It had taken another couple of days of driving to get from Michigan to New Orleans, but Verity figured the detour was worth it. Look, they were still on their honeymoon and if they wanted to see New Orleans, they would. Liam had taken the suggestion of the detour with his usual easy grace, but their current activity seemed to have eluded him somewhat.
Possibly because Verity had refused to explain, other than by saying, 'it's a surprise.'
She kept walking along the edges of the circle she had drawn in the loose red earth, dripping candle wax into the furrows. The original ritual wanted tallow mixed with human blood, not organic soy wax and saline solution, but it was important to move with the times. Besides, finding a place high and dry enough to cast the spell had been difficult in the middle of winter, and had used up most of her ability to be picky about the little things.
New Orleans was not a city that prided itself on its high local water table, okay? Even now, over a decade later, the city still bore scars from Katrina. ( But even for Verity, this was weird )
***
Thanks to the tourist trade and the ever-looming specter of Mardi Gras - which never fully went away, not even for Christmas - New Orleans was a city rich in bars, taverns, and other forms of drinking establishment. Not even the still-visible scars left by Katrina could keep their doors closed for long. They parked the rented SUV in the secure garage of a creepy little motel Verity's family had an understanding with, owned by a friendly nest of harpies who didn't really care what folks wanted to store on their property as long as they also got to rent a room and were left a good Yelp review.
Getting a room for the night seemed like the best possible idea no matter how they sliced things. ( Drinking with Aunt Rose was an experience best savored... )
[NFI, NFB. This one's a long one. Adapted from Seanan McGuire's "The Ghosts of Bourbon Street." Preplayed and coded up by![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
firstofitskind, bless her patience.]
Possibly because Verity had refused to explain, other than by saying, 'it's a surprise.'
She kept walking along the edges of the circle she had drawn in the loose red earth, dripping candle wax into the furrows. The original ritual wanted tallow mixed with human blood, not organic soy wax and saline solution, but it was important to move with the times. Besides, finding a place high and dry enough to cast the spell had been difficult in the middle of winter, and had used up most of her ability to be picky about the little things.
New Orleans was not a city that prided itself on its high local water table, okay? Even now, over a decade later, the city still bore scars from Katrina. ( But even for Verity, this was weird )
Thanks to the tourist trade and the ever-looming specter of Mardi Gras - which never fully went away, not even for Christmas - New Orleans was a city rich in bars, taverns, and other forms of drinking establishment. Not even the still-visible scars left by Katrina could keep their doors closed for long. They parked the rented SUV in the secure garage of a creepy little motel Verity's family had an understanding with, owned by a friendly nest of harpies who didn't really care what folks wanted to store on their property as long as they also got to rent a room and were left a good Yelp review.
Getting a room for the night seemed like the best possible idea no matter how they sliced things. ( Drinking with Aunt Rose was an experience best savored... )
[NFI, NFB. This one's a long one. Adapted from Seanan McGuire's "The Ghosts of Bourbon Street." Preplayed and coded up by
firstofitskind, bless her patience.]
