![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
so what was this about summoning again
He's almost forgotten what it feels like to be actually summoned. It catches him off-guard somewhat; when he bursts through, the puff of swirling smoke he becomes upon entry is more startled than actually menacing.
Though he's never actually specialised in menacing. There was that.
"So. What do you require of me, mortal? Speak." He materialises a vaguely animalistic form, wings and teeth and claws sprouting out of a semi-solid mass. It may be unsettling. He intends it to be the case.
Though he's never actually specialised in menacing. There was that.
"So. What do you require of me, mortal? Speak." He materialises a vaguely animalistic form, wings and teeth and claws sprouting out of a semi-solid mass. It may be unsettling. He intends it to be the case.
no subject
He had been prepared for this to be a waste of an afternoon. He had been prepared for it to just summon a Courtier. He had even been prepared for his plan to succeed, and to find in the circle a cruel-browed devil or demonic monster. He had not, however, been prepared for a distinctly menacing vague mass. It is quite off-putting.
"Yeah, that's not going to work," he says, doing his best to sound dismissive rather than frightened. "Try for a little artistic vision. I'm not having a conversation with something that looks like a creationist's caricature of the common ancestor." Incredible. His first words to a spirit summoned from another plane are to register a complaint. Well, it is important to establish authority. Anyone who would perform a demon-summoning ritual without being steeled to overcome their fear and maintain control would have to be suicidal or insane, and James is not... interested in continuing that line of thought any farther.
no subject
He grudgingly compiles himself into his favoured form - a battered suit of armour that in all respects looks like it's escaped from a museum, except for the claws and the distinctly unsettling ornamentation (no pattern set into metal ever crawled like that).
He flips the visor up. Two pairs of glowing, slitted eyes glare out at James, though not with any kind of actual ire.
"Better, o grand and commanding summoner?"
no subject
"Sorry about the circle," he adds. "Had to make do." He shrugs as if to say you know how it is. Then he leans forward and stares at the creature, eyebrows drawing together in examination. "You, uh, are a demon, right?"
no subject
Ascalon clatters in what's evidently a laugh, at the compliment, but makes no other commentary.
"I assumed as much," he says, pacing around the circle. It feels like he's whipping a tail back and forth that isn't actually there, possibly out of habit. "This isn't exactly what I'm used to, as far as summonings go. Nice day, though." He looks up at the sky for a moment, before turning his attention back to James.
"I am, yes." There's a flurry of movement, jaws snapping out from between the gaps in the armour - he has a lot of mouths, apparently - before they pull themselves in again. "Why, were you expecting something else?"
no subject
"I don't know." He waves a hand vaguely at the dirt. "Pulled this from a lot of sources. Avoided most of the Abrahamic stuff, since I don't want to summon um the Devil, but I'm pretty sure there's stuff in there for everything from djinn to mischievous breezes." He quirks his mouth wryly. "Plus I'm not in the habit of getting what I expected."
He's curious about so much; he wants to know where the sigils were lacking, what the demon is used to, where it comes from - but he can't let it realize, just yet, how completely inexperienced he is.
no subject
(Not to say that individual humans weren't capable of earning his affections, of course.)
"First summoning? No mentor either?" He makes a low fluting sound that is apparently an impressed whistle. "Not bad. Not bad at all for someone who's had to patch their knowledge together." He grins, a crooked leer that's only somewhat unfriendly. "Though you are lucky to have gotten me instead of someone bigger and nastier, I have to say.
no subject
Should he find a way to return the compliment? What do demons find complimenting? How is that the sort of question he could have ever thought he'd need to answer? This wasn't exactly in any of the Glaukopis handbooks, and he -
Glaukopis.
Oh, shit.
"Hey, uh," he says, trying to keep his sudden panic out of his voice, "is there some sort of way to give you a little more mobility? So, you know, if I wanted to walk somewhere or something. Without you eating me," he adds as an afterthought, not particularly considering the problem of who he's trusting to give him this information.
no subject
"Leave the washing out, did you?" He can smell the sudden panic boiling off James, despite his best efforts. "You could always bind me to a contract, but you're ill prepared for one. Or you could rub out the circle and let me go." He grins. "I promise not to eat you."
Best not to think about all the distinctly unpleasant possibilities a demon had access to without once using their mouth.
no subject
"Yes. Terrific. I have always wanted to make a contract with a demon." He claps his hands together and rubs them impatiently. "Let's go. How does this work?"
no subject
"You seem to be in a hurry. We'll use something simple." He pauses for a moment. "You'll need a blade. If you've no sword a knife will do. Something sharp. A blade and one of your own belongings - something that knows you. Use the weapon to crush or tear it."
Another pause. "Or blood," he says, shrugging. "If you don't want to sacrifice personal property. If you choose that option, you'll need your palm to be bloodied. Try not to get it all over the blade - the hilt's the part you want coated. Then, mmm..."
He crouches, though he doesn't need to, and scratches in an easily visible mark on his side of the circle. "Strike the earth right here, on your side of the circle. Needs to be touching the array you've drawn. Then we'll see."
no subject
"This should do," he mutters to no one in particular, before making a neat and shallow cut along his heart line. He is more still, now; surprisingly devoid of the awkward jerkiness that normally characterizes his movement. When he rubs his palm along the hilt of the blade, the motion is delicate, almost caring.
He hesitates, however, before striking the earth. "I keep my soul, though, right?" he asks. Better to be sure.
no subject
He cackles. "Don't worry," he assures, in a not-very-comforting tone of voice. He's floating upside down, now, apparently just for his own amusement. "My previous wielders kept their souls just fine."
no subject
He performs the ritual. There's a stab of pain, naturally, when the rough dirt scrapes against the cut in his palm. He winces slightly and looks up expectantly. "So?" he asks. Please let there not be much more to do, he prays silently to a quickly-devised St. Geoff, patron of demon-summoners and all other people lacking the ability to make good decisions. He doesn't have a good plan for after - he supposes he'll just walk the streets of the city and try to learn as much as he can from the demon. Anything is better than being here when the Antkeepers arrive.
no subject
When everything clears, the summoning circle is completely eradicated. Nothing is out of place except the fact that where there were symbols and sigils, there's now plain dirt.
Mostly because the entire circle seems to have ended up engraved haphazardly in rings upon the knife, and if the pain on his arm was anything to go by, there's probably a couple of stray sigils crawling into place somewhere up his arm.
"I'm used to actual weaponry, and thus a little more room, but this serves adequately. You've got a little bit of it on you - couldn't help that."
His voice rings inside James' head, like a very small bell. James will also probably notice that with each syllable, the knife resonates slightly, enough to feel.
no subject
He rolls up his sleeves and stares at his arm. The symbols, he immediately assesses, are badass. They are also going to get him in so much trouble. One step at a time. Speaking of which, he'll pick up the paring knife, stick it in a pocket, and start heading back into his house.
no subject
The symbols wriggle in an almost sheepish kind of way, separated from their brethren. They start moving towards concealment, and thankfully there's no pain there.
"Now what are you in such a hurry for?"