[Midnight Hotel] February catch-all

[gistful]

Characters: Anyone, everyone.
Date: Month of February, 2016 (2017 in-game).
Location: The Midnight Hotel.
Situation: Catch-all post! Feel free to use this post for anything that happens within the Midnight Hotel during the month, using the subject header to label specific rooms or for specific people. See also the OOC note at the bottom.
Warnings/Rating: Mark your threads if content warnings become applicable, please!

This month the Hotel’s wards are back up to snuff, thanks to the fog being blown off. Notably, the main doors open into all sectors once more – which is a relief to anyone who made a habit of using the Hotel for a shortcut. As always, the windows and garage doors still only open into Central.

There’s a sizeable flow of traffic in and out, mostly due to visitors from Hatal and their curiosity. Apparently it’s gotten around that the Hotel is magical and a common location for Foreigners and odd things, and as a result there’s a bit of a ‘tourist’ feel in the Hotel this month. Foreigners may find themselves being treated as novelties and asked to do magic, even if they aren't magical. The igheeri seem mostly interested in critiquing the architecture (for which they are too tall) and the sinayg can be found trying to listen to the magic in the walls (the exact sound of which is apparently a subject of hot debate), while the muin just seem to want to immerse themselves in the ‘culture’.

About mid-month Anton will toss out and ban a group of five Jagaiz fighters, to the surprise of no one who’s seen them for more than five minutes. They’re all the sort which are good enough at fighting to think they’re the best even though none of them are champions; low-grade braggers and bullies, essentially. Other, politer Jagaiz fighters who visit, if asked, will confirm that their lot isn’t particularly well-liked and their means of gaining sponsorship is a bit suspect.

None of the five suffer more than a few broken bones (and a concussion), and the loss of a few cheap items they forfeited by being forcibly shown the door.

Otherwise, for the observant, much of the furniture has been ‘labelled’ with small English or Chinese engravings in unobtrusive places – courtesy of River. Visitors from Hatal apparently find this ‘culture’ of naming possessions ‘delightful’. In other news, there’s a new kedan by the name of Dardul permanently residing at the Hotel. He’s a bit vacant with obvious memory issues, and is liable to forget people who talk to him; he’s regularly visited by Milyn and is under the care of another permanent resident, Malcil, who seems to prefer not to talk much with strangers himself.

In other other news, Anton can be seen wearing a colourful party hat all day on the 7th of the month, with bonus party tooter in his jacket pocket which he will absolutely use to greet Erskine every time they talk (while wearing a very bland expression).

[ooc: The Midnight Hotel’s status page is available here, with the rules at the top and ongoing status at the bottom. PLEASE POST TO THE STATUS PAGE IF YOUR CHARACTER WOULD LIKE A ROOM, JOB OR AREA IN THE GARAGE, OR ARE MOVING OUT. Anton will manufacture means of payment until Foreigners are able to properly offer recompense or choose to move out.]

Comments

[hellboundheart]

He had to take notice of how Anton held himself, trying to pull up the edges and classify the man beneath. Stiff in John's opinion, disciplined. Brought to mind a mortician more often than not. But where and why did magic come into it? It was a mystery Constantine wanted to understand, and he had nothing but time for it.

"Then magic is common in your world? Something everyone has or can do?"

The idea alone was staggering to Constantine. In his world, the only magic people believed in was the likes of David Copperfield or Criss Angel, lies that made themselves look true. To the question, John gave a careless seeming shrug.

"I just do it, mate. Change it or make it able to change. It's all about the construction," John said, pouring himself another double shot. In the mirror, the man looked to the side and walked out of frame. Another man took his place, one that looked suspiciously like John himself. Little surprise maybe that he was drinking. Another came into frame, this one with golden eyes and a wide span of white wings spread out behind him.

"What elements are you looking at? The reversal, the changing or something else. Make one of your sigils for me, here and now, let me build on it and you tell me what you want."

It was a dangerous thing, mixing of magic, but with something like this, John didn't see anything too terrible yet.

[gistful]

"No," Anton said with a shake of his head. "Sorcerers in my world are born, though not always to magical bloodlines. Most can choose not to use it, but mortals can't begin to use it themselves, except for sigils."

He 'just does it'. Anton absorbed that for a moment, looking at the shifting surface of th mirror. "It is all about the construction," he said slowly, and blinked equally slowly. "I drafted the Hotel's wards for over a decade before I felt sure enough to put them to stone."

And that had been a shifting work in progress as the physical reality of the building changed the wards.

Anton looked away from the angel in the mirror to smile faintly at the request. "Wards aren't just one sigil, Mr Constantine. They're more akin to strings of sentences. Complete wards are texts of varying lengths." Nevertheless, he pulled out the piece of chalk he kept in his pocket drew himself closer to the tabletop, clearing a space. "The layer," he said. "Your ward on mine still reaches for foundation when it's activated."

He sketched a simple alarm ward, one that would sound if crossed, and then another, interlocking like scales across the surface of the table the way the wards interlocked in the walls.

[hellboundheart]

"Where I come from, there's a lot who feel the same way. Bloodlines and all should be those with magic."

The downward twist of John's mouth said more of his disdain for that idea than he cared to. Behind him, the scene in the mirror continued to play out, the angel arguing with the human. Said human looked bound and determined to finish off his bottle and tell the angel to screw off. No words could be heard, but expression gave a lot away. Little wonder that the background in the mirror was what John was cluttering up his room to resemble.

That or Constantine was just a slob.

Sharp curiosity was in his eyes as he watched Anton work. When he finished, John traced the lines with a fingertip. Chalk blurred under his touch but the pattern remained. He was learning, examining, turning over something he didn't know yet with the voracious desire of an interested child. Unfortunately, John had about as much restraint when he walked into a situation.

Something quiet and rhythmic was murmured under his breath as he drew his hands up slowly. The chalk swirled and rose into a three dimensional image of sorts sketched in smoke, one that John turned in the air as if it were a hologram to see all sides.

"Got to be a way to defeat that," Constantine murmured thoughtfully.

[gistful]

"We have some few of those who cared," said Anton blithely. "Most of them are dead lines these days. Those bloodlines left don't particularly care about purity." Despite the tendencies of fiction to assume it was important, 'pureblood' had never been a particularly loaded term in their society, even for those who cared.

Anton, in turn, watched the way Constantine observed the alarm wards, both with his eyes and his hands. A hands-on user, that was for certain; the alarms started to peal as John disturbed the chalk, then cut off as it lifted off the table.

"There are," Anton agreed. "Several, actually; this is a simple ward. Usually it would interlock with many others of different kinds, but sigils like these are easy to interlock with each other as well--they're unidirectional."

[hellboundheart]

"How do they feel about people studying under masters or conforming to a school of thought instead of just winging it?" John asked although his mind wasn't on what he was saying. For him, magic was the ultimate high, what he was willing to suffer and hurt for it if needed.

There was no startle at the sudden alarm, only a small tensing without a break in what he was doing. To flinch or make an error in a spell could kill a person in Constantine's experience. Or worse.

"This is brilliant," he said, voice monotone as if he had forgotten Anton entirely to concentrate on the wards. "If they interlock, do they make each other stronger? Like layers instead of a single barrier?"

His fingers moved lightly, caressing and lightly pressing, handling the sigil with same care and curiosity he would have exhibited with a new lover's body. Constantine's eyes were taken with nothing but the sigil. Had an assassin crept in the room, the Hellblazer may have been dead before he realized it.

[gistful]

The look on Constantine's face was very nearly enough to oblige Anton to look away. It wasn't a hunger, precisely--but it was desire, almost more primal than more conventional lust. Anton felt a pang of doubt for the nature of Constantine's magic, or at least the man's ability to choose not to use it.

Necromancy, in Anton's world, was addictive. Was the magic Constantine used the same?

"They do," Anton confirmed. "Sigils are made to layer and combine in multiple fashions. Their methodologies are as varied as their user's creativity. And there is still a place for apprenticeships, in our society--even most of our magics are still fields developed from long ago. It's been a long time since anyone tried to develop a new one."