Iron Station Savage Masks IC IV

[mmdeforrest]

Monday Night, 10:30 PM: The Roof of West Side

Spoiler: Some OOC prequel information from the last post

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Noticing who’s in the Jag: 1d10o10+4 12 1d6o6+4 9
1 Bennie spent because John continues to be curious about things….

John sat sipping his desert lime tea, allowing the night to close around him as he considered and reconsidered his visit to East Side.

It was supposed to be a simple visit—the last simple visit for a long time.

It had been anything but.

As he always strove to do, he had done the correct and proper thing. He had stayed on the side of the angels and did what he could to help—even when it required a sacrifice of him.

He sipped his tea.

So why did it feel like he had made a series of dreadful mistakes than achieve successes?

He had arranged to bring dinner, which Emi initially sounded happy about, only to have it disrupted by the return of Grayson/Valèdir.

He had warned Emi that the bloodthirsty beast, who was specifically thirsting for his blood, was returning so that the base could be prepared for a possible violent encounter.

He had watched her caress the dragon and embrace the boy when he was sweeping the building to make sure he was not attacked in the intermediate form she had warned him about during lunch.

He had left the comfort and peace of the two of them reclining together and watching her favorite film so she could intervene on the behalf of his rival during her brother’s chastisement.

And given him a pep talk.

And didn’t get in his face when Grayson—not Valèdir—issued his challenge.

Jesus, Mary, and, Joseph: what was he thinking?

What was he THINKING!

He looked across the rooftop to the doorway down into the Warehouse. The broken shards of his teacup lay at its base.

He stood with a huff, frustrated at his loss of control. He shook his head as he walked over, casting the spell on the most apparent fragment, drawing like to like.

But he understood his frustration. He was playing it safe, afraid to do anything wrong that might make her reconsider the relationship now that Grayson knew the chance he lost.

And John risked making the same mistake he did: Not acting when he should act.

Every action may have been correct. He wasn’t certain how many of them had been right.

He looked down at the cup as he set it back on its saucer, seeing with more than normal sight.

Faint heart never won fair maiden.

He cast the spell.

Spoiler: Undoing the damage he had done

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Repairing the Cup: 1d12o12+2 11 1d6o6+2 4

The cup reassembled itself as it floated up from the rooftop and was whole again. There was no trace of his shattering of it. Furthermore, it was clean, as all traces of the tea were left behind on the roof when he reassembled it.

There was less clear advice on how to keep fair maiden.

He breathed in.

He held the breath.

He released it.

He was rapidly getting more skilled at such things—which could only bode well for his work in London.

And the encounter was not completely to the benefit of just one side. While Valèdir had not stirred, he sensed him, coiled with Grason’s mind. There would be no avoiding his Challenge. It would come and John would remain contemptible unless John defeated him.

And that it was now highly unlikely that the Challenge would be issued this week.

The certainty of that was worth something.

Unless the news of their trip to Providence was sufficient for Grayson to sign on to the Challenge in an attempt to force its postponement.

He walked over to the cupboard and placed the teacup alongside its fellows.

The small moment of peace he had while Emi cuddled up alongside him and they watched the film, followed by her performance, was worth it all.

But there was still work to be done to prepare for tomorrow—especially since there was a non-zero chance that he might have to improvise summoning a demon child.

He sighed and looked towards the river, watching the lights shimmer across its surface for a moment.

He needed to be prepared for magical improvisation—something one did not want to do when dealing with Hell.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, acknowledging the frustration that lay behind his moment of pique.

Vrell was a child, even if she was a demon princess—a princess, as he had put into his one page briefing to Seraph and Harbinger, who might need saving.

She might need to be brought here and placed into protective custody with her brother.

Assuming they approved of such a measure—and did not have a better idea, he would be the one who had to do it.

To reach her, he would be opening himself up to communicate with her, making himself vulnerable to her older sister and brother.

He would be exposing himself in the same manner he had been exposed with the Homonculus.

He steadied his breathing, which was beginning to quicken.

He felt his heart begin to palpitate.

He remembered the feeling of the Homunculus gnawing at the edges of his soul as it idly gnawed on the liver of the palace guard, ignoring the bullets striking it.

He steadied his breathing, using what he had learned to release the tension and anxiety that was driving the panic attack.

He had borne the brunt of the Homunculus’ assault to keep it from gnawing at Montcrieff.

He had won that day even if it had cost him—damaged him.

He was stronger now.

But was he strong enough to face a greater demon in such an encounter?

The panic attack faded along with the memory of the clawing and gnawing he could still sense where his soul was scarred.

The baleful stare of the Homunculus faded further back into his memory.

John looked out over Iron Station. It was depending on him.

As he turned and crossed the roof, he sighed—uncertain if he would have found this world or the next to be the source of the greater torments for him by the time he told Kate, Jefferey, and Stephen who he had become on Tuesday night.