now i've freezing hands and bloodless veins.

[anathemic]

WHO: Anathema Device & you
WHERE: A bunch of places
WHEN: Throughout the month
WHAT: Catch-all; one open prompt plus closed starters in the comments. Will match prose/brackets!
WARNINGS: nah

OPEN TO ALL.
Over the course of the month, one might be able to find printouts taped to various lampposts and bus shelters, scattered throughout the Porter cities:

CALLING IMPORTS WITH MAGICAL ABILITIES
FELLOW MAGICAL STUDENTS WANTED FOR TRAINING, SPECIALIZING IN PORTALS, TELEKINESIS, ELEMENTAL MANIPULATION &c.

And there's an address attached in easy segments to rip off, which leads people, if interested, to Small Mediums at Large in Jeopardy. If you stop by, you'll find a small, cluttered Victorian parlour of a psychic's shop. The bell over the door chimes upon entry and Anathema perks up from her seat: a dark-haired woman surveying you over her glasses, with a polite smile and a stack of mouldering books in front of her.

"Need your fortune told, missing items or people scried for, help with a haunting, or something else entirely?"

Comments

closed → adam parrish. small mediums at large, jeopardy. backdated!!

[anathemic]

[ During this. ]

It's been a wonderful vacation, all things told: taking full advantage of all the weeks the government will let imPorts go out-of-country, letting time stretch into pleasant nothingness with her girlfriend, working up a tan and swimming and drinking tropical cocktails. When Anathema returns to her home and work in Jeopardy, she's feeling well-rested and recharged and able to handle whatever the next swear-in will throw at her. Quite ready, actually! Everything is fine.

She opens the door with an elbow, sunglasses perched on head, carrying a backpack laden with souvenirs and trinkets for the shop — and she goes stock-still, eyes widening at the sight of spiders. Spiders swarming on every available surface, a moving mass of legs and skittering. She blinks. And blinks again. And then shouts:

"ADAM??"

[detail]

There's been some... attempts to mitigate the spider problem. He thought he had it handled! Three whole days he assumed he was spider free. Adam was absolutely wrong. He inwardly cringes when he hears Anathema from the front room, and where does he begin? Could he hide in a cupboard (with the spiders) and pretend he's not around? Would it be easy to fake that nothing is wrong?

He glances at the rather large glass jar next to him filled with tiny spiders who are absolutely covered in glitter, sparkling in the fluorescent light.

"Welcome back." He decides to face her head on. Might as well there's no way around it. Adam walks out with a broom and dustpan, exhaustion clear in his expression as he looks at the mass of spiders still looming around the shop. "So, how was your vacation?"

Face her head on and avoid the spider question. Nice job, Adam.

[anathemic]

Spiders, what spiders?

Anathema's standing there in the foyer, looking sun-tanned and radiant — but the post-vacation glow is dimmed by the way she keeps watching the shadows skitter around the corners of the room. Some of them are perched impudently on their coat rack, staring at her with their compound eyes. Anathema glowers back at the small arachnids, as if she can cow them by sheer force of withering stare alone.

It doesn't actually work.

Then she shifts, readjusting the backpack on her shoulder, to stare at the young man instead. Her friend, housemate, coworker.

"Adam," she says slowly, dragging out the two syllables of his name. "Please tell me you did not join a spider cult while I was away."

[detail]

"Oh don't you want to know about the Ancient Web Misteress and the threads that bind us all?"

Adam sighs, setting down the dustpan and broom as he glances around at all their new eight-legged friends.

"No, I did the one thing you told me not to do while you were away." He admits, rubbing his face. "I opened the box that came with that table."

It doesn't help that he was drawn to it, felt being pulled in and just wanted to know. Not really a good excuse but there was probably a good reason why they were originally supposed to go together.

closed → adam parrish & urianger augrelt. one in a million chances prophecy shop & stop.

[anathemic]

It's been a point of piqued intrigue ever since Adam sold the table to this fellow with the strange name, the other imPort who apparently also works at a fortune teller's shop — Anathema hadn't even known that they had competition. She'd wondered about it ever since, until finally deciding they needed to check it out. It was one part professional curiosity, and a little bit of Adam, no, honestly, we really should check it out to make sure that table hasn't eaten anyone yet.

Which is what led to them eventually standing in front of the store in Maurtia Falls, head cocked, eyeing the sign. "One in a Million Chances Prophecy Shop & Stop," she muses aloud. "Hm. It's a mouthful. Y'know, I like the name of ours more?"

And then, decisively, she just catches her friend's arm and shoves the door open to step inside.

[detail]

Considering the too many spiders problem, Adam had to admit that he did wish to make sure that the table hadn't eaten anyone. Despite his I'm pretty sure this guy could handle it responses at first, he follows along, curiosity getting the best of him.

He reads the sign along with her, brows furrowing. "Yeah, I like ours mor-woah-- Anathe-"

She takes him by surprise as she pulls him through the door.

[thyarchon]

The table hasn't, in fact, yet eaten Urianger. He's dusting the top of a high shelf when they come in. He doesn't step down from anything as he comes around to shelves, elezen height useful for not needing stepstools at least.

"Welcome, how may I assist thee? Ah, greetings once more Adam. Hath thou been well?" he asks, a polite smile on his face.

[detail]

"Hey, Urianger." He gives him a slightly embarrassed wave. "I've been well. Yourself?"

He glances back to Anathema, motioning for her to introduce herself. At the very least don't be rude! Look the table hasn't eaten anyone! Which is what he would say if he wasn't just trying to use telepathy he doesn't have.

closed → sypha belnades. jeopardy #004. handwavy first meeting!

[anathemic]

It's been a long day at work — spiders, there were still so many spiders — and Anathema is slumping her way through the front door of the house, kicking off her shoes rather than her usual prim and tidy homecoming. She heads straight for the fridge to raid it, uncorking a bottle of wine, tucking it under one elbow, and shoving a bun in her mouth.

Which is about when she realises that there's a stranger in her house.

She goes still, looking across the open kitchen and living room space, blinking at another young woman, who's looking at her just as startled. "Oh. Hello," Anathema says, voice muffled, before she removes the pastry from her mouth and looks a little abashed. "Are you, erm, a friend of Adam's or Xellos?"

For some reason, Anathema doesn't consider the fact that she might live here; she's never really had a female roommate before.

[verunandesu]

Sypha has just sat herself down in the living room, a glass of water on the table, communicator in hand. She has had enough of her clumsy attempts to use it as a navigator and communicator on the fly, and is determined to memorize its various functions and the most convenient shortcuts to use in order to properly operate it.

She looks up at the sound of another person entering the house, and observes another young woman come in, kicking off her shoes and making straight for the refrigerator, raiding it hungrily. Sypha deduces from the other's actions that she must also live here: she had so comfortably and immediately given up any pretense of politeness on entering. At her words, Sypha starts a bit at being addressed, half-expecting the other woman to carry on as if Sypha did not exist except as observer.

"Hello," says Sypha, feeling a bit guilty at having been caught staring. "I live here. I mean, I just moved in."

[anathemic]

"I'm really never going to get used to that," Anathema says aloud, although for a moment it sounds like she's just musing to the empty air rather than the other woman, her eyes cast upward as if the Powers That Be are lurking somewhere up there. The government just keeps shoving more people into the house; it's likely an argument in favour of just getting independent housing already, but part of her is still too fascinated by the people who pass through. Still too interested in finding out more about who they all are and the strange worlds they're all from.

"Sorry, it's just been very much a revolving door lately— I didn't even realise we had a new housemate—" She finishes swallowing her bite of pastry and then strides back across the room, her free hand shoved out for a polite handshake.

"I'm Anathema Device. I'm in the room down the hall, upstairs. Welcome."

[verunandesu]

"Does this happen often?" Sypha queries. She wasn't quite sure if her apparent housemate had been addressing her, or just the room in general, but Anathema's next words answer her question promptly.

She looks at Anathema's hand and reaches out her own; the gesture is without hesitation, but awkward. This mode of greeting is unfamiliar to Sypha, but she has done it several times since she arrived here, and she is determined to try her best.

"I am Sypha Belnades, and I am also upstairs. Thank you," she returns. Anathema's name is very strange to her, but that is par for the course for this new world.

closed → conner kent. maurtia falls.

[anathemic]

Sal has disappeared.

It's been the better part of a year, and seeing her old friends from home vanish one-by-one — first Aziraphale and Crowley, then Gabriel, then Adam the younger — but until now, Anathema hasn't really had someone new Port out on her. She's gone tearing through Sal's apartment, checking every nook and cranny, alternatingly furious then falling apart. She may have thrown a plate in the kitchen, shattering it, and then gone meticulously cleaning up the mess again afterwards; before sinking to the floor cross-legged and inconsolable, before that dumb cat clambered into her lap purring up a storm.

She'd wound up curling around it, sprawled on the floor with the animal like a warm furry radiator on her chest.

Anathema Device has a spine of steel. Has been able to hold her own even with an apocalypse breathing down her neck, and has stared down the end of the world and Lucifer. But she has grown to take certain sources of strength for granted— had let her guard down— had naively, optimistically assumed that this would not happen— and so she's blindsided, not prepared for it.

She sits there for quite a while, before the doorbell rings and she rouses herself, blinking, clambering to her feet with the cat in her arms, and moving to answer the door. It can't be Sal herself. Sal would just fly right up to the balcony; would let herself in. It's her apartment, after all. So it must be a visitor, as inexplicable as that seems right about now.

Re: closed → conner kent. maurtia falls.

[callmesuperboy]

Kon had been worried. He had not seen or heard from Sal for a while, and so he had gone looking. But she had been at none of the places he had known to look for her, and that worried him more.

So, here he was, knocking, unsure and worried, and it shows when the door opens, as he blinks, then blinks again.

"Ah..." Well, this feels awkward. "Is Sal here?" Worry and uncertainty force him to speak.

He is wearing jeans and his trademark black t-shirt with a crimson red 'S' on it, and un-commonly disheveled hair.

[anathemic]

"No," Anathema says stiffly (cat bundled in her arms and still purring like a clanky old radiator, while she hangs on a bit too tight). She's standing in the front doorway like some seething guardian, her clothing rumpled and her hair disheveled from her brief ungraceful tantrum-slash-breakdown on the floor.

She's sizing up this unknown teenager, though. Sal seems to collect an unexpected assortment of people, and this is one of the first times she's getting an unplanned glimpse into it. Her girlfriend's esoteric collection of friends.

"She's— I don't know where she is. Her network ID's deactivated. I think she might have..." Something in the woman's voice cracks, and she bites down on it. Grief making her sound a bit ruder than usual: "Who are you?"

small mediums at large! let me know if okay c:

[evoque]

( this was still incredibly, impeccably, new. this being more than just jeopardy - the whole world still made his head spin. the porters still made him want to throw up. the alcohol here was like alcohol anywhere - though he's proud to say he's only woken up with one hangover he's nursed out of sight, and that was only because he'd jumped at every ghostly shadow he saw in the nevada streets, thinking it was ben, the day before. even hangovers weren't the same now with the shitheel gone.

then there was the question of his powers, which seemed to really hit home just how much of a ghostly hot-spot jeopardy was. coupled with, of course, the additions - one of which had included telekinesis.

which, in this case, leads him to the address on the ripped piece of paper he's hastily plucked from the flyer on his way to his shift at 'web of lies' murder tours.

calling all imports with magical abilities, and there's still the small, dark part of him that says this wouldn't include him. that somehow, some way, he doesn't fit this description. that talking to ghosts isn't magic, and isn't even useful.

but hope is ever a nuisance, because there's the promise of more powers, of different ones listed in a government folder that he'd shoved hard into a desk. of growth or - or something.

it all points to one thing though - learning, instead of avoiding.

the shop is cozy inside, and he's greeted by a girl with round glasses, a stack of books and a warm smile. klaus waves the scrap of paper, as he reaches the front counter. there's no recognition on his face. ) I saw this - but, actually, fortune telling sounds fun. Could we maybe do that?

it's perf!

[anathemic]

Yes, absolu—

[ when the bell tinkles and anathema looks up from her stack of paperwork, she's already mustering the customary customer service expression in place: greeting a new potential client, donning that bright sunny impersonal smile. but the moment she sees him — hair longer, goatie more grown-in, but unmistakably still klaus hargreeves — something in her face splinters with shock. it looks like she's seen a ghost. like someone's walked over her grave. ]

Wait. Klaus??

[ he'd vanished— she can't even remember how many months ago. the circumstances had been admittedly bizarre. ]

You absolute ninny. Of course you can tell fortunes, you've been doing it for ages. Where have you been?

[ and before klaus can prepare himself, she's already stormed out from behind the counter and thrown herself around the... total stranger's... neck in a hug. ]

[evoque]

[ it still hasn't entirely taken root yet, the idea that he was here before; it was frustrating, at times, knowing that there were things he did and said and experienced that was't quite the same him.

he hadn't run into too many faces who knew him as of yet. truthfully, there was a part of him that was dreading it. dreading explaining something he didn't get.

but - roll with the punches. swift, like the coursing river...

that said, it still catches him off-guard. the sudden recognition on the girl's face, what she says. ) Wait, hold on, where've -

( his brows pinch, but she's already stepped around the counter and pulled him into a hug. his hand loops around on instinct, though the pat on her back is politely confused. ) - um, yeah, hi there. ( slightly muffled, before his straightening up, hands carefully going to her shoulders to detach himself. he puts on a smile, out of habit, the sort he's often plastered on in front of his followers.) - I'm definitely Klaus, but I don't know -

- I don't remember being here, is the thing. ( even though its...indescribably nice to be greeted with genuine excitement, especially now, and he kind of hates that he doesn't know her. )

[anathemic]

[ she's had people port out on her, but she hasn't encountered this until now: the thing with the memories being reset, although she's heard it's possible. a crestfallen look crosses her face. not embarrassed — anathema doesn't do self-consciousness — but disappointed regardless. she scans klaus' face and reads the lack of recognition she finds there, and then even squints a little to examine his aura.

it's still recognisably him: big, broad, expansive, a heart and exuberance big enough for the whole world. but also— indescribably changed. its jagged edges lining up a little differently. she can't put her finger on it. ]

Oh. Erm. I'm sorry, that— This must be really confusing. I didn't...

[ a temporary spluttering; she's not used to fumbling for her words like this. she pulls a little further back, to not just keep flinging herself all over him. ]

You used to work here. You told fortunes, and hosted the occasional séance, and used your telepathy to tell people what they needed to hear— sorry, it's a little bit of a scam sometimes, don't tell anyone.

[ i missed you, she doesn't say. doesn't want to put him ill-at-ease with this strange disjoint between them. ]

Small Mediums At Large

[eightfoldlight]

Yenh, a woman who locals would refer to as a 'catgirl,' is the one who opened the door. She is as cheerful as she is confident, striding up to Anathema with a straight back and a friendly smile. The effect may or may not be slightly offset by the eyepatch and facial scars. She wears a black sleeveless shirt airbrushed with a red dragon, red capris and a pair of combat boots.

"Something else entirely, but it's good to know my options. I saw your flyer," She holds up her phone and points to the screen. She took a picture of the tear-off tabs. "Thought I'd see what sort of training you're getting up to."

[anathemic]

Ooooh, catgirls are new. There's a flicker of surprise that shoots across the woman's face like lightning, before she manages to press it down in favour of a welcoming smile; Anathema sets down her pen at neat right angles to her notebook, attention immediately diverted to the new arrival. She hasn't been swarmed in respondents yet, so any person answering the ad is still a pleasant surprise.

"Oh, excellent! I'm glad to see you. My last coven has dissolved a bit, so I've been on the lookout for more people to practice with." She's risen from her seat, a palm outstretched for a handshake over the desk. "I'm Anathema Device. And you must be another imPort, right?"

[eightfoldlight]

She gives Anathema points for not jumping to the most obvious conclusion about her imPort status. It wouldn't have bothered her that much. It's very hard to outdo the questions and comments she hears from less tactful locals. But she appreciates it anyway.

"That I am! The name's Yenh Quryoja. I'll spell it for you later, if you'd like," she offers brightly as she accepts the handshake. Her grip is firm and gentle. Her tone is downright casual as she continues. "A coven, like witches? Ritual circles and candles?"

Small Mediums at Large

[chainlinks]

Oh. Well, he had come here for training, but upon seeing the invitation, the teenager shuffled his bag, idly pushed up his glasses and hoped that a confidant from back home wouldn't think he was uh...double-timing with another fortune teller?

He was just curious, that's all.

"Well...fortune first, then training after?"

[anathemic]

You never really knew who would walk through those doors. It was one of the things Anathema liked best about running this shop, the sheer variety and scope of people who might pop in for a reading, whether imPort or local. This time, when the bell rings and the darkhaired teen walks in, she glances up and looks a little surprised at how normal he looks, considering he's mentioned training.

Then again. Looks can be deceiving.

"Absolutely! I'm assuming that means you picked up one of my flyers? Are you a magic-user" She's half-standing behind her desk now; the foyer is mostly a narrow little entryway, where customers wait before being ushered into the main body of the shop. "My name's Anathema Device. And I could do a tarot reading for you in the parlour, if you like."

She's not the best at telling fortunes — she'd spent her life back home interpreting others' prophecies, not making them herself — but she makes do.

[chainlinks]

It still feels weird to be called a 'hero' or a 'magic-user' out in the open. Ren has tried to keep it down low, looking a little shy about it as he makes sure no one else is around before nodding. Considering, well everything, he does think he needs to forge new confidants. And also get training. It's a short in the dark, especially without Morgana being here to guide him along, but he'll take it.

"Sort of..it read elemental manipulation. I can sort of do that? More like be able to cast specific spells as one of my powers."

A pause.

"Nice to meet you, Device-san. I'm Ren Amamiya. I'd love to have a tarot reading."