Sabrina Spellman (pathofnight) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-06-23 16:00:00 |
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Where better to start picking out things than the Demonikea in town? Well, there was the Pottery Barn that she was certain was haunted, but she was less likely to get a discount there.
The workers were too cheerful, their smiles just a bit too wide and their demeanor overly helpful--a sure sign that most of them weren’t human. It set her teeth on edge the same way that dealing with the demons in Hell did, the underlying nastiness bubbling just below the surface as they waited to take on an unexpecting soul. At sixteen she’d have hightailed it right back out of the place, but at twenty-two, Sabrina reciprocated the smile, carrying enough bite to keep them back, as she strode on by and looked around for a familiar blond.
She probably should have texted to see if he was even working that day. Oh well.
As luck would have it, Callum was working that day. Well. “Working.” Some semblance of working, despite the fact that he was actually perched on a couch in a model of a living room, playing on his phone, not wearing anything resembling the Demonikea uniform. The lack of work ethic wasn’t personal. Callum had been dialing it in for years. Work offered a different place to be bored in a sea of other people’s emotions, and he was paid for it. Callum sorely missed his family’s money here at Vallo - sure, he wasn’t hurting for cash (and, truth be told, anything he really wanted he could just walk out of the store with) but still. Effort.
He sensed Sabrina before he saw her - he felt someone’s recognition of him, rippling over him into certainty, and he looked up to see who it was. Sabrina. The corner of his mouth twitched in greeting. Callum had been accused of not having feelings - of being devoid of them, but he’d always thought that such an unfair assessment. He felt things. He just felt things acutely. And he felt that Sabrina was amusing, useful, and entirely unfazed with moral gray areas that troubled other people. The Alexandrian Society would have had a field day with her, if they could survive her. “Welcome to Demonikea, where we create a better life every day for some people,” he said flatly and gave the couch cushion beside him a pat. “May I interest you in a catalog.”
The problem with being in a place that Sabrina was certain was full of demons was that her mannerisms slipped into those she used in Hell. Everything about her was harder, harsher, the lines of her body almost sharper. She'd learned quickly that it was an eat or be eaten place, especially when one had the throne. She had tried to change that when she was younger but it had been a useless endeavor, like trying to change someone into a better person when they didn't want to be. Only the hellhounds got her softer side now and the souls that she released. Being nice to a demon meant getting stabbed in the back later on. Literally, most of the time.
The couch was comfy though.
"Do they eat those that they don't 'create a better life for' or…?" she asked, her smile mostly teeth as she drew her fingers along the couch. "And does this come in a dark red or champagne?"
“Didn’t ask. The break room’s kept fairly neat though. If they’re eating people, they’re at least doing it with discretion.” That was a problem for other people. Callum was under no illusions that Demonikea was anything other than evil, but honestly, it was impossible to be morally unblemished when working for nearly any corporation, right?
He glanced at the tag on the edge of the couch. “Mm. The available colors are ‘crimson rain’, ‘darkest night’ - that’s a cerulean - and ‘hench’. I think that’s a brown.” He dropped the tag, carelessly leaned back with the air of someone who could fall asleep right here and now if he desired. “Do you want the grand tour?”
What Sabrina enjoyed best about Callum was she truly never knew what he was going to say. Would it amuse her or possibly infuriate, whichever way it went it was nice being surprised from minute to minute. Part of her wondered if she should look deeper into the whole eating thing, but the place had been around for decades and no one had batted an eye. No point in her adding another crusade under her belt. Especially when some things balanced out others and she didn't know all the ins and outs for this one.
The last thing she wanted to do was bring about the end of the world. Again. Twice was enough already.
"I want the tour, unless I'm keeping you from an important nap." Her lips twitched with amusement as she rose. "I doubt this is the most comfortable place in here for that." Crimson rain was a contender for color choices though, but she was marking ‘darkest night’ right off the list.
“I prefer the bedroom suite section for my naps.” Callum felt curiosity coming from her - tinged with a bit of apprehension, that he could likewise sense her choosing to set aside for the moment - without trying. People’s emotions were as loud as their words to him, ambient noise as he went through his life. He stood, somehow managing to slouch elegantly even as he got to his feet, and started down the hall.
“For the most part, it’s what you’d expect: we’re on what they call the showroom floor. This is living area - down there, storage, further on, kitchen, bedrooms, something nebulously called ‘inspiration’, and of course child furniture. I think the children’s quarters are the most harrowing. I keep putting the chalk up, but someone’s always drawing pentagrams on the floor.” He looked at her over his shoulder, smiling lazily. “I can practically hear Roz sigh about it from here.”
Callum and beds brought about a fleeting spark of desire stirring inside of Sabrina but she let it trickle away as she scanned the area. For all intents and purposes it seemed like a regular old store. The pentagrams continually popping up on the floor didn’t phase her either. She’d been around them all her life, had crocheted ones spinning around her head in her nursery courtesy of her Aunt Hilda when she was really young. “You might be surprised about Roz. I used to doodle pentagrams in my notebooks in high school and she rarely batted an eye.” Upside down crosses were another matter.
“Is the table with the chairs that kept changing still around?” she asked as she ran her fingers along one of the living room chairs they were walking by, lips twisting. It wasn’t quite up to standard, which technically made it more appealing because the demons would hate it. Probably not as viscerally as they had when she’d made everything become a ‘Hello Kitty’ version but it’d grate on them over time, which was even more delightful.
“I kind of want to get it if it is and change it up for the meeting table in Hell and watch certain annoying scheming demons go poof.”
Callum inclined his head a little at Sabrina’s gentle correction; he’d defer to her regarding when evil magic actually meant business and when it simply looked upsetting. Callum, as a rule, didn’t bother with evil magic, firstly because he was the annoying kind of moral relativist, and secondly because it seemed like it involved a lot of work if you didn’t want to get cursed yourself, and Callum did not. Sabrina, Roz - from what little he knew, they had experienced the sort of Big Evil that he preferred to avoid. It didn’t play to his strengths, after all.
“That table? It is,” he confirmed, switching his gait to head to the office area so she could see all the exciting demonic tables for herself. “The one in question is mid-century modern, but they have another that leans minimalist if you prefer that style. The biggest problem we’ve been having lately are the shopping trolleys.” He mimed pushing a cart around to make the meaning clear; he presumed being from South Africa there were other ways to reference the wheeled cart. “You know how some people won’t return them to the holding lane? Let them clutter up the parking lot? Well, lately they’ve taken to--” Callum searched for the appropriate terminology to describe the carts’ behavior: “hunting.”
Sabrina stopped walking, her delight over picking out a new table quickly evaporating as he talked about the shopping carts. She presumed they were hunting the customers and not the employees. It was an annoying behavior and one that should be curbed, making it harder for others to do their job or to get what they needed but…
“What happens if they catch them?” she asked, lips pursing as her fingers itched with a need to do something. If they just frightened them then whatever. It wasn’t like she hadn’t unleashed spiders on her arachnophobic principle for her own benefit when she was younger. But if they were eating them…then what? None of the covens were stepping in to do anything about this place. She could always bring it up to Thurvishar and Bonnie later on. She was supposed to be doing less, not take on more causes.
She held up a hand as she started walking again. “Nevermind. I don’t want to know.” She motioned for Callum to continue on. “Neither are really my style but I think mid-century modern would annoy my demons more, so let’s go with that one.”
Callum shrugged lazily as they entered the office furniture area. “So far, the trollies have just been running people over. Which isn’t pleasant, but as far as diabolical plots go, there have been worse.” The trollies largely avoided the workers, but Callum didn’t do any work outside because ew so either way he was safe from them. He flashed Sabrina a faintly amused expression. “Please don’t try to save the world - again - in this Demonikea. I don’t want to figure out another job I only have to occasionally attend. Oh - “ he gestured ahead, “there’s the table.”
It looked like a normal table, and it was reasonably priced. Everything about it was very ordinary, as long as you didn’t mind the fact that it didn’t seem to be casting a shadow. “How many demons do you have to annoy, anyhow?” Callum asked, flipping over the price tag to show her.
“I’m out of the ‘saving the world business’.” Or at least she was trying really hard to be. Vallo had incidents but thankfully not too many world-ending sort of deals. But maybe if she told herself it enough she’d actually manage to stick to it. She scrunched her nose as she looked over at Callum. “Feel free to be all ‘Sabrina, no’ if I get too close to doing so again. Habits are hard to kick.”
She glanced at the price tag, not particularly caring how much it cost. The table itself was perfect, something she knew the others would detest on sight. “But I have a couple hundred. None of the heavy hitters are here. It’s mostly the ones who torture souls in the ‘Forest of Torment’ or the ‘Sea of Sorrows’. A few who keep the palace functioning. None that are going to continuously battle it out for control of the throne though. Or work really hard to manipulate me to marry them or some other ridiculous plan to get their hands on it.”
Callum shot her what could best be termed an ‘expression’ - he’d read her reluctance loud and clear, her troubled emotions regarding her retirement from being a world-saver. Callum was no hero, and was perfectly fine with not being one - drama was only fun when it was happening to other people, after all. “What am I, your Virgil guiding you through a dark twisted labyrinth of learning not to give a fuck?” he asked, amused. “If you start talking as if you’ve a responsibility to the world, don’t worry; I’m certain I’ll have an opinion I’ll share.” He was, after all, very good at giving snide opinions.
As for the demons, he wrinkled his nose and said succinctly: “Gross.” The thought of having sycophants determined to either marry you or neutralize you was not one he particularly liked. “Absolutely ridicule them with the banality of midcentury modern.”
She rolled her eyes, finding him rather ridiculous, but that was what she liked about him. It kept her on her toes and was so different from how everyone else treated her in Vallo. Her therapist would probably have a field day with it if she'd still been seeing him.
"I'm pretty sure it's called friendship, Callum." Because Sabrina had claimed him as one. It didn't matter if he reciprocated that or not--she wasn't even sure he did the whole friendship thing--but he was counted among hers now. She didn't expect anything from friendship really, but anyone who messed with those she cared about risked a world of pain.
"And come on now, you'd be Dante not Virgil," she replied, amused. "Let's keep to the brand."
She turned toward the table again. "But I'll take this and some ridiculous chairs too. I don't care which ones." One room done and about fifty more to go but those were for another time. She already had some ideas from the other items she'd glimpsed during the tour. "When do you get off? There's a new club opening tonight and I got an invite. Thought you might be interested and then we could head back to your place or mine for the rest of the night together."
It was likely a good thing that Sabrina didn’t care whether or not Callum had much use for friendship given that he was entirely terrible with the concept, being mostly unable to care about anyone save himself. Still, entertainment required people, he liked being liked, and he hated being lonely. It was almost very close to wanting friendship, if you squinted at it the right way.
“I get off whenever I’d like,” he answered in a tone that implied that she probably could have safely assumed the answer to that, but he was smiling. “So yes, lead on to new places, Virgil. I’ll follow, if there’s cocktails.”
Sabrina mock gasped as she pressed her hand to her chest. “Like I’d ever take you to a place without cocktails. You'll be entertained. That's all you're looking for, isn't it?" she asked, shrugging lightly. It was all Sabrina was looking for anyway. Someone entertaining that wasn't interested in her only for her access to Hell or her power or their desire to snag her for one coven or another or worst of all, an actual relationship.
"Anyway, can we go use that discount of yours and then get the Heaven out of this place?"
“You know me so well.” It was nice, Sabrina not getting guilting for being himself. She had, he was certain, been disappointed before. Tristan had been so determined to make something moral of his soul. It was good for Tristan he had other interesting qualities to make up for the dull ones. As for Sabrina, Callum had never minded being used. Transactional friendships were easy to wield.
Callum flipped over the tag, memorized the numbers that would identify the chairs and table, and nodded to himself. “Follow me,” he said, offering his arm as if they were soon to be announced at a royal ball, and headed toward the warehouse.