~The Crossroads - Entrance~
I came here searching for answers, on the advice of another. I look across the room trying to find a friendly face, or maybe friendly doesn't matter so much anymore, all I need right now is desperately for somebody to give me answers and tell me what in all the hells is happening to me.
Aziz sits alone at a table, dressed in the attire of his home City, as a non alcohol drinker, he is nursing either a coffee or espresso, if available.
Johnny appears in the room almost unnoticed at first, a pale shadow emerging from the gloom. Not because of any attempt at stealth. Rather because his presence there is casually unexpected. Like the forgotten glass or article of clothing idly put down in the wrong spot on a Saturday and unnoticed until Tuesday afternoon. Johnny is simply overlooked. He is a man always out of place.
His ice blue-eyes scan the club. He makes no attempt to engage. Smiles are unreturned, menacing gazes are cooly passed over. It is clear he has made some attempt to clean himself up, but his old white tee is splotched by grease in places, and his jeans are as worn as his countenance. He has the ragged but not unhandsome face of an angel battered by too many storms, and he the tense demeanour of an abused cat who is always waiting for the next blow to fall.
Spying Aziz he heads directly to him and slides into the booth opposite. Johnny sparks a cigarette with a flick of his lighter. Leaning back, his arms splayed, he takes a deep drag and puffs out a billow of smoke, poorly feigning relaxation. “Hell of a place you picked to meet up.” Johnny says, cigarette dangling from his lips, its bright-orange ember bobbing up and down in the gloom, “There’s more spooks in here than people.”
Even as he speaks to Aziz, Johnny’s cool eyes follow things unseen by most. An endless cloud of spirits that flits unseen through the world of the living. Johnny Coyote isn’t alive or dead. He is both and neither, and as such he sees the two worlds simultaneously. The heavy jeweled cross around his neck forever suspends him at the threshold of the grave. It is an ancient, powerful thing, coveted by the forces of Darkness who may only claim it if it is freely surrendered by the one who bears it, and only the cavaliers may bear it. Their ranks have been culled through the centuries. One by one they fell. The Darkness devoured them. For a long age the cross lay hidden and forgotten. Then one bright moonlit night in 1957 it chose a new bearer.
Johnny is the last cavalier. And he has been dying for more than half a century.
Most sense that he is out of place and avoid him, both living and dead. Aziz is one of the few people that have pierced his isolation. “What did you want to see me about? And while we’re at it, why HERE? “ Johnny’s hard gaze scans the room. He sounds irritated. Then again, he rarely speaks and when he does he almost always sounds agitated in some way. “You don’t drink.”
She couldn't believe they were finally here. She'd waited all day for this. Not only that, but the night had started perfectly. Naberius looked handsome as hell, they'd shared a perfect moment before leaving, and now they were here. A place where, essentially, nothing bad could happen. There were bouncers and guards galore. While she had no issues with defending herself, here she wouldn't have to. It was a place one could actually let loose and really be able to relax. No weapons, no magic, no mess. The room was gorgeous; light and dark mahoganies, the forest green leather on the seating, and even the mist hovering over the floor. It gave the place and air of comfort. There was a large dance floor where several people were already dancing and a bar in the farthest end of the room. Only a few others gathered there, some talking and others waiting for their drinks. The music was good and had a nice beat. It wasn't overly loud that you couldn't hold a conversation towards the entrance, but she could tell that it was louder within the confines of the dance floor. Probably another form of magic she wasn't familiar with.
It seemed like once you came into this club, the other things going on weren't as significant as they once were on the other side of the door. That must be the allure of this place. Not only the guarantee of no violence or harm coming to your person, but the fact that you could come to this club and actually be somewhat normal and have interactions with other people.
And let's face it, interactions with other people isn't something she was all that good it.
She'd had like... zero practice in that area. But she didn't want to worry about those things. She turned her head, waiting for Naberius to enter the club with her. She couldn't wait to dance or order a drink and sit beside him on one of the comfortable looking couches. She was ready for this night to start. Nothing could ruin this for her.
She felt his arm around her waist before she saw him, still in awe of the scene before her. "Yes, I'm thankful for that," she replied to him. The bouncers were thorough in their weapons check. While neither of them were armed, knowing the rules before they came, they were still dilligently checked and that was fine by her. Naberius looked like a bouncer himself, so it was only natural they used extra precautions when searching him. As far as Zahrah was concerned, the only thing she carried was a small clutch and the dress she wore made it evident that hiding a weapon was nearly impossible. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do. Dinner. Drinks. Dancing? The thought of dancing with him pulled her. They could have a few drinks and eat later. Right now she wanted to get lost in the music with Naberius.Turning her head to him, she grinned, "let's dance." He had called her his dancer, and while she wasn't sure why, dancing was something she did enjoy. It was something they could be close and do together. The dance floor was filling up, and she couldn't help the feeling that she wanted to be out there as well. She slid from his arm around her waist, grabbing his hand in her own. It was a comfortable feeling and even though his was measurably larger than hers, they fit perfectly together. Should he accompany her, she would lead him to the dance floor. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the music became louder and she could feel it pulsating. It was easy for her to find the beat, and with an arm draping over his shoulder, she had no problems moving her hips and body along with it. She pulled him close, breathing in his scent and locking her eyes with his. This was perfect. He was perfect.
She closed her eyes as they danced together. She could feel eyes on them but she didn't care. Let them stare. She had no cares in the world right now, despite everything going on around them. No matter what was happening beyond the front door of this club, she was enjoying right here, right now. Looking over his features, she could swear she noticed a change in his eyes. She couldn't quite place it, though. Was he unhappy? He looked almost detached for a fraction of a second. Was he thinking about earlier? His feeding on the soul? It surprised her that maybe he could feel guilty about something he needed to do. But should it really? While he was a hard ass in most cases, she'd seen a different side of him over the past few weeks. Unless his compassion was only meant for her. In which case she wasn't at all bothered by it. Bringing her other arm up, both draped over his shoulders, she pulled him closer and continued dancing. She hoped this would bring him comfort as it had done before. When he was healing and had been restless, sometimes thrashing about, she had laid next to him. Even though he was unconcious, when she curled up beside him and hummed, he would calm and get restful sleep. He seemed to be lulled into comfort by her presence. Zahrah rested her cheek against his. Even though he had probably shaved, she could feel the prickle of his stubble on his normally softened skin. She placed a featherlight kiss to his temple before speaking. She didn't want to yell over the music, but she wanted him to be able to hear her, "Naberius are you alright? Would you like to go sit down?"
He pulled her closer in what seemed like an almost instinctual maneuver. Something was going on with him. She didn't think he was hurt, but it felt like his attention wasn't solely there in this time and place. She couldn't be upset at him though. Her mind flicked back and forth from here to LaBelle, to the scroll, to Corbin. Stop Zahrah, you don't need those images right now. She breathed out slowly, expelling the thoughts of that vile human before pictures could flash through her mind of the last time they saw each other. Corbin wasn't Naberius. He wasn't half the man Naberius was. And she thought, no, she knew he wouldn't treat her as Corbin did. This man that she was dancing with had an innate need to protect. While it wasn't for everyone, she knew that he would for her, Nita, and Legba. Though she doubted Legba needed anyone's protection. His voice was soft in her ear, dance for me, love. Love? Her brows furrowed slightly at the abstract thought of love. Is that what this was? The way her heart, mind, and body felt around this man? It was such a foreign concept she didn't think there was a term for it, really. Putting a name to what she'd been feeling had been difficult. Of course she knew what love was. But knowing and feeling were two entirely different things. And LaBelle had made it clear that no one could love another person with only half of their soul. Meaning Zahrah. No one would or could love her. Did she even love herself? Would he love her after she stole the scroll? Zahrah drew her head back. Despite the thoughts running wild through her head, she wanted to look into his eyes and see if he was being honest with her. She'd become somewhat good at reading whether or not Naberius was being truthful to her over the past few weeks. And he was. There was a look in his brown orbs that wasn't there before. A softness that tugged at her heart. Her head canted slightly as she continued to study his features. She brought her hand to his cheek, her thumb gently rubbing the skin there. "Is this what love is?" she wondered aloud. The voice inside scolded her. She shouldn't be allowing this because of what was going to transpire within the next few days. And when he found out about Corbin and her soul, how damaged she was, it wouldn't be love that he was feeling. "I don't know if I've ever felt it before," she couldn't help herself, "but I can't imagine my life without it now."
