Old Gods, New Allies (Revenent and Syrupy)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Revenent on 13-02-2012, 21:41:57</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Old Gods, New Allies (Revenent and Syrupy)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Revenent</strong> on <strong>13-02-2012, 21:41:57</strong>
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				Graham wasn't exactly unfamiliar with the paranormal, what with his job being with the London branch of the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense, but it still made him a bit excited and curious that his very first paranormal <em>partner</em> would be coming in today. As with some of its more famous agents, the BPRD was notorious for hoarding all of its paranormal ("non-human" was usually more accurate) members over at the American headquarters where the bureau had found its start, despite the fact that most of the important cases that actually required them occurred over in Europe and Asia. Most likely, it was just a matter of security, since only the paranormal agents that had been working for the Bureau for decades were <em>really</em> trusted to the full. With the others, it was usually hard to tell if they even liked humans at all...<br><br>This was one of those special cases that required more than just a human's touch, though, even if it was a human like Graham Miller (http://images.wikia.com/halofanon/images/0/0b/B019.jpg). A psychic, but not a powerful enough one to handle this on his own. He was often joked about at the London branch for how his ESP technique only allowed him to look into the past, meaning he would only be able to detect any paranormal crimes <em>after</em> they had already happened. Even then, his powers were limited, as if it were more than a few hours after the event had taken place, he would only get a few glimpses and fragments of what had transpired. And when every single paranormal took place in the most remote little medieval towns like this one, it was hard to actually get anywhere within a few hours of the crime.<br><br>Even without his limited psychic abilities, however, Graham was actually a damn good investigator and agent for the BPRD, so it was often him that would be sent out to look into the supernatural goings-on of the English countryside while his coworkers sat around at the district office and discussed the latest Lobster Johnson ghost sightings. But in this case, he needed a little help. He currently sat on the little, half meter-high stone wall that surrounded the English town of Winchcombe, which he had been stationed in for the past month. Over that time, two disappearances had occurred, similar to the two dozen or so more that had taken place before the Bureau got involved. While Graham had followed both victims around like a fierce mother hen before they were taken, he had found no clues as to what had actually taken them, and his psychic abilities offered him nothing when he investigated the scene after.<br><br>It always began and ended the same way. A seemingly normal person would suddenly start spouting insanity about how a mighty Archangel had visited them in their very own home, and how they would soon be taken up to Heaven, and how any who wished to be saved had to listen to them. They wouldn't listen to reason, and they wouldn't even listen to force or punishment. Several of the victims had actually disappeared from right out of the palace station they had be quarantined to. And they always disappeared three days after their rantings had begun, and always in the dead of night, of course, with no witnesses. Even Graham's stake-outs had turned up nothing, as the person would just be the gone the very first second they were alone, even if it took until morning.<br><br>This obviously involved some supernatural creature using a means of travel unfamiliar to humans, and that meant a very special kind of agent needed to be brought on the case. Graham had only heard a little about the race of Daeva, but none of it was standard stuff: very rarely scene on Earth, they were like some cross betweens elves and demons (at least that's how the humans who met them described them), and they oversaw travel between dimensions from some realm humans had never set foot in. If anyone would be able to figure out how these people were being taken, it was a Daeva. So that was why Graham now sat on the tiny wall at the entrance of Winchcombe, waiting for the car containing his new partner to arrive...
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				Title: <strong>Re: Old Gods, New Allies (Revenent and Syrupy)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>syrupy</strong> on <strong>14-02-2012, 06:20:12</strong>
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				To say that Remiel was not fond of traveling would be an understatement. He had a strong dislike for anything that pulled him away from his archives and records for more than a few hours, much less any time substantially longer. Add up the issues that travel brought up over the course of the average business trip and then multiply them a few ten-fold due to the completely non-average nature of this trip and its traveler, and you begin to see the problem. Even with several minds and the Bureau working overtime on the scheduling and logistics, it was never easy moving an agent who, according to the general public's knowledge, wasn't even supposed to exist.<br><br>On the other hand, this entire situation would be made alarmingly easier if not for the Americans' growing complex about keeping all of the non-human bureau agents within their borders. If they could help it. The one thing the American Bureau couldn't control was the fact that, whether they liked it or not, the vast majority of incidents occurred well outside of their borders. This was probably the reason for their hoarder-like tendencies when it came to their non-human contacts and allies. At least this way they could always have their fingers in any given pie, or at least their fingers could easily find their way into any specific pie if a foreign bureau needed supernatural assistance.<br><br>It was a whole lot of human politics that Remiel only cared for out of necessity. Things were simpler when the humans had been willing to defer to the proper powers on these issues. The Daeva Court had been overseeing travel through and between more realms than most humans knew even existed. And having been their record-keeper and archivist, Remiel could say with certainty that their job had only increased in difficulty once humanity started dabbling outside their realm. It was nothing but a head-ache now that they felt the need to attempt to deal with situations and creatures far outside their realm of control or understanding on their own. Hence the reason why Remiel had left the Daeva's archives in the hands of a capable few and had taken up residence at the American branch of the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense. If the humans really insisted on attempting to police things on their own, at least there'd be someone to keep an eye on them.<br><br>One bureau car, two private charter jets, a helicopter and a tiny European car driven by a very old and (by the quality of his driving) possibly blind agent from the London office. Needless to say if Remiel had a distaste for travel before, he was diametrically opposed to the idea by the time they arrived in Winchcombe. Late. Of course. He'd have made an attempt to point this out to his driver, but reprimanding him would have required Remiel to stay in that infernal contraption. And part of him didn't want to confirm the fear that in addition to blind the driver may indeed have been deaf as well.<br><br>They'd arrived past the expected hour and as such it was well past evening when Remiel finally stepped out of the car. They had planned for him to arrive under at least a partial cover of night. Unlike some of the non-human members of the bureau, there was only so much he could do to disguise himself.<br><br>It was easy to see why humans often described Daeva as something like a half elf-half demon, though each was far from the truth in its own way. Remiel was tall and slender, his long legs bent at an angle unfamiliar to human anatomy and ended in neatly pointed hooves. His ears did have a certain pointedness to them, though they were longer than the typical ears of an elf somewhat differently shaped. Remiel's ears in particular bore several ornate earings of precious metals and stones, marks of status in the Daeva court although he'd never seen fit to remove them. It would probably feel strange to go without them after so many years. His hair was long, pulled around his shoulder in a thick braided plate that hung down in front of him nearly to his knees. Still much of it hung loose around his face. It was a strange color. It seemed white or silver, but each strand was oddly iridescent in the way it caught and reflected light and color. His skin, likewise, was a cool shade of blueish grey that made his eyes stand out even more as they glinted gold in the half-light.<br><br>Remiel had worn the best clothing he could to cover up his obviously inhuman appearance. There certainly wasn't anything that would completely hide his form. He wore a long jacket of a dark burgundy shade of leather, a scarf pulled high and wrapped around his neck and black pants that extended only to his knees (before his legs bent the wrong way for human trousers). He'd at least worn a hood, though it wouldn't do much good past fooling the most casual of glances: the way it hung over his head suggested the form of horns to anyone with half an ounce of logic.<br><br>He hadn't taken much with him in terms of luggage. Most things he trusted (under threat of many flavors of mental and bodily harm) to the bureau agents to send over. The Daeva certainly didn't like it, but he was nothing if not practical, and traveling with excess baggage would have just made the already laborious process even more bothersome. He exited the car, with a certain obvious haste, with only a briefcase and a small luggage case comprising all immediate essentials.<br><br>He was at least relieved to see that Agent Miller, whom he recognized from a photo in the dossier he'd been given upon arrival into the country, was at least waiting for his arrival properly at their arranged meeting place.<br><br>"Well at least one thing today has gone according to its plan." Remiel approached Graham's chosen seat on the old stone wall. "Agent Miller. We arrived late. Your bureau's driver was..." Remiel paused. His voice was otherwise smooth and subtle, sure of each syllable that was spoken. "...of questionable ability."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Old Gods, New Allies (Revenent and Syrupy)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Revenent</strong> on <strong>16-02-2012, 21:44:20</strong>
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				Graham felt a small twinge of uneasiness as he watched new non-human partner step out of the old, rusty car. In his years working for the Bureau, he had only encountered non-humans when he was being sent to investigate or apprehend them, and he could count the number of those that <em>hadn't</em> tried to murder him on one hand. At least, for the most part, this Daeva didn't look as hideous as the ancient creatures and monsters he was used to encountering, so it fortunately wouldn't be too much of a stretch to just treat him as he would any other human. Then again, he actually knew very little of the customs and the social quirks of the Daeva Court, so he would have to be careful not to offend his compatriot. If the guy had any sense, though, he would be used to how humans interact with others by now.<br><br>The brown-haired agent pushed himself up from the waist-high stone wall as Remiel came over to greet him, carrying surprisingly little for a trip that would definitely last for more than just a weekend. Hopefully he wasn't one of the kind who preferred to walk around in the same set of clothes all the time, or even just not wear clothes at all. Graham had heard the infamous Hellboy was notorious for never changing out of his usual trenchcoat ensemble unless forced, and that there had even been trouble a few years back with a homunculus agent with an aversion to pants. Given how overly covered this Daeva was, though, he was pretty sure he would want to avoid being revealed to the public as much as possible.<br><br>"Oh, you must mean Jackie," he replied to Remiel's comment about the driver, waving to the old man in the car, who didn't seem to notice him. "To be honest, we only keep him because he usually can't remember where he's driven any of the agents or what they look like. Easier to avoid delicate information getting out that way, even if it is a bit inconvenient," he said with a rough yet somewhat light-hearted voice, making it difficult to tell if he was actually serious or not. It wouldn't exactly be a stretch, seeing as how the old man nearly hit the wall around the town as he was turning around to leave.<br><br>As they were left more or less in the darkness, the light from the windows of the nearby stone structures being their only illumination, Graham extended toward the Daeva, subtly trying to get a peek under his hood if he could manage it. "And you can just call me Graham, by the way. I'm guessing you've been briefed about everything that's been going on in this town?" he asked, though he knew there were still a few details he would have to share himself. He tried not to include frivolous details in the report, but in a case like this, it was hard to tell what was trivial, and what was vitally important to discovering the truth.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Old Gods, New Allies (Revenent and Syrupy)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>syrupy</strong> on <strong>17-02-2012, 09:36:54</strong>
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				"I've received several reports forwarded from your bureau, yes." Remiel responded in a matter-of-fact tone. He was, on the whole, slightly shortly than Graham. It was almost imperceptible due to the odd quality of height his horns begot him as well as the manner in which he held himself: always straight-backed in a way that somehow managed not to look stiff but instead made him seem regal and poised. <br><br>"However I have not yet read them." The way in which he said this bore not the slightest hint of apology or remorse. Although he didn't seem to be condemning the reports either. Remiel spoke plainly and to the point. There was emotion to his voice, but it was the kind of understated confidence that didn't seek to actively make itself known. "You humans have a certain way of clouding the facts of the matter. I've spent far too much time sorting through the jumbled words your kind insists upon calling fact." His words were insulting, but again, his voice remained neutral. Remiel was not actively retaining the calmness of his usual speaking, he simply didn't regard the words insulting from his perspective. To him, it was a simply a true statement.<br><br>There was a pause in his commentary and Remiel's eyes swept over the portion of the town he could see from the stone wall meeting-place. There was a calculating carefulness to gaze that was only partially melted away when he once again addressed Graham. "I will read them certainly, but only after I've been given chance to observe things myself. Is this acceptable?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: Old Gods, New Allies (Revenent and Syrupy)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Revenent</strong> on <strong>12-03-2012, 21:28:38</strong>
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				Unfamiliar with the Deva and the ways they went about their business, especially with humankind, Graham's mouth dropped into a slight frown at the insult of his words, and the way he addressed his kind as "you humans," even if he hadn't meant to insult the psychic personally. Just the fact that Remiel had given his reports the status of carrying clouded facts and half-truths without having read any of them made him worry that this wouldn't be a particularly easy agent to get along with. He would try his hardest to remain polite and understanding, though, if only because he was a professional and they were both here to save lives. "Sure, read them as soon as you're ready," Graham finally replied, maintaining a surprising amount of lightness in his tone. "I should probably fill you in on what I can while I show you around town, though. Context helps observation a lot."<br><br>Assuming the supernatural agent would follow his lead, Graham twisted on one leg and started walking down the cobblestone road that led into the antique little village, passing through the wide gap in the stone wall that served as the only sign you were entering the borders of the town. With the way the British agent walked, slowly, casually, with his hands in his coat pockets and his gaze lazily drifting back and forth as they passed landmarks, it did not appear he was too concerned with looking for more clues and details at this time of night. At the moment, none of the townspeople were going crazy and spouting nonsense about the Archangel out in the street, draping themselves in white curtains they had ripped from their own windows and pretending they were robes. Graham's mental vision detected nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to suggest any of the townsfolk were doing anything other than sitting scared in their homes or sitting shitfaced in the pub, pretending nothing was wrong. Aside from the fear and doubt that hung constantly in the air, nothing seemed out of the ordinary in Winchcombe.<br><br>Since it was past dark now, the streets were almost shockingly empty, the few souls who dared walk alone out in the open silently rushing to their next destination and praying that no supernatural entity would assail them. Even most of the houses were dark now, the town's inhabitants not having much to entertain themselves with when locked in their own homes other than reading, sex, and sleep, though not much of any of those was happening lately with the threat of brainwashing abduction in the air. Shadows passed by some of the windows as people's curiosity got the better of them and they had to see this new person the now-infamous Agent Miller was bringing in. To say the citizens were on edge was a grand understatement, so the case must have needed urgent help for the Bureau to think bringing in a Deva was a good idea.
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