Gathering the Haunts

[Cynthia Weiss]

"True." Cynthia simply nodded to the Fanged Worm. Official court had slipped her mind for a moment. That bit of knowledge lost in the deluge of information. Still, she could not imagine anyone here was thrilled with seeing the Prince. Hopefully some of this insanity will get cleared up. The Alchemists came up next and the goth relaxed in her chair a bit. Finally something detached from the politics and victimisation that dominated most of the night so far.

She listened to the plans discussed and finally nodded when eyes were on her. "I've got no problem with working with Cross again." Cynthia said. She glanced back at Cross. The sneers, the contempt. She was not sure if it was directed solely at the mortals or everything around him. "Try and be careful though. We've already got a suspicious apprentice." She said to Longstreet. Thoughts turned back to that night. Was Alice actually aware of what was going to happen to her? It would explain why she seemed to have such a hard time keeping it together. "Speaking of which. You sure you want to leave the other one alone for now?" The Artist directed to Cross.

[Kenneth Gilroy]

A united front. Hopefully less chance of being killed for leaving like he had

Gilroy remained silent when Robert asked Longstreet and Cynthia their opinions. There was a feeling of burning scorn when Cross turned away and it hurt somewhat. However, Kenneth recognized Robert was more likely feeling out their ideas. Testing them in some way.

Longstreet suggests splitting up. The better to jump one of us while alone with them and leave them mugged in an alleyway. Gilroy pushes back the all too easy to imagine thuggish scene. While was right they could get things done faster, the Worm had a hard time believing Cynthia calming anyone while sticking of smelling salts.

“If I had to hazard a guess, the Great Work or Golden Dawn is probably tied to a spiritual or philosophical goal. Historically the transmutation of lead to gold was also an analogy for the refinement of the soul and body. Assuming ‘real’ alchemy to be similar to classic representations of course.” Assuming what this was indeed ‘alchemy’ and not some other some obscure vampiric art. “I’d be very interested in examining the materials once we’re done here." And before talking with this Professor Armitage. Knowing more would help him tell if she were giving them accurate information.

The Fanged Worm watched as the Burned Man in turn examined others. Fire light reflected in dead eyes, making it seem as if embers were still dying inside the Haunt Whip.

[Robert Cross]

The distribution of forces Longstreet suggests makes sense. But the more the Burned Man considers the matter, the more he finds himself wondering if both visits should truly be a family affair...

"That's not a bad way to go about things," he says to Longstreet. Respect where respect is due. "But I'm wondering now if it wouldn't hurt to have all of us involved in each visit. I'll need Brother Gilroy to help me assess the text at my meeting with Radzinsky. Or at least lend the appearance of expertise to my bid. And I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to have Cynthia with you when meeting with Armitage, in case the old lady gets jumpy," a nod to Cynthia. Again, respect where it's due. She'd proved valuable at their last face-to-face with the Alchemists, an asset socially.

"What I'm proposing is this: with Radzinsky, I'll act as point, you as muscle, and Brother Gilroy as consultant on the object. Cynthia will go unseen, as an observer and back up in case things go wrong." Or sole survivor if things go well and truly sideways. "And with Armitage, Cynthia and I will change places. I'll go dark, and she can act as the social liaison. You'll be there if she needs...further convincing, and Brother Gilroy can talk shop." His tone says he's not passing down an order. Not yet anyway. Just spinning out another strategy for the group to consider and comment on.

A pause as he considers Cynthia's question: "I think, for now, it's best to leave them be. At least until we have a better idea of what they actually want from us. Which can best be ascertained by visiting Armitage and letting him," cold blue eyes cut toward Gilroy, "have a crack at the stuff we pulled from the garage."

Those eyes remain on his former Regent as the Worm gives his explanation concerning the Golden Dawn. It's all greek to the Burned Man, but he nods along anyway. Something does click, though. A detail he'd memorized the night of their last conversation with those Breathers. "Yeah, they were going on about how the ingredients they were looking for would make the 'Water of Life' that could be used in an 'Operation' that was meant to help with 'Transcendence.'" Again, Greek. But, it seems somehow related to Gilroy's read on the situation.

Finally, he returns to pragmatics, his unblinking gaze unsteady on the Worm: "Any thoughts on how we should go about handling these meet-ups, Brother?" He's known Gilroy long enough to value his opinion on matters of strategy, perhaps more than his occult expertise.

[Alice Hart]

It had been some nights since she woke, the Doll needed some...time.

Time to heal, time to meditate, time to think.

She shied away from the Necropolis because she knew that once she Descended once more she wouldn't just be lost and lonely Alice anymore.

So her nights between her office waking with Ale, were spent in her private Haven, which thankfully, Lyssa made sure the rent was paid and the still charred husk of the Crone's Farm.

A lot had changed, even as nothing had. She was frozen as the Danse continued for everyone, but in the White...over and over again the White and the Red, she was the same, but she was different. She just...hadn't known how to articulate that to-to anyone.

Was she the same Alice that willingly allowed herself to be staked?

...she really didn't know. Gone was the gauzy feeling she'd had when she was speaking to Ale, but after nights without kine, and only Lyssa for company...Alice still didn't know the true state of her mind, of her soul.

As the Doll's mind wandered, her feet traveled across streets and pasted, and through alleys, her feet haven't forgotten the route, and as her body worked with out her mind to propel it she quickly found her way back to the neglected house that served as camouflage.

The Pale Wraith was already up the steps and through the interior, key to the padlock when a thought struck her.

Would anybody be there? Would Robert be there?

Whats and what ifs, why and hows. Millions of questions passed through her mind, as she turned the key in the lock she fought to quell the rising tide, no more ice, never anymore ice...meant, her steps echo in the dark, but as she draws closer and closer to the realm below her keen ears hear a din. Conversation, voices strange and familiar were raising and as the words flowed, Alice was at a loss.

Even as she hoped, she didn't dream.

The voices carry her forward, but there's only one Beast to be felt. Weak, pathetic com paired to the Wraith...and the monstrous Reeve who woke her.

Standing in the entry to the Caldarium Alice calls out, "Hello."

...and hopes that the voices she heard wasn't just her mind playing tricks on her.

Hope I'm not being intrusive! Alice's scene with Ale is done and I was just pumped to hop right into a Family meeting!

[Cynthia Weiss]

The artist watched and listened. Some of what Gilroy had said about alchemy registered to the goths mind. It had been a long time since she even dabbled in the occult beyond the basics. "I think he mentioned the reagents were around the city and part of some Mystical Quest." Cynthia added for the Fanged Worms benefit. It all sounded a little over the top, even for her. She shrugged at Cross's suggestion. "It could work, though all of us being in one spot could attract the wrong sort of attention. You sure you couldn't find anyone outside the clan to help?" Presenting a united front to the prince was one thing. Relying on only the clan for this investigation was something else entirely.

The artist would have stayed quiet, had her eyes not fallen on the ghostly shape walking into the Caldarium, her eyes nothing more than black pits against porcelain flesh. "Alice? Your back!" Her jaw dropped. With everything she had just heard, the Priscus was the last person she would expect to just walk into the room.

[Kenneth Gilroy]

“Including four of us at each meeting increases security but it does potentially increase the investigative time it will take to resolve the situation. Given the risks I am aware of, I believe the additional support is worth the increased timeline.”

“Since, I don’t know Radzinsky or Armitage I can’t speak to group dynamic but it sounds like you think Radzinsky is more likely to respond to intimidation. Armitage it should only be as a resort if Cynthia can’t convince her. Although with both there could be a chance for violence. Is that accurate?” It would help knowing some of their personality traits ahead of time.

“I’d suggest if one of us is Obfuscated they be actively observant. If the opportunity presents itself, we should make moves to allow potential exploration. Open doors, book, or drawers. Though we would have to be careful not to get separated or trap them in a closed room.”

“Lastly I’d suggest a clarification of contingencies. If things turn violent should the observer reveal themselves for support, or escape with what information we had already discovered? Given the risk they pose to the Domain should we merely incapacitate and capture, or take an opportunity to end…” A voice came from the stairs and Gilroy froze like a worm that’s felt a bird’s shadow pass overhead. He twitched to look if his ears had really recognized the sound. The hello that rang so hollow a true welcome could only have come from one person.

“Alice?” he wheezed. He could scarcely believe it.

[Robert Cross]

"The meetings don't need to happen on the same night," Cross replies, suppressing a surge of annoyance at Longstreet's assumption. Had he implied that they would? "And as for communication between the two...It seems unlikely. Armitage is a former academic, in her dotage. Radzinsky is more a businessman than anything else. And if they were to speak? Well, who can blame a potential business associate for checking up on his acquaintances? As long as the price is right..."

Cynthia's suggestion that they seek outside help brings Cross's attention back to the artist. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? Finding someone willing to help. I'm not sure it'll work out, though. The Reeve has said she wants nothing to do with this investigation. And the Prince and his Archon, well..." He shrugs. Does he even need to say that this affair is below their notice? "We're already approaching Ms. York for another favor..." The Burned Man trails off, thinking. "Though, I suppose Priscus Wood might be willing to lend a hand. Does anyone feel close enough to her to ask?" Cross certainly doesn't. And he's not sure it would really make much of a difference anyhow.

Gilroy's position on the matter lines up with Cross's own. He offers his former Regent a nod of concurrence. "I agree. The extra time it will take is more than worth it. We need to move carefully here. As to their group dynamic?" He shrugs again. "Who knows. I've interacted with Radzinsky. He seems willing to play ball, without asking too many questions. Again, if the price is right. Armitage, however, is an unknown. And if things go wrong, with either of them?" Silently, Cross raises a scarred hand and draws his thumb across his throat. It's the quickest way of resolving a problem, after all.

And then a miracle happens. She arrives. The others vocalize their surprise, but Cross seems frozen. Caught between his desire to run to her. And the discretion demanded by protocol. Between his happiness at her reappearance and the anger he can't deny, that she'd disappeared in the first place. Rooted in place, his face is a mask of scarred neutrality. Only his eyes, normally emotionless, reveal the turmoil within.

[Alice Hart]

Suspended in a moment, timeless, as Alice waits to hear if her mind was playing tricks, or if her ears lead her right.

One by one, the voices chime up.

To the weak thing that draws her attention first, a fleeting moment thinking him a threat before realizing the Wraith, moves naught. "Only if I'm hearing them." it could be taken as a joke, but after what she'd gone through, if might not be.

A female voice, the hint of cyanide and sulfur, "Yes, Miss Weiss-Cynthia. I am." Alice smiles at the goth artist, mechanically moving her limbs farther into the room only to stop dead at a wheezed voice, and the automatic need to crush whatever called her name.

Alice is still, her mind traveling a million miles an hour as that voice paired with that sensation travels through her spine. Alice turns her face toward the speaker, tilts her head. Her eyeless sockets boring into whoever that could be, because it couldn't be who she thought it was. Could it? "Gilroy?" she asks not quite knowing what she's hoping for after all this time.

To the Fanged Worm, Alice looks even more doll-like, if that were even possible, her movements seem to have lost their default jerking, gaining something quick, smooth and inhuman.

"The...Alchemists?" she asks, drawing together what she overheard moments before, trying not to wilt when she heard not Robert's voice, but as she drew farther and farther into the room, she scented the charred meat and burnt hair that was entirely him. It could be something that was lingering within these walls, but for it to be this strong he either left recently, or he was here.

Alice didn't know which would be kinder, which she should pray for. Robert close enough to touch, but with the presence of others forbidding them to do so, or that he wasn't here at, and it was indeed her nose, her mind playing tricks on her.

It was the not knowing that keeps her from calling out his name, refusing to show that torpor had done something horrible to her, if, in fact, that were the case.