Denver
POP.
That was the sound that came first. It was the end of the day and most people were going home, save for the regulars who were farting around the courthouse at the end of the day. People with late times on their trials and people who had nothing better to do than file their paperwork at the last possible moment or bang the legal clerk who also didn't have anything better to do on a Thursday at the courthouse. (Because why not- it's called networking, thank you very much.) Or sit in on cases because a voice told you to.
But there was the problem of that pop. The problem of that hard, harsh sound followed by the shattering of light bulbs and rattling of windows and a feeling that felt like something grabbing onto your lungs and squeezing too hard, like you're internal organs are a goddamned stress ball. Then? Release, sudden release when all the air came out. The walls shook.
"COME AND TAKE ME," from the next courtroom over, room 7b. Criminal cases could be fun, couldn't they?
Andrés
If asked whether inquests or being called as an expert witness in the afternoon was a bigger pain in the ass, Andrés would not be able to choose between the two. On the one hand, inquests were typically brief affairs but having to stop what he was doing to go to the courthouse and hope the family didn't want to ask him any questions led to an element of unpredictability he found unsavory.
Questioning, like the reason he was here today, tended to be more straightforward. But in this particular case, the defense called him in around two o'clock and kept him up there long enough for the jury to start nodding off and the prosecution wanted to use him as an opportunity to tear a hole in the defense's argument and ay, ay, ay. By the time the cross examinations were over the judge was calling a recess for the day and that is why he's still here this afternoon.
He was on his way back downstairs when that change in pressure - or whatever the hell it was - caused a rain of glass and a booming and a squeezing. As he rested a hand on the wall to steady himself, the damned thing shook.
Then that voice.
Now, Andrés sighs a beleaguered sigh and debates the merits of investigating versus just getting the hell out of there.
William
He didn't care about the case. Didn't care about the damned ghost or the fleeing mortals or any of this, all he really cared about at that juncture was getting smooth the fuck out of that court room and as far away as possible because William knew Damned Good And Well that this kind of display attracted the wrong sort of attention as soon as people knew what it was.
That pop could have been written off as a number of things. The shaking? Easily could have been a bomb and written off as some terrorist attack instead of what was actually happening and William? Darling creature, gave precisely zero fucks about any of these things and, instead, chose to be concerned with the fact that he didn't want to be in the room when the backlash hit from whatever it was that guy was doing.
"Jeezus fucking christ god damn it fucking ghosts I hate-" oh, look, passing Andrés- "go go go-"
Denver
POP.
The lights flickered. Bulbs shattered. Reality growled in displeasure, but was content to doll out enough rope to let one hang themselves with.
Andrés
[perc + aware: what in the actual fuck]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )
Denver
Resentful. AS though that resentment, that hatred could permeate even the fabric of someone's vital being. That was magick- more than that. This was the type of magick that had been done in advance, held together and prepared for months and ready to be unleashed on an unsuspecting world. There was nothing that could be done about it, no countering with careful manipulations and applications of rationale and scientific ingenuity.
But beyond that, the feeling in the air spoke of a man who could build a damned atom bomb if only to spite an ex-lover. Who would build something volatile and unstable, like a mixture superheated and left on a bunsen burner too damned long when you knew good and well it only needed to be set to a simmer. Volatile. With all the unpredictability that came with it.
This? Was a forced hard reboot of every consciousness within a radius that wasn't sufficiently warded. The tiny (somewhat literal) explosions, the electric feeling, the haywire lighting and glass breaking? That was a secondary effect that came when our practitioner threw a temper tantrum that not everyone was sufficiently impacted by their Work.
Andrés
A moral imperative is no good if the body gets itself killed because the mind has no sense of its own boundaries. And Andrés, for having an ember still glowing in that charred, fist-sized muscle most people call a heart, does not often subscribe to the concept of a moral imperative. Only when will not cause any further harm.
It helps that compared to last year, he has a sense of self-preservation. Passive suicidality is so 2016.
Once it registers that this is not a man-made calamity but the result of some Awakened son of a bitch getting obliterated by paradox, he has to prompt his legs to run. Not towards the problem, but away from.
Then here comes that boy Margot is so fond of. At least he thinks it is. All those tall blue-eyed white boys start to look the same after a while.
"I'M GOING I'M GOING."
And off they go.
William
There were a grand total of five places William knew how to get to when he went to the court house. One was a bathroom (too much glass), two court rooms (one of which was currently being obliterated by a dude mid backlash), a stairwell (other side of the building) and-
"HA!"
Janitor's closet.
he reached for the door knob and skid a little once he did. William had been actively attempting to be less of a complete idiot when it came to doing anything physical, but he still wasn't graceful by any means. Grabbing a doorknob while running opened the door, sure, but it also almost knocked him on his ass.
Andrés
"ARE YOU--"
The Etherite doesn't bother finishing his sentence, just grabs the doorknob while the Hermetic is recovering and puts a hand between his shoulder blades and shoves him into the closet. This isn't the spot he would have chosen to hide while waiting for ground zero to return to safe levels of paradox, but he's not going to bank on his ability to make it to the stairwell before the shockwave overtakes him.
Slamming the door shut behind him, Andrés throws down his briefcase, cracks it open, and removes a clunky PDA-looking device into which he immediately begins punching commands. Without turning on the light. The screen glows green, how much light could a guy want?
[forces/prime 2: FORCEFIELD TIME. base diff 6, -1 for practiced rote. everything else comes out in the wash.]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (1, 3, 6) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
William
He didn't even notice the shove, all that happened in William's mind is that one minute he's standing outside and the next minute the door is shut and he's standing inside. William reached for the door knob and had the good sense to actually lock the damned thing.
He's had experience with this particular closet and knows that, yes, you can lock it from the inside. It didn't do very much good because a sufficiently angry person (or HIT mark, or ghost, or sentient toaster) could probably kick it down after awhile.
"Right-"
Sufficiently angry ghost could knock that down. He didn't know what kind of spirits were there but he Did Not Want to Deal With That. So, he went along his merry way to find sidewalk chalk and was content to half talk to himself (Command the universe, thank you) and try and get things going
[Spirit 1: ward the FUCK OUT OF THIS CLOSET]
Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (7, 7, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
Andrés
Great. He's stuck in a closet with a crazy person. Margot sure knows how to pick them.
With a sigh that shouldn't be able to inhabit a person of his size, Andrés plops down on the floor cross-legged and ignores whatever the kid is doing with the chalk. He doesn't particularly want to experience another person's backlash. If he's going to do something that results in his getting kicked in the nuts so hard he's flossing with Reality's shoelaces for the rest of the week, he likes to at least plan a head a little.
[EXTENDING. -1 for dropped Quint this time.]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (6, 7, 8) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
Denver
(Aaaaaaand damage, -10 for distance, -5 for successes. Rolling up on bashing because also distance)
Dice: 15 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 9 ) [Doubling Tens]
William
[Oww, soak? +5]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 5 )
Andrés
[ o_o SOAK +5 bc of that sick forcefield rote]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 4 )
Denver
What does it feel like when reality is throwing a temper tantrum.
The closet shakes, because everything shakes. The news would callt his event a bomb exploding, as far as anyone knew. Reality was more forgiving for the unawakened, but for this? An example needed to be made. A message given to every living and aware source of will that this would not be accepted. That such grand scale flagrant disregard for the rules of society would be delt with immediately.
It's the first hit that makes it the worst. The first hit that sends cleaning products off the shelf and makesbrooms fall. The light bulb shatters, but luckily it hadn't been on so all it does is rain down glass.
Then? There was screaming. It had started as a sound that was human but morphed into something more, something glass-ridden and corrupted. There was a sound, and that sound came again but was no longer human. Could no longer be called human.
Reality had to set an example, and let the Avatar of this offender know that its ministrations would not be tolerated.
So, darlings, suffer.
Andrés
Although the forcefield manages to absorb a good half of the energy blasting through the concrete walls and the wooden door, Andrés is still knocked onto his ass - literally - by the shockwave that does manage to permeate their little shelter. He feels as if he took a soccer ball to the face, and though he's seeing stars, he's got a small amount of sense to anticipate that that isn't the last of the backlash. So he stays his ass where he landed and allows himself to feel a moment's gratitude that he didn't vomit. Yet.
William
William has, in recent memory, actually had his ass handed to him a couple times. Once was at a bar in New Mexico over something he couldn't actually remember at this particular juncture and another was from a Flambeau who didn't like to be told how incredibly, irrevocably wrong he was. What kept him moving at those moments was being able to keep quiet and take it. Before that it usually came over parties or when backed into a corner that he couldn't charm his way out of.
This? Was a first. There was no charming reality. It didn't give a fuck how clever your words may be. Reality hits hard, and it was enough to make the taller young man double over and cough like he was a freshman taking his first hit of weed. It was not a good cough by any means, and his hand went to his mouth quickly to try and keep the sound down.
He looked up once the hacking fit stopped.
"Are you Doctor Sepúlveda?"
Andrés
"Yep."
That could have been the end of it, but William has the honor of sharing space with someone who has already overexerted the muscle responsible for keeping him from saying something inappropriate into a microphone in front of fifty other people.
"Are you the one who wants to bang my student, or are you the one who keeps getting her into trouble?"
William
"Why not both?"
Andrés
Slow, concussed breathing as he absorbs this information.
"Thank you for reminding me to clean my shotgun."
He has about a dozen other ways to inflict pain and/or sterility upon the young man, but he doesn't need to show his cards right away.
William
"I've developed a full disclosure policy on stupidity, rest assured-" yep, there's coughing again. He took a look at his hand and made a face when he realized he was hacking up a bit of blood, "-Margot is a fully consenting and aware party in my stupidity."
He looks at the door. Can't really say he didn't make a dumb decision before, he's at a fucking courthouse where a guy is having a massive paradox backlash. He could have told that ghost to fuck off and continued eating cereal and ignoring it.
"She thinks you're cool."
Andrés
As the Hermetic whose name Andrés has not only forgotten but shown no interest in recollecting rambles on in an what appears to be an attempt at reassuring the older Awakened that Margot has consented to the past stupidity and knows what she's getting into, Andrés flicks his eyebrows and picks up his device again.
Tapping out instructions means he can't say something awful. It might be mean, but the split attention takes some of the sting off.
"That's great, kid."
[entropy/prime 1 & time 2: what are the odds there's going to be another shitshow rolling through?]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (1, 4, 10) ( success x 1 )
Andrés
[come on, buddy. +1 for extending.]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 9) ( success x 1 )
Denver
Maybe in a couple more minutes?
Andrés
[... god?]
William
"There's a really fucking pissed off wraith outside on top of this, so... yeah, just a heads up. You got a way to keep from being a meat suit?" Do you need one?
Andrés
Andrés sets down the device and scrubs his face with his hands, muttering, "Madre de dios este día va a terminar nunca..." Deep breath. Hands down. "Do you?"
William
The sound he made was something that was between stifling a laugh and hacking up phlegm. He also was making his happy way through his bag to find a pack of what were probably cigarettes. Or not. He dug one out anyway, "Breathe deep and think about how it's all bullshit anyway."
Andrés
"You talk that way around--" He has to stop himself from saying something else that starts with an 'm'. "--Margot?"
William
[Aaaaand damage. -5 because shield and -10 distance and -5 time]
Dice: 10 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 6, 6, 6, 10) ( success x 5 ) [Doubling Tens]
William
[Jesus fuck COME ON]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 4, 6, 6, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Andrés
[you gotta be fucking kidding me with this shit]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 8) ( success x 3 )
And, at about that time, the world went dark and the good doctor got dragged around the courthouse whilst unconscious.
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Thursday, June 8, 2017
Box [STed]
Odessa
Annie and Sasha were on a couple's retreat. That's what it sounded like, anyway. That, or they were going to couple's therapy because things had been quiet on the western front and, occasionally, the chantry door was locked instead of unlocked. Sometimes, there was an uneasy silence that came only when there was amagic afoot and someone had something very personal to say that they didn't want to be said in front of people who might actually know better. Triangles are nothing without their third, and where was Trinity without Leah?
Well, it would appear that Trinity was at couples' counseling.
Which is what made this awkward.
The door was unlocked, there were notes pinned to the fridge (Could someone check the mail this week? - Annie) The television was on and it sounded like the Stanley Cup was playing. Overall, it was a boring day.
Grace
Grace is sprawled out on a couch in the den, one leg hooked over an armrest, reading from her e-ink device. It's not easy to tell what that book is, but it's apparently enthralling. So much so, she's barely touched her mug of coffee since plopping down in her spot.
This couch has a stitched-up hole in the back where a chihuahua puppy was rescued from the inside. It's that kind of couch.
Jeans and a t-shirt are her uniform. Few people have seen her wear anything else. Today, she's wearing her favorite (and thus threadbare) giraffe-wearing-ties tee.
With Annie and Sasha gone, someone's got to just be here. It's not a duty or a requirement or an order. Grace was just around, doesn't have a day job, and thus...
Alex
[God, so long since I did this... Arete, Spirit 1, Diff 4, -1 for the node, WP and stuff.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (7, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Alex
Alexander had been a little scarce recently. Not gone, not again. Just… other things had been occupying his time, taking him a little more distant from whatever end-of-the-world antics had been plaguing the local Awakened. He hadn’t been completely out of touch. There had been dinners with Kiara, coffee and Pho with Grace, the occasional trip out to the Chantry for dinner with Annie and Sasha. Recent changes had brought him a little closer to Sasha in some ways. Alex had moved off the beat and into an office, not so far away from her, as he worked through his probationary period as a squeaky new detective.
Around the back of the Chantry, sat at the patio table not so far from the node, sits Alex now. Cold, abandoned coffee sits in a cup, various text books lie open with various bookmarks and notes scribbled in them. (Sorry, lovers of books, he sees nothing wrong with writing in books!) A mirror, something cheap and easily disposable, is half-buried under a book that had been knocked when Alex had turned to watch… something elsewhere.
Michael
The last time Mike was in Denver, so much happened that recapping for the sake of expediency would reduce the events to: a Nephandus Adept pissed off the wrong person. Although Alex met the acarya's student, Ihsan, she did not introduce herself as such, nor did she stick around after stirring the embers of the poor Disparate's paranoia.
Sadness upon sadness, Alex and Mike didn't have the pleasure of making each others' acquaintance last year.
This year, this night, Michael parks a different rental car in a different parking lot and steps out, assuring himself that this must be the place before clapping the door shut and locking it with the fob. Up the driveway, pocketing the keys before letting himself in like he was invited.
Surprise, Grace!
Grace
[Perception/Awareness = Oh really? That resonance?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )
Alex
[Per+Awareness]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )
Michael
[awareness! didn't give him a spec bc i'm lazy.]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
Odessa
My, now this one is unfamiliar, isn't it?
There is a quiet in the area, over the sound of the Stanley Cup there was the internal silence and quiet that comes from a stillness of the soul, followed by a brightness so bright that it seared its image in the mind's eye and left a feeling on one's skin of dying embers. Yes, it is the feeling of those embers contained that sticks on the mind.
The back door is flung open. There is a small woman in black holding a box. Wooden box. Pandora's box, perhaps?
"Aaaaaaaannie?"
A beat.
"Hallo?"
Odessa
(Something feels like chaos. Pure, beautiful chaos wrapped in an oaken whiskey barrel)
Odessa
That box feels and looks like a massive glitch in the universal code. Feel free to embellish a little.
Odessa
Hi, Mike. Odessa sent you a birthday card this year along with an old sheriff's badge. Sure, she sent you a birthday card on the birthday you had two lifetimes ago, but it's the thought that counts!
Grace
Grace's eyes flit up off of her book when she senses Mike's presence. What? But, the stupid grin that plasters itself on her face soon after says that it's not an unwelcome surprise.
She leaps up as inelegant as a baby zebra. Mike. It's got to be him.
And indeed, there in the entryway he is.
"You little jerk," she says, eyes bright, happy smile. "You didn't tell me you were--"
Just then, the sound and presence of someone else interrupts. She raises a brow. Whispers an aside to Mike: "I don't know who that is."
"Annie's not here!" she yells down the way.
Alex
The weather was warm, not needing much in the way of clothing to guard against a chill. Asphalt, however, was much less forgiving. A leather jacket sat on the back of Alex’s chair, protection against random chance that might wish him to fall while riding. At the initial sense of someone else, someone unfamiliar, approaching, Alex’s attention returns from elsewhere. A few blinks and the almost mirrored surface to his eyes fades, his gaze and his hands moving to the jacket. Something fetched and checked before he steps back inside, towards the new presence.
Arm straight, hand masked by the doorframe to the room where Grace sits, there’s a question and a considering glance at the unfamiliar man. “Grace..?” She doesn’t seem threatened, though. More happier than he’d seen her in quite some time.
A slam as the door is opened, a call for Annie, and Alex turns to face the second new arrival. Pistol aimed at the floor but ready to raise, another question comes on the tail of Grace’s yell. “And you are?”
Michael
Mike, for reasons both mystical and practical, knew there was a likelihood Grace would be here today. He didn't warn her he was coming. She (and Alex, once he comes close enough) can feel his resonance, that feeling of a strong storm blowing over, the strength of his Arete making his presence feel like a force of nature. It would be unsettling even to Sleepers if he weren't disarmingly charming.
A handsome bastard in a suit and tie, with dark brown hair and a clean-shaven jaw, he barely has the door closed behind him before Grace has sprung to her feet and called him a jerk. He shoots her a grin, unabashed, like Yeah I am a jerk aren't I before the door blasts open and in comes a little woodland witch the Chakravat hasn't seen in God knows how long.
"I think I do," he whispers back.
Annie's not here.
And then here's a tall young man, pointing a pistol at the floor but comfortable enough with it in his grip that Mike, never having met the man before, takes a step forward like to block Grace and holds up both hands to show he isn't currently armed.
Never mind that raising his arms reveals a shoulder holster beneath his suit jacket.
"Odessa!" Mike calls, raising his voice--his voice, without Alice hijacking his voicebox--for the first time in Grace's recent recollection. His palms are still on display and empty. "That you?"
Odessa
The woman, who couldn't have been more than five feet tall and as vast as the ever-expanding cosmos, looked from the pistol to her box and then back to the pistol again. Her mouth quirked upward before falling again. Eyebrows stayed raised.
"Odessa," she replied, "Annie and I share a lineage." She awkwardly held the box for a moment, before extending it to Alexander.
"It's me!" she called back, "and-" she stops, "I think Mike is the only one of you that I know. Who are you all? Will you be here for long?"
Grace
"Oh for..." Grace slaps her forehead with her palm. "Alex, this is Mike. Mike, Alex. Please try not to gun the Chantry down."
She pats Mike on the back. Alex is okay, dude.
And now? To pay attention to Odessa. And that box. "Oh, I'm uh... Grace. And, uh, yeah. I plan on being here. Annie and Sasha are away this week, so I'm... helping."
"What's in the box?"
Alex
As potential Technocratic invasions of the Chantry went, this wasn’t high up the list of how Alex saw it going. Although Mike did appear to be armed, he seemed to be more interested in protecting Grace from him. An eyebrow raises at that, followed by a flash of some recognition at the name.
Mouth open, waiting for words to emerge for a moment, he considers: that he’s the only one waving a weapon around. A faint click as his mouth closes and his teeth knock together, another faint click as the pistol’s safety goes back on and the weapon is tucked into the back of his trousers. There’s no apology, but he does toss a glance at Grace: so shoot me. It’s not like he didn’t have reasons, after all.
Odessa offers the box, but it’s not taken. Examined, briefly, but not taken. He introduces himself, “Alexander,” to both of the unfamiliar individuals. Sorry, Grace, he still has that stick up his ass about certain things.
Michael
For his part, Mike leaves his pistol in the holster. He never had any intention of removing it. Now that the excitement is more or less over, he lowers his hands, buttons the top button on his jacket, straightens his tie, and tucks his hands into his trouser pockets.
Oh right. There's an object in there he meant to ask Odessa about. His brow flickers into an almost-frown, but he doesn't broach the subject just yet.
For Grace's sake as much as Odessa's, maybe Alex's too, Mike says, "I had business to attend to in Texas. I thought I would swing by on my way back to Los Angeles."
Because Denver is so on the way, Michael.
Odessa
What was in the box, you ask? She looked at the box again. Nobody had taken it from her as of yet, so the witch just stood all black clad and awkward holding onto it. She gingerly made her way into the thick of the place and, instead, found a nearby coffee table to set the box on top of. It was placed on the glass top with a deceptive thud. Heavier than a discussion about cancer, that box.
"I don't know exactly what's in the box," she said, "I've only had it for the last half century and have done a very good job of not opening it myself. The only secret given to me to keep by the Keeper of Secrets."
A beat.
"I was hoping Annie would babysit the box while I go run some errands. Woudl you three mind watching it while I'm out?" She says like she's asking them to watch her dog and not a box that feels like the fundamental upheaval of the universe.
Michael
[int + past lives for shits +/- giggles]
Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (3, 6, 7, 7, 9) ( success x 1 )
Grace
"Aww," Grace says, to Mike's explanation of how he got here. That stupid grin returns to light up her face. She bumps into his side slightly too -- far more physical contact with someone than is normal for her.
But then, Odessa explains. And a suddenly serious Grace asks: "Keeper of Secrets?"
"I've heard that name. Not a fun fucking thing."
Alex
The end of the world at least a few minutes away now, Alex steps back into the kitchen for a moment as Odessa moves to find a table. The bang of a cupboard and a further sound of a coffee jug being slid back into the filter preceed his reappearance with another mug of coffee. He doesn’t move to close the distance between himself and the newcomers, contenting himself to lean against the doorframe and watch.
“Why does a box need babysitting? Is it likely to crew the furniture if you leave it alone?”
Odessa
[The Keeper of Secrets is a spiritual entity that... literally... keeps secrets. With terrible consequences for those who try to steal from them]
Michael
Decorum, Grace. We practice it.
Yet it's obvious Mike wants to smile, himself. The laugh lines around his hazel eyes deepen a bit with the tensing of his jaw, the staving off of a proper reaction. He stands like a statue as the Virtual Adept bumps him, but in doing so he leans back against her for a second.
"The Keeper of Secrets does not abide stealing," he says. "Opening that box would be akin to breaking the bond of trust between the entity and the practitioner." Just a suggestion: "Perhaps it should go downstairs in the library, until Odessa is able to retrieve it."
Odessa
"Tell people who can rewrite the fabric of reality that they can not have something and can not touch it because they will be incapable of comprehending what they've just seen. Mages are petulant children with superpowers."
She nodded, "essentially, I need someone to watch the box because there are individuals who would like very, very much to open said box. People think twice about taking things from witches, but.... my home isn't as secure as it once was."
Grace
"I've heard that name in connection with a... rather cold case. A bunch of dead and missing apprentices in Colorado Springs. A bunch. Like somebody lured them there for that purpose," Grace says, dropping that tidbit into the conversation.
"I'm not at all eager to open that box. I am eager to know a little more about that entity."
Alex
The mug stops in its rise towards Alex’s mouth, eyes watching Odessa and Michael as they discuss what should be done with the box. “Who are these individuals who are interested in this box of yours? And what happened to make your home less secure? Is that something that would be likely to happen here too?”
“I don’t think it’s our decision to make, about whether it should be kept here. I think it should wait until Annie and Sasha get back. It’s their home, after all.”
Michael
"Well." There's a solution for that. Michael removes his cell - a flip phone. Don't say anything. "I'll give Sasha a call. Excuse me."
And so he does, the sound of the call dialing loud enough to be heard as he gives Grace's elbow a quick squeeze and steps back out the front door.
[i need to bounce, guys. i've hit the point where i need sleep more than caffeine. mike will be back tho <3]
Odessa
"Well... go ask them. If you have chiminage to offer, the Keeper of Secrets will honor your requests." Odessa continued on, "and my mountain has been purchased. Logging issues, land rights. Petty things. No amount of warding can slow the pace of change and bureaucracy- I haven't existed legally in this lifetime."
Odessa scoffed.
"Annie owns this place, so long as the bank doesn't foreclose on her house nothing should happen to her."
Grace
She smirks at Mike's elbow squeeze, but quickly returns again to the hyper-focus. "Chiminage? What does the Keeper of Secrets like?"
Gold? Blood? Quintessence? Human sacrifice?
"And, I think Alex was more thinking along the lines that the bad people who want to open that box might come here and... I don't know... Shoot down the Chantry?"
She smirks at Alex. It's just a joke.
Alex
Well… go ask them. Alex glances to the door that Mike had just passed through, presumably to stop his conversation with Sasha from getting in the way of the ongoing conversation, and back to Odessa. Grace picks up on his other point: that somebody with an interest in the box might, at best, be unconcerned about the disruption they cause to the people living here, or who still use the house as somewhere to meet. At worst… Well, the warehouse hadn’t been lost to them so long ago.
He makes a face, as if there was something unpleasant tasting in the mug, before lowering it. “Pretty much,” he says in reply to Grace. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you. Holding onto your box would probably be something best left to people you have some level of mutual trust with. You have no idea if we’re capable of keeping that thing safe, and we have no idea if you’re literally dropping the end of the world on us.”
Alex pushes up from the doorframe, shrugging. “Just try not to get this place turned into a crater. We’re running out of safe places to meet.” Alex steps back out to the kitchen, shortly followed by the sound of running water from the sink.
Odessa
"Secrets."
Obviously.
"No. They're not technocrats, they're just a cabal of selfish, impetuous children who are very accustomed to the mysteries of the universe being open to them," she laughed, "students don't like being told no, and they don't like listening to their elders."
She let her shoulders rise and fall, and with that she was already headed to the front door, "I will be right back- I understand that you're concerned, but it's here now."
She gave a little wave and kept walking, completely ignoring the fact that the mages in front of her basically told her that they weren't going to watch her box, "I'll be on the other side of the gauntlet if you need me, I'll be right back!"
Grace
Grace shrugs, walks over to the box and hefts it up. Heavier than it looks, really, and oddly vibrating, this box. "I'll take it down to the library. It is really the safest place."
She sighs. "I don't know whether to cheer her on, or hate her for making me babysit a box just when Mike gets here."
Alex
Enough of the conversation made it through the door over the sound of the water. A voice comes back through the open door, sounding similar in some ways to what Odessa had said. “…they’re just selfish impetuous children who don’t like being told no… Nope, can’t think of a single person here who sounds like that.” A sigh follows, after Grace says she’ll take it to the library, and Alex reappears at the door.
“Maybe we should just throw in it the fireplace. Release all of the evil in the world now and just save time.”
Grace
"Uh, no. Someone told me that Secret Keeper thing was not to be fucked with. I'm not going to," she says, making her way carefully to the stairs leading down to the library.
"I'm no expert on spirit-y business and I probably wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. If we do have Pandora's Box, let's not be Pandora, okay?"
Alex
Alex stays by the door, seriously thinking about simply walking away. But that wouldn’t be fair on Grace, to leave her alone with whatever the hell was in the box and the prospect of a cabal of Odessa-a-likes descending to reclaim it. He sighs, deeply, again. Then Alex follows Grace down into the library. “Can’t say I think much of her ability to keep a secret if she just dumps it on the first people she comes across who don’t move fast enough.
“So what happened with the apprentices? Was it a recent thing, their going missing? And what the hell is this keeper thing anyway?”
Grace
"I really wish I knew the answer to that question," she tells Alex. "All of those questions, really."
They walk, they descend, they get to the door.
"Hey, Alex, could you get that for me? Hands are full."
It does say something about the, ahem, secrecy of the situation that Grace hasn't yet found the answers to those questions. She is, usually, so good at that, after all.
Odessa
(Dex roll, please GRace! Diff 6. Dex+athletics)
Grace
[Dex + Ath + WP, because yeah, when you're carrying the end of the world, you should really try to be careful with it]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 5) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
Grace
[lol, thank you WP]
Odessa
My, it really would appear that there was something in that box. The vibration increased, and for a second one could have heard the unspoken oooooooh of something finding a shiny opportunity to jump-
... and immediately be caught by Grace. The box seemed content to try and coincidentally wriggle out of her grasp, but she kept a hold well enough to keep anything terrible from happening. The lid did jostle a little, though.
Alex
“Well, let me know if I can do anything to help.” This said as Alex turns to slide past Grace, against the wall, to get the door. He pauses as she seems to almost drop the box, catching it again before it falls and hits the floor.
“Did that thing just move? If there’s something in there trying to get out, I’m pretty sure there’s some tape up in the garage that we can wrap it up with.” The door is opened and Alex steps into the library first, finding the light switch.
Grace
"That's really not a bad idea. This thing... is like a... animal or something. It did move," she says, relieved to have kept it up.
She walks into the library, carefully puts the box down on a table, and fixes it with a glare.
"What the Hell did you give us, Odessa?"
Odessa
[aaaaaand willpower diff 4 from everyone]
Alex
[WP]
Dice: 6 d10 TN4 (1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 7) ( success x 4 )
Grace
[WP!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN4 (2, 3, 7, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )
Odessa
There was a feeling that came to the air, one that was brief but purposeful enough that it made the two mages perk and pay attention. They were observant creatures, and aware as well. The box? Was pouting. It very clearly was pouting and pinged on their senses and they were unmoved by its whining.
But let's make it very clear, the box had consciousness enough to make such a gesture.
Alex
Just as he’s about to speak again, that feeling passes over them. Mouth still open, he looks from Grace to the box and back again.
“Maybe we should get that tape.”
Alex scans the shelves for something first, though. A book, something large and heavy. The contents really didn’t matter. Something suitable found, the book is placed on the lid to weigh it down.
“Or there’s still the setting the whole thing on fire option.”
Grace
When that pouting sensation comes across her, Grace really fixes it with a stare.
"How do we know it isn't made of fire?" she says. "It seems like the flighty type. But yeah, go find some tape, I'll make sure it doesn't actually chew the furniture."
She says that, but then pulls out her phone.
Grace
[Mike gets a text message soon after Grace goes for her phone. It reads: "Box is 'alive', please advise."]
Alex
“I guess… How about shoving it in the freezer, then? Good against fire and water, plus air tight. Why the hell couldn’t she take it with her, anyway? If it’s to keep it away from spirits, it seems like a really dumb idea to leave it near the node.”
Another sigh, something rapidly becoming a habit when strange Mages passed through town. With another glance at the box under its heavy book lid, he heads out to find tape. And possibly ropes. Or chains.
Annie and Sasha were on a couple's retreat. That's what it sounded like, anyway. That, or they were going to couple's therapy because things had been quiet on the western front and, occasionally, the chantry door was locked instead of unlocked. Sometimes, there was an uneasy silence that came only when there was amagic afoot and someone had something very personal to say that they didn't want to be said in front of people who might actually know better. Triangles are nothing without their third, and where was Trinity without Leah?
Well, it would appear that Trinity was at couples' counseling.
Which is what made this awkward.
The door was unlocked, there were notes pinned to the fridge (Could someone check the mail this week? - Annie) The television was on and it sounded like the Stanley Cup was playing. Overall, it was a boring day.
Grace
Grace is sprawled out on a couch in the den, one leg hooked over an armrest, reading from her e-ink device. It's not easy to tell what that book is, but it's apparently enthralling. So much so, she's barely touched her mug of coffee since plopping down in her spot.
This couch has a stitched-up hole in the back where a chihuahua puppy was rescued from the inside. It's that kind of couch.
Jeans and a t-shirt are her uniform. Few people have seen her wear anything else. Today, she's wearing her favorite (and thus threadbare) giraffe-wearing-ties tee.
With Annie and Sasha gone, someone's got to just be here. It's not a duty or a requirement or an order. Grace was just around, doesn't have a day job, and thus...
Alex
[God, so long since I did this... Arete, Spirit 1, Diff 4, -1 for the node, WP and stuff.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (7, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Alex
Alexander had been a little scarce recently. Not gone, not again. Just… other things had been occupying his time, taking him a little more distant from whatever end-of-the-world antics had been plaguing the local Awakened. He hadn’t been completely out of touch. There had been dinners with Kiara, coffee and Pho with Grace, the occasional trip out to the Chantry for dinner with Annie and Sasha. Recent changes had brought him a little closer to Sasha in some ways. Alex had moved off the beat and into an office, not so far away from her, as he worked through his probationary period as a squeaky new detective.
Around the back of the Chantry, sat at the patio table not so far from the node, sits Alex now. Cold, abandoned coffee sits in a cup, various text books lie open with various bookmarks and notes scribbled in them. (Sorry, lovers of books, he sees nothing wrong with writing in books!) A mirror, something cheap and easily disposable, is half-buried under a book that had been knocked when Alex had turned to watch… something elsewhere.
Michael
The last time Mike was in Denver, so much happened that recapping for the sake of expediency would reduce the events to: a Nephandus Adept pissed off the wrong person. Although Alex met the acarya's student, Ihsan, she did not introduce herself as such, nor did she stick around after stirring the embers of the poor Disparate's paranoia.
Sadness upon sadness, Alex and Mike didn't have the pleasure of making each others' acquaintance last year.
This year, this night, Michael parks a different rental car in a different parking lot and steps out, assuring himself that this must be the place before clapping the door shut and locking it with the fob. Up the driveway, pocketing the keys before letting himself in like he was invited.
Surprise, Grace!
Grace
[Perception/Awareness = Oh really? That resonance?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )
Alex
[Per+Awareness]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )
Michael
[awareness! didn't give him a spec bc i'm lazy.]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
Odessa
My, now this one is unfamiliar, isn't it?
There is a quiet in the area, over the sound of the Stanley Cup there was the internal silence and quiet that comes from a stillness of the soul, followed by a brightness so bright that it seared its image in the mind's eye and left a feeling on one's skin of dying embers. Yes, it is the feeling of those embers contained that sticks on the mind.
The back door is flung open. There is a small woman in black holding a box. Wooden box. Pandora's box, perhaps?
"Aaaaaaaannie?"
A beat.
"Hallo?"
Odessa
(Something feels like chaos. Pure, beautiful chaos wrapped in an oaken whiskey barrel)
Odessa
That box feels and looks like a massive glitch in the universal code. Feel free to embellish a little.
Odessa
Hi, Mike. Odessa sent you a birthday card this year along with an old sheriff's badge. Sure, she sent you a birthday card on the birthday you had two lifetimes ago, but it's the thought that counts!
Grace
Grace's eyes flit up off of her book when she senses Mike's presence. What? But, the stupid grin that plasters itself on her face soon after says that it's not an unwelcome surprise.
She leaps up as inelegant as a baby zebra. Mike. It's got to be him.
And indeed, there in the entryway he is.
"You little jerk," she says, eyes bright, happy smile. "You didn't tell me you were--"
Just then, the sound and presence of someone else interrupts. She raises a brow. Whispers an aside to Mike: "I don't know who that is."
"Annie's not here!" she yells down the way.
Alex
The weather was warm, not needing much in the way of clothing to guard against a chill. Asphalt, however, was much less forgiving. A leather jacket sat on the back of Alex’s chair, protection against random chance that might wish him to fall while riding. At the initial sense of someone else, someone unfamiliar, approaching, Alex’s attention returns from elsewhere. A few blinks and the almost mirrored surface to his eyes fades, his gaze and his hands moving to the jacket. Something fetched and checked before he steps back inside, towards the new presence.
Arm straight, hand masked by the doorframe to the room where Grace sits, there’s a question and a considering glance at the unfamiliar man. “Grace..?” She doesn’t seem threatened, though. More happier than he’d seen her in quite some time.
A slam as the door is opened, a call for Annie, and Alex turns to face the second new arrival. Pistol aimed at the floor but ready to raise, another question comes on the tail of Grace’s yell. “And you are?”
Michael
Mike, for reasons both mystical and practical, knew there was a likelihood Grace would be here today. He didn't warn her he was coming. She (and Alex, once he comes close enough) can feel his resonance, that feeling of a strong storm blowing over, the strength of his Arete making his presence feel like a force of nature. It would be unsettling even to Sleepers if he weren't disarmingly charming.
A handsome bastard in a suit and tie, with dark brown hair and a clean-shaven jaw, he barely has the door closed behind him before Grace has sprung to her feet and called him a jerk. He shoots her a grin, unabashed, like Yeah I am a jerk aren't I before the door blasts open and in comes a little woodland witch the Chakravat hasn't seen in God knows how long.
"I think I do," he whispers back.
Annie's not here.
And then here's a tall young man, pointing a pistol at the floor but comfortable enough with it in his grip that Mike, never having met the man before, takes a step forward like to block Grace and holds up both hands to show he isn't currently armed.
Never mind that raising his arms reveals a shoulder holster beneath his suit jacket.
"Odessa!" Mike calls, raising his voice--his voice, without Alice hijacking his voicebox--for the first time in Grace's recent recollection. His palms are still on display and empty. "That you?"
Odessa
The woman, who couldn't have been more than five feet tall and as vast as the ever-expanding cosmos, looked from the pistol to her box and then back to the pistol again. Her mouth quirked upward before falling again. Eyebrows stayed raised.
"Odessa," she replied, "Annie and I share a lineage." She awkwardly held the box for a moment, before extending it to Alexander.
"It's me!" she called back, "and-" she stops, "I think Mike is the only one of you that I know. Who are you all? Will you be here for long?"
Grace
"Oh for..." Grace slaps her forehead with her palm. "Alex, this is Mike. Mike, Alex. Please try not to gun the Chantry down."
She pats Mike on the back. Alex is okay, dude.
And now? To pay attention to Odessa. And that box. "Oh, I'm uh... Grace. And, uh, yeah. I plan on being here. Annie and Sasha are away this week, so I'm... helping."
"What's in the box?"
Alex
As potential Technocratic invasions of the Chantry went, this wasn’t high up the list of how Alex saw it going. Although Mike did appear to be armed, he seemed to be more interested in protecting Grace from him. An eyebrow raises at that, followed by a flash of some recognition at the name.
Mouth open, waiting for words to emerge for a moment, he considers: that he’s the only one waving a weapon around. A faint click as his mouth closes and his teeth knock together, another faint click as the pistol’s safety goes back on and the weapon is tucked into the back of his trousers. There’s no apology, but he does toss a glance at Grace: so shoot me. It’s not like he didn’t have reasons, after all.
Odessa offers the box, but it’s not taken. Examined, briefly, but not taken. He introduces himself, “Alexander,” to both of the unfamiliar individuals. Sorry, Grace, he still has that stick up his ass about certain things.
Michael
For his part, Mike leaves his pistol in the holster. He never had any intention of removing it. Now that the excitement is more or less over, he lowers his hands, buttons the top button on his jacket, straightens his tie, and tucks his hands into his trouser pockets.
Oh right. There's an object in there he meant to ask Odessa about. His brow flickers into an almost-frown, but he doesn't broach the subject just yet.
For Grace's sake as much as Odessa's, maybe Alex's too, Mike says, "I had business to attend to in Texas. I thought I would swing by on my way back to Los Angeles."
Because Denver is so on the way, Michael.
Odessa
What was in the box, you ask? She looked at the box again. Nobody had taken it from her as of yet, so the witch just stood all black clad and awkward holding onto it. She gingerly made her way into the thick of the place and, instead, found a nearby coffee table to set the box on top of. It was placed on the glass top with a deceptive thud. Heavier than a discussion about cancer, that box.
"I don't know exactly what's in the box," she said, "I've only had it for the last half century and have done a very good job of not opening it myself. The only secret given to me to keep by the Keeper of Secrets."
A beat.
"I was hoping Annie would babysit the box while I go run some errands. Woudl you three mind watching it while I'm out?" She says like she's asking them to watch her dog and not a box that feels like the fundamental upheaval of the universe.
Michael
[int + past lives for shits +/- giggles]
Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (3, 6, 7, 7, 9) ( success x 1 )
Grace
"Aww," Grace says, to Mike's explanation of how he got here. That stupid grin returns to light up her face. She bumps into his side slightly too -- far more physical contact with someone than is normal for her.
But then, Odessa explains. And a suddenly serious Grace asks: "Keeper of Secrets?"
"I've heard that name. Not a fun fucking thing."
Alex
The end of the world at least a few minutes away now, Alex steps back into the kitchen for a moment as Odessa moves to find a table. The bang of a cupboard and a further sound of a coffee jug being slid back into the filter preceed his reappearance with another mug of coffee. He doesn’t move to close the distance between himself and the newcomers, contenting himself to lean against the doorframe and watch.
“Why does a box need babysitting? Is it likely to crew the furniture if you leave it alone?”
Odessa
[The Keeper of Secrets is a spiritual entity that... literally... keeps secrets. With terrible consequences for those who try to steal from them]
Michael
Decorum, Grace. We practice it.
Yet it's obvious Mike wants to smile, himself. The laugh lines around his hazel eyes deepen a bit with the tensing of his jaw, the staving off of a proper reaction. He stands like a statue as the Virtual Adept bumps him, but in doing so he leans back against her for a second.
"The Keeper of Secrets does not abide stealing," he says. "Opening that box would be akin to breaking the bond of trust between the entity and the practitioner." Just a suggestion: "Perhaps it should go downstairs in the library, until Odessa is able to retrieve it."
Odessa
"Tell people who can rewrite the fabric of reality that they can not have something and can not touch it because they will be incapable of comprehending what they've just seen. Mages are petulant children with superpowers."
She nodded, "essentially, I need someone to watch the box because there are individuals who would like very, very much to open said box. People think twice about taking things from witches, but.... my home isn't as secure as it once was."
Grace
"I've heard that name in connection with a... rather cold case. A bunch of dead and missing apprentices in Colorado Springs. A bunch. Like somebody lured them there for that purpose," Grace says, dropping that tidbit into the conversation.
"I'm not at all eager to open that box. I am eager to know a little more about that entity."
Alex
The mug stops in its rise towards Alex’s mouth, eyes watching Odessa and Michael as they discuss what should be done with the box. “Who are these individuals who are interested in this box of yours? And what happened to make your home less secure? Is that something that would be likely to happen here too?”
“I don’t think it’s our decision to make, about whether it should be kept here. I think it should wait until Annie and Sasha get back. It’s their home, after all.”
Michael
"Well." There's a solution for that. Michael removes his cell - a flip phone. Don't say anything. "I'll give Sasha a call. Excuse me."
And so he does, the sound of the call dialing loud enough to be heard as he gives Grace's elbow a quick squeeze and steps back out the front door.
[i need to bounce, guys. i've hit the point where i need sleep more than caffeine. mike will be back tho <3]
Odessa
"Well... go ask them. If you have chiminage to offer, the Keeper of Secrets will honor your requests." Odessa continued on, "and my mountain has been purchased. Logging issues, land rights. Petty things. No amount of warding can slow the pace of change and bureaucracy- I haven't existed legally in this lifetime."
Odessa scoffed.
"Annie owns this place, so long as the bank doesn't foreclose on her house nothing should happen to her."
Grace
She smirks at Mike's elbow squeeze, but quickly returns again to the hyper-focus. "Chiminage? What does the Keeper of Secrets like?"
Gold? Blood? Quintessence? Human sacrifice?
"And, I think Alex was more thinking along the lines that the bad people who want to open that box might come here and... I don't know... Shoot down the Chantry?"
She smirks at Alex. It's just a joke.
Alex
Well… go ask them. Alex glances to the door that Mike had just passed through, presumably to stop his conversation with Sasha from getting in the way of the ongoing conversation, and back to Odessa. Grace picks up on his other point: that somebody with an interest in the box might, at best, be unconcerned about the disruption they cause to the people living here, or who still use the house as somewhere to meet. At worst… Well, the warehouse hadn’t been lost to them so long ago.
He makes a face, as if there was something unpleasant tasting in the mug, before lowering it. “Pretty much,” he says in reply to Grace. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you. Holding onto your box would probably be something best left to people you have some level of mutual trust with. You have no idea if we’re capable of keeping that thing safe, and we have no idea if you’re literally dropping the end of the world on us.”
Alex pushes up from the doorframe, shrugging. “Just try not to get this place turned into a crater. We’re running out of safe places to meet.” Alex steps back out to the kitchen, shortly followed by the sound of running water from the sink.
Odessa
"Secrets."
Obviously.
"No. They're not technocrats, they're just a cabal of selfish, impetuous children who are very accustomed to the mysteries of the universe being open to them," she laughed, "students don't like being told no, and they don't like listening to their elders."
She let her shoulders rise and fall, and with that she was already headed to the front door, "I will be right back- I understand that you're concerned, but it's here now."
She gave a little wave and kept walking, completely ignoring the fact that the mages in front of her basically told her that they weren't going to watch her box, "I'll be on the other side of the gauntlet if you need me, I'll be right back!"
Grace
Grace shrugs, walks over to the box and hefts it up. Heavier than it looks, really, and oddly vibrating, this box. "I'll take it down to the library. It is really the safest place."
She sighs. "I don't know whether to cheer her on, or hate her for making me babysit a box just when Mike gets here."
Alex
Enough of the conversation made it through the door over the sound of the water. A voice comes back through the open door, sounding similar in some ways to what Odessa had said. “…they’re just selfish impetuous children who don’t like being told no… Nope, can’t think of a single person here who sounds like that.” A sigh follows, after Grace says she’ll take it to the library, and Alex reappears at the door.
“Maybe we should just throw in it the fireplace. Release all of the evil in the world now and just save time.”
Grace
"Uh, no. Someone told me that Secret Keeper thing was not to be fucked with. I'm not going to," she says, making her way carefully to the stairs leading down to the library.
"I'm no expert on spirit-y business and I probably wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. If we do have Pandora's Box, let's not be Pandora, okay?"
Alex
Alex stays by the door, seriously thinking about simply walking away. But that wouldn’t be fair on Grace, to leave her alone with whatever the hell was in the box and the prospect of a cabal of Odessa-a-likes descending to reclaim it. He sighs, deeply, again. Then Alex follows Grace down into the library. “Can’t say I think much of her ability to keep a secret if she just dumps it on the first people she comes across who don’t move fast enough.
“So what happened with the apprentices? Was it a recent thing, their going missing? And what the hell is this keeper thing anyway?”
Grace
"I really wish I knew the answer to that question," she tells Alex. "All of those questions, really."
They walk, they descend, they get to the door.
"Hey, Alex, could you get that for me? Hands are full."
It does say something about the, ahem, secrecy of the situation that Grace hasn't yet found the answers to those questions. She is, usually, so good at that, after all.
Odessa
(Dex roll, please GRace! Diff 6. Dex+athletics)
Grace
[Dex + Ath + WP, because yeah, when you're carrying the end of the world, you should really try to be careful with it]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 5) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
Grace
[lol, thank you WP]
Odessa
My, it really would appear that there was something in that box. The vibration increased, and for a second one could have heard the unspoken oooooooh of something finding a shiny opportunity to jump-
... and immediately be caught by Grace. The box seemed content to try and coincidentally wriggle out of her grasp, but she kept a hold well enough to keep anything terrible from happening. The lid did jostle a little, though.
Alex
“Well, let me know if I can do anything to help.” This said as Alex turns to slide past Grace, against the wall, to get the door. He pauses as she seems to almost drop the box, catching it again before it falls and hits the floor.
“Did that thing just move? If there’s something in there trying to get out, I’m pretty sure there’s some tape up in the garage that we can wrap it up with.” The door is opened and Alex steps into the library first, finding the light switch.
Grace
"That's really not a bad idea. This thing... is like a... animal or something. It did move," she says, relieved to have kept it up.
She walks into the library, carefully puts the box down on a table, and fixes it with a glare.
"What the Hell did you give us, Odessa?"
Odessa
[aaaaaand willpower diff 4 from everyone]
Alex
[WP]
Dice: 6 d10 TN4 (1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 7) ( success x 4 )
Grace
[WP!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN4 (2, 3, 7, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )
Odessa
There was a feeling that came to the air, one that was brief but purposeful enough that it made the two mages perk and pay attention. They were observant creatures, and aware as well. The box? Was pouting. It very clearly was pouting and pinged on their senses and they were unmoved by its whining.
But let's make it very clear, the box had consciousness enough to make such a gesture.
Alex
Just as he’s about to speak again, that feeling passes over them. Mouth still open, he looks from Grace to the box and back again.
“Maybe we should get that tape.”
Alex scans the shelves for something first, though. A book, something large and heavy. The contents really didn’t matter. Something suitable found, the book is placed on the lid to weigh it down.
“Or there’s still the setting the whole thing on fire option.”
Grace
When that pouting sensation comes across her, Grace really fixes it with a stare.
"How do we know it isn't made of fire?" she says. "It seems like the flighty type. But yeah, go find some tape, I'll make sure it doesn't actually chew the furniture."
She says that, but then pulls out her phone.
Grace
[Mike gets a text message soon after Grace goes for her phone. It reads: "Box is 'alive', please advise."]
Alex
“I guess… How about shoving it in the freezer, then? Good against fire and water, plus air tight. Why the hell couldn’t she take it with her, anyway? If it’s to keep it away from spirits, it seems like a really dumb idea to leave it near the node.”
Another sigh, something rapidly becoming a habit when strange Mages passed through town. With another glance at the box under its heavy book lid, he heads out to find tape. And possibly ropes. Or chains.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)