[INTRO; OPEN]

[bokor]

The tall thin man was standing more or less near one gathering of gravestones in the evening dusk. Most people would be avoiding a place like this, and truthfully so should Facilier have been, if defiance hadn't temporarily overridden his common sense. He reasoned that the place wasn't so frightening even to a man who'd so mightily pissed off the spirits and so deeply overdrawn his finances that they'd dragged him off when he'd made the mistake of blurting that he couldn't pay them.

Maybe this was payment, or punishment, or maybe it was a third thing altogether, but Facilier knew second chance when he saw it and he knew landing on his feet when he had to. He could flourish in the sidewalk cracks like a weed, or he could... spend his time outside the castle assessing it nervously from a graveyard in which he paradoxically just felt more comfortable. That was right. Plenty of room around here to see anyone coming, plenty of space to escape if he felt uneasy, and no bokor had anything to fear from the dead that they didn't owe.

When he'd calmed his racing heart enough to actually pretend to be casual, he decided to make his way closer to the castle proper. Maybe there'd be a newspaper. Creepy Gothic Herald, with a date, which was about all he was interested in. He bothered with nothing like brochures, and this was far from New Orleans, but the same rules applied. Talk to people. Get friendly, pick up whatever unbiased, usable information presented itself and pick up the biased stuff too, but it might be harder to sift through that here.

He'd have to hope folks here were friendly enough to avail himself of their hospitality, a fish completely out of water as he reluctantly left even the shadow of familiarity with the graveyard and went people hunting.

And what that meant was lurking in shadowy halls, shuffling his tarot deck and keeping a look out for people who looked like suckers. Or at the very least like they wouldn't just attack him.

Comments

[bokor]

Facilier grinned at the blank skull, trying to put forth his own front either of being unbothered, or of being friends with them - fast and unrealistic and hard to believe.

"Not to tip my hand, of course, but you got to be wondering why I'm not so bothered about you as a normal human showing up here."

He saw that flash of interest, smiling slow, and decided not to chase it up unless they asked specifically, refocusing on the fact that they wanted him to name them.

"Quite a lot of power to give me," He joked, "But you know, maybe I can wait on it until I know you a little better. Always thought it was odd that people named babies that way, not knowing much about em. --Anyway, only thing I can think of right now is Trouble, and that's one too many."

[itstheend]

Not particularly, Chara wants to say, because all sorts show up here. Maybe he comes from a world where monsters live on the Surface, who knows. But if he is going to tip his hand and tell them something they wouldn't otherwise know, who are they to stop him?

"Do tell," they say instead, a little dry despite themself and wanting to kick themself because of it. "I would presume it's because you're not normal."

The name given has them cocking their head, and they snort. They like this guy. A cautious liking, but a liking. "Accurate, if nonapplicable. It suits as a middle name." They wave a hand. "People name things more for themselves than for what they name." As if naming something gave ownership over it. Chara would beg to differ. "Don't they say that it's the true name that gives people power?"

[bokor]

Facilier was eager only to the point of bragging to show off what he could potentially do for them, though it'd probably come out sooner or later, "Not normal at all. Where I'm from, I'm somethin' they call a bokor or boko. I do a little voodoo for people, if they pay right, grant them dreams and wishes... and I serve the spirits." He indicated his hat and the little skull there, "That's why I'm not too worried about you, friend."

Though he'd prefer if they just forgot how worried he'd been about the idea of dying. He still wasn't sure if his friends on the other side had totally forgiven his debt or if this was some kind of hideous installment plan.

He let a smile creep across his face again, showing off the little gap in his teeth, pleased that they liked the name. "That's probably true. Bunch of rich folks calling their kids 'junior' and 'the third' and all that."

He looked thoughtful at that, "There's all kinda power, but that's not one I know much about. Folks back home did like to call me Shadowman. And you're welcome to use that name too, if you take a shine to it... Trouble."

Even though he might have taken his leave then, and not been seen as too rude even, possibly, he lingered a moment longer, shuffling the cards once more before putting them away. He looked them over again and decided. "If you are goin to some place in particular, I could walk you there. Long as it's not to whatever made you end up all reduced to bones and pep, mind. We might never be good enough friends for that."

[itstheend]

"Interesting." And it is interesting. He's getting re-evaluated. That's power, and power they need to keep track of.

They're never going to forget, Shadowman. Never. Theirs is a by necessity finely honed nose for weakness, and it's getting filed away should they ever need it.
That said, it's of limited use. Many, many people fear death.

"I am going to the library," they say, taking a first step towards it, seeing if he'll follow. They've already read through the book they stole from it. Ordinarily, the offer would be refused, but if the crocodile man is still there and still a crocodile, or something worse, it could be good to have someone there who... knows magic? "Friends is going too far, Shadowman." They don't have friends, excuse you. They're tough and don't need any. Huff. Only Frisk comes close.

(They're also amused by the fact that, since it was the Castle that did this, anywhere they take him in it is where it happened.)

"Maybe there are books on voodoo there," they muse. They're definitely intrigued now. Human magic is relevant to their interests.

[bokor]

He tipped his hat absently to them. "You're too kind." And that was maybe a little playful too, since he'd just indicated not knowing anything about them.

He fell into step a little behind and a little beside them, and he'd be amused if he knew enough to comment on the phenomenon of stealing books from a library only to return them. That was just petty.

"Course, course it is." He agreed to the overstep, "See, my definition of a friend may be a little different anyway, but if you'd rather have us just be acquaintances, that's fine by me."

He followed them with his cane balanced on one arm, grinning more easily now and getting comfortable surprisingly quickly. "This kinda thing's hard to research that way." He said casually, "You'd have to go through a lot written by folks who like a little more ...bloodlust... with their foreign religions. Besides - why read when you could ask? You and me, we could give a little back and forth, I'm sure the world you come from is just as interesting as mine."

[itstheend]

They take the 'kind' comment as the playfulness it is. After all, nobody has ever said that of them in sincerity. They keep what they have instead of ears now pricked; things they can't see behind them garner a lot of their attention.

He makes a good point and they tilt their skull, thinking. Directly from the horse's mouth is the best way to learn, it's true, but nothing comes without a price. Fortunately, he seems to have built it directly in to the suggestion.

"A game, then," they say. "A question for a question. No lies. Refusing to answer ends it."

And then they get right into it.

"What do you mean by 'serving the spirits'?" It makes them think of a human serving monsters, which is an interesting if incongrous image.

[bokor]

"Sounds like fun." Facilier agreed, feeling his attention pick up even more than it had on first seeing them as a skeleton, just in case the questions they asked were ... hard to answer. No lies, he could probably make do with refusing to answer - and getting no further information.

"Spirits are the lwa. Think of them as - intermediaries between our benevolent god who's too busy to pay much mind, and human petitioners who want things. Some people, mambos and houngans, and boko like myself, are called on to give worship, sacrifices, that kinda thing. And by called on, I mean the lwa choose us. We don't do much conjure without pleasin' em, unfortunately."

His smile showed the gap in his teeth. "First, what killed you?"

[itstheend]

"So you... propitiate them, and they give you magic," Chara surmises. That sounds like an interesting arrangement, and one they file away for future reference. They'll need to talk to Frisk about it. "That follows. Nothing comes without a price."

They laugh a little at his question. "Going directly for the kill, I see!" They loll their skull backwards so the grin is visible. "Many things."

But that, while true, is a cop out answer, and he gave them a decent one to theirs. They start ticking off on their phalanges. "A high fall. Tears. A dead child. Bullets." They can't remember the exact amount or type for most of the monsters that killed them, but some have stuck in the memory. "Spears. Bones. Gravity. Lasers. The Castle."

Although they're unsure if turning into a monster counts as a death, it sure felt like it at the time.

"My turn. How do you grant dreams and wishes?"

A deliberately vague question, to cast a wide net.