"No kidding? The Carrie Silva?" Mary grinned and shook her hand. "And here I thought I'd seen everything! The honor is mine, truly." Her handshake was much like herself, firm and confident in its grip, lightly flirty in how she held on a moment or so longer than usual before slowly letting go and sliding away.
"Well, Spark Notes version of myself: born in Hong Kong, raised as a bougie until my parents were killed by vampire gangsters. Focused on schooling until I could apply for the HKPF, worked myself up the ladder to qualify for PTU, SDU, SCRT, wore an exosuit for years..."
She flicked her fingers dismissively, cutting herself off before she could get too self-aggrandizing. "It's all declassified and on the public record, two minutes on the Internet will dig up my entire life story if you're interested. Suffice to say, we're all pretty badass at this table!"
Her gaze flicked to Silva's neck. "So if Jenkins was the alpha and Drake is the beta, what does that make your little addon?" There'd be time for the local sitrep once they brought her tea.
---------------------------
Marius scoffed and relayed the messages to Preston. "Great! Rendezvous ten minutes!" was the curt reply as he set about doing a final check of the bird and its ammo. "Can't let morons get ahead!"
Everyone who's flying with us, we'll pick you up at the Hall in ten minutes. Make sure the front lawn is clear. the vampire texted to the group. Behind him, the chopper was spooling up in preparation for takeoff; he didn't have much time. He stared at the "Curator's" message, wondering what to say to all that.
Travers can look after himself, sir. As far as I know, he and his weren't invited to the upcoming dance, were they? Speak soon, maybe, gotta fly. -MV
With that final message sent off, he climbed into the bird and slipped a headset on. "Let's get going," he told Preston, who nodded curtly and throttled up, turning the stick to climb into the air and head for Holden Hall.
Chapter VII - Healing Pains
-
Karl the Mad
- Posts: 1260
- Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 4:27 am
- Location: Oregon
-
IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3709
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Carrie shrugged and shoved a bit of a sunny-side-up egg in her mouth. "Don't know. Theta, maybe? I wasn't worked on by the same guy as these two," she said, glancing back at Three, "and it isn't like they give us a printed manual. I know Jenkins is pure destruction, Aidan's more the Swiss Army Knife type, Vlastos is shaping up to be a decent builder for concrete materials - brick, concrete, stone, glassworks, that kinda stuff - and I'd say I integrate more of whatever this is into my skillset as a soldier. Short of it's I do what you do with an exosuit, or parts of it, without one. Speed, reactivity, threat response - all I know is it sort of feels like I've got a second lizard brain hooked up in there, senses threats for me."
Three gestured to suggest a measure of lack of direction. "It's still really new for the rest of us, too. Plus, she's Soulborn, like Anjali. That makes her more resilient than me from the onset, even without the implant.
- Gabriel ran me through the best baselines they had multiple times, but I was a well-kept secret for a long while, in case my captors or some subsects from Heaven tried something. He couldn't prod Aidan or Jenkins or Marius, have one of 'em sent topside to workshop me. They did what they could without a point of comparison."
Three pursed his lips and added a nod. "Those other subsects probably being Uriel's and Amenadiel's."
Silva sent the traceuse and soldier a worried look of assent. "There's going to be Hell to pay once Uriel finds out I'm here. He won't go all stick, it's not his style; but I'm a sociopolitical transplanar nightmare for him. I'm thinking court hearing after court hearing, 24/7 Vienna Council entreaties until even Holden's uncle is worn down - angels aren't just superhuman on the battlefield. He won't stop until Rhadamantus or Akaios are forced to speak me out. It won't bode well for the other Soulborn, too."
The soldier sighed. "You'd become a precedent. Not a casualty, but a World First. As for Amenadiel... Guy's gone. We think he had some sort of deal with the Squids from the start. We were thinking he might've wanted to petition Void Weavers to help with the war effort, thinking Chambers' cultists would have some sort of survival instinct. Tom's convinced this is it, but..."
He grimaced lightly at Mary. "It's not sticking for me. All the players involved are human - well, sort of. I mean they have the same urges, the same basic imperatives, like not dying. Even angels do, I've seen that much during the war. If survival instinct had been at play, we would've won against Chambers by default the moment the first incursions happened. Over time, his flunkies would've come to their senses. We both know that never happened. The motive has to be more insidious, but the base playbook for Celestials is pure sunny, bright-eyed deception. Everyone between the Thrones and your basic Cherubim have thoughts and motivations of their own, but the war's given them a golden opportunity to astroturf their image. Now all we see is what Allocer tried to have us swallow, back when Hope was hacked apart: they're nice and kindly and benevolent and there's supposedly not an ounce of malice in there."
He shook his head again. "It doesn't work. Not for me, at least. If angels are capable of sensing fear or of acting in self-preservation, then they're capable of acting to further their own interests. That's my thesis, all I'm missing is the case to prove it with."
A few seconds passed as he gave himself some time to drink. "Speaking of badass, how's things in Hong Kong? I was afraid the Sin Seven's structure might give the local Pride boys some bad ideas or that the Celestials would've tried to patronize you. You've got a lot going on logistically; protecting it all for almost a full year can't have been easy."
* * *
Within a few minutes, two gatherings had begun to form. The "London Express" party, as it were, consisted of Meris and Nereus, Eirean, Archie, Azazel and Bill Spector. They'd be riding Mayhew's carriage to London-Upon-Faerie, with a usually-unneeded but now-sensible stopover by Coastkeep, Chicago's own Faeside. A few minutes' rest was the stated plan, long enough to force any pursuers back into searching for them.
The second team, Bucky insisted on calling the "Drama Queens". Already Veiled as Nereus and standing beside an equally-Veiled Neasa, their goal was to serve as an on-foot diversionary party. They were to use Summer's borderlands as transit spaces and stay relatively close to Winter, in order to use Mab's treacherous domain to their advantage, if spotted. If they could give the impression of going down dramatically, they'd be able to divert some attention away from the main group. Both had been enchanted to give off the illusion of effective killing blows, with a minimum of acting ensuring they'd be able to either outfox their tormentors or effectively outgun them from behind.
The third group, which Lucky called "Air Chtulhu", only had a loose fog-based illusion of the Archmage and former Augur to carry, thanks to Ciaran and Meris' conjoined abilities. Instead, Preston and Marius wouldn't have to worry about acting as decoys for too long. If their pursuers split up and one of them started to fear for their lives, then the other two would eventually realize they were standing in front of fakes. The idea was that they'd register a London flight path and secretly book a reservation for close-range urban flight. With a little work, Marius, Preston and Gomez would make short work of any cultists who came on by.
Three gestured to suggest a measure of lack of direction. "It's still really new for the rest of us, too. Plus, she's Soulborn, like Anjali. That makes her more resilient than me from the onset, even without the implant.
- Gabriel ran me through the best baselines they had multiple times, but I was a well-kept secret for a long while, in case my captors or some subsects from Heaven tried something. He couldn't prod Aidan or Jenkins or Marius, have one of 'em sent topside to workshop me. They did what they could without a point of comparison."
Three pursed his lips and added a nod. "Those other subsects probably being Uriel's and Amenadiel's."
Silva sent the traceuse and soldier a worried look of assent. "There's going to be Hell to pay once Uriel finds out I'm here. He won't go all stick, it's not his style; but I'm a sociopolitical transplanar nightmare for him. I'm thinking court hearing after court hearing, 24/7 Vienna Council entreaties until even Holden's uncle is worn down - angels aren't just superhuman on the battlefield. He won't stop until Rhadamantus or Akaios are forced to speak me out. It won't bode well for the other Soulborn, too."
The soldier sighed. "You'd become a precedent. Not a casualty, but a World First. As for Amenadiel... Guy's gone. We think he had some sort of deal with the Squids from the start. We were thinking he might've wanted to petition Void Weavers to help with the war effort, thinking Chambers' cultists would have some sort of survival instinct. Tom's convinced this is it, but..."
He grimaced lightly at Mary. "It's not sticking for me. All the players involved are human - well, sort of. I mean they have the same urges, the same basic imperatives, like not dying. Even angels do, I've seen that much during the war. If survival instinct had been at play, we would've won against Chambers by default the moment the first incursions happened. Over time, his flunkies would've come to their senses. We both know that never happened. The motive has to be more insidious, but the base playbook for Celestials is pure sunny, bright-eyed deception. Everyone between the Thrones and your basic Cherubim have thoughts and motivations of their own, but the war's given them a golden opportunity to astroturf their image. Now all we see is what Allocer tried to have us swallow, back when Hope was hacked apart: they're nice and kindly and benevolent and there's supposedly not an ounce of malice in there."
He shook his head again. "It doesn't work. Not for me, at least. If angels are capable of sensing fear or of acting in self-preservation, then they're capable of acting to further their own interests. That's my thesis, all I'm missing is the case to prove it with."
A few seconds passed as he gave himself some time to drink. "Speaking of badass, how's things in Hong Kong? I was afraid the Sin Seven's structure might give the local Pride boys some bad ideas or that the Celestials would've tried to patronize you. You've got a lot going on logistically; protecting it all for almost a full year can't have been easy."
* * *
Within a few minutes, two gatherings had begun to form. The "London Express" party, as it were, consisted of Meris and Nereus, Eirean, Archie, Azazel and Bill Spector. They'd be riding Mayhew's carriage to London-Upon-Faerie, with a usually-unneeded but now-sensible stopover by Coastkeep, Chicago's own Faeside. A few minutes' rest was the stated plan, long enough to force any pursuers back into searching for them.
The second team, Bucky insisted on calling the "Drama Queens". Already Veiled as Nereus and standing beside an equally-Veiled Neasa, their goal was to serve as an on-foot diversionary party. They were to use Summer's borderlands as transit spaces and stay relatively close to Winter, in order to use Mab's treacherous domain to their advantage, if spotted. If they could give the impression of going down dramatically, they'd be able to divert some attention away from the main group. Both had been enchanted to give off the illusion of effective killing blows, with a minimum of acting ensuring they'd be able to either outfox their tormentors or effectively outgun them from behind.
The third group, which Lucky called "Air Chtulhu", only had a loose fog-based illusion of the Archmage and former Augur to carry, thanks to Ciaran and Meris' conjoined abilities. Instead, Preston and Marius wouldn't have to worry about acting as decoys for too long. If their pursuers split up and one of them started to fear for their lives, then the other two would eventually realize they were standing in front of fakes. The idea was that they'd register a London flight path and secretly book a reservation for close-range urban flight. With a little work, Marius, Preston and Gomez would make short work of any cultists who came on by.
-
TennyoCeres84
- Site Admin
- Posts: 2931
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Thankfully, the carriage Mayhew was pulling was able to accommodate the Robertsons and the Urakawas, along with everyone else. Aspasia hadn't been out this way in Faerie, but Miranda was raptly watching out one of the windows as the unknown territory passed by them, as this was essentially a new experience for the young Fauness.
"If things weren't so serious, I should've brought you out this way sooner, Mira," she lightly joked.
The girl scoffed, leaving her mother to chuckle and then looking to Eirean. "Assuming the Fae in Chicago aren't quite like their vampire counterparts, what's our pit stop like?"
As for the "Drama Queens", Neasa-as-Meris looked back to the automaton-as-Voidweaver, dramatically resting a hand on her chest. "Ready to depart on an epic sojourn across Faerie with nothing but our love and wits to keep us safe, my love?" she partially joked.
"If things weren't so serious, I should've brought you out this way sooner, Mira," she lightly joked.
The girl scoffed, leaving her mother to chuckle and then looking to Eirean. "Assuming the Fae in Chicago aren't quite like their vampire counterparts, what's our pit stop like?"
As for the "Drama Queens", Neasa-as-Meris looked back to the automaton-as-Voidweaver, dramatically resting a hand on her chest. "Ready to depart on an epic sojourn across Faerie with nothing but our love and wits to keep us safe, my love?" she partially joked.
-
Karl the Mad
- Posts: 1260
- Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 4:27 am
- Location: Oregon
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Preston looked a bit glum when he saw it was just Lucky waiting for them at the helipad, though he brought it in for a landing like he'd been taught. "Flown before?" he sighed, handing the iguana a headset. "Vlastos in back with weapons, Gomez up front with navigation."
"Cheer up, Hauser, you'll feel better after blowing some morons up," the vampire said, moving as ordered to make room for Gomez. "And so will I, come to think of it!"
--------------------------------
"Uriel was the same one who did Vlastos dirty, right?" Mary asked, shaking her head. "Extremism never ends well, no matter the intentions."
At Carrie's question, she perked up. "We weren't doing it alone, thank goodness. The Sons of the White Dragon pitched in, we had the remains of the local government behind us eventually, some Triads from the Mainland sent a few of their boys... even the old fangs woke up and lent a hand, and they never get up for anything less than the end of the world anymore. Even so it was a busy year, and I'm still not sure how we wound up in charge."
A particular memory made her laugh. "It made for a hell of an exhibition for our newer exosuit models, that was for sure; they let me kick so much ass I pretty much bullied a whole squad of Pride Knights into switching sides, it was great! And once we had brimstone to work with, that solved almost all of the old issues that had kept us from making any advances. You should see my latest personal suit, 200% improvement in all areas over the old models I had, and none of the addictive drawbacks!"
Obviously one could question whether the addiction really was completely eliminated, or whether her own tolerance for the tech had negated that particular issue. But it was safe to assume she had more test subjects than herself to refer to.
"And speaking of the government..." She brought her phone out and showed them a picture of a couple of fancy gold medals. "I already whined at Drake about this, but they gave me these and didn't give Auntie Song anything! And she fought just as hard as me in her own way! It was a nice gesture though."
"Cheer up, Hauser, you'll feel better after blowing some morons up," the vampire said, moving as ordered to make room for Gomez. "And so will I, come to think of it!"
--------------------------------
"Uriel was the same one who did Vlastos dirty, right?" Mary asked, shaking her head. "Extremism never ends well, no matter the intentions."
At Carrie's question, she perked up. "We weren't doing it alone, thank goodness. The Sons of the White Dragon pitched in, we had the remains of the local government behind us eventually, some Triads from the Mainland sent a few of their boys... even the old fangs woke up and lent a hand, and they never get up for anything less than the end of the world anymore. Even so it was a busy year, and I'm still not sure how we wound up in charge."
A particular memory made her laugh. "It made for a hell of an exhibition for our newer exosuit models, that was for sure; they let me kick so much ass I pretty much bullied a whole squad of Pride Knights into switching sides, it was great! And once we had brimstone to work with, that solved almost all of the old issues that had kept us from making any advances. You should see my latest personal suit, 200% improvement in all areas over the old models I had, and none of the addictive drawbacks!"
Obviously one could question whether the addiction really was completely eliminated, or whether her own tolerance for the tech had negated that particular issue. But it was safe to assume she had more test subjects than herself to refer to.
"And speaking of the government..." She brought her phone out and showed them a picture of a couple of fancy gold medals. "I already whined at Drake about this, but they gave me these and didn't give Auntie Song anything! And she fought just as hard as me in her own way! It was a nice gesture though."
-
IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3709
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Vargas spared the two men a grin as he put his headset on. "Books and covers, gentlemen," he said, once the comms system enabled him to speak over the plane's revving engines. "I'm not Jameson, not exactly in it for bragging rights, but - let's just say I should be enough."
Switching to Traffic Control, Vargas rapid-fired their fake London route and the usual platitudes kept for sorting bogeys from regulars. He flipped a few switches, effectively changing the copter's radio bandwidth, and left the locals in what would hopefully be a sufficiently long sequence of fruitless hailing attempts.
"It'll take them a while to figure out our refueling station near Cuba doesn't exist, so now all we have to do is make for open waters and hope our friends were fed the right intel. If the Squids get smart and pull on another thread - which they fuckin' won't, I've got a guy who could pull up a tear for us to fly through - would put us over north of Brighton. Bucky and his squeeze know they can slip through Frosthall to London, too."
* * *
The day was young, and while getting the Prince of Pride drunk at 9 AM would've been a bit of a hard sell, Rhadamantus had given Charles something to establish a bit of a rapport: intel on a difficult case Herbert still had to tackle as a lawyer, with his client being the Vienna Council...
The lizardlike judge greeted Jenkins with a fresh coffee cup from the bodega downstairs in Magnus Tower's lobby, and a file folder containing the above details. "A little hair of the dog," he said, smirking.
"I spent the night thinking about my little request," he said, slithering along, "and realized trust is paramount, here. Herbert trusts you as a colleague and an ally, mister Jenkins, but not yet as a friend. This needs to change, for him to effectively open up with alcohol."
He gestured at the file with his own cup. "You'll like this one, I think. Abbadon, Vice-Chevalier in the Order of the Fly under the Goat, imprisoned in Geneva four months ago. He served as the war effort's financier for Pride's own purposes, if and when Mammon's structure would collapse. Collapse it did and he had a few short weeks to serve as the Goat's new financial go-between, but you and your friends' efforts put a stop to it all. He turned, obviously afraid, and tried to escape punishment, unaware that his employer and enabler had been captured. Like a certain bailey keeper, he refused to adapt to the new normal. Untold billions, previously kept frozen in Pride's own coffers, began to circulate. It's all in there: plutonium warheads, transeuranics, and more.
There's fraudulent transactions carried with Hardy & Jameson under the guise of furnishing Estonia's Metahuman Response teams, tactical armatures for modern Clanks - what's in there would make our boy Nergal drool with envy, I'd say. A few boys from Vienna are on task to connect with Jameson in London, during the evening's dinner, to let her know that someone had the impudence to try and embroil her office in their schemes. Hardy & Jameson were already cleared, Monsieur d'Aubignier told me her project coordinators confirmed the team's lack of involvement with Tallinn - but a mundane court summons needs to be issued. Herbert can't be seen abusing his powers in the exercise of his professional functions as an attorney, and so he needs someone to go on a bit of flash globetrotting with him."
Wormsworth & Ephesian's doors opened moments before they reached them, the Prince of Pride walking out in his blazingly immaculate white suit and red-gold necktie. The demon stuck his hands high behind his back in a manner that he somehow managed to present as being cordial, and gave both men a short bow and a smile.
"Mister Jenkins; good morning!" he started, his tone light if still marked with a tiny bit of vim and vigor. "Today looks to be quite bracing for some of your friends, doesn't it? Well, fear not, Randolph and I have no desire to leave you behind. You see, there is a letter I need delivered, somewhere in the folder you were given, and both myself and INTERPOL are in a bit of a pickle..."
He walked past both men and headed for the bannister, holding a white Wormsworth & Ephesian coffee mug in one hand. He spent a few seconds looking down at the lobby, giving the goings-on a satisfied smile and slightly squinting as he looked back up to glance at the skyline. That done, he turned around and leaned his back against the railing.
"I could send a legion of imps after Abbadon right this instant, but I wouldn't be serving the Vienna Council's own court, nor its best interests. They would've issued that summons to a bailiff or a courier, as per common procedure, but Prosecution knows that Abbadon's turned his known path between Switzerland and Estonia into a gauntlet. Sending anyone else politicizes the entire process - whereas someone like you would both gain dividends while still flying under the radar. You're one of Hope's saviors, after all, so it stands to reason that someone could've cherry-picked you and Abraham for bigger and bolder things."
The demon parted its hands. "I still need to be seen as Prince, however - make my displeasure manifest. You see the way our problem is, then: I need to be in Estonia, but cannot act, once in Estonia. Once we set foot in Tallinn, I become a bat in an overpriced suit, armed with all the bits and bobs Shen Long taught me. My powers are out of the question - except maybe if you were in danger and needed a pair of wings to somehow avoid plummetting to your death, or a shot of Hellfire to punt hypothermia back a few paces. I need someone to wade through the thick of it physically and to voice my acute displeasure in this regard - as well as the fact that the idiot will have been served."
He took a slurp. "And I need him alive, obviously. I'd be the first to cheer you on if you caused him to respawn back in Hell with a well-placed bullet, but he's already cost me a hunting party."
This was new for Mantus, whose eyes widened. "Extinction?" he asked. Herbert tapped his mug with a few claws, pursed his lips and grimly nodded. "Twelve of the Goat's formerly best trackers, now formerly my own best. Their perceived kinsmen were notified, services were arranged. Angel Time willing, I've attended them all already, offered my condolences. I have many subordinates now attempting to goad me on for the sake of petty vengeance."
He sniffed and gave Jenkins a level gaze. "I would rather seek help at dispensing retribution. Payment will be whatever you see fit, Charles - but understand that whatever your price may be, this will be an immense favor done to my Court, and to my seat."
Wormsworth stepped forward and extended a hand. "Let this be the first time transacting with one of the Princes of Hell will have been done out of noble ends, my friend."
* * *
Doubts notwithstanding, neither soldiers looked the type to question the positive aspects of Mary's cited breakthrough. "That's great!" agreed Three. "I'm guessing you met with Lucky, right? Gomez Vargas, the bioware-chipped iguana?"
He smiled. "Imagine that: I spent all of my teenage years thinking he was just our local friendly bodega owner! He only fessed up to his past as a Federale just hours ago! Christ, I spent years misreading his physique, forgetting what species he is!"
Drake chuckled at himself. "Do you have any anthros in the Sin Seven? I've never seen any, the last couple times we met the rest of your friends. They probably get a lot of mileage out of idiots misreading their species' attributes."
Aidan's smile faded into a polite up-curl and a nod as the awaited tea was placed in front of them in little teacups and saucers, each of them offered their favorite or most-tolerated blend. The most-tolerated cup of Earl Grey looked to be Aidan's, who looked back to his mostly-empty glass of beer a tad wistfully.
Carrie seemed amused by that. "Kind of surprised you never picked up tea," she noted. "I would've at least thought you were the type for boba.
- I'm more into coffee or soft drinks," replied the soldier. "Tea's coffee if coffee were spineless."
Silva scoffed and rolled her eyes. "See what I had to work with, Jameson? That bundle of arrogance made it into Afghanistan!"
Three smirked in response, quickly glanced about, and then stealthily gave his former XO the middle finger. Silva's eyes widened, but her lasting grin and her reaching out with her fork to spear one of his last bits of chicken were obvious signs that she didn't take it personally.
* * *
As had been the case with George's prior involvement, the carriage's interior was pleasantly Non-Euclidean, although structured more like a cross between a carriage's double seats and a plane's twelve individual places across four rows. Discussion would've been difficult, if not for the created space's apparently excellent shock absorption.
Miranda's question made Eir turn thoughtful for a few seconds. "Hardier than Hope's Faeside locals, I'd say," she then summarized. "Their Winter population never was as difficult as Hope's, probably thanks to Mab's own demesne being so close. Lake Michigan is practically an inland sea, and it's effectively as big as the Black Sea, once in Faerie. Even out in the mortal plane, it's practically a gigantic swamp cooler, so you can imagine that their Faeside winter seasons are a little rough. It's made both clans cluster together and sort of refocus around their own moderate Lords. There's still some rivalry, but it's mostly folklore at this point - whom should marry whom, which clan should officiate over which Gates, which pub flies which flag..."
McHale smiled, showing teeth. "It's, um, Irish. Very, very Irish. The twenties and the way the vampires staked their claim in the local gangsters made Coasttown swear off urban development, so it's more a collection of villages along the lake's southern bank. The Gold Coast influences it a bit, though; we have a sizable Goblin population, too."
Archie nodded. "Pastoral and gentrified all at once. This does seem like an accurate summation, from my experience."
Eirean nodded. "Which is why we scheduled a short rest there. I've paid transfer fees with Sedgewick & Sons."
Nereus leaned in. "Who are they?
- Goblin bankers," supplied Silas, even if he'd pulled his hat over his eyes. "The monetary system would laugh them out of circulation in a year, but they don't deal in traditional fungibles. They move tithes and Oaths around, instead, and collect favors by the hundreds each day. They don't pay a cent for anything and are housed for free, but don't you tell one of the old guard that - Coasttown's packed with people who take their Oaths dead serious. As far as they're concerned, the Sedgewicks are above-board. It's also why they don't go our side much.
- No love for the tax man, I take it?" asked the former Augur, which earned him a winking eyelight and a sniff. "Coasttown's got a few Soveign Citizens in its numbers, people who never took to the Southerners' malarkey but who also thought the Union was being pushy with the local supernaturals. They dream of taking their little chunk of Faerie out of the US - not that it'd change much, anyway."
Azazel was a bit stuck, however. "But - why a bank? What does a bank have to do with our needing a changeover to lose anyone who might be sniffing our trail?
- I paid to rent a vault," replied the Summer Lady, "and that vault's going to take us to London."
The former Scapegoat blinked a few times. "I'm lost, right about now," he confessed. "What'd you pay for it?"
Eirean smiled, perhaps a tad ruefully. "Sedgewick II is a bit of a cad and a hopeless romantic, thinking I'll let him escalate his Oaths towards me to the point where I'll owe him a steamy evening or two. I've let him have his fantasies so far - bit by agonizingly small bit. After today, he'll be due something like, oh, half a minute spent holding my hand, or maybe a kiss on my signet finger..."
Spector had splayed himself sideways across his seat, and still somehow managed to come across as polite. "I'll be fair and state that Sedgewick Senior isn't quite a pig - he's at least known to wine-and-dine whoever it is that gets him churning. Sedgewick the Third, well..."
Eirean smirked. "Between the grandfather and grandson, there's four generations of societal progress - and generational neglect. The youngest Sedge feels a bit like an overeager puppy, even at his age. Like he's overcorrected after his grandfather and father's character flaws."
* * *
As expected, Bucky and Neasa had left for Evergloam's borderlands, near the Black Ridge, and had packed a map that would enable them to traverse the same distance others took to in a carriage, on foot. Compressing space through Faerie to such an extent required them to skirt Mab's domain, but it was a risk Bucky had seemed prepared to take.
For now, their Veils' opacity was set at its minimum, in order to conserve power and visual fidelity for later. A little work from Meris had seen the both of them gifted little "tuning stones", with little painted grooves evoking a dial on one side. Fiddling with it clockwise or counterclockwise increased or decreased the Veil's opacity and detail levels. For now, Nereus was a ghostly and low-poly superimposition clipping through the kitaiteki's chest, while he balanced his temple sword on his shoulder and kept his usual even-if-slightly-plodding pace.
With Evergloam stretching into view behind them, Shamus paused for a moment and looked back. "Hey, Nea?" he called out. "Isn't it kinda weird, in a sense? Our first solo outing, just us two, and we're s'posed to pass for another pair."
He turned back to follow after her. "I gotta say, this isn't what I'd expected," he noted, smirking. "With both our strengths, I thought we'd be out there juggling baddies like bowling pins!"
Switching to Traffic Control, Vargas rapid-fired their fake London route and the usual platitudes kept for sorting bogeys from regulars. He flipped a few switches, effectively changing the copter's radio bandwidth, and left the locals in what would hopefully be a sufficiently long sequence of fruitless hailing attempts.
"It'll take them a while to figure out our refueling station near Cuba doesn't exist, so now all we have to do is make for open waters and hope our friends were fed the right intel. If the Squids get smart and pull on another thread - which they fuckin' won't, I've got a guy who could pull up a tear for us to fly through - would put us over north of Brighton. Bucky and his squeeze know they can slip through Frosthall to London, too."
* * *
The day was young, and while getting the Prince of Pride drunk at 9 AM would've been a bit of a hard sell, Rhadamantus had given Charles something to establish a bit of a rapport: intel on a difficult case Herbert still had to tackle as a lawyer, with his client being the Vienna Council...
The lizardlike judge greeted Jenkins with a fresh coffee cup from the bodega downstairs in Magnus Tower's lobby, and a file folder containing the above details. "A little hair of the dog," he said, smirking.
"I spent the night thinking about my little request," he said, slithering along, "and realized trust is paramount, here. Herbert trusts you as a colleague and an ally, mister Jenkins, but not yet as a friend. This needs to change, for him to effectively open up with alcohol."
He gestured at the file with his own cup. "You'll like this one, I think. Abbadon, Vice-Chevalier in the Order of the Fly under the Goat, imprisoned in Geneva four months ago. He served as the war effort's financier for Pride's own purposes, if and when Mammon's structure would collapse. Collapse it did and he had a few short weeks to serve as the Goat's new financial go-between, but you and your friends' efforts put a stop to it all. He turned, obviously afraid, and tried to escape punishment, unaware that his employer and enabler had been captured. Like a certain bailey keeper, he refused to adapt to the new normal. Untold billions, previously kept frozen in Pride's own coffers, began to circulate. It's all in there: plutonium warheads, transeuranics, and more.
There's fraudulent transactions carried with Hardy & Jameson under the guise of furnishing Estonia's Metahuman Response teams, tactical armatures for modern Clanks - what's in there would make our boy Nergal drool with envy, I'd say. A few boys from Vienna are on task to connect with Jameson in London, during the evening's dinner, to let her know that someone had the impudence to try and embroil her office in their schemes. Hardy & Jameson were already cleared, Monsieur d'Aubignier told me her project coordinators confirmed the team's lack of involvement with Tallinn - but a mundane court summons needs to be issued. Herbert can't be seen abusing his powers in the exercise of his professional functions as an attorney, and so he needs someone to go on a bit of flash globetrotting with him."
Wormsworth & Ephesian's doors opened moments before they reached them, the Prince of Pride walking out in his blazingly immaculate white suit and red-gold necktie. The demon stuck his hands high behind his back in a manner that he somehow managed to present as being cordial, and gave both men a short bow and a smile.
"Mister Jenkins; good morning!" he started, his tone light if still marked with a tiny bit of vim and vigor. "Today looks to be quite bracing for some of your friends, doesn't it? Well, fear not, Randolph and I have no desire to leave you behind. You see, there is a letter I need delivered, somewhere in the folder you were given, and both myself and INTERPOL are in a bit of a pickle..."
He walked past both men and headed for the bannister, holding a white Wormsworth & Ephesian coffee mug in one hand. He spent a few seconds looking down at the lobby, giving the goings-on a satisfied smile and slightly squinting as he looked back up to glance at the skyline. That done, he turned around and leaned his back against the railing.
"I could send a legion of imps after Abbadon right this instant, but I wouldn't be serving the Vienna Council's own court, nor its best interests. They would've issued that summons to a bailiff or a courier, as per common procedure, but Prosecution knows that Abbadon's turned his known path between Switzerland and Estonia into a gauntlet. Sending anyone else politicizes the entire process - whereas someone like you would both gain dividends while still flying under the radar. You're one of Hope's saviors, after all, so it stands to reason that someone could've cherry-picked you and Abraham for bigger and bolder things."
The demon parted its hands. "I still need to be seen as Prince, however - make my displeasure manifest. You see the way our problem is, then: I need to be in Estonia, but cannot act, once in Estonia. Once we set foot in Tallinn, I become a bat in an overpriced suit, armed with all the bits and bobs Shen Long taught me. My powers are out of the question - except maybe if you were in danger and needed a pair of wings to somehow avoid plummetting to your death, or a shot of Hellfire to punt hypothermia back a few paces. I need someone to wade through the thick of it physically and to voice my acute displeasure in this regard - as well as the fact that the idiot will have been served."
He took a slurp. "And I need him alive, obviously. I'd be the first to cheer you on if you caused him to respawn back in Hell with a well-placed bullet, but he's already cost me a hunting party."
This was new for Mantus, whose eyes widened. "Extinction?" he asked. Herbert tapped his mug with a few claws, pursed his lips and grimly nodded. "Twelve of the Goat's formerly best trackers, now formerly my own best. Their perceived kinsmen were notified, services were arranged. Angel Time willing, I've attended them all already, offered my condolences. I have many subordinates now attempting to goad me on for the sake of petty vengeance."
He sniffed and gave Jenkins a level gaze. "I would rather seek help at dispensing retribution. Payment will be whatever you see fit, Charles - but understand that whatever your price may be, this will be an immense favor done to my Court, and to my seat."
Wormsworth stepped forward and extended a hand. "Let this be the first time transacting with one of the Princes of Hell will have been done out of noble ends, my friend."
* * *
Doubts notwithstanding, neither soldiers looked the type to question the positive aspects of Mary's cited breakthrough. "That's great!" agreed Three. "I'm guessing you met with Lucky, right? Gomez Vargas, the bioware-chipped iguana?"
He smiled. "Imagine that: I spent all of my teenage years thinking he was just our local friendly bodega owner! He only fessed up to his past as a Federale just hours ago! Christ, I spent years misreading his physique, forgetting what species he is!"
Drake chuckled at himself. "Do you have any anthros in the Sin Seven? I've never seen any, the last couple times we met the rest of your friends. They probably get a lot of mileage out of idiots misreading their species' attributes."
Aidan's smile faded into a polite up-curl and a nod as the awaited tea was placed in front of them in little teacups and saucers, each of them offered their favorite or most-tolerated blend. The most-tolerated cup of Earl Grey looked to be Aidan's, who looked back to his mostly-empty glass of beer a tad wistfully.
Carrie seemed amused by that. "Kind of surprised you never picked up tea," she noted. "I would've at least thought you were the type for boba.
- I'm more into coffee or soft drinks," replied the soldier. "Tea's coffee if coffee were spineless."
Silva scoffed and rolled her eyes. "See what I had to work with, Jameson? That bundle of arrogance made it into Afghanistan!"
Three smirked in response, quickly glanced about, and then stealthily gave his former XO the middle finger. Silva's eyes widened, but her lasting grin and her reaching out with her fork to spear one of his last bits of chicken were obvious signs that she didn't take it personally.
* * *
As had been the case with George's prior involvement, the carriage's interior was pleasantly Non-Euclidean, although structured more like a cross between a carriage's double seats and a plane's twelve individual places across four rows. Discussion would've been difficult, if not for the created space's apparently excellent shock absorption.
Miranda's question made Eir turn thoughtful for a few seconds. "Hardier than Hope's Faeside locals, I'd say," she then summarized. "Their Winter population never was as difficult as Hope's, probably thanks to Mab's own demesne being so close. Lake Michigan is practically an inland sea, and it's effectively as big as the Black Sea, once in Faerie. Even out in the mortal plane, it's practically a gigantic swamp cooler, so you can imagine that their Faeside winter seasons are a little rough. It's made both clans cluster together and sort of refocus around their own moderate Lords. There's still some rivalry, but it's mostly folklore at this point - whom should marry whom, which clan should officiate over which Gates, which pub flies which flag..."
McHale smiled, showing teeth. "It's, um, Irish. Very, very Irish. The twenties and the way the vampires staked their claim in the local gangsters made Coasttown swear off urban development, so it's more a collection of villages along the lake's southern bank. The Gold Coast influences it a bit, though; we have a sizable Goblin population, too."
Archie nodded. "Pastoral and gentrified all at once. This does seem like an accurate summation, from my experience."
Eirean nodded. "Which is why we scheduled a short rest there. I've paid transfer fees with Sedgewick & Sons."
Nereus leaned in. "Who are they?
- Goblin bankers," supplied Silas, even if he'd pulled his hat over his eyes. "The monetary system would laugh them out of circulation in a year, but they don't deal in traditional fungibles. They move tithes and Oaths around, instead, and collect favors by the hundreds each day. They don't pay a cent for anything and are housed for free, but don't you tell one of the old guard that - Coasttown's packed with people who take their Oaths dead serious. As far as they're concerned, the Sedgewicks are above-board. It's also why they don't go our side much.
- No love for the tax man, I take it?" asked the former Augur, which earned him a winking eyelight and a sniff. "Coasttown's got a few Soveign Citizens in its numbers, people who never took to the Southerners' malarkey but who also thought the Union was being pushy with the local supernaturals. They dream of taking their little chunk of Faerie out of the US - not that it'd change much, anyway."
Azazel was a bit stuck, however. "But - why a bank? What does a bank have to do with our needing a changeover to lose anyone who might be sniffing our trail?
- I paid to rent a vault," replied the Summer Lady, "and that vault's going to take us to London."
The former Scapegoat blinked a few times. "I'm lost, right about now," he confessed. "What'd you pay for it?"
Eirean smiled, perhaps a tad ruefully. "Sedgewick II is a bit of a cad and a hopeless romantic, thinking I'll let him escalate his Oaths towards me to the point where I'll owe him a steamy evening or two. I've let him have his fantasies so far - bit by agonizingly small bit. After today, he'll be due something like, oh, half a minute spent holding my hand, or maybe a kiss on my signet finger..."
Spector had splayed himself sideways across his seat, and still somehow managed to come across as polite. "I'll be fair and state that Sedgewick Senior isn't quite a pig - he's at least known to wine-and-dine whoever it is that gets him churning. Sedgewick the Third, well..."
Eirean smirked. "Between the grandfather and grandson, there's four generations of societal progress - and generational neglect. The youngest Sedge feels a bit like an overeager puppy, even at his age. Like he's overcorrected after his grandfather and father's character flaws."
* * *
As expected, Bucky and Neasa had left for Evergloam's borderlands, near the Black Ridge, and had packed a map that would enable them to traverse the same distance others took to in a carriage, on foot. Compressing space through Faerie to such an extent required them to skirt Mab's domain, but it was a risk Bucky had seemed prepared to take.
For now, their Veils' opacity was set at its minimum, in order to conserve power and visual fidelity for later. A little work from Meris had seen the both of them gifted little "tuning stones", with little painted grooves evoking a dial on one side. Fiddling with it clockwise or counterclockwise increased or decreased the Veil's opacity and detail levels. For now, Nereus was a ghostly and low-poly superimposition clipping through the kitaiteki's chest, while he balanced his temple sword on his shoulder and kept his usual even-if-slightly-plodding pace.
With Evergloam stretching into view behind them, Shamus paused for a moment and looked back. "Hey, Nea?" he called out. "Isn't it kinda weird, in a sense? Our first solo outing, just us two, and we're s'posed to pass for another pair."
He turned back to follow after her. "I gotta say, this isn't what I'd expected," he noted, smirking. "With both our strengths, I thought we'd be out there juggling baddies like bowling pins!"
-
TennyoCeres84
- Site Admin
- Posts: 2931
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
With everyone having departed for their respective missions, Holden Hall was much emptier than usual. As the newest occupant, Alastriona assumed that she would spend the time familiarizing herself with the rebuilt property.
She was glad that one of her guardians had stayed behind. It took the edge off of having the likes of Tom around, as she was still suspicious at his change. She mused the others knew about the difference, but they couldn't outwardly pursue any action against the warthog. Aislinn and Ciaran likely had their hands full with that and their other work.
She looked to Vernon. "Milord, would you like to see the rest of the manor? I haven't seen all of it yet, unless you had a different idea."
***
Aspasia chuckled at the Countess' description of the Sedgewick family. "Sounds like the awkwardness of a teenager or young adult," she responded.
"There's nothing wrong with that," Meris countered with a smirk. "Having that sort of demeanor can be refreshing, if the partner isn't that experienced. It can lead to each of them learning new things."
Miranda's expression froze a bit, not expecting the conversation to take a turn like this. She was inexperienced with dating, so she could only go by what she heard.
***
Similarly, the illusion of Meris was only a ghostly suggestion. Neasa caught up with him and smiled thoughtfully. "I do agree it's weird. I suppose we can consider it as a means of stretching our respective repertoires. Strength will be involved, but we also have to do acting and subterfuge."
"It's something new, but I think we'll get the hang of it to be believable to throw off the enemy. You could kind of consider it as an adventure-date!" she lightly teased.
She was glad that one of her guardians had stayed behind. It took the edge off of having the likes of Tom around, as she was still suspicious at his change. She mused the others knew about the difference, but they couldn't outwardly pursue any action against the warthog. Aislinn and Ciaran likely had their hands full with that and their other work.
She looked to Vernon. "Milord, would you like to see the rest of the manor? I haven't seen all of it yet, unless you had a different idea."
***
Aspasia chuckled at the Countess' description of the Sedgewick family. "Sounds like the awkwardness of a teenager or young adult," she responded.
"There's nothing wrong with that," Meris countered with a smirk. "Having that sort of demeanor can be refreshing, if the partner isn't that experienced. It can lead to each of them learning new things."
Miranda's expression froze a bit, not expecting the conversation to take a turn like this. She was inexperienced with dating, so she could only go by what she heard.
***
Similarly, the illusion of Meris was only a ghostly suggestion. Neasa caught up with him and smiled thoughtfully. "I do agree it's weird. I suppose we can consider it as a means of stretching our respective repertoires. Strength will be involved, but we also have to do acting and subterfuge."
"It's something new, but I think we'll get the hang of it to be believable to throw off the enemy. You could kind of consider it as an adventure-date!" she lightly teased.
-
Karl the Mad
- Posts: 1260
- Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 4:27 am
- Location: Oregon
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
"Tear?" Preston asked, though he was mostly concentrating on navigating the skies until they were at sea, swooping between buildings a few hundred feet above ground level.
"A portal of some kind to get us out of Dodge if things get too hairy, I'm guessing," Marius suggested, to which Preston merely scoffed and flew faster.
--------------------------------------
"I did indeed meet with Mr Vargas," Mary confirmed, nodding. "I was as surprised as you lot were, I'm sure, but he had needs and the money to pay for them, so we did a fine business indeed. He seemed eager enough to reactivate, at the time."
Three asked about anthros, but the tea arrived before she could formulate a response. Their antics made her chuckle, and she busied herself tasting the tea and customizing it to her taste. "These Brits think they're so good at tea," she muttered, rolling her eyes, "but they forget who had it first!"
Once it was done, she sipped again and sighed. "To answer your question, though, we do have anthros, in both the Sin Seven and in H&J. The main warehouse here in Hope has a lovely pair of elephant anthro brothers, in fact, quite proud of their physique and always eager to show off, and Auntie Song has a snake diviner in her personal entourage. There are others, of course."
---------------------------------------
Jenkins was happy enough to see Randolph and Herbert, even if it was a bit early in the day for him. He sipped his coffee gratefully and was appropriately shocked at the mention of the creeps trying to get Jameson involved. "She is not gonna like that, nae one bit!" he cackled, imagining the vengeance she might seek.
At the mention of extinct trackers, though, his glee abated somewhat. "So... if 'is guy c'n wipe out elite trackers 'n shit, wha' chance does I gots?" he asked cautiously.
"A portal of some kind to get us out of Dodge if things get too hairy, I'm guessing," Marius suggested, to which Preston merely scoffed and flew faster.
--------------------------------------
"I did indeed meet with Mr Vargas," Mary confirmed, nodding. "I was as surprised as you lot were, I'm sure, but he had needs and the money to pay for them, so we did a fine business indeed. He seemed eager enough to reactivate, at the time."
Three asked about anthros, but the tea arrived before she could formulate a response. Their antics made her chuckle, and she busied herself tasting the tea and customizing it to her taste. "These Brits think they're so good at tea," she muttered, rolling her eyes, "but they forget who had it first!"
Once it was done, she sipped again and sighed. "To answer your question, though, we do have anthros, in both the Sin Seven and in H&J. The main warehouse here in Hope has a lovely pair of elephant anthro brothers, in fact, quite proud of their physique and always eager to show off, and Auntie Song has a snake diviner in her personal entourage. There are others, of course."
---------------------------------------
Jenkins was happy enough to see Randolph and Herbert, even if it was a bit early in the day for him. He sipped his coffee gratefully and was appropriately shocked at the mention of the creeps trying to get Jameson involved. "She is not gonna like that, nae one bit!" he cackled, imagining the vengeance she might seek.
At the mention of extinct trackers, though, his glee abated somewhat. "So... if 'is guy c'n wipe out elite trackers 'n shit, wha' chance does I gots?" he asked cautiously.
-
IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3709
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Vernon had joined the group late in their morning preparations, ostensibly to send his lover off. Eirean and Vernon had parted with a kiss that was a mite too deep to be fitting of Fae aristocracy and exchanged mute love declarations as Mayhew’s lorry left, soon leaving the restored manor much emptier than it had previously been. Haskill’s way back had been slow, contented and slightly wistful, as he’d spent a few minutes tucking his chin into his scarf, warding off the cold snap he, as always, was the only one to feel. If he’d spent the war’s more active months in the thrall of Winter’s passionate embrace, the walking blizzard he’d been prior to leaving Earth for Paradise was gone, replaced with the kind of softness and tranquility to be expected of the first snows to come. As he came back in, he gave Alex a look that combined affection and a tinge of paternal admonition.
“Vernon, please, dear girl,” he told her, as he removed his overcoat and scarf and handed them to Gubbin, now freed of his own personal drop in barometric pressure. The Lord made as if to hand the Malk his gibus, but a draft of some sort caused him to retract his arm with an apologetic smile to the butler, and to replace it on his head. Alex would’ve had eighteen years in the Cradle to get used to the Winter Lord’s temperature-related foibles. He’d packed knee-length shorts and a more modern shirt along with some sandals at Eirean’s suggestion but had spent all of four hours wearing that summertime outfit. Chattering teeth hadn’t been worth the price of vaguely looking more in-synch with the Vanguard’s pocket climate. His head covering looked to be enough, with only a brief shudder leaving him. He seemed to find it to serve as some sort of bracing reflex action, a few foot stamps being all he needed to acclimate himself.
“No, actually – this should be lovely,” he opined. “I’ve been curious about our way back home from here, the renovations can’t have allowed both mansions to connect from the exact same fireplaces, I’d wager.”
He wasn’t in any hurry to suggest any direction, however, and settled with merely observing the lobby’s sparser decorations. It had been one of Archie’s demands, however, that the foyer had to have at least one classically Victorian feature, which was the long and narrow credenza that lined the wall, burdened with a carved clock, a number of old pocket books held in place by marble bookends, a leather-bound guestbook and a number of small picture frames resting on their kickstands. Some were obviously vintage, focusing on Archie and Bucky in various situations, and a few others had contemporary designs and topics: Archie’s last birthday in his Clank body, a finger pinching off a nonexistent tear as Aidan and Aislinn brought a large cake forward, decorated in gears carved out of fondant, Bucky trying to initiate Mary to the fundaments of playing a plectrum banjo, the both of them caught in what seemed to be a particularly involved part of the process, Mayor Doherty making one of his occasional visits – one frame for a very PR-approved group photo and another for a candid shot of Wallace giving Shamus the eye as both reached for the same small basket of breadrolls on a buffet table. There was one of Aidan working on the group’s first van, hands and tee-shirt stained with grease, while Aislinn was seen looking away from what had to be some ward-related detail work on the sliding doors, long enough to grin for the camera. Squint enough and you could spot the Dremel power tool she’d been using – or at least, part of its handle.
“So,” asked the male Fae, his tone quietly chipper, “any thoughts as to your new extended family?”
***
Eirean smiled. “It would be if Sedge III were a teen, but he’s as long-lived as goblins well and properly soaked in via tend to be. He’s pushing eighty, which would be about forty years old or so on your scale, judging by his fitness levels. He hasn’t really allowed himself a life outside of the bank, so he’s always been impressed by those of us who have a few other things going on. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he has a frustrated adventurer’s spirit with no excuse to go gallivanting.
- Until now,” noted Spector, his featureless mien creating creases that evoked a smirk. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Third coughed up an excuse to go diversify the bank’s portfolio, when all he really wants is see something other than your Fae rank-and-file types. He’s the most curious one about the outer world out of the three of them. Senior and Second have a hard time believing that drive-bys and Tommy guns aren’t in fashion in the Windy City, anymore.”
Nereus couldn’t quite repress a grin. “Well, that, I can relate to! There’s a heap of differences between surviving through the centuries of your own accord, like most of yourselves did, and living through History like I did,” he explained, adding a sigh that felt both energetic and a tiny bit melancholy. “I do wish Angel Time were accessible to the rest of us, sometimes,” he admitted, pausing to gently grasp Meris’ hand. “I’d go back and live through everything she’s gone through – right beside her. The way it was meant to be.”
Archie didn’t feel like leaving Nereus’ stab at tenderness entirely alone, his jaw and opticals suggesting his own wry expression. “I’m not sure you would’ve been entirely cut out for the piratical life, old boy – your wife’s lived a fair number of exciting chapters, as I’m sure you know.”
Nereus feigned offense, his amusement hard to hide from his eyes. “I’ll have you know I would’ve made a perfectly respectable Blackbeard! Add the right Flesh Mask, a few Speech-powered Veiling details and voilà, I could’ve terrorized the Seven Seas with me bonny lass at me side!”
The skeletal cowboy grinned. “Somehow, all I can see is you pulling a Zoidberg scream after burning one of your tentacles, then running around the deck in a panic until you spot the required open barrel of freshwater and just dunk your head in.”
Judging by Nereus’ response, he hadn’t laughed like this in a long, long while, as he tried to recover several times only to apparently latch back onto the idea of himself in a sash and some pantaloons, ululating out of sudden fear after posturing for their hypothetical crew’ benefit – which only brought him back to wheezing fits and to slapping his seat’s armrest. Twenty seconds later, he was reduced to miming his own reactions in-between fits, including the comically extended sigh of relief that would’ve followed the dunking.
Azazel, for once, looked at least a tad impish as he added. “The head of a crumbling cult of personality, everybody!”
That was another blow for Nereus – one which he took with all the grace of a man who perhaps had spent decades imagining his own roast. Too worked up to speak, he settled with nodding yes emphatically a few times and reclining his seat so he could clutch his belly with both hands and take some of the strain off of his abdominals, then starting with a single guffaw that devolved into rather happy-sounding strangled noises as he clenched his features together and likely thought of several other markers of general lameness he would’ve also liked to point fingers at.
Archie didn’t need another cue. “Why, yes – a man so fearsome his escape required two Archmages, a demon, a targeted biological weapon manufactured in Hell, weeks of prior preparation, doubtless years spent in isolation; and lots and lots of napping. For research purposes, of course.”
Nereus could only manage a wordless raspberry, his features trying to contain another urge to burst out laughing, even as he pointed at Archie to signify approval.
“Watch out,” he then said, raising his hands in front of himself in Neil DeGrasse-Tyson’s pose, “we’ve got a badass over here!”
* * *
Shamus’ hinged eyebrows comically creaked a few times, as the Clank let out an intentionally excessive grunt of appreciation. “Always thought we’d be gettin’ mushy over swinging weapons an’ fists,” he joked.
More comments were passed for a few minutes, the crisp weather at the very borderlands of Summer not impeding their progress immensely. Bucky was about to suggest that maybe the Squids or anyone else wouldn’t have taken the bait, when something odd caught his eye, a few ridges off into the taiga that stretched out to their right. He whistled sharply and then turned his tuning stone, Bringing Nereus’ appearance and voice to the forefront. For now, however, the Void Weaver still spoke with Bucky’s accent.
“Is that a shack of some sort, Ness?” he asked, pale eyes squinting as he raised a hand to shield them from the harsh glare of the overcast sky. “That wasn’t there in Percy’s last coupla scoutin’ reports…”
The object did indeed look like a shack, but it was a fair way away, past the last of Summer’s keeps that marked Evergloam’s territory. It wasn’t particularly well-hidden in the sparse tree line, and looked more like the sort of ramshackle arrangement of darkened planks you would’ve seen in Darkest Winter. They weren’t deep enough to be pulled into Mab’s realms, this really should’ve been a buffer zone between Summer and Winter as expressed by Titania and Oberon. Leafless trees and icy sleet might’ve looked gloomy, but it wasn’t unusual a sight when both Seasons collided – even at their most cordial. The shack proper, however, didn’t belong at all. It was too complex to be a lean-to or a bivouac spot, and too crude to fit the idea of a cared-for residence. It looked more like someone had patched up ruins and given up halfway through.
Besides, there were no ruins this far removed from Mab’s desmesne. Out here, you’d need some trustworthy hiking gear to survive the trek between Malk and Wyldfae settlements, but it wouldn’t have been more dangerous than going on an outdoors camping trip in late February.
The mechanical samurai’s blade now manifesting as Nereus’ rarely-mentioned if Darkhallow-sanctioned walking cane, it was carefully placed down, tip first against the soil. He needed a few seconds to adjust his grip to where it looked like Nereus was realistically grasping the cane.
“Can’t seal the deal if we’re out an audience,” he noted. “Wanna check it out?”
* * *
“Can’t be too careful!” replied Vargas, a bit of cheerful insouciance touching his weathered voice. “Besides, if Her Majesty the Queen decides we’re owed seats, we’ll need something Trans-Atlantic right quick, won’t we?”
A few minutes passed, the chopper faking its way towards Providence as expected. They’d flown past Buck Mansion that something very nearly made the iguana physically flinch out of his seat. A rarely-heard if honest-to-goodness werewolf howl sounded, Samoset’s old curse twisted by Tom’s counter-curse to push the call past the effective muffling range of the rotors and stators. Craning his head downwards, Gomez widened his eyes and was unable to repress a shocked Chingada madre: Eliphas Buck had climbed out of the mansion’s attic’s large sunwell and howled at them, one hand fixed on his newsboy cap to prevent it from flapping away in the high-altitude winds – and then pointed off to the distance with a clawed finger, further off to their right and towards the open sea.
It was faint, but it was there – just off Preston’s radar range. A shimmer in the air, something you’d normally see in conditions of extreme heat – a blob that vaguely looked like a trio of shuttles gunning for them. Down below, on the mansion’s rooftop, the werewolf clutched his cap in one hand and then raised both hands to his maw.
“BANK DOWN CLOSER!” he shouted. “USE OUR CURSE AGAINST THEM! KEEP THEM CLOSE TO HERE!”
Headsets willing, Gomez didn’t have to scream. “It’s risky,” he noted, “but it could work – using the Bucks’ bad juju against the Squids, I mean. It’s not a directed attack, it’s just Murphy’s Law gone psycho. They’d have no way of stopping it, but neither would we. If old Evvie’s in a good mood, we might fly outta this without a scratch – more if Zebediah’s finally put his money where his mouth is and worked on the space chick’s arcane upgrade…”
* * *
Mary’s comment about being “here in Hope” made Aidan smile, but it wasn’t a mistake worth underlining. Shuttle travel and Fae Gates had compressed the globe to an extreme level, it wasn’t unusual for people to work on one side of the planet and live in another, now. As far as Jameson was concerned, Hope was probably London’s back yard, so to speak.
“Great,” the soldier said, nodding as he forced himself to drink from his own mug. “Hopefully we’ll get to see more of them; the tabloids back home had some fun picturing H&J as a hairless ape fest after everything that happened, Leonard fired off a round of Cease and Desists before your own PR guys got involved.”
That said, he felt the need to refocus on what had driven him to arrange this. “Listen, I know you could’ve arrived here later and it probably would’ve been more convenient with jet lag and London and Faerie and everything – but I wanted to know if you had any intel regarding the new crop of vampires the shifts in some parts of China ended up awakening. I’d heard about miners running out of a tunnel in Guangdong, screaming about ghosts and demons. I’ve caught a few LiveLeak videos where a few people dressed in what Archie told me was Qin Dynasty formalwear staggered out of the mine and started asking people questions. They looked like they’d been cast in bronze or covered in molten bronze after being exposed – all oxidized and stuff, except metals aren’t involved. It’s fungal growth of some sort, something that took root after they were locked in torpor underground since 280 BC or thereabouts. There’s an obvious language barrier, so Beijing’s Vienna Council envoy was dispatched.”
Three seemed to assume Mary would’ve seen one or a few versions of the involved footage: a man in greenish skin displaying the stiff gait of the Scandinavian Draugr as he approached a group – up until the point where he pounced on the envoy and didn’t bite down on him. It looked instead as though the vampire had tried to initiate a forced liplock or some form of mouth-to-mouth, only to be forcefully pulled away by a few other vampires marked as Council employees. A few moments later, the dignitary was heard speaking English, albeit in a broken form. He’d introduced himself as Chancellor and Minister Li Si, and demanded introductions with other world powers.
“They received a heads-up from Forsythe,” supplied Carrie, “about Li Si wanting an audience with Titania and Oberon, and he suggested this weird Hopping Vampire subtype was packed with dangerously ambitious people. They’re looking to network with you and a few other people in tech and politics – and we’d received news from Chinatown, back in Hope. Their strain is spreading already, and d’Aubignier isn’t even sure they’re vampires in the sense we’d understand them. He’s not even sure Lilith sired these jiangshi.”
Three caught the ball. “We know Vienna is beholden to feed its clients under the Declaration of Human Rights’ amendment for the Vienna Accords, and Forsythe told us Li Si’s had two weeks to feed on practically everyone that visited his room. He never drained them, but something feels off. Housekeeping never found any traces of blood, Enlil and the staff never found any traces of violence, but a few cases come out of the ordeal with brain fog. They’re having trouble remembering things, in some cases. In the meantime, the old minister is scoring higher in aptitude tests at every passing day, and he went from speaking broken English to having no Qin-Era Mandarin accent left. He picked up modern Mandarin and Cantonese from scratch in two days. Forsythe caught on after a while and limited Li Si’s visiting staff to juniors – mostly younger supernaturals and vampires less than a decade undead.”
Carrie sipped at her tea. “I woulda taught him how to take a bullet to the head right out of that mine, but that’s just me being insensitive. Now it’s probably too late.”
***
“More than him,” supplied Herbert. “Abbadon is a sweet talker with a gun, so to speak. I never suggested he would’ve taken my trackers down on his lonesome, but he does have one noxiously effective gift from Pride: persuasion, at a supernatural level. Not so much mind control as the preternatural ability to make sense, if you will. Sort of a Bizarro Universe Black Speech. I suspect he made some trackers an offer they couldn’t refuse, then set them loose on the rest. He would’ve repeated the process on the survivors until he was left with one, perhaps two charmed minds.”
Wormsworth sighed and added a toss of his shoulders. “Past that, it would be easy enough for him to…”
He didn’t finish, instead pulling a finger-gun and mock-firing at Charles and Randolph, fainter cousins to a firecracker-based toy gun’s rounds going off as he did as faint reddish sparks left his fingertip.
Mantus nodded at the manila folder. “The firing angles are consistent – this was a bloodbath, not a single aristocrat of low rank pulling a Jeremy Wick.”
Herbert frowned. “Er, Jack Wick, rather?”
Neither men looked to be the type for action movies, anyway.
“Vernon, please, dear girl,” he told her, as he removed his overcoat and scarf and handed them to Gubbin, now freed of his own personal drop in barometric pressure. The Lord made as if to hand the Malk his gibus, but a draft of some sort caused him to retract his arm with an apologetic smile to the butler, and to replace it on his head. Alex would’ve had eighteen years in the Cradle to get used to the Winter Lord’s temperature-related foibles. He’d packed knee-length shorts and a more modern shirt along with some sandals at Eirean’s suggestion but had spent all of four hours wearing that summertime outfit. Chattering teeth hadn’t been worth the price of vaguely looking more in-synch with the Vanguard’s pocket climate. His head covering looked to be enough, with only a brief shudder leaving him. He seemed to find it to serve as some sort of bracing reflex action, a few foot stamps being all he needed to acclimate himself.
“No, actually – this should be lovely,” he opined. “I’ve been curious about our way back home from here, the renovations can’t have allowed both mansions to connect from the exact same fireplaces, I’d wager.”
He wasn’t in any hurry to suggest any direction, however, and settled with merely observing the lobby’s sparser decorations. It had been one of Archie’s demands, however, that the foyer had to have at least one classically Victorian feature, which was the long and narrow credenza that lined the wall, burdened with a carved clock, a number of old pocket books held in place by marble bookends, a leather-bound guestbook and a number of small picture frames resting on their kickstands. Some were obviously vintage, focusing on Archie and Bucky in various situations, and a few others had contemporary designs and topics: Archie’s last birthday in his Clank body, a finger pinching off a nonexistent tear as Aidan and Aislinn brought a large cake forward, decorated in gears carved out of fondant, Bucky trying to initiate Mary to the fundaments of playing a plectrum banjo, the both of them caught in what seemed to be a particularly involved part of the process, Mayor Doherty making one of his occasional visits – one frame for a very PR-approved group photo and another for a candid shot of Wallace giving Shamus the eye as both reached for the same small basket of breadrolls on a buffet table. There was one of Aidan working on the group’s first van, hands and tee-shirt stained with grease, while Aislinn was seen looking away from what had to be some ward-related detail work on the sliding doors, long enough to grin for the camera. Squint enough and you could spot the Dremel power tool she’d been using – or at least, part of its handle.
“So,” asked the male Fae, his tone quietly chipper, “any thoughts as to your new extended family?”
***
Eirean smiled. “It would be if Sedge III were a teen, but he’s as long-lived as goblins well and properly soaked in via tend to be. He’s pushing eighty, which would be about forty years old or so on your scale, judging by his fitness levels. He hasn’t really allowed himself a life outside of the bank, so he’s always been impressed by those of us who have a few other things going on. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he has a frustrated adventurer’s spirit with no excuse to go gallivanting.
- Until now,” noted Spector, his featureless mien creating creases that evoked a smirk. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Third coughed up an excuse to go diversify the bank’s portfolio, when all he really wants is see something other than your Fae rank-and-file types. He’s the most curious one about the outer world out of the three of them. Senior and Second have a hard time believing that drive-bys and Tommy guns aren’t in fashion in the Windy City, anymore.”
Nereus couldn’t quite repress a grin. “Well, that, I can relate to! There’s a heap of differences between surviving through the centuries of your own accord, like most of yourselves did, and living through History like I did,” he explained, adding a sigh that felt both energetic and a tiny bit melancholy. “I do wish Angel Time were accessible to the rest of us, sometimes,” he admitted, pausing to gently grasp Meris’ hand. “I’d go back and live through everything she’s gone through – right beside her. The way it was meant to be.”
Archie didn’t feel like leaving Nereus’ stab at tenderness entirely alone, his jaw and opticals suggesting his own wry expression. “I’m not sure you would’ve been entirely cut out for the piratical life, old boy – your wife’s lived a fair number of exciting chapters, as I’m sure you know.”
Nereus feigned offense, his amusement hard to hide from his eyes. “I’ll have you know I would’ve made a perfectly respectable Blackbeard! Add the right Flesh Mask, a few Speech-powered Veiling details and voilà, I could’ve terrorized the Seven Seas with me bonny lass at me side!”
The skeletal cowboy grinned. “Somehow, all I can see is you pulling a Zoidberg scream after burning one of your tentacles, then running around the deck in a panic until you spot the required open barrel of freshwater and just dunk your head in.”
Judging by Nereus’ response, he hadn’t laughed like this in a long, long while, as he tried to recover several times only to apparently latch back onto the idea of himself in a sash and some pantaloons, ululating out of sudden fear after posturing for their hypothetical crew’ benefit – which only brought him back to wheezing fits and to slapping his seat’s armrest. Twenty seconds later, he was reduced to miming his own reactions in-between fits, including the comically extended sigh of relief that would’ve followed the dunking.
Azazel, for once, looked at least a tad impish as he added. “The head of a crumbling cult of personality, everybody!”
That was another blow for Nereus – one which he took with all the grace of a man who perhaps had spent decades imagining his own roast. Too worked up to speak, he settled with nodding yes emphatically a few times and reclining his seat so he could clutch his belly with both hands and take some of the strain off of his abdominals, then starting with a single guffaw that devolved into rather happy-sounding strangled noises as he clenched his features together and likely thought of several other markers of general lameness he would’ve also liked to point fingers at.
Archie didn’t need another cue. “Why, yes – a man so fearsome his escape required two Archmages, a demon, a targeted biological weapon manufactured in Hell, weeks of prior preparation, doubtless years spent in isolation; and lots and lots of napping. For research purposes, of course.”
Nereus could only manage a wordless raspberry, his features trying to contain another urge to burst out laughing, even as he pointed at Archie to signify approval.
“Watch out,” he then said, raising his hands in front of himself in Neil DeGrasse-Tyson’s pose, “we’ve got a badass over here!”
* * *
Shamus’ hinged eyebrows comically creaked a few times, as the Clank let out an intentionally excessive grunt of appreciation. “Always thought we’d be gettin’ mushy over swinging weapons an’ fists,” he joked.
More comments were passed for a few minutes, the crisp weather at the very borderlands of Summer not impeding their progress immensely. Bucky was about to suggest that maybe the Squids or anyone else wouldn’t have taken the bait, when something odd caught his eye, a few ridges off into the taiga that stretched out to their right. He whistled sharply and then turned his tuning stone, Bringing Nereus’ appearance and voice to the forefront. For now, however, the Void Weaver still spoke with Bucky’s accent.
“Is that a shack of some sort, Ness?” he asked, pale eyes squinting as he raised a hand to shield them from the harsh glare of the overcast sky. “That wasn’t there in Percy’s last coupla scoutin’ reports…”
The object did indeed look like a shack, but it was a fair way away, past the last of Summer’s keeps that marked Evergloam’s territory. It wasn’t particularly well-hidden in the sparse tree line, and looked more like the sort of ramshackle arrangement of darkened planks you would’ve seen in Darkest Winter. They weren’t deep enough to be pulled into Mab’s realms, this really should’ve been a buffer zone between Summer and Winter as expressed by Titania and Oberon. Leafless trees and icy sleet might’ve looked gloomy, but it wasn’t unusual a sight when both Seasons collided – even at their most cordial. The shack proper, however, didn’t belong at all. It was too complex to be a lean-to or a bivouac spot, and too crude to fit the idea of a cared-for residence. It looked more like someone had patched up ruins and given up halfway through.
Besides, there were no ruins this far removed from Mab’s desmesne. Out here, you’d need some trustworthy hiking gear to survive the trek between Malk and Wyldfae settlements, but it wouldn’t have been more dangerous than going on an outdoors camping trip in late February.
The mechanical samurai’s blade now manifesting as Nereus’ rarely-mentioned if Darkhallow-sanctioned walking cane, it was carefully placed down, tip first against the soil. He needed a few seconds to adjust his grip to where it looked like Nereus was realistically grasping the cane.
“Can’t seal the deal if we’re out an audience,” he noted. “Wanna check it out?”
* * *
“Can’t be too careful!” replied Vargas, a bit of cheerful insouciance touching his weathered voice. “Besides, if Her Majesty the Queen decides we’re owed seats, we’ll need something Trans-Atlantic right quick, won’t we?”
A few minutes passed, the chopper faking its way towards Providence as expected. They’d flown past Buck Mansion that something very nearly made the iguana physically flinch out of his seat. A rarely-heard if honest-to-goodness werewolf howl sounded, Samoset’s old curse twisted by Tom’s counter-curse to push the call past the effective muffling range of the rotors and stators. Craning his head downwards, Gomez widened his eyes and was unable to repress a shocked Chingada madre: Eliphas Buck had climbed out of the mansion’s attic’s large sunwell and howled at them, one hand fixed on his newsboy cap to prevent it from flapping away in the high-altitude winds – and then pointed off to the distance with a clawed finger, further off to their right and towards the open sea.
It was faint, but it was there – just off Preston’s radar range. A shimmer in the air, something you’d normally see in conditions of extreme heat – a blob that vaguely looked like a trio of shuttles gunning for them. Down below, on the mansion’s rooftop, the werewolf clutched his cap in one hand and then raised both hands to his maw.
“BANK DOWN CLOSER!” he shouted. “USE OUR CURSE AGAINST THEM! KEEP THEM CLOSE TO HERE!”
Headsets willing, Gomez didn’t have to scream. “It’s risky,” he noted, “but it could work – using the Bucks’ bad juju against the Squids, I mean. It’s not a directed attack, it’s just Murphy’s Law gone psycho. They’d have no way of stopping it, but neither would we. If old Evvie’s in a good mood, we might fly outta this without a scratch – more if Zebediah’s finally put his money where his mouth is and worked on the space chick’s arcane upgrade…”
* * *
Mary’s comment about being “here in Hope” made Aidan smile, but it wasn’t a mistake worth underlining. Shuttle travel and Fae Gates had compressed the globe to an extreme level, it wasn’t unusual for people to work on one side of the planet and live in another, now. As far as Jameson was concerned, Hope was probably London’s back yard, so to speak.
“Great,” the soldier said, nodding as he forced himself to drink from his own mug. “Hopefully we’ll get to see more of them; the tabloids back home had some fun picturing H&J as a hairless ape fest after everything that happened, Leonard fired off a round of Cease and Desists before your own PR guys got involved.”
That said, he felt the need to refocus on what had driven him to arrange this. “Listen, I know you could’ve arrived here later and it probably would’ve been more convenient with jet lag and London and Faerie and everything – but I wanted to know if you had any intel regarding the new crop of vampires the shifts in some parts of China ended up awakening. I’d heard about miners running out of a tunnel in Guangdong, screaming about ghosts and demons. I’ve caught a few LiveLeak videos where a few people dressed in what Archie told me was Qin Dynasty formalwear staggered out of the mine and started asking people questions. They looked like they’d been cast in bronze or covered in molten bronze after being exposed – all oxidized and stuff, except metals aren’t involved. It’s fungal growth of some sort, something that took root after they were locked in torpor underground since 280 BC or thereabouts. There’s an obvious language barrier, so Beijing’s Vienna Council envoy was dispatched.”
Three seemed to assume Mary would’ve seen one or a few versions of the involved footage: a man in greenish skin displaying the stiff gait of the Scandinavian Draugr as he approached a group – up until the point where he pounced on the envoy and didn’t bite down on him. It looked instead as though the vampire had tried to initiate a forced liplock or some form of mouth-to-mouth, only to be forcefully pulled away by a few other vampires marked as Council employees. A few moments later, the dignitary was heard speaking English, albeit in a broken form. He’d introduced himself as Chancellor and Minister Li Si, and demanded introductions with other world powers.
“They received a heads-up from Forsythe,” supplied Carrie, “about Li Si wanting an audience with Titania and Oberon, and he suggested this weird Hopping Vampire subtype was packed with dangerously ambitious people. They’re looking to network with you and a few other people in tech and politics – and we’d received news from Chinatown, back in Hope. Their strain is spreading already, and d’Aubignier isn’t even sure they’re vampires in the sense we’d understand them. He’s not even sure Lilith sired these jiangshi.”
Three caught the ball. “We know Vienna is beholden to feed its clients under the Declaration of Human Rights’ amendment for the Vienna Accords, and Forsythe told us Li Si’s had two weeks to feed on practically everyone that visited his room. He never drained them, but something feels off. Housekeeping never found any traces of blood, Enlil and the staff never found any traces of violence, but a few cases come out of the ordeal with brain fog. They’re having trouble remembering things, in some cases. In the meantime, the old minister is scoring higher in aptitude tests at every passing day, and he went from speaking broken English to having no Qin-Era Mandarin accent left. He picked up modern Mandarin and Cantonese from scratch in two days. Forsythe caught on after a while and limited Li Si’s visiting staff to juniors – mostly younger supernaturals and vampires less than a decade undead.”
Carrie sipped at her tea. “I woulda taught him how to take a bullet to the head right out of that mine, but that’s just me being insensitive. Now it’s probably too late.”
***
“More than him,” supplied Herbert. “Abbadon is a sweet talker with a gun, so to speak. I never suggested he would’ve taken my trackers down on his lonesome, but he does have one noxiously effective gift from Pride: persuasion, at a supernatural level. Not so much mind control as the preternatural ability to make sense, if you will. Sort of a Bizarro Universe Black Speech. I suspect he made some trackers an offer they couldn’t refuse, then set them loose on the rest. He would’ve repeated the process on the survivors until he was left with one, perhaps two charmed minds.”
Wormsworth sighed and added a toss of his shoulders. “Past that, it would be easy enough for him to…”
He didn’t finish, instead pulling a finger-gun and mock-firing at Charles and Randolph, fainter cousins to a firecracker-based toy gun’s rounds going off as he did as faint reddish sparks left his fingertip.
Mantus nodded at the manila folder. “The firing angles are consistent – this was a bloodbath, not a single aristocrat of low rank pulling a Jeremy Wick.”
Herbert frowned. “Er, Jack Wick, rather?”
Neither men looked to be the type for action movies, anyway.
-
TennyoCeres84
- Site Admin
- Posts: 2931
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
The dryad smiled sheepishly at her guardian and nodded. "Sorry, Vernon. It's a habit I'm learning to only use when needed, which obviously isn't now," she replied
Alastriona looked at the arrangement of photos on the wall, peering closer at each of the scenes with fondness. "I think they're all very lovely. They care for each other, but they can also tease each other. These pictures show me how well they work as a team," she explained.
Among the pictures, she spotted one of Tom next to Aislinn and Ciaran, as Shield celebrated the twins' birthday. Her warm expression dampened a bit to see the happiness among them, her instincts pushing her to address her concerns.
Biting her lip, she glanced around the room to make sure the warlock wasn't nearby, her ears tilting slightly upward for any noise of his presence.
She approached the Winter Lord, hands clasped together. While Gubbin probably would've picked up her soft tones, she kept her voice to only barely audible, "I haven't been around him that much, but something feels..off about Mr. Magnus. His nature is different from the man Sophia considered worthy enough to grow a staff for. I realize war can change people, sometimes for the worse, but his magical scent seems...tainted."
***
With laughter's infectious nature, Meris couldn't help but join in on her love's unrestrained fits of laughter. "Aye, ye would've gotten the crew into shape just as much as me!" she exclaimed, cheerfully slapping a hand on his nearest shoulder.
Once he would've settled down some, she grinned. "I think you're in good company, dear. That badassery will rub off on you!" she encouraged.
Rather than teasing him, Miranda opted to act as an unofficial cheerleader. "That's right! All of this laughter will help turn you into a badass yourself! Laughter-based camraderie!" For effect, she pretended to shake two invisible pom-poms.
"Mira's got a point. Chambers seems all smug, but he's got a stick shoved up his ass!" Aspasia egged on.
Meris' smiled gained a bit of a mean edge. "He's certainly showed his ass when he's fleeing lightning!" she exclaimed, bursting out laughing from the memory. Obviously, she had been the only one to see it, so she presented it as a large, crystal ball shaped memory.
They'd be able to see a newly born and levitating Archmage, full of rage and power, blasting an assault upon a hapless Chambers as he skittered around on ship's deck, looking for a means of escape. One bolt grazed his backside as he leapt over the side of the ship.
***
Neasa gazed toward the haphazardly built building and frowned sharply. She pulled out a small pair of binoculars to get a closer look. "Yeah, that definitely doesn't belong here," she murmured, pocketing them.
She then turned her tuning stone, causing Meris's visage to appear over her own. The Archmage had loaned the young woman one of her headscarves that was tied around her hair underneath her winter jacket's hood. It could be used as a cloaking device to make their approach invisible.
"Yeah, we can check it out. It's possible it's a trap to lure us in so it might attack us. Throwing a rock might trigger something. We certainly don't need to fall into a bottomless pit or be absorbed into that shack's walls," she noted
Alastriona looked at the arrangement of photos on the wall, peering closer at each of the scenes with fondness. "I think they're all very lovely. They care for each other, but they can also tease each other. These pictures show me how well they work as a team," she explained.
Among the pictures, she spotted one of Tom next to Aislinn and Ciaran, as Shield celebrated the twins' birthday. Her warm expression dampened a bit to see the happiness among them, her instincts pushing her to address her concerns.
Biting her lip, she glanced around the room to make sure the warlock wasn't nearby, her ears tilting slightly upward for any noise of his presence.
She approached the Winter Lord, hands clasped together. While Gubbin probably would've picked up her soft tones, she kept her voice to only barely audible, "I haven't been around him that much, but something feels..off about Mr. Magnus. His nature is different from the man Sophia considered worthy enough to grow a staff for. I realize war can change people, sometimes for the worse, but his magical scent seems...tainted."
***
With laughter's infectious nature, Meris couldn't help but join in on her love's unrestrained fits of laughter. "Aye, ye would've gotten the crew into shape just as much as me!" she exclaimed, cheerfully slapping a hand on his nearest shoulder.
Once he would've settled down some, she grinned. "I think you're in good company, dear. That badassery will rub off on you!" she encouraged.
Rather than teasing him, Miranda opted to act as an unofficial cheerleader. "That's right! All of this laughter will help turn you into a badass yourself! Laughter-based camraderie!" For effect, she pretended to shake two invisible pom-poms.
"Mira's got a point. Chambers seems all smug, but he's got a stick shoved up his ass!" Aspasia egged on.
Meris' smiled gained a bit of a mean edge. "He's certainly showed his ass when he's fleeing lightning!" she exclaimed, bursting out laughing from the memory. Obviously, she had been the only one to see it, so she presented it as a large, crystal ball shaped memory.
They'd be able to see a newly born and levitating Archmage, full of rage and power, blasting an assault upon a hapless Chambers as he skittered around on ship's deck, looking for a means of escape. One bolt grazed his backside as he leapt over the side of the ship.
***
Neasa gazed toward the haphazardly built building and frowned sharply. She pulled out a small pair of binoculars to get a closer look. "Yeah, that definitely doesn't belong here," she murmured, pocketing them.
She then turned her tuning stone, causing Meris's visage to appear over her own. The Archmage had loaned the young woman one of her headscarves that was tied around her hair underneath her winter jacket's hood. It could be used as a cloaking device to make their approach invisible.
"Yeah, we can check it out. It's possible it's a trap to lure us in so it might attack us. Throwing a rock might trigger something. We certainly don't need to fall into a bottomless pit or be absorbed into that shack's walls," she noted
-
Karl the Mad
- Posts: 1260
- Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 4:27 am
- Location: Oregon
Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
It took a moment for Mary to catch onto what Three was smirking about, but when she did, she just rolled her eyes and chuckled at herself. Jet lag, her mortal nemesis!
But as they explained the new vampires, the mirth faded from her expression. "Jiangshi," she replied, half to herself. "Sounds like they drain memories and emotions instead of blood. I've heard of them, and I've had my people looking into ways to keep ourselves safe when this Li Si inevitably comes for an audience with us."
She sipped her tea and had a long sigh. "The problem is, whatever meeting we have will have to be choreographed, and very carefully. This sort of thing? Some new mystery strain of vampirism that nobody can explain properly? This is exactly what I was trained for during SCRT, and for all the progress I've made, you can't just shrug off your training like you'd shrug out of a coat. I've come too far to relapse now, not for something as high stakes and high profile as this."
------------------------------
"That's insane!" Preston snarled, "what if we lose the bird?!" Stress and shock made him eloquent, it seemed.
"You're a man of means now, Hauser, you can buy a new one!" Marius shot back. "Now bring us around already!"
"How did he pick on them before we did?" he grouched, even as he brought the chopper around to hover over Buck Mansion. "I wanted us to bring the morons down, not some old crone and her narcissism!"
"There's more of them than us, we need every chance we can get!"
-------------------------------
"And yer thinkin' this makin' sense a' his won't work s' well on me?" Charles asked. "Or that I coul' get in 'n serve 'is papers 'fore he coul' open 'is yap on me?"
As for that immense favor he'd been promised... he wondered if perhaps that would extend to ten minutes with the Crown of Pride, long enough for Wyndham to get a good look at it. He wondered if this had occurred to Randolph as well, since this was all his idea to begin with.
But he kept that to himself, and grinned outwardly. "Sounds like fun! When d' we start?"
But as they explained the new vampires, the mirth faded from her expression. "Jiangshi," she replied, half to herself. "Sounds like they drain memories and emotions instead of blood. I've heard of them, and I've had my people looking into ways to keep ourselves safe when this Li Si inevitably comes for an audience with us."
She sipped her tea and had a long sigh. "The problem is, whatever meeting we have will have to be choreographed, and very carefully. This sort of thing? Some new mystery strain of vampirism that nobody can explain properly? This is exactly what I was trained for during SCRT, and for all the progress I've made, you can't just shrug off your training like you'd shrug out of a coat. I've come too far to relapse now, not for something as high stakes and high profile as this."
------------------------------
"That's insane!" Preston snarled, "what if we lose the bird?!" Stress and shock made him eloquent, it seemed.
"You're a man of means now, Hauser, you can buy a new one!" Marius shot back. "Now bring us around already!"
"How did he pick on them before we did?" he grouched, even as he brought the chopper around to hover over Buck Mansion. "I wanted us to bring the morons down, not some old crone and her narcissism!"
"There's more of them than us, we need every chance we can get!"
-------------------------------
"And yer thinkin' this makin' sense a' his won't work s' well on me?" Charles asked. "Or that I coul' get in 'n serve 'is papers 'fore he coul' open 'is yap on me?"
As for that immense favor he'd been promised... he wondered if perhaps that would extend to ten minutes with the Crown of Pride, long enough for Wyndham to get a good look at it. He wondered if this had occurred to Randolph as well, since this was all his idea to begin with.
But he kept that to himself, and grinned outwardly. "Sounds like fun! When d' we start?"