Janu(i)s is a (salesman) wrote in repose, @ 2018-05-07 16:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, atticus mcvickers, janus allen, nishka bariss, steve mcrory |
N/J/S/A - Carriage House
Who: Nishka, Janis, Steve, deadish!Atticus
What: Bedside manners
Where: Atticus' Carriage House
When: After this and then this.
Warnings/Rating: TBD.
Janis didn't have a good relationship with 80% of the [dead] occupants of this house, and she knew that as soon as she appeared on the back doorstep. (If curious about the rules of demonic ability, one could say that 'teleporting' wasn't one that got audited that often. Demons that weren't tied to crossroads, jars, lamps and houses generally moved around wherever they would, and as long as they were doing their jobs and making everyone miserable, nobody cared much.) She was muttering to herself as she used some witchcraft (see footnote, witchery: no rules, mortal magic, definitely Frowned Upon and therefore practiced by demonic entities Under The Table, if practiced at all) to jimmy the lock. The muttering was only partly for the spell, which smelled of burnt Spanish moss, and partly for the ghosts and werewolves that plagued this town like ticks. Both of 'em tended to suck Atticus dry on a semi-regular basis, and it irritated her.
The door clicked open and Janis stepped inside the familiar kitchen of the Carriage House. A quick glance around told her there was no one there, and she moved on, at ease with the space. She picked up her toes so her heels didn't catch on the hall rug, and the click of them muffled as soon as she took the stairs. She was put-together, even professional, blonde hair styled, lips neutral, heels conservative. The only thing a modern woman had that she did not was a purse, her hands completely empty as she swung up to the top floor.
"Atticus?" It was habit. Obviously, he wasn't going to answer. But whomever posted on the journals probably would. At the moment, Janis was assuming it was a werewolf.