1963-07-18 - Let's Go To The Park
Summary: In which Clea and Amora get up to sorcery in the park and are interrupted by a federal agent.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
clea amora paladin marcus 


*

Amora paced in the clearing of Central park she'd found some days prior. A cardboard box sat in the center filled with various artifacts of occult significance, still untouched. Amora's heels sank slightly in the springy grass that covered the area, and she carefully bent every so often, picking up a rock or a stick that lay in the grass in her path. Her work was methodic, removing anything that might interfere with whatever spell work that she planned to concoct.

At least this far into the park there were less people around and when Clea arrived, Amora would put up wards to further ensure that no one came up to interupt them.

A sigh dragged from her lips as she tied her hair back into a ponytail, and eyed the area again. "Here's hoping it all goes well.." She muttered.

*

Clea arrives, as per the invitation received - the call, answered! She is in a black miniskirt-cut dress with her hair done up in a slightly satanic manner and various chunky red jewels in silver on her. This makes her look even more occult than usual, but it didn't stand out on the walk over.

She pauses on the precipice of the clearing, calling inside with formality, "May I enter?"

And since she is welcomed, after a response she steps inside, though she places her purse on the fringes of the space. Her hands clasp together as she steps towards Amora, slowly, methodically.

Her head cranes to look in the box. "What did you bring?" If anything the box seems to make her more curious than the artefacts.

*

%R%RCentral park is nice and big that any number of meetings can go on at just about any moment in time. For people like Paul Denning it gives them a chance to experience some bit of greenery in the hugely greyness of New York city. Today, it's also a chance to mix business with pleasure.%R%R"Danton…" The tall man spreads his arms, causing his trench coat to open as if offering the shorter fidgeting fellow a hug, yet also conveniently displaying that he isn't packing any heat. "Good to see you,"%R%R"Denning." The man grimaces and stands up from the park bench he'd been seated at, both of them taking drags on their respective cigarettes. %R%R"You have the folder, Danny?"%R%R"Yes, also something extra for you. Job well done."%R%R"Excellent, excellent." The two close the distance, embrace, roughly patting each other on the back in something approximating professional respect. They part and then proceed to stand there in front of the bench. %R%R"So, how is Olga and the kids?"%R%R"Good. Good. We shall have you over next year. Tacos. My new favorite food."%R%R"Tacos. You need to learn how to eat, Danny."%R%R"And you are a disgusting pig, we all have our crosses to carry, Denning."%R%RThe two men grin, parting company with warm smiles. It leaves the one tall American standing there at the bench, then he drops down into it to take a long drag on is cigarette even as he reaches into his coat and checks a manila folder he recently found there somehow.

*

Central park is nice and big that any number of meetings can go on at just about any moment in time. For people like Paul Denning it gives them a chance to experience some bit of greenery in the hugely greyness of New York city. Today, it's also a chance to mix business with pleasure.

"Danton…" The tall man spreads his arms, causing his trench coat to open as if offering the shorter fidgeting fellow a hug, yet also conveniently displaying that he isn't packing any heat. "Good to see you,"

"Denning." The man grimaces and stands up from the park bench he'd been seated at, both of them taking drags on their respective cigarettes.

"You have the folder, Danny?"

"Yes, also something extra for you. Job well done."

"Excellent, excellent." The two close the distance, embrace, roughly patting each other on the back in something approximating professional respect. They part and then proceed to stand there in front of the bench.

"So, how is Olga and the kids?"

"Good. Good. We shall have you over next year. Tacos. My new favorite food."

"Tacos. You need to learn how to eat, Danny."

"And you are a disgusting pig, we all have our crosses to carry, Denning."

The two men grin, parting company with warm smiles. It leaves the one tall American standing there at the bench, then he drops down into it to take a long drag on is cigarette even as he reaches into his coat and checks a manila folder he recently found there somehow.

*

Amora turned her attention to Clea as the woman arrived and just like that she was all smiles. "Of course, and thank you again for coming. I can't work this spell on my own, not as I am, but I hope that with a second caster things will be different. I played around with several spells earlier this week as a test. I think we will be able to work together on this."

She checked the area once more and waved her hands out and around her with a few muttered words. "And hopefully that should keep unwanted visitors from entering the spell field." She shrugged and made her way over toward the box and Clea.

"These are what I could find in my old vault that might work for this. There isn't a single spell we're working on here. We have to weave one for your magic, mine, and a blessing from Midgard. Which, decidedly would be easier if either one of us was from here. But I've got a few fragments of things that might work as a stand in." She frowned faintedly, "I don't know how the combination of magic will impact the area though."

*

Sitting on a bench, in old clothes that he managed to fine in a dumpster in some alley, Marcus has finally arrived back in the US. And he's still trying to sort out just how much time has passed. It's still something of a cultural shock. Things are so different from when he last saw his own country. It's a thought that's been running through his head ever since he found civilization again. The date he heard as he moved through Europe didn't seem to make sense, and it's no different here. Eventually he'll have to find somewhere to go. Can't go back ot Montana, too many questions. Can't drop into any simple recruiting station, again, probably even more questions. So, he's stuck, even if it he feels like he's stuck on this particular park bench. There's an idle scratch at his shoulder, which only makes him jerk his hand away. That hurts. At least he blends in well enough. Enough homeless people around that he shouldn't stick out too much.

*

Heedless of the actions of others now, Clea finds her attention resting on Amora. 'Helen' as she knows her. It's not a hard thing to pay attention to her, even if she's toned it down. "Don't press yourself too quickly," she murmurs, a hand going on her hip, and then looking downwards at the box.

"Ah - Midgard - that is the name for this realm. Yes, I understand… it's a complicated matter, and I am surprised you chose a place that was so…" She trails off, leaning over to look into the box. Probably a little further than she ought to in that skirt.

"I'll have to follow your lead," Clea tells Amora, sadly. "I'm not nearly as knowledgeable as you are. Is there any preparatory steps we should take…? I didn't bring a sacrifice with me."

*

Across the way, taking a drag on his cigarette, Paladin sees what looks to be two women… and his observation sort of stops there. The box is unnoticed and ignored, since really it's not an Amora or Clea. And then when Clea leans forwards and sort of… yeah. His eyebrows shoot up and he ashes his cig to the side, smiling a bit to himself.

The folder slides back into his coat and he pushes himself back up to his feet. He pushes a hand through his hair, then cups his hand and breaths into the palm to check his breath. "Alright, Denning. Time to shine." As he says that he steps forward, sliding his hands into his pockets as he moves. When he draws near he puts on a sort of harried look and quickly glances over his shoulder. "Ladies,"

The man looks back again, then towards the two of them. Maybe the box is noticed then, probably not. "Everything alright here, you didn't happen to see a strange looking fellow with dark hair, glasses, seemed a little shifty."

*

Marcus leaves, heading towards Harlem [HA].

*

Marcus has left.

*

Amora arched a brow as she glanced over the box at Clea. Her hair swinging over her shoulder as she bent to start picking up tiny statues of stone, a few candles, and other more odd shaped pieces of blown glass. "This place is a meeting center for what little power this realm holds. I did not choose the place for the simple pleasure of it, I assure you." She murmured.

"After we are set up I'll need to cast another warding to prevent mortals from seeing or hearing what happens. I do not wish to explain such things." She moved, taking to the edges of her circle and setting down the items she had collected with care.

"And there are no sacrifcies required, this spell isn't summoning or destroying anything. It's supposed to be healing the void that causes the magical dra—" She breaks off as a man approaches and scowls. A hand settling on her hip as she turns around to eye the mortal.

"No sir," Her voice was soft with a false innocence, and she fluttered her eyelashes. "Thank you for the concern though." She smiled thinly.

*

Clea laughs ruefully for a moment, as she nods in acknowledgement. "It would probably distress them to see us doing that sort of thing. I've always had to be careful about my own magicks-" Then she takes a deep breath, whirling around with a clink of jewelry, and gazing at -

A man!

"We're doing wonderfully, thank you," she answers Paladin. She blinks four times in rapid succession and then tries her best brilliant smile. She sounds vaguely foreign. "And yes, thank you for your concern…"

Her eyes cut to Amora for a moment as if to ask: What do we do about this.

*

Looking between them, he does take a moment to look down at the… box? The symbols? Hnh. Of course not as interesting as Clea and Amora. He looks back up and then gives them both the sort of squinty-eyed wary but oh so serious look of a man beset on all sides by danger. "You can't stay around here, it's dangerous. I didn't want to say anything…"

He looks around, reaching a hand into his jacket as if he were holding onto something. His brow furrows as he looks back. "There are enemy operatives in the area and you're both in danger. I'm going to need you both to come with me to a safehouse where we can lie low. Your being here at this time puts you in dire…" He looks between them for added weight of seriousness. "Dire. Jeopardy."

*

Irritation flares in Amora's eyes briefly as she shared a glance with Clea as the gentleman spoke. Green eyes swing back to flit over the man as he glances at the box of magical items and speaks again. Carefully, Amora scotted to press against Clea's side, putting herself between the mortal and the box. With practiced easy Amora bends slightly, folding her hands over the other and squeezing her upperarms inward, her chest straining at the collar of her dress as a result.

"Oh dear! What will we do about our drama practice? Clea?" She turns false wise eyes at the other woman, "Oh! I know, let me fetch my brother." She pressed a hand to her lips and whispered lowly.

"He's part of the NYPD. He'll be out here in a jiff!" She beams as if at her own cleverness.

*

Clea is somewhat thunderstruck by this, though the look in her eyes of 'oh, crap, he's somehow onto us' could easily be mistaken for 'oh no, communists!' Then Amora presses against her, and presses /forwards/ towards the agent.

She puts an arm round Amora's shoulders, lightly, and says knowingly, "Yes — yes! That's quite true." Back to the visiting man, she says with a tilt of her head and her other hand on her hip, "I'm not certain what you mean… would we be any safer, in a house?"

*

"You'd only be getting your brother killed, ma'am." Paladin does have a… sort of look of a secret agent of a sort. Maybe. He's got the height and the suit and… well what else do you need to fit that stereotypical mental image? He looks between them, "Look. I know how crazy this sounds."

There's a moment where he reaches into his coat and produces his wallet. It flips open with a snap and indeed there's a picture identification of the man for The Secret Service with his picture there, a rather pretty decent logo with all sorts of terribly official looking markings and stamps, then some various bits of data like his name being Paul Denning, and his birthday being some thirty years ago, and a series of number and letters after a 'Code' area. It looks fairly official…

"My name is Agent Denning, and it might be best if we hole up somewhere until the morning and until I get the all clear from my partners."

But then, being who he is, he somehow seems to not be able to leave well enough alone. He gestures to the boxes and then says, "What is all of that?"

*

Amora leaned back with a huff, her arms crossing under her chest as she glanced side long at Clea. Talking her way out was clearly not going to work.

There's a thing called subtly, Amora.

Loki's previous words flashed in her mind and her features soured to suit her thoughts. One hand settled on her hip as she eyed the man up and down, her lips peeling back into a wolfish smile.

"If it's so dangerous and my brother can't be here, why were -you- here, sir?" She fluttered her eyelashes again, stepping forward toward his person. Her head tilted to the side as she fluttered her eyelashes again.

"I would -so- like to know.." She breathed, looking upat him from under her lashes.

*

Clea blinks a few more times - and then she says, "Oh, just props," to answer the question.

A thought dawns on her.

She leans towards Amora to murmur something quietly. She /does/ manage to pitch it well enough that unless Agent Denning has truly excellent hearing it will go unnoticed— but not to Amora! Who is asked, in her turn: 'Are we being picked up? I think that's what he's doing.'

*

For some reason as Amora speaks to him, Paladin's eyes unfocus a touch and look past her… then return to look upon them both. He abruptly reaches into his coat and withdraws a cigarette. He taps it out before lighting it with a flare from a lighter drawn forth with a well-practiced motion that's little more than a whir-click-click-whir as it returns to his jacket. With a smoke in hand he answers Amora with such candor that it might surprise them.

"Was meeting a buddy, Willy Danton. Nice fellow, soft. Doesn't have the chops to pop anyone. But does his job. Nice wife. Real piece."

He looks over towards Clea, then back to Amora. "I saw you two ladies over here and thought you were pretty damn choice. Figured I'd run the old danger gambit and see if I could get you two back to some hotel room. A few bottles of champagne, inhibitions lowered."

He looks towards Clea, "I mean really, yer both staggeringly beautiful. I mean sure she's hotter." He gestures with the cigarette towards Amora, "But she gives me the impression, high maintenance. I mean really high maintenance."

To Clea he tilts his head, "Though you, with the skirt, and that hair. You look like you'd be huge fun. No stress. Someone you can laugh with too, which is weird that I care about that, but I do."

But then his gaze turns back towards Amora and he says in that same sort of distracted tone, "But I think I love you now. It's pretty great. Didn't know I could love someone. Nice."

*

Amora leaned back, catching Clea's whisper and her lips twitched momentarily. Her voice dropped low and she whispered back as the mortal started to answer her questions. 'Yes, it practically oozes off him.'

At the comment of her being 'high maitence' Amora arched a brow upwards, glancing toward Clea side long and back. Finally as he comes to the point and mutters his love for her she sighed and made a sound at the back of her throat.

"Of course you love me," She smiled and leaned forward again on her toes toward him, reaching out a hand toward his chin. "Why don't you go get that hotel room ready, I'll come catch you." She winked, and drew back.

*

"Oh, that's a yes, then," Clea says, relaxing visibly.

Of course Amora steps forwards. Clea seems vaguely uncertain how to conduct herself - she does give the man a thoughtful, perhaps slightly enigmatic smile, and doesn't take a hand off of her hip in the process — but she does murmur a 'Did you…?' with an open ended trailing inquisition regarding the entire scope of things.

"I'll tag along if I can," she offers, mostly to fill the air.

*

"Sure thing, baby. It'll be under Denning." Paladin smiles to them both and gives a wink rather openly as he turns around and starts to walk away across the park towards the Hilton as fate would have it. He reaches the sidewalk, tossing the cigarette aside and crushing it under foot as he steps away from the duo of young women and makes his way to that hotel.

Sure chances are he'll spend the next twenty four hours there waiting expectantly with several bottles of champagne chilling in ice. But considering the people he just tried to pick up… chances are he got off lightly too.

*

Amora sighed as the mortal finally left and turned her gaze back to Clea. "Well, that'll keep him busy for a while." She held up her hands and a green light flickered and lights sparked out over the area, falling and fading not unlike fireworks.

"No more mortal interlopers now. Shall we start?" She asked, moving toward the box and picking up the last few items inside.

*

Paladin has disconnected.

*

"Certainly, certainly," Clea says, stepping back inwards. "You have to teach me that, if that was a spell at all." Conversational - but is she making a request?!

Well, no bad can come of that.

*

Amora smirked over her shoulder at Clea as she somehow, magically of course, summoned a staff out of no where with a twisting branch holding up a green orb. "It's an enchantment linked with mind control. It works with the natural inclination that most have at seeing a lovely woman and heightens the appeal to the point that they want to do what I ask. And that was just a level one enchantment with my gaze." She winked and paced around the circle's edge again, a glowing green line following her path.

*

"Oh, then there are higher levels," Clea says as she stands in the center, awaiting, perhaps, further orders. She pivots a bit to watch Amora circle, though, and she does press her palms together. There is a sheen of violet between them but at the moment it's definitely 'trick of the light' level.

For now. "I'm not sure how to take his opinion of me, but I think, in the end, it was a complement."

*

Amora shrugged coming to complete the circle and halting. "Take it as you will. A man's devotion in such circumstances if hardly something to base your self worth by." She murmured, and with a snap the orbed staff fell away into a nothingness of green smoke.

"Now, for your part, you'll have it easy. When I ask if you give this magic freely, then you'll respond with a simple yes. After that, it should seal up my magic being scoured away and as a benefit, it will hide away your leakage as it were." She paused, looking over Clea again.

"Other magical users shouldn't pick up on your power as easily after. Not unless you wish it. It's a healing and concealing spell, mixing three different planes of magic. I can't say for certain how long it will work, if it does at all. In all my long years of practice I have never had to weave such workings together."

*

Clea nods once, her hand going back onto her hip. The corollary of this - which may be that she would have less energy herself - is not something that crosses her mind immediately, and so she says, "Even if it only eases things for a while, for you, it's worth it." How generous!

"As they say here — 'ready when you are.' Or should it be 'lead on, McDuff'?"

*

Amora smirks, and starts the long incantations required for the spells by memory. The language was old, the words of power so long forgotten that understanding of them seems to slip from the mind faster than it can be understood. Her hands held out at her sides as she shifts her footing on the grass. Her hands become encased in green light and the wind stirs up wildly in response. After several moments of this, a blinding flash of light engulfs the circle the two women stand in.

A boom sounded as several of the little statues shattered and in turn, vanished into green puffs of smoke as Amora started in on another spell. Her eyes glowed in a mirror of light that matched that of the rest of the circle and she shifted her gaze to Clea. Finally, Amora's voice clears to a language that Clea could understand.

"Dost thou give of magic freely? Here state if any power within the Nine Realms force upon your person and so here be remedied. For none can force a gift, once freely given it is freely recieved."

*

Clea knows tongues of power, if only by acquaintanence - but this one is foreign! Even so, she is familiar enough with Magic in the grand sense to let her head tilt back, her left hand slowly rising upwards as her spine tingles, the power that flows through her heedlessly seeming to glow all the brighter.

Some small part of her thinks for a moment: Should I r-

But she's already agreed to this, hasn't she? And her left hand's already raised, fingers splayed. She answers - "Yes!" Even as her back tightens, a gasp escaping her lips.

*

The magic seems to reach a crest in power with the 'yes' and then it ends. With a flash, and a poof, the light fades. Amora sits on the ground, slumped and exhausted from stretching herself so. The statues are gone and everything else magically related has vanished from the circle. The faint traces of green fade from Amora's personage as she sits up, pressing a hand through her hair. "Well here's hoping it worked."

*

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