Well Aimed Chaos (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whitemage) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2013-08-19 08:34 pm
whitemage) wrote in rainbowfic2013-08-19 08:34 pm
Entry tags:
Surgical Steel #5; Fire Opal #18; Fever Red #4
Name: Ardy
Piece/Story: Crossroads/Blood Saint
Colors: Surgical Steel 5 (catgut); Fire Opal 18 (hell or high water); Fever Red 4 (hot flash)
Styles/Supplies: Graffiti (Surgical Steel, Fever Red, and Fire Opal for Summer of Whump)
Word Count: 1223
Ratings/Warnings: PG - language; torture and immolation (of demons)
Notes: Have Annie’s younger sister who started in an entirely different, unnamed arc and now has wandered over.
Elly smiled blandly, trying to look friendly and unassuming as yet another beat-up Ford rumbled by her from Heaven-knows-where to Hell-runs-it. Her expression might have succeeded, but ink black dyed hair and studded leather jacket gave her away, even over the stolen St. Paul’s uniform.
“Shouldn’t be this damn busy for a pig trail,” she muttered, planting her foot on a surveying marker in an unladylike position as she hiked her kneesocks back up over her Docs.
“Give it time...” Golden eyes glowed out narrowly from a bush behind her, the words less a voice and more a steady rumble in her head.
Elly snorted. “I ain’t the only one could use a lesson on patience. You hush or they won’t show.”
Your language always grows crass when you’re working.
She just laughed and looked at her watch. 11:59 and 20, 21, 22 seconds...
Close enough.
Cracking her knuckles, she walked to the center of the crossroads, hesitating only a second before she dropped a heavily spelled, blood-stained bag in the middle. She hadn’t asked the root worker what was in it, and frankly, she... well, only part of her wanted to know.
Elly only stepped back to avoid the portal as it opened, fighting the urge to yawn at the groans, moans, and rattles of chains that came bounding up with the twisting smoke clouds. All theatrics. Pretending to be Old Nick himself, but really just pissants. Which made them perfect: their self-importance made them much more talkative. And she needed talking.
“And what can we do for you, Little Girl?” The demon before her was one ugly son-of-a-bitch, all teeth bound to a mouth with stretched red skin. He wasn’t too tall, either, and a bit spindly. Tattered wings flapped from his back like he was a strutting show cock.
She grinned back with a saccharine sweetness over something purely feral. “Oh, I was just bored. Hoping to play a little game.”
The demon roared with laughter too deep for the size of his body. Elly remained unfazed. “Awh, sweetie, I think you’d better run along home. We ain’t gonna be the ones give you a story to tell your little friends.”
“Gee.” Elly sighed dramatically, rocking on her heels as she fussed with something behind her back. “‘Cause I heard you like to play music, and so I thought we could have a little contest...”
“Contest? … For your soul, I presume?” The demon stopped laughing, silencing his cronies. They crowded in, curious.
Elly cocked her head, thoughtfully. “Yeah, sure, I’ll wager that. But if I win, I want a bag of gold heavy as my head, but not the size nor shape of it.” There was a protesting noise from the bushes behind her. Elly sent a sparking flick in that direction, and a whimper replied.
The demon opened his mouth, then shut it. He narrowed his eyes, staring her down as he weighed the offer.
She sweetened the deal. “I’ll even go first.”
He raised an eyebrow. That would give him time to call upon some tricks to counter hers...
They both smiled and he held out his hand. “Your deal is struck.”
She spit into it and smirked. “Bound and sealed. And now, try not to dance.”
Elly pulled out the fiddle she had been hiding, a deep mahogany with gold leaf around the seams and soundholes. It glowed like the burning negative left by staring at the sun too long. She quickly plucked the strings, letting their lively tones ripple with as silver like the shining moon sparkled on them in the darkness.
Closing her eyes, Elly tucked the instrument to her chin and raised the bow. The demons screamed. “It’s the fiddle of gold!” They cried. “It’s Johnny’s prize!”
The young woman cracked one eye back open with a wry smile. ‘That’s Ti’Jean to you Not that it matters: just don’t dance.”
She launched into a reel with barely a warm-up, and the demons set to howling like she was beating them. Their legs materialized and they thumped to the ground with fully solid form, only to find themselves leaping back up in a jig. They fought and contorted and snarled through a good 10 minutes before the leader exclaimed. “S-stop! Stop! You can have your bag of gold, just stop!”
Elly slowed down enough to be able to talk as she played. “I might be so inclined, if you tell me what I want to know...”
The demon roared in pain and frustration. “That wasn’t the deal! Bag of gold! Bag of gold! You said a bag of gold!”
She shrugged and picked up the pace, facing the demon with a deadpan expression. “I wanna know who’s responsible for opening up a damnable Hellmouth in the sanctuary of a particular church.”
“We had nothing to do with St. John’s! Nothin’ nothin’!” He howled.
She raised an eyebrow, flicking the bow so that a phantom string pulled itself from the true ones, lashing out to bind the demons. Elly held a single low note on the bow that made them all waver in pain as the string quivered and jumped for her. “‘scuse me, but we’re not the Catholics. I just thought the skirt was cute. What’d you think?”
The demon rolled his eyes. “I think either way, you ain’t gettin’ nothin’ from me.”
Elly calmly sliced the bow across the strings. Sparks flew, the lines connected to the demons writhed. They all screamed. “Gee, that’s too bad.”
One minion whimpered. “T-there’s nothing to say! We dinnit do it! We were only--”
“Hushup!”
“But she might let us goooooooooo-ow ow ow!” They were all wailing.
Elly was getting impatient. She began to strike up another reel, as they pleaded, still protesting their innocence on this matter. The wolf bound out of the bushes, frantic. Elly, what are you doing?
“Workin’!”
We need a name! He growled. She frowned at the wolf nearly towering over her,, slacking just slight enough so the demons weren’t strangled.
“Welp, you heard the furball.”
One of the smaller demons snarled. “A pox on you both!” it piped, before spitting something that blazed with light. Elly caught it in her palm, watching the sigil glow. She held it out to her companion, who examined the symbol for a moment before licking it.
“Been nice playin’ with ya! See you on the flipside!” With a blinding vengeance in her bow, she laid into the fiddle harder as the demons burst into flames. Fire licked around the entire crossroads, but Elly stood unafraid as the wolf leapt in with a yelp to protect her. heir forms all rocked and twisted until the demons melted and scattered as ashes, she tucked the fiddle under her other arm and caught the bag of gold that appeared in thin air. “Annnnd, I win again.”
Grumbling came from a muscular, sooty young man on the ground. “Oh, sure, but I might point out that once again, you cheated, Crow.”
She rolled her eyes, stowing the gold in her nearby bag as she pulled out a large overcoat to throw at him. “Yeah, well, before you launch into a sermon on morality, Reverend Wolfe, remember you’re the one not wearing pants.”
Piece/Story: Crossroads/Blood Saint
Colors: Surgical Steel 5 (catgut); Fire Opal 18 (hell or high water); Fever Red 4 (hot flash)
Styles/Supplies: Graffiti (Surgical Steel, Fever Red, and Fire Opal for Summer of Whump)
Word Count: 1223
Ratings/Warnings: PG - language; torture and immolation (of demons)
Notes: Have Annie’s younger sister who started in an entirely different, unnamed arc and now has wandered over.
Elly smiled blandly, trying to look friendly and unassuming as yet another beat-up Ford rumbled by her from Heaven-knows-where to Hell-runs-it. Her expression might have succeeded, but ink black dyed hair and studded leather jacket gave her away, even over the stolen St. Paul’s uniform.
“Shouldn’t be this damn busy for a pig trail,” she muttered, planting her foot on a surveying marker in an unladylike position as she hiked her kneesocks back up over her Docs.
“Give it time...” Golden eyes glowed out narrowly from a bush behind her, the words less a voice and more a steady rumble in her head.
Elly snorted. “I ain’t the only one could use a lesson on patience. You hush or they won’t show.”
Your language always grows crass when you’re working.
She just laughed and looked at her watch. 11:59 and 20, 21, 22 seconds...
Close enough.
Cracking her knuckles, she walked to the center of the crossroads, hesitating only a second before she dropped a heavily spelled, blood-stained bag in the middle. She hadn’t asked the root worker what was in it, and frankly, she... well, only part of her wanted to know.
Elly only stepped back to avoid the portal as it opened, fighting the urge to yawn at the groans, moans, and rattles of chains that came bounding up with the twisting smoke clouds. All theatrics. Pretending to be Old Nick himself, but really just pissants. Which made them perfect: their self-importance made them much more talkative. And she needed talking.
“And what can we do for you, Little Girl?” The demon before her was one ugly son-of-a-bitch, all teeth bound to a mouth with stretched red skin. He wasn’t too tall, either, and a bit spindly. Tattered wings flapped from his back like he was a strutting show cock.
She grinned back with a saccharine sweetness over something purely feral. “Oh, I was just bored. Hoping to play a little game.”
The demon roared with laughter too deep for the size of his body. Elly remained unfazed. “Awh, sweetie, I think you’d better run along home. We ain’t gonna be the ones give you a story to tell your little friends.”
“Gee.” Elly sighed dramatically, rocking on her heels as she fussed with something behind her back. “‘Cause I heard you like to play music, and so I thought we could have a little contest...”
“Contest? … For your soul, I presume?” The demon stopped laughing, silencing his cronies. They crowded in, curious.
Elly cocked her head, thoughtfully. “Yeah, sure, I’ll wager that. But if I win, I want a bag of gold heavy as my head, but not the size nor shape of it.” There was a protesting noise from the bushes behind her. Elly sent a sparking flick in that direction, and a whimper replied.
The demon opened his mouth, then shut it. He narrowed his eyes, staring her down as he weighed the offer.
She sweetened the deal. “I’ll even go first.”
He raised an eyebrow. That would give him time to call upon some tricks to counter hers...
They both smiled and he held out his hand. “Your deal is struck.”
She spit into it and smirked. “Bound and sealed. And now, try not to dance.”
Elly pulled out the fiddle she had been hiding, a deep mahogany with gold leaf around the seams and soundholes. It glowed like the burning negative left by staring at the sun too long. She quickly plucked the strings, letting their lively tones ripple with as silver like the shining moon sparkled on them in the darkness.
Closing her eyes, Elly tucked the instrument to her chin and raised the bow. The demons screamed. “It’s the fiddle of gold!” They cried. “It’s Johnny’s prize!”
The young woman cracked one eye back open with a wry smile. ‘That’s Ti’Jean to you Not that it matters: just don’t dance.”
She launched into a reel with barely a warm-up, and the demons set to howling like she was beating them. Their legs materialized and they thumped to the ground with fully solid form, only to find themselves leaping back up in a jig. They fought and contorted and snarled through a good 10 minutes before the leader exclaimed. “S-stop! Stop! You can have your bag of gold, just stop!”
Elly slowed down enough to be able to talk as she played. “I might be so inclined, if you tell me what I want to know...”
The demon roared in pain and frustration. “That wasn’t the deal! Bag of gold! Bag of gold! You said a bag of gold!”
She shrugged and picked up the pace, facing the demon with a deadpan expression. “I wanna know who’s responsible for opening up a damnable Hellmouth in the sanctuary of a particular church.”
“We had nothing to do with St. John’s! Nothin’ nothin’!” He howled.
She raised an eyebrow, flicking the bow so that a phantom string pulled itself from the true ones, lashing out to bind the demons. Elly held a single low note on the bow that made them all waver in pain as the string quivered and jumped for her. “‘scuse me, but we’re not the Catholics. I just thought the skirt was cute. What’d you think?”
The demon rolled his eyes. “I think either way, you ain’t gettin’ nothin’ from me.”
Elly calmly sliced the bow across the strings. Sparks flew, the lines connected to the demons writhed. They all screamed. “Gee, that’s too bad.”
One minion whimpered. “T-there’s nothing to say! We dinnit do it! We were only--”
“Hushup!”
“But she might let us goooooooooo-ow ow ow!” They were all wailing.
Elly was getting impatient. She began to strike up another reel, as they pleaded, still protesting their innocence on this matter. The wolf bound out of the bushes, frantic. Elly, what are you doing?
“Workin’!”
We need a name! He growled. She frowned at the wolf nearly towering over her,, slacking just slight enough so the demons weren’t strangled.
“Welp, you heard the furball.”
One of the smaller demons snarled. “A pox on you both!” it piped, before spitting something that blazed with light. Elly caught it in her palm, watching the sigil glow. She held it out to her companion, who examined the symbol for a moment before licking it.
“Been nice playin’ with ya! See you on the flipside!” With a blinding vengeance in her bow, she laid into the fiddle harder as the demons burst into flames. Fire licked around the entire crossroads, but Elly stood unafraid as the wolf leapt in with a yelp to protect her. heir forms all rocked and twisted until the demons melted and scattered as ashes, she tucked the fiddle under her other arm and caught the bag of gold that appeared in thin air. “Annnnd, I win again.”
Grumbling came from a muscular, sooty young man on the ground. “Oh, sure, but I might point out that once again, you cheated, Crow.”
She rolled her eyes, stowing the gold in her nearby bag as she pulled out a large overcoat to throw at him. “Yeah, well, before you launch into a sermon on morality, Reverend Wolfe, remember you’re the one not wearing pants.”
no subject
This reads like a modern version of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia," fiddle and all. As someone who played the violin for ten years? This brings back memories in a good way.
no subject
That's probably one of my favorite songs of all time. I never played, but there's a lot of Métis fiddlers in my family, so I grew up with that and a lot of reels.
We also have a trickster folk hero of sorts called Ti'Jean/Chi'Jean (or sometimes Whiskey Jack even though he's technically a different dude). He's outsmarted both death and the devil, and he sometimes plays the fiddle. I kind of smooshed his tales in with "Johnny" from the song to give Elly her weapon.
I'm glad you liked it. :)
no subject
no subject
Though Elly sort of has the edge on giving Luke ulcers when she's around.
no subject
But it was very loud and enthusiastic as far as dogs were concerned.
JUST IMAGINE I AM AS HAPPY AS A PUPPY TO HAVE READ THIS.
no subject
YAAAAY! Good, because I'm getting stuck trying to work the accidental vampire queen so the drafts I've been poking at have slowly been turning into the Crow and Wolfe show.
Though we probably need to work on pieces that don't always end with demons catching on fire.