Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: The Phantom Quarter

"I think I should be offended by that, but that's not a terrible idea. Now I just need broken glass.." Abel noted a shattered window down the alleyway and bent down to pick up a triangular shard. He could only hope it didn't require a girl, but if it did he could always look elsewhere. The proselyte did his best to wipe the grime from it with his coat. Contracting tetanus wasn't on his to-do list, and he was going to have to request a shot regardless.

"Now if I remember right, it's supposed to react in a special way if the blood's acceptable," he gingerly sliced open a small cut on his palm, drizzling the blood onto the glass. He let go of the piece, letting it plummet briefly before his fledgling telekinesis could keep it suspended while he rummaged through his bag for a few adhesive bandages to stick onto his hand.
 
The ghoul boy snorted, rummaging around in his pocket before pulling out a lighter. "What's your witch teacher need all this shit for anyway? And what do I call you, other than church kid?" he asked as he held it out. Helping a churchie conduct an occult ritual wasn't what he'd expected out of today, but something about the kid's brazenness had rubbed him the right way. Maybe he was just in a good mood, or maybe the idea of one of the church's canheads in training delving into witchcraft under their noses entertained him.
 
"Iunno, I'd assume to make stuff or cast elaborate rituals. I only recognize what a few of these things are even for." Abel shrugged his shoulders and the lighter began to char the blood black, until suddenly the charcoal-like residue became fluid once more. It engulfed in a blue flame, hardening once more and repeating again until charred three times. "Abel Lachapelle. Call me Abel," he blew the ash away from the glass, now stained a deep crimson. He placed the glass shard in a leather pouch, then the pouch in his satchel.

"I thought I was weird, but these witches take it to a different level."
 
“Not sure why you’re surprised,” the boy remarked. “Witches are almost as bad as necromancers when it comes to being weird or fucked up. I mean, who else sends a teenager into the Phantom Quarter alone to play treasure hunt?” He snorted, shaking his head. “Sure they’re not trying to get rid of you?”

At that moment, on one of the rooftops nearby, a scrabbling sound could be heard, something scraping against stone. A few loose bits of tiling dropped down from the rooftop to the ground, scattering against the pavement. The ghoul tilted his head to observe the roof, catching a shape disappearing from view behind the rooftop's rise out of the corner of his eye. Seemingly unphased, he looked back to Abel. “You can call me Ghast, by the way. If you like.”
 
"They'd said something about liking me, and apparently they don't take on many apprentices. As far as I know I'm the only one in the entire coven. That'd be a pretty sick joke if they wanted to get rid of me already.." Abel shrugged, but jumped at the sudden scrabbling and shattered tile. He wasn't particularly jumpy compared to his peers, but he suspected he let his guard down a little too much. "So, er, Ghast, was that an acquaintance of yours or are you going to need to use that Lawkeeper?" A half-joke, but enough for Lachapelle to regain some of his cool exterior.

"I can defend myself, but I don't really have any weapons on me, and my magic's only good enough to take out regular people. Anything more than that and I'm not in a great spot..." He thought back to that incident in Florina's attic. He was terrified from how quickly they punished him for such a mistake, but the Fabres saw it as promising. These witches wanted to nurture what they found within him, not snuff it out.

He started to wonder how much he really believed in that prayer he recited.
 
"It's probably one of the spawn," Ghast replied, casting another look up at the roof. "Ever since that big fight out here with the giant vampire guy and the fucking army of canheads that descended on the place, there's been some of them around here and there, preying on the homeless." He shrugged, seeming unconcerned. "They're not much trouble on their own, they break easy, but they're more than a drunk homeless guy can deal with. And if there's a group of them they can be annoying."

Looking back at Abel, he smirked. "We try and clear them out as and when we come across 'em on our turf, but there always seems to be more. Kinda like rats."

There was further scrabbling on the rooftop, and a low hiss. Ghast snorted. "Sounds like she doesn't like being talked about."
 
"Oh, those. I got to see plenty of them at Valentine Park.." Abel shuddered and looked back at his phone. "We do want to catch it if we can though, I need, er, Hair from a 'deceased' undead. Master Fabre said if it's not killed first that the salve it's used in will turn patients undead instead of being a medicine. No offense meant, Ghast," the proselyte cringed slightly to himself at even saying that, but he felt the addendum was necessary.

"Do you have a way to get it down here?" The magician's apprentice reached into his bag and produced a sheathed dagger. As he drew it, a smoky glassy material coated the blade and 'extended' as he drew, appearing as if he was drawing a full shortsword out of a scabbard only a few inches long. The hilt thrummed softly with subtle magics, mostly to aid in the creation and maintenance of the 'blade'.
 
"Tch," Ghast gave a snort of bitter laughter. "None taken. This wouldn't have exactly been my first choice of how to end up," he replied, briefly grimacing. "Could be worse though, I guess; could be the rotten, shambling kind of zombie. Don't think that look would suit me."

Turning his attention onto the roof, he looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think we can probably just wait," he said. "Reckon it'll probably try to go for one of us soon. Probably you. They don't tend to pay much attention to me; I guess they can probably tell I'm already dead on some level."

Reaching down, the ghoul picked up a loose stone from the side of the road and rolled it in his palm a couple of times. "Let's see, though..." Eyeing where the sounds had last come from, Ghast pulled back and lobbed a rock up at the roof. There was a clatter as it bounced off of the tiles, and an angry hiss, followed shortly after by the sound of claws scrabbling on tiles in their direction. The spawn came into view over the side of the building a short way down the alleyway they were at the mouth of. With another hiss, it leaped down from the rooftop to one of the dumpsters below, landing with a metallic thud. Barely pausing to recover from the impact, it launched itself off and barrelled down the alley in a charge towards them. It seemed poised to pounce into the waiting reach of Abel's weapon, legs tensing, when Ghast stepped fowards.

As the spawn lunged, he brought his leg up in an arc, foot connecting with the creature's chin with a loud crunch of breaking bone. In a somewhat grisly display, the spawn's head not only caved in slightly from the force; it detached fully from its body and flew comically down the alleyway, bouncing off of the wall and landing in the dumpster. The body jolted to a halt mid-pounce, claws flailing out for a moment, then collapsed.

"Oh man, did you see that shit?" Ghast exclaimed. "Right in the dumpster! I'm never gonna pull that off again in my life! Fucking goal."
 
Abel readied his blade and prepared to thrust and meet the spawn's charge, but a swift boot to the creature's jaw ended the need for that. He gasped sharply at the sudden cracking of bones, though sighed with some form of relief when he realized who exactly was being squashed. "Nice shot, I suppose. You know, I was here to witness that, and if someone from the church is willing to back you up, I'd say your claim can hold some water when you tell your friends later." The witchling climbed up the side of the dumpster and reached down to grab the bloodied and severed head with a grimace of disgust. He held it by the scraggly scraps of hair in one hand while he produced a knife and cut the lock in his hand free, retching a little at the squelch of the giblet slapping the grimy concrete.

"Uhh, that looks like just about everything I'll need from the Phantom Quarter. A lot of the rest of this stuff is gonna be from Lornaine or the supermarket, and I doubt they'll be open this late." He remembered that kid from the park enjoyed his dry quips.

Was he okay?


Lachapelle hadn't heard heads or tails from the kind stranger that day, even if he was slightly annoyed by his presence at the time. The likely answer was more grim than he was willing to consider, and the thought made him grow pale for a moment.
 
"Something on y' mind?" Ghast shot Abel a quizzical look as his expression turned grim. The ghoul had watched with some amusement as the witchling retrieved the hair he needed from the dumpster-head, giving a chuckle at the boy's retching. "You look paler than me, and I'm not even sure if I've got working circulation."
 
"No, well, sort of," Abel admitted. Coralie (and a few others) had chastised him on being too reserved, so he took an opportunity to speak his mind a little more. "I just, I reminded myself of someone I'd met at Valentine Park. I'm still trying to process all of that; Proselyte or not, I'm still only sixteen." The boy rifled through his bag and grabbed a notebook, using his index finger to trace something into a piece of the paper. With a few rhythmic clicks of the magician's tongue, the sheet of paper tore itself from the book and contorted into the shape of a butterfly. It fluttered and meandered out of his hand, and towards Ghast.

"In an official capacity, I guess you could say this number will give you a more direct access to the authorities. Though, off the record, it's just my number so you can message or call if you want to hang out, or if you need something." The Fabres had drilled that into his mind, to establish contacts and connections everywhere. Not only did having many friends and acquaintances protect you, but it gave you access to information and resources that'd otherwise be impossible to find. That, and finding solace outside of the Monastery would make attacks upon it and its members that much less devastating to the young Lachapelle.

When the animated paper touched the ghoul, it went inert, displaying its wings flat to reveal a phone number scorched into its wings.

"Nice meeting you though," He gave a genuine smile and waved back towards Ghast as he began to find his way back to his study.
 
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