Hello Immortality -> the dead don't eat (duh)

hello immortality
welcome
It has been four years since the Reveal--the cataclysmic event in history where, for the first time since the dark ages, existence of supernatural beings was revealed to the general population. It first occurred in America and soon spread throughout the entire globe.

Each country has reacted to the revelation with varying severity. In the United States, riots occurred. Mass lynching. Panic. Chaos. It was a lot like the Salem witch trials... multiplied by 100.

The government stepped in, wrested control via military law. Segregation between humans and supernatural is now a normal everyday expectation. The supernaturals are barcoded and registered for not only the safety of the humans but also for their own.

However, there are supernaturals and humans alike who do not like the status quo and are working to return things to a more equitable basis. They are the Insurgency, and they work in secret.

Many humans like the fact they are on top. Some supernaturals want to regain their superiority. What will you want?

Welcome to Hello Immortality!

We are a relaxed intermediate to advanced small town supernatural role-play based in a fictitious coastal North Carolina town by the name of Destiny in RL present year.

staff
Jez
Time
Moustache
stats

FAE - 01
HUMANS - 00
HUNTERS - 03
OCCULT - 04
PSYCHICS - 01
SHIFTERS - 00
SIRENS - 01
VAMPIRES - 01
WEREWOLVES - 01
FEMALES - 05
MALES - 07
credits
The concept for Hello Immortality was created by Jez. Fellow staff and members have contributed immensely, and all their ideas are original and courtesy of them.

The characters and writings on this site belong to their respective owners/authors unless otherwise stated.

Oodles of thanks to Zane and Vel for all of their help. They are coding beasts. Without them, this new skin never would have been possible.

All templates, coding, and graphics in use around the site belong to their respective creators unless otherwise stated.

Miniprofile by Tana @ Cosmo, Shine, and ATF

Affiliate Table help from Will Graham @ RPG-Directory

Skin by Luna.

Pop out cbox code was created by kismet of rpg directory.

No copyright infringement intended.


 
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 the dead don't eat (duh), mina/jez/ghost man
archie
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 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 07:33 PM
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Archer took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

How long had he been awake now? Thirty hours? Thirty-five? Everything was getting fuzzier as the night sky crept in across the horizon outside the diner window. His chicken fried steak was half eaten, the breading not much to his liking, and his giant mug of ginger ale was completely untouched. All the detective could think about was the case. And sleep. But mostly the case. No...no, actually mostly sleep. That he was drooling onto his plate and could only just barely catch himself before slamming face first into the tabletop a rather damning set of indicators. Archer loved his sleep. Given any other circumstances, he would've been sleeping in the past two days until twelve. But no! The victim of the case he was bringing to light had been picky. If all his attention hadn't been paid to the case, she would've simply disappeared and left him stranded.

Figures, he thought, munching on a forkful of the garlic mashed potatoes, Can't pay attention long enough to satisfy living girls, what would make the dead any different?

Finally taking a sip of his almost shockingly watered-down drink, the boy wondered how all that he'd learned about in the past day and a half could have possibly occurred. A teenage girl kidnapped in her hometown and kept in a basement for six years, birthing three children to her abductor before being brutally murdered at his hand just when she'd finally gotten a message to a neighbor to send for help. In a lot of ways, his objectively rough adolescence considered, Archer was fairly naive. Innocent, even. He could understand ghosts doing horrible things to the living. In time, a great deal of them turned into jealous creatures. His eyes closed again, words from his memory ringing in his ear...

"The dead need guidance. Filled with grief over their own death, they refuse to face their fate. They yearn to live on, and resent those still alive. You see, they envy the living. And in time, that envy turns to anger, even hate. Should these souls remain...”

Who had said that again?

It was hard to focus over the blathering. The diner was not, by any definition, busy - if the breading on his chicken fried steak was anything to judge by, he knew precisely why that was - but there was one other booth, just one apart from his own, where two people were babbling. Blabbing boringly. Chattering...chittering? Twittering. Were there more words for speaking annoyingly? Archer wasn't sure. But, unacceptable as it would have been to his lucid self, the boy raised his gaze, caught a glance of the girl facing from behind the man's head and went from zero to one hundred.

”Do you guys have to talk so loud? Seriously, it's horrible."

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 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 10:17 PM
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disparate youth
The blonde had ordered only a coffee in the diner, preferring not to waste her money or sully her palate by the food. The rating of this place had only declined in the last few years, and Mina hadn't cared for it when she'd come here once in high school with her 'friends.' Unfortunately, it was the only place that Mr. Brown would speak to her; it had something to do with a connection to it from when he was alive. She didn't care to know all those boring details; she only wanted to know what he knew that held relevance to her. Doubly unfortunately, she had to chat him up for it. He liked the small talk. It was pointless... aimless... and she would much rather get right to the point and have him tell her what she wanted to know, but she couldn't. She wasn't a necromancer so she couldn't necessarily do a spell and bend the ghost to her will despite her affinity for the in-between place and its denizens. She had learned a thing or two in magically handling/dealing with ghosts since she'd killed Irene, but some things had to be done the old fashioned way. No matter how she disliked it.

The witch would have preferred the diner to be empty but seeing as how there was only one other patron in a booth not too far from their own, she figured it would have to do. Besides, the ghost was doing most of the talking while she pretended to be interested and interjected when was socially demanded. It might seem odd, but she was wearing an obvious Bluetooth device around her ear so that if anyone--in this case only the young man in the other booth or the two employees--questioned her unexpected words, they would just write it off as her having a phone call with someone. She had to do all manner of tricks like that in order to stay under the radar. It wouldn't do for it to get out that she could see and talk to ghosts.

Noah, her top ghostly agent and right hand ghost nowadays, had tried to get the information, but Mr. Brown had refused. He would only tell Mina in person directly to her face. So, here she was. Finally, she interjected, doing her best to keep the impatience out of her voice, "Mr. Brown, that's lovely about your wife, but I was hoping we could get to the real reason why I'm... talking to you." She almost said here, which might have seemed odd given what the situation.

"You don't understand," he went on, completely ignoring her, "my sweet Janice... I was all she had left, but now she's alone. I visited the other day. Even Harry, you remember our cat... he's sick now. She'll be all alone. You have to help her."

Aw, she saw now. The real problem. He wanted something for the information. She opened her mouth to give him the answer he wanted when they were rudely interrupted by the only other customer. Instantly, her crystalline blue eyes flashed with anger, and she narrowed them in the young man's direction. She had to lean to the left a couple inches to see around Mr. Brown in order to get the guy in her line of sight, but it was obviously worth the effort. Ghosts, to some, were translucent, intangible beings. They had never been that way for her, which was why they had mostly overwhelmed her as a child.

"And why don't you mind your own business."

Her brows knitted together, turning her glare into irritated bemusement. Something was off. An odd energy. Mina realized now that she had felt it for the past four or five minutes, but she had been focused on Mr. Brown--and her boredom with the conversation--that the sensation hadn't reached her conscious mind until she'd been fully distracted from said conversation. Mina had never had the sixth sense thing going for her like her sister. Nina felt things in her bones about everything and everybody. Mina had always been more like a blunt weapon. Powerful, but not very precise or sensitive. Since graduating high school, she'd decided that she ought to try and change that. She hadn't come very far. Apparently sensing thins simply wasn't in her repertoire of strengths, but that didn't mean she was going to give up. Not in the slightest. It simply meant that she hadn't made as much progress as she would have liked in the last eight years.

However, she'd made enough progress to sense the off energy she felt. She had no idea what it was, or what it meant, but she deduced it was likely emanating from the rude interrupter. Sadly, his choice of wording hadn't sunk in as meaningful yet. Her eyes dropped to his wrist. Barcode. How had she missed that before?! She was getting sloppy, and she couldn't afford to get sloppy. Touching fingertips to her mouth, she uttered as quietly as she could manage, the words to her sight spell, the one that allowed her to see auras of others.

Instantly, she recoiled, shielding her eyes, and barking the Latin word that severed the spell's effects. So bright... and yet so dark. It had physically hurt her. She had only met two other people in her lifetime that had had such strong auras. Blinking the spots from her vision, she looked at him again. She should have checked him out before. At least Mr. Brown hadn't said anything important or incriminating yet. She couldn't take any chances... and yet she'd been so foolhardy. But she couldn't give herself away. She didn't know if he knew what she was, and she couldn't risk alerting him to that if he didn't. The Latin word she'd used hadn't helped her case, though.

Mr. Brown turned in his seat and said, "Young man, it is impolite to interrupt another's conversation." Mina didn't even bother explaining to the ghost that he couldn't see or hear him. It wasn't like it would do any good. Ghosts typically did want they want despite logic... oftentimes especially despite logic.

WORDS: 1,034
NOTES: Teehee~


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 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 10:19 PM
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Archer rolled his eyes and immediately responded, ”I am trying to mind my own business. I have a big chunk of shitty, chicken fried steak and some watered down ginger ale that I'm really, honestly doing my best to focus on. Instead, I'm hearing all about Janice and Mr. Brown over here.”

Resting his chin in his palm, he shot her a shit-eating grin and waited. They were the ones disrupting the quiet in the building, the Arizona native was certain of it. Even if the whole crew of the diner had gone back into the kitchen a while ago, probably to discuss what they'd have to do in lieu of the restaurant's undoubtedly imminent shutdown, the noise was just too much. Unacceptable manners. Especially coming from such a seasoned looking man. And why was such a young, pretty girl sitting with some old guy in whose stories she clearly had no interest?

Some dudes have all the luck.

Taking another lazy sip of his drink, his gaze meandered back up in time to see the beautiful magpie whisper something and then recoil like she'd been slapped. Hard. Archer flinched himself when she half-shouted some word he didn't understand. Something strange was happening. His faculties at least a bit roused by this point, the supernaturalist put his glasses back on in time to notice that her dining partner was gone. His brow furrowed at the sight, his gut telling him what his mind hadn't quite caught before. Taking the girl in with a little more intensity now, he removed his spectacles once more to find that the man with whom she was speaking – annoyingly – was, in fact, a ghost.

”Y-you're talking...” he started as he placed his glasses back onto the table, a bit shocked by the whole affair, ”to a g-”

The specter in question chimed in and informed him that he was rude to interrupt their conversation. Archer shot the man a deadpan expression before deciding that, in the face of such a talkative spirit, his glasses maybe weren't such a bad idea. Donning them, he stood and dared the walk over to their booth where he sat, hopefully next to the ghost.

”How are you doing that?”

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PLAYED BY Jez
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Occult


 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 10:20 PM
Quote
disparate youth
The sass. Way too much sass. Mina was not in the mood for sass, especially after having to listen to Mr. Brown drone on and on about his life and his wife and everything in between. She had finally gotten to the crux of the problem--making deals was something she found more engaging--when Mr. Sass over yonder had to open his big mouth. Not big enough because he wasn't shoving it full of food instead. If he had a problem with her talking, he could leave. It wasn't like it wasn't a free country... oh wait, technically it wasn't anymore. His words weren't anything particularly concerning. She had mentioned Mr. Brown's name obviously when she had addressed the ghost, and she had repeated his wife's name at least once, she was fairly certain.

It was the realization that something felt off about him that prompted the witch to take a look at his aura--something she should have done from the beginning. Her sleepless nights were catching up to her, it seemed, and she could only hope this slip-up wouldn't result in terrible consequences. Not only for her, but for the Insurgency. Since she was, more or less, the head of the so-called rebellion, if anything happened to her, the haphazard organization would suffer a major blow. Unlikely to be lethal. There were a handful of people that had the go-getter kind of personalities that they would probably succeed in spearheading it in new management.

Mina had not expected the pain, and so no response was made to Mr. Sass; she was too busy determining whether she still had her eyesight or not. Colored shapes danced in her vision, and she hunched over the cheap booth table for a long moment as she blinked them away, or tried to at least. Due to her preoccupation, Mina failed to observe the way the guy looked at her, his gaze transitioning from one of exhausted annoyance to intense study.

Blinking what she hoped was the last of the color spots from her vision, the blonde lifted her chin, eyes focusing on him again when he began stuttering. G-? Unfortunately, there was only way he could have been going with that question. Ghost. He was asking her if she was talking to a ghost. A medium. A human medium. A psychic. Hence the nature of the aura. Still, it never should have been an aura like that, which meant there was more to this medium than met the eye, literally. Rubbing first the bridge of her nose and then her temples, the witch felt a headache coming on, which made her more irritated than normal.

"Mr. Brown, leave it be," she snapped, her own exhausted annoyance slipping through. She just wanted to get this stupid transaction done with so she could go home. Hopefully Adam wouldn't be there and she wouldn't have to deal with him, too. She wasn't in the mood. She would just kick him out if she had to rather than deal with drama. Usually she liked drama, but not when she was bone tired like she was.

Mina groaned when Mr. Sass took it upon himself to join them. The ghost scooted closer to the wall to make room for the young man, an expression of what might be offense crossing his face. "I don't remember inviting you to sit with us--me." Her correction, although immediate, wasn't fast enough, and she knew it. "Look, whatever your name is, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not doing anything but sitting here having a conversation on the phone." She tapped the piece of technology wrapped around her ear for supposed proof of her assertion. After all, he had a barcode; she did not.

WORDS: 1,034
NOTES: Teehee~


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 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 10:20 PM
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Archer rolled his eyes at the girl's commentary on seating invitations. Boring, boring, boring. What were the chances that in all the wide, wide world he'd found another person who could openly speak with ghosts, was almost intimidatingly beautiful up close, and was more concerned about whether or not she'd asked for him to sit? It would be his luck. But the Arizonan was willing to try, obstinate obnoxiousness notwithstanding. Lowering his glasses again to get a peek at the ghost, he noticed, perhaps thankfully, that the old spirit had scooted over. Good. Nothing like taking off his glasses and finding a ghost fondling themselves on him. The absolute worst.

”Yeah, sure,” he responded, the little blip at the end of her complaint not lost on him, but unimportant in the face of the fact that he was looking directly at her conversation partner, ”I know you didn't. I didn't ask to be disturbed from my meal either, but look at both of us: so inconvenienced.”

The next thing she said brought an outright laugh out of him, albeit a tired one. She indicated the Bluetooth device and Archer almost choked on his tongue. Shooting her a knowing look, he took off his glasses totally and hung them from his shirt.

”Archer,” he practically groaned, trying his hardest not to be totally turned off by the whole thing, ”And let's cut the crap. You're talking to this guy,” he motioned to his right, ”A Mr. Brown about his wife Janice or something. I'm not sure why. He's miserable. Why not just send him on?”

He wasn't sure if she was like him or simply also capable of speaking to ghosts, but one thing was sure: the old man with whom she was speaking was not stable. Archer didn't know if it was a matter of days, weeks, or longer, but he knew a soon-to-be evil spirit when he saw one. Hell, these days it seemed like that was all he saw anymore.

”Also,” he continued, ignoring Mr. Brown's developing stare, ”Why on earth would you talk in an open place like a diner?”

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 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 10:21 PM
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disparate youth
Mina's gaze turned flat, cold, and painfully unimpressed by the boy's throwing blame back at her. Sitting straighter, leaning back into the worn synthetic leather of the back rest. Cooly she informed him she had no idea what he was talking about. Mina understood that denying would not likely be accepted without question or complaint, but it wasn't in her nature to give up easily, and she couldn't simply jump right into divulging something about her--to anyone--that would put a target on her back... or, more accurately, a barcode on her wrist. She was constantly balancing on a line. On one side was where she was now, and the other side was her either in prison or marked like a criminal, or worse, less than the gum on the bottom of someone's shoe. Mina Redmond had far too much pride for that.

Mr. Brown was studying Archer, as was apparently his name, intently, and the witch arched a brow curiously at the ghost before quickly returning her crystalline blue gaze to the young man, obviously a medium. He would have to be in order to both see and hear Mr. Brown's side of the conversation, and he even went so far as to correctly gesture to his exact location on the bench next to him. This was bad. There was no way Mina could hide this part of her from a medium. And there was something off about this particular one.

The witch did not answer Archer's question. She didn't send them on because she wasn't a medium. She could talk, see, and interact with ghosts; she could summon the weaker/newer ones fairly easily and the older/stronger ones she typically summoned with a spell that basically said pretty please. She wasn't skilled in mediumship. She had no idea how to send them on. Ward against them, expel them from her vicinity, and a few low level actions, but that was it. Only a handful of people knew the extent of her abilities with ghosts.

Her lack of answer seemed to only prompt more questions, and Mina's full lips turned down ever so slightly in annoyance. Sighing, she reached up, plucked the Bluetooth from her ear and dropped it into her designer handbag tucked between her leg and the wall. No point in maintaining the charade. Her mind was rifling through any spells she might know that could mess with his memory of this knew knowledge, but she had nothing. She could make a potion, but this was a time sensitive matter and brewing a successful potion would take time.

"You might be surprised how often hiding out in the open works, even nowadays." The blonde crossed her legs and folded her arms just beneath her bosom. "Are you one of those mediums that likes to send every ghost he sees to the great beyond?" Her tone of voice suggested she wasn't a subscriber to the "great beyond." Besides, ghosts couldn't help her if they moved on.

Mr. Brown interrupted by suddenly stating, "Miss Redmond... this young man has a strange feeling about him. He..." The ghost trailed off, appearing and sounding bemused and disgruntled.

The witch cocked her head fractionally to the right. "Why is that, I wonder." Archer wasn't the only one who got to ask dangerous personal questions.

WORDS: 1,034
NOTES: Teehee~


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 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 10:22 PM
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Fat. Chance.

There wasn't the slightest possibility that he was wrong about this. Archer was one hundred percent positive that the blonde seated across from him was simply lying, hopefully out of habit. So sadly attempting to deny the obvious to someone who clearly knew what was what would have been a rather impressive display of stupidity. Hopefully she dropped the act soon; it would be a pity to be rude and an idiot. A legitimate tragedy.

Lazily folding his arms, it occurred to Archer how strange this entire situation was. On any other day, with any greater amount of sleep, the Arizona native would have never approached a girl this attractive for any reason at all. She could have been holding a gun to his father's head and he might've walked by like nothing was happening, preparing himself to spend the rest of his life questioning why the universe hadn't sent a plainer Jane for such a job. But something about how bitchy she was being brought her appeal down to a low enough level that he wasn't even nervous now that he'd acknowledged what was so out of the ordinary.

Lucky me... he thought, his drowsy eyes only barely keeping from ogling her now framed bosom.

”Not every ghost,” he clarified, stifling a yawn, ”I send unstable ghosts to the 'great beyond'. I'm not actually positive that they go anywhere other than away. They might cease to exist entirely. I have no clue. But they're dangerous when they cross over and Mr. Brown here is quite close.”

He turned to the spirit by him and apologetically shrugged before shooting a wink. Archer would exorcise him from the face of the planet without a second question if he thought that things would go bad. Too many cases he'd solved where an unhinged ghost was at fault. It wasn't worth it to keep them around.

”The real question here, if I'm being honest,” he continued, catching her gaze in his own, ”is why you were sitting here listening to him if you weren't trying to help him. What's in it for you?”

He turned to the ghost once more, ”Do you know, sir?”

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"And now you're mine."
Occult


 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 10:23 PM
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disparate youth
Mina wasn't in the least bit surprised by the medium's analysis of Mr. Brown's ghostly state. The blonde had known for a while that the ghost was slowly declining, growing ever closer to the precipice of insanity. She had had plenty experience with psycho ghosts, but most of those experiences had been when she was smaller and less capable of protecting herself. Irene had protected her from most of the spiritual trauma, which was one of the purposes behind Mina's intricate tattoo spelled into her chest. It had been years after the main part of her childhood before she'd had more experiences with unsavory ghosts, but that had been more of a personal choice on her end. Not to mention the strength of the magic in the aforementioned tattoo had lessened over the years. Nowadays it held only a fraction of its power it had once had. One of the witch's numerous projects included researching how to re-saturate it with magic to get it really going again. The main problem was understanding how the tattoo worked well enough in order to renew its function. It was proving incredibly difficult, and since Irene was dead, it wasn't like she could ask the woman how she'd done it.

Archer continued, and if Mina wasn't already emotionally exhausted, she would have been capable of manipulating him a lot better. As it stood, she was doing a piss poor job because, well, she wasn't trying. She simply couldn't find the energy inside of her to care... which consequently mean that she was being more of a b**** than normal.

An annoyed frown creased her lips. He'd completely bypassed her question and gone on with yet another of his. The frown crease extended to her forehead when the medium proceeded to bring Mr. Brown back into the question. The ghost had next to no filter, and Mina did not appreciate the guy poking around for information he had no right to know from a third party that did not understand the meaning of being tight lipped.

"Mr. Brown, you should not answer any questions this young man asks you," the witch warned. As it was, the elderly ghost was still looking at Archer with an unsteady intensity. It was even beginning to creep Mina out; she went so far as to shift away, closer to the edge of the bench.

"Miss Redmond will help my wife if I do something illegal for her," the ghost responded, his voice sounding thoughtful and a touch distant.

Mina's eyes narrowed at the ghost before returning to the medium. Mr. Brown had never acted like this before. There was something about this medium. He wasn't just cute, but powerful. Almost being blinded by looking at him with her magical sight was enough proof of that. But what kind of powerful was the question.

"The real question is what kind of medium are you?" Mina demanded softly. Her left hand curled around the crystal hanging around that wrist. The warmth of her stored magic within empowered her with a small sense of security. She could have a spell of protection invoked in the blink of an eye if necessary.

WORDS: 1,034
NOTES: Teehee~


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 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 10:25 PM
Quote

Archer rolled his eyes. Telling the ghost not to answer any of his questions? What was she? Some sort of supernatural attorney? This was a free country, even for ghosts. Well, they called it that anyway. That barcode tattooed across his left wrist left many, himself included, with a fair amount of doubt for that sentiment. If everyone was the same under the law, why did only people with metaphysical abilities need to be registered this way? Humans, for all their inventions and growth, still hadn't gathered that separating people into groups and then treating some of them differently always led to revolt. It wasn't his opinion, it was history. The record spoke for itself. Like the ghost did, much to his para(normal)legal's dismay.

”Oh, will she now?” he cooed, shooting the old man an expression of feigned concern, ”I'd bet you your current weight in gold that she has no intention of doing such a thing. But then, I've been wrong about people before.”

The focus of the conversation returned to him and Archer had to admit, at least to himself, that he didn't actually know the answer to that question. Did the man even consider himself a medium at all? His gut told him that he was an investigator with psychic qualities, but that seemed more like a semantic argument than a good explanation. The brunet wandered the city looking for lost souls, spirits so scarred and damaged that they didn't fit wherever it was they were supposed to go. A lot of them expressed sentiments of feeling stuck, until they stopped being capable of speech. Mr. Brown's timer seemed to be moving quicker and quicker on that front, the curious stare transforming into something more driven, obsessive.

”The only way the word 'medium' applies to me, 'Ms. Redmond'," he began, making a note of the name by which the specter had referred to the woman, "is in the mystical and arcane art of the t-shirt." He smirked, cheeky, his voice flip as ever, ”I can see ghosts, that doesn't mean that all I am is a ghost see-er. Though if I had to classify myself, I think I'd belong in the category of people who are actually trying to help. Spirits don't belong here. They are uncomfortable and often lonely. It's cruel to keep them around to do your bidding.”

The entrance bell. Archer's eyes flickered toward the sound, happy to discover that the potential customer took one sniff and turned back around to leave. There was enough misery in this restaurant without another person having to suffer the supposed 'cuisine' served here.

”Are you a 'medium'?” he returned, wondering where on earth the diner's staff had gone. It was strange, wasn't it? They'd been absent for the better part of twenty minutes.

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PLAYED BY Jez
171
POSTS
"And now you're mine."
Occult


 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 10:25 PM
Quote
disparate youth
Although Mina wanted nothing more than to claw the smugly offensive expression from the medium's face, she chose the higher ground and refocused the joke of a conversation onto other things. He knew nothing about her, and she preferred to keep it that way as much as possible. He could think whatever he wanted about her; he wouldn't be the only one nor would he be the last. The witch had lived her entire life thus far unconcerned on the whole by how others thought of her. She only concerned herself with opinions of those who mattered in the grand scheme of things, and even those typically lasted as long as she needed to use them to her own ends. It didn't matter that the medium thought her less than the gum on the bottom of his shoe. The ghosts knew that she delivered her end of the bargain, which was why the vast majority of them continued to assist her, or at least stay out of her way if/when necessary.

The blonde sighed with a roll of her eyes, slumping slightly in the worn-down bench. Mediums were all the same. Granted, she had little experience with them, but it sure as hell seemed like they were all the same. He sat there passive-aggressively accusing her of being cruel because she kept the ghosts around to do her bidding. He incorrectly assumed that she had any control over aiding the dead into crossing over. That was not among her set of skills. She may not have put a lot of effort into figuring out if she could manage it, true, but it had never seemed like something she was meant to do. If it had been, it should have come naturally to her. Or so went her opinion on the matter.

As mentioned earlier, Mina cared what the medium thought of her as much as she cared about how an ant might think of her, and she had no pressing desire to confide in this sarcastic stranger all about her as an individual. His words were likely meant to prompt a reaction from her that might give him telling information about her, but she had no intentions on rising to the challenge, so to speak. The ding of the bell, entrance of the person, and immediate exit of said person enabled her to gloss over the pause in conversation and act as if he hadn't said anything. He was intent on his goal, however, and demanded to know if she was a medium.

Crystalline blue eyes glanced at Mr. Brown once more, concern mounting by what she saw in his expression. She'd experienced all kinds of ghosts ever since she could remember, and while she had learned a plethora of ways to protect herself from them over the course of her life, nothing beat noting when a situation was potentially escalating. But Mr. Brown had been perfectly fine. Well, he had seemed a little more somber and distant today than normal, but before Archer had slid into the booth with them, the ghost had been more normal than he was now. It had been like someone had snapped their fingers and Mr. Brown's decline sped up exponentially. Her eyes returned to Archer, her mind connecting dots that made the most logical sense given the order of events.

"Not in the traditional sense," she answered as vaguely as possible. The absence of the diner staff had yet to come to her attention. They were irrelevant, minor, and unimportant and therefore their absence did not set off any red flags, although it probably should have. "And I don't force them to stick around, but while they are, they help me and I help them. Simple as that." Her eyes drifted over to the ghost and finally she sat up straighter, her hand grasping the crystal hanging from her wrist a little tighter. "Mr. Brown, would you quit staring at him like that. You're creeping me the hell out."

WORDS: 1,034
NOTES: Teehee~


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 Posted on: Aug 30 2017, 10:26 PM
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His shirt went first.

The fabric moved, at first slowly and then all at once, over his head, catching at his neck for the slightest moment before he found that his entire body was ascending. Into the air. Archer Fox was floating and that was never, never a good sign. The reporter's gaze turned to meet Mr. Brown's, making contact for the briefest of moments. What he saw was as telling as it was frightening: anger. Rage, even. And an all too familiar expression that immediate slammed the brunet's senses into focus: hunger. The ghost had passed his 'sell by' date and things were about to get nasty. Jerking his head toward Miss Redmond, the medium attempted to warn her before feeling his frame flail through air toward the counter. Clearing it just barely, the man shouted out in pain as his back connected with the shake machine on the shelf behind the cash register.

”...oh...shit...” he groaned, an agonizing spasm pealing through his body.

Gaining a bit of composure, Archer opened his eyes and gasped. The diner's crew was unconscious, left in a pile in the corner of the kitchen. How long had Mr. Brown been planning this? Shifting his weight, the Arizona native crawled silently behind the counter until he had maneuvered in a way that gave him a clear view of the young lady who'd brought the monster along in the first place. This was precisely what Archer had been saying. Ghosts who stayed too long always went this way. Of course, he'd only encountered two that had had enough power to outright throw him. Living tissue was different that picture frames or bedside tables. It took a considerable amount of spiritual energy to manage what the spirit had just done, no question.

Daring another few inches until the once-kind specter of an old man came into view, Archer prepared to send him into oblivion, but was interrupted by a sudden, sharp pain in his face. Once he'd finished flinching, the investigator opened his eyes to find that his target had disappeared. Blinking very quickly, he suddenly noticed that his glasses had found their way back onto his face, the now-bleeding bridge of his nose a sign of how seriously the ghost had wanted them there. A string of curse words sounded under his breath and he reached up to remove his spectacles. They wouldn't move. The harder he pulled, the more firmly they clung to his face.

”M-Mr. Brown?” he called out in a weak voice, stammering with a new fear lining his tone, ”Mr. Brown, can we...c-can we just talk? Let me take off my glasses so I can see you...”

What was he going to do now? He only hoped Miss Redmond could help.

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 Posted on: Aug 31 2017, 04:28 PM
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disparate youth
The one with the mouth had his shirt ripped over his head followed by the rest of him into the air too fast for the witch to immediately register. She blinked cerulean blues confusedly at the spot the medium had been before being unceremoniously flung through the air and into the kitchen area of the diner. She turned them to Mr. Brown sitting far too calmly to be sane in the corner of the booth seat but by that point her brain had caught up to what she was seeing, and those same eyes narrowed dangerously at the ghost.

"Excuse me, Miss Redmond," the ghost said, the polite tone of his voice disharmonious to the chaos he had caused. "Don't forget about our agreement." The ghost phased right through her as he left the booth and hunted after the thrown medium. She blinked after Mr. Brown yet again. She had encountered all manner of ghosts over her 26 years. She'd arrogantly thought she had met them all and would only be forced to deal with the same varieties over the centuries she hoped to be alive. But, no. She had never met a ghost behaving so at odds like Mr. Brown. It seemed he had snapped all in the span of a breath but was focusing all his efforts worthy of a poltergeist on Archer. Not to mention, Mr. Brown had not been dead long enough or been rageful enough to warrant the amount of spiritual energy he had unleashed on the sass-mouthed medium.

Mina sat for a long minute on the sunken cushion of the booth bench as she mulled over her possible reactions to the current situation. She could go to Archer's aid but that would likely require the dispelling of Mr. Brown from this plane and then she would have to find someone else to do her dirty work for her, and she had wasted time in grooming Mr. Brown for the job. Moreover, as cute as Archer's face was, his mouth had been annoying. Granted, the witch was easy to annoy, especially nowadays. On the other hand, there was something about the medium. Something she sensed within him, which meant a lot seeing as how Mina was not known for her sensitivity to energies and auras around her. That had always been her younger sister's gift. But, Mina was crafty, and she was crafty enough to assume that somehow, despite the fact she had no idea how it connected--at least not yet--whatever she sensed in the medium had to do with Mr. Brown's sudden outburst.

Sighing at the sound of Archer's muted voice wafting to her, Mina Redmond stood. She lacked the finesse it took to send a ghost on, but she had enough raw power to expel one from the premises for a time... usually. Perhaps if she simply booted Mr. Brown from the diner for a time, giving them time to breathe, she could still have her cake and eat it, too. The witch boldly walked through the swinging half-door that brought her behind the counter and into the beginning of the kitchen. There she found the unconscious bodies of the two diner employees, which earned an arching of her brows, and Archer huddled against the wall with Mr. Brown slowly approaching him... like a predator hunting its prey it knew was cornered with nowhere to go. The expression on the ghost's face could only accurately be described as the cat that ate the canary.

"Mr. Brown," Mina began calmly but forcefully, asserting her dominance in the situation. Or, that was what she was going for. It clearly didn't work when suddenly the ghost spun toward her, eyes glowing a malevolent black, and she was pushed by an unseen force that pinned her to the wall behind her. Knocking the air out of her, she gasped, seeing stars for a moment before the cold fury set in. Nobody pushed her around. Nobody. Especially not an fragment of what once had been alive.

"Lucius annaeus aeneca tecum!" the witch growled, willing the magic that imbued every fiber of her being into the worded spell and shoving it at the ghost with single-minded intensity. With a second's worth of an outraged shriek, the ghost vanished with a slight popping noise, and Mina was released from the hold, stumbling forward with the sudden release of weight. Archer's glasses, too, were freed from the supernatural force.

With fire in her icy blue eyes, Mina locked gazes with the medium. "He won't be gone for long. What the hell did you do to piss him off?"

WORDS: 1,034
NOTES: Teehee~


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 Posted on: Sep 2 2017, 09:48 PM
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It was terrifying.

The intensity, the cold, unfeeling ire that seemed to fill the entire place with a feeling that Archer couldn't shake. To anger such a creature was surely among the greatest mistakes any being, living or dead could make. The journalist had dealt with poltergeists that could topple houses, ghouls that had amassed hundreds of victims over the centuries, and a particularly strange specter that had set an opera house ablaze – he was sure they'd had a good reason, but arson was not pardonable in death these days. Even with all of his experience, little if anything could compare to the widened eyes and stern expression that he was witnessing now.

He'd think twice before crossing Ms. Redmond again.

A sharply delivered spell and the ghost popped out of sight. Archer sighed and leaned against the wall behind him, finding some small relief in the place of the sudden death he had imagined was his just moments before. I've gotta get a new hobby, he thought to himself, his brown eyes closing as he threw his spectacles across the restaurant without looking. It was only a second after he'd started breathing again that he opened his eyes and found the woman that had just exorcised the broken spirit.

”M-me?” he returned, flabbergasted. He sat up straight once more, brow furrowing, and found that his sails weren't all the way deflated yet.

I didn't do anything. I told you that ghosts get unstable the longer they're left alone. The process times out differently for different spirits. I could see that Mr. Brown was closer to corruption than a porn addict's c: drive from the moment I started speaking with you both.”

The brunet brushed some dry wall powder from his bare shoulder, the cracked wall where he'd made contact revealing some of the building's insulation, before standing and finding his missing article of clothing. Making his way over to their table to collect his t-shirt, he pulled it back over his head and turned to face her again.

”Besides,” he muttered, ”It's not like you didn't just Latin his ass out of exi- GET DOWN!”

Practically diving toward her, Archer grabbed Mina's arm and pulled her down to the ground as coffee mugs and silverware flew towards her from behind. Crashing glass and clattering utensils filled the air with noise that announced the return of their not-so-friendly ghost. Pulling his wits together, he made sure that she wasn't visibly hurt before mouthing his next question as clearly as he could.

What. Now?

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 Posted on: Sep 2 2017, 11:33 PM
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disparate youth
"It wasn't me he was gunning for," Mina countered with enough snark to drown a rat. Apparently she wasn't as terrifying as the ghost who had been likely to kill him because the medium straightened, feathers obviously ruffled, and defended himself against her accusation. "Be that as it may," she relented, "I was having a perfectly boring conversation with him before you couldn't keep your nose out of our business." She almost succeeded at not sounding akin to a petulant child.

"And where do you think you're going?" she demanded when Archer stood, brushing the drywall powder from his naked shoulder--her eyes flickered down his also naked torso before back up to his bruised face--and out from behind the counter they had been behind. She followed him. "You ruined a deal I had been working on for the past month! There's no way that stupid ghost will do it for me now!" All that time she'd pretended to care about his meaningless problems--wasted! They weren't meaningless for him, which was exactly how she could capitalize on his loyalties and coerce him into doing something for her he never would have done in life, but it wasn't like she actually cared. Listening to him drone on and on about his wife and how unfair it had been for him to be taken from her so early and at such a tender stage of their marriage. She'd had to resist the urge to tell him to shut up countless times.

The medium began to blame her for her own loss because she'd been the one to give Mr. Brown the boot. Of all the nerve! The witch was already formulating a return tirade she it was rudely interrupted by Archer's shout of warning, followed by him diving at her. The spell died on her lips at the impact of his body tackling hers the ground. Her hands grabbed his arms tightly as they went down and she attempted to protect herself and use him as the cushion to her fall. Skin-to-skin contact for the witch always meant the leaking of her magic into the recipient. It was a difficult thing for her to turn off, nor had she ever wanted to once it had become second nature to her. As a result, the contact would bring tingles to Archer's skin where she touched, likely bringing a haze to his mind. Depending, of course, as his current state of mind and own attraction to her.

She shifted her back against the counter as the cacophony of shattering mugs and knives impaling the far wall momentarily deafened her. She hoped no passerby stumbled in. First because more collateral damage and/or two, they would contact 911, which would immediately connect them to the SPN unit under the circumstances. Mina had negative desire to deal with hunters of any kind or, especially, any supernatural that sold their soul to work alongside the humans. The ones that worked for her, excluded, naturally.

Brows furrowed in irritated confusion, Mina tried to understand how it was that Mr. Brown had returned already. Her spell wouldn't have booted him for long, but certainly longer than five minutes. It annoyed her to think that she had not been enough to do more. Archer's hand on her arm brought crystalline-blue eyes to his. He mouthed the words, but it wasn't like silence would do them any good to hide. It would, however, keep the ghost from hearing their plans.

Medium, she also mouthed, pointing at him with an expression that suggested she was stating the obvious. Exorcise him. Mediums were mediums for a reason. They had a natural affinity for expelling spirits from the in-between plane that touched the living's and into the one where Death reigned supreme. Mina had always been able to see them, speak with them, oftentimes charm them, be cursed, haunted, and incessantly annoyed by them, but her natural affinity in applied magic had never been to actually hold sway over them. A medium or especially a necromancer would have far more control and power over ghosts than she ever would... unless she decided to devote herself to necromancy. Something she would never do. Dead things were disgusting.

WORDS: 1,034
NOTES: Teehee~


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 Posted on: Sep 16 2017, 10:18 AM
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Archer would have cursed his luck. Stuck in a piss poor diner with bruises he'd soon be able to see and long be able to feel, the young journalist's predicament had almost never been so bad. A nearly inedible chunk of what he'd hoped was meat pretending to be chicken fried steak, a spirit so powerful and angry that it had been able to prevent the medium from removing its presence from the restaurant, and a petty, blonde...

'Pretty'... he corrected to himself, She's a pretty blonde.

Her eyes were really amazing. Blue, like his mom's had been. He'd known that she was a beauty – he was exhausted, not dead – but the scope of her allure had missed him somehow back in the booth. So she had a mouth! Archer was little if not unbearably sarcastic most days. Everyone had faults, but not everyone that had faults had such soft looking lips...

Oh my god, he thought, snapping back into the moment, What am I doing?

Exhaling sharply, he shook his head before cocking it to the side as Miss Redmond mouthed something to him. What had he asked before? The details faded back into his awareness like frost crawling across a window. Diner. Blonde hair. Ghost. Charming wit. Absent crew. Challenging personality. Corrupted gh-

”Right!” he whispered, rubbing his eyes, ”I'm a medium. That's...yeah.”

The journalist stood, adjusting his shirt and turning to face his foe. It wasn't a pretty sight.

Mr. Brown's eyes were entirely black, the aura surrounding him so dark and off-putting as to send a shiver down Archer's spine. The last time he'd seen a creature so depraved and corrupted, she'd pulled him beneath the face of a lake and tried to drown him. Such apparitions were the reason he still wouldn't go near great bodies of water. But she hadn't killed him then and this bastard wasn't going to kill him now. No ghost he'd ever dealt with had more than mildly injured him and this would be no exception if he had anything to say about it.

His eyes narrowed, his stance sturdier, and he squared his shoulders. Focusing his gaze on the spirit that had once been a kindly old man, the journalist felt the energy pour out of his own eyes and meet the sinister energy surrounding his enemy. Archer took a deep breath and willed Mr. Brown to disappear. And it worked, almost as well as it always had. The floor shook, a gale burst through the restaurant, and the sound of almost everything in the diner shattering and breaking served as a backup chorus to the most awful happening of all: the scream. A horrifying screech filled the air, the malevolent presence writhing in agony for moments that felt like forever. The medium stood strong, pushing with all of his might until there was total silence. No quaking building, no shattering glass, no Mr. Brown.

Breathing heavily, Archer felt the slick trail of blood from his nose course down his face before the dizziness set in. Falling to his side, his consciousness fading by the moment. Had he ever felt this before? A chill as deep as he'd ever felt filled his being. Was this some sort of residual magic? A curse of some sort that a ghost had learned to fling? Or was it something altogether worse: a confirmation of his fear that the ghosts he was encountering these days were getting as increasingly powerful as they were alarmingly violent?

”M...iss Redmond...” he mumbled through his disoriented haze, ”Are...are you...ok-”

Black.

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