At the sight of the Ruin

[Key]

Changelings Are Welcome to this thread in a No Reveal, No Supernatural Dice Crossvenue Situation. All changelings should have their Mask Strengthened, This thread does not count against changeling's "One thread in Beyond the Hedge" Limit.

Mages with Spells may PM Key as pertaining to their Spells

This thread is set, approximately Noonish on Wed Feb 5th.

Avalon looked at the oddly still visible piles of rubble. They were still smaller than they had been in June, most of the wood had been removed but the bricks and stone and even some of the steel was still in place. The Bohemian seemed a bit out of place in the city as a whole, with her Furred jacket, long skirt and feathers in her braided hair (along with some slight teal streaks); but even as she was visible for the time, she could easily enough slide back into the forgetful part of a person's mind.

One hand rested on a walking stick and to the outside she seemed like a simple eccentric, but her eyes were piercing as she observed and calculated the space of the previous Hotel.

[Samaritan]

Bishop had locked the office door of the Hostel some time ago for the next shift. Since then, he had taken a walk. For some it might be seen as an old man taking a stroll. For Bishop it was something else entirely. Before he had left, he had taken to try out his new device. Sometimes, it took a small token, that reminded people of who they represented. At other times, one was required to leave something behind entirely.

For Bishop it was both. He took something with him, that covered him in its entirety. It was new and there was a certain, metaphysical itching, that told him something was at odds with his usual self. It was, as if he wore a new suit fresh from the tailor and there was a needle still somewhere in the fabric, that pricked his skin at times. He tried to not think about what he had left behind for the day. The thought was too scary.

The whole use of this walk, was to exercise himself.

As a crutch, to remind him, what he was doing, he was using a small, thin cane and he had adopted a slouch, that was only partly played. The scarring on his belly still tore at his movements since his last episode of nightmares. His clothing was also not the best, but that too was part of the character. Hostel managers were no tycoons.

When he arrived at the ruin, the metaphoric suit had finally subsided to itch. He saw the woman with the cane. Even though he had never met her before, she radiated power. And he was pretty certain, that this particular woman had been described to him by his superiors.

He stopped and watched the scene. One does not approch beings of such power without being recognized first. Instead, he observed the ruins and pondered, what may have stood here before.

[Origins]

Morgan had come to the ruins of the once wonderful hotel despite her misgivings. The destrucion of the Four Seasons was more painful for the loss of people then the building. Lots of Lost disappeared during the fire. Dead, run off, or worse taken there was no way of knowing. The only well known death was that of King Spartan in his heroic last stand against the dragon. That was one cause for her avoidance of here. The other was the cameras. Investigators, reporters, and tourists all took photos constantly at first. Less so now, but she still had to take precautions.

But still the raccoon was here. All the Lost who' become lost were why. She felt she should at least pay her respects, which was why she had a small bouqet of flowers with her to leave at the site. The flower shop lady had said peach roses would be a good choice, meaning sympathy. She found a good spot to place them where they should remain for a long while.

She managed to lay the flowers before noticing that there were other folks around. Morgan sighed in relief upon noticing these folks didn't look like tourists. They just didn't vibe as such...and some of them looked familiar. They could be Lost with hardened Masks. The closest was an older man, watching two women chat.

Well, it'd look a little strange to just walk away, so she went up to the man. Morgan nodded in greeting to Bishop, "H-hello. Its...a sad place-sight isn't it?"

-1 Glamour mask strengthened

[Leo Lockheart]

For once Leo was making his way around the city outside of a patrol. He had turned into a bit of a hermit over the month of January and was trying to rectify that. The Arrow left the Circle of Creation without a destination, letting his feet carry him wherever they chose to go. It was mostly to see if the Fate crap the Enchanter's were always espousing had any merit to it.

Eventually they carried the Theurgist to the ruins of some old Hotel. He only vaguely remembered the news article about the building burning down. The woman with a walking stick caught his eye, if only because he only met one other woman in the city with a walking stick. He couldn't tell if it was her from so far away, but figured he should take a closer look just in case. Not that a Heirarch needed his help, but few people argue with having a healer nearby.

"Hey," Leo says as he walked up to where Jack was standing. He smiled to the girl before looking back and forth between the two. "I'm not interrupting am I?"

[Samaritan]

Bishop inclined his head politely at the woman that had placed the flowers.
"Good day, ma'am. Since you have paid your respects, I take it that whatever was standing here was not intended to become a ruin." He leaned on his stick and let his gaze wander over the whole scene, taking in some of the details. Yes, scorch marks were visible here and there.
<A fire maybe? Gas-Explosion? Who knows. Too many people around to ask the ghosts haunting this place, if there are any.>
He turned his head back at the woman.
"I am sorry for your loss, ma'am." he said in all honesty and feeling a little sting of sadness somewhere deep within his belly.

[InvertedMonkey]

The Four Seasons, someone had told her, back at her old Freehold. If you ever have need to visit Sacramento, the Four Seasons is where they hold their Courts. No longer, it seems. She'd seen the signs pointing her towards the Blue Note for the Winter Coronation, and wondered why they hadn't held it here. Now she knows. She's parked across the street, stepping out of her silver Honda Civic, and closing the door behind her. She pauses across the street. The wreckage, the ruination. It's... familiar. Too familiar. Too close to home. Her breath catches for a moment, sorrow like a fist clenching inside her chest. She takes a moment, focusing on her breathing, bringing it back under control. Slowly. In. And out. Until the ache eases somewhat. Calamity, she thinks, calmer now, as she looks over the wreckage. She thought she'd be heading to a healthier Freehold. A community less scarred by disaster. I was wrong.

Calmer now, she lets that ache of memory and pain trickle into her reservoir of wrath, fuel ready to stroke the fires. Not here, not yet. But something has brought this Freehold down, and when she finds out what it is... she may get her chance to unleash it. Hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, she crosses the street towards the wreckage, Doc Martens slapping the damp pavement. Noticing the cameras and attention such places can draw, she gathers a little dream-stuff about herself and focuses, strengthening the illusion that hides her deformities from mortal eyes. Her shirt, visible under the unzipped jacket, almost seems to mock the scene of desolation; bright crimson red, with an aged-bleached human femur standing up in the center of it at an angle, a pair of black, lacy panties hanging from the top half of the bone like a flag, and under the whole, the name Vicky Bones in curling gothic scrawl.

-1G Mask Strengthened

[Origins]

She shook her head in the negative at the man's question. Of course it wasn't meant to be leveled. She looked whistfully over the remains as she spoke, "I-it was a hotel, a beautiful one. I-it hosted parties, with big crowds. The fire was...tragic. It was a good place t-that should still be here. G-good people lost e-everything they put into it...some lost more." the sadness in her tone could easily be discerned. The Four Seasons had been the Freehold's heart and now it was a scar. Some survivors had left rather then bare it. Hopefully they would at least keep in touch.

And this man was showing sympathy? Well, that was unexpected and quite nice of him, "Oh, t-thank you. I-it's nice to have someone treat this place w-with respect. N-not like the tourists that t-try to take souvenirs." Yeah, this guy was easily better then them. She wondered...mundanes had stayed at the Four Seasons, did he lose someone in the fire? No, he'd have known the hotel's name then, "Were you...looking for something here?"