(Skeleton Keys) Needful Action

Nov 3rd, 2014 04:59 PM

A resurrection of a sorts has occurred and life returns to a large house in South Sacramento. Signs of the struggle of Man and Nature are still apparent in the overgrown vegetation's war of attrition outside, but the days are now numbered. The interior seems cleaner now, boxes are arrayed, and the house itself seems to creak and crack as though stretching its legs after laying torpid for so long.

Finally fall's chill has come, lacing the air and giving David the excuse to wear a scarf and jacket. They are security blankets that the Mekhet has sorely missed due to Sacramento’s mild climate. Not that David needs them these nights, but that realization hasn't occurred to the grieving Mortician. Reaching to a now familiar wall, light floods the same room he and two others made a decision that only now is reverberating through the Order.

A decision that David has every intention of starting to work on tonight.

As the Traveled Scribe sets down a heavy leather satchel at his feet and slowly unfurls the scarf from his neck, he looks around for the scruffy Dragon, Dog.

Weeds will not be pulled up by themselves, after all, and David has long since resolved to pull every weed up by the roots if it will get him to the one he seeks. A weed that choked out the Light of his existence.

West Hildegarde | Yumyumcrow

**Hildegarde Bingen** · Nov 4th, 2014 02:03 AM

A car pulls up outside, announced by the sound of grinding gravel and the dull thud of doors. A short time later, the Lord appears: a long light coat swathing her body, heeled boots clicking on the cracked floor, head framed by a stylish hat set to a rakish angle. Still framed by the door, she nodded toward the Mekhet before making her approach. Small dramatic movements as she tugged at the black gloves covering her hands.

Tonight the Lord was smiling: perhaps still flush with a sense of achievement from her Oath; perhaps genuine regard for her fellow Dragon; perhaps because she felt no rival emanation from the Shadow and the quivering mass inside her head expanded accordingly.

"Good evening, Azure Scribe Regan," she said quietly.

There was a new light to her eyes when she focussed on her associate. Behind her, Iago passed by grumbling as he carried a pair of voluminous bags with some trouble.

**Dog** · Nov 4th, 2014 09:37 PM

"The fuck."

Bicycles are silent. Cars are not.

A dark glower was given to the ghoul. Sure, he'd said 'bring your shit', but he didn't know that meant all of... that. Fucking Lords and their fucking entourages.

Excuse the fuck out of him. Fucking Sworn Lords.

"Regan. Bingen."

The short, scruffy man was dressed this evening, in a motley of tattered clothing, and smelling faintly of smoke. Unlike most evenings, it wasn't the smoke of tobacco, but the odor of a campfire. Maybe. Actually, a trash barrel. If they'd expected a more formal mode of greeting now that they were Sworn, they'd be disappointed.

But.

If they looked close enough, and watched long enough, they'd notice he looked at them differently than most others.

Except at this precise moment.

As this moment, an ugly, feral look in his eyes bored into the Mannequin, answering her bare predator's challenge. Slowly, the manic glint of rage dimmed, and he nodded.

"Glad you made it."

Nov 5th, 2014 12:59 PM

While the woman out of time and locked into moments could sense nothing but a void where his beast should be, David feels differently. Her greeting is rewarded with his attention but David's Companion has the first say. It shrieks in Challenge, it attempts to demand and tyrannize the Shadow into destroying the competitor. David's Companion demands her blood for little more than the crime of existing.

“Sable Scribe Bingen,” David returns her greeting formally, as he does and has done countless times: assert his dominance and his will over that which has none.

It is a dance, like a rondelay, that goes around and around as Dog's arrival prompts the complete opposite reaction. The feeling of Dog's beast as he appears is aggressive and beats at David's Companion like heat in Summer. In the face of a superior predator, the Companion more than simply cows, it tugs at its chains, desiring only self-preservation. Run, it cries out in a thousand little discordant voices. David, however, does not give into the request rooted in cowardice and the sheen of fear fades from his dull-brown eyes.

“Dog,” David returns the greeting simply, as he would have it, with a nod of mutual respect in the Crimson's direction.

“I'm hoping that tonight we can go and investigate the Kogaion's last known movements, or go to where you mentioned you found him.” the scarf the Lightsworn was unfurling himself from now hangs loosely at his shoulders, “Do you have the key you mentioned and – or is anything we should know before we go?”

Without access to the Elder of Cedar Fields or the Box, David feels as though he is starting over with the investigation. He is.

**Hildegarde Bingen** · Nov 6th, 2014 02:59 AM

And there it was: raw power. Dog approached.

Where, briefly, the unseemly thing at the base of her mind had been expanding, now it was contracting and rapidly. It quivered and squirmed and slid down her spine. The smile sank back into her doll like countenance and she took an involuntary step back. The Lord frowned slightly; raised a hand to wipe it away.

"Yes. Yes. Let us begin."

**Dog** · Nov 9th, 2014 10:01 PM

"Don't have it."

Golden eyes fixed on David Regan. Unapologetic, simply... factual. Air hissed in through teeth as he fought back the base, bloody urges within. A feat made no easier by the compression of the walls with new bodies where there had only been emptiness before.

"Veritas passed it to me, to track Muir. That'd be the little fucking issue. The one I brought to the House. I followed it into Yolo, to some," a dirty hand gestured, "Cult must be like, or commune. Thirty, maybe forty. Didn't see Muir. But that's where he has to be."

Dog was not a man given to fear, but neither was he given to stupidity.

"But here's where it gets pretty fuckin' interesting. I reckon I was on my own, so I came at it slant-ways to drum up manpower."

A feral grin crept out.

"I've got a chit I can call in with some Invictus."

The mangy, stocky man that had been the Sacramento Sworn's best kept secret also held markers on Unconquered Knights.

"You two call if we best like to use 'em or keep it Dragon business."

Nov 9th, 2014 10:43 PM

David never looks directly at Dog. Once upon a time, Teodor Raluca – Lightsworn of the Ordo Dracul – thought that was a flaw in the Shadow's character. The jury is still out if the Tsimanu was correct in his assumption, but that's the funny thing about assumptions. At best, they never tell the whole of the story.

The Mortician is still the same meek, mild-mannered scarecrow he was a year ago. But, the backbone that some have only glimpsed; shows more and more.

Like puzzle pieces coming into view, David thinks on what Dog says for a moment before fishing for his phone. The black, monolithic slab is far more utilitarian than it is cutting-edge, a work phone. “We don't have the manpower to keep it in-house and at the moment, I can only protect myself if I have the right tools.”

David's attention flickers up towards the fearless Dragon, “Might I have their contact information; I'll give them the call.” A glance towards Hildegarde, “I'll leave it to your discretion if you'd like to invite Michael Redfill or anyone else from the Academy.”

Once the Mortician gains the phone-numbers from Dog, David prods the green button and slides the phone to his ear.

The Shadow starts a slow pace around the room.

**Hildegarde Bingen** · Nov 9th, 2014 11:16 PM

There is a slight shake to the Lord's head and her eyes close. "I... I am not suited to such tasks. No doubt that must change but for now, I think we may have to... outsource... yes, outsource..." She spoke carefully, rolling the unfamiliar term around her mouth.

Of course, by the time she had finished, Scribe Regan was already beginning his pacing. Her eyes rolled to track him, then shifted back to Dog. Briefly. Then they carefully dropped lest she agitate the powerful Beast before her. "I believe this might be appropriate. A coven... or cult... holding a Kindred prisoner is surely Domain business?"

**Dog** · Nov 10th, 2014 12:01 AM

Dog gave a vehement shake of his head, looking at Hildegarde, then looking at the phone Regan held.

An explanation would have to wait.

Nov 10th, 2014 12:43 PM

It's funny how others can hear only half of a telephone conversation, leaving the onlookers to fill in the blanks. “Good evening, sir,” David says with all due seriousness “This is David Regan. I apologize for calling at this hour, however, a mutual acquaintance of ours would like to call in an owed favor. Are you available?”

A short-pause follows as the Shadow listens to the other man, “South Sacramento, [Address]. If you have an extra tool at your disposal, I would be obliged if I might borrow it. We will see you soon, then, sir.”

The Mortician lowers the phone, clicking the line off while announcing, “He will be joining us shortly. While speaking to him, I thought Scribe Burns might be willing to join us.” David starts scrolling through his contacts, before picking out the right one with his thumb, “I'll call her now.”

The Shadow continues his slow pacing.

(Skeleton Keys) Needful Action

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