There is something in her shadow, no. No that's not her shadow, but a writhing mass of nightmares playing at docility.
When Vulgar magic is cast, the writhing mass solidifies, tentacles and teeth nip, and pull, and strangle Shrike, attempting to pull her back into the mire.
Stats
Monthly Rits
Mental Shield potency 1, 2E Mind Armor potency 1.
A dinner stands, moderately busy even as worker drones scatter, stomachs full and wallets emptier.
The lunch rush had died, but for a place that did all day breakfast tables were always full.
As the pack thins, two figures approach, a Women in Black and her leashed Murder Bird.
A waitress sees them, straightens out her uniform and fixes a smile to her face, just in time to the bell above the door ring.
"-oing this for you." comes a voice, blunt and exasperated, "Do not make this like last time. I've already had my allotted calorie intake for lunch."
The chipper look on the waitresses face takes on a very plastic quality, but leads them to a booth in her section anyway.
"And no. You will not tempt me foul demon with one hundred percent angus beef. Or whatever slaughtered animal they're trying to stuff down our gullets here." speaking to her companion while ignoring the waitress, until abruptly she isn't. "Water. No lemon." attention abruptly shifts back to her brunette companion. "I need to get back into shape." not seeing or more liking, ignoring the disbelieving look sent by the sidelined waitress, "I need to get into another company, and tryouts and rehearsals will be starting soon." blue eyes flick to her phone, eyeing the calendar app, "By summer, I might be performing. If I'm lucky." the app closes and the phone's returned to wherever the lithe women with sunsets in her hair managed to conceal it.
It wasn't entirely clear whether or not the tall, severe woman in black was simply ignoring the fervent young woman accompanying her, or whether she was simply waiting patiently for the colorful monologue to end.
Finally, there was a pause in the flow of words, and the woman in black spoke, though her voice was soft and barely carried itself to even the waitress' ears.
"Two coffees, caffeinated, sugar and cream on the side. We'll need a few minutes to decide on everything else."
She lapsed into silence again, waiting for the exhausted server to retreat before she turned her attention back to her companion.
"Having a smoothy for lunch doesn't count as 'lunch calories', it counts as cleverly starving yourself. I'm going to order something for you. If you don't want it, I won't force you to eat it, I'll just save it for later. Now, give me a few minutes to look this over, and in the meantime I have something for you," she explained to her charge, the words as soft as a wind hiding the promise of rain.
She reached a hand into her jacket and produced a brilliantly white envelope and slid it across the table. Inside were several tickets and a printout from a website.
Apparently, the Sacramento Ballet Company was going to hold open auditions on March 31st, but before that, they were holding a Black and White Gala on the 17th. There was information about the sponsored table that they'd purchased, as well as several general admission tickets.
There is something in her shadow, no. No that's not her shadow, but a writhing mass of nightmares playing at docility.
When Vulgar magic is cast, the writhing mass solidifies, tentacles and teeth nip, and pull, and strangle Shrike, attempting to pull her back into the mire.
Stats
Monthly Rits
Mental Shield potency 1, 2E Mind Armor potency 1.
"It counts." is her clever rebuttal, "And be side I knew you'd be a prissy bitch about it. I added yogurt, and I had some almonds." flies from her lips as her eyes flick around the restaurant. The sound of cutlery meeting fired clay rings out ever second as partrons shove greasy food into their mouths. A din of voices don't help and neither do the sounds of cooking that can be heard through the window.
Shrike knows her leg is bouncing but she can't stop it. The upholstered covering of the booth's back met her leather clad one and the Talon can't help but think of how easy it would be for a weapon to pierce through the flimsy protection and slice into her flesh.
"What?" her eyes cease their paranoid roving as the evalope is presented to her.
Slowly she opens it and stares. Eyes flicking up as she blinked bemused,
"Wha-how-thank you," shifting from angry and paranoid to sincerely thankful in less then a heart's beat.
Shrike's eyes return to the contents and a finger traces the ink.
Health: | Mana: | Willpower: | Monthly Rituals: Mental Shield, pot 1, 2E Mind Armor, pot 1
The woman in black, whose name had become Crane, allowed herself to feel a moment of satisfaction as she watched the signs of joy play across Shrike's face. It was a rare sight, more precious than any work of art that Crane had ever seen, and yet she knew that soon it would disappear. There would be no more look of wonder as her eyes traced over every line of the tickets or the audition information, there would be no more hint of the child that Shrike had once been as she sat there in the diner, imagining herself dancing so gracefully beneath the glow of the spotlights of her own psychic theatre. It hurt to know that this moment of rediscovered innocence would die, and that it would be because of her, and so she fumbled the next spell that she tried to cast, her conflicted soul pulling at the threads of sound too viciously and tangling them into a muted mess.
Wincing, Crane let the spell drop, and then fumbled another. Finally, the spell caught the third time, redirecting all sounds of speech to their ears, and their ears alone. Now, they could finally speak freely. They wouldn't have to worry about anyone eavesdropping, even if they were sitting on an entire nest of bugs.
Crane sighed, wishing that their server would hurry up with the damn coffee, and leaned heavily against the table that stood between them.
"You shouldn't thank me," she confessed softly. "It's not the gift that you think it is. It's a test, in some ways. An option in most others. Maybe, for you, Ballet really is the best way to live up to the Arrow ideal. But what will happen when you're due for a performance and I call you to help me with one of the Fearful? How can you help guard the Sanctum if you have to rehearse for ten hours every day?"
Sound Bubble, 2 targets, pot 1
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2018-02-24 17:03:04
Crane rolls 3 to derp derp. Influence Sound (gnos3+forces3-2targets-1 take 2) (10 Again)
There is something in her shadow, no. No that's not her shadow, but a writhing mass of nightmares playing at docility.
When Vulgar magic is cast, the writhing mass solidifies, tentacles and teeth nip, and pull, and strangle Shrike, attempting to pull her back into the mire.
Stats
Monthly Rits
Mental Shield potency 1, 2E Mind Armor potency 1.
Shrike wanted to live up to her namesake, articulating the action. Pierce the veil of sound her companion had raised, as her psychic imagings shatter around her. Brittle but sharp leaving a bloody mess behind, but alas her skills lay not in the Arcana of her fellow and so her will and voice carry over to no one but Crane.
"You bitch!" virulent, and vile, immaculately cared for talons scratching at the cheep laminated table. "You fucking bitch!" She snarls standing.
She gathers her will and flings it outward-!
Shadows that aren't shadows gather
But the Abyss an ever insidious and toxic lover, caresses her will, shattering it unto nothing.
limbs that aren't limbs crawl up leather clad calves. Tentacles and teeth and things that shouldn't be nip and tear and pull and strangle the wingless Shrike
The women screams, spit flies out if her mouth as tears slip from her ducts...
...and swallows more of the Abyss within herself.
As the tortured visions of writhing, unknowable things began to wrap around Shrike, as fractal fangs and spiked proboscii scratched phantasmally at the young Mage's flesh, Crane felt her heartrate began to rise, the organ thumping against her ribcage as time itself began to slow. Or, at least, she perceived the world beginning to slow. It was an experience she was familiar with, something felt many times before crouched next to sunblasted stone, stalking through the deserted hallways of buildings, or standing before lines of expressionless faces in board rooms.
According to psychologists, this was due to the amygdala kicking into overdrive, the little brain organ manically inscribing memory upon memory, layering deep, rich records of experience in a vain hope that, if she survived the experience, she'd remember enough to survive in the future. However, Crane wondered if, really, the true reason that time slowed in those moments of extreme stress wasn't because it was the amygdala inscribing memories of the world, but because it was the Soul itself.
Beneath the table, her hand set itself in a claw against her hip, inches away from the pistol hidden beneath her clothing...
"If you truly believe that I did this to hurt you," Crane continued, her voice as loud as it ever was, "then keep doing whatever you're doing and we'll see how that goes. Otherwise, stop making a scene, sit down, and let's talk this out."
I really don't want to shoot you, today...Please...
There's always a certain anxiety in coming to a new city, maybe more so when your only real instruction was to look for the cathedral that sleepers tend to just not notice. That's what brought Jericho to the diner for a bite, one final excuse of a side track before making his way to this edifice of wonder he had heard so much about. Surely he could find some grease soaked steak and enough sugar water iced tea to give a whale the jitters, ending his final excuse not to pursue his formal introduction.
What one does not expect to find in such a place is a nimbus flared maybe scelesti spewing her arcane power through the veil he thought was a fact of life for his peers both past and present. For a second he stares awkwardly, then looks back to the door, then looks back to Shrike. He could just leave and get the cavalry, but what exactly would that say when the new guy runs with his tail between his legs at the sight of abyssal anything?
As his shoulders shrunk down and his eyes rolled, he slowly began to move over to the sound bubble protected magi.
"Um, hi." The casually dressedMastigos said, as blueish grey eyes focused rather intensely on Shrike and her breach of the Veil. "I'm Jericho. New to town. May I ask who I'm speaking with?"
There is something in her shadow, no. No that's not her shadow, but a writhing mass of nightmares playing at docility.
When Vulgar magic is cast, the writhing mass solidifies, tentacles and teeth nip, and pull, and strangle Shrike, attempting to pull her back into the mire.
Stats
Monthly Rits
Mental Shield potency 1, 2E Mind Armor potency 1.
The nightmares wick into nothing. Breaking at the wake of day.
Shrike seethes. Snarls and prowls, more like a jungle cat then avian. Movement not ceasing as a male voice slips into their bubble of silent safety.
The kicks the table. The empty glasses and free cutlery shudder at the force.
"Performing is not the point." she articulates. Eyes focused on the intruder but words for Crane. "Training is. I will continue to strengthen myself in all ways that matter." says she, voice shrill and demanding. Chest heaving with breath. Eventually she blinks. Sits. Like nothing had happened. "Perfection through pain." she whispers, tearing up the notice for tryouts, but pockets the tickets.
She smiles, turning to the newcomer, it isn't fake or forced, but there is still blood stained beneith her nostril. "Shrike. Crane." a talon pointed to herself then the brunette. "We're new too. Crane wanted food."
Health: | Mana: | Willpower: | Monthly Rituals: Mental Shield, pot 1, 2E Mind Armor, pot 1
Crane could still feel her pulse thudding in her throat, though the illusion of the world moving at half speed had already faded.
Her hand stayed next to her gun, however, though her fingers were now relaxed and waiting. Should Jericho prove to be anything other than he appeared, she would not hesitate as she had for Shrike.
Her eyes roved over Jericho, down and then back up again, checking his stance, the placement of his hands, the micro-expressions, hungry for any data she could glean from this stranger. He didn't appear hostile, or to be holding weapons, though his appearance wasn't to be ignored. He appealed to a certain animal part of her, and if the same was true for Shrike, then Jericho was more dangerous than any raving gunman could ever be.
The first sound bubble dropped when the Murder Bird turned to the unknown man, though Crane was still unsettled enough that she fumbled putting the second one in place. Even if he wasn't another one of the Awakened, even if he was just a stranger sleeper deciding to but into a conversation with an agitated but attractive woman, Crane didn't want anyone else to hear whatever passed between the three of them.
"If you're going to join us then you need to answer a few questions," Crane demanded, though her words were barely above a mumble. "Question one: why did you come over here to introduce yourself? Question two: what department do you belong to? Say it in the formal speech."
As much as she wanted to give her attention to Shrike, and hopefully help calm her friend down, she couldn't spare any attention from the X factor that had just walked into their midst.
Sound bubbles for everyone!
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2018-02-24 21:28:09
Crane rolls 3 to more sound bubbles (gnos3+Forces3-2 three targets-1take 2) (10 Again)
9, 4, 6
1 success
Crane drops originally sound bubble, recasts to include Jericho
Jericho found himself unable to look away from the bloody visage that now sat before him. Even without the nimbus she seemed off. Her idea of perfection was also one he found to be oddly grim, though uncomfortably familiar.
As Crane eyed him up and down, she only really noticed him focusing on Shrike. This wasn't the first time he found himself in a sensitive situation, and hiding his feelings had been a lifestyle he practiced for some time.
"Food is good." The Mastigos said as he clearly latched onto the wrong part of that conversation. As Crane lowered her spell and extended a new one to Jericho, he almost wanted to tear it to shreds out of caution. He didn't know what she was casting, but given she dropped the spells around them first, he guessed it wasn't harmful. If nothing else, it broke his attention on the murder bird for a moment.
"I came over because I thought we weren't supposed to be doing that kind of willworking in public." His arms raised up and started to cross across his chest before he thought better of it and returned them to his side. "And I don't belong to any department."
He paused for a second eyeing the pair before his attention settled on Crane. "Why? Which departments do you belong to that tolerate vulgar casts in public?"
4 suxx to hide emotions per NWOD Core pg 79
Date
Action
Roll
Result
2018-02-24 22:37:03
Jericho rolls 8 to conceal his emotions/motives (Wits+Subterfuge) (10 Again)
Presence
Striking Looks
Draft this Post
Sound Bubble, 2 targets, pot 1
