|
Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Aug 21, 2024 7:20:43 GMT
There’s just something to be said about older New York architecture. Remarkably similar to Gotham architecture, but without all the gargoyles and secret society paraphernalia – More stately elegance, less haunted murder mansions. There’s a timeless air to the older buildings, and the aesthetic matches what Lucifer is envisioning the East Coast edition to the Lux brand to exhibit. That being said, after the 5th tour to a possible space this week, he is beginning to grow a little bored of the whole thing. While the estate agent sprouts off her list of buzzwords intending to entice money to be invested, Lucifer is considering if perhaps man-made wonders are just not wondrous enough for what he really wants.
Perhaps what he wants is simply out of the realms of possibilities of mortals, and he will have to settle and make his own improvements on the sly? It wouldn’t be the first time honestly, he has so often been disappointed with what humanity has to offer, but then again, they had also invented cocaine and the sports car ..
“Darling, I’m going to have to interrupt you: I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut this showing short, I simply don’t want to be here anymore. Just have your people send my people the papers on this place, and I’ll get back to you, how does that sound?” He smiles pleasantly, clapping his hands in front of his body as if he hasn’t just rudely cut the woman he forgets what’s called off in the middle of a very boring drone about the “marketability” of the location or something or other.
“Always a pleasure seeing you though, I will be in touch don’t you worry.” He doesn’t give her a chance to speak, lest she protest and attempt to keep him there any longer, a fate he won’t entertain. In fact, he begins walking the moment he’s done speaking, sauntering towards the elevator unhurriedly, but leaving no doubt that the conversation is over.
Once outside, Lucifer takes a deep breath, inhaling the smog and gasoline fumes contently, continuing his leisurely stroll, though now towards his illegally parked Corvette C1 which mysteriously has neither been removed, nor received any tickets. Oh, but it feels good to be bad.
|
|
|
Post by Beriadan on Aug 22, 2024 11:21:37 GMT
Perhaps there were no tickets, but something would catch Lucifer's eye. A simple small square of white, a business card perhaps. Yet strangely there was no name, no phone, email or any details beyond a simple, embossed address, which seemed to shimmer in hues of red and gold.
The Sanctum Sanctorum 177A Bleecker Street New York City NY 10012-1406
It had been placed neatly under the wiper of his car, where a parking ticket would have been placed if he ever received any. Perhaps it was a form of ticket, but not one for illegal parking...
|
|
|
Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Aug 22, 2024 21:32:28 GMT
It may not be a ticket, but the small square does catch Lucifer’s eye, and he grins as he picks it up, hoping it’s a flier for something illicit and exciting happening around town, but alas he’s immediately disappointed. It’s a business card with nothing but an address which has him scrunching up his nose in distaste for his audience of no one. Aside from the shimmering ink, it’s a simple white card, no off-white coloring, no tasteful thickness, Hell it doesn’t even have a watermark. He throws the card on the ground before he gets in his car.
Lucifer’s barely started the vehicle before he’s slapped in the face with something that’s blocking his vision. The card. He frowns again. Sanctum Sanctorum? sounded like some pretentious mage nonsense – something he didn’t particularly want to deal with. Well not that kind of deal at least. The card is sticking to his hand where the ink had made contact with his skin and he shakes it a few times before groaning dramatically, contemplating on setting the offending little paper on fire.
He had wanted something more exciting to happen than touring boring buildings with his boring real estate agent ..
Fine.
Lucifer drives to the other end of the West Village with the embers of what used to be the blatant invitation burning behind him.
|
|
|
Post by Beriadan on Aug 24, 2024 22:45:34 GMT
Pulling up at the address, Lucifer would find himself staring at an old, decrepid looking building. It looked entirely out of a different time, perhaps old Victorian, perhaps older. The postbox stated the address, and Lucifer would be able to sense it. The latent magical field that surrounded this place. Powerful spells warded this building, and it seemed alive and active despite the derelict nature.
The front door was ajar, a huge oak affair which hung open on its hinges. What lay beyond would be something for him to find out.
|
|
|
Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Aug 25, 2024 18:55:37 GMT
Lucifer parks in front of a fire hydrant and gets out, staring at the manor house in front of him. He squints his eyes at the fluctuating magic swirling around, revealing to him that the actual building, the actual Sanctum Sanctorum in front of him, is much grander than the dilapidated structure in front of him, which only really serves as an anchor to the material plane, for the magical sanctuary. Spacial and dimensional magic is always fun.
With a put upon sigh, he walks up the stairs to the front door, forgoing the elaborate but rusty knocker in favor of just walking inside. Not only was the door open, he had also received a direct invitation, so really, no social convention or magic derived therefrom could reject him for that.
“It’s Lucy, I’m hoo-ooome~!”
|
|
|
Post by Beriadan on Aug 28, 2024 10:42:55 GMT
The entranceway was quiet and still. It was an ancient place, steeped in magic and old spells, as well as a layer of dust. A small table stood before Lucifer as he strode in with such confidence. Another business card, this time the deep blue of the night sky, embossed with silver markings.
Left, straight, three doors on your right
There was indeed a door to the right of the hallway. If Lucifer was to follow it, he would note the smell of the ocean, a salt-air that filled the dusty corridors, and as he would approach the third door on the right... the sound of waves, of seabirds. The third door on the right was a doorframe, but instead of a room beyond, it was a wide beach of white sands, and an endless blue ocean ahead.
In the middle of the beach was another table, and two empty plush armchairs which looked extremely out of place. Two drinks were set up. One of them was Lucifer's favourite.
|
|
|
Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Nov 15, 2024 6:55:10 GMT
Lucifer doesn’t pick up the new business card, just lets it sit as he makes a point to look around the area in disgust at the lack of care for the place. Even if it was magically engineered to look like that to discourage intruders, what a tacky choice .. He follows the instructions on the card regardless of his distaste for the décor, and his growing distaste for being led around in circles like a show horse. At this point he was going to give the offender a piece of his mind once he found them, which of course wouldn’t be at the magical beach either.
“All right then, I’m here. I’ve done your little scavenger hunt, I’ve followed your little cards, there’s sand in my shoes: I’ve been thoroughly inconvenienced. Do I get my prize now?” He sounds petulant, is petulant, and he places his hands in his trouser pockets to complete the look, glaring at the drink on the table.
|
|
|
Post by Beriadan on Nov 15, 2024 23:32:12 GMT
"I figured that you would appreciate somewhere a bit warmer than what the Sanctum had to offer."
An arm raised over the head of the chair, waving lazily around in the air. It then reached for the drink, which went to be drunk out of sight, before being placed back on the table.
"The sand I can do little about. It's the universal constant about all beaches everywhere, I'm afraid. No matter what you wear, there will be sand in all your clothes for one month and eight days following a visit to any beach. At least the view is nice."
The figure in the chair rose, turning to face Lucifer with a soft smile on his face. A rich red cloak sat about his shoulders, which clashed fairly drastically with a pink hawaiian shirt and flowery swimming shorts above feet covered only in sandals. The man bowed slightly.
"Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme and guardian of the New York Sanctum. I must admit, it was quite a jarring thing to feel a presence like yours enter my city. I've felt you on this planet since I took up my role, but... please, have a seat with me. I think we have some things to discuss, do we not, Lucifer?"
|
|