open log: mOuOm

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

Who: Balthazar and anybody
What: creeping, most likely
Where: here and there, hither and thither
When: whenever is convenient
Notes: Balthazar's permissions! If you don't have yours done, please do them before tagging me, so that I don't godmode anyone.
Warnings: Senator Ickyface is Chairman of Creepery, and generally unpleasant. Grossness could happen! ... it's kind of always a possibility with him.


His room at the Valhalla Inn stays, for the most part, empty and unused. Sometimes he puts things there just in case anyone is checking, and he drops by every few days to pester Fish at night. He's come no closer to figuring out what exactly Fish is, but he's wary of using magic in Baedal; nothing feels right, or rather, the way he's used to, and besides, it's more fun this way.

Day and night he wanders Baedal. He's been in most of the city by now, sometimes shielded from the general view by his illusory powers, sometimes layered in illusion, and sometimes, as he is now, out in the open. Adaptation of his image is absolutely necessary, which he is accustomed to due to his many years on earth; Baedal lacks the sheer volume of material greed that an industrialized society supports and maintains, but gold is still a motivator. He has not entirely abandoned the suit, but today it is less obnoxious. The tie, however, is still horrendous.

Today he moves among people, gently sowing casual chaos. Occasionally he utilizes his powers to pick a pocket, but only to transfer the money to someone else's. He looks at people hard, trying to learn the subtleties and nuances of their nature to determine what exactly they are. At home, he used four basic categories: celestial, infernal, human, and non-human. These are entirely inadequate even just out on the street. And, too, he knows that probably some of them can see him the same way he's seeing them — but he's hardly that weird in comparison to many xenians, so the reaction is muted. It's interesting and novel to him, and he's looking out for those slight and small tells.

Comments

[norea]

Hasibe's tell comes in the form of simply a look, and a raised eyebrow, as she is ninety percent certain she just watched that man (whose face is sometimes like a human's but sometimes not, depending on the angle of how she regards him, like one of those cheap, stupid holographic postcards or something) pick someone's pocket and put it in someone else's. She is somewhat familiar with demons, though not precisely of Balthazar's stripe, and as she stands, quietly, at the edge of a crowd, she is watching for reasons less malevolent but no less inclined toward observing human nature. Or not so human, as the case may be.

The tell quickly becomes a lot less subtle, as she crosses the distance between them, hands tucked into her coat pockets, since she's left her gloves at home.

"I have to wonder," she says, conversationally, "I mean, I can speculate, but--what purpose did that serve?"

[molotovmartinis.livejournal.com]

Of the last wallet he relocated, he retains a single coin, for he likes the look of Baedal's currency. He plays with it absently as he looks at Hasibe for a long moment, the flag flipping down the back of his fingers and then just disappearing — not a matter of illusion, only plain old sleight of hand, done automatically and without thought. At the same instant it disappears, he smiles, just like the centuries old huckster he is, the timing a matter of instinct.

"None at all," Balthazar says, perfectly genial, "just like me."

The declaration does not necessarily carry any real connotation, as he hardly expects people (not even extremely powerful psychics, as he believes Hasi to be) to know exactly what he is or the circumstances from which he came, but it happens to be the absolute truth. At the moment, anyway.