Infernal Hangover Cures

July 11, 2017:

The aftermath of Illyana and Rachel's celebrations.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

First, there is nothing but the peaceful, timeless blackness of utter unconsciousness. Then, without warning, the blackness is pierced by a shaft of brilliant light that seems to bore into the depths of Illyana's brain and set it on fire. Without a conscious thought, Illyana flings an arm across her eyes, instinctively trying to shield herself from the… searchlight? Laser? Solar flare? That's turned the inside of her head into a pounding sea of lava. Slowly, reluctantly, full consciousness begins to return, and Illyana feels grittiness beneath her body, a roaring in her ears that rises and falls and rises again, and a wind that seems to abrade her skin.

Where is she? Slowly, very, very slowly because her head seems to weigh several tons as well as being filled with molten lava, Illyana shifts her arm by millimeters and cracks open one eye. She's rewarded by a shaft of pure pain that slowly resolves into…

…the first light of dawn, as the sun rises over the beach.

Memory returns, fuzzy and indistinct, and despite the state of her head Illyana's lips quirk into a smile. Rolling over and pushing herself up onto an elbow makes the world spin a bit, and Illyana presses her eyes shut until the beach settles down beneath her again. "Hells, how much did we -drink-?" She asks no-one in particular, then looks around until she finds Rachel. "Hey, Ray. Are you going to wake up or do I have to hide your body somewhere?"


Illyana will find Rachel several meters away next to a small outcropping of rocks that have been deposited on the beach - at one time or another. She has one arm drapped around a bottle that is quite empty, the other is draped across her eyes. The grumbling note she lets out at Illyana's question is nothing compared to the pounding inside her head - which has absolutely nothing to do with her telepathy, but a shit load to do with the insane amount of liquor her and Illyana consumed the night previously.

"Shhh. Just let me die, and would someone please turn off the ocean?" The resounding current refuses to obey Rachel's commands, as the waves tumble to shore, then drift back out again, unrelenting and unstoppipng.

Lifting her arm upwards, only to slam her hand back against her eyes, Rachel curses the bright light, the bottle of wine under her arm, the sound of the ocean, and all the thoughts that are tumbling through her brain right now. "I don't care who you slept with! Shut it!" She exclaims to the the uncontrolled thoughts that simply do not help her hang-over in the least.

It takes Rachel several minutes before she allows the bright morning sun to filter through once more, as she sits slowly upwards and grouses at the ruined outfit. "…." Which pretty much sums up Ray's upset stomach and ill body.


Having to actually get up and -walk- to where Rachel's chosen to curl up and die does nothing to improve Illyana's sense of grievance toward the universe in general. She's still squinting against the pitiless light when she reaches the fallen redhead, but the sea air's blown enough of the muzziness out of her head that she has the presence of mind to perch herself on the rocks facing -away- from the sunrise.

Which incidentally gives the appearance that she's being haloed by the dawn, inappropriate as that is for the demoness.

"No. If I have to live through this, you have to suffer too." Illyana tells Rachel in a disgruntled tone. There's a hint of humour in it, but it's being mostly swamped by the greater part of Illyana that just wants to feel sorry for itself. "Besides, you just got back. I'm not explaining losing you to Scott." Yes, remind the drunken redhead of her father figure. Illyana's misery definitely wants company.

Illyana hisses and presses her hands against her temples when Rachel suddenly raises her voice. "Ow. Keep it down, will you? And keep your brain to yourself, I don't want to know who's been swapping bodily fluids on this beach until I'm sure my head isn't going to come off!" She remains in that position for several seconds, fingers pressed against her temples, eyes firmly shut, while her headache recedes to a dull roar.

"I." Illyana announces. "Am going to teleport myself to Limbo and do something about this hangover." She cracks open an eye, and smirks at Rachel. "Considering how I feel, I may end up anywhere or anywhen, but it's a risk worth taking. Coming, or shall I leave you for the seagulls?"


Sitting up is about as far as Rachel gets as Illyana makes her way over. She isn't going to stand, her legs would topple and she'd fall flat on her face, she's quite sure of it. Which reminds her, Rachel still isn't sure what happened to her shoes.

Wriggling her toes into the sand is supposed to be a relaxing thing, but alas, even that simple delight only causes Rachel's stomach to gurgle very rudely and loudly.

A disgusted 'urgphmph' echoes forth from the red-head as she tries to respond in kind to Illyana's taunt about Scott. One hand lifts upwards, holding her mouth a moment so nothing untoward escapes. Only as everything calms back down again does Rachel manage to get out a quiet, "I don't care where, when, or how." A pause, and Rachel's gaze flickers to Illyana. "And if you can do something about this for yourself, I promise not to tell anyone what an angelic look you're sporting right now."

The smile Rachel offers is not very nice.


There's only one possible response to Rachel's jab that's both proportionate and entirely mature: Illyana sticks her tongue out at the redhead.

"Like anyone would believe you." Illyana says, attempting a sour expression that doesn't reach her eyes. "And I try so hard to be charming, too." She layers on a disconsolate tone, but quickly gives up. "Ugh. Enough talking. Kill or cure, and I don't care which!" Illyana clambers off her rock, collecting her shoes, and glares at the beach in front of her until a stepping disc deigns to appear. She walks forward, then looks back before stepping through. "Come on. I'm not delivering you to Limbo in a heap on the floor. I have -some- standards to maintain!" There's a flash of Illyana's teeth in an evil grin, and then the demoness vanishes through her portal.

On the other side, the ever-burning torches that line the walls of Illyana's throne room flare brighter, then settle to a lower level of illumination, while the sky visible from the balcony is a roiling mass of impossible clouds.

Illyana's domain reflects its mistress' discomfort, it seems.

In the shadows at the edge of the hall, and in the rafters above, things chitter and shift. Illyana growls, and spits out a word in a dark, forbidding language. With the scrape of claws and the flap of leathery wings, demons scatter, clearing the room. Illyana reaches her hands up to rub her forehead. "I am NOT in the mood for demons this morning." She says under her breath.


Forcing herself to stand up, Rachel does oblige and heads through the portal. Her eyes blink rapidly from the bright morning beach light, to the much dimmer surroundings, bright spots of gold flicker across her eyes before they begin to adjust. Trans-dimensional traveling normally settles well with Rachel, yet when hung-over, the jaunt causes all manner of loud, rude, and upset sounding gurgling from her stomach, followed by a 'Ugh'.

Clearing her throat, Rachel tries her best to not focus on how ill she is, by letting her gaze take in Limbo. The chittering of demons and Illyana's response in an unknown language does cause Rachel to draw her attention back to the blonde sorceress.

"Charming and you don't seem to fit." Rachel finally states, having drawn quiet due to an impending upchuck and now that it has cleared, her tongue works again. "However, I do agree demons are not something I wish to look at this morning, either." A wry grin is offered to the blonde, as Rachel concentrates, her foggy mind working enough for her to at the very least change the ruined leather skirt and shirt into a pair of comfortable jean-shorts and t-shirt. The amount of gritty sand that ends up at Rachel's feet is telekinetically plucked upwards and crunched into a tight ball - to be destroyed latter.


"Now that was just mean." Illyana tells Rachel. "I'd make you deal with your own hangover but I don't want you to throw up on my floor." So there, Illyana's smile says, and the demoness turns around to face an open area of flagstones. Raising her arms, she mutters a few words and a pentagram flares into existence on the floor, burning with bright silvery flames. Illyana hisses and squints at the light, while the dancing flames reveal that not -all- of the demons fled the throne room at Illyana's command.

A hulking shape steps out of the shadow of Illyana's throne, resting a beefy purple arm on the back of the seat. "Heavy night, boss babe?" S'ym asks, taking a long drag on his ever-present cigar while he brazenly eyes up Rachel. "Who's your friend. She looks fun… but I liked her better in the leather." S'ym takes out the cigar and blows a smoke ring at Rachel, showing her his fangs in a broad smile. "Is she a guest or a plaything? S'ym knows which he is hoping for…"

Illyana looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "S'ym. Out. Now. I won't ask again." The huge purple demon chuckles to himself. "Sure." He replies, insolently, and walks out, casting another admiring look at Rachel as he goes. Illyana sighs, heavily, and moves into the centre of her pentagram, sitting down facing the base of the star. She closes her eyes, the flames burn higher… and the aftereffects of the alcohol are burned from her system. She bounces to her feet in a more sprightly fashion than she's moved so far this morning, her clubbing gear replaced by black leggings, an oversized black and while check shirt and, as a finishing touch, dark sunglasses. She even looks remarkably clean despite having spent a night on the beach.

"That's better. I feel human again." She pushes the sunglasses up on top of her head, looks around at her demonic realm, and smirks. "More or less." Illyana reaches a hand out toward Rachel, the pentagram flares again, and Illyana's magic runs through the redhead.


"You're all heart." Rachel states with her own sarcastic tone, she'd say more, but the pounding head, and upset stomach has her feeling fairly inarticulate at this particular moment.

As Illyana begins her ritual, the sight and sound of the enormous, letcherous, purple demon has Rachel's gaze flicker to the thing, then dismiss it right afterwards.

She's not in any mood for the stares nor comments, and if he'd stayed just a bit longer - that cigar would have ended up in a much more unpleasant (for him) place. Yet, Rachel simply has no time for demonic slurs, nor does she have the patience. A slow smile does play about Rachel's features though, as a thought triggers to the forefront of her memories. Tar. Feathered. She'll have to see how far she can go on Illyana's pets.

"You'll have to let me know the rules of your place, Illyana." The redhead offers with a low drawl, letting the words not spoken offer more meaning than those spoken.

As Illyana gets a spring to her step, Rachel watches with undisguised envy. It isn't long, however, before Rachel's headache and ill stomach fades as well, leaving her feeling - far better than before. A deep breath is taken in and let out slowly, "I owe you one, in fact Miss Rasputina, I owe you a lot. Thanks for going drinking with me. It's nice to have a friend again."


"Sounds like S'ym should be careful what he wishes for." There's a hint of demonic delight lurking at the edge of Illyana's words. After all, Limbo is hers, she can fix any damage Rachel and S'ym cause with little more than a wave of her hand… no, she decides, though a dark part of her regrets the decision. "But that's fun for another time."

With Rachel 'cured' of her hangover, Illyana lets her magic fade, the pentagram around her vanishing as if it never was, leaving the flagstone floor… well, 'unmarked' is hardly the right word, but at least bearing no sign of the magical flames that just burned upon it. As the power runs out of her, Illyana's left a bit drained. Magic has a cost of its own, but it's far more pleasant than the alternative. Illyana snorts when Rachel mentions debts. "I'll collect, don't worry." She says, smiling impishly. "Besides, I think you still bought more drinks." As well as stealing that last bottle. Illyana doesn't even have to try to be a bad influence.

Illyana gives Rachel an odd look when she mentions friendship, goes to speak, hesitates, then says, "Trust me. If you're going to dress up like that and buy people drinks, friendship isn't going to be one of your problems." It's a good bet she was originally going to say something else. "We'd better get back, before Scott organises a search party." Illyana says, suddenly brisk, and a stepping disc obligingly appears to whisk them both back to the real world.

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