(1606) Consilium - Reactions

[Mage ST]

The Bismark

Aquinas paces in a small, tight circle. His brow is furrowed in a look of intense concentration while the fingers of his left hand taps delicately across his chin. Each step is measured and one could think they could measure a perfect two and a half yards with each step the Keybearer takes.

Crowley had the piece of the puzzle that had been jumbled in the mind of the Mastigos for some-time. With it, everything snapped together and the picture it showed the Hierarch was not one he liked. It's a complication in an already tenuous situation.

Nothing else matters. Only the reaction and the plan on-wards.

That's a lot of what tonight is about. Planning and reactions.

A question whispers across Aquinas' thoughts begging to ask how the Consilium will react or how the Temenos react. Already, the Mastigos can guess at what will happen and who will have solutions. But, there is nothing that he can do. The enemy won't be content with just turtling behind children like the Banishers.

You have 1 week to enter, and then it'll be closed to new arrivals.

[Aurora]

Faye always arrived when she was supposed to, one of the joys of being an Acanthus. She decided on a simple black dress, nothing to flashy or anything. Maybe if she toned her style down a bit, she might be taken more seriously. Well, not leaving town again would go a long way to helping that too.

Walking in, she was surprised to find she was relatively early. That worked she thinks, and walks over to those already here to say hi.

“Hi,” says the Enchantress with a smile, “Hope everyones been well.”

[Crowley]

Crowley appears, hunched and in his leather coat; his face lined with concern. Eyes heavy with metaphorical weight run lazily over the tiny crowd.

He's early of course. The Enchanter wants to get this awful step out of the way. It is a welcome relief to let go of the Sight so that he can't see just how the tectonic plates of past and future are colliding and grinding together at this moment. New terrain is forming. Once this meeting is over, the landscape of the future will be markedly different, and he has no idea how that is going to affect the present.

The Emissary of the Free Assemblies finds himself a seat once he has given a brief nod to those already assembled. For all the word it looks like Crowley is praying. Or meditating. Focussing himself.

[Fisher]

Fisher had taken the time to clean up a bit for her first big meeting with the city's awakened community. During her preparations she wondered just what to expect from the others she would meet. She took the time to scrub her buckskin jacket, brush off her hiking shoes, grab a fresh linen shirt, and wore her good jeans...the tight ones without the hole worn in the seat.

Then at the door, suddenly self-conscious, she ran her hands over over her backside and her hands froze. Ffffuuuucccckkkk, i knew these felt too comfortable..., after a moment she shrugged and entered to room, oh well at lest they're clean.

She looked around the room and frowned slightly realizing she was even further under-dressed than she had first anticipated. Fisher considered who to approach and saw the group of well dressed men and woman, but steered away from them at the last minute second guessing herself. Then she spotted Crowley and she thought he may be just a kindred soul, at least in casual manner of dress and moseyed on over to him.

"Hi, name's Fisher, do you mind a little company?" The shaman probed. "If not that's cool."

( Crowley )

[Wayland]

Walking towards the Bismark, Wayland couldn't help but feel like something good was about to burst. Either his view of how the Pentacle shoud be, or how he managed his interractions with close friends. But then, things might not be that bad. This was an opportunity for a positive transition, where change can bring growth. Shed off old and unwanted beliefs and transition to something stronger, and better.

Walking inside he spots Pelican, and decides to join his fellow cabal-mate with the Hierarch. "Heya Sir. Hows things?" Turning to Pelican, "Sup bro."

Sometimes greetings can just be short. The dead dont talk much, and sometimes its hard to relate to people.

[Miach]

Being the Curator of a Consilium should mean you knew things. Except that Miach felt like he was walking blindly from meeting to meeting. He had been tasked with gathering information, and was empty-handed. The Enchanter was thus appropriately unsatisfied and not-looking forward to this meeting. And all the blame was on him.

As he entered the Bismarck, he noticed the usual faces, along with a newcome woman talking to Crowley. Fresh blood. Good. Be careful not to be chewed too quickly by the River City, young lady... The Hierarch was hosting, so he headed for the main man to salute him properly, before retreating to his Cabalmates and Faye "Lady, Gentlemen..." he said with a small smile. And then there were three... one less member, and the Steel Phoenix wouldn't exist anymore. As had the Medstars, and Fateful Watch... Somber thoughts, that kept his mind busy when it shouldn't be, perhaps.

[Crowley]

Crowley, hand poised in benediction or meditation before his face, blinked and turned toward the unfamiliar voice.

"Huh?" He focussed on the raven haired woman. "Oh. Sure. More grist for the mill, I guess. Eh... Please take a seat. You can call me Crowley, among friends here. And ah no. No I don't mind company at all."

His serious countenance faded as curiosity and interest washed over him. New face. New ally... or a plant maybe? Wariness tinged his eyes. No - surely not - if the Consilium's foe was as mighty and far seeing as he seemed, he'd have placed his plants a long time ago to avoid suspicion. Wariness melts away, replaced by renewed interest.

Crowley has a malleable visage: his every thought blowing across his face like scudding clouds.

[Fisher]

"Sweet," Fisher said with a smile.

She turned a chair around so the back was facing Crowley and straddled the seat before resting her arms on the chair back in front of her. Then once situated she proffered a hand to the man, recognizing him as one of the points of contact.

"Ah, so you're Crowley. Nice to meet ya," she said in greeting. "The Herald mentioned ya and your cabal at my orientation...interview...or is it a face to face? Whatever," the dark haired woman finished with a shrug, giving up.

"So I hope that I didn't totally ruin your meditation...thingie," Fisher said while moving her hands for emphasis of her technical terminology. "That's something that I should work on, I haven't had much time, most of my training was learning to stab people with pointy things, then learning to patch up leaky people that had pointy things shoved in them."

The thyrsus paused for a moment and thought briefly before continuing. "Come to think of it stabbing was pretty popular with some people after practice too, maybe it was the adrenaline, increased heart rate, coed showers?...any who...Something on your mind that you're sitting over here all alone?"

[Yumyumcrow]

"Arrow, right?"

A hopeful expression blurs across Crowley's features.

"No. No trouble at all. We... We were mentioned? Thats nice." A grin, slightly forced at the edges. "I wouldn't worry. You'll pick up the double speak soon enough. Probably a good thing you spent your time on practical things like stabbing and patching up. I have a feeling those talents will come in handy. Soon enough."

His eyes drifted over to the Hierarch.

"Good timing, really. We'll - and by we, I mean the Consilium - are going to need you." Weariness crept into his voice. "I know whats coming. I know what this is all about." For now, though, the Enchanter kept his secrets; instead he opted to turn the conversation onto something else.

"So what did the Herald say, exactly. Don't mind me asking? Its okay to say no. I'm just curious."