Resurrect the dead?

[Kingsley]

Kingsley woke up on a pile of smoldering garbage and leaves in an old cemetery. All she knows is that she’s back in the world and she’s on fire. Her mind hasn’t quite kicked in yet, but her body knows enough to roll off the burning trash to keep rolling until she can’t feel the heat anymore. When she’s sure she’s out, she struggles to her feet and shrugs off her leather jacket. Hands run over her lower back and legs. There’s no real pain and all she feels are a couple of blisters behind her right knee and calf. Her jeans are a little crispy, but the heavy leather of her jacket protected her back. She’s not really burned, just singed and in shock.

She probably hadn’t been on the fire too long. But she’s lucky that way. Always had been. Otherwise, she might have crawled back into this world and ended up a charcoal briquette in her first five minutes home. And wouldn’t those black-hearted bastards down under have laughed when she ended up right back in Hell after slipping so sweetly out the back door? Fuck ‘em for now. She’s home and she’s alive, if a little torn up by the trip. No one said birth was easy, and rebirth would have to be twice as hard as that first journey into the light.

The light.

Her body isn’t burning anymore, but her eyes are cooking in their sockets. How long has it been since she’s seen sunlight? Down in the asshole of creation, it was a dim, perpetual crimson-and-magenta twilight. She can’t even tell what the colors of the cemetery where she’s standing are because her vision goes into an agonizing whiteout every time she opens her eyes.

Squinting like a mole, she runs to the shade of a columbarium and crouches there with her forehead on the cool marble walls and her hands over her face. Kingsley gives it a good five or ten minutes then lowers her hands to let her eyes get used to the bloody-red light that seeps through her lids. Little by little, over the next twenty or so minutes, she opens her eyes, letting in minute amounts of glaring Lacrimosa sun. She mentally crosses her fingers and hopes that no one sees her hunkered down against the wall. They’d probably call the cops, thinking she was crazy.

The muscles in her knees and legs ache before she can open her eyes all the way and keep them open. Down she sits against the cool building to take some of the strain off. Though she can sort of see now, there’s no way she’s marching off into full daylight for a while. Instead, she stays in the shade and takes stock of things. Her clothes are burned, but wearable if you ignore the burning garbage smell, worn black jeans with holes in the knees, a pair of ancient engineer boots, and a battered leather motorcycle jacket, strategic points of which are held together with black gaffer’s tape and a Marilyn Manson tee underneath the jacket. These were the exact clothes she was wearing when she got demon-snatched.

[Darcassan]

"Looks like you went through hell and back miss" His form sat in silence in mid air cross legged, it was not often that he would see this sort of thing but it was always interesting when it did happen, Both gloved hands resting in his lap since he had been in a medative state before her strange arrival it had taken a little time to actually know what was going on with the woman. Dropping to his feet, his clothing consisted of the usual light elven armour yet his form was elvish but it held the darker skin of the elven cousins known as Drow.

The yellowish green eyes showed clearly under the silver hair which for now was tied back, the man watched for a few moments longer before summoning a fresh change of clothing and set it down beside her, straighten up and turned, moving away to give her a chance to change in privacy as he leaned against the wall with his eyes closed and his arms folded against his chest. "Do you have a name, I am Darcassan but most call me Dar for short"

[Kingsley]

Leaning forward she feels just above her right ankle and a genuine wave of happiness hits her. The black blade is still there, strapped to her leg with strips of basilisk leather. Then she puts her hand over her heart and can feel the chain under her T-shirt and the fat gold Veritas coin that hangs there. The fact that she’s on Earth at all means that she still has the key to the Room of Thirteen Doors, even though she can’t see or touch it. So, I managed to smuggle three things with me from Hell. This is when someone decides that they're finally going to help out and her eyes lift, the glaring of the sun sending sharp pains into the backs of her eyes. Like a dog scratching its claws down the back of her skull.

"Kingsley. Where am I? What's that? I have my own clothes."

She squints at the pile of clothing set before her and shakes her head, getting up, Kingsley makes her way slowly, still half blind, to the shadow she can see pooling around the building.

"Wait a sec, Dar." What a weird nickname.


Once in the shadow passing into that utter darkness feels like falling through cool air, and Dar will no longer be able to see her. She finds herself back in that semicircular room that, surprise, contains thirteen doors and little bundle of joy wrapped up in black silk. Going to it Kingsley strips of her garbage smelling attire and changes into clean clothing consisting of fishnets stockings, calf boots, shorts, a white tee, a black vest, her fingerless gloves and straps her two katanas to her back. She doesn’t have the luxury to shower at the moment, but at least she doesn’t stink like garbage and spoiled hot dogs. She looks towards the only unmarked door and listens once more. There's something moving behind the door and it knows they're there. Something growls and scratches to get at them. Then there's a shriek, a long, keening, furious animal sound that hits her like a knife dragged through her skull. She’d do anything Azazel asked her to do in order to keep that door locked forever, but there’s no time to dwell she needs to get back. But back to where she hasn’t been before. The land with no leader, which is why she takes the door of dreams and steps through it and back to where she left the man; sporting Aviator sunglasses.

"I'd kill for a smoke."

[Darcassan]

Remained still there was someone quite different of the woman, his eyes able to pick up on the strange comings and goings she did but not to where she went, his astral manipulation was not often needed but this peaked his interest as he tilting his head ever so slightly when the woman returned to where he was still standing.

Picking a hand through the elven like armour, he did not usually smoke but out of old habit he carried them on him from the older days of the coven, a thought crossed his mind yet remained unsaid as he held out the open packet to the woman, unsure what reason she had to be here but till he knew otherwise he showed the utmost respect for her. "Pleasure to meet you miss Kingsley, welcome to the lands"

[Kingsley]

He didn't have to offer twice, Adara's hand shot out and her fingers plucked a smoke from the pack; they weren't her brand but the nicotine deficiency had definitely kicked in and demanded she fucking smoke. Right. Now. Holding the cigarette betwixt her lips she sparked up her finger by snapping them together and inhaled through the filter. Lungs filling with air and her blood getting the first hit of nicotine in nine years. It made her sigh and deflate, blowing the smoke out into the wind and away from him.

"None of that 'Miss' shit, my name's Kingsley. I dropped out of Hell's shit-shoot into what land now?"

Another suck of the cancer stick and her eyes wandered around before returning to Dar, tongue licking at her upper lip before smirking. He may be a polite fucker, but at least he had cigarettes. The blades at her back hummed a bit and she paused before bringing a leg up and feeling around the boot for the black blade she'd just stolen from Hell. It was safe and slumbering in its sheath.

[Darcassan]

"You smell like you just got chewed up and spat out of hell, your aura reeks of it" A small raise of an eyebrow at her question was all that showed, friend nor foe was his concern before he gave away anything of where they currently resided, knowing better to trust those who came from hell but for now he would remain against the wall, sliding the packet back into the armour that he wore, watching her every move. "How about you answer mine and I will answer yours? What reason do you have to be in these lands being friend or foe?"

[Kingsley]

Kingsley smirked and took another drag of her smoke before turning around and walking off, she walked into the nearest store and talked to the store clerk. After a few moments the girl came back out and flicked her cigarette bud away into the nearest street-side sewer. Her eyes settled on Dar, staring at him from behind the sunglasses and licking at her upper lip.

"According to the nice store clerks, we're in some city called Lacrimosa."

Fingers reached into her pocket and rubbed the Veritas coin, thinking that maybe she should flip it; but with the lack of trust being given it was best to keep the ace up her sleeve.

"See? Wasn't so hard to figure out where I was with or without your help, Dar-Dar. But I'll answer your question, I did just drop out of Hell's asshole, that's why I smell bad. I'm running from Arcane because I killed someone from the Death family. Bitch deserved it for playing a part in a bigger scheme. And you?"