so if you meet me have some courtesy [closed]

[inferus]

WHO: Wrath & Vanessa
WHEN: Some nebulous time before plot rolls
WHERE: Vanessa's place
WHAT: Wrath brings the note and discovers her home is powerfully warded against demons (aka him)
WARNINGS: Likely lots of mentions/references to demons, the devil, hell, possession, etc.

Wrath carries the note, folded and placed within his pocket. Being a detective doesn't really offer him much in terms of accessories. It came with the use of a gun, but he dislikes guns so he has never carried that on him. He doesn't even have a badge really to use - only the paper which indicates his position within Minaras. Funny how they can place all the responsibility for stopping another attack on him, but not give him proper resources to do so. It's why he is willing to chase any potential lead, however. While he may not have sensed anything from the note, he does not have the same abilities as others within the group, and so it isn't much trouble at all to head to the indicated address.

Best to know what every individual within the group is capable of doing, how their skills can be utilized so they can all meet their ultimate goal of getting out of this world and back to their own. He is still convinced the group is the best method for finding the beacons, returning them all even if the group simultaneously, frequently makes reckless decisions.

He steps up toward the door Vanessa indicated in her message, but even as he approaches he... senses it, which brings him pause. Wards. They are not simple wards nor wards against general dangers, but wards against demons and dark magic specifically. He tilts his head to the side in curiosity, sliding his palm over the outside of it though he makes no effort to cross. He has never felt anything like it in all his time in this world. As far as he knows, demons do not exist here, which means these wards must have been placed by Vanessa herself (she did assume Arabella had been a demon or possessed by one). As he steps up toward the side of the house, he feels the ward that prevents him from coming further to it. They are powerful wards that is certain, and while he could attempt to push through to test exactly how powerful they are, that would be rude. And it would also potentially give more of himself away than he would like to at present.

Instead he pulls his device from his pocket and flicks it to audio as he contacts Vanessa directly:

"I am here. You have wards against demons on your house, however, and I am a demon." There's a brief pause. "...so if you would prefer to meet elsewhere, we can."

Comments

[inferus]

"Not entirely," Wrath answers with ease in response to what she does or does not prefer. Choice does factor in at least slightly to all of this. She wants to know more. She wants to know the demon who has its claws in her at least a little more despite the potential consequences. Demons - Princes of Hell know how to be tempting in turn.

The interactions she has had with demons before him - He is curious about it.

He stands when she does and moves from the tea cups left behind. The gold of his gaze meets her own.

"Because you wish to know more of Hell and its demons, but do not wish to admit how you wish it? The darkness within you demands whether you acknowledge it or not."

This is spoken as they reach the exit to her home, and Wrath steps outside of it. There's no escaping the thing inside of her - it certainly will not happen by ignoring him, ignoring those from Hell itself. Not with this imprint upon her.

He walks down the front steps as he heads away.

[matermali]

Indignation keeps Vanessa rooted in the doorway as he leaves, the terse civility of her posture dissolving once their gazes break and he's down the steps. No, truces didn't have to be safe at all. The impudence. His very gall at making such a claim to what's demanded of her, ensures that truce is not friendship, and at his retreating back, her teeth are bared. Fingers curl like claws against the door, through the door, prickling through the ether. There, where only shadows can hear, something old hisses its displeasure.

Vanessa shuts the door with care, not so taken by ire that she will be loud about it. She lets it burn quietly, her glare for the useless droid hovering by the door coupled with a sharp command for it to fetch supplies for cleaning the doorframe. She will be the one to wash it, of course. Vanessa had underestimated the risk of his influence and committed an error in letting him through, and he cannot be welcome back. No matter what form they may take, any Prince of Hell is to be considered no more than a traitorous, evil beast.

Her gaze passes over the shape of the scorpion painted in her blood upon the back of the bronze door, finding a bittersweet comfort in it. Her mentor would have knocked her in the side of the head for having let a demon through for any reason, then cursed her as a child. The thought settles her nerves, and her glare softens to something far more fond, her fingertips resting against the blood totem while she waits for the droid to retrieve her supplies.

Let him relish that arrogance. It will be found wanting. She knows what is demanded of her, and that claim is God's alone. She can still hope for that much, no matter how the demons lurk. Let them starve.