Chapter VII - Healing Pains

[TennyoCeres84]

Meris nodded. "Sometimes romanticization can work to the person's benefit. If you gain more recognition while remaining mysterious, it's a bit of prowess buffer of sorts," she explained.

"How so?" Miranda asked, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

Meris smiled. "My life has inspired some folktales and songs, but it also gave me the reputation of not being taken lightly."

"In other words, Names to Run Away From Really Quickly!" joked Aspasia with a grin. "Meris of the Orcades, Dread Pirate Meris, among many, I'm sure."

The selkie chuckled. "Precisely."

***

"And with that understanding, there's a saying that applies to superheroes, especially those like Shield. There's no I in team. We're supposed to work together cohesively and orderly to get the job done," explained Aislinn. "If that's not done, we're aren't as efficient and also more vulnerable."

Ciaran nodded his agreement. "A foe could easily use such a weakness to strike a significant blow against us. There's also the potential for friction, leading to diminished camaraderie and friendship. That's a significant part of what Shield is."

Aislinn grimaced and sighed. "The fact that Tom's involved in what happened with the Goat is concerning. We don't know how exactly he's connected, but if he essentially took matters into his own hands without consulting us, that's a major problem. It means he's keeping secrets and he may not be as reliable and trustworthy as he once was."

Her frustrated and worried expression caused her brother to rest a hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure things out somehow. He's interfered with justice enough to affect everybody's sense of closure after the incursions. I just really don't like what this is all potentially pointing towards."

[Karl the Mad]

"I had noticed, yes." Marius had one ear on the conversations, like Aidan, but obviously he couldn't participate since he was driving. "Got a bit boring, to be honest. I was thinking of letting some of the nastier traps down, see who comes in. But knowing all this, now it might be a good idea to have some friends around while doing so."

In the other truck, Abraham did not look reassured at all. "An operative with your abilities, then," he summarized to Nereus, looking morose. "Wonderful. I would rather not deal with them alone, but I feel I may have to..."

Charles reached over and gave his man a pat on the shoulder. "Ye'll be fine, bro, we're witcha. Ain't gonna leave yer out t' dry, no way no how!" His eyes flicked across the freeway, and he shifted up to let the motor calm down. "Ey Ner, we gonna follow Vlastos on in, 'r we gots our own port?"

[IamLEAM1983]

Nereus looked like he was about to answer, then seemingly thought better of it, instead fixating his glance on Abraham's own device. Another speech bubble joined in on the conversation, Marinos having seemingly slipped into Zahavi and Drake's exchange.

I'm sorry for butting in - this is Nereus. I just wanted to check if you had a fix on Meris, Aidan.

In the truck, Vlastos would see the human look away with a vaguely amused look, before looking back down to reply. 

"We have a plan in motion, Nereus. I can tell you where Meris is, but you'll ruin our immediate efforts if you just take off after her."

Abraham would recognize Marinos' look - a mixture of almost childlike impatience and the gripping worry almost everyone could display for a loved one. I know, he replied, it's just that it's been so long, and we're so close... I just need to refocus, be the slightly clueless delivery man I'm supposed to be."

Drake was seen nodding as he replied. "Let's all just head to the tower - I need to check in on Horatio and spring the trap on Meris."

Thumbing away, Aidan penned a quick query towards the newest of the two local Ringleaders, the response being as glib and cryptic as you'd have expected from Grimley. What mattered most is that no leaks had occurred on their end of things, and that the Freaks' informal daisy-chain of Shadow-Walking brokers hadn't reported upstanding threats in any direction facing away from Hope. Nothing seemed poised to bother the next few days' events, and mortal curiosity wasn't likely to spoil their plans. Nothing, of course, except the Freaks' need to add a bit of their usual spice to things. As Grimley relayed his all-clear, Vlastos' CB radio squawked to life of its own accord, a tinny rendition of Arthur Holden's voice grating on through, as lugubrious, self-satisfied and theatrical as ever.

"All clear on the gambit's side, gentlemen - Callahan's shaking the tree across Rhode Island and New Jersey and a sparse coating of new vampire babies are coming out; but nothing close to Pride War levels, much less Castellammarese War levels. We're much too alert on the whole to give much confidence to a handful of licks with lead-spitters and a few days of undeath to their credit. How'd the trip go, on your end?"

Three unhooked the CB. "We're going to slip across the river in a few minutes. It's a mostly straight beeline to the tower from there. Went alright, unless you count the thralls, the attempted assault on Convoy B and a fry cook turning into a temporary vessel for some weird third party."

A cackle was heared. "Just another Tuesday, then - lovely. 
- How's therapy going?" then tried Drake.

The undead thespian was practically heard shrugging, a blown raspberry evoking the gesture. "Comme-ci, comme-ça, as they say. Noggin's got fresh Karthian staples holding its tatters in place, and the nice and helpful Vienna envoy says I'm supposed to see my sense of guilt as a sign of recovery. I just know I'm lucky a Guildmate never sired me, or else our buddy Rhadamantus would've smiled, banged his gavel and recommended I take the sun for my, oh, thirty involuntary homicides and sixty-seven non-consenting sirings... The court went in my favor, understanding people like me could be utterly genocidal if pushed out of our bounds, and as killing me or ending my bodily existence is a hassle on every level short of full-on cremation, it's been agreed that I'll be - how'd they call it - interdicted from my breed's baser urges, watched over by Doc Cerebro, and ordered to take on various forms of Community Service-related gigs for the next, oh, eighty years. Sixty percent of every paycheck goes to the ironically-named Arthur Holden Relief Fund."

A sardonic chuckle was thrown in. "If I wasn't a leech, I'd wonder how I'd be able to make ends meet. At least, I'm getting an appreciable taste of our buddy Marius' own support structure... Hello there, you crusty old buzzard," he said, having intuited that Marius had to be close by, somehow lacing the debatable insult with a bit of genuine affection.

Three smiled, briefly watched as they crossed the Hillard and rolled on into town. "Marius is right here, actually. Who's your therapist?
- Not so much a therapist as a counsellor," noted Holden, and I think I struck Vlastos' own golden goose, too. It's not every day you can say you're being pushed away from your own dark clouds by a first-generation sire... One rung higher, and I'd be crying on Mommy Dearest's couch."

That seemed to puzzle Drake, as he assumed a Freak would likely be matched with another one. "Francis Varney?"

An amused, if rather loud, scoff followed. "Jesus, no - thank Heavens for that. The Belfry Bat isn't in any condition to be helping anyone, kid. The last thing I want is to spill my neuroses to the man responsible for three generations of penny dreadfuls and pulp magazines! No, some good soul paired me with the grandaddy of Archie's jilted lover des beaux jours - Enlil."

That left Aidan blinking and giving Marius a surprised glance. "Small world, huh? He's also took over after the long-distance therapists who coaxed Marius off of Mars.
- Hmmhm," grunted Holden, "he's in Hope right now, too - or at least, he is for my meetings. Catches orbitals back to Vienna every once in a while.
- Y'want I pass you Marius?" finished Drake. The CB squawked. "Sure, why not? Let's play Rate my Plurimillennial Psychologist..."

* * *

Charles, Abraham and Nereus would push on ahead of Marius and Aidan, slipping away from Downtown and into the remnants of the resistance's little enclave. The barricades had been lifted for months, now, with only graffitti-covered remnants marking the edges of the old perimeter. All inscribed wards had been erased long ago, all gouged-in runes covered back in with fresh concrete or mortar, leaving new scars in a city that seemed destined to look pitted and creviced, pockmarked and paved over. Not knowing of what had transpired with Tom, Nereus looked quietly astonished by the amount of power Magnus Tower coolly exuded. As they came to a stop and he opened the passenger door, a hand was briefly outstretched, something like a reverent scoff escaping the old Augur, emotion making his tentacles quiver.

"I don't believe it," he said, his tone quiet, almost overflowing with respect, "I've spent centuries feeling these energies clash and our own Words acting like the monster the first two agree on fearing - and now..."

The doors to the tower's lobby opened, and where you would've expected a mall cop of some persuasion or a security guard to come forth, instead strode Herbert Wormsworth, Prince of Pride. His smile somehow combined the feel of inhuman levels of self-satisfaction pairing with a growing and already-established mortal sense of empathy. It made his normally imposing body language, with his hands placed behind his back, feel much more congenial than it otherwise would've been. The lawyer's gray office slacks were gone, replaced with white counterparts and shoes of a shade of black so radiant, so impeccably buffed, that the sky was reflected on them.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" asked Herbert rhetorically, who extended a hand. "The might of Hell, the guidance of Heaven, the will of the World's Breath and your people's rediscovered wisdom, all brought in perfect balance. The perfect seed for a city reborn, in times like ours."

Nereus blinked. "My people? That means you can-
- See through admittedly flimsy lies, yes," nodded Herbert, smirking in self-deprecation. "This is an admirably-conjured sheath of flesh, if I may, but your enthusiasm - and your expectant nature - are practically overflowing past its physical boundaries, mister Marinos. Your secret is safe with me, but you'd best start trying to fool the personnel and staff, before briefly deceiving your love."

Another few blinks. "And you're a demon.
- Apologies," replied the lawyer, "I must've forgotten to unscrew my horns and reel in my tail and wings," joked Herbert. "To make a long story short, I spent a long time as one of the Goat's paper-pushers, then had the misfortune of being assigned to the delivery of papers relevant to the Ephesian case, before the real incursions began. Our ragtag group got to me over time, and by the time Pride's crown touched my forehead, I knew the Virtue had to outpace the Vice. Now, well..."

He passed a look of approval between Jenkins and Nereus. "Let us say I excel in recognizing effort. Both what has been expended, and..."

A smirk was given to Abraham. "...what is to come, as well. But - let's get you gentlemen inside, hm? I wanted to get ahead of any Celestials in the security detail - they're a respectable bunch, but not terribly subtle, when it comes to smuggling operations that double as a prank between two lovers..."

* * *

At that moment, Meris' phone would chime, indicating a text message had gone through. Lifting it to her eyes, she'd see the following.

"Hey, M. - it's Aidan. Herb just took reception of some sort of package for you? Some old order you must've placed a few decades back, someone finally got around to cross-referencing address data, now that you're a nerd megastar. Got rerouted, shipped to the tower. Left Shanghai in the thirties, missed your address at the time, spent two generations waiting for processing, and now it's here. The Stone of Wu, looks like - pinged George, he found some old papers of yours. Looks legit. Wasn't Wu one of China's oldest sorcerors or something?"

A few tantalizing seconds passed...

"Anyway, USPS caught the ball, passed it on to private freight used to this kind of stuff. Herb tried to sign for it in your name, delivery guys are acting a little spooked, apparently. They're thinking he'll own their souls or something. It's you or bust - I hope you're not too busy at the moment..."

"Something tugging at one of your strands?" asked Abigail, as she finished working on Azazel's first mockup and measurements. Noting this, Spector grunted inquisitively. "With a business name involving Ariadne, I wondered when you'd bring up Fate as a concept, miss Weaver..."

The young Fae smirked as she helped Azazel out of the layers of fabric as safely as she could, owing to her own pins. "Check the old stories, Agent - most of us can't so much tell the future as we have some vague sense of the importance of things. It takes a Banshee to know things, and a Banfaith to carry the brunt of that kind of curse."

That, in turn, jogged Silas' memory. "I wonder if Titania's specialists are making any progress with Riona.
- I'd share that line of questioning if I knew her more closely," agreed Abigail. "Spending centuries in the Shadowlands near the Ground Zero of a city-spanning curse, and then ending up in Hell under the care of one of Pride's Bailey-Keepers can't have been a formative experience in the positive sense, let's say... It's hard to keep Banfaiths hooked in the present, but research into mindfulness hasn't just benefited mortals. Meditation going mainstream even in Faerie can only be constructive."

Spector nodded. "I suppose I get the same basic sense out of your own smartphone, as of the last few seconds," admitted Spector to Meris. "I'm simply not given to dress it up in my best Arthurian garb."

Coach's eyelights rolled in amusement. "Honey," he told Aspasia, "if your Fae half ever does awaken, please don't go around making weird prophetic statements concerning what we do or don't have on the menu for the diner, alright?"

* * *

Rhadamantus raised a hand. "Don't act or reason too harshly at present, there's still quite a few pieces missing. He could've worked to prevent whatever happened and have been sworn to silence by the prison's upper staff, or it could be the Goat has leverage on him, somehow, in a way that makes it difficult for him to speak openly.
- And we saw what happened when I probed the issue," noted Gremory. "He's got a critical weakness, one that wasn't there previously. While I might be one for trituration and occasional bouts of exquisite pain, butting heads with him on the issue won't accomplish much."

The older incubus slid a sobering glance between both roanes. "Let's assume we're out to help him first, hm? We'll throw stones if we get to it, but not before."

That, unfortunately, left the Judicator looking uncomfortable. "I would agree, but if Tom has in any way impeded my court and Accords-mandated procedures, I'll be forced to act."

Gremory shrugged. "So? Act all you want, but try starting as the Animate he helped bring into being, and not as the Heaven and Hell-sanctioned Judge that could throw him into the cell right next door to the Goat's."

Rhadamantus' posture changed at those words, a bit of steel leaving his spine and more of his own fear and concern marking his features. He found Aislinn's eyes and gripped her closest hand tightly for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I could've come to you sooner, but we all have so much to do and, well... I didn't want to disturb your peace."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aspasia canted her head in a dramatic fashion and smirked, mysteriously drooping her eyelids. "I cannot say for sure, my love. The unpredictable whims of the food market may decide how available steaks and ribs are, but fate may bless us with a bounty of grilled chicken instead."

In response, Miranda laughed and joked, "And I forsee the cost of corn tripling, as the demand for popcorn goes up!" She wiggled her fingers in a eerie fashion to give her father a hard time.

Meris chuckled as the two teased Coach and then looked at her phone, an expression of puzzlement marking her features. She mouthed, "Stone of Wu?" to herself and read over Three's messages.

She looked back at Abigail and the others. "Seems so. I need to go sign for a mysterious package. It sounds somewhat familiar, yet it doesn't. I'm just hoping it doesn't lead to another world-ending megalomaniac," she commented with a soft groan. "I've had enough of that for a while."

A quick text message to the young man read, I will be there soon, after I wrap up things at Rhapso & Ariadne.

The Heiress fished out a business card and laid it on the counter, smiling fondly at the True Fae. "Reach out to me, and I'll set you up with Nickar. I've been very impressed with your work and skill. I think collaborations between the two of you would make the fashion world take pause. It was lovely meeting you."

She said goodbye to the others and headed off to her apartment.

***

Rhadamantus and Gremory's reasoning caused Aislinn's irritated expression to soften. She sighed and commented, "You're right. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. It's just that we've been so open and honest with each other that not knowing how he's involved is jarring and uncomfortable," she explained.

Ciaran's frustrations also lost their edge, and he nodded to his sister. "I get it. I don't think Tom's been doing anything to intentionally harm us, but it is difficult realizing he's having to keep some sort of secret by himself, whatever it is."

The female roane squeezed the Judge's hand back. "I wish we could find out more, but if nothing else, we need to be there for Tom."

[Karl the Mad]

Marius could only chuckle as Arthur barged in on their excursion, and roll his eyes for Aidan's benefit as Arthur went on. When he was offered the radio, he shrugged and took the handset. "Vlastos here," he remarked, glad his truck had an automatic transmission so he could manage this. "This crusty old buzzard is doing okay. I woke up this morning and didn't feel like moping until sundown! I haven't had to speak to Enlil in a few weeks, though I'm still in touch with Cate every other day or so."

It was a relief to be able to keep the Noise at bay, and to know when he could lean into it productively. "And I doubt 'Mommy Dearest' would have time for a pair of fuckups like us. Ah... I'll give you back to the boy here for a few moments, chap, got some passengers to let out." The central pedway station was coming up, and as promised he pulled the truck around to the back, where various service and maintenance functions were carried out away from immediate view. It was presently deserted, save for a couple of workers unloading another truck at the far end, who were too engrossed in their work to notice another vehicle.

Vlastos parked, set the brakes and got out, heading to the back and opening the doors. "Here we are, folks." He held up a hand in case any of them needed it to get down. "The pedway's right around the front of this building, okay? As long as your RFID tags are still functional you shouldn't have any trouble boarding and reaching the rest of the city at your leisure. Though if you want my advice, I'd suggest reaching out to an attorney, depending on how long you've been missing." It would help when it came to reasserting one's existence, he knew.

--------------------------------

It was a challenge maneuvering a long-haul truck and a 53' reefer into position behind Magnus Tower, but Charles managed it anyway. It helped that he'd been making clandestine deliveries for a while now to establish cover, too, so he had lots of practice. He too climbed out when the truck was secure, smirking at Wormsworth as that one made his appearance. "M'lord," he replied, sketching a sarcastic bow.

"Yes, let us head in," Abraham agreed, still looking a bit spooked after his conversation with Nereus.

[IamLEAM1983]

Weaver thanked Meris and watched her leave for a few seconds, while Silas ruffled his daughter's hair. "Okay, you two culinary soothsayers," he teased back, "if you're so attuned to the customers' needs, then you won't mind if I get out of bed one hour later for a few weeks and let you both handle grocery pickups at the crack of dawn, then."

He winked at his wife. "That's one more hour for me to splay myself out in bed, while you get up at six-thirty and skip out on coffee and meditation for lack of time - all because you supposedly have the gift of food-related prophecy."

The lich then stretched himself and yawned for effect. "I might even take a few days off, if you're that proficient - let you handle the kitchen for a bit. I've got research to work on, anyway - and a few naps I never got to take..."

Anjali parted with a quiet laugh. "So even the Fae can stick a foot up their mouth, looks like."

Weaver amusedly nodded. "Oh, we absolutely can..."

Once Azazel was freed and the mockup carefully set aside, Abigail turned to the others.

"Now, then - I don't do bippity-boppety-boo like some Summer folk and you deserve better than Class-A glamours, but you've got public appearances to prep and what looks like a bit of a situation brewing, based on why Meris left..."

She pulled out a notepad and pen. "We'll go halfsies; I'm skilled enough to figure your measurements out on sight, all I need are some indications regarding style or personal preferences. I'll hack those measurements I took for Azazel and approximate something for Aspasia and Miranda, and I won't have too much trouble sticking to your sartorial guidelines, Agent Spector..."

Bill's facial flesh creased into a suggested smirk. "Black two-piece, single-breasted, interior pocket for a badge - with moderate concessions for the occasion. I'm sure Oberon would appreciate it if I wore one of your mother's overcoats, but I've never been one for ostentatious details.
- That's funny," she remarked, "I'd figured you'd want something with some teeth, to cool our cephalopod friends' tempers...
- Keep it subtle, then," he conceded. "I'm your friendly neighbourhood nightmare monster, not exactly a deployable Eldritch horror."

Nodding, Weaver then looked up to the others. "So?"

* * *

"And we will," agreed Mantus, "on both counts. I'm not as free as you are; I can't simply wave my office around and clinch interviews or interrogations - you're the ones with badges. If we're to elucidate what's happened, we need to take this beyond my simply scrubbing video footage and sneaking a peek at Tom's daily planner," he said, tapping his folder with a few fingertips."

The Fallen dragon's maw twisted in a bit of a moue. "As unreliable as it might be, now, we need the Black Goat's deposition, and we need to find out why a Karthian that was never contaminated with the Crimson Spirit neglected to so much as report anything - if anything did take place."

Gremory shrugged. "You're a circuit judge, Randy; you could've brought the Goat's case in for review and sealed yourself a warrant from the higher-ups," he said, frowning. "You've got your brother Akaios and, um... the Supreme Court, I think? You're not the only one who's disappointed the Goat's trial never went through."

Randolph shook his head. "Waving my supernatural authority in the face of the mortal plane's laws being besmirched - it feels wrong."

Gremory sniffed as he continued cleaning up glasses and putting order across the bar. "Shows how you never exactly were a willing Fiend, huh? Most of everyone I've ever worked or slept with never needed an excuse to go I'm Duke Whatever or I'm Marchioness Queen Bitch of the Dung Halls of Sloth, pass the salt or face my wrath, yadda yadda...

The way I see things, the mortal system's still shook up, and it'll have to learn that there's people on both sides of the moral spectrum who really don't mind unveiling a tiny little fraction of their true Selves if that gets them past mortal hangups on procedure."

A smirk was added. "Plus, nobody here has any obligation to trace their deeds back to you, Randy. Aislinn is an Archmage - that's power enough to give your average cop pause. All she needs is to head on over to Chimera Row, flash her badge, state her case and wait for results."

Something in this seemed to jog Rhadamantus' memory. "What about our Transgenic friend? You're of Lust, and he seems particularly lustful for power..."

Leaning back against the back counter, Gremory briefly looked away. "What, Rendell? Well, he's not dead, for starters, so he never passed through my realm, which means I or some of my cousins never got to root around in his noggin. He's lustful, alright - a perfect fit for me - but he hasn't reached the Blaze of Glory phase yet. He's spent the last several years pulling on a few strings, seeing what works, popping up briefly and even leaving you with one of his own agents..."

The Steward crossed his arms in front of his chest. "He's careful. If he isn't dumb, he's also noticed what we're afraid of - which is the idea of Tom unraveling. As to how ripe our boy is for contact..."

The reddish skeleton jerked his chin towards Aislinn. "That's your call, too, sweetheart. You're close enough to dull his senses - get him to think you've lowered your guard, and that everything's fine. Maybe even plot along with him for a while - but report back to us - and to your brother. He'll still be raw about our little line of questioning, though, so it might be best to take it slow."

* * *

A few rounds of thanks were exchanged, a few tokens of gratitude were offered to Marius and Aidan, and Drake finally watched as the last of the former thralls disappeared inside the Pedway entrance's open maw.

"You're good at this," he noted, offering Marius a smile. "Helpfulness, I mean. Your tone's improved. I bet Cate and Enlil's reports are glowing. You ever think about giving back, once things settle? A lot of therapists at Cate's level went through similar stuff as you over varying lengths of time, a good few of them were referrals to Council boards after following your current track. I hear they're always looking for other Ordo Dracul candidates, seeing as not everyone's up for cranked-up Carmilla empathy. Sometimes, people need a stern talking-to from someone like Forsythe Holden - or maybe someone like you. Could make a nice sideline, a few hours per week..."

In the meantime, Herbert made Abraham and Nereus hang about, as a young man with a reflective vest and too-blue eyes guided Charles with gestures, before signalling for him to stop. The decoy package was easy enough to set aside, the loading bay's appointed angel handing it to Nereus with a fitting clipboard, but Abe and Charles had also been paid to pick up a few other items, prior to meeting up with Marinos. Other crates were unloaded, Nereus recognizing them on sight. It didn't take much for him to begin fussing over their handling.

"So, what's marked for unboxing?" asked a seemingly oblivious anthro poodle with a rough cut who was part of the tower's team for the reception of merchandise - crowbar already in hand. Nereus hurried closer to the three crates.

"Whatever you do, don't touch this one!" he warned. "They're copies of books I'd feel safer if only the Rothchilds or the Gentlemen saw them - I couldn't just leave California without crippling Chambers tactically, and I know he's never memorized his homelies to Amaxi and Dar-Larath. His boons won't be reliable if his rites fail, and it's possible he won't even be able to keep creating Animates."

Looking a bit spooked, the unloader settled with putting a red X on the crate, using a felt-tip marker. "Storage?" he then asked, to which Nereus nodded. "Under lock and key, if possible - I'm sure some of the local turncoats are still too sensitive to certain expressions to be fully trusted with what's in there."

Herbert looked a bit perturbed. "You're saying a few simple words could... change someone's entire mindset?
- They're the cornerstones of the faith," the former Augur explained. "Raw persuasive force, bypassing all cognitive processes. They're the Black Speech in its most insidious form, in that they don't necessarily leave marks in the reader's psyche. Everything feels the same on the surface - but the ally who reads one of these books just - turns. A self-generative epiphany that justifies the worst of exactions."

Wormsworth shivered. "And the others?
- What little research material I could send out to the dead-drops Charles and Abraham stopped at before picking me up, a few neutral artifacts of little immediate danger... I had centuries to try and recover material related to the Architect, centuries to disperse it to be collected later... This, and a few personal tokens. Things from the last days before I lost Meris. Things I..."

He hesitated. "Things I consider cleansed by our time together. Blank white robes I snuck away from my embroiders before they could be desecrated in the Others' name, a few weird items of Squid domesticity..."

A self-deprecating chuckle left him. "Dalarath's version of Apicius' De re Coquinaria, recipes for our fish sauce and our oiled scallions, for all the red meat we poached or created for ourselves, sealed linen packets of moss spores so the surface world might taste moss wine...

I resent what my home has done to us and to the wider world - but it still is my home. You first flee and think I'll feel completely free once I manage to sleep with the stars above me, and then realize your fingers are still looking for shaped limestone, your eyes still searching for bioluminescence at night..."

He looked at the garage as if finding a chunk of the sunken city in its contours. "There's no echo here. In Dalarath, you learn to speak softly, lest your words carry themselves... The air feels dry even in the muggiest of your summers, and our skin crackles while you sweat buckets."

Herbert nodded, and rested a hand on Nereus' shoulder. "I find myself missing the Pit, sometimes. I know Abraham misses the comforts of Israel, as well. We still find ourselves going wherever it is our path takes us, making a home for ourselves wherever it is we land," he said, adding an encouraging smile.

"Ah, but don't fret, hm? You'll figure out what to do with Rhode Island cod and clams in short order. Quahogs à la Dalarath, perhaps?"

That seemed to relieve the former Augur, who looked away with a scoff - possibly to marshal a bit of rising sentimentality. "Maybe, yeah," he nodded, a timid chuckle turning into a more frank laugh. "Not that I think Rhode Island comes anywhere close to South Korea, in terms of seafood appreciation!"

[TennyoCeres84]

Both mother and daughter laughed at Coach's banter and offered their own barbs back at him. However, they quickly sobered when the time came for them to decide on their attire preferences for the Choosing.

Aspasia pursed her lips thoughtfully and considered the events while keeping her own tastes in mind. "I'm partial to blue for obvious reasons. So, a single button blazer with some matching trousers. You can add some embroidery that you think would fit my personality and the audience. In case there are any issues, I still want something easy to move in."

Miranda's ears drooped slightly as she struggled with what to request, some uncertainty marking her features. This was most likely the most formal event she had ever been to, so she knew the weight of it mattered. "I was thinking maybe a formal jumpsuit in some shade of green? I know I'm going to be one of the youngest people there, so I don't want to seem too young but not too old either. Some embroidery would be nice."

***

Aislinn sighed and rubbed the side of her neck, appearing mildly uncertain. "I can see if I can plot with him, if he's not too observant to my wanting to find out more info. I might be able to get a better look at his planner."

She circled back to the mention of Rendell. "The person who knows Rendell the best and lives in the tower is Aspasia. If anything, she'd say that he's plotting to turn the situation with Tom into something that makes him look well-meaning and trustworthy in our eyes. If possible, I might consider asking Issacs to glean anything from him, but he's one of my last options."

"The most I can do is have him in a more vulnerable mindset. That's when I can find out more."

Ciaran tilted his head. "Those are all good points, Ais, but also please be careful. I still want to give him the benefit of the doubt, that he's doing something for the benefit of our safety. However, if he isn't, you still need to be on your guard."

His twin scoffed at him. "No pressure, huh?"

***

Given the uncertain nature of the package, Meris dropped by her apartment to put on a bit more protective clothing and to grab a few tools to help her figure out if the Stone of Wu was actually a trap.

Even with her age, her memory was sharp. The chances of the artifact actually being real were dwindling. If George had dug up papers in her research, why didn't she recall writing them? Had he made a mistake? Did someone plant fake writings to throw them off? Something wasn't adding up, and it likely didn't bode well as the questions swirled in her mind.

She traded the sleeveless blouse and fancy jeans for a sturdier blue pair she had embroidered wards into some time ago. A simple linen tunic with warded stitching along the seams and hems was donned as well. She grabbed a pair of protective gloves and a pouch which she filled with a few small tools designed by George to check for dangerous substances that might escape detection or any inscribed incantations.

Once she felt prepared, she left and locked up her apartment, heading down to the underground parking garage.

[Karl the Mad]

Marius nodded thoughtfully, but didn't reply until they were back in the truck. "It doesn't come naturally, you know," he said, his voice lowered. "If I hadn't hidden myself away on Mars all that time, I suspect I'd still be the bastard I was back then. But it took that level of isolation to show me that I really do need People around, and not just for the amenities."

He backed out of the loading area and got onto the road again, heading for Magnus Tower. "As for me being a therapist... right now I think I'd lean too far into the Tough Love aspect of it, though I might try physical therapy first." He reached for the CB radio again. "Holden, you still there? Didn't mean to leave you hanging, chap. But you won't believe what the boy just said to me..."

At the Tower, Charles shrugged and ducked out of sight, figuring this was a moment for Nereus and Meris alone. Abraham hesitated, looking like he had something to say to Herbert, but he slid away too. As highly trained as the two men were, it was nigh impossible to tell they were there.

[IamLEAM1983]

"Okay," replied the tailer in assent, sotto voce, as pencil scratched paper. "Blue, jumpsuit, embroidery... And how about you, Anjali?"

The girl found herself in a position similar to Miranda's, but Crystal and Archie's influence made her a bit less concerned - at least, on the surface. She pouted her lips, shrugged and puffed out some air. "Dad's still a bit bothered whenever I show up for training with short-shorts and sneakers - why not leverage that with Faerie's pluricentennial crowd? If anything happens, a few strategic flashes of too much leg should come in handy."

Abigail looked like she knew what Anjali was referring to, in terms of easily scandalizing fossilized minds, and shook her head ruefully - a bit of a sadistic smile touching her lips. "Pencil dress, touches of Holden steel and brass... Do you think the Deputy Chief would mind if we incorporated your native culture and hers?"

The suggestion seemed to surprise the girl. "Native American by way of Desi formalwear on a Modern Cocktail setup... Could be interesting."

Taking that as approval, Weaver kept scratching on. Then came Coach. "And you, mister Robertson..."

The lich sniffed. "I can clean up on my own, but if I'm getting the five-star treatment, then I'll probably need more of an overcoat than a duster...
- Are you like most other liches, aesthetically? Your kind seem to love to glam it up before a show of arcane prowess..."

Silas' usually small eyelights grew in size at that comment, small blue flames rising out of the suspended orbs and the supernaturally-gathered shadows in his eye sockets growing darker. A vague, bluish haze began to envelop his hands, tiny cracks and faultlines along his skull's frame also glowing blue from within. "Like this, you mean?"

Abigail smirked, at that. "That usually comes with a monologue or a speech of some kind - seeing you treat it so casually is unusual.
- I don't do the whole Master of the Mystic Arts thingamajig," explained Silas. "I didn't want any of this - it got forced onto me."

That, however, Weaver hadn't expected. "And you never cracked; not even once.
- I never needed a Vienna-sanctioned shrink, if that's what you mean," explained Robertson. "I'm faillible, though, like everyone else. Eternal life gets kinda lonely, once everyone you know dies and everything that made up your life gets swept away by Progress. That's what nature and clear nights are for. You ride out, pick an open field and a few stones and rocks that look like they can take the punishment - and you vent."

He smiled at Aspasia. "S'gotten easier by miles, though. Immortality sort of undoes you, unhitches you from your post - and it can sort of feel like you're stuck on the back of a wild, bucking horse. Takes a while to calm it down - even longer to find another post. Somewhere - or someone else - to hitch onto."

Abigail nodded. "If the upper crust knew this, we'd have an even stronger relationship with the mortal plane. The problem is it's easy to forget you're immortal when everyone else around you racks up the centuries like you do decades."

* * *

Arthur's voice crackled back to life. "Betcha a gallon of HemoPlus it's something nice and supportive," he said, his tone making it difficult to parse if he was being serious or if playful sarcasm had played into his response."You have to be coming up to the tower soonish, by now - scouts saw Meris driving down to the parking's first level..."

Aidan couldn't repress his grin. "Aw, man - this is gonna be awesome. I wonder how long Nereus is going to keep the con going.
- Not long," snickered Arthur, "our man's practically Edmond Dantès fawning over Mercedes!"

Drake had to laugh at that. "I have a hard time imagining Nereus sticking to Robert Donat's composure.
- That makes two of us, replied Holden, his voice growing slightly distant for a second.

"Alana, dear - I'm taking bets on how Nereus is going to react to seeing Meris! The Drake boy pulled Donat, I'm thinking Brian Blessed - or maybe Raul Julia! Do you have any draft picks in mind?"

* * *

Long minutes passed, Nereus trying hard to look like just another trucker taking stock of a delivery, and Herbert helping along by studiously ignoring him - until Meris' car stopped just a few meters away. Terror and exhilaration rose in his chest, his heart almost leaping out of it and into his hands, joy rising up behind his tendrils and threatening to escape as a wordless cry - until a glance from the same man who'd been ignoring him cooled his spirits.

Just a quick little smirk from Herbert. Spoiling things would make for awkward conversation starters, years from now... It was enough to have him steel his posture and affect a look of professional boredom. He glanced down at his clipboard, briefly debating on the accent he should swing for - and selected a New Jersey drawl, with a pitch he'd never affected as either himself or Thanos - higher and more nasal than what was typically his voice.

"Yeah - you Meris?" he asked, using a one-handed grip to go from an under-arm carry to a slight forward gesture with the box. As far as the roane would be concerned, he'd look like just another noncommittal delivery man with too much poundage, too many miles on the counter and not enough decent rest. He added a sniff for extra blazé points, and a slight tipping-back of his cap.

"Bill says y'gotta open it with a witness. Some insurance company-related crap, seein' as this got lost in transit for so fuckin' long... I'd leave you to it, but I gotta report back with a screenshot, so..."

Herbert butted in, seemingly for added veracity. "Oh come on, now. Sir - trust me when I say there is very little on this Earth that could threaten this particular woman. I'll sign for it, if you don't-
- Sorry, Holmes. Union guidelines. I either follow the rules or I lose coverage, and my rig's due for inspection. It's her or I pack this back in and ship it back to, um... Newark, says here. Customs won't wanna touch this, so it'll get destroyed. It's a legalized Chinese import that predates the revised Accords, so the lady's opening up to serious processing fees-
- Which we'll cover if need be," replied Herbert. "Now kindly pass that clipboard along, please?"

None of them had revised this prior or even rehearsed either in the Real or in the Darkhallow, but Nereus opted to take a gamble. He narrowed his eyes.

"You're the lawyer demon, right? The Prince of Pride the news talks about? Guess my buddies were right - you do have something stuck up your ass!"

Herbert look like he didn't know whether to chuckle derisively, snort, or pull his head back with a look of shock. "I beg your pardon?!
- You heard me, Mac - I've got a procedure to follow, and I don't care if you're Mary, Queen of Scots; I'm not getting in bed with company and union reps 'cause some horn-sportin' hoity-toity one-percenter figured he could leverage his position! Taking delivery without the recipient's consent is illegal - ask your Judge friend."

Looking flummoxed, Wormsworth parted his hands. "Well, alright, then... I shield us and you open?" he offered.

The deliveryman groaned, rolled his eyes and pulled out his box cutter. He placed it on his clipboard and then handed it, its included pencil and the retracted blade, to the Archmage.

* * *

"None whatsoever," quipped Randolph. "I'll try and address the issue from the other end, see if there's extant threats he might've perceived that we're still shielded from. Or, well, to be precise; I'll keep researching."

Gremory leaned on the countertop. "Implying you have a few leads already...
- Nothing you couldn't glean from news broadcasts or having an in with the Vienna Council's PR branch," replied the former Judicator. "The incursions caused massive earthquakes across the Eurasian plateau, with previously buried chambers in Guandong, China, being uncovered in the countryside. The Jiangshi aren't new in their own respect, the strain's seemingly modernized much more quickly than the other vampire races; and the initial bloodlines were thought to be extinct. Now we know they were simply forced into torpor and entombed."

The Steward of Lust nodded. "Not all of 'em made it... I had the debatable pleasure of working with a few blood and lifeforce-stealing courtiers in the past. I don't know their endgame, but I know how they work. I assume Vienna's China chapter is on a strict no-feeding policy?"

Rhadamantus seemed to agree. "Not until each individual's been genetically cross-referenced. The bodies' garb echoes practically every dynasty known in Chinese history, and there's obvious signs of arcane conservation, in-line with held beliefs in Chinese magic. Therein lies a point of concern: mercury and its uses."

He looked to Aislinn and Ciaran. "Your parents did more than simply live on a houseboat - they fished on occasion, correct? I don't imagine I need to brief a selkie on the dangers of mercury poisoning..."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aspasia softly scoffed. "Maybe our presence will shake things up somewhat. Back when Coach and I were dating, the local tabloids ran some articles on our scandalous relationship for about a month or so before they moved onto their next rag," she noted. "With our odd pairing and the age differences, we were mildly famous for all of fifteen minutes."

Her mother's commentary caused Miranda to develop a ghost of a smile. "Since I doubt they saw those tabloids, is there anything we can do shake up the old codgers, too?"

The older Fauness chuckled. "I imagine us being there to witness the Choosing will be enough, but rattling the status quo is sometimes a good thing."

***

Alana drew out a long hum, practically being heard grinning sharkishly from her end of things. It seemed she was a betting woman and replied, "I'd be tempted to wager Raul Julia for myself, but I'll go with John Rhys-Davies. Meris was a swashbuckler in her past, so I could see him having that kindred spirit when it comes to reuniting with his beloved."

***

The Archmage's initial tone wasn't one of warmth and love, as he might've wished. His change in accent and appearance had definitely prevented her from immediately recognizing him. With a cool and professional air, she nodded and responded, "Yes, I'm Meris."

As she answered him, she sent him an appraising glance, as though sizing him up as a potential threat. Even with the blasé expression, she was wary of him. However, he'd also pick up on how routine this was for her.

She took the clipboard, pencil, boxcutter, and package with ease with both hands. Setting the blade and box down in front of her, the selkie made quick work of signing the form and handed it back to him.

Giving Herbert a quick nod to prepare a shielding spell, Meris knelt and released the blade on the box cutter. Even with something as simple as this, her gestures were practiced. It was likely she had received odd packages meant as traps previously, and she usually had to deal with them alone. The position of her shoulders and back carried a sense of duty and assertiveness that she had gained over the years since leaving Dalarath. It'd be a clue to the former Augur that his wife wasn't exactly the same as she had been when they had last seen each other.

The blade sliced through the tape on the top and sides. Cautiously, she opened the flaps and peered inside past any packing paper that would have been placed around the artifact.

***

The twins nodded. "They did do some fishing while we were growing up. They pointed out a small amount of mercury wasn't of much concern, but obviously how detrimental it can be in larger amounts," Ciaran explained.

Aislinn frowned thoughtfully and crossed her arms, glancing over at the incubus. "I can imagine all the side effects from those kinds of arcane rituals, but what were the ones you crossed like?" she asked Gremory.