2010-01-30 (PreU) So, how does that make you feel?

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So, how does that make you feel?

Summary: After the mess in #777, Devi goes off to the Eat or Die to get some fuel. Though Samantha was supposed to be following her, she got sidetracked and met with Devi later. Explanations ensue. (And Record breaking is in reference to my longest pose ever. Thank you Arthur for being so freakin inspirational!)

Who: Devi, Samantha
When: January 30th, 2010
Where: Eat or Die


The information contained within this log is to be considered information gained Out of Character (OOC).
This information may not be used as In Character (IC) knowledge or in roleplay unless it has been learned in-game or permission has been granted by the parties involved.

Questions should be directed to staff.

Eat or DIE

Formerly known as Eat or Don't, this fully automated 24 hour Chinese restaurant changed it's name to simplify the choice and invite more customers. The room is a very cold unfriendly sort of place where the DIE theme seems to run a bit too rampant... The room is full of tables with small electronic boxes on them for you to place your order with a simple button press. Before you ask to see the drink list, this place only serves Poop brand cola. Poop, Diet Poop, Dr Poop, Cherry Poop, etc... How 'bout a nice bottle of Poop?

Devi walks somberly into Eat or Die, her hands predictably shoved deep into the pockets of her long trenchcoat. Droplets of water stream down her face, the rain shower having taken a random chance of showing up. Devi keeps her head lowered, purple hair hiding her eyes, and the lost vacent look that is held in them.
Sliding off her coat, Devi tosses it onto the coatrack on the wall, a small puddle forming under it. She sits down at a booth next to the window, taking a moment to look out it and remembering her conversations with Tenna. She sighs softly and pushes the button on the small metal box. It cackles loudly, echoing througout the empty resturant. "Eat Or Die, what you want?"
Devi shakes her head. Same horrid Chinese accent as always. She responds, "Two of everything, and a poop cola." It crackles again as the box is turned off, with no confermation of her order.

A few minutes pass between Devi placing her order, and a sudden eruption of noise from the back of the restaurant. A horrible clatter of metal rings out from behind the greasy, badly painted door that leads to the kitchen, followed a moment later by raised voices gabbling in thickly-accented Chinese. Two male voices seem to be arguing with a third, female voice, which sounds rather more calm. A few seconds later the door swings on its hinges with a loud thump as the oddly dry Samantha walks swiftly into the room. Backwards. Her hands are held in front of the open door as it begins to close, pressed together in supplication.
The catgirl gabbles in Chinese for a moment more, finishing on quite a dismissive tone - despite the gesture of apology - before she spins around to face the rest of the restaurant, uttering an aggravated sigh. Her face is faintly flushed, and her expression suggests she has more on her mind than a couple of irate Asian chefs. As her blue eyes settle on Devi, she seems to relax, approaching the other woman and putting out a hand to the back of the seat opposite her.
"Hey," she offers quietly, patting the chair, "Mind if I join ya?"

A small conveyor belt is slowly cranked out to the table, one poop Cola mounted upon it. Devi takes it, and raises an eye at the commotion that the kitchen is sounding. Samantha comes out and Devi's face doesn't move, although her mental image would show her eyebrow rising in slight surprise. Something in her expects a fight, and all she wanted was a meal after what's happend at #777. She rolls a shoulder at Sammy's request.
Devi says, "Go ahead."
Sipping slowly, she sets it down, wiping her hand on her pantleg and folding her hands into her lap. The store has great food, but it does take a while for it to come out. Of course, for Devi, right now time seems to be flying past her as her mind takes a break. She vaguely remembers that Samantha wanted to know about Johnny, and what happened in the House. Devi idly wonders if Sammy will ask the question first, or if she'll wait for Devi to speak. Regardless, Devi's not really sure if she can explain it all to a girl that she's only met a handful of times.

Samantha accepts the invitation with a grateful nod and smile, slipping into the chair in a single, graceful movement. Unconsciously, her sleekly-furred tail flicks beneath her, curling about one leg of the chair. Leaning back, she places her hands flat on the table, looking across at Devi with an unexpectant air. In fact; for a few moments this is all she does, letting silence fall as she quietly examines the other woman. She speaks without any prompting, keeping her tone low.
"He was my best friend, you know. I wasn't very old when we met, an' really, it never made much sense for us to get along... but he knew my pop pretty well. I guess that earned me some respect. But," she laughs, a breathless sound, and glances off toward the rain-soaked window, "You wouldn't believe the things we went through together. He told me all about you, too, if yer wonderin' how I knew your name." Never mind that they've met before; she recognised Devi then, too. Even if she couldn't fully recall why, or from where.
Sniffing, Sammy glances down at her hands, one lifting from the table. Idly, she examines her fingernails, flicking her gaze between them and Devi - not bashfully, but as if they had all the time in the world. "I didn't think anybody missed him like I do. Figured you'd've moved on like most people in his life. But you gotta believe me, Devi." She lowers her hand back to the table, leaning forward slightly. Her eyes gleam. "If anybody wants ta help him, it's me. I've got a feeling that means helping you... so I want to do that, as well."

Devi scoffs. "Help me, sure." She sets down her drink, keeping her head lowered, her eyes shadowed. "I don't know what you've been through with Johnny, you don't know what I've been through with him. You can only kill someone you.."She trails off, her head swishing angrily to the side before turning back. "So many times. I don't know much about you. Only that Johnny loved.. loves you. Fine, whatever. I don't see how you can help me get him back. How many times have you been killed and brought back yourself, Samantha? How many times has your disapperance hindered something important to someone?" Devi shakes her head, as though she was disappointed in Sammy, despite openly admitting that she knows little about her. Crystal droplets of water drip off Devi, glinting in the florecent light and drawing attention to the yellow crystal hung at her neck.
The scent of Hell reaches Devi's nose and her face grows a little harder. "And aside from all that, why wouldn't I believe you? Should I distrust your words? Will you also lie and manipulate me for your own purposes?" Devi doesn't fidget or shift, or move a muscle, her body feeling almost held down by the worn path she's traveled the past few days. Under her breath she mutters, "Two at once, fucking great." Ya know, Sickness did say that it was her favorite word.

Several times throughout that tirade, the catgirl blinks in understated astonishment. It's not the attitude of the other woman that surprises her, but some of the assumptions she has drawn... that she may have been forced to draw. But a year spent in the underworld is a year passed in introspection, and consolidation of all that is past - both recent and long-since gone. Sammy has her lips pursed by the end, her stare levelled upon Devi unflinchingly. With a shake of her head, dark hair swishing, she settles back in her seat.
"Had my share of lies and manipulation," she murmurs, grimacing, "Been given no reason to think I'm not /still/ being manipulated. It's a big ol' cliche, Devi, but you have to trust in something. You have to trust in somebody. Still. You go ahead and consider me a liar. Y'can even hate me. I don't wanna know the deepest, innermost secrets of your life." She lifts her hands to sketch out a shrug, palms opening before her, a nonchalant motion that does nothing to conceal the tremor in her voice, "I just want to know what's happened to my friend."

Devi says, "I don't have to trust in shit. And now that I have, that's been taken away from me too." What is she talking about? "I don't mistrust you, I never said that I do. First I need to know what you know. What you know about what's going on. I don't feel like repeating myself." Her voice is tired and worn.
Food begins rolling out of the kitchen and Devi greedily partakes. Plate after plate, Devi brings them to her mouth, using a pair of cheap chopsticks to shovel the food in. Two of everything she ordered, and their menu is wide. The plates stack up, Devi having eaten more then she should be able to. The food continues on. After a few minutes, it stops and a small button pops out the side. Devi stacks her plates back on the belt and hits the button, adding a plate as she finishes them. Finally, she finishes and not a drap spilt. TA-DA! Ten points for cleanliness as Devi demurly wipes her mouth. Sucking down the rest of her soda, she puts that on the retreating belt and leans back. Her color, what color she has, has returned, and her body shows signs of recovery. She doesn't bother adressing Samantha for a few minutes, waiting.

"Fair enough," the catgirl replies, a whiplash of a crooked grin appearing on her face, just for a moment. Despite the stew of emotions running through her, and those that may as well be visibly emanating from Devi, she recognises so much of the maniac in this woman - and sees precisely what he would see in her. Those sapphire eyes are vivid with life as she looks away, beginning to speak falteringly at first, quickening the pace as she finds her flow.
"The last time I saw Johnny, he killed me. I'd love to say it was the first time we'd fought, an' I'd love to pretend I hadn't done him the same favour. I've never had another friend quite like him, because none of that matters - it all comes full circle every time. As if we were joined by something beyond the usual laws of the world, as if-" she hesitates, and laughs, shoulders quivering in embarassed amusement, "Sorry. Anyway, I.. came to on another world. I wasn't myself, but I remember it all clearly. Years spent rebuilding a life, watching through somebody else's eyes as I earned a fortune through death and torment. To cut a long story short, I met you for the first time eight years later, an' then I died." She frowns, reaching up to scratch at the nape of her neck, taking a strand of hair that has broken free from the back. She toys with it as she continues.
"This death wasn't like the others. I didn't see nothing. I wasn't lost. I woke up alone after a long dream... it wasn't a bad dream, but those that followed that night were. I saw everybody I knew, but - all y'need to know is that I saw /him/ repeatedly. Everythin' we'd done together, everywhere we'd been. Eventually, and I'm talking months here, after I'd suffered what seemed like forever, I broke free. I was in Hell." She doesn't let that sink in, carrying on as if it were simple fact; which it is, of course. "As I made my way higher an' higher, I began to hear things about NNY. I began to see his image in the.. things I was fighting. Some of them could almost have been him, and some of them had an element of his power..." A power he would never have had without her. She cringes, leaning to place her forehead against the window.
"That's the only reason I knew he was dead. When I got out... when I came to this place, I'd figured he wasn't someone I'd see again. Until I was passin' that house, and I heard you call out. I thought you were being hurt; I didn't know it was /you/, but I came to see what the fuss was about. And when I saw you talking to nothing, when I saw you shouting at air, I-- I didn't really understand, until you used his name." Something becoming a wry smirk creeps onto her lips, and she glances down at her own lap, "Y'know, yer not the first girl to be driven loopy by him. I guess you know the rest, an' that's all I knew until a few moments ago."
"Devi," she changes her tone, sitting upright and leaning across the table as Devi finishes her meal. "I ended up in the kitchen here because your old buddy Satan hauled me aside for a little chat. Johnny's part of somethin' big. That psychotic high-schooler we saw, she's one of a set. This town's gonna break out in a war that I don't reckon we can stop, and NNY just might be the catalyst. I don't know much more than that, but I know the power he'd just started to wield when last we fought. I had the power of a goddess on my side, an' I could barely keep up. If he's gotten any stronger..."
She trails away at last, releasing a long breath and sitting back. "Don't mind tellin' ya I'm scared."

Devi nods in all the proper moments, regardless of the food. She looks at Sammy like -she's- the crazy one. "You... you didn't see him? You didn't see what she'd turned him...." Devi stops and shakes her head. "No, no, no see, I'm not the crazy one here. I'm not the one who's fucked up, I'm ok, I'm sane, I've fought for that much. I'm NOT WHAT'S WRONG!" It seems like Devi stopped talking to Samantha for that one. Her hands have raised up, fingers snaked up into her dyed hair. Fisted hands drum solidly to her skull as she speaks, knuckles white, a small stream of blood running down her pale wrists as she rocks slightly. "NO, no he was there. It was her doing. Alessas, It was the sister, the sister, the sister who did it. Not me. She took him, infected him with his madness. Caliga took him out of hell, out of hell, out of the chaos. Johnny killed one of the Pyriamd heads you know, drug the blade around with him like some kind of trophy."
A wet slap echos as Devi slams her hands away from her head and onto the table. It's a miracle that she didn't pull out any of that hair she grabbed so tightly. "The war can't be stopped, can't be stopped, so many people will burn, the fight will come topside. The sisters should stay below where they belong." Frantic speech, her continued rocking. No, she's not unraveling again, not at all. "It had to start there, she had to have gotten herself in him like the Doughboys when he got brought outta hell. I tried to help him, gave him a new house, thought it'd be better if he wasn't at the House anymore, but he painted the walls, started kidnapping people again." Her rocking vanishes slowly, her hand clentching on the table then relaxing continuesly. "He stole Tenna, took her from my home. MY HOME!" Her hand slaps for ephasis. "I went to get her back, I was mad, pissed, angry, ready to kill him again if I needed to. The cold came, came again and it let me get Tenna out. When I came back, Johnny was.. was.. it. He was a Pryamid head, he was death again. I challenged, I'd lost my Mazuko powers, felt weak, helpless. Caliga came to help, I stabbed Johnny, tried to stop what he had been turned into. They vanished...."
Taking a deep breath, Devi slides her hand from the table into her lap, her fingers rubbing the blood. Her voice is calmer, sane, contained. "I took a walk, into the Wastelands, decided that I'd been used enough. Powerless and alone, I'd die or something out there. 3 weeks. 3 weeks and Diablo came. Told me I was an idiot and that I saved more lives then I took." She laughs, it being a harsh scraped sound out of her throat. "I've only destoryed one exsistance. She deserved it. I came back, back to him, back to the House, to save him or destroy myself. I went in and he was.. Normal. Not Johnny normal.. /Normal/ He was wearing a button down shirt. I freaked, tried to leave..." She takes a deep breath, not finished with her story just yet.
Devi says, "The cold came, and then I passed out. I think I have my powers back, I'm sure of it, but maybe I am crazy. I went back again, after helping Zel, or whatever he is now. I went back, and I was drawn back into a nightmare."
She looks up at Sammy. "You've seen blood, and the morbid minds of humanity? Mobs of clockwork people, mobs. I passed them, Johnny was there. I swear he was, clockworked and sounding a bit like Eff. That's where you came in." She takes a deep breath, her emerald green eyes downcast, the moisture of her blood almost tranquil to her, and mesmerizing.

If Samantha knew Devi better, she would be on her feet and trying to prevent the relentless thump of those fists. The effect on her expression is such that the blows may as well be striking /her/ - though she does not recoil, the utmost pain floods her gaze. She may have empathised with Johnny's abused paramour before, but now she is openly disturbed, desperate to help but unable to do anything. What could she possibly do or say? She listens to the raving, slowly coiling and uncoiling a fist upon the surface of the table. The soft, rhythmic creak of supple leather is hardly comforting... but it's a familiar point on which to cling. It focuses her.
It allows the sordid tale to be as fascinating as it should be. For everything that she fails to follow, there is a word or phrase on which to fixate. Beyond anything else, there is the solitary plainly obvious fact that NNY was not dead when she believed him to be. He has been here, his own horrors unfolding alongside this tormented girl. The rest is filed away, and not once does she try to interrupt; this is what she asked for, and it needs to be spoken whether or not she fully comprehends it.
When it is over, Sammy can do little more than repeat her earlier words.
She does so in a whisper.
"I'm so very sorry..."
Her hand, already stilled, starts to slide across the table. But it stops just short of the smeared blood, fingers clenching helplessly on the cheap surface. "Devi," she clears her throat with a gentle noise, and raises her voice above a whisper, "I don't think you're crazy. I think you've been hurt. And I think somebody's still trying to hurt you. You were a normal girl once, right?" It's not spoken with disdain; in fact, she says it as though it were a positive thing to be. "It's easy to get complacent when y'go from that, to the world we live in now. To deal with all this crazy crap, the brain has to make allowances. Sometimes it shuts down completely, other times it just hardens and toughens, blocking out emotions you don't need. The problem with that, is they don't make any sense when they /do/ break through - an' there's a lot of people-" she catches that, and hastily amends, "A lot of beings ready to take advantage of that fact..."
"The Devil, Diablo, whatever ya call him? He's one of 'em. I didn't used to buy into religion, but either these things exist or they don't, and since they obviously /do/ then the usual rules are gonna apply. I've spoken to him myself, and beside being terrified I found I could stand up to him on my own terms. But that's all an illusion; that's what he wants you to think, that's how he wants you to be. Johnny might've got into your head, and god knows he's gotten into mine in the past, but he's the lesser among a huge number of evils. I don't know what deals you've made with Diablo, the Mazoku or any other nasties, but the way you feel now," she bites her lip, pausing to try and catch Devi's eye, "It's not you. It's /them/. It's what they've done to you. And it's what they've done to him, too."
"Does that make any sense?" She doesn't wait long for an answer, because she doesn't expect to get one - or at least not in brief. Rallying with a toss of her head, she stares out of the window once more, lip curling with some disdain as her mind settles on this Alessa and her sister. "I hope so, because things are about to get a lot worse. They're in your head, and /someone's/ got their hooks in me. But they're not gonna win so easily, Devi, I swear to you." She flicks her gaze sidelong, swallowing tightly. "I just wish I could do somethin' for you right now. I know he'd want me to..."

Devi hears Samantha's tone, the comfort she doesn't know how to give, the wounds she see and wants to help fix but lacks the tools. "Normal? Once. Long long ago. Before I met Johnny. He infected me." Her uncut hand rubs against her arm as though she were scrubbing off dirt. "My mind does push things aside. I was a girl, I was a fighter, I was a Mazuko General, and I was the possible Destroyer. I am not a girl, I am not a fighter, I am not Mazuko. I don't know what I am. Johnny did get into my head, he ravaged my soul, wore my nerves, drove me to murder." The bloodly hand reaches up to grasp the crystal at her neck, fingers rubbing it like a prayer stone. "It is me. This is all me. My deals are severed clean. I owe no powers anything, I have no agenda that is not my own. This is me bare, with little masking, with little containment. Well, maybe a bit more contianment then I say. I'm going to have to go back into Hell, and kill a god, or at least bargin him away. He's done a lot of painful things. Yes, he's hurt me, but I won't let him suffer forever at it's hands." She looks down. "If I can destory a world, surely I can destroy Hell, or at least a good chunk of it."
Her hair shimmers in the light, drying out the rest of the way, laying flat and silky on her face. The black roots of her natural color are starting to show again, more then an inch so. When she looks up again, her eyes are diffrent, solid, hard, non-emotional. It's like she's normal Devi, stitched together Devi. "There is nothing that you could do. And I don't think he would want you to. He thrives on other's pain, no matter how much he would love to say he doesn't. It's his thrill." She lays her head back, her neck popping as she does so. "I've more on my plate then I care to. Do you know how tiring it is to feel the obligation to save souls? To save people? I suppose you do." Devi leans on the table, towards Sammy, her face intent. "So, what is your plan for all this? A declaration of independance is great and all, but what are you going to do with yourself now?" She doesn't mean it in a condesnding manner, just a curious one.

Samantha knows something of the Mazoku, though she will not mention it. There is no rarity in knowledge, not on this world or the infinite number of others like it - points of convergence in the endlessly tangled multiverse that forms life's stage. How many has she met who know her father without ever having met him, who knew the places she grew up in because they had seen them rendered in pixels? The healing process exhibited by Devi is no more surprising, at this point. But it's the emotions that accompany such revelations that matter. The experiences that make one human, that give meaning to the mess.
Her heart warms as she sees Devi heal, at least glad she will not suffer physically. She smiles at that, but the smile dies quickly. In light of what was just said - and of what is being said. The question that comes finally goes unheeded, and silence reigns. Frowning deeply, Samantha watches the other woman from across the table, her breathing steady, the rise and fall of her chest a calming rhythm. "You're not wrong," she says at last, "About NNY. He thrives on suffering, on misery, but it's so much more than that. I won't preach, coz you already know it. You told me earlier that he loved me? That he /loves/ me?" A single shake of the head, vigorous and firm, "He was /in love/ with you, and that makes him worth saving. I don't believe I can cure him - alive, perhaps he was a lost cause, but he's been a puppet for too long. We can at least give him his own mind in death."
She draws a shuddering breath, forcing herself to look away from Devi as a wave of passion overcomes her. Her eyelids droop, and she is forced to pause a moment longer before she turns around with the ghost of a smile. "If that's why you're goin' into Hell, then I can't guarantee I won't follow. Somehow I don't think it's necessary, though. My obligation to save him is right here," she suddenly slaps a hand to the table, leaning forward in a mirror image of Devi, "In this city."
"You wanna know my plan? I'm gonna fight for what little I have left, alongside people who deserve better than to die as pawns. There's more than just demons here, more than gods, an' a damn sight more than you an' me. People who've been pulled from their homes and forced to start anew, in a place a hundred times as dangerous as anything in their nightmares. If I can die saving just a few of them, then that's a death I might finally be able to accept." Her eyes blaze defiance under the dim lights of the restaurant, and she moves to stand, smiling with deceptive calm.
"I'm gonna fight, Devi, because this is what I do."

Devi shakes her head slightly. No, Johnny might have had feelings, but they were not named love. He strived after the Cat-girl, and at one time breathed for the chance of her living. Not to mention the fact that Johnny told her of his love at one point. But that's to far in the past. Hell, it seems like her walk in the Wastelands where to far in the past. Her head tilts upwards as Sammy stands. Pearl white teeth gleam as Devi smiles sweetly and sadistically. "Then shall we declare war on those that oppose us?" Her eyes light up with excitement, her woes safely under lock and key again in her mind. "If nothing else, if you follow me or not, if you stay here, I will at least have the comfort of knowing that there is someone here with my plans in mind. If Johnny hadn't been taken... I'd be up here, fighting against whatever comes. Who knows? I may yet get my chance to do so. But until then.." Her image flashes briefly, from Devi to a God of War, shiney silver armor streaked with the dead black blood of the masses of minions that gather as they speak. With a spartan face helm, and a pimpin' purple mohawk, she looks fairly cool. But it only lasts for a fraction of a second.

It's a big step, and where Devi's excitement shows through in her wayward grin, and in that flickering image, Samantha's comes as a hardening of resolve. Growing graver by the second, her lips tweak upward only slightly further as she watches the illusion manifest. The illusion, or the prophecy. As her mouth pulls instead to a firm line, she extends a hand, fingers tensely curled for a warrior's grip - the cordlike muscles of her arm showing in hard relief against her flesh.
"I'll declare war on any who want to make others suffer. Even if it means standing against both sides. I've got your back, Devi." She smirks, a gesture that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "But you still don't have to trust me."

Devi slaps her hand in a grasp against Samantha's forearm, a gesture that may only fit the flickering image of Devi, but she pumps it swiftly. "I don't allow people at my back that I don't trust Sam." She rises outta her seat, and briskly walks towards the door, obviously back to full points. She turns though, before she steps out into the rain, her coat hanging off a finger over her shoulder. "May not have been the best of circumstances, but I'm glad to have met ya again. May we both have a glorious death."

Samantha nods in approving response, before simply turning to silently watch Devi leave. As turns of event go, this one may have been unexpected... but she thinks back to words spoken by Diablo just a short while ago. Perhaps this is all to plan. She begins to follow Devi a few moments later, leaving behind her what may be construed as quip or confidance to the nobody that hears it... "Fifth time lucky."

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