11/21 (city streets) - Astaroth, Charlie McGee. WHO: Astaroth, Charlie McGee WHERE: the city streets WHEN: November 21st, early morning WHAT: the firestarter arrives in LA RATING: TBA STATUS: COMPLETE
Charlie, ultimately, didn't know why her motorcycle had stopped working. She had gassed up not long before, so she knew that wasn't the problem. There hadn't been any smoke or strange noises coming from the bike either, so she didn't think she'd broken anything. It was as though the moment she hit the Los Angeles City Limits sign the thing had just stopped working.
Still, that was definitely not the weirdest experience the young woman had ever had, so she didn't worry too much about it. She just got the bike to the nearest autoshop and had left it parked out front with a small note slid under the door explaining that, if it was still there when the owner of the shop found the note, she'd come back for it and pay to have it fixed. Charlie highly doubted it would still be there. She also didn't care as the bike wasn't technically hers to begin with, anyway.
Tossing her backpack that contained everything that mattered to her over her shoulder, she headed off into the darkened city streets without a care in the world. Thanksgiving was but a few days away, but that mattered little to her. When you didn't have any family or friends, you tended to not care about a family and friend oriented holiday. Her only concern was, due to the date and lateness of the hour, she might not be able to find a hotel that was open so she could get a room. Still, she'd figure something out. She always did.
Unzipping her leather jacket as the weather was a lot less chilly when you weren't riding at breakneck speeds, the blonde headed toward what looked to be an area with civilization. Sure enough within a half a block she was approached by what looked to be a bum, asking if she had a light for his cigarette. She smirked and snapped her fingers, the end of the smoke lighting instantly. The guy gave her a funny look and muttered his thanks, along with a proclamation to stop drinking. With a waggle of her fingers she continued on her way, marveling at how calm the man seemed to be at her little 'trick'.
Maybe, she thought, Los Angeles wasn't as dull as it first seemed. Maybe at long last she'd found a place where she might fit in, as much as was possible at least. And if not, she'd get her bike fixed and head on down the road. Either possibility was an option. It wasn't as though she had anything better to do... besides find some source of entertainment in a town that, for all the hype, seemed to be dearly lacking at the moment. ASTAROTH
Inhaling deeply, Astaroth leaned against the wall just out of the reach of the streetlights. There was such fear in this city. It was ripe with the wounds of the battle that had raged on despite the forces of good winning in what they thought was the end. Really, this was one time that the near end of the world hadn't been Lucifer's doing. Astaroth would firmly deny any involvement if asked, although really it wasn't like anyone would be asking questions of the Marquis of Fear.
All he needed to do to garner a reaction from the bums who were prowling a nearby alley was to step into the light and show them exactly what he was. His deep black wings would shimmer in the light as if the stars themselves were embedded into their soft feathers. While the sight of a winged creature may not scare them, the manifestations he would create of everything they feared would.
"Fallen Angel, demon, betrayer of God," he thought to himself, "these are the things I am and all that I will ever be." charliemcgee CHARLIE MCGEE
Getting further within the city, Charlie began to take note of her surroundings more than she had been previously. Not only was Los Angeles uncharacteristically quiet compared to what rumors of the city claimed - which she would grudgingly admit could just be due to the fact that she might not be in a 'main' area - but there were signs of recent destruction as well.
Some of them were obvious. Partially destroyed buildings, piles of debris in scattered areas, and large cracks in the sidewalk that could not simply be written off by aged paving. There were other signs, too, though, that weren't so obvious to the naked eye. One in particular that caught Charlie's attention was an enormous scorch-mark that seemed to cover a good quarter of the side of a building as well as half the pavement in front of it.
The scary part was, the impact point was on the outside of the building. As though someone had lobbed a large fireball in that direction and the building had caught the brunt of the force. And to the best of her understanding, based on the scorch marks, that simply wasn't possible. Fire didn't work the way the evidence said it did. Not typical fire, anyway.
"What the hell?" the blonde muttered, drawing closer to the spot with a morbid sense of curiosity. She had a vested interest in fire, obviously, and even moreso when it didn't seem to be typical in origin. Her fingers went out, digits sweeping across the charred bits of brick. Even the soot that remained behind felt... odd. She couldn't explain it, really. It just didn't seem right.
"Maybe there was an earthquake," she reasoned as she tilted her head to the side and followed an almost invisible line that clearly showed what direction the flames had traveled once hitting the building and spreading outward. She backed up, gaze still following the line. "Right," she snorted, shaking her own head as she dropped to her knees and gently touched at the cracked bits of sidewalk where the fire had grown so intense it had literally destroyed concrete. "And then there was a war in downtown Los Angeles that I somehow managed to miss on the news, complete with firebombing. Get real, Charlie."
Rising back to a standing position, she looked first right, then left, making sure the coast was clear. When she was sure nobody was around who could see her, she squared off with the building and tried to line herself up with the wall as best as she could. Her hair began to swirl lightly although there really wasn't any wind blowing through the city at the moment, and suddenly a fireball appeared and slammed into the same impact point as the last one clearly had. The flames hissed and sizzled, trying to go out without anything to really feed from. She clenched her hands into fists, arms held firmly at her sides, and willed the flames outward. Following the same pattern as the fire before, she managed to get it as far as the crack in the sidewalk before she willed it all away. Then she surveyed the new scorch marks.
They still didn't line up. Fire simply didn't burn that way. Not even with someone able to manipulate it.
With a frown of frustration the young woman was set to try again when the feeling that she wasn't alone crept up her spine. She searched the darkness but came up empty. Her hazel orbs narrowed, annoyance filling her face. "I know you're there," she called out to the seemingly empty street. "You might as well show yourself." And she waited to see if her instincts were right, or if her paranoia was starting to get the best of her. ASTAROTH
It wasn't every day that he ran across someone who could manipulate fire the way this woman was capable of. It was a talent that only Michael had mastered. Angel or human, it was still impressive despite the creature wielding it. She seemed frustrated that she was unable to recreate the marks of the previous creature. Astaroth was fairly sure he knew exactly what had made them. It would only take a closer look to be sure.
When she realized that she was no longer alone, Astaroth bit back the urge to laugh. It just seemed so bold to be unafraid of whatever was in the shadows. With a gift like fire, he supposed, that one had the luxury of being bold.
Stepping out of the shadows, Astaroth kept his head lowered and wings folded. He didn't want to scare the beauty as he knew he would once she'd seen his face. "You'll have to forgive me for staring. It's not a usual occurance in this kind of place to see someone with your," he lifted his head, "talents." charliemcgee CHARLIE MCGEE
When he first appeared, Charlie stiffened. Her first instinct was to flee. Preserve what little bit of anonymity she still had remaining by letting the vastness of the city sweep her away from his gaze and knowledge of what she could do. Yet she stayed put for reasons she couldn't quite explain. It had been a while since she'd talked to someone who knew of her powers. Maybe the chance to speak to someone about them again was what kept her there. Regardless of the reason, however, she didn't run.
Instead she frowned lightly and replied warily, "You don't seem worried. Normally there's mass chaos by this point." Studying him for a moment, she asked next and without preamble, "Who are you?" ASTAROTH
"My name is Astaroth," he replied simply. He hadn't planned out a big speech to introduce himself. It was more Rosiel's thing to give his title and what he was away along with his name. "I'm not worried about what you can do. Rather, I find it intriguing. You're the second living being I've ever encountered who can control fire."
He thought back over Michael's ability. Were hers the same? Michael's manifested whenever he willed them, but his control over them lessened when he got emotional. Astaroth had heard that he'd once nearly destroyed Heaven with his power and it had taken the angel of healing to force him to reign it back in.
"Are your powers tied to your emotions?" charliemcgee CHARLIE MCGEE
Charlie's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "There's someone else?" she questioned faintly. Her entire life, she'd been the only pyrokinetic she'd ever heard of existing. Finding out someone else could control fire was a little... overwhelming.
She brushed the feeling away and focused on answering his question. "Typically," she shrugged. "The more emotional I get, the stronger they seem to become." She didn't see any reason to lie. Truth be told, she didn't know all that much about her powers in the technical sense. Only that feelings like anger (rage, especially) and fear seemed to make them most prominant. When she was happy or sad, they seemed as average as they were when she wasn't feeling much of anything. Average, of course, being a very loosely used term.
"I'm Charlie," she introduced herself after a second of thought, realizing she knew his name but he didn't know hers. She may have lived on her own, from town to town, for most of her life, but that didn't mean she didn't still have manners. When she chose to use them. "Charlie McGee."
There was something about him that kept her focused on him rather than trying to brush him off. She couldn't explain it, she just felt... drawn to him, somehow. It was a strange feeling after being alone for so long. There were times she doubted she'd ever feel compelled to speak with anyone again, much less tell them her real name and openly discuss what she was capable of doing.