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          A falsely taken-aback look. "You're dead?"

          She laughed shortly, mimicking his arm-crossing. Although, having a bit more sass (and a**) than this man, her hips tilted, too. She ran her eyes over him one more time, holding her hand up with pointer and thumb extended, a makeshift pistol of her own.

          "Oh, darling, it's not your wardrobe I'm worried about..." from the tip of her pointed finger, small, slow moving bullets of smoke punctured the largest of the holes in his body. "I've not really been back to the world of the living lately, but last time I checked, you've got 'horror story' written all over you." Sharp smile, sharp teeth.

          "Do you often go about there like this? What kind of job are you working, the Haunted Mansion in Orlando?"

--- Renegade ---

))) ...The Light Can Keep Itself (((

As A Famous Man Once Said...


Ren had begun his stroll through this odd and quiet (for now, at least) environment. The dirt and earth seemed to spread away from him, as if afraid to soil his shined shoes and dirty his pant legs. His grin was ever present...

This was a place for the dead, he knew. A strange sort of purgatory for some, potentially a hell for others. His kind of place for sure. It was more dream for him than a torment, though he found it strange that he had yet to find another lost soul, or other denizen of this Otherworld.

There was something, or someone here that was familiar to him... From far away, not of this universe or plain of thought... A malignant entity that phased the cheeky grin from his face, and made the edges of his living shadow crawl with anxiety.

He sought shelter from the light of this place, donning a pair of sharp sunglasses to hide and shield his predatory eyes, and continuing his trek in this less than homely place.


...Wait Till They Get A Load Of Me.

))) For The Darkness Gave Me You... (((
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White pupils gazed at the female. It didn’t take a comedian to know that Bonez was not taking her jokes well. He didn’t like being played with, it was probably the most annoying thing anyone could do to him. He got caught in her stare, careful not to be surprised. It was how he was able to see her pale hand form into a makeshift pistol, It was almost like watching a child stage a gunfight with his buddies and playing cops and robbers. He didn’t react to the puff of smoke that shot out of her fingers, floated toward the left side of his body and penetrated the hole in his left breast.

The same placed that held the bullet that lodged itself into his heart.

“Yes I do go out often, No I don’t work for whatever amusement park you speak off…”

Again, he was not entertained by the girl’s jokes. When she asked about his job He turned his body away. It wasn’t her place to ask, and she shouldn’t even be given the satisfaction of knowing what he did. “I cleanse corrupt souls; send the corrupt back here so they can live out their punishment…” He said. It was a bloody job, it was a tasking job, but he was certainly the only one that could do it without dying. A Sigh and a tilt of his hat later, he sat himself down on the dock and waited for the boat to make it's rounds.

"So what are you?" He asked. He wasn't curious by any means, just cautious. He just couldn't shake this feeling about this female...thing. She was trouble and he didn't need that amount of trouble in his line of work.
          Cleanse corrupt souls? There was a slight falter in her facade. Hardly noticeable, as her smile never faded. She shifted her weight.

          "And people just accept how you look, walkin' around with you inn'erds hangin' out?" she asked, watching him sit down. She considered sitting as well, thought better of it, and continued to stand next to him, looking out over the water for the boat.

          She ignored, once again, his question, and kept talking. "I mean, seeing your raggedy-a** walkin' in to someone's backyard to snag their bratty child is probably punishment enough!" rude, sure. She was definitely rude, if anything. But, whether he knew it or not, she really meant no harm.
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"I knew it! I knew you were her! Even though your name was Loki in my dream. That's your name in this world isn't it? Loki?"

e was excited. It seemed his dreams did mean a little more than just being a dream. He was delivered unto her, for a purpose. There could only be one true purpose for an Imaginary Friend. With a clear smirk on his face, his big and bigger dark empty eyes looked into hers, seeking the acceptance he longed for. So many creatures feared his somewhat grotesque features, but this one, this Divine being saw the beauty that composed dear little Vanka.

"Would you like to be my friend Loki?"

e was ignorant of Higher Powers as a whole. But being an assumed embodiment of Vanka's one and only mentor meant that he really looked up to Loki. Sad truth was, there was so little on Baba Yaga as a whole compared to the exiting knowledge of Loki, it wouldn't be surprising if one day he came to worship Loki, and saw Baba Yaga as one of her many faces. Only time could tell. But from the looks of it, this was the beginning of a new and wonderful friendship. His heart pounded in excitement as his breaths grew light.

Sin wasn't sure where she was. Everything was thick.. hazy. Her mind was spinning. Succubi, at least certain species of their kind, did not dream. Some did not even sleep. She did sleep however. And where she was now.. It felt like she was in a dream... She had not dreamed since she was a child. She had never spoken to anyone about her dreams, such things were unimportant then. And they were now. "But I'm not sleeping..." she said. And it was true. The succubus had been wandering through sigil when she had seen a light... Sin had approached it and.. here she was.

Suddenly the haze was lifted... and she could hear voices nearby... her fiery eyes blazed as her tail's tip peeled back to reveal a blade-like appendage, dripping clear fluid. Most likely some type of toxin. Her fingers relaxed, and then tightened into a fist before opening again, arcs of electricity dancing over them. She felt as though she may have been in danger. In sigil, such things were often the case.
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            Slave. Friend. It was all the same to Loki. The bottom line was that he was a
            lovely little monster, and he belonged under her thumb.

            I would like that very much.

            Her features began to sink back into something tamer, the state it had been when she
            first descended. She was flawless except for the large scars that curved up from her throat,
            over her jaw and lips. Her beauty betrayed her nature, and it was all a trap.

            You ought to know that friends of mine receive special treatment here
            in the Otherworld. You should count yourself lucky, I have big plans for you.

            Charon was just beginning to reach the shore, and Loki glanced over her shoulder
            at the arriving pair.

            Do you remember your baptism? When you were pulled out from the
            river, and onto the boat?

            Turning around, her wing stretched and wrapped around him, and her arm reached out towards the
            river styx to drawn his attention to it.

            That ritual bounds you here, to the Otherworld forever. You can never leave....

            She paused playfully, turning to look down at him.

            Unless of course....you can slip back into the river.
            If you can survive it's cleansing waters, you can traverse both planes.
            There is no greater honor, Vanka, than to know such freedom.

            Loki looked back to the styx, her voice dropping to something quiet.

            I can show you how, and then you would be like me.

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“They do, but that’s why do my job so well, if they’re scared I get more leeway to take them out.” He said. He stared at the ocean. He was starting to get a bit bored waiting for the damned boatman to come. The boatman was never on time, and this irritated somebody like Bonez who liked punctuality. He opened a Pocketwatch to stare at the time, and the picture of his last remaining human memory. He made sure to obscure it from the woman next to him.

“Kill kids, certainly not unless their body count becomes…horribly high…” It’s what he did, somebody had to get rid of the big evils in the world. “Justice must be served to the wicked regardless if it was for a good or normal cause, it’s my job, it was why I was brought back from my grave.” He sighed, closed his pocket watch and placed it back in his pocket. "Have the dead kill those who deserve to die, it's quite genius don't you think,?"

“Oh, and stop dodging my question miss, what are you, and do you have a name?” He might not have a brain but he was far from stupid. The female had spent most of the conversation making it about him. In doing so, she was completely hand waving the question that he had asked. He wasn’t annoyed by it, but her dodging questions just managed to make him even more curious.


Brick eroded, gradually wearing down as each step was taken, concrete breaking down into sand, and gravel. Unfolding, moving atop itself as it came falling down, only to be rebuilt. An unscathed canvas painted, a new scene emerged, surrounding area changing dramatically. Fire far too hypnotized by the image of Mello to even acknowledge change, figure devoured by the inferno, frame licked by the blaze.

Imagination becoming all too real upon realizing everything he was used to arrived with a screaming halt, another hand graced his own, cupping it softly only to weave. Extremity's sliding between one another, locking, giving off the impression that they were with one another. An opposite hand was placed into motion as the other made contact, snaking around a frame, resting across her back.

"No need to rush, I'll forever be by your side, Coelho."

          "Sounds like a pretty sweet job." she hummed, her feet lifting off the ground. Her entire lower body turned to a swirl of smoke, much like a genie's tail, and moved beneath her torso to act as a floating pillow. She hovered there next to him, nosily trying to see what he was looking at, but he made a point to hide it. Whatever.

          "Who appointed you? If I was going to send someone to weed out the rats, I think I'd send a rabid bear. That's way scarier. You aren't scary at all, you know that?" she lay on her back, head hanging upside-down off the puff. She spun around to be in front of him, now over the water, their noses about a foot away. "I mean you're rotten, which is kind of spooky I guess. But you scream 'Halloween Costume'. A rabid bear? Now that's something to be afraid of!"

          She rolled again, on to her stomach, arms folded in front of her, chin resting on top. "Didn't you hear me earlier? I'm a bussinessman! Very important. A renaissance journeyman, specifically. Doer of deeds, tier of loose ends! I'm here to do your dirty deeds, dirt cheap!"
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“Jobs aren’t appointed, boss tells me what to do and I do it, simple.” He actually had to chuckle at that, honestly he didn’t realize what people were scared of either. He was a zombie yes, but most of the time he ended up shooting them instead of eating their brains. To him, it was just another myth the talk box created. That zombies wanted to come onto you, and eat your brains, he never had the urge for it. Then again, he wasn’t exactly a zombie brought back by chemical means.

“I was brought back specifically for this task, don’t know why, but I don’t question it.” He continued white eyes locked at the sea, only to have her move in his line of vision. He stood there for a few seconds, drumming his fingers on his knees. His hand was all bone and so was most of his body, only his face, the right side of his body, and some of his leg had any semblance of flesh remaining.

“I know WHAT you do, but what is your NAME, are you a ghost or something?” He kept hammering the question onto her. Of course he knew what she was, and it didn’t sound any different from his job. However, he wasn’t going to be talking to something that he couldn’t name. A concensus had to be reached, one that Bonez decided to come up with on his own. "I'm just going to call you Dee Dee, does that sound fair?"

          "Who is 'boss'? Some jobs are appointed." His fingertips clicky-clicked on his kneecap, and she grinned.

          When he gave her a name, she grimaced. "Ugh, is that some sort of sick joke? I've seen that show, you know, are you trying to say I'm like her?" she had risen up now, into upwards-facing dog position.

          "I have a name.." she said, pondering it for a minute. She had a name... she had a.. oh! "My name, uh, my name's Trip!" She held out her hand. If he chose to try to shake, his own bony fingers would go right through. Any piece of her he touched would fade to a purple smoke and dissipate.

          "And I'm not a ghost!"
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"What are you talking about, what show?” She probably didn’t realize this, but Bonez is actually quite old. His dirty, patchy brown duster, cowboy boots, and choice of weaponry all points to the Old West. In his case, Bonez originated from the 1800’s near the end of the frontier. “Is that another one of them talk box shows?” His eyes were wide and he proceeded to point right at her. He had only seen a few of these show called Television shows, nothing of them interested him, and he felt that the concept of TV was just trivial at best.

“NO, I named you Dee Dee, because Do Deed would sound too childish.” He certainly had a point in that regard. HE certainly didn’t want to disrespect her by calling her that, so he altered it a bit and called her something more girlish. However, it turned out she actually DID have a name but it was quite boring at least in his opinion,.

“Eh…Trip…Sorry can’t go for that, Gonna be calling you Dee Dee…” His grin was showcased but was obviously patchy due to his dead form, his teeth looked like wood that was dying and worm. Various holes could be seen in the teeth, his jaw was nearly coming off, and it was horribly misaligned. She wasn’t the only one who could play around in conversation.

“So why all these questions about lil’ol me?”

          "Please," she said, going from attack mode into a sort of plea. "Please, don't call me that." She tried to hold herself at a certain standard, have a certain reputation. Someone calling her 'Dee Dee' was sure to ruin it.

          "What if.." her eyes flicked behind him, saw no one else on the dock, and then back to him. "I told you my real name. Would you use that?" Obviously, Trip wasn't her real name. What kind of cruel parents would name their kid Trip? It was a nickname she had gotten, back when she was... well, a normal living person.

          She was not going to answer any more of his questions until he had agreed to a new name. Dee Dee must die.

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