Summary:Raven and Strange come to investigate a mystic anomaly and meet Mama Iffie Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
   |
WITCHING HOUR:
Amongst most practitioners of magic, the witching hour is the most critical time of when magic can be felt. There were movers and shakers around that hour, and those who would typically be asleep. Ifede was one of those people; who kept normal hours like normal businesswomen, the witching hour only captures her when she was awake and in the thrall of magic or a spell, or some other nafarious deed that she, or the elders had sent her to do.
Had.
With this hoodoo, it seemed to be a party on the magical wavelength. The intense spiritual pressure could be felt because this spell itself is unique of in it's kind. The night before, or which ever day it seems, Ifede had cast a spell. One that seemed so simple once written on paper but extremely difficult to maintain. She pulled something from the man/machine, whether it be a soul or spirit, in the realm between realms, all the while holding back a god from devouring them both for not offering a sacrifice. Or a gift.
Ifede forgot the honey.
And the cigars..
But in the misplaced and fractured basement of Mama Iffie's, the sanctuary from magic was officially broken for now. And the truce that she had with Eshu/Papa Legba became on shakey ground for that intrusion. But when gods walk the Earth, especially her brand, the magic is intense. And it seems as if the entire communities ancestors were in attendance that night, all full of with their finger wagging and shame. Ifede would ignore those metaphysical feelings, as she sat down upon her broken couch, large rolled marijuana blunt in her hand, lit and smoked as she contemplates a way to precisely fix this mess she's made.
*
All of which adds up to a violation of the sanctity of the dimensional walls, a breach, an intrusion into the terrestrial plane by beings of power, unbound gods of lands far away, refashioned to the modern world and stinking still of ancient rites as they flick their tongues into the world of cellphone signals and late night taco stands.
The taco stand is where Strange happened to be, he and Raven, having a late night discussion and walk. Strange was lecturing, as he's prone to do, this time on the subject of both opening one's senses to the invisible world -and- the proper ratio of jalapenos, sour cream and tomatoes in a street taco. He tends to be opinionated about things.
The wash of power, however, made him return to the Sanctum, pulling Rachel through the portal of space along with him. Triangulating the location hadn't taken much time, but he could see enough to know that the immediate threat was over. Although perhaps not for long.
They find the house easily enough, a flick of fingers and a few muttered syllables bypassing any potential wards. He lets any signal or alert that might come back to Ifede happen. He's not there to hide their presence from the magician in question. He's here to seek audience.
And perhaps loom a little. Part of the job description.
*
Rachel was listening with both ears, but her eyes were wandering over the many toppings offered by the taco truck, and ordering two large tacos (one with chicken and chorizo, and the second with fish and shrimp) for herself. Stephen, expounding on the virtues of keeping one's senses open, looks handsome, even in the harsh overhead of street lights, and wearing a casual outfit she'd picked out for him on a recent shopping trip — fitted black t-shirt with heathered marbling, dark jeans, and some near black, rubber-sole oxfords, all comfortable and decent enough. Rachel's wearing a black overall-dress with a capped sleeve, black and white striped t-shirt, and a pair of black ballet flats. Her hair, in loose curls, is half swept back, and blowing gently in the warm summer breeze of the evening, just starting to cool down after the heat of the day leeches out of the pavement.
Rachel is nodding her head to his comments about the ratio of toppings, while simultaneously trying to cram half of the first of her two tacos into her mouth when there's a prickling of her skin that lets her know something hinky is happening. Still new to her studies with Doctor Strange, she isn't really certain what this portends, but she can tell by the look on his face that it's Something Demanding Attention. She follows him without question, and is still munching on her taco as they arrive in the here-but-not-here place. It seems kinda familiar. She's…been here, before. "I've eaten here," she says quietly to Stephen, walking close beside him. "Do you need me to hold your taco, oppa?" she whispers even softer.
*
Maybe that was the problem; there were no wards that were placed there. Not after Ifede had broken them. As for the alarms, they do go off once Strange set them off, which causes Ifede to roll her eyes clear to the back of her head. "What nooooooooooooow.." She says childishly, taking the last puff of her smoke before it was ashed out.. and promptly gone.
"Alright.. that's it.." She snaps out, rising from the couch to approach the counter. The half there, half here counter was summoned to the now in it's completeness with a wave of her hand, the top of it opened to reveal the security cameras. Thankfully, the magic interference didn't mess with the cafe, but there -were- people there.. and one she slightly recognizes. "Fancy burger." She states, her lips puckering in thought. "What she be doing here.."
Though, it wasn't as if she could leave, the door that leads to the stairs upstairs was painted and blocked. Something to keep and contain the magic from seeping upstairs to contaminate the food. Ifede buys fresh, but not that godddamned fresh!
The room grew a fraction colder as she watches the screen, her eyes soon darting up to look around the room. "Hoooo don't you start that shit with me Eshu! I done 'bout had enough! Mwen pa f%<232> sa ou di m 'jis yon fwa epi ou pa ka kite l glise!" If they could see her, she'd be shaking her fist. Because she is.
A totem rises from the floor and is hurled in her direction, which causes her to duck is path as it's shattered against the wall.
"You mudderfucker!"
*
Strange doesn't need magical senses to hear the shouting. He has hears and Ifede may be many things, but sotto voce is not among her attributes. "Care to give me an empathic scouting report?" he asks Rachel, even as he takes a moment to touch a space at his throat. The Eye of Agamotto blooms there, the ancient amulet opening and casting light over the door, revealing the sealing runes that keep the magic below contained.
"Let's not tamper with those. A little bypassing is all we need, I think," he says. He takes Rachel's hand and speaks aloud, "L%<237>%<240>a %<225>n f%<230>ra ska%<240>a %<225>n %<254>ess a%<240> snerta," he intones, until there's a slight shiver through the both of them and they merely pass through the floor and drop casually in front of the shouting Ifede, just in time to see the totem shatter.
"Trouble with the decorator?" he says drolly.
*
Looking around at the place, wondering where Iffie is at a time like this, Rachel's elegantly shaped brows raise when she hears the screaming and crashing sound coming from downstairs. To Stephen's request, she nods thoughtfully. "Two presences. One is huge, the other smaller but fierce," she says, narrowing her eyes in concentration — it's very easy to feel the huge klaxons of emotion going off in the area…it's more complex to sort out what belongs to whom. "The big one is enraged, insulted, affronted, rage and vindictiveness, indignation. But, the smaller one is just as indignant, angry, exhausted, and very frustrated," she draws to a pause. "It's almost like a lover's quarrel, but not," she says, taking another bite of her chicken'n'chorizo taco. "Sorry. My stomach feels hollowed out," she says with a sheepish smile.
She follows along behind the good Doctor as he steps up to the door painted shut, covered in runes. She examines them with interest, though she can't read them for doodly-squat. And, just as she's floating downstairs, her hand held securely in Stephen's, the totem crashes and shatters all over the place. Instinctively, she sends a pulsing wave of tk-energy out in a sphere shape around her and the man next to her, sending shards tinkling harmlessly away from their persons. "Goodness, Mama Iffie," she says with a small smile. "I hope it wasn't one-of-a-kind."
*
If Ifede heard Raven's assessment, she would wholeheartedly agree. It was like a child lashing out at the parent, or an authority figure. Not really caring what would happen to her or the ley lines in which Eshu quite possibly was drawing from. The raw power was thick; and thankfully once the two 'appeared' into the room, they didn't fall apart like a mere human would.
"Jesus!" Ifede exclaims, surprised by their arrival. Her hands move from the counter top which immediately disappears and appears.. disappears and appears.. much like the look of shock and irritation that's upon her face now.
"Ain' no trouble." She answers the Magician, her head held high as she steps from around the counter top, going the long way.
But clearly there was!
"Was one of a kind, for sure. But nothing a little nail glue from the beauty store wouldn't fix." She doesn't bother with the pieces, leaving them upon the floor as she looks around. This was quite a pickle, and it seems that Eshu was pulling out all the stops. But..
"Why you two down here anyway? Y'all want somethin'? Bit busy."
*
"Me? Oh, just the usual. Bit of this, bit of that. Mild case of sensing disturbance in the localized fabric of quantum space and recognizing it as an incursion of an extremely disgruntled spiritual entity, probably displeased with you personally for reasons I don't fully understand. You're clearly a practitioner - I'm not deeply steeped in the hoodoo and voodoo traditions, I tend to recognize I'm not culturally suited to the practice, but I know enough bits and pieces to recognize it when I see it," he says.
"From what my young apprentice here," he says, stroking a hand over Raven's silken black hair, "tells me, you're involved in some sort of emotional conflict with…something. I won't interfere, but it is part of my responsibility to m ake sure that it remains between the two of you and doesn't bleed out into the general populace. You can do what you like with your own juju, so long as innocent bystanders don't get dragged into esoteric hells as a side hustle."
"Oh, and I'm Dr. Stephen Strange. Sorceror Supreme. I understand you've met Raven."
*
Rachel makes a tsking sound of disappointment when Iffie confirms it /is/ one-of-a-kind. "Well, that sounds like a long evening with some nail glue. Let me know if you want some help. I'm good with meticulous tasks like that," she offers, her voice sort of dreamy and pleasant. It's not entirely clear whether or not she's serious, but she doesn't appear to be making a joke. At Stephen's lecturing tone, she smiles gently and puts a hand to his lower back, briefly, as if to silently request a slightly warmer tone for someone she has met and likes.
The hand is gone as soon as it arrived and she takes another big bite of her last taco. "My apologies for bringing food into your establishment. I didn't realize where we were going," she says with food packed in her cheek and her hand politely covering her mouth as she talks. "But, it does seem like you're at odds with rather a big, angry entity and I'm concerned for your well-being," she adds, pausing to chew and swallow her mouthful of fish and shrimp taco.
*
Ifede seems non-plussed at his explanation as to why he.. well, they were here. In fact, it seemed so long winded she just stares at him blankly, her gaze shifting back and forth from Raven and to Strange, in which Raven could tell the mood of Ifede shifts -near- dramatically. "Phew.." She finally says enigmatically, so much so that she effectively 'code-switches', right into a pikey accent. "..you're a right chatty fuck'a aren't ya?" But, it's all back to normal for her, if it's considered that, American all the way. "Best you don't get involved. These Gods like their own particular kind."
And at the mere mention of them, the room begins to shake, and the far right wall slowly begins to crack open to reveal a flash of white light behind it.
"Oh kiss my ass!" Ifede hollars out, even though the threat seemingly looms.
As for Raven, she gives a nod. She is defintely going to take her up on that offer! "See you at six, Friday? You can stay down here." Once it's fixed. She wasn't going to say no to help. But the apology that was given was met with a shake of her head. "I partake of the Thai food when I'm alone. I would have tonight but.." She turns now, walking towards the counter, her hands sliding over it to bring it to the now, all so that she could hop up and sit upon it with a quick twist backwards to face them. And now, it was story time.
"Souls." Ifede starts out. "The Devil thinks that when I visit with someone that don't share in the melanin or the craft that I'm bringing him souls to eat, especially since I didn't prepare an offering." She holds her hands out in a 'what can I say' manner. "I was curious. I forgot. A bit eager about what was placed in front of me. The question was posed and I needed an answer, for my own gains. Eshu.." She glances towards Strange, he's familiar, right? "..Papa Legba seems to.. NOT WANT TO APPRECIATE THAT FACT." She lowers her voice then, then lifts a finger and points towards Strange. "You get it, right? I ain't no Marie Laveau, I don't go killing people in the name of favors. That was the fucking deal I made with the Ori but this bitch getting testy."
And then the wall cracks open a little bit wider. Raven could at least sense that there was love in between the two, in which Strange was right. This seems to happen every other month.
Ifede tests the waters with a random God, and they get into one humongous bitch fest. Her Grandpappy always hinted that she was the cause for Hurricane Katrina, even though that is not true.
*
Doctor Strange tilts his head, glancing over at Raven. Whatever warmth he possesses, he doesn't tend to show it much and, when he does, it's almost entirely for her. Other people tend to get the more professional version of Stephen, especially when he's actually doing the work.
Ifede is plenty winded herself, by his measure, but he listens carefully nonetheless.
"Legba. Heard the name before," he says. "Potent, by all accounts. I do appreciate that you're not in the habit of killing. As I said, I'm going to trust you know your business. But when I feel something like I felt tonight, I can't help but notice. And, when I notice, I start to feel compelled to take matters in hand. I'm fussy that way," he says with a hint of a smile.
After she addresses Rachel, he nods, "Since you seem to have a good relationship between the two of you, perhaps Rachel could not only help you but help to…assuage my concerns by keeping an eye with you? I don't want to play the buzzard and circle around waiting for things to go wrong."
"But rest assured, if things do go wrong, I will intervene if I see fit. This is a courtesy call. Friendly. Collegial," he says. He reaches into his pocket and draws out his remaining taco, unfolding the foil and taking a bite. "We can all be friends, I'm sure."
*
Rachel takes out her phone and thumbs it expertly, briefly. "I think I'm free! My schedule's so whack-a-doo, these days. Let's pencil it in," she smiles and puts her phone away. She listens, trying to learn what she can of the things Iffie talks about. But, to someone very new to this brand of magick…well, it's not very user-friendly. She squints her eyes thoughtfully as she listens, finishing off her taco. She chews quietly and swallows before asking, "So, you wanted the answer to a question and Eshu or Legba or both…wanted you to give them a soul to gobble for payment, but you didn't have one or forgot to bring one…and, now, they are v angry?" She's not entirely sure she followed everything, but she's trying. "You made a deal with someone called Ori, and it didn't include needing to murder people, which, in my book, is a good thing. If I followed correctly?" she adds.
To Stephen, she laughs nervously. "I'm still just an apprentice. I hardly know enough to know I only know a little… The best I can do is spend some time with Iffie and call for help if things get wildly out of control?" she offers, looking from Stephen to Iffie in a 'sound good?' way.
*
Ifede nearly smiles, but that smile fades. "Ah see. Not this. Sorcerer Supreme? That's like… some head honcho type thing you white people cooked up?" Ifede hops down from the counter, still keeping her hand upon it. She traces around behiind it again to take out a bowl, which was set upon it. Still, hand upon the counter, she moves a few paces, then strikes out a bare foot to touch where the shelving was, using her free hand to pick out a few herbs. All in all, she looked rather silly.
"Since both of yous are here, may as well help, yeah?"
Cause clearly, she done made him really mad! To the point where he was going to come out and give her a right smack down. So this was going to turn in to a participation trophy effort!
Rachel's explanation has the young woman smiling, and once everything was placed upon the counter, Ifede drops her foot and the shelves fade into the here and now. Instead of keeping her foot or hands upon anything, she quickly sits atop of the counter again, this time turning to drag the bowl in between her legs as she begins mixing.
"Ah. The soul was right there for the taking but I denied him his taco." She looks over to glance at Strange, then frowns. "Never do that again. Gross." Who has pocket tacos? Jesus.
"The Ori.." She says to give a tiny lesson. "..are the mothers and fathers of the Yoruba religion. Orisha. Thank the slave times that gave us Santoria, Voudou, Hoodoo.. blah blah blah.."
She spits in the bowl and begins to stir with her finger, creating that motion so that her own telekinesis could continue without. "So, Saucy Supreme, we can be friends. But I'll only accept friendship if you come by during normal business hours and eat food that don't come out'cha pocket. Deal?" She turns upon the counter to face them again so that her legs can dangle. "And.. both ya spit in the bowl. And.. help me clean this crap up because I have noooo fuckin' clue how to do it."
At least she's honest!
*
Doctor Strange considers, "Technically, I think it's a Tibetan tradition. Kind of like the Dalai Lama. Except I occasionally throw lightning bolts," he says.
"Yes, we can help. And, when you visit, Rachel, you can be my pretty black canary in the mine. I wouldn't worry about deadly gas, though. I imagine the food around here produces quite a bit of that," he chuckles.
"I suppose it does sound as if I'm being bossy. Really, it's just that I have responsibilities. I have sworn to protect this dimension, to preserve the lives of its people and to maintain the barriers which keep gods and devils and those in-between at bay. If something goes wrong, I have to do something. Simple as that," he says.
"But you're right, I shouldn't barge in and boss around. Bad habit," he admits. "I can't make any promises about the tacos, though. This one's delicious."
*
Rachel steps forward, pulling Stephen along with her, to deposit her spit into the bowl and encourages him to do the same. "What's this mixture you're making? 'Cause I'm not sure what kinda thing you can blend up that will make the Ori you angered calm down?" she sounds uncertain, but her expression is one of curiosity and interest as she looks into the bowl of herbs being stirred by tk.
She kinda wants to speak up for Doctor Strange, but most people don't get to see him the way she does, so the things she'd say wouldn't make much sense to others. Also, he doesn't need her to defend him. He's a big boy, who wears a very fancy cape, and is quite powerful, though she still has no real concept of just how much. "I can promise that I'll encourage him to eat here, because the food's really good," she says, her crooked little smile genuine.
*
Ifede wrinkles her nose. "Ouch." While Ifede can go on and defend how wholesome her food was, she chooses not to. She felt insulted enough to drop it. But as Rachel steps forward to offer her spit into the bowl, she holds it up to continue to focus upon the movement of the mixture. "Part of an old warding spell to momentarily keep Es..Legba at bay. Grandpappy say that spit is the safest bodily fluid to bind essenses, other than blood. But we don't do blood magic, he says, unless it's sers." This -was- serious! Although with this spat, Ifede apparently doesn't seem to think so. While she waits for Strange to add his essense, she explains..
"Once he spit, I stir, say a few words, bowl catches fire, crack close slightly. It's a bandaid to the bigger problem." Though, she truly was tempted to let it ride until the morning. At least in the wee hours before breakfast.
*
Doctor Strange nods, "I'm aware of how bandaids work. I am a doctor, after all," he says.
He lets Ifede perform the spell and ritual to her liking, of course. Not only out of respect for his fellow willworker, but because he wants to observe her technique. Most magic styles have threads of connection, an underlying genealogy that links them all together, one to another, in an interlacing web that underlies the fabric of reality. He's interested to see just which skeins the woman plucks to make her music.
Also, he's still eating that taco.
*