99 Problems, but Daimon ain't one..

March 28, 2015: Daimon and Reese meet at a spice shop, demons attack. Max reveals his acid pee for the first time!

Lei Fu's Spice Shop

<Location Description>


Pair of Demons

Mood Music:

Lei Fu's shop wasn't particularly well known - unless you had need of it, odds are, you had no idea how to find it. As such, it's quiet, close quarters, with dim light and the redolent scent of herbs. Lei Fu himself rarely makes his presence known, somehow only appearing at the counter when needed for money or questions and otherwise seeming non-existent. Until Reese arrives, the only presence is that of Daimon Hellstrom, his long trenchcoat licking at his calves as he peruses the goods. He makes other customers uncomfortable, generally, so he tends to come when it's quiet, out of respect for the owner. He helped to exorcise a water demon from Lei Fu's uncle several years ago and earned the old herbalist's favor.

When the bell over the door tinkles, Daimon turns his head, taking in the slender figure of the young woman making her way inside - a young woman with a very old aura. Interesting.

Quiet, just the way Reese likes it. With Max chained up outside, she had to rely on the use of her cane to actually enter in the shop, the poor dog asleep from eating way too much and walking way too far. From Metropolis, to New York. It was high time she actually visited. Maybe she'll be left alone now with the pendant about her neck, but she wasn't sure. At least she could teleport away with a moments notice if things were to get too horrible.

But, she enters inside the shop, a slight smile drawn upon her face, feeling something odd within the air yet.. it was passed along. So, she begins to browse, allowing her nose to mark the path, her hand carefully reaching out to touch the edge of the table to follow her way through the small isles.

Daimon Hellstrom realizes the woman is blind after a few moments, her cane and movements revealing it to be truth and not just a ruse. Goodness knows enough strange creatures have bizarre eyes worth hiding. The woman's obviously beautiful, but it's also clearly her first visit, as she tries to make her way along the aisle. To Daimon's surprise, Lei Fu doesn't make an appearance to guide her and, so, chivalrously, he approaches - if she's disturbed by his presence, he can always withdraw, "Do you need any help finding anything today? I don't work here, but I'm a frequent customer," he says.

Thankfully, the random items that she touches had small prints of braille upon it, so it was easy for her to know what she touched. Since she didn't hear anyone else around initially, she tucked the cane against her arm, feeling her fingers along the jars her nose wrinkling briefly as she draws in a sniff. "And this one smells like pepper.." She murmurs quietly to herself, only stopping once she feels the odd presence of another drawing near.

It unneased her, but she was quite frankly, used to it. "No. Not really. I'm just wandering around to pass the time. I've never been inside of this place before." She turns her head a little, attempting to gauge just how tall this man is. "What do you purchase here? It smells like herbs."

Daimon Hellstrom is a shade over six feet, his long coat making him seem taller to the eye, not that it matters with her. His own scent carries some form of cologne, a nice brand, with an underlying almost animalistic quality and a hint of smoke, both cigarette and something other. He's warm, too, radiating heat into the air around him. "Herbs, yes. Usually for magick and spellwork rather than for spicing food, although I've used it for that on occasion. I make quite an excellent braised herb beef," he says. "Today, though, I'm looking for a few ingredients to make a particular potion," he says. "Are you a practitioner, or merely…different?' he says. He, of course, is both.

"Magic and spellwork? Really?" Reese smirks a little, the nods. "I almost pegged this place for a Penseys. You know, Pensey's spices. For.. food." It was rare for Reese to fly off of the handle like that, but there was always a time for firsts.

She shakes her head, drawing in a little breath, there was a dilema there, she didn't know whether she should lie or tell the truth. "Neither." She says curtly, uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Though, she turns it right back upon him. "What sort of particular potion are you attempting to make?"

Daimon Hellstrom raises an eyebrow, "If you say so," he says. Of course, his supernatural senses make her difference impossible to hide, although he also can't quite put a finger on it. Which is intriguing, since he tends to think of himself as knowing far too much. He doesn't sense anything demonic about her, though.

"I admittedly haven't gone to Pensey's but I'll take a look at it sometime. Ah, well, I'm manufacturing a simple tincture that, when dropped on the tongue of a person possessed by a demon, will cause said person to vomit uncontrollably. Delightful, I know, but I couldn't resist the irony. I'm calling it 'Pea Soup'."

So, it didn't seem as if he believed her, but it was good enough for now. But she was apt enough to know that something was different about her as well, and she could feel it upon her skin. So she takes a slight step back, the cane soon held, attempting to move around the man as she continues to browse, still hanging onto the jar of spices that she holds.

"Pea soup?" This causes Reese's nose to wrinkle up rather cutely, a soft laugh drawing forth which soon turns a little bit too loud for the small shop that they were in. "I'm so sorry.. but if the person is inhabited by a demon, wouldn't that be torture for both?" This was all said in between laughter, which soon dies away in favor of the latest smell. Peppers. Weird.

Daimon Hellstrom says softly, 'When a demon rides your soul, nothing else can compare to that agony. If a little nausea helps to mark you out, to serve as a cry for help and distract the devil within long enough that it can be torn loose…then it's a small price to pay, I'm sure,' he says. "Demons torture, it's simply what they do. Even without meaning to, they create pain and havoc in their wake. It's simply in their nature," he says.

He notes the reaction to the pepper and reaches over, "Ghost peppers - these are from the Phillippines. They make food so spicy it can barely be eaten, although they swear by them there. Here, their acrid burn makes them useful in many kinds of spell work. They aren't called ghost peppers for nothing," he says.

"Do I make you nervous?"

As he speaks, Reese frowns, turning her back to him so that she could press a hand to her chest. She could still feel the scar there from the blade, pressing and touching.. wincing all the while as she draws in a slight breath. "I suppose that's the way to go, then." She didn't know what to say, she didn't even know why she thought of Yama-Uba. Maybe.. just maybe he could help? But, she didn't know him two shakes from sunday.

As he reaches for the ghost pepper, the path he chooses to pull it was immediately avoided, a sharp inhale of breath taken as her finger lifts to cover her nose, a slight cough drawing from her lips as she gives a shake of her head. "No.. no. You don't make me nervous. This shop is just filled with so many smells and there are times it could get a little overwhelming." Truth. And.. he made her skin crawl. It could have been the heat she felt from him. "Do you get that a lot? You must look really imposing."

Daimon Hellstrom considers for a moment, a bit of quiet there that might seem uncharacteristic, "Yes, a great deal. I don't think I look so very imposing. I've been told I'm quite appealing, visually. It's my…presence. I'm quite different myself, you see. Not…entirely human," he says. "People can sometimes sense it, the way a deer knows a wolf stalks near, even though they can't hear anything. A scent on the wind, a feeling in the gut. I tend to spook them. I don't hold it against them, alhtough it can make my social life a bit dull," he says.

"And yes, I can imagine the place can be quite overwhelming, if scent is one of your primary senses. Here," he says and he reaches over to get a handful of mint, "Place this under your nose. It'll help clear you out."

If you're not entirely human, then what are you?" She wanted to reach up a hand to touch and feel his face, but that sort of mapping she allows to be reserved to only one. "I do feel that. The need to run away. You make my skin crawl, if I were to be honest. But everything now a days do." This was all said matter of factly. "Is that why you're talking to me now? You're in need of a friend?"

As the mint was offered, Reese was careful to take, drawing her cane off to the side so that she could cup both of her hands to bring to her nose to smell. And it smelled refreshing. It cleared her senses just enough for her eyes to water, her head turning quick to the side so that she could unleash a sneeze. "Woah.. excuse me. Scent and sound.." And then she sneezes twice, drawing the mint away from her face.

Daimon Hellstrom offers a handkerchief, "Bless you, although I doubt He listens much if I invoke it," he says. "What I am is complicated…which I suspect you know something about," he says. "I'll say simply that my father bears a great enmity towards the human race, so much so that most humans instinctively fear him and his. On the other hand, I'm a delightful conversationalist, a marvelous lover and extremely well-read."

"Perhaps you're in need of a friend, since you allow me to talk to you, despite your crawling skin. What is it nowadays that's keeping you in such a state of nerves?" he says.

The handkerchief was taken and kept, not used.. but kept all the same. There was a need to question his parentage, but she doesn't, if he wanted that information she's lived long enough to know that he would give it without telling. She does laugh, however, her hand reaching out to grip his arm so that she could move while leaving her cane in place. If he was going to stick with her, he may as well be her eyes for now. "If you were a marvelous lover, I'm sure you wouldn't be here now. Some woman may have you chained."

Though, needing a friend, was subjective. She had plenty in her long life and short time in the tri-city area. Even some that she would call family. Various degrees of power, but all going through their issues. Could she trouble someone she doesn't know with her own? How selfish would that be?

"The changing weather." She says falsely. "I have very sensitive skin and it sometimes hurts to feel."
Daimon Hellstrom laughs and shakes his head, "Alas, I find that women tend to find my charms wear off quickly enough - the pleasures I offer can comfort for only so long when the simple fact of being with me puts their lives in danger. Some leave of their own accord - some I set aside for their own good. And the ones who seek me out, who want me precisely for what I am…are the type of women I would rather not know," he says.

"Yes. Hurts to feel. I know that all too well," he says softly. "That's how so often we end up walking alone - when even feeling good about other people feels like poison in your veins, because you know they cannot understand who you are and what you've been through."

Alright. Reese was starting to get a little uncomfortable. All of the talk of his charms and pleasures drew a slight red hue to her cheeks as her hand slips away from the grasp of his arm. "I.. see.." Is all she could muster out, turning in his direction of offer a half smile, then forward again as her brows lift to listen..

"That's.. very well and insightful. But.. I was speaking of the literal sense." She draws back her arm, pointing at the skin there. "I really do have very sensitive skin and it really does hurt. It's like a raw nerve when it gets too overwhelming. Sort of like a sensory overload." She draws her hand down now, stopping in spot, reaching out to lightly pat his arm. "That was beautiful though."

Daimon Hellstrom raises an eyebrow, "I'm glad you think so," he says, "As for an actual physical problem, then I can only offer my sympathy, although I'm sure there are some herbal remedies that could be applied to the problem. I'm more occultist than herbalist, though. Healing magicks are generally a bit outside my purview. They have a habit of backfiring on me," he says. His Darksoul tends to warp his magicks, making simple and gentle spells perverse, cruel and unpleasant, even when they work.

He notices the ruddy spill of blush into her cheeks and says softly, his voice deep and resonant, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. As I said, I rarely have anything resembling decent company and so my sense of decency has atrophied, if I ever had it at all."

Reese shakes her head. "Don't be sympathetic, I've been faced with this problem for years. There are only certain times when I'm not paying attention when it could get worse for me. I'll live through it. No remedies needed." She turns, following the path of the small isle, her hand striking out to snatch up her cane, avoiding his apology all together.

"It's not a too much of a big deal.." She pauses, turning halfway, moreso that her ear was upon him. "I didn't catch your name.. What is it?"

Daimon Hellstrom raises an eyebrow, "A dislike of sympathy, eh? My, you do keep the world at arm's length. So noted, I'll not waste your time with sophistry, then. Daimon Hellstrom, at your service," he says, resisting the unnecessary bow that would go unseen. "Nor did I get yours, for that matter."

His eyes narrow slightly as he feels something towards the front of the store, a twinge in his mystic senses, a gathering of shadows starting to accure at the bottom of the door, as if some pervasive darkness was trying to press its way in like smoke or swarm.

"You would dislike it too if people kept hounding you as they do me." Reese didn't take offense to his words, but it was met with a smile either way. "It's Seikatsu Takeda.." She says formally, but in this time, she /does/ offer a bow. He would see it then, that shift at the front of the store. But she remained oblivious.

"Now.." She finally turns towards him, the cane shifting left and right carefully. "When you say at your service, do you really mean at your service, or are you just attempting more politeness?"

Daimon Hellstrom keeps an eye towards the door and the shadows flicking there around it, "If you have need of me, then, absolutely, service I can provide," he says. "I'm more prince than slave, but I know how to give satisfaction when required," he says. Subtly, he shifts until he's positioned himself between her and the door as he extends his mystic senses there, trying to get a hint of precisely what's occuring. There's a low susurrus outside, a mumbling noise like voices intermingling, rasping whispers clashing harsly against one another like flint and steel grinding.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" he asks evenly.

Reese couldn't help but smile at that, her head shaking as she leans upon her cane. She was unaware that he put himself in between her and the looming darkness, she just figured that he moved out of the way to keep from /her/ moving away from him. Being curteous. "So you're an actual prince? Or is this.." She was blushing again, her gaze drawing away as she prepares to take another step aside.

But his question takes her aback for a moment, her lips forming into a thin line, her head slightly shaking as she lies through her teeth. "No… are you?"

Daimon Hellstrom considers, "I'm always in trouble, one way or another. And yes, although my father's title isn't particularly one I envy…" he says. He turns fully, "There's something here," he says, standing in front of Reese as the darkness begins to form into a pair of figures, vaguely human in shape but with eyes and mouths that seem to be made of bleeding darkness, inchoate and swarming as if a thousand things crawled within, raw and unholy. They give off a buzz, rising and unpleasant, nails on a chalkboard burning at the back of the brain.

There's a flash of heat as Daimon manifests his trident, a long stave of onyx metal with flames skittering over the length, glowing and eerie as his eyes start to fill with blood. "I'm not sure if these are friends of yours or mine. Either way, I don't think they're here to trade recipes."

A deep frown curls her features as she hears the buzzing and the noise, her hand clutching hard against her cane as she slowly begins to back away. And then the flash of heat, one that causes her to draw in a breath, her arms covering herself as her bottom lip is set to tremble. "What is it?" She nearly cries out, but as soon as her back hits the counter top, she grows a little frantic.

Where was Hal when you need him?

"We have to run.." Maybe it was Yama-Uba and her people finally coming to take her, she was unaware, thought it was safe to travel alone.. but.. "Max? MAX! MAX! HERE BOY!" She couldn't hear him at all..
Daimon Hellstrom isn't sure who Max is, but, since he was being called boy, some form of animal was more likely than an errant boyfriend, unless he was exceptionally whipped. Daimon spins his trident for a moment and starts to stalk towards them, "I don't know what problem you have here, but you've obviously come at a bad time. If that isn't entirely clear already, let me make it perfectly so," he says.

His shirt burns open, the pentagram brand in his chest blazing aflame, and faint points grow on his brow as his Darksoul rises. His voice becomes echoing, eerie, but still recognizable as he stands erect, presenting a challenge as the demon-creatures pounce at him. "Here's a helpful tip for you shitheads - if you want to jump someone, do it when they don't have a friendlyl antichrist standing next to them," he says and then unleashes a gout of hellfire on the pair, their screams echoing loud as the doors are blasted open, flinging them out in the street (and, thankfully, making Max's barking much more audible as he strains his leash outside).

The leash snaps just in time for Max to skitter out of the way, turning upon his hind haunches to lift both front pause into the air to slam back onto the ground in a growl. But Max was of the helpful sort, as the demons fall into the street, he rushes towards them to add insult to injury.

Hind leg cocks up, and he whizzes, acidic pee spraying out the fire yet burning the two figures before he skitters away and into the shop with a trail of smoke blazing from his ass. Yes. Max pee's acid. Talk to Starfire about that one.

Reese stands shellshocked until the dog barrels into her, leaping up to lick at her face, letting her know that everything /would/ be okay. He even jumps down to circle around her as best as he could, causing Reese to fall flat upon her bottom as he takes position into guarding her with a growl and loud barks.

Barking towards Daimon or the demons.. he'll take them both.

Daimon Hellstrom sweeps his Hell-forged weapon with violent ease, cutting through the air and driving it into the demons guts, hearing them sizzle as it hits them, drawing out echoing, screeching screams. He wraps dark sorcery around himself, muttering low in obscene and ancient tongues, and the creatures don't so much dissipate as shrink. The front door of the store burns lightly with the remnants of hellfire, the ground charred as he spears one into the ground, "Speak!!!!!!!!"

The creature writhes, captured and bound by the tines of Daimon's trident, "Tell me why you see this woman," he demands. The being writhes, "Our mistress craves her SOULLLLLLLLLLL!" in a high, almost parodically screechy voice.

Reese leans upright to keep a tight hold upon Max, holding him in place even as he barks. She could hear the commotion outside, her ears attuned, a deep frown curling her face as she buries it into the thick of Max's side. She thought she was safe… And she drew others into her mess. Her troubles. The wave of guilt was palpable.

Daimon Hellstrom flares hellfire down his trident and the demon screams again, "Her name?' Daimon demands.


"Nonsese," Daimon says calmly and he mutters a few more words, resulting in more screaming and babbling from the thing, "You think this is pain? I can lock you into a deep, dark corner of hell for an eternity of this, multiplied over and over again, until you've forgotten your own name, much less that of your misbegotten mistress. Now, tell me her name!"

Finally, it relents, "Ya…yama-uba…much good it will do you…you have no idea of her pow-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" it cries and he burns it up, his hellfire consumig it utterly until it simply ceases to be, ashes floating in the air as he turns back to check on the guilt-ridden young woman.

"Well…you've got my attention.' he says.

Son of Satan? Did Reese hear that right? Son of Satan? That was kind of something that you'd kind of mention on a first meet and greet. Wait.. no. No it wasn't. If that were the case then she would have known the identities of everyone that she came across for the very first time.

She covers her ears as the thing screams away it's doom, her eyes squeezing shut, only opening them once Max begins to lick at her face and growl loudly once Daimon comes near. "Turn your attention away from me, you'll only get yourself killed.." She stammered out, trying her best to stand but with Max half sitting on her leg, it was pointless. She even tries pushing the dog off, but he barks at her and growls for her to stay put. It probably still wasn't safe outside.

Daimon Hellstrom shakes his head, "Easy, boy. I actually do better with dogs than most animals. My father favors the shape of a dog when he comes earthward on occasion. Of course, that's not exactly a recommendation," he says. "As for me getting killed, you needn't worry about that. I'm notoriously hard to kill. And, if you're having trouble with demons, even if they aren't necessarily of the same variety as I, then I'm the man you want at your side, not running away with his tail between his legs."

He pauses for a moment, "Not that I have a tail. Seriously, no tail. Horns, sometimes, yes, I'll cop to that, but no tail."

Max wasn't ready to calm down; he effectively stood guard until Reese was able to shift her leg from underneath him, drawing herself to a stand and shaking her leg free from the cut off. She was numb, but in time she would be fine. But Daimon posed a good point, but there was a certain uncomfortability of letting people she barely knew of.. in. Introducing people to her problems was a sore spot for her, over the decades it has only served to get people killed.

"I can't believe that." Says Reese, attempting to lighten herself up in the face of her troubles, her hand reaching out for him to take so that she could feel. "Let me see. Not the tail… not the tail.. I meant your horns.." Awkward..

Daimon Hellstrom leans in, "Give 'em a feel, if you want. Just so you know I'm not lying to you. I don't mind proving what I say. I'm definitely a liar, often enough, but usually for good reason," he says. They're faint bumps, not terribly sharp, but nonetheless present, right above the ridges of his brow. He takes her wrist and guides her hand to the rest of his face, "Take in the whole territory, though, so you don't think I look like a damned gargoyle."

"So…sounds to me like you've got an Oni problem. Took me a minute to recognize the magick type, but it's definitely got an Eastern flair," he says.

"So, did you piss this lady off or is she just a greedy old cow that wants to slurp your soul for funsies? You're not her kid or anything, are you? The family thing just makes it so complicated, believe me," he says.

Max watches carefully, jerking a little as the hand reaches up to lightly feel upon the bumps of the brow. Then.. he relaxes, taking his own time to scoot forward to sniff at the mans leg, since his keeper and ward was getting to know him, he would too. The smell was distinctive, enough to make Max draw back and sneeze twice. But once he grabs her wrist, Reese draws back just a touch out of surprise, then steps forward to feel along the contours of his face, her eyes closing to map out his features by way of her hands.

And to her, he was.. oddly good looking, even with the faint ridges in his brow. "You look like a gargoyle.." She mutters, a slight smirk upon her features as she slowly draws her fingers back to give a light tug of his ears. "Yes. Oni. And no. I gave her what she asked for every time and that's not enough, is all." Her hands fall away now, her body turning slowly so that she could feel for the counter top to grab her cane. She was done with New York for a while, it was too close to home. "I can handle it." She states faithfully. "You don't have to worry about a thing."

Daimon Hellstrom smiles, "Do I feel worried to you?" he says with a playful lilt to his voice. "Even if you don't need my help, you're going to get it. Kicking the shit out of demons is m primary hobby - it gives my father a severe case of dyspepsia. Because he knows they're all just practice for him. Every time one of them falls, he can't help but get a little quiver down the back of that knotted spine of his."

"Anyway, say you can handle it? A little overkill never hurts, especially when magick's concerned. Not that I have any doubts about you and your beau here," he says, looking down at Max, "but you'd be doing me a favor letting me tag along."

Reese reaches the counter, and with one hand bends to grasp her cane from the floor. It was folded and soon tucked within her back pocket. That movement alone lets Max know that she was ready to leave, his large head touching her hand so that she could feel for the leash and grab.

"You may not feel worried for me, it's not allowed." She has to laugh a little at that, stopping to pass him through the isle, her lips pursing just a touch as she turns her gaze towards.. his shoulder. "Doing you a favor.. I suppose. I've learned that I cannot say no to your personality type because I have this feeling you're going to insert yourself in either way. Which in the long run, could be a problem." She was joking, of course. But she didn't say she'd think about it or not.

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