Scene #9098:

Owner	Pose
Calvin Nash	When we get done, I should introduce you to Pastor Fred down at the tabernacle. Maybe you could sit in on a fusion, even. And done they are with that briefing! There's still plenty of daylight left on Ossabaw Island. Enough to see that Fall is here--that leaf litter around the grounds of the old estate-turned-municipal-building is brown and crunchy, while the leaves of the mossy trees overhead are a gradient of dull greens to ruddy browns. The sky is a bright, but faded blue, without much cloud cover. It's the beginning of jacket weather, and so Calvin has taken his uniform's jacket along--a darker brown to match the beige of his uniform, sporting the Assembly's sapling-in-ashes motif at the center of a pair of inverted pentacles on the arms, and 'DEMON MARSHAL' across the back in gold letters. The walk to the Tabernacle--the place where demons are summoned and fused--is leisurely, but could be made in 10 minutes at a hurried pace, give or take. It seems purposefully placed past the more populated parts of the community. Set in the middle of a field that might once have held the ordered rows of a plantation (and might, given the country's history, be the resting place of its enslaved laborers), the building is plainly made to be easily relocated if the need arises. The Tabernacle is, firstly, surrounded by a wooden post fence supported by diagonal braces on the interior side. The exterior of the fence bears elaborate engravings burned in, an almost floral design suggesting clinging ivy, while empty spaces are filled in with a kind of magical pidgin kludged together from several more complete traditions; a few symbols probably tracing their lineage to a pop-occult version of Hebrew a ka Kabbalah, pictographs and characters from Appalachian Braucherei or 'granny witchcraft,' some from half-remembered Christian traditions, and even some from the broad, diasporic Afro-Caribbean Obeah. Those could all, deniably, be something that the people here might have knowledge of, maybe--but there are some symbols, from some traditions, that grow increasingly implausible--medieval Aramaic? Rosicrucianism? Even some from indigenous North American traditions that would have come from people halfway across the country from here. Two Demon Marshals are posted outside the front gate, their hair (or lack thereof) mostly hidden beneath standard-issue wide-brim hats like the one in Calvin's uniform. One is a short, bald pale man built like a bulldog and a slim woman with sepia brown skin and black curls, who stands maybe a head taller. Their demon partners, as well as the battery-powered, magically-etched klaxon horn on a post near the gate, convey their purpose here--containment. Each demon is the same: stocky canines with bulging eyes, almost human teeth set foreboding grimaces, with yellow pelts and green manes like waterfalls of jade--foo lions, or perhaps their Okinawan offshoots, shisa. Each Marshal also holds a shotgun--differing models, but each undoubtedly to aid in that quietly stated purpose. The woman--Marshal Fernandez--opens the front gate for you with a cordial smile. "Heya, Calvin. Who's your friend?" "This here's Ms. Natsuki Nuki. She's a demonologist, and she's gonna be comin' along on the Oglethorpe thing tomorrow, so I figured we'd stop by and jaw with Pastor Fred a spell." "Nice to meet you," says Fernandez, offering Natsuki a callused hand to shake. She's a lot more friendly than the two shisa standing guard, but Natsuki probably expects that. "And thanks for the help. A little stability goes a long way in uncertain times." The bulldog of a man bobs his head in agreement. "Yep," he bemoans. "Things ain't like they used to be." His stout body goes alert, as he remembers-- "Oh!" He slaps a meaty hand into the crown of his hat and chuckles. "Didn't even introduce myself. Marshal John McIntyre. Everybody calls me J.M. Nice to meet you, Ms. Natsuki."
Calvin Nash	"We won't hold y'all up no more," says Fernandez with a little nod. "Go on ahead--and have fun, Ms. Natsuki." They close the gate behind you. Passing through it, Natsuki feels the hairs at the back of the neck stand briefly on end. It's the work of all those glyphs--an ablative barrier comprised of countless redundancies, the idea being that breaking through all of them would give any responders more than enough time to get here, even for something powerful enough to warrant extra Marshals. The patchwork of interlocking countermeasures has one final surprise--the magical equivalent of a stinkbomb or inksplatter, designed to leave a lasting, traceable mark on anything that breaks free. The building itself is a cross between a tent and a southern evangelical church; its profile resembles the latter, with a broad base, a 'roof' at a slight incline and a small steeple with a homely scrap-metal bell. The 'roof' stretches all the way down to the ground, not a permanent thing but a collection of layered, stitched leathers, held to the ground with cord fed through looped stakes--and in the case of the steeple, held to rings pierced through the leathers beneath its peak. 'Walls' are wooden posts set flush with one another, while the 'front door' is a leather curtain draped over a gap, both inscribed with that same magical pidgin--though these ones seem by volume to be half-containment, half energy management and direction. Inside... BGM It's dark, hence the name--light only filters in from the steeple above, and from dim, kludged-together mason-jar-and-filament light bulbs. These, and the aged Hammond organ at the back, are hooked up to a growling generator with some kind of scrapmetal aftermarket modification bashed into the spot where its fuel tank would go, wrapped around the frame like a geometric metal growth. What would otherwise be a great way to get carbon monoxide poisoning isn't producing any smoke or even the smell of gas, but a thin purple vapor that settles into an ominous white fog which settles at the floor of the Tabernacle. Rising slightly above the fog is a wooden platform, with four great wooden discs elevating maybe two inches above it--each one sporting a ring of symbols which Natsuki's occult knowledge can glean as the focal point of all the energy-directing glyphs, but even the completely tuned-out can probably guess is where the magic happens. And what's generating that energy? Pastor Fred, working the keys and switches of an old Hammond B3 organ. "Calvin," he says, vibrantly pleased. "And who's this young lady?" His voice is a reedy, cigarette-accustomed tenor, rising above the varyingly contemplative, warmly rejoiceful and exuberant tones his fingers weave. His playing conjures it, the atmosphere providing a steady trickle, and all of it condenses into those discs, likely to be used for the operations which go on here. Beside him, easily with in arm's reach, is the rope for the bell above. Rather than a means of community connection or of service, it's a means to warn and communicate with the Marshals outside. His expressive playing darts back and forth effortlessly between gospel and a concerto as one might hear in a cathedral, both and neither as he needs it to be, a master of the instrument. The beads of sweat on his umber brown brow, pooling beneath a head close-cut grey hair, don't bother him at all. His brown eyes can easily focus on Natsuki rather than on the keys, even from behind those coke-bottle glasses on their salvaged frames.
Natsuki Nuki	Still in her off-buttoned fashion from the meeting, Natsuki saunters alongside Calvin as they move back out into the chilling Autumnal air. The severe of black and white silk over golden-tanned skin and faint fringe-fuzz is a calculated art of expression that the top two buttons on her shirt have been left undone to speak out clearly. Walking with an easy pace leaves her slightly untied black bootlaces dragging thin traces into the dirt beneath her, the 'demonologist' had been sharing a bit with Calvin about the basic set-up of her world. "In Japan, it's a little different. My Japan, of course - Osaka!" Birdsong flutters in her wake from the sound of her general amusement - indulgement went a long way with the chimera. "There's not so much mixing that doesn't happen across generations in general. I could break it up as 'spiritual and mundane', but that doesn't quite capture things, does it?" More jovial because of the topic, the ten minute walk gives Natsuki some time to adopt an honest tone of a delayed academic or a busy priestess happily pulled into a conversation about a topic they had things themselves to say. "Sixty or so years ago, the living gained the ability to realize the spirits besides them. Humans were woken up all at once by a great rock being swatted in space, instead of only the talented and the unlucky seeing specters, and they realized there were folks among them that were like me." Natsuki's tail, having dipped to an eyeless 'asleep' and low-droop to curl up just above the ground, isn't what she's speaking of - her hands raise to tap at the bright orange ears atop her head instead, a little autonomous flick firing as her fingernail tip curls across the back. "I'm a yokai, if that wasn't obvious. Let's call the Nue my 'current wrapper' - I'm sure you understand, after that long conversation we just had." Rounding a bend on the way to the Tabernacle, Natsuki lets her hand drop from head to lace fingers and push palms forward in a stretching half-yawn to work out all the tension in her arms. "My parents are both spirits, but I've lived in Osaka for most of my life. I've never even seen where they both go for 'business', but," Natsuki looks across Calvin's front, red eyes just short of over her shoulder. "We didn't get out much. I had to trick my parents with an exit plan in mind to get away. And now Futaba's putting on that festival-" A grand shrug sweeps her hands out to her sides, and Natsuki rolls her gaze back forward. "-to make sure everyone knows there's a new, twice-blessed 'nuki in town who'll be their priestess." "Now, I suppose I am a well-off demonologist." Natsuki decides, stepping up to the two Demon Marshals at the door. Pausing at the post-fence to glance at the glyph-and-marking scrawl to peer with academic eye towards the increasingly implausible burn-ins. It becomes a game for a few beats, and then she tilts back and is done with it, cycling to the marshals themselves. Her tail, still eyeless, drags its further fishhooking length through the air in a pendulum sway. Her head moves from foo-dog to Marshal to Marshal to foo-dog, and lingers at the end to smirk at the canine demon.
Natsuki Nuki	" Charmed." Purrs Natsuki as she reaches out casually to take Fernandez's hand in a grip that is intense for the flourish of each finger moving into place and turning into the shake. Not playing any macho games - yet. "I've only attended a meeting," Her handshake has a tingle like touching a plasma ball or anemone, a crackle like static electricity working away from Fernandez and towards the smiling chimera. "Don't thank me yet, Marshal." She winks, and pulls away mutually. "But I will have fun!" She promises chirpingly-assured. Entering the warded Tabernacle, Natsuki stops, sensing around. As she does, for the first time in their walk, her tail joins her in looking around, a ripple of seams opening dark-surrounded points of seeing-red. Unrolling her fingers from a fist and then closing them again in a breathe out at her side, Natsuki tries to smile 'cool' for a second at Calvin - a flicker at the cheeks - and then she rolls her eyes and scoffs in a single note of trying-to-get-away-with-it awkwardness. "Fancy wards you've got here, Marshal. What with closing the door at my back." Natsuki murmurs, smoothing out her hackles by degrees and returning to smiles over seconds. Settling into walking the last bit into the inside of the dark Tabernacle, the passing of her boots diplaces the occult smoke, and several ripples besides as her tail down-periscopes and slithers through the smoke cover like it was warm and homey bog-steam. Stopping to behold the great apparatus, and then headloll to observe Hammond organ and Pastor besides, Natsuki lifts a hand and gives a two-fingered wave and a grinning "Yo." out in smooth gesture. "I'm Natsuki - a demonologist from Osaka. Your man Calvin here told me that you were the expert on demon fusion. Care to share, once you're done over there?" She rhymes with good humor, skipping the sour taste for the man whose brain she'd like to pick.
Calvin Nash	Along the way there, Calvin chats with Natsuki. It's easy to do, with a common interest to break up the ice! Humans were woken up all at once by a great rock being swatted in space, instead of only the talented and the unlucky seeing specters, and they realized there were folks among them that were like me. "Well," says Calvin, "I don't know what I was expectin', but 'a big ol' rock in space' wasn't it." He falls quiet for a moment. That would have been preferable to how things went here. I'm a yokai, if that wasn't obvious. Let's call the Nue my 'current wrapper' - I'm sure you understand, after that long conversation we just had. "Yes ma'am. It's a mighty nice wrapper, if you don't mind me saying so." Was that flirting? The words could be interpreted that way, but the tone is just cordial enough to make the question necessary. Maybe he still feels a little bad from their first encounter? And now Futaba's putting on that festival to make sure everyone knows there's a new, twice-blessed 'nuki in town who'll be their priestess. "Hmh..." A thoughtful noise, but also one of mild consternation. "There's a lot of things I've learned doin' this job that... work out pretty good outside the job, too." Hands in the corners of his pocket as he walks, "'Don't make promises you can't keep' holds good for humans as well as for demons." "Y'all's brother seems to think it's more CYA. On account of Futaba's not so good at spinnin' plates just yet. Don't look good," he bluntly appraises. "Not for the shrine, and not for the Paladins neither." His tone shifts to a chipper matter-of-fact. "We're 'bout to fix that." Fancy wards you've got here, Marshal. What with closing the door at my back. "Demonology's a constantly developing thing," says Calvin. "We know a lot more now than we did when I was a youngin'. Enough to know that an ounce of prevention's worth a pound of cure." He frowns. It makes sense. Not every role out there waiting to be played is a role that plays nice with humans. Some see themselves as testers of mortal mettle, others as predators, or tempters. If they see a mark in the person that summoned them, it costs them much less to try than it costs the summoner to be tried. --- Your man Calvin here told me that you were the expert on demon fusion. Care to share, once you're done over there? "Oh, done with this?" asks Pastor Fred, nodding hia hoary head towards the organ and chuckling. "This is just... hm, keepin' the lights on, you might say." Important work, but not so urgent it can't be set aside. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Natsuki. I'm Pastor Fred Jackson." Clearing his throat (or stifling a cough), he stands up from the organ. "I guess I am an expert, at that," he says, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief before stowing it away in his well-worn, patched up habit. "Seems hard to believe, but I guess you get to be pretty good at somethin' after thirty years!" He laughs a charmingly reedy, gap-toothed laugh. "I'm guessin' Calvin already ran you through the basics." "Yes sir," Calvin briefly interjects, with a nod of his now-unhatted head. Fred smiles that same smile. "What else would you like to know, Ms. Natsuki?"
Natsuki Nuki	'I don't know what I was expectin', but 'a big ol' rock in space' wasn't it.' Natsuki had smiled, but getting into the why of things was a far deeper subject. "Ask me some other time. You'll get a kick out of it." She had waved off instead. They were talking demons! 'Yes ma'am. It's a mighty nice wrapper, if you don't mind me saying so.' "Now, are you just saying that?" Natsuki asks, just prior to entering the Tabernacle proper and after the doors are closed. In that more-intimate space, the question hung like a lure back towards closed doors, Natsuki curling a finger into the high collar-line side of her askew shirt and slowly stroking the cloth between the roll of finger and pad of thumb. Her most-humanoid look is only a little fuzzy, though the eyemask, dark button nose, and darkening brown tones of her forearm to hand are tells enough without tail and ears. She could still throw a standard Osakan with heavier clothes on, but, she doesn't. Her sister doesn't either, nor did most yokai that Calvin had seen in Sotenbori - though not all were as photogenic as the Tanuki 'princess' and her Nue-wrapped older sister. "You said it wasn't your kind of thing, back in the meeting. Tuning up, taking on new wrappers." The dry term gives Natsuki a way to lean on the topic, ways to say 'body' or 'power' or hand sliding sweep of a gesture to 'form' without being so vulgar and direct, but-- That lean on-yet-away is almost solely vocal, the prowl of a priestess around a topic to tease out more. "I don't think I mind anyone appreciating me, Marshal Nash." Natsuki decides, being the sort to bask in adoration actually, the rub of her fingers pausing at her collar. About her, the rolling occult mist ink-darkens and roils about ankles. Atop her head, Natsuki's ears flick between organmusic and the Marshal before her. "But as someone who talks about wrappers, it'd be easier to say you just like how I look. I'm proud of that, but in a different way." "Be specific." She insists, reaching out a finger to tap Calvin on the chest to press her point to her local opposite's shirt. 'We're 'bout to fix that.' "I was surprised your Paladins decided to adopt my baby sister's problems, but I won't complain about my city running better." Natsuki admits, pulling back and righting, tugging down her shirt to straighten the naturally unkempt look back to practicality. As she does... That tail, studded with eyes, glares back from places that snakes do not stare nor have seams. Watching for his answer, tasting the occult-misted air.
Natsuki Nuki	--- "Keeping the lights on!" Natsuki laughs, birdsong-bright, and chirps into giggles and sighing-tweets. "You're in the dark, you know. And you've left something wonderful-smelling simmer out into the kitchen, Mister," 'I'm Pastor Fred Jackson.' "Jjjackson." Natsuki relishes that one, 'jakuson', like a tourist being shown a celebrity. "Calvin was so very basic at me," She admits, casting a sly glance to the Marshal and then smiling chummily-natured despite her earlier direct questions on if he was really serious. Mister Jackson didn't need to know that at all. "-but he's given me an understanding, yes. I'm not familiar with your catalysts, but if it's that wonderful smell that's been around here, I think I understand why it's been like following a pie coming this way. Magnetite, I think?" Natsuki clasps her hands before her chest, palm to palm, and smiles behind the rise of her fingers. "I was hoping that long experience could help me, from one alchemist to another, about some advanced topics of Fusion. Calvin graciously said he'd introduce me to a demon that was fused with a living creature, and talked about both humans who fuse with demons to become 'them plus' as well as demons who fuse to become 'them plus'." Natsuki peels one hand from the other to take tail in a scoop of hand and guide it by the head up besides her. The snake, settling eyes where they 'should' be, on rises atop the spade head, gazes on towards the Father. "I'm past the basics of me-plus." She assures, and her tail flicks out its tongue, dryly disinterested in this academic topic but with a fair captivation in the fusion array besides. "But I know an answer, and it's made me curious." Natsuki lets her tail go, and it droops back slowly to ankle-level to sample the fumes and gaze up at the magnetite hopper in scheming ophidian contemplation. The chimera girl remains on the preacher with a specific interest. "Humans aren't different at all here. Are they? They're just more native, more bound, but they're not different. That 'strong waveform' even when they die. It's soul magic, the spiritual core, whatever you want to call it. Or did I get stopped at the basics?" The corpse analogy had got her thinking strongly, even though she hadn't met the Patriots. She used her own knowledge, and that was haunts and hungry ghosts. And -- it wasn't much different. "Do Demons here ever ask to fuse with humans? Not just your horses, your animals. Have you put human blood on that altar? I've only heard the one-sided basics from Calvin."
Calvin Nash	Earlier...Now, are you just saying that? What's that s'posed to mean? Calvin's brow knits together in thought. But as someone who talks about wrappers, it'd be easier to say you just like how I look. I'm proud of that, but in a different way. Be specific Oh. Calvin glances towards Natsuki. "Well. I do. Like the way you look, I mean." Obviously. Right? That's what you're s'posed to say. In fact it's nice to say it to people. I should go tell that to Gandharva 'n Apsaras. Bet they'd like that too. Although Calvin's too stupid to realize it, the sentiment is uttered so straightforwardly and bluntly that it'd be hard to interpret it as anything other than direct flirting. Now... Calvin was so very basic at me- Calvin's brow knits together again, this time in response to a more sly form of Pastor Fred's smile. Hm. What's funny? Weird. I think I understand why it's been like following a pie coming this way. Magnetite, I think? "That's some nose you got there! Yes ma'am, you got it in one," says Fred with a bouncing nod. He listens intently. Humans aren't different at all here. Are they? They're just more native, more bound, but they're not different. That 'strong waveform' even when they die. It's soul magic, the spiritual core, whatever you want to call it. Or did I get stopped at the basics? "No, no, you're exactly right," says Fred. "'More bound' is hitting the nail on the head. Humans are born in Assiah--that's Earth--and their flesh and blood is made as a result of... well, biology, Earth's governing principles, depends on who you ask and how you look at it," he waves a hand. It's largely academic, because the crux of the matter is that-- "Humans and demons have the same 'stuff,' spiritually speaking. Humans happen when..." He chuckles. "Well, the birds and the bees. Whether the 'stuff' comes from the Expanse, where demons come from, or kinda..." he presses both wizened palms together and then draws them apart "...splits off from the parent and grows into its own thing, that's also hard to say. But when we die, it goes to Assiah, like rain drying up after a shower and becoming part of the clouds and the air again." Do Demons here ever ask to fuse with humans? "Sure, sometimes," says Pastor Fred. "They'd have to get really close with a human to want to, I imagine. Even closer than the trust it takes to fuse them with animals or other demons. And I guess I can't blame them--remaking yourself, giving yourself over to someone else, being a little different together than apart, even if you can see where the ends meet..." His lips curl upwards at the corner. "Sounds a lot like marriage, don't it?" After a chuckle and another stifled cough, "I've never, ah, 'presided' over any fusions between demons and humans," he says. "Not that I wouldn't, if someone asked, but... no one on the island has. Maybe somwhere else in the Assembly, it's different, but culturally..." He frowns. "You're from Osaka, right? Little town in Japan if I remember my geography," says Fred. "Sounds like 'Earth' to me--and that means humans are in the picture. So," he says with a little resignation in his voice, "You'd know that human society is only as kind as the least kind of the powers that be. When we decided to build the Assembly, it was so that the people in it, and their children, could have a chance to be treated as human beings. I guess a lot of us just... aren't ready to start experimenting with the different shapes of it, like the people in Libertalia are."
Natsuki Nuki	Calvin may easily balance his hands by the thumbs tucked behind his belt, but no amount of casual air will get away from flashing the highbeams when you just meant to give a wave of the hand. He leaves Natsuki with a lingering way of looking back at him - more appraising, particularly-receptive or sizing-up for some purpose. Active-eyed, when her gaze falls on him while talking to the pastor, the engaged-academically looks are traded out for a more social reconsiderance. When Fred slyly smiles at her 'basic' jab, the tick-tock saccade of her grinning look passes from Fred's amusement to Calvin's furrowed brow, and in the periphery of her holding back laughter with faint chirps escaping, she instead tilts her head back and swallows and nods, hem-hemming back into topics. '...like rain drying up after a shower and becoming part of the clouds and the air again.' "Sounds like it comes from Assiah, then." Natsuki reasons. "Those human souls. Signals from the planet captured by wrappers." Stepping around Calvin, tail trailing palpalbly about his outer left calve as the woman herself steps behind and to his right. As she does, she draws a curled knuckle softly up the outside of his belly. "If I were to unwrap you, you'd go back to Assiya, Marshal." She hangs there, tail slowly making a loop about Calvin's left leg that shifts smoothly-muscular and scaled across ankle. Her knuckle rests, slowly dapping the far outside of a rib, over jacket. "But you said something, about demons regrowing the wrapper? Or some alternate thing happens, during fusion? Did you get crossed up, or can things from the expanse re-possess wrappers repeatedly? I thought it's the trick of your COMP devices, when you explained it, but I might be wrong." She smiles, broad across cheeks and lifting red eyes. "If not, then, your process - that personal contract you'll be making, that's a Fusion too, isn't it? Just, to a much lesser state. You store the demon's soul, and use the occult power of that-" She pauses to shift knuckle and turn gaze to Fred. "-succulent stone you're cooking with to generate a new wrapper on the spot. Isn't that right? That binding might be a tremendous deal, a conditional immortality, and why such powerful spirits would take it."'being a little different together than apart' Natsuki hangs off of Calvin physically, the sort of side-arm lean affected and then forgotten about ending without further input, and pleased to let it play out boldly rather than playing it cold for Father Jackson. She also hangs off the Father's explanation mentally, the words striking in a resonant order to her enough to stare with eerie gaze. "That's exactly right. It's not the same as apart at all. It's--so much better." Natsuki assures, voice emphatic and loop-of-tail squeezing Calvin's ankle. "But," Melancholic, for a moment, morose, the dragging knuckle drags down Calvin's chest and sways off entirely, fist planting on outside hip for lack of better spot to rest. "You're right, about human society. It's just 'society' to me, sad enough to say, though I was raised in the city, so I just call myself Osakan. Before my..." A search for words, and then, the simplest explanation. "... last fusion, fitting in might have been easier, but I'd rather gain more power and disagree with those that 'be' instead." Her intensity fades after a moment, shrugging. "But, I'm sure I'd have something else to say in Libertalia." She scoffs. "I don't think everything's worth fusing with."
Calvin Nash	If I were to unwrap you, you'd go back to Assiya, Marshal. "My body would," he says, seemingly oblivious to the touching. For now. "The rest of me, I ain't so sure. There are certain types of demons--spectres, haunts, phantoms, zombies, preta... they got human memories," "Now, we know that's because energy up and..." he makes a zwooping motion with his finger, "Stays here and either makes a new wrapper for itself or because it flies into a dead body, like with zombies and Patriots. But..." "Is that 'staying' instead of returning to Assiah, or 'staying' instead of returning to the Expanse? We're both made of the same 'stuff,' like Pastor Fred said. So I don't know. But I think that part of us goes to the Expanse." Fred nods, rumbling a thoughtful noise. Then he blinks. "Ms. Natsuki seems pretty... fond of you, Calvin," he says with a grin. Even a man with cokebottle glasses can see the trail her knuckles make. "Hm?" Calvin looks. Then looks down. "Well, what about it? Don't people usually like each other when they get along?" Fred looks as though someone just confidently explained to him that the moon is made of cheese. He blinks, the gesture amplified by his thick lenses, then his body rocks with a subtle tide of laughter. Shaking his head, "Never mind." I'd rather gain more power and disagree with those that 'be' instead. "That's a dangerous approach, but it sure can be effective," says Fred, hands clasped and nodding. "In the world that used to be, there was a man who was lookin' to do that peacefully. Maybe your world's America even had someone like him." "He wanted to try and touch people's hearts, and if he couldn't do that, he'd go after 'the wallets that be' instead. But you know, even he knew how strong force could be. When he spoke, in front of a crowd, he knew who he wanted protecting him and his people. And they say his house was like an armory, towards the end." "What happened?" asks Calvin. "They shot him," answers Fred, frankly and without much pause. "...what about the ones that fought?" "Well... what do you think happened, Calvin?" Calvin thinks about that, looking between Natsuki and Fred. "I'd like to say they lived. And that things changed enough so nobody had to fight no more. But that ain't what happened." Fred smiles sadly. "No, Calvin, it ain't," he says with a little sigh. "There are days I miss what used to be--some of it. I miss the radio. I miss going down to the corner store and coming back with a Coke and a bag of greasy bullshit. I miss movies, and tv shows. Even the stupid ones." He chuckles, removing his glasses and wiping them off with a little cloth. "Maybe even especially the stupid ones." "But," Fred continues, "I don't deny that in some other ways, we're very fortunate, because the old world would never have let us even begin to build what we're trying to build with the Assembly. Flawed or not. And now, maybe with the Paladins and all these other new folks, it just might be we have... whole new people and things to work with, whole ideas of what you even can build to begin with." He heaves a sigh. "Anyway... that kind of thing--'disagreeing with those that be,'" he says with another little gap-toothed grin at Natsuki, "Tends to make them folks real upset. And it upsets folks that... well, frankly oughta know better, too. So if you ever need a place to lay low for a while, we'd be happy to have you here."
Natsuki Nuki	Shifting between social and study with an arm around Calvin as she stands jacket shoulder side to jacket shoulder side, Natsuki's rotation off of Calvin allows a flourished roll of outside hand out, cupped in vague indication of naturally curled fingers. "So it's already a fusion then, isn't it?" Her index finger closes on her lifted palm. "Expanse," Middle finger folds in. "-and Assiya," Ring and pinky, already drawing in, finish closing to closed fist clasped with thumb. "Physical and spiritual." As she speaks, the lazy loops of tail about Calvin's ankle loosen and shift, eyeless serpent spooling out to marsh viper through the magnetite mists, eventually just sliding around heel and over boot-top - like the Marshal had stood out in the grass for too long. "Consider that it is 'just staying'. If the Human wrapper fits snug around a wave from two worlds, there is something fused-and-bound to both sides of it. A part of Assiya bound to the Expanse. A part of the Expanse, bound to Assiya. And aren't all those haunts and spilled-and-spoiled wrappers hungry? So, so hungry. You'd wonder what void they were trying to fill, except what left to make them that way." Natsuki smirks, and lowers her arm from Calvin's shoulders, stepping back and around the rear arc of the Demon Marshal to take his left flank for Pastor Fred's observations. 'Ms. Natsuki seems pretty... fond of you, Calvin,' The chimera of Osaka thumbs cheek and curls palm over chin considering-smug for a moment. 'Well, what about it?' Natsuki hitch-fault starts, shocked in a wave from nose to cheeks and wide-dilated eyes. Fred blinks, and then laughs. Natsuki emits a fluttering-sigh of a plus-ten, minus-fifteen downward-tumbling avian murmurs, and lifts her cheek-and-chin touching hand to rub at her brow and the falling frame bang of her white-gold hair. "I'm fond of talking with other demonologists. It's fine being the occult expert of the student council, but peers are so much more en-riching to engage with, don't you think?" Though posed as a question, it's a barely rhetorical statement. Pastor Jackson relates a a brief sermon upon the way things were. Settling arm over arm after recovering from Calvin's incredible unintentional Manzai comedy routine. Hating to be the butt of a joke for any length of time, an earwaggling rattle of her head sets her eyes back on Pastor Jackson. "Peace is what you sell to build an empire. Those that buy it are the people. You're not supposed to eat peace, and like you said -" Natsuki quirks one white brow. "He was armed by the end. But that is the story that everyone wants to win, isn't it? The legendary hero of peace, the one good man among all men?" A river-channel through the smoke pools and shifts over the slither of chitin and scale black, passing before the crossed-armed chimera. "The answer is that without power, your dreams will be ignored. So to achieve your dreams, you have to have power - your own power, and not anyone else's. If it's someone else's power, it's someone else's dream."
Natsuki Nuki	Lifting her shoulders in a simple shrug without loosening her arms, Natsuki tilts her head back a bit, looking down her nose slightly. "Society is agreeing to the 'general plan' that nobody is so you can hit people who are farther away than you. I'm familiar - like I said." "It's why I can understand Demons asking to undergo fusion - mixing dreams to have it be 'yours'. Mixing powers, to realize more of that dream." Her head tilts down. "You have new people to work with, and I'm quite a lot more than a 'fellow demonologist', even if that's what walked here with Marshal Nash. If you find yourself needing things, Mister Jackson," Natsuki winks, sly. "Don't hesitate to ask me, as well." Hand pulling off her sleeve to gesture out, there's a gold-glitter shine in her palm of strange and weighty coins that pour up from her wrist and fill palm. Turning the hand, slowly, the coins begin to spill onto the misty ground beneath - some onto her tail, where the coins bounce and roll off the span and tumble into the mists, and some snapped out of the air by a rise of the eyeless head up from the smoke to gulp back down a collection of the coins. "I've got so much it spills, so I'm always looking to invest." The chimera woman smiles, affecting 'cute'. "Isn't that a power too, Pastor?" Waving out the last few loose gold coins from her 'sleeve' as one might a rag and spilling further metal wealth loose into the ground, Natsuki brings the wealth-dispensing hand back to her chin to pinch it, all the way back to scholarly. "One other thing bothers me, and I wanted to ask: The COMP. You can store Demons within it - but what about a Patriot? What about Demons fused with Assiyan beings? Calvin's family horse?"The pinch fingers become a fingergun point towards Pastor Jackson. "What about a Libertalian? What about a human? Surely, someone has tried already." Few could resist the promise of immortality, even conditional.
Calvin Nash	So, so hungry. You'd wonder what void they were trying to fill, except what left to make them that way. "Hmm..." Calvin lifts his free, non-Natsuki-occupied arm to rub his chin thoughtfully. He likes that question. There are so many answers. Fred likes it too, nodding thrice with co-sign enthusiam. The answer is that without power, your dreams will be ignored. So to achieve your dreams, you have to have power - your own power, and not anyone else's. "Mhm." It's another sound that Calvin makes good use of for how varied its meanings can be. A little stress on the back half and a pinch of imperious can render it a noise of unimpressed disagreement. That same stress, put on the front half with the same pinch of imperious, can make it instead into a kind of commiserating agreement. This one is the latter--he liked that thought, and agrees with it. If you find yourself needing things, Mister Jackson, don't hesitate to ask me, as well. Fred smiles that charming gap-toothed smile. "I might just," he says. Isn't that a power too, Pastor? "It surely is," he ruminates amusedly. "Always nice to have a generous neighbor with a cup that runneth over." A little reedy laugh, his old hands squeezed together as he watches her tail snap a coin up. What about a Libertalian? What about a human? Surely, someone has tried already. "Well, now, that's one hell of a question," says Fred, after an amused, good-naturedly-taken-aback huff-chuckle. Meanwhile, Calvin unwittingly launches a counterattack. Wonder if all the touching's an Osaka thing? "Damn sure is," says Calvin, slipping an arm around Natsuki's waist. Seems like she'd appreciate it. Like a handshake or a high-five, almost. "Boy," says Fred in laughing disbelief, "You got to be thicker than an elephant's ass." "What's that supposed to mean?" says Calvin, surprised. Fred scoffs, and waves him off. "Never mind. Ms. Natsuki, you just keep on," he says knowingly, as if to say 'surely, he'll catch on eventually.' "Patriots are demons," the Pastor instead moves on. "You could contract with one, and put it in a COMP, if you really wanted to." Calvin nods. "Whitey's been in my mama's COMP for... well, damn near since we made the first ones," he says. Fred makes a little grunt of assent. "Humans don't fit. Probably to do with that 'little of A, little of B.' Or maybe it's just that COMPs don't read us as 'fitting' without there being part of that 'wave-form' from the Expanse--more than we'd naturally have anyway. Demi-Fiends, though...," he says. "They just might, on account of having a little more juice from the Expanse mixed in. I can tell you, my ass wouldn't wanna," he admits laughingly, "Even if I could, even if I was the type to become a Demi-Fiend in the first place." That must be the term for humans that fuse with demons--Demi-Fiends. "I had enough trouble with computers before. Being inside of one would piss me off even more than they used to," he laughs.
Calvin Nash	"I figure," says Calvin thoughtfully, "It'd take a lot of trust, doin' that. Like giving your leash to somebody. But, then, trust is the foundation of usin' a COMP at all, ain't it? Demons make that decision all the time." "Anyway," he says with a look towards her, "I was thinkin', just now, Ms. Natsuki. About what you said a minute ago, and about what Pastor Fred said a few weeks back, when I brought some folks by to visit him." The pastor's grey brows lift in interested anticipation. "You asked what demons'd be missing, to be as hungry as they are. And, well..." "Me, and Pastor Fred, and the island. The Assembly. Libertalia and Canaan, out west. Plus whoever else is still alive. We're the people that's left." He settles his jaw, and holds his free hand out wide to indicate the span of Assiah. "Now... based on how we got to have COMPs in the first place, I figure demons existed before the war, and the war's just what blew the door off the hinges. Pastor Fred said that we gotta accept that demons are linked to us, on account of they come from our stories." "And... well, you and Pastor Fred was talkin' just now about the stories people want to win. How that fella that tried to fight peaceful still had guns, 'n how people tended to forget that. Or maybe it got glossed over, on purpose, by the people who actually did win," says Calvin with a look towards his elder for confirmation. Pastor Fred's wrinkled brow is pressed close in thought, and he nods a 'go on' towards Calvin. "So... maybe what they're missin' is that. The whole story. And they been missin' it before the barrier between Assiah and the Expanse opened up, but they're missin' it especially now that there's so much less of us. They're what's left of the stories that're left." Pastor Fred makes a rumbling, approving-thoughtful 'hmmmm.'
Natsuki Nuki	Smiling back at the cup-runneth-over considering Pastor, Natsuki brings her own hands together from their punk-casual cross, shifting from scholar to priestess in a moment. "I'm always happy to support local priests," She tones out evenly, then presses tongue to teeth, winking in a grin. "And I'm sure you can find me a source of Magnetite, as an occultist, which is just as good!" Calvin begins his foolish move on Natsuki, considering the strangely intimate nature of other people as some sort of cultural more and does his best impression of returning the arm, but this one is lower-slung, and surprises Natsuki in the moment. Stance adjusting with a quarter backstep, Natsuki balances on the toe of her boot with her close leg and slowly turns her gaze down to the hand curling around her hip. Then, head lolling, she looks up and back at Calvin confidently My Girl hand-wrapping her waist. "Hey." Natsuki rumbles, bringing her outside hand up to bump the just-underside of Calvin's chin and momentarily stifling him by clicking shut his jaw. Rotating in, addresses the inside of Calvin's neck and the outside of his ear with a warm roll of breath. "I thought you weren't interested in fusion?" She inquires again, stage-husked conversational, before cycling a breath against Calvin's neck. "Because," "If you keep your hand on my waist, I'm going to veeery gently bite it off, Mar~shal." She promises like a friend agreeing to a slightly taxing favor for the petitioner, and chirrups a nasal little laugh. Her tail doesn't make things more difficult for Calvin, but long, creeping limbs sneak out from her loose shirt like long chitinous claws and fold over like arachnid fingers lightly caging the arm about her waist. That sweet threat delivered, she straightens neck and affords Father Jackson more of her attention and Calvin a chance to choose how much of his arm he'd like to keep. Meanwhile, confirmations: Demons, even human-wave (imprint or otherwise) Demons, went in the COMP. Demons fused with Assiah-native creatures go in the COMP - and have since the absolute inception. Demi-fiends. . . might. Humans do not. It provided a neat scale, at least, and enough to go on and make informed decisions. "Every transaction is about trust. Low trust is expensive, and high trust spends. Marriage, fusion, what's going to happen to Calvin's arm," Natsuki smiles peacefully. "Trust moves every ledger." 'They're what's left of the stories that're left.' The questioning - Calvin's come-to final question - is one that makes Natsuki allows a few moments of extra consideration before answering. "It's," She wets her lips as a half-beat pause point. "A part of living - a part of society, to carry legends along with you. In some worlds - like yours, I guess," And hers. "There are things that are, and then the things that people tell each other about. The real, and dreams. I'm looking to fill, expand, take on the role of a legend in my own period of time, and make it mine. A fusion," She smirks. " Of a way. Marrying scroll-ink isn't glamorous-seeming, if it's empty, but it can be yours." Natsuki nods, affirmative with the thoughts. "Filling roles can make the part yours. Like that original Mothman of yours."
Calvin Nash	I thought you weren't interested in fusion? Wait... If you keep your hand on my waist, I'm going to veeery gently bite it off, Mar~shal. Marriage, fusion, what's going to happen to Calvin's arm... "Oh, shit," says Calvin, apologetic without being panicked. He removes his hand. "Didn't realize that's what that meant," he genuinely offers, slipping his hand out from its gentle cage. "Calvin..." Fred removes his thick glasses and shakes his head. Filling roles can make the part yours. Like that original Mothman of yours. "Yeah," says Calvin excitedly, snapping and pointing--this particular point much more friendly and benign than the one he'd given to her and Futaba. "You got exactly where I was tryin' to go. What they're hungry for is the whole story. Maybe to be the whole story." "Anyway... I'd been meanin' to head over here to do a little fusion. It'll take a little bit, but you can sit in on it if you want," he offers to Natsuki. "What you got for me today?" asks Pastor Fred, with the tone of a seasoned professional talking shop. He heads over to the old Hammond organ and takes a seat, also procuring a little handheld chalkboard to scratch-scritch-scratch some rough figures onto it as Calvin answers his questions. "Couple of things," says Calvin, stepping up to the organ with that same professional conversational air. He flips open his COMP and holds it so that Fred can see it. "Him, with him, him with him, and then the two of 'em together." "Now those two I know," inquires Fred, "But what about these? How long you had 'em? How well you know 'em? Done much fightin' with 'em?" Calvin answers matter-of-factly. Fred nods and scritch-scritch-scratches some math out onto the chalkboard. "Here's a ballpark of what that'll run you for Magnetite. Here's what I figure your chances are without the whole band here or any special ritual, right there's your end result and finally, here's the Tabernacle's fee. That work for you?" "Yes sir, it does," Calvin says with a firm nod. "All right," says Fred. "Well, you sure like to play close to the net, don't you." He huffs and shakes his head. Calvin has never played tennis and has no comment on this. "Best of luck!"
Calvin Nash	The fusion ritual starts with Calvin summoning the first two demons--Pabilsag, a scorpion-man with two lantern eyes set in the sunken caverns of an olive green skull, and Kodama, a little flat pictogram humanoid with red swirl markings over its forest green body. They each step onto the central platform in the Tabernacle, Kodama with a little more effort owing to its much shorter stature. Then, they occupy two of the four wooden rings set within the central platform. Once both demons are secure, Pastor Fred's playing resumes, but this time, it's far more lively and driven--a praise break, aided by a synthetic drumkit whipped up by the organ's switchboard. Calvin extends his hand towards the platform, and the rings of glyphs surrounding the discs bearing the demons begin to swirl, first slowly and then rapidly, to the point of the now-glowing glyphs becoming bands of purple light. A tangible dark-purple mist flies from Calvin's outstretched hand towards the central platform, and the whole Tabernacle seems abuzz, as if Natsuki had opened a door and stepped into a party in full swing. The electronic drums from the organ seem not only to soak into the wooden walls, but to have them almost beating like a heart, while the keys are the exultations of its voice. The same dark purple mist drawn directly from Calvin suffuses the air as a result of Fred's music, precipitating from the walls and being drawn towards the center in short order. That's what he'd meant, earlier, by 'keeping the lights on'--providing a steady dripfeed of emotional energy so that operations like this don't break the bank, so to speak. Likewise, having 'the whole band' here probably exponentially increases the amount of energy the Tabernacle can supply. The purple, hazy energy swirls like a cyclone over the center, completely occluding the forms of the demons but for brightly burning, lighter violet lanterns at the center--the 'ingredients' which Calvin and Natsuki had spoken of in the municipal building and on the way here. Those cores are gradually drawn to the center, little contrails breaking off and intertwining helically until one remains, larger than either individually. The mist clears from the center, but Fred keeps the electronic drums going even if his fingers work the keys in lighter, subdued suggestions. Floating in the center ring is a long, slender shape like a weasel, with a black dog's head and red, coal-glow eyes. "Inugami," says Calvin with a nod. "Step one." The Inugami moves towards one of the prior rings, flapping like a ribbon in a breeze as it flies. Next, a scrungly seaweed monster with cattail hands and stalk claws is summoned, his upside-down porcelain mask face sweeping towards Calvin alongside a cattail thumbs-up. Calvin returns the gesture. The organ picks back up for another fusion, this time between the Pellaidh and the Inugami. Again, the same vortex of emotional energy, and this time, the 'ingredient' core that winds together in the center is bigger still. When it subsides, the new 'wrapper' has formed. A towering, slender figure draped in a dark, flowing robe with a red sun motif printed on the chest. Inky blue-green mushrooms peek from the hems of the robe, and as the figure glide-steps down from the platform (shouldering a silvery greatsword to do so) a trail of those mushroms grow, wither and fade in his passing. He peers down at Calvin from the eyeless sockets of a similarly green-blue skull, beneath the wide-brimmed 'cap' of a giant mushroom fused with his skull. "I am Chernobog, he of darkness, ill fate, destruction and the winter. There are few who would seek me out," the towering skeletal figure notes with some amusement. "Perhaps you share your mother's peculiar taste in demons." "And the devil's own luck," says Fred, dabbing his forehead from behind the organ as he shuts off the drum track.
Calvin Nash	"Whitey's not so bad once you get to know him. Prolly the same with you." "Hm. In any case, I look forward to working with you, and to knowing you and this place with new eyes." Calvin looks up into Chernobog's eyeless sockets. "It's an expression," says Chernobog. "Well." Calvin turns to Natsuki. "I got some errands to run, but you make yourself at home and stick around long as you like. Maybe if you're still 'round when I get done, we could get a bite to eat. Just be ready to head out tomorrow mornin'. Aight?"