Who: Trevelyan & Kenzi, with a brief ghost!Killian cameo What: Maxy's magic takes an interesting turn in the face of trouble When: Tonight Where: Trashy diner-bar and outside of it Rating/Warnings: Some creep-o's dying, that's about it Status: Complete
Alright, so. It wasn’t the best place in town. Kenzi could have picked a better location, maybe an area with less drug transactions and less ladies of the night arguing about who owned which street corner (and bitch slapping each other until one came out victorious), but that’s what Trevelyan got for allowing her to pick. Most of what was on her mind was the booze, not so much the edibles, but this one was selected for a reason - the grilled cheese here, one of the many options of comfort foods available on this simple menu, was boss.
It was the first thing Killian made for her. And, oh, she had tried to make her own in his absence but nope, it didn’t come out right. Even if the cheese was melted, even if the outside bread was crispy, it didn’t taste the same - but maybe it was a psychological thing, where she was convinced his magical power was making a cheesy sandwich laced with crack sorcery that everything else was inferior?
A theory to test tonight, as pathetic as it sounded.
The sun had set, darkness overcast with a flurry of glittery stars, and it wasn’t too bright in here - but Kenzi insisted on wearing sunglasses. It might have had something to do with the fact that even this late at night she had a hangover, and one of the best ways to avoid the consequences of your actions was to block most sources of light no matter how bright they were and this: keep on drinkin’, keep on drinkin’...
In a turtle-neck dress, black and tight, platform shoes with spiked heels, and looking more like a kinky high-end escort instead of one of those gaudy women working the outside streets, she sipped on an extra spicy Bloody Mary, waiting on her singular plate of a grilled cheese sandwich to be delivered. “Okay, so, first thing we’re supposed to be doing is a seance.” Hiccup. “Led by his girlfriend, and I told her about your voodoo powers and she’s interested in having you around for extra-assurance in contacting him. If that’s cool with you, brodude.”
No, she wasn’t okay. Far from it. And she was coping the best way she knew how, by hiding behind her penchant for eloquence and alcoholism. The houseboat was filled with all his things and sometimes she’d like to pretend that he was on a week long errands, and he’d be back one day - and going to the Underworld to bring him back, it fueled that hope that he would be back.
One day.
A seance? Max could do a seance, sure. Even before the powers of Necromancy slithered through his veins, imbibed through his skin and into his pores with that pungent smoke, he’d been through his share of occult-oriented activities. “I grew up in a place where we sold supplies for that sort of thing,” he reminded Kenzi, studying her with concern in eyes that looked dark as sassafrass in this lack of light - it was dingy and cloaked in shadows, but he’d trusted her about the grilled cheese so that’s what he had, and for him it was just soda. One of them had to remain sober, and it obviously wasn’t going to be her. At least not entirely.
He didn’t exactly think that drowning in a sea of alcohol was good for the grieving process, but he couldn’t force her to do anything about it. All he could do was be there, and actually care.
“So of course, whatever she needs. Whatever you need.” The ice clinked his glass, as he drank the soda down. For some reason, he just had a prickly feeling about tonight though he couldn’t put his finger on why - maybe it was the location in general? “Generally, my spells call upon spirits for aid in battle - but it’s that connection with the beyond, I think I can use it to help set your mind at ease.”
Trevelyan could unleash spirits of fear. He could cast Revival, which brought back fallen allies from the throes of unconsciousness. He could even summon healing spirits. But bringing someone back from the dead, he couldn’t do - so he hoped that her trek to the Underworld was successful.
Kenzi wanted to be useful. And she could, while also functioning with a ridiculous amount of liquor in her system that should have obliterated her liver but with a combination of Russian and Irish genes, that particular organ must be indestructible. Right now she promised to round up a horde of peeps to be present during it, and scouting for some hidden talents on the network - this Ham Sandwich’s necrobilities, for example - was a way to do it. It was someone she could safely say she trusted. Considering this was her brother, this fabulously dressed thief and sort of sister-in-law needed people to trust.
“We just...need to know he’s there, you know?” Sluuuuuurp. Really, the Bloody Mary was a good substitute for tomato soup when it came to the sandwich. Speaking of, their food was on the way and it smelled amaaaaaaaazing. “A friend said to expect hauntings, or something, but I - none of us have witnessed anything?”
Was it too soon to expect something? Was it a bad sign? Was he just not there?? Kenzi wanted to know, they all did - and the suspense was killing her and she wanted all this shit done now but, you know, patience was a virtue. There was some prepping that needed to be done still.
As far as grilled cheese sandwiches went, this one did seem to be king. Why did shitty dive bars always have that one thing (usually something greasy), that one option on the menu that you were actually smart to order because it was delicious and not something pre-packaged? Max didn’t know, but why question perfection.
“It might be a little while longer,” he pointed out, thanking the server when their food was brought by, and the sizzling sandwich was placed under his nose. “If he’s there, he’s probably trying to get to you. In terms of figuring out the best way to communicate, and send a message. But I understand that it seems so long to those of us in the living world.”
He waited a little for his sandwich to cool, before beginning to break it in half with his fingers - and when he did, just look at that gooey cheese. Straight out of a Kraft commercial. “In my dreamworld, the soul passes through the Fade to the afterlife, where they’re reunited with the Maker,” he said, and that was true - the ‘unworthy’ ones dissipated, returning to where they were made, but those that were deemed worthy received that salvation. Either way, going through the Veil, passing along through the Fade, it was kind of a weigh station for the soul.
Cole would probably have some insight - Trevelyan wished he were here. “Anyway, point is, business with the soul can take some time.”
“It better take a goddamn while,” Kenzi grumbled, then proceeded to sip her Bloody Mary so goddamn hard and so goddamn fast that the tall glass it was in finally emptied, leaving nothing but the green olive garnishes she didn’t even want. Her head felt swimmy, cheeks that extra pink, but that unrelenting feeling in her stomach settled - for now. Because that’s what alcohol was. A temporary bandaid on the wound reality gave you.
And there was always a chance that Killian was permanently gone, too. A possibility no one wanted to voice, but it was there - and it haunted her to the very bones, and creeped into her dreams, and she would never be ready to accept his absence as an eventual truth.
Bleary blue eyes were blocked by the shades, thank fuck, and she ordered a second drink while she began tearing off the crust of her sandwich. Also a thing her brother had done before. Kenzi hated the outer bits of bread, they were stupid. “I’ll let you know when she pins down a date. We’re supposed to do some kind of...visitation. Memorial. Thing. For him, soon. His body’s preserved by magic. If you want to come and see the dude we’re trying to contact. He’s wearing shark socks.”
“Shark socks?” That actually made him laugh. An interesting selection, to put on someone for a memorial service. “I’m guessing those were a gift from you. But I’ll come by - I’ll even get some practice in, before the seance, with the various spells I’m familiar with.” Max wasn’t sure how, but he would - in addition to wishing Cole was here, he also wished that he could ask Dorian for help. Dorian, who was one of the most brilliant mages in Thedas - but here, he didn’t seem to have access to many spells that a Necromancer typically cast. Not to mention the awkward, and how busy he was with other things.
However, it would be for Kenzi, as a favor to her. All of this was. So Trevelyan would get over Mt. Weirdness.
“You know...” He paused, considering a drink himself - yet he still wanted to set a sober example, so nevermind. “This place is pretty extraordinary. Things you don’t generally believe are possible, are. It will work out. And I hope you find peace either way.” Maybe the solution wasn’t going to even be anything magical. Maybe it would simply be the grieving process, until the pain began to ebb and become tolerable rather than feel like razorblades dipped in acid and lemon juice. The gift of foresight was not one he had; he’d still do whatever he could to help.
Once the second Bloody Mary made its way to the table, she did the unthinkable of dipping her sandwich into it - who cares, tomato-flavored things were supposed to go well together, and she wasn’t the most sober one at the moment and it seemed like a hella good idea. “They are, but…”
Kenzi sighed, after swallowing a mouthful of toasted grease. Maxy here was full of optimism, wasn’t he? And he wasn’t wrong, she knew that, but she always erred on the side of cynicism. Seemed more real, less likely of getting your hopes up and your heart crushed. This place had brought her and Killian together, like it was fate - it was something her brother believed in, but fate was also a huge bitch if this was supposed to be the way things happened. Not only did this place freakin’ maim him, but also had him killed.
If it had a face she’d give it her middle finger.
“I just want him home,” she finished with a grumble. “Or if...anything, I just need to know wherever he is, he’s okay.” Worst case scenario. Maybe Kenzi would have an easier time accepting their circumstance if he was actually somewhere, peaceful and happy - alive or dead, it’s all any person would want for anyone they loved.
“The closure...the knowing. It helps.” Max understood that; death was something that was a part of life, everything cyclical and repeating since the dawn of time, but when it happened, even knowing it was coming didn’t make anything easy. All anyone could ask for was that peace - the knowledge that their loved ones found what they were looking for on the other side.
No one wanted to hear that their loved one was burning in a fiery inferno.
He ate the crusts on his sandwich, not much caring - it was all the same to him, but everything was so ooey and gooey you practically had to eat the grilled cheese with a fork anyway. “I think we can accomplish that much, at least. And you can try to bring him back, you’ll do all you can - then, whatever happens, you’ll know that you tried your best. That you did whatever you could for him.”
It was an amazing thing, to love someone that much - that you’d literally go to the ends of the Earth for them, and to hell and back. Trevelyan wasn’t sure if he’d ever loved someone that much - well. Maybe he knew he had. Just not in this life, not yet.
Kenzi must have been hungry; the contents of the plate (sans the crust) were devoured quickly and it was time to finish off round two of spicy alcoholic tomato juice - vodka spiked. She sipped it while his words sunk in because, hey, in retrospect this dude was a therapist and knew exactly what the hell he was talking about, right?
Crap on a stick, life was a stupid mess.
“Thanks for giving us your expertiiiise,” she chimed in after a minute of silence, her voice a liiiiittle strained but it’d be okay - Killian was a sensitive topic, and would always be while this was going on. There was a knock of to his ankle with hers. “If you want, we can go see his girlfriend - gives you two a chance to meet, and she’ll probably want to size you up first.” Max would probably (definitely) have to drive, she was sort of hammered. “After you're finished with the noms, I mean.”
Part of the reason for insisting that they go to a place with ‘noms,’ as it were, was so Kenzi would have something to soak up the inevitable booze she drank. It wasn’t healthy (no matter what nationality you were!), plowing yourself with alcohol like that, but better to have something in the stomach than not, to offset the puking and the hangover. Didn’t even look like she had gotten over the first hangover, from the previous day.
“Anything,” Max insisted, returning the nudge under the table. “Sounds good though, I would like to meet her anyway - so she can make sure I’m a legit Necromancer,” he chuckled. Still very new at it, a fresh piece of spirit-attracting meat, and maybe he would text Dorian later after all - maybe he didn’t have the exact spells, the power, that he did in Thedas but he had to have remembered what it was like. Insight could be helpful.
This time, there was a sluuuuurrrrrp from him as he finished the soda - the sandwich was mostly gone too. A bellyful of grease, couldn’t go wrong there. Grilled cheese was one of the best forms of comfort food. “I’m ready when you are.” Bills were placed on the table, to cover everything - best to pay in cash, in a place like this.
It only took a couple seconds for her to finish. None of that cocktail would go to waste; the glass was dry like the desert by the time she was finished with it, and it was really a miracle she didn’t sway when she rose to her stylishly-clad feet. Maintaining coordination while wearing ridiculous (ridiculously awesome, technically) shoes after booze had been poured down the hatch was a finely honed skill. A super power of its own.
Kenzi adjusted the sunglasses even when they stepped out into a whole lot of darkness from the outside. A couple car alarms went off in the distance, there was a cat yowling like it’d gotten a surprise stick up its butt in some alley not far - it wasn’t anything all that startling but the patches of people loitering around, grouped up and watching the two that walked out of the establishment of diner food and cheap drinks, was kind of...unsettling.
“Take a picture, bitchcakes, it totes lasts longer,” she huffed, tightening her grip on her purse while the other hand gave Trevelyan a pat on his back. “Don’t worry, Ham Sandwich, I’m pretty much an honorary street thug. I’ll protect you.”
Oh, how reassuring. His ‘protection’ was a drunk honorary street thug - though Trevelyan assumed that despite her lack of superpowers Kenzi was pretty ruthless in a fight; she just had that look about her. Maybe it was the ice in her eyes, something not to be trifled with. Regardless. “Let’s just hurry,” he said, ushering her along to the car (obviously he would drive, had been planning on it). Idly, he wondered if he could do anything with the Inferno spells besides set his curtains on fire accidentally, like he did when Nasir was over. Awkward.
They were walking with a purpose, yet were being surrounded anyway. The ones watching, those loitering people, they loomed closer - not all of them, but four or five men who wouldn’t hesitate to beat the crap out of victims and take their money, though that skanky looking bitch. Maybe she’d be fun to toy with, and the remarks passed between them, the cajoling seemed to indicate as much - their lecherous confidence was enough to get the blood boiling.
Trevelyan didn’t have his staff on him but he reacted - perhaps involuntarily, reaching into the depths of the Fade, channeling through his hands. Anyone with that precarious connection who felt backed into a corner would. The Terror spell manifested in a flash of purple light, the apparition of a Nevarran skull appearing forebodingly in the stillness of the night before it dissipated and the offensive tactic pushed outward in a blast of magic.
The ones surrounding them stopped, as if they were paralyzed - their only movement was a tremble that shook the bones (maybe one wet his pants).
It gave them the shot at escape they’d need. “Go,” he told Kenzi, picking up the pace, dodging past a frozen figure - but there was still one other hidden actual street thug who had been out of range. He was there now, with a gun. Pulling the trigger.
Yeaaaaah, no. Kenzi wasn’t a newbie to street violence or street creeps, not a damn bit. Growing up in the streets had taught her everything she knew. How to lie, how to survive, how to be careful of who you trust. All those little, shameful things you had to do to live that she wasn’t exactly proud of but in the end, she got through it and thrived. This entire situation right here, it was something out of her adolescence - except it wasn’t wits and thieving skills with a dash of dumb luck that’d get them out of it.
Was that -
Yep, it was magic that Maxy tossed out there. Those shades had to be pulled up an atop of her head to assess more clearly what the fuck that had been, because it wasn’t like everything around them crumbled and oh shit fire, but it paralyzed the goons like they saw the inside of Honey Boo Boo's diapers. “Holy balls of Thor,” she breathed - then hiccuped because, you know, still kind of inebriated here! It didn’t slow her reactions, though, her senses of fucking danger functioned well, and in all her black mini-dressed and spiked-heel glory, she moved.
Up until she saw a muzzle of black, something with a hole, something that’d been held to her face before plenty of times in plenty of shitty situations. Something that could kill one of them, or both of them if they didn’t get the hell out of the way - which is exactly why, in her best judgment of the situation ever, tackled Maxwell to the ground against the rough, ragged asphalt in a not-so gentle manner. The kind that’d scrape your knees, cut you up, give you a whole lot of bruising, and maybe even break a heel.
It was impressive, how Kenzi kept her wits about her and reacted quickly enough - because when it came to gunshots, you either were reactionary or you were Swiss cheese. And Max didn’t particularly wanted to be riddled with bullets. Still, the sudden whumph attack and then hitting the ground kind of caught him off guard - and it hurt, because asphalt wasn’t exactly like diving into a cloud of cotton candy.
The mage saw stars for a moment, his line of vision dizzy and doubled - he didn’t realize what he’d done, but all of a sudden he couldn’t move. His own muscles hunks of solid lead, what happened next was an accidental summoning of a spirit to fight on his behalf - another flash of that skull, the glow of deeply colored light on the spectrum of heliotrope, and when it whooshed away that spirit was still there. With a hook.
Everything happened quickly. The boomstick wielded by the gun-toting attacker clattered to the ground, a sudden horrendous and debilitating chill rippling through him - the man seized with it, mouth falling open and forever frozen in a look of shock before he too hit the asphalt. Dead. The others were just coming out of the state of terror, yet like a true spirit ninja, the apparition passed through them too - a wisp of a fighter, too fast to really catch, until one by one they all dropped dead from fright, hearts having come to a screeching halt.
Now, it was still and silent. But Killian didn’t leave. He couldn’t talk, yet he lingered, what looked like necroplasm - spirit energy of a sort - rippling around his figure as he waited, eyes expressive and overcome with emotion even if he wasn’t in the flesh.
Ow, ow, ow. Concrete wasn’t fluffy, not at all, but Kenzi was at the very least conscious - unlike her buddy here, who looked like he could have stars spinning around his head at any given moment. “Max, Max! Wake up, are you -”
Things started to hit the ground. Heavy things, like actual freakin’ bodies. The ones that threatened them before, even the asshat with the gun. A flash of something caught those arctic eyes, and that something undulated through the warm night air and pulsed with a glow. Must have been a spell Max had cast before he conked out for a minute there, but her vision honed on it to see what the hell it even was because it hadn’t dissipated, it hadn’t gone away.
It was still there, watching her. He was still there.
“Killian…?” Scraped knees, a broken heel - none of that stopped her from slowly getting up from the jagged ground, disheveled and wide-eyed. Conscious of her broken shoe her movements were cautious and careful, because now she felt more sober than ever. It wasn’t a trick, it wasn’t an illusion. It was him. Max must have done this somehow. “Did you…” Don’t mind the choked little laugh, or the swell of tears. “You literally came to save our ass, didn’t you. Where are you? We’re - we want to get you, bring you back. Regina and Neal said something about Hades and the Underworld, and we miss you.”
Word vomit, so much freakin’ word vomit, but she didn’t know how much time they had and he needed to know.
There was no currently conscious medium to act as a voice for him, so Killian couldn’t quite say what he needed to - he just nodded when Kenzi mentioned Hades and the Underworld. I miss you too - he wished he could tell her, yet it wasn’t possible. His hand lifted though, palm out as if resting against an invisible barrier, a glass wall. Maybe he was trying to make contact, or maybe he was saying goodbye - not forever, just a brief farewell. Until we meet again, right?
He was tugged back to whence he came, fading out, and for Max it felt like he’d been pulled into a vacuum then spit back out - he sat up with a start, coughing to clear his throat, and took a look around the deserted parking lot.
And at the dead bodies. Those too.
“We should probably...” Get the fuck out of here?
That nod was crucial. It meant their suspicions were right, that he was in that level of limbo and that it could happen. Bringing him back was very much a thing they could do, and her hand tried reaching for his phantom form in some desperate attempt except he was vanishing, and Kenzi tried not to panic while he did. He was there, and just like that he was gone.
Oh, screw the street of bodies! “Did you see that?!” Errr. Probably not, he was out for all of that, wasn’t he? Blinking back that spill of saltwater she kind of...flailed in the spot Killian once stood, like she was trying to open up the channels herself that would allow him to come back. “My brother was here, dude! You did a fucking thing and it worked and he basically creamed these bozos and - can you do it again? Are you okay??”
Now that he could see straight, and was standing without swaying, Trevelyan would answer the questions. Maybe. “Uh - “ He stepped closer, cautious, as Kenzi flailed and attempted spellcasting all on her own, with jerky movements. Max could sort of remember - he was at least familiar enough with the various spells to recall which one he could have possibly used.
“I’m fine,” he assured, there, one inquiry at a time. “If I summon a spirit the way I just did, it means I can’t move for awhile.” Usually it meant the caster was unconscious, and the spirit was fighting for them - a spirit that was immortal and couldn’t be killed, or damaged; battles were over quickly, in that sense. Add some fire spells combined with spirit mark and meatbags started exploding right and left when you basically programmed them to be breathing bombs.
It could get messy, but anyway.
“How about I work on it? Safely, and not...just summoning him to kill people, I mean,” Max amended. But he would work on it - very diligently, as was his nature.
Well, that seemed like an annoying consequence of the spell, being immobile for it. Fluke or not, the shit was legit, and it worked, and she saw her motherfuckin’ brother and despite the corpses all around them and the watery blue eyes, Kenzi was grinning like a total idiot. So much she wasn’t even going to be mad about the broken shoe, bro. No one got shot, the shitheads were down for the count (permanently), and this was proof - proof that Killian was in a place that they could rescue him from.
It was hope, no longer a tiny little flame - but an inferno.
“You’re amazeballs,” came out her very banshee-like squeal, and her arms went around him for an impulsive embrace because she was overflowing with somewhat drunken feels, but they were very happy ones. “That just means he’s there, Max! For real reals, not just something we’re crossing our fingers about and speculating!” Maybe with the seance, they could find out more. Talk to him, find out if there’s anything they should know before they stomped all over the yard of Hades himself and took one of his souls.
“Oomph - “ was the surprised sound that Max made, when Kenzi launched herself at him for a hug. He chuckled, the sound raspy, as he patted her back in a comforting sort of way.. “He’s there, see? That’s good. Now once the seance happens, and you ask a few more questions, things will fall into place for your trip to the Underworld.”
Purgatory. The afterlife. Wherever. It worked a little differently in Thedas, as he explained earlier - and none of that was actually proven (not like it was proven in this world either, technically). Really, it was a bunch of Chantry teachings that you could either take or leave, depending on how Andrastian you were. The noble Trevelyan family of Ostwick were sort of up to their necks in all of that.
He stepped back a little to look over Kenzi, dark eyes assessing her. Just to be certain. “You’re fine too, aren’t you? No battle wounds?”
“I’m fine,” Kenzi promised, a little sniffle to accompany that easing gush of emotion. Some scruffs here, some scratches there, a missing part of her shoe, who the hell cared. Tiny, not really bothersome things that she could damn well handle - like her brother, she was a survivor. “Honestly, I am. That’s a sign I needed.” A message had gotten across from both sides, and she prayed Killian had hope, too.
Hope that he’d be out of there soon.
But it was her turn to assess him this time, just for extra reassurance. “How about you? You’re the one that was knocked out for a couple minutes. Gigi does some minor healing, I think, we can go over and tell her what happened and you two can meet, officially.”
Had he even been knocked out? It felt so weird, that was all - like he wasn’t in control of his own muscle movements and motor skills, sort of an out of body experience that left an alarming gap in his memory. Max probably wouldn’t cast that particular spell much, unless he had to - sometimes, it was necessary.
“Mostly fine too, just scraped up,” he rubbed his cheek, where there was fresh road rash and likely gravel caught in there. “Heading to her place seems like a good plan though. I’ll drive and follow your directions.”
Kenzi was also mostly sober - a jaunt in the night air, encountering the spirit of her dead brother, would probably do that.
Using his shoulder as a bit of balance to remove the shoes - she’ll mourn these, then get another pair - Kenzi was happily barefoot, and ready to get the hell out of here. “C’mon, before the cops come and this gets super awkward,” she snickered, putting those sunglasses (that somehow miraculously survived the entire ordeal) back over her eyes. Yes, she proudly does where her sunglasses at night, like the song. “Or get arrested.”