Scene #9105: Yurodiviye

Owner	Pose
Angela	The exact breadth of the Yurodiviye is uncertain. The Blade Lineage has sent Aeng-du along to help the Watch in contacting them. The Yurodiviye is known primarily for social projects rather than subterfuge, eating the rich, or any sort of violence. Rather, they spend their efforts feeding the hungry, assisting in charity collections and building repairs, helping with farmer markets--they don't rock the boat of The City, at least not in any noisy way and few of their projects involve battling Syndicates or Wing agents, but their positive work has garnered them a positive reputation, albeit one tinged with a quiet understanding--sometimes resentment--that their proffering hand only extends so much. They don't operate in the Nests at all--they are entirely known to work in the Backstreets--so little travel is actually required. It is about an hour's walk to where they operate primarily--at least according to Aeng-du's intel. Along the way, Aeng-du explains just how she learned about the Yurodiviye in the first place. "I mostly heard about them from listening in at bars. They don't get news coverage, not even on the radio... But after a few days of this, these two guys in green coats sat across from me and just started talking about 'going to the Farmer's Market' being run by the very people I was listening in for--they were talking ... a little unnaturally, they were too informative for just listening to people at a bar like they wanted me to hear... So I think they realized I was investigating them at some point... Though they weren't the ones I was trying to avoid the notice of." She adds that little bit hurriedly, like she was worried her samurai pride was at risk for being noticed like that. The market is actually an outdoor market and it isn't just farm goods, though that is the primary item being sold here. While the agricultural center of the City is District S, every District has SOME farmland. The fancier booths are Wing associated, but there's some humbler stalls. There's also a couple stalls belonging to some low grade Workshop Meisters that repair clocks, radios, pocketwatches, and other assorted goods and at least one shoeshiner lurking out of the way that looks like she is like twelve years old, missing a tooth with a newsboy cap and a general scuffy vibe. She's working on the shoes with a rag of an actual newsboy who is holding what looks like a bunch of self-made newsletters that they are trying to sell for about fifty centers worth of Ahn a piece. "Was hoping there'd be some kind of office but I don't see one here..." Aeng-du murmurs. "But they're bound to notice a group like us eventually. Would be nice if we could find them first." There are some people with green coats millowing about, buying goods and the like--most of them unarmed--but Aeng-du's eyes don't spark with recognition when she scans the crowd. "They may have changed clothes but what struck me was that their coats had two pockets--cellphone sized--on their mid-upper chest. And they had these scarves with these...black lines, kind of vaguely Y shaped?" There's some seating areas too belonging to cafes and restaurants associated with the market, they're all pretty close together and giving the stalls some distance. They're all very busy and noisy at this time of day. Most of the tables are fully occupied though there are some that have open spots, about three of them. One has a white haired man enjoying a cucumber sandwich, another has a blonde woman and a green haired man fiercely discussing something that can't be heard this far from over the din. A third is a man with long brown hair constantly checking his watch and only has a coffee right now.
Odette Raskins	Kim's writings about the Yurodiviye are still fresh on Odette's mind as she joins Aeng-du today, dressed in her usual Company-approved EMT uniform alongside the Company-unapproved Watch members. She's probably the least likely to align with Kim's thoughts on the matter when it comes to relying on others with a completely different skill set from hers. The fact that she's far more comfortable skulking around rather than getting into a direct fight certainly doesn't hurt, and after hearing that they're more like social workers definitely doesn't hurt her impression of them. That's why she needs to make sure they'll get a good impression of the Watch, even if she's still skeptical about their reach as far as competing everyone she's seen in recent months. Keeping her grade 7 ID card safely in her pocket, Odette takes a moment to fix her cap so the brim has the right downwards curve at the sides instead of sticking up oddly after accidentally falling asleep on top of it. "Definitely sounds like they were trying to get your attention, yeah... D-do you think this might be a trap?" She asks, then makes a questioning noise a moment later. "I-I mean, I don't know why they'd go through all that trouble if they just wanted to do something like that, but... It wouldn't be the first time I've seen something weird here." At the market, Odette's tempted to make a few purchases of the fresher looking farm goods. It's not like she hasn't eaten freshly-ish grown vegetables before, but she's in the mood to spend a little pocket money, and stuff she can eat... No, she'll have to pick some up on the way back. For now, she'll settle for anything already cooked and a drink that doesn't look too crunchy. "I used to have a jacket like that. Um... With those kinds of pockets, I mean. A-at least when I was a kid, then..." She starts, pauses, then shakes her head quickly and keeps looking around at the crowd to see if she can't find people with that kind of jacket Aeng-du just described. And while she's doing that... No sense not getting something small from one of the cafes! Rather than going to interrogate anyone, though, she instead starts drifting closer to the most suspicious one in sight while trying to blend in with the crowd milling about (despite wearing her EMT uniform the entire time): The watch-checker with coffee. If he's waiting for someone, wouldn't it be risky to drink too much coffee? There's got to be something going on there, perhaps even of the Yurodiviye variety. At the very least, it might be an interesting story for later even if her hunch is wrong.
Father Berislav	The Yurodiviye would be an invaluable ally in the days to come--they have exactly the kind of experience with building solidarity and survival networks that will be crucial to the Watch's aims of rendering the city kinder. The Blade Lineage can learn from them--and it's Berislav's hope that some of the less experienced members of the Watch can, too. I think they realized I was investigating them at some point... "I see," says the priest, mid-travel, lifting a hand to stroke thoughtfully at his chin. "That's good news. They don't sound much given to militant action, so I think we can interpret this as a sign of interest." At the market proper, Berislav is aglow. He doesn't have much money to spend--priests don't make a ton of money; less as clerici vagantes and only what they can scrape together when they're declared anathema as he is. Still, he has some to spare and a smile for the newsboy, flipping through the report of recent events as he strolls with the others. In between catching up on the news and perusing the stalls, he glances around--partly to make sure he doesn't bump into anyone, but also to keep an eye out for someone who might be on their shortlist for 'probable members of the Yurodiviye.' He pauses, when he reaches the outdoor seating areas, tucking the newspaper under his arm to peer curiously at the man checking his watch. Does he have one of those scarves Aeng-du mentioned?
Hibiki Tachibana	It isn't that much just yet--most of what people say is they are what they appear to be. People looking to bring prosperity to the people--but not in a way that challenges existing power structures. Whether they intend to at a later time or not, I do not know. Such was the description that Aeng-du gave them on the 'Saint' and the group known as the Yurodiviye, and by all accounts of that and other rumors, Hibiki can't imagine herself disliking them. She can understand perfectly well why people in the City would want them to do more than they do, make more change for the better than they do, especially if they're a far-reaching organization with power and connections. But, at least from the viewpoint of a Modern Japanese Girl, she doesn't really want to walk up to guys who help feed the starving and doing necessary Backstreets repairs and ask 'why haven't you been working to undermine some of the most powerful forces in the City?' "Sounds like they're pretty keen on that kinda info-gathering themselves, if they picked that up from you..." Hibiki murmurs to Aeng-du on their walk. Well, maybe it's possible they just haven't been /in/ a position to do more than they do. Suppose they'll find out by the end of the day. Maybe. She lets out a low hum scanning over the market, relaxing a little bit under the general vibe of the area - places like this make it seem like they and the other parts of the City may as well exist in entirely different worlds. "I can't picture any of it being a trap... I'm sure they wanna have a chat, though." Her eyes scan over the various members of the crowd, from the occupied tables to otherwise, but Hibiki ends up drifting in the direction of the self-promoting newsboy and his scruffy shoeshiner. She's got a little bit of Ahn to her name, given it helps when you navigate the Backstreets, so... She offers forward one fifty Ahn, triple the going price for one of those, her other hand in her coat pocket. "One paper, thanks. And some extra for you and her, too." She does plan to actually glance through the newsletter when she gets some time, but she also takes the chance to ask... "I don't suppose you've seen any men with green coats, and scarves with black lines, walkin' through here recently?"
Dysnomia	By now, it was becoming more common to see Dysnomia in 'street' clothes than her usual spacesuit--a pair of tattered jeans exposed leggings through their gaps, while a bulky hoodie draped about her shoulders. Between her eyes and radiant hair, she looked odd. But many people in the city looked odd, in some way or another. "So I think they realized I was investigating them at some point... Though they weren't the ones I was trying to avoid the notice of." "A covert invitation." Dysnomia growled, brows pinching. "Rather than just finding you and asking you to come. Or perhaps a trap." Dysnomia scowled at the crowd around them, as though glaring at the opaque present would reveal its secrets to her. Much to her surprise...she found something. "Would be nice if we could find them first." "Too late." She guessed, sharply exhaling an electric-warmth that momentarily inspired a spark from her collar. "I picked up a spike of radio signals as we came in. Someone's taken notice." She hummed, a frustrated line in her forehead. People milled about, she Dysnomia was left with eyes darting from the newskids--interrogate them--to the man with the watch--will his behavior change--The white haired-- Just do SOMETHING. She grabbed something from one of the non-Wing affiliated stalls, leaving a pile of Ahk for a sandwich and a newspaper--she wasn't entirely sure what was on it. Not like I'd taste it, anyway. She took a seat near the arguing couple, pulling out her paper, pretending to read it and listening.
Father Berislav	D-do you think this might be a trap? Or perhaps a trap. "I doubt it," says Berislav with a gentle shake of his head. "These people aren't fighters--which would mean any trap would necessitate those who are. And who are those people, in the Backstreets? Fixers or their equivalents in the Syndicate, primarily." "Something like that would cost them their goodwill with the people they're here to help--goodwill which is hard to come by in the City--for little to no benefit."
Liza Grier	'they were talking ... a little unnaturally, they were too informative for just listening to people at a bar like they wanted me to hear...' "I'd do the same thing if I were operating so much as a soup kitchen in this hole." remarks Liza, trudging along on the long walk behind Aeng-du, wearing her red rainjacket with the hood around her neck. "If someone advertises then naturally I'm gonna assume it's a fucking organ harvesting ring. I'm not sure I even believe that farms are real here." 'Was hoping there'd be some kind of office but I don't see one here...' "Should have expected there wouldn't be. That's more hierarchy than this kind of thing can tolerate." Liza says as she's only just arriving. Her fingers tap on the outside of her pocket in some kind of idle habit as she scans the crowd herself, wearing no expression in particular, and developing none, as a sign of satisfaction. "If there's admin, then there's someone who has the chance to squeeze out a little more so everyone else gets a little less. That kind of shit isn't just endemic here; it's chronic and acute." Liza says, turning back to Aeng-du. "Good job though. This is the kind of place my old teammates would have looked for." After thinking about it for a little too long, Liza trades a newspaper for definitely more than fifty cents worth of cigarettes(?), muttering "This place is gonna get me to pick smoking back up I swear." as she opens it up. 'I can't picture any of it being a trap... I'm sure they wanna have a chat, though.' "That'd be just great." Liza murmurs over reading. "These fighters could use some fresh fucking food, and guys with an ear to the ground and a head for infosec are literally square one; once you've got the guns I mean. Even I work with informants." She flips the page impassively. "D'you know that? Saboteurs, sympathizers, old friends, old debts, disgruntled fucks dazzled by star power, people who just wanna get everyone else killed. Any informant is a valid informant."
Angela	the man checking his watch doesn't seem to have a scarf, but he does have a small folded up piece of paper. And he seem nervous, constantly glancing at either his watch or that piece of paper. It's decidedly suspicious--but is it the right kind of suspicious? Or maybe even...too suspicious? The newsletter is speaking about... A) Merelisa's assault on the city, referred to as the Lambent Dragon B) Some concerns about service outages with Lobotomy Corp and what that means for the District, including worries about another Smoke War style conflict--or an incoming Syndicate Gang War. C) Opinion articles about whether or not the Trideag can be trusted, one in support of them and one against--it occurs to Berislav that all these articles are written by one person--including both Opinion Articles: Chance Proxy. Considering there's a last name, it's probably an alias the writer--probably also the newsboy--thought was cool. At the very least, no trap is immediately sprung. ''Sounds like they're pretty keen on that kinda info-gathering themselves.'' "I suppose even for a group that is trying not to make too many waves, you can still make plenty of enemies." Aeng-du is wearing a black kimono, has two giant beads to hold her hair back and has a katana at her side. Chance sells another paper at triple the going rate--and he grins at Hibiki. her. "Thanks, sis and I appreciate it." He pauses and cups his chin in an exagerated motion. "Maaaaybe..." Chance says. "You see a lot of people around here... maybe my sister remembers? She's got a good memory." The shoeshining girl extends her hand out towards Hibiki expecantly. Dysnomia sits down near the arguing couple after buying a sandwich and also a paper (Chance is making a lot of bank today compared to normal). The radio traffic dies down shortly after the spike. She notices the arguing couple--neither of them--have any kind of radio device within easy reach, no earbud in an ear or anything like that. The woman is arguing about the man cheated her but the man is complaining that she cheated him. While at first it feels like a romantic squabble, it becomes rapidly apparent they are arguing about fradulent goods they sold one another. Oof. "Th..there are farms..." Aeng-du stammers. "Though, um, there are organ harvesting rings too..." But she smiles a little bashfully at Liza assuring her she did a good job. She's a little shy about her skills, it seems, as befitting someone who is still a pupil herself. The white haired man finishes his sandwich and leans back in his chair, looking up at the sky. His hair is covering his ears, and there is no visible scarf--though he is armed, with a sword with a yellow tassel tied to his hilt.
Odette Raskins	"I can't picture any of it being a trap... Something like that would cost them their goodwill with the people they're here to help" "I'd do the same thing if I were operating so much as a soup kitchen in this hole." "Yeah... It'd have to be one of the Blade Lineage's enemies, but then that'd just end up being obvious about it." Odette nods slowly in agreement with Hibiki, Berislav, and Liza letting out a relieved sigh at knowing she's overthinking things the normal amount instead of way too much. With her mind eased a little bit at that, Odette can focus properly on scoping out the man with the coffee! There's not enough from what he's doing (or not doing) that she can really make a proper determination on, but hanging around long enough does get her some more insight into what epople in the Backstreets might be worried about. She certainly hasn't forgotten about Merelisa's arrival last time, and that could be a good angle to approach the man from to get a confirmation on what he's here for. Lobotomy Corporation's a familiar name, too, and Odette recalls hearing something about a Smoke War, but what really sticks out is the mention of a Syndicate Gang War. Thatmight be too on the nose, but she'll have to keep that one in mind as well. The opinion piece actually gets her to scoff a bit, entirely because of her employment with one Trideag Association. How could anyone think they couldn't be trusted?! Just because one attack from one person couldn't be handled by.... Wait. Crap. She did just make a noise, didn't she? Freezing up as she looks away quickly to try and not look suspicious from reading the newsletter over the man's shoulder, Odette quickly realizes this might actually be her chance to get some more info! She turns around slowly to glance at the man first, checking to see if he noticed her making that noise before turning around fully. If it doesn't look like he noticed her, she'll shuffle her shoes against the ground just loud enough to draw his attention so he can be primed to actually notice someone nearby at all. No sense freaking him out further if he really didn't notice her, and it could be easiyl dismissed as an idle movement noise while she starts speaking. "Ah.. S-sorry about that, mister. Just saw the newspaper and it looked interesting. Wrong about some things, but..." She starts, pretends to look a little more irritated than she actually is for a second, then goes right into the concerned EMT act. "Anyway. Are you okay? Not feeling any chills or anything?" She asks, still feeling a little awkward about having to just make this all up on the spot. "I've got some medication if you're feeling under the weather, courtesy of the Company. Oh! Um. B-but if you're waiting for someone, I'll leave you be. I don't want to interrupt your..." She gestures at his coffee and newsletter, not quite sure what else this could be besides just hanging out or waiting for someone. "... Anything."
Hibiki Tachibana	Any informant is a valid informant. Hibiki, who is currently in the middle of kindly asking a self-made newsboy and his sister for anything they can share, cannot help but nod quietly in agreement. Yeah. That's kind of just true. Hibiki, who is currently in the middle of kindly asking a self-made newsboy and his sister for anything they can share, is also currently getting the runaround for the both of them, as one should expect from scrunkly street kids who may or may not be in the know. "Well..." She starts slowly, slightly raising an eyebrow while squinting. She may be stupid. No 'but'. She just also is looking at these two when she already generally is in possession of more spending money than someone like her tends to know what to do with. So after a moment, she nods and leans down to offer another one-fifty(!) Ahn to Chance's sister without batting an eye. "...Here you go. If it'll mean you two can take more time to yourselves and less havin' to sell papers, plenty worth it." She straightens back up and puts her hand back in her pocket afterwards. "If you somehow do remember anything, I'd really like to hear it."
Father Berislav	His personal effects don't seem to match the description Aeng-du gave. The weapon... it isn't so uncommon to see those in the City. He returns his opinion back to the newspaper. Berislav heaves a sigh when he reaches the piece on Merelisa. "It's going to be a difficult few months for us--for the people we're doing this for, with her in the picture," he asides to Liza. "Just as I warned her, a lot of voices within the city's infrastructure are already using the attack as an opportunity to place blame and responsibility at the feet of every Elite, through the Trideag Association." It doesn't look like any of the people at the outdoors dining areas are who they're looking for. He could go and ask them individually, starting with the nervous-looking habitual-watch-checker, but... there's already someone nearby who makes it their business to keep apprised of goings-on. Berislav smiles, folds the newspaper back up, tucks it back under his arm and returns to Chase. Hibiki, as it happens, seems to have had the same idea. "That's an interesting accessory," Berislav notes neutrally of Chase's earpiece. "I imagine it's useful in your line of work."
Liza Grier	Liza, finishing up skimming the paper, folds it shut with a strangely well-conveyed sense of closing a magazine and slapping it back down on a waiting room table, though what she actually does is neatly fold up her copy in one pocket, destined for red string and a corkboard somewhere later. "They haven't figured out their angle at all." she says, in a way that sounds approving while being suggstive of the behaviour itself being 'wrong'. "Slow day?" comes out facetiously. "Pretty rare that you find an outlet covering all angles of what the people actually think. Telling people what they already want to believe makes more money, and what the guys in charge want to them to think pays even more. 'Th..there are farms...' Liza looks at Aeng-du as if she might be defending the existence of Santa Claus. It's all fun and games in her eyes, but as usual, her implicative stares are always a bit too intense. After a while she chuffs, amused, saying "Kim obviously doesn't have as much of a pick as he'd like, but it's obvious that you're one of the more promising prospects. We'll need people like you; and like these; when I deliver our 'would-be beneactors' my personal terms." She looks meaningfully to Berislav. "If even the community paper's speculating on L Corp's decline . . ." 'Just as I warned her, a lot of voices within the city's infrastructure are already using the attack as an opportunity to place blame and responsibility at the feet of every Elite, through the Trideag Association.' "They'll get by." Liza replies, vacuum seal-grade dry. "Agents like us were going to be in the crosshairs anyways, seeing as we're up to no good. Agents like theirs are gonna be taken care of no matter what; it's already getting run like its own station. Everyone else; whoever wants to stir shit with no backing but wants to dodge blame, too; fucking deserves whatever they get." she says, half-heartedly spitting the word "Amateurs." like she can't be that serious.
Angela	Nobody's clearly wearing Yurodiviye colors or Yurodiviye insignias or emblems. However... Odette scoffs at the newsletter and that draws attention from both the white haired man and the one nervously checking his watch. The man with the watch just looks at her anxiously until she speaks. He seems relieved and pushes off his chair to give Odette a big hug. "Oh thank you, THANK you... I was running out of time...! If you hadn't talked with me I'd be have to have killed myself according to the script...!" He breathes a sigh of relief. "No, no, you're the one I was waiting for. Thank you, ''thank you''...! Can I get YOU anything? Coffee? Sandwich? Treat yourself, it's on me... you just saved my life...! Another minute and I would've been toast...!" He takes out that little piece of paper and opens it up so that Odette can see. There's a symbol of a crescent moon, vertical, with a hand--index finger outstretched and holding a flower--coming out of it. Underneath that hand the words 'If an orange haired woman talks with you before 1 pm, offer to buy her a meal. If one does not appear, stab yourself in the heart 16 times.' are written down right there. The white haired man with a sword smiles at Odette, "Looks like you just saved a life. The Index lures you in with a promise of safety just for the cost of one task a week--but there's even odds the tasks they'll give are impossible." He offers her a hand. "With Trideag aren't you? You've been making a name for yourself." ''Slow day?'' "If I give both opinions I don't have to pay anyone to do the other opinion." Chance say with youthful logic. He lowers his voice and adds, "I tried with Gamble but she's just so stilted..."
Angela	Meanwhile the sister smiles brightly at Hibiki and takes her money. Chance whistles and says, "Big spender. You must really want to know--" Berislav comments on the earpiece and he has a small laugh at that. "Little weird for a newsboy to have one of those huh? Well don'tcha worry, The Saint takes good care of us. I just sell these papers 'cause I'm gonna be the biggest journalist in the District, ya see? Normally I wouldn't sell him out for three Ahn, but he wants to see how you track down a man and he's watching. He's in this very market and honestly I'm glad you're stickin' it to those money grubbin' Kurokumo." "Mm!" His sister agrees. "He's not wearing his colors or his symbol or his uniform. That'd be too easy. But he's he only guy I know who has a yellow tassel on his sword." The sister pipes up with, "And pretty white hair!" "Ugh, Gamble, don't you think that's maybe a bit too obvious?" Her brother chastizes her which gets her to stick her tongue out at him and phhhhbts at him. Aeng-du quirks her head at Liza and says, "Do you really think so? I sometimes feel... like my master has led us down the wrong path. He says if he had killed that CEO they would've simply replaced him--but maybe we wouldn't have been on the run like we are now. If we hadn't lucked into meeting with you...we'd have been wiped out evenually." The white haired man turns to look towards Liza, "You remind me of someone I used to know. A dear friend. How much, though... I suppose I'll have to see." He stands up, lifting up his hair to show he also has an earpiece in. "I think I've seen enough of how you operate. Mind if we walk and talk?" He starts making his way to the street. Chance jerks his head towards the white haired man to suggest Berislav and Hibiki should follow him.
Father Berislav	If even the community paper's speculating on L Corp's decline . . . "It's disheartening to see, after their workforce organized. I wonder if the environment here is really that caustic, or if there's some other factors at play I'm not privy to. I hope the workers will be alright." I tried with Gamble but she's just so stilted... Their names are Chance and Gamble. Berislav beams, making the necessary will save not to outwardly comment on how adorable he finds it. He's in this very market and honestly I'm glad you're stickin' it to those money grubbin' Kurokumo. "Faith as small as a mustard seed can split mountains, if one has the will to water it with diligence." ...he's he only guy I know who has a yellow tassel on his sword. Berislav's white brow lifts in mild surprise. "So that was him after all? That's very good news," he smiles. He holds his left hand out, waving his palm over the ground. The air peels as if it were only paint, lathered over a field of burning orange. The paper is dropped into that orange space, and the tear closes behind it. He nods gratefully at Chance and Gamble. "Your paper's got a new reader today. I'll come back on the regular, I think." Joining Odette, Liza and the man who is evidently the Saint, he falls into a casual pace alongside them. "I'm told you didn't want to make finding you 'too easy' for us," he injects at the first conversational pause. "I suppose you can't be too careful in the City. Especially not with new faces. Still... our reputation, or the Blade Lineage's, has evidently piqued your interest. I'm pleased to say that the feeling is mutual."
Dysnomia	Dysnomia found herself falling too deep into people watching--skimming across the surface of minds, tasting their little bitterness and fleeting joys, the feeling of so many grasping for a moment's sanctuary after hands were sore and spirits wounded, curled up in a moment of peace... It's the flickering thoughts of familiar minds, a whisper of satisfaction, that drew Dysnomia's eyes sharply up from the paper. She followed his eyes to the white-haired man, and briefly cursed herself for letting herself get lost in the middle of an operation. Her shoulders stiff, expecting chastisement, she walked up to Berislav and Liza, giving them a nod. "So, you found him." "I think I've seen enough of how you operate. Mind if we walk and talk?" Dysnomia glowered at him...Or maybe that was just her normal expression? "You wanted to see if we could find you..." She thought aloud, slowly. And then. "No. You made it too easy. You wanted to see HOW we would find you, didn't you. Blunt or precise. The carrot or the stick."
Hibiki Tachibana	Chance and Gamble... Hibiki gives them both a small and tired smile. "If you're gonna be the biggest here, wouldn't do for me to buy at bare minimum. Better in your hands than mine, anyway." Her one to Chance is a little more wry, the one to Gamble is a little more earnest. "Get yourself something nice with that, yeah? You'll have more than Berislav coming around to keep up with the news, promise." At Chance's urging though, she gives the siblings a brief wave and goes to catch up with the white-haired man and the others, following behind Berislav. She looks the 'Saint' over as she does so, glancing at his tasseled sword and then to the rest of his appearance. She lets out a low hum as she falls into step with the rest. "...Can I ask just how long have you been keeping your eye on us? Since that incident with the Kurokumo Clan... or...?"
Odette Raskins	Oh heck, he is looking at her. Just play it smooth, act normal, chat him up, see if he's someone actually someone they're looking for... And then Odette lets out a startled squeak when the man hugs her. It takes a second for her to return the hug, just zoning out for a second as she tries to figure out what just happened. Killed himself? Scirpt? "Ah... Ah? Uh. Y-y-you're welcome?" She stammers out in utter confusion, just trying to go through the Company's pre-approved mental health support checklist for something resembling normalcy. Don't hug him too hard. Don't hug him too lightly. Don't hug him too long. Don't let go too soon. Two to three pats on the back. Once she goes through all that and has enough time to get her mind sorted, she squeezes the man a little tighter with genuine warmth before letting go. She still looks pretty confused. "No, I think I'm.. I-I mean, I wouldn't mind a drink right about now, but-no! No, that's okay. Just doing my job!" Odette replies with a practiced chipper and unthreatening tone while leaning over a bit to take a look at that piece of paper to commit that symbol to memory. "Ehm... B-but do try and stay safe, okay? Er. Or maybe... Walk arund if that...?" Wait, why does he even HAVE that paper? Why would he obey that? Both of those questions end up being answered in short order, thankfull, as the white haired man approaches her. Her voice goes high for a moment with another brief, less startled squeak than before, then starts putting together some dots almost immediately. The finger with the moon WAS an index finger, so that paper before... "The...? Oh! So that was their... W-wait, why would they give such a weirdly specific task?" She asks the white-haired man with the sword, still dumbfounded at the past minute or so while taking his hand and shaking it. Her handshake is limp, yet her grip is firm. "I... Y-yes, that's right. Uh. I have?" Well, she did just reach grade 7. That gets her eyes to light up just a bit. ".. I have. Hehe. A-anyway. Anything I can help you with, mister?" As she speaks, her gaze drifts over to the earpiece as he shows it off to Liza, glancing over at Liza for a moment with a light shrug before joining in on following him. "Who...? Um. Who are you, anyway?" She asks, moments before Berislav makes it obvious to her that he's the one they've been looking for, and even Hibiki seems to realize it before she does. Alas, Odette's already opened her mouth, so she can't un-ask that question without looking like even more of a chump!
Liza Grier	'The Index lures you in with a promise of safety just for the cost of one task a week--but there's even odds the tasks they'll give are impossible.' Liza looks around as if for a candid camera. Like this halfway has to be a bit, courtesy of the Thumb. 'If I give both opinions I don't have to pay anyone to do the other opinion.' Liza pauses, arches a brow incredulously, and then reluctantly says "Smart kid." The commendation has so many levels. 'The Saint takes good care of us. I just sell these papers 'cause I'm gonna be the biggest journalist in the District, ya see? Normally I wouldn't sell him out for three Ahn, but he wants to see how you track down a man and he's watching.' "There it is." she murmurs. "Awful polite way of wanting to see. And I'd guess pretty confident that Aeng-du roughing someone up in a dark corner would have been neat and solvable. Doesn't strike me as that daring with gambling his people." she says, slightly too loudly for contemplative thought. 'Do you really think so? I sometimes feel... like my master has led us down the wrong path.' "Stop. Shut it." Liza suddenly interjects. She makes an inscrutable motion with her hand which freezes dead, bidding pause. "What does 'wrong' mean? Don't be in such a hurry to skip it; show your work." she says, not lowering her hand. "The right thing for 'the greater good' means destroying yourself almost as often as not. The right thing, as an ideal, means getting in deep shit every damn day. The right thing for you and yours is whatever keeps them together, and sometimes you can't afford the rent on safety over ideology. The right thing, tactically, usually means keeping your head down and swallowing shit until the right moment. The right thing for your grand strategy sometimes is taking the long shot and hoping for a fucking miracle." "Don't start speculating on right or wrong when all you're really talking about is how comfortable you feel with it in hindsight." Liza says, finally lowering her hand. "Whether you regret it and whether it was the wrong idea; keep them fucking separate." Pulling back her coat sleeve and checking her wristpad, holographic lettering reflects in Liza's eyes, scrolling down without pause; then she puts it away again, before it reaches a bottom. "And they do replace 'em. Fast, efficiently, heartlessly. He's right about that. I just disagree on the praxis." she says. "Each time you kill them, they replace them a little slower than before. It's like chemo. It's like weeds. Humans are persistence hunters, and always will be; so even that satellite laser isn't going to change a thing unless it comes out week after week after week." 'You remind me of someone I used to know. A dear friend. How much, though... I suppose I'll have to see.' "I hope it's not too much." Liza says drily, patting her pocket, then frowning at herself as she remembers she gave those away on purpose. "I'd start having doubts about your sanity if I'm a close fit." Walking is easy. Liza's already moving along without even needing to answer. 'I wonder if the environment here is really that caustic, or if there's some other factors at play I'm not privy to.' "If you're wondering, then it's always both." 'Faith as small as a mustard seed can split mountains, if one has the will to water it with diligence.' "And we have to talk. About our 'money grubbing' mutuals."
Angela	The two scamps have clearly maximized their scrappy youth characteristics for maximum prophet. And judging from how they know of The Saint, they may be affiliated with the Yurodiviye. They'd probably happily act as informants for The Watch too. Establishing connections with people like this can only help The Watch expand operations in The City. Since the Trideag has high level backing, The Watch could use any kind of help they can find. ''After their workforce organized...'' "Some businesses would rather collapse than allow a union to take over. A philosophical rejection of that kind of solidarity can matter more than their bottom line."] ''Faith as small as a mustard seed can split mountains...'' Chance, who is following behind with Gamble seems impressed. "Geeze, Mister. Were you educated in a ''university''?" ''I'm told you didn't want to make finding you 'too easy' for us'' "Discretion's important to us." Sonia says. "Knowing you can keep your cool and investigate without drawing the eyes of everyone in a room--I needed to make sure you could manage it." He smiles as Dysnomia comes to an understanding. "Good head on your shoulders. You've got it in one. Even if you couldn't find me, it was way more important to me how you'd try to. If I just wore my colors, well--you'd find me too fast--even those without subtlety will take a quiet option if it's right there in front of them." He did practically say it out loud but it was just indirect enough that he's glad that Mia filled in the blanks. "I know our reputation. We don't do enough, we're too subtle, too focused on theory. Too busy waiting. Sure, you can be too patient... Miss your chance... But I know the price of impatience. I'm not willing to gamble just yet." ''Can I ask just how long have you been keeping an eye on us? Since that incident with the Kurokumo Clan... or...?'' "Ever since the Index went outside of the City, I figured it was only inevitable that Outsiders would take interest in us. A couple of you worked with the Black Silence on some project not long after. Hunting something that was targeting the Sweepers. Seems like your mission was successful since the Sweeps continued up in that District again not long afer." He points a finger at Hibiki, and then another one towards Dysnomia. "So we knew about you two for a minute. After that, you hooked up with the Blade Lineage and I figured it wouldn't be a bad opportunity to make contact...If you could be more subtle this time around."
Angela	The man under some kind of thumb (or well, index finger) doesn't insist Odette stay with him. He's just thrilled that he doesn't have to do the alternative task! Chance smirks smugly at being called a smart kid but seems inclined to let Sonya handle the chatter for now. Aeng-du swallows as she's told to shut up. She listens carefully, mouth hanging open for a moment. She was clearly not expecting for her little comment to provoke such a response. Shame hits her dead on and she says, "Aha...sorry. You're right. It's too late for those kind of doubts. If I fret over every difficult choice..." ''I hope it's not too much.'' "Oh no, just a bit. I think it's too early to say ''a lot'', no?" Sonia heads out of the market and onto the street. Once there's fewer crowds around he continues, "What do you want from us?" Sonia asks. "We've had our eyes on you, but we're content to be patient. Build our support network. Picking a fight with the Kurokumo or other Syndicates will put a radar on us. One I'd rather not have right now. But the scuttlebutt is that a war's coming either way. Over the Backstreets, at least, even if the Nest doesn't fall. A lot of people are going to be hurt by that, all across the City. Even CEOs will feel a sting if L Corp falls." Sonya smiles again. "But I do like the way you talk and how you operate. So I'm sure there's something we can do to help each other out."
Odette Raskins	With the safety of the fearful man all but assured for now, Odette does intend to join everyone else with the Saint! Before she goes, though, she leaves the man with a small piece of paper with the number for a burner phone. "Call this number in case you ever need a hand from... Er. Outside of here, okay? Y-you're not alone, and..." She reassures him and pauses briefly, wondering if she might be being too subtle. "You'll be a big help to other people if you hear anything, too." "Even if you couldn't find me, it was way more important to me how you'd try to." As she follows along with everyone and the Saint, Odette listens closely as she's reminded of the importance of discretion. She's not keen on revealing that her own act was something of an accident, so she keeps her mouth shut about that part. Instead, she focuses in on the rest of it: "And... I-I'm guessing you wouldn't have been happy if we did something like use super eyesight powers to find you? No, something like..." She glances over at the scamps and giggles briefly, then takes a sip of her mystery drink. "Scoping stuff out, asking around. But... How did you know we'd be trustworthy?" She pauses, weighing her words carefully. "I-I mean, if we were just really good investigators for any of the Fingers... Is there a way to tell us apart from them?" She pauses again, then raises her hand before putting it down quickly like she just stopped herself from doing something. "The symbol on the.. Um. The note that man had. With the moon and the pointer-uh. Index finger, and the flower." Odette looks back at where the man had gone earlier, then turns back to the Saint while lowering her voice. "Do the moon or the flower mean anything...?"
Father Berislav	Humans are persistence hunters, and always will be; so even that satellite laser isn't going to change a thing unless it comes out week after week after week. "Precisely the kind of insight I knew you'd bring to this operation," Berislav says with a pleased little nod. And we have to talk. About our 'money grubbing' mutuals. "My door is always open," says the priest, "Especially for you. Would tomorrow work?" Geeze, Mister. Were you educated in a ''university''? Berislav smiles warmly at Chase. "I was," he says. "I had to go to school to become a priest. I also try to read often, even now that I'm not in school anymore. I think it's important to know about the world you live in, what people are thinking and saying, and how they feel."
Father Berislav	We don't do enough, we're too subtle, too focused on theory. Too busy waiting. "Really? I've heard much more positive things about you," he says. "That you're focused on helping people survive the City, that you do so because you want it to be a kinder place and not so that you can profit from being the outstretched hand. That is a form of praxis, even if it isn't as dramatic or heroically flattering as some of your critics might prefer." "It's how I got my start, in fact," he says with a certain warm nostalgia in his eyes. "Even though I'm more used to direct action these days, building solidarity is a tool I keep well-maintained." "When I heard about your people, and what you're doing, I was very pleased--because in order to do what my people want, we'll need people with your skills and disposition." After that, you hooked up with the Blade Lineage and I figured it wouldn't be a bad opportunity to make contact...If you could be more subtle this time around. Berislav chuckles. "You're not the first to comment on that," he says. "Time and experience have made me less patient with unrepentant sinners. If I had the ability, I'd be making war on them relentlessly. But I don't. So I slay the gardeners of sin where I can, burn their works when I'm able--and when I'm not, I salt their fields, that their wicked fruits will grow no longer." "Solidarity," he says, gesturing wide with one hand. What do you want from us? "I don't know about Liza, Kim, or our comrades," says Berislav, "But personally, I'd like you to continue doing exactly what you're doing. Build your support network, help the people of these Backstreets survive what's coming--and count on us as the newest strand of that network." "I want to break the fingers of the Hand that squeezes these Backstreets dry, and replace them, one by one, until what once strangled instead uplifts and protects. The low will be exalted, and the princes of this place, who have made their riches on the backs of the poor, will come crashing down to the earth--either to find themselves dashed against it or liberated and unburdened by sin." "This is something that may take years, I know," he says. "But even though I'm less patient than I was, I know the scope of the evil that I'm up against, and I know how valuable you would be as allies."
Dysnomia	"A couple of you worked with the Black Silence on some project not long after...After that, you hooked up with the Blade Lineage and I figured it wouldn't be a bad opportunity to make contact...If you could be more subtle this time around." A grimace "...I'm not as used to subtle field work with my current tools." "Even CEOs will feel a sting if L Corp falls." "When it does," Dysnomia mused. "I imagine it will be worse than most fear." It felt a little strange, interacting with everyone on the outside, so scandalized by the potential of L's fall, from what Dysnomia could remember of the inside, and the accepted, understood, hoped for conclusion of their grand design. "What they do goes beyond what most expect. As do their plans. And it will happen soon. Prepare." "Solidarity," Dysnomia's head tilted to the side, slightly her mouth making a puzzled little frown. This isn't how negotiations work. But, of all of the people in the Watch, Berislav and Liza were among those precious few in the Watch that she felt had truly earned meaningful seniority. Present a united front to the opponent. Strengthen your position. She reminded herself, clearing her throat. "Liza was talking as we arrived about the importance of reliable informants." Dysnomia said, crossing her arms. "Even if you don't feel you can take action on your own, when there's action 'we' could take, make that information available. You can gather information. We can act on it." Other strategic priorities? Oh, right. "...And the Blade Lineage is looking for ways to become truly independent. The Thumb is currently trying to assert control. I'm certain they would appreciate anything that might give them leverage." To better their bargaining position...Or stand entirely defiant.
Liza Grier	'Geeze, Mister. Were you educated in a ''university''?' Liza would find this unbearably funny if she knew anything about the history of the King James Bible. 'A philosophical rejection of that kind of solidarity can matter more than their bottom line.' "Don't go calling it that." Liza says. "I mean it. There's nothing philosophical about it. It's pure and unadulterated animal snarling. Adrenal-pumping, skin-prickling, raw and crackling ape-brained rage and fear. They'd rather die and take everything with them than be looked down on." 'Knowing you can keep your cool and investigate without drawing the eyes of everyone in a room--I needed to make sure you could manage it.' "When I have to." Liza says, blandly. Enough that she has the gear for it, at least. 'But I know the price of impatience. I'm not willing to gamble just yet.' "There's waiting for it to get easier and waiting for a shot that counts. One's pathetic and the other only gets to prove it wasn't after you cut off the snake's head, and not a moment before." Liza interrupts herself to puff-pfah about a different thought. "Shameless of them to take an arm full of free shit then bitch you didn't hand them the stars with it too." 'If I fret over every difficult choice...' "You're allowed to worry about it. You're not allowed to be vague about it. You gave up on being able to wring your hands about 'things in general' once you took up a mission." 'Especially for you. Would tomorrow work?' "Yeah. But we'll make it an open question." she says. "Within reason."
Angela	The poor man takes the paper. Nothing says he can't. He glances around a bit nervously first, though, because sometimes even if something isn't against the rules you can't really be sure. "Not sure what I'd hear but ... Sure, if something catches my eye you'll be the first to know, ma'am." Maybe this is why the Index told him to do what he did? He doesn't dare to guess. ''Super eyesight powers to find you?'' "Like a Beholder? Well, I suppose if you were just that capable, that'd at least tell me something." He speaks in such an easygoing way but maybe he's trying to put Odette at ease. "Mm... I could only guess as to the meaning of the moon and flower. I've never been part of the Index. But my guess is they see following their Prescripts to lead to something beautiful. It's a blue flower but you could see it as a blue star, too. The moon is the land from which the flower sprouts but it is also a guiding light in the dark. So are the Prescrips. According to their philosophy." He smiles. "But it's just a guess." ''Don't call it that. I mean it.'' "...You're really concerned with wording." Sonya observes. "As if words can serve as poison, even if they came from you. I supposes philosophy ''is'' too kind a word for it." His expression sours, though not because of Liza. "But you only speak truth as to their concerns." He smiles. "...I don't think it's shameless of all, though, for them to take what we offer and complain about not having the stars too. I'd give them the stars if I could. The stars have been stolen from them all along, after all. If I only give them a pittance...How can I blame them for being impatient? ... But I can't be impractical simply because my heart aches." He sighs. "But you are right that I cannot exactly prove I'm not pathetic." He cups his chin, glancing to Berislav as he even mentions he'd rather be of help to them while he keeps doing what he's doing. A thought is rolling around inside his head.
Angela	''I'm not as used to subtle field work with my current tools.'' "Aha...don't worry about it. Being unsubtle doesn't seem to have hurt you, so what's the harm?" Sonya says. He's being a bit diplomatic here--it's pretty clear that Elites can get away with more than people like him whether it be because of corps wanting to exploit them, or fear of their superpowers, or just genuine curiousity as to something new and outside the City's rules. ''I imagine it will be worse than most fear.'' "That's a chilling thought." Sonya says. "All we can do is try to minimize the harm--and build something better with the opportunity." He frowns at the oher pieces of information Dysnomia gives him. The Thumb trying to assert control over Blade Lineage. Something that can give them leverage...He's thinking. ''We'll need people with your skills and disposition.'' "You're a kinder man than I heard, but I suppose it was kindness that moved your hand--No, mm, perhaps compassion would be a better word. Well I won't insist on humility--that's a certain kind of arrogance in of itself." He is quiet for a moment before adding, "That hand you wish to break, each one is akin to a Wing in of itself. It'll be a long fight you're signing up for--but the first Finger will be the toughest. After that, well...Once here's a ''Promise'' of ''Better''... But alright. I don't know how to shake off the attention of the Thumb ''now'' but playing along isn't a bad idea while they're desperate for the pot. Then we can drill a hole in the pot and empty it out right from under their..." He winks. "Thumb." "But." He adds. "...But first...You're already seen as a madman and they're already worried about a satellite in the sky so perhaps that's an opportunity for both of us." He claps his hands. "How about we rob a casino? And by 'we', I mean, well, we have intelligence... But the hard work will fall to you. We'll put it into the community. On behalf of the Blade Lineage, The Watch. You'll make many a friend here in District 12--not from the authorities but..." He gives a small nod to Chance, who immediately beams cheekily back at him. "It'll be a start."