(no subject)
Seances are actually crazy easy.
To be fair, this one isn't your grandad's seance, ouija boards and 'contacting the spirit world' and little old ladies in trances; it's closer in occult origin to necromancy, and specifically closer within that category to the demonic summonings that Ava's been doing for a year and a half.
That's just splitting hairs, though. There are candles, and circles drawn in chalk (bright pink, if you must know), and a few items and herbs of mystical significance. Funny what people'll just write down in books, huh? There is also some of Ava's blood, because no way is she killing a chicken in her room. It would run around and smack into stuff and get feathers all over her shoes.
She has the knife in her hand, wincing and swearing as she slices across her palm and watches the blood drip-- drip-- drip-- into a bowl with some animal bones (demon rabbit) and powdered hemlock. Talking to spirits is one thing, but a disembodied voice from beyond the veil can't exactly physically write you a reference. Ava's going with something a little harder hitting.
"I conjure thee, thou spirit of Jennifer Yi, that thou do immediately enter into thy ancient body again and appear before me, to answer my demands."
Ava is aware that to get the right results, you've gotta read the words right. Nevertheless, she can't resist an eyeroll at how dumb this all sounds coming from her. 'Thy ancient body'? Seriously?
"By the power of the east and the silence of the night, by the holy rites of Hecate: I charge thee, I conjure thee, I command thee, on pain of torments which I, by the force of sacred magic rights, have power to inflict upon thee, come forth!"
The candles shudder, but so far nothin' doin'. Ava repeats herself irritably.
"I charge thee, I conjure thee, I command thee. I charge thee, I conjure thee, I command thee!"
A pause.
"Fucking come forth already, will you?"
It is probably not because of this last injunction, but the candles abruptly snuff out, and in the darkness of her room-- lit only by the dubious glow of the moon outside-- a form begins to coalesce in the center of the circle. At first it's unclear what the form is made of; it might be smoke, or simply shadow. But soon enough, the sound of shallow breathing can be heard, and the shape is pale and solid-- a young woman, dressed in a white blouse and faded jeans.
Ava smiles, faintly.
"Hi, Jenny."
The girl startles back on hands and knees; the moonlight catches a pale cheek and a spill of short black hair.
"What the hell--"
"Oh, I kinda hope not," Ava says, rolling her eyes. "What, you don't remember me? I think I'm a little offended."
Jennifer Yi goes still.
"Ava."
"Ding, ding, ding." Ava spares her a sarcastic smile. "You know, that kind of ace deductive reasoning would have been a lot more useful before I had my demon friend slit your wrists and make it look like a suicide."
Jenny's face registers terror, and then anger.
"What do you want? Where the hell am I now?"
"Shut up," Ava says, pleasantly. "If I told you you wouldn't get it, and you're not gonna be here long enough for it to matter anyway. As soon as we're done I'm sending you right back to ... wherever you came from."
"If I told you," Jenny says, low and contemptuous, "you wouldn't get it."
"... Whatever."
Ava rifles through the assorted occult paraphernalia lying on her bed-- crucifix, icky herbs, salt, books-- and comes up with her yellow legal pad and pen.
"Here," she says, sliding them into the chalk circle and checking to see if they make any smudges. Fortunately not. "This is for you. It's for you to write down how awful it was for me to pretend I was your friend and wasn't going to play Yellow-Eyes' game, only to lure you out into the abandoned barn and murder you with the help of my demon friend. Try to write neatly."
Jenny stares, not touching the legal pad. Her expression is fiercely wary.
"You're gonna tell someone what you did to me?"
Ava nods, cheerful.
"You bet," she says. "I mean, this place says they prefer references that are dead, and-- well. You're pretty dead, Jenny."
Jenny blinks.
"... References?"
"Hurry up, will you?" Ava says, irritable. "I don't have all night." A beat. "I mean-- I do have all night. But I don't want to spend it hashing out my job prospects with you."
Jenny is still for a moment, watching her. Then she snorts. It's a desperate sort of sound, cruel and despairing and still afraid.
"There's somebody who's going to hire you for being a fucking psycho killer?" she demands. She still does not reach for pen or paper. "You're out of your mind, Ava-- you need some serious psychiatric help."
"Oka-ay," Ava sing-songs. She rolls her eyes. "Jenny, are we gonna do this the easy way? Or do I have to bring my friend up here?"
Jenny flinches, involuntarily, before meeting Ava's gaze. You're bluffing, her face seems to say, or maybe: I hope you're bluffing.
"He missed you, Jenny," Ava tells her, smiling. "He was mad he didn't get to see what your insides looked like."
Jenny shakes her head; but her body seems to go slack for a moment, limp.
"You can't hurt me anymore," she whispers.
"You're wrong," Ava says softly. She's still smiling, but something about her expression seems to ... harden, or turn brittle. "Everything still hurts after you're dead, Jenny. Everything."
Jenny looks at her for a long moment, fear and anger visible in the line of her jaw and the set of her shoulders.
Mutely, she picks up the pen.
To be fair, this one isn't your grandad's seance, ouija boards and 'contacting the spirit world' and little old ladies in trances; it's closer in occult origin to necromancy, and specifically closer within that category to the demonic summonings that Ava's been doing for a year and a half.
That's just splitting hairs, though. There are candles, and circles drawn in chalk (bright pink, if you must know), and a few items and herbs of mystical significance. Funny what people'll just write down in books, huh? There is also some of Ava's blood, because no way is she killing a chicken in her room. It would run around and smack into stuff and get feathers all over her shoes.
She has the knife in her hand, wincing and swearing as she slices across her palm and watches the blood drip-- drip-- drip-- into a bowl with some animal bones (demon rabbit) and powdered hemlock. Talking to spirits is one thing, but a disembodied voice from beyond the veil can't exactly physically write you a reference. Ava's going with something a little harder hitting.
"I conjure thee, thou spirit of Jennifer Yi, that thou do immediately enter into thy ancient body again and appear before me, to answer my demands."
Ava is aware that to get the right results, you've gotta read the words right. Nevertheless, she can't resist an eyeroll at how dumb this all sounds coming from her. 'Thy ancient body'? Seriously?
"By the power of the east and the silence of the night, by the holy rites of Hecate: I charge thee, I conjure thee, I command thee, on pain of torments which I, by the force of sacred magic rights, have power to inflict upon thee, come forth!"
The candles shudder, but so far nothin' doin'. Ava repeats herself irritably.
"I charge thee, I conjure thee, I command thee. I charge thee, I conjure thee, I command thee!"
A pause.
"Fucking come forth already, will you?"
It is probably not because of this last injunction, but the candles abruptly snuff out, and in the darkness of her room-- lit only by the dubious glow of the moon outside-- a form begins to coalesce in the center of the circle. At first it's unclear what the form is made of; it might be smoke, or simply shadow. But soon enough, the sound of shallow breathing can be heard, and the shape is pale and solid-- a young woman, dressed in a white blouse and faded jeans.
Ava smiles, faintly.
"Hi, Jenny."
The girl startles back on hands and knees; the moonlight catches a pale cheek and a spill of short black hair.
"What the hell--"
"Oh, I kinda hope not," Ava says, rolling her eyes. "What, you don't remember me? I think I'm a little offended."
Jennifer Yi goes still.
"Ava."
"Ding, ding, ding." Ava spares her a sarcastic smile. "You know, that kind of ace deductive reasoning would have been a lot more useful before I had my demon friend slit your wrists and make it look like a suicide."
Jenny's face registers terror, and then anger.
"What do you want? Where the hell am I now?"
"Shut up," Ava says, pleasantly. "If I told you you wouldn't get it, and you're not gonna be here long enough for it to matter anyway. As soon as we're done I'm sending you right back to ... wherever you came from."
"If I told you," Jenny says, low and contemptuous, "you wouldn't get it."
"... Whatever."
Ava rifles through the assorted occult paraphernalia lying on her bed-- crucifix, icky herbs, salt, books-- and comes up with her yellow legal pad and pen.
"Here," she says, sliding them into the chalk circle and checking to see if they make any smudges. Fortunately not. "This is for you. It's for you to write down how awful it was for me to pretend I was your friend and wasn't going to play Yellow-Eyes' game, only to lure you out into the abandoned barn and murder you with the help of my demon friend. Try to write neatly."
Jenny stares, not touching the legal pad. Her expression is fiercely wary.
"You're gonna tell someone what you did to me?"
Ava nods, cheerful.
"You bet," she says. "I mean, this place says they prefer references that are dead, and-- well. You're pretty dead, Jenny."
Jenny blinks.
"... References?"
"Hurry up, will you?" Ava says, irritable. "I don't have all night." A beat. "I mean-- I do have all night. But I don't want to spend it hashing out my job prospects with you."
Jenny is still for a moment, watching her. Then she snorts. It's a desperate sort of sound, cruel and despairing and still afraid.
"There's somebody who's going to hire you for being a fucking psycho killer?" she demands. She still does not reach for pen or paper. "You're out of your mind, Ava-- you need some serious psychiatric help."
"Oka-ay," Ava sing-songs. She rolls her eyes. "Jenny, are we gonna do this the easy way? Or do I have to bring my friend up here?"
Jenny flinches, involuntarily, before meeting Ava's gaze. You're bluffing, her face seems to say, or maybe: I hope you're bluffing.
"He missed you, Jenny," Ava tells her, smiling. "He was mad he didn't get to see what your insides looked like."
Jenny shakes her head; but her body seems to go slack for a moment, limp.
"You can't hurt me anymore," she whispers.
"You're wrong," Ava says softly. She's still smiling, but something about her expression seems to ... harden, or turn brittle. "Everything still hurts after you're dead, Jenny. Everything."
Jenny looks at her for a long moment, fear and anger visible in the line of her jaw and the set of her shoulders.
Mutely, she picks up the pen.