TIMING: Current
PARTIES: @corpse–diem & a special guest (npc)
SUMMARY: Erin’s past comes back to haunt her and tries to make a deal.
CONTENT WARNINGS: none
Painted concrete brick walls jutted upward, connecting at the top to create a building as uninteresting and identical as the rest that lined this road. This one was different though. While the street outside murmured quietly, chaos and violence rattled the interior, alive and thriving. Erin hadn’t wanted to believe the rumors or even the flyer that had somehow made its way to her door--a small ‘fuck you’ from someone inside that building, no doubt. She had to know, had to see these walls for herself to believe it. Showing her face in this area was as stupid as it was dangerous, so she’d risked the trip down Amity Road on her own.
The moment she turned the corner, dread swarmed every part of her as she realized the rumors were true. The Ring had been rebuilt. An old anger filled her as she watched from across the street, watching the paying audience discreetly slip in and out. “Motherfuckers,” she murmured on a humorless laugh, shaking her head slowly. The blood, rubble and fire were long gone. Just another mess that had been wiped clean and rebuilt with ease. No real, permanent change was possible in this world, was it? Not when one Roy fell, three more popped up to take the reign. Her naivety stung harsher the longer she stood there, hood drawn to hide her features. She’d taken down her Roy and fought the good fight but this wasn’t her fight anymore. Eyes were starting to burn through her, suspicious and sharp and likely not far from making an unfortunate recognition. Time to get the hell out of there.
She was halfway down the street when her eyes turned up at the sound of another pair of feet coming towards her. She almost missed it but a second glance nearly knocked her onto the sidewalk, eyes wide and horrified. “You,” she hissed, feet planted firmly in place as she tried to ground the rest of her. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Josephine wore a smug smile. She’d felt it long before she’d seen the other woman. The anger that had festered deep inside of Erin had grown now, and it was calling to Josephine louder than the roar of the crowd inside. Hands in pockets, striding with ease, she had followed the taste of it all the way down here and wondered what it was Erin could have possibly seen in this place to evoke such anger. She’d almost wished she’d stayed in White Crest long enough to have watched it happen in real time, but another pull had dragged her away from the town. Being back didn’t feel so different, really-- the town was nearly the same, it was as if she’d never left. She held her arms out in a fake curtsy and bent to greet Erin before sticking her hands back into her pockets and pulling out a cigarette and lighter. “It’s me,” she said simply before flicking the lighter. “Oh, so sorry,” she held out the box, “did you want one?”
How long had it been since Josephine had left Erin on that curb or since she had come home to find her decomposing father tearing apart her office and office assistant? She didn’t know how but she’d nearly forgotten the events of last year in light of everything that had followed. Erin’s jaw set tightly and she shook her head, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket. This wasn’t happening. She was supposed to be done with all of the nonsense that last year had brought, including Josephine. “No,” she answered curtly, only just noticing the way her body stiffened, boiling over with a long forgotten rage. “What are you doing here?” She asked, skipping right to the point, eyes narrowed sharply in her direction. “Usually when you fuck someone’s life over and skip town, you don’t come back.”
Josephine just shrugged and patted out the box before sliding it back into her jacket pocket. “Suit yourself,” she said, winking. Lit up her own and gave it a puff as she contemplated how to answer Erin. Held it in her hand as she looked back over at her. “Is that what you think I did?” she asked, then, flicking some of the ash away before taking another swig. “Interesting.” She looked at the building behind them, leaning over to glance at it, before looking back at Erin. “Can you believe it? I heard this place blew up. Must make you pretty…” she paused, for effect. Josephine liked to add a little drama to her appearances, “angry.” She reached out with her free hand and tapped Erin’s chest. “Wanna fill me in on why? Whatever happened with your father wasn’t my fault. I was just doing what you asked for. I just wanted to show you that that anger inside of you could be used for something better.”
There was something about the way Josephine seemed so unbothered right now. Did she truly not understand the trauma she had inflicted on her way out of town? That unearthing her recently deceased father to roam the streets like a George A. Romero movie wouldn’t leave an impact on her? “Really? Because it feels like that was one-hundred percent your fault,” she spat back. Fuck. Erin was angry. And she hated that Josephine knew that. How did she know that? “It did,” Erin confirmed, her jaw set tightly after she answered, but gave her nothing more than that. She didn’t deserve it. “Something better? Something better?” She almost laughed, not because anything that Josephine was saying was at all funny, but because it was almost unbelievable. Again. “Get out of my way,” she shook her head, scoffing as she tried to brush by her, walking through the cigarette smoke.
“What’s that saying?” Josephine mused, resting her hand on her hip as she drew in another puff. “Don’t shoot the messenger?” She watched Erin with an interested eye, feeling the anger flowing through her as if it were in her own blood, her own veins. She chewed her lip, shrugged. “If I recall, correctly,” she started out slowly, turning to watch Erin brush past her and head towards the door, “you were the one who made the wish.” She flicked her cigarette and let some of the cinders fall to the ground. “You’ve gotta admit, though, don’t you? That just for a moment-- a tiny moment-- it felt good, didn’t it? Yelling at him, getting your frustrations out. It’s what you wanted, after all, isn’t it?” She let her head tilt to the side, as if contemplating her next words. “Why are you so afraid of your own anger?”
“That’s not what happened, that’s not what I wanted and you know it. You set me up and then you just--” Erin shouted back, her frustrations getting the best of her. A few heads turned their way and she felt their eyes falling onto the two of them. Her face burned and she was probably flushed and she hated the way this woman could rile her up only moments after a year of absolutely nothing. She huffed out a breath, trying to contain herself. Her voice leveled with some effort. “You just fucking left.” Skipped town and left Erin to deal with the aftermath of dear old decaying dad. She could still hear the sound of his head thumping to the ground after Alain’s sword sliced through his neck. The blood dripping from his chin onto her mother’s antique rugs. Josephine’s last question left her more unsettled than she was prepared for. Erin cast another glare in her direction. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all she could manage.
“Oh, yikes,” Josephine said, frowning. She took one last long puff of her cigarette before dropping it and putting it out with her heel. “Is that what you think happened? Listen, sweetheart,” she shoved her hands deep into her pockets, before pulling out a little business card with her name on it. “You’re not my responsibility. You sought me out, you made a wish, and you got to deal with whatever consequences your own actions gave you. I don’t control the wishes, Erin, the people who make them do. All my magic does is take what’s in here,” she pointed at Erin’s chest while simultaneously pressing the business card to her with her finger, “and makes it real. So you can deny all that anger all you want, honey, but you can’t hide it from me.” She let go and backed up. “So...do you wanna start again or would you rather go watch a pointless fight that ends in death? I heard they’ve got a bugbear on the docket tonight.”
“I asked you out for drinks, not a midlife crisis.” The longer Erin stood there, the hotter the blood coursing through her burned. This woman had some fucking nerve. “Not your responsibility? You tricked me into making a wish and used your fucking magic to unearth my dead dad without my consent but it’s not your responsibility?” She grabbed the card pressed against her without thinking, wide eyes staring incredulously in Josephine’s direction. Was there something she wasn’t understanding here that was apparently allowing the other woman to absolve herself of all blame? She didn’t want to go anywhere with her but she couldn’t pretend her curiosity hadn't peaked. Briefly, her eyes flitted around them. Whatever minor scene they may have caused had settled, attendees focused on the match that was starting inside the building. She tried not to think about it. Wasn’t anything she could do. She shook her head, glancing at the words on the business card. “What even are you?”
“Is that not a midlife crisis? If I remember correctly, you cried after I kissed you,” Josephine pointed out. She couldn’t help it-- egging people on was part of herself. Part of what she was. “Tricked you?” It was her turn to balk, suddenly. “Oh no. No, no, no. I did not trick you, Erin Nichols. I used your words against you. What’s that famous saying? Careful what you wish for? If you hadn’t known the word wish was dangerous, you do now. How did you learn about fae? Or magic? Or undead? Did anyone hold your hand through that? You and I both know you’re not actually angry at me,” she explained, “you’re angry at your helplessness. That, I can feel clearly.” She tapped the card in her hand. “I’m the solution to all your problems. What I am is more than magic. Spellcasters have nothing on me.”
Josephine kept pushing and pushing. Why was she doing this? Did she get a kick out of it? Was it feeding into whatever mysterious thing she kept alluding herself to be? A fury, she recalled suddenly. Whatever magic she was, it had taken three witches to remove her father from this world, she remembered. Erin could feel how close she was, and it was getting harder to force the anger that came with her familiar presence. When she was close enough to tap the card in Erin’s hand, something snapped. Something that had been there for a long time now, something that Josephine already knew, somehow, was boiling under the surface. Something that Roy’s destruction hadn’t been able to destroy within herself. Her fist flew through the air, connecting with Josephine’s jaw. Her knuckles pounded, aching with the impact but her anger struck too hot for her to notice. “You don’t know anything about me.” She shook out her hand but kept coming towards Josephine, her anger and bravado overshadowing her legitimate fear of the woman. “I am not some helpless human you can fuck around with and I sure as hell don’t need you anywhere in my life.” They were standing in front of the proof of that. “Stay away from me. Do you understand?”
The act was not really a surprise, but Josephine still couldn’t help but recoil with it. That was what happened when you got punched, after all. Kinetic energy and all that. Her head had whipped to the side and a small trickle of blood came from her now split lip. Wiping her chin, she licked the remainder of it off as she turned back to face Erin. The wound was already stitching itself up. She smiled. “Nice right hook,” she said, rolling her neck to stretch out the kink. “Obviously,” she said, wiping her hand on her jacket, “I know more about you than you’re comfortable with. But, fine.” There was a sense of relinquishing in her voice as she shrugged again, shaking her head. “I’ll be leaving town soon, anyway. But think about what I said. If you want power, real power, to stop things like this--” she gestured to the new Ring, brimming with fans swarming in and out-- “then you know how to reach me.” With that said, she deposited her hands back into her coat pockets and started heading towards the building. “Oh, and-- maybe ice that hand. Otherwise, it’ll hurt in the morning.”
Real power. Her hand throbbed and all she could see was red, but those words kept echoing in Erin’s mind. The pain in her hand wasn’t even worth it. She didn’t feel any better and it was healing right before her eyes. There was a metaphor there between that and the newly reconstructed Ring, she was sure, but she was too annoyed to find it. Real power. What did that mean? Josephine’s words were as enticing as they were infuriating--much like who she seemed to be as a person--and she knew she should have crumpled the business card. Tossed it away and forget this whole interaction ever happened. But she couldn’t. And she didn’t. “Don’t hold your breath,” she murmured darkly. She didn’t want anything to do with her. She didn’t need whatever power she was offering. She’d taken down a supernatural crime lord. Being human didn’t have to mean weak. She didn’t need whatever Josephine was offering. Her eyes fell onto the Ring again, then to the man who brushed by her on his way inside. Like it’d never happened. Fuck this. She turned on her heels, not willing to give Josephine even another moment of her time and headed back up the sidewalk. She didn’t need this right now and she sure as hell didn’t need her.
