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Sat Feb 14, 2015 2:26 am
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Lumi says...



Kite Collins

Okay, so all cards on the table: let's say you had the choice between fighting a fire demon barefoot on a bed of flaming coals...and speaking at an old friend's funeral.

If it's not obvious, Kite decided an hour ago that he'd rather have the demon. Funerals--like weddings, birthdays, magic shows, and baby showers--made him anxious. And not a normal kind of anxious where you just don't want to be in a place. That's to be expected with funerals. What Kite felt was more like...fat. He felt too fat for his clothes. His abs were a six pack of gummy bears. His trigger finger was too pudgy to budge. He just felt fat...out of anxiety.

Close to fainting, he popped a drizzle of tic tacs and munched them into dust. Looking at Brian, he swallowed. "How much longer until they call me?"

Brian had a pair of earbuds stealthily slid up into his ears, underneath his shirt, iPod hidden in his pocket. Casually, he looked at his watch. "Thirty seconds."

Kite choked. Demhara continued reading her Italian poem at the coffin, but Kite was dying. "I'm not ready!" he shout-whispered. "Nothing could prepare me for speaking after Demi! She's a bleeding heart and it's her brother."

Tears were streaming down a swamp of fucked mascara and concealer. Puffy cheaks bulged. Black-painted lips read words no one other than Sophie understood.

And then she stopped.

"I'm screwed."

Brian took a sip of Cola. Sunlight reflected off his head. "Not my funeral."

"Now, to close off our ceremony is, as written in Hadrian's will, his best friend...followed by a series of what my nephew tells me letters that stand for Laughing Out Loud." The old 3073 priest held out his hand for Kite to take the grass.

Kite stepped forward and placed a little flower on top of the other bouquets of flowers gathered from Hadrian's past teams. Say what you want, 3073 funerals were anything but cheap. Feeling keenly as though people were staring at his ass, Kite turned and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"It's a little cliche," he squeaked, "that the final speaker at a funeral is the person who was deemed closest to the dead...guy. Deceased. That's the word." He coughed. "With that in mind, I appreciate Hadrian's want for his funeral to be anything but cliche." He bent down, picked another daisy, tossed it on the coffin with a sigh. "What do you say at a douchebag's funeral? Certainly not that he was a douchebag. Not in front of his mess of a sister." A huff. "What I mean to say is that Hadrian was a tough guy. Not in the physical sense--because he was weak in a fist-fight, not really good with a gun...kind of a mess with ranged attacks, too, come to think of it. Wow, it's a wonder we didn't have this sooner."

He caught his train of thought as the audience splattered with coughs.

"I think what I can say is that Hadrian was loyal to a fault. He stuck to his metaphorical guns and that's what killed him. That and being tossed out a 13-story window after a brutal battle, possessed by a class-C demon."

Near the back, Marquee dabbed his black eye with a swab of Tabitha's make-up and sighed. "Not exactly the most moving funeral in history, is it, Tabby Cat?"

Jenson turned to him and leered. "The fuck do you think I am?"

Marquee sighed again. "Sorry, force of habit."

"So, in conclusion, the demon hunter is dead. Long live the demon hunter." He drew his spirit gun and aimed at the air. As did a dozen other agents. They all fired together.

It wasn't the best funeral an agent had had. It certainly wouldn't be the worst.
I am a forest fire and an ocean, and I will burn you just as much
as I will drown everything you have inside.
-Shinji Moon


I am the property of Rydia, please return me to her ship.





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Wed Feb 25, 2015 8:25 am
Auxiira says...



Tabs - fear and caffeine make work

Tabs sat on her bed through the afternoon, terrified that they were about to find her and force her to summon the demon. Her face was tender from where the grip of the muscle's pistol had hit her temple. During one of her pacing bouts, she had glanced in the mirror and seen a bruise blossoming from her temple to the bottom of her jaw and quickly found some foundation to try and hide it. She didn't need or want people to fuss over her when she went to the 3-0-7-3. She seized on the idea, and decided that she would go there, despite the time of night it was. She felt safe there.

Grabbing her bag and her coat, she made her way out of the door, and uncharacteristically through the main streets to get to the Headquarters as fast as she could. The lights were off in almost all of the building. She could see the bar lit up across the courtyard, and the noise just touched her ears. She probably could've found Sophie there, but she didn't want to deal with conversation.

The lobby was lit up, and Tabs nodded at Bob as she strode past to get to her workshop. She wasn't sure whether she found the dark corridors comforting or unsettling, but as she entered the room full of small blinking lights and whirring, she only flicked on the desk light.

Grabbing boxes of parts, she stacked them in a corner to make a low wall and placed her laptop on top. Pouring herself a mug of coffee from the perpetually on coffee machine, she hung her coat on a hook along with her bag then kicked off her shoes before installing herself behind the box-wall. She tucked herself into the corner to feel safe. Her laptop showed 12:36. She stuck in her earphones and put on her music. As she played with the parts in the boxes, she could feel her tension dissipating slightly.

- - - six hours and four expressos later - - -

Tabs glanced up as Marquee came in, switching the lights on, then back down at the growing black box in her hands. Putting down her screwdriver, she waved vaguely at him.

"Hey, Marquee. Could you get me some more coffee, please?" He glanced at the almost empty coffee machine, then back at Tabs, who was rapidly tapping her knee with the screwdriver, twirling a ball that pulsed rapidly with light in the other hand. After a second, he realised it echoed her hearbeat. Catching his glance, she grinned, holding it up whilst rooting through the few gadgets in her lap, dropping her screwdriver.

"It's a new toy for Soph. It has different settings and stuff. This is for Kite and this is for Jens, and this is for Brian..." Her hand shook as she held up the work in progress and she put it down, picking up the dropped screwdriver and starting to tinker with the black box.

Marquee vaguely grinned before tending to the coffee maker, lumping in more than enough grounds to brew the most bitter coffee on the face of the earth. "It's nice to see you so in love with your work, Tabby Cat--" he jostled, "--I mean, Tabitha. The sugar rush is quite becoming of you."

He pulled out a swivel chair and sat in front of her, pulling out Sophie's ball to play with. "I'm not entirely sure if this is reading what you want it to, dearest. Is it meant to be a heart monitor or Spirit Gauge?"

"Both, maybe, I'm not too sure. I wasn't thinking when I made it." She frowned slightly, before taking it from him. "Though both is good. More uses is good." She trailed off into a mutter as she moved the black box into the light, cocking her head at it.

Marquee locked curious glances with her as his hand slowly approached the box. "This had better not burn me. I rather hate it when things burn me." He picked it up and held it at eye's length, then turned it upside down and peered again. As a final gesture, he watched the veins on the underside of his arm pulsate. "Curious." He placed the box on the table and cocked his head to the side as his pulse slowed. "This little beastie was trying to attune to me!" He looked like a child who'd found a new toy on the playground. "How marvellous! Can you imagine the uses?!"

"Not really, not right now." She took it back from him. "It's not finished yet, anyway." She sniffed slightly. "I think the coffee's done." She quirked her lips in a slight smile at the thought of it.

"Right then." He leaped to his feet and quickly fiddled around with the coffee, making hisses and spatters as some of it splashed on his fingers. "Two creams and, if my memory serves--which it always does, Tabitha; never forget that--nine sugars." He plopped the cubes down into the coffee mug and swirled it with a straw. After handing her the mug, much to her obvious delight, he took his own grin. "Now then, Tabby Cat. What you have done and do not realize yet is that you've wired a little gizmo that locks on to a demon's unique energy. Attuning! And the use for that, Tabby Cat," he licked his lips, snake-like, "is demon summoning."

"What?" She stopped messing with the box and held it as if it were a live bomb. Her hands trembled. The blood had drained from her face.

"Imagine the possibilities!" He was off in his own world, mouth agape with glee. "No more hunting down demons for the 3073! You could bring the demon to the hunters! Why, you could probably drag me anywhere you pleased!" He laughed. "Imagine that...a teleporter! You could revolutionize spirit technology with this!" He came down off his cloud and saw her pale, lifeless expression. "A bit of a party pooper, aren't you, Tabby Cat? Tell me what's wrong."

"No. No, no, no, no, no. No demon summoning." She started to rapidly dismantle the box, stacking the parts back in the boxes. "No fucking way." Her voice shook and she wasn't listening to him. Her breaths came short.

Marquee furrowed his brow. "Now there's a sour face." He took a sip of coffee. "Perhaps you'll want to tell me why you're against this, Tabby Cat? Is it because you'd rather me walk everywhere like the rest of you?"

"One thing I stick to as if it was a religion, Marquee." She muttered through gritted teeth, pointing the screwdriver at him over her head. "No summoning demons, no making anything that could help to summon demons. Ever. Period." She lifted her head, looking him in the eyes. "Not ever, not for anything."

Maruqee slowly nodded, placing his coffee down with dignity. "Well." His voice was empty, almost completely drained of his normal vibrant character. "I suppose we are rather abominable, us demons." He nodded and took a screwdriver to help her dismantle it. "It rather makes you wonder if there exists such a thing as a good demon." He raised his eyebrows. "I certainly wouldn't know any."

Tabs put down her screwdriver, leaning back into into the corner and kneading her forehead. "It's not like that, Marquee. 3-0-7-3 has helped me so much, and I need to thing that I'm helping them, not making more work for them." She gestured at the tiny core that was left of the box. "That I'm helping people." She looked at him, suddenly tired despite the excessive caffeine in her system. "For me, not summoning demons... it's like not walking through crowds or talking to new people. I just can't. And I know a demon who probably is good, even if he tries to make people think he isn't."

Marquee picked up a piece of the dismantled black box and placed it on the desk. He loosened his tie and closed his eyes for a moment before adjusting his glasses. "I apologize."

Tabitha looked at him questioningly.

"For being excited for such a tremendous risk. The demon in me is quite young, you see, and as such he's easily...excited. But the man I am acknowledges the dangers of a demon summoner." He raked the black segment into the trash bin and smiled. "And the last thing I wish is for you to be at risk."

She flushed a little before responding. "No, I should be the one saying sorry. I'm a little... Out of hand today. I wouldn't normally react so strongly." She pulled her beanie off and sat up straight again, sorting the small pile of parts in her lap into different drawers. The stress seemed to ease out of her shoulders a little.

Once the pile was gone, she looked up at him. Her lips quirked up into a small smile. "What was that you were saying about not knowing any good demons?"

Marquee thought on her comment for a lingering moment. In his mind, he couldn't decide between admiring her admiration of his calm nature despite being a demon; and the other side of his brain wondered if Tabitha really considered him fully a demon. That was right--she didn't know the truth of the matter.

"Tabitha, what would you say if I were to offer to cook a meal for you tonight? I have a very lengthy story to tell you, and I'd rather do it on a full stomach." He paused. "I would offer to cook at my home, but that apartment building has been a Wal Mart for..." he checked his watch, "eight years."

She hesitated, tensing as she tilted her head to one side and jostled the bruise on her face. "Um, well..." She frowned, then smiled. "Yes! That's fine. It could take a while to retrieve my kitchen from the depths of ready-meal packets, but yes, sure, why not?" She bounced her knee slightly as she finished talking.

"Fantastic." It was said with the brightest of smiles. He stood and took a pen, scribbling quickly on the back of his hand. "If you'll excuse me, Tabby Cat, I have groceries to shop for."

He took a large bow and vaguely winced at a lingering pain from his earlier fight. "I will be at your home at six o'clock sharp!"
You read faster than Usaine Bolt sprints xD - Deanie 2014

I wanted all to sparkle and dance in a glorious jubilee. - Cathy, Wuthering Heights








The poetry of the earth is never dead.
— John Keats