[ One moment, he's sitting in a pub, scribbling lyrics to try out for the next jam session he's got planned. A few pints in and he's oddly at ease, ink staining his hands and the napkins he's defacing.
When he looks up to flag down the barkeep for another pint, the whole place feels chilly to him, in spite of the Florida heat.
It's not like he's never seen a ghost before, so it's not so much that part that's really shocking. No, it's more that he never would have thought that of all the spectres he'd been followed by, his sister would be one of them. But there she is, looking as real as anything, perched on the stool beside him with that sweet, forlorn look she always had whenever he'd come around to visit. He sighs, squinting at her. ]
Hullo, Cheryl. You draw the shortest straw or somethin'? Plenty of other folks down there'd be much more enthusiastic 'bout the chance to haunt me.
March 5 - Heropa
Y'know, I think the fact that yer' showin' up alone is somehow worse'n everyone bombarbing me all at once.
[ Depending on whether you can see the young woman to whom he's speaking, John will currently either look like an overly concerned uncle, or a lunatic. Although both are equally true of his character.
And so as John goes about his usual errands - restocking more supplies for spells, defacing any posters or ads of himself we can find around town, collecting debts, snaking his way out of debts he owes - he is tailed by the mirage of his niece. She is surprisingly content-looking and unharmed, which is highly unusual for anyone close to John. But he knows that he failed her in the worst of ways all the same - he tried to go where she couldn't follow, to keep her safe, to keep her nose out of the black magic nonsense that consumes him.
She'd followed anyway. He watches her nervously as she strolls next to him around town. ]
Tried my best with you, Gem. You deserve better.
March 6 - day - Maurtia Falls - cw implied child abuse
[ Apparently having a panic attack, charging through the porters and getting blackout drunk did not, in fact, get rid of the visages. Or so John learns the hard way as he wakes up in the car park of a burger place.
When his vision stops blurring, Astra has already appeared, waiting for him. Her tiny frame shivers from terror and the shock of the abuses dealt to her, her eyes wild with fear and pain.
Her cries are silent, but her face contorts all the same, invisible demonic hands clutching and dragging her to her ultimate fate. His millionth or so reminder of just what happened when he tried to save people.
Which is why John is likely spending the rest of the day getting drunk all over again. ]
March 6 - night - Maurtia Falls - Dorian's apartment - cw death
[ It's hard to tell what happened exactly. John had blacked out and his throat was raw and sore from some sort of screaming.
Two men are laying on the floor of the flat. One of them is shockingly old, an effect exacerbated by the stress one puts on their body from years of hedonistic use and abuse. Oh, and he's also dead as a doornail.
The other man is alive, skinny arms and legs wound tightly into a fetal position, whatever turmoil he faced causing him to physically shake. His eyes are unfocused, bleary with tears. His breath is jagged and rapid. Any attempts at speech are mostly profanity, alternating between whispered and roared.
Before the two men is a lavish oil painting in a gilded frame, bearing the image of a beautiful young man with a devious smugness about him. It is, unmistakably, Dorian depicted.
It's all such an exceedingly odd sight that you might not notice at first that the mirages are gone. John sure as hell isn't in any position to notice such a thing. ]
John Constantine and his Guilt Spiral Conga Line / ota
[ One moment, he's sitting in a pub, scribbling lyrics to try out for the next jam session he's got planned. A few pints in and he's oddly at ease, ink staining his hands and the napkins he's defacing.
When he looks up to flag down the barkeep for another pint, the whole place feels chilly to him, in spite of the Florida heat.
It's not like he's never seen a ghost before, so it's not so much that part that's really shocking. No, it's more that he never would have thought that of all the spectres he'd been followed by, his sister would be one of them. But there she is, looking as real as anything, perched on the stool beside him with that sweet, forlorn look she always had whenever he'd come around to visit. He sighs, squinting at her. ]
Hullo, Cheryl. You draw the shortest straw or somethin'? Plenty of other folks down there'd be much more enthusiastic 'bout the chance to haunt me.
March 5 - Heropa
Y'know, I think the fact that yer' showin' up alone is somehow worse'n everyone bombarbing me all at once.
[ Depending on whether you can see the young woman to whom he's speaking, John will currently either look like an overly concerned uncle, or a lunatic. Although both are equally true of his character.
And so as John goes about his usual errands - restocking more supplies for spells, defacing any posters or ads of himself we can find around town, collecting debts, snaking his way out of debts he owes - he is tailed by the mirage of his niece. She is surprisingly content-looking and unharmed, which is highly unusual for anyone close to John. But he knows that he failed her in the worst of ways all the same - he tried to go where she couldn't follow, to keep her safe, to keep her nose out of the black magic nonsense that consumes him.
She'd followed anyway. He watches her nervously as she strolls next to him around town. ]
Tried my best with you, Gem. You deserve better.
March 6 - day - Maurtia Falls - cw implied child abuse
[ Apparently having a panic attack, charging through the porters and getting blackout drunk did not, in fact, get rid of the visages. Or so John learns the hard way as he wakes up in the car park of a burger place.
When his vision stops blurring, Astra has already appeared, waiting for him. Her tiny frame shivers from terror and the shock of the abuses dealt to her, her eyes wild with fear and pain.
Her cries are silent, but her face contorts all the same, invisible demonic hands clutching and dragging her to her ultimate fate. His millionth or so reminder of just what happened when he tried to save people.
Which is why John is likely spending the rest of the day getting drunk all over again. ]
March 6 - night - Maurtia Falls - Dorian's apartment - cw death
[ Set after this. ]
[ It's hard to tell what happened exactly. John had blacked out and his throat was raw and sore from some sort of screaming.
Two men are laying on the floor of the flat. One of them is shockingly old, an effect exacerbated by the stress one puts on their body from years of hedonistic use and abuse. Oh, and he's also dead as a doornail.
The other man is alive, skinny arms and legs wound tightly into a fetal position, whatever turmoil he faced causing him to physically shake. His eyes are unfocused, bleary with tears. His breath is jagged and rapid. Any attempts at speech are mostly profanity, alternating between whispered and roared.
Before the two men is a lavish oil painting in a gilded frame, bearing the image of a beautiful young man with a devious smugness about him. It is, unmistakably, Dorian depicted.
It's all such an exceedingly odd sight that you might not notice at first that the mirages are gone. John sure as hell isn't in any position to notice such a thing. ]