Owner	Pose
Zachary Lightwing	As far as the world is concerned, the magical community doesn't really exist the way the superhero community does. Magical creatures prey on the weak in the dark corners of every city of the world and magical heroes and otherwise. So that's why, when a shop selling magical trinkets and concoctions was found ransacked and its owner killed in a most bizarre and macabre way, the magical community went out of their way to quarantine the spot.     'Stay away from here,' the wards would say. For some, this may just be a curiosity along their way to somewhere else. It stinks of demonic influence, and its nestled in a back alley so far out of the way that no one is really walking down it. None of the apartments that way even seem lived in.     Here, where the world is quieter, it almost seems as if something is muffling the sound of the city...
Loki	The magical community on Earth at least knows the rule of staying out of sight, out of mind. For the most part, that works well keeping prying eyes and nosy journalists out of the path of trouble. The realms invisible should stay invisible, and that suits Loki Odinson just fine. Mostly. He sits on a bench across from the wards' outer rim, sipping a rather overpriced latte shot through by delicious quantities of Earl Grey tea and a bit of lavender syrup, the very essence of a wet, misty day in London. His manner is casual, and his dark eyes watch everyone who comes back and forth. The wards keep pushing away others, but not so much the sorcerer. He has a moment of concentration to calibrate his mental protection against the banning influence saying 'look past me,' and 'nothing to see here.' Then, draining a good sip, he gets up. The alley in question gets a solid once over, and his eyes are open to detect any flicker of magic, weirdness, whatever someone wants to call it. "Tsk, tsk. Has someone been bad and I missed it?" The pigeon flapping by doesn't answer.
Zachary Lightwing	Looking over it, it's clear why it has been quarantined so thoroughly. The vestiges of the mystic forces can be seen here. The veil is distorted as if something magical was just shredded around there. For someone who knows what this looks like it might be pretty worrying. The only things that cause this kind of damage are a very specific kind of threat. The demon that did this eats magic. Creatures that can wipe out the presence of mages on world if left unchecked, they leave the essence of magic shredded wherever they've feasted, poisoning the leylines a little bit at a time, making portals distort and spells fizzle out. And the worst part is that every victim it devours will only make it stronger. It may even get strong enough, bold enough, to attack Loki himself. It's been clever enough to evade notice this long. Traces of spellwork can be seen to mask the true nature of its feeding habits. On top of there being multiple types of demon that eat mages, the tangled web of concealment makes it impossible to properly identify and therefore very difficult to track.
Loki	A magic eater: that's an exciting development to a dry day. And where might this hungry demon be prowling? Loki keeps a keen green eye on his surroundings, avoiding from humming a little jaunty tune. This might be better suited to his brother, but sometimes, even a demon needs to meet the blunt end of a hammer. He pauses for a time, his head tilted and forehead lined in thought. Some nasty spell work and some nasty power; not his idea of fun. He takes a slow walk around the front of the buildings that don't actually seem to be occupied, searching for evidence of sigil or marks that might indicate activate spells, lost traps, and details in between. It's not //exciting//, but the kind of details that get overlooked. Traces of components unburnt, hints of the previous spells put down. It's a painstaking process, yes, but sifting and shaping is a little like an archaeological expedition. And being three thousand years old means he's got a little time on his side to perform it with a light touch. The man does need another latte, eventually. He's mindful to ensure no one else is bumbling around.
Zachary Lightwing	The spell work is found. There's a manhole cover there in the alley leading to the Gotham sewers. The sigils are hidden in the designs found on these covers, etched in painstaking detail by claws that could carve through metal. The metallic disc hums when examined too closely, as if the spell inside it was straining to make the onlooker look away from it. There are several accompanying sigils nearby. Under a trash can, on a window sill, etched into a bolt lock. It spreads the concealment over a wide area, wide enough to judge that the creature is having a hard time keeping up with its own feeding habits. It's getting too hasty, too greedy. It left in a hurry after this feeding. There's nobody coming down the alley. The quarantine was well-crafted. Loki's unlikely to be disturbed over here. The store itself has no intact door, the demon having knocked it off its hinges... from the inside. In a rush to leave, apparently. The store itself had spells built in to expel demons and other creepy-crawlies. For whatever reason, they failed to activate. The magic eater bypassed it somehow.
Loki	Is it proper to show professional approval? Too bad. The Asgardian god stifles a smirk teasing at the corners of his thinned mouth, though he goes down onto one knee to see whether disturbing the concealment spells will have a negative impact. Backlash is nasty. On the other hand, he has a slightly better idea on that front, eradicating the power by siphoning off the magic into an object if it cannot be dispelled without risk of attention from the demon or the others in the neighbourhood. Transferring it to something plain as a dime or a quarter could well hide //him//. Loki has never been amiss to using whatever is on hand. As a precaution, though, he says, "Laevateinn." The sword is simply there, exactly as the last ringing whisper comes to the fore, an uru-metal blade less exciting than said block-headed hammer for his blockhead brother. Its thin profile practically vanishes from sight, which is how he wants it. "Just making sure you're around. Come along." The murmur fades out as he moves on to the doorway, after dealing with the protective sigils that offered protection. The creature doesn't get more help for its lair than it can muster. He is slow to go up to the door and angles in, rather than moseys straight up. He's not a fool. The spells built in are likewise scrutinized: do they let in demons wearing human clothing? Do they overlap pipes and vents, other points of ingress to the establishment?
Zachary Lightwing	The concealment spell doesn't appear to work with anything other than the evidence of the demon's presence, and only on those minds weak enough to overlook the spell in the first place. It would be of no use to Loki, as powerful as he is. Looking at it, though, it is built to go off like a bomb if someone undoes the spellwork at all. The manhole cover hums because it will shatter into horrifying concrete-blasting red hot shrapnel. Probably best not to touch it, even with the strength of a god. It might put out an eye. Defusing it would take a few minutes. The protective sigils on the shop are... Perfect. There's no gaps in the coverage. There's no way a demon could have gotten in the usual ways. The method of entry becomes clear when he looks inside. The air is toxic with dimensional overlap. There's glimmers of web, and here and there objects melt and distort. Again, the quarantine was a wise choice. This could do serious damage to the unprepared. The type of magic eater that did this behaves like a trap door spider. It spreads knowledge and piggybacks on certain spells in order to reach its prey, and then snatches prey up when they bumble into its web. These webs were also being concealed by the spell on the manhole cover. The webs emerge from a central point, a book sitting on a counter at the back of the room. This thing eats people that are trying to learn and become better. Not just magic users, but /growing/ magic users. It scouts for potential before it can be nurtured and gobbles it up for itself. ... is that a human soul trapped in the previously invisible demonic web? It sure is. He doesn't look very happy. Or coherent. Looks like the store owner.
Loki	And this is why the Earth has a Sorcerer Supreme, a meddling doctor who likes to surgically extract problems and frown at naughty infernal creatures that think it can march into his dimension. Presently his. Mental note is made: make Mister Doctor Strange earn the silver hair over his temples. Loki is nothing if not a pragmatist. A momentary note is made, while he curls his fingers around the hilt of his sword as a wise measure. No need to set off the equivalent of a bolt-stuffed pressure cooker or cut through the protection spell. He does, however, frown when it comes to the ugly business of the dimensional blur. Maybe humans warrant a little more respect than they get, a passing thought. His light stride becomes no matter at all, fading down. A protective circle would be too much enticement, like said spider hearing something trembling on its cobweb. However, now it's likely personal. The demon is going to have a very, very angry conduit of the magic gods for a visit. On his part, though, he can meddle. Removing the book, is that likely to trigger said webs and nasty measure? And would a nigh perfect facsimile with a fatal flaw be sufficient? He's already turning the notion over in his mind. The soul can wait a few more seconds longer, even as the Trickster considers his options carefully, and he thumbs the hilt of the sword.
Zachary Lightwing	The book trap is already sprung. There's a reason why it chose to conceal it and it isn't because this feeding ground will be viable for much longer. It would be impossible to spring this trap again, but there... IS a way to copy the spell. The groundwork is all there. And it may allow Loki to do whatever he wants with how the demon might emerge when it's next called. The ghost looks at Loki. He doesn't bother talking. He recognizes the God of Mischief by sight, and has no interest in asking for his help. He resumes struggling uselessly at the webbing, frowning to himself. He appears to be the ghost of an old man, trapped in the mortal plane by the magic in the webs, one of the many ways that the demon distorts magic wherever it feeds. If a soul cannot pass on even when it wants to, it desecrates the grounds with a wrathful spirit and poisons it for any magic but the evil flavors of it.
Loki	Loki takes a moment to compose his thoughts around the business of the spell. In truth, it might be more than a minute or five he spends assuring he has the details down correctly. Writing is hardly necessary for him, but he certainly pays carful mind. The demon needs to eat. The demon may find itself neatly boxed up and subject to a little more scrutiny than the standard magic eating monster. The business of his work does not take interruption from a ghost. Oh, the shopkeeper may be miserable, but at least he receives a rather pointed look. Obviously he wants out. A glance given to Laevateinn. What might the impact be if he cuts the soul free?
Zachary Lightwing	Cutting the soul free would simply help repair the veil here. It's rotting because the soul is being tugged at by its given afterlife and the webs won't let it go. It would be a simple matter to cut the webs and release it. The soul won't be able to leave on its own.
Loki	Two steps forward with Laevateinn in his left hand and Loki gives a backhanded slash to the webs. "Be gone to your end, wherever the Norns decree you go," he says to the spirit, the sparkling edge glittering brightly. The blade makes for few troubles with a cobweb, and he tips his head, looking for any signs of disturbance. A second thought for the spirit might be spared but not much more than that.
Zachary Lightwing	It's an odd day when a spirit is saved by Loki. The ghost almost expected him to do something worse, but Loki has garnered a very negative reputation for himself and so the behavior isn't unexpected. The ghost looks surprised shortly before vanishing in a soft glow of divine light. Apparently he went somewhere pleasant. When the web is shredded, there's a distant... pressure. The demon doesn't show up itself, but it just felt Loki. It knows about him now. And it wisely keeps its distance, wherever it is.
Loki	"Indeed. And if you think I'm your dinner, you're quite mistaken. Don't bite the hand that feeds," murmurs Loki under his breath. He doesn't sheath the sword immediately but stalks through the quarantine and the ward, touching his fingers to no shelf or book. None of these things hold a sense of need for him. What he leaves instead is a burning glyph for those of his own kind, enough if one of them should wander by: Anathema.