8929/Demonic Shoe Store Blowout

Demonic Shoe Store Blowout
Date of Scene:	23 August 2019
Location:	Central Heights, Old Gotham
Synopsis:	The Maiden of Light intervenes during the incursion of evil succubi upon Gotham's best shoe and leather store! Outnumbered by the feisty demons, it's up to Fiona and Sersi to help smite them, and prevent anyone from becoming a soul snack!
Cast of Characters:	Maiden of Light, Sersi, Fiona Glenanne

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Maiden of Light has posed:
It's seven pm in Central Gotham, and one of it's premiere Leather and Shoe shops is bustling! Real Italian leather jackets, high heels for the high end, all on sale up to seventy five percent off! The store itself isn't particularly large, with only two employees trying to manage the crowd of twelve people shopping, trying on fashion ware, and generally scooping up the savings! The workers look stressed, but are handling it in a stoic Gothamite way.

Strangely, though, there's something in the air around the shop. Walking by, one might feel pulled to it almost. Cheeks might even flush, and thoughts turn to an old crush, a high school sweatheart in the most lurid of ways.

An hour passes, and the feelings intensify. The crowd inside has turned distracted. One couple has slipped off to a changing room, and hasn't come out. Even the employees take too-long looks at customers, often reciprocated. At the peak of all of this emotional energy?

Atop the roof of the building, a robed figure sits. One thin wrist is held out, monotone chanting coming from them. A bone knife cuts.

Sigils erupt inside of the store, and in a flash of purple light, four creatures appear. Impossibly beautiful women, dressed in the black thigh-highs and corset of a dominatrix, skin that shade of purple. They /exude/ lust from their faces, touched by curved horns atop. Their tongues unnaturally long, hands with fingernails sharp as diamonds. Each one carries a spiked whip.

Screams and moans intermix as the each demon begins to lash out at the crowd. Those hit bleed, some people howling in pain. Others, in indescribable pleasure. One demon grabs one of the employees, kissing her. The employee's eyes turn glassy, she shudders, finally collapsing. A thin mist connects the demon to the corpse of the employee, which she sucks down eagerly.

Outside, cheeks a deep red and steeling herself, Jeanne Laurent drops the long case housing the holy stand of the Saint. She whispers to herself. "Thy will be done!"

A second explosion of light, and the Maiden of Light forces herself into the shop through the window. Clad in golden armor, she shines brilliantly as she takes stock of the situation.

The young frenchwoman pauses, her jaw drops a little. The four demons turn. Two of them back away. The third continues grabbing one of the men in the crowd.

The fourth has used the opportunity to sneak up behind the stunned newbie hero of holiness. That spiked whip curls around her neck, and the Maiden finds herself pressed close to the demoness.

"Aren't /you/ delicious! I love the innocent ones. You'll be so beautiful once I've stained your soul."

Jeanne /squeaks/ at this, finding her mouth not working. She trembles, sweats, mind threatening to descend into thoughts about this beautiful woman. Old desires!

She grits her teeth, and touches the banner to the demon's side. It /screams/, sizzling, recoiling from the Maiden. Not the whip though. Jeanne finds herself struck across the face. She, too, screams and moans all at once. Yet, she stands firm.

Outnumbered, between the crush of the crowd, and the other three demons soon surrounding her.

Sersi has posed:
It just so happens that one of the leading fashion designers about haunts Gotham, a phone pressed to her cheek. Known for haute couture rather than off-the-rack creations, Sersi -- or, rather, Zara Gray -- sashays her way down the street. The intense green of her eyes practically burns in the shadows as she assesses the pedestrian traffic ahead of her, showing only minimal concern for construction or inevitable barriers, be it a lamppost, garbage bin or newspaper box. She has no trouble maneuvering around them, her conversation fortunately at a very soft interval.

She turns, looking presumably for something. A simple Skytrain station? Apparently so, though that path is bisected by a flash of bright red light commanding her attention. Perfectly sculpted into an O, her mouth rounds and the flow of precise instructions come to a complete halt. The person on the other end repeats themselves. The designer blurts out, "Are they selling Dior at a cut rate? That's madness!"

Madness that begs to be investigated, and so shall be. When confronted with trouble, the ravenette approaches instead of running away. Maybe the lure of the demons is simply too strong for her to resist, an insatiable temptation hauling her in. Demonesses with whips should be an excellent warning to stay away, but when has that ever worked?

"Darling, didn't you know custom bespoke is the only way to go?" she calls out merrily to Jeanne. Presumably to Jeanne. That gloriously warm voice exists in complete opposition to the harrowing situation. She approaches the shop, fingers flicking in its direction sending a chorus of coruscating sparks off her rings, jingling bangles a soft melody. "How providential I didn't miss all the fun. Ladies, it's a bit /early/ for thigh-high boots. Equestrian til mid-autumn, trust me." She beams at the crowd, corpses, demonesses and all. She's probably the eighth wonder of the word... or the eighth deadly sin, ignorance.

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fiona's been in here for an hour trying on shoes, though as the demon...things happen she's briefly thinking of calling in her friends, but....her phone's dead. The light gets her to swear profusely with words that'd make a sailor who stubbed all ten toes blush and reach for the soap and salty water. Fiona's /that/ agitated. and not caring who hears.

Something something go fornicate something something demon's mother something cactus fornicating. Something something kiss my Irish butt, scaley face. Fi's angry now. She swaps to swearing in French too, nothing is off limits, that's how angry she is. Yet the woman with the banner and whip, she yells over 'Hey you ,need help?' in French and gathers up a shoe to throw. If anything, that'd work...hopefully. She stares at the three demons.

"Oy, scaley butts, catch" she yells, throwing a stiletto heel at the demon with the whip. Fi grabs the other shoe from the pair and throws it in an arc toward the three demons. She's mad, now.

"For fucks's sake, you god damn motherfucking demons crash a shoe shop? What, are you fashion concious demons? Hey, I know. If I help you buy shoes will you piss off and leave us all alone? I mean, I get it, you're needing fancy clothes" she says gathering up ammunition to throw while talking, "Tell you what. You seel these shoes I'm holding, you four ugly fucks? Pick the shoes you want. I'll tell you the price. You four go home and be happy you got some fancy shoes, deal?" Fi asks. She's..../pissed/ about this. Demons. Fucking demons. Ruining her shoe buying trip. Great, does she have to call a witch or Ghostbusters or something now? or given this is Gotham, where the hell's the Bat signal anyway?

Maiden of Light has posed:
The demon quartet, a few seconds ago ready to tear Jeanne apart (or put a collar around her neck, who knows!), are handily interrupted by the flashy entrance of one Sersi with her sparking rings and comments on the evil beings' fashion choices. The warmth of Sersi's voice sends another blush that Jeanne feels in her spine, but that same warmth actually helps her get her tongue moving again.

"Ah! Lord bless you, please! I'm new at this!" Comes the superhero, clearly green despite the fancy getup. In comes the whip of a demon again, this time Jeanne managing to parry with a quick rotation of her standard. She's in a bit spot though: trying to avoid hitting anyone in the store, and not die by spiked whip is tough. Already she has bright lashes on her face.

A second demon goes for a whip at Jeanne's armored backside, but then a very angry Irish lady is throwing shoes. The first two bounce off of the lusty creature's face, making her hiss in pain. Then the next one sticks a stiletto straight in the eyeball.

The demon grabs her now bleeding eye, before leaping straight at Fiona! "I'll eat your soul, mortal!" The demon threatens. As for the cursing? Well, the demon doesn't care.

Jeanne, amidst avoiding lashes, peers at Fi! "D...don't say such things! Ahh!" Jeanne's demon slides in under the distracted hero's guard. The pair struggle, demon trying to give Jeanne the kiss of soul eating while Jeanne tries to throttle the demon with her standard.

The two other demons currently unoccupied start to circle Sersi. "Oh, are you a fashionista, little mortal? Bow to us, and we'll dress you up in the best hell can offer!" One of them lunges with those nails, aiming for Sersi's legs while the other tries to wrap that whip around Sersi's neck with a swing!

Sersi has posed:
It's probably wrong to enjoy any signs of consternation out of the abyssal creatures in her midst, but perhaps a jot of amusement at their expense isn't too terrible. Forgivable as a small fault, supposing the Almighty keeps tabs on the score. It's a pretty big tally, altogether.

"Darlings, fashion conscious? You wound me!" Hand fluttering at her throat, fingers dusting the figure-fitting dress, Sersi looks almost put out if she weren't so clearly delighted. "The same old story since the beginning of time, you want to stand out from the crowd. You have to embrace your individuality somehow and fashion is identity. Though, honestly, is that vegan leather?" Her bright eyes crackle. "As in the kind made from vegans?" Perhaps she spotted the dessicated corpses devoid of their souls, shaking her head oh so slightly. Especially as her demoness decides to close with unnecessarily complaints and threats, earning a /very/ bored eyeroll. "The whips could stand to be replaced, though. Possibly by a cute, boxy purse that still spells 'Mistress of my own fate' and has the overtones to the workman lunch bucket, no?" Her head tilts as she imparts this advice. Clearly she takes the succubi as seriously as a teenager does an exam. Not unless her life depends on it, basically.

To Fiona, she gives a cheeky little smile. "Sassy girl, you set them straight. I don't think they deserve free shoes, though. That seems like rewarding thieves." A beat. "Soul-thieves are so //tacky//. You're ruining a perfectly good sale!" Fingertips click in disapproval. "It wasn't even fun in Brabant with Hieronymus. I swear, your intelligence is artificial and your creativity on par with a clam. Ever heard of reinventing the wheel?"

Meanwhile, all that talking has a purpose other than entertaining her. Honest! The fading sunlight still provides a helpful glow, illuminating the buildings in gold and licking down the pavement. She pulls it in, every second passing adding to her reserves. Nothing to show for it on the outside, but the ambient sunlight veers for her, settling into an unfathomable deep wellspring. Dinnertime snack?

Those claws and that whip strike. They slice through her dress, and she glares at the pair of them. But blood? None, nothing to speak of. Skin is perfectly fair and smooth, knit together even as it opens. She rolls her eyes and snaps her wrist out to grab the whip itself with no concern. And then she /pulls/.

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
'Angry Irish lady' is one way to describe Fiona. She's got one eyeball and been down two more shoes, and has a demoness leaping at her. Oh shit. Fi throws her arm toward the demoness, her other hand tossing another stiletto while she's keeping her head and neck down. She can live with a broekn arm, or ribs. neck. Not so much. Plus she'd never hear the end of it from her family, too. Fi risks a glance to the source of the melodic bangles, and whistles. "Hey!" she calls. "Behind ya" she adds, though that's more for the demon. Fiona's just done her best to leap aside after the 'Behind ya' was shouted. She's thinking on her feet. Feet that are, at least, aiming towards the demoness's groin. Fi didn't think to bring steel toe boots. That's just occurred to her, but if Fi can do anything to distract the demon that's leaping at her....she'll use it. Fi is so ready for this. Plus it'd be a hell of a story. Pun intended, she thinks.

Fi glances up to Sersi. with a wink, "Free shoes in the eyeball" she calls out, "Stilettos work great for free shoes to the face" Fi calls.

Maiden of Light has posed:
In between attempted claw-slash-whippings of Sersi, the demonesses have the nerve to look /offended/! One of them stops mid-claw, hands on her hips, and cants them! She actually tusk-tusk's Sersi!

"Hey! These are made from one hundred percent real sinner skin! And I'm not giving up the whip! How do you steal someone's soul without one!? You mortals have strange interpretations of what constitutes hell fashion!" Seems Sersi's started the demonic fashion war!

The other demon though gets neatly yanked towards Sersi with a pull. Luckily it seems the lust aura is more these demons' weapons than actual strength. Deadly, sure, but not superhumanly strong these ones. The demoness therefore suddenly finds herself tugged /straight/ for Sersi, yanked literaly off her feet. She falls at Sersi's ankles, blinking, then looks up in what might be regarded as mild terror.

"What...are you!?" Then, the demon opens it's mouth, and it's visibly serrated tongue lashes out for Sersi's neck. Eww.

Meanwhile, rather than get out of the way, Fi goes on the assault! Right to the poor demon's groin! The impact is /awful/, and it may well fracture Fi's foot if she's not careful! That demon is leaping pretty fast, but the woman does get the demon scum! Said demon makes a moan-scream, going down in a heap! She shudders, clutching herself. There's a crackle, and suddenly the demon starts to fade out of existance! One down.

Jeanne, meanwhile, seems to be winning the grapple. After a moment of being pinned and getting /way/ too familiar with soft demon parts, she finally manages to kick the thing off of her. Jeanne concentrates, points with a hand at the demon's head.

Another brilliant flash of light, and the demon's head burns. Jeanne turns to look to the others.

"Begone, evil creatures! The might of the Lord and the Saint will cast you down!" She yells. By now, the atmosphere is noticably less effecting, and much of the crowd has begun to flee. One or two take a moment to steal some shoes. One ex-customer even makes off with a succubus whip.

Sersi has posed:
Offended? All the better, since they look so charming when it comes to frustrated, peaky faces. Demonesses in disapproval over fashion, even with that now daring slit angled over Sersi's shoulder to her bosom is rather risque. She flashes a burning bright smile back at them, winking even as she pulls on the whip.

It's a dangerous thing, subjection to lust, but hers is a kind of lust that doesn't exactly fall into the taste for power, money, potential. How can a demon resist /life/? For that is her underlying desire, life itself, the burning brilliance of it threaded through her veins. The stolen sunlight that she swallowed is used then and there, braided out to warp and transform the nature of the whip itself. Where once was sinner-skin, there is now an abundance of lace twined around silk flowers and a thin, fragile green macrame rope. The sort of thing sold at craft stores, used to stage real estate with. Very pretty: the flowers are stunningly lifelike, even as the accelerated transformation eats into the leather with a pretty straightforward shift.

Neither does she let go.

Is the demoness /sure/ she wants to lick Sersi now? Because the exact same transformation will happen to her tongue: green macrame for everyone! Here, there, everywhere. The blithe designer winks even as she makes a disgusted face. "Darling, of all the people I'd permit lick me, /you/ are not it."

All this serves a purpose, though. "Lady High-heels, your moment awaits!" she calls to the Irish woman, unable to gesture. She needs both hands, or generally her skin to serve as the transformation vehicle. "And my lady faith, if you feel to it, come deliver the judgment of your god. Ew, she smells like boiled /boots/."

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fiona feels her foot fracture and...for a split second, doesn't care. She just groin punted a demoness. Ow. Then the pain hits her and she swears. "Motherfucking goddamn fucking what the shitfuckery unholy Christ fucking godfuckingdamnit" she swears in English, liberally sprinkled in with the c-word every time she puts weight on her foot. When she's got tired of holding herself up by her arm, Fi gingerly tests her foot again, a string of French insults and creative profanity escaping her lips as she moves, swearing up and down about Napoleon's testicles and the gilloutine, at least that's what's discernable. Mostly it's insanely quick and rapid French words that Fiona's not sure where she learned, but she's upping the ante into Spanish as she leans on her good leg, and kicks the groin booted demon. She's switching now between English, French, Gaelic and Spanish without care. Or care fo whoever is even listening by now, she's got tears running down her face as she's in pain, aggravated, and....wanting to kick the ever loving hell out of these demons. Why didn't she bring a gun? Or a bomb? She's fractured her foot, and....and....this sucks!

Fi looks from Sersi to Maiden then around, "I thought each of those demons had whips?" she says between clenched teeth. It's hard to hobble to the door while sucking in breaths and every other word being something on a late night French arthouse film screamed with those funky art house film angles.

Fi's not going anywhere fast. She's in no shape to. Instead...Fi's..going over when she's called Lady High Heels. "I'llgiveyoufuckingladyhigheels" she snarls, then looks to Sersi. "So what the hell do you need? I got a fractured foot, and I ran out of pretty shoes. Tonight is not my night" Fiona says, "Mind holding me upright before the world spins and I puke everywhere?" she adds, looking green around the gills.

Maiden of Light has posed:
The demoness trying to fatally tongue Sersi doesn't realize she's messed up until her tongue starts to become lace and flowers. Sersi first got to see the effects of offense to the unholy creature, and now pure terror as it's clothes and tongue change to that lacey, flimsey material. The creature even seems to care about /modesty/ now, covering her bosom as that thin material threatens to give way. There's a reason the demon was wearing leather.

The Maiden looks torn between just smiting the demon and trying to not look at the very pretty ladies, as the demon fights for dignity and suddenly having a flower tongue. It curses at Sersi and Fi, but it's so mumbled that one can't make it out.

Sersi helpfully asks Fi and Maiden to help out with the unholy creature. Jeanne winces and looks at Fi with /every single curse/, her blushing face outright pouting! "Miss! That...don't curse with the Lord's name! Language! I'm a nun, you know?" Pouuuut! You're making the nun-knight sad, Fi! She does walk over to Fi, offering her shoulder to lean on though.

"Flowers...Ah, of course!" Comes Jeanne back at Sersi. She raises her hand, and light starts to gather. Then, she sends a bolt straight for the downed demon! It isn't as strong as the initial bolt, and rather than melting the creature's head, all that lace and flowers and squishy flesh slowly starts to boil away in waves. Soon enough, the creature stills.

That last demon though? She looks at all three, gulps, and laughs nervously. With a 'pop', letting go of the magic that brought her here, she fades back to hell.

The atmosphere plummets. The few remaining civilians have fled. And now the trio are alone in a room, with corpses demonic and human.

Jeanne gives a full body shudder, and the armor of light falls from her body. She pants, a bit sweaty, and looks at the two other women. "Is...everyone alright?" She's mostly looking at Fi here.

"Thank you both! I...shudder to think what those demons would have done to me if..." The nun shakes her head.

A huge sigh. "We should call the police. And a doctor. I...I think I need a cold shower." Jeanne lets out this distressed sound. /Demons/!

Sersi has posed:
"Calm down," Sersi says in precise Parisian French, shifting out of her English into the Romance language with passionate ease. "Your foot can be fixed in a trice, ma cherie, I rather thought you might throw the shoe. Or stab one with them." Sadly, little miss lacks modesty pops out of existence before she can respond, and instead, she holds up her hands to the sun as it sinks past the horizon.

Hail to the sun! It's time for yoga immediately! Not exactly, the faintest shimmer of energy settling on her fair skin and the pallor of her complexion fading out under her usual Mediterranean olive over time. She practices gentle breathing exercises as she goes, beckoning to the Maiden of Light with a look of approval.

"You're all right? She didn't take anything from you more than she already had? Wretched things, that kind." Her scouring gaze slips between the women and back to the corpses; the victims of the succubi she cannot /legally/ do much about, and therefore, twists her lips in disapproval or dismay. It's hard to be sure. "I'm Zara, by the way. No need to be distressed, mademoiselle, they are done and gone. You are only as sullied as you let them make you, and there is no reason at all to give them a final victory."

She glances down at her dress, torn so. That will not do. A wiggle of her slender nose and the slice knits itself together much like her skin did, though it comes at the cost of a rich, airy sigh. "Absolutely, the police. Do you have a phone?"

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fi takes the offered shouldere and mumbles an apology. "I grew up Catholic. I get your horror at my words" Fi says sounding....oddly sincere, she switches to French to make this point, though she's till swearing less offensively now. If that's possible, though Fi's more or less cut out the religion, but everything else is fair game.

Fi's an odd sight. She's clutching onto a nun's shoulder for dear life, got tears streaming down her face and looks like she's about to barf everywhere. Yet she's hobbling on one leg, too albeit swaying and digging her fingers into the shoulder, with her other arm around the Nun's shoulder for support. Fi looks a mess.

"I...have a phone. It sort of works" Fi admits. "I don't wanna be here when the cops turn up though" she says, breathing heavily. "I'd rather....go home and lay down" Fi mumbles. She's light headed, and...finally she gives in. She's smart enough to turn her head from Sersi and the nun before emptying her guts. it's....not pretty, she's got the knack of launching her puke through the air. It's enough to make anyone else sick, but on the plus side, Fiona's feeling better. Slightly.

Maiden of Light has posed:
Jeanne actually bows to the immortal woman and injured irishwoman. Zara's advice has the good sister smiling just a bit. Jeanne looks /exhausted/! Seems wielding mutant-light-holy-powers is a bit draining.

"Nothing that won't heal. I worry about what my dreams will be, but at least my soul is intact! But you're right. Thanks to the Lord, and brave women, the demons will not hurt anyone else! I won't let their evil into my heart."

A look to the deceased, and Jeanne crosses herself. She'll pray for them later when she's not dead on her feet.

"Oh. I'm Sister Laurent. Or, Jeanne if you'd like! It's nice to meet you both, circumstances despite..."

Oh. Oh poor Fi. The woman has to swallow a few times to avoid being sick herself, clutching both Standard and the cussing other woman. "You're forgiven. Ah, yes, let's all get out of here. Where do you live?" She noticably doesn't take Fi's phone. It isn't like she could use it!

Back to Sersi. "The way you used the light and the flowers...it was amazing!" Someone's impressed! Maybe even gushing a little!

Sersi has posed:
The sunshine is simply too bright in her /not/ to be happy. Sersi beams that friendly smile, easily arranged to simply bask in the presence of those around her. No tears from her, no sense of worry or danger. Gravitas she has, sometimes, but not at this exact moment.

"It's going to be all right. Truly, you're good. Take a nice deep breath," she suggests as Fiona gets sick. Somewhere around her has to be a handkerchief. She consults her pockets. Yes, a dress ought to have pockets and does, something she offers without complaint.

"Delighted, Sister Laurent. What is your holy order?" she asks with cherry enthusiasm that comes out of recognizing something, less the dead. Oh goodness. That might warrant a bit of trouble. "Ah, demons and infernal powers in general hate to be reminded of Mary the Virgin or Persephone, so I had to modify accordingly. Mary's flowers are always pretty -- roses and lilies -- and meaningful for you. If they helped strengthen your faith, I hope I didn't cause you any offense?" The sunshine is still fading from the sky but as long as it's there, she pulls in that excess radiation to herself with the greed of a toddler after a cupcake.

Fiona Glenanne has posed:
Fiona listens and nods along at the holy order. She's familiar with them and gives the nun a respectful nod as Fi smiles apologetically. Looking over, Fi smiles a wicked smile to Sersi. "I'm done being sick now. Um....there's a trash can that we can just close up and dump all the air freshener spray in?" Fi asks only half joking, but she too has caught the happy thing, taking the hankerchief with a smile, she wipes her mouth then isn't sure if she should give back the hankerchief or not

Instead, she just listens, leaning on the nun for support, though she does offer a gentle smile to Sersi and offers a hand to both women...or to Sersi first, offering a hand to the nun, Sister Laurent, would involve shifting around, and putting weight on her injured foot. She does though shuffle around so she can offer one hand to the nun to shake, and the other to Sersi. She's still leaning on the nun for support, too. It's all done very delibaretly as Fi's eyes are watching them both, though they sparkle with happiness. She's not sure what those flowers did, but she /seriously/ needs some in her apartment.

Maiden of Light has posed:
The good sister shakes her head at Sersi! "None whatsoever! Symbols are nice, but clinging to them too much ignores the good that can be done with them. If anything, using them to save lives is something my order would encourage. Ahem, Order of St. Michael. We're mostly exorcists, travelers, and priests that...well, we're a bit more blunt, and tend to be on soap boxes rather than pews. I travel the world, using my Blessing to stop things like /that/!" She indicates the corpse of one of the demons.

She has, meanwhile, packed back up the Standard i nbetween helping keep poor Fi on her feet! She frowns hard, shaking Fi's hand, but otherwise trying to help her hobble!

"Miss Zera, Knight of the Stiletto...it's been a pleasure. May the Lord grace us with another meeting. With less barely-clad demons!" Huff!