Johanna Constantine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
keepgodwaiting) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
citynet2023-07-17 01:24 pm
keepgodwaiting) wrote in citynet2023-07-17 01:24 pm
video; un: Constantine
[ The camera fumbles and pans across the foyer of one of the supermarkets before focusing on Johanna Constantine's face. She's headed into the store, it appears, looking over the shelves for something specific. ]
Have you noticed there's no religion here? [ Her tone's conversational, like she's just FaceTiming a friend as she shops. ] No churches or temples or shrines. What do you suppose that means? --Ah, there we are.
[ The camera swings to point at the ceiling as she reaches to grab something. It looks like she's in the spice aisle. ]
Anyway, before you all start arguing about whether God's abandoned us, real point is: anyone here have it in them to consecrate some water and oil? Give us a ring, we can barter or something.
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[ ooc: Threadhopping is fine by me if characters do in fact start arguing religion. Just know Constantine is watching anything that's not marked private! ]
Have you noticed there's no religion here? [ Her tone's conversational, like she's just FaceTiming a friend as she shops. ] No churches or temples or shrines. What do you suppose that means? --Ah, there we are.
[ The camera swings to point at the ceiling as she reaches to grab something. It looks like she's in the spice aisle. ]
Anyway, before you all start arguing about whether God's abandoned us, real point is: anyone here have it in them to consecrate some water and oil? Give us a ring, we can barter or something.
---
[ ooc: Threadhopping is fine by me if characters do in fact start arguing religion. Just know Constantine is watching anything that's not marked private! ]
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[ He probably should be more self-sustaining in a place like this! But Peter can barely remember how to bathe himself most days. Half the time, he's not lucid enough to do much at all. ]
Loop you around? You mean... we really are stuck here?
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Who's your friend?
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[ Something 'supernatural' is probably the word that his mind is dancing around, but Peter can't voice it. (What about what happened back home? The fucking... sΓ©ance his mom did? Things like that aren't real, but... it seemed like it was.
What the fuck is happening to him?) ]
....Why?
[ He sounds more nervous than anything remotely confrontational; he's just paranoid as to anyone asking for names... unsure if he should give them out. ]
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Just wondering if we might know some of the same people. There's only about eighty of us around, as far as I can tell.
I'm Johanna. Constantine. And you're right, it's not normal and it's probably not human. We're all doing our best to figure out what the fuck it is. One of these days we might even get somewhere. In the meantime, we all have to look out for one another, right?
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His name's Robby.
[ If Robby gave him a last name, Peter can't remember it anymore, another detail swallowed up by the crackling static of his mind. But he hangs onto the first name, at least. He's written it on the wall of the apartment, along with a couple others. Safe people. Don't forget.
The woman gives him a name too, and Peter finds himself picking up his pencil, scratching it out on the wall. Johanna Constantine. He might need to remember her sometime. ]
Do you... trust them? The people here. Maybe they're in on it.
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[ She says it with casual interest, and only realizes a minute later that maybe that level of confirming someone's paranoia is not a good idea. But it's not a bad point, you know? ]
But I don't really think so. Not most of 'em. And if someone is in on it, I don't see how it changes much.
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[ The idea is... horrifying, and the boy can't conceal the horror that creeps into his voice like spilled ink, slowly overtaking everything. His voice starts trembling again.
The people who were... watching him back home. Stalking him. This is too fucking familiar, it's too much. ]
They could be watching everything we do. They could be.... everywhere.
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[ What the fuck is his name? ]
P. Graham? Right? That's your username?
[ God, please let that be grounding, rather than convincing him she's spying on him. ]
Here's what I do know, all right? There's a lot of people here who give a fuck about each other. Like your friend Robby, yeah? So we're all going to keep each other safe.
If you're worried about people watching you I can think of a few things that could help, if you like.
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The instruction helps, and Peter does β with an almost comical obedience; Johanna will probably hear the very audible breath he takes against the device. It's a little strained, but it's there. ]
Y-yeah. [ A beat. P. Graham. That's him, sometimes he forgets, butβ ]
I'm Peter.
[ He says it softly as he listens to the woman's words. His friend Robby... Safe. Again, even the simple words help him a bit, pull him away from his kneejerk panic and make him think about other things. Robby's there, he can call Robby whenever he needs to, he's just next door. ]
Yeahβ I'd like that. Please. Anything you know. [ ...Because there are absolutely people that could be watching him, after him, and the thought stays there, ice-cold. ]
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So, there's a fellow on the network who's got a bunch of information about encrypting your texts and all that. That might help you.
And if you'd like, I could drop by and set up some wards. Keep anything more intangible from peeking in.
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[ Peter hasn't been keeping up much with the flow of network traffic and who's posted what, just tuning in every once in awhile inbetween his own strange states.
But that next part draws a noticeable pause from his end of things. Something lingers, a discomfort, a thought he doesn't like. ]
Wards. You don't mean like... magic, right?
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[ She's like 85% sure it is, but that's neither here nor there. ]
Whoever he or they are, they seem solid enough. Wrote up a guide, I think.
[ The pause is just long enough that Johanna starts to worry that Peter has blacked out or hung up or something; his tone when he does speak doesn't exactly relieve the tension. ]
Yeah, like magic. Is that a problem?
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[ There's no vitriol in the words, no anger behind the curse β his tone stays nervous, quiet. But how can anyone know what's really meant as help, and what might be something else? How can anyone really trust anyone else, here? (Sorry Johanna, that paranoia's just going to keep fluctuating up and down and up again....)
He might've laughed a little in reaction, once. Laughter's not easily found in Peter these days, none of that comes now. But the initial feeling is the same β taken aback, bemused.
(But through those things, isn't there a quiet horror? A creeping dread? He'd seen what happened to his mother when she'd lit that candle and called for his sister's spirit. He can't explain all of it, butβ he'd seen it.
Your mother was crazy, part of him insists. But something else remembers the way he felt that buzz to the air, something shifting, flexing. A chill against the back of his neck.)
It feels uncomfortably like he's trying to convince himself of something when he replies to the woman. ]
Magic's not.... real.
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Isn't it? Damn, wish someone'd told me ten years ago. Well, then, worst I can do is wave some herbs around your place and make it smell better.
[ She's just assuming it's ripe based on the thing where he's a teenage boy. ]
As for anonymous, your guess is as good as mine. Eventually you've got to flip a coin on trusting people and move on, I suppose.
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Are you trying to say you've been doing..... magic for ten years....?
[ Sorry (again), Johanna. He's going to be moving at a snail's pace with this. He does add on after a momentβ ]
Isn't that stuff just.. made up?
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[ She's a Millennial and she's crumbling into dust. Help. ]
Anyway, lots of things are made up. Money. Politics. Marriage.
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[ He continues to not sound confrontational in the least. It's with a more.... nervous energy, restless, eyes a little too wide. Like he's talking about something that scares him, because it fucking does. ]
If it was, everyone would go around using it all the time...
[ Poor sweet summer child. You are literally possessed by a goetic demon, my guy. ]
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....You mean like.... witches and stuff use it?
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Sure.
[ How many times are people in this goddamn City going to ask if she's a witch? Is this that wizard franchise's fault? If she ever gets back to Britain she's going to go to Scotland and egg that lady's castle. ]
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So you're saying...........
[ Here it comes ]
You're a witch?
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[ Some things really make you consider taking up smoking again. But hey, he got there! Small mercies. ]
I prefer occultist. Exorcist if you're paying me. Warlock if you're nasty.
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(The implication that those words are real, well... Peter's starting to look mildly nauseated through the lingering confusion. She's scary....! And while he's still struggling to accept this as reality, there is very much the thought that he does not want to offend this person!) ]
Iβ um. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to umβ I just didn't know stuff like that actually existed. Exorcists and... stuff. I always thought that was just in like... movies.
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I can't throw fireballs or anything like that, from the movies. But I could set up some wards, like I said. Keep the bad vibes out.
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....But what if it is? What if there's even a chance it is? That he could sleep a little more easily, not thinking that those people from back home will find him and do whatever the fuck it is they wanted to do to him? (He thinks of flickering candles and a photo of himself with his eyes burned out and his heart pounds and pounds and pounds) ]
Could the uh.... wards keep out like bad.... people? Stop them from being able to get in the door?
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