Valentina_Abreu

@gordon_knott:

An old van trudged along the road, coughing and trembling a bit as it went as if it were sick with a cold, yet trudging along at a steady pace.

It was trustworthy little thing, except for when it wasn't.

Valentina kept one hand on the wheel while the other fiddled with the radio. A look at it reminded her of when she was a young girl.

A memory of when Mom took the radio from the Kombi and carried it in her purse for safekeeping. Hearing about how people would break the glass windows to steal it if she didn't do so. She remembered the lunch they had after that and the two of them laughing. A smile crept into her lips.

And then, a memory of the first time Mom passed out from taking too many pills that same day, trying to self-medicate the initial stages of psychosis. Her hands were so shaky she could barely call for an ambulance.

She turned off the radio.

Making her way into the city, Valentina sighed. This was Portland, where she grew up. She wished she was somewhere else. Preferably in the middle of nowhere. Maybe Montana. She liked the mountains there, but there was no work that far away from people.

She didn't like the city. There were too many dead and too many dying. Too many violent deaths, which made for resentful ghosts. Valentina passed by a car accident on her way. A man who was run over and the driver who ran over him. The dead spirit - his soul colored a deep shade of red from the pain - cried as he angrily grasped at the one who killed him, who could feel nothing more than a breeze against his skin. She drove past the two of them, finding a place to camp for the night.

She readied herself for sleep before hearing piercing, soundless shriek. Valentina covered her ears, but again the scream rang out still. She stood up, ill-tempered, and a look outside worked to further sour her mood. But, now, she was almost tearful rather than angry. Outside stood so souls who were badly pained. Her heart throbbed with a pang of pity, she could see the deep hurt each one carried.

"Just what the hell happened to you all?" She covered her mouth so as to not scream alongside them.

@gordon_knott:

Valentina’s eyes flashed as she saw a gust fly by; a certainly non-human aura. She stepped outside by his side as she gazed in the direction of the lake. “I saw it too. But it’s gone now...”

The young woman gently put her hand over Gordon’s, pulling it away from the gun. “I’m not sure you’ll be needing that, sheriff.” Her pretty face wore a comforting, albeit feigned, smile. “Let’s leave, Gordon. We really need to.” Once she was a few steps away, she turned and showed him the dog tags. “You’re not crazy. I believe you already, but now you’re gonna believe me also.”

Getting back into the van, the same rhythmic tapping returned. Looking back at the house with a tense expression every now and then, the two made their way back to town.

@mister_surreal: I’d do it with Samara.

@gordon_knott: @the_nomad:

“Not ‘think.’” Val tapped her steering wheel worriedly. “You ‘know.’ Don’t you?” She reached to open the door for him and put the box away beneath his feet. She gave a slight smile. “Hmm... and I’ll be the one escorting you.”

As they drove, her methodical tapping didn’t stop. Soon after, they stopped a few hundred meters away from the house. He was about to exit the car before she held onto his arm for him to wait a bit more. She grasped in her hand the picture of St. George that was in her glove box and silently muttered to herself for a while, a bit pale.

“Eu estou vestido com as roupas e as armas de Jorge, para que meus inimigos tenham mãos e não me toquem, para que meus inimigos tenham pés e não me alcancem, para que meus inimigos tenham olhos e não me vejam e nem mesmo pensamento eles possam ter para me fazerem mal...”

She cleared her throat and color returned to her face. “Take this.” Valentina handed him a rosary and kept the image for hersef in her pocket. She stepped outside with a heavy suitcase and took a few steps towards the house. Slow, hesitant steps. “This is it, right? Let’s get a move on while it’s day.”

@gordon_knott:

She was about to take off when a man ran in front of her van, forcing her to hit the brakes. Valentina lowered the window, about to ask him what he was doing in terms not too polite, before seeing his badge. She recognized it from her time up north.

“Oh, hi. You from Gotham as well, huh? You're pretty down south, aren'tcha?"

She heard him talk and the small smile she faked turned into a seemingly worried frown. “No, I don’t know any JJ. Sorry, but I can’t help ya.” Val looked straight forward, averting her eyes. “Sorry, but can I ask how he died?”

One of her ghosts spoke to her from the necklace she had inherited. Hey. Hey, Val. Y’should talk to him ‘bout it y’know. She answered back to him in her thoughts. I’ve got enough people thinking I’m crazy. But she knew he was right. She could, with his help, talk to a spirit who, most likely, had contact with the being.

She cleared her throat. “Look, I don’t want to be insensitive or anything, but... um... do you have anything to remember him by? Anything that belonged to JJ while he was alive?” She pulled a beautifully engraved wooden box from under her seat and placed it on her lap. “Trust me and I’ll let you talk to him.”

@gordon_knott:

The trusty trailer trudged along slowly but faithfully along the highway, dragged behind Val's Kombi, fitted with an astounding 12.7 torque and 80 horsepower. She looked down at the fuel gauge. By this point, the engine was running on fumes. "De novo não." She slapped the dashboard , trying to get the arrow to point slightly to the right. "Well, that'll fix it, won't it?" The disembodied southern voice rung out from the seat next to her. She gave him the finger and the ghost laughed. "Hey miss, hands on the wheel. Don't want to die a second time."

"Hey, 'Tom Sawyer'..." She exhaled, frustrated. "I'm bringing you along 'cause you know the road. I don't need your joking." The spirit apologized once he saw her angry look. "We're almost there, don't worry. It's maybe a mile down the road. And I told you my name's Dawson not-" He stopped himself, not wanting to be finally exorcised. "B-but I guess Sawyer's a fine name."

She rubbed her temples, finally in silence.

In a short while she found herself disturbing the residents of a small town with her loud brazilian funk, where she stopped to refuel. Despite their mutual dislike, she let the spirit roam freely instead of banishing him after their arrival. He was of the harmless kind, after all.

A much more frail spirit than the being she was tracking down at the moment. A weaker, more human kind compared to a much more frightening existence.

Valentina briefly shuddered, remembering past experiences. Well, part of the job... She then pulled out her notes and a pendulum from the trailer before locking it shut. Uttering a few incantations, the still pendulum began its movement, with the wide circle revealing that it was close. A simple tracking spell not at all comparable to the magicks of great witches and great spirits - such as the Witch of Endor, who contracted with the devil Lamashtu. Still, sufficient for a novice witch.

Performing the same ritual a few more times as she walked, she compared the radius of each as she triangulated the being's residence. She smiled at her success before returning to a more downtrodden expression, remembering what she was going to face. Back at the trailer, she stored away her things before returning to the driver's seat, intending to find the place before nightfall.

@vamperum: “Wait a minute, are you some kinda vampire?” She points to her teeth.

@vamperum: “Oh, hi.”

*popcorn leans over as her helping spirit offers some*

When she’s changing, she keeps a soul or two around to keep sneaky spirits from peaking. She attracts spirits passively and doesn’t want any of them getting an eyeful while she’s in the shower.