IC: EVENT

[bossman]

A TERRIBLE THING IS HAPPENING

reference books detailing myths and legends stolen from libraries...
wikipedia pages wiped clean from the face of the internet...
ancient stained glass windows smashed and destroyed...
historical research centers burnt to the ground...

Someone out there is trying very, very hard to erase all of the possible sources of power and belief of the ancient gods and goddesses. And it hurts. Whilst the powers of the minders are unharmed by the attacks, the gods and goddesses will be certainly feeling the toll: it's now painfully clear that even the simplest of miracles are now becoming almost impossible to perform.

deities, you had better have gifted your minders with some decent blessings! Because now you're going to rely on them more than ever. Someone is out to get you.

Comments

THE DEVIL'S ENTOURAGE shit son.

[befallen]

[ This is not how it works: the Devil doesn't say jump and Esther doesn't say how high. No, instead, Lucifer says what are your thoughts on Syria? and his minder gives a shrug and says could be worse. Which is why they're here — Lucifer the Morning Star and his minder and anyone else brave, brash, or determined enough to come along in tow.

The still corridors of the Museum of Damascus are seemingly empty, but how things seem and how they truly are can be very different. Being the minder of the son of perdition has taught Esther this, so she asks as they stand on the museum steps: ]

For the record, I'm not sure how good I'll be in a fight.

[coercions]

[ esther had said don't leave his side, no matter what. and he hadn't, he doesn't, even if he's not sure quite how he measures up against whatever it is they're walking into. his power is a useful thing, but it's not much use to him in a physical fight.

and francis knows that physical fights against dieties and their like aren't like the punches he'd traded in barroom brawls and boxing matches when he was a student. he'd been good then, faster and stronger and more sure on his feet than his opponents, but this was a whole other arena. ]

Neither am I.

[oppose]

[ The Morning Star doesn't respond to either of his minders, not for a long moment, simply standing still on the museum steps. (It's been a long time since he's gotten his hands dirty. But the fact remains: he is the Devil, a son of God, and he holds the mantle for a multitude of reasons — among them, none of them make mention of a gentle spirit. If it's carnage that's coming up, then carnage it will be.) ]

Stay behind me, [ is what he says, his eyes fixed upon the doors to the museum. ] Francis, start talking as soon as we get in. Esther, cover Francis and yourself. If you get the chance to use your gift, do, but not at the expense of your own safety. And if either of you feel you're outmatched — then run.

[ And those are the last words Lu offers up before he moves, his stride long and quick, breezing through the doors and into the awaiting arms of the Grigori. He may not carry a pitchfork, but there's enough havoc that he can wreak with his bare hands alone. ]

[befallen]

[ Lucifer moves but Esther doesn't immediately follow, turning to look at Francis one last time, something steeled and determined in her eyes. Her apprentice doesn't know the whole story of how long she and Lucifer have been side by side, of how there was an apprentice before him, one that fell far too quickly and readily under the grinding gears of his own powers. There's a lot that binds Esther Wohlenchik to the Morning Star and it's more than just magic, more than simply time. Some of that true weight and responsibility shows now in her eyes as she looks at him and it's perhaps obvious for the first time ever to Francis that this is a woman who would quite readily follow the devil straight down into hell if he needed her to.

She nods one, an affirmation. ] Believe in him. It'll make him stronger, [ Esther says and it's not touchy-feely or maudlin in any way, it's just fact.

Then she's turning, her coat rustling behind her as she climbs the steps to the mouth of the museum. Within, the Grigori are couched in shadows, tucked away and hidden by magic and dastardly means. Esther herself cannot see the glyphs that hide them, nor the rites and ruins and so she lingers a decent distance behind as she follows.

The exhibition is in its own special wing of the museum and so they head there, the lights low save for a few dimmed floods here and there. ]

[coercions]

[ his heart is beating too hard in his chest, so hard it is almost painful. but he raises his chin at lucifer's orders, at esther's words. he's never asked about what came before, never asked esther to explain what binds her to their master beyond servitude, and now isn't the time for either. it's hardly even time for him to be drawing conclusions or noting the strength of the bond between them. but he does anyway, even when she turns on her heel and he has to take the steps two at a time to keep up with them.

( he never feels his age so keenly as when all three of them are focused on one task and he has to scramble to keep close. )

and when the doors bang open, he's wetting his lips, clearing his throat. he's very much the lawyer he should have become in this moment. his power is vibrating at the back of his throat and when he speaks it comes crackling along his tongue and lips, as if his words are tangible. ]

Hold your peace, Grigori. None of you wish to fight us. Be still and let us pass, and things shall be easier for us all, won't they? There's no sense in a fight, not when we come in peace.

[ please work, please work, please work... ]