Issue 1 Downtime

Victoria and Regan reappeared in a lightly wooded field in a vaguely hilly setting. A castle stood in the distance over the tops of the trees, and all around them the sights, smells, sounds seemed both familiar and... somewhat alien at the same time. It didn't take a genius to figure out they weren't on earth, or even the same plane of reality.

Granted, Regan might first notice that she had a body, and would be forgiven for not noticing little things like that.

"Holy shit, I can breathe," Regan says, sniffing the air.

"And that would be the upside about spirit dimensions... spirits are as real as anything else," Victoria said.

"Downside? I can hold us here for... oh, an hour. Maybe two, if I can find a way to anchor us a bit." Aside from that, she let Regan adjust to things a bit.

"Gotcha. No foreplay, down to business."

"Oh, do what you want. It's not like we can't come back here. I'm just explaining why you've been floating around insubstantial instead of just coming here all the time."

"I just assumed you hated me," Regan says, clearly not serious.

Regan's stomach growls loudly.

"Well yes, but I do have to be professional," Victoria said, clearly as serious as Regan. "Well, we could go up to the feast at the castle, or I'm sure there's something to be found in the woods," she said, honestly wondering which Regan would pick.

Regan glances at the castle and then the woods, there's a predatory gleam in her eye.

"I...we should probably go to the castle," Regan says, obviously not choosing what she wants, "Hunting for your own food is lame anyway."

"To the castle it is. Just do your best not to provoke any fights. Even if the word 'wench' comes out a lot in reference to us," Victoria said as they started off.

"So... Did you just think that was the answer I want to hear? Or does it just feel like an urge you shouldn't or don't want to give in to?" she asked nonchalantly as they walked along.

"Maybe I think that catching something and eating it with your bare hands is super gross," Regan says, "I was a vegetarian, y'know. Back when I was alive."

"Actually, I didn't know," Victoria said. "Good to know, then."

"So, before we get there... tell me about this little encounter you had? Including what you think is going on?"

"I don't know," Regan says, "I mean, every nasty thing in the tri-state area seems to want to eat me. Or people nearby me. And it really hasn't escaped me that I'm starting to look more and more like I belong in Limbo."

"I think I'm becoming a demon. I just wish I knew why."

"Well, you seem to defy all the rules," Victoria said. "A person turns out to be a mutant, they get everyone after them for one reason or other. I suppose that when a ghost turns out to be a mutant the same applies, just on the spookier side of things."

"Yeah, well, if I start eating souls and being an evil dick, just put a magic missile through my head, alright?"

"It would be a change how?"

"Well, I'd probably start wearing your clothes, for one."

"The day you can make this look good, I'll take you shopping," Victoria said dryly. "Ah, here we go. Time for the posturing idiots at the gate to decide if they'll let us in. So do we go with alluring or intimidating?"

Regan looks down at her clothes. Baggy hoodie, tight jeans, and a general sense of androgyny, "Unless these are hipster elves, I don't think I'm pulling off 'alluring'."

"Oh like I can't glamour up some new clothes for us," Victoria scoffed. "All right, then... intimidating it is." She looked around, letting out a low whistle. A few moments later, they could hear rustling in the brush near the road.

Figuring she might as well do her part, Regan draws her soulblade.

"Ah, good, our rides are here. Keep the sword visible, dear," Victoria said as two cheetahs walked out of the brush. She looked them over a moment, then flicked her wrist, a sparkling cloud puffing into their faces, leaving them looking dazed and compliant. "Much better," she said, climbing onto the closest one.

"I suppose a lion would've been too over the top?" Regan says.

"I wanted tigers, but we showed up in the wrong part of this place for that, evidently," Victoria said with a shrug. "Besides, this'll get us to the castle in no time."

And, sure enough, when the cheetahs started running, the trip would prove to take no time at all.

"Okay, that was pretty cool," Regan admits.

"There have to be some perks to the job, right?" Victoria said with a grin. The guards moved to oppose them, but fell back from Victoria suddenly at a glance from her. Nothing seemed to change, but Regan seemed to feel her presence grow more threatening in that instant.

Either way, they were allowed into the castle unopposed.

"You know, I used to be able to do that at clubs," Regan says, "Could make a bouncer back down with a single look of withering disdain."

Victoria grinned at her. "I'll let you get us in the next door, then. You smell anything that catches your fancy? I'm sure there's plenty to see here."

Regan takes a deep breath, her eyes gleaming, "Meat."

"I know it's weird, but I'm fucking starving. You're even starting to look good."

That was a joke.

Hopefully.

Victoria nodded. "Just smell, and lead the way to whatever smells best. If something's changing, your instincts will probably know better than either of us what you need. So let's see if we can get a clue what's up."

Regan nods and leads Victoria through the area until finally they come to a large banquet table covered in a wide variety of cuts of meat. At the sight of it all, Regan's stomach growls noisily.

The feast table was busy enough that the only people to really notice two people coming in were the people directly by the seats they were sitting down at. A burly man was sitting across from them with one hand clamped around a turkey leg, the other getting frisky with a giggly serving wench. He leered over at them (or, well, mostly at Victoria) as they sat, which Victoria responded to with a flick of her fingers that he apparently felt on his nose.

Usually, Regan would be making snarky comments, but apparently she was busy tearing into a bloody side of beef the size of a small calf already.

With her bare fingers.