#wickedschatzy

[notsoharsh]

The Scholarly Adventures of Brain Girl and Blood Dude || Morgan & Harsh

TIMING: Mid July LOCATION: The Scribe HQ PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @notsoharsh SUMMARY: Morgan and Harsh take a little field trip to read a lot of dusty old books. 

Thanks to her super-strength, Morgan was able to pull more books for Harsh’s soul problem than she ever could have on her own. She lead him down the dusty shelves with the glee of a suburbanite at the fancy grocery store, plucking everything that seemed remotely tied to the subject at hand. “This place is pretty amazing, right? I mean just look at everything you can accomplish with some collective organization and, well, deep pockets, probably,” she said, smiling. “We’re casting a wide net, but, obviously, indexes are going to be our friend, so if you can’t find any of our keywords inside, just move it into a nope pile. I went ahead and put it on a flashcard.” She turned and passed him one. “I hope you don’t mind my getting a little excited. I get it, why you might not be, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate the gravity of the situation. I think I just really miss having a reason to come back here.” And something concrete, even tangible, to hope for. 

So this was the Scribe HQ. Harsh hadn’t really thought about the place before, but somehow he had expected it to be harder to get into. Not like he was about to complain about that. He trailed after Morgan, eyes scanning the shelves. “It’s really… something.” He should probably be impressed, but with each title, he had to fight to keep his eyes from glazing over. There was so much. How were they ever going to find anything in here? He took the flashcard with a little nod. “It’s fine. Honestly, I was kinda surprised you were so up for this. And I get that. There’s… a lot in here. Did you come here a lot for witchy stuff?” He grabbed one of the books Morgan had selected, blowing the dust from the ancient cover before opening it and squinting at the writing. “This one looks like it’s just philosophy, ‘what does it mean to be ensouled’. I’m guessing there’s not really a section here with a bunch of how-to guides?”

Morgan continued to look, climbing onto stacks of books on the ground to reach higher ones. “Nope, just my curse. It went back over a hundred years deep so I had to trace back all these obnoxious second and third hand accounts to all the terrible things that happened to my ancestors trying to get down to the source. My mom had a lot of faults, but enforcing a well rounded magic education wasn’t one of them.” She balanced on the tips of her toes to get another book, On the Metaphysical Material of Human Essence, and jumped back down, grimacing only a little when she landed off and had to knock her ankle back into place. “Magic is complicated, Harsh,” she said. “In a good way! Say your magical heart’s desire is the number 20. You can get there by ten times two, or five times four, or fifteen plus five, or nineteen plus one. Lots of roads can get you to twenty. Also, witches are, historically, protective of their grimoires. And some spells are too sacred or too dangerous to really want to pass down, you know? Ooh, seriously, check the index of that philosophical one, though. There might be some reference to some, I don’t know, random Romanian death cult that was known to help vampires restore their souls. That would give us a lead to follow up on.” She moved on to the next shelf before popping her head around the corner again. “I’m kidding about the death cult, by the way. I don’t know if that’s a real thing. But it would be pretty cool if it was, right?”

“Shit. Y’know, as long as I’ve been dealing with this stuff, the whole ‘ancient curse’ thing is still kinda wild. I guess I need to expand my horizons a little more,” Harsh said, watching her scramble about. He should probably offer to help, but… she seemed pretty content. Even he could understand needing a project. That was a lot of numbers, but it sort of made sense. Kind of. “I’ve picked up on the protective thing. That coven weren’t the first ones I tried to go to. A bunch of them would’ve rather staked me than let me see any of their dusty old books. Yeah, got it.” He flicked through the book, finding the index number before scanning the pages again. “I’m not seeing Romanian death cults, but there’s some Latin stuff in here. Well, I think it’s Latin, but all I know is audio, video, disco, so we’re gonna need some translating if that’s actually gonna help much.” He chuckled as he set the book down and grabbed another. “Hey, trust me, death cults are very real. They throw some banging parties, but you never wanna stay too late. There was this one I ran into in Spain, and--well, that’s kind of a long story, but they would’ve been very into you. They were all about the brain eating stuff.” Trailing after her, he scanned the top rows of the shelves. “How about that one,” he said, pointing at an especially thick, black covered book. “Looks like it’s got little skulls on it, that’s gotta be good.” 

“Well a hundred years and change isn’t ancient-ancient,” Morgan admitted, still pleased to have impressed a vampire as old as Harsh. “But brain eating death cults? That’s kinda hot. Scary, but I’m okay with side hustling as a cult maiden. But the not staying too late, is that because after midnight is when they start to get actually all murder-y?” She laughed goodnaturedly at his suggestion about the skulls on the book. “You know, I have started coming around to the idea of skull iconography being a good omen, but this could just as well be about fun curses or potions.” She tried to climb up for it, but her short arms weren’t quite up to the task. She gave Harsh a sheepish look. “Maybe you could, uh--? And then we can start unpacking what we’ve bothered before we start looking again? I think thirty books makes for a solid beginning.”

“The ones I ran into always treated their zombies pretty well. One of them even made this cool throne for them, it was pretty badass. But yeah, usually they start the murdering right after Cinderella turns into a pumpkin. You get extra drinks if you bring someone to add to the murder pile.” Harsh decided to leave out just how many extra drinks he had managed to earn. Morgan was strangely cool with the soulless thing, but adding a couple dozen murders to that might push things a little too far. He snorted. “You don’t want to spider monkey your way up there? Yeah, I’ve got it,” he said. It was a little out of reach, even for him, but getting a leg up on one of the lower shelves was enough to grab it. The book was weirdly heavy. Maybe that meant it was extra full of magic or something. Hopping down from the shelf, he brushed the dust from the cover. “Yeah, seems like a good place to start. Which ones look the most ritual-y?” 

Morgan pouted as she reached for another, closer book. “I want a throne.Can it be made of bones? My girlfriend has a huge thing for bones. We’d look pretty together on a bone throne.” And for ceremonial purposes, maybe with the right amount of discretion and care with, well, offering selection, it might even be a halfway decent time. She smirked at the thought, wondering what kind of coronets death cults might make for their zombies. She laughed at Harsh’s joke and carried their haul to the nearest desk. The books tumbled from her stack and spread themselves over the surface. “Well, here’s the thing: a ritual with full instructions and ingredients is an endgame, a big ol’ golden goose. But, you know, this might start off with something a little more broad, a little more sketchy. We don’t want to turn our nose away from death cults or norwegian summoning stones or...whatever. Because some weird reference might lead us to the golden egg. And the actual golden egg might be buried in some other archive. And then, because we followed the breadcrumbs, we’ll find it in that other archive faster, and...sorry, I’m mixing way too many metaphors, huh? Anyways, I can start on the books on this end of the table, and you can start on the ones on that end? You read fast, yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure making it out of bones is required actually,” Harsh said, with a thoughtful nod. Honestly, it was a little surprising that White Crest didn’t have any death cults, at least as far as he knew. They didn’t tend to be very public. Attention moving to the books, he grabbed a few and pulled them close, scanning the titles. There were some promising ones in there at least. “Right, it would be boring if it was that easy anyway. This kinda thing seems like it needs a lot of bits and pieces before it goes together. The coven said something about ‘proving myself’ so if you see anything like that, just, I don’t know, highlight it or something. I read pretty quick, yeah.” He flicked through the pages of the first book, an older one laden with dust. The cover might have been green at one point. “Don’t think there’s any eggs in this one. It does have a spell for cooking them though. I think this one’s more basic rituals than the big one we’re after. It does have a little thing about summoning, but mostly just bats and rats and stuff. Any luck over there?”

Morgan was running her finger down the index of the volume in front of her, picking out anything that looked remotely undead or soul related and flipping to the corresponding pages. There were a few technical magic terms that stuck out that she wanted to look at as well before she wrote off the reference as a dead end for this volume. She reached for another and started the process all over again. “Not yet, although, you know, lots of fun stuff about necromancy. And vampire cults, although I guess you already know whatever you want to about that stuff.” She balanced the next one precariously on her lap and started flipping back and forth, one section after the other. “This one looks like it has lots of serious lore, though. We’re talking old myths, druidic shit, some stuff I...can’t actually read. Do you know this language?” She passed the book over to Harsh, finger hovering over the photograph of some runes. 

“I guess necromancy is sort of near what we’re looking for,” Harsh said a little dubiously. Honestly, he didn’t know nearly enough about magic to be sure. It seemed to make sense though. They both had to do with souls and restoring them. Or something. “Vampire cults can be kind of cool, but most of them are pretty anti-soul, so I don’t know if they would be super helpful.” He reached for the book, brow furrowing as he scanned the runes. “Sort of. It looks like Sanskrit, just a little off. I wonder if it’s like some ancient dead version.” His fingers trailed over the letters as he muttered to himself, working to muddle through the meaning. “I think it’s talking about a ritual. It’s a lot of sorta spiritual stuff, but… I think some of it sounds pretty legit. Some of the words are kind of weird, but I think it’s saying there are three, uh, three pieces you need to retrieve a soul. And then there’s some words I don’t know, this one just means really, really old. What about the other bits, the druidic stuff?” he asked, passing the book back as he moved closer to read over Morgan’s shoulder. 

“You never know. Maybe understanding more about how you get rid of them could help us understand how to get one to come back.” Morgan said. Harsh couldn’t afford to turn down any possibility, and neither could she, if she wanted to be good for more than just cheerleading. But as Harsh looked over the text and translated, Morgan started to wonder if the search would be so hard after all. “That...that might just be what we’re looking for! Look, this sigil here, means spirit, but it’s sort of a vague all encompassing sort of an idea, it could me soul, intuition, intention, but when you look at these wrapped around it, you get a soul’s last regret. And when you look at its placement in the circle, it's on a material vector, an ingredient. But it’s also in the center, where you do the conjuring for what you want to accomplish. And in that place it’s also joined by this little squiggly? It signifies a joining, of two planes or two pieces, you see it sometimes in certain kinds of alchemy circles and binding magic.” Her face cracked wide into a smile. Harsh, it’s a spell to bind a soul to a body! It’s real!” Morgan shot up from her chair, almost toppling the book to the floor. “Harsh, your cure is real! I mean, I’m going to need to do more work to figure out the other ingredients, and we need to follow up on that Sanskrit, because that might be important, and who even knows how we’re going to even get some of these things once we know what they are, but still!” She jumped on her toes to give him as strong a hug as her arms could manage. “It’s possible. And that’s what matters most right now, right?”

“That’s a good point, actually. I sort of always thought of them as being two really different things, but… I’m not really an expert on any of this. I should’ve done way more research ages ago.” Harsh had thought as much before, several times… and then done basically nothing. He’d had two hundred years to learn this and he had thrown all that time away. Oh well, he was doing it now. That had to count for something. He nodded vaguely as Morgan went on, doing his best to follow along. It was a little beyond him, but the pieces he could parse were encouraging enough to make a grin slowly spread across his face. “Holy shit--Morgan, you’re amazing!” Meeting her halfway, he locked his arms around her with enough force to lift her off the ground, spinning the both of them in a circle. “You figure out what we need and I’ll get it,” he said as he set her down, still grinning widely. “Whatever we need, just leave it to me.”