Last minute wibbles.

[amityville_sweetheart]

Magical supplies, check. Called Trevor. Have contact information for others. Damn, better check your book and make sure... yep. Done. Okay.

Cats are taken care of, got the hired help to be down in Florida when the van gets to Angela. Hopefully I didn't miss anything. Troia and her friend can make free use of the furniture, but the personals had to go. Not that I wanted them myself, anyway. Better than Angela gets them, I'd burn most of it.

Corrine's running off a mental checklist in her mind. She's always been known as one to worry, and this occasion is no different. Everything had to be perfect. Just right. No room for error.

At least Trevor's done. Wish there could've been a way to do it without telling him, but there wasn't. I need him too much on this.

She rushes past the kitchen counter, suddenly stopping and taking a few steps back to scarf down a forkful of her salad. She made it twenty minutes ago, and it's spent most of the time sitting on the counter untouched. Running around like a chicken with your head cut off isn't going to get anything done. You should stop and eat... yeah, right, should.

Comments

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

*The sound immediately draws Caleb’s attention.* “What was that?”
*Caleb tries to look around her, only to have his view obstructed by the door.*

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

"Cats!" She stumbles out into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind her. "Cats, being... cats! Those darn felines..."

From down the hall, Mrs. Hallet is taking a decidely long time on deadbolting her door. She's staring at the two rather unabashedly.

"Hello, Mrs. Hallet," Corrine says, monotone.

"Hello, dear," the old woman finally responds, sizing up Caleb as she walks past. "Still trying to get that recipe right? If you decide to give up, you know I always did make a wonderful pecan pie."

Corrine plasters on another fake grin. "Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Hallet gives her a long-suffering smile. "You know, my oldest boy Jeremy is divorced now. Cooks just like his mother. Ah, well. You mind yourself, dear." Another suspicious look at Caleb. "Don't get into any trouble."

"No, ma'am."

Once the old woman is gone, she turns back to Caleb. "She's... a nice old lady. Helping me with... baking. Yes."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

*Caleb raises an eyebrow.* “So, uh .. you’re .. your contention is that she is helping you bake the cats who are just being cats? Love, what’s wrong? Are you drinking coffee again?”

*While awaiting her response Caleb finally realizes what that feeling is: he’s sensing the presence of blood magic.*

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

No. No!" She sounds absolutely appalled. "Of course I'm not baking the _cats_!"

She pauses, thinking about that for a moment. "Coffee does sound _really_ good. You didn't bring coffee, did you?" She thinks on that for another second as something makes a ringing sound in her apartment-- and it is decidely not a phone.

"See? Stove buzzer. I'm... uh... trying to make food. Pie. Pecan. Um. But I suck at baking, and I made a total mess of the kitchen." She stares at the ceiling. "And sugar! I've had LOTS of sugar today. Yes. Because I've had to test each batch, y'know... oh, and I've been drinking! I am _completely_ smashed right now! So, uh, the concern is appreciated, but I really should sleep it off. Hate to do it, but it's really what's best, don't you think? And I promise, I'll never go on a week-long baking spree while drunk again. Scout's honor."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

*Caleb smiles, unable to stop himself from giggling.* “Very good, then.” *He gives her a kiss on the forehead, and then turns to leave.*

No, I can’t pretend to buy her story … *He turns back.* “One last question, though. Aside from the obvious what are you really doing and why are you trying to hide it from me, one inquiry does beckon. Please level with me, hun – why do I sense blood magic about you?” Please, please tell me you’re not –that- stupid…

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

Damnit.

"Erm."

She bites her bottom lip. She hasn't slept in three days beyond the occasional dozing off, and food hasn't been at the forefront of her mind, either.

That's the only excuse for such a lame explanation. "Finding a cure for cancer?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

*Caleb just stares at her, his piercing gaze intently focused on the spaz before him. He says nothing. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even have an expression on his face. Just the eyes, that seem to see through everything.*

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

Corrine just stares back at him, lips folded under. Right. So no cure for cancer.

"Babies!" she suddenly shouts. "I was... um..." She pauses. "I didn't want to tell you, but, um..." The mention of babies always makes men run for the hills. So run with it, girl. And don't fall on your face.

"I..." Her mouth hangs open, waiting for the words. "Was scrying. The future. To see if there were... babies. For us. 'Cause they're cute. And... my clock is ticking?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

*Caleb glances at his watch, then returns his gaze to Corrine.*

“Try again.”

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

Oh, boy. What now? She sighs.

"Using blood magic to bind a spell so I can keep the spirit at the house trapped until I can move it along because really y'know that's not safe I mean just speaking mentally if you were stuck being dead in the same place for years you'd be kinda pissed too so really it's a public safety hazard and I'm totally doing the right thing spirits don't belong roaming the mortal plane right so I'm just doing what needs to be done and I haven't slept in three days and I really don't need any shit from you right now about it so save it."

She takes a deep breath. "And I really _have_ had a lot of sugar today, and I could use a strong drink." She opens the door to the apartment. "Scotch?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

*Words are not even necessary, as Caleb’s expression conveys his apprehension and disappointment all by itself.* “No scotch for me. Or for you, for that matter.”

*He begins to feel around, trying to find any other mystical surprises that may await him inside.* “Blood magic is dangerous enough without you introducing alcohol into the equation. Besides, there, uh … there is one very easy thing to overlook – in Blood magic, since you and the spell are intrinsically linked, the condition of your spells and your physical condition reflect each other. By drinking and not sleeping, you only reduce the effectiveness of your spells.”

And god help you if a blood magic spell collapses…

[damage-girl.livejournal.com]

"Like I said, I really, really don't need you--" She turns back to him, slowly, raising a brow. "Are you-- are you giving me advice?"

Corrine shakes her head as she goes inside. "Unexpected, but... yeah. Thanks, I guess."

There's an overwhelming plethora of scents-- some utterly intoxicating and others that are just strange-- coming from all over the apartment. All the furniture has been moved away from the walls, where runes randomly appear and glow. The cats peek out from their hiding place under the couch, obviously alarmed at the amount of activity. There are vials mixing themselves in mid-air, glasses and bowls with swirling colors set about on every flat surface, and books set about on the floor randomly flipping through pages.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“Well, I am your arcane tutor, after all.” *Caleb enters the apartment, carefully scrutinizing everything he sees.* “How .. where .. uh …” *A sigh, then in a measured voice.* “Where did you learn blood magic?”