I found depravity convinced me I may no longer care, oh, it's a bad, bad ritual but it calms me down

[unpocoloco]

Who: Héctor??? (a demon) and OTA
What: Héctor contemplates his deathday, The Riveras get back into necromancy and something else comes back.
When: Mid-December and post-holidays respectively.
Where: The campus, soliel
Warning: Demonic posession and possible violence (plot with me if you want to fight or be fought, however if you just want your character to run and be spooked then go wild), death talk as always

A - Late To The Funeral

He hadn't forgotten it. It's hard to forget the day you die. Puella's portal thingie hadn't helped. Now he remembers it even clearer than before. At first, he thought he'd just push on through it like any other day. But now, here he is, canceling engagements left and right.

He tells night class teachers he won't be in. He cancels tutoring sessions and guitar lessons. He opens his schedule right up for Imelda and Coco alone but even that, he suspects, will be difficult. And what does he do with his time? Well, it would seem, laying under a tree is his plan.

B - Revival: Uninvited Guest

He closes her door behind him. Nothing different, maybe next time. She's concerned but it's no matter. He'll be gone from here before long.

The body is imperfect. There's a limp but he's sure he can find some way to fix that. Most of the rest is aesthetic, nothing a little glamor here or there can't fix. He's got to follow the rules of the body, adapt to the slips in the mind that he's smothered, but that's fine. With time he can expand. He draws up a white suit and fixes a broken tooth to gold. Push the hair back a little and voilà! Home sweet home. His eyes have already adjusted to a pinkish hue but it's subtle enough he's sure it won't be noticed.

"Schools these days. They'll let just anybody in here," He laughs, then hums. An interesting new voice. A little on the goofy side but here can hear notes beneath, just a touch melodic, and that will be perfect later.

But for now, he's got locks to pick, magical artifacts to destroy, and apparently a few conversations to have, considering who's just caught him in the act. He beams like he wasn't doing a thing wrong.

"Ah! Just the person I wanted to see!"

C - Revival: Comeback Tour

"Héctor's" fingers move over the strings of the guitar, drawing music forth with his normal skill and grace. He sings with his same voice, warm and inviting. But there's a deeper pull now and it lies in the words he sings. From his lips slips a demonic tongue, drawing in whatever weaker souls he can.

"ΔŦŞ€Ξ₣ ΔŁ Δ ΔΜΔŁŁ ØŁỮĆŘíĆ Ł€ ΔĴỮβΞĐ, ΔΞŦŞ€β ΔŁ Δ ŘΔŦŇ€ΜΞŁΔ €Đ ØРΜ€ΞŦ Ş€ ΔŘØĦΔ..."

He grins up at any who join him. He sets his guitar down, exchanging it for a glittering knife.

"Hola! I'm glad you're here. Now, hold still."

D - Coming Soon To Theaters

He doesn't know why he's watching this. Self-torment perhaps? He still feels awful in more ways than one, and yet he can't bring himself to turn the TV off. It's all the morbid fascination of a wreck, or maybe it would be more apt to say that he is the wreck and on-screen is the over-confident captain declaring he will never sink.

Actually on-screen is an over-confident musician, smiling in that smarmy way of his while Héctor stares witheringly back. Ernesto is, of course, unaware of him.

"A full-length feature film! That's an incredible surprise! And you've already started working?"

"Si. We only have a few more scenes left to shoot as a matter of fact. We'll be doing that here, in beautiful France, before we return to wrap in my home, México. Perhaps fittingly, that is the name of my new movie; El Camino A Casa."

Héctor feels his eye twitch.

"Featuring all your favorite songs, including--"

Héctor stands and slams the off button.

"That's enough out of you!"

Comments

[unpocoloco]

He turns slow at the sound of that snickering. Absolute fury is settled upon Héctor's face. He looks very much like if he could punch, he would.

And then to add to this already god awful day, renaming is suggested.

"No!" He snaps at Ekkehardt.

And then, looking back to Avery, he protests with dread, "No..."

[subconmodo]

"Oh relax. As long as you don't give me a reason, you're perfectly safe. Mostly safe. We've got a deal, don't we?" He sets the doll down and summons up a piece of paper and a pen--the latter the one Ekkehardt gifted him, just in case.

"Unlike most of you daemons out there, I'm a professional."

[unpocoloco]

Mostly safe. He squints.

"Professional jerk, maybe. This isn't fair," He mutters one last time, sulking. "I was practically summoned. Not to mention taking this body from me is a huge waste. I could have fixed things but nooo you want the future dust pile." He huffs and shakes his head, glaring then at the pen, the paper, and at Avery in turn.

"If you want me to sign I'm going to need at least one arm free. Tell your boyfriend to untie me."

[spelleton]

"Nothing in life is fair, don't you know that?" Ekkehardt says in a falsely saccharine tone, giving the daemon another patronizing pat on the head just for good measure. "And in my humble opinion, half his job is being a professional jerk, so you're just complimenting him now."

He reacts to the 'boyfriend' quip by......completely ignoring it and not having any reaction at all, which, to be frank, is a reaction unto itself. He loosens the bandages so Avery's future minion can get a hand free, at least enough to sign, though a warning tug indicates Ekkehardt is watching him like a hawk.

[subconmodo]

Avery's poker face is nowhere near as practiced, his eye twitching despite his pleasant smile.

The pen hovers over the paper, nib dangerously close. "I'm sorry I must have misheard. Did you say you wanted five hundred years?"

[unpocoloco]

He makes a face at that, sticking out his tongue just the slightest bit, only to glower again at the pat on the head. Stupid sneaky lich. He should've just caved that skull from the moment he saw him.

As for the half-bit daemon, he gets a second of satisfaction to see he's made a mark before the threat lands. His face falls.

"N-no. Sss...sir. You misheard. I'm going to sign now." He reaches out and takes the pen. Here goes a hundred years. It's with deep despair that a name is scrawled on the paper. Sira, though the script is daemonic and archaic.

"Héctor" makes one last mournful noises and speaks up to the ceiling, "So long new home, new friend..."

[subconmodo]

He snatches up the pen and contract, fixing Sira with a glare. "He's not your friend," he snaps, and then pulls back, starting the careful, cautious process of unwinding one soul from another.

[unpocoloco]

There's no chance to respond. Spectral claws work into their tangled souls. It's painless. This guy is good. But it's not necessarily comfortable. It's warm blankets taken away, a peeling bandage, things worth kicking one's feet for but soon there aren't feet to kick as control of the body is lost. Said body flickers with Héctor's light, fingers twitching now and again, until at last their own soul lifts free. At once, it's another kind of light passing through and out whilst Héctor's body sags against the bindings, limp.

The daemon hovers above, nearly humanoid but for the way their soul seems to shift in an out of focus in pieces, like they can't quite maintain form. Mismatched features, wispy blonde hair, and on their cheeks now sit markings matching those of a certain skull. Sira lingers for just a moment, narrowing all of their different eyes, before dropping down into the doll. In seconds, the doll stirs to life.

[spelleton]

Once he can be sure Héctor's back in control of his own body - or, at the very least, that Sira has left it - he gets to work unwrapping him and withdrawing the spells. It doesn't take very long before he can lower Héctor's unconscious body into a proper sitting position, leaning against the wall.

"At least that was fairly quiet," he remarks, after a moment. "Though I hate to think about what other trouble our 'friend' has gotten up to before this."

[subconmodo]

Avery shrugs. "As long as Héctor's free, it's not my problem." The way he saw it anyway. And if anyone complained, he was more than happy to remind them that he was the one to fix the issue.

"And all without a single trip to the infirmary." He was on a roll lately.

[unpocoloco]

"Hardly any," The doll remarks petulantly. Their voice has changed, no longer Héctor's, or at least not entirely. Their voice is higher, but there's a layered quality, several other voices slipped beneath including Héctor's, the strongest sounding rather young. They look up, looking no different than the other minion aside a different colored glow in the hood for the moment-- that will change once they've built up some glamor magic again. Their annoyance makes itself clear anyway.

"Everyone here is entirely insane. This whole night was a disaster."

Against the wall, Héctor groans. His head lifs marginally.

"Mmm... mmelda?" He peaks his eyes open to find definitely-not-Imelda. He takes in the hall that is not her room and the three other figures in it. "...Que...?"

He groans again and brings his hands up to bury his face in.

[subconmodo]

"Good mooooorning, Sleeping Beauty!" Avery cries, slapping a hand on Héctor's shoulder. "Welcome back to the world of the living! And thanks for the new minion, by the way. They love their new life"

He jerks his thumb in Sira's direction.

[unpocoloco]

"I definitely don't!" Said minion declares, folding their tiny arms.

Héctor is slower to react. The slap jostles him enough to drop his hands, gaze moving from Avery to the doll and back.

"Living?" He repeats, confused, and he lets his own hands flicker with light just to double check that it's not the case for him. "You have a new minion...? Ugh, I feel like I got beat over the head. Among other things. What just happened?"

[spelleton]

"You were possessed. By a daemon. I assume it was one of your newest attempts at necromancy." Ekkehardt doesn't bother to hide the disappointment in his voice, because he wants make it very clear this time how hard he disapproves of this latest venture.

"Given your happy passenger had a knife and bad intentions, I have a feeling I'll soon be seeing more patients for stab injuries. Or, at least, someone will."

[unpocoloco]

That clears much of the fog right out of his head, leaving in its place a cold dread and horror. Each emphasized word is a blow and Ekkehardt's disapproval is a blunt instrument.

He's shrinking down with shame until Ekkehardt informs him he may have been stabbing people. His eyes fly wide open and he sits bolt upright.

"Oh god...! Imelda! I need to--" his attempt to rush to his feet is aborted as his bad leg promptly gives out. He manages not to do more than hiss but on looking, it's definitely bent more out of shape than normal. His face is back in his hands. "I need to look. I need to make sure no one's dying."

[subconmodo]

Oh. Right. The people who might have been stabbed were probably students.

"Pretty sure most of us would know if anyone died," Avery says flatly. "And frankly, you're worrying too much. The staff has dealt with way worse than a stab wound." Like whatever the hell Hieke's younger self did to him that one time.

He glances down at Sira. "By the way, I hope you read the fine print before you signed. Because you're answering to him, too." This time he jerks his thumb in Héctor's direction.

[unpocoloco]

Yet, Héctor thinks. He's turned a miserable look on Avery who is both helping and not.

The doll splutters, "What?! Why?!"

Apparently that part of the fine print was missed. Héctor looks at the daemon with a grimace, then up at Avery.

"You contracted me to the daemon that posessed me...?" He sounds bewildered now. "Is this a magically bound to do what I say, thing?"

[subconmodo]

He wags his finger. "Oh no, they're Contracted to me. Your signature wasn't on that paper."

"As for you," he says to Sira, "this whole situation is your fault, so the way I see it, you've got some fixing to do."

He grins. "Besides, you were so EAGER to help him before, weren't you? Where's all that enthusiasm gone?"

[unpocoloco]

"Do you like doing jobs you're no longer getting paid for?" Sira huffs back. "Whatever, it's not like he's going to be around long anyway."

Héctor feels his unnease take a turn, frowning at the daemon. He's already guilty for trying to fix that and this one wants to jab at him for failing too?

"You know what? I do have a request," He says then. "You're going to confirm every person you hurt is okay, unseen so you don't scare them again, inform the infirmary staff of each, and then me. And quickly."

The daemon makes a noise of indignation only to stomp off. Or it would be stomping if they didn't have plush feet. Héctor slumps.

"I'm sorry. Thank you. Both of you."