alteregos | ( happy birthday )

[ It was hard to believe almost six years had passed since that chance meeting; how she had managed to get out of there with her life and without incurring in the wrath of some "god" was still beyond her, but for all the danger she had put herself (and him) into, by the end of it all they had forged an odd friendship, perhaps to the surprise of both of them. How can people from completely different worlds find common ground? Although the more she had thought about it, the more sense it made; not having anything in common was what made their friendship grow, mostly because they both had been carving for something new, something different. It hadn't been an easy friendship, but it had been a solid one.

Then the world had gone to Hell, quite literally for some.

Ever since she heard about him (through whispers of pained souls, on the cracks of crumbling buildings, in scorched fields were beings of power had been slain), Jo had kept on remembering their meeting; that day, Petre had put himself in danger to help her. Had she doomed him? She didn't know, and quite honestly, was too scared to seriously consider it, but for some reason she eventually packed up her things and started to track him down.

It was hardly a task; the being that she had once called friend had a penchant to leave a bloody, fiery mess anywhere he went, and people were quick to cower in front of displays of power and tell her all she needed to hear. Still, the task had taken far too long, more than she thought it would, and the dreaded date she was hoping to avoid came right around the corner; in years past, before everything, it had been an interesting day, a day of picking a gift for an odd boy and mail it to him, a day to finally convince him to try and use Skype. The distance had always been a nuisance, but when you could work magic to (very clumsily) travel over large distances, a long distance friendship (God forbid any of them ever felt anything beyond the real of the platonic for each other) had been relatively easy to keep.

She didn't want to find him on his birthday.

The thing was, Jo had no idea of what was she going to do once she found Petre, only that she knew it would probably devolve into violence relatively fast. A part of her was sorry for the guy she had once known, but another one was driven by something else, something completely different, a pull of sorts that demanded balance. Almost twenty one years of life and Jo wasn't any closer to figure what it meant to be a witch, but she knew that ultimately she was a piece amidst a bigger, probably horrifying puzzle.

Stopping at the edge of a hill that overlooked the run down city in front of her, she saw him. Roughly a mile to the north, wandering a group of ruins, most likely looking for stragglers. And just as she felt his presence like a layer of pressure on her back, Jo knew Petre knew she was there, too. This was going to be one hell of a birthday. ]

[Of course he knew she was there. She was a creature of magic, not entirely unlike him now, and they were linked more strongly than ever. He came from the boiling darkness, where fire burned eternal and his soul waited to be joined by his corpse. For years he'd been walking this Earth, now quickly turning into Hell Itself, corrupting people and leaving behind a trail of destruction, both spiritual and physical.

He thought about her often enough. The witch who had come to the little boy, who had eventually doomed him into questioning his God's place as his supreme leader. His entire family was killed and he was only spared because the God was slain by Diana, who then offered him the mercy of becoming a Demon. Reshaped. Forever.

Soon as she was present, he turned his head over his shoulder and his eyes found her immediately. He looked a Jo with a small smile, barely even there, but eyes locked and loud enough to speak all the words she didn't need to here.]

Won't you come say hi?

[ The transition between the hill and the city hadn't been an issue to her, but Jo had found herself stalling a bit with the spell, caring a little too much of details she had since long mastered, mind going back to the steps she had taken until that very moment.

Yes, finding him hadn't been hard, specially if you consider the company he's had; another reason for Jo to carefully bid her time was the woman who had been steadily making a name for herself out of the fact she was traveling around killing gods. Finding information about Diana had been next to impossible though, and just like with Petre she had to guide her search with vague rumors and ramblings from the outcasts, but she knew very well that facing Petre and her would be close to an overkill, not to mention the entity backing her (them?) from the shadows. She would've love to have words with her (and depending on how bad things went, she just might) but ultimately the woman had her task, and Jo preferred not to interfere with it, even if she had had her own run in with gods.

No time to dwell too much into things now, though. She approaches him, eyes inspecting him from cloer now. ]

You...look almost the same, Petre.

[A cigarette dangles from his lips by the time she makes it to his company, hand lifting up to strip it with an exhale of smoke. The boy she knew would probably never even think of taking up the addiction, but this is not that boy. This is a mutilation of him, a deformed version with blond hair and incisive eyes. His soul is now a black absence, void and dark, sucking in whatever good is left in other people. God - wherever that guy may be - knows he has none.]

Is that a bad thing?

[ But as soon as he moves, the illusion breaks; there is hardly anything left of her friend there, and that both saddens and angers Jo. ]

No, I just didn't know who I would find. It's been a while, Petre.

You got that right.

[The anger is easy to sense, just like the magic in her. He's been reshaped to stay tuned into those things. Know when they stir inside of people. Corrupt their souls. It's a necessary part of his purpose.]

You found me. Hope I didn't make you look for long.

I haven't quite decided who you are supposed to be.

[ It's a bit maddening, really. To see one of your only precious friends look the same, and yet not the same. ]

But you left a trail hard to miss, and people talk when pressed hard enough.

You sound like you've been through a lot trouble.

[Just to find him? Color him flattered.]

You shouldn't have.

I'have indeed, but I wanted to.

[ Yeah well, she has no other friends. ]

How have you been? All I know are rumors and urban legends.

Edited 2014-11-21 03:07 (UTC)

Oh, you know. Died. Family slaughtered. Brought back to life to hang out with you guys before it's my turn to burn in hell.

[The usual stuff.]

You?

[ Well that's a really nice story. Her expression hardens. ]

Two Gods destroyed my house and killed my mother and aunt, so I killed them back. I tried to reach you through a spell but I couldn't- couldn't reach you.

[ Augh. ]

I've done a lot since then.

I guess spells don't work the way they should.

[But they share a similar story. The biggest difference probably lies on the fact that Petre actually has no emotional attachment to the people his god killed. He doesn't actually care that they're dead. He cares that one day he will be.]

Tell me all about it. You drink?

I was trying to channel a human being. [ Harsh. ] There is a bond of sorts between us, something to do with my magic. That bond changed when you... changed.

[ Magic and power flows both ways now. She doesn't know how she did it in the first place. Was something like friendship capable of doing so? ]

I'm underage.

[ Worst excuse ever. ]

You're in Europe.

[And with that he leads her away, no comment on whether or not there's any emotion on no longer being human.

(There isn't. He knows fully well that he's a demon, and he's indulged in that fact for a long time now. The only downside is that he's wrapped in Satan's fingers.)]

Have you ever tried vodka?

I'm English.

[ She's always been in Europe. Oh well. She follows him, fingers tensed, magic barely restrained. Should she strike now? No, not yet. ]

Can't say I have.

[The wrong side of Europe then. Let Petre show you the way little girl.]

You don't know what you're missing. You will. Promise you'll like it.

[He always says that.]

I didn't come here to have get drunk, Petre.

[ There was more to that sentence. Something along the lines of letting him in her pants, but she can't bring herself to say the words.

She's not moving though. ]

But you did come here. Don't just let it go to waste, now.

( happy birthday )

big bad Petre (tell me if this okay)

PERFECT. sorry I took so long.

worth the wait

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject