Edge Town-City of Light

T&A

Sneaking up on the door and listening, Terry realized that the muffled conversation he could hear from where he was standing was entirely in French.

Fucking Frenchmen, having the audacity to not speak good, red-blooded American.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jarl

Jarl tried, as much as it was possible, to stretch his burned hands, fighting the stinging pain to get as much mobility back in them as possible. Gods, he hated being injured. Almost as much as he hated doing nothing. He could already feel himself champing at the bit to get on, do something else. Any minute now, he was going to start bouncing off the walls.

No. A voice in his head made itself known, calming him a second. Wait for the others. Calm down. Don't get in any more trouble because you're unrested, unprepared, and antsy. Do what you used to do.

He picked up a piece of chalk and walked over to a writing desk. First, he scribbled a circle around it. Then, at the center of the desk, he started drawing lines and rectangles. For a chalk piece, it was surprisingly detailed - even rectangles, some overlapping, some colored in, others not. A whole, complex work that, eventually, began to look suspiciously like a piano.

It didn't quite have the same appeal, of course - he wasn't going to be able to channel his frustration by pressing down hard on a particular key - but in the absence of a proper instrument, it would do.

He'd always been a clutz, as far as battle magic was concerned. Ill-disciplined, always careful, afraid of losing control, of seriously hurting someone he wasn't supposed to. Reining himself in. This is what he was good at. He called his magic forth, the circle and the chalkmarks on the table glowing a bright, blazing blue as he tapped a key where a 'C' was supposed to be, a note faintly ringing out in the room, unlikely to reach anyone else in the building. That was another perk of magic - he could set the audio level himself.

So, until someone came to bug him, he merely sat in his room in Rollo's mansion to himself, eyes closed, and played.

edited 20th Mar '18 2:47:18 PM by math792d

Leon didn't enter the room, even though technically speaking it was his and Tim's room. Instead he stood in the doorway his gaze lingering slightly on Fortune's legs before focusing on her face like is proper. The sudden shift in tone from guilt to cold, was a bit jarring.

"If you want to go back to dancing I can leave, I was just coming to check up on you since you weren't in the best of moods when I left."

He had caught her glance at the brush, but it still looked untouched and he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for now. She'd been rather helpful overall even if she was a gang member. Why did he keep ending up allying with criminals? Oh right legally he was a murderer.

Leon

A flurry of conflicting emotions passed across Fortune’s face: guilt, then relief, some embarrassment, a flicker of gratitude. Finally, she settled on annoyance, thought it seemed like a mask more than anything else.

“I’m fine.” She snapped, the coldness of her tone shattering into something decidedly snippy. “Lâche-moi—you don’t need to...Is there something you need here? I was just finishing up.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly fumbling for words, bobbing back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“It is customary to knock before you open a door, not while you’re in the process. Or so I have heard. However, it does not matter to me one way or another if you stay or wait. I am…”

Again, she seemed to fumble for words, cheeks flushing darker, looking down at the Linthe brush instead of meeting his eyes.

"Is there something you require in here, Warden?"

Somewhere under Leon's jacket, he felt something wiggling. For a moment, it was felt like an insect had crawled inside his clothes. It was just Chroma, though.

''Mmmm. Guilt!" A squeak came from under his coat. "Not guilt? Like...pink guilt? Em...bassmant? Pink guilt!"

edited 21st Mar '18 8:41:18 PM by DrTentacles

Terry facepalmed. Goddammit, he should have seen this coming. Stupid foreigners not speaking a civilized tongue. Stupid gods, sending him off to places where people knew other languages.

Well, it couldn't be helped. He gave Alex a "go ahead" wave and stepped away from the door.

"I was mostly just checking on you, but I was contemplating a nap since we're going to be investigating a night club tonight. And that's what I meant to do but the door wasn't closed fully, so it opened when I knocked."

He glanced down at the brush which she kept looking at repeatedly, and kind of blatantly at that.

"Is there something wrong with the brush? You keep looking at it. Like a lot."

Chroma's squeak of information was unneeded but not unwelcome.

'Leon

“Oh? You came to check on me?” Fortune replied, her tone still haughty.. “I’ve been looking after myself for some time, Warden.”

Despite her tone, Leon noticed that she seemed calmer, a hint more warmth in her eyes than before. She hadn’t answered his question about the brush, but it seemed to be of secondary concern to her current line of questions.

The warm lasted only a moment, however, Fortune’s dark eyes narrowing.

“Unless, by “check on me” you mean you also share your companions concern?” She asked, challenge in her voice.

edited 27th Mar '18 2:02:14 PM by DrTentacles

"Concerns? Oh, not really. I'd like to know what you know about the topic, but I'm not going to press you on it. I don't think its particularly time sensitive. And we could probably get the info somewhere else. And I don't have much reason to distrust you either. You helped quite a bit with the De Goff situation."

Leon strolled over to his bed and sat down on the edge of it. He wasn't particularly tired at the moment, but he did want to be well rested for the jazz club so a nap wouldn't be a bad idea. Still, he'd chat with Fortune for a bit more. He refrained from bugging her about the brush again, waiting to see if she'd get back to the subject on her own.

"Oh Chroma, back to your jar please."

Fortune’s stare bored into Leon as he answered her, skeptical, seeking, and wary, her lips pursed in disbelief. Her first instinct always seemed to be to doubt someone—in ever conversation, it was like she was afraid of deception or hidden barbs.

Her expression, again, lightened when he finished, lips relaxing into a tiny smile as Chroma slithered out of Leon’s jacket, clambering down his torso, then jumping off the edge of the bed with a soft “squish.” When the paint monster reached the jar, it stopped, crossing its tiny arms in front of its chest.

“Too quiet here! Fine!” It squeaked, stamping a tiny foot on the ground. It was still bound to Leon’s commands, however. Displeasure plain, it clambered up the jar and plopped down inside, dissolving into a puddle.

Fortune let out a soft chuckle, her hand pressed to her lips as though to hide her smile.

“You seem to have rehabilitated it, Warden.” She said, a sparkle of amusement still glittering in her eyes. She took a step forward, then sat next to Leon on the thin dorm-style twin bed, mattress creaking with the added weight. Looking away from him, she sighed.

“Le Dame du Lac is my mother by blood. I was raised in her court” Fortune murmured, her voice almost a whisper. From where Leon sat, he couldn’t see her expression—only the back of her grey knit cap, and her slender neck.

Alexander

As an Italian, Alexander wasn't especially impressed by old-world grandeur. Once you'd seen one dusty, musty, dead megalomaniac's tomb, you'd pretty much seen them all. Nevertheless, Alexander felt a strange sympathy for people like Napoleon. Young, ambitious revolutionaries who ended up overburdened by the task of rulership; well, if it didn't resonate, it certainly rhymed.

Unlike Alexander or Cesar, Napoleon had lived to watch his Empire crumble. It had to have been glorious while it lasted, though. And here his little band stood, ready to meet the Poisoners. Squatters on the tombs of kings, and such.

Alexander dragged his mind back to the present, smirking with amusement at Terry's unsuccessful attempt at eavesdropping. Not as though he could do any better. He'd showered, changed clothes, and had sex before he left the hotel, and felt a great deal better, but none of those preparations gave him magic fluency in French.

"Very well." He said, stopping just out of candlelight of the door, and turning to Annette and Terry. "Discretion, dignity, poise."

Then, he walked toward the light.

edited 29th Mar '18 11:25:34 AM by DrTentacles

T&A

As the trio descended towards the lights, they started to hear the murmuring voices get clearer and clearer. They walked down a set of spiral stairs, deep into a part of the building that definitely wasn't on any tourist brochures. The further down they went, the light from the well-lit museum above gave way to old gas lamps hanging on the walls, shining a warm yellow light further down.

The first person they actually met was a ways down. A tall man with the kind of bronze-colored skin that seemed to indicate he spent a fair amount of time outdoors or in tanning salons, with short, jet-black hair and a five o'clock shadow, dressed in a very professional-looking tuxedo. He walked forward, extending a hand.

"Ah. You must be the other new tryout. Welcome, welcome!" He spoke English, but his accent wasn't French. It sounded like it was a little more southern than that. Spanish, perhaps?

Leon eyed Chroma briefly. It didn't like the jar. Still, he could probably make it up to him by taking him to the club when they went investigating. More pressing matters were at hand at this point, like Fortune sitting right next to him and now talking about that info he said he wasn't going to press her on. In particular that the lady of the lake was Fortune's mother, which wasn't super surprising all things considered. The being raised in her court part was the more worrisome part.

"I...hmm, I'm not sure I could even imagine being raised in a Fae court. But if my past experiences with the Fae in general are any indication it must have been awful."

Annette wasn't sure what to make of a group of people meeting up at a tomb, even one so famous that it had become more of a landmark than a memorial. Even though her family was primarily in Europ she had grown up in the States, and that family was in Germany, so as such the only "facts" she really knew about Napoleon came from the iffy American school system. So, hey, at least she was among people her own height...? Or was that one of the things that people made up to belittle him.

Hah. Belittle. That was so bad.

Still, she was more excited than anticipated to meet these mysterious Poisoners, even more so after Alexander had taken the time to explain what he knew about them. Which wasn't very much, but it was titillating enough for her to want to know more. She'd taken the chance to change out of her "professional" outfit and into her normal jeans and a green turtle-neck, alongside her casual leather jacket to keep out the cold. It mostly did the job. It was still the dead of winter and the middle of the night. She was relieved when they started heading inside.

As they descended, however, her nerves began fighting against her eagerness. Sure there might be an alchemist among these people, or somebody who makes potions going by a different name, but there might also be Warlocks. Sorcerers. These people had been a hidden organization for hundreds of years outside of any law or ruling. What kind of people were like that, but still managed to survive for so long?

Either they were brilliant, or they were dangerous.

Or both.

Poise and dignified, Alexander said. Yeah. She could try, but most likely she was just going to be small and insignificant while the others spoke. When the Spaniard approached them she shrunk into herself, keeping her eyes on everyone's feet and hoping she wouldn't be in the way.

Terry gave their welcomer a smile and a firm handshake. "Other tryout, huh? I take it someone beat us here, then." Really, whatever information got dropped on these other guys most likely wouldn't be important. Paris was a big city. It was possible, nay probable that some other unrelated occult group could go around doing things and not be a direct threat to him. Any evidence that the universe was dedicated to making the life of Terry specifically as eventful as possible came down to confirmation bias and questionable life choices.

He told himself that, but he went ahead and fished for information anyway because Mama Talbot's boy did have some pattern recognition and survival instincts buried in there somewhere.

Alexander

Well. It looked like Terry had taken on the immediate social interactions. Meaning all Alexander needed to do right now was to stand still, and look pretty. And dignified. He was a little curious about the Poisoner, but he didn’t want to drown the man in questions.

“Alexander Thorne.” He said, nodding to the man, and reaching out to give a handshake. Something about using his actual name to infiltrate a secret society was very funny to him.

Leon

Fortune’s spine stiffened, face still turned away from Leon as she sat beside him on the bed.

“Avalon is beautiful.” She whispered. “Mortals truly do not know how to behave around royalty anymore.”

The tension in her body and voice was unmistakable, her tone shifting from fear and shame to pride from sentence to sentence. In his jar beside the bed, Chroma’s head emerged from the puddle of paint at the bottom, staring at Fortune through the glass. The paint monster didn’t speak, but Leon could see the sudden interest at Fortune’s internal conflict.

“Do not speak of this to anyone else, Leon. You have...been kind.” Her shoulders hitched, a soft sigh emerging. “And do not attract the interest of the Dame Du Lac. She...has a special interest in those of the Council.”

Leon could see her entire body shiver at the last sentence.

“I...knowing this, are you still content with my presence here?”

edited 2nd Apr '18 9:01:50 PM by DrTentacles

T&A

"Yes. You may have a chance to meet them. Everyone else will be wearing masks at the meeting." Before he went to shake Alex' hand as well, he bowed his head. "Ah, but where are my manners. I am Sebastián Rodriguez. I am your sponsor for the evening, hence why I, unlike everyone else, am not wearing a mask."

He went to shake Alex' hand, and almost immediately Alex felt a very sharp sting of white-hot, burning pain in his hand.

"Beautiful and awful aren't exactly mutually exclusive. And sure, I'd like to avoid gathering more interest from Fae nobles given how the majority of the ones I've interacted with so far have tried to have me killed or tried to kill me themselves. But you know, probably bit late for that, since a strange swan showed on the window sill earlier and gave me a look"

Leon gestured over at the sill when he spoke, tilting his head a bit.

"Not entirely sure what the look was about, admittedly."

He shrugged. The idea of yet another Fae noble after his head was annoying yes, but he was sadly used to it at this point.

"Any qualms if I at least warn Jarl and Tim about her special interest in Council members? I won't share your relation. And I've got no qualms with your presence here. Like I said earlier you've been pretty helpful. And have given me no reason to distrust you."

"Terry Talbot here, thank you for your sponsorship," said Terry Talbot, who was thankful for the sponsorship.

Alexander

Alexander bit down on his lip, forcing himself not to jerk his hand back, or flinch at the sudden pinprick of burning pain. He must have ripped a hole in his glove during the fight at the bar. And of course, he had to run into someone with True Love immediately afterword.

And of course "Sebastian" had to have been attractive.

"Igualemente." He replied, hoping he'd gotten the spanish right. He gently pulled his hand back, stealing a glance down to see if he could spot the rip.

There was a small patch of angry, blistered red red peaking through the thin leather near one of his knuckles. Right. When he hit the car. Stupid. Even after breaking the handshake, it felt like he had an ember crawling under his skin. He clasped his hands behind his back, resting the urge to suck on the burn.

Goddammit. What did he say about the other recruit?

"I was curious about how very...open, you seemed. Still, I look forward to meeting the rest of you." He added, unwilling to admit his slip. Best just to move forward, and work on the fly.

edited 4th Apr '18 4:43:55 PM by DrTentacles

"Ms Wagner, if y-you don't...mind..." Annette spoke softly, like she were barely speaking at all, and her eyes flickered from Sebastian's friendly face to Alexander's hand as they shook. Had he flinched? Gone tense? Or maybe she was imagining things. Still, her eyes were sharper than she often let on, so she kept her eyes on him curiously.

Leon

Fortune flicked her hand dismissively, as though Tim and Jarl were the least important thing in the world to her at the moment.

“Warn them, if you so desire. I care not.” She said. Her eyes narrowed, turning on the bed to look out the window, her shoulders tensing.

“A strange swan? White?” Fortune asked, turning to look back at Leon. “My...sister, then. Looking for me at my mother’s behest I’m sure. Craven.”

She spat the last word like a curse, ill-will toward the yet-unmet sister clear in her tone and smouldering eyes. Still looking at Leon, Fortune drew in a breath, clearly trying to keep herself from another outburst.

“This is not...It is not easy for me. This world can be awful as well. The Projects...paint monsters.” She snorted. “The cartoon man and his dog were amusing, though. But there is no script to follow. No roles. Just..impulse.”

Her eyes half closed, as though she were bracing herself for something, fingers knotted in the sheets of the bed. Then she scooted closer, and leaned in toward Leon, resting her head on his shoulder, laying against his side. He could feel the soft wool of her cap tickling his ear, the sudden warmth of her nearness.

“I am cold. Is it never cold in Avalon.” She murmured, eyes closed. “And today was very...frustrating. It would have been unpleasant to leave.”

It sounded like a command, rather than thanks. But it was probably the best he was going to get. And Leon could see a very small smile on Fortune’s lips.

Downstairs, a phone started to ring. A couple seconds later, Michele’s voice called upstairs.

“Leon!? It’s for you! It's...the police.”

edited 6th Apr '18 11:41:21 AM by DrTentacles

T&A

"Mister Thorne, mister Talbot, miss Wagner. I reiterate my welcome." Sebastián turned inward to let the three of them further down the winding stairwell, even as he procured a mask. First, one for himself, a beautiful silver thing that seemed to reflect the gas lamps, then three duller, black ones for the trio.

"You wear these. They single you out as potential members without revealing your identity. A bit of imagined fair play on our part, of course - the members have already been informed about you and the other newcomer. Though, he did come alone."

"A tactical error," Terry joked, examining the mask for a moment before putting it on. "We'll have the numbers advantage and be able to flank him. Maybe even have the chance to take his mask and assume his identity." Weird underground secret society masquerades numbered among the many, many situations he dealt with by making inane banter.

edited 8th Apr '18 1:11:02 AM by rikalous

Alexander

"You're missing one important detail, dear Talbot." Alexander replied, examining the mask with a hint of amusement. It did look nice. Though silver would fit him far better, to be honest. "I'm robbed of my most dangerous weapon like this: My blinding good looks."

Annette took the mask from Sebastian and, without looking it over, tried to get it on while fighting her mane of curly hair in the process. She didn't wear masks, hats, or headbands for a reason. That, and her glasses were now being worn over the dumb thing. Wow. She'd always thought masked secret meetings were stuff of dumb movies. Yet here she was.

"J-Just unbutton your shirt a little, Mr. Thorne. I'm sure it will have the, um, s-same effect." Annette mumbled quietly enough that only those with enhanced hearing would catch it. Hopefully that was only Alexander and Terry. "Heaven forbid if you n-needed to rely on less visual ch-charms for a whole evening..."

edited 8th Apr '18 1:31:21 PM by KeiranGold