Scene #4694:

Owner	Pose
John Rizzo	San Francisco by night! The city by the bay is alive and well this hot October night, and the Midnight Oil Detective Agency has just had its daily 'changing of the guard' so to speak. Marcus is probably just a block away from his house by now. John, on the other hand, is rapping away at something on his typewriter, the door of his office opened just a crack to spot any potential customers as they come in. Soft bebop music drifts from the office into the lobby, while a rerun of a game show plays on mute on the lobby's TV. Seems like business as usual, and therefore, a perfect time for a surprise visit.
Eithne Sullivan	Fall means slaughtering time. Meat has to be packed up and put away before winter comes and brings lean times with it. True, access to the Multiverse makes famine a little less likely, but people are still going to continue to farm. Eithne had never slaughtered a pig before, although she'd certainly read about how to do it; it's work that comes naturally to her, and she treated the animals' deaths with the respect and gravity a human's would entail. She'll have to ask her mother if pigs have an afterlife. But the messy, bloody work is done. Pork has been salted and packed, set up in the smokehouses, and canned in glass jars. The people of the town will eat well this winter. And because there was /way/ more blood than a town could ever want, Eithne is bringing some of it to a friend who /can/ use it. She's got a thermos full of the stuff in her backpack, and another two jars wrapped up in flannel to keep them from clanking together. She remembers the way, and walks leisurely alongside Inga as the two of them approach the little two-story building. "His office looks like somethin' out of a movie I saw once," she beams, checking the place for Marcuses as she opens the door. "John! Hullooooo~ We brought yeh a present~"
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga is no stranger to slaughter. Indeed, there is an art to it and she has it mastered from all the times she done it in the past. Not just /her/ past.../the/ past. This is indeed the month for it, and Inga helped perform the slaughter with practicality and a little bit of ritual, which she would in course invite Eithne to take part in. Her idea for the blood was a very good one, so Inga has decided to come along and visit the Christian vampire in this city by sea. She's gone through some efforts to fit in here, leaving behind her viking-style garb for a long black dress. She still wears a few of her talismans, notably the Thor's hammer pendant around her neck, a strand of amber beads, and some finger bones at her belt. "You did well today Eithne. How to slaughter an animal properly is an important skill," she says, following Eithne into John's place. She smiles to him. "Good evening John," she greets. "We have brought you something, yes. I hope it will make up for when my hospitality has failed in the past," she adds, a touch of wariness in her eye. That had been...awkward.
John Rizzo	If anything, San Francisco would tolerate Inga's usual attire more than many other places, being a most diverse city--that said, she manages to blend in admirably. When the two arrive, they find the place devoid of Marcuses, the lobby empty, and they both will see, through the crack of the door, John Rizzo typing away. The typing stops a moment before Inga and Eithne introduce themselves, as if he'd heard some small detail of their arrival before they openly announced it. And that's not all. "Pig's blood," he says as the door closes. How did he know that? The vampire looks up from his typewriter at the seer and the scion. His expression brightens into a warm, accomodating smile as he departs his office. "Hiya, girls. Real nice of you two to think of me like that." He shuts the door behind him, sealing in and muffling the Coltrane track playing witin. "What's the wire?"
Eithne Sullivan	Eithne is good at killing things, though that's all talent and not skill. Inga has the knowledge of generations, and experience to boot. This is the first year she's had the opportunity to take part in such an important part of life in the country, seeing as how last autumn she lived in urban Belfast circa 2015. "Thanks! I read up on it all last week. It's a lost art where I'm from. Most meat comes from big factories, and people only see it after it's butchered an' packaged." This is bloodier, and a bit sadder, but it's more real. She'll appreciate food more this winter, having actually experienced what was needed to put it on the table. Slinging her backpack lightly around and onto the coffee table, Eithne digs the thermos and jars out, passing them over. "It's extras from the year's hog butchering, but we thought yeh'd like them. How'd yeh know it was pig though... oh, can yeh smell it?" She hopes it's coming from the jars and not herself - she took a shower and changed clothes afterwards, but Eithne knows how bad blood is to stick to things.
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga shakes her head. "Mmm, very disturbing to me when I first came to the multiverse and saw how people lived in my world now--and many others. It is certainly convenient...but something has been lost," she replies. To John she smiles again, raising an eyebrow. "Your sense of smell is quite keen...Is that common to vampires? I know it is common with werewolves...but you're honestly the first vampire I've had companionable conversations with." As for what the wire is, heck if she knows. She looks to Eithne to translate, a brow arched.
John Rizzo	"Yeah," admits the vampire. "I can smell it. But only enough to know it's blood. I saw it in written in the wind earlier today. Kept wondering what it meant until you two showed up." That would seem to imply either derangement or oracular ability--at least, to Inga. Enya is already quite familiar with John's... gift. John accepts the thermos and the jars from Enya, moving to put them into a mini fridge in his office. It seems like he's not entirely apart from the modern world! Closing the door behind him once more, he takes a seat in one of the lounge chairs, inviting Inga and Enya to do the same. "Vampires here can do smell, sight, sound... I guess touch and taste too. As far as my personality, most of the bogeymen here are real wrong numbers. Even the ones that talk to you." Pause. "Especially the ones that talk to you." He chuckles. "This a social visit, or you ladies need something found?"
Eithne Sullivan	"He means, 'how have we been doing, and is there any important news,'" Eithne helpfully translates. "We've been fairly well except fer the thing where Inga got kidnapped by that Drowned Ophelia woman," the Scion nods, waving a hand dismissively - either to the kidnapping itself, or the kidnapper! "But we got her back, as yeh see~" It's strange to think of how keen John's senses must be. Does it all become louder, brighter, until everything's too much? Or does the mind learn to live with it, to pick out the important things and discard the rest? She supposes it must be the latter, or more people would go crazy. "Well, I haven't lost my apron again, if that's what yeh mean. We're just visitin', if it's not a bad time."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga takes the offered seat, settling her walking stick across her lap. She tilts her head slightly at John. "You have a touch of the Sight," she states, intrigued. She obviously wants to know more. "Wrong numbers?" she says quietly, but she thinks she is beginning to understand at least by context. She grins at his joke however. "I am not too worried about present company." Inga looks to Eithne, sighing at mention of Ophelia. "Yes, there was that...lucky more people were not hurt. I trust Kyle has recovered completely, and Harry is much on the mend now after...a great deal of blood," she says, looking weary just thinking about it. "We are forming a plan to deal with her." A blink. "You had him help you find your apron? And how did that go?" she asks, amusement in her eyes.
John Rizzo	"You two are always welcome here--feel free to gimme the buzz anyime. Just can't guarantee I'll be any good as a host, you know?" John smiles, crossing his legs as he recalls the apron incident. "The kid knocked it off the back of the couch when she got up to get the cookies, if I remember." He then explains his oracular ability further, for Inga's benefit. "When Caine was cursed by God, he got lonely and sired others--obviously, for so many places to be lousy with vampires. Every one in my particular 'lineage' has the Sight. It's just that not all of us keep our marbles after we turn, and even those of us that do don't always get clear messages." John gestures to the coffee pot, looking back and forth between Inga and Enya. "Marcus put on a pot before he left, if you'd like some." He casts an idle glance towards the television, before returning his attention to his guests. "What's this about a kidnapping?"
Eithne Sullivan	Once Inga sits down, Eithne takes a seat too. "Prophecy's not somethin' I usually think of when I hear the word vampire, but I think most've what we get in my world is just stories." She's never met a vampire in The World, though that doesn't mean they don't exist. Stories exist across cultures for a reason, like that of the great flood, or dragons. "It worked great! Like he was lookin' in through the roof of my old place." W-wouldn't most girls find that creepy, though...? "Oh, I'll take a cup. Inga?" she asks, getting back up and going over to fuss with the machine for a bit. "I like the coffee pot at the cottage best. Harry always breaks electric stuff, so ours just boils water and spits it out over the grounds. A percolator," Eithne nods at John, realizing that he'll know what one is due to his age. "It makes great coffee." Though Marcus is the only person to regularly drink the stuff here... She'll let Inga explain the kidnapping, since that's her story...
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga indulges a small laugh at that turn of phrase. Give me a buzz, hmm? She can't get the buzzing to stop. The wisewoman nods, smiling softly. "That is often how it works. Not all of the things I see make sense either--but I think my Sight works differently than yours. It works differently than most I have heard of. There were plenty with the gift in my world, but not all had it as I do. If you lived then...you'd have been trained to use it. To understand it better," she remarks. As for being a good host, she smiles and politely declines the coffee, instead pulling a flash from her pouch. She's more in the mood for mead. "Mmm, I think he'd taught me to make a good cup of coffee. I do like it, but I think I'm more in the mood for mead," she comments with a smile. Ah, the kidnapping. "I suppose its a bit of a long story I will have to try to summarize. Ophelia is an extremely disturbed woman possessed by a substance she calls the Black Tears. She is a miserable person, lost herself to hate and despair and has decided she's better for it--and that the whole worlds would be too. Recently she got it into her head that I needed...saving from my fate. From my Sight and from the gods. So...she took me. She took me to where she drowned herself, with the intention of drowning me and making me like her. Obviously, she was not successful thanks to Eithne and my other friends and associates," Inga explains, taking a swig from the flask.
John Rizzo	John listens to INga's story regarding this Ophelia person, concern on his face. "Glad to hear she didn't pull it off," he remarks. "You make it sound like you've tried to reach her before--or, like somebody has, anyhow. She sizes up as somebody who's really in need of help." "As for vampires, what you get here depends on who sires you and what clan they're from. Some Disciplines are shared between clans, but other ones, like Dementation--or the Sight, like Inga says--that's specific to a given clan. Usually closely-guarded secrets, too. It just happens that no one wants to get written off as a Section 8, so no one wants to bother learning Dementation." "No one who's not already clan Malkavian, anyhow."
Eithne Sullivan	Once she's got a cup doctored up for herself - lots of cream, no sugar - Eithne returns to the impromptu meeting and retakes her seat. She's got on another version of the outfit she favors, a light sweater and pleated skirt, but in deference to the colder weather she's also wearing knee socks and tall brown leather boots. It's somewhere between Catholic schoolgirl (which she technically still is) and 'going out to chop wood or something else suitably rugged'. "Harry got burned pretty badly during it, and a few other folks got minorly hurt too, but mostly everyone was fine." Eithne was, of course, awesome. "I got to fight what I'm pretty sure was a zombie? But not just a risen body. It had /something/ in it." She's just not sure /what/. "Anyway, that part was great fun!" she beams. Clans, bloodlines... although the words are different, the concepts are the same. "Sounds a bit like the gods. The Tuatha have a different special gift than the Pesedjet, who're different from the Aesir, and so on. The Dodekatheon's practically cheating, their entire gift is 'being good at stuff'!" This must be how other Scions feel when they meet a child of Lugh... "I don't think anyone's got a claim on prophecy though."
Inga Freyjasdottir	"I know her...probably about as much as anyone around knows her now. My Sight is not limited in the future. I saw her past. I saw what made her what she is. I've tried to stop her rampages on several occasions--she's pissed off many people," Inga says, tracing the runes on her staff with her index finger. Inga's brow furrows. "Written off as a Section 8?" she asks, wondering if he'll actually explain that one. If not, she'll look to Eithne. Inga's jaw clenches as mention of how badly Harry had been hurt. Inga is plenty motivated to see Ophelia taken down. She can't help but laugh lightly at Eithne's admission that her fight had been fun. "A true warrior and daughter of the Morrigan," she comments. An eyebrow raise. "The Pesedjet? Dodekatheon?" she asks. These are unfamiliar names to her. Obviously, the Aesir are not new. She touches her pendant at the name.
John Rizzo	"Egyptian and Greek, if I had to give a real, real uneducated guess." For once, John is explaining someone else's manner of speaking--or, at least, attempting to. And since he's feeling charitable, he'll explain /his/ manner of speaking, pertaining to things under section 8. "Nutso," he says. "Crazy." "Malkavians haven't had the respect of the other clans since before Rome fell," explains Rizzo. "Even then, from what I hear, we got uncomfortable looks, but seeing as how it was our oracles that kept the princes informed, they kept it under their hats. Looking at time from a vampire's perspective, it wasn't until real recently that people treated mental disorders with anything resembling a scientific approach. Even so, there's still a stigma. Know what I mean?" "Anyhow. I've saved up enough case dough to last me a while before I'm on the nut again." He rubs his chin. "If this Ophelia woman is the kind of thing you have to put up with on the regular, I need to get my feet wet again real soon."
Eithne Sullivan	Section 8? Eithne shrugs helplessly at Inga. She doesn't know! Isn't that... something from television? Thankfully, John's here with the answer! Most of the time, even Eithne is guessing when it comes to his slang. Maybe it's part of being a vampire. Are there vamps from the 80s who says things like 'gnarly'?? "He's right," she nods at Inga, and takes a sip of coffee. "There're lots. The Tuatha de Danann is mine, of course." And isn't /that/ a strange phrase to say, even now! "...Does 'on the nut' mean 'broke'?" she asks, puzzled.
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga looks pleasantly surprised that John actually explains his phrase, rewardin him with a smile of appreciation. "I see." That smile quickly disappears as he explains about his clan. "Seeing what others do not understand is often written off as madness," she responds, darkness tinting her voice. "Some will put up with what they fear if they think it serves them," she adds. Yes, she understands madness. Or she will. Time's a funny thing for a Seer. Back to Eithne, she nods. "I see. I did not realize pantheons were known for particular things...what are the Aesir known for?" she asks, wondering what Eithne knows of her gods. Or some of them, anyway. The Aesir are only one clan of the norse gods. To John she returns her gaze. "I will let you know if we need help with her. We...have something in mind and it will be delicate," she says, looking back to Eithne. "I will inform you later...and ask that you trust me on this."
John Rizzo	"I know you guys will do right by her," explains John on the matter of Ophelia. "I meant more the Multiverse at large, but this Ophelia girl is definitely a symptom. When it's time to fight, it's time to fight. But sometimes I get the feeling that we're all a little too ready to rattle our sabers at each other. and not willing enough to sit down and talk it out." "I realize I'm not saying anything new, but I'm willing to try it. Worst case, someone busts me up while I'm chinning. A day or so of letting Caine's curse do its thing and I'm firing on all eight again."
Eithne Sullivan	Eithne can't say that she knows precisely what they're talking about. Anything she's seen has come from outside of her own head. She doesn't have the Sight, but she has hundreds and hundreds of books... and she does know how people will treat those that are different. She thinks back to a passage she'd found particularly memorable. 'You've become something fearsome, child.' 'Yes, Father. And now I fear nothing.' Eithne's always liked that series~ "Dunno much about it, but I heard it's to do with the blood of giants. Somethin' about givin' strength to their followers by feeding them blood?" Hadn't Sephi called it 'Jotunblut'? She keeps quiet for now about trusting this supposed plan. She will, right up until the moment she won't. Besides, talking is fine... for people who know how. All Eithne really knows how to do is fight (and now, slaughter hogs).
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga nods to John. "Yes. Not everything can be solved with a sword--or a gun, these days. Not everything should. Ophelia is dangerous and needs to be taken down...but it requires delicacy and planning, not just violence," she explains. Inga raises an eyebrow to Eithne. "Well, that's..interesting. I think we must exchange some stories soon, ja?" she says with a small smile.
John Rizzo	"You know where to find me if you need help," he advises both ladies. "But right now, I need to start walking the beat, canvassing. Now that there's some spending money to spread around, I can afford to do that." Rizzo rubs his chin, considering his options. He then stands up. "I like to do my legwork in person, so I'd better get moving. Stay as long as you like--just lock the door on your way out."