same city of bloody haze and darkness where a young girl raised from a tender age might one day sit upon a throne atop a mountain of dead demons as Queen of all she perview.

Suffice to say, literally anywhere on Earth is better by comparison.

Illyana adjusts her grip upon the massive sword laying upon her small shoulder. An expression upon her face is both amused and dark with promises of something delightfully unpleasant to the unfortunate pair of would be summoners. It's in the eyes, maybe in the way she chews air as if some flavor is distasteful to her pallot. "No, I am not Kh'nth'k'lax." She redresses Zatanna's assurance, with absolute certain confirmation in her quiet tone.

Nor does she look even remotely aghast by the possibility of would be summoners casting unspeakable spells upon her, even should the words have managed to crest their lips without the Mistress of Magic spiriting one away, it would have proven her no more harm than throwing foul language at her through a closed door. "Let me explain to you the exact nature of your failure..."

Eyes looking down to the protective circle they've drawn in hopes of controlling the being they thought they were summoning, she steps directly over it with eyes rolling. "I am physically unable to hurt a human being with the Soul Sword." Hefting the hilt of it, hand raised to prevent Brandon's escape by unseen forces. her fingers curl slightly and it's as if oxygen itself nolonger cares to deal with him. "It would do a human no more harm than shoving them about, leaving no wound, not but perhaps bruise to indicate anything at all..."

The sword comes up off her shoulder and turns over so that the blade is pointed tip down in the grass, "Until..." Raising one finger, the motion has to be painful, "..You used magic. That has made you, to me, as eldritch as any beast come forth from any level of hell.. and now, with a thrust of this sword..." Lifted to indicate which, just incase Brandon isn't paying attention, "You die. Most gloriously, but more to point, I take your soul with me back to Limbo... and by your crude implimentation of summoning magics far beyond your scope and well outside youer perview, I feel confident you will not enjoy your stay.."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
While Zatanna can't help but be amused at the idea of haphazard Brandon being taken away to Limbo to suffer for all eternity. She has no real interest in him and as far as she's concerned he tried to murder her and crush her nice house, which is a social faux pas if ever there was one. But then again, she has a public identity to maintain and she doesn't fancy the idea of having to answer questions about why she allowed what equates to the Actual Devil take someone to Hell on her property.

"Nekorb selkna," Zatanna says quickly as the sword is brought to bear on Brandon, the ground beneath him opening up into a small hole within which appears to be an entire prison cell. He lets out a yelp as he falls through it, the passage quickly sealing up above him. Zatanna can only give Illyana an apologetic look.

"Now, before you go swinging your impressive sword at little old Eldritch moi," the Mistress of Magic begins, "How about a glass of wine and some light conversation? I can't imagine demons being much for sparkling wit and you have the look of someone very, very bored."

Magik has posed:
Ultimately, what Illayana says to terrify a mortal, and what she would actually do are not the same. She watches with a raised brow as the ground opens up above a cell so as to swallow Brandon in its protective bussom less she spirit him away, through word and threat, to her domain for an eternity of torment. Probably watching the bad television available in that realm.

Maybe working at Eldritchian McDonalds.

What would they serve? Better not to think on it.

Illyana turns with her heels sliding in the grace to face Zatanna, "The sword would not have worked on him." She explains quietly, having spent a moment inspecting the Mistress of the Manors face and attire. With a flick of her wrist, the blade is gone, and the portal to her domain closed, "You have no idea how bored." She murmurs, eyes up on the entrance to Shadowcrest. "You need better enemies. Quality of a person is measured by their enemies. You have beautiful manor, you should have beautiful enemies too."

After a brief pause, "I will have wine." Nodding.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Well, aren't you the flatterer," Zatanna says, sidling up alongside Illyana and leading the way lazily back to the Manor as though they were just taking a light evening stroll, "My name's Zatanna, by the way."

As they cross the lawn, she casts her eye back over her should to where they had the brief exchange with the Inscrutable Order. She shrugs lightly: "As for the quality of my enemies? Well, I feel some days it's a bit like quantity over quality for me. You know how it is. Show up on television and in a few magazines and everyone wants to take you down a peg to say 'Now I am the one who is King slash Queen of Magic.'"

As they mount the stairs up to the Manor, the doors part of their own accord under some sort of charm: "But enough about me. A poor hostess speaks only about herself, after all. What's your name?"

Magik has posed:
It could easily be said, and with good evidence, that Illyana is a dull person. She walks with no exageration in how her hips sway as if she's completely unaware that they're there and that they might serve that purpose. Her hair is straight, cut in a far too traditional, and slightly boring line across her brow like someone might do on their own in a bathroom.. nor does she wear even the first hint of makeup. Pale unblimished skin. She might have been a cheerleader if not for all the scars one has to expect from a person who rules over a realm of demons at such a tender age.

"I have never been accused of that." Flattering, but she nods as if she is well aware of the trepidations of being known and, by dent of being known, threatened for it. "I am Illyana Nikolievna Rasputin. Queen of Limbo." stepping through the open portal into the Manor that is familiar and quite new to her all in one. That's the appeal, isn't it? Of Shadowcrest. That it could be anyone's house, but only one could possibly reside there.

She understands that too, though few would want to live in her home.

At least for long.

"You should have let me kill him. Sends good example for others." Motioning with a flick of her fingers, "Mount heads on either side of doorway to ward off intrusion. Low tech. No magic. Very effective. Works with demons... humans more impressionable."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna laughs, a lilting, chiming sort of sound. Even in what looks to be her bedclothes she seems as though she is standing in the middle of a high-class party trading anecdotes. Her dark hair is tousled in such a way that suggests just rolling out of bed, but nevertheless seems meticulously maintained. It's as though she stepped directly out of a 1940s pin-up.

"Oh, believe me, nothing would please me more," she says of mounting the heads, "But the whole reputation thing comes with having to explain to other people why I'm taking heads and setting them on pikes. It's easier to just let them bungle into getting eaten by demons when I'm not around for anyone to say 'You didn't really try all that hard to save them.'"

Inside, Shadowcrest itself seems to come alive at Zatanna's unspoken commands. Already two large, overstuffed chairs grind noisily across the floor to meet them. A bottle of wine hovers upstairs from the cellar as though carried by invisible servants, two glasses bobbing through the air along behind it.

"The pleasure is all mine, Illyana."

Magik has posed:
Illyana grunts at the suggestion Zee tempers her response based on the opinions of others, but is she any different? After giving the interior of the welcoming room a once over, and seeing as chairs have literally made themselves available, she moves to settle into one. First testing how comfortable it might be against how comfortable it looked, she is not disappointed once settling has commence. And so comforted, brings up a leg to cross the other with her palms laying across the arm of the chair.

"I prefer Limbo. There they do not tell me how I respond to threats and I because of that, I do not have to threaten often. It is a very simple arrangement." Most of her Russian accent is gone, years spent away in dark places far from the mother land, but it still surfaces on occation. Certain words, certain phrases and it resurfaces. "Here, there are laws. Rules of governance that make no sense for a people who so willingly break those laws to suit their desires. I believe that is called hypocracy... I would be amused, if not for being the target of their willingness to kill and capture for no apparent reason."

She looks up to Zatanna, "I am aware of you. I saw you preform many years from now." She said what she said.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"It is what it is," Zee says with a shrug, settling down in her own chair with a flourish and clutching both ornate arms as though she were sitting a throne, "I've never been much for rules and laws myself. I suppose that's why I find myself so caught up in places where rules and laws don't apply - even the laws of physics."

On cue, she produces a bouquet of dark red roses from the voluminous and sheer sleeve of her nightgown. A crystalline vase on a nearby table, full of water but nothing more, waits to receive them. Was it there before? It's not clear. Sometimes she can't help but perform, and a bored monarch makes a good audience. The conjuring of flowers employs no real magic, of course, only prestidigitation that comes to her easier than breathing.

"Oh?" her eyebrows raise slightly at Illyana's talk of the future, "Was I good? Er, that is, will I be good? If you tell me I've started wearing a more modest stage outfit by then I may just go and throw myself off the roof right now."

Magik has posed:
"It doesn't have to be." Illy counters with perhaps more heat than she intends for Zee, certainly her host is not the instrument of her ire. And as soon as she's aware that the venom rose, she apologizes with a tight smile, "What I mean; At some point a line will be drawn in the sand and after that point, it will be a cascade into oblivion from which we can't escape."

But it ultimately IS what it is. No denying that.

The magical show loosens Illyana's grip on her smile and, perhaps for a moment, she could be just any twenty something year old. She can do much the same, but her own magics are rarely so fashionable or smooth. Her's is a magic of violence and intent with very little showmanship. It's nice to see it used in another way, for another purpose.

"You are a very dramatic woman." Squinting blue eyes, smiling easily, "You were not modest and remained every bit as extravagant. You will be very proud of yourself, I think."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna looks visibly relieved, fanning her fingers across her chest and easing back in the chair as though just being given a clean bill of health after a life-threatening scare.

"Immodest and dramatic," she breathes the words as though they meant 'alive' and 'well', "That is positively music to my ears. I think we ought to celebrate that with a toast, don't you?"

It's all rather strange. The woman in black can stroll into her garden, find two evil magicians summoning a being from a hell dimension and end up having a cozy chat with said hell-being. But this is by far the weirdest thing that has happened to her, and Illyana herself is rather pleasant if direct and to the point.

She gestures and the glasses begin to fill, a little-more-than-modest portion appearing before each glass floats to it's respective Mistress of Magic. Zatanna takes hers lightly with an easy grace, partaking first to ease any doubt in her guest's mind.

"So, I must ask, what is it that binds you to Limbo? If it's so boring, why not spend more time here? Humans may be hypocritical and doomed, but they also have movies. I can't imagine sitting on a throne of skulls - I'm betting it's skulls, it's skulls, isn't it? - can't be all that entertaining."

Magik has posed:
Illyana inclines her head, but at slight angle, when Zatanna finds relief in her words. Her smile, as well, remains but it isn't nearly so wide and appears more implanted out of necessity or duty than the expression is meant for. "A toast." She agrees, hand out stretched to accept the glass levitating into her open grasp.

She was, at least until Zee's hurried sip, about to take on of her own. The whole show of it found slightly amusing for the purpose she no doubt gathered after hindsights clear vision. A glance to the glass and she does finally drink, letting the wine roominate in her mouth for several seconds prior to swallowing.

"Complicated." She says as if that will be the jist of her explanation, but could just as easily be trying to put together the words for more verbose an answer. "I spend enough time on Earth to keep myself from becoming completely corrupted by Limbo's taint and as much time in Limbo as I need to keep the denizens there in control." It's an over simplification, of course.

"It is ironic... I like this word.. Ironic.." Pointing as if it's sitting right beside her. "It is ironic that, by my remaining in Limbo, I stall a potential cataclysmic event aimmed for Earth and all humans I profess no love for... Maybe this is making me a hypocrite too?" She shrugs regardless, "Someone must rule. I am the best option."

As for her throne, she smiles, it's dark but genuine, "No. All of the skeleton. Skulls are impractical for building a throne."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"I'm partial to overstuffed cushions and old leather, myself," Zatanna opines on thrones, wiggling in the seat slightly as though to emphasize her point, "You're welcome to take one back with you. You might have to rule in Hell, but I highly doubt it says anywhere about doing so in discomfort."

She leans forward, pointing a finger at Illyana's face with a sly smile as though she can see some little secret no one else does, but at the same time will never share it with anyone else: "I think you'd enjoy that. Maybe you can get by without the creature comforts, but they wouldn't be creature comforts if they were necessary."

Her next sip of the glass is a lot easier, and she places it down to let it sit for a while: "I'll have to thank those two for summoning you. It's been forever since I had a houseguest, let alone one who can properly enjoy Shadowcrest. Most of them either run straight for the library or ... " A knowing grin, "... other places."

Magik has posed:
"I must apologize to you." Illyana begins with her grin, dark as it may have been, deepening into something of a frown. She sips at her glass then, if only to wet her lips, which hardly seemed dry but these things are so difficult to tell. "I do not sit upon a throne of skulls or bones. In my experience, which is limited I will freely admit, Demon's do not care upon what throne you reside so long as they are enthralled by your presence." She explains this with a sheepish, almost embarassed glance away from Zatanna.

Like she's sharing an incredible secret of hell.

"Most of the time I rest on a couch and there are no rules governing what entertainment I provde myself while residing over my dominion. I have the full history of movies to watch and books stacked high enough that I could build a castle from them... Which would be ineffective as a form of defense, but the point remains."

She sets her glass down near to Zatanna's, hands laid upon her lap then. "I suffer almost none for my position.. and any discomfort that comes with it is of my own design. Limbo is, quite literally, whatever I wish it to be." Within reason, obviously. They're not going to be missonaries.

Her smile flickers back, "It is not, however, as nice as this." Motioning to the chairs, the wine, and indeed the room around them. "And the conversation leaves much to being desired."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Well, I'm certainly glad a dimension full of demons isn't as bad as pop culture would imply," Zatanna says happily, and she seems genuinely pleased to know her guest isn't suffering too greatly in her position, "But you're always welcome to stop by here for any and all your conversational needs. Maybe next time I'll visit you?"

That last part seems unlikely. While there is nothing about Zatanna that would suggest she is dainty in any sense of the word, it seems unlikely that she would willingly pass on the finer things in life if it weren't necessary. She crosses one long leg over the other. In her head, she's already filing away the knowledge of demons and their proclivities. Who knows when that might come in handy.

"And I truly do mean you're welcome," Zee follows up, as though to wash away any questions about her sincerity, "As far as I'm concerned, your Limbo saved me from having to fight off a thirty-foot-tall sentient stomach right before bedtime."

She's done her research into Kh'nth'k'lax the Feaster, apparently.

Magik has posed:
Illyana takes the invitation for what it is. Practical, if perhaps nieve for it. "I do it a disservice. It is a horrible place full of childrens monsters and terrible villains that would gladly rend flesh from bone at the meer whim of their insatiable hungers for pain and death. Just because I am able to catch up on the O.C. while ruling there does not take away from the overall inclinations of those I am ruling over to do terrible deeds at their leisure." Or her own.

While she resigned to using deception against Brandon, it is very likely she would have killed him under any circumstance that dictated she needed to. "I am from Earth, so there are certain things about being human that will always be part of who I am, but make no mistake that I am a Queen of Limbo. If I were not willing, and quite capable of, extreme acts of cruelty, I would not reside where I do in the position I reside there. It is important that there are no mistakes between us." Motioning back and forth with a flicking finger between the two of them.

"I thank you for the invitation and, if you did decide to visit, which I would suggest strongly against, you would be welcomed to do so. Foolhardy as you might feel it is in hindsight."

And yet her smile returns, "It was my pleasure to intervine. All of that stomach contents poured across your lawn would have been a sight to behold, certainly, but a waste all the same."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna nods her head, watching Illyana carefully over the rim of her glass with slightly upraised eyebrows. She takes the story in without flinching. The Queen of Limbo may be one of the most interesting guests she has had at Shadowcrest, but there is something more that piques here interest. Someone forced to forever put on a sort of performance for the sake of safeguarding both their power and their place in the world. Albeit in very different ways, but the similarities are there.

"I'm no stranger to dealing with interdimensional monsters," she explains, taking a long pause to sip her glass and return it to the table, "But, that said, you're right. I think Shadowcrest may be the nicer venue. Maybe I can show you around Bludhaven sometime?"

Another pause, before she continues in a voice a touch graver: "I'm making no misapprehensions about what you're capable of. You should do the same."

And then, the serious tone of voice is gone on the wind, "Now, how long are you staying? Can I give you a tour? The sitting room is nice, certainly, but I think there's other rooms you'll find more interesting on a professional level."

Magik has posed:
"I saw you preform many years from now." Illyana repeats this as if she's not sure it's remembered having been said the first time, "I know who you are.. at least.. I know who will be." Looking around the interior of the manor with a distant look to her blue eyes, "And I can feel the magic of this place.. if you were unafraid of Kh'nth'k'lax the Feaster, your credits to your craft speak highly for themselves." Round about the elbow to get to her own ear, "I would not bring Limbo here." Motioning around, finally getting to the point, "I have no desire to see which of us would suitably stand as Queen if I did.. and you would hardly find it as comfortable there. Besides, I rather enjoyed your show and would greatly like to be able to have seen it." In the future, which is her past.

Time is weird.

"Not long." She admits with a frown, deeper so once the notion of its passage is mentioned. "I should get back actually." What a sour note on which she departs, "Thank you for your hospitality. I have never been to Bludhaven, but I believe I will like it, if the name is indicative at all."

She stands then and hesitantly offers her hand, unsure if that's what would serve most appropriate for Zee. "I hope your enemies are stronger next time that you have an opertunity to destroy them."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"And I hope next time you'll get an opportunity to swing that sword like I'm sure you do so well."

Zatanna takes the offered hand, using it to rise gracefully out of the chair before shaking it with a smile. The smile fades a little at her having to depart, but she nevertheless plays the good hostess and sees her out towards the door.

"Well, thank you very much for stopping by and humoring me with a drink and a chat." She leads the way out of the main hall and onto the lawn again, down through the garden and amongst the hedgerows where the portal to Limbo first appeared.

"I'd say I hope we meet again, but it sounds like it's destiny. So instead I'll say I hope we meet again before that performance comes around."

Magik has posed:
"I have little doubt of it." Illyana has ample opportunity for purpose to swing her sword. There are yet sentinels with which to contend and she is eager to see whether they classify as magical in so far as cutting them in tway. It's a random thought, but for a moment she seems genuinely happy and it is that mental image that causes it..

"It was the least I could do. This could have been a very unpleasant meeting for me and you made certain it was not. A kindness for a kindness." A pale hand comes up to summon a disc about the size of a person to walk through like a gateway. "Until we meet again or, a much younger me meets a much older you at a show." Her smile wans, then vanishes completely as she steps through the disc that brings her back to the hazy familiar landscape of Limbo.

After a deep breath and a long sigh, she starts back to her throne where denizens have already gathered to begin the days.. Limbo stuff. Who even knows.