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| Owner | Pose |
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| Timekeeper | Before: The way out of the Walden had been broken-through. Geed led the way out by carving upwards through the ground, creating the tunnel to the woods above the labyrinth, stirred alive by their druid patrolling the hallways below. Moissan, carrying Sotheby, Flamel and Holly, loudly having declared their animosity to the Manus Vindictae, Sonetto and Tamamo, separated from Vertin and Lilian, and all the rest, climbing the incline among writhing roots while Druvis's focus was off of them. The burned forest wasn't a safe place to linger, not while Druvis was still right behind, but the report of gunfire echoing down the halls gave them a reason to stay by the entrance a second longer. Schneider's guns heralded the appearance of the three missing members, minus White and Marian, slipping into the exit that Geed had burrowed just a minute behind the others, in view at the bottom of the tunnel. But just from a blurry glimpse down into the darkness, something was wrong. They were stumbling; two of them were carrying the third while fending off the roaming Manus monsters, and Lilian in the middle was supported by both Vertin and Schneider, barely moving and unconscious. Vertin's shout reached the outside, but she was drowned out by the creaking and groaning of an entire ecosystem lurching into motion. Sealing over the end of the tunnel before they could escape, right in front of the others' eyes, the roots wove together into a woody scab as Druvis closed in on Vertin and Schneider, trapping them inside at the whims of the Manus Vindictae. And the woods still weren't safe. Sonetto's shellshocked expression, the uncertainty of what happened to Lilian, Schneider being back at the mercy of the people who planned to sacrifice her, and running, running, through the rioting forest, out past the treeline and away from Arcana. There wasn't any question about whether they'd go back for them. The Sotheby manor was hours away by foot, so taking shelter there with the three in custody wasn't an option at all. The Ainsworth Office was close by, and empty, now, as a safe place to regroup and make rescue plans. Losing the Timekeeper struck a devastating blow to her Chief Assistant, even though the frantic momentum of the following events props her up for a time. Her face is pale and stiff as she issues clipped directions to organize the Elites, heartachingly professional-- the rescue will happen, but they won't rush in unprepared. It's been over half a day since first arriving in Chicago, and certainly longer than that since everyone's last meals. In the nearby neighborhood where the telephone operators' office was, there's no shortage of places to buy food, and brushing against the average resident of Chicago as the clock counts down gives another glimpse of how the Storm Syndrome's progressed. It's just the first diner Sonetto spots, curtly hurrying in to get in and out with enough calories for everyone to think clearly-- hot dogs, pizza, whatever. They give her an odd look when she orders, rolling their eyes at each other and scoffing as if there's something ridiculous about her, then shrugging when she shows them the American dollars she has. The cooks go in the back to fire up the oven, from cold, even though other patrons are in the booths eating. They give her a stack of pizza boxes and a crate with a dozen or two prepared hot dogs, take her money and snicker as if they've pulled the scam of the century, and start tearing apart the bills to toss them into their mouths. The customers at the tables, on second look, are cutting apart and eating jewelry, bills, gold shavings that could only have come from the Sothebys. They chat animatedly with each other while sipping molten metal from glasses that blisters their lips. The cloying smell of scraped copper starts to make your mouth water. |
| Timekeeper | The Ainsworth Office is empty. Karson and Bellwhistle and Margaret and all the other girls of the office must have taken the teleportation disk back to the Foundation safe ground by now, or they've succumbed to Storm Syndrome badly enough that they never will. There's only enough chairs for half of you, and only if you drag the mattress out of the little apartment that won't be used again into the main receptionist's area to sit on it. The aroma of fresh pizza and hot dogs fills the room, but for the less mentally fortified humans of the group, the copper of the telephone wires smells a little more appetizing. The abandoned headsets and microphones of the receptionists are tossed on the switchboard or on the stools they used to sit on. One headset dangles down by its cord, criss-crossing phone calls audible in the silence of the office, or news reporters talking about a wave of 'inexplicable' illness sweeping the nation, sending people to the hospital with horrible stomach pains or scraped up and burned throats. There's no sign of any Manus Vindictae pursuit, or any way of knowing what's going on inside the Walden. Right now, with the food distributed to everyone in a safe location, should be when Sonetto shifts gears from assuming command of their retreat to planning out the rescue attempt. Instead, the rigidly business-oriented stream of instructions and motions comes to a slow stop, as she silently kneels down on the ground somewhere nearby Tamamo's chair. Sonetto stares down at the slowly cooling hot dog on her knees without moving to eat it, fingers digging into her thighs. Someone else probably needs to say the first word here. |
| Riku Asakura | Riku is sitting on the ground, not minding the hard floors compared to the chairs he could be sitting in. He's thankful for the food that Sonetto brought, digging into a pizza, especially when they were waiting for the copper from the phone lines, which was even starting to sound appetizing. He's sure it's not natural, but he put it off to being very hungry and drained after fighting through the Walden, and of course, gone this long without a meal. Once done, he sits in silence for a bit, perhaps waiting for others to say something, but eventually he can't keep his silence anymore. 'Standing around doing nothing won't get them anywhere,' as he likes to say, so he looks up from his spot on the floor and looks across towards the others. "So we have to find Vertin and the others," he says, evenly. "I guess this means we'll have to brave the Walden again..." He takes a breath. If Tamamo is here, he can fight if she keeps filling him with energy. So that's not a huge problem, but the problem is... "So do we approach from the front or try digging into the basement again? With that person controlling the plants, it's not going to be safe regardless of which way we go..." |
| Regulus | Regulus isn't too thrilled at having to leave Vertin, Lilian, and Schneider (and even White) behind either. She turned around immediately and punched at the sealed tunnel. "Oi! Oi you can't--! You got your bloody Storm, let them go!" She squint shut tears of worry before they can escape. Was she wrong to reassure Sonetto about them splitting up in the first place?? It's starting to feel like it. She shouts fruitlessly at the wall, "Wankers!!" And then she stumbled back and looked to Sonetto, fists clenched tightly. "We'll...we'll get them back. There's still time." She reassures herself first. "Captain... we best not linger. Worry not, I am keeping track of the time. Many hours still." Regulus's grumbling stomach, and exhausted expression suggests despite her willingness to rush back, she wouldn't last very long. She'd been seriously pushing her arcane skill and the fruitlessness of its use honestly further presses down on her energy levels. "We'll get them back. Got a future to get back to." She mumbl insistently, more to herself than anyone. ''Tearing apart the bills to toss them into their mouths.'' "Gonna get indigestion like that, mates." Regulus manages tonelessly as she fwumphs into a seat only to see people downing liquid metal. She hurriedly looks away from them, not wanting to shear the vision in her mind. "Least they don't know what they're doing." She mumbles. "They're madder than even the last time." But then it's time to move onward to the Ainsworth Office. She's looked to Sonetto, her sunglasses obscuring her expression as she worries over the assistant. "Um ..." She adds uselessly on the way. "If you're starting to get a hankering to put a coin in your mouth, uh ... don't." She makes her way into the office. She immediately takes one of the chairs to fwumph down on it. She's so tired and so exhausted and she doesn't run around like this as part of her normal life even if running around like this is increasingly becoming so. She takes a long look around the office and thinks of the ladies swarming Vertin, of the charming cooing, the light flirtation between APPLe and Bellwhistle, and all of their struggles and now it's an empty room full of ghosts. Then, impulsively, she pulls on one of the headsets, squinting her eyes as she listens through the news, hoping for a sign, for anything, while shoving hot dogs and pizza slices in her mouth. She glances over to Sonetto and her hot dog. "It's just a setback, love." She tries to reassure her. "They sniffed out that plan well in advance but we've got time for a new one, one that nobody can spill the beans on." She glances back down to her warm dog. "You should eat. We're all gonna need to eat now. Probably will hold off the Syndrome a little longer if we aren't going into the next hours already hungry." Regulus lets that hang like a headset for a moment before adding, quietly, "You've still got us here to help out. Between all of us we can think of something. Keeping ears open, you know? Maybe we'll get a clue." |
| Veronica | Veronica only dispersed her EGO when finally clearing the forest's edge, so as not to leave a trail through the city streets. Now, standing in a corner of Ainsworth Office, she takes a few eager bites from a hot dog before realizing Sonetto, for once, may not have a plan. She chews, swallows, tries to compose her thoughts. A difficult task, with Storm Syndrome looming so close in the collective unconscious, but one she can manage if she focuses on the thoughts coming not from all around her, but from back home in the City, from the one place that goes with her everywhere. "...Right," she finally begins. I don't think they'd just hunker down, unless that... lady in black, Arcana was it? Unless she's really sure we couldn't take them head-on at the Walden." "But if not there, where do we think Druvis would take the Timekeeper, Lilian, and Schneider? I could try to 'listen in' on the background noise and figure out where that bartender guy is. That could be a lead. I'd..." she considers the ever-upward-creeping tide of the Storm Syndrome. "Need some help to not get caught up in the mess myself." She pauses again to think, considers who among her allies could assist with this, and lets out a little sigh as her eyes settle on Agent Parsons. "Hey, uh, Flamel. You know the Syndrome better than anybody. Could you help me with like, withstanding it for a little while?" |
| Tamamo | Convincing Tamamo not to immediately charge back in, emptying her full arsenal of curses in the process, is a Herculean task. It might have been different, had she not caught sight of Lilian -- and if no one else had, either -- and been able to run off with the full expectation that they'd be quickly followed. But with Lilian affected by some unknown attack, and White (importantly, a spatial mage of no small skill) absent, that's not how it goes down. Eyes wide, talismans spread between her fingers, their retreat is punctuated by fiery explosions, less visible and more deadly draining curses, and the kind of snarling, screaming, wordless rage that's easier to imagine was just a hallucination, afterward, a disturbed misremembering of a chaotic battle, and couldn't have possibly originated from Paladin Chevalier Tamamo-no-mae. She's quiet by the time they've escaped the woods, and unreadable for most of the time afterward. Her mental defenses have silently reset to a blank template, the appearance of a mind barely awake, though that's surely another false guise. Tamamo reaches out silently, and puts her hand on top of Sonetto's head. This method of impressing one's presence while getting another's attention is fine and normal. "There is nothing that can keep us apart." She doesn't specify who she's talking about. "They will focus upon the ones who appear closest to their grasp, and are confident in their defenses. A mage's territory is such a thing, but my own preparations are carried with me." She'd avoided the melee, before, making her, possibly, the freshest fighter here, even while supplying Riku with extra energy to keep him going, and extra on top to prepare for a decisive moment. 'Unless she's really sure we couldn't take them head-on at the Walden.' "It is most likely the case. There were several large-scale magics in effect, there. Among these was a defensive warding, surrounding the Walden to some distance. They would not wish to move away from it, except to another safe location, if it is this that allows them safety from the Storm." There's something missing, there. Why would it not provide safety to the humans, too? It can't be working the same as the Foundation's. Is it... Tamamo goes into her handbag, and retrieves the mask they'd pilfered. "Is it this...?" They don't have a lot of time, but she needs to at least check this theory, before deciding on a plan of action. |
| Ein | Gunfire, and the scab of wood forming over the hole through the Walden's labyrinth, leaves the outcome underground ultimately uncertain. Ms. Moissan, Sotheby in hand, looks back, a horror in their eyes that forces their attention back forward or stop completely. Sotheby, looking back, doesn't really understand what it means -- that they *must* go back. In their flight back through Chicago, Sotheby finally mentally exited the particular lurching danger of prior and realized she was just being led around again, while they walk hand in hand rather than being carried. "Ms. Moissan, are we going back home?" "No." The tall field agent sighs and changes the subject. "Put this over your face." The motion of white cloth from pocket to Sotheby is accepted not by little lady, but by her shoulder stuffie, Sotheby a little concerned. "But what's wrong, Ms. Moissan?" "There's something in the air." Sotheby smacks her lips and tastes the air, frowning. "No, there's... not?" She doesn't mean it as pointedly as she declares it, but Moissan's tone cuts. "Haven't you noticed? Typhon has been alive for most of the night. The Storm means..." By the time their conversation-while-walking reaches this point, Sonetto has led them back to the empty Ainsworth Office, and the agent gets the door for Sotheby and those behind her, having mustered her expression before turning but still bearing a deep weight. If there's something to say, it would wait until after Vertin was recovered. 'If they were all doomed' wasn't something to be shared, and yet it weighed. Pushing past the people eating at the tables, Sotheby finally puts on her mask as she tastes the metals on the air, not even recognizing the lathed-off gold as hers yet... Horrified at what was happening. The inevitable 'Ms. Moi-ssan!' is stifled as the Bavarian takes Sotheby around the shoulder and escorts her further in, murmuring a quiet "We have to help Ms. Vertin. That's what the storm means. They're sick, and once we have Vertin back we can. . ." The pause extends as she gets the young woman by the interior door. "Work on a cure." She lies by telling nothing but the truth, perfect and deniable as she was trained. Sick, sick, sick, she arranges some food for Sotheby and plans for herself while having no appetite. "Regulus, we've been running around all night. Do you think we could do something else for a while? Put something on the burner and curl up with a book for a while? I know it'd be a little much to go all the way home to get one of my books, but do you have one?" |
| Flamel Parsons | Flamel Parsons has fully colonized the space. He's not sitting, that's for the young and the injured and the damaged. He's on the phone. On the phone with leaders of organizations, on the phone with popular voices in popular spaces. Anyone with psychic influence. Druvis III was a viable Stormchaser candidate, but there's no way of even testing that now. So what is left to him? Well, manually plugging in switchboard cables rapidly, a dozen telekinetic hands active to barely keep up with his demand. He's a telepath, sure. But he's also an espionage expert. He has to track down sources of power. Someone, obsessed with both money and sustainance, an arcanist who embodies this moment. If he can't find them, through raw sifting the entirety of society over the phone, he won't get a chance to run the Stormchaser Procedure. Who knows how many could die? Who knows how many might pass from this era, never having the chance for a clear thought? He hasn't slept, hasn't rested, barely eaten. He's chewing one of the wires idly. He isn't an arcanist -- at least, Arcana wouldn't believe him one -- and his resistance to Storm Syndrome is based on practical exercises. "So do we approach from the front or try digging into the basement again?" "Getting through the forest at all is going to be a nightmare." Flamel says, between calls, scowling at one of the headsets before getting his bright, cheery look back on. Thankfully, he's no longer blind. "How can we do this, how can we..." He scratches his cheek. "Between all of us we can think of something." "You know, creative energy doesn't actually pool like that! It sort of works more like a combustion. And I think we're all ash, no fuel here. No offense to the people who can make infinite fuel and heat, of course." "Could you help me with like, withstanding it for a little while?" Flamel removes the copper from his mouth, shaking his head clear. "I can! Locally, just us, and only temporarily. The counterpattern I have works a fair bit, but it won't propagate wider unless I can find a candidate, and it won't amplify correctly. I can take the edge off, but you'll still need exercises. You all don't have anti-psychohazard training... This'll be a lot to get through." "Is it this...?" Flamel stares at the mask in Tamamo's hands. His posture is focused, but his eyes seem to be staring past it. Like it's inspiring something that he can't quite settle in his head. How to get to Lilian, Schneider, and Vertin? What's the fastest, best way to do this? An assault on the Walden? No. Sneaking in? No, if they're not already out then no amount of sneaking in will help. What... What can be... Flamel snaps his fingers. "Those masks. Oh my god, Tamamo you're a *genius*. Sotheby! *Sotheby*!" He calls out to her! "I need the names of *everyone* you can think of, everyone important and leaderly, who has ever *harassed* and *begged* you for help." He tears open a directory and starts to, with much hope and focus, try to dial up some leaders of human society. |
| Regulus | ''Where do we think Druvis would take the Timekeeper.'' "They're probably not leaving the Walden any time soon since they're handing out masks and the like." Regulus says. "And Arcana doesn't seem like a lady who rushes anywhere, not even in hours like these." ''Need some help to not get caught in the mess myself.'' "Quick to trust him, huh." Regulus sighs, her hot rage having dulled into cold embers now that the frustrations and fears of hours past transform into chilly acceptance. ansi173,"But not a bad idea. Nice thinking, Veronica.") She's actually not sure if it's a bad idea or not but she's going to say ideas are good so long as they don't sound totally horrible because morale's in the dumpster right now. ''So do we approach from the front or try digging into the basement again?'' "No point to being sneaky anymore." Regulus admits. "Anything I could do is tits up if we run into Arcana again and I'd sooner trust topside than be trapped underground with a druid again. And I don't think we can really split forces much. If they knew about our plan before we showed up, they might even know we're shit out of luck without Vertin and just bunker down. I'd hate to try and siege through Druvis's arcane skills--I heard a bit about her so I hoped we could reason but--" She nods to Tamamo, agreeing they're not likely to move from there. "Like the Suitcase." Regulus points out. "Maybe they can make it safe for arcanists only too." She shudders at the reveal of the mask. "Last guy I saw wearing like that become that same gooey stuff that was coming out of Arcana. Wouldn't call that safety by a mile, unless you know it's workings and can turn off that part." ''Regulus we've been running around all night.'' "We've got some time for a proper rest, love, but we'll have to move around quick real soon. Vertin's still in danger and we'll all be sad if we don't get her out of it." She pauses and adds, "What potions do yo you have on you?" She then awkwardly mumbles, "Sorry for losing your gold, it seemed like the time to get it free from that mess." She doesn't have any books but she can reach into her bag and draw out a thick stack of vinyls along with her portable record player. "This is what I've got. Any catch your fancy?" There's Hendrix, Beatles--even some old jazz albums that are local. ''You know, creative energy--'' Regulus doesn't let him finish, "Shut it. You being too clever for your own good is why we're in this mess." She seems uninterested in Flamel's helpful information! |
| Tamamo | Tamamo, who is presently thinking about two different things that are each, individually, the opposite of 'saving a lot of people,' looks up toward Flamel. "I would not turn down their assistance, but I should ask which plan you intend, Mr. Parsons." After a moment, she thinks to add, "Did you learn something useful from your conversation with their Lady Arcana?" This is the first chance to actually ask to share information. It wasn't even clear they were on the same side, an hour or so ago. 'Put something on the burner and curl up with a book for a while?' It's more difficult than it should be, but Tamamo switches mental gears well enough to look to Sotheby, and ask in a voice suited to unexpected social calls, "Does a strong, black tea sound good, at the moment? I happen to have a thermos or two in my bag." Along with picnic mugs. It's the closest thing she drinks to 'coffee,' though it's usually a different technique Tamamo relies on for pick-me-ups. 'Last guy I saw wearing like that become that same gooey stuff that was coming out of Arcana.' "I would avoid touching it." She's using gloves and spare cloths. 'So do we approach from the front or try digging into the basement again?' 'Getting through the forest at all is going to be a nightmare.' "With half a day, we have more than enough time to destroy a forest." Ecological destruction is on the table, now. "However, I would sooner bring an opponent to my own position than work upon dismantling theirs." |
| Schneider Greco | Is she going to make it? Are they going to, now? If all of this is washed away, did their lives mean anything? . . . Cosimo and Achille are sort of pathetic hangers-on, in this context. They both know it; they confirm their sharing of this knowing through uneasy hangdog glances at each other. Having lost their boss, the two henchmen do not fit in with you, here. Tenuously, they want the same thing you want (as of two minutes before the labyrinth shut). They are two warm bodies with automatic firearms and that could notionally, at some future point, be useful. They'd leave if you yelled at them to, though. They're here, mainly, because... In a world unraveling and going mad, where else can they go? Cosimo ate his pizza morosely, after giving Sonetto some pocket change. Achille managed maybe two bites of a hot dog. That's it. Something about it, about food, is starting to unsettle them already- though maybe that's just the guilt. "That's what it is? Everybody eating coins?" Achille- that's probably the one named Achille; the taller one- says. He's slumped against a wall. "Achille," says Cosimo, by process of elimination. "Coins. Why coins? And it's just a little slower for us, 'cause-- 'cause we were in the damn Walden, and once we've caught up those hours--" "Achille." "--we're gonna be scarfing down dollar bills like fucking--" "Achille." ". . . Alright." "Let them think." "You always wanna let someone else do the thinking. Not enough in your head, you're gonna lose it first, Cosimo." "Yeah, well, we're useless right now aren't we, so let's at least make ourselves easy to put up with." 'Work on a cure'. The shorter man gives Miss Moissan a glance. He knows she's lying; he hopes she isn't; he knows why she has to. His mouth works into an uneasy shape while his hands find his pockets, standing next to where his companion sits. "Shut it. You being too clever for your own good is why we're in this mess." A short woman says 'shut up' to a man in a suit. "Yeah, shut it," Cosimo mutters on Regulus's behalf. "You miss Schneider, don't you." "Well, you shut it too." |
| Riku Asakura | 'Getting through the forest at all is going to be a nightmare.' "That's true," Riku says, without skipping a beat. "But not impossible. Especially since I don't have to hold back anymore, and uh... I'm not fighting you guys," he says to Flamel. However, he's still slightly hurt from the brawl inside the Walden. 'Anything I could do is tits up if we run into Arcana again and I'd sooner trust topside than be trapped underground with a druid again.' "That's an advantage for me, that's for sure... and Veronica too. However, we're also down one of our best fighters," The missing Lilian, to which he looks towards Tamamo and gives a sympathetic look. They're also missing Schneider and White. 'Put something on the burner and curl up with a book for a while?' Riku takes in a breath. It's hard to forget that Sotheby isn't used to the fighting they're doing, and the running around is going to be harder for them. Thankfully, Regulus and Tamamo have her handled. He smiles at Sotheby, "You're being very brave about everything, Miss Sotheby." He considers Cosimo and Achille. They aren't arcanists or elites, which means their chances of surviving the storm are zero. Yet, here they are, willing to work with them. Riku looks a bit sad at this, because there are going to be two people they can't save, but are willing to risk everything for Schneider. "You two worked with the Walden. Is there anything you might have seen that can help us?" |
| Flamel Parsons | "Shut it. You being too clever for your own good is why we're in this mess." "Be nice! I slowed the mess down all I could. Sorry, there was a girl I needed to not be killed, I get really clever when it's for someone else's good." Flamel's beaming smile comes with a quick sunglasses-gleam. All natural, no photokinesis! "...But I should ask which plan you intend, Mr. Parsons." He chatters eagerly as he plugs and unplugs cables. "Look-- we saw how the Manus act, at that party, right? When disaster strikes, play up the *salvation*, and that means they can command scared humans. We know Forget-Me-Not is a savvy actor, he's an alchemical bootlegger in an anti-arcanist era so he's exchanged hundreds of favors with all parts of human society. *And* we know Druvis III has nearly total awareness of the forest, and everyone in it, and everything going on, as long as there's enough of the forest nearby. But they're *all* in the *Walden*, with my ally, and Sonetto's investigator, and your wife, who we need to get free, or at least let them have more room to move in." He jabs a finger at her, dramatically. "How do we leverage all of these things against each other? Everything's oriented against us, isn't it? But it's not! It's a careful web! They've precision-engineered this because Arcanists can't collaborate the way humans do." Throw in a little bigotry there, just for spice. "They need these highly specific balances of power and set domains. We just need to press the right spot." He pages through the directory. "If I can find the humans with the highest leadership power and the highest willingness to demand labor from Arcanists, I can have them swarm the Walden with demand. Force the Manus out into the open, out into the forest. Pressure them into running clinics for the ill! They'll have to lighten security, they'll lose the ability to detect intruders, maybe they might even *sincerely help*! I just need to press the right point on the elaborate network of Arcanist collaboration and the whole network *twists*...!" Assuming he can get everything he needs and this is *exactly* the situation he's assessing it to be... |
| Veronica | "Quick to trust him, huh." "Hey, if he wanted us outta the picture he'd have sealed us in there with Druvis. He's with us, or he's playing some six-dee chess that I wouldn't be able to keep up with anyway. Might as well take the help I can get." |
| Flamel Parsons | "He's with us, or he's playing some six-dee chess that I wouldn't be able to keep up with anyway." "If you do more agent-ing than double-agent, you just die. That's just how it happens! Ask that Bond guy, he knows." Flamel assures Veronica. "At least, it's a fifty-fifty coinflip any time anyone tries. I plan to stay living a long time." He's back to chewing the copper. |
| Regulus | ''I would avoid touching it.'' "Yeah a good idea. it's not any kind of alchemy I've seen before, that's for sure, and I don't know where to begin to study it." Regulus had almost forgotten that the goons were present, so adept at the task that she just sort of let them hang around and be present without really thinking about it. It occurs to her that the suitcase won't help them at all. "Sonetto, can we have someone get these two to the Foundation?" She frowns, trying to think about how they could help in a rescue plan but that feels like asking them to kill themselves for, at best, a minor advantage. ''Be nice!'' "No!" Regulus complains. "I may be a pacifist but I'm not a pushover and--it sounds like you just want to use them as ''fodder''!" She pauses, "Buuut.... I could probably get them up on the switchboard." Regulus's sense of ethics is in conflict of her love of schemes. "If there's anyone you want to get ahold of Ms. Moisan in this era. Give me a little bit and I can get half of Chicago on the line here. If anyone'll listen." ''Yeah, shut it.'' Also conflicting with Regulus's sense of ethics is the feeling of having guys actually support the things she says even if it's a little bit mean. This is dangerous, this is a power she wasn't meant to have, she's already imagining herself sexily pointing guns in various directions. ''You miss Schneider, don't you.'' "Yeah..." Regulus admits, despite being here. "It's not ''my'' fault, she's so bleeding charming!" She pauses before adding, "You wouldn't happen to know any secrets of the Walden would you? You've been in there a lot. Any secret entrances and the like? Or a place Schneider might hold up in if she was cornered? What do you think she'd do if she got caught?" ''He's playing some six-dee chess that I wouldn't be able to keep up with anyway.'' "Exactly!" Regulus says as if Veronica just proved her point. She helpfully tries to pry the copper out of Flamel's mouth. "No! Bad for you! Eat the hot dog!" |
| Ein | '*Sotheby*!' Gwendolyn Vera Sotheby perks up, bright eyes starpoints of attention at the tops of a big grin. A big, big grin!! She's so ready to help and he's so definitely talking to her. Perhaps this is her big moment to really make this a party! 'I need the names of *everyone* you can think of, everyone important and leaderly, who has ever *harassed* and *begged* you for help.!' Sotheby blinks slowly. "Ah. . ." It doesn't take a psychic to know, but the particular wisdom is on the tip of Moissan's tongue as much as it's fogging Sotheby's well-hatted head: There's nothing. She hasn't been presented to society yet. She spun gold and read books and lived on the family campus being raised by servants and tutors. She doesn't know any of that. There is so much hat and alchemy compared to everything else. Ms. Moissan, however, steps forward with a pocketbook she starts thumbing through. "It will be difficult to reach the President or any of the Prime Ministers, but I have embassy emergency lines for critical diplomats in most major cities. Some of them might have arcanists on-staff who might be able to work messages on the other side. What are you thinking?" She offers, while ready to spend some social capital at the end of the world. It was all burnable information shortly anyway. 'What potions do yo you have on you?' "I've got plenty of my batches thirteen and thirty of my nutrition elixir - I hear the taste is worse in the batch thirteen but the effect is much better, and I'm really very excited to reach batch thirty for my most favorite formulation, but it's like eating until you're full of roast and then sleeping for a while! Full of vim and vigor and also perhaps a little bit indigestion, but the potion has to work somewhere! Ah, and then some of those Misty Bubble Bombs? And then several other useful tonics - slipperiness, binding, scent, finding, that sort of thing! All things in balance, I as-sure. Plus, plenty of reagents for so much more! I don't do much premade-premade, actually? That's why I carry catalysts and a torch!" Animated, Sotheby can just go and go in aside, though she's further prompted by a stack of records. "Anything to read?" Sotheby asks, fingering through the records with a dirtied glove and a giggle on her lips. "I can't read a re-cord with my finger, Regulus!" 'Does a strong, black tea sound good, at the moment?' "Oh! Why, it does, though perhaps if it's quite strong, with a bit of milk? Mr. Karson..." A flicker of understanding back where she was, a pivot, proper lady, deep breath, proper lady! "... would usually add some cream to the stronger cups, so, I suppose that's what I prefer! But I am open to whatever you're offering if you've the drinks," She trails off, trying to laugh and coming off... tired. She's had a long day and said what she wants. Several hours of simmering to do that allowed book and nap time! Ms. Moissan, for her part, looks across at the shorter mafioso, eyes meeting in a chance moment. In that second, she sees him and instead of smiling, deflects to his benefit. "Sotheby, why don't you make sure our friends get some of your nutrition potions." The agent suggests, still side-eyeing, and Sotheby snaps to comply, gleefully offering out 'batch 13' and 'batch 30' in each hand, unclear which was which. "Tell me what you think!" |
| Tamamo | '... would usually add some cream to the stronger cups, so, I suppose that's what I prefer!' "Cream, was it..." While Tamamo has many things in her handbag, a refrigerator isn't among them, and she'd left today without the forewarning that an icebox might be handy. Looking around inside, reaching her arm a little further than the bag's dimensions would suggest plausible, she comes out with two thermoses and exactly three cups, but no dairy. "Do you suppose the diner's kitchen has any to spare?" It surely does, though someone would have to go and fetch it. Of all the times for Petra to be out of her hair... |
| Riku Asakura | 'I've got plenty of my batches thirteen and thirty of my nutrition elixir...' '<J-IC-Scene> Regulus says, "Maybe some of us should try that batch thirty so they don't get hungry for metal...' Riku, with a smile, offers to take one of the potions from Sotheby. "Thank you!" he exclaims before actually drinking it, and puts the potion to his lips and downs the entire thing. It was much like she described, like eating an entire Sunday dinner and taking a nap. Already he can feel himself being full and well rested! He doesn't even side-eye the piece of copper Flamel is gnawing on anymore. 'Exactly!' "Aw, come on, Regulus, he's already apologized for his hand in it, and I mean... he was doing his best with the hand he was dealt. Let's try to let bygones be bygones and work towards freeing our friends." To Flamel, he cocks his head. "What are you planning on doing? Like, what good is getting all of these important people to do something at the Walden even do for us?" |
| Timekeeper | "If you're starting to get a hankering to put a coin in your mouth, uh ... don't." Along the way to the Ainsworth Office, Sonetto is carrying the pizza boxes in her arms and looking blankly past them like someone who's never seen food in her life. Her almost answering machine-like response comes tonelessly, still lurching forwards with the momentum of doing one thing after the other. "This Storm Syndrome appears to fall under the subcategory of distortions to the nature of the world and its relations, rather than society and its behaviors. I will administer the appropriate psychological field exams periodically in order to ascertain the squadron's state of mental resilience. ... You should try hard to resist as well, Regulus." "Probably will hold off the Syndrome a little longer if we aren't going into the next hours already hungry." Sonetto lets the conversation flow past her for a little bit, but Regulus's words jolt her back into attention, for the most shameful reason possible for Regulus. "... Ah. That's right. St. Pavlov Foundation guidelines on counteracting the Storm Syndrome indicate that improper nutrition and rest greatly increase the risks associated with Storm-based hysteria." She nibbles cautiously at the hot dog, trying to prompt herself to find it edible enough that she'll salivate, or else chewing will be too uncomfortable. In an extremely strange adaptation to the circumstances of the moment, she decides to gnaw tiny bites of the hot dog itself around like a cob of corn, without touching the bun at all. "There is nothing that can keep us apart." Tamamo's hand is remarkably effective at boosting her mood, or at least her focus. Acknowledging the particular bond that the two of them share in the absence of the others makes her stiffen briefly, but rather than commenting on it directly, she just takes that as a reason to lock in further. She swallows her nibbles of food finally, and straightens her spine without taking her head away from Tamamo's hand. "Yes. I believe that the Manus Vindictae have little intention of moving away from the Walden, because it is their shelter from the Storm, and because they are defensively situated there within the druid's forest. We will have to find some way to approach them to retrieve the Timekeeper and Mrs. Rook." She adds, a few seconds later, tertiary in her mind but uneasily heartfelt for how recently she was shooting at Vertin, "... And Schneider as well. Now that she has turned against the Manus Vindictae, her return to the Walden must be...." |
| Timekeeper | "Is it this...?" Sonetto scoots away a bit to rotate herself around on the ground and watch Tamamo's experiment. She slips her glasfeder out, just in case anything goes wrong, but the idea of getting insight into the Manus Vindictae's immunity is too tempting to pass up. "Could it...? They were intent on passing out the masks to the humans that declared loyalty to them. If they are capable of mass producing such a wearable item that instills immunity to the Storm, then perhaps we could learn from it." The threads of fate draw from the oozing mask in Tamamo's hands, to the mass of gribbly darkness that intuitively must mean Arcana, but there's no direct connection to the *Walden* specifically. It's not similar to the protective charm that she sensed around the bar, but having seen Arcana personally now, she can intuit some more about the nature of the curse laid on them. The mind control or madness curse that the mask forces on its wearer isn't a sure thing, or purely retributive. Recalling how Lilian described the mind of the one who wore it at the manor, all of its effects seem incidental to what it is: psychic exposure to Arcana's 'truth' that overwhelms unbelievers and drives them to insanity, but if someone was loyal and magical enough to endure that, the sheer presence of Arcana's existence blocks out the Storm *Syndrome*; reality asserted higher than the transient moment of the era. "They're sick, and once we have Vertin back we can. . ." Sonetto's eyes slide over to the goons that have been awkwardly tagging along with them. The humans, alone among their group of offworlders and arcanists, vulnerable to the Storm even within the suitcase. Their only hope would have been to-- betray Schneider in turn, and take shelter with the Manus Vindictae, earning their trust by stabbing this group in the back. But they aren't doing that. Sonetto can't comprehend why, and looking at the two of them makes her eyes sting and her chest hurt even when she's held out so long against crying, even when she's only just learned their names. Cosimo and Achille, right? Why? "You miss Schneider, don't you." Sonetto blurts out unthinkingly, "Schneider's--" The clumsy Italian 'famiglia' almost slips by her lips. "--family, did you ever meet them?" "Maybe they can make it safe for arcanists only too." "Ah-" That would neatly solve one of the things Sonetto had been worrying about with the mobsters, but somehow doesn't make her feel much better. "Perhaps they are all only safe for arcanists. I do not recall any instance of a human surviving to another era besides from the Foundation's work." "I can! Locally, just us, and only temporarily." "That would be helpful. Thank you, Veronica." She is not in the mood to thank Flamel. Sonetto finishes off just the meat of her singular hot dog, and places the paper plate with the bun on the ground to stand up. "Currently the primary colors of the environment are brown, tan, and brass. There are ten people present in this room. Meat is edible and gold is not. The sun is a sphere and rain falls downwards and not upwards. Please hold these facts in your mind, and notify Mr. Parsons if they feel uncertain to you." |
| Flamel Parsons | "What are you thinking?" Flamel's eyes light up at Agent Moissan's insights and network. "It'll work! I just need to get the word out, once things are bad enough it'll spread fine on its own. Embassy diplomats will know the names and numbers I need to go after!" He can improvise, adjust the scheme, and work with someone else who seemingly has a super-spy's savvy. "...it sounds like you just want to use them as ''fodder''!" Flamel shakes his head firmly. "Only value of a secret is when you act on the truth, or tell it. No sense in not spending this secret now. Only the Manus are getting any benefit from it, and they won't kill the humans they already believe are about to be 'sifted' soon. That's my theory, at least." And then he smiles a big smile. "So, if you'll help, I'll apppreciate it. I really do have every reason to believe this can only do good." He hands off the headset to her. "Did you learn something useful from your conversation with their Lady Arcana?" "She said, if I wanted a 'more perfect' sifting, then I ought to 'covet destruction'. Didn't seem interested in having the Storm be more perfect, except through some kind of annihilation. So what can we do with that? Well," He gestures with one of the wires, plugging it in. "Not much. But it lets me know, they don't care about the Storm Syndrome. They have to be *made* to care. That's what I'll do here." |
| Ein | 'The sun is a sphere' "A-hemm!" Sotheby declares while raising her hand up to be seen. "The sun is an irregularly shaped object, like all fires! A sphere is *perfectly round*, everyone knows that! It's Common Knowledge!" Sotheby looks up to Ms. Moissan, beaming with 'I did it did I do it right?' energy with the lifting of her hat. "Yes, Lady Sotheby. For the purposes of argument what shape does it *most closely* represent?" "Oh, a sphere." "Thank you." |
| Schneider Greco | Cosimo and Achille both look at Riku, the first person to address them, and... "What're you lookin' at us all sad like that for. All in the same boat, ain't we." Achille looks back down at his lukewarm hot dog, uneasily. "Not gonna stab us in the back, are you." "Anything that'd help..." Cosimo wracks his brains, lifting up his dorky little hat to run his fingers through his hair. His cheeks puff out with a sigh. "Like I even understand half of what's goin' on." "I don't think they do either. Do your best." "No back entrances I know of, if that's what you're asking. Guess it's crawling with those masked guys by now. They might've thrown 'em in a cell, if they got captured..." "'If they got captured'? Cosimo, we saw..." "She's smart. You know that." "Seems like she's not that--" "Lemme finish. Your Vertin lady's an arcanist, right? They might not keep her underground after all; if they wanna, uh, dazzle her up, she could be in one of the VIP suites. Manus tries to take almost anybody with the right blood, I heard." "You're one to talk." "Huh?" "Old boss wouldn'ta looked at you twice if you weren't Sicilian." "Hey, if I wasn't Sicilian I'd be a doctor." "Alright." "... And Schneider as well. Now that she has turned against the Manus Vindictae" The two men shoot a grimly uneasy look at each other; one still standing, one still sitting, and backs to the same wall. "Yeah." "Yeah..." "Schneider's-- family, did you ever meet them?" Achille smiles a little at the near-slip. "No. Never." "Yeah, once." "Really? Were they--" "No, they were normal." "Huh. Human?" "Yeah. Really pious, proper. Little bit scared. She didn't introduce me. Don't know how the hell they raised her. ... Why do you wanna know?" |
| Regulus | ''I can't read a re-cord with my finger, Regulus!'' "I uh. Wasn't expecting to be sitting around this much, honestly, Sotheby. It's what I got. Sorry, love. How about when we get back I'll lend you my copy of the Emerald Tablet?" Oh right that's at the bottom of the Thames. I'll find something." She gives a nod to Sonetto and does her part to boost her resilience to STorm Syndrome by shoving food in her face, grimacing as she realizes she just suggested normal St. Pavlov guidelines to Sonetto but, like, hey, she did promise to try and get to understand the Foundation better. She'll just say it's part of that and try not to feel like the situation is making her more of an officer. ''Now that she has turned against the Manus Vindictae'' "She might be in the most danger of all." Regulus doesn't think Manus Vindictae looks too kindly on traitors, even desperate ones. Riku's insistence that she ease up on Flamel gets Regulus to hesitate, because she is someone who generally prefers to cooperate rather than to hold grudges and the like, but at the same time he literally shone a spotlight on Vertin. Maybe it was inevitable she'd end up their target anyway, but it doesn't make her feel in too much of a hurry to make ammends with the guy especially since he's also trapped her into a freezing Motherlobe for like a week and also because he also tried to get her to join the Foundation only to end up helping the Manus only for it to all be a ruse to help Schneider and while she's pretty peachy keen on that last idea, nobody likes to be the butt of someone else's intricate plan. "I'll think about it." She promises, grudgingly. "If we get everyone out of this I can forgive a lot." Ms. Moissan being behind this idea is doing a lot to encourage Regulus because she's an educator and not a super spy at all. "Schneider's guys too. Vertin wouldn't want us to leave them behind either." In order to properly hijack the switchboard to essentially do what it's supposed to do but to make the calls they want to make won't be that hard at all, though Regulus takes a moment to study the wiring since this isn't a technology that she's used before or messed with so it's going to take her a minute to figure out. She futzes around with the wiring for a bit, "If you've got their numbers, I thiiiink I can hook you up pretty easy. Yeah, I can get you anyone you'd want, pretty sure." She seals it back up. "Could also ''prevent'' calls from getting through--man these boards are easy to futz around with." |
| Regulus | She looks back to Sonetto and sees that it looks like she's about to start bawling right then and there. She looks back to Cosimo and Achille and bites at her lip. She doesn't need telepathy to have a shared understanding that it would've been a whole lot easier for them to betray Schneider than to stay loyal. ''If they wanna, uh, dazzle her up--'' "If they know she's the Timekeeper..." Regulus murmurs. "Yeah--of course they would!" Her eyes widen. "And Vertin's got charisma and she's smart, she'd know better than to just say' fuck off'. You're right, they're probably wining and dining her. And they'd want to hold onto Schneider for a little while at least. Leverage." She rubs at her neck. "Listen, we could give you directions to the Foundation. It's probably safer. I understand you probably want to help her out, but she promised to get you somewhere safe and--the only way we can help make do on that is if you fill your stomaches now, maybe take one of Sotheby's potions with you if you feel a hunger, and move as fast as you can." She looks to Sonetto, unsure if they'd take them in. "Vertin would say something like 'Tell them the Timekeeper sent you' and they'll probably let you in. We'll...try to get the rest of them safe too. If nothing else, we could use the Suitcase. It doesn't work for humans, but it works for arcanists and--it ''should'' work for offworlders too." She looks to Moissan. "I've got it all set up. But even in the best case like Flamel thinks, it's a big gamble." |
| Tamamo | <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "Ms. Sonetto, when the Foundation prepares for the Storm... does the Storm stop 'immediately, at the walls'?" <J-IC-Scene> Regulus obligatory, "I don't like the sound of where this is going." <J-IC-Scene> Sonetto says, "That's right. The gates mark the boundary where the Storm does not affect the campus." <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "A clearly defined boundary... is as I wished to hear." <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "If, in the hours leading up to the storm, the gate was assaulted, one would not have the option of remaining safely in the rear of one's prepared defenses. That is so, no? As Mr. Parsons said, there is a careful web of preparation, and this means, too, that there are strands on which to tug." 'Perhaps they are all only safe for arcanists.' Tamamo finishes up her examination, and puts the mask carefully away again, wrapping it in cloth. "That would neatly answer the question of how they intend to not carry 'stowaways,' given that the shape of their boundary does not coincide with their walls." Considering all of this together with Flamel's plan, Tamamo finally says, "This may be done at once. The presence and pressure of new arrivals will make their movements more difficult, though the possibility of them turning every new arrival into either a slave or a monster should be cause for concern. Still, I expect there to be a limit to this ability, or the masks would not need to be created and stored prior to their distribution." Resuming her seat, crossing one leg over the other, and taking the time to pour and have a sip of bracingly hot tea, Tamamo continues, "As I said, the defensive magic of the Walden extends some distance outside of it. A boundary which possesses a definite form may suffer attack from any extremity. Before those who are called upon arrive, I will begin the construction of an array. You -- Mr. Cosimo, and Mr. Achille, may assist in this. The first steps are simple to follow, and the complicated portions may be left to myself." Another sip. "After the arrival of the rest, I will activate the array, creating a break in the boundary through which the Storm may reach the Walden. This will be obvious, and will prompt a response, without requiring we travel the length of their defenses." This isn't quite the same as saying 'let's just blow up the forest,' in that it's both easier for her to do and technically deadlier to those inside, if the safety of their port is removed. "After that..." She sets down her cup, and steeples her fingers. "In the first possibility, we will have the advantage of a fight on our own terms. In the second, we will need split our attention, as they split theirs, defending the counter-array while again aiming a rescue attempt. In either case, the pressure available to capture the Timekeeper and Ms. Greco will be lessened." |
| Riku Asakura | Riku tries to stop looking sad for them and instead forces a smile. "Sorry, it's been a long day," he tries to excuse his look. It's hard to smile through this, especially because he is almost sure of their fates. Though Cosimo gives them some insight that might be helpful. "VIP suites? That means they might have split them up," he says with a breath. Vertin might be held in their suites, Lilian might be in a cell, and who knows where Schneider is. He takes a moment to think about this. "It seems we're going to have to distract their druid, right? I think I can handle that." 'I'll think about it.' Riku shrugs at that, "It's the best I can hope for, but thank you, Regulus!" he says, upbeat. 'After the arrival of the rest, I will activate the array, creating a break in the boundary through which the Storm may reach the Walden.' Riku nods, not COMPLETELY understanding the plan, but gets the bigger strokes. "So poke a hole in their defenses and make them play on our turf instead of ours. I can stay with you and provide defense. They'll likely send their big guns out to stop your array." |
| Veronica | "I can stay with you and provide defense. They'll likely send their big guns out to stop your array." Veronica nods as the plan starts to form. "If Riku's gonna hold down the fort at Tamamo's array I could move in with 'the rest'," she proposes. "Seeing as we've got two big 'uns, with Ultraman and my EGO, we may as well split the two of us up." |
| Timekeeper | "Don't know how the hell they raised her. ... Why do you wanna know?" Sonetto hangs on every scant word of description like water in the desert, but when Cosimo turns the question around on her, she furrows her brow as if confused. She twists her finger into the epaulette ribbon with one of her many Foundation awards for virtue and excellence, with the elaborate symbol of the rung bell, uneasily fidgeting. "I... do not know. These were people important to her, important enough for her to do all of this, when she could have ran to the Foundation, just now or long before. I don't..." 'understand that', or 'know how that feels', both fail to make a sound past her lips. Instead, she decides on, "I do not understand a loyal criminal." And that's mostly true, but what's on her mind is the offhanded mention Schneider made in the radio months ago, that her mother cried when she was gone for a week. "Sonetto, can we have someone get these two to the Foundation?" Distracted from that unhappy train of thought, Sonetto suddenly lifts her head up, braid swinging. "Ah? Could we? We do not have any teleportation disks." The only ones she knows of left in the city are with Sabre Squadron, and maybe some donators here and there who were given parachutes by the Foundation-- Gwendolyn Sotheby didn't have one, but her father might very well be in London right now. But imagining sending these two gunmen on the long walk through the city to the Sotheby manor, to pierce the perimeter Sabre Squadron has set up and then ask for their help teleporting back to the Foundation off nothing besides a vague story about Schneider's defection and Sonetto's secondhand word, fills her chest with another heavy feeling that she struggles to describe. Her expression falls slowly. "Not by any means I can think of. I do not think... anyone would consider it an acceptable safety risk, to transport gunmen recently allied with the Manus Vindictae into the Foundation for little to no benefit." The familiar phrase feels bitter for the first time. "They are 'irrelevant people'." "Anything to read?" In the midst of everything going on, it's like Sonetto suddenly remembers that Sotheby is a child and not just another arcanist asset being shepherded around with the group. Oddly, that's a mindset that even Vertin seemed to slip into, despite her evident fondness for the children in the suitcase. She scoots over to Sotheby and is fascinated alongside her at the record album covers she's never seen, then pulls out a small book of poetry that's kept on her person like a prayer book. It's got lots of neatly scribbled notes and thoughts in the margins, familiarly structured like the ramblings of an alchemist crammed around a potion's recipe. Sonetto cautiously passes it over to Sotheby, like trying to tempt a feral cat into eating out of her hand. "This is a book... the only one I have with me right now. It contains many of my favorite poems, in Italian and English for translations. Um, we may still be talking for some time, so you may read it if you would like." |
| Timekeeper | Really, between Moissan's intelligence training and awareness of the local politics, and Regulus's tinkering, Flamel can basically call every person he wants to reach. The responses range exactly as he'd expect-- from desperation (I'm sick and need a cure!) to opportunistic (A cure would be huge before the 24 hour news cycles on) to the practical and political (Thanking for the tip, organizing transportation) to eye-rolling lack of surprise (of course they have something to do with it)-- and with some urgency, he can get those people on their feets and moving in the direction of the forest within the timeframe of the Storm. "I really do have every reason to believe this can only do good." "I... cannot think of a reason to disagree," And she really racked her brains for one. "Their supply of masks is high, but limited, and the numbers within the speakeasy seemed to already surpass it. Guiding the ill humans to demand care from the arcanists is to use the enemy's tactics against them, which they have already primed for use. Either the humans receive treatment, or they will riot outside the Walden as they did with the Sotheby manor, and both are cover for our attack." "Didn't seem interested in having the Storm be more perfect, except through some kind of annihilation." Sonetto's eyes widen a bit. "I see. The Storm... Arcana likely only sees it as a means to an end, then. Did she create it somehow, to be certain of how it works?" "After the arrival of the rest, I will activate the array, creating a break in the boundary through which the Storm may reach the Walden." Sonetto nods, gripping her glasfeder. "Yes. Even the Manus Vindictae cannot ignore the Storm when out in the open. If they send ritualists to repair their enchantment, we may even catch a glimpse of the arcanum they use to create it." "The greatest danger here still comes from Arcana and the druid. Either one may have difficulty perceiving us within a crowd of humans, but both are capable of wide area arcane attacks that would cause immense damage to the humans in pursuit of us. We cannot use them as shields when faced with an attack. Therefore, I believe that when we have created sufficient distraction to infiltrate and retrieve Timekeeper, Mrs. Rook, and Schneider, we will have to retreat away from the mob." Sonetto folds her arms, holding an elbow with her hand. Arcana's abilities are still a huge black hole in their intel, with just enough knowledge that she seems all-powerful. "What was it that put Mrs. Rook into that state...? Could it have been Arcana? I have nearly never seen her hurt before." |
| Tamamo | Though she's unable to locate either cream or creamer, Tamamo manages to find some sweet chocolates, in foil wrapping, to place on a little plastic picnic plate together with the tea she offers Sotheby. (Unless someone else does manage to procure it, in the meantime.) She decides not to ask after Karson's welfare. No one here has any more information on it than she, after all. 'What was it that put Mrs. Rook into that state...?' That question, more than any other thing, has been burning in Tamamo's mind. "We can immediately dispense with the possibility of physical strikes, for there would have been signs. Likewise, a mental strike would only have a reasonable possibility of landing, at all, if she took specific action to open herself to it. A curse is a possibility, though she possesses defenses of my own design, and I shall humbly state that there are none better-versed in curse-breaking to whom one could turn for aid." Something in the tone manages to sound humble even if nothing in the wording does at all. "Given the nature of the masks, we should expect 'curses' to be a strong portion of the enemy repertoire. Were she to... in some way, make herself vulnerable..." Tamamo can't bring herself to say 'make a mistake,' "then that becomes most likely, out of each possibility. If we knew what she was doing at the time..." But they don't. Rather, they do. Broadly. Lilian was rescuing Schneider's family. Since White wasn't there, they must have gotten that far. Teleporting out with a vulnerable rescuee is a far more likely cause of White's disappearance than that she'd become stuck and left behind. Besides that, Schneider wouldn't have left her family behind, if that hostage was her whole reason for being there. After that... after that... "It must have occurred while they were on their way to meet up with the rest of us at the exit. The underground had already become a labyrinth, and so, they were dealing with its twists, turns, and defenders..." All without Sotheby's erasers. Did Vertin or Schneider have some particular way of dealing with mazes? Tamamo's only truly familiar with Lilian's abilities. "Long ago, she made do with crow familiars for such things, but it has been some time since she has moved to divination techniques, instead. Though I know something of either, I am better able to support her in these." Looking to Sonetto, "Does Timekeeper Vertin have a particular strategy for overcoming mazes?" When without a genius alchemist, she means. |
| Riku Asakura | 'They are 'irrelevant people'.' Riku's head turns towards Sonetto, and his face is angry, which is a different look for him because he's normally so happy. "They're not 'irrelevant people'. NOBODY is irrelevant. If we have a chance to save anyone, then we need to take it." He looks exhausted; it's already bad enough that people are not going to exist, but now they're classifying people. It makes him sick, and he hopes that isn't how the Foundation would classify anyone. He takes a breath, trying to calm himself down a little. 'What was it that put Mrs. Rook into that state...?' Riku looks down; he has likewise never seen Lilian laid out like that before. He's seen her a bit rough but never unconscious. "I hope she's okay..." |
| Regulus | ''We do not have any teleportation disks.'' "There's still time left, maybe they could run for it--" ''They are 'irrelevent people'.'' "...Oh."] Regulus's morale -20! She exhales like she's trying to push her soul out from her mouth. "Most people don't become criminals 'cause it's easier. If she felt the Foundation was an option, she wouldn't have risked her whole family on the faction that'd hate them." She sighs. "Maybe she figured they'd see her as an 'irrelevent person' to. If she hadn't gotten so tied up with the Manus, would the Foundation have let her in? Without anything in hand?" It's not even that it's a logic Regulus can't understand. Even Bellwhistle and the rest were lucky to have caught Vertin's eye in the moment. There's countless people out there even unluckier than Schneider and her people have. They don't even know to fight for their survival. At least Schneider has the opportunity. She was lucky to have caught Vertin's eye herself but Regulus has reasons beyond survival or even putting an end to the Storm to fight for Vertin now. They're friends. For longer than she'd like, Vertin was all she had in the whole wide world. She sniffs and rubs at her eyes once more behind her sunglasses, resisting the urge to go 'your EGO is SO BIG' at Veronica because she doesn't think that's really true and it wouldn't be helpful. The urge is mostly because Veronica is just leaving it open there! Resist the urge to be sassy, Regulus, for peace, love, and life! ''I... cannot think of a reason to disagree.'' Regulus sighs, hoping Sonetto would really be the voice of reason here where her own failed her. "It also probably feeds into the Manus's expectations, they wouldn't immediately think it was a ploy from us and even if they did..." ''Did she create it somehow, to be certain of how it works?'' "Well ''that'' is somehow the most terrifying thing I've heard today." Regulus admits, unable to restrain the snark but she is at least relieved when Sonetto refuses to use them as shields. "Yeah, yeah, no human shields, thank you!" Regulus's morale +10! ''They're not 'irrelevent people'.'' "Easy there, big guy. Don't lash out at Sonetto. She's just saying how the Foundation'd see it with the amount of information they've got." Regulus can already tell Sonetto isn't really thrilled with her own analysis here. "Vertin'd have more leeway. We get her back and maybe we can make something happen." She is skeptical they'll be able to do all that and get them to safety but she hasn't figured out a way to negotiate The Storm yet. She starts putting her records away, hesitating at a vinyl folder with five apples wiggling their arms all over the place up and giving it a small kiss for good luck while sliding it away back into her bag along with the rest. ''Does Timekeeper Vertin have a particular strategy for overcoming mazes?'' ''We should expect 'curses' to be a strong portion of the neemy repertoire.'' "If the maze has some sort of mechanical aspect to itself, some sort of arcane device controlling it, I could probably futz around with it." Regulus admits. "But I didn't see any sort of controlling mechanism from the inside. Would you be able to pick something like that out and point me to it, Tamamo? If it's relevant--they might actually not even be in the maze anymore." It IS pretty unnerving to see Lilian so much as knocked for a loop but her expectations for Lilian are a little more reasonable on average because she has a formative memory of Lilian being really out of it and knocking her phone out of her hands. They'll just have to cover for her until she's back on her feet. They don't got another choice. |
| Schneider Greco | Cosimo sniffs the air, in Tamamo's tea's direction. "Smells nice," he says aimlessly, but he self-consciously stops short of asking for any for himself. "Assist in the 'construction of an array'? You know we're human, right?" Achille says, pointing at himself in soft disbelief. "Eh, y'know, if all she wants us to do is cart stuff around..." "Oh. Sure, I'll be a gofer. Don't have anything better to do." "Won't that mean havin' to be outside right before the Storm hits, though?" "I do not understand a loyal criminal." Achille rubs his face absent-mindedly while listening to Sonetto. He looks pensive in a way; then he and Cosimo trade glances, trying to figure out who's going to try to break this one. "Little girl..." he says. "I dunno what it looks like from inside all that white marble. But half the time, criminals are criminals because they're loyal. It's a lot easier to make it legit if you can just dump all your 'dead weight'. If you had to break the law to save someone you care about, would you?" "They used to be poor," is all Cosimo adds. "I knew that when I saw them. And when I met the boss, she'd already been doing this for years." "It's not ''my'' fault, she's so bleeding charming!" "Huh? You too? Has she been sleeping arou--" "Achille." "Alright, alright. Christ and Mary." "How do you know her?" Cosimo asks Regulus, with idle interest. About secrets, though, they shake their heads- besides speculation on Vertin, they don't have much. "They hardly ever let us backstage. Always thought they were too good for us. Not shocked they started to figure they're too good for her, too," Cosimo says. Achille chews his lip. "... I still can't believe all this is real." "Well, she warned us, didn't she?" "Even if I believed her, hearing it and seeing it, y'know, two different things." "Well. It's the end of the world. We're here. If you can't pull us out to the Foundation, we'll stick it through with you. Not like they wouldn't just arrest us, anyway." |
| Regulus | ''If you had to break the law to save someone you care about, would you?'' Regulus looks to Sonetto, then to Achille and Cosimo. "If you need an arcanist, this is probably not too far out of my wheelhouse." She tells Tamamo. "I'm not a big fighter, so you don't have to worry about taking me away from something important either." r''Has she been sleeping arou--'' "I'm not even talking about romance." Regulus insists but considers how to speak to the other part. "Uh, well, she shot me in the arm, I didn't like her very much for a while after that, but then I got to know her a little better and learned why she was doing what she was doing and we sort of 'met again' at a soda fountain. It was a good talk. She's a friend now." "I could also lend a hand, Miss Tamamo. If nothing else, if only the Lady Arcana can see through our veils, we could likely hide your work for a time." ''Well. It's the end of the world. We're here. If you can't pull us out to the Foundation...'' "wehhh..." Regulus can't obscure how weepy she's getting. "You guuuuuys..." With the sunglasses it's like her cheeks are spontaneuously getting wet and because she's Regulus she immediately tries to hug them. "She has such good mates...!" |
| Tamamo | 'But I didn't see any sort of controlling mechanism from the inside. Would you be able to pick something like that out and point me to it, Tamamo? If it's relevant--they might actually not even be in the maze anymore.' "I could tell that there was a single working covering the entirety of the underground of the Walden, and its general nature, though I did not sense a 'center.' It might have been inscribed into every wall. As to whether it is relevant... it may be that they are elsewhere, but my meaning is to guess as to just what happened while they were separated from us. It might reveal... something." Whatever got Lilian, most importantly. 'Eh, y'know, if all she wants us to do is cart stuff around...' "Just so. While it would be helpful if you were particularly adept in mathematics or construction, Mr. Cosimo, it will be enough to merely eye the distances, and I will make adjustments to the pattern." 'Won't that mean havin' to be outside right before the Storm hits, though?' "When Lilian recovers, we will have the means of safe extraction." It can't really be that simple. There should be audible strain when she says that. And yet, there isn't. 'I could also lend a hand, Miss Tamamo. If nothing else, if only the Lady Arcana can see through our veils, we could likely hide your work for a time.' "Thank you, Mr. Apple. When the time comes, I will advise a direction. We must not plan too rigidly, without knowing how our opponent is able to respond." After thinking for a moment, "It may not be that the veil was seen through, itself. You were in the Walden, at the time, You may have run afoul of some warding... that is, some means of security that depended upon other senses. Were I to prepare such a space, I would place boundaries that provided warnings when crossed, whether by physical interference or by magic. It is uncertain, in any case." |
| Timekeeper | "Were she to... in some way, make herself vulnerable..." Sonetto is as inclined to avoid thinking about Lilian's failings as Tamamo is. She immediately jumps on the opportunity to both interpret Lilian as flawless, and create operational intel simultaneously. "Which means there must be some sort of trap the Manus Vindictae have set that Mrs. Rook fell into unknowingly." It's the explanation that makes the most sense to her, as well as the one that conforms to her biases the best, so she sincerely reflects on it as truth for a bit. Hand to her chin, "I would suspect that the trap is tuned to arcanum in some sense, in order to filter for hostiles and render us vulnerable to a retributive curse. Teleportation has worked around the Walden on several occasions. Miss White's absence is most likely due to teleporting out, rather than that having triggered their trap itself. The manipulation of time... chronomancy may be something that the Manus have a better understanding of than us. To be safe, I would recommend avoiding any arcanum of the sort for now." "Does Timekeeper Vertin have a particular strategy for overcoming mazes?" Sonetto shakes her head, troubled again by imagining Vertin down in the maze alone. "They are clever, but their arcanum is weak. Perhaps their intelligence along with Schneider's familiarity were enough, or Mrs. Rook only became incapacitated shortly before the exit... just out of our sight." "They're not 'irrelevant people'. NOBODY is irrelevant." The impulse bubbles up in Sonetto's chest to irritatedly lecture that it's just operational terminology, without any connotative weight at all. Before this very morning, Margaret and the others were irrelevant people too-- the Foundation works harder than Riku can possibly *imagine* to preserve humanity in the face of the Storm, and scolding over word choice helps no one at all. The heat dissipates before forming any words, though, and she just quietly explains to him in aside. "If she hadn't gotten so tied up with the Manus, would the Foundation have let her in? Without anything in hand?" She has to refute that, though, even if her voice is quiet. "The St. Pavlov Foundation works to save as many lives as possible. If she had dedicated herself to that work, then she could have been with us. Once we retrieve her, she will be in the same circumstance as you are, you know." |
| Timekeeper | "Won't that mean havin' to be outside right before the Storm hits, though?" "We will have no place to be 'indoors' at the time," Sonetto bluntly informs Cosimo. "However, there are still several hours until the Storm arrives. Disrupting the barrier forces the Manus Vindictae to immediately address the breach because of the severity of the alternative. A ward with one break is repaired far more easily than a ward with several breaches, also. They could not afford to ignore us even hours beforehand." "If you had to break the law to save someone you care about, would you?" This is a question of unbelievable complexity to Sonetto, that she's never contemplated before. Her gut impulse is to brush it aside as a choice that's impossible to need to make in reality, one of those 'ethical quandaries' they tell you to ignore in school. But the evidence is right in front of her, at least if she buys into the things they're saying about Schneider, and she can't help doing that. "It's a lot easier to make it legit if you can just dump all your 'dead weight'." Is that what Sonetto did? Were those birth parents, whose names she's never known, only vaguely existing in memories she confirmed were confabulated through Artificial Somnambulism, 'dead weight'? If she'd known them, she probably wouldn't have been brought up in the SPDM, and without the SPDM, she'd be nothing at all. "I don't know. The people I care about..." How many even is that? On a basic level, there's uncountable people that she's friendly towards and thinks highly of, and in the vacuum of the Foundation, that's enough. Stretching just one layer closer to the heights set by every person surrounding Schneider, though, and the only face that floats hesitantly across her mind is Vertin's. She finishes her trailing sentence the least convincingly that anyone's ever said the words. "... I can only help them by following the law as we are taught." "It was a good talk. She's a friend now." Really, every person surrounding Schneider, even the ones that only just brushed by her. Vertin too, with her. It's common knowledge that arcanist psychological tendencies lead them to forming unstable, high intimacy bonds after short interactions, and it's always been a private point of pride that Sonetto feels like she never has, but the gulf between her and Schneider is cast in dizzying relief in this moment. She digs her fingers into her arms, feeling tears sting in the back of her eyes and heat build up in her throat. To keep her voice from cracking, Sonetto's voice is breathy and rushed, and recklessly honest. "I want to save Timekeeper. I want to save everybody. Our plan is as solid as it will be in this time frame, so we have to go to them as quickly as we can." |
| Regulus | ''When the time comes, I will advise a direction.'' APPLe bobs his body in her direction and Regulus also gives one for Tamamo. It's honestly too easy for Regulus to forget that Tamamo is also missing a loved one right now and suffering through it. Maybe because she just seems like she really knows what she's doing at all times, it's easy to intuit the vulnerability, perhaps, but tough for Regulus to feel it past all her own troubles, the world's troubles, and her own loved ones being in danger. Of course, Regulus already sees Sonetto as a friend too. She's someone who easily forms bonds like that, as unstable and tenuous as they might be. And so when Sonetto speaks against Regulus's expectation that the Foundation would have rejected Schneider without much to show for it--Regulus doesn't feel comfortable enough to point out the contradiction with our two friendly goons here. The difference between Cosimo and Achille post crimes, and Schneider MAYBE before crimes, feels razor thin to Regulus. Does the Foundation really care about how precisely ethically one ran their life? Perhaps somewhat, but in her mind they are more likely to seize their possible advantages, take those who are convenient, over those that just really really want to not die. She wants to keep that olive branch extended. One day, soon, she's going to meet Sonetto's friends, the ones she mentioned in their quit little talk. Regulus doesn't realize Sonetto doesn't see them as friends. "Great, I'll do what I can to make it a smoother ride for her." ''I don't know. The people I care about...'' Regulus looks up to Sonetto, looking into her eyes. Yes, Regulus sees herself as a friend but Regulus often sees herself as a friend to others well before they see her as much of anything at all. And in some sense, Regulus is aware of that. In some sense, Regulus is aware that's the point, that's the purpose that she's instilled in herself. She will forever be friends to more people than will ever be friends to her because that's what fighting for world peace means. But Sonetto wants to save Vertin. And to save everybody. And this means out of all the allies present, however Sonetto sees her--Regulus sees Sonetto as the most valuable ally here and the one she can most rely on. "So we gotta just wait for Flamel to finish the calls, and then we get going." Regulus agrees. That timer feels ever shorter than even the hours on Vertin's watch suggest. |
| Schneider Greco | "Uh, well, she shot me in the arm..." Achille and Cosimo both nod, understandingly, with different airs. This is a mode of befriending they both understand. Then Cosimo double-takes. "Hey, she was at a soda fountain?" "Fuck. She was going soft on us." "Now, a girl can drink what she drinks, Achille, but--" "You call that a drink?" "You sure as hell know I don't-- urk!" And then they're both hugged, which affects the two of them in different ways, but both severely. "Hey, hey-- I've got a reputation to keep! I'm not touching her! I'm not!" Cosimo says, wiggling both his arms out of the hug to put his hands where everyone can see them. He will not be accused of peace-and-love philandering. Achille, on the other hand, remains totally limp while sitting, his face squished against somewhere in the vicinity of Regulus's tummy. He doesn't have the energy to fight this. He's like a wet rat. "While it would be helpful if you were particularly adept in mathematics or construction..." "Pfuhh. Anyway. Achille's uncle is a, uh, surveyor. We'll do great," Cosimo says to Tamamo, after a minute to regain posture. "I don't know a damn thing about surveying." "Yes you do." "I think I'd know if I knew something." "Well, maybe the rest of us know less than nothing, huh?" "I would recommend avoiding any arcanum of the sort for now." "Got it," Achille murmurs sardonically, before finally convincing himself to take his third bite of hot dog. "Won't catch me warping any timelienes." "The St. Pavlov Foundation works to save as many lives as possible. If she had dedicated herself to that work..." Cosimo and Achille both look at each other again while Sonetto speaks about the Foundation. Family aside, even, would they have taken someone like Schneider? Not that they're familiar with Foundation politics, but the goons have their doubts. "... I can only help them by following the law as we are taught." "... I can't tell if you're lucky or unlucky, girl," says Achille with a little shake of his head. Then he's straining to stand up, for a moment, and settling his hat back on his head. He raises his half-eaten hot dog like a glass. "Well. To never havin' to make that choice." Some of its mustard drips onto the office's floor. Achille looks down, and for a second he thinks of cleaning it up. In a while, though, the stains won't matter anymore. |