Barbarous Nightclub Scrying must be with the sage, just deeds with the judicious

[Max Kuryakin]

Aspect (Detect Magic)

The evening air was crisp, but the firemen milling around the fire engine had their jackets off. The mood was relaxed, a couple of them joking around. The nightclub they were parked outside of was lit up, but not for a party. The inside was free of neon strobe lights and loud music, the dark floors and walls exposed by the bright lights of the overheards as the partiers had been evacuated a while ago.

Some adrenaline of the moment lingered, but it found its outlet through loud laughter as they joked and waited for the police to arrive. Their LT was in the basement, doing the prelim investigation of the source of the fire. A few would-be partiers mingled around the edges, waiting for their rides, while the nightclub employees were inside doing the clean up they needed to do at the end of each night anyway.

Max was leaned against the front grille of the truck, eyes looking down the side alley and the basement steps. He knew they'd called it in, some kind of police or detective would be joining them, but right now it was still their scene. He was listening to the LT cursing to himself, muttering angry nonsense, right before he came out of the open basement doors. His expression was annoyed, but a little confused too.

“Boss?” Max called out, checking in, as a car came to a stop nearby. The murmuring words from the new arrivals identified them as the cops they were waiting for. And one was familiar, but Max didn't turn to look as he waited for his LT's answer.

"Christ, Kuryakin. Cool it," the man muttered, annoyed, but his brows furrowed into something that looked more confused rather than angry. He turned to watch the cops get out of their car. "Shit, they're here."

Max was reminded of how they'd all been working more than a little overtime in their shifts, the spring bringing with it eager idiots who wanted to fire up the grill but didn't exercise proper fire safety. He pushed up from his lean, stepping closer to the LT and lowering his voice. “Want me to deal with them?”

"What?" The man huffed out, like he was zoning out, and Max felt a worrisome little shiver of magic from the man as he seemed to gather himself, the irritation fading into concerned confusion. Yeah, yeah. Deal with it, you know how to identify the signs?"

“Yeah, boss, I got it squared away. I'll deal with it. Go sit down, dunk your head, man.” Max slapped the LT on the shoulder, pushing him back towards the end of the fire engine where the others were standing, and turned to the approaching cops. One of them more familiar than the other.

“Detectives,” Max greeted them, lifting a hand in an easy salute, accompanied by a charming smile. His eyes lingered on Emily, but he didn't eyeball her for too long.

[Emily Reyes]

After it got out to the precinct that Emily was dating a firefighter, it became a running joke to offer her to come along on arson calls. And if she was assigned an arson call, she was roundly accused of messing around on the job. Heaven forbid she was caught checking her make-up before any call involving the fire department--the other detectives had a field day with the whole thing.

Emily took it all in good humor. She didn't typically engage in the departmental rivalry anyway, being neither competitive nor quick-witted enough to say anything beyond occasionally calling them 'hose monkeys'. Or 'evidence destroyers'. And even then, she appreciated firefighters too much to get too sassy. However, as the patrol car pulled up, her partner, Flynn, was locked and loaded, ready to razz his friends in the fire department over having to call the police.

"Wow, they are really working hard out here," he muttered, the headlights flashing across the big red engine and the firefighters milling about and chatting outside the club. As they stopped, she snapped the vanity mirror closed after checking her make-up and he added a with a shit-eating grin. "Don't get too cozy with 'em, Reyes."

Emily just gave him a sour close-lipped smile, to which he just laughed as they got out of the car. Flynn was a colleague and a friend, so he could get away with it. Still, having been on shift since early that the morning, she saw no harm in freshening up. She was just about to reply and assure him of her consummate professionalism when she caught sight of a familiar figure heading toward them from around the engine, and her stomach swooped a little. She'd seen Max only earlier that day, right before work, but seeing him now in his some of his gear had her thinking about what a tall drink of water he was. Regardless of the circumstances, it was pleasant to see his face after a long day.

Her expression must've shifted to something a little warmer, because Flynn laughed again and nudged her with his elbow. Emily snorted a little, but composed herself as Max put on that familiar charming smile. She was glad he was keeping it formal, though--it made it easier to follow suit. “Fireman,” she replied, though she said it with warmth and smile that had Flynn looking between them with cocked eyebrow. Still, he returned Max's salute as Emily asked, open and curious, “So, what's going on?”

The detective knew it was arson from dispatch, but getting the particulars from the personnel first on the scene usually helped establish a good rapport, she'd found. Not that she needed to do that with Max, but it was a habit. Firefighters knew what they were looking at generally, so she wasn't going to come in and swing her badge around if she could help it.

[Max Kuryakin]

Max's eyes flicked to the other detective as he nudged Emily, barely hiding his amusement as he hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, relaxed even when the situation was making him uneasy, based on that flicker of magic. It wasn't urgent, not if the LT was fine if irritable, but he was thinking of how he could get Em down there without her partner raising an eyebrow.

Maybe the guy would make some assumptions. Max knew about the back and forth between police and firefighters, even if being the target of it was relatively new. Emily made it clear how much flack she got for dating a 'hose monkey' or 'ladder jockey' or whatever new name they'd thought up for the week. Max was used to it from the army, so it was familiar, and when things got serious, everyone did their jobs.

“A fire started in the basement. Unknown cause at this time, but we suspect it was deliberately set. We put it out before it got serious, but the employees are acting... a little erratic?” Max twisted his torso a little, looking over his shoulder at one of the bouncers standing outside the nightclub doors, which were wide open. His expression was less than friendly. “So we haven't gotten much out of them. Thought it best to call the police, make sure they knew it was serious. I can show one of you the basement?”

Max looked to Em's partner, but let his eyes slide to Emily and linger for a beat longer than normal. He flicked his eyes back to her partner, charming smile still in place, tugging a little at his belt loops. He hoped Em had picked up on the unsaid emphasis, that he wanted her down there because he knew she could help if it was magic related.

[Emily Reyes]

Familiar with Max like she was, Emily caught his amusement, and resisted the urge to purse her lips at him. Getting ribbed by her partner and having her boyfriend laugh about it was not her idea of a good time. It was a relief, however, that the man looked relaxed, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops, and generally being terrifically eye-catching. Reminding her how glad she was they didn't work together frequently.

Uniforms were trouble, she thought idly, surreptitiously admiring the line of his shoulders accentuated by the suspenders. Or... uniforms on Max were trouble. Max was trouble, she concluded, although this was already a constant refrain in the back of her mind. As Max took the time to detail the situation, she stowed all of that, none of it showing on her face as she looked past him at the sour-looking bouncer. If the employees were notably agitated, moreso than a small fire might cause, that was the kind of thing they ought to dig into. Could be nothing, could be a mountain of bad things.

Reaching into her pocket for her notebook, Emily started organizing her thoughts, thinking of how they could best help process the scene, and looked back at Max in time to catch his lingering glance. Emily lifted both eyebrows, but despite his relaxed demeanor, the impression she got was not 'let's go somewhere private'. Rather, it made her think she ought to expect a special kind of trouble and when he suggested showing one of them the basement, he meant her. Catching on, she trusted him although she couldn’t fathom what it might be, and fortunately, she had the rank to throw around to make it happen.

“Sure, yeah- Hey, Flynn,” she said, glancing over at her partner. He looked over at her, expectantly. Emily was the ranking officer on scene, so he hadn't yet made any moves, waiting on her orders. She leaned in to hold a quick conference, tipping her head toward the bouncers. “See what you can get out of the employees, I'll head down to the basement.”

Flynn was an easygoing guy with an open face, and he grinned at the way she'd delegated--she knew he would, considering how keen everyone was on implying she liked sliding down the fire pole regularly--but he held his tongue. "You got it, sarge," the man replied smartly, tipping his chin up at Max before jogging off toward the bouncers.

Emily waited until he was out of earshot before her serious expression melted away and she grinned crookedly at Max. “I'm not gonna hear the end of this once we're back in the patrol car,” she chuckled ruefully. She put on a voice imitating Flynn, “'Detective Reyes ran off with one of the firemen the second we got there'!”

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder (Concordance) Complete success

Even with the mysterious bit of magic on his mind, Max didn't miss Emily in her element. Or Emily subtly ogling him. He felt the threads of her admiration in the back of his mind, and he couldn't help preening just a little. He was careful to not be too obvious, but he flexed, hooked thumbs pulling on his belt loops as he tilted his head, still trying not to look at her too hard until they were in some semblance of privacy. Keep it professional.

Still, even as he was appealing to Emily, the woman, he could feel Emily, the detective, catching on. The way she took charge was attractive, confident and competent as she got on with it. She directed her partner–Flynn, this time–to canvass the employees, neatly lining herself up to check the basement with him. As much as he wanted to smile at her, Max didn't react outwardly to it, even if he was relieved she'd caught on. As Flynn tipped his chin to Max, the werewolf returned the gesture, smile going crooked.

Finally, out of Flynn's line of sight, Max gave Emily a softer smile, even if the face of her 'all business' expression. He could track Flynn's steps with his hearing, measure the distance the man was putting between them, and when Max would've guessed the man was fully out of earshot, the expression dropped and he got a genuine grin out of her. His own soft smile spread into a cocky grin as she spoke, imitating her partner.

“Well, who can blame you?” Max murmured, voice low and intimate, just between the two of them. “Look at me.” He slipped his thumbs out of his belt loops and smoothed them up his suspenders, slipping them under the elastic suspenders and snapping them against his chest.

[Emily Reyes]

When Max's grin grew cocky, he had Emily's attention, a bit of warmth preemptively creeping up her neck. She suspected a bit of mischief, and the man didn't disappoint. The question made her scoff but the snap of his suspenders on his chest went straight through her, her stomach muscles jumping. Her gaze cut away from him as a blush sprang to her cheeks. There was no question that she liked it, despite being baffled at her own reaction. He was deliberately being ridiculous, so what was it about him that made her brain fall straight out of her skull?

Lifting a hand to clasp her chin as if in thought, hiding her foolish smile, Emily took a moment to compose herself before she looked back at him. “Look at you,” she agreed softly. If anyone happened to glance at them, it was painfully obvious they were flirting, but Emily wasn't sure how she could hide it at this point. Still, needing to cut the tension before they checked out the basement, she reached out and hooked her fingers beneath one of Max's suspenders as well. “Did that hurt?” she asked with an affectionate laugh, pulling at the elastic band. “I hope it didn't catch your nipple.”

[Max Kuryakin]

The cocky grin eased into something pleased at Emily's foolish smile, charmed without her needing to do much at all other than react to his nonsense. He knew it was obvious to anyone who cared to look in their direction that they were flirting, Max having unconsciously tilted his body towards Emily in a way that invited intimacy between them. He glanced down as she reached out and hooked a finger under one of his suspenders, Max tipping his chin down to look at her hand, before he looked at her, underneath his lashes.

Max huffed a laugh at Emily's next words, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Thinking about my nipples?” He teased, stepping close to give her a quick peck on the lips. Nothing too involved, and he straightened almost as soon as he'd done it. He glanced back to the firefighters mingling by the fire engine, Flynn doing his job, flipping a notepad open as he engaged the bouncer in a conversation. He looked back to Em, jerking his head to the outer stairway leading to the basement. “Come on, I'll show you... whatever it is.”

[Emily Reyes]

Emily laughed at Max's question, but merely shrugged as he stepped in to kiss her. Guilty as charged; she supposed she was thinking about his nipples if she'd asked. She'd been concerned about them, what with him snapping his suspenders like he did.

In any case, she tipped her face up into the kiss, but kept it brief as well, firmly unwilling to do more than that when there was work to be done. Still, it put a sweet smile on her face that might've had her partner doing a double-take. Emily didn't tend to smile much at work. Releasing Max's suspender, she let it pop gently back against his abdomen as she cut a look at the basement stairs. She nodded, and then one side of her mouth quirked up in faint amusement at his uncertain description.

“Yeah, what's this about?” she asked curiously, her eyebrows furrowing as she pushed aside her work blazer to pull a maglight from her duty belt, in case the fire had shorted out the breaker in that part of the building. “I mean, your long meaningful looks?”

She naturally trusted that Max had a point to this, but it was curious that he didn't know already. It made her stomach do a few flips, suspecting something supernatural was afoot. She absently touched a pouch on her belt at the small of her back. She didn't go anywhere without a sleeve of chalk and a few essential components anymore.

[Max Kuryakin]

Waving for Em to follow him, Max rolled his shoulders and dropped his hands, moving into a walk, heading towards the alley and the stairs. He huffed a quiet laugh at Emily's words, his attempt to grab her attention without bringing attention to himself.

“Magic's involved,” he murmured, shooting a look down the front of the club as they stepped into the relative privacy of the alley next to the building. He jerked his thumb back to the street. “The LT came out of there like–” he waved a hand, wordless, “–like something pissed him off, but I caught a bit of magic. Made me think about that fucking ghost go-go dancer that sent me feral years ago. That was here. In this fuckin' alley.” He gestured with his pointed finger at the ground, emphasising his point.

He was only just starting to piece it together; the magic, the LT's unusual attitude, the mood of the staff. Max had got into the habit of remembering the magic he ran into, constantly building a mental reference library of it all. He'd told Em it was to know how to fight it, but even just identifying it was valuable, if he was right about this.

[Emily Reyes]

Flashlight in one hand, notepad in the other, Emily followed Max, heels clicking, the woman walking quickly to keep up with his long strides. She took a careful look around the alleyway as they stepped between the buildings, naturally on alert for clues. It was clean, save a few dumpsters and other containers against the wall, and she briefly wondered if this was the same one she'd done some very inadvisable things with Max in. That night had been a blur.

The mention of magic and the go-go dancer snapped her attention back to him, and eyebrows lowering, she hummed, immediately concerned. The idea of magic didn't concern her as much as the implication that Max's LT had had his head messed with. And that this ghostly dancer had gotten in Max's head once before, enough to send him feral. She nodded slowly, eyes flicking off to one side in thought.

“So... It's possible something's down there, twisting people's heads around? That's... consistent with the employees acting erratic,” she agreed thoughtfully, starting to piece things together as well. Mentally checking in with her own emotions, she noted she was steady, if a little amped up by the mention of magic. She looked down the dark basement stairs, tipping her head to one side as she considered their options.

They could call the Exchange, she thought, with a little flip of her stomach. Encountering ghosts in the dark was actually fairly unnerving to Emily--they were unnerving in general, but especially so for her after their eerie encounter with the thing in the APL's catacombs. Anything that Max couldn't punch into smithereens was completely out of line, in her opinion.

But... if it was only hints of magic here and there, with a fire able to be put out by mundane means, was it worth the Exchange's time?

After a moment's pause, she ground her back teeth as she clicked her little light on. “Alright,” she said with a breath, steeling herself. With a rictus of a smile for Max, she said through her teeth, “Well, this is the job.”

[Max Kuryakin]

Strike (Pheromone charm) 5 passes, Contested

Max glanced at Emily as she agreed, her houghtful tone telling him that she was working through the problem same as him. He could feel the tension sparking–his fault, but unavoidable. He felt tension himself, but it had the flavour of... getting ready for an op. Mind shifting to the work at hand, what he'd have to do to keep him and his safe.

He slowed his pace and stopped just before the basement stairs, Max unknowingly tracing the same thoughts Emily was. Should they go to the Exchange? This was the first time he was fully cognisant of running into something, rather than being a sceptic or getting caught by surprise. He could prepare, or he could call the Exchange. Still, did they really know what it was? Was it overly cautious to call them in? How would they explain this to both the FD and PD? In his mind, it put them more at risk to bring the Exchange in now. They had to.. deal with it, at least partially, and they could call them in after the fact, when the FD and PD had their reports and weren't looking at the fire too hard.

Emily seemed to settle into some decision for herself, clicking her flashlight on and giving him a stiff smile, more habit than genuine. Max couldn't help huffing out a quiet laugh, spontaneously leaning down and kissing her in the relative privacy of the alley. On the touch, magic sparked, although Max wasn't fully aware of it, not sensitive to the feeling of his own magic as he was to foreign–potentially dangerous–magic. The pheromones released as he sought to reassure both her and himself would soothe anyone receptive to them, as well as encourage those who needed it.

Max pulled back, grinning crookedly and, notably, more relaxed. This wasn't a problem he couldn't deal with, after all, not with Emily right there too. “This is the job,” he echoed, although entirely lacking Em's grim presentation.

Then, he stepped down the basement stairs and led the way down. The site of the fire was further in, so they wouldn't suddenly be faced with whatever was down there. They could... get the lay of the land.

[Emily Reyes]

No Contest

The kiss took her by surprise, but she returned it lightly, if a little distractedly. At first, it was the prospect of heading down into the dark that had her mind elsewhere, but as the unseen magic took hold, Emily thought she caught a hint of Max's aftershave, an attractive scent that made her hum unconsciously in appreciation. Something about the man and his nearness--even the kiss, however short--made her scalp tingle, and as he pulled away, she watched him, a faintly moony expression dawning on her face.

It was difficult to look away from him, and her smile brightened as he grinned at her, and she chuckled softly. The pheromone charm did its work, although Emily was especially open to suggestion from Max already. Shoulders loosening, she exhaled, eyes pinned on Max as he started down the stairs. He was right to be so relaxed, she thought. After all, they had each other and the know-how, what was a ghost going to do? They weren't about to be caught unawares. Notably relaxed as well, she started down the stairs after him and pressed into the dark beyond the doorway.

As she suspected, the lights were either shorted out or off, for safety. Emily swept the beam of her flashlight down the hallway, looking around for signs of the fire. “How big was the fire?” she asked, her voice loose and curious, lacking the tension of before. She poked her head into one of the open doors to find a storeroom, with a bit of spare furniture.

[Max Kuryakin]

Kissing Emily always left him feeling good, but he felt particularly bouyed as he stepped into the darkened basement. Maybe it was the way her smile went a little brighter after, the little chuckle, or even the way he could see the tension slipping away from her. She was following close behind, eyes on him, and Max wasn't bothered by whatever they might find as he crossed the threshold.

As the dim light from outside barely reached beyond the doorway, the basement was near enough pitch black. Max had a flashlight attached to his tool belt, but he didn't reach for it. He didn't need it, with his eyesight, and with Emily holding up hers that was enough light. He let his eyes track through the darkness as Emily swept her flashlight around. Nothing jumped out at him as particularly notable, beyond the smell of smoke and lingering fire.

Max glanced to Emily as she asked about the fire, and he let out a low breath, thinking on what he'd seen when they'd first rushed to deal with it. He remembered none of them had been too worried, focusing on getting the fire out so it couldn't do more damage than it already had.

“Relatively minor, in the grand scheme of things, although it could have been worse,” he shared, moving past where Emily had stopped to look and walking to the space where the fire had started. “Isolated to one of those large, heavy duty trash cans, at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the bar. That kept it contained until we could go deal with it, but it was one of those dangerous smouldering burns until it caught.”

[Emily Reyes]

Emily's attention was inexorably drawn to Max as he moved further into the basement, and although she hadn't thoroughly inspected the side room, she trailed after him. The woman wanted to cozy up to his side so intently that she was left a little puzzled, but she resisted, knowing it would be a distraction while they were on the job, not to mention unprofessional. Not regarding their relationship, but the fact that they were standing in a crime scene.

Still, it stuck out to her how being near Max and listening to his voice made her scalp prickle with comfort and cheer, and she started to suspect there was magic involved. The possibility came to mind easily, when she was already keyed into the idea that something down here was messing with people's emotions, but this certainly didn't feel like anger. Emily's anger gave her an attitude, manifesting as grouchy silences punctuated by ranting spells until she cooled off.

As he explained, her eyes were on the side of his face, his profile, her flashlight lazily skimming over the burned out trash can and the stairs, and the blackened walls. The paint had peeled from the cinderblocks and the place smelled like wet and burning plastic.

When she finally glanced out at the ruined scene, she noticed a lack of nerves where she expected a sting of trepidation. Absently, she ran her thumb over her rings. “A fire in a trash can sounds pretty open and shut for arson,” she mused, chewing her lower lip. “Are you picking up anything else? With your spider senses?”

With a teasing smile, Emily ventured toward the perimeter of the fire's origin point, looking around for any evidence of mundane tampering but sure it would be a hopeless search. Much as they teased the fire department for destroying evidence, it was still an unavoidable outcome when fire and water were involved around the crime scene.

[Max Kuryakin]

Strike (Detect magic) Exceptional success
Strike (Preternatural senses) Exceptional success

Max glanced Emily's way as she spoke, noticing she was chewing on her lip. It wasn't necessarily a sign of nerves, he'd noticed her do it while thinking. A physical marker that her thoughts were churning as she worked to figure something out. Usually Max found it cute, but now it only made him admire her in a work context. He teased her about handcuffs and doughnuts, but it was always more than that.

Her conclusion, breaking him out of the moment, had Max frowning as he considered the situation. Deliberate or accidental, if a human set the fire there'd be legal consequences. What did you do if the culprit was intangible? A literal ghost no normal human could catch? How many people around a fire simply looked like the likely subject because the investigators didn't know to factor in invisible criminals? Thankfully, Emily distracted him from that depressing train of thought, her follow up question bringing him firmly back to the moment.

“Spider sense,” the werewolf muttered, humorously indignant, but he took a moment to carefully take stock of the underlying scents in the space. Under the human scents that passed through this high traffic area by the stairs, the smoke and ash, and the scents of his fire crew. The hardest work of tracking anything was filtering out the smells you didn't need to pay attention to.

Under the most recent scents, he caught the telltale smouldering scent of old magic. It had left its mark, but it wasn't active anymore. Here he couldn't feel the shiver of magic at work. He moved around the burned area, trailing after the scent, trying to find the layers, and caught the smell of ozone. It reminded him of Priya, but it was also entirely different from the friendly ghost he knew. It was similar only on the most basic level.

“Traces of magic,” Max murmured, circling the area and singling out the smell of ozone, trying to follow it. “I'm assuming just what started the fire, and...” he trailed off, stopping as he took a step down the hallway. The trail went cold, disappearing from one step to the next, like the one causing it had popped out of existence. “Ghost. I can't track it.”

[Emily Reyes]

Max’s indignant reply almost made her burst out laughing, so Emily couldn’t reply immediately, pinning her lips between her lips to stifle it. It wouldn’t reflect well on her already-sullied reputation if anyone at the entrance of the basement heard them joking around.

Instead, she focused on the details around the crime scene, but found very little except the broad strokes of where the fire started and a few possible implements for the crime. A technician could do more, gathering samples and sending them to a lab, but there was little she could do in the here and now. She kept Max in her peripherals as he skirted the other way around the scene, quiet as she awaited his findings.

The first thing out of his mouth rendered a lot of her mundane conclusions moot, but they’d been suspecting that already. She looked up at him as he started toward a darkened hallway, a thrill tickling up her spine. Then, the mention of a ghost made her exhale, that initial trepidation worming its way through her good mood.

Still, Emily forced herself to start after him, flicking her flashlight down the length of the hallway. She kept her flashlight low for an irrational fear of sweeping it across a pale ghostly face staring back at them.

No such bad luck though. It looked like it led to a few more storerooms, though, and she patted her sternum, finding her spellqueller beneath her shirt. “How come?” she wondered, her voice dipping into a whisper, while her cheeks warmed with tension. Did the trail end, or was something else obfuscating it? If it ended in this direction, then maybe it was still the direction they had to go to find this ghost-shit, they were hunting down a ghost—and with that in mind, Emily crept forward just enough to crane her neck and peek into one of the doors.

[Third on the Match]

An Angry Ghost

DC 5

Hostile

Empathy (anger), Fire, Illusion, Shadow

Cinder
6d6

Strike
7d6

Luck
4

The spirit's presence is not visibly obvious, but the pair can feel something shift in the air. Something is lurking in the shadows down this hallway, and it has nothing but ill intent. Rage crackles in the air like electricity, but it does not attack right away.

In Combat
The spirit is not visible, and thus, it is not yet manifested. In order to take down its luck, it must be forced to manifest. Because there is an Arcanist present, this can be done by searching for spirit orbs and Collecting them, if able. Likewise, a ritual may be done that can pull the spirit from the spirit realm. For others, common ghost hunting techniques such as using a spirit box or laying down lines of salt may serve to provoke the spirit.

Once the spirit is provoked with three successful rolls or there is a ritual performed, or both, the spirit will manifest and attack, allowing its Luck to be drained.

[Max Kuryakin]

Strike (Detect Magic/Ground Sense) Complete success

Max drew in a long, low breath, scenting the air and getting ready to answer Emily as she whispered her question. Like before, the scent hovered in place but did not go anywhere beyond where he'd come, the remains of the trashcan fire. He glanced towards it but knew it wouldn't give him any new answers, so he turned his head, taking in her mood as he answered.

“It disappeared. Ghosts kind of leave a trail, but they can, well, pop out of existence,” Max murmured, frowning thoughtfully as he wondered at the differences between the friendly ghost he knew and the unfriendly ones he'd run into. Priya seemed to go into dreams, he'd experienced that, but he didn't think that was universal. He stepped down the hallway, narrowing his eyes as he tried to focus. “Sometimes, they leave... I don't know, background radiation?”

e glanced back at Em, waving loosely for her to follow, as he wandered. Outwardly, it might've seemed a little erratic, as Max moved around to try to pick up something. It took a bit of focus, but it didn't take long for Max to catch a little telltale shiver of magic, shuddering up from the soles of his boots and up along his spine. He gave another, more urgent gesture at Emily as the feeling intensified, ramping up like the ghost had noticed Max had caught its trail.

It was uncomfortably familiar, an electric fury in the air raising Max's hackles and making him want to growl into the darkness. He didn't, but he glanced at Emily, wondering if she felt it or if it was another case of him being sensitive to it.

[Emily Reyes]

As Max gave her the details on the ghost’s apparent whereabouts (or lack thereof if they could pop in and out of existence), Emily involuntarily shivered again. Then she chortled, the sound soft and nervous as she shook off the tension. It died out quickly, letting Max continue uninterrupted. She was left to wonder how much experience he had with ghosts, although in an admiring way. She made a curious noise; background radiation sounded interesting, and she was glad there was something material about it. Also, Emily never got tired of hearing about the sorts of things he got up to, even if knowing he got into fights made her heart live in her throat.

He waved her closer to follow after him and she scampered to his elbow, performing that maneuver girls in heels often did where she balanced on the balls of her feet so she didn’t need to deal with her heels. Standing at his elbow, and a little behind the werewolf, she didn’t feel particularly cop-like as they proceeded into the shadows, every soft breath and scuff of their feet putting her on edge, but she was alert and ready for trouble. And besides, in situations like this, being a mundane cop hardly mattered. Now, she was Emily the Arcanist and they were ghost hunting. Never mind that she also leaned in surreptitiously to try and catch another whiff of Max’s curiously attractive cologne. They might be ghost hunting but he could still raise her body temperature.

In any case, eyes fixed on the round beam of her flashlight, Emily’s lips moved, starting to form words to ask for an update, but he gestured again. This time, the woman pressed her side against the back of Max’s arm then, her free hand looping around his elbow. As she looked over the curve of his shoulder, she gasped softly, suddenly understanding the emotional manipulation she’d been looking for. It was an oppressive sensation, twinging in her belly and in the back of her head. Uncomfortable, and irritating, inspiring the strangest intrusive thought about a disagreement she’d had with a coworker. Unresolved, it still annoyed her, and Emily found her thoughts shifting to a brooding state, her lips twisting down into a frown. When Max looked at her, she knew from his face this wasn’t something from inside her.

“Yuck,” she muttered softly, shivering to try and shake off the tension. She didn’t like something toying with her emotions like that and it aggravated her. Her upper lip curled back as she looked around. “That feels bad- now I just want to dust this thing as fast as possible.”

[Max Kuryakin]

Emily's audible gasp was all Max needed to know she felt it from, and enough for him to conclude he'd been right about his hunch. They were both feeling the emotion being forced on them, and to Max it was uncomfortably familiar. Too close to feeling like his control was unravelling, but that might have been sense memory. It had happened before. The echo of Emily's emotions in the back of his mind reminded him that it was coming from without, not within, and he could ignore it.

The soft 'yuck' that left her encouraged the werewolf to let out a low chuckle, ignoring the manufactured emotion around them in favour of amusement. “Yeah,” he agreed, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “I'm not looking forward to it,” he added, recalling how the rage had felt before. Even buoyed by amusement at Emily, his hackles were up.

Despite every instinct in him, Max forced himself to take a step closer to the space where the feeling of the echoing emotion was the strongest. His hold on Emily's hand was loose, ready to slip out if she didn't want to follow him

[Emily Reyes]

Emily appreciated the confidence in Max's reply. It wasn't an if, but a when, even if he wasn't looking forward to it. She wasn't either, she had no idea how it would go.

Distracted by the sensation pressing in on her, the woman was slow to return Max's hand-hold, but when she came back to herself, she squeezed back gratefully. She thought she could feel tension in the werewolf's grip, and rubbed her thumb over his knuckle, soothing.

When he stepped forward, she followed, her breath going a little shallow. Her eyes were still on the darkness, following the circle of her flashlight, although the shadows were starting to play tricks on her peripherals. “Right,” she asked tight with adrenaline. “Any ideas? I missed the departmental ghost hunting seminar.”

[Max Kuryakin]

Max let out a breath, just shy of a laugh, but dying before it properly vocalised. What did you do to make a ghost show up? This was a little beyond him, even as he didn't shy away from it as they deliberately stepped towards where they thought a ghost might be. What that said about them, he wasn't sure, but he'd run headfirst into danger for ten years and counting, he wasn't going to stop now.

“I don't know, so far they've just kinda showed up and been a pain in the ass,” he muttered, thinking fondly of Priya and not-so-fondly of the other ghosts he'd run into. It ran the gamut. He stowed the sass and came with the next thing he could think of, but he had no idea if it worked. “Those shows always lug around a camera and talk about ghost orbs. Or drag mediums into it. You don't happen to know how to do seances?” He looked behind him, at Emily, giving her a crooked grin. He'd seen rituals do weirder shit, admittedly, so maybe she could.

[Emily Reyes]

At the mention of ghost hunting shows, Emily felt another flash of irrational anger, an emotion no doubt inspired by the external emotions pressing in around them. She tried for a grin, but it was stripped of humor, although it was more because it was a struggle and not strictly because she was unamused. She was being reminded of the various calls she'd had to go on for trespassers claiming to be ghost hunters.

Max's suggestion of a seance finally pulled a low snicker out of the woman, all while she labored under her unnatural irritation. Doing a seance while a ghost was present seemed risky, but they were trying to draw the thing out. She sighed, looking off to one side, her jaw working from side to side.

“Honestly, no. I don't but-” she glanced over at Max and his crooked grin teased one out of her despite her foul mood. “I'd feel stupider looking for ghost orbs with my phone camera, so let's try a seance.” Untangling their fingers, she reached for the pouch at the small of her back, the little button clicking as she pulled the thick flap up. She pulled out a small pouch of fine chalk as she stepped back to scan the floor for a dry, level spot.

She didn't know how to do a seance, but she could cobble something together. She'd listened to the other arcanists, especially Dalton, enough to know a ghost of the basics. No pun intended.

[Max Kuryakin]

Even as that oppressive presence hovered over him, Max could parse the threads of his feelings of unease and caution, the ghost's anger prickling at the edges, and the bursts of irritation from Emily. The faint empathy specific to her was both weak enough and familiar enough that it didn't bother him anymore–it had been faint enough for him to not pinpoint what it was, after all–and he could guess the irritation might be some response to what the ghost was doing. Feeling? The werewolf had to wonder if that little shifter trick was letting him shrug off the ghost's admittedly half-hearted effort, compared to last time. He wasn't so sure it'd help at all if the ghost amped it up, considering how consuming the rage had felt last time.

When Emily looked his way, Max made sure to meet her eyes. It was grounding, even if he felt even-keeled, someone else with him in this mess, but also someone who'd help him deal with it. His grin widened when she returned it, latching onto his idea even if it sounded ridiculous. Neither of them at the tarot-wielding superstitious level, at least not enough to accept the idea of a seance with much relish. It was a stupid idea, in more ways than just their personal feelings on the matter, but knowing the way this shit worked, it'd probably get them closer to what they wanted than putting on radio static and asking yes/no questions of an angry ghost.

“How about I try waving my phone camera around and you prep? Maybe I'll find something useful, maybe you can find something to laugh at,” Max offered, grin going crooked as he reached out to touch her hip, making up for her having let go of his hand.

[Emily Reyes]

Emily snickered again, amusement breaking through the film of supernatural irritation. The situation felt bad, a sensation amplified by the awful atmosphere pressing in around them, but Max's even-keeled approach dampened the sensation of pots clanging around inside her skull. She unconsciously leaned toward Max when he touched her hip, enjoying that he never went long without reaching for her.

“Yeah, go on, make yourself useful, I've gotta doodle some circles,” she teased, waving the little pouch of chalk at the werewolf. Her smile freshened up a bit, eyes crinkling with amusement. The more they talked about it and the mild ridiculousness of ghost hunting techniques, the less ominous everything felt, even if they were standing in the aftermath of a fairly major fire with a ghost lurking nearby.

The air had passing patches of humidity that Emily could feel on her face, places where the fire had steamed up the deluge of water Max's crew had brought down on it. The walls were still wet and the chaos around the fire had made a bit of a mess, making finding a clean spot for a circle a bit of a trial. Emily squinted around the place, and then, on a hunch, bent to pick up a broken down box, the panel of cardboard soaked through and soft. She managed to drag it aside, and made a pleased sound when she uncovered a dry patch of smooth concrete, good for a mid-sized circle. Crouching down and balanced on her heels, she began to draw. Time would tell if this would turn out well for them, but at least the ritual space would be sound.

Ritual Prep, Critical Success, 1/3

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder (Investigate) Partial failure

Emily seemed to brighten up a little, Max counting it as a win as he dug into his pocket for his phone. He knew he was going to feel silly waving his phone around, but it was that or twiddling his thumbs while watching Emily work. He still huffed a laugh at this being how he made himself useful, a fucking werewolf, but you win some you lose some.

“Have fun with your doodling,” Max murmured, low and amused at how they were talking about fairly powerful magic, by all accounts. He flicked the camera app on and swept it around the room, seeing... absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Stains from the billowing smoke, the dripping water, the awful smell of it all. No... silhouettes, orbs or flickering. “Yeah, I'm feeling real foolish right about now,” the werewolf muttered, zooming in on a knocked-over can of some kind of industrial cleaner next to a shelf.

[Emily Reyes]

Within a minute or so, Emily had the all-important circle laid out in thick lines of high-quality chalk. It stood out, bright and clean on the dry concrete. As she began to draw in the runes, drawing both from her brief studies of the spiritual realm and her own practice, she listened to Max move around her. Concentrating on her runework distracted her from the oppressive miasma of emotion around them, but not so much that she didn't hear him muttering.

Emily chuckled softly, and answered slyly, “I think you're supposed to ask questions. Like, 'why are you here?' or 'can you give us a sign'-” Before Emily could finish her example, a loud sound echoed out of one of the store rooms. It was like something heavy and wide slipped from a shelf and hit the floor, creating a powerful, unmistakable clap of sound that made the ritualist jump and stand up, her heart rate skyrocketing.

It was perfect timing, the right moment for a ghost to respond to someone mocking it. It could be that, or just random chance, but it was a hell of a jump scare. Emily looked into the dark with wide eyes, but there was nothing but a resounding silence in the aftermath.

Cinder Ritual Prep, exceptional success, (2/3)

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder Attunement Complete success
Strike (Pheromone Charm) Exceptional success
Cinder (Synergy) Complete success

Max turned to Emily when she spoke, fixing his phone camera on her as she worked. Nothing changed there either; the chalk lines were fuzzy on camera, so he gave up and locked the phone with a quiet click. He wasn't too interested in keeping it up, especially not if Emily was telling him to speak into the air. Even as she was still speaking, he opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but he didn't get the chance when he picked up the faint sound of something shifting. He immediately tensed up, which was the only thing that saved him from being startled by the loud slap of impact when something heavy hit the floor.

He drew in a breath, letting it out on a low rumbling growl as he circled Emily, reaching out to brush his fingers over the line of her shoulders and nape as he passed her. He could hear her rapid heartbeat, and he willed the lighter mood to come back, soothing Emily even as he felt on guard for what might come next. He didn't even know if it'd been the ghost who'd done it, sometimes things just fell, but it felt pretty natural that it was the ghost being its spooky ass self.

[Emily Reyes]

No Contest vs. Pheromone Charm
Cinder (Circlebreaker), Astral Manipulation, with Synergy: 6 passes Rushed Ritual, failure

As Max circled her, Emily's attention was fixated on the darkness, trying to see past the shadows in the storeroom. Her ears were ringing, but the werewolf's touch drew her out of the tension, and as she exhaled, she reached up to touch his hand where it rested on her shoulder. It had been an unpleasant scare, but when nothing else came of it, she felt the knot in her chest ease off--quicker than she expected, but she attributed it to Max's closeness. Then she looked down at her ritual circle.

“Shit,” she muttered, slowly crouching down again. She'd lost her place in her rune work, but at a glance, everything looked to be in order. She'd selected her bigger flashlight's D-cell batteries as the power source. It wasn't an enchantment, so she thought that would do the trick. So, the last part was picking her components, she reasoned. Since she had a second smaller one, Emily sacrificed another part of her flashlight for the cause, taking the LED out for sight. She'd already laid out a piece of string, a cloudy glass bead, a tiny vial of sunlight, and a bit of ash, but she couldn't quite remember which went where.

Hands pausing, hovering over her work, the ritualist bit her lip, feeling a little out of her depth. But she was so on edge, she didn't want to delay any longer. Worst case scenario, she reasoned, it would fizzle, the spell's energy not knowing where to go. Best case, her ramshackle reach into the spirit realm worked. Or maybe it would just enrage the ghost further, but they were already prepared to deal with the creature whenever it showed its' spectral face. So, here went nothing.

“Get ready,” she warned, as she pressed her sterilized penknife into the meat of her thumb. The blood readily dribbled from the wound and landed with a puff of chalk. As she tucked her thumb into a tissue, the ritual lines lit with the telltale purple light, and Emily already knew something was amiss. It had the same quality as her first ritual. Incomplete, rushed, and standing quickly, she took a few steps back, throwing an arm out to push Max back as well, even a little behind her. Although she had a fairly good track record with her work, the ritualist still had a good few failures under her belt too--the apple smell took days to fade from her hair--and knew the best solution was to create some distance. Sparks sprang from the center, electricity crackling and arcing between runes and the circle.

Still, while the spell wasn't working as intended, it did something, tendrils of white energy pulling out of the darkness and reaching into the center of the circle while it consumed the components. Then, something down the hall shrieked, and beyond the fell, fading light of the ritual, Emily caught her first look at a ghost, the flickering image of a woman like a TV with static, her expression twisted with rage.

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder Attunement Exceptional success
Encounter Cinder (Empathy) 1 pass vs DC4, miss
Encounter Strike 4 passes vs. DC4, hit
Strike (Brawl) 9 passes vs. DC5, hit

When nothing immediately followed the noise, Max stopped to stand a few steps behind Emily, cautiously paying attention to any sounds of movement around them, that preternatural sense he had for others sneaking towards them sharpened to a keen edge. He felt Emily's uncertainty, but he didn't turn to see what it was, trusting her to warn him if it was something he had to worry about. Nothing came, just her announcement for him to get ready.

With his focus outward, Max didn't catch the moment things went pear-shaped, not until Emily was pushing at him and he spun to figure out what the fuck was happening. He didn't stop to ask her what was happening, letting her push him back even if he was pretty sure he'd weather whatever harmful fuckery better than her–accelerated healing, and all–but he didn't know exactly what was going on, so he let Emily decide for him. It was rather less alarming than he'd expected, nothing exploded, but the eerie white tendrils sucking up the stuff she'd put down made unease shudder down his spine, the magic tickling at his senses.

Then the shriek came, and Max whipped his head towards it, spotting the flickering static image of the ghost. He couldn't remember if it looked like the other one, a lot of the details of that fight were forgotten, but he immediately moved to place Emily behind him. That expression of rage was pretty familiar, as was the sudden weight pressing down on his head, his shoulders, that echo of rage trying to take root in his mind, but he was ready for it. He snarled, the sound vicious and loud in the basement, a warning and a promise to the ghost.

And then she was in front of him, in a matter of seconds, a flickering image right in his face as she slashed at his face with her hands curled into claws. He felt the scratches, but he was already reacting, lunging forward and slamming his shoulder into the ghost, feeling his body pushing into pressure for a brief moment, the ghost's shriek loud in his ears before it disappeared as quickly as it'd come. He stopped his momentum, spinning to keep Emily in sight, scanning the room. Blood trickled from the slashes on his face, a physical mark from something he could barely touch.

Max Luck 4/5
Ghost Luck 3/4

[Emily Reyes]

Ghost Cinder Empathy, 1vsDC2, miss
Ghost Strike 3vsDC2, hit
Em Cinder Light Lattice activation, extraordinary success
Em Strike 5vsDC5, hit

Emily didn't need to look at Max to know he was on edge. Not on the edge of panic, but action. She was glad for it, even if she never liked the moments before an engagement.

Good grief, she was getting used to this, she thought distantly. So much so that her heartrate had evened out to a steady thrum, her vision sharpened by adrenaline. Even if she'd trained extensively for violent engagements by virtue of being a cop, she never imagined she'd see open combat so frequently. But that was neither here nor there.

The here and now was the charging ghost, her image flickering and practically teleporting forward, leaving no sign of her passage. Emily stumbled back as Max pushed her behind him, catching herself with a on a wall and regaining her balance. Behind the specter the ritual continued to sputter and fizzle, dying with a whimper rather than a bang--a blessing, all things considered.

She couldn't help flinching when the ghost and the werewolf made contact. She hadn't expected it, since the thing was transparent and she expected it to be incorporeal, but it clawed at her boyfriend, before he blasted it into mist with a body slam.

It disappeared, but Emily knew that wasn't the end of it. The oppressive sensation of the creature's anger still pressed in around them. She caught sight of the blood trickling down Max's face, and her stomach twisted, but now wasn't the time. She knew he could take a hit.

“Someone upstair's bound to hear the commotion,” she muttered, unduly concerned about the ghost's shrieking. The fire engine might drown it out, as would the sound of the street, and conversation, but to her, it was piercing.

The sensation of anger spiked and Emily felt it like a little lance in her gut, similar to if she'd just been handed down unjust news from the DA or she found incriminating text messages. But she'd been feeling it long enough to know it wasn't her, and she could only roll her shoulders, and shook her head, trying to shake it. At the same time, she flexed her fingers, and activated the slingshot's light lattice on her left hand.

The light filaments illuminated the darkened corridor, the failing ritual faded in comparison, and it was just in time too. There was a flicker of motion at the other end, nearer the site of the fire. Then, the ghost buzzed back into view and began to flicker forward, teleporting in its eerie way. Heart jumping into her throat, Emily lifted the sling shot and fired a bullet of light into center mass.

The little comet moved fast and struck true, blowing away a part of the ghost's torso. Her... essence, Emily supposed. That didn't stop it's forward momentum though. It careened forward, a little less gracefully than before, and Emily could do nothing but gracelessly drop out of the way of its clawed fingers. The strike passed just a hair's breadth over her head, and Emily knew she'd only just managed to avoid getting pummeled into the wall. Crouching now, she braced herself on the wall, adrenalized by the near-hit.

Cautious of the werewolf, the enraged specter flickered out of sight again, seeming to slip away into the moving shadows cast by Emily's weapon.

Emily Luck 3/4
Ghost Luck 2/4

[Max Kuryakin]

Encounter Cinder (Empathy) 3 passes vs. DC4, miss
Cinder Attunement Partial failure
Strike (Partial Shifting) Exceptional success
Strike (Brawl) 7 vs. DC5, hit
Encounter Strike 2 vs. DC4, miss

Max drew in a breath, resisting the urge to wipe at his face even as he felt the blood trickling, the scent of it clogging his nose. It wouldn't help, and it'd just give the elusive ghost a chance to catch him by surprise. Emily's comment had him blowing out a breath. “Better deal with it quickly, then,” he murmured, feeling the spike of anger a split second after. He shook it off again, but he felt more on edge, extremities itching with the potential of a shift, but he had presence enough to not give in.

A spark of magic nearby, the soft glow of Emily's magic, told him she was also scanning the room for the spirit. As quickly as the ghost began their staticy approach, the bolt of light shot out and found its target. In the back of his mind, Max made note of how the magic seemed to have an almost physical effect on the spirit, where it'd simply disappeared under his onslaught. He didn't have much time to consider the implications beyond that as it advanced, swinging for Emily.

Max swung for it a split second after he realised its target, but thankfully Emily had narrowly avoided the worst of it. It was pulling away, fleeing when it failed to do more damage. Pain rippled over Max's arm as he swung out, taking advantage of the ache to do a controlled shift, an experiment and an attempt at taking the edge off. Would claws be more effective than fists, being more directly a part of the werewolf? His own kind of magic. His claws caught the very edges of the spectre as it retreated, tearing through the edge of the wispy figure, leaving an afterimage of torn chiffon, before it flickered away into the shadows.

He let out another snarl, the frustrated beastly sound echoing in the basement space, and illustrating his deep irritation at the ghost appearing and disappearing. It didn't help that hitting something intangible did not feel like being successful in pursuing prey in a werewolf's mind. It was like shadowboxing, only an illusion of a fight.

Max Luck 4/5
Ghost Luck 1/4

[Emily Reyes]

Em Strike Ballistics, 3vsDC5, miss
Ghost Cinder 5vsDC2, hit

The ghost slipped away into the shadows, unseen now but still emanating its unrelenting rage. It seemed to be taking its time now, realizing it wasn't dealing with a pair of mundane humans. Emily didn't like the lull, and neither did Max, judging by the growl bouncing around the basement, but she still took advantage of it, catching her breath and looking around.

With Max standing so close, she slipped her fingers into his sturdy belt to haul herself upright again. “Maybe we could say there was a wild animal down here,” she suggested as she brushed her knees off, a little breathless but still chewing over the problem of the ghost's racket. “Broken pipes, maybe.”

While Emily was in the midst of planning their cover-up, there was a bloom of hellish red light down the way to the storerooms. It began to grow until it competed with the light from Emily's weapon, and then, it shot toward them, a real, honest fireball. Emily couldn't appreciate a classic when it was flying toward them, however, stopping just short as the pendant at Emily's breast flared with heat and her shimmering shield soaked up the magical inferno.

The heat still washed over them, though, and Emily half ducked, having to squint against it. She flinched, half-raising her weapon, but didn't draw-- Her training took over reminding her that it would be better not to fire wildly into the darkness. When the last of the flames died, licking over the round bubble of the shield, the air suddenly felt cool in comparison, and she noted the remnants of her ritual were scoured away, the wet cardboard she'd pulled aside now smoldering and steaming.

Em Luck 3/4
Spellqueller Luck 2/3
Ghost Luck 1/4

[Max Kuryakin]

Strike (Detect magic) Exceptional success
Cinder (Bastion) Complete success, + DC1 to Emily
Encounter Cinder 6 passes vs. DC4, hit
Cinder Attunement Partial failure

As the ghost disappeared, Max's attention was on scanning the room, but he felt Emily's fingers threading through his belt loops and pulling herself upright. He was steady on his feet, not even swaying as she hauled herself up, and he only lightly skimmed his clawed hand over her shoulder, giving her a quick check for injury without touching her with the monstrous hand. He was listening to her speak, but he was too in his head to respond, mired in instinct and threat evaluation.

The shivers of magic crawled over his skin. Emily's, the spirit, the ritual that had sputtered out, but Max swiped over her shoulders a second time, feeling for the sensation and, driven by more instinct than clear thought, threaded his own over Emily, by scent and purpose. The werewolf's mind was slipping just enough that he wasn't fully aware of what he did, only wishing and draping Emily with invisible intent.

It was just a brief lull in the action, Emily brushing off her knees as Max felt his hackles go up as he picked up a shiver of malevolent magic. He spun to face it, hand and claw ready to lash out, but it wasn't something he could punch. The werewolf flinched back, letting out another snarl, ragged and furious, as he lost a measure more of his control. Even as Emily's protective bubble flared around him, the werewolf threw himself out of the way of the stream of fire, but the magical fire redirected off the shield bubble and caught the werewolf, singing the hairs on his transformed arm, licking at his clothing.

Max Luck 3/5
Ghost Luck 1/4

[Emily Reyes]

Ghost Cinder, Fire, 3vsDC3(Bastion), hit
Emily Strike Ballistics, 6vsDC5, hit

Max didn't respond, which wasn't in itself strange considering the circumstances, but Emily had fought alongside the werewolf long enough to give it a second look. Sometimes the man was just occupied, but other times, he stopped speaking because he was getting a little lost in himself. This time, his attention was at least partially on her, with his clawed hand skimming over her shoulders, so Emily concluded that it was the latter. Eyebrows drawing together, she couldn't help chewing her lip in worry.

Still, the only worrisome thing about this was that their coworkers were upstairs and if Max really lost it and shifted now, there would be a great deal of explaining to do. Actually, she wouldn't be explaining a damn thing--she'd be cooking up a semi-plausible story that hopefully nobody would look too closely at.

Max reached for her a second time, his claws gently snagging on the fabric of her shirt and she shivered gently. She was unconscious of the magic that settled over her, but felt it on some level, a solidifying force that settled her roiling stomach. She felt secure, steady, but attributed it to Max's proximity and their ever-growing experience with these kinds of situations. She reached up and touched his hand again, her fingers skimming over the fur on his knuckles.

Then the fire hit and all conscious thought went out the window. She squinted against the fire, unable to shoot, but seeing just enough to spot Max lunging out of the way. Out of the way, and to her dismay, out of the protective bubble of her shield. She caught the smell of burning fur and clothing, but didn't have time to go after the werewolf before the flames bloomed and roared over her again. Emily stepped back until she had her back to the wall, unable to do anything but weather it.

The heat was unbearable, the light nearly blinding, but the shield held against the flames. Once again, the blast died away, leaving her panting, but she found herself remarkably steady on her feet. Perhaps she'd expected it this time and prepared for it mentally? Whatever it was, Emily was ready once her shield dropped, blinking away the sunspots on her eyes and picking out the flickering movement of the spirit at the far end of the hall. It was still teleporting around in its unnatural way, but the constant motion made it easy to spot, and Emily drew back her slingshot and fired, her hands steady and her aim sure.

The bolt of light streaked across the darkness and answered the fireball. It hit the spirit square in the chest, blowing out its middle, and for once, the spectre was still, a look of genuine shock on her twisted face. Then, in a truly cinematic moment, it seemed to start to fold in on herself, drawn into the gaping hole in her chest. It fought the pull of whatever it was that was taking it away, screaming all the while, but it was no use. Wide-eyed, Emily watched it crush in on itself until it blipped out of existence, and took the oppressive aura of rage with it.

Then it was quiet, and she dropped back against the wall. She was, admittedly, distantly worried about whatever afterlife she'd just sent this creature to, if any. That was entirely above her pay grade, and yet, they'd just dispatched something that was supposedly beyond the veil. But the worry came and went like a breath, and Emily's mind turned to Max. Light blinded now, she called out to him, worried, “Max?”

Ghost Luck Defeated
Spellqueller Luck 1/3
Emily Luck 3/4

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder Attunement Critical failure

The blast of fire chased the werewolf even as he leapt aside, flames licking at his fire-retardant clothing and burning the little fur he had and the hair on his head. The sense of danger was palpable, his pulse thundering in his ears. He was hypersensitive to the movement in the room, to any shift and sound, the displacement of magic as the ghost appeared and disappeared, toying with them. His hackles were up, the ghost's menace translating as an urgent threat to honed animalistic instinct, and Max could feel human sense and logic starting to slip. It no longer mattered that he could shrug off the magical attacks, it only mattered that there existed a threat and it had to either die or they had to get away. Fight or flight, thrumming through him.

There was all of a sudden a flash of bright, intense magic, and Max felt the last of his control slip through his fingers. More magic vibrated through the room, the rising shriek of the ghost painful in his ears, and the werewolf clawed at his head and his clothing. A clawed hand shredded his suspenders and his shirt, even tearing at his skin, while a human hand pushed at constricting clothing. Only by their relative looseness did they drop from his hips, taking his boots with them as he staggered and fell onto the floor to writhe, but his shirt and the rest of his clothing was a lost cause, tears from his claws first, and then bursting at the seams as his muscles and size bulged.

The shift was still settling in his bones when the ghost finally disappeared, sucked back to wherever it belonged, or banished somewhere. The werewolf didn't have the presence of mind to care beyond the vibrating magic finally being gone, finally gone from uncomfortably crawling over his senses. Laying flat on the floor, the last of his bones grinding into place, the wolf startled into movement when Emily spoke. Claws scrabbled over smooth concrete, growling at the spark of pain from shifting, and at whatever was around him. But there wasn't any immediate threat in his vicinity, only the slumped human.

There was an awareness of his body being different from usual, but a wolf's mind did not find it a wrong shape, only new. Four legs, firmly rooted in the ground, rather than two, and shorter, but no less large. He lowered his head, ears pricked forward, drawing in a deep breath as he scented the room. A single human, her perfume doing little to cover his scent layered over hers. No one else. He blew out his breath, ribs moving like great bellows, hackles lowering a measure. It was still strange. The space was not one the wolf liked, the human was distressed, and the magic it had felt was fresh in its memory.

Feral

[Emily Reyes]

She got something resembling an answer. Some very animal sounds--the scratch of claws on the concrete and the growling told her to expect a full-on werewolf when her vision cleared. Emily made a sympathetic sound in the back of her throat, understanding that the chaos of the moment had gotten to Max--that said, it was good he was still here.

Blinking away the sunspots, she spied the ripped shirt, and popped suspenders. His trousers lay abandoned, and then- Emily blinked a few times again, trying to make sense of the huge black werewolf standing in the basement. He looked... odd, to her. A little misshapen, in a way. Stunted?

A moment later, she started when she realized he wasn't werewolf shaped at all, but actually wolf-shaped. The body she'd seen as misshapen at first was actually perfectly natural, if absolutely huge, filling the narrow space. He didn't look all there either, his body language uncomfortable, but that didn't worry Emily as much as the people just up the stairs, where she could still hear the firetruck idling.

She didn't know how long they'd been down there, but clearly it wasn't so long that anyone needed to come and check on them. Maybe fifteen-twenty minutes? Everyone was still busy processing the scene, including them. This wasn't the first time she'd encountered a feral Max, but would she be able to coax him back into his own head before anyone came downstairs?

There was so much happening, between the ghost, the fire, the failed ritual and now this... Emily decided she wanted a strong drink after work today. Maybe if Max was human shaped by the time her shift ended, she'd drag him along.

“Alright,” she whispered, more to herself than to the great black wolf in the basement. Gathering herself, she pushed herself off the wall, and crouched as she got closer to the towering wolf. She dusted off her hands, the light lattice extinguishing into sparks as she did. “Alright,” Emily said again, her voice soothing this time as she lifted a hand, extending it to Max. “How're you, baby? You okay? You in there?”

[Max Kuryakin]

Silence from the human, but the werewolf took the time to pace the room, restless. He tracked the sounds of people at street level, rumbling engines, and the hum of dozens of conversations, all of which the wolf couldn't understand with only a beast's logic in his mind. It closed in around him, oppressive and confining, with no escape in any direction with the clamouring of humans in all directions. The wolf wanted to run, but even an animal knew to hunker down and be quiet when danger closed in from all directions.

As Emily moved, not standing but shifting away from the wall she'd been against, the great wolf shied away a step, uncertain. Magic sparked around her hand, shivers of magic raising his hackles along his spine. He glanced at her, uneasy, the white of his eye visible, but then she shook her hand the shook off the magic and the unsettling vibrations eased, before disappearing.

Without that irritation tingling harshly over his sensitive senses, he shook off the unease, hackles smoothing down. As she spoke, words that meant little but for their tone, he let out a large sigh that moved his ribs, like he was releasing all his tension all at once. When her hand reached out, he turned his head towards her, hung low, and sniffed at her fingertips.

[Emily Reyes]

Cinder Assistance, Exceptional success, +2d6

Emily couldn't help but echo the wolf's deep, rib-stretching sigh. She was shaking off a different kind of tension--unbothered by magic, she was instead crawling down from a height of adrenaline. The drop into exhaustion would come soon, but she hoped it would be after she helped get Max sorted. She had half her attention on the stairs, dreading the sound of footsteps.

The great wolf sniffed her fingers, and she murmured, just a touch pleadingly, “C'mon, baby, you know me.” She turned the hand he'd sniffed over, and then offered the other, trying to get closer to him. Getting him to smell her often seemed to help, as did touching and petting, getting familiar. He'd often told her that if she smelled a great deal like him, like if they'd had sex recently, it was easier, but that wasn't the case here. Still, they'd gotten close, they'd kissed, held hands, and she thought she could rely on that one-way emotional bond they had, too.

Emily offered a small smile as she craned her neck to look him over, make sure she hadn't mistaken his shape in the dark. He was, indeed, fully wolf-shaped. It was remarkable, but why? Was it being stuck in a basement that did it?

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder Attunement Critical success

The wolf intensely sniffed at the woman's fingers, catching his own scent, hers, the things she'd touched recently, other people. The last he didn't like but it was a blip on the radar amongst a whole host of things the wolf was taking in at the moment. Her voice was more of a focus, the pleading note faint in her voice but an echo of it in the back of the wolf's mind highlighted it.

It encouraged the wolf to step closer, one large step taking him right up into her space, right into her face. He snuffled around her hairline, intensely sniffing like he was categorising every single thing, person, and substance clinging to her. And he was, the wolf chasing a familiar scent of him. It dipped down her face and along her throat, his tongue flicking out to taste her chin on the journey down.

As his investigation continued, a mind more animal than man began connecting the dots to flickering memories and flashes of emotion. It felt like existing in two perspectives very suddenly, animal overlaid with man, not quite flicking a switch but perspective reasserting itself as the wolf's feral perspective sloughed off his mind.

Max opened his muzzle to talk, like he'd always done even if it was difficult for him, but the only thing that came out was a low rumble, disgruntled in tone but still... far from human speech. He snorted into Emily's cleavage, startled, before he bowed his head and pushed into her chest with a low whine. His body felt strange but not, four legs as natural as two, but the configuration was different. He felt less of a hulking monster, even if he still felt big.

[Emily Reyes]

The huge black beast crowded into her space, backing her against the wall, and Emily noted with distant humor that this was a relief rather than anything else. Most wouldn't consider getting cornered by a monstrous creature like Max any cause to relax, but as he did, Emily breathed out a gentle sigh. The closer he got, the better chance she had to reach him and communicate.

When his warm tongue flicked out over her chin in a familiar gesture, she habitually leaned into brush a kiss over his wet nose. At the same time, with him sniffing lower, raising goosebumps as he breathed over her skin, she buried her fingers in his thick black fur.

Emily couldn't tell what was going on inside his mind, but she sensed the shift when she heard his big mouth open. No words, but the growl he let out had a distinctly human grumpiness to it, and Emily's shoulders loosened with further relief. The snort into her cleavage blew hot air out between the buttons of her blouse. Then, his head pillowed against her chest, and she had to brace her shoulders against the wall, but looped her arms beneath his chin to hug his head as he whined.

“Yeah, I agree,” she murmured with mild humor. “We're just trouble magnets.” Her heartbeat slowing, Emily dropped her head to rest her cheek on the top of his soft head, and closed her eyes. His fur smelled musky and familiar.

[Max Kuryakin]

Cinder Attunement Complete success

Letting Emily hug his head, welcoming it, too, Max grumbled quietly as she spoke, finally understanding what she was saying but lacking any means of returning the favour. He wasn't sure he agreed about being trouble magnets,
grumbling in wordless protest. The trouble was spaced enough that he was sure that was just... life, at this point. But he had to shift back, before he could say it, or do anything. There was a creeping urgency, human emotion telling him he couldn't stay like this.

Letting out a long, gusty breath, the werewolf dropped his shoulders and tried to unravel the tangle in his mind that kept him wrapped up in fur and claws. It didn't come easily, mentally grasping for a means of pushing away that animal mind currently ruling his body, but he managed. Muscle strained and bunched, bone cracked and realigned, and his body reduced in mass as the fur shivered away from covering plain pale human skin. He kept his head pressed to Emily's chest, more focused on pushing the shift away from himself than sparing her the gnarly details.

He managed to keep quiet, although his heavy breathing was pained as the shift shivered over his body. Hands, not paws, lifted to grasp at Emily gently as the last of the animal withdrew and he was left naked and cold on the wet floor.