radon_absinthe | the fucking slayer

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the fucking slayer

Really, Johanna should've known that the moment she finished cataloguing that cursed Assyrian pottery they'd do something to fuck her up. She just wasn't quite expecting to be saddled with a goddamned Slayer.

"I don't quite know what to say, Quentin," she averred, instead of reaching across Travers' fake Queen Anne mahogany desk and wringing his neck like the turkey he was. "Surely there's someone better qualified," and less occupied with important work that doesn't involve babysitting some hormonal brat who can bench-press a car.

"No, Johanna, I'm afraid there isn't. I know, I was shocked as well," he tittered as though he had the goddamned right to pal around with her after throwing this albatross around her neck. Or ever, really. He was like the human equivalent of a lukewarm glass of skim milk with a shot of sawdust. "But really, you're one of our best Watchers, and I'm sure any Slayer would be better off with your tutelage."

Johanna smiled politely until she thought she could open her mouth without spitting stomach acid in his damn eyes, and said, "But what about my work in Room 42?"

"Oh, not to worry," Travers assured her. "That'll all be handled."

"By whom."

"...It'll be handled."

"By whom, Quentin."

"...Landen Serrano."

Before Johanna could scream aloud, Travers pulled out the final stop.

"Unless, of course, you're refusing the position."

Of course she wasn't. She couldn't. Refusing to take on the Slayer would be like... like refusing to become a fucking duchess. But come hell or high water, she would defend her right to go back to her apartment and bitch about it to her cat.

And then she was on a plane to America. God, it was sickening. And it was California, worse yet. She wanted to soak Quentin Travers' miserable little head in brine.

Now, she's settled into her apartment, settled into her job as school librarian on top of the goddamned Hellmouth, and settled into intimidating the living hell out of children as they attempt to check out books. At least she can have some fun.

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"All right."

Johanna attempts to find a conversational topic, fails miserably, and returns to her book.

Hmm. There's still useful information to be had here; she'll have to risk interrupting.

"It seems like it would be useful for me to know - what exactly is a Watcher?"

"Oh. Uh, Watchers- well, the original job description was 'tribal elders who brainwashed the Slayer into a killing machine', but that went out of style, and the purview has expanded somewhat. There's a few hundred Watchers now, and only one Slayer, so the general body runs around taking care of miscellaneous demonic threats and working with potentially dangerous magical artifacts. The latter was my job, until Quentin saddled- until I was promoted to Slayer duty. Which is less brainwashing and more education and guidance, now."

"That seems like a step in the right direction," she says. "I would be likely to object to brainwashing."

"Oh, sure, you say that now, but I bet you'd love it if you gave it a try."

She laughs.

"Probably about time to go meet Chris," she adds.

Oh, thank God. That was stressful. "Let's go, then, I suppose."

She cheerfully leads Johanna out to the parking lot. Apparently it's very easy to make friends with this girl.

And out in the parking lot, there's a woman leaning against the hood of a black-and-white Mini Cooper.

"Who's this?" she inquires, raising her eyebrows at Johanna.

"Johanna, my aunt Chris. Chris, the school librarian, Johanna, who told me this afternoon that I'm the Slayer now and she's my Watcher. She wanted to meet you for witchy reasons."

"Well, I'm always up for talking shop," says Chris.

"Hello. Um, yes. Apparently you're a witch and also not a hopeless addict or a madwoman, which is very refreshing, and I feel that as an... active... Watcher, I should be brushing up on my practical witchery. Unorthodox, I know, but it can be very handy, and orthodoxy is for the as- the idiots I work with."

"I primarily work with chess magic," says Chris. "It's very niche. Metaphor-driven. Flexible, but requires some creativity."

"By 'very niche', she means she invented it," the Slayer clarifies.

"Fascinating. I use the Semitic tradition for ritualism and Latinate for immediate casting, but that's- very, very interesting. I'm guessing chess magic is ritual?"

"Largely, yes. My main immediate-cast spell is a sunlight invocation for vampire-related emergencies and isn't chess-based. I've only had to use it twice, which is good because it burns a small diamond in the process, but it's extremely effective."

"Fascinating. Well, if you have a solid grounding in magic in general, which I assume to create an entirely new style of magic you must, I'd be thrilled to get a lesson or two, as it's been a while since I did anything but figuring out what some nasty piece of obsidian or other did and keeping it from doing that."

"Oh, absolutely," says Chris. "Anytime." She provides her phone number.

"Yes. I'll... do that, definitely. Well, um. I'd like to get some times during the week when I can start on Elizabeth's training. Demon breeds, combat tactics, that tenor of thing."

"Any non-Friday after school is open, and weekend days may be available on a case by case basis. And you can call me Liesel; all my friends do."

Johanna raises her eyebrows, but declines to comment. "Liesel. All right. What do you say to every non-Friday after school for a few months until you're caught up with what's immediately important, viz. how to fight, ways to kill relatively common demons you can't just stab, what not to kill, et cetera? Then we can scale it back to Tuesday and Thursday, or something."

"Perfectly reasonable."

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andomega - 2015-01-20 20:39 (UTC) - Expand

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