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Maybe someone else saw the exact same shiny thing you did at the exact same moment! However shall this be resolved? Remember: blood is extremely hard to scrub off of turtle shell!
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You're running away from something! It could be anything, from a rampaging kirin to a gaggle of overly enthusiastic children! One way or another, you can't stop, and much like a katamari ball, you feel obligated to grab everyone in your path along the way to keep them out of danger! Or perhaps you're more the sort to try and knock them into it as a distraction...?
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- Everybody needs a little darkness...
The Great Enemy may have been defeated over two years ago, and people are even willing to speak Malicant's name aloud now, but there remains a taint in the city never fully purged. Those who consider Malicant a dark god whose end was unjust are the cultists of Keeliai, and they aren't always so easy to identify as one might think. Sometimes their presence is felt in the growing urge to give into one's darker instincts, especially in such a foreign place...
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- Incoming!
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- WILDCARD!
Go nuts. Suddenly your character is fighting dragons! Good God, they've found the Millennium Falcon drifting in the ocean! Do you really feel the need to polish every paving stone in the Earth Sector? Anything goes!
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tushanshu_ooc2016-01-17 10:17 pm
no subject
"Makes one wonder what called for these measure in the first place although I'm getting an idea," he murmured, shifting the papers on his lap to a semblance of order. A passing comment, little more. Certainly not one he expected an answer to. The last of it? That was a different story.
"Oh come on. You'd kick me out just for lighting up? Ain't it bad enough that you tell us we can't drink? No smoking either? I can keep it to my room but not at all? Got to be some trade we can make."
'Trade' was often a dangerous word in John's world, but he had little desire to leave the Midnight Hotel. Papa Midnite himself wouldn't be able to storm these gates, and John didn't have the time or resources that Jasper did to construct another Mill.
"I'll open a window. Clean the things myself. No one will catch a whiff."
No one non-magical, of course. The smoke in his clothing threw off those seeking his scent, kept him hidden. It was a mask John would prefer not to let go.
no subject
Constantine was in a room alone, so there were no room-mates for him to bother with the smoke. And it was possible for Anton to leave aside a set of linens, if Constantine was willing to change and clean them himself. When Constantine left the room would require a deep-clean--and probably Erskine and Skulduggery's help, to work the smoke out of the surroundings--but it was a potential compromise.
"You carry whiffs on your own person," Anton observed, "and I note that you aren't particularly good at keeping to the prohibition rule, either." It was a prod, not an accusation. Half a bluff to see if Anton was right about the glass, half a casual warning that very little happened in the Hotel without Anton noticing. "What's stopping you from smoking outside the Hotel?"
Just because Anton was willing to compromise didn't mean he would, right away. It was worth seeing Constantine's reaction, at least. He was a debaucher, but aware enough to recognise the Hotel had wards. Apparently full of vices, but willing to do his own laundry. He was ... interesting.
no subject
John only repeated that word, gave no further thoughts or explanations. He'd seen his share and mulling over old stories wasn't something he did. It gave him a starting place if he wanted more information later. Information always had a price, and he wasn't sure he'd like Anton's if he pressed for more.
In for a penny, in for a pound, or so Constantine believed. A man who could construct something like this hotel wasn't someone he could afford to be on the outs with on things that meant damned little. Any demon or enemy that might come looking for him would know John drank and smoked. Little use to hide those from his dark hotel proprietor.
"Human, mate. I like to drink and smoke while I work. Every man needs his distractions."
While not fully admitting, John did allude to the fact that his 'tea' was not that. Respect in a way and not belittling Anton's knowledge with a useless denial. Which was better than admitting he purposely disguised his scent with bitter herbs, smoke and alcohol sweat. Hard to hunt a man who reeked of scents that stung the nose.
Vices came in spades to the damned like John Constantine even when he dealt with powers he couldn't define.
"Not a whiff. Got a spell or two just for that since it seems your hotel won't be lashing out at me for doing a little work."
no subject
He still couldn't quite be sure that the 'tea' was not in fact tea. There hadn't been much of a reaction; Constantine's control was fine. But Constantine's oblique admission of drinking was suggestive enough for Anton to make the assumption, going forward.
Anton probably shouldn't like the man, because he was probably a liar and a thief, but he did. Larrikin had been a liar and a thief too, after all. Less evasive, just as shameless.
If Constantine had spells he was willing to use, so much the better. Anton inclined his head. "Very well. Your room only. And no, there is no penalty for the use of magic; though magic used against others, even passive magic without their consent, does qualify as violence."
Like China's enchantment. The thought of her made the gist stir lazily as a wash of angry heat in Anton's chest, as it always did these days.