ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ (spellcasts) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-10-21 14:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, petshop of horrors: leon orcot, ₴ inactive: james barlow, ₴ inactive: julia barlow, ₴ inactive: wen qing |
WHO: The Barlow Siblings, Leon, and then Wen Qing
WHAT: Breaking the spell on Leon, James gets shot, Wen Qing brings needles and :| face (not all in that order, but you know)
WHERE: James's house
WHEN: Tonight
WARNINGS: Violence (gunshots, a magical choke-out)
STATUS: Complete
Leon had never actually been to James’ house, though they’d talked about him coming over to talk to Cheeto. In fact, James probably never even gave Leon his address. And yet, here Leon was, standing on James’ doorstop, wearing a slightly dishevelled suit, his hair slicked back instead of it’s normal scruffy state. Maybe he’d put his old skills as a detective to use, or maybe he’d just looked up James’ address in the phone book (were phone books still a thing anymore?). Who could say? However he’d found James’ address, he’d still dressed up, even if he did look tired. He rapped on James’ door with the back of his knuckles, and called out, “James? You home? We should talk.” James didn’t get visitors often, let’s just say - at least not many besides his sister (who was currently in the other room, hopefully taking a nap since she sorely needed more sleep). He’d been in the study, book cracked open with a mug of coffee placed on the antique table beside him - the windows were open too, some of them, the scent of autumn (woodsmoke and apple cider that was fresh-pressed) filtering in, along with the outside air that felt cool and satiny; Vallo was often nice this time of year. He would take advantage. The sound of the knock interrupted his reading, however. He gently nudged Cheeto from his lap where the cat had been snoozing, setting the book down, and went to go answer, brow furrowing when he realized it was Leon - strange, because he thought the other man made it clear that he didn’t want to see James. Not in any sort of romantic or friendly capacity - because he was so laser-focused on getting himself plucked from Vallo’s clutches. Something skittered up and down James’s spine. Not anything good. But he opened the door anyway. “Talk,” he repeated as the brightness of his eyes, the burning blue of young stars, narrowed into speculative squints. “Of course. Come on in. Have a seat, anywhere.” Leon stepped inside and waited for James to close the door and take the lead, content enough to follow him, making sure that Leon was between James and the front door. For all he claimed he wanted to talk, Leon didn’t seem to have anything to say. He just glanced around, taking in the decor, quietly marking the entrances and potential weapons. He didn’t sit down, either. Once he thought he had the room cased, he turned to James. “I found a way home,” he said. His voice was a little rough, vocal cords frayed, like he’d smoked too many cigarettes or had spent some time screaming. There was a boulder suddenly centered within James’s stomach - prickliness and concern spiked, and it was a tsunami about to take him under. “Did you?” he asked, stalling, and he didn’t sit either. “I suppose you came to say goodbye, then?” All that calmness about him evaporated like cold snow sizzling on a hot plate - and he stepped closer, taking hold of Leon’s shoulders, hands climbing up to cradle his face and look into the absolute deadness of his eyes. Because this wasn’t him, and James knew right away who it was. This stubborn idiot had gone to Vorerra - and he couldn’t help feeling like it was his fault. “Please just let me look,” he whispered urgently. “You have to let me look.” He’d seen a lot in hospital psych units - it wasn’t the horrorshow that the media portrayed. Mostly it was people attempting to pick up the pieces of their lives broken by disorders such as depression and schizophrenia; everything from poetry recited by patients to musical instruments, to chatting with family members as they healed and came together again. He had to realize that he was never going to have that with his own family - there was no strength in healing, there was just them wanting to ruin James’s life because he’d gotten out. Breaking a mind control spell was difficult - especially one put in place by a witch as powerful as a Vorerra head. James would try though - probably get hurt in the process, but he had to do something. “Confractus - ” He started, eyes squeezing shut to attempt to concentrate. There was a flicker of something in Leon's eyes when James touched his face, a flicker of regret, or pleading, a silent warning to for James to get away from him, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared and was replaced by Leon slamming his fist into James' stomach, followed by a cross punch to his jaw. Leon stepped back a couple paces, reaching under his jacket and producing his gun. He'd logged thousands of hours at the gun range, until he was accurate enough to shoot a knife in motion from a killer's hands; he hadn't missed a shot in years. But he missed his shot now, with James only a yard away from him. If the bullet made contact at all, it didn't do more than graze his ear. Oof. James wasn’t sure what hurt more - being punched in the face (not to mention the stomach punch knocked the wind out of him), the graze of a bullet, or the fact that it was Leon doing all of this. Or actually, everything hurt in various ways - he could feel bruises blossoming like clusters of stars, but he lunged forward and attempted to wrestle the gun from Leon’s grasp. The graze meant James was still bleeding though, droplets onto the floor - he couldn’t concentrate enough to work the spell and even so, by himself it probably wouldn’t be enough; he needed backup. Fingers clawed at skin, he grasped the gun and tried to twist his body enough to keep a grip and wrench the weapon away - that was first priority, breaking the spell was second. She probably heard the gunshot go off (didn’t seem like there was a silencer on this thing - even so, shots with a silencer were still kind of loud) but James still mentally called for his sister. JULIA, the message was broadcast loud and clear - she hated when psionic communication was used, and she hadn’t even tapped into her magic in awhile anyway, but this was an emergency. Working the night shift and indulging in as many extracurriculars as Julia did often meant she didn’t get a lot of actual sleeping done. She had blackout curtains on her windows back at her place, but her roommate had gotten a boyfriend recently. Which, fine, great — good for her. But it put their little arrangement at an end and the boyfriend, unfortunately, had the same working hours Julia did and a desperate need to impress her roommate. Basically, they were fucking during the hours Julia was worn out, fucked out, and just wanted to sleep. It was all the more annoying because she never slept well. Her subconscious wasn’t kind to her, hadn’t been in years. She usually topped out at four hours and had spent plenty of time functioning on less, living on energy potions when she bottomed out and there was still work to be done. That part of her life, thankfully, was over, and she just wanted to sleep in peace. Unfortunately, her space had been compromised. So, she’d been spending more and more time at James’s place and slowly taking over the spare bedroom he’d offered instead of taking the couch and intruding on Cheeto’s space. She loved her cat-nephew more than most people, but she was too exhausted to put up with cat paws in her face today. She’d been sleeping as deeply as she ever could for just shy of her four hour limit when she was abruptly jolted awake. The sound of a gun firing was what did it, loud and distinct and too familiar, instantly followed by James’s voice SHOUTING in her head. Years and years of training kicked in and she was on her feet in the space of a breath, yanking the bedroom door open with such force that it audibly banged against the wall. James’s house was small in a quaint sort of way and it was easy to head into the living room and quickly assess what had happened. Her brother and a tall, blonde guy she didn’t recognize were standing in the middle of the room struggling with a gun between them while James bled from his ear, blood dripping down his neck and onto the hardwood floor. Her eyes flashed with something dark as she approached them and she threw one hand up, balled it into a fist, and let the first spell that came to her mind fall from her lips as she stared into this gunman’s eyes. “Suffocat.” Tendrils of dark magic instantly appeared, wrapping tight around the gunman’s neck and squeezing, quickly starting to close his throat. Offensive spells were Julia’s strongest suit as an ex-enforcer, drilled into her until they were as simple and thoughtless as breathing. All it needed was her to focus her energy, to want to inflict the harm she was causing. And fuck, she wanted to. She wanted to see the man who had dared to hurt her brother choke and struggle to breathe. This was why she’d been good at her job, why she’d been pushed back against so hard and forced to fight her way out of their clutches. And it was why she’d won. Leon grit his teeth and though he stop his struggle against James, as if Leon's need to breathe came second to his desire to harm. He slammed his heel down on James' foot and managed to bring the gun to bear, firing off a shot before his strength flagged. His grip on the sidearm loosened, and he sank to his knees. Oh, now that hurt. Being shot hurt. It was, admittedly, a clean shot - through and through, right on his leg and just barely missing his femur, which would have been an even bigger pain if such an important part of the body became bone shards. Still, it meant even more blood - it flowed from the wound, James suddenly becoming a leaky faucet, and his cry of pain was along the lines of a snarl with grit teeth because ow. Everything happened quickly though - Leon was being choked out in a way that looked all too familiar to him; James hadn’t ever really been involved in the nitty-gritty like how Julia had been, but he had his own damages and had witnessed a few basement murders in his childhood home. Wide blue eyes, hidden behind sofas and in corners, hands covering his ears - all of that came rushing back to him with the force of a tidal wave. At least his life wasn’t exactly flashing before his eyes, though. He wrenched the gun away from Leon while his grip was slack, kicking the weapon across the floor. “Perfodit in tenebris - ” he sounded desperate, and maybe that’s because he was. But his vision was also swimming and he was losing blood fast; the mind control spell needed to be broken, however. “Julia, please - ” James wasn’t above begging. She knew the words to help him. “They made him come here and do it.” Perfodit in tenebris. Infrigo. Subvertite confringite statuas. The strength of Julia’s rage wavered when another shot fired and hit James in the leg, replaced with regret. She should have focused on the gun instead of the man behind it; she could easily have vanished it and prevented another shot from being fired at all. But it was too late now. She’d reacted and this was the consequence for acting without thinking. She should have known better. But she didn’t have time to drown herself in that feeling. James’s voice beside her, pleading with her for help — she couldn’t ignore that. He was hurt and bleeding and she had to act fast, she had to deal with this. Of course this asshole was under Vorerra control; they were always after James for leaving. They hated her just as much, but she’d gotten out the way you were supposed to get out and James had escaped unscathed. He was always their target. There was no point holding back now. She’d already broken and used her magic. She knew what needed to be done. Her skills with the mind didn’t even touch James’s, but she could manage. And with him by her side, it would be like a mega power boost. She could do this. She had to. Grabbing James’s hand with her right and squeezing, she raised her left hand again and refocused, the words steady and confident and falling off her tongue just as naturally as any curse she’d ever uttered. “Perfodit in tenebris. Infrigo. Subvertite confringite statuas.” For a moment, it looked like Leon would make another lunge at the siblings, except then, all at once, he was himself again, the last several hours crashing over him all at once, and he collapsed in on himself. The contents of his stomach lurched, the rush of everything overwhelming, and he was almost certain he was going to be sick, but he forced it down and made himself take a deep, steadying breath, trying to focus on the feeling of the floor under his knees, of the fabric of his jacket under his fingers, and he thought he was okay. “James,” he croaked, already shrugging out of his suit jacket and revealing the shoulder holster and the white dress-shirt underneath. He folded the jacket quickly, sloppily and offered it to the woman who was holding James’ hand. “You can use this to put pressure on it,” he said, apparently to her, except he was staring at James, searching his face. He wanted to reach out and touch him, to make sure he’d be okay, but given the fact that he’d just tried to murder him, he was pretty sure that was the last thing he should be doing. He was only reluctantly able to pull his gaze away from him. “Where’s your phone? I’ll call an ambulance.” The pain was an explosion of agony, but the mind control spell was broken - snapped like a bundle of dry twigs - and James was relieved about that part, at least. He slumped on the floor, still holding onto Julia’s hand but the grip was a little looser now - and he was cold, clammy, trying to remember how to even think straight. Thank you, he passed the thought over to her and then squirreled himself away from any psionic communication between the two of them, since he knew she didn’t care for that sort of thing. Surely he would have to go over all of this later (using actual words, out loud) and she wasn’t going to be particularly happy about Leon, but James didn’t blame him for this, not really. No, he blamed himself more. “It’s on the counter,” he said about his phone, grimacing. “But message Wen Qing instead.” An ambulance just brought questions and he didn’t want to deal with those. “Message her and then get the hell out,” Julia amended for her brother, snatching the jacket she was offered out of his hands. Her gaze hadn’t softened one bit, and the anger was still bubbling up, just barely contained by her concern for James taking precedence. She didn’t know who the fuck this guy was, but she knew he had been under their former coven’s control. And while they may have broken that hold on his mind, she had no reason to trust him. Giving up his jacket to help her stem the flow of blood from a bullet wound he’d inflicted was the least he could do. She knelt down beside her brother, wrapping the jacket around the wound on his leg and pressed her hand palm down on it to put pressure on it and hope it made a damn bit of difference. She had some experience with dealing with field wounds but Vorrera wasn’t known for their healing spells and she was coming up blank. “I got you, big brother,” she told him. “Stay with me, alright?” Leon was already on his feet and heading to the kitchen, practically before James finished saying the word ‘counter.’ He didn’t bother responding to the woman’s amendment, but that was only because doing so would have wasted time that they might not have. He messaged Wen Qing, and when it took longer than half a second for her to respond, he phoned her too, with the urgent calmness born of having a career making stressful calls like this, and then, at the end of the call, he took a moment there to collect himself. He still felt like he was going to be sick, and his hands were shaking, and even if that creep Mathis had been in charge, had made Leon shoot James against his will, Leon had still been the one to do it, had still been aware of every moment of it, hadn’t managed to stop himself. He’d offered himself up on a silver platter; he’d practically begged for something like this to happen. He ran a hand down his face and straightened, glaring at his hands until they stopped their tremors, and then came back into the living room. He knelt down, hopefully at a distance far enough that she wouldn’t think that he was about to be a threat again, and pushed the phone across the floor toward her, just in case she needed it again before Wen Qing arrived. “Thank you, for… for stopping me,” he said, which didn’t really feel like enough but it was the best he could manage right now, and then he turned to James. “James, I…” I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. That seemed like a conversation to have when James wasn’t bleeding out. Christ, he looked bad. “I’ll go wait outside,” he said at last. He imagined when the woman had told him to get out she probably also meant and go far away, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to complete abandon the scene of the crime, and he couldn’t imagine going anywhere until he knew that James was going to be okay. "Don't go far," James insisted - and while he didn't really want Leon to go anywhere at all, he understood that having him and Julia in the same space right now just wasn't wise. She didn't really know who he was (James had mentioned Leon before but nothing that would indicate 'oh, he might come in mind-controlled and shoot me') and he didn't really know her either. Fuck. He really wished they were meeting under better circumstances. James would take an awkward family dinner over attempted homicide. So he tried to help apply pressure on his own wound, but eventually gave up, turning pale as a lonely moon and - attempting to focus his vision. To stay with her, as Julia wanted. Wen Qing had cultivated a persona of “unbothered” for so long that it came naturally, even in moments of complete disquiet. Her red robes were neat, her hair pulled back and behind her so it wouldn’t interfere with her work, and her gaze was calm and sharp as she made her way to James’s home. She’d been off for a half-hour - just enough time to have a quarter-glass of wine and be interrupted by a phone call from a Leon Orcot - and while she had initially been annoyed at the interruption all irritation had vanished as Leon had articulated the words that brought her here tonight: an accident. James. Come quickly. And she had. She’d dropped her money on the counter and abandoned her drink, her face drawn into a blank as she made her way through town at a fair clip. Luckily, no one stopped her, and she thought she recognized the Leon in question, loitering guiltily as he was outside the house. Strange, she noted, but didn’t immediately condemn him. He was likely just watching the road for her. She gave a hasty bow - a sink of her knees and a perfunctory lowering of her head, such were old habits - and rose, all business once again. “Is he inside?” Leon was already on his second cigarette by the time the woman he assumed must be Wen Qing came, which, by all measures, wasn't much time at all. He still hoped it hadn't been too much time. He tilted his head in response to her bow. "Yeah, just in the living room," he said, opening the door for her, but he didn't attempt to step past the threshold himself. Julia knew she couldn’t let James pass out while he was injured like this. The worst of his damage was from the shot to his leg, but his ear had clearly been grazed, too, and still dripped a bit of blood even now. She didn’t know that it hadn’t caused some sort of head injury, and while she was no doctor, she wasn’t going to take the chance of letting him fall asleep and more damage being caused by her carelessness. So, while they waited for James’s healer friend to make her appearance, she was doing what she did best: talking. A lot. All PG, nothing graphic — maybe PG-13 at best. It was all a little rambly and unfocused, flitting through happier childhood memories before landing on regaling him with stories of one of her regulars, this woman who was on her fifth husband and had a reputation as a black widow. And not in the positive, Avengers, hot Natasha Romanoff kind of way. It hadn’t been too terribly long since the call to the healer when Julia heard the door creaking open and looked up to see a woman in red robes standing in the doorway. “In here!” she called, cutting herself off to grab her attention. She knew a little bit about Wen Qing from James; apparently, he trusted her and she’d had some Vorerra-like experience with a clan in her own world. So, she was choosing to trust her, too. “Tell me what I can do to help,” she pleaded. “Anything, he’s getting cold.” The stories from Julia helped - they were colorful, and he knew she liked her job quite a bit - it was always nice to hear about more light-hearted parts of her life, given everything else she’d been through. Besides, distractions meant that James wasn’t entirely focused on how he really couldn’t focus on anything at all. He’d managed to grow up in Vorerra and not have been ripped into by a bullet or bullets, but he’d seen plenty of it happen - whenever his family felt like using guns, that is. Sometimes they didn’t need to. Magic dark as death itself usually happened to be their go-to. Being shot was - surprisingly mundane, yet something he’d always remember. “I’m okay,” he tried to insist, wanting to reassure his sister, fingers loosely linked with hers - he was probably doing a shit job of it but, well. It was an attempt. “Thanks for coming, Wen Qing.” The healer made a noise under her breath that really could have been anything - a greeting, a sound of acknowledgment of the blood, whatever - because she was already taking stock of James’s wounds. The ear graze she noted and immediately ignored; ears were notorious for their copious bleeding and what concerned her more readily was the leg wound. Upper thigh. She did a magical scan, her gloved fingers spread wide, and gave a small, imperceptible nod. He was lucky the femoral artery hadn’t been severed; he would have already bled out otherwise. Wen Qing looked back up at Julia, a bit blankly at first before she realized who she was looking at. James’s sister. “Julia,” she said, not unkindly, “You did great, wrapping the wound like this. I’m going to need you to get two bowls of hot water, one with soap in it, some clean cloth, and a sweatshirt for your brother.” From what she could tell, the bullet wound was going to be a pain in the ass, but it wasn’t deadly. Close-range, though. Which begged all kinds of questions that she shut down in her brain immediately, because she needed to focus on the task. Pulling out a small kit which contained scissors and silver needles, she cut James’s pants around the wound so she could get at it more cleanly. “Sorry, James. I hope these pants weren’t sentimental,” Wen Qing said, deadpan, giving him a quick, reassuring smile before explaining the rest: “I’m going to use cultivation magic to cut off the brunt of the pain to the area. You should feel relief quickly.” Her hands worked quickly and methodically as she placed the needles at various points on his thigh and knee. If there was one thing Julia responded well to, it was firm direction, and Wen Qing had that down pat. “Right, okay,” she agreed with a nod. She gave James’s hand a final squeeze before getting to her feet to do as she was instructed. The bowls of hot water came first, one with soap and one without, followed quickly by a clean washcloth from the linen closet down the hall. The sweatshirt took a little bit longer, but she was able to wrangle one out of James’s closet in fairly short order and return with it wrapped up in her arms. She knelt down at James’s side again, giving Wen Qing enough space to continue working. She held the sweatshirt until she was instructed otherwise, not wanting to shove it into the younger woman’s arms while she was working. She was also maybe a little fascinated by her process; they weren’t healers around here, and other than her encounters with some of the Silniara coven’s tactics, she didn’t know much about it. Losing pants, a rip in them, was really the least of James’s concern. He chuckled under his breath, offering a wan smile. “No attachment to those,” he agreed. Admittedly, he was kind of fascinated with the process too - he’d been to see Wen Qing at the clinic a few times, just to learn more about her craft and also get to know her; as they’d discussed, tending to mental wounds were a lot more difficult than the physical, but he’d been interested in seeing how she accomplished that for both types. Well. Looks like he would get his wish. “It - no, I don’t feel any pain though.” It actually sort of surprised him, but in a good way - he was glad that the hurting part evaporated. Helped him focus a little better, and not give Julia a scare by passing the fuck out. “So that part’s appreciated.” “I thought it might be,” Wen Qing said with a brief conspiratorial smile, and set about using the water that Julia had provided to wash out the wound, switching out the tie of the blood-drenched sweatshirt to stave off the worst of the bleeding as she went. Her gestures were a little exaggerated; with a flick of her eyes to Julia, she understood that she was being watched. Fine with her. If James wasn’t keen on going to the hospital, Julia would likely be helping him by doing exactly this for at least a few days, so a demonstration was useful to them both. It didn’t take long for her to be satisfied with James’s leg, now free of needles and wrapped tightly. She left a jar of ointment to prevent infection and to encourage healing without scars by James, and gestured to Julia that it was okay to put the clean, warm sweatshirt on him. “You’ll heal fine,” she said, “albeit you might limp for a week or so. I’ve got it clean now - you’ll want to change those bandages every few hours for the next three days. If you see any additional redness or puffiness, let me know immediately. Otherwise I’ll be by tomorrow morning to check on you. I hope I don’t have to tell you to stay off of it until I tell you otherwise.” She stood, her professional veneer cracking slightly as she took in the siblings, back and forth. “Neither of you seem stupid enough to discharge a weapon accidentally.” Julia was listening raptly, blue eyes laser-focused on Wen Qing as she spoke. It was a good thing she had been making herself so comfortable here because she wouldn’t be leaving James’s side for the next three days. He was going to be sick of her hovering in no time, but she wasn’t leaving him alone with this. She wasn’t even sure he could be alone with this, and with that in mind, she slung her arm around his back to try to help him ease up to his feet. He needed to be sitting comfortably on the couch, at least. Her expression quickly darkened when Wen Qing, understandably, addressed the source of the wound she had been asked here to fix. “Apparently, there was mind control involved,” she said shortly. Not because she was upset by the question, and she forced her lips into a small smile to make that much clear, but because now that the panic had cleared, she was still angry. Whoever the hell that blonde guy was - he should feel lucky her brother had interfered before she let it get the best of her. “Thank you again,” James exhaled gratefully, arm reaching for Julia so she could help him to his feet. He’d just go on and limp to the couch, then - without putting any pressure on his leg. Or much pressure. “I promise I won’t go running any marathons or even putting weight on it at all until you tell me to,” he added, since - if nothing else - he was a good patient (he’d been on the other side of things and unruly patients who refused to follow doctor’s orders when they were fully capable of doing so could actually be quite frustrating). He winced a bit as he settled on the couch, but it didn’t have to do with pain - no, all of that had dissipated and he was feeling surprisingly decent. Not hovering on death’s doorstep. “Mind control,” he backed up what Julia was saying. “And Vorerra wanting to send a message - to me, mostly. They like to cause pain with their messages.” Physical, emotional, mental - because James felt like shit about it for a few different reasons, and who the fuck knew what they had done to Leon when he went to them. There was also the aspect of not being in control of your own actions, a prisoner in your own mindscape, wanting to stop what you were doing but you couldn’t - it was traumatizing. Wen Qing’s lips thinned at Julia’s response and James’s confirmation. Mind control. The Wen clan had stooped to it with the puppets, as they had called them: friendly people made ravenous killers by the influence of the cursed Yin Iron. They’d woken up later wondering why on earth they had done the things they had been forced to do. Nasty business. She wasn’t surprised that Vorerra seemed to be of the same cloth. Leon hovering with a stricken look on his face outside the house suddenly made a degree more sense. “If they did this to you, they’ll do it again to someone else unless they’re stopped.” Her voice was calm, pleasant-sounding steel as she put her supplies back in her kit one-by-one. She didn’t elaborate further. James and Julia could read between the lines with whatever retaliation they decided upon. “You two aren’t alone. The Outlander Coven could - and would - be useful, if that’s how you decide to approach this.” She smiled then, professionally, distantly. “It isn’t my business what you decide to do. It’s only my business to make sure James gets well.” Wen Qing was no narc. She’d grown up in a snake pit and knew which battles to pick. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t employ a few different faces, if the situation called for it. “Does Mr. Orcot require my services?” Orcot. Julia had to assume that was the guy who had come in here doing Vorerra’s bidding and caused all of this shit. The name didn’t ring a bell, but she knew James had to be familiar with him or he wouldn’t have let him in to begin with. She’d get the details from her brother in a bit. “I choked him out to get him to back off, so he might need his throat looked at,” she admitted openly. She wasn’t going to apologize for doing what she had to do in an attempt to help her brother, but it didn’t seem as if Wen Qing expected her to. She really did seem to get it — and the offer of help from the Outlander Coven was noted, too. “Thank you for your help, seriously. I’ll help out to make sure he heals up the way he should.” The idea of retaliation was - well, admittedly, James’s blood (what remained in his body, anyway - gods, this room was kind of a mess now) boiled in anticipation at the thought of it. He tried to remain calm in most situations, and he was the first to admit that the intricacies of Vorerra were woven tightly (family was always complicated) - but this was personal. Very personal. If he could press a button to just eject Vorerra into the sun, he really fucking felt like he’d push it right about now. Then again, it was also a vicious cycle - violence upon violence, serpents swallowing their own tails. This was why he’d wanted to get out of that ouroboros. They'd sent their message, now he hoped they would just back the fuck off. “I - appreciate that. Not being alone. It was kind of my fear that we would be,” he admitted. He fully expected zero of the Outlanders to not want to deal with shit like this, and who could blame them? James had plenty of friendships and non-relationships poof into nothingness because being associated with someone from that coven was a right pain. Literally, it seemed. But yes, Leon. James thought that they might need to have a conversation. At some point. Maybe after things settled a little. “I think he could use a look-over - hopefully he’s still outside.” Someone could tell him to come back in - it was marginally safe now. Leon had managed three more cigarettes before he’d made himself stop, both because he realized he was running low and he should probably keep the last three for if he really needed them before he could stop by and pick up some more, and because his throat, which had already been raw and ragged before the woman had tried suffocating him with magic now felt like it was about to start bleeding and he was that unpleasant, queasy kind of lightheaded that came from smoking way too many cigarettes in too short a time. He’d been squatting against the wall, hands tangled in the hair on the back of his head, thinking of Harry and D and James when he heard someone at the door, but he thought he managed to scramble to his feet before Wen Qing saw him like that and invited him back inside. He swayed a little when he caught sight of all the blood in the living room - not the first or even the worst time he’d seen a scene like that, not even the first time he’d caused a scene like that, but it hit him like a punch to the gut all the same. He had years of practice stepping out of himself for this sort of thing though, and that’s what he did now, stepping into the living room with a carefully blank face. It cracked, a little, when he saw James, pale and clammy but alive and conscious. “Are you,” he started, and then his voice gave out and he was forced to swallow and clear his throat. “Will you be okay?” he asked. “He’ll be fine,” interjected Wen Qing, because she wasn’t great with people having emotional conversations, and one look at Leon’s tight face indicated that this was gonna get as messy as the blood-soaked room. “Step into the light, please, so I can see you.” She was using her best pleasant “do-it-or-else” voice. Wen Qing had had a lot of practice with that particular voice. She felt echoes of the magic that had been used against Leon. Magic unfamiliar to her. Her eyes slid to where Julia was standing briefly, wondering at the kind of will that could summon this kind of thing when she’d known that Julia hadn’t practiced in some time. But that wasn’t important. Satisfied with what she saw, she dug into her purse to produce a vial of red liquid. “Swallow one tablespoon of this every four hours,” she instructed Leon, handing him the vial. “Your throat is going to be sore, and it’s a little swollen. I advise you to stick to liquids for the next twenty-four hours or so, but it’ll get better on its own. If it doesn’t, message me.” “I’ll be fine,” James echoed, though he sounded a touch softer when he said it - soft in timbre and tone, anyway, though he respected Wen Qing’s no-nonsense ways. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be bleeding out on the floor most likely. “Definitely listen to her though,” he added, canting his chin in the direction of their healer. He’d hate to know what would happen if anyone dared to not listen to Wen Qing. Fuck, what a night. As soon as he could, he was going to sleep - hopefully Julia wouldn’t mind if he shelved details of the what and why of this whole adventure until he was at least a tad more coherent. And he’d talk to Leon too. Admittedly that seemed more terrifying than the effects of a gunshot wound, but alright. He’d buck up and get it done regardless. Leon had half-expected to walk out of here in cuffs, though he probably should have known better: people who had these kinds of hits taken out on them didn’t normally go to the police, usually for good reason. A lot of the cops at the LAPD had been in the pay of some of those crime families, and he’d be surprised if Vallo Police was much different. Though, instead of pay, they could just be under straight mind-control. That was a chilling thought. Even still, he was surprised that he was being given sore throat medication, as if he didn’t deserve to be in at least some pain after what he’d done. He almost refused - his plan had just been to buy some menthol cigarettes and some peppermint tea - but then James was saying he should listen to her, and so with a frown he took the vial, studied it for a moment, and muttered a quiet “Thank you,” before slipping it into his trouser pockets. Knowing James was going to be okay made it easier for him to step out again, able to once adopt the grim calmness he’d perfected in his years as a homicide detective, and he turned back to James and the woman on the couch. She was the only one who was looking at him how he deserved to be looked at, and now that he had more time to study her, he was pretty sure this was James’ sister. The family resemblance was there, at least. He felt a sudden rush of gratitude toward her, and turned his attention to James. “Call me when you’re up for it. We need to talk.” He was pretty sure that James had wanted nothing to do with him after their last conversation, and beat up and shot a couple of times probably didn’t help that very much, but at the very least he had to tell him what he’d learned from Mathis. It probably wasn’t anything James didn’t already know, but he needed to make sure of that. |