4548/At The Edge Of Grief

At The Edge Of Grief
Date of Scene:	14 September 2016
Location:	Crystal Valley
Synopsis:	Drowned Ophelia hurts herself to draw out her miserable inspirations. Inga shows up, and others follow. Keep your mercy to yourself!
Cast of Characters:	975, Inga, 930, 206

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Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The Crystal Valley - a place of serenity and beauty, light fractured and bounced back and forth from one glittering prism to another until the whole place appears to have a strange internal glow. And in its midst, the Crystal Lake, pure and clean and wholesome; So smooth that one can almost miss the division between land and water, its vision a refuge to travelers and pilgrims alike. And the crystal valley..

IS UNDER ATTACK! WAIT, no it's not.

A broken creature sits at the edge of the water, her very presence poisoning the crystals upon which she perches. But as fast as the pitch ichor that comprises her form leaks into the crystals - that quickly does it disperse, the magic here able to hold back the sway of Sorrow. But her focus isn't even on this, however, for she is surrounded - by herself.

Well, reflections of something like her. A small, brown haired young woman; Torn jeans, black shirt with the falling raven emblem. But on her, it almost seems innocent, as opposed to the corrupted terror of Drowned Ophelia's use. The reflections seem somehow sad and angry, staring down at the broken creature weeping at the edge of the pool. Black Tears falling from her cheeks, splattering upon the crystal shores and dripping into the waters.
The Queen of Tears - sobs.

THEMESONG: Draconian - It Grieves My Heart - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RcIVD1hwO4

Inga has posed:
Why is Inga here? She's never been to this place before. She doesn't even know how to get to this place. Something had lead her perhaps, for Inga does not really believe in coincidences. For the god-touched, there are rarely coincidences, only a sometimes-subtle (often not) hand moving the pieces. You can fight it, there are many paths...but sometimes, all the paths lead to the same place. Inga knows when not to fight.

Sometimes she watches the wyrd. Sometimes it plays out before her like a film. Others, it sweeps her along with the tide. And sometimes she walks. Wanders off. She'd been at home in Dun Realtai, sitting in her cottage, working the loom, eyes far off as she watched the threads of wyrd being woven. Then she'd stopped, and without a word took up her staff, got her horse, and wandered.

Which is what brought her here, to the scene of Ophelia surrounded by her myriad reflections. Inga slides from the saddle a bit awkwardly, her gentle grey horse shying away from Ophelia and the aura she casts. Inga pats the neck of the creature gently. "I'll find you. Go on," she says, and lets Jodis wander away to a more comfortable distance away from Ophelia.

Inga takes her staff and approaches.

Alden (930) has posed:
The Crystal valley, also is the place of residence of a certain digimon, at the very least until certain... issues are taken care of!. At the moment, he was just tending to his meat plants, and talking with a visitor, a small (child sized) somewhat chubby dark grey bear wearing a baseball cap with the word 'bears' printed on it and several straps, both near his 'hands' and one across his chest and belly. The pair were just relaxing, when suddenly, the small bear perks its ears and sniffs around, "Something smells weird." he says, before Alden adds, "Yeah, seems to come from the lake.".

     The pair make their way, which... honestly was not that far, only to stumble with the small 'crowd'. The bear digimon has no clue who the person is, but Alden clearly does, letting out a deep growl. Since Ophelia does not seem to be attacking, Alden decides not to engage, "Let's get closer... be very careful." he tells his friend, before the two move closer.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    For the record... Harry is still getting used to the horse. It's not that he doesn't like horses it's just... they make him nervous. Much like a demon, they were wily, and big, and didn't brook dissent all that well. But Inga wanted a walk through the Mists and to follow the Wyrd and Harry... well. He needed to get out of the damn basement.

    A murmur under his breath at Inga, as he too grips at his own staff. Ophelia. Well, at least he'll have a face to go with the woman he's heard about. A tenseness in the air, too, as he approaches alongside his Partner. "Sure we have to do this?" A murmur, though low and grumbly. "I'm here for you if you need me, but..."

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
It's the reflections that turn first; Each turning curious brown eyes towards Inga and Harry, a soft frown touching pale lips - each looking from a different direction, trapped in the prisms. Something more than a reflection, perhaps?

And then the broken creature herself turns; The same woman, perhaps, but changed. Pale blue skin of asphyxiation, her form covered in the strange ectoplasm of the Black Tears like a dress. Where once there was a quiet strength, there is burning madness; A woman hollowed by Sorrow's touch. Black lips part in a literal snarl, her fingers elongated into ebon claws by the Black Tears' touch. The smear of pitch leaking down her cheeks is fresh; Fresh and thick, as the poisonous liquid leaks from her bright eyes.
"What the FUCK do you want?!" She hisses at Inga, that rage - that hate - focused between Harry, the Wyrd Seeker, and the Digimon. And then it crumples, brittle facade broken as her clawed hands press against the crystal ground. Curl, scoring the small crystals, ruining them for use; Nothing cuts as deep as Sorrow, after all. It can cut you to the very heart. Chin drops, the black ichor dripping upon the prism - staining their surface. But that burden is shared from one to another, the poison of grief spread among the crystal community until it evaporates into nothing. The Brutal Lands always were about making the metaphorical into a literal truth, and the Black Tears even more so. A deep, shuddering breath, before Drowned Ophelia turns her attention back to the still and cold waters, her back exposed. Her clawed hand reaching up to press against the largest prism nearby, where her reflection jerks back - like one would from a plague victim. The others are looking towards the new arrivals, silent in their judgement.
".. I'll murder you all. I'll drown everything you love." Whispers the creature, a broken giggle failing to take hold as sobs once again wrack her frame. It's not clear who she's talking too. Like a soothing lullaby, she whispers threats and promises of hate filled assassinations.

Inga has posed:
Inga stops her approach, a frown creasing her brow as Ophelia turns, spitting venom. As expected. She'd /really/ pissed her off last they'd met. Inga seems to have that effect on some. She knew she could put Ophelia on edge. She'd hoped to destabilize her, get her thinking, perhaps pull her out of the black.

Obviously, that hadn't worked. Not yet. She hadn't given up. Witches are stubborn creatures.

Inga looks to Harry, placing a hand on his arm. She nods to him. Yes, she has to do this. And they are not alone. Inga looks back, toward where Alden and his friend are approaching. She winces. This is a delicate situation, one that could go south quickly.

Inga looks back to Ophelia. "You brought me here," she says. "I felt your misery from accross the multiverse." Inga watches as she turns away, threatening still. Inga watches the wyrd stretch before her...she could kill her. Right now, while she is turned and in a vulnerable state. It might be the kindest thing to do. It might save other people pain and heartbreak. A spear of solidified blood through the heart and it could be over. That's only one possibility. Inga's grip tightens on her staff. She shakes her head, letting out a breath. She watches the crystals disperse the poison Ophelia drips, obvserving with interest. This is a good place to speak with her. A powerful place.

"We could help you, Ophelia. You do not need to feel like this. You do not need to spread this curse. You could be free of it," Inga says softly, but loud enough for Ophelia to hear between sobs.

She looks back again, giving Alden a warning look. She hopes she has communicated in that glance that Ophelia is dangerous.

Alden (930) has posed:
Alden is the first one to notice the other people nearby, while the small bear takes a step closer, ears flickering as it tries to make sense of the... woman?, the reflection?, "Who is she?, she seems... wrong somehow... sick?" he murrmurrs taking a step cloesr, before Alden lashes around and catches him, "Don't get closer... she is very dangerous" he murrmurrs. He offers Inga a nod, he is familiar with the Drowned queen, and has at least a faint idea of what she can do, heck, he had to fight a friend of his that was afflicted by her powers. He seems a bit doubtful when Inga begins to talk, but he makes no motion to stop her, instead pulling the curious bear digimon around, the pair approaching Harry.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Another growl from Harry. He could in fact see it now. The touch of Filth. Of darkness. The Thoughts That Bind. He sniffs faintly, and tightens his grip on his staff. The words of the witch are... hopeful. Filled with hope. Offering mercy.
    She's got the lead right now though, and simply stands there, looking like the big dumb brute enforcer that he knows how to play so well.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
The claw pressed against the prism flexes; The crystal cracks, the reflection distorting; Broken images of pale blue skin and bright white teeth, a predator's smile. But rather than pleased by this, Ophelia lets her hand drop once more, before wrapping her arms around the back of her own head. Rocking slowly. The sobs slow; A broken, slow giggle leaks out of her as her head drops.
"Felt my grief, that far away? .."
She finally turns, standing at last - and stumbles. Leaning against a second upthrust crystal, even as her reflection there looks on in fear, backing away from the contact. The others look away, saddened by the loss of one of their own.
It was a powerful place; Here, it appear, the Queen of Tears was weakened. Or was she strengthened? Weakness and strength, vunlerability and power, these lines blurred where the liquid Sorrow corrupted. "What sorrow do you hide in your heart, then? What in you can feel my misery?" The giggle fades into a frown as she leans against the pillar for support. But her -essence- - somehow, that seems stronger as she weakens, forced to contend with the purity of this place. The miasma of the Black Tears drifting like a mist above her feet, curling and returning in on itself.

"Can you become an innocent child again, you fucking moron? Would you want that ignorance, knowing now what you do?"

And then her eyes flick to Alden and the Bear. She growls, low and deep, a death rattle in her throat that fades away as she leans her head against the pillar again. Eyes closing. A cold, brittle smile splitting black lips. "Sick, and empty, and dead. Just like you'll be~" She singsongs, eyes half opened now. Thin slits that focus on Alden. "How many gone? Do you even remember their names? Does it cross your lips, or have you forgotten your dead?"

And finally to Harry, the smile flickering to a frown. Swinging wildly in her emotions today, isn't she? Pretentious black hearted bitch. ".. Are you here to kill me?" She murmurs, white teeth flashing. "Do you want me to turn my back? You can put it in the same hole -the last motherfucker did-." And now she's speaking to all three.

"You can't stop -inevitability-. You can't stop -entrophy-. Your only guarantee is loss; So why the fuck do you even bother? You fucking.. " She spits the next word. ".. -Heroes-. You fucking heroes, you fucking choosen ones, you fucking.. fucks. Fuck. Making everyone believe in you." Chin drops once again. The pitter patter of tears once more dripping to the ground.

Inga has posed:
Inga stands still and calm in the onslaught, her eyes sad. "Everyone knows sorrow Ophelia. It is a powerful thing. It is right to feel. But you have taken it too far. Now it IS you," Inga replies. She laughs, shaking her head. "An innocent child? When was that? For I do not recall. When I was five I fortold the burning of a hall, the people screaming, slain as they tried to flee the flames. All over a petty grudge. Over vengeance taken to far. I saw it all and wept, not understanding how anyone could be so cruel. That does not mean I want everyone to see what I have seen. You could take this pain and it could make you strong--what you are now...you are sick. Infected. You make this mistake of thinking the infection is all you are."

Inga takes a couple of steps closer. If Ophelia attacks her again, well, she is not alone. And she'll be back.

The inevitability of loss. It gives Inga some pause. It is a sore spot for her. It is a sore spot for most, of course. But it is something Inga has put a lot of thought into when she was not consciously trying not to. "Yes, loss is inevitable. That is life. That does not give you permission to sink the whole damn ship. You don't get to make that decision. You could have more than this..you could BE more than this. Gods...don't let one man undo you," Inga pleads.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry just lets the hatred wash past him, and murmurs. "Don't like killin' anyone, Miss Ophelia. Doesn't mean I don't do it, but." He grumbles and taps his staff against the ground. The steel shod on the end clanks... and that noise is picked up by a mass of the nearby crystals. There's a resoannce of his own, as he steps forward, and sublty angles himself between Inga and the Drowned one.

    The facets of the surrounds start to emenant his own reflections. A Harry, consumed in full Warlock-dom, terrible and vile, covered in ash and blood. A harry, carrying a Silver Sword of the Wardens. Harry Dresden... utterly the same as the Harry now, but... changed, and if Ophelia is watching, there's a touch of the Black Tears inside of that one as well.

    The resonanting stops, and comes to a clarion crystal *ping*, as Dresden looks at Ophelia. "What's it gonna be?"

Alden (930) has posed:
The gabumon narrows his eyes, growling softly as he moves closer to Harry, "I..." he mumbles, while the Bear reaches to pat Alden's shoulder. Finally, the Gabumon nods, "I do... I remember them... It was me or them, they tried to hurt my Tamer... hurt Daichi. I absorbed their data to be stronger... I did not enjoy those fights, do not enjoy destroying others." he replies, but one has to wonder if he was answering her, or telling that to himself. "I won't forget them, for better or worse, they are part of me now, it's thanks to them I am even standing here now, rather than just erased by the D-Reaper.". The Bear just nods, growling to the clearly dangerous and... crazed, sick woman, but has no real comment.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
Rather than press forward - the blackened creature pulls -back- from Inga's proferred relief from misery. The tendrils that compose her dress shifting and thrashing along the hems. "-One man-? One -man-? One family. One people. One fucking -world-. You think he was the first?" She hisses, voice dropping like an adder in the grass. "He was only the -deepest-. I never asked for permission; I don't need it. I -will- drown your fucking ships. Why should you.." Her eyes flick to the others. "Why should -any one of you fuckers- be happy and loved and alive? I'm doing you a fucking service."
A flicker of motion - the Queen of Tears shifting forward, quick as a breeze, arms spread wide as she - ... hugs Inga? NO, it's not a hug, though her arms are about the other woman. Chin burrowed in the Healer's shoulder as she whispers poisoned words.

"I can take it away." Twisting Inga's words about, claws pressed to the woman's back to hold her close. Ophelia's breath cold and empty as the corrupted thing herself. "The weight of a world you never asked for. The obligation of strangers. You don't have to pretend it doesn't hurt - you don't have to hold yourself higher. Release yourself.. and I'll show you how to float away.."

Her eyes flicker to Harry as the Wizard's reflections show what he truly is. Ophelia's own fading away, leaving nothing but the dark woman herself. Save for one, right behind her; The same browned haired young woman. Eyes closed, hair drifting about her - in darkness. Mouth opened in a frozen scream of panic, face twitching as if caught in a nightmare. The Queen of Tears does not see it, of course, but she's staring right at Harry.

"It will -be- ash. Ash and pain and death, until there is silence. Until the sweet, bitter sound of Sorrow can be heard throughout a dark and empty multiverse. Until no voice is raised in joy, and no breath stirrs in warmth. Death Metal will take this fucking place from you.."

And too Alden, the frown growing to a brittle smirk. "Cannibals. Cannibals and black souled hypocrites. You eat your own to grow stronger and call it 'morality' - call it duty. You didn't have to do that - you still don't. Let me show you how strong you can be; What power lays in your broken hearts, little monsters.."

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Well, Ophelia /tries/ to hug his partner. That duster swirls around him in a puff of breeze as he interposes himself and takes that spot, eyes cold and challenging. He towers over the Shell, and murmurs. "As I said. Don't like killing ,but for some reason I don't trust you around my Partner. Call it... Past differences."

Inga has posed:
Inga is generally good at keeping a poker face, but when Harry positions himself to defend her there is a flash of obvious worry. Of love. She quickly goes back on her guard, fearing that Ophelia would try to exploit that knowledge if she knew.

Inga looks to all the reflection in the crystal, the only reaction a quick intake of breath through her nose. It isn't anything she hasn't seen before, but it strange to see such possibilities reflecting for the eyes of others. She knows what others will see if she steps forward as well.

Inga looks back toward Alden, taking in Ophelia's words and Alden's response. She knows relatively little about the creature, other than he seemed sweet and grew meat plants...of course there is more to him. There's sorrow in everyone. "Do not let her in. I have seen it happen. The black water can infect you too," she warns quietly, not wanting to see him get hurt. She'd probably be the one having to purge it if it did.

And Harry better not get infected. She's already been there, done that!

Inga looks back to Ophelia. She knew it wouldn't be easy. Ophelia was too far gone.

Then Ophelia springs forward, as if to embrace her? Or attack her. Harry moves first. Inga's eyes narrow, Ophelia's words still carrying. "You can't release me. No one can. None but the gods," she replies, a quiet, smoldering anger building.

She's in range of the crystals now, her own reflections surfacing.

And every one of them is the same.

Inga sits alone in a candle lit room, runes drawn all along the walls and covering the floor. A circle drawn around her seated form, a long white dress hiding her legs. Glowing chains are attached to her arms, manacled at the wrist. Her eyes are dark pool, the iris invisible, the mind far away--never in one place long, lips whispering prophecies. The wyrd, past and future, consuming.

Inga doesn't look. She'd seen the reflection of Ophelia, the real Ophelia, as she once was. She's still there.

Inga finds the thread that is still Ophelia before the black water and PULLS. "You've always struggled, Ophelia. But you are good. You /did/ good. Even though they didn't trust you, you did good. You gave up. I don't blame you. But I wish you would let me show you another way. The multiverse is a big place. People who never found acceptance in their world have found it here. You are not too far gone to come back," she says, trying to pull the good in her forward. Still trying.

Alden (930) has posed:
Alden growls softly, looking a bit affected by those words, "I... maybe." he begins to talk, looking down for a moment. Thankfully, Inga's words, and a firm shove from his companion seem to break whatever train of thought he was having, "Thank you Inga." he says, smiling softtly, while the bear just growls at her, before turning to Alden, "Don't listen to her, I don't know her and even I can tell she is trying to mess with your head."

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
"Oh yes, I've seen your past differences."
Cackles the Queen of Tears as Harry interposes himself; There is no fear in her from violence. It was kindness and pity she shrank from. The clawed hands coming up, curling in - an invitation. "Like a fucking angel, are you? One wing always dipped in blood. Law keeper. -Hero-. You're going to hurt everything you love, and everything you love is going to hurt you - and then it'll be over. And what will you have accomplished, with all that strength?" She points a clawed finger towards one prism, where Harry stands in full regalia, powerful and ashen-hearted.
"-Nothing-. Not a fucking thing. Every build you save will fall. Every person alive will die. Every love shared will be lost, and that'll be another thorn in your -fucking- soul, won't it? Because you -will- fail. You'll always fail, eventually. I want you to remember this, -hero-.." She spits, tears leaking pitch along her cheeks as she stares up at Harry.
"No matter how fast, you're going to fail in time. Once. Then twice. Then over and over; And when your heart breaks, I won't even say 'I told you so'."

White eyes flick back to Inga, and for a moment she pauses. Sucks in a breath, and hisses; An animal noise. "-Ffffffuck you-. I -am- my own fucking acceptance. It is your -heart- thats going to kill you; Not your bullets or your knives, not your spells or your fires. It's love that murders, happiness that smothers, joy that burns when it leaves. It's watching and knowing everything you have -will be gone-." She pauses, then, and suddenly smirks. Drawing herself up as she looks towards Inga's own reflection. "Your Gods did this to you..? .. The Dead Gods can undue it. Fucking -unshackle- yourself; Come with me. Come to the Sea of Black Tears. Aren't you fucking tired of living -every fucking life-, of trying to watch every fucking road at once? There's freedom in my misery. There's solace in my sorrow. Wash your grief in my waters, and see how the future dies away. You won't be .. -this- .. anymore. A slave to someone else's fucking fate."

And finally, to Alden. A tinkle of cold, broken giggles. "Tell me I'm wrong, then. Tell me I'm lying. You saw Golden; Death Metalmon. You've seen just how strong you can become - no more swallowing the death of your brothers. Everything you need is in that fucking cage in your soul; All you have to do is break the fucker open and let it out."

Alden (930) has posed:
Mentioning Golden made Alden growl loudly, pushing the bear aside, "I saw what you did with him, and I know all you did was turn him into a toy, a puppet." he says softly, "I know the kind of power you can offer, and I don't care about it, I will become stronger on my own."

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry... just sniffs. "You haven't said a thing to me yet that I don't already know." Thorns in your soul kinda stings though. That's a new one. "But you have to have a heart to break it, Ophelia. And there isn't much left there, to be honest. And I already came to the brink on that one. I looked... I was tempted... and I stepped back. Was brought back." Those cold eyes betray nothing now, and... He's looking right at her, right into those eyes. Souless eyes? Or maybe she's just too much of a monster now for Harry to see what's left of her.

    But still, he keeps a watchful eye on Inga as the Drowned One turns to her...

Inga has posed:
Ophelia knows how to cut deep. She knows how to spread her sorrow. She knows just the right things to say. When she's wagging her black tongue at Harry, Inga briefly entertains the thought of lightning her on fire.

Inga dimisses this thought however, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. This is taking a toll on her, but she won't let it show if she can help it. She knows. She Sees in a way Ophelia cannot. "Time..." she begins, shaking her head. "You have it all wrong Ophelia. Time isn't what you think it is. It isn't one thing and then another and another until it ends. You have it wrong. You are not just you, right now. The person you were is still the person you ARE. You are still a girl, in love with Eddie, right now--somewhere else. Everything you did, everything you were is still happening, but you can't see it," she says, her eyes taking on that recognizable look, just like in her reflections. "Your heart is broken, but there are times--places where it is not. You can make that your reality again."

Inga closes her eyes, swallowing hard. Ophelia has seen something of Inga and she'll use it. Of course she will. "It doesn't matter. I am living my life, doing as I should. I put the chains on myself. I chose, even as I was chosen. That is the only difference between us Ophelia. You could choose, but instead you let it control you. Because it was easier. You're a slave, too," she replies.

Inga looks to Harry. She shakes her head. She seems to know what's on his mind. She moves closer to him, unspoken support.

Drowned Ophelia (975) has posed:
"Metal Deathmon was no fucker's toy; You saw what he could do." Begins the creature, laughing now; Mad, broken laughter that only hardens when Alden mentions growing stronger on his own. "Oh yes! Murder more and more of your brothers; Swallow them down your gullet, steal them, and call yourself heroic. Never think once of who they left behind; You have friends, family, -owners- - they once did as well. Happiness and fears, memories and love, all swallowed down your fucking guts."

"For more -power-." White teeth flash behind black lips, before Ophelia turns her gaze towards Harry; And in her eyes? ... Madness. Sorrow. Grief and hate and self loathing twisted about until everything else is crushed between these mighty pillars. But there's something missing from this creature; This -shell-. Something vital, left down in the dark. "You're still trying, aren't you? Look at you.. the both of you." Her eyes flick between Igna and Harry, that smile growing wider. "How much will it hurt - when she's dead? Has she seen -your- death already? No, I was wrong; You aren't a hero - you're just as fucking pathetic as every other creature that draws warm breath. You've just got the balls to pretend otherwise."

And finally, for Igna. Ophelia draws a breath to retort - and pauses. Jerks backwards, eyes wide - hateful. It starts low - low in the gut. It wrenches upwards, tearing its way thorugh her esophagus, a death rattle scream, muscles on her neck standing out in pure contrast to her pale blue flesh. Claws curled into fists. DEATH METAL hammers into being, the very air vibrating as her misery calls to her. The song of Betrayal.
"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO SAY THAT NAME! NEVER SAY THAT FUCKING NAME!" She shrieks! Before, this lead to - well - Igna's apparent death. This time, however, the claws rip into her own face, sliding upwards into her hair line, leaving faint lines that bleed ichor. Wings snap out to either side as she slams upwards with a blow of air, shrieking like a forlorn banshee.
Is it hate? Sorrow? Some mad mix between the two? It's hard to say - but the danger is past.
FOR NOW.

FINAL THEMESONG: 'Betrayal' - Lita Ford -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_E0e_Q4i7Gs

Inga has posed:
The name always breaks her. Inga knew, in using it, it would provoke a strong reaction. But she has to keep pulling that trigger. Its the key, she's sure.

There's nothing else for her to say. Ophelia goes, leaving her brutal music behind her. But it will fade. The crystals will help to disperse it, won't they?

Inga lets out a breath, shuddering. She leans against Harry, looking between him and Alden. "Are...you two alright?" she asks.

Alden (930) has posed:
Alden seems torn between anger and sadness, both of which are spurred further the more that witch talks. He opens his mouth to try to talk, but seems to decide against it. He just watches the Drowned queen march away, the only thing stopping him from trying to run and punch her is the other digimon holding him down. Eventually he just sighs, and looks back at Inga, "She is awful..." he mumbles softly.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry... just sighs a bit, watchign the woman fly away, on wings of sorrow. "...I need a drink, we're getting too literally metaphysical around here."

Inga has posed:
Inga sigh heavily, nodding to Alden. "She is lost--but not unrecoverable," she says.

Inga nods to Harry. "Agreed. I haven't been to Mac's lately. You're welcome to join is Alden," she offers. The Seer looks exhausted. She probably hasn't slept in days. Woops.

Alden (930) has posed:
Alden smiles to Inga, "Well, I don't really drink much, but I figure it can't hurt, mind if Bearmon comes with us?." he asks. The Bear seems still a bit stunned at the whole encounter, "That person really freaked me out..." it mumbles.