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  #16  
Old Mar 29th, 2024, 04:09 AM
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The Spectre
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Anne Charlotte Beall, the Spectre
Anne’s unexpected appearance shocked Annie, but only for a moment. Contrary to what Victor might have been expecting, the Spectre’s revelation was unable to reassure the girl or even calm her down. In fact, it seemed to have the exact opposite effect. The fear and anxiety inside Annie’s chest reached a boiling point and sought to forcefully escape like hot steam from a kettle, whistling its defiance as it passed through the spout.

The girl opened her mouth and a torrent of questions, demands and accusations surged out, threatening to drown both the Aware and the Spectre in them. Anne’s mien darkened. The girl was insolent. Her still immature, shrill voice hurt her ears, reminding her of the cries of the disgusting creatures that had come out of her womb. It was easy to be fond of a picture, memory or idea, but when faced with the voice of wickedness that resided inside a person, Anne realized that she had neither the patience nor the desire to show understanding. Or love.

She realized that she hadn’t changed at all since the last months of her former life on Earth, not in a way that mattered.

And yet, this shouting adolescent in front of her was the blood of her sister. It was, arguably, the last thing that bound Anne to her family, her old life, and to whatever tatters of the goodness Thomas had once seen in her that still remained.

Had Anne still believed in a kind and merciful God, she could have claimed that Annie was her path to salvation. The only path that could lead her away from her sad, never ending existence. Sadly, she didn’t believe in this kind of God anymore, but still, she had no choice. Not if she wanted things to finally change for her.

Without a word, the Spectre approached Annie. One moment she was standing next to Victor and the next she was right in front of the girl, who was still talking and gesticulating like some ill bred worker’s spawn. Annie’s eyes grew wide and she tried to back away, but she proved too slow. The Spectre’s immaterial hand easily went through the girl’s T-shirt, her chest, before firmly grabbing her heart. Not her physical one, but the core of her being, the part of Annie where her true nature - her double nature? - resided.

If she could possess the body of a brute like Vasili, how difficult could it be to do the same with this girl? It was the only way to look inside her. The only way to know the truth.

A light flared, filling the hospital room. A light full of power. A light that easily dispersed the Spectre’s darkness.

Anne felt herself being catapulted away from the girl. She felt herself being torn to pieces, the holes between her memories growing larger until she herself fell into the void. She felt the threads that kept her pieces together snap.

And then she stopped feeling anything at all.



 


 
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  #17  
Old Mar 31st, 2024, 11:28 AM
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Andre, the Wolf"Mum..." Andre feels no relief when he sees his mother apparently unharmed. He cringes when he hears his gentle word roll savage from his beastly tongue. He can't find the next words for a time.

The door closes behind him. Andre turns, alarmed. The sight of the immaculately dressed man with the clickety-clack cane is like a salve for his terrified heart. "Fahrad" You came!"

His mother speaks of Fahrad in a way that surprises her son. She sees him. Andre had not seen Fahrad for what he truly was until the Dragon had deemed it so. Andre tucks this nugget away for now. His gut tells him time is of the essence.

"Vasili, the Missionary was here. Dressed as a doctor. " The fear can be heard beneath his angry growl.

"Mum, there is no special treatment. What did the doctor give you? Did he leave something? The syringe?" Andre is by her side now. He holds her once muscular, now fragile, arm in his clawed hands. Tenderly, he runs the leathery pads of his monstrous fingers over the skin searching for the tell-tale red dot and the surrounding inflammation that follows an injection. His eyes scan the bedside table and then the waste basket, searching for discarded medical material.

"He's given her something. Now she has a migraine. Maybe he injected her with something toxic. Lethal even. He was taunting me. Can you do anything?" Andre's lupine eyes look to Fahrad to save his mother before the unknown harm Vaili has inflicted upon her can fully manifest in her body.

Andre is completely lost as to what to do. All he knows is something must be done and fast. He hopes and prays Fahrad knows what he doesn't and readies to help the Dragon in any way shape or form if it will save his mother.

 

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Last edited by jbear; Mar 31st, 2024 at 11:28 AM.
  #18  
Old Apr 2nd, 2024, 11:37 PM
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MedStar Fahrad clicked his tongue in disapproval at the mention of Vasili’s name, but paid the name little other mind.

Shimmering… yes.

Fahrad paid little attention to Andre as he walked past, handing his cane to the wolfboy.

Farhrad unbutton his suit jacket and pushed the flowing sides apart as he settled down on the chair near the woman.

Hello my dear. I am Farhad Amir Zahhak. No, my dear, I suppose you already know that that is not entirely true. Allow me to introduce myself properly.

Fahrad slides his jacket off and begins to unbutton his cufflinks so he can roll back his sleeves.

The cufflinks glittered even in the unflattering fluorescent light in the hospital room, the silver metal and ruby studs catching and playing the light the small, engraved name of Fabergé. Without a second thought he placed the twin metallic suns into the clawed paw of Andre and gently began to roll the cuffs of his tailored shirt up his forearms.

As the cotton rolled up to the middle of the forearm, Fahrad’s deep olive skin was mottled and marked with ink. A dozen symbols in various scripts unidentifiable to Andre wove a defensive fabric around the surprisingly toned arms of the middle-aged man.

Whisper gently Fahrad, My name is 𒀭𒈾𒊏𒄠𒀭𒂗𒍪 𒀭𒋾𒊩𒆳. And I’d like to help you if I can. The quiet words from Fahrad’s mouth sounded like trumpets in the ear of Andre, crashing waves, and thundering volcanos. It was quiet and soft, like boiling water yet heavy like a falling stone.

Fahrad collected a piece of paper from a nearby table and found a discarded crayon leftover from some child here earlier, likely visiting a sick relative.

Taking the black crayon he began to draw a crude drawing, much like someone would carve an image into a clay tablet.

Whether it be an evil spirit, or an evil ala, or an evil ghost, an evil constable, or an evil god, or an evil deputy, for LamaSlu, or Laba~u, or the robber forl Lila, or Lililu or Handmaid-of-Lila, or Hand-of-god, or Hand-of-a-goddess, or Fallen-down-from-heaven – we ask that you Mistress of Isin, watch over this patient as the pack watches over their kin.
Fahrad slid the iconograph onto the chart at the foot of the bed, affixing it so the guarded can ward the patient.

Fahrad then took the untouched glass of tepid water and splashed a bit on his pocket square and dabbed the woman’s forehead.
It is not the water of a running river, but it will have to do for now.

As Fahrad treated the woman gently, his manicured claws barely leaving a mark before Andre’s eyes blinked away the fear and aguish revealing that Fahrad didn’t have claws at all - How silly – his senses reached out into the realm of dragons and gods, of wizards and oracles, of witches and demons. The woman hadn’t been sensitive to the other world… the shadow world until that wretched snake Vasili had been here.

What had he done, and how had he managed it?

As the through of Vasili faded to the back of Fahrad’s mind, his focus being drawn into the ethereal and astral, he couldn’t help but remember another ritual transcribed in the Talmud of Babylon – a ritual for drowning a snake.
OoC Let it out with a 9. Fahrad is extending his senses, supernatural or otherwise, to determine what happened.
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Old Apr 5th, 2024, 04:32 PM
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Victor YoungFor a brief moment Victor feels like the plan works. Sure, shock and awe was going to happen but at least the young woman had stopped yelling at him and demanding answers he didn't possess.

And then it all falls apart.

Even as the ruse disintegrates, however, Victor can't help but marvel at Anne. For the first time that he can recall there is a beautiful woman shimmering in undeath. Perhaps there is something beneath the surface of the vengeful spectre after all.

Then it is gone, and Anne as well, leaving only the blazing eyes of the young Annie boring into Victor expectantly and the echo of her words reverberating through his mind. The weight of the silence hangs in the air. Victor can't find any words. There aren't any answers. This girl thinks he is something more than he is. What was he expecting to do coming here? He couldn't even handle the mundane teenage stuff, how did he expect to handle the supernatural teenage stuff?

The silence hangs still longer. No words come. Nothing helpful at least. Angry, frustrated quips to knock the insolent child down a bit? Those flow in droves. But Victor restrains them.

At long last, Victor has to say something. It isn't quite long enough to let the anger and frustration dissipate, but perhaps long enough to remove some of the bite.

"I got no clue what – exactly - is after you, but you can forget that whole 'just a kid' nonsense. Nasty crap ain't never happened to no kid in history, right? You don't got a say in that. You do got a say in whether you fight. I may not know much, but I got some fight in me. You wanna fight? I can help with that. You wanna whine? I got my own s**t to handle."

OOCThat is a miss on Let it Out.
 
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Old Apr 7th, 2024, 03:44 PM
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The geriatric wardAndre looks I read "Lend a Hand" as rolling with the target's faction. Farhad is indeed Wild, so that's a miss. You cna find the mundane information, but his mystical intestigation, you're not going to contribute.around the room for clues. The room is mostly clean. Even the standard detritus you'd expect to find - a kleenex in the bin, an empty pudding cup on the side table - is not there. The room has not been inhabitted for long, and must have been cleaned prior to that. There is a sharps disposal bin on the wall near the door, and that does have something in it.

As Farhad comes close, with a pleasant bedside manner, Becky gives a wan smile and looks him over more carefully. Nothing overly suspicious, just taking in the contours of his face, and fashion, and bearings. She looks overwhelmed as he states his true name and then begins a recitation. Becky gives Andre a side glance that, even in the dimmed room, he can easily interpret as a grinning but skeptical What is this woo-woo crystals-and-dreamcatchers stuff you're bringing here to 'cure' me? look. But she holds her tongue, too worn to argue.

Her skepticism means little to someone assured in their methods. Farhad chants and probes with his mystical senses. He sees what he expects... sort of. There is a taint there, in this woman. A contamination, a darkness. Centuries ago, this might have been called a 'spirit' - an affliction of unknown origin. But Farhad knows spirits, and he has sampled modern knowledge. This is no spirit. It is more akin to a poison. It is moving and shifting. It seems to be everywhere in low levels. But there is also a stronger dose of this poison. A newer presence of the same stuff, still spreading, boring into her system.

The pediatric psychology wardVictor decides to take the "tough love" approach to this girl he barely knows. She shrinks back, unused to strange men telling her to shape up and fly straight. And then Anne approaches her, reaching directly into her descendant, looking to take a place quite literally within the girl's heart. The spectre begins to wend her way in, to create a metaphyiscal space for her to enter.

A look of pure horror passes over Annie's face. She wreches away from her great (great great?) aunt, with a cry of "NO!" And before she can take another breath, it appears that she is struck in the heart by some other force. A greenish-purple energy seems to pierce her chest, seeming into the space that Anne had tried to create for herself. For a moment, Annie's face is contorted in pain. Then, just as fast, the pain is over and Annie stands up straight. That same green-purple light illuminates her eyes, and she looks over Victor and Anne with an imperiousness that was not there before.

"This is the cavalry, is it?" she asks. Her voice is deeper than before, and it drips with irony. She sniffs and her lip curls. She looks to Victor. "You reek of promises to Brassalova. The cavalry consorts with cowards. I hope it was worthwhile." She flicks her glance down to the fly of Victor's pants. "Hm, how bothersome will you be, if I let...." Then the green-glowing face looks into the middle distance and grunts. She growls as if making some great effort. Then suddenly the green-purple light of her eyes disappears. The posture slouches and a look of uncertainty passes across her face. Then she screams again in that pre-teen voice, "NO!!!!"

She pushes her hands outwards, and a wave of force bursts forth from her. Victor can not hear the boom, his ears simply percieve it as a pressure wave. He is tossed to the ground and tumbled ass-over-heels back 10 feet. Anne hears the tremendous boom, and even in her spectral form, Anne feels pain, and is pushed back. The magazines and chairs and end tables are tossed about the room by the wave of force. The glass from the flourescent bulbs overhead shatter and fall. Dust from the drop cielings bursts like a plume, engulfing the room. The door of the room is burst off its hinges. The room is, in an instant, a dusty dark incoherent chaos.

It takes a few moments to be able to see anything. Victor's ears are ringing, and it will be hard to hear anything for a few moments. He can see, though, that the room is empty. Anne can hear bare feet slapping down the tiled hallway outside.

The geriatric wardAndre and Farhad feel a slight shaking in the room, as of a small brief earthquake. They hear a distant boom, like a transfomer exploding a few hundre feet away. The lights in the room flicker off then on, off and on again, and then things return to normal. "Did you feel that? Like a surge," Becky asks.

Again, her perception is strange. There was no rush of air, but there was, now that you think about it, a mix of magic in the shaking. Farhad considers the patient one more time. There is a poison, yes. But maybe he was wrong about the spirits. He can't shake the feeling that maybe there IS a spirit here. If there is, it is no outside force. It is the woman herself.

OODM@Elanir and Roekahs: take 1 harm, unless you have some way of avoiding a concussive mystical attack.
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Old Apr 10th, 2024, 02:12 AM
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The Spectre
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Anne Charlotte Beall, the Spectre
Light and sound and an incredible burst of energy surged through Anne’s incorporeal existence, scattering her and leaving behind nothing but a hole. No, not a hole, a vacuum, for it asked, begged, demanded to be filled.

For a single moment that might have lasted an eternity, Anne wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere. She didn’t think, didn’t feel, wasn’t conscious of anything, even herself. It didn’t feel like sleep or blackness or peace. It didn’t feel like anything. She was simply not. She was dead.

But only for a moment.

The blessing of true death could not be gained so easily and whoever it was that had decreed that Anne would remain a stranger to it, whether it had been Anne’s conscience, God or some other cosmic power, could not be cheated. This wasn’t the first time that Anne had tried to acquire that which wasn’t meant for her. She had returned then and she would return now, 1 Harmeach time feeling a little less than the real Anne Charlotte Beal, daughter of an Earl and wife to Thomas Beal.

It was the Spectre’s curse. It was her nature.

Slowly, painfully, Anne came back into existence, gasping like a newborn. She was and wasn’t. She looked around her and realized that Annie, both Annies, the human and the non-human one, were gone. The room had been wrecked and Victor was lying on the floor, having been swept away by the wave of force, holding his still ringing ears. Was it blood what she saw? He had failed to help the girl. She had failed as well. There was some solace in that, a shadow of kinship.

Anne approached the broken man. He was pitiful, without a trace of his usual smugness. She felt sorry for him. Intimacy Move - if Victor feels any kind of Intimacy for Anne as wellHer spectral hands helped him up, gently, with compassion.

"Rest", she urged him with unexpected concern. "I will go after her. I will let you know."

She couldn’t be certain he heard her, but hoped that he understood her nonetheless.

Like a shadow she drifted away, drawn to Annie’s mystical light instead of being repelled by it.

She would follow and wait and watch. She would be the Spectre.



 


 
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  #22  
Old Apr 13th, 2024, 08:59 PM
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Victor YoungThis time it isn't a ruse. Victor is dead serious and means every word. This child called him for whatever ungodly reason and he doesn't really have to do anything, but if she wants to fight whatever she is fighting he can stand behind that. It is one of the only things he has ever done well, after all.

So his jaw is set as is his resolve. No games, just time to strap up and go to work …

...until the girl's face contorts and the colors shift, like some strange psychedelic trip (...or so he has heard …). The words are strange and Victor's brow furrows, though his posture does not change. The cavalry? Brassa? What the devil does she have to do with anything?

Then those questions are driven from Victor's mind in unison with the air being driven from his lungs.



The breath comes hard, but Victor forces the air inward, overpowering the pain that is begging him to just not breath. Just for a while. Except breathing isn't particularly optional so the pain will just have to suck it. The …

Well, the … um …

Victor lets the memory wash back over him, and it crashes like waves on a breakwater, incessantly pounding the last several seconds into his conscious. The punch … no, it hadn't exactly been a punch. Damn. Whatever hit him had been way more than any punch he had ever taken. That would explain the world somersaulting …

A pressure on his shoulder pierces the slideshow of memories. It pulls at him and his eyes drift upward. There is the spectre, ready to throttle the last remaining life out of him. For a moment, Victor feels the desperate vulnerability overtake his senses. This is where he dies. He dug too deep and now he has to answer to the vengeful spectre. He would have preferred someone else, but at least it is a death delving the shadows of the city rather than in a dark alley from some 16 year old gangbanger.

But the pressure lifts, and supports. He rises. The pressure steadies him on his wobbly legs. Victor's brow furrows once more. The shadows had torn him down and sent him sprawling. Yet the shadows – this creature of the shadows – had righted him once more. This is the real shadows of the city. The tumult, the chaos, the pain.

It's better than any drug.

The spectre's words are dim and distant. Rest. Victor studies Anne for a moment. The shock had loosened his jaw, but as he stands facing Anne he can feel it settle back into position, firmly set. His eyes had been dazed, but they become focused. And they meet Anne's, and hold her gaze. This is a moment of resolve-building, and Victor's does not waver.

Then he nods. He watches as Anne slowly drifts away. He had assented, but had not specified which part. He will let Anne go after her, but he will not rest.

Victor waits, his hand braced against the wall, still steadying the unsteadiness. But his balance returns eventually, and his hand leaves the wall. The damage to the room is severe and he needs to get lost. More importantly, he needs to see a guy...

OOCVictor will meet Anne's intimacy - marking corruption

Also, Hitting the streets. Going to see a guy. Mr. Brown. And that is an 11.
 
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  #23  
Old Apr 16th, 2024, 08:51 PM
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MedStar Farhad gently wiped the woman’s brow, as his vision returned to normal, his nictitating membrane sliding from side to side, the translucent membrane wiping away the arcana like dirt.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Farhad quoted one of the books from his hoard, a classic bit of children’s literary nonsense bound in red with gold, a little child in a portal embossed in gold.

There is poison. It is black and ichorous, it infects the soul as much as the body. I know not what the poison is, it is unlike anything I have witnessed, and is beyond my power to heal, but perhaps not beyond the reach of others.

Farhad smiled weakly; he did not enjoy admitting that even he had limitations.

BOOM.

Farhad’s attention, like everyone else’s was quickly drawn to the sound.

Standing, Farhad buttoned his jacket and collected his cane.

Perhaps we should see what that was, all things seem to be connected in this town, and it will allow your mother some rest – there is nothing either of us can do for her at this moment.

It was a pleasure meeting you.

Farhad exited the room, allowing Andre a moment to say goodbye.

When the wolf eventually emerged from the room, Farhad whispered in his ear, Has she always been gifted with site or is this a new development? There was something more than poison in here, something that I think would be better seen by others.
OoC Farhad has no additional moves to make at this moment, but would like to have Nazanin inspect Andre's mother.
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Old Apr 19th, 2024, 08:34 AM
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Andre the WolfPoison.

Andre growls softly as his mind continues to race. 'How do you bite and claw at poison? Such an insidious enemy is beyond Andre's violent tool set. But poison is at least more defined an enemy than inexplicable illness.

Poison has a poisoner. Poison has an antidote.

Fahrad withdraws from the room, sugesting the noisy disruption might be related. Andre nods. He places his leathery paw on his mother's hand and nuzzles her gently on the cheek. "Mum, if you ever see that doctor who just injected you, you make a fuss. Don't let him near you. Call a nurse. Call anyone nearby. But don't let them inject you. I'm going to find out what he's done to you and make it right. You'll feel better soon."

Andre isn't sure he believes his own words. His mother's tired smile also has that certain look like she doesn't believe it either.

Outside, in the corridor, Andre answers Fahrad's whispered question. "I wish I knew. It's news to me. But this whole world hidden underneath is new to me too. I didn't really start seeing until I got bit. I don't think I can walk around the hospital like this. It's a miracle no one has seen me so far. I'm going to catch Vasili's scent."

Andre pats down his shredded clothes with a sigh. His concern for his mother let him get caught off guard by the transformation. Another set of clothes down the drain. He found the lump he sought in his pocket and fished it out. "If it's important, call me. I have my phone with me so I'll find a way to reach you without getting a swat team called on us."

He tucked his phone away, tearing the fabric of his pocket with his claw.

Conditional ActionsIf Fahrad counters Andre's decision to seek out Vasili, he will listen, following behind at a distance, hiding where he can until it becomes impossible to go unseen or hide.

Otherwise, he turns his attention away from the world of vision and activates his senses to the world where odours tell tales and leave trails. He sniffs around the corridor and the emergency exit where Vasili had escaped, dividing the bleach that buried years of sickening stories beneath its purifying odour from the most recent of smells until he finds Vasili's.

Once he had it, Andre would follow it through the shadows as far as he could.

If he encountered a dead end, at that point, he would find the one who had dropped Vasili on his lap like a bone. If the spectre had found Vasili once, she could find him again. He can still feel the unnerving connection between him and the crazed echo of life, so finding her would not be impossible. A less than appetising prospect, but Andre doesn't care. He will do anything it takes to wrap his hands around Vasili's neck and squeeze until the truth comes out of him.
 

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Last edited by jbear; Apr 19th, 2024 at 08:41 AM.
  #25  
Old Apr 23rd, 2024, 01:35 PM
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The geriatric wardFarhad parts ways with Andre and then heads towards the disturbance. It's not hard to find, there is a large commotion of orderies and security and buildings management folk swarming everywhere. He might avoid the whole scene, but he notices Victor talking to security, and decides to hang about. While he waits, he contacts Nazanin. She is slow to answer the phone, and slow to respond to his request.

"I don't like hospitals. Blighted places. But to help you? Blighted AND worrisome." She chuckles at her mild zinger, then says in a deadpan, "If I do this, you will make it worth my while, yes?"

While Farhad negotiates with the witch, Victor is debriefed. He is roughly handled by hospital security initially, being the sole occupant of a room best described as "exploded." But between a fleeing suspect, the fact that he brought nothing into the room, and his own smooth talking, eventually Victor is treated with more respect (suspicious though the staff remains), and given some treatment for his injuries. The city police show up eventually ask him to make a statement of what occurred, and they Whether what he shares is truthful is of course another matter...take down his identifying information.

Over an hour later, he is allowed to leave, unsupervised. Victor is on a mission, to see one Mr. Brown. Before he gets halfway to the exit, he almost literally bumps into Farhad. Victor is not keen to remain in the hospital. And Farhad has an understanding that Mr. Brown is a man of power and influence in his own shabby neighborhood. Whatever conversation Farhad might make with Victor, this Mr. Brown might be a useful contact for Farhad to make.

Whether alone or with a guest, Victor eventually makes it to Mr. Brown's barber shop. It's a storefront in a commercial strip of small shops, locksmiths and bakeries and dispensaries. This is the kind of shop where a metal bell above the door jingles as you enter. None of the other business on the strip are open so late. But Mr. Brown is not the typical businessman. His "open" sign is unlit, but the storefront is still inhabitted. Mr. Brown sweeps as another barber gives a client a trim. A group of people, expensively dressed but in an 'urban' style, sits around a small table on one side of the room. They have drinks, and they lean in, perhaps discussing secretive matters, perhaps playing cards.

On the huntAndre instructs his mom to refuse treatment from her new 'doctor.' She looks confused, but she sees the earnest concern in her son's eyes. She nods. "Okay. At the very least, I'll call you first before we do anything more with him." She insists on a kiss on Andre's hairy cheek, and then he departs with Farhad. They briefly consult, and then Andre does what his instincts have been screaming to do since he reached this floor: hunt.

The trail starts easy enough. In the stairwell, it's the olfactory equivalent of someone shining a bright light in your eyes. Bounding multiple steps at a time, the trail takes him to the base of the stairwell, and out a side door. Vasili was no more interested in having someone see him as Andre is. By the same token, the trail passes through alleys and abandoned lots. Child's play, even in this turf that's not his own. The path takes him to....

A Metro station. Andre comes to a screeching halt. It is an Columbia Heights, if you like following along in the IRL locationsunderground station. A worst-case scenario for someone in his state. One entry. Bright neon lights. A cacophany of smells, of a day's worth of humanity. It's nearing midnight, closing time. Tha tmeans there are few passengers, but employees are everywhere, cleaning up, re-stocking ticket kiosks, sweeping for unhoused people. Vasilit's scent unmistakably goes down there. But what it does at the bottom of the escalators is hard to tell. And Andre will certainly be spotted if he tries to carefully investigate further.

Andre feels the urge to howl in frustration! He remembers one who has tracked Vasili before, and who would have no such trouble pursuing down into the tunnels. Her scent is not clear just yet, but with a little distance from the reek of the tunnels, he could surely find her. She is always in the shadows.

The streets of DCAnne is delayed in following Annie through the chaos, but what is time and obstruction to her? When she catches up to the girl, Annie has darted into a side room - apparently her assigned bedroom, because Annie comes dashing back out with a pile of clothes in her arms and a phone in her hands. Then off she dashes towards the exist. Nearing the lobby, she cannily takes a more leisurely childlike stroll. By the time the staff calls out, having noticed the unattended patient wandering unsupervised, Annie is a few strides' distance from the front door. In a blink she is into the vestible and out onto the street. Secirty, in a different soundscape, similarly take just a few moments too long to recognize the situation. Annie heedlessly sprints across the busy street and is free.

None of this is any concern to Anne. She drifts past the panicking orderlies and the guards barking into their shoulder walkie-talkie recievers. Around one corner and then another, she is upon the girl. Anne follows. Anne watches.

After a block, Annie pauses to open her phone and check her map app. She changes direction. In another block, she begins to feel exposed and ostentatious in her hospital gown. She ducks into an unlit alcove. She pulls on her pants, then awkwardly manages to don her shirt while covered with her gown. She then puts on her shoes, casts the gown into the corner, and returns to the street. Checking her phone every few blocks, she navigates her way home through the nighttime city. She gets a few strange looks, but thankfully she is otherwise not bothered. Then she arrives home.

At the row house, Annie stands on the sidewalk opposite and stares. More lights are lit than one would expect so late, but there is no sign of activity in the windows. She stands there for 10 minutes, still. Then she turns away. Unless interrupted by our protagonists, she spends the rest of the night wandering. She has no destination. Sometimes she walks down 10 blocks, then back the same 10 blocks. She circles a block. She sits on a dark bench. The looks lost, adrift, homeless.

OODM@Elanir and jbear: Considering the sparse population of the nighttime streets, Andre's familiarity with Anne's scent, and both of yours presence out on the streets, if you're both willing to have a convo with each other, I think we can just declare that it happens. You meet up.

Roekahs and wodine: I'm intentionally being a little vague about where y'all are having your interaction, in case traveling to the same second destination stretches credulity. But if I had my druthers, I'd declare that the main bulk of your interaction happens either outside Mr. Brown's barbershop (which is most certainly a Place of Power - I'll declare it Mortal) or inside.

@wodine: We don't need a prolonged back-and-forth with Nazanin. She will do what you ask, if you are willing to be in her debt.

Our timelines are a bit out of sync right now, but to be clear, Anne's scene ends around 2:30 or 3am. It's around 11:30pm for the others. It would take Andre a few hours on foot to find Anne (does Andre have a car, and does he drive it in wolf form?), so if Andre and Anne connect, it would be at the end of her scene, approximately 3am.
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Old Apr 27th, 2024, 03:19 PM
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MedStar Nazanin, my dear – have I ever disappointed?

Farhad agreed to the witch’s terms though he was somewhat disappointed.

Here I thought we were beyond the one for one, but consider yourself one boon richer.

Farhad hung up the pay phone and continued on his way – the wolf had taken a different path for now, but whatever had caused that tremor had been supernatural, and that had piqued the Dragon’s interest.

As Farhad stepped from the booth he noticed someone just to his…

BUMP

Mr. Young. How serendipitous, may I have a moment of your time?

The question rang of a command more than a question, though the Dragon was not without manners. He would join Mr. Young at his destination if he was amenable.
OoCI am uncertain how happy Victor will be to see Fahrad, so I didn’t want to assume that he would be welcome to join at Mr. Browns.
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Old Apr 29th, 2024, 08:04 AM
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Andre, the WolfAndre moves through the familiar shadows of unfamiliar streets, following the sense of connection that he has felt since his first bloody contact with the Missionaries until he finds the Spectre.

More than seeing her, Andre feels the cold shiver and the fur stands up on the back of his neck. "Spirit, I know you are there. Something has happened to my mum. You hung around her enough. Perhaps you care about her, in your pesky way.

The Missionary, the one you brought to me the night of my fight. He escaped before I could speak to him. And now he's injected some poison into my mum. I need to find him. He went into the metro station, but I couldn't go in there. Not like this. But you know where the Missionaries' are. Show me how to get there. Without being seen. Please."


There is a gentle pleading in the Wolf's yellow eyes.
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Old May 1st, 2024, 04:24 AM
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The Spectre
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Anne Charlotte Beall, the Spectre
Annie was lost.

This had nothing to do with her ability to navigate the city. She didn’t seem deterred by its darkness or the shadows lurking at every corner and the strange, miniature map she carried in her palm always directed her faithfully to her destination.

No, Annie was lost in a much more profound way. She had lost her identity, or rather the identity she had crafted for herself, the one she believed in.

Anne knew well how that felt. How could one be called a daughter when the whole wide ocean stood between one and one’s parents? How could one be called a mother when one hated the creatures that came out of one’s body with every fiber of one’s being? How could one be called a wife when one’s husband aimed at one with his hunting rifle and pressed the trigger without hesitation?

Annie too could no longer consider herself “a kid”. Not after what she had done. Not after what she had experienced and what she imagined would soon follow. She had seen the blinding light and it was frightening. Even now, she could feel it slowly consuming her.

Anne wished she could help, but she didn’t know how. She had revealed herself to the girl, but Annie had rejected her and her ability to act as a guardian. She was right. The Spectre didn’t know how to protect. She didn’t know how to care for someone. All she did was watch.

And so she watched, following the girl as she aimlessly roamed the silent streets of the city. She realized that Annie must have been exhausted. She would have liked to see her return home, to parents that loved her, even though they could do nothing to protect her from whatever power had claimed her. She would have liked to know her lying in her bed, surrendering to the far too ephemeral solace of sleep. She would…

A presence drew her out of the tangled mess of her meandering thoughts. A familiar presence, both loved and hated.

The Wolf.

He couldn’t see her, but he sensed her, just like she sensed him. He had rejected her gift, her precious gift that had caused her so much discomfort, and he had paid. Dearly.

Anne smiled softly. Maliciously. The Wolf was begging. He was desperate. She could simply leave and he would lose all hope. He would have to watch his mother waste away and then he would waste away too, consumed by rage or grief. She could have her revenge and it would cost her nothing.

Something stirred inside her. A picture, a memory, a feeling. Thomas kneeling before her, kissing her left hand. Her right hand was on her belly. She was caressing it. There were tears in their eyes, but they weren’t sad. They were happy. More than happy. They were hopeful.

Hopeful.

"Do you see this girl?", Anne asked without revealing herself. "a Debt?You will protect her from the one or the ones coming to claim her. With fang and claw, you will keep her safe. Like you do for your mother. She will be your second mother. In return, I will help you find what you are looking for."

She didn’t wait for an answer. She knew the Wolf would agree. What other option did he have?

With a thought, she glided to Annie and found herself beside her.

"Go home", she whispered in her ear. "You can’t run away from what is after you. You will have to face it. But when the time comes, you will not be alone."

This was all that Anne could promise. It was all that she could do.

Turning her back to the girl, the Spectre joined the Wolf, who was anxious for the hunt to begin.

"Follow", she said simply and started gliding through the ether towards the Missionaries’ secret place.



 


 
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  #29  
Old May 4th, 2024, 09:49 PM
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Victor YoungVictor steps out into the night air, taking a deep breath of the cool calm that tastes just like freedom. Hospital security, then the police. For someone who often lives on the wrong side of the law, it had been a night that nightmares are made from.

Victor had kept things vague – partly because the memories he actually has are vague. He had given them his real name as there hadn't been a compelling reason to hide that. Besides if new information arose and the police came sniffing around again, he might be able to learn something. The specifics of the disappearance had been painted as a kidnapping – after all, she had been abducted by something … just because the cameras couldn't see it shouldn't matter.

But now Victor is finally free and he has to move. He has to learn more …

BUMP

The voice stirs his conscious to a defensive posture almost instantly. It had been a while since he had crossed paths with the old man with the cane. Victor can feel his blood boil. There is a moment of sheer fury that threatens to blot out the sense of reason lingering on the periphery of the encounter. Yet … there is an intuition that restrains Victor.

The old man knows what he did. He also knows enough of what Victor did to even snitch. Which, also means that he knows where Victor leans all too often on the scale of legality. To bump into him on the street in the dark would be either incredibly cocky or incredibly foolish. Yet here they are, eyes locked and neither flinching.

Victor can't help but feel a bit of respect drive back the rage. In the gap left by the retreating rage, situations flood. They all have two things in common: they are prominent moments that he has uncovered in the shadows, and they have almost all happened since his “business” was destroyed.

Victor's eyes narrow in contemplation. "Serendipity indeed." The thought occurs and the words spill forth as one. "An interesting time to cross paths, old man, but bygones be gone, right? You got an interestingly heavy hand in some happenings around these parts – or you's serendipity's bastard child. Either way, if you don't mind walkin', I don't mind talkin'."

OOCVictor hits on Figure Someone Out with a 7 – holds 2 and Farhad holds 1


 
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  #30  
Old May 5th, 2024, 12:52 PM
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Park near the Hayes placeAndre's senses are not limitted to his eyes, nor to the purely mundane. The denizens of the shadows always do have an attraction to each other, whether they like it or not. He puts his case to the spectre. She takes her sweet time, drawing out the length of time that Andre finds himself in his awkward position.

Part of that delay involves a whisper to Annie. The girl jumps, startled. She can not see the speaker, but the sound of her 'guardian angel' is hard to mistake, after tonights events. Annie stiffens her neck, refusing to either nod the affirmative or shake her head in argument. But she does fast-walk away from the park, and the direction she takes will lead her back to her house.

Anne places a bargain into Andre's lap, and begins to guide the Wolf.

Outside the hospitalFarhad and Victor both have their own cars, and of course parking at a hopsital in the center of a busy urban area is its own sort of mundane nightmare shadow-realm. There is time to walk-and-talk just on the way to find their cars. Or if the conversation is to take a long time, and neither wants to be trapped in the other's vehicle, they could catch one of the last runs of the Metro from Howard to Anacostia, where Mr Brown's shop is located. That would provide both a quiet but public-and-in-plain-view way to have a safe conversation. A quick Uber could bring one or both back to their car, tonight or tomorrow.

OODMI'm marking time plot-wise a little bit here, to allow space to converse both in-character here, and about scenes to come in the OOC thread.
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