Chapter IV - Earthly Delights

[Karl the Mad]

Jenkins shook his head again. "Thanks, but... it's gotta be Gabe. He's responsible fer th' way I am, an' I wanna make 'im see what 'e's done. Make 'im feel it."

From around back, a car horn honked.

[TennyoCeres84]

At Helena's comment, Nami couldn't help but suppress a giggle by biting her lower lip. With regard to Charles, she could only shrug."I suppose Gabriel might figure out something to accommodate you to help you through that."

Upon hearing the horn, Meris ventured toward the back entrance, as she expected it to be Mary.

[Karl the Mad]

But it wasn't Mary with a stack of Chinese, it was Preston and a rather stoned-looking Tiara Delgado, sitting on his bike. "'Sup, selkie queenie lady?" the fixer inquired, grinning. Tiara just stared and waved vaguely, then went back to spacing out.

Mary showed up moments later, driving an unmarked black van. "Meris! Good timing, go tell the guys to put their smutty magazines away, I've got a few extra hands here." The side doors slid open and two lackeys stepped out, each bearing the promised Stack of Chinese. And it really was fresh, if the smell was anything to go by!

[TennyoCeres84]

The archmage scoffed. "No smutty magazines, just a little TMI for one of my friends you're about to me, Mary," she responded, venturing back in. "Mary's here with the Chinese food, and it's being brought in by a couple of Mary's men, in case anybody was to duck out of sight for the moment. Tiara Delgado and Maurice are here, as well."

[IamLEAM1983]

Mary's carried bags wafted of things George hadn't smelled since the days of London's covered merchant alleys, which made him look down on his half-eaten pizza slice with some regret. Not that it mattered, he'd soon have less heavy material to dine on, if the scents were any indication. Anything involving light broth and vegetables would find a place in his plate - or bowl. Lucas seemed to share his overall sentiment, the pies momentarily looking less appetizing in comparison to stuff that wouldn't send his gastric or immune systems in a tizzy.

One of Mary's helping hands ended up propping the door open so more staff members could come in and out as needed; which allowed for a somewhat prim-looking anthro Setter Spaniel and what looked like Robert Louis Stevenson's take on a Finman in piratical garb to both slip in. From one surprise to another, George found himself being greeted by one Christopher Naber - Naberius to his colleagues - who both stood as a rising star in the city's antique and artifact-trading industry, as well as the Steward to Solomon's Heiress.

"Pardon my stubborn humility, but I expected the Court to display some amount of disgust or mistrust towards my kind," he admitted, "as focused on preserving one human ruler's power and memory as it seems to be.
- Solomon's story is Humanity's, my dear fellow," was Naber's smooth reply. "He represented the pinnacle of political leadership and stood as the first indicator of a chance of collaboration and mutual understanding between our people. It would be in poor taste of me to neglect to consider the struggles of those born of deities that fail to grasp the need for proper leadership. Believe me, mister Gammell, I am well aware that if you could have chosen to be born of any other deity other than Amaxi, you would have."

Still, their nurturing conversation was drowned beneath the rumble of Samigina's predictable roll-out of two rum barrels, and the Captain of the Damned singling out Helena and Bertram with his signature unhinged grin.

"Ahoy, me pelagic friends!" he happily shouted, completely ignoring the way Helena had bristled as he'd tossed his arms around her and Bertram's shoulders. She'd visibly repressed the urge to take the aquatic demon's arm in a lock. "Ach," the Fiend went on, "I haven't sailed with ye fellas in an age or two, I haven't - way back a'fore that whole mess with them godly whelps ye call yer makers!"

Bertram looked fairly embarrassed. "I mean, we know the basics; mister Gammell told us about the Architect.
- Aye, now that's a deity after me heart, he is! Picks up the New Guy, ties the apron 'round His waist and then it's off to Cosmic Entity Art Class - no charge. A'carse, yer other folks turned out t'be witless ingrates but, eh," he said, shrugging, wavering drunkenly between his new best buddies, "there's one or two in every family, isn't there? Ye tune 'em out, maybe take ta silent pity, an' sit back while they burn."

Helena's nose wrinkled. "I appreciate the TED talk on morality and on my kind's old acquaintances, but do you always make it a point to attend serious gatherings with a jamaica plantation's worth of sugar on your breath, mister...?
- Sam's me handle," he replied, "Cap'n Sam for me lads, Marquis Samigina for the sensitive tossers with summoning circles, out there. And yes, I always make it a point t'be drunk on official business. The last time I was sober, me dear, bronze swords were in fashion."

He slit-shaped and almost fish-like nose palpitated. "Now if ye don't mind, I smell me some Szechuan orange duck."

Without much preamble, he yelled at Mary in Cantonese, stringing along the kind of ruggedly affectionate insults and jeers you would've heard along Hong Kong's docks, a few centuries ago. "Ye bought a boat yet, Jameson, or are ya still some becalmed sea eel that's grown legs?" he then asked in English, grinning.

[TennyoCeres84]

While the smell of rum had irritated Helena, Meris was unphased by it. She offered the Void Weaver a smile. "While the scent of rum is a mainstay of his, Cap'n Sam is quite reliable and loyal. He was there when I was fighting the Chamberlain, and he gave me enough time to complete the Ascension ritual. Without him, I might not even been here, Helena. And this was before I was declared to be Solomon's Heiress."

"Indeed he is. Otherwise, I would not have given him the responsibility of overseeing maritime issues when he served under King Solomon," Matriel explained, then looking to the Steward. He offered him his hand. "Good evening, Naberius. It is good to see you and Marquis Samigina at this gathering."

[Karl the Mad]

Being unnoticed suited Preston just fine; so many people at once was overwhelming, and he was even more unsure of himself than usual given the high-as-a-kite police detective he had following him. What was she doing here, anyway? Hopefully she'd have stoner-sense enough just to stay out of the way, and he thanked his lucky stars she hadn't noticed him removing her badge and gun before coming inside. For the most part she seemed willing to follow along, as she gravitated immediately to the pizza platters and started in on some meat-lovers'. Charles saw her, and threw Preston an incredulous What the FUCK do you think you're DOING?! sort of look, but the fixer just shrugged helplessly.

For her part, Mary happily yelled right back at Captain Sam. "I've grown wings, Sammy!" she exclaimed happily. "But no, I went sailing a few days ago; needed a quick break from all this shit!"

[IamLEAM1983]

Sam reacted as though Mary had just told him she'd landed a coveted job or had been confirmed to be pregnant: he advanced on her, arms wide, a gleeful snarl of pure relish in the base of his throat, turning his "Me lass!" into something that transcended mere approval. As lanky as he was, he nonetheless administered a slightly superhuman bear hug, lifting the traceuse and CEO off the ground for a few seconds. Once that was done, he ruffled her hair, cackling all the while.

"We'll have ye in shrouds one day, miss Jameson! Mark me words, between Heaven's gleaming rooftops an' terraces all fit for yer parkour and me fleet, we'll have you choosin' the salty open air 'tween the planes, on the day o' yer passin'! Adventures unendin', with all the risks and rewards involved!"

His right hand gripped the lapel of his longcoat. "Not that I don't expect ye ta prefer cityscapes; it's just that Celestial Freerunning is, well - it's boring, is what it is. No possible injuries, no threat of death - not even so much as exhaustion in yer leg muscles. Just peak efficiency every time and all the time, 'cause God figures yez martals turn into bliss ninnies once ye pop yer cork. With me, though, there's always the risk o' fallin' in the Far Reaches' churnin' waves o' potentiality or starin' too hard at the Edge from yer post. All kinds of fun, I says!"

In the meantime, George stepped forward and approached Preston and Tiara, something of a smirk plastered on the corners of his long lips. "George Murray Gammell," he said, extending a hand. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, mister Hauser. Yours as well, miss Delgado."

His other hand came up, offering a water bottle. "Here we go, my dear," he told the cop, "the coming hours are going to involve some measure of fun, but also some seriousness pertaining to the city you are sworn to protect. A clear head would be beneficial."

Remarkably, he'd said this in what seemed like an utterly tolerant tone, as though Tiara having chosen to deaden the shock of the evening's events was entirely understandable. He then refocused on Preston. "Pardon me, dear boy," he said, "but I must say I am in awe of the network you managed to assemble despite your earlier incarceration. I believe we both have access to particular talents that could benefit one another's agendas. We should exchange a few names, at a later date. I know one or two Veiling artists you could appreciate and would be in need of a few decent software engineers, for one."

Helena, meanwhile, had watched Sam go with some measure of amusement and annoyance, and listened to Meris' presentation of the man intently. As self-reliant as she'd been forced to become, it was a bit odd to imagine someone else holding up the rear for someone like the Orcades' main Archmage.

"So," she deduced, "you were what, a pirate? Pre- or post-Anne Bonny?"

As for Naberius, he reacted to Matriel's greetings as though Thrones had always been civil to the Damned, however unorthodox they might've become. "Thank you, Matriel," he said, bowing slightly. "It's good to be here. Where many others would balk at the thought of standing in your wings' shadow or even recoil in horror, I share the Court and Meris' beliefs. It is a promising sign of things to come."

The dog smirked, one hand coming up to daintily adjust the glasses on his snout. "If the Hereafter is our workplace, then our floors were overdue for increased communication."

[TennyoCeres84]

The selkie nodded. "Yes, I was a pirate for a time, prior to Anne Bonny's birth. After I escaped Dalarath, I slowly gathered a fleet of my own by laying arcane traps for ships that passed through the area of what served as the Atlantic Slave Trade. We moored them at an old but large crannog, manned and made invisible by the descendants of some monastic selkies who had left their monasteries some time ago. Given the high demand for slaves, some of your former peers would seize the crew and the slaves inside and take them for their own, or simply make off with whatever goods were on the ship, if they hadn't infiltrated the surface dweller market place directly. During those decades, I was putting a serious dent in Dalarath's slave markets, which our dear Chamberlain wasn't too fond of," she explained with a snort. "1693 was when my good luck in the pirate business bottomed up, but it did open the door to becoming an archmage."

The Throne also nodded. "Very much so. I am intrigued by Tom Magnus' efforts into opening a club that would serve as neutral spot for demons, angels, and mortals. He has a composed mind in contrast to the majority of Asmodeus' scions and could very well succeed at his endeavor. We will require it when the planes start merging and conflicts arise."

[Karl the Mad]

Tiara just sort of gaped at George and his murderous mug, but then she giggled in a somewhat hysterical manner. "Ohhh wooow, that'sh a face not even a mother could love," she slurred, not bothering to hide her reaction. She took the water and stared at it blankly for a few moments. "Ummm, I 'unno if being sober is really quite a, a good idea fer me righ' now? I mean I been dealin' with a lotta serious shit, yaknow, and, and my ex here he can tell you but I really just wanna eat 'n smoke 'n, 'n... yeeaaah."

Preston rolled his eyes and looked properly mortified. "Sorry, Mister Gammell, she's been a wreck ever since Tom and I descended upon her one d-day." He consulted a small notepad, the gesture seeming habitual. "She's one of Marius Vlastos' long-term victims. Do, uh, do you know who he is?" He was used to having to explain the fellow to the people he met, of course, given the curse Vlastos labored under. He looked at Tiara and elbowed her in the side. "Just d-drink the shit, Tiara, okay? You're a mess." The pink-haired cop pouted, but uncapped the bottle and swigged some of the water down. "Anyway, I g-guess we could talk shop. But my friends wouldn't appreciate being name-dropped here, you know?"

Mary laughed too, after a brief freeze of outrage at her personal space being invaded. "I guess I can leap and climb about on masts and spars as easily as around cities, right?"