Edge Town-City of Light

Terry glanced at Jesse in genuine bafflement. "You thought there wasn't a chance of that? Dude, we could get jumped by harpies or something going on a literal milk run. That's just life."

Shaking his head, he strode over to buttonhole Tim. "Okay, as funny as squirt-gunning Alex and Leon is, there is clearly something more going on here. What's the crisis and how is it Loki's fault?"

Alexander

Questions were churning in Alexander's mind, a roiling fog of paranoia, anxiety, and nerves dancing with residual embarrassment. Sure, he'd overreacted. And sure, he'd gotten sprayed by what he could only describe as "wizard emissions" for it. But he also hadn't imagined Ms Wagner's angry shout, or the tension bubbling in the room. And the way Ms Wagner was acting toward him—the way David was acting toward him—said that whatever had happened around Tim had shook her more than him brandishing a gun like a madman.

Which was absolutely concerning.

But he'd already shoved his foot in it, so he was going to step a little more cautious around the whole mess. Ms Wagner didn't want to talk, now, and David had already had a hell of a time in the past few minutes. They needed...

Comfort? Support? Space?

He was really only equipped for one of those options.

But hey, he could put a damn good face of it on.

Alexander turned in the hall, and grinned at Ms Wagner, like her request was barely needed.

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer more excitement? It's not noon yet, we have time in the day for at least a dozen more surprises." He prodded back, his voice light and cheerful.

"I'm teasing." He added in a mock-whisper to David. "Let's go back to Lilaine and Bethany's side. You look beat. Between the two of us, I usually feel the same after talking to Tim."

His eyes sparkled, a devilish impluse spurring his next words as they walked into the other apartment.

"Can I get you a drink, kid? Chocolate milk? Whiskey? Usually, that's my solution to wizard problems."

Bethany and Lilaine looked up as they walked in—the two of them were on the couch, Bethany still in pajamas, pressed into Lilaine's side. His sister had one of his old cameras around her neck—now "her" camera, and it looked like she had been taking photos before she got startled by the noises from next door. He saw the two of them visibly relax when he walked in, though there was a lot of questions in both of their eyes.

"Alexander! You don't offer whiskey to children!" Lilaine said, her voice full of scolding affect as she fanned herself. "You start them with wine, it's sweeter."

Tim didn't rise to Alexanders bait and walked up to his sister, who gave him a wordless look that told him she probably had put most of it together.

"Loki has nothing to do with it." He turned to Terry and gave a placating gesture. "As far as I can tell he has no magic working upon David."

Jarl

"Ah, not conjuritis, just secondhand fallout from the reveal of a baby wizard. Well, he'll have plenty of time to turn into a paranoid old fud complaining about the next generation's excess and suicidal overconfidence, I'm sure."

"In all seriousness, what's the official procedure here? Because between us, I don't think his mom's going to be all too pleased if you two go tattling to the Council right now."

Edited by math792d on Dec 23rd 2020 at 4:29:41 AM

Tim gave Jarl a - even for his usual fare - intense stare. So much for subtlety and a modicum of tact.

"Miss Wagner is the boy's mother and guardian." He answered, hoping he wouldn't need to put up neon signs for the Dane to get his meaning on that.

"Could be harpies, could be Hitchcock. I'd say I'll be keeping iron on me, but that implies there's ever a time I don't. Anyways, not really sure what I could offer as collateral, the council doesn't exactly pay the Wardens particularly well."

Leon adjusted his clothes a bit more after the soaking/gooing incident as he recentered himself in the circle and sealed it back off again. He decided to remain quiet on the baby wizard stuff for now figuring Tim had a much better understanding of the issue.

Jesse

"I could think of something." Jesse said coolly, and flicked a finger upward as the other picked back up the measuring tape. "Arms back up, relaxed pose. Again."

As they went back to their work, it was foolish to think that Jesse wasn't listening to them, and taking mental notes alongside the measurements. Their lips thinned into a line, their eyes glancing over their shoulder towards the others, before returning to Leon. Regardless of Tim and Leon's decisions, Jesse was already considering what keeping a child Wizard around could lead to.

And they weren't thrilled by it.

"Silver-gray, to match your cloak," Jesse mumbled to themselves as they got the last of the torso measurements, "Is it a rule that freaks must break their nose at some point, or are you and Jarl the exceptions."

Annette

Was it really not even noon yet? Annette focused on the wrong part of Alexander's response for a moment, then her brain caught up with the rest of it. She raised her head enough to see his face, and the grin on it. She blinked. Huh. That was a painless response if their ever was one. Certainly moreso than she had been expecting. She kept her own nose out of people's business—for fear of getting close, more than anything else—but for the last ten or five or however many minutes she'd felt like everyone was trying to claw their way into hers. Alexander dropping it, even for a moment, was a relief. A much needed one.

"I—no, no I think I'm very, um, v-very good for the morning." Annette sighed in a more relaxed manner. Which was still tight with nerves, but returning to her usual level of nervousness than before. "Is th-that because you need to, um, c-crane your neck to look at him, for extended periods of t-time?"

David kept his eyes on his shoes and didn't speak up, even with the gentle ribbing and jokes. A familiar oily feeling of guilt filled up her stomach. God, she had screwed up so much. She had screamed in front of her son, been about to hit Tim in front of her son, gotten angry in a way she never wanted to do in front of her son.

Has he ever seen me shout like that?

Not at him. Never at him. I don't even think arguing with dad have I gotten...

I fucked up so badly.

The corner of her mouth twitched. She didn't feel the need to tell off either Alexander or Lilaine for their alcohol jokes, because she knew they were kidding. Or at least hoped so. She managed to bite back a retort at least.

As soon as they got into the apartment, though, David had let go of her hand, and walked quickly to the room he and Annette shared without a word. Annette stood there slitghtly stunned, before her faint smile and easing anxieties crumpled once more.

He's scared. Or mad. Or both. At me, or at Tim? Also both?

She sighed and brought her hands up to rub at her eyes—they weren't wet, but they did ache in a way that made her feel like crying. This week was hellish enough without this.

"...if I d-d-didn't have more self-control I would t-take up your offer, Mr. Thorne." She spoke very softly from behind her palms. She really wanted a drink. No, she just wanted something to soothe her nerves. But she wouldn't. Not falling off the wagon here. That'd just add one more huge disappointment to her growing list.

Edited by KeiranGold on Dec 25th 2020 at 1:54:25 AM

Baby wizard. Fuh-huck. Terry could certainly think of worse things it could have been, but he doubted Annette would find that very comforting. "Figure the official procedure is that nobody without a Wagner in their name knows or says anything. If you're not sure how to do that, watch me. I'm a fuckin' pro at not knowing stuff, and I can talk all day without saying anything." He struck a proud pose for emphasis.

Tim sighed and then looked at the werewolf before explaining quietly. "The Council is not Hogwarts, we do not mandate schooling or even actively recruit. In general, individual Wizards may offer education - from making sure the practitioner does not hurt themselves or others to an outright apprenticeship - at their discretion and their apprentices then take a examination from the White Council to earn membership on account of magic power and skill alone. But until a magic potentiate has reached a...reasonable age of majority, the decision remains in their guardiands hand."

"Let me tell you." Melina walked over and leaned against the wall. "Eleven year old me was crushed that instead of a letter delivered by owl telling me I was a Wizard I instead got a nigh-centennial lesbian germanist Wizard calling me 'Tim in a skirt'." She grinned at her brother who's stare back implied that she more than a bit overstating it.

Edited by 3of4 on Dec 28th 2020 at 6:13:11 PM

Leon shifted his pose as instructed by the fashion vampire, his expression neutral at first as he vaugely contemplated what collateral Jesse might ask for but it soon shifted when they called the magic trio all freaks. Still they were coming to them for a favor so a level of tact in expressing his annoyance was probably warranted.

"Wizards," he stressed the title, even if it technically didn't apply to Jarl, "don't normally get into fist fights as often as Jarl or I. So yeah we're the exceptions."

Alexander

Well, mark a point down for offering alcohol to minors, his terrible joke (or offer, or whatever it was) had at least cleared up the mood.

Unfortunately, it only lasted a few seconds before Ms Wagner's face slid into a pit again—he could tell she’d snapped right back to worrying a second after he’d stopped talking.

What had Tim said? What was going on with David?

“David, do you want to see my photos!?” Bethany said to the child’s retreating back either completely ignoring the tone, or—more likely—focusing on her whims over anything else as she stood up from the couch, holding out her camera to the door to their room. Lilaine reached out to stop her, then relented, instead staring at Alexander, then jerking her head toward Ms Wagner as though to signal him to do something.

White Court were stereotyped as heartless master manipulators, and Alexander could hardly deny the truth of that. He could inflame passion with a few words, a smouldering glance, or a touch. But that was a trick—borrowed power from his hungry, perpetually horny co-pilot. When it came to the nuances of human interaction, he had to learn it all the hard way. Your average Las Vegas confidence man was probably better equipped to deal with Annette Wagner’s problems than he was. But did he owe it a shot, for Bethany’s sake. His sister would be heartbroken if David was upset.

Usually, when an employee had a problem, he’d solve it with a bonus, a couple days off. He’d already offered the first, and the second wasn’t really an option right here. He needed to be a little bit more...human about this.

That was a problem for him.

“Technically, you're on the clock until we sort this secret-society/wizard/assassin problem out.” Alexander began, trying to ignore Lilaine as he turned toward Annette, replying to her earlier remark. “So I can’t condone anything that’ll impact your performance. We’ve probably got some of that fancy chocolate around though."

Lilaine made a gagging face, and Alexander's eye twitched, fighting the urge to go over and shove his sister in a closet. She was not helping his train of thought. If she felt like she could do better, she was free to chime in.

“If you need a few moments, feel free.” He said, still restrained and robotic. He didn’t know if he was supposed to distract his new alchemist right now or be supportive. Empty Night. He suddenly understood why people in high school had called him a terrible friend at times. The only family issues he knew how to deal with were his family, and even then…well, she was just an employee. One he'd met less than a week ago. Even friends was generous at this point.

Alexander wiped off his glasses, at a loss.

“We were all stressed out.” He reached out, and very, very awkwardly, patted Ms Wagner on the head, like he was trying to comfort a cat. She was very short, and her hair was very fluffy. It really wasn’t too different than Freeloader.

He tried not to snort at that image. He saw Lilaine covering her face in her hands on the couch, thrashing as she pantomimed an agonizing death by asphyxiation. His eye twitched again. He was actually going to kill her.

Edited by DrTentacles on Jan 9th 2021 at 10:07:37 AM

Jesse

"We're calling him a Wizard now? Your standards are dropping."

Jesse started comparing swatches of color and fabric, all of them a similar (but not identical if one had a keen eye) shade of steely gray, not unlike the color of a Warden's cloak. "Do you plan on wearing your professional attire over this suit, or not?" A long cloak over a suit wasn't horrible but it had to be fitting the style. Though that may be a bit overly dramatic for Leon's taste, it wasn't for Jesse.

Annette

The door to their shared bedroom didn't slam, or even close completely, but Bethany wouldn't get much in the way of an answer just standing there. Annette wasn't sure if that was a good thing—if he didn't shut it then he wasn't closing himself off, which was good—or not—it could just mean he could be bothered. She should go after him, shouldn't she? She was his mother.

And might be the reason he fled in the first place.

And she still really didn't want to talk to him about this yet. "Ever" had been more preferable but with a ton of Wizards in the nearby flat and her...less than stellar display, that was now impossible. She hated it. She hated everything about it, every feeling that came with it. She wasn't even sure what she felt but it was just bad. Maybe she should look at herself and see what emotions were clinging to her but that could only just make her feel worse.

For a bit she tuned out Alexander and the rest of the room. He was trying to give her space, from the sound of it, but she didn't know if that was what she needed. She didn't know if being alone right now was a good idea, and where else could she go? The bedroom was taken. She could hide in the hallway for a while, maybe. Or the stairwell. Closet?

Annette felt something on her head and her hands dropped from pressing her palms into her eyes, mild surprise making her go very still before confusion set in. When she looked up from her hands she found Alexander's hand was...petting her. Patting her? On the head.

What.

She finally put the rest of the conversation into her brain. His face, his vocal tone, his, uh, patting. Despite the burning sensation behind her eyes that hadn't gone away, or the cold ache in her stomach, a sudden fit of giggles bubbled out of her mouth and she buried her face back into her hands. This time, at least, it wasn't to keep from crying. Or wasn't as much.

"Ohwowyou'reworseatthisthanIam." Her words came out fast and muffled behind her hands. He was trying to cheer her up, that much was clear, but he was so bad at it it circled back around into actually taking her mind off of it for a moment. So that was good, right?

Better to be having a hard time talking because of laughter than because you're about to cry.

Tim looked at the Vampire and said with a slighly raised eyebrow "Wizard-adjacent."

Alexander

A well of panic bubbled in Alexander up as Annette covered her face and made a strange sound. He couldn’t read her expression, but Empty Night, she was about to cry. Alright. That was where he bailed. He couldn’t deal with it the first time, the second time wasn’t going to be any easier. Time to make an awkward retreat back to the wizards, and…

Ms Wagner giggled.

Alexander’s face twisted into a frown, jerking his hand back like it had been inches from a hot stove.

Goddamnit.

He didn’t know if that was better than tears or worse. Relief and annoyance warred with each other in his reply.

“That’s not a very professional way to talk to your boss.” Alexander grumbled. Lilaine thrashed harder in silent mirth behind Ms Wagner.

He clasped his hands behind his back, and half-turned to the door.

“I’d rather not leave the wizards alone too long.”

Annette

His reaction made it even funnier. He sounded so indignant. She didn't even need to see his face to hear the scowl that must have been on it. And that line—

"H-How many bosses pat their employees on the head? Like a t-toddler, or a cat?" She squeaked through more giggles, and finally lowered her hands, though one lingered to swipe at her eyes one last time with her palm. Urgh she still felt horrible. She'd still have to talk about this not only with David, but now with Alexander. She didn't want to but...secrets got people hurt.

Annette hated how she'd already learned that lesson, and was now stuck on not repeating it ever again. Stupid adult decisions.

She exhaled slowly, but without the shake that had been beneath it earlier. Just breathe. It would be fine if she just breathed.

"It isn't s-something that will be an issue n-now," she sighed, "He's n-not...not cursed, possessed, or anything bad. Just."

It felt like mud in her mouth.

Maybe it's like me. A minor talent. Maybe even less. Something so small, it's not going to bother him in the long run, or get him hurt.

And maybe I'll grow a foot taller and my eyes will have perfect vision next time I wake up. Come on, Annie.

Annette tightened her hands into little fists around the hem of her shirt. Her voice was soft and surprisingly steady when she finally managed to make it work. "...Herr von Hochberg said that he has magic. His own magic. I...it's difficult to explain why I reacted as poorly as I did but...that's not important right now..."

And we can leave it there, right?

She looked up at Alexander, then back to the semi ajar door to the bedroom. They shouldn't keep them waiting, but this shouldn't wait either. Or maybe it should, just so he could calm down, too? What was the right thing to do in this situation? She was his mother, she should know how to handle this, and she didn't. And it hurt.

"I'm pretty sure breaking your nose is a right of passage, like trying to learn to levitate into your pants only to rocket yourself into the ceiling, or gutting your first vampire. You know, normal wizard stuff."

"That can't be right, Tim's nose is fine and he's the most wizardly of us all. Also, Dresden wiped out all the red court before I was ever sent into the field. Which gotta tell ya, its kind of awkward when 80 percent of Warden boot camp is how to fight Red Court, and now all that training is going to waste."

Leon left it unspoken that they've been working with white court vampires instead of murdering them.

"Still round two with that black court working with the necromancers, might get me that little rite of passage."

He turned his attention back to Jesse, "Yeah, going to be wearing my cloak. I don't really go anywhere without it. Especially not when I'm pretty sure I'm going to get ambushed by angry fae sooner rather then later."

Alexander stopped mid-stride halfway down the hall to the wizards. He’d been ready to let both his earlier awkwardness, and whatever had upset Ms Wagner go (for now, at least), but right as they were finishing up, she dropped the reason she’d been upset in his lap.

Baby Wizard. Sorcerer. One of those.

“Ah.” Alexander replied, cocking his head. It was certain an explanation, though why an alchemist would be surprised or upset to discover her child had magic was an entire new mystery. “And you’re displeased with this?”

He kicked himself. She’d said later, and he certainly preferred that—any further picking at the subject threatened to bring out another crying episode. It could absolutely wait. Unless there was something about baby spellcasters that he didn’t know.

“Well, it’s better than cursed by Loki. Don’t worry. Not all magic users grow up to become like Jarl and Tim. If you want to say goodbye before we visit the Poisoners, I understand.” Alexander added, trying to steer them back on track.

Just another drop in the well of things to handle later.

Edited by DrTentacles on Jan 25th 2021 at 8:58:41 AM

"I can't help but notice you didn't object to the pants-levitating part. Damn, I'm learning all sorts of things about wizardom."

Ratatou-loki

It was definitely for the best our heroes decided to suffer Jesse’s sartorial assistance.

Pavillon Ledoyen made the jazz club Jarl, Lilaine, and Terry visited look like a dive bar. More than a restaurant, it looked like a miniature palace, or a modern take on a roman villa; a two story, white and gold-walled estate tucked into snow-dusted gardens just off Champs-Elysees. Poorer diners had to park some meters distant and walk, simply so the restaurant didn’t have to suffer the gauche moderinary of cars outside, though anyone who was anyone would be dropped off in front by a driver.

And the Ledoyen was rumored to be one of the cheaper of Paris’s Michelin starred-restaurants.

Ha!

However, fine dining was not Jarl, Tim, Leon, Milina, and anyone else they had along for tactical or moral support’s objective. They’d been summoned here—in what was absolutely a power-play—by Claude Fontaine, CEO of Cabeiri Industries, Paris’s most bleeding-edge magical-roboticist (two words that didn’t often align), and spokesman for the The Poisoners. They’d completed his task of scoping out three “troublesome locations” (the aforementioned Jazz Club, a Church, and a small pleasure-boat harbor), and thus, he was willing to play ball, and talk about what he knew about getting into their ancient vault of mysteries that held the key to saving Las Vegas.

Playing ball, in this case, was planned to happen over an 8 PM Dinner.

For a member of a secret society that had hated and feared the White Council for over three centuries, it was a pretty big gesture, all things considered.

Now, some little details remained to be hammered out: Did they arrive early, to try to scope the place out, or on time, and who did our heroes bring with them? This meeting had been a long, long time coming, and in Paris, even this was a battlefield.

Edited by DrTentacles on Apr 26th 2021 at 8:48:42 AM

Tim was the first one through the door. He had boldly resisted the vampire's fashion attacks and instead just wore a fresh version of his usual "business" attire, a black three piece suit with a black shirt and a blue necktie, with the small copper chevron in the lapel.
In short, he wore the colors of his status as a Wizard of the White Council.
Fontaine might consider summoning them to be a move to assert dominance, but given that the Wizard had dealt with undead valkyries, vampires of all fashions, crazy necromantic overladies and honest-to-lodbrok norse divinities, having simply a lot of money was not quite the exalted tier of might the CEO imagined.

And so Tim lead the way before his two companions, slipping out of his black overcoat and hat at the garderobe but keeping the 'staff', with the well secured cloth covering the decidedly more noticeable head of the spear, in his hand.

Jarl made another last-minute adjustment to the collar of his suit, looking, for all intents and purposes, somewhat uncomfortable. Suit-and-tie affairs were definitely not his style.

But, it was this or no leads, so he followed along, spine straight, his long hair in a meticulous ponytail, dearly wishing he had a four-legged friend about now. Unfortunately, fine dining didn't accept dogs.

Leon's suit◊ was a shimmery grey leaning towards silver. Which made sense given its White Court origin. He fiddled with the cuffs a little as he took the rear of the wizard procession, some small part of him wanting to use magic to make his warden's cloak billow dramatically as he entered the restaurant, but he wasn't a wind specialist, and he certainly wasn't going to ask Jarl to do it for him.

He briefly remembered looking in a mirror after being fully fitted and having the thought that he looked like some mob goon vaguely trying to be made presentable though a nice suit despite an intimidating visage. Given the Thornes were a crime family, and he had gotten the suit from them, it was a hard thought to really shake off.

Leon had left his foci behind, not really much he could do to make the metal gloves look presentable at a high class restaurant but he did have a small length of thin iron chain in his pocket. He never went anywhere without iron these days, and the iron threaded through his cloak didn't count.

Jarl, Tim, and Leon

The most dangerous thing in sight as the wizards (and sorcerer) approached Pavillon Ledoyen was the serving staff, and though many of them carried knives, they were the sort meant for lightly-torched bovine protein, not people, and securely wrapped in monogrammed napkins. And if the trio was coldly accosted on the way in, it was by the icy french stare of the matre-de, not a member of the winter court, or a rogue jotun. That was just Parisian fine dining. The tourists would have been disappointed if the staff wasn’t a little rude. Perhaps the Duchess had her hooks in this restaurant as well—who knew—but there wasn’t any sign of pale, unnaturally imposing humanoids as far as they could tell.

The table Fontaine had booked was on the second level, next to the broad glass windows that overlooked the garden outside. The Frenchman had already settled in, his wheelchair parked at the head of the large table, and a half-empty glass of white wine on the table in front of him. At his left hand sat a muscular, hard-faced woman in her late twenties that looked like a bodyguard, or perhaps a private nurse, and at his right, two women, one of whom Jarl was probably surprised to recognize from yesterday's stint in jail—she was some sort of government official who’d been trying to delay Lillaine Thorne’s release.

Both women were cut from the same mold—”politician chique,” sharp, dark pantsuits or pencil skirts, with minimal, tasteful jewelry, and calculating eyes. However, while the one Jarl recognized was in her thirties, and only a few inches shorter than he was, the unfamiliar woman was closer to fifty, or so, barely came up to his chest, and seemed far less dour than her partner.

Fontaine waved at the trio, gesturing for them to sit, unsmiling, a wedding band glittering gold on his hand.

“Good evening! Don’t worry, you’re on time—I arrived early so I could explain the situation to these two ladies.” He said evenly. A waiter started setting down glasses, and taking drink orders.

“These are long-term friends who are very interested in your recent work in Paris.” Fontaine continued, a faint note of humor in his tone as he continued. “Claire Le Cazal, the Minister of Interior, and Estelle Pichard—she works in Internal Affairs.”

Claire stood, silently offering a hand, while Estelle gave a bubbly greeting in french.

“They are as well-versed as I am in esoteric matters.” Fontaine continued.

Edited by DrTentacles on Jun 14th 2021 at 2:37:19 PM

Tim kept his poker face of 'polite neutrality' and didn't point out what he really thought about the fact that Fontaine's little magic club contained powerful members of the French government. Say what you wanted about the White Council, beside some occasional lobbying in special cases - mostly in recent times, the war against the red court - Wizards as a demographic mostly kept out of non-magical politics.

Still, Tim took Le Cazals hand and returned Pichards greeting in polite french with as much style as he had been taught by both his master and family.

"Un plaisir de vous rencontrer."