Eddie woke up in a dark place. A place that smelled of earth and roots, on a stone floor and completely naked. Upon using a bit of his power to make light he could see it was a basement. Fairly typical for a basement, bric-a-brac in piles around the walls and a work bench with a wall of tools over it. The only odd part of the basement was the floor, which had, all around Eddie, an elaborate circle of chalk, stained dark in one place by the blood of whoever activated it. A step or two outside the circle were Eddie's clothes, folded neatly, with a small piece of paper and a piece of chalk atop them.
The door to Aunt Rowena's office swung closed behind you as you moved out into the waiting room, her last words ringing in your head. "Now go. Getting you involved in my client's affairs was what got us out of New York." Though she said it with a smile you couldn't help but feel a little bad. It had been your interference in Christopher Wade's plans to take a significant chunk of the Summer Court of Faerie's powers that had gotten him to hound your Aunt until she had to leave the city.
Still, the day was bright and the weather beautiful, for once. And you'd managed to avoid any really major trouble with the supernatural since that run in. Alex had even dropped off a rose with a Thank You note wrapped around it on your window the day before you left the city, and you knew now that Christopher Wade was gone, just like all the other bloodsuckers, killed in the inferno of psychic violence that went off in the night three months ago.
Suddenly you notice a man crossing the street furtively, and your predatory instincts scream. Something about the way he moves bothers you, and after a moment you realize what it is.
The man is being chased. You spot his pursuers in a few more seconds. 3 men, all built with solid muscle and wearing outfits designed to show it off. They were coralling the prey, running him toward an alley you happen to know has no exit. The man was not blessed with your knowledge, and he ducked inside.
"House is huge." Slim said with an appreciative eye. "Gotta be some nice things in there beyond the Breath." He said hopefully, his eyes alight with avarice.
He was referring to the Breath of Edison. The last breath of the great inventor Thomas Edison, caught by his good friend and protege Henry Ford on his deathbed and preserved in a small vial. Mr. Van Horn had bought it for a truly exhorbitant sum from the Detroit Museum of Technology recently. Even more recently, Slim called Sasha with a tip. Someone had offered him three million dollars for the Last Breath of Edison, and he needed someone to get in. A mil and a half for one job was not a bad haul, and now Sasha and Slim sat in a small van outside the estate of Mr. Van Horn, readying for the job.
Simon had been having... trouble... finding business recently. Since a recent rash of similar frauds had moved in through the last month, it seemed dream therapy was a high supply, medium demand industry in Detroit at the moment. And so when a couple rapped on your office door with apprehensive expressions he had trouble turning them down. Besides, Mrs. Lanning had been having recurring nightmares for almost a year, and this was your specialty. You were beginning to suspect that her issues might be more than natural.
[ooc]Compelling Aspect:Nightmares at the Gates
A knock at Blair's door brought him to the door in the mid-evening, and he opened it to find an unpleasant sight.
On the other side of the door stood Arturo. Even worse than his usual cocky grin, he also wore a silver blade at his hip and a grey cloak on his back. It seems Arturo had been one of the many promotions during the recent war. Next to him was a much younger Asian warden, young enough to be one of Blair's students really, looking toward his shoes as he tried to look tough. "Good Evening Blair." Arturo said with a painfully cocky grin at his old rival.
Waking up in a strange place is never easy, but if you do it enough you start to develop a routine. I smelled the bare earth, ruling out chloroform. The light I used to look around wasn't especially painful so no concussion. Magic then, the circle around me quickly confirming the assumption. Usually after the how comes the who and why, but when magic is involved memory isn't as useful. Next step is getting free.
Tesla's foot breaks the barrier without an issue. Looking over his memories he finds he actually cannot remember anything since getting back to a nice area he could squat in without having any problems with the cops or gangs.
Blocking energy? My energy or protecting me? I quickly read the note and pull my clothes on. From my pocket I draw a pack of rolling papers and fold one into an envelope and scrape some blood stained chalk into it. I may not be able to reach anyone remotely myself, but I know someone who can.
The note reads simply Find Ariana. She knows some of the things you need. After that get your memory back. Only after. Don't try before you find Ariana. --Eddie Tesla P.S. Thank Sven for the use of his basement.. The note is in your handwriting and the signature is yours. Chalk in paper, Eddie found a door leading to a set of wooden stairs. The stairs open through a huge metal door and into a middle class kitchen where a large blonde man in a polo shirt is working at slowly washing a dish with a towel. "Morning." He says calmly in a slightly Swedish accented voice. "Your ritual work?"
Simon looked up from his crossword puzzle, startled by the almost hesitant knocking at his office door, and needed a moment to place the unfamiliar sound. "If business keeps up at this rate," he thought to himself ironically, "I'll need to hire an assistant."
Taking a last quick glance about the intimately arranged furniture to ensure nothing was out of place, he made his way to the door and practised his most welcoming smile.
"Good morning. Please, come in."
...
"Almost a year," the counsellor offered sympathetically to Mrs. Lanning, over the tea that had been prepared while she explained her situation and Simon agreed to help, "this must be very difficult for you, but working together I'm sure that we can root out the cause of these bad dreams, and put them to rest."
Zoës' revere about the handsome young Alex is broken, the dark haired man ducking into the alley screams 'prey' to her. For a second Zoë has to push that little voice in the back of her mind that wants to hunt, that wants to find more prey. She has been suppressing this 'voice' ever since coming to Detroit after the demonic encounter by the lake in NY.
Gracefully she strolls across the road, with the practiced ease of an urbanite avoiding cars. Once at the other side she slowly follows the trio of pursuers, keeping to the shadows and the blind-spots in their periphery with a predators instinct.
Wrinkling her nose; 'Just my luck, they don't collect the rubbish from here often and there's a Chinese restaurant nearby.' The odours of the rotting food make the scene even more rank. Zoë checks her dress and slips off her shoes, her hardened feet padding across the sticky alley floor.
Sven's gaze turns downward in sorrow. "It seems it did not then. You do not remember me, do you?" he looks annoyed for a moment then continues to wash a bright blue plate. "What do you last remember? Do you remember Arianna? Because I do not know her personally, only that you came to me on her recommendation. I know her only by reputation." The big Swede placed the dish aside and turned back to you, drying his hands. "Reputation is: She stands out. Makes people angry. My guess is someone wants her dead, and maybe you along with her yes?"
Mr. Lanning seems to calm at your words, but Mrs. Lanning's grey eyes dart about as if looking for an escape. "We don't have a lot of money, Mr. Whittaker. In the last few months we managed to save enough to pay for a session or two with you but we can only afford a bit. I'm a bus driver and Lisa is a stay at home mother." Mr. Lanning intimates, his eyes anxious. He is a large man, big with the prospect of too much avoidance of movement and too few missed meals, but not grotesque. His bald head is hidden by a fedora cap and his lined face is bothered.
The men continue down the alley behind the man in the long coat, closing in. The man runs up against a building without any way out and turns back with a gleam of desperation in his eyes. He clutches something to his chest, a small urn, it's edges gilt in silver. The men behind him fan out, ensuring that his escape is cut off, as Zoe ducks behind a nearby dumpster.
"We need that back Jackie." The leader of the pursuers said, smoothly drawing a pistol from under his windbreaker. "Drop it, and leave town, and we forget this ever happened. I don't want to have to shoot you Jackie." The man's voice sure didn't sound like he didn't want to shoot him. It sounded more bored than anything.
He knows me? Of course he does, I'm doing bizarre rituals in his basement. Eddie thought to himself, suddenly feeling much younger than he is. The disapproval of this seeming stranger hitting harder than he thought it should have. "I'm sorry I tried lying, but this whole situation is so confusing." He says , while rubbing at the back of his neck. "I can't say I remember much, I don't even remember meeting you or where I can even start looking for her. What I do know is that either I want myself to find Ariana, or someone wants me to think I do. Either way," He says with a dazzling smile. "If someone wants me dead, I'm back in familiar territory."
Simon sets aside his cup and leans forwards slightly, sensing the need to tread carefully if he was to avoid scaring the nervous woman away. "I didn't get into this business to get rich, Mr. Lanning," he says with a friendly smile to the portly gentleman, before turning his attention back to Mrs. Lanning, "I'm here because I want to help people just like yourselves. I won't turn you away because you don't want ongoing sessions, instead I'll promise you this; I'll do as much as I can to help resolve your nightmares in whatever time we do have together, no matter how short that time may be."
Giving Mrs. Lanning time to consider his words, he leans back into his chair to help alleviate any feeling of being boxed in.
Zoë watches the men close in; her thoughts rushing on as she tries to assess the scene. 'What to do? I shouldn't change too close to my Aunt's office, but... I am not that threatening otherwise. Who are these people mobsters? Screw it.'
Moving forward with alarming speed, Zoë bounds up behind the leader. Tapping him on the shoulder with he non-dominant hand she prepares to knock the gun out of his hand. "Excuse me!"
Fear and anger surge in Blair as he stands in the doorway, staring at a face that he thought he would never see again. His hand holding the doorknob creaks with white-knuckled tension, and he releases it.
What does he want? Is it Council business? Do they want me back?
"Normally I would say good afternoon, or that I was pleased to see you. But as neither sentiment holds, I will stick with: why are you here? The Council made abundantly clear what they thought of me when they decided to throw me out...and before you ask to come in...no, you are not invited in. This is my place, my house. You can say whatever you came to say right here."
"The Client didn't say not to take anything else, right? Let's see what we are dealing with and we can figure out what we can get away with." Sasha wants to be careful and do the job right.She knows that the richer a person is the more paranoid they are about it being taken, and this guy is richer than god. She has given her word though, and even the wriggling in her spine telling her that this will not be as simple as it looks will not keep her from her target.
"No one else was in that basement except you, and if I recall correctly you essentially said that if you didn't get at least a circle around yourself you'd be 'a gibbering vegetable battery'. Since you still remember a few things I'm gonna guess you managed something." Sven finally finishes his dishes and begins drying his hands. "Dunno where you can find Arianna, but checking in at The Starlight Lounge might be a good idea. She has friends there, and it's Neutral Grounds so even if some nasty has your number they won't get to you there without trouble." Sven jots down directions in case you've never been to the Lounge and then sighs, his face hardening. "Five years ago I'd hat up and head out with you, but right now... I' afraid I need to ask you to leave. My daughters will get home soon, and they don't need to know about this ugliness until they have to." The swede looks apologetic, but stern.
Mrs. Lanning licks her lips nervously before speaking. "How soon can we start?"
The man turns at the hand on his arm, his pistol held in a position that made it hard to see. If Zoe hadn't been able to smell the ugly, blunt scent of gun oil, she might have actually believed he was unarmed. The man's face broke into a sunny smile, which somehow looked entirely natural on him. "Why hello there kid. Can I do something for you?" He asks, his voice sounding jovial.
The man practiced that smile, and its 'who me?' charm was entirely intentional. The eyes were a dead giveaway, and they looked at Zoe as though she was a bug: easily squashable, but only worth the effort if she got annoying.
"Tut Tut Blair," Arturo said, his smile souring only slightly, "Is that any way to greet the man who trained by your side?" He stood calmly at the doorway and motioned toward the other man. "May I introduce you to Warden Lee, the other new Warden of the Detroit area. Lee, this is Blair Renault, failed Wizard under the... what did you call it again Blair? Vow of Deficiency?"
"But I am not only here to introduce you to your new Wardens, I could have simply sent a card for that..." Arturo looked about the apartment behind you with raised eyebrows, then tutted a bit and looked back at Blair. "No, I am here on Council Business. Several people in the Greater Detroit area have reported having dreams lately. Nightmares. There are also now 4 people in police custody who claim to have no memory of their mortal crimes." The tall spaniards face hardened. "It sounds to the Council like the work of a Wizard or Sorcerer. Or perhaps a failed Wizard. Tell me Blair, how much do you remember about the lessons Wizard Goldstein taught us about Mind Magic?"
"That's what I like to hear Kitty." Slim said, looking through the binoculars again. "Servants entrance at the back. Just a swinging door into the kitchen, bet no one will notice a..." He stopped as he looked around the van to find Sasha gone. "Cat." He said with a grin, knowing she had seen it far before him.
"You were there you cretin. You know what Goldstein said. Council business is no longer my business..." Blair says, his voice rising in anger. Then he stops Blair pauses and looks at Arturo with narrowed eyes.
"Wow, age and experience certainly put a different frame on the past. Tony, did you know that I have been teaching primary education for the last 15 years? It gives a person a very different view of life, grounds you in a community, lets you see the personal growth and triumphs of the individuals around you."
"Tony, the odd thing is, in the last 30 years, you have not changed one whit. Certainly you have your fancy new job, but you still behave exactly the way that you did years ago when we were both students. You are a bully Tony. I admit that I didn't realize it fully until this moment, but when you are a teacher you get good at recognizing things, even those matters that you are so close to, that it is difficult to get perspective."
"You aren't here to ask questions...you are here just to torment me. So why don't I give you some truth to play with, for the education of your partner."
"The Council threw me out nearly 30 years ago. According to the old men, I was learning too fast for a new apprentice. Someone had convinced that I had consorted with a Power or some other nonsense. I was trussed up and brought before the Council for questioning. When I told the truth, that I had never even contacted an sort of Power. They couldn't accept that. What I didn't tell them was that I did have a second teacher beyond Master Goldstein...isn't that right Tony? Tony here took it upon himself to practice his evocation against me. So I learned really quickly how to Ward myself, deflect energies, and hide. It is amazing what a motivator pain is."
"And before you say I should have spoken up Warden Lee, yes I agree, with 30 years of life behind me, I have the perspective that I should have spoken up. At the time, I was a homeless child and desperately afraid to loose the one good thing that I had in my life at the time."
"I have waited a long time to say that to your face Tony. Now piss off. I am not you, I don't hurt people."
"I actually have time to begin right away, if you're not busy this morning." Simon replies readily, "We could do this one to one, or if you prefer, your husband can stay to give you his support. The most important thing is for you to be comfortable while we talk this through."
Regardless of whether Mr. Lanning is to remain, Simon nods as though in complete agreement about the choice, "Excellent. I'll pour you some more tea, why don't you go ahead and tell me a little more about yourself... you're a mother, isn't that right, Lisa?"
Continuing to chat about Mrs. Lanning's family and home, Simon prepares fresh tea for those in the office, listening intently for small details of her life that might be influencing her dreams, until finally he places the cups on the table and takes a seat. "Now, I'm afraid you might not enjoy this part, Lisa, but I'm going to need you to describe your dream in as much detail as you can remember."
With a tight smile she looks from the gun-man to the frightened bloke. Her body language changes as she recognises the predatory aspect and determined nature of the 'mobster'. 'How best to persuade him to leave without his quarry. Blood isn't necessarily the best answer especially when he has a gun.'
With a surprised visage Zoe exclaims "Jack! How are you? It's been a while" She moves to interpose herself between the parties. "Too long really. Introduce me to your charming friends." Jack stares at her in astonishment as she glides towards him keeping her back to the gun man; except watching the reflection in - Just in case...
Her long pale white coat, hung over her shoulders nearly touches the ground as she gently chucks the 'thief' on the arm. Slowly she turns around to the trio.
Eddie knew that was coming. He didn't know the depth of the situation but usually when trouble came, eviction followed. "If you have family to protect, that's far more important than my little spat." He headed toward the door, looking back briefly to say "Thank you for the help"
A quick Survey of the street revealed the location of Storm, not that he had to worry about someone stealing her. No key or switch to be found. Ignition is handled wholly on his part. A quick kick, her engine roared and Eddie considered his options. It was well before lounge hours, leaving him some time to kill by himself. "If I have to hunt for a woman, perhaps I could use the help of a huntress" he thinks as he snaps his bike into gear. Exhaust flares and her engine sings as Eddie decides to try and pay his old friend Zoe a visit.
Warden Lee looked shocked at Arturo with his face showing disgust. "IS that true Warden Ibanez?" He asks, his accent heavy but his words intelligible. "Of course it isn't. He had some kind of patron, who gave him up when the Council threw him out. It was a good decision. Kept us from getting yet another traitor in our ranks." Arturo placed his hand on the Warden's sword at his belt, officially claiming status as a Warden for the next words. "Sorcerer Renault. I am here because there seems to have been a violation of The Third Law or The Fourth Law. I wold advise you to cease and desist any unlawful actions and tell any practitioners you know to do the same. The Wardens will not be lenient to those who break the Laws of Magic." He removed his hand from the handle of the blade and bowed sarcastically. "Been good seeing you Blair. We'll be watching." He said, leaving without a backward look. Warden Lee on the other hand, looked troubled, and gave an honest bow, though not a deep one, before turning and walking behind his colleague.
You learn a bit more about Mrs. Lanning. It seems she was a conservatively raised woman who had been going to art college after cruising for a significant amount of her life. After dropping a necklace on the bus one day he found it and brought it to her at her workplace. After that it had been a whirlwind romance that ended with them in a small apartment in the outer city. Mrs. Lanning was working on being noticed as a sculptor and until she was her husband was supporting her and their child Peter Lanning.
As you ask for the dream she pales visibly. "I- I'm running. Through a forest sometimes but sometimes it's just a crowd. It's always dark, but that doesn't bother me. The dark never bothers me, even when I'm awake. I look down and... I have... claws. Tearing claws on my hands. And then there's these... things. These ugly creatures. Sometimes they look like people but underneath that... they're not. They're like bats... ugly slimy bats. And sometimes they're just dead. Dead and rotting but walking around. Like the zombies in those Romero movies our son tries to watch behind our backs." Here she looks really embarassed. "And... sometimes they're sexy... like... incredibly sexy." Her face blushes deeply and she looks away. "But it always ends the same... we fight. And I... I... I tear them apart." She sobs. "And I enjoy it." She spits as she breaks down into tears.
Simon felt himself start to relax into his usual routine when Mrs. Lanning began to describe her recurrent nightmare, recognising the beginnings of a fairly typical anxiety dream, and he almost allowed himself the conclusion that her problems were entirely mundane. But then she described the batlike monstrosities wrapped inside a false human skin, and her words rang out to match with the dark enemy that rumour suggested the White Council waged war against. Mere coincidence, perhaps, but then she went on to describe a creature the Oneiromancer had witnessed first hand, the putrid stench of the vampire’s rotting flesh still fresh in his mind.
The third type of creature resonated much less with him, but the accuracy of her previous descriptions left little doubt that these too were likely vampires; perhaps belonging to one of the other courts he had heard mentioned briefly. Regardless, such insightful dreams were a clear sign of some supernatural involvement, and while the context of dreams of taking on the aspect of a supernatural predator drew certain parallels with another of his clients, Simon had learnt the hard way not to jump to conclusions.
“It’s okay,” he speaks softly, carefully masking the apprehension that the subject matter of her dreams caused him, “there’s no reason to feel ashamed. Our subconscious often expresses itself in unusual ways, ways that our conscious minds often find confusing, sometimes even frightening."
“I think it might be helpful for us to try allowing your subconscious a more direct way of communicating; if you’re open to the idea, we could try putting you into a light trance, where whatever message these dreams hold can make themselves more clear to us.”
The trio are shocked and stand a little flabbergasted, between you passing them and you turning around they seem to have lost their guns. You would bet they are back in their hidden holsters, ready in a moment if needed. One of them whispers to the leader.
Jack stands flabbergasted, with the light blinking off of his spectacles. "Um... yes... too long." He manages to blurt out, a little too late to be convincing, but not entirely fake.
The man in the lead seems to not be completely taken in. "Oh, I love a good reunion. When was the last time you saw each other?" He asks pointedly.
"Sorry to leave you friend. Call on me again if you need me." Sven says, his face showing annoyance at not being able to help more.
"I don't know if I could." Mrs. Lanning is clearly frightened by the concept.
She smiles at the question wondering how will she get out of this; "At the club last week. I must have seen you there before, Zoe. You know the Brit! You local?"
Riding with a purpose was a great way to ease the mornings tension. Cool breeze, warm sun, it was a glorious day in sharp contrast to the trouble he knew was brewing. For now though, it's better the just enjoy the ride. Slipping into despondency can be deadly when dark wizards are trying to fry your brain. "Dark wizards trying to fry my brain? Gods, why does my inner monologue sound like a bad Harry Potter fan fic?"
Nearing Ms Rowena's place, Eddie almost hit the reason for his visit. "I've seen her move like that before, guess she's already on the hunt" He thought as he found a place to park his bike. He moved with purpose down the alley. "Hello Zoe, nice to see you're keeping yourself busy." He says with a half smirk while flicking at the end of a new cigarette, then grasping it between two fingers. "Having trouble with specs or roughs?" Holding his left hand in a pantomime of a lighter, a spark of energy arcs between his thumb and index finger, lightning his cig.
While Slim is watching the manor and stating the obvious Sasha unzips her skintight leather jeans, pulls off her black lace blouse, and jumps out of the van, Feline before she even touches the ground. Keeping her ears perked for any sound out of the ordinary she darts through the underbrush and squeezes through the iron bars of the fence. She keeps to the shadows under shrubberies whenever she can, trusting her silence, careful quick movements, small size, and dark coloring to hide her. She works her way around to the servant's kitchen entrance and watches for a few minutes. when she is sure the coast is clear she runs through the door and ducks into the first hiding place she sees.
Blair closed the door with a thump, turned and leaned against the solid oak. Heart pounding, blood thumping in his ears, fear, frustration and triumph mixing in equal parts as pure excitement sung in his veins. The solidity of his layer upon layer of wards behind him provided some measure of comfort against the small terror that Tony was close, and knew where he lived, but that comfort was longer enough.
Tony was a Warden...and he had one of those damnable swords that cut through magic. Blair was no longer safe in his own home.
He wanted me to know that he had a sword too...I wonder if there is a way to make the spell snap first. Like one of those explody things on the side of a tank...
He walked back into the house, the wooden floorboards creaking and settled down in a chair to think for a moment. No sooner had he settled back in the chair than he sat bolt upright. Simon! Dammit! Blair jumped back up, grabbed his foci and started for the door. As his hand grabbed the knob, a little paranoid voice spoke up in his head.
What if Tony is out there watching...veiled? He could be waiting for me to lead him to Simon. Not that he knows Simon exists...
I should go to the school, there are plenty of good alleyways and corners. I can go there, veil myself and then head to Simon's safely. Hmmm...I have never ridden the bus veiled before...this is going to be interesting.
Zoë shrugs the long coat off her shoulders, with a slight smile she catches it before it gets near the filthy alley. Revealing a loose summer dress, it's vivid blue hue complimenting her skin tone. The dress a bit too flimsy for the chill wind that blows down the streets. Upon her shoulder is a tattoo, how she got it Zoë knows not - the intricate marking depicting strange glyphs and wards. Around her neck there is the slight glint of a ring on a chain, matching the glint of numerous earrings. She smiles predatorily, recognising the power struggle of the leader trying to asert his dominance. 'Not with me he isn't.'
Out of corner of her eye she spots a familiar bike pulling up on the street. Zoë brushes her blonde tresses from her eyes as the newcomer arrives on the scene; then slightly winces at his overt use of magic. 'Cool, not subtle, but cool.'
Zoë tilts her head; "A regular party here, Jackie was just introducing me to his friends. Unless you guys have anywhere better to be?" her voice sardonic.
"Don't worry, we can work though this together. If you'll follow me though into the other room, I have a reclining chair that will be more comfortable for this."
Simon leads Mrs. Lanning through a door to the rear of the office, into a softly lit room that smells faintly of incense. Apart from the cabinets lining the walls, the only furniture is a single raised chair in the centre of the room. Unusually, the chair is surrounded by a brass ring inlaid into the carpeted floor, its simple functionality masked by strange embellishments which served no purpose other than to play on the imaginations of certain clients.
The leader makes a curt signal to the others and they nod. "No. I'm afraid me and my boys have another place to be." He says with a sardonic nod of his head towards your group. "Be seeing you around Jackie-boy." He says with a sardonic sneer toward the huddled man, and then they turn toward the mouth of the alley and begin moving away.
From under a small serving table Sasha can see the feet of the servants as they walk about the kitchen. "Van Horn wants some Gaspacho." One of the men says. "Aw, hell. Always with the tough stuff in the middle of the night. I may well spit in it this time." There's a laugh, but only from the man who spoke. His laugh trails off as the others are silent. "What?" He asks, clueless. "You're new, so let me put this simply. The boss catches you doing something like that... you disappear. No one will see you again."
Blair makes it to the school easily. It's not too busy this late, but you are able to find a few places you think you can shake a tail.
Zoë nods to the retreating forms and gives a little wave; ensuring that she took note of their faces. 'More potential enemies ready to knife me in the back.'
With a swirls she virtually throws on the long white linen coat, ending up elegantly facing Jack. "So care to tell me what that was all about? Don't worry I'm not with the fuzz and I seen off worse than those. Believe me I can help, or if not at least we get some sweet tea in you. Calms the nerves." She says with a sympathetic smile.
Whilst waiting to see if the nervous Jackie wishes to talk and if so here Zoë smiles thankfully to Eddie. Her voice not carrying; "Thanks man, I could have handled it but thanks."
Eddie took a long drag from his cigarette, suppressing a pang of disappointment at the missed opportunity to work off his frustration. He exhaled. "I didn't show up to play the part of the dashing hero. I think I'm in trouble and I'm going to need your help when you're free." he said almost nervously, the days events already wearing on him.
With a small cough as the smoke washes over her Zoë smiles and puts her arms around Jacks' and Eddies' shoulders; "So you guys had a hard day so far, and it isn't even lunch yet. Well lucky for you, Zoë here knows a great coffee shop just around the corner. They do great croissants." Her voice cheery as she leads them out of the dead-end and to a nearby coffee shop.
The 'Mom and Pop' coffee shop seemed like a quiet little place from the outside. However the interior is very tidy and minimal, looking around at the few patrons they are all white-collar business people. Zoë sits the pair of men down at a private cubicle; "I come in here all the time when Aunt Rowena's got meetings, or needs errands doing. You want anything?"
Gracefully she rises and goes to the counter; after a few moments she returns with coffee and a plateful of pastries. With care she starts ripping into the sweet foods as she waits for either of the duo to start.
After settling Mrs Lanning into the chair, Simon leaves the circle, and silently focuses a portion of his will to close it behind him to prevent stray energies from interfering with the delicate task he was about to undertake. "Now, I just need you to relax, Lisa, and focus only on my voice," he begins in a low, soothing tone, while moving quietly to consult an odd contraption resting on a cabinet; the trained eye might recognise it as an astrolabe, though without visibility of the stars, they might wonder what possible insight it might lend. The trained Sight, on the other hand, would see how the latent mystical energies of the room washed over the dials, revealing their patterns through almost imperceptible movements.
Satisfied, he recovers several crystals from a drawer, and after a moments consideration also retrieves a small amount of modelling clay, which he proceeds to mould into simple shapes. "...as you breath deeply, feel the stress of your day fall away," he continues to speak, while positioning the clay and crystals evenly about the circle.
Jackie nervously stammers, "T-Thank you." as you hurry him into the coffee shop. He holds tightly to the urn the whole time. "I- um... I don't know what I can give you to repay you." He looks nervously from Zoe back to Eddie, his eyes deep and nervous behind his glasses.
Lisa Lanning went under in an amazingly short time. Simon even wondered if she had been hypnotized before. She breathed deeply and easily through the ritual, her husband standing nearby, nervously holding his hat in his hands. "She'll be all right, right?" He said, his husky voice worried. "I don't want her to be hurt."
The spell takes a bit, but works fine. Eventually Simon can see the shadows over Mrs. Lanning, and there are many of them. A tangle of spells enfolds her, complex and intricate. Simon can see them as moving lines, pulsing through her head and chest, representing a change... a shift in ideas and thoughts. Something changed this woman, and changed her at her core. The power or ritual involved must have been titanic. Simon's never seen anything like it.
Zoë looks to him and brushes a crumb from the side of her lips; "No payment is necessary; the urn' she says looking to the item he is clutching desperately 'why did those men want it? Are you alright?"
The oneiromancer gave Mr. Lanning a reassuring nod while he completed the ritual, but once it was done and the shadowy energies pulsating around and through Mrs. Lanning were revealed to him, he forgot all about the other man in the room, and the colour drained from his face.
It was all Simon could do to stay in the room, when something base and primal within him wanted nothing more than to leave, to put as much distance between himself and this atrocity as he could, and bury the image somewhere he needn't think of it again. But he steeled himself, knowing that he had to help; despite how overwhelming whatever did this must be, he had to do something.
"Okay, Lisa," he spoke, shakily at first, but clearing his throat and breaking the circle to end the ritual, he managed to calm himself a little, "I'd like you to think back, back to the first time you had one of these dreams about chasing down monsters. Can you do that?"
Not having anything to say, Eddie drank his coffee watching the events unfold.
The top priority right now is to find the Breath. But there is nothing to keep Sasha from keeping her eyes open for other opportunities. specifically small movable objects that will fit in the small pouch made of thick black velvet that she carries in her well practiced jaws.
"It's... it's used for a ritual." Jack doesn't seem too keen on opening up to you, even though you rescued him. "I need to get to the airport." He says, slipping a plane ticket from the pocket of his ratty longcoat. "Before midnight. Or people are going to die."
The room was filled with the tangy, greasy feeling of black magic. It was cloying, and you wondered how the Lannings could stand it, though the rational part of your brain knew they could barely feel it. "I feel... dirty somehow." Lisa Lanning said, perking your head up. "Sorry, I guess it's just a side effect." She shook her head, combing out her blonde hair a bit. "Well... they started last June. I began waking up every night. I've seen doctors, but they mostly just put me out with drugs. They keep me down but don't keep me from dreaming."
Mrs. Lanning is hiding something. You think it's likely how long they've been going on.
"What the-" Came a voice as Sasha was placing a small ring from a nightstand into the bag. She turned toward the voice, sure that the room had been empty, to see a tall man standing in the doorway of the room.
"So I'm guessing your friends; Larry, Curly, and Moe will still be looking for you." Eddie smirked. "Thing is, midnight is a good bit away and you need help. But I have to ask: Die, or end up little more than human shaped furniture." He asked, wondering if he suddenly had another practitioner to worry about.
Zoë looks at the guy earnestly; "Please can I help you, this isn't an angle. But you look like you could do with some help, and death is very serious and permanent. Only a fool would refuse help and you don't look like a fool." Her eyes stare emploringly.
"Can you explain the ritual, I knew a couple of people that could perform them?"
Quick, Cutemode! Sasha starts batting the ring around and purring, rolls onto her back and presents her tummy for petting (the ultimate move in kitty distraction). If it doesn't look like it is working Sasha will dart under the bed and keep up the kitty act. If the man is openly hostile Sasha will dart out the door and try to find a place to hide.
"I'm sorry, Lisa," Simon says carefully, rolling his shoulders slightly to try to shrug off the unpleasant feeling washing over him, "you started waking every night last June? Are you sure that was the first time you had the dreams, or was that just the first time they were bad enough to regularly wake you?"
Eddie looks at the urn as much as he can and thinks it looks a lot like a reliquary, a vessel used to house the remnants of saints. He'd have to check it out closer to know.
"I don't want the ritual performed. I want it stopped. I thought if I took the urn he would stop but... he's gone too far." Jack looks lost and far away, but then snaps himself out of it. "Looks like your friend knows something. Look. If I don't get off this leyline, I'm gonna be a vegetable. And if the men after me get ahold of this urn, the whole city is at risk. I'll tell you more if you can get me to the airport." Jack sips his coffee, one arm still curled possessively around the urn. "I can answer some questions on the way but... I'm not an expert on this stuff. I just found out about... all this," He waves his arm in a semi-mystical gesture and you guess he's probably talking about magic. "A couple months ago."
The man sat down on the bed with a protest of springs and etted Sasha's tummy. "How the hell did a cat get in here?" He wonders aloud, checking her neck quickly. "No collar, guess you're a stray." He spent a moment playing with the cat and then sighed. "Well I can't let you take Boss's Daughter's ring, or her bag. Dumb cat." He smiled as he took the items and placed them back on the nightstand. "Come on." He said, trying to gather Sasha in his arms.
"I..." Mrs. Lanning sat tensely. "I may have had similar dreams once or twice but... not so intense." She looked to her husband, seemingly ready for some kind of reprimand, but he only looked worried. "I've had them since I came to Detroit."
Sasha allows him to pick her up and even cuddles closer,purring and being careful not to accidentally claw him. She is going to go along for the ride and let him take her wherever he is going. She is still going to keep her eyes open and be alert to escape routs and valuables. if he is taking her outside, that is ok, she will wait and go back in later. If he is going to put her in a room, also ok, when she is alone she can change back human and crack the door open, go furry again and escape. Slim knows if an animal control truck shows up that he can pick her up at the pound again later, having been supplied with her registration and various pictures.
"For a couple of months, you're not doing too poorly. Hell, for three years after my abilities emerged, I thought I was a super hero, bought a cape and everything." Eddie laughed while tearing a croissant in half, unaware of how hungry he had been until he took his first bite. "I don't need direct info on the ritual, more about who is doing it. They burned me and I can't let that slide."