Description: As the Devil of Koga spreads her influence into the world of men once more, she decides to start from the bottom. Looking for a fellow wayward soul, kindred in vocation if not spirit. This 'Hell's Belle' will make a perfect ally.. Once the Devil passes a small test..
Let's talk about Southtown.
A jewel in the multifacedted crown of Japan, Southtown is a major metropolitan area that rivals Tokyo proper as a major source of economic power. The bustling community of people, places, and activities all swirl together in a tapestry that weaves the proverbial million stories for hackneyed writers and poets alike. And Elle? Well, if the city is a tapestry, then she's just an errant loose thread.
The Sidewinder is moderately busy tonight, and bustles with the chatter of hard bitten misanthropes, each and every one a member of Southtown's finest scumbags and thugs. Inside, you'll find everything from Southsynd legbreakers to Mad Gear berzerkers. USPL soldiers lamenting the terrible state of society today hash it out with bedraggled members of the now-disbanded Mad Cat Gang, who lament the glory days of running under the nearly forgotten Jack Turner.
And Elle? Well, this is sort of a recruiting central for her. While she's yet to get any worthwhile people calling considering her relatively low status and low key approach to crime, she's gotten a few leads and more than enough word out to the underworld that someone's out there who seems a scant bit more sane. After a long day of dealing with random thugs all looking for a peice of the action, Elle feels that it's time to close up shop and take a walk back down to her apartment.
She steps out the door of the old place. It used to be called the 'Snake Pit' until not too long ago, when Sothsynd sort of abandoned it to the Mad Gear, who overtook the territory. While the name has changed, not much else seems to have followed. It's that errant though that fill sher head as she tiredly lights a cigarette, stepping to the curb in a search for a taxi.
Let's talk about how Japan was.
The bustling streets of Southtown hardly calm at any hour. Day or not. Like any metropolitan area, the luxury of sleep is afforded only to the dead. Lamps keep the streets lit at all hours and bars never close. Ever. Especially in this rundown neck of the town, where the patrons of this two-bit joint do their best work at night.
It was not always thus. The streets did not always reek of urban decay. The lowlives were not always the life-blood of the illicit commerce that runs the scenes. Japan was a different place, long ago. Before its corruption, touched by decay from the West.
And it is the image Elle catches in the corner of her eye as her light flares out, that reminds her of what country this truly is.
One moment the streets were virtually empty. Only a handful of drunken rabble crawled between the dimmed, broken lights of the heated evening. The next moment.. A figure stands beneath the acute light of a street lamp, half a block away. Eclipsed in shadowy silouette beneath the flickering, sputtering light. The upper half of the figure hidden behind, of all things, a black parasol. Held over a feminine shoulder as if it could rain at any moment. What image the lighting permits, suggests a black kimono against a frame. As still and motionless as a lifeless ghost, without a hint of the sea breeze touching the figure at all. An apparition that could easily be dismissed as a beer-induced illusion, if it was not for the fact that the ghost is still there after blinking or shaking one's head.
All the loons sure do come out at this time of night, don't they?
It's really nothing personal. Elle's just seen nearly everything all up and down the scale of strange. While no amount of experience ever replaces fear, concern, or worry, there's a certain amount of grim, jaded acceptance that life has simply ceased to be normal. Igniz, Zero, Vega, Rugal... she's seen them all face to face. The creeping dread, the destructive displays, and fits of rage are nothing new to her anymore. At this point, she's seen enough of the big dogs to know that for all their power and bluster, they're all going to lose eventually. Elle however will remain around just as long as people like them need people like her.
So when Marise appears on the fringe of reality, be it by ambiance or design displaying her in a foreboding light, Elle doesn't even so much as blink, though her brain does immediately switch into overdrive. Her photographic memory still as crisp as ever cycling through the tremendous list of names, faces, and organizations.
As expected, it comes up empty. THhs puts a slight frown on her face. Normally, she'd walk away. Or sling an insult. She's good at both, and a master of the dismissive action. There are a lot of people that have a lot of power that have little use to her, and she's walked away from them pretty unimpressed. But the fact is that there aren't many faces left that she feels she needs to know that she doesn't. Marise is one of them.
"You gonna play Batgirl all night, or are you going to actually say anything?" She asks eventually after a moment or two, tossing aside the cigarette. "Because I got things to do, you know, and I suck at responding to mind games."
Certainly, this ghostly maiden has none of the aura of incredible menace that the most dangerous human beings alive possess. Igniz or Vega.. To be in their presense is to instantly know what it means to feel mortal terror. This willowy apparition could not hold a candle to the mighty displays such beings of incalculable danger could incur.
This ghostly woman does possess one quality that none of those monsterous individuals often display.
She is very, very quiet.
A stillness surrounds her like she does not quite belong. At the same time she makes no outrageous statements or even takes offense to this foreign woman's obnoxious commentary. If the words that issue from this stately shadow bare emotion at all, they would be.. curiousity.
"So angry.. So lost.." A haunted, feminine murmur escapes from the shadows of the parasol, utterly motionless, "I see your heart swallowed.. by them." A glint of gold from the dark, a head tilting? "...Is this why you seek others? ...'Helle's Belle'?" Undeen lips massaging that foreign monicker.
A pale, purple-nailed hand rises suddenly. Slipping from the sleeve of her kimono.. the first obvious movement she's made. Pausing the inevitable retort from the firebrand mercenary, "..I seek an associate.. I hear whispers you seek the same.. yes?"
"Nah. I seek them because it's slightly less crazy than staring at a wall all day, or sitting at home talking to cats," comes the dry, flippant answer. If Elle had a dollar for every dimestore evaluation of her less than chipper personality, then she could probably quit the business altogether. "That'd be a tough break for me, considering I hate cats. Even Hello Kitty makes me break out in nasty hives." The tone is deadpan of course. It would seem that a lot of people cast aspersions as to who she is and why she does what she does. Elle, of course, is usually not very forthcoming. Needless to say, the reason is an entirely shallow and almost completely meaningless.
At any rate, Elle is the type to address the true matter at hand. "If you're looking for someone that knows this business, that'd be me," she replies frankly. "I know you're not precisely a regular. I'd hear all kinds of 'spooky ghost lady' stories if you were. So that begs the question where you've been hiding yourself. While my first guess is that you crawled out of someone's TV and gave them one week to live, I'll drop that line of questioning right now because it's none of my damn business."
"As for looking for a new hire? I'm always looking for a new face with some actual talent. I go through nameless, faceless dupes like kleenex. If you've got something a little more for my troubles, then I'd say I'm interested," she finishes, shoving her hands in her pockets. "So what's your schtick, lady? Snakes? Shadows? Cannibalism?"
Aaaah. Soulless then.
The ghost can get to like this woman.
Clearly the silouette seems completely uninsulted by the flippant reply. If anything it highlights that this individual would be extremely easy to work with. Few emotions beyond her own apathy for existance in general. Just the sort of person a creature such as she could find.. very useful.
True to the yurei impression this stranger gives, she continues to stand in perfect silence at Elle's onslaught of anti-psyche dissertation. Perhaps because such modern concepts have no frame of reference in this ghostly throwback's mind.. Or perhaps she's so terribly amused she finds herself speechless.
If it is the latter, it is a condition that does not last for long as the haunting voice relies most simply,
"Secrets."
Yet another glint of gold, perhaps as her head tilts the opposite direction, "Uncovering the forgotten. Burying the forsaken."
The dark shape takes a single step forwards, leaving the severe lighting of the streetlamp above and allowing more details to come into view. The tall woman's skin seems pale, deathly pale, "You could find such services useful. Yes?"
It's true. Elle doesn't put much stock in the mystical. In fact, she usually dismisses it entirely on the theory that most of it is smoke, mirrors, and voodoo. Elle doesn't try to explain her own powers, scientifically or otherwise. She just has them, and that pretty much ends that. It's never occured to her until now that there maybe a little more to the story. Therefore, the 'soulless' Elle's eyebrow raises. Marise has definitely gotten her attention, that's for sure.
"Lemme tell you what I see that's useful," Elle says, giving her a once over. "First of all, you're obviously a woman, or shaped suspiciously like one, and you have class. That gets me in all kinds of places that I can't normally go." She raises a finger. "Two, you're connected in some way, shape, or form, to a lot of knowledge I /don't/ have about how shit works in the realm of voodoo magic. You stick of the stuff, no offense." She raises another finger. "Lastly, I'm going to guess that there's a reason you're looking for someone like me. Yeah. You need an in to this business, so I'm not going to need to worry about you eating my brain just yet. So I see three things on the table in your favor."
"You got my attention, and I'm about ready to start handling some contracts here," she says in a straightforward manner. Always blunt, the dark skinned woman shifts the weight from one foot to another. "So what do you want from me, precisely? You don't look like you need the money."
Considering the woman's previous intense silence, the -snap- of her parasol could be shocking. The woman holds the old, wooden device at arm's length, facing perpendicular to the dark-skinned woman; before a deft twist of her wrist closes the ribbed cloth closed.
A pearlescent beauty is revealed beneath. Purple-painted lips have long-since contorted into a sly smile, confirming that the ghost finds this new acquaintence endlessly amusing. Eyes mostly hidden beneath lengthy black bangs.. with only strange glints of gold beneath. The rest of her hair affixed in a traditional Japanese bun, held in place by a pair of golden needles. The low cut of her kimono displaying a loooot of shoulder.
The ghostly woman takes yet another step closer, approaching the disbelieving woman's comfort zone without care as her plush lips caress every spoken word, "What I need of you?"
Repeating the question as she takes another step.. Close enough to feel a bizarre, counter-intuitive chill from that achingly pale body coming so near. Perhaps attracted to the heat within Elle's dusky skin, "You possess in abundance.." Looming just a fraction closer, her head tilting to the side to gently whisper to Elle's ear, ".. Experience.. Yessss.." The ghost breathes.
"..You have seen much.. spoken to many.. I can see it in your eyes. You can show me many things.. To mine the jade you've built around your heart.." Her cool fingertips boldly reaching forth to walk along Elle's shoulder indicatively, "..A small price to pay.. for secrets.. Yes?"
"Says you," Elle says, gingerly removing the hand, holding as one would approach holding a dead rat: between thumb and forefinger. "You wanna learn the ropes of the biz? I can teach you. You want nasty zombie lesbian ghost sex? I hear Mr. Big pays out a good amount of coin to watch that kind of thing in the Champagne room." She doesn't look particularly uncomfortable. Just a little annoyed at being touched. Clearly, she's willing to tolerate a lot. For now, at least.
"What's with the corpse look, anyhow? You're cold as hell, like you got some shitty circulation. And you could use a cheeseburger and some sun," Elle says, her raspy voice dead and droll as ever. "Not that I don't think the queen of the dead act is bad. Definitely different than what I'm used to seeing all day." What she's used to seeing is little kids shooting nuclear lasers out their ass. That bothers her no end.
Elle moves suddenly, seeming to adjust tired muscles that have been motionless since the encounter began. Sudden movements spook the weirdos sometimes, so it'll do to shake out stiff joints a little. "Anyway, you want in? I can work with that. Here's something you might be interested in, so listen carefully, Vampirella."
"I need blood samples," she reaches into the bag she carries about, "From a few people. Think you can grab them for me?" She produces three photos that look a lot like grainy spycam pictures: Alma, Miu, and Momoko. "I've been keeping an eye on them in SNFs, and I have a client that would be seriously interested in obtaining some DNA." Elle's dark brown eyes look like bulletholes as they meet Marise's, eyebrow raised in a questioning expression, her face inches from the other woman's and unflinching.
The ghostly woman's hand is easily removed, held back but not terribly far away. The completely non-plussed voice from the punk girl earns a fractionally wider smile from the ghoulish woman. By some miracle completely incapable of being insulted by this woman's vulgarity or her suggestions of what the apparition should do with herself.
Astonishingly, the deadbeat humor earns a small snicker of amusement. Mostly hidden eyes reflecting a measure of mirth.
Yes. This one will work well. No fear in her at all. Always a good sign to find those who do not shy away from ... unpleasantness.
Remaining close, the ghostly creature glances down to the photos as Elle arranges them for viewing. Mmn. A measure of recognition plays across the pale woman's features, but she speaks nothing of them.
"The blood of children.." Marise muses as she lifts her gaze once more, meeting Elle's own through the forest of silken darkness. Golden pools piercing straight through those dark voids.
"... Voodoo indeed." The ghostly one replies simply as she suddenly moves away. Turning on her heel with haunting grace, she snaps her parasol back into place. Eclipsing her from view as she begins to walk away.
"Expect your sacrifices.. soon."
Well good. Finally someone that can get shit done without whining about it for a half hour. Elle's not what you call a particularly excitable individual, and there is a level of unnerving that Marise projects. Nevertheless, Elle's exterior is indestructable, and her interior while substantially softer is still the consistancy of four year old beef jerky. The woman is simply tough as nails and while she wouldn't say it, she suspects that Marise is actually far more human than her Lady Death impression would let on.
After all, it doesn't matter how deranged a person is, there's always a spark of humanity remaining, even if it is a strange sense of humor.
"Good. Remember, they don't have a huge shelf life here, and I'm working on a schedule. Get them to the bartender the second you get a hand on one of 'em, and have him call me," Elle says to the retreating form of the creepy woman. "I'd tell you where you can find me, but you types seem to know how to find me anyhow. Just keep in mind that if you fall out of my TV during 'Scrubs', I will kick your ass five ways from Sunday." She pauses for a moment in thought.
"Oh, and one more thing."
Elle's hand is like a vice as it clamps on Marise's shoulder. The woman is definitely a lot stronger than she looks, and fromt he particularly vicious snap of 'static electricity', has a potent charge. She leans forward over the woman's shoulder, and whispers into her ear, her breath in contrast filled with heat. "That shade of purple looks terrible on you. I'd go with a darker violet."
Weither or not there is some measure of humanity beneath the gothic exterior of this woman.. Who can say? A better question would be, who would even begin to care? The least of whom would be the darkly dressed woman herself.
Elle is not the only one Marise considers soulless. 'Hitokiri'.
If the ghoulish woman is listening to the directions, its hard to say. She's simply continuing along her way in a smooth, elegant pace. Neither poofing into thin air, or disappearing in a flourish of movement. Simply gliding away towards the darkness that spawned her in an unhurried pace, completely belying the urgency of her 'mission'.
As for finding Elle.. Well. Its not as if the woman makes it difficult to be found, afterall. But such details go without comment.
However, the strong hand on her shoulder does give the pale maiden pause. Inhaling audibly at the sensation of warmth.. a feeling that the woman lacks as the skin of her shoulder feels remarkably cool to the touch.
Aaaah. A threat. So the yurei did get under the woman's skin more than her cavalier demeanor suggests? A revelation that widens her purple-shaded lips a fraction more, "Sage advice.. My ally."
Maybe. Or maybe Elle's just being a bitch again. It's pretty hard to tell, seeing as her sense of humor's just as demented. She lets go upon getting a response. If anything, it gives Marise a good idea of what she's dealing with. Elle's far from being a madwoman, but the fact is that she surrounds herself every day with it. It begs the question of whether or not she does so to keep her own sanity in check and to attempt to use that chaos around her to her favor.
It'll be a good idea to keep this one away from the other 'partners', at least for a while. Elle's not very jittery, but everyone else is far more bush league than this one, and the would be mastermind has no intention of shattering the morale of the troops. "Check you later, Vampirella," Elle says, having no real use for the woman's actual name. Even if she knew it, she'd never use it. Elle's got a habit of giving out nicknames, you see. A psychologist would asser that the reason she does so is to maintain control of her environment and the people in it due to latent insecurities.
Really, Elle just likes making up nicknames.
Log created by Marise, and last modified on 21:47:15 05/08/2007.