Owner	Pose
Sinister	Der Schwartzweld -- The black forest. A place which for the longest time, played host to all things Grimm. But also, in slightly more surreal times, was the favoured locale of Mad King Ludwig, proof positive that Germans can actually have a sense of humour and also learn from a mistake. We have a bonkers monarch who likes gothic castles and whimsy. He's not very good, lets replace him with his brother who's a psychotic. Ok, retcon that, here, Ludwig, have aaaaaaaaaall the castles you want 'WHEEEEEEEEEE!~ My masterpiece Neu Schwannstein!' and thus a legacy of gothic follies and a tendancy of the local architecture to follow a certain suit, along with bauhaus minimalism and industrial movement construction. Ausberg is a small town on a lake, half an hour out of Munich, the capital of Bavaria. It has chalet style houses on many of the hills, gothically themed manses and cottages along the lakeshore and a small active tourism in the summertime Watersports, fishing, hiking, that sort of thing. And on the end of a long private road, lies the Van Kemp estate. A mansion with its own infinity pool, a fantastic view, great glass windows and as noted in previous set-up, a nod to Bauhaus industrial in its styling. The closest neighbour is not that close. But the mansion is in a kind of anticipatory aura. By small outboard motor speedboat, Sinister arrives, driving the vessel to the shore, unloading a bunch of boxes, jars, stacks of books and satchels from the inside of it. He takes out a card, concentrates on the name upon it, the phone number on the back altogether worn out and silently sends out: <<I'm here. I moved the material manually, from Munich. I didn't want to risk bad things occuring to the raw materials.>>
Lucifer	Lucifer comes down to the dock at the mansion where Sinister has landed with all of the things that he has brought to the house. The Devil is here to help his lover bring things from the boat to the house once again. "I can understand not wanting anything to happen to the raw materials." He says this much as he grabs a box or whatever he can to help his lover. "I almost have everything ready in the house to make the mirror image as we need." He offers this much and then smiles. Then he turns and begins to make his way back up towards the house, though he does call back "Anywhere in particular you want these placed?"
Sinister	"To be truthful, I wouldn't know what should go where. This is so far out of my field of expertise, but I'm ever so pleased that I might get to observe. You're the one that's mystically inclined, these are your raw materials," Sinister replies, picking up the books and making light work of one of the crates and a satchel. Between them, moving these mystical supplies indoors is trivial. "So, if I was to try and understand this from a scientific perspective, we are... what.. lowering certain thresholds by inciting specific conditions that lower the dimensional equivalent of a boiling point?"
Lucifer	"Something like that? The portal to hell is a delicate thing. It involves connecting realms that never would be connected save for points made between the two by actual purpose. The idea is a two-way reflection. On our side, the only ones who will see are those who are intent to see. Enter a particular point and there are interactions that can occur." Lucifer explains all this as he moves to set boxes in the living area. "On the other side, one can interact all they wish with the surroundings as connected. There will also be a door that will literally open straight into Hell proper beyond. And all those not connected by any points in the interim will experience nothing but this realm at any point in time." Further offering this and then he glances to Sinister. "I am not sure how to succinctly put that into scientific terms."
Sinister	Sinister considers this for a moment, working through it in his mind. He is not magically inclined, but he is, at the very least, extremely clever. He twirls a finger in the air, making a bubble of force which shimmers red, another with his other hand that shimmers red too, but slightly less so. He then makes a box in the air, shaped like a house and covers both bubbles with it, contracting the house until the bubbles touch at a miniscus point, to which he points a finger. "But rather more... mystical, I'd wager." He muses, creates a third bubble to interact through the miniscus, which would allow, by careful pressures, things from both bubbles under pressure, to bleed through that point.
Constantine	Something moves in one of Sinister's pockets. At first it's a wiggling, then it becomes a shuffling. A loud "RIBBIT" is spoken by a choir of elmentary school kids' voices seemingly coming from... everywhere. All at once. Whatever is trapped in her garment is now crawling and bumping at the fabric, until it frees itself in a powerful hop. An origami frog lands nearby, flopped on its back. It's made out of stained cardboard, the same kind of dirty the coaster Constantine offered Sininster a while ago showed. Wait... it's the coaster, folded. "RIBBIT" the choir chants a second time, with more emphasis. The frog is moving its legs and squirming to right itself, failing. Its color is turning rapidly yello, yellow, dark green for its back part. "RIBBIT" shouts the choir, deafening. Cardboard is replacing flesh, starting from the center and spreading fast to the limbs. And it's growing in size by the second. "JOHN CONSTANTINE" now yells the outlandish voices in unison. The frog keeps growing, and growing... then it sheds its skin which turns into a familiar trenchcoats, wool pants, white shirt and sleevless blazer, shoes. It's constantine alright. He blinks his eyes several times, making no efforts to stand up yet. "Where the fuck..."
Lucifer	"Quite. Just a bit more mystical...but there are scientific properties even behind the mysticism.." Lucifer says this much and is about to say more when suddenly that origami frog hops out of Sinister's pocket. As it flops on the ground, ribbits several times and then suddenly becomes less paper cardboard and more fleshy bits, the Devil raises an eyebrow. As the final shout of a name comes, Lucifer tilts his head and then gives it a shake. "We're going to have to give you a better way to travel... that... was a little more on the disgusting side." He smirks then before his eyes shift over to Sinister once more. "Anyway. I'll need a little bit of time to get the other things all set up in order to put things into working order..." Though he doesn't move just yet, perhaps a little hesitant in case John wants to throw in a few words. "Also. Welcome to Manor Van Kempe in Ausburg, Germany. Pleasure to see you again, Constantine."
Sinister	Well, it was HER pocket. It seems to now be his again. And given the nature of Sinister's clothing, when it starts to buck, he stares at it in consternation, like his left hand had just turned all Evil Ash. Only when the source of this rebellion is brought forth and the chant of eerie children proclaims finally the originator of the transmography, does he settle from looking rather put out. "Magic. Sometimes it makes sense, other times it's just damnwell strange," he mutters in low tones. "Constantine, this is..." and Lucifer explains, so there is simply a gesture open palmed to the devil. "I suppose you have to create the right harmonics and/or resonance, which isn't calipers and diodes, but crystals and powders?"
Constantine	"Huuuuuuuh thanks." John tries his fingers, his hands, arms legs neck and most likely his toes too. "I never liked Germany... too many grimms." He sits himself on the floor, one knee raised. "I didn't mean to spook you, it's just how it is. Law of Contagion and all it means. Think of it as hem. Quantum entanglement by osmosis. Then there's the Law of Sympathy, what looks alike and stuff. There are more but that should give you ideas..." He gives a look around. "What are we crafting here? Mirror stuff? Dayum. That's old school. Why not just use the Hellmouth under New Jersey?"
Lucifer	Lucifer gives a single nod to Sinister as he begins to work. Pulling this and that from the box. A bag of crystals - as guessed - that he places at points where none will see in passing, and those who need know where they are. As he works, his actions are both meticulous and questionable. He is also quite silent as he works, pieces placed, steps taken back to think, an adjustment here, a replacement there. Dragon's Teeth. Three to be precise. They are placed at intrical points to bring the invisible line together, and then he steps back and admires. He then retrieves a purple pouch from a cardboard box, a black box is taken from the pouch, and a crimson bag is pulled from the black box. Once opened, he pulls out two pieces of chalk, three candles - white, black, and red - a lighter, a bowl, and an athemae. At Constantine's question, he glances to the man and tilts his head. "Reasons." Is all he offers as he kneels and begins to draw on the floor with the chalk.
Sinister	It takes a moment for Sinister to process Constantine is explaining parallels. "Some of that I don't think means what you think it means, but I get what you mean," he appreciates the effort at the least and from a different pocket, takes a small box containing nothing more than silver rings. Each is slipped onto a finger, the larger on his thumbs, until each finger has a circlet of conductive metal around it. "I think this is what could be considered exceptionally advanced mirror magic, where there is no actual looking glass involved, but instead the very plane of reality itself." He muses this as he watches Lucifer at work, shaking his head in wonderment and complete bewilderment. But he nevertheless studies the placement of things and the casting of three. There, here, nexus. There, here, nexus. Line up for a door. Triangulation points in the form of mathematically placed crystals. "New Jersey is crowded and there's far more supernatural activity than I'd like. I've been to hell before, Constantine. But I suspect that extenuating circumstances were involved in me not expiring dramatically, given I have not a single mystical bone in my body. We are experimenting in... kinder work-arounds."
Constantine	"Ya right, ya both right. If we don't have to go to Hell in person, let's not." He searches a side pocket of his coat and finds a small, globed up tube. "This is precise stuff here. It's all about resonance. If it shakes on the same vibratory level, you get a kind of bridge. It's not transportation... more like translation. Err." He throws the tube at Lucifer in a lazy lob. "Heads up, Lucifer. Believe it or not, there's been advances in ritual magic. You know that old cliche where someone does some ritual and then moves something with their foot in the middle and all goes wrong? Not anymore. Crazy glue your shit to the floor." At last, he lifts himself from the ground. "Wormhole," he says to Sinister in a light bulb moment. "You align the vibrations both ways and you get a magical wormhole. Kind of."
Lucifer	Lucifer nimbly catches the crazy glue as it's tossed, but then he tosses it right back. It's not necessary, for reasons that will be evident in the next coming moments. The symbol drawn in chalk is something ancient and demonic. A summoning circle but with different symbols used because he's literally summoning Hell - or a portion of it to serve as a quick link between here and there. There's even a song! Highway to Hell. It's apropros in this situation since with just a shift and a flick, one could walk into the very catacombs themselves! Once the circle is drawn, with Lucifer in the middle, the actual ritual begins. He chants something in an ancient tongue and for a moment nothing seems to happen...or does it? Is it getting darker? A little warmer? Or are things just playing with the mind because some people know whats going on?
Sinister	Sinister watches the tossing of the crazy glue one way and back again, with just the tilt of his eyes and the shape of the lids giving away where he's looking. It's hard to tell when it's solid red after all-- "I think... if this were any other ritualist but the actual Devil himself, that might be incredibly helpful, John. However, I think comparatively speaking, the average magician is a small heartfire next to vesuvius," he nods toward the archangel in the midst of all this and slowly tilts his head up, turning on the spot as things just feel... stranger. "Fascinating... a worm hole makes a lot of sense..." and then there's a tap of his fingers to the side of his temple. "Remember mirror magic and sympathetic magic. You have research to do..." tap tap. And lastly, tucking his hands into the small of his back, standing at a kind of parade rest as he watches something happen that he has no idea how to accomplish in real terms. For him, it seems to be like enjoying a fine concerto by a maestro.
Constantine	Glue is secured behind John's grim rainment, replaced with a flask. "You're welcome to visit the mansion, Nathan, and do some reading. I'm curious what you could come up with. A weirdness-meter? Still, there's no school like doing it for real." He falls silent for a moment, nursing his flask and watching the Master of Hell himself tune up things that were not meant to work together in the first place. Even by his standards, this is strange and new. The song is contagious; his foot taps to the rhythm quitely. Suddenly a thought occurs to him: "Can they cross over to us?"
Lucifer	Of course it's never been done before. The Devil has had no need for such a thing. But sometimes in life, needs must, and as such they picked a quiet place that Lucifer 'owns' to make the link between. Finally, after a bit of speaking, and things not happening..the ground begins to shake. Softly at first. A light rumble, only to become harder and stronger as moments flit by. Candles are lit, white then black, and finally red. A bowl placed in the middle of the circle and then Lucifer slits his palm and squeezes blood into it by way of the athamae he has. More shuddering, and then there's a sound. It's hard to listen when you're not accustomed to millions of wailing souls at the same time. Like a choir that's off tune by juuuuust so much. Nails on a chalkboard. The floor begins to split open, and the items that were so delicately placed fall within the small chasm....
Sinister	Sinister's head tilts at the start of the tune, that terrible tune, sending shivers down his spine and a morbid fascination through the rest of him. "I imagine, if something really wanted to come through the other way, it probably could. This is not mirror magic with the usual kind of thing you'd think of. No looking glass reflection, other than that he seems to be making the entire vicinity reflect that which is on the other side, just a little bit. Given that I know how much energy it requires to punch a hole through the world itself between two spaces on the exact same plane of existence, this must take astronomical energy. I am quite humbled."
Constantine	Constantine doesn't clench or flinch as much as tense up to this music of Hell. They're the stuff of his nightmare, the mixed tape of his sleep. The nursing of the flask turns into generous sipping though. "Blood magic," John says approvingly with a nod, to both Lucifer's doings and Sinister's assertions. "Crikey!" he lets out, watching powerlessly the chasm swallow the ritual ustensils. This is when he flinches. He gives Lucifer a gaze full of angered reproach and his mouth open to shout something... but he regains some of his calm and just swallows his pride instead. In his free hand, a pilot light of Hellfire appears, flickering, ready to swell and devour.
Lucifer	What may be surprising is that Lucifer doesn't flinch when the chasm opens, and really it's not a wide opening. In fact, if one were to look into the chasm, they would see all the ritual items perfectly floating in place. It's an inky black space where there should be dirt and pipes and the like. Still, it's like he planned this, or knew it would happen and soon as it seemed to open and swallow things, the chasm closes again. The floor looks as though nothing broke open. That hell-choir silences and the candles blow themselves out, first red then black and finally white. The summoning circle remains, but the bowl of Lucifer's blood is gone. The Devil - himself - is doubled over on hands and knees panting a bit just before One Final Rumble shakes the ground and a shimmering door of obsidian floats in the periphreal in any direction one looks. The link made, the Devil chuckles almost in a very serenely evil way before collapsing onto his side.
Sinister	Sinister's steps take him into the circle only when it seems to be finished. He turns as he walks, fixing Constantine a long look in the moment he's facing that way, but otherwise picking up on the obsidian gateway at the corner of every eyeball but never square in perception. He crouches beside Lucifer, reaching to rest his hand upon the uppermost arm. "I ought to smack you, for not informing me of how much of -your- energy that was going to take. But consider reality to have smacked you hard enough for an army of me and we'll call it even." He squeezes, looks up at Constantine. "Do you have any particular objection to me letting out that which this charming piece of puddled celestial bestowed upon me?"
Constantine	Constantine is torn: should he watch the portal or should he peek into the chasm? Keeping an eye on the gate, he inches his way to the crevice and steals a glance. Yes, his should have trusted Lucifer more than he did. Yet, the small candle of Hellfire remains lit in his palm, even as he takes a good swig of liquor. "Sorry luv?" he asks to Sinister, unclear about the object of the question, if only because the wording is a veil of mystery. "Do you need room? I mean... better be ready, I guess. I'll keep an eye on the gate for you." For Lucifer, he offers a wince of empathy but no sympathy; now is not the time to be sentimental.
Lucifer	Lucifer is pretty much out for the count at the moment. He does give a mumble at the feel of Sin's hand which is likely proof he heard the man.
Sinister	Sinister nods his head to Constantine and looks down at the devil. Perhaps that gateway will be forever reflected askew into infinity, but likely not. Not once everything lines up on both sides of reality. What diabolical things might follow? Who knows! Lowering his lashes, Sinister's eyes brighten, subluxing then going incandescent white and with a shripping unfurling noise, the span of the room is obscured and shadowed by the upraised black wings with their edges limned in hellfire red. His hand on Lucifer's shoulder remains in place, when the other slides down to rub between shoulderblades softly. Raising his head, he gazes outward, into infinity as it were, whispering only: "Now. Open the door." But that small utterance seems to resonate through the mind. And though this is the middle of the house, where lovely open plan rooms span out in multiple directions and the furnishings are bathed in light from the high windows... it darkens just a little in the center, where the circle is painted. And a door into an empty bedroom... creaks open with an eerie squeak of hinge, until it's slowly open wide.
Constantine	Struck by indecision, John shuffles from one foot to the other, trying to get a tridimensional understanding of all that is at work. He stops. "I know this ain't a true portal unless I cross over but... a lot of people know my name in there." He pockets his flask, for now. And of the two door, both he tries to watch at the same time, he can't decide which is more important. "Can I choose door number 3?" That would be the door that leads out of this house of madness. He stays in place though, knowing too well what it would mean to turn his back on Lucifer at this juncture. "Bloody Hell." He fishes out a Silk Cuts with shaking hands, lights it with Hellfire. "Bloody Hell."
Lucifer	"It's not the end of the world, John..." Lucifer mutters, eyes fluttering open before he shifts his head to look upon Nathanielle. "...Did it work?" It should have worked. It's HIS domain after all. Still, there's always a margin for error. Always. After another moment, he slowly begins to sit up, lifting a hand to rub at his head while listening when Sinister asks for the door to open. He watches. Hears that creaking sound and smiles. "Ah. It worked. Wonderful." Then he looks to Sinister and nods his head. "It can close now. They can use it as they wish, and so can we. Yet none other. Only those..." He silences himself then before shifting to stand. "I forgot how both good and bad it feels to do stuff like that. I hope I didn't worry you too much." Though, something from John causes him to chuckle. "You're not bound by anything to stay here. If this is too much for you, Constantine, man of 10,000 magic doors. You can surely leave."
Sinister	Sinister stoops and murmurs to Lucifer's ear, then looks up as the door that creaked open, slams shut. Briefly, the sound of running feet permeates the area and that creepy feeling that someone just ran over your grave. His wings fold in, settling at his back as his eyes return to normal ruby red as he sets to helping Lucifer sit up at least, using himself as a prop for the nonce. "Much like the fact if you sit by a lava flow, you'll be able to smell the sulphur and feel the heat through the rock you sit on, I imagine if you require to use a little of hell's energy, John... here... you could. Consider it a thank you. Of a sort. Vicarious hell energy." Pause "Just don't set any of the furnishings on fire."
Constantine	"It's not?" John asks Lucifer rethorically and without one atom of irony. "Yeah, always feels like getting dirty but a worthwile kind of dirty, ain't it. Getting things done. Turning the key in the keyhole." The more he speaks, the less calm he seems. Eyes are darting to the echoes from beyond and not finding their owners. "No, I chose my side, I'm staying here 'till the end of time. What I need, friends, is the strongest drink there is." He flashes a nervous grin at the fated couple. He raises his flask up high. "I will open the book. Its pages are blank. The book is called Fate and its first chapter is Power." As he speaks the words, his voice swells, echoes, drowning other sounds. At "Power" the flame in his other hand turns to a blinding white and whooshes like a flamethower, up and down in a arc landing in his flask. That rainbow of hellish might sends shadows in all directions into eternity and after a three heartbeats vanishes, leaving everything in gloom. "Cheers," John wishes and he drinks. His eyes offers a little glow, nothing more, as he guzzles all. At the last drop, he sways, staggers, lurches and finally sprawls. "Huuuuh." One two punch, Constantine is out for now.