(OOC: Totally open. Join now, you! Since Sam and the BAM are splitting up at the end of the post, this is actually two seperate intros squished together for expositional purposes.)


Muffled lyrics wend merrily out the door and down the block, flowing forth from a questionable bar called Charlie’s and diffusing into the hostile early-morning air. The gnat-speckled streetlamp on the curb outside flickers its last and finally dies, an expression of contempt from the murky night at being so thoughtlessly interrupted in its brooding. As the so-called music grows louder and more distinct, the grotty establishment’s screen door crashes open with a screech of rusted hinges, rattling against a cement wall behind. Two men stumble into the night, clutching each-others shoulders in a brotherly fashion as they turn awkwardly onto the sidewalk.

“Come, messmates, pass the bottle 'round,” they chorus, one strong voice leading as a smaller, faintly falsetto one slurs and occasionally fades out altogether, as if forgetting the words.
”Our time is short, remember,
For our grog must stop,
And our spirits drop,
On the first day of September.
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
Tomorrow we'll be sober!”

“Farewell, old rye, ‘tis a sad, sad world-“ continues the larger of the two men, grinning glossily and waving a lit cigarette over his head to and fro, as if conducting. He’s a bland face, nothing special, just a little eccentric. He looks like he might be in his mid to late thirties, with laugh lines all over his face. His hair is dirty blonde and shaved close to the skull, with one nickel-sized bald patch over his temple that is partially covered by a band-aid with glow in the dark stars. A filthy old rag of a trenchcoat hangs limp about his slightly out-of-shape frame in the night’s humidity. He frowns in a muddled fashion as he is interrupted by his partner.
“No no, wait- I got another one. Lissen.” The slight fellow clears his throat and begins a new tune. “There was a gay young farmer,
Who liv'd on Salisbury plain-“
The pace of the fellow with the cigarette falters, his eyes narrowing in at the much younger man clinging to his side. Upon quick consideration, his grin crawls back onto his face and he joins in, apparently deciding that whatever worried him is not worth making a fuss over.
“He loved a rich Knight's daughter dear!
And she loved him again.
The Knight he was distressed,
That they should sweethearts be.
So he had the farmer soon pressed,
And sent him off to sea.
Singing Rule Britannia,
Britannia rules the waves
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.”

The little blonde one starts to launch into the next verse, as his friend ruffles his goose-down hair affectionately, causing him to falter and smile blearily up with sky blue eyes. “You gonna be all right tonight, Sib?”
The drunken youngster nods slowly, cheer paling a tad. His thin, girlish figure hangs more heavily on the band-aid man’s reassuring shoulder. A pretty little thing, he's wearing a pair of slightly-too-tight jeans, black, thick-soled boots with silver fastenings, and a purple babydoll T-shirt that says in silver letters, 'Daddy's Girl." His blonde hair is nape-of-the-neck length, and falls in his eyes.
“M’okay.”
“No more bars?”
“Yeah, s’fine.”
“Because I’ve got to meet a guy now, and I don’t want to be worried about you.”
“I know.”
“No more trying to kill yourself.”
“I wasn’t!-“
The band-aid man looks patronizingly down at Samael, ‘Sib,’ who cows and glances away.
“Fool,” the boy sighs, “I'm glad you found me.”
“Yeah, me too, dad,” the band-aid man smirks quietly.
“Don’t call me that,” Sam snaps, though faintly amused.
“Pa?”
“No.” Sam detaches himself awkwardly from the Tarot, stumbling a few paces as he finds his footing.
“…. Grampa?”
Samael sneers back at the band-aid man and makes a rude hand gesture. His friend chuckles and turns to head the other way. “I’ll see you later. Then you can borrow some.”
“Yeah, find me,” Sam replies, rubbing his neck and forcing himself to walk to other way. As the Fool steps around the opposite corner, softly whistling the tune to ‘Farewell to Grog’ with his expression blank, Sam falls heavily against the wall and bites his lower lip. He's had a bad night... now, slouching against the wall in the slummy part of town, he crosses his arms over his stomach and looks out into the 2am darkness, not sure where to go from here. He has no place to stay, he just drifted into the city yesterday... but he knows full well that the Fool doesn't have a place either, so it isn't as if he could have asked. He scuffs his boots on the sidewalk and looks dejected.

Two in the morning, perfect time to pick on some poor soul that is out way too late. Sabia is walking down the alley way with her brother next to her. She’s flipping the blade on a knife in her hand up and down. It kept her hands busy when she had nothing else to do. The girl was wearing slightly baggy black jeans and a tight black t-shirt; helped her blend in with the total darkness. Brown hair remained wavy with blonde streaks added in every now and then. It was tied back into a ponytail so she could keep it out of her face. Black sneakers hardly made a noise while walking in the run down part of the city.

The girl stopped and held out her hand next to her to make sure her brother didn’t move any further either. Forest green eyes had picked up on the form of a person sitting in the alley way against the wall. Looking him over she had a wicked and yet playful grin come over her face as she looked at her brother.

Check it out. Over there. She spoke in thought to him so the other would not suspect he was being watched. Not just yet.

Fear strode along beside his sister in the dark of the night. Tonight he’s wearing tight faded blue jeans and a baggy red t-shirt. His hair is combed in a fashion that would make him appear to be a ‘good boy’. Ha. Fear? A good boy? Isn’t that a joke.

He stopped when she stopped. He turns his gaze in the direction she had indicated. Oh lookie, he tells her. A play thing. He’s not speaking out loud of course.

(Sorry it’s short O.o)

Feeling his diaphragm heave suddenly, Sam grimaces and coughs hard into the back of his hand. He wipes the resultant tar-like goo on the thigh of his pants, staring sullenly across the road with eyes that waver in and out of focus. A succession of bars, he's been in lately, smokey pubs- he's not sure whether he's really trying to kill himself, but he seems to be doing a fair job of it anyway. His chest has been bound up in pain for days.

Running his clean hand through his hair, he forces himself to steady his breathing. In, out, in.... diffuse the poisons. One thing nice about Canada, they really do have better air quality...

Drunk on two whole shots, he utterly fails to notice the glint of light in an alley across the street, as the broken streetlamp in front of Charlie's flickers in one final death-throw. Yellow light on a knife.

Lets got play. She thought to her brother and then slowly walked across the street. Sabia walked casually as she crossed the street as if nothing was wrong. Messing with heads was so much fun.

”Hey there.” She said stopping several feet away from him. ”What are you doing out so late in this part of town?” She had a friendly smile on her face which was of course fake. She was only smiling, because she was glad she was going to have some fun tonight.

He nods and follows her across the street. For now, he lets her do all the talking. He just hangs out idly by. A smile played on his face. Many different thoughts danced through his mind. Thoughts of playing with this poor fool who was out late in the night.

There are always people out at this time of night in the seediest bits of a big city, even Tuesday nights (which everyone knows are the best nights for staying home and eating a big bag of cheetos.) This is the primary reason why Samael doesn't pay any attention to the footsteps across the street until it becomes quite clear that they're aiming for him. He lifts his head to follow the individual- oh, two of them- and blinks repeatedly to force his eyes to focus.

They find a smiling young woman's face. Sam stares back at her uncomprehendingly, something ringing an alarm bell in the back of his mind. Who does she look like? Too addled, his thoughts drift aimlessly away from his apparently unfounded concern for now.

"Was getting drunk," he responds, slightly guardedly. "Now'm sitting."

Eyebrows rose as she stared down at the sitting man. ”Not the best thing to do when you’re alone at this time of night eh?”

He’s too easy. It’s no fun if he doesn’t run and he’s too drunk to even think about it probably. She thought to her brother as she continued standing there looking the man over.

”Live near by?” She was trying to keep a conversation going while she assessed the situation and surroundings.

Damn he answers his sister and continues to stand idly by. He's glancing around ever so slightly. Just enough to be able to tell if anyone else is around or paying attention. There's no one paying any attention at all. Just a couple of kids and a drunken man standing around chit chatting.

Sam's mind flip-flops about like a fish about to be gutted. He's played THIS game before. These people want to... do something to him, rob him probably. Well, fuck them, he has two American dollars in his pocket so that's they best they're going to-

Sam's bleary facial expression, trained on the woman's face, suddenly goes taught and scared.

She looks like Master's daughter! Like a frightened rabbit he tenses up. His wide eyes flick hesitantly from the woman to the huge man and back again.

"N-no," he manages to respond, voice quavering only slightly as he slides carefully up the wall to stand. "I- my roommates are picking me up in a minute." Maybe the my-friends-are-expecting-me routine will scare them off. Sam resists the impulse to shut his eyes tight, like not seeing the woman's face smiling at him in the sickly weak light would make it go away.

I think we hit a nerve in him suddenly. Her grin is only widening as the fear in his eye becomes present.

”Now now. No need to be worried.” She frowns as he starts to stand though and plays the pathetic attempt of friends coming. ”The more the merrier.”

What do to first. She teases with her brother in his head.

”You know what? I don’t think you can stand anymore.” Shifting magic’s run through her body as she speaks and stares at the man. He soon will not be able to stand.

He merely laughs in his mind in reply. He shifts his weight as he realizes the fun is about to begin. He’s already thinking up things he’s going to need to do when the time is right.

Sam's clammy palms slap against the pitted concrete at his back, fingers clutching desperately at the wall. He's telling his legs to take him away, but his knees have gone wrong somehow and he is sinking down, down- he scrapes his fingers as he tries futilely to hold himself up. "Leave me alone," he hisses in terror, dropping to his knees. His eyes sting, but he refuses to let them tear, clinging to the scraps of his long-demolished pride and his intimate knowledge that... it will only egg them on further.

”Now now. I can’t leave my new toy alone when I’ve just started playing. What’s the fun in that? Nope. The toy definitely has to be broken before I quit playing.” She’s amused at his desperate attempts to keep himself standing but it’s not going to work. It makes her laugh.

What do you think will make the little piggy squeal? She asks entertained to see what her brother might think of the situation.

”Oh dear. The paralysis has gone from your legs to go through you’re your body. Did you know you’re paralyzed completely?” She was having too much fun.

A wide grin finally breaks across the face of Fear. What brought it on? That’s easy. The sound of terror in the mans voice. Oh yes. Fear likes fear. Very much does Fear like fear. Why do you think he picked that to be his nickname? “Leave you alone?” he finally speaks. “You must be imagining things, sir, for we’re merely just standing here talking to you. Are you so drunk that you can’t see this?” There is laughter in his voice as he speaks.

Oh yes dear sister. Let’s make it squeal. Let’s see what sorts of sounds our little toy can make.

Sam wishes he had gone with the Fool. Sam wishes he had never come to Bayfield. Sam wishes he were dead...

He just escaped, he just LEFT his master! This shouldn't be happening- it isn't fair!

His face simmering with mixed terror and disbelieving indignation at the cruelty of fate (a very complex and delicate expression, which goes well, unfortunately for him, with his wide and brimming eyes,) a little portion of Samael's mind that isn't stunned by fear reasons this situation over. HER toy, the woman says... she may look like Master's daughter, but she clearly isn't. A true demon knows full well the consequences for the theft of a superior's property. Are they demons?

He can feel his whole body going numb, slipping away from his control. Fighting it with the last reserves of his energy, he hardly hears the mocking words of the male. "I... am not... YOUR... plaything..." he barely manages, finding it difficult to work his jaw and tongue. His ring-hand is half-lifted (a little bit as if he were going to flip them the bird) before the paralysis overtakes him completely, and he falls lifelessly back against the wall. He panics, making a slight, high-pitched wheezing noise as he suddenly finds that he cannot even breathe.

She slaps him playfully on the face as he seemed to not be able to breath. ”Can’t have you dying on me now can I? You can breath and talk but that’s it.” She’s leaning down and looking at him now. The wheezing noise was making her only laugh harder.

”I think we need to move you so we don’t have interruptions.” She grabs one of his legs and pulls him into the alley way where it gets darker and darker with no light form the street lamps, the entire way she’s whistling eerily.

Want to play for a while bro?

Fear nodded as his sister asked him if he wanted to play for a while. Of course I want to play for a while. What fun is it if we don’t? A smirk was on his face. He followed her as she dragged the man down the deeper into the alleyway. He turned around and concentrated on the sidewalk for a few moments. A tall hedge suddenly appeared to grow out of no where. No one would be coming down to interrupt them now. They’d think there was no alley there. What fun!

He turns around and continues down the alley where his sister had taken their toy. He stares at the wall for a few moments and vines start to grow out of it. A vine goes around each one of the mans wrists and pulls him up and against the wall. Two more sets of vines grow out of the bottom of the wall and go around his ankles.

For a minute, all Sam can do is gasp raggedly for air. In fact, he does this so long, like a goldfish that has jumped its bowl, that it's a little bit weird. Like he's having an asthma attack. In reality, he couldn't be doing that, because the horrible woman's instruction to breathe clearly seemes to have opened up his passages. His lungs actually feel clearer than they have in ages.

As vines coil around his wrists and he feels himself being slowly hefted into the air, Sam wishes now that he could give in to temptation and shut his eyes tight. It's so dark back here, the only thing he really sees are the eyes of his assailants, glinting evilly at him in the filtered moonlight.

"I belong to another," he declares tremulously, not daring to use the name. The name might summon him. He would only be delivering himself to a worse fate if his Master were summoned to this place.

This caused her to raise and eyebrow. ”Oh really? I’ve never stolen someone else’s toy before.” She’s leaning on the wall next to the paralyzed man and flipping the blade on her knife up and down. Eyes glance at his t-shirt that she’d read before that said ‘Daddy’s Girl’. Sabia has daddy issues. She hates them to say the least and the shirt is agitating her.

She pushes herself up off the wall and stands in front of the man. Grabbing his shirt at the bottom she takes the knife and rips it down the middle but doesn’t cut skin. She cuts it until it’s in her hands and her toy no longer has a shirt.

”You don’t need this shirt.” She throws it in a trash bin nearby. She leans back against the wall next to him and is gently rubbing the blade up and down his arm.

”I’ve never heard of someone being owned before. What a new concept. I shall look into this.” She’s grinning as she looks over at her brother.

”What’s your name plaything?”

“And we care that you ‘belong’ to another because?” Fear says in a bored tone. This toy doesn’t seem to be as much fun as their usual types of toys. There doesn’t seem to be enough fear in this one for Fear’s liking.

(Crappy. Sorry)

They are human. This sends Sam into new paroxysms of terror, as cool steel slides against his flesh. They won't be deterred by runes of binding- in fact, were his Master know of this, he would surely enjoy it. Sam's function, after all, is to spur the passions of humans.

They might kill him! They might really kill him! His eyes roll, flashing the whites madly as he tries to watch both of his captors at once. As eager as he might sometimes be to end his life, his prey-instinct has taken him far beyond that place now. He doesn't want to die!

His name. "Samael," he groans the hated name. He cannot withhold when asked that question, a state which has nothing to do with Sabia's powers of suggestion.

"Please... don't..." he whimpers, and doesn't even seem to be addressing the pair of humans. If he could move, if he had more power... he waits for the woman, so close, to just touch his skin with hers. Perhaps he can steal some of her magical energy...

The pleading from him only entices her more to have more fun. He’s not broken yet. Far from it.

”I’m getting quite bored Samael. You don’t squeal enough for me.” She lets out a bored sigh and then gets a wicked gleam in her eye as she looks at him.

”Your eyes. They’re burning. They’re on fire.” Of course they wouldn’t really be on fire, but they sure as hell would feel like they were. This type of torture was far more fun than actually cutting his eyes out of his eyes sockets.

Wonderful! His sister had picked up on him quickly growing bored as well it seems. A dark laughter escapes from him after his sister plagues the man with the feel of burning eyes. The vines around his wrists and ankles would tighten enough that it would feel as though they were trying to cut through his flesh.

Abruptly, pain. Samael screams. Part of him knows that he musn't scream, it's always worse when he screams, but it's impossible to stop. As his bindings dig into his thin flesh, he grimaces madly and hisses through his teeth in pain. The tears that have been threatening to come forth now trail down his cheeks as he strains so hard that he actually forces his eyes shut.

Oh dear. I think he might be in pain. She’s laughing inwardly to her brother as she watches the man scream and start to cry.

”Your eyes are back to normal. They don’t hurt anymore.” Can’t very well talk to the toy if he’s screaming from pain now can she?

”So what’s this master of yours like?” It wasn’t a command. Just a simple question. She was curious to know if he was tortured often.

Yes. Oh yes. The screams. No one out on the streets will hear him though. The hedge that had appeared at the entrance of the alleyway is sound proof. He just laughs and listens to his sister questioning their toy.

Sam sets his jaw and glares hatefully at Fear, refusing to look Sabia in the eye. "A sick fuck, just like you two," he rasps defiantly. "Sometimes he even looks a bit like Sasquatch here."

He wishes he could wipe the tears off of his face. They feel clammy, and irritate the corners of his mouth where they trailed in while he was screaming. But mostly, he wishes the woman would come closer. He keeps himself ready to siphon from her at the slightest touch.

”Oh dear. I think our toy has a bite to him.” She’s grinning as she looks at her brother. Name calling did much affect her as much as it used to when they just started out. It didn’t bother her in the least anymore. ”That just won’t do.”

”Your head, it’s being squished in a vice. It feels like your head is going to explode.” She’s running the blade up and down his arm again only a little harder this time.

“Mmmm...” is Fear’s response. He stares at the wall for a brief moment and another vine appears to grow out of it. The vine wraps around his neck and snakes down his body where it slinks between his legs and seems to grow back into the wall. The vine isn’t tight. Yet.

"Nngh!" Sam tries to keep from screaming again, biting down hard on his tongue and pressing his eyes closed. He makes a muffled moaning noise, successfully swallowing his need to scream until a vine snakes its way down into his pants. This ellicits a yell, of surprise as much as anything, and his eyes fly open and cast downward desperately, trying but unable to see what's just happened.

Her hand is SO CLOSE- but the horrible pain in his head keeps him from trying anything desperate. He couldn't possibly channel through metal anyway.

The burning, a little voice echoes in the back of his mind, drowned out by the pain, was worse. It's always worse.

She’s laughing as she watches him squirm with her brother’s little stunt. That always made them squirm. Finally as he’s panicking she pressed the knife hard into the man’s arm, cutting him finally in a straight line down his upper arm all the way to his elbow.

”Are you having fun yet? I am.” She’s saying to her toy as she grins. Her other hand is fiddling with something in her back jean pocket; a lighter. It was always fun to keep it around. Sometimes she set her brother’s vines on fire. It would definitely be a most unpleasant feeling for their plaything.

Fear is finally starting to enjoy tormenting their new toy. It didn’t usually take this long for him to begin to enjoy the tormenting. However, they usually had to catch their toys as they tried to escape from the twins. This one had been far too easy to catch, thus taking it longer for Fear to begin to get his part of the enjoyment and fun.

Oh look sister he starts to tell his sister. It doesn’t seem to enjoy having the vine in his pants. He tilted his head back slightly and began to laugh out loud. He notices his sister reaching into her back pocket and knows exactly what she’s going for. From his excitement of knowing what’s going to happen, a few more vines appear from the wall and snake around their toys waist.

A short, hard yell accompanies the knife's motion down his arm, his neck arching back as all muscles that aren't currently paralyzed spasm in tandem. Sam can taste blood as well as salt now, from biting himself

”Such a good toy.Your head is no longer in a vice. It’s actually feeling a lot better now.” Can’t have him focused on something else why she tries to talk to him now can she? The knife has gone away and slipped into her back pocket after she wipes the blade off of his blood on his pants.

Hand goes to her other back pocket and pulls out the lighter and starts flipping the lid up and down eerily, each time it flips up the flame ignites along with it.

”I’m sure you’re well aware of what happens when dry plants catch on fire. Don’t you plaything?” It was degrading that they still call him that even after learning his name. But of course they never did call them by there name. Didn’t matter to them. Just a random question she always asks.

Want to add a few more vines?

He gladly adds a few more vines. They come out of the wall, just as the others had, and wrap around his chest, hips and upper thighs. These ones appear to be a lot more dry than the others. He’s done this for obvious reasons.

Samael's head goes limp and slumps numbly onto his shoulder as the pressure fades away. His breathing is ragged already, but the production of the lighter causes him to tense up and flinch away again, practically hyperventilating. His eyes are wider than they've ever been.

His eyes growing wider was exactly the reaction she was looking for. It pleased her greatly to see the fear in his eyes. At least he understood what she was getting at.

”It’s kind of chilly out. Why don’t we make it warmer.” And with that she flips the lighter up and produces the small flame. Slowly she leans it over to the vines around his waist and lets it catch on fire which will eventually spread to the other vines around his body. She stands back near her brother and waits for her toy to scream in pain.

More harsh laughter filled the air as Fear couldn't hold it in. An arm drapes over his sisters shoulder as she comes and stands next to him.

Sam looks the other way as the lighter nears his body, a fresh burst of involuntary crying sending a flood down his cheeks. He whimpers tragically, shutting his eyes as the growing flame licks hungrily at his skin.

Sam shreiks horribly, thrashing his head back and forth. The fire spreads more quickly then they would even have expected; the vines were dry, but not THAT dry. The flames actually seem to prefer the kid's skin, crawling right up his stomach in mere moments. There's something a little 'off' about how this is going.

The thing about being made of air is, fire needs oxygen to burn. Whoosh, fire gobbles up the air like a fat kid on a Hershey bar.