//It has been so long since I've posted on this blog that it's ridiculous. And I'm a bit scared to try to get back in the game on this account.
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@shieldsorcerer
//It has been so long since I've posted on this blog that it's ridiculous. And I'm a bit scared to try to get back in the game on this account.
She gave a small smirk in return. “Yeah I guess they would.” She turned her attention back to the file in her hands, lips pursed. This wasn’t what she was looking for either. “Not really. Can’t seem to find the case I want.”
She slid the file back into its slot and pressed her palms against her knees, pushing to her feet and looking at the man. “And I know Archives is pretty damn organized so… I dunno where it is. Pulled by another agent, though that isn’t logged into the system, or filed elsewhere.”
She shrugged, sliding her hands into her pockets then nodded toward the files on his shoulder. “What about you? You look like you got enough there to keep you busy.” She grinned.
He spares barely a glance for the file, already knowing what he will see. "May I ask which one you're looking for? I've been around a long time and I might know what case you're asking after," he shrugs. "And if not then nothing really lost. Though I will say that it is unusual that a file that's supposed to be down here isn't."
At her question he glanced over at the stack of folders resting casually on his shoulder. "They were interesting for a bit, but they didn't give me much more information than I already know. Probably a fools errand, I knew before I checked them out that these missions didn't involve what I'm trying to research. But it was worth a try," as he spoke he had moved past her a little a ways, slotting files sporadically into their proper areas.
Sophia growled a frustrated sigh to herself yet again, scrubbing a hand back through her hair. She was crouched down in front of one of endless filing cabinets in Archives. Seriously, either the computer was repeatedly giving her the wrong file number for the case she was researching or she was going blind. There were only those two options. She supposed the file could have been removed by someone else but a wendigo case from fourteen years earlier didn’t seem like a popular case to be pulled.
She was thumbing through another file when the other agent stepped up behind her. She hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice their presence ‘til she caught their figure out of the corner of her eye.
She jerked slightly out of reflex, half turning on her heels to look at the agent. “Shit, didn’t hear you come in.”
Luke had become well acquainted with the Archives in his time at SHIELD. True he had far better resources at his disposal at his home, but sometimes it was useful to review old cases, read the accounts and reports and compare with any current cases. Research was vital in any situation, moreso when your missions often included ancient magicks. Initially when he saw that there was someone else in the stacks he considered ignoring them, after all it was his experience that most people down here didn't want to be disturbed.
As she turned to him suddenly he blinked. Rallying quickly he offered a lazy smile, resting the files in his hand on his shoulder as he would a staff. "Sorry 'bout that. Guess it's a habit I've picked up from working with all these spies. They tend to 'flinch' when you make too much noise," well if they were willing to talk to him the sorcerer was never one to turn down a conversation.
"Interesting reading?" he asked, nodding at the file in her hands.
"Th-there’s nn-no one quite l-like me. S-similar, perhaps,” the Fisherman replied, knowing that he was the odd one out with regards to his former order. They killed more frequently than he, but he seemed to be Mephisto’s favourite,causing suffering much more than he caused death. It was, after all, how he got his nickname, ‘the Fisherman’, because he acted more on the concept of ‘catch and release’.
"Decent, y-yes," the mage replied, studying the other magic user curiously, though they both seemed to be sizing the other up in case the other decided to show aggression. "Y-your name is b-biblical. S-s-scholarly. D-did you ch-choose it f-for y-yourself?"
"I'll take your word for it," not that he is particularly interested in finding out just how different this man may be from the others he's met. There was still the 'stench' of a demon about his aura and the taint to a person's soul that comes from causing deliberate pain to another living being. It made his skin crawl. But he forced himself to recall his vow, to do no harm unless it was in defense of innocents.
In response to the question he shrugged. "Biblical names are fairly common in the West. Luke, James, Christopher, Mary. Though it is true that I choose to use this name fairly often in recent years," even if his parents had chosen the name for him years ago, in a time when the bible carried more weight on his soul.
"You should not mistake wariness for a thirst for violence," the words are carefully chosen, and the sorcerer allows his eyes to flick over the man before him. "Me personally? I prefer to forego violence. But I’ve been around a fair amount of years. Forgive my actions but any time I’ve encountered someone… like you— well let’s just say the encounters were never very pleasant," the words are followed by a tight smile.
Though he refuses to let go his hold on the amulet, or his wariness, he decides to take a different stance. “I suppose if we’re going to talk then we should at least introduce ourselves,” he does not extend a hand, but his tone and stance are a little less tense. “I’m called Luke.”
"I d-do wonder if y-yyou’ve met s-someone like mm-me," The Fisherman replied, cocking his head to the side slightly in the other direction, wondering if one of his six other brothers had an encounter with this man. If they had, it may very well have been after he had left them to seek his own way. Their sacrifices of lives kept them alive, kept their powers strong, but the Fisherman had delved deeper, fallen farther, than his counterparts. They thought him weak, but he was strong. He would never truly die.
Luke, he committed the name to memory, before offering his own. “I c-can’t recall mm-my true nn-name,” the Fisherman replied, “B-but I’mmm going b-by Gerrard nn-ow.”
"Maybe not exactly like you," he hedged his words. It was not that he had not encountered people who had sold themselves to demons before, but if he had learned anything in the years he'd been alive it was that such events were as varied as they were surprisingly frequent. When magic afforded such extended lives paths tended to cross more often than expected. Whether or not he had met someone who served the same demon as this man... well that he could not divine.
"Gerrard is a decent name to go by," he should know, as someone who enjoys changing their name every few decades he could spot an affected name as opposed to a birth one. It was something about how the name rolled off the tongue.
She sighed quietly, nodding at the first, before looking at him curiously. “You want me to wh-” She broke off then, watching him for a bit before hurrying after him when she realized he was moving.
"I guess I can’t go anywhere till this is all sorted, huh..?" She asked, managing a quiet chuckle as she did. "I’ll try to stay out of your way for the most part I guess.. and uh… not set anything else off."
"Well, you could go and brave wandering around the facility, but as I can't accompany you there's no guarantee that the other people you'll meet will be as understanding as I am," he says, stopping by the supply closet along the way. "And yes, I want you to help me clean out the meditation room. Normal cleaning staff won't touch it, mainly thanks to the fact that the room is usually used by my agents to bring their powers under control," he tosses a look back. "And also the fact that neither me nor the department head trust them not to mess with the wards."
So saying he pulled out a broom and tossed it to the girl, grinning. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't get hurt."
//ha... I'm back... I think
Noting the slight stiffness of the fingers as they left the grip of the knife, the Fisherman cocked his head to the side, studying the magic user before him intently now that he knew the man was on edge as it was. The smallest tell of aggression could save the Fisherman a good deal of pain if he caught it in time.
"P-peaceful en-nough," the man replied, noting the man’s dark smile and wondering if the man wanted to fight, if he enjoyed it. Binding and dispelling the man’s magic would take time, however, and while his hypnotic powers were indeed some of his most powerful, this magic user was already ready for hostile action. It would do the Fisherman no good to make the first sign of mistrust. "Nnn-neutral actions m-might be a better d-descrip— description."
"What of y-you? L-look like you w-want a f-fight."
"You should not mistake wariness for a thirst for violence," the words are carefully chosen, and the sorcerer allows his eyes to flick over the man before him. "Me personally? I prefer to forego violence. But I've been around a fair amount of years. Forgive my actions but any time I've encountered someone... like you-- well let's just say the encounters were never very pleasant," the words are followed by a tight smile.
Though he refuses to let go his hold on the amulet, or his wariness, he decides to take a different stance. "I suppose if we're going to talk then we should at least introduce ourselves," he does not extend a hand, but his tone and stance are a little less tense. "I'm called Luke."
"I can control some of it, but not others. I still need a spell book for a lot of the spells I perform." She admitted, scratching the back of her head. “I haven’t memorized anything and some days things just go haywire…. It’s difficult to explain." Being a half-breed wasn’t easy most days, but she couldn’t do it alone anymore. Pym wanted her to start getting help, more training so that she could handle things better. Where better to start?
"Well, memorisation and practice are always key, but it takes time and people require different learning techniques. I think I understand some of what you mean," he fell silent for a time contemplating how best to approach this. He had trained many people in the control of their powers over the last half a century. But in order to do that he needed to know a few things first. "What type of powers do you have?"
She frowned sharply, looking back at him in surprise for a moment, before her shoulders slumped and she sighed. “Wow, so I’m that obvious…?" She asked, a sort of sadly joking tone tinting her words.
Althea shook her head, silent for a couple of moments. “So.. is there anything I can do to help me not be in as much trouble or would it be better if I just sat quietly and tried not to do anything else?"
"Only a bit. I've had practice reading people," he started to turn back to the desk. "Well, I can't leave here yet but there's no need to just sit quietly. If you wish you can help me as I clean up the meditation room and renew some of the shields."
He pulled out one the drawers and pulled out a small bag before making his way across the room towards one of the doors in the back.
//So, I'm sorry to say that I'll be gone all weekend and most of next week as well. I'll try replying to all the things I need to while I have internet.
Thanks soooo much for all the patience. And for indulging me with playing with my character. I dearly love playing with him and all of you.
//General announcement: I will be away from the internet for the next few days. And at the moment I'm tuckered. So I'm afraid that I will be able to reply any of my threads until the end of the week.
I apologise to my rp partners.
"Yes, that’s me." She’s still not sure why he’s here until he mentions Agent Sharpe. “Oh! Oh, he told you about my… Lack of training, did he?"
Of the many reasons that she was not a field agent for SHIELD, this was one. Kaz did well keeping her as a pawn way back when; she was trained, but not enough to know quite how to overpower him.
But she still did. And that made her the victor here. Not him.
"He mentioned something along those lines. Said that you are having problems with control," he could sense something about her, a flavor of magic.
"Mind telling me what you might be needing help with?"
So I’m proposing a new drinking game. Every time someone is off pitch, take a drink.
Sounds like fun.
Also, hilarious. You in?
Why not? You only live once, yeah?
Naming Names
Luke holds little reverence for last names. He has lived for over 133 years, and has already outlived his siblings great-grandchildren. For him, names have become fluid and interchangeable. Because of this Luke has developed a habit of making up last names on the spot, he even used a false name for his SHIELD file.
He only shares his birth name with those he's trusts completely, bringing the number of people with who he's shared his real name with willingly in the last 50 years up to two.
So I’m proposing a new drinking game. Every time someone is off pitch, take a drink.
Sounds like fun.
shieldsorcerer started following you.
"Agent Garas, sir." Sheri looked up from her work and blinked somewhat owlishly. “Can I help you?"
"Agent Greyson, am I right?" Luke offers a smile. "I'm a friend of Auggie-- I mean Agent Sharpe, department head of Magical Operations. He told me about you."
He hoped he wasn't wrong. Auggie had mentioned someone who was having a bit of trouble controlling their powers.