aesthetically displeasing

[andaisq]

Mortimer Halliwell, warlock extraordinaire and small-time crook, is having a remarkably bad day. First he runs out of the good coffee and has to use Folgers. Then the demon he summons to rob a bank for him only speaks Egyptian, which is hell on his throat. Then the demon gets discorporated and tracked back to his lair/duplex, the door of which is currently being battered down by some cheerful blonde madman.

He needs to summon another demon, and he needs to do it fast. He whips out the Black Book, flips desperately through its pages, and arranges the offerings around the iron circle set into the floor of his basement. A phonebook, a pile of dust, a miniature casket, a oh my god he got in screw it he'll do it without the rest!

He forces an immense amount of energy through his body into the summoning. The dust whirls into the air. He screams as his skin crackles and snaps with static. "I summon thee! I summon thee! I summon thee, K-Kh-"

It is possibly the most regrettable sneeze in Mortimer Halliwell's life.

There is a plume of red flame, and there is someone in his circle.

Comments

The author would like to point out that he himself is moderately Jewish

[bitterchill]

Ari begins constructing a spell diagram for a very, very powerful scry. It has ten circles for offerings, plus one for him to stand. He fills in the runework in Hebrew, in which he is fairly competent, because it seems appropriate. He usually sticks to a proto-Germanic fae tradition, but if he might be going after the God of Abraham, he's hiding behind his theoretical status as one of His chosen people as much as he can.

He calls up a fairly large receptacle in each circle that isn't Da'at and turns to the administrator. "If it turns out I am not in fact immortal, I will be very unhappy. I may come back as a ghost to give you disappointed looks."

[ending_of]

"You are in fact immortal," says the administrator, observing his preparations curiously.

[bitterchill]

"Good," he says. He takes a very sharp knife out of his bag, takes a deep breath, leans over the receptacle for Malkhut, and cuts his own throat.

Over in his corner, Morty makes a muffled noise of horror.

The receptacle fills with blood. Ari's eyes glaze over, then he bursts into flames and returns to life. He looks around, then breaks into an enormous grin and starts cackling for quite some time. He would hug the administrator, if he was sure she wouldn't place him gently in the heart of the sun. Also, if he wasn't covered in blood.

[ending_of]

The administrator smiles.

[bitterchill]

Ari does another very small dance! Then he makes the rounds of his deeply heretical little diagram, repeatedly bleeding himself into the designated receptacles. This is going to be a very, very powerful scry. It's going to pierce the gates of Heaven.

Once the last circle is filled, Ari steps into Da'at and begins his chant. His eyes stare straight ahead, over the receptacle and in the administrator's general direction (though not directly into her eyes, because if she has a soul he'd really rather not gaze into it). Gradually they turn milky, then begin to glow cyan-blue. It would seem that the scry worked.

[ending_of]

The administrator watches him curiously. This is an interesting procedure, if messy.

[bitterchill]

The glow gradually leaves Ari's eyes. "Don't think She noticed me, but I don't know how I'd tell. Anyway, I could probably send the note through a... really weird Way, I guess? It'd have to be-"

Just as his pupils reappear, his eyes come to rest on the administrator's and he's

falling into them.

This could be bad.

[ending_of]

The administrator's soul is... tidy. Straightforward. Mind-bogglingly immense.

A tall, tall tower marks the center of her domain, an infinite expanse of sky above and ground below, divided into two halves by a straight line of tall, tall cliffs; one half's sky is bright as noon, the other dark as midnight. And every second a vast number of people across seventy-odd universes die, become available to her, and appear in stasis in the infinite catacombs beneath the ground; and an even vaster number of destroyed objects enter an immaterial queue, to be sorted by a clever and intricate set of rules that will eventually cause them to appear in someone's home; and an even vaster number of particles of dust attempt to settle onto some surface or another and are instead quietly deleted from existence.

Nothing in this realm can ever be permanently destroyed. Even the dust could be brought back, enough of it to drown planets, if she found a use for it. She can examine the entire history of each individual particle and instantiate it in whatever configuration she chooses. All of the information representing every person or thing that has ever existed in any universe connected to her domain is constantly available to her.

[bitterchill]

Ari beholds infinity and tries to keep himself from dissolving into it.

He looks away from the sky and the horizon, clasps his hands over his eyes. He counts the lines on his palms, trying not to feel the unimaginable ocean of death and life flowing through himself. Tries not to see the expanse of unending, the absence of an end, the complete and total inability to cease. Knowledge claws at his mind and he opens his mouth to scream and it's-

over. He's on the floor, shaking, his face covered in tears and blood. It seems he may have broken his nose falling onto one of the receptacles. How nice.

[ending_of]

"That was unexpected," says the administrator. It's possible that she sounds slightly concerned.

[bitterchill]

Ari cannot be reached right now! He is busy gibbering.

A voice fills his mind. Ice and fire, ice and snow. Fear, but never let it show. Ice and fire, ice and snow. Fear, but never let it show. After a bit of this he starts thinking along with it, not noticing or caring that he's saying it aloud.

[ending_of]

The administrator waits.

[bitterchill]

After a few minutes of the mnemonic, Ari has calmed himself down enough to be somewhat presentable. His breathing is still shaky, but he thinks he can talk again.

"I. I need to remember not to soulgaze any more gods. Sorry."

[ending_of]

"It was interesting. But it seems to have distressed you."

[bitterchill]

"You're. Big. Your soul, it's really big. I don't think humans are built to see that. I'm glad you had fun."

[ending_of]

"I was human once."

[bitterchill]

Ari considers this.

"I could see that," he decides. "But you're a lot more now. You're big."

[ending_of]

"True. Do you remember what you were doing before you accidentally fell into my soul?"

[bitterchill]

"Ah- the scrying? Yeah, I think I can get the note to Probably God through a mini-portal. If you looked through the portal, could you make the notes where she is from then on?"

[ending_of]

"Yes."

[bitterchill]

"Alright. You make the note, I'll make the portal."

He starts chanting in his usual Germanic, but it's a bit more complex than his usual incantations. It demands that a path be opened by his false death, a path to where he should go, held open by his continuing life. At the climax, he bursts into flames. Damn, but this immortality thing is handy.

A rip opens in the air and expands until someone could probably fit their hand inside.

[ending_of]

The administrator sends a note through it. The note is made of diamond, the words inlaid in obsidian. (Paper is ephemeral.)

Your domain collects only one category of aware life. All the rest, and some unlucky members of that category, can be permanently destroyed. May I have those?

[bitterchill]

The portal snaps shut after the note goes through, rather as someone might slam a screen door that has blown open.

A note appears, written in clipped ancient Hebrew on slightly glowing lambskin. Please don't open another gate to the afterlife from the mortal world. It upsets the universe. Also, stop making people in this world immortal, it messes up my thermodynamics. What do you want to do with the soulless?

[ending_of]

But now that she knows where her note went, it's trivial to create a second one in the same place.

I want to collect them in my domain. I dislike impermanence. This world has too much of it.

[bitterchill]

Is your domain somewhere beyond the Outer Gates? I don't see where you came from. And impermanence is a part of how I made this universe. If high-energy beings continued to exist, it'd degrade the boundary between this world and the Outside. And that boundary keeps out an infinite sea of horrible monsters, which I'd rather not have an infestation of.