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Post by ruby on Jul 17, 2011 20:30:20 GMT -5
Magic had been a part of the woman’s life since she could barely walk. Her mother raised her with a respect for the natural world, for the spirits seen and unseen, and for the healing arts. You would have never known any of this about the demon known as Ruby unless you knew the woman named Joan Fisher. She grew up in a sleepy fishing village in England and idolized her mother who was the village healer and midwife. She was taught that there were things in this world you couldn’t see or hear but that they deserved respect because they had ties over the fate of every being on earth. So every morning she would lie out a bowl of milk for the little people and at ever festival she would leave tribute to them in the forest as her mother taught her. Then came the plague and the world needed scapegoats, so instead of seeing the thankless job the healers of the communities were doing trying to stop it the people rose up with religious fervor and called them all witches. When the inquisition came to Joan’s village not only her mother was swept up in it but she was as well, a young girl barely twelve and going to loose her life in one of the most horrific ways possible, burned at the stake. Really could anyone blame her the night that the crossroads demon named Tammi showed up in her cell and offered her a way out of that death in exchange for her soul? It didn’t take Joan long to agree, the poor young thing so scared of the world changing around her. At the end of the five years she was given the hounds came for her and she was taken into the pit, rising up as Ruby, the demoness. Until now, after Dean and Sam killed her she was brought back by one of the Goddess that in life her mother taught her to revere. She was brought back human and given a task to complete, then her fate would be her own. She had to find Sam and warn him that he was Lucifer’s vessel and that he needed to be careful. Of course she knew she couldn’t stop there, she’d also need the one thing he of all the people in the world could give her, forgiveness. No she didn’t look like Joan anymore, that body rotted in a grave in the UK but those who knew her story would know well that she was one in the same. Today though she made her way down the sidewalk headed to a bookstore that she heard might carry a few books she would need. She felt it was time for her to brush up on her healing skills, make herself useful once again, perhaps even find some spells that she could do as a human in order to help out in this world she lived in.
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Post by puck on Jul 17, 2011 21:22:06 GMT -5
* all the world's a stage, [/b][/font] and all the men and women merely players- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/center] Robin Goodfellow was in possession of very little, but what he did possess was more than paltry trinkets and doodads; he had amazing luck. This was not an opinion, but rather it was observable fact. Whenever he flipped a coin, the choice he secretly wanted more was always the side it landed on, and would continue to land on it no matter how many times he flipped. Even a mortal would have to agree.
The most interesting incidence of this luck came to him as he was sitting on a trashcan, sipping rainwater from a copper mug, when at the mouth of the alley who should he see but the very person he'd been thinking about?
He heard on the grapevine that a demoness by the name of Ruby had been resurrected as a human, and it took him not very long at all to figure out that this "Ruby" had once been Joan, the sweet little healer who always left booze a nice saucer of milk out for him. He'd been around when he saw her start going bad -- in fact, he would have even continued to grant her favors, had she continued to commune with his folk. ("Good" and "Bad" were such arbitrary distinctions to him.) Unfortunately, he didn't stick around too close, and he had wandered on to Wales by the time the hounds took her.
But seeing her now, in this strange and not-very-her form, it took him less than a second to realize who it was. He tossed the water from his cup and swiftly pocketed it, peeking out the side of the alleyway and watching after the dark-haired woman. He peeked ever-so-briefly beyond the veil, or "through the looking glass" as it were, and... yes. Definitely her, and definitely human. He hadn't a doubt in his mind.
Well. Only one thing to do about that.
Emerging from the alleyway, Robin loped casually after her, hands stuffed firmly into his pockets. He wasn't sure if she could see him now, some leftover of her days past, but he didn't take the chance; invisibility would be working counter to his motives at the moment. Still, he wanted to see where she was going first, so he stayed a comfortable distance back and followed her into the bookshop. He knew the place pretty well, seeing as it was one of the oldest ones in the area. Plenty of ancient tomes and grimoires and whatnot.
Boning up on your old ways, eh, Joan? he thought. Wonder if you've kept my folk in mind...
Robin took a view from a few shelves back, pretending to browse the Mythology section while he watched her. He wanted to see exactly where this old friend was heading for her books. [/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - * the pen is mightier than the sword [/color] 459 words* such stuff as dreams are made on[/color] using quotes from william shakespeare* get thee to a nunnery![/color] robin & ruby is/are tagged* what's in a name?[/color] template made by LAURIE?! of CAUTION 2.0[/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by ruby on Jul 19, 2011 18:33:43 GMT -5
  She turned into the bookstore, hesitating a moment as her eyes glanced around at the shelves. As a clerk asked if they could help her she waved him away, walking to a section that seemed to carry older leather bound tomes. She hunched down, picking up one in particular, the spine carrying a title written in Latin. Her fingers danced across it a moment while a smile graced her lips, chuckling to herself, it was a book she remembered that many editions ago her mother having a copy of. She opened it, inhaling the scents of old paper, worn though the ages, like a fine wine uncorked for the first time, her eyes taking in that language she knew as well as about a half a dozen others, but this one was the one of her kind, the one her mother first taught her, the one that healers had once traded in. Of course she also had read tomes in Celtic, Pitctish, and Arabic as well but it always came back to Latin. One of the reasons she had loathed being a demon so much was that the term Latin had taken on a whole new meaning to her then. Her eyes scanned the page, taking in the new information on the workings of herbs, the various substances in enchantments, then she turned to the back cover and almost choked to death at the price of it, her eyes turning down, she couldn’t come close to affording it or probably any other book in this section. Time was she would simply have gathered up the ones she wanted and just walked out of the store with them, if anyone interfered the would have wound up in traction for their troubles, but now with her new human body she also had a very LOUD human conscious (sounding like one Sam Winchester) which wouldn’t allow for something as course as that. So she shelved the book again and stood up, picking up some cheep knock off wanna be paperback new age herbalist book and walking over to the register with it.
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Post by puck on Jul 19, 2011 19:15:07 GMT -5
* all the world's a stage, [/b][/font] and all the men and women merely players- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/center] Robin peeked slyly at her from across the aisle, a curious glimmer in his eyes. Sniffing the books -- ahh, he recalled her taking in scents much the same way, back in ye olde Englande. Old habits die hard. Apparently, even harder than the life of their inhabitant. To think, all this way and on a completely different continent, and somewhere in there was the same young girl who'd so diligently honored the nature he himself was a part of. Fascinating.
When she got up to go pay for a cheap knockoff of the really much nicer book, he headed the same direction about four or five paces behind her. For appearance's sake, he had a couple random books under his arm, which he now saw were Grimm's Fairy Tales and Myths & Legends of Old Ireland. How appropriate was that?
Much to playing his part, Robin looked everywhere but directly at her while he pretended to mosey towards the Cooking section. Under his breath, he softly recited a very old song, just loud enough for her to overhear, but quiet so it didn't quite sound like he was calling her out: "Ring-a-ring-a-rosies, a pocket full of posies... hush, the cry! Hush, the cry! All fall down ~"
Occasionally, his eyes would flick over to her. He couldn't help it; it was in his nature to be ever-aware of what he found to be interesting. [/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - * the pen is mightier than the sword [/color] 236 words* such stuff as dreams are made on[/color] using quotes from william shakespeare* get thee to a nunnery![/color] ruby & robin is/are tagged* what's in a name?[/color] template made by LAURIE?! of CAUTION 2.0[/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by ruby on Jul 23, 2011 12:47:41 GMT -5
She snapped her head up, hearing that old rhyme she used to sing outside her house in those stolen moments as a child. She remembered running though grassy fields singing, so full of innocence to how the world was really, how she had thought everything was so easy and beautiful and what lies it all was. She stepped away from the register, looking around, knowing full well that those words to that rhyme had not been used in centuries and there was no way a coincidence like that could happen, sliding the cheep book onto a shelf as she did. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up with the unspoken danger lingering in the fact that perhaps someone or something was here looking for her specifically, no one looked for her for good things lately. She stepped down a few more aisles, finding one that was empty, then she softly spoke the words to a poem she knew was from her childhood as well, perhaps an answer to who ever was speaking in rhyme. “The past is such a curious creature, to look her in the face. A transport may receipt us or a disgrace. Unarmed if any meet her, I charge him fly, her faded ammunition might yet reply.”
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Post by puck on Jul 24, 2011 11:01:07 GMT -5
* all the world's a stage, [/b][/font] and all the men and women merely players- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/center] A-ha. That got her attention. Puck gave a wry smile at her reaction, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on her as she wandered right back off to the aisles. O-ho, a game of kitty and mousey, is it? He didn’t dislike it. It was like she was intentionally trying to make the encounter more fun – although her fear, well, that wasn’t the best. Couldn’t have her go running off on him, now. He decided to be subtle as he broke away from the line, setting the books in the nearest convenient spot (which happened to be the “photography” shelf) and following into the aisle adjacent to hers.
The past is such a curious creature, to look her in the face… Robin recognized this one, too. As silent as a spirit, he teleported himself right to the top of the shelf, kneeling on one knee as he gazed down at her. He was quite high up, but a good fellow such as himself would never fear a fall. Plus, this was a good vantage point; as he looked down, he could see her quite clearly whereas she would have to look up to notice him, and it was plain as the nose on his face that this here bonnie lass was one and the same with who he thought she was. Not that it hadn’t been proven already. He was just proud of himself for noticing.
As she spoke the lines of the poem, he joined in with her on the last few words, reciting it at just the same time she did. “… if any meet her, I charge him fly, her faded ammunition might yet reply.” With a pleasant smile, he doffed his hat to her, not coming down from his high-up spot. “Long time no see, Joan. How’ve you been?” [/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - * the pen is mightier than the sword [/color] 325 words* such stuff as dreams are made on[/color] using quotes from william shakespeare* get thee to a nunnery![/color] ruby is tagged* what's in a name?[/color] template made by LAURIE?! of CAUTION 2.0[/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by ruby on Aug 1, 2011 16:58:14 GMT -5
Her eyes looked up to the curious man on the bookshelf, adjusting her stance should he decide to jump down on top of her. Of course she logically knew that if he wished her harm that he would have already done it to her and she wouldn’t have seen it coming. Turning her head to the side she studied him a moment, a single eyebrow raising, trying to puzzle out exactly how he knew that name, how he knew to call her that, and how to find it out. Of course first things first, she had to be sure she wasn’t dealing with a demon. “Christo.” The single word would make a demon flinch, make it’s eyes go over with the color of its type, and reveal its true nature to her. Of course if he was a demon her only choice would be to run and get somewhere where she could call Sam in the hopes that there weren’t more of them. Instinct thought, that said the man in the hat looking down at her was something quite different from a demon, probably as opposite as you could get from one without going to angel territory. Of course there was the other option that slowly occurred to her, could he really be one of those beings of nature and spirit she used to tithe to? Was this truly something of her human life showing back up as she became human again, perhaps a sign of some sort that she was on the right path, or a guide to show her the next steps in the path. Of course it could also just be a fairy looking for a glass of cream.
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Post by puck on Aug 2, 2011 19:49:16 GMT -5
* all the world's a stage, [/b][/font] and all the men and women merely players- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/center] Robin figured that she would be wary of him. Who wouldn’t be, after all? He was hardly the salve for someone with nerves as jangled as hers must have been, given her situation and whatnot. Still, the way she looked at him and invoked the name of good ol’ J.C. made him laugh out loud.
“Ha ha! Afraid I’ve never met the fellow, though I’ve heard many good things about him,” he said cheerily. He did not, of course, flinch or change his eyes in any fashion. Leprechauns were about as demonic as taxi drivers. (Which… okay, as far as he was concerned, those were kind of demonic. Nevertheless, he could be a right bastard sometimes too.)
In the blink of an eye, Puck was down off the bookshelves and standing to her side, arms folded and leaning back. “You treat all of my sort that way? Tut-tut, Joanie, someone might think you ungrateful. But don’t worry.” He put his finger to his lips and, with a conspiratorial smirk, whispered. “Your Ruby-red little secret is safe with me. I’m an honest… fellow.”
Secrets were such fun, useful little things. An untold one informs a person’s behavior, a revealed one can turn everything topsy-turvy, and a kept one can be a strong bonder – or a deadly poison. But he had no intention of poisoning anyone. To him, this was just a harmless little game, like a dance; he played, she played, everyone else was already losing. Would she figure him out if he revealed nothing? If he revealed everything, that obviously would make it over. It was a test, of sorts, to see how close he could tap his toes before she had him pinned down.
“Now that we’ve established I’m not a demon, might we move to more interesting matters? Such as, why you didn’t pinch that priceless little tome, and instead picked up a paperback not worth the tree it was beaten out of.” A sharp glimmer entered his eyes. “Has good old Joan gotten her scruples back, now that she’s of the mortal persuasion?”
[/blockquote] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - * the pen is mightier than the sword [/color] 346 words* such stuff as dreams are made on[/color] using quotes from william shakespeare* get thee to a nunnery![/color] ruby is tagged* what's in a name?[/color] template made by LAURIE?! of CAUTION 2.0[/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by ruby on Aug 6, 2011 8:39:04 GMT -5
Okay not a demon….that was somewhat comforting. Of course she didn’t really believe he was, demons weren’t the sort that would crouch on top of bookshelves playing mind games with humans or ex-demons and they were the kinds that would come up on a person and grab them or just slit their damned throat. She looked Robin over a little more carefully now, noting his cadence, how he held himself, the clues he was giving away in his words. He knew her as Joan and as Ruby, many knew one name but few knew the other. Honest fellow…that was Shakespeare, yes she was well read, not as well as say Sam but she could hold her own. All his sort, so there was more than one of him, great did she have a weird sort of fan club now? “Quid pro quo, answers to questions are worth something from where I stand. That was two you asked me, of course both can be answered with one answer, but giving you that much information about me would be unlocking pieces to a puzzle of myself when I have no keys to yours. Should not I at least get your name before I answer, would only be proper.” A soft smirk slowly tracing over her features, something she learned to hide behind as a demon, a mask of emotion that used to hide away amusement, fear, bitterness, anger, and pain. That smirk never reached her eyes thought, they were dark pools that revealed nothing, blank slates, six hundred years taught you to wipe them clear of emotion when you had to, just in case.
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