Monday evening, 7:35 PM. Although mostly hidden, the moon periodically peaks from behind the onslaught of clouds. Chill winds creep across the city, which keeps the temperature fairly low. Temps: 3C/37F lows and 8C/46F highs.
skin credit goes to miss texas, custom structure scripts go to black, and the toggle cbox goes to subdevo. credit for mini profile goes to bee.
"Noah's actually trained in the Craft," Scotty relays to Ashleigh after her comment about utilizing a spell. Though firestarters do not inherently have access to the abilities associated with the Craft, as a mortal, Noah was able to develop them through study. "Pretty powerful too."
"And why the hell would you think that? If he could kill you, what makes you think he won't kill my ass too? Dude, I miss you too, but not enough to cross-over. Do you even have a plan, or am I the plan? 'Cos if I am, that's not a very good plan."
Scotty thought he was prepared for his friend's inevitable outburst (Noah's firestarting abilities are a good indicator of his temperament), but he couldn't have been more wrong. He feels his ethereal form warm with shame and then his own frustration.
"Of course, you're not the plan - we don't even have one of those yet!" Scotty shouts back, momentarily forgetting that despite Noah's harsh gaze directed at him, the firestarter is still not able to see him. "I thought you'd at least be willing to hear us out and maybe give both of us some fuckin' closure."
"What's he saying?"
"Goddammit..." he mutters, realizing that his own tirade was only heard by one party in the room, and not the one it was directed at. "This isn't working." He glances around the room, looking for something they might be able to use. "We need to find some glasses to enchant or something. Or maybe between the two of you, you might be able to make it so he can see me. Open his third eye or something."
"And why the hell would you think that? If he could kill you, what makes you think he won't kill my ass too? Dude, I miss you too, but not enough to cross-over. Do you even have a plan, or am I the plan? 'Cos if I am, that's not a very good plan.”
Despite that one-half of the conversation she’s overhearing is invisible to the other, Ashleigh feels like she’s in the middle of something personal and under normal circumstances, would excuse herself and let them talk it through.
Not happening in this case.
"Of course, you're not the plan - we don't even have one of those yet! I thought you'd at least be willing to hear us out and maybe give both of us some fuckin' closure.”
“Whoah, okay,” Ashleigh starts, once Scotty starts shouting - because that’s not happened before - putting her hands up like she’s refereeing, “both of you need to calm down, because this -“ she says, waving at the space between the two men, “is not working,” agreeing with Scotty’s muttered comment.
She listens to his suggestion and nods. Turning to Noah, she says, “First, we need to figure out a way for you to see Scotty. He’s suggested enchanting glasses or figuring out a way to open your third eye, or something similar. At this point, I’m open to suggestions."
There's a silence in the air for a moment. Then, Ashleigh flags the air saying "Whoa, okay," and Noah knows that his friend has gotten fiery too. It's a bit comical, seeing her react like that in an absolutely quiet room. If Bishop weren't so flustered he might find time to laugh at her.
But they're both right. This isn't working.
He rolls his eyes and mutters "third eye," mocking the suggestion. Scotty's dead self needs to come off it. The glasses idea, however, sounds doable. The firestarter holds his sheets around himself and walks over to his dresser. On its surface sits a pair of dark shades, tossed into a pile with a ketchup packet and loose coins--basically, the contents of Noah's last worn pant's pocket.
In a dimmed room at 7pm, he places the sunglasses on his face and stares into the space where Ashleigh's suggested Yamin should be. He makes a groaning noise as he takes a second to think about what words would bring about the desired magic effect he's going for. This won't be pretty, but that's never been his style, anyway. He just wants it to work.
"With these shades I want to see A dead witch by the name Scotty."
"Sorry. I just thought he'd at least be moved to end my suffering," Scotty says, a little resentful and still pouting from his outburst. Arms crossed, he turns from the other two in order to afford himself a moment to gather himself.
"With these shades I want to see A dead witch by the name Scotty."
"Not exactly bringing his A-game with that one," Scotty retorts over his shoulder. Noah could have potentially granted himself full-blown mediumship, but he instead chooses the most direct and short-sighted route. He turns and looks to Ashleigh. "He only said 'see' - that will only solve one of our problems."
“He’ll get there,” Ashleigh tells Scotty, while Noah thinks about the words to his spell, which, when cast, sounds alright on the surface, until Ashleigh begins to unpack it and then she sees the same flaws that Scotty comments on.
"Not exactly bringing his A-game with that one. He only said 'see' - that will only solve one of our problems.”
She just nods at Scotty. “Maybe he’s good at reading lips?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood.
“Well?” Ashleigh asks Noah. “Is it a success? Or do we need to try round two?”
The dark tint of Noah's sunglasses turn a deep purple, an indication of the spell's SUCCESS. Now anyone peering through these particular shades will be able to see, but not otherwise interact with, the spirit of Scotty Yamin.
After his rhyming couplet, Noah notices a weird tint comes over the shade lenses. There, painted a deep purplish hue, stands the late, great Scotty Yamin. His first inclination is to hug his old friend and mentor, but he knows that won't be possible--on the other side of these glasses is still nothing but air.
The firestarter watches Scotty's lips move and realizes he can't hear a word he's saying. The spell hadn't worked quite how he'd hoped it would, but that's what happened when he had to throw something together. He only has Ashleigh's reply to go off: “Maybe he’s good at reading lips?” Noah smirks and says, "Very funny." It's partly to Ashleigh for her quip, partly to Scotty for the joke Noah's inferred he made, and partly to the Powers That Be for their sick sense of humor. "This is good enough for now," he assures his corporeal guest. He actually sort of enjoys a filter being put on whatever the hell Scotty has to say right now.
"Okay. Let's try this again. You want to go after Burak. 'A,' why? 'B,' why in the hell?"
When Ashleigh asks if the spell worked, Scotty turns to look at Noah for confirmation of this. It comes in the look that his old friend gives him in that moment. It's subtle and fleeting. He had no doubt the spell would work. Noah's Craft has always packed a punch. It's not clear whether that's due to the existing connection Noah has to the magical community as a firestarter, pure grit and determination, or other unknown factors.
It hardly matters.
"Why?" Scotty asks, his tone colored in disbelief - though Noah will only have his (very animated) facial features to get that read. After sparing a glance for Ashleigh, he motions to himself in a very exaggerated "isn't it obvious" kind of way.
"Until something is done about Burak Saat, I'm trapped here."
For the first time since stepping through the doors to Noah’s room, Ashleigh feels herself relax. Just a fraction, but it’s better than nothing and she’ll take it. Noah can see Scotty, didn’t explode at her quip, and they’re moving forward.
She lets them begin the back and forth of why.
She knows why Scotty wants to get rid of Burak; that’s never been in question.
“Unfinished business,” she murmurs. Scotty should have left when he died, but his need to see the man who killed him gone kept him around. Scotty could be forced to move on, but Burak would still be on the loose, and she’s seen what he does to people.
“Burak’s up to something,” Ashleigh adds. “He’s recruiting people and forcing them to kill innocents to prove their loyalty.”
Okay, so she’s only seen that once and Natalie, despite being horribly shaken by the event, is more or less in one piece. But it’s unlikely that it was a one-off event, given the little information she does have about Burak.
“I want to help Scotty move on, and I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, but I’m new to this, and we need your help."
Noah watches as Scotty motions to himself. Because of his halfway-spell, he's got to infer what the motion means. His initial thought is that the witch means to say he's bound to Burak in some way, but that can't be true. Why hasn't he reached out to Noah, then, in all this time if his literal eternal soul depended on it?
(“I want to help Scotty move on, and I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, but I’m new to this, and we need your help.")
It's Ashleigh's words that confirm it for him. Noah turns away from her and looks at Scotty. He's too pissed off for his simultaneously occurring sad emotions to show on his face. "You asshole," he begins. "Why didn't you come to me sooner when all I wanted to do was track that bastard down and end him. Why would you wait...," he has to stop himself. There's a thin line between the anger he feels because Scotty didn't come to him sooner and the hurt he feels knowing his late best friend has been an specter since his untimely death. He'd rather not cry in front of the new girl, so he pauses to collect himself.
"I will try to help you," he says, turning back to the medium, "because it means helping him." He points to thin air. "But I won't get myself killed to do it. Is that clear?" His words are for both of them; he assumes Ashleigh will relay any messages from Scotty.
He assumes they want to get started sooner rather than later, and he can't leave his inn room wearing only the sheet wrapped around his bare lower half. "Now, turn around so I can put on some clothes. Or watch, the both of you. I don't care."
"He will do it," Scotty says, reiterating Noah's utter lack of shame when it came to nudity. He would strip down in Times Square for no other reason than the mood striking him. As a constant companion of his for years, Scotty has seen Noah in all his glory and wouldn't be bothered by the display. He's not sure that the same can be said of Ashleigh. "So maybe we should wait outside?"
The spirit nods his head towards the door before taking his own advice and leaves by passing through the wooden barrier and back into the hallway. He waits there, just on the other side of the door, for the medium to join him.
“Crystal,” Ashleigh replies when Noah makes his position clear. She’s just grateful that they’ve got the assistance. So grateful she holds her tongue and doesn’t comment that she has no intention of being killed either.
Such a strange situation to be in; she’s certainly not someone who would traditionally find herself in a situation where being killed has a high probability. And yet here she is.
"Now, turn around so I can put on some clothes. Or watch, the both of you. I don't care.”
Ashleigh raises an eyebrow, and doesn’t need Scotty’s affirmation of Noah’s intent to know the other man really doesn’t care. She turns and follows Scotty back out into the hallway, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you,” to Noah before she opens the door and walks through.
It closes with a soft click behind her and she glances at Scotty. “That went better than I expected?”
It’s half comment, half question. Scotty knows the man better than she does.
After taking just a moment to change into presentable street clothing - ripped jeans, a wrinkled gray tee, some white sneakers - Noah joined his fallen friend and his new acquaintance out in the hallway. They'd decided not to stick around for his peep show which was their own loss. On his face he still wore the shades that allowed him to see, but not hear, Scotty. And while it wasn't unusual for a bartender who liked booze to wear sunglasses even at night, this quick fix wouldn't work for the perils they were about to embark on.
With his back turned to the duo as he locked his door, he began to propose that they look for a more sustainable follow-up solution to his own initially sloppy hack job. The woman had never said what she was -- hell, she hadn't even given her name -- but if she could see ghosts and knew about warlocks then it was safe to assume she had some magic in her. "Hey," he started but then hesitated, realizing he didn't know how to address the brunette, "do you think you can make him real again? Even if its just temporarily." A corporeal Yamin with his powers all there would be ideal, but Noah knew something like that would require a pretty strong witch or her equivalent. But maybe this inn worker had a few tricks up her sleeve.
Scotty doesn't reply to Ashleigh before Noah enters the hallway and joins them. The former witch looks over at the buff firestarter, now fully clothed, and wishes that their reunion had been better. He understands the pull of self-preservation and doesn't want Noah dying to help him, but as he stares down the bleakness of eternity, it fills him with dread.
"Hey, do you think you can make him real again? Even if its just temporarily."
Bold. Though Scotty wouldn't expect anything less from his friend. It's not an unusual train of thought. Sebastian had made a similar proposal - when he was still helping them.
He turns to Ashleigh, his brow turned up; curious. He pauses a beat, then gives a shrug. "Noah's got a lot more firepower, so to speak, than Sebastian. The two of you may be able to accomplish something."