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neutral_omensDate: August 26th, 1999 (Late Morning)
Setting: Tadfield Manor, Lobby
Status: Public - Constantine, Adam Young, Odin (Complete)
Summary: Continued from this post. John arrives at the Manor, and meets someone he wasn't expecting.
John knew the moment they pulled up to the old Manor House that Chas had been wrong. This place was a great deal more than just a convention center.
He wasn't, as such things are measured, particularly sensitive. Generally, he pieced things together by paying attention; by knowing what to look for, and how to interpret the same unsettled feelings that any mortal would experience in the presence of the supernatural. You didn't have to be psychic, you just had to understand what you were dealing with.
Tadfield Manor, however, spared him the effort. He'd have known there was something weird about the place if he'd been blind, deaf and as paranormally gifted as a lamppost. Even Chas (who, bless him, was about as thick when it came to matters of the occult as it was possible to be and still possess a brain) peered up at the building with an uneasy frown and remarked, "Creepy ol' place, innit?"
"That it is." John got out of the cab and walked slowly toward the great doors with the package under his arm, trying unsuccessfully to sort out the bewildering mix of signals he was getting from the place. It wasn't hallowed, it wasn't unholy; but somehow it was both of those things at the same time. In spades.
If the people he was looking for weren't to be found here, he'd eat his Grimorium Verum.
"Chas," he called over his shoulder, "why don't you just head on home? I'll find me own way back."
"You sure?" The cabbie raised his eyebrows, though clearly the idea struck him as a very appealing one. A bit slow on the uptake he might be at times, but not by any means stupid.
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll call you later." He could always walk home, if need be; it wouldn't be the first time. Exposing poor old Chas to the Bentley was bad enough. John didn't want to tempt fate, at least not where this particular friend was concerned. As usual, he hadn't that many to spare.
Chas hesitated a moment later, then said uncertainly, "Well...all right then. You damn well better call, though. I don't like the look of this place at all, an' that's a fact."
John nodded, and watched the cab's retreat back down the drive until it was out of sight.
"Right then," he said softly, letting his hand linger on the door handle for a moment. Foolish, really, letting this place get under his skin; what could possibly be found here that was worse than the things he'd already faced?
Drawing a deep breath, John opened the door and walked inside.
Setting: Tadfield Manor, Lobby
Status: Public - Constantine, Adam Young, Odin (Complete)
Summary: Continued from this post. John arrives at the Manor, and meets someone he wasn't expecting.
John knew the moment they pulled up to the old Manor House that Chas had been wrong. This place was a great deal more than just a convention center.
He wasn't, as such things are measured, particularly sensitive. Generally, he pieced things together by paying attention; by knowing what to look for, and how to interpret the same unsettled feelings that any mortal would experience in the presence of the supernatural. You didn't have to be psychic, you just had to understand what you were dealing with.
Tadfield Manor, however, spared him the effort. He'd have known there was something weird about the place if he'd been blind, deaf and as paranormally gifted as a lamppost. Even Chas (who, bless him, was about as thick when it came to matters of the occult as it was possible to be and still possess a brain) peered up at the building with an uneasy frown and remarked, "Creepy ol' place, innit?"
"That it is." John got out of the cab and walked slowly toward the great doors with the package under his arm, trying unsuccessfully to sort out the bewildering mix of signals he was getting from the place. It wasn't hallowed, it wasn't unholy; but somehow it was both of those things at the same time. In spades.
If the people he was looking for weren't to be found here, he'd eat his Grimorium Verum.
"Chas," he called over his shoulder, "why don't you just head on home? I'll find me own way back."
"You sure?" The cabbie raised his eyebrows, though clearly the idea struck him as a very appealing one. A bit slow on the uptake he might be at times, but not by any means stupid.
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll call you later." He could always walk home, if need be; it wouldn't be the first time. Exposing poor old Chas to the Bentley was bad enough. John didn't want to tempt fate, at least not where this particular friend was concerned. As usual, he hadn't that many to spare.
Chas hesitated a moment later, then said uncertainly, "Well...all right then. You damn well better call, though. I don't like the look of this place at all, an' that's a fact."
John nodded, and watched the cab's retreat back down the drive until it was out of sight.
"Right then," he said softly, letting his hand linger on the door handle for a moment. Foolish, really, letting this place get under his skin; what could possibly be found here that was worse than the things he'd already faced?
Drawing a deep breath, John opened the door and walked inside.
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