trans_9 | If she weighs the same as a duck...

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If she weighs the same as a duck...

The Son of Satan did not usually use his skills at detecting psychic vibrations to find people but he found himself making an exception. Unfortunately, his powers on board the meatship were diminished. There was simply too many disturbing vibrations coming from all around, as if the whole ship was infested with dark energy (and perhaps it was).

When he finally found ~~the witch~~ Roxie Shreiber he did not speak immediately, simply stared. "Roxie."

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When he comes upon her, she's engaged in ferrying a large blue bag full of magic wands of every shape and size and assorted newspaper-wrapped potion bottles from the Weapons and Possessions area towards the Hub.

"If you're going to freak out at me again, I can just get to punching you now," she says flatly.

"I do not 'freak out' as you so eloquently put it." Daimon's eyes shifted to the objects she held before returning to Roxie's face. "Not long ago I communicated with an entity who called itself Seer." He paused, watching for any response.

"And he directed you to me," she says flatly. (The objects practically scream 'pagan heresies' to the refined perceptions of someone like Daimon.)

"Indeed. He made mention that you have been taking precautions against 'the coming darkness,' an entity, what he called a god, whose name he was unable to divine. I have come to propose-" Daimon paused, clearly not pleased with the words he was about to utter. "To propose that we join our knowledge and skills."

Roxie...

...smiles.

It's an unpleasant, prideful, rubbing-it-in smile.

"That seems like the best course of action to me, if you can get up to speed quickly."

Daimon, well, he would have scowled but in truth he was doing that since he woke up that morning.

"Then let us waste no time."

"Of course. I was heading back to my workspace anyway." With her ill-gotten goods.

Her ill-gotten goods Daimon was oh so conspicuously eying. "...May I inquire as to the nature of those objects?"

"I've been regularly retrieving--" (if not for the pressing need, 'stealing' might be a better word) "--magickal impelements from the Weapons and Possessions storage for some time. As many are fake or useless as are not, but it's the only reliable source of extraordinary materials I have right now."

"Magickal implements." Daimon repeated. Why was it his misfortune that instead of working with Dr. Strange or even Saripha (on second thought, no, not Saripha) instead of this child that was not a child? "What extraordinary materials do you seek?"

"Parts of supernatural creatures. Alchemically-refined elements. Rare herbs. Many other things."

"Supernatural creatures? Of what kind?"

"Any kind." Yes, you're on the list too, Daimon. "I can work with almost anything, if I'm given the chance."

Oh, that was comforting.

"Have you made an inventory of your materials?"

"Yes. It's several pages long."

Oh. That's not so ba—

"Three columns, eight-point font."

Oddly enough Daimon seemed undaunted. "Hm, though you may not be concerned with how you get your materials you are nothing if not thorough. Good."

Roxie has started walking. Daimon will have to keep up if he wants to continue the conversation.

"I don't have the time right now to worry about the sanctity of my crafting components."

Daimon followed, keeping pace with her. "I assume you have no fondness for holy water or the like."

"You assume wrong, though I sanctify no materials to your god."

Daimon narrowed his eyes. "How fortunate it is then, that you have me."

"We are dealing with something entirely outside your theological framework. It is idiocy to assume you somehow have precedence here."

"Precedence? No, I have faith. Tell me precisely what you do know about what we 'are dealing with' if you are so knowledgable."

"It is a god—or something with power enough to be one. Its very presence is abhorrent to independent modes of thought and reality."

"This much I have gathered."

"And, as much as you might like the idea of calling it one, it is by no means a devil, demon, nephilim, or other figure your religion places in the forefront as an enemy."

"Perhaps it may surprise you but I have encountered other beings not included in the history and lore of Christianity who are, for lack of a better term, gods."

"Then you take an intentionally self-deceptive stance on the perception of holy items."

"Did I ever say that your items would not function? There are many tools to our trade, some may prove more or less efficacious. It is always best to have at hand a wide variety." Not that he didn't have a prejudice for Christian inspired ones.

Roxie lets out a little hnph of a breath.

And here they are, coming up on the Hub.

Daimon did not look at her as he spoke and instead kept his eyes fixed ahead. "I do not enjoy working with you either but I shall attempt not to provoke you." That was as close to an apology for his actions before as Roxie was ever going to get.

"...Very well," Roxie says quietly, as they start on the way to the City level.

"Perhaps now you would be willing to tell me more of what you know." Though the wording implied a question, Daimon's voice remained level as though he was making a statement.

"My current project is part of an attempt to learn more. Once my binding tools are complete, I will try to capture and interrogate one of the being's servant creatures."

That earned a curious look. "Binding tools?" Note how he made no objections to her plans of interrogation.

"The primary component involves chains that will be able to bind the spirit as well as the body."

"What sort of materials are you using to make such instruments? They would need great power to function correctly." There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. Daimon was not altogether convinced that his first instinct regarding this young girl was false.

"Volunteered lifeblood and organs. What I can reverse-engineer out of items like these." She gestures at the bag she's carrying. "What energy I can safely harvest from myself. Components that I already had stored up."

The distaste on Daimon's face is evident and he said nothing... yet.

"It would be better if I had animals to sacrifice, but there are none on the ship that someone wouldn't complain about losing."

There's your cue to say something, Daimon.

"Animal sacrifices?" No Roxie, it wasn't just you, Daimon's voice did indeed turn suddenly deeper. He said nothing but the look on his face made clear, if his voice hadn't, that he was not pleased.

"Yes?" Roxie asks, as if Daimon had gotten mad about her mentioning something entirely harmless.

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If she weighs the same as a duck...

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