Work Text:
He draws his magic circles on parchment paper in sheets as long and wide as he can find. He covers the floor in them because he’s learned through practice that blood is a bitch to clean. Best to let it gather and dry without soaking into the paper, without making direct contact with his floors. A modern solution for easy clean-up no matter what (or who) ends up smearing or rolling in or sliding on the red, viscous liquid.
He comes armed with years of research, a mash of occultism, rituals and practices from all over the world. He hangs ofuda talismans around the room. He traces hieroglyphs of the Ancient Egyptian Ogdoad around the outside of the circle, Norse runes on the inside. He writes what he wants in the center in both Latin and Arabic. He lights black candles.
He keeps a red clay pot at his feet just in case he has to banish something evil.
He speaks with confidence and determination when he demands the return of those who have been taken from him.
He stands in the center of the circle with the knowledge of a hundred cultures. And a carefully honed, willful ignorance of every consequence he’s ever read.