Survival Of The Fittest

Located on the eighth floor of a hotel just outside the capital of the United States, located down the hall adjacent to the spacious lobby and up eight floors, then down another hallway and around a corner, was an open door; and through that door was a room—a fairly decently sized hotel room with a decent view of a nearby highway and some houses nearby; and in that room, in a chair, sat a girl. Not more than two days before, that girl had sat fearfully in the back of a coach bus hurtling down the highway paranoid of being kidnapped, spirited away, somehow knocked unconscious like so many before her and dragged off the highway, shipped across the sea, and made to kill her friends in a waking nightmare. This fear had come to the girl in the form of a message from beyond the grave. A warning, it seemed, that the journey she would be embarking upon would be her last. A prognostication, an indicator that great tragedy was to befall her, seemed unshakable from her conscience.

And then nothing happened.

The ouija board was wrong. Wrong, or it was just Violet's own anxieties about the trip projected into the board in the first place. Yes, that was it. The ritual was incomplete, and the board had just taken her subconscious ideas and projected them into the false vessel. She was anxious about the trip because she had done a lot of reading. It was filling her stomach with butterflies and her feet with ice cubes, keeping her from getting a realistic take on things. Now, the ride into the city had come to pass, and they were here, and they had been for a few days. Now, it was Violet's time to do whatever she wanted, to send off her senior year with a great time and with some of the best memories that she would ever have. Now, it was time to let loose and have fun.

Now, it was time to hex the President.

[Violet Schmidt: Trip Start]

This was something she had wanted to do since she heard the trip would take place in DC. She had seen enough satellite images and maps of the streets surrounding the White House to know that it was in the center of what was basically already a summoning shape that she could just focus with enough stones and things. The hotel was located just close enough to it to be able to still affect change within it for what she wanted, and far away enough that she would need to set it up really intensely in advance. She'd need to identify key points around the White House and place crystals there that would help focus her energy, as well as possibly place some Talismans at different points. Meditation every night leading up to the event was necessary. It would have to take place at the last possible moment, so that the maximum energy could be built up.

So far, it was shaping up to be a resounding success, at least in the planning phase. Despite a few suspicious looks, she had managed to setup the first batch of crystals at roughly half of the locations, and that was just yesterday. Today, she'd take a breather, and tomorrow she'd plant the rest. On the fifth day she'd check them all visually to make sure they remained in place, and then she'd visit a local occult store and get some more supplies for the night of casting. She had packed a robe, but she'd also want some kind of stabilizing necklace with good stones like heliotrope and amethyst and what not to enhance what she already had on her. This would be the most powerful spell she had ever attempted to cast, and she was aware that, to any onlookers, she looked as though she was batshit nutso. It might just kill her! But it was worth it. If it was successful, Canon would fall seriously ill due to a barrage of negative psychic energy attacking him from basically all sides, and would be deemed unfit to be president or something, and then like, impeached, hopefully?

In truth, Violet had been one of Canon's early supporters. She had always leaned a little far to the "right" (though she was careful to recognize that the entire left/right split was just a means of keeping people divided), if a bit more on the libertarian side, because of her online connections. The hard line he was taking on Survival of the Fittest was really striking a chord with her. Gradually, though, as the race wore on and more of his views made themselves clear, Violet figured that he would be just as bad as anyone before him when it came to generally being a good person, i.e; he wouldn't be. And she was right. Politicians weren't to be trusted, and trading liberty for security was a big no-no as far as things that are stuff went. Gee! How sour that became.

And so she sat here resting up and charging her energy in her chair. She felt like she was living her best independent life. Not under the gaze of her parents, not under the threat of terrorism, but truly, truly living her honest to god life. The weather was nice outside, but she wanted the comfort of air conditioning as she rested, playing through Earthbound for the third time on her phone's emulator with her feet up on her bed. Occasionally, she glanced up at the door to the room, which she had left open in case anyone wanted to stop in. Her roommates were nice, and though she had politely declined an invitation to join Angie for a swim, she knew that the fact the offer was made to her meant that they liked her too. Angie specifically was neat, though Violet got the vibe that the witchy stuff was freaking her out a little. That was fine, she thought. Understandable.

She didn't know Layla all that well, but she was sure that she was nice. Maybe she'd get the chance to get to know her more sometime soon, over the vacation. Maybe she could help with the plan?

No, not even the other practitioners know, Violet thought dismissively, I sure don't want to put Layla off by getting her roped into it too.

[[Layla DeBerg: Start]]

Layla was glad elevators existed. She was already exhausted enough this week by steadily walking through the city and thus enjoyed not having to walk eight storeys but simply using the elevator. With her bag on her back, she walked through the corridor to enter into room 804 which was near the entrance. It looked like Violet was already there.

"Hey, Violet," she said before quickly dropping her bag near her bed. She then moved on to get on the bed and lying there, closing her eyes, enjoying the fact that her feet weren't carrying all her weight anymore.

"Hiya, Layla!"

Violet waved as her roommate plopped down onto the bed. It looked like she'd already had a long day going on tours and stuff. That was what most people were doing on a day like today, she surmised—not hiding in their rooms like this, recharging their batteries. Still, Violet thought it was important to pace herself as she went, and that applied even if she wasn't going to try and pull off the greatest hex the world had seen since Aleister Crowley sent the hounds into London back in the day.

What was harder was knowing whether or not Layla was in the mood to be bothered about her day. She had just lived it, after all; going back over it again might just wear her out a little.

Still, Violet was curious.

"See anything cool out there?"