The Wrong Demon

Brief Title:
TWD

Characters:
Magik & Hellstorm

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
01/01/13 00:01

Location:
Hellstrom Manor

Summary:
Daimon summons Magic by accident. They talk.

Social or Plot:

TS:
No

Log:
Standing half nude in the center of a luxurious ballroom is Daimon Hellstrom. He only wears slacks. His chest bares the pentagram which has a slight glow to it. In his right hand is a glowing golden trident and his eyes also share the same glow.

The room is alight with candles and smells of incence and other infernal scents. In the center of the room (before him) is a glowing pentagram with the five points possessing some sort of gemstone.

Hellstrom's arms are aloft in the air and he had cast a summoning spell that brought Magik to his location.

Whether the work of Hellstrom's spell, or happenstance resulting from a slight miscalculation on Magik's part, a tear opens up vertically in the very fabric of space, as Magik proceeds to step out of it.

She is dressed in a rather Dungeon & Dragons inspired blood red mage robes, a red domino mask over her eyes, a red hood pulled low over her head.

The portal from which she steps closes in seconds, and she looks around slowly, for a moment ignoring Daimon as she studied the room. "Proklyatiye," she exclaims, not looking too pleased, as her gaze soon falls on Daimon, "vhere am I? Dis iz planet Earth, yes?"

Daimon gives pause as he looks about the form of Magik - obviously not expecting the image of a young girl in mage robes. "Yes." Hellstrom confirms her query and as his brow furrows while looking /into/ her he says, "You're not exactly what I ordered."

Magik looks directly at Daimon's piercing gaze, her lips curve into a mischevious smile, "I am very rarely vhat anybody orders," she adds a playful wink, "I like your shirt," she says despite the obvious lack of one on Daimon's person.

He glances down then back to her with questions, "I was ordering a type VI demon. I'm guessing that I did something wrong to get a demon-girl hybrid." he steps to the line of the pentagram, slips his foot over the coal/marble dust and breaks the line. "I'm Hellstrom, Daimon Hellstrom. Who might I call you?"

Magik doesn't look nearly as amused when she gets dubbed a demon-girl hybrid. She removes the hood from her head, exposing her gorgeous blonde hair, as she sneers at Daimon, "goot sense of humor, Daimon, but I am much more." Looking around at the affluence of the room, she quips, "you are vell to do, congratulations." Walking around the room, she answers the question briskly, "Illyana Rasputin, also known as Magik."

"As lovely as you are intriguing." Notes Hellstrom as he watches her move at her leisure and his pleasure. He continues, "Please, allow me to pay recompense to your inconvenience and offer my hospitality - may I get you something to drink - Vodka perhaps?"

Daimon doesn't know what he has, but he's interested in learning.

"Vodka woult do nicely," Magik answers, an amused tone added to her voice, no doubt for the somewhat stereotypical offer of drink, even if it is not misplaced. Looking up, Magik whistles, as she notes, "I do like ceilink very much, beautiful vork."

Moving to the bar, Hellstrom thanks her, "Thank you. This home has been in my family for 8 generations. It was brought over from England piece by piece and now only my sister and I inhabit it."

He places his trident down on the bar as he begins to make drinks.

"Dat iz quite a bit of vork!" Magik does sound impressed, assuming this was done by manual labor rather than magical means, as most do work with those methods. Having surveyed the room, she heads over to stand next to Daimon, looking at him more closely, "I sink I vill do same vork on ceilink in my place, it look spectacular," as she stands by his side, Magik gives a closer look to Daimon, reaching to brush a hand over the pentagram on his chest, "tattoo? Brant? Or actual magic?" She asks with fascionation.

A joke crosses his mind and Hellstrom shares, "What does a WASP (white anglo saxon protestant) think about during sex?" comes the question then he offers the answer, "Mauve, I think I'll paint my ceiling mauve."

Hellstrom will then turn and offer the glass of vodka to his companion and add to the conversation with the answer, "Birthmark."

Magik apparently isn't that well familiar with the term WASP as she turns to look quizzically at Hellstrom, her brow arching as she waits for him to give away the answer. "I understant WASP not very goot at sex, yes?" Magik smirks, somewhat amused even without quite knowing the term WASP, because it's always amusing when someone has pleasure dome at the tips of their fingers but choose to forego grasping it.

Reaching to cling her glass against Daimon's, Magik calls out, "ura," as she drinks some of the vodka before lowering her glass and taking even more interest in Daimon, "dat kint of birthmark iz special, your parents are sorcerers?"

Hellstrom smiles just before taking a drink from his own glass. After swallowing, he responds to her question, "You could say that. My father was real big in the occult and my mother was along for the ride."

"Interesting," Magik murmurs, looking at the liquid in her glass as if she could see more than just the vodka in there. "My parents chad not'ink to do with occult," she then turns to look at Daimon with a faint smile, "but occult wantet to do with me, dat chow it works, like magic, no?"

"Quite." Agrees Hellstrom after emptying the glass and setting it onto the bar. He then states, "Now back to business. Tell me, beautiful Russian demon-girl. What am I do to with you, now that you are here within my lovely home?"

Emptying her glass first, Magik puts it down next to Daimon's and turns to look at him with a playful smirk on her lips, "you insist on callink me demon-girl, I fint dat rude." While she did not ask for an apology, she gives the impression she's very much waiting for one. "I think goot think to do is be chappy you got to see me and nothink bad chappened. You're very lucky guy, Daimon."

"My apologies, Illyana. Forgive my history when dealing with demonic kind, they're typically on the receiving end of my trident and I've little interest in names. But you on the other hand, you're delightfully different with your sharp tongue and alluring features. I do consider myself very lucky to have encountered you. Otherwise I'd be elbows deep in the torture of a demon for information."

"I am no demon," Magik asserts rather adamantly, it may not necessarily be the whole truth, but she has vowed never to give in to that side. There's no reason for a total stranger like Daimon to ever learn about the Darkchilde and just how much worse than just any ol' demon Illyana can truly be. She does take well to flattery though, as can easily be noted by her softening features when she smiles at Daimon. A self-satisfied sort of smile, she's not the kind of girl to swoon at mere flattery, but she likes it nonetheless. "Torture? Vhy torture demon vhen iz so easy to get answer...," and there's that malicious grin on Magik's face, she doesn't really have much control over those little giveaways that show beyond doubt she's more than just a pretty girl. No matter how hard she claims to not being a demon, or not being evil, there is a very evil and distinctly demonic part about her. Daimon probably knows that, though Magik has no way of telling he his share of gifts beyond the way he presents himself. Certain things just draw on that darker side of Magik and she cannot resist their allure. The kind of smile currently plastered on her lips suggests that despite her words, not only has she taken to torturing others, but she has found great joy in the activity.

"But the torture is half the fun." Admits Hellstrom as he pats his trident. "Though, since you're here, perhaps I'll ask you - Have you ever heard of Lilith, the mother of demons?"

Magik remains indifferent to Hellstrom's words, her expression blank to the point she could either be for or against his statement, that malicious smile gone from her visage. "I cheard name Lillith, not met cher, vhy you ask?" She also turns a question in turn, "you chear of Dread Masters? Dark Ones?"

"Of course." Hellstrom states as he goes into reflection mode, "A subset of the old ones who fell to the influence of the darkness. Lilith herself is even related to that classification. Why do you ask?"

"As lonk as ve vere askink questions about beings of ill-repute, it seemed appropriate." Magik doesn't reveal any deeper motive if she had one, so it looks as if she asked a question merely because she was asked one. "You chave trouble vith Lilith?" Magik asks curiously, "you don't look kint of guy to chave trouble with girls."

That question and implication brings a chuckle to Hellstrom. After a breath, he states in humor, "If she were a girl... then no, there wouldn't be trouble, there'd be nothing but sweet love. However, she's got this thing for opening a rift and releasing all the demons from the nether into our reality. So I'm just doing my part to put a stop to it."

"Ah..." Magik muses as she hears the nature of the problem Daimon has with Lilith, "funny, my name iz not Lilith." Which brings forth the question, is the girl in his company actually Lilith who has come forth to taunt him, or is Magik simply gifted with quite the sense of humor?

An eyebrow is raised and Hellstrom now looks to his companion in a different light. "Well then. Perhaps we should change the subject and focus on matters more suited to our carnal needs."

"Of course," Magik is most willing to change the subject, but rather than carnal needs, she simply shoots forth different sort of questions, "are we in planet Earth? Iz year now 2013? Last one...dis place, America? Even better, New York?"

"Earth, January 2013, Greentown, Massachusetts. Hellstrom Manor, to be precise." Answers Hellstrom following the direction she's going but does not question for he feels she has more to relate.

"Otlichno!" Magik calls out, looking mighty pleased with herself, "I am close now, thank you, dosvidaniya," Magik says with a smile and just as she came in, a disc of light seems to open underneath her feet and in a flash she's gone as if she never was there.

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