Post by Ilani Moonblood on Feb 25, 2010 22:07:32 GMT -5
Ah, the smell of dirt, mold and decaying things. Just the things that any red blooded girl needed to replace coffee, to make her morning complete. Not to mention that ‘morning’ really meant ‘3 freaking AM,’ but she SO wasn’t going to go into that one without throwing an unholy fit.
Resting her forehead against the tombstone in front of her, Ilani resisted the urge to start banging her head against the cold stone. New Orleans’ main cemetery was old, mysterious, large and filled to the seams with ghosts, ecstatic to see a psychic in their midst. She’d only gotten ten steps through the large iron gate that marked the entrance of the cemetery before she’d been surrounded by ethereal figures of men, women, children and animals, all clamoring over each other to catch her attention.
In short? It was a freaking horrible way to start off what was quickly becoming a horrible day. Thank all that was holy that she’d managed to snag Cash and her Confederate buddies, or she might have gone stark raving mad right there.
Talk about a bad time to forget one’s banishing potions. It was a good thing that the soldiers knew self defense, and Cash had the know-how to manifest certain weapons to keep the ghosties in check. Man, this was like tossing her brain into a piranha pond…but hey, needs must.
But back to the work at hand. Straightening, she looked down at the small grave in front of her knees. The dirt was without grass, brand spanking knew and sporting carnations and pictures of the poor, dearly departed. From a wreath of red roses, a little girl’s smiling face seemed to grace the depressing atmosphere of the cemetery, ethereally lit in the soft glow of candles below.
She really did hate this part of the whole ‘help the ghosts’ game. As if being thrown around a room wasn’t enough; now that she was recovered enough to realize that the spirit was angry enough to lash out at her boyfriend, she knew that the only way to understand what the thing wanted, was to go to it.
Aka, traipse around a cemetery in the ass crack of dawn, hoping that the caretaker was asleep and there weren’t any orgies going on where she had to set up shop. Man, talk about really awkward…who the heck would want to get it on in a CEMETARY, she had no idea, but after finding a mass of naked bodies and black robes, she’d made it a point to bring a baseball bat with her, during these morning excursions.
Setting out various objects in a circle, Ilani took a deep breath of the chill morning air and cleared her mind. The ghost that had charged into The Pit had been a strong one, a real pissed off dead person, and had shoved so many images down her throat, that she’d been unable to distinguish what from what. The only real way to make Miss Icy Pants get her butt into the light, was to meet her on her own turf.
“Alright, Jenny,” She mumbled, looking up at the girl’s picture. “It’s time to rock and roll. I don’t think this counts as ‘dangerous,’ especially since I called Derek to let him know where I was. So okay, girly. Time to let Aunty Ilani know who killed you, so she can get laid without you tearing up her bar.”
Ah, the thought of being laid. For a minute there, she forgot that she was currently kneeling on cold ground that was quickly saturating her thick sweats. Derek’s face came to her mind, wearing that knowing smirk. Man, talk about some instant goo-ness, right there. She thought back to the other day, spent not down at the bar as usual, but in her room- and bathroom, and hallway, and balcony, and kitchen- doing things that would make even the most artistic voyeur blush.
Man, if there was one thing that she could say about having a shifter for a lover, it was ‘MROWRRR.’ Stamina had nothing on the man, and she had the whisker burns to prove it. Not that she was complaining; aw hell no. Quite the opposite, actually…as much as it made her pause. She was getting really close to the guy really frikken fast, but that wasn’t the weird part.
The weird part was that she liked it. Whatever ‘meep, meep, get outta Dodge fast!’ feelings that she normally had just weren’t coming into play at the moment. Which meant that she was a) setting herself up for one helluva fall, or b) falling face first into unknown territory.
Either way, she was…happy. For the first time in a long time, she was actually freaking happy.
“Which’s why I’m sending you into the goddamn light, even if it kills me,” She informed the door at her knees. “’Cause nobody but me’s allowed to put a mark on that man. Bad ghost, making him fly into a wall like that! Bad, bad ghost!”
The match flared brightly in the shadowed cemetery, blinding her for a moment, before snuffing out in the small bowl of herbs in front of her. The ritual was old, commanded by her mother’s people and said to let the spirit walk with the dead. To the left of the bowl, she placed the eagle feather normally braided into her hair and to the right went a piece of the ghost’s dress. It was hard as hell to pry the little ribbon out of her detective friend’s cold, not-so-dead hands, but after threats of poltergeists, there it was. With a deep breath, she spoke in the language of her people, summoning the Spirits, the Great Giver, to guide her in her journey to the between.
She half knelt, holding her hands out, palms up. She could hear the murmuring of voices around her, ghosts trying to break through her little ‘barricade,’ and hoped that a certain supernatural was coming for her soon.
There wasn’t anything like some living energy to help out with a séance, that was for sure. Especially if said energy was as hot as that man. Rawr.