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John Constantine can teach you about magic. (_constantine_) wrote in dunwichgame,
@ 2024-05-02 12:24:00

Entry tags:

!log/thread/narrative, dc (comics): john constantine, ∙ plot: 016 it's dangerous, ◌ inactive: pamela dawes

May 2, 2024

John Constantine, Pam Dawes
"I almost dropped my croissant."

HarlivyDawes Residence | ⚠ swears, magic, tba

There was no place in Dunwich that was quite so evident about Spring being out in full force as the residence of Poison Ivy et al. Everything about it was lush and green, vines climbing high against the sides of the building, covering portions of the large glass windows -- the flowers even seemed brighter. Swampy would be impressed, even. But he, thankfully, did not reside in Dunwich. It wasn't Alec Holland, Poison Ivy or even Harley Quinn that John had come here for.

He side stepped the vines, who probably had some sort of sentience, or maybe ... reading of intent, since they didn't stop him entering the home with a little twist of a doorknob and no other verbal permission, even if they did creep closer to him before he got the door closed, making him quite nearly unbalance his stacked cups of coffee and bag of croissants.

Nearly, but not quite. "Oi!" He called once he was in -- never stupid enough to not. be wary of more plants or maybe the wild animals Quinn called pets. But he found neither in his way before he made it to the staircase that lead down to the basement. "Still cleaning?" He wanted no real part in helping with that.

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ilbastone
2024-05-05 06:12 pm UTC (link)

Pam didn't openly breathe a sigh of relief, but she did go a little harder on the scrubbing now that she didn't have to persuade (or maybe beg) John to help her.

"Already ahead of you." She pointed to one of the wooden shelves that, in a normal household, probably would've held holiday decorations and old toys but in this one were mostly empty. Save for a plastic bin, that is, holding a small selection of very strange items.

A broken mirror. Licorice root in amber. A Tupperware containing jacinth powder. Plus a few others. The beginnings of a spell, allegedly.

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	_constantine_ 2024-05-06 02:41 pm UTC (link)
	"Lookit you," John said, glancing over to the shelves and the ingredients there. Pam was a busy bee, just getting everything done on her own terms, without asking. He'd miss her, if this worked. This version of her -- the other one was clearly tenacious in her own way too, but -- Not the same, exactly. He glanced down at the notes again. Considered. "When?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

ilbastone
2024-05-06 02:48 pm UTC (link)

"When did I get it all together?" Pam asked. "Last few days, mostly. Some of it's from when I got here. Just boxed up all the shit in my -- her -- room and dumped it in a closet. Figured I'd throw it away sometime and just never got around to it."

Almost like she hadn't entirely wanted to close this potential door.

Between the visions and the cauldron getting fixed, she couldn't come up with an excuse why she shouldn't try yanking on it a little more now. And John was clearly willing to help.

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_constantine_
2024-05-06 03:15 pm UTC (link)

"No," John corrected, fingers itching for a cigarette. An excuse to get up, to move around.

He'd help. Because she asked. Because for all that he was a bastard, he was a bit of a romantic, too. He didn't know if it'd be more selfish to accomplish this task or to fail at it.

"I mean, when do you want to do it? Now?" It wasn't like they didn't have what they needed.

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ilbastone
2024-05-07 04:46 am UTC (link)

"Oh." Pam sat up. In theory, she had most if not all the spell ingredients. She had a working crucible. She had help. But she'd always been better with theory, back when she still dabbled in the arcane.

To try it now, though? Right away? Her fingertips drummed against the side of the cauldron.

"Fuck it. No time like the present, right?" She grabbed the isopropyl alcohol spray. "I'm disinfecting this before we do anything. Boy cooties, you know how it is." Not at all like she was buying herself some time to work up the nerve to get in it. And hopefully, maybe, somewhere down the line -- to go home.

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