Edge Town-City of Light

Leon's grip around his utensils tightened until his knuckles turned white at the mention of the Madame having the aid of the Poisoners to avoid the Warden's placing her on the chopping block. So many horrible things in Vegas could have been avoided if not for that. Whereas before finding their secret stash was just a job, now, now he had a reason to ruin the Poisoners. His hands shook briefly before he managed to relax. He could be angry later, for now, he would simply listen and eat.

The history lesson about Kemmler wasn't really anything he hadn't heard before asides from the looting and stuff related to the Poisoners. Then Tim decided to lecture the lecturer and Rollo didn't quite take well to that even if he didn't disagree with Tim's corrections. He looks at Tim when Rollo mentions Tim avoiding the cloak in silent agreement with the retired Warden.

The Non-Wizards Three

"So it was all challenge, hm? No chafing under the idea of someone else coming to take the slice of power you'd meticulously carved for yourself?" The Duchesse chuckled. "Still, that doesn't answer the original question. I'll applaud your ability to dance around a question you clearly don't have an answer for, but out of politeness, I'm going to remind you. What does that have to do with me offering you help?"

"These ones here come with seafood." The waiter pointed out three or four dishes for Anne, still seemingly oblivious to the woman's increased tension. "This one is a particular favorite of the chef - a grilled tuna dish with a side of the seasonal salad. Perfect for a lunch."

Django, having finally left the Duchesse's side, looked at the Duchesse, then back at Alex and Terry. He walked up and jabbed at Terry with the back end of a fork - clearly he'd learned a lesson from what happened to his mother.

"Do you know the freak with the strange glass tube in her hand over there? She's practically radiating terror." _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jarl

"So even the cult that administered the vault - or at least their descendants and apprentices - know the first thing about where it is?" Jarl scratched his chin, the cogs in his brain whirring. "Have there ever been hints? Some kind of contingency the original Poisoners put in place in case their descendants would lose the ability to find it? Maybe a White Council wizard who couldn't resist sticking his or her nose in the business of a secret society?"

Mr. Least Sexy Vampire got a lot of nerve calling other people freaks, Terry thought, glancing back to see what could have earned that label. Aw, shit. She had a kid with her. Plenty of reasons for that to get someone antsy, especially if she was clued-in enough to twig that this was a White Court establishment. Or hell, maybe she was just worried about the expense and general snooty aura of the place. Have to remember that most people don't know that vampires are a thing. And her dress didn't come off as "this cost more than your house" as most of the clothes in here, though who knew what the fuck that meant in an age where people paid out the nose for pre-ripped clothes, Aiden.

Whatever her issue was, being stared at wasn't likely to improve it. "She's not in my chapter of the Freak Club, if that's what you're asking," Terry said blandly, looking back at Django. "And I dunno why anyone might be less than perfectly comfortable given the exquisite courtesy," with a meaningful glance at the fork he'd just been poked with, "on display."

Wizards Three

Rollo grinned, a twinkle in his single eye.

"Well. Wouldn't that be convenient."

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a battered, leather-bound notebook, faded and worn with age. There is large brown stain on the corner that looks very much like dried blood.

"Michu Hartmann's little journal." He grunts. "He was the necromancer running the Paris operation. It has a list of names of the higher-ranking Poisoners, and suspected stolen artifacts. There are maybe...two people in the Council who know I have this. And now there are four."

He leaned back.

"So we can do some digging. Search museums, and ask the magical underground about famous ancestors. I didn't say it was going to be easy. Aside from the names in this book, there's one more trail. I fought him in the Parisian Catacombs. When he and his followers died, their death curse ended up closing off their sanctum. The whole place is crawling with malevolent shades, and worse. But if we can get through, we'll be able to uncover everything else he was working on."

_____________________________________________________________________________

Alexander

Alexander let out a deep breath, as he felt the vise close. He really *didn't* have anything to offer that she might want. There was one currency, however, that was always valuable in the magical world.

"I'd owe you a favor. How big, exactly, depends on the information you have."

His hunger-heightened ears picked up the snatches of conversation between Terry and Django, and he glanced over at the table they were talking about. Poor woman. She and her son really *did* look terrified and out of place.

How heavily did the Duchesse feed from her clients, again?

He leaned over, muttering a whispered aside to Terry, likely audible to Django as well.

"Ahem. Forking my employees is my job."

"Oh, well, th-that sounds lovely. And I h-h-have no real opinions so I'll have one of those, and...um..." Annette fidgeted some more with the vial in her hands. She wasn't sure about getting David anything from this place. If this really was a nest of vampires, wouldn't the food be drugged? Somehow? But...then the place wouldn't stay in business, let alone be so busy. Maybe it was a drug front. Or maybe using logical thinking wouldn't work in the middle of a panic attack. She swallowed her nerves for a moment and pointed at one of the few French words she recognized on the menu, "Um, wh-what comes with this pasta?"

David, while his mother was distracted, glanced over the back of his chair at the family of blonds and the strange, smoking woman. He stared at them for a little while—eyes wide, blank, and unreadable—before turning back around.

Tim considered for a moment...well that and he itched to get his hands this book. For safekeeping only of course....

"This sounds as if a multipronged approach might be best used. Going after the names in the books while another group tries to obtain a way to enter the Sanctum?"

He smiled at Rollo.

"May I see that book, by the way?"

Terry huffed a quiet laugh at Alex's comment, and murmured back, "Down, boy. Not at the dinner table."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the kid at Django's favorite table staring at them for a moment. That could indicate creepy demon child, or just an ordinary kid being curious. No real way to know until mojo started flying around, so frankly Terry could live with it remaining a mystery.

The Non-Wizards Three

The Duchesse briefly turned her head to David and Anne before turning back to the table with a shrug. "I don't feed on my clientele. That's what the staff are for. What's the worth of having a kitchen if you can't rule it with an iron fist?" Apparently she'd read Alex' mind on that one.

"A favor, hmm? Well, I'm always happy to have people owing me favors. Especially rising stars. They can be of so much use later, if they don't prematurely...expire." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I have some associates who have been looking into the Poisoners on their own time. Small-time talents in need of protection, particularly from the Milieu. I'll provide you with an address as soon as you've finished your meal." _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jarl

"Well, i mean, if we're going to be looking at museums in Paris, there's a pretty obvious first destination, isn't there? Le Louvre is right there, and if you're going to hide something in plain sight, what better place to do it?"

"That or the Musée des Égouts de Paris." Tim pointed out. "Sort of as conflux of both area's we need to search."

The Wizards Three:

Michele whistled, shaking her head, and looking at the trio—especially Leon and Jarl—with renewed interest. Jarl can hear her mutter under her breath in French.

"And I thought my life was exciting. God."

Bruno's excitement was less restrained, leaning forward, eyes fixed on the book.

"Professor this is—insane. Ancient French Secret socialites, necromancers working with the Nazis. I mean—you've explain pieces but this is..." Unable to find the right works in English, Bruno lapses in to muttering in French, trying to take it all in.

Rollo grins slyly at his students, handing the book over to Tim.

"Of course. It's not like I have the time to do the leg-work. That's up to you two. There's a manifest of suspected artifacts—many will be private collections, but a few might have wandered over to museums. I'd suggest you start your search tomorrow, though. Gives you a night to plan and prepare."

_____________________________________________________________________________ Alexander

Alexander's stomach twisted slightly, understanding the sort of deal with the devil he'd just made. Well. At least he didn't owe any favors to Norse gods.

"Excellent. The cooking is fantastic, by the way. If any of your children wished to work in America, I'd be delighted to hire them for one of my Casino restaurants."

He didn't particularly want to extend the conversation, but he had to ask about one part of the Duchesse's words.

"I've dealt with the Mileu once or twice in Northern Italy. How do they function here?"

edited 13th Feb '17 11:25:10 AM by DrTentacles

Tim managed to not grab the book with any undue haste...but still reached out into it and libromanced it the second his fingers touched it. Still, he put the contents aside for now, figuring in this case he'd need more attention to sort it through before he returned to the dinner conversation.

"In my learned experience, 'Insane' does not mean' impossible' or even 'unlikely', young man."

"Insane doesn't really mean much to me anymore. Not after temporarily being turned into a 9 year old and fighting a jabberwock."

Leon glances at his now empty plate and places his utensils down and wiping his mouth.

"So, Wizard Normandie, this horde of malevolent shades, just how big are we talking here? And do you got any tips or the like for dealing with them? I don't have much experience with that type of problem."

Jarl

"With these people, the only word to describe this sort of adventure is 'Tuesdays'," Jarl replied in French, turning his attention back towards the discussion at hand.

"I suggest we try and find out which museums might have the artifacts we seek, then split up. They're all public venues - I doubt we're going to get attacked. Of course, it never hurts to be paranoid."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Non-Wizards Three

"Much the same, honestly. They used to have a side business extorting minor talents for protection, but that has since stopped. It seems the freaks are starting to organize their weaker kin." The Duchesse shrugged. "That's the ones in the know, anyway, and those are a minority. The rest of them are much the same they are elsewhere - regional and ethnic gangs trying to control the vice trade. You'll probably run into a few of them during your time here."

"There's on in particular that's become quite a nuisance to the secret world - a man named Samson ibn Khalid. He's been trying to break back into the minor power extortion racket."

edited 13th Feb '17 2:11:24 PM by math792d

Tim gave Jarl a sidelong glance. "With you around its more likely to be called Thursday, I find."

Wizards Three

As Tim quips, the knowledge of the little blood-stained book fills his mind.

Digesting Wizard de Normandie's little black book feels like stepping into the lab of an deeply unethical scientist, the journal of a clinical, obsessive sadist. A monotonous day-by-day list of Michu's Hartmann's progress hunting the Poisoners. Musing on the nature of Kemmler's godhood. Inventory of corpses delivered. Missing his wife. Worrying about her mortality. Deep Paranoia about the Wardens. Inventory of discovered artifacts. Human sacrifices to gain favor of the goddess Morana. Bodies stacked like cordword. Ripping memories from shades and becoming them. Names. Living, dead, an endless bible of names.

Does Mimir drink? I would know more. We must secure the future of magic.

The phrase rips through Tim's mind like a scalpel through corpse-flesh, the scent of mold and paper filling his nostrils. His hands are pale and wrinkled, stained red with blood, and his vision swims, tears in his eyes, the taste of copper on his lips. One claw grips a ritual knife, the other...something else.

The phrase is repeated on nearly every page of the diary.

The headache intensifies, a white-static shock that jars him from vision.

Tim collapses like a cut wire, face dropping to the table, pasta *spraying* over the tablecloth.

Rollo's head jerks up, single eye wide with surprise.

"Von Hochberg?"

Michele reacts quickly—she might have medical training, leaping up and moving to his side, lifting his head and checking his pulse.

"Saisie?"

_____________________________________________________________________________

Alexander

"Well. It would be dull, I suppose, if an ancient cult was the only thing to occupy my time."

He looked over at his siblings, Aiden watching the conversation carefully, as if trying to learn, Lilaine and Bethany whispering to each other conspiratorial. It was time to cut this little chat short. He smiled at the Duchesse, starting to fill the rest of the conversation with small talk, trying to wrap the meeting to a close.

edited 14th Feb '17 11:10:34 AM by DrTentacles

It was too much. Simply too much.

When Tim libromanced something he didn't simply read it as if someone read a text. Rather, he read the imprint others had left while writing it. He didn't read letters, he learned the story they told, their meaning, their content.

But this book had more than its story to tell. It had the frantic pace by which it was written, the obsessions of its author. It was as if someone expected a friendly talk and was suddenly confronted with a raving madman.

If Tim had time to prepare h might have been able to stem that tide, build a firewall through which he could process everything with due care.

But in his haste, he had taken only the flimsiest of prep work and without delay the flood had broken and the tide threatened to swallow him.

Focus. Tim ground his teeth, stemming his mind against the oncoming waves. FOCUS!

While his body groaned his mind exerted himself and finally managed to erect the conceptual equivalent of dike's, putting up sandbags in the openings remaining and working to seal off the flood of information.

Focus!

There was no time to do a proper wall now, so instead he simply focused in containment. He'd have to come back and process everything more carefully but for now he had to prevent it from overwhelming him.

Focus!

Leon blinks as Tim collapses on the spot. It was clear something about the book caused it, but Tim didn't exactly want everyone in the council to know about his talent for absorbing knowledge. Sadly, there were no cover stories planned for this.

"He should be fine. He's just narcoleptic?"

There wasn't exactly much confidence in Leon's on the spot cover story. Still he moved over and checked to make sure Tim actually seemed fine beyond the collapsing into pasta thing.

Wizards Three

Tim is drowning. Words fill his mouth, water seeping into his nose, limbs heavy. Secure the future. Fifteen dead, all of inferior blood. I would know more. Crazed, manic intensity, invited inside by his own power.

The water is a charnel mire, white flashing at the edge of his vision, his eyes—eye? fading in and out. There's blood on his tongue and corpse-scent in his nose, rot and decay. Flesh is fading. Spirit is eternal. Tendons to bind, a nail through the heel. Knowledge requires sacrifice. Elise, you are the future, the future of the gifted.

He can stem the gap, parchment-skinned hands erecting walls of sand but the water pours in, what use is a dyke when you're at the bottom of the well? Knowledge is sweet. You turn to patch one side, and another rises. All to delay. Tim's lungs burn as the knowledge fills his lungs, his body, his breath.

I would know more. An eye for Mimir. Is this our fate? To wither before the herd?

A hand, long-nailed, slender, a bracelet around its wrist plunges into the deep, taking hold of Tim's—Michu's—no, Tim's wrist, and grabbing tight. A grip like iron—a lifeline to a drowning man.

A splitting headache.

The hand pulls, the water fading.

Foolish.

The thought could have been his own, but it chimed soft, like a silver bell.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Michele takes hold of Tim, pulling him from his chair and putting him on the floor, making sure he's clear of any objects he could hurt himself on, checking his pulse. movements quick and practiced. Bruno's face is white with panic, he looks to Leon, repeating the young warden's words as though for assurance.

Rollo is not fooled. He stands, limping to Tim's side, full of a burning, single-minded intensity, voice a growl of command.

"If you're going to lie to me in my own damn home, at least try to make it convincing. Tell me the truth before he fries his foolish brain, boy."

edited 14th Feb '17 11:03:05 PM by DrTentacles

Tim struggled and yet...that voice sounded...similar?

...But in a storm, every harbor seemed safe.

Tim gripped the hand firmly and began to pull himself up

Jarl

"He's a libromancer." Jarl shrugged. Rollo was going to be pressing Tim for details no matter how this ended up, and Leon had already ruined any attempt at spinning a good story with that terrible, terrible lie. "Absorbs information by touch. It's possible some of the residual emotional emergy from the handwritten journal had some kind of effect on him. Honestly, I've never seen something like this from him before."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Non-Wizards Three, Now Featuring Plot

The meeting drew to a close with pleasant enough (if very threat-veiled) small-talk and discussions of the minutiae of the Duchesse's restaurant, which she seemed quite happy to elaborate on. Meanwhile, Anne and David's meal progressed without issue, neither feeling significantly different, and as the Duchesse retired to the kitchen, the aura of dread in the room quickly vanished.

That is, until another woman entered the scene. At first, it wasn't easy to see why she seemed so familiar. However, with more careful examination, some of the Duchesse's features were obvious, if somewhat more...refined. Of all the Duchesse's family, she looked the most like a classical White Court, and the most like Alex and his family - slightly uncanny, like a marble statue brought to life.

What was clear to Alex and company, too, was that she was much less refined with her Hunger. Django and the Duchesse let off power because they had much to spare, but it was controlled, measured, disciplined, designed for maximum effect. This woman, whoever she was, let it off in droves because she could not control it. She seemed, on the surface, more powerful, but it was a wild, untempered storm of negative emotion.

...Centered squarely on Anne and David as they were leaving.

"Oh, Charles hadn't been wrong," the new arrival sing-songed. "There was a delicious snack waiting in the restaurant." She skipped up to Anne and cupped her face with a vise-like grip, leaning down to study her. "Excellent, excellent."

All through dinner Annette's nerves refused to completely die down, but it did weaken. A little. The fear that had already clutched at her chest had not left her system just yet. She barely touched her food until the owner woman had left and the mood lightened. David, too, was playing with his meal more than eating it, but at least they managed to talk calmly about unrelated, unconcerned things for a little while. Disneyland, the ridiculousness of the thief from before, holiday things. It felt almost like a normal meal.

Except for the potion still tucked into her napkin. She palmed it as they started standing up, her thumb rubbing lightly on the cap, David's hand held loosely in hers. There had been something strange before—a woman's hand had burst into smoke! But other than that there had been no signs of...anything.

What was that? Was that really a vampire? Maybe it was just social anxiety. Social anxiety so bad I was about to throw acid at a waiter. Yikes.

Then somebody was touching her face.

She didn't have a moment to think. The cold, sick feeling of pure terror that had been lifted from her shoulders just a little while ago returned with a concrete block tied to it. Her freckled face paled, her grip on her son's hand tightening so much that David gave a small gasp of pain mingled with his surprised "Mom?" as he ducked away from the stranger, hiding at her hip and looking equally, if not more, terrified. The woman's face wasn't normal. There was no imperfection whatsoever to her skin. She had the look and her hands had almost the texture of porcelain and she was not human.

Had she heard her right? She'd called her a delicious snack. Oh. Well then.

Vampire.

Vampire next to my son.

Suddenly the acid didn't seem so far fetched anymore. Her thumb pushed under the cap of the vial as her hand shot up, spraying the liquid between herself and the porcelain woman, aiming to splash it across her arms or her face or anything to get her to release her. Droplets of it fell and 'burned' her face, but it was only the feel of acid. No scars, no burns, just pain.

Alchemist tested, mother approved.

edited 15th Feb '17 5:29:05 PM by KeiranGold

The woman had exactly the kind of reaction someone would have when they get acid splashed on them. Namely, she let go of Anne, clutched her hands to her face and screamed loud enough for the entire street to hear.

Oops.

"Well, its not like I was expecting something like this. But Tim requested we keep his libromancy on the downlow, so I was trying to respect that. It's not like we can do anything to fix the problem without breaking the third law. So he's kind of on his own either way."

Leon stared at Tim anxiously. It was surprising to see Tim laid low so readily by a mere book. It was something that Leon figured Tim would have been prepared for and not so apparently blindsided by.

Terry shot to his feet, whirling towards the scream before he hesitated, the part of his brain used for remembering that this was someone else's house and they might not appreciate him getting involved kicking in. He glanced at Alex for a cue. Please tell me I didn't do that somehow.

Alexander

The departure of the Duchesse and having food in their stomachs left the table much calmer than they'd been since they set down in Paris. It looked like Alexander and his family was going to get out of this without a hitch. Bethany even managed to look contented, looking around the restaurant curiously and letting loose a giant yawn,

The arrival of the third Skavis immediately broke that illusion, though, setting him on edge. He could tell from a glance she had power without control, as could his siblings. Aiden let out a amusing snort, while Lilaine sized her up, appraising as they started to leave the restaurant. Alexander narrowed his eyes, sliding the unused steak knife from the table into his pocket. The duchesse could bill him later.

He had just enough time to make it to the Matre-de, and almost out the door when everything went to hell very quickly. He turn in time to hear the edge of the Skavis's whispered sentence, and watch as the woman in the pretty green dress with the massive mane of hair toss a glace of what looked like water at the vampire.

She certainly didn't react like it was water. She looked like she'd been maced. And the pretty brown-haired woman and her little son looked terrified.

Shit.

He glanced back at his family, then met Terry's eyes, seeing, for once his own hesitation mirrored. He could go. His business was done. And this probably wasn't the first time something had happened here. He had Bethany to look after. He hesitated at the door, indecisive.

The Skavis had no control. She'd been about to feed on the woman and her son in the middle of a crowded restaurant. And now, the woman and the child were utterly terrified, and the Skavis was hurt and furious.

Someone was going to get badly hurt.

Alexander sighed, nodding at Terry, then dashed across the room to the Skavis woman's side, grabbing a glass of water, and a napkin from a neighboring table. He grabbed the vampire's arm, pulling her down and away from the woman and child, and slamming his own hunger down like a sledgehammer at the woman.

"Don't panic! I've got you—it must have been an allergic reaction. You're going to be alright."

Playing the heroic savior. To the wrong person. Though really, he was probably saving all of their lives. If she killed someone in public...

Liliane had taken hold of Bethany's hand, and moved to block the door and cover his back, a smile of amusement on her lips. Aiden was wide-eyed, but hadn't frozen. That was good. Hopefully everyone else in the room had been hit with a bad case of the bystander effect.

"Everything's under control—Aiden, call the EM Ts, you!" He pointed to a server at random. "Go get the lady of the house."

He started to wet the napkin and try to dab at the Skavis's face, his own eyes white, and skin faintly shining as he pulsed 'lust' at her. He tried to catch a glance under his arm at the woman and child.

Stupid to get involved.

Her kid is Bethany's age.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Two and a Half Wizards

Rollo barked out a series of short, evocative sounding-curses in French, limping over to Michele and Tim's side.

"And he did it at the damn dinner table with no prep. You think someone has the sense God gave sheep—fucking bookworms."

He furrowed his brow, staring at the pale-faced, hyperventilating and unconscious wizard.

"Don't suppose he gave any of you prior permission to look at his head if someone went wrong?"

____________________________________________________________________________

The water was seeping in, the taste of preserved rot slick on Tim's tongue, his nose, lungs burning as the water ate into them. There was no breath—just pressure from above, as though he were a hundred feet underwater.

The woman's hand had a grip like steel and silver as it closed around his wrist, and pulled.

Whispered phrases echoed, the sensation of stomach-churning movement, vertigo like falling in reverse pushing through his body. Drowning. -would know more.

A light gleamed from above, a slender silhouette framed shadows looking down.

-elise. to bind.

Darkness fluttered—there was something below him now, huge enough the water displaced around him, a leviathan of the depths chasing. He could not see it, but Tim could feel the presence—the movement as it stirred, hungry.

-a sacrifice for the well.

The sensation of regaining consciousness was marked by a coughing fit, and intense nausea. As Tim opened his real-world eyes, the world flickered between one eye and two, the cosy dining room and water and operating rooms and blood. His body felt frail and week and his head—lined in cloth.

edited 18th Feb '17 10:25:06 PM by DrTentacles