undergrounds | It was a ball, it was a blast (OPEN)

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It was a ball, it was a blast (OPEN)

A: Library

Kenzi has been a busy little bee as of late - something that has gotten her a sizable hill of cash. (She doesn't do banks. Not when people like her are around to steal innocent folks identities.) However, for all her success, Kenzi has yet to find the goose what laid the golden egg.

Figuratively. Or maybe literally? She doesn't know yet. All she knows is that when Barnet was taken over and Jenny from the block's stuff became hers, she found a page of a book. At first she didn't think it was anything worth taking - but it was old, the writing almost like Old English, and therefore worth a quick glance.

What she saw there made her stuff it in her bra and wait until she was home to read it more thoroughly. It was torn from a spell book of some kind, that much was clear. One made by a Circle Midnight witch, by a Circle Midnight witch if what little she could read was any indication. The page told her that this book - wherever it was - could help her summon a Fae long before she was technically powerful enough to do it on her own.

Not that she was alone now. But she wasn't about to pull Nancy into her mess, and Abigail might have been their merry band's leader - but it didn't mean she trusted her beyond that role.

So Kenzi was trying to do some research.

It was a pretty amazing place in Kenzi's opinion. The British Library was near the King's Cross station, which didn't make it hard to find. And while the more accessible public areas were fantastic for the collections they had, what Kenzi wanted was in the basement. Specifically the basement below the basement. It was no secret in the supernatural community that the person in charge of the downstairs was...something else. Nobody knew exactly what. Some people suspected they were a dragon wearing human form, and that their hoard was more books than gold. The specifics of the rumors eluded her, but she wasn't here to learn about the owner.

The sub-basement was dank and musty, the lighting in the hallway was sparse and covering the rows and rows of books was floor to ceiling wire gates. Spell books were scattered among their ranks, and the feeling of old power leaking from the racks of books was heady. Whether or not they were white or black spells, Kenzi didn't care.

There was a good-sized room hidden behind the books with a thick oak table and four mismatched chairs of assorted fabrics and wear. It took her an hour or so to start picking out the oldest looking books and placing them on the table.

B: Tarot

Once again on Portobello, Kenzi has her fortune telling stall open for business. Her working name is printed on the cards she hands out from her stall as Madam Czigany - palms, runes and tarot readings. Everyone on the street knows her as the blond hippy Russian who was way too into wiccan stuff. They didn't know she was an actual witch, and they didn't need to. Neither did her customers, as far as she was concerned. It wasn't as if they cared.

Kenzi waited patiently under her covered booth at the table, alternatively smoothing out the thinning shawl she'd placed on top to cover the stains on the plastic top and shuffling her cards. People ate up this gimmick, so she wasn't anxious.

C: Stealing from a Dead Woman (a...again.)

Kenzi had a cousin (she has a lot of cousins doesn't she?) who used to work at the Kitterick hotel where Carmilla had kept herself, before it had become the decrepit mess it was now. When Anton (her cousin) told her suddenly the power was back on and that a bunch of people had been seen coming and going from the penthouse floor up until a few days ago - Kenzi figured she could at least start watching it and scoping out the place to see if she could maybe make a profit. (This is open to interaction!)

Once she realized that nobody was coming back to the place, Kenzi decided to call her very best friend - and the only other person interested in making some money this way that she knew right now.

The vampire's attendents had abandoned all of Carmilla's valuable and beautiful things in the penthouse and where ever the finery was, Kenzi only saw a profit to be made. She rented a truck to park in the loading bay of the hotel's kitchen, so as to transport things like the curtains and creepy chair with a little less effort. Though she didn't have any preliminary security set up to warn her of when someone might stumble upon their work, Kenzi had some nasty little spells ready to go if she needed to fight someone off.

She was also armed with her keen lies as well.

D: W-W-WILDCARD!!!

Make up your own if you feel up to it!

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After calling Nancy about needing some help with a job, Kenzi waited for her patiently at the ground floor in an alley by the hotel itself. Granted she wasn't as inconspicuous as she would like wearing a beanie, glasses and lurking in the mouth of the alley.

Maybe she had been taking lessons from Derek?

Kenzi kept looking down at her phone anxiously. What if Nancy wasn't going to show?

>> I'm outside.

It was the last text Kenzi sent Derek before sitting down on the curb outside her apartment with a backpack of ingredients for his Moonlight Jewelry. She was giving it to him for a lot less than it was normally, and Kenzi considered this charity more than anything.

So many people, so much bartering. Meaningless paper given value by a commonly accepted delusion exchanged for something of concrete value. She understands gold and silver, even if, ultimately, it is nearly the same thing. What use is shiny metal to someone who was hungry or cold? Still, silver and gold can be held. They have weight. Money... Well.

The cards are the strangest things.

The actual way of using them, she knows. It just seems so foolish. That money is, now, not even a thing a person touches or sees or counts. It's all left to computers and to the people who are in charge of those computers. The number of people who might cheat someone had been limited, yes, but that supposed that the few who were involved might not be criminally minded.

Yet, she can feel a sense of magic in the air.

Coming from a very unusual place. A little stand with someone claiming to be a fortune teller. How strange to find someone who might actually be capable of it here. Still, even a witch needs to fill her stomach.

Azula approaches, making use of how young she looks to mortals. It's easy to have a hint of a smile with a mix of a question at the corner of her lips as she draws closer. She watches a shuffle of the cards.

"Can you really tell the future?"

Everything about her, even as she goes for 'innocence', likely screams 'princess.' At least in the modern, extremely entitled rich girl sense. The question is almost genuine, but there's just a bit too much of a dry edge to her words to sell exactly what she's pitching. But it's close enough, she figures. She hasn't been among mortals for quite some time. It'll take getting used to.

"Sorry I'm late," Nancy breathed as she jogged up to Kenzi. She offered no explanation, but it was likely obvious. Nancy, for her part, was in less of a disguise than Kenzi, a pair of skinny jeans and converse, and she had her bright hair pulled back in a braid.

After years of thievery, this sort of thing still made her nervous. Nancy liked to think it made her a better thief. More cautious. But she wasn't a house breaker like some of the others were. She was better at pockets and purses, the occasional item taken from a store shelf. Waltzing into someone's apartment with a truck was a completely different business.

"We're absolutely sure she's dead dead, right?" She glances over at Kenzi.

Heiji took a seat right down in front of the stall (did Kenzi have a chair for her customers? Well, she did now -- where'd he get that stool from?). He propped his elbows up on top of the table and beamed over at its owner. Hi Kenzi.

"I'd like a reading, please! Probably a tarot reading. I mean, unless you're better at somethin' else."

He lowered his voice conspiratorially. Unfortunately, his whisper was rather loud. "Should I call you 'Madam'?"

Edited 2015-07-15 16:39 (UTC)

Great minds think alike.

Abigail noticed the few books already stacked at one end of the table, but that's pretty usual. So, she takes a spot on the opposite end of the table to start laying out her stuff. All of it is completely appropriate for even a Circle Daybreak witch to be reading. If someone doesn't know her face, they won't think anything of it. Which is a relief.

She has about seven books, but a look at the chapters they're each opened to reveals that there are only three subjects really being pursued. She has information in front of her about telekinesis, familiarity, and mending injuries. She's well aware she can't learn all three at once, no. But they're the most interesting subjects to her at present, and there's nothing wrong with reading about all of them, maybe trying them out, then deciding which feels like it will be the easiest to learn first.

A pale, worn-looking man in a white doctor's coat got one foot in the door and stopped. His arms were full of books from which little mini post-its exploded in a frenzy of bright reds, blues, and greens. Some of them looked more or less ordinary. Others were considerably older, with intricate spines and beautiful filigree. One of them was covered with a pale material stretched taut over its cover. The material did not look like leather.

"Hello. I hope you don't mind if I sit down for a spell." A spell, that was a good one. He managed to refrain from laughing at his own unintentional joke, but only just.

Kenzi wouldn't let her know she was afraid she wouldn't come. It would be an insult to their friendship, in her opinion. She grinned, big and confident at her, and started to lead her into the building.

"Yeah. Totally."

At least that's what Anton had told her. Not that she didn't believe him - he was the least skilled liar in the family - but he could have made a mistake of some kind. The more Kenzi thought on it, the less sure she became.

"Like... 99.9 percent sure."

Kenzi winced as she said it, knowing Nancy would have a problem with it. Not that she could blame her. It was smart.

"I am merely interpreting the cards, child." She affected her usual thick Serbian accent that went with this persona and, though she couldn't have been more than ten years older than this girl, it was more in character to talk down to her.

"Please, come. Sit." Kenzi gestured to the uncomfortable looking bench where the customer would sit. She made sure it wasn't a nice seat, to keep the person across from her always on edge. It made them less likely to think to question her.

Azula slips into the chair quietly, looking at the cards. There could be real magic involved or merely a girl turning a profit. Either was possible. Still, she likes things like this. Seeing how mortals react. How they ply their trade.

"I've heard about Tarot." She can't lie about it, after all. "What do you charge?"

Are you sure the psychic thing is only an act, Kenzi? Because upon hearing that, Nancy turned to look at her friend straight in the eye, her brows furrowed. "Kenzi! That's not totally sure! That's-" She paused and swallowed.

"You remembered to take a dose of Vamp Toxin?" Nancy kept a bottle or two readily on hand for obvious reasons. If a john got too thirsty, she needed a way to save herself fast. So when you're raiding a dead vamp's house? It was real stupid not to take some before hand.

Kenzi hadn't been expecting to see a familiar face here. But then again, she did give Stiles a reading just last month. She leaned in over the table and winked, joining in on the surreptitious whispering; though her own voice was lowered and the accent she so commonly used in this stall was gone as well.

"If you're paying, it'd be nice."

Kenzi knocked her knuckles against the sign propped up near her table which gave her rates.

"It's sixteen quid for a reading."

She spoke louder now, this time with the accent, and leaned back into her chair.

"Sixteen quid." For all the flower-child imagery she has going, Kenzi is very pragmatic about money. At least she keeps the accent?

"Double if you want two. Shall I?"

Kenzi gestured to the cards and spread the deck out across the table with a card flourish she learned when she was young.

"We'll start with one."

At the very least, she's not bored. Not yet. And money isn't a problem. She has some, but she also has other things. Things that a human with a brain to think of would find more than fair. But, first, she'll see how this plays out.

"Could we see what they say about love? For me, that is."

"Sixteen? What happened to bein' in a recession?" Nevertheless, Heiji had gotten a pretty good deal on all that sweet hardware from Sasuke's store, so what the hell. He put the money on the table and made some minor effort to look like a properly awed customer, though honestly he wasn't a very good actor.

"Okay, let's get this party started!" That was what tarot reading customers said, right? Right.

The world may never know? Kenzi shrugs haplessly, and keeps going.

"No?" She'd been too excited about the prospect of actually getting some old rich people shit that she forgot.

"But! I have my amulet!" Her witch's amulet to be precise. It was a simple small ring on a silver chain she wore under her clothing, but it worked and that was all Kenzi cared about. She hoped that Nancy would have a bottle of V.T. to spare, with what she did Kenzi almost expected it. Almost.

Kenzi was used to customers trying to get a reading in first before fucking off with the payment she asked for - especially from younger kids, which Azula looked the part of. So she didn't beat around the bush.

"Eight quid first."

To offset her straightforward talk, Kenzi began shuffling the cards with practiced slowness.

"Then I'll look into your love life, darling."

"Ten, then," Azula murmurs, setting the money down on the table. "A tip is considered acceptable, isn't it?"

After all, it's worth buttering the mortal up a bit. It isn't as if she needs the money. She can always find more where that came from.

Kenzi returns from the depths of the stacks with a few more old books, if the peeling spines and yellowing are any indication, not expecting another person to have taken up the section of table she hadn't filled with tomes. She squeaks, quietly, before placing Abigail - not that she has a hard time with faces, it's the prey reaction in her.

"Abby, hey!" She actually doesn't sound as if she's forcing herself to be happy to see her. Progress!

"Hey!"

Abby actually smiles to see Kenzi. A proper, non-Widdowson smile. And she looks like a normal college-aged girl seeing a friend. Like things are just completely usual. Which is a strange feeling for her.

"Figured I'd put my spare time to good use, you know?"

And, well, she may or may not have decided on her mending injuries books first to try and take care of a forming scar. At least London has the right weather for her to be wearing a loose, light, but still long-sleeved shirt. It hides the bandages from her wrist to her elbow.

Kenzi glanced up at the other patron with a quick, discerning glance. She wasn't looking to con him out of his millions (if he even had any) or to snatch his wallet. So for once, she was giving a stranger her true face. Which was bland as anything.

Kenzi gestured to the chair he wanted with a nod of her head and settled into her own seat.

"Knock yourself out."

She saw your pun mister. And is keeping the giggles to herself.

"Thank you kindly." And then he set to arranging his books in neat little piles on the table, the organization scheme of which seemed not by subject, but by color and size. He aligned with with careful, practiced precision, stopping several times to tweak a corner a bit before taking one book off the top and sitting down in the chair.

For a little while, he read on without much incident, turning pages slowly and methodically. Over the next few minutes, however, he seemed to become agitated by what he read -- until at least he tossed the book aside in disgust.

"What idiocy," he muttered, incensed. "Tetrodotoxin isn't a chemistry set ingredient. You can't sprinkle a pinch of it into a cauldron for flavor. Whoever wrote this should be brought up on charges."

Nancy rolls her eyes. Of course, she had the amulet but no v.t.. Nancy never left home without either one of them, and the occasional Blood Replenishing potion.

Reaching into her bag, Nancy pulled out a small blue bottle about the size of the mini-vodkas and handed it to Kenzi. "Drink it. An amulet can get ripped off, and won't do any good if he's sinking his fangs into you." Trust her, girly. She had scars dotting her major veins as proof.

"Drink it, and let's go."

"The recession." She answers with a deadpan expression, if anything her prices would keep raising if this kept being a successful venture. Kenzi grinned at the thought. "Girl's gotta eat, right?"

Now that he agreed, Kenzi pocketed the money and smiled good-naturedly at his 'enthusiasm'. It was a little phoned in, but what was she supposed to expect from Fae?

"So what do you want to know?"

After all, the spread would depend on what the question was.

Heiji crossed his arms and leaned back a bit, looking thoughtful. "Hmm... well, I met someone new recently. How 'bout a read on how it's going to go?"

He had to admit that he was also curious about whether Kenzi was offering legit readings or not, so he might as well kill two birds with one stone.

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It was a ball, it was a blast (OPEN)

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CLOSED TO Derek

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