Voodoo • NBAVon

I Summoned

Saturday: 2023, September 23rd

8:03 PM

Salt Lake City, Utah, USA

The dust that his long fingers stirs up into the air by drumming along aged and weathered leather spines of black and brown books eventually has him pausing to sneeze.

Kentrell sniffles, readjusts the heavy volumes in his arm and murmurs a curse very low under his breath. To say it aloud and boldly in the presence of hallowed books and instruments wouldn't be just mere blasphemy; it would be dangerous. And with his plans tonight, it might cost him.. a price simply too high to pay.

Another sniffle, a grumble- still low. One last book is needed, one from his great-great aunt's private collection. A leather bond journal she used for diligent note keeping. He dabbed it last time he was in Baton Rouge, before that it in was in his mother's care doing nothing but gathering dust. She wasn't into these quote on quote dark arts, so want good does it do for her to keep it?

Where is it..? Where is it..? Her necromancy notebook is but the last piece he needs, unfortunately the book of the dead enjoys hiding and playing practical games at the worse times. Before frustration can build, the ceiling lights above flicker and a breeze swims through the closed off room and his grandma's voice, sweet and soft, beckons him.

'Remember baby boy, necronomicons are full of life. He knows you want him and the more you be wanting for to find him, the deeper he'll hide and the more games he'll play. Calm down baby. Remember my secret? You gonna stop wanting for to find him. Then he'll appear. Watch him appear.'

Kentrell slowly takes a deep breath, clears his mind then turns to go get the books down on a small round end table. He needs to grab an ouija board anyways. He likes to use his great grandmother's; it's the very same board his grandmother taught him with as a child. He got it after his grandmother died it was the first thing he ran in and grabbed. He had to, his aunts were with the black arts and she would never have peace had either one of them got their hands on it.

As soon as he filled the hand engraved slab of cherry wood with actual bark on both long wavy sides, what should he find but his great-great aunt's journal.

"Aha!" He grins, jutting his hand out instantly before it would snap away. "Gotchu badass." Clicking his tongue, "Don't make meh break out da sage." In his fingers he felt the cover of the book tremble.

8:33 PM

In a circle on imported marble flooring, a ring of white pillar candles are lit aglow. In the middle is a stack of books, the board and the practitioner with three open books scattered in front of him. Well, two on the left and one on the right either the ouija board in front to be precise. In his hands, he toys with the planchette; his grandmother's handmade of carve ebony wood and burned with two crescents with a full in between. In his mind, fidgeting makes spells work better.

'Did you forget sumthang? Wherea's da ball?'

"You pick uh fine time ta say sum, jit." Kentrell clicks his tongue and wails his eyes. He whistles loudly and moments later his cat comes bouncing into the room.

"Meow?" She asks, sitting down a decent distance from the candles as his long tail sways. "Meow."

Kentrell nods. "Be uh good gal and bring Daddy uh crystal ball. Rose quartz if you can find it... rose quartz I need it. Black shelf by da jar uh palo santo."

The familiar notes her head and runs off to do just that. How she's able to summon things off shelves and maneuver them up and over and down and around obstacles and stairs is a secret best left untold.