Green Flame Rising (Exalted vs Dresden Files)

[DragonParadox]

Learning Experience ​

10th of July 2006 A.D.

You want to help your friend, you should help someone you hurt so badly even if she doesn't know that, even if you can't tell her as fragile as she is right now, but at the same time... Am I the best person to help? You cannot help but wonder as you reach the the wipes in your purse to dry Rosie's cheeks. Sure you can make arbitrary amounts of money given enough time and you are a decent hand at changing diapers after all these years in House Carpenter but taking care of a baby involves more than that, that is a whole other person who needs taking care of for years and years.

"Shh... you need to focus on getting better first." You pat her hand lightly without thinking.

"You're cold," she says through the last of her sobs, looking up at you blearily.

"Yeah, it's a magic thing," you explain. "Turns out you can't go to the land of Ice and Snow and come back unchanged, even if you didn't go there for the scenic tour."

Rosie gives a watery smile. "Dork." Then maybe to distract herself she asks. "What was that place?"

"It's generally called the Nevernever." Myabe a bit of Usum's snobbishness it rubbing off on you, but that is a really useless non-descriptive name. You might as well call it the Other Place. "It's where a lot of weird stuff comes from, the deeper you go the weirder it gets." Though you would have to go deep indeed to find something as weird as me, you think feeling a little proud and a little worried. There are no signposts on the road ahead.

Though you had expected Rosie to ask more about magic she doesn't, filling the air with questions about mutual acquaintances and school. She's a year ahead of you and graduates this year. Thankfully she is going to graduate, you had been low key worried about her grades on top of everything else, but apparently her mom had handled it.

"Jarred probably paid 'em off. It wouldn't do to have a high-school dropout stepdaughter. What would his golf buddies think," Rosie says bitterly.

You would almost rather she asks you about wicked faeries. When Rosie had been fifteen one of said 'golf buddies' had put his hands on her and he had only taken no for an answer when she had smashed a glass over his head. Some monsters are all too human. Her mother hadn't believed a word she said. Maybe that is why she'd been so eager to be with Ken from the start, at least that was something she chose even if it had ended... poorly.

It's just a pity I don't know the creep's name, you think. Emptying out his bank account with a little demonic help sounds like just the right comeuppances, but you can't really ask Rosie about him. What was the name of the guy who assaulted you, I'd like to ruin his life?

"A question that can be asked of the universe as much as of the girl," Usum opines slyly.

Filing that one under plans for later you consider what you can do now. There are probably charities willing to help, but you do not know which ones and a vow to 'look for help would sound hollow so you are going to look, you are going to ask your dad and your mom and father Forthhill when you see him and then if you find something you'll tell Rosie about it.

And if I can't find anything... well somewhat clueless help is still better than no help. I'll find will find a way to make this work.

By the time you leave Rosie is if not cheerful than at least in better spirits. You promise to visit again soon and she asks you to bring food over flowers next time. Hospital food here is somehow worse than cafeteria food at school.

***​

11th of July 2006 A.D.

Tuesday brings with it a screeching pause to the normal end of term excitement in the form of what Alec calls 'The Math Test from Hell'. Mr Watson hands it out to would be mathletes and anyone who wants to fix their grade. You rather naively offer to take it... and then spend an hour mostly staring blankly at the paper. You are pretty sure calling down fire lightning and flood with magic rites would be easier to figure out than this nonsense.

You gain 4 Essence -> Reduced to 3 because of the cap

"The work of some particularly twisted and sadistic demon mistress," Usum offers with such seriousness that you begin to wonder about some of his other straight faced suggestions. Still it is a funny thought.

You hand in the scribble paper with a shrug and a smile. "Not my lucky day Mr Watson."

"It could be if you just applied yourself more Carpenter," the teacher fires back good-naturedly. Math is not your favorite subject, but he makes is bearable at least.

"I've got a lot of other stuff to apply myself to," you reply and he tsks.

You wonder how he would take being told what you really mean.

***​

That afternoon dad drives you to Saint Marry's with a promise to fetch you back home when you are done. Even mom doesn't ask that you stick by him like glue when you are already on holy ground and in the company of a responsible adult in the know. For your part you cannot help but wonder how the good father would take... what you are. He did not have an archangel confirm that you are safe after all.

"Father Forthil knows Molly..." your dad stats, but you cut him off.

"Really? Because then he aught to tell me, because I don't really know what I am," you try to make it a joke, but the fear seeps in anyway.

"A child of God in need of some help and guidance that I might provide," a familiar voice calls out from inside the church. The Parish Priest of Saint Marry's and family friend for as long as you've lived in the city is as you remember him, a slight man with greying hair starting to thin a little at the temples and bright blue eyes behind wire-rim spectacles.

Reaching into the filled cup of your essence you find the grace to turn on your heel as if you had always known he was there and the polite smile just so. "Good evening Father."

Lost 1 Essence

"No need to stand on ceremony on my account Molly," he says and his smile says more. Did he notice you had used magic just now? How? Even dad doesn't you are pretty sure.

He leads you through the church proper and into his office in the back, a small room with a narrow window which nonetheless manages to be homey between the warm luster of the wood and the big chairs you could lose yourself in. The scent of mint tea hangs pleasantly in the air.

"I know this might be hard for you to believe not just of me, but of anyone after the last few days, but I promise I will not judge you for what you can do, for what you might do or for what you 'are', the which is hard for even the wisest of wizards to tell I have heard," the priest begins.

Something about his too serene manner irks you, unfairly maybe but... "What about what I have done?" you test him.

"We are all to be judged by that," he admits gravely. "But where there is sin there is also forgiveness."

What do you ask of Father Forthil?
Choose three:

[] Magic and what he has seen of it

[] The Church and and those in the know within it

[] How he was introduced to the supernatural

[] The Fey Courts

[] Vampires of all stripes, some of them seem a lot less questionable than others

[] The unquiet dead you've... heard they can linger in hospitals

[] The local supernatural scene (He does not have anything to say about this that you do not already know)

[] The Denarians, you know a bit, but something tells you you are going to need a lot more understanding of them soon

[] Does he know any charities that could help Rosie?

[] Write in

OOC: This is a bit scattered I'm afraid, but I wanted to get the ball rolling and the only vote I could have out in at an earlier break point would have been 'what do you do next' and those aren't very engaging.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Matters Maleficent and Sublime ​

11th of July 2006 A.D.

"Where does the Church... er stand on magic?" you ask after a moment and a sip of tea. Obviously not 'suffer not a witch to live', but it would be nice to know how far you can count on the support of the Church and maybe Father Forthil himself. That feels a little mercenary even inside your own head but if an Angel saw fit to ask you not to look at what you aught not look at than you figure God Himself at least does not object to you looking in other places and doing other things and whatever else may be said, you did do good last Sunday and no ecclesiastic proclamation can take that from you.

"Ah well there is a hard question and no mistake." The old priest looks out the window for a moment, though you do not think he is seeing the evening sky. "I know for some in the Church who call magic all that is supernatural without God and miracles with God, so all magic is evil, or at the very least perilous to the soul by definition. Can you see the trouble that presents?"

After a moment's thought you hazard. "It presupposes that you always know what the judgement of God would be."

"Right," Father Forthil smiles, but he manages to do it without seeming patronizing, like he is genuinely glad you figured it out. "If let's say we were to ask a priest or prelate to marched with the armies of the Holy Roman Emperor in the Thirty Years War if the Protestant is able to know the love of God and he shielded by it, he would say 'no for that man is a heretic'. What then is the Protestant who raises a cross before a fiend or vampire performing unsanctioned magic? Or was he performing it then and his fellows are not now because canon no longer holds that they are doomed to hell who deny the Transubstantiation of the Flesh? It seems to me more reasonable that the eyes of men were blind than that God has changed His mind."

He delivers the whole speech in a even, but not monotonous voice, making what could have been a meandering walk though the woods of history and theology an engaging. Thus you find yourself leaning in to listen raptly.

"Now if we admit that the eyes of man can be blind in finding God's hand it follows that it would be wiser to err on the side of too much mercy over too much rigor. Innocent until proven guilty as the lawyer in me is inclined to put it."

Ah... lawyer that checks out, he isn't really preaching to you, it feels more give and take, like he is expecting you to measure his argument, the way a judge or a jury might do it. There has to be quite a bit of crossover though, you think impressed.

"That is I am happy so say where much of the Church is on matters of magic and the supernatural, even the Ordo Malleus whose fate is much tangled in the long and unhappy history of the Holy Office."

"The Inquisition," you catch on at once. "That's still out there? I mean sure the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith is still in the Vatican, but that sounds like the are still opposing vampires, winter fey and the like."

The good Father seems a little taken aback by your interjection, but then his smile grows is anything warmer. "There aren't many your age who can drop the names of departments of the Roman Curia on a dime like that. You are right I don't mean the CDF, while its duties are of a grave and important nature such a public institution is ill suited in dealing with the occult and the supernatural. The Ordo Malleus as it splintered off the main stem of the Holly Office in the latter half of the last century is a far more informal affair, it recruits mostly in those areas that are in the most danger of the depredations of darkness, be they vampires, fey or false god. Its wandering agents are few and it is recommended that they not serve actively for a period of more than five consecutive years. It is all too easy to lose hope, and lose perspective if all you see is devastation before moving on. Leadership is for the most part collegial by necessity, too much control from above would open us to subversion from the many beings that can twist and warp the mind. We do answer to... certain figures within the Curia and through them to the Holy father, but that is a line left most often silent against utmost need."

"We," you catch on at once. "You are part of this Ordo Father?"

"I am, though I never found the will and the faith to serve as an itinerant member," he answers, eyes slipping wistfully to the window again.

"Father, you stayed at our house when the Denarians were in town three years ago, I think that is more courage and more faith than you would find wondering the four corners of the earth for fifty years not five."

"How did you know I was there?" he asks startled.

"I eavesdropped on mom and dad," you reply instantly and unashamed.

"And did you confess to doing so?"he probes watching you intently.

"It is bad form to confess to something you plan to keep doing." You pause in thought. "Though I guess now dad will just tell me stuff so I can stop listening at doors and that means I can confess."

"That is a very... interesting argument," he says. The tea does not quite go down smooth.

"I'm glad you think so father," you reply serenely. It was for a good cause.

After letting the silence linger a little while longer you set down your cup with a click you continue: "So those Denarians, I know a bit, but I have a feeling I'm going to have to know a lot more soon."

"A feeling?" Father Forthil sounds alarmed.

"Rational deduction not supernatural insight," you explain hurriedly. "If I am out there helping dad that changes things, tips the scales, they are going to want to tip it back." That sounds really arrogant you realize as soon as the words are out of your mouth, it also sounds as objectively true as 'the sun rises in the east' so you can't take it back either.

Fortunately the only thing you can read in his gaze is the gravity of the subject, not any doubt of your words. "The Order of the Blackened Denarius is seen by many as more of a plague or calamity to be endured than a foe to be defeated. By the Grace of God those who bear the Swords of the Cross may face them with some hope, if not to vanquish them than at least to stymie them. Forgive me for saying this but the thought of anyone as young as you being marked for their particular attention is... deeply troubling to me."

He says it with such deep sincerity you cannot bring yourself to resent it. "Can I show you something?" you ask.

At his cautious nod you get off the chair and take a step back to the center of the room, draw your sword from nowhere and set it alight with dreadful fire, letting it pour out of you until all is alight with the gaze of a thousand thousand baleful eyes. "I might not win, but I'll give them a fight they'll remember even if they live another two thousand years." The words are as finely balanced as the sword in your hand

Lost 2 Essence

You dismiss the sword as you sit back down, though you wave a little sheepishly at the many glittering eyes. "I can't turn that off, they'll go away after a while. On the plus side while they are out like that nothing can sneak up on me even if it's invisible intangible whatever."

"That sounds useful," his tone is dry, but you can read it in his tone that your point had been well made. As fiery eyes follow his every moment and hang on his every word he recounts what he knows of those Denarians which the Ordo Maellus knows of: First and most dangerous Nicodemus Archleone, ever wrapped in the blood-socked shadow of his own making, destroying records about himself as well as the witnesses to his deeds when he can, then Polonius Lartessa his wife, the last time the lovebirds had cooperated in earnest they had apparently produced the Black Death. They even had a kid in the family 'business', though for some reason Father Forthil is uncomfortable talking about her. You don;t push him, plenty of other monsters around. You learn who likes to recruit from the downtrodden and let desperation do most of the wok of corruption and who likes to set up elaborate schemes that take years to pay off placing a member of the Order in a trusted position. Apparently the Holy Order had lost twelve coins stripped from the Denarians in 1790 as Nicodemus took advantage of the chaos and bloodshed of the French Revolution to twist an old and well respected Jesuit to his side.

By far the oddest thing you learn is that there seems to be some kind of cycle to the coins when their last bearer has bee defeated. Even when a Denarian is killed but their coin is not recovered it takes at least another full year for the Fallen to publicly show themselves in the flesh of another host. Whether that be for their own arcane reasons, the will of their Dark Master or something deeper church scholars can only speculate.

But through the list of Angelic an mortal names, some only guessed at one thing jumps to your attention, the Church still does not know the name of Namshiel's host, the one you had Seen looking through Gorfel. Should you reveal it? It might well help and unlike dropping the whole conspiracy in the arms of the White Council this would not reveal the full power of your Crown... on the other hand anyone who traces the name to Father Forthil is not that far from you.

What do you do?

[] Reveal the name of Namshiel's bearer

[] Do not reveal the name of Namshiel's bearer

OOC: Asking about ghosts so you can hopefully protect Rosie better will be in the next update

 

[DragonParadox]

Affairs of the Dead, Turmoil of the Living ​

11th of July 2006 A.D.

"Lucian of Cephaloedium," you say resolved to push things a long at least a little bit, to help where you can. Knowledge unused might as well be unknown.

"Pardon?" Father Forthil cuts himself off.

"That last Fallen, Thorned Namshiel, the name of its mortal bearer is Lucian of Cephaloedium. We that is my dad and I captured one of his confederates a few days ago and got the name." You wonder with an inner smile if this is how a faerie feels like when they lie without lying. It must make them really smug after a while.

Lost 1 Essence

"How sure are you of that fact"" the priest, or you guess you could think of him as the inquisitor, though that name conjures an image not at all like the kindly Forthil, asks, reaching for a pen and notebook.

"Certain enough to share it," you answer. "We, that is my dad and me, captured one of his underlings last Sunday trying to steal some sacred bones and he was... a a lot freer with his tongue than his master might have wished him to be, you know like a wannabe Bond villain." You briefly consider implying that you had roughed Gorfel up a bit for the information, but Usum is quick to point out that information gained under duress is actually less not more reliable than what you trick out of someone.

"A prisoner will lie as soon as tell the truth to make the pain stop," the demon says with chilling certainty. You do not quite have the heart to ask what side of that he was on, but he hears the thought anyway. "Both my princess, both."

How screwed up is it that I'm more upset at the thought of him being tortured than doing the torturing? You shake the thought off. Later I'll deal with it later.

Grabbing a piece of hard candy from a bowl on the desk you continue: "There's one other thing I wanted to ask you about, ghosts and spirits. I've er... heard that they often gather around hospitals and I have a friend in the hospital, she's not in a good place right now and she's sensitive to..." you wave your hand at the countless eyes of your still blazing anima. "The spiritual, she had nightmares about me being kidnapped, true ones."

Father Forthil is quiet for a while, gathering his thoughts maybe. "That is true, many dark things are drawn to hospitals, by the presence of fear and pain and hopelessness, by the nearness of death most of all. When dealing with spirits it is unfortunately very hard to be proactive. A ghost will be banished for a time with salt and prayers to the dead, but it's iron you would need against a malicious fey and prayers of exorcism and God's judgement against a demon. Ideally one calls upon those who can speak and bear witness to the dead, but a true medium us a rare thing."

"So all those people on daytime television are frauds?" You shake your head dramatically. "Shocking."

A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth, though it does not last for long. "Being able to see and hear the unquiet dead does not make for a happy life, they beg for help and often it is more than any man can do to help. Not to mention some of them are just angry and full of hate, they want others to hurt as they've hurt. There's a man here in Chicago, Mortimer Lindquist who can see and speak to the dead, other spirits as well I would imagine. He does seances."

"Real ones?" you ask doubtfully. Just because you can see the dead doesn't mean the specific ghost you want to talk to is hanging around to forgive an estranged relative for that one fight they had just before they died.

"Of late more often than not," Father Forthil explains. "I would not judge the man too harshly, his is a burden heavy as it is uncanny."

"And the fake seances are probably the ones that pay the bills..." you trail off. "Wait Lindquist? He wrote Ghosts of Chicago, didn't he? That is a good book with some cool history in it."

"I wouldn't know, he may have," he smiles at your enthusiasm. "Be sure to tell him I sent you if you do visit, ever since last Halloween he's been very worried about dark and uncanny things. Maybe you can help put his mind at ease."

I don't have any warding magic, but maybe I can give him some advice and he can give me some, that sounds fair. "Thanks for the advice Father," you say sincerely.

Heading home thoughts and plans swarm about your mind like a flock of magpies, each with a bright treasure in their beaks.

***​

12th of July 2006 A.D.

The next morning you wake up stretching luxuriantly in bed, the last of the soreness and stiffness had gone overnight leaving you none the worse for wear and ready to face a new day. As if in counterbalance to your good mood you hear mom scolding Daniel downstairs, never a good omen to hear her this angry this early.

Gained 4 Essence
All Wounds Healed

"...and another thing, what do you think I would say to the girl's father if he called and asked what you were doing alone with his daughter all night!"

"Mom!" comes the reply of one deeply maligned as you come downstairs. "Lydia and me weren't doing anything, we were at the party and then we crashed at her place because her folks are out, so we would not be waking anyone up. And no one is going to call you to ask about what I was doing on account of this isn't the eighteen hundreds where you needed to be sown into a sack to be alone with a girl."

"Lydia and I," Leech corrects cheerfully. You wince in sympathy for Daniel. There is going to be so much teasing about this later.

Do you try to distract Charity?

[] Yes, you're feeling generous
-[] Start talking about how you want to meet the ghost whisperer, that should make her only mildly annoyed
-[] Write in

[] Nope, none of your business, Daniel didn't even confirm he had a girlfriend to you before this, he's on his own

[] Write in

OOC: I hope the transition isn't too abrupt.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Shield in Need ​

12th of July 2006 A.D.

"So mom, I was talking to Father Forthil the other day and I asked him if he knew anyone who knows how to ward against spirits. Do you remember Mortimer Lindquist, he was on that show you liked, the Larry Fowler Show..." As it happens you know your mom hates the Larry Fowler Show and she thinks the host is a crass sensationalist asshole, but that is a believable mistake for you to make and it should hopefully... Yep she is rounding on you as if you had accused her of using store bought whipping cream in her Christmas sponge cake.

You owe me, your look says to Daniel behind her back as she goes off like a firecracker. "I don't watch that trash and you shouldn't either, anyone on there is a fraud out for a quick buck and their fifteen minutes of fame."

Not everyone... Would going off on a Harry tangent get her too angry? You wonder.

Apparently yes and also your powers seem to be really good at annoying someone just the right amount to get them distracted. You're not sure what that says about you.

Lost 1 Essence

"If Father Forthil says he is a real medium and a good person to know about ghosts than means he has to be at least a little on the level right dad?"

"I'm sure he knows what he's talking about," dad replies looking up from his pancakes... well more Hope's pancakes now since mom is distracted and Hope is still vague on the notion of plate ownership especially when she is hungry.

"Why do you need to know about ghosts anyway?" your mother does not let up easy.

"It's one more way to protect myself." She can hardly argue against that.

Not that she does not try of course, but changing tack to know valuable Mortimer Lindquist's time must be when she had just called the man a hack and a fame chaser doesn't really make a strong argument. Still she really does not like to concede an argument so she carries on well ast the point when Daniel had scarfed down his breakfast and scampered.

Another look. You so owe me.

You wonder if you can get telepathy among your other powers, that sounds convenient

***​

School passes swiftly as only daydreaming can carry it. You don;t think you answered in any class besides art and that because you had your last project of the term to hand out, City Landscape no. 199 you might as well have called it. If there is one thing your powers certainly had not enhanced it was your artistry. Still it's art, as long as you actually took the time to do any kind of homework done that puts you in the top half of the class. You have more interesting projects in mind for when you get home...

All through lunch you fidget, hands reaching for tools that aren't there, you hardly taste the food enough to mumble a compliment, the ideas like birds with wings of fire in your mind ready to take flight.

And you are out..."Dad can I use the workshop again, OK thanks."

Lost 2 Essence

The forges spark with eldritch flame, the wheels screech like the joints of a leviathan about the wake, the trip-hammer falls like a meteor of black iron down upon the composite, the molecules specifically designed for just this purpose. If you tried to make a weapon out of these they would shatter, if you tried to make armor plating out of them they would twist... and if you tried to make one big shield out of them well then they would probably do both and you would end up with a face full of shards.

This was not a normal shield.

The framework is spokes of hardened bronze splaying out from a central hub like the rays of an alien sun and the plates of dark composite like blackened silver are slotted on one by one, just the right size to push against each other and resist blows much heaver than even ordinary carbon fiber would take. But the real trick is in the middle. That isn't just a stud of solid bronze behind the starburst, it is a clockwork mechanism designed to wind in the span of thirty seconds or so and spring back at the push of a button. You fold the shield carefully, take a deep breath...

Showtime, it'll either work or literally explode in my face. Tellingly not even Usum tells you it won't explode.

You press the button and the shield unfolds like a deadly fan, it's edge sharp enough to score steel.

Gained Dark Sun Shield

• Parry difficulty reduced to 4
• Can serve as a throw weapon with the same characteristics as a dagger at need
• Anomalous Quality: Can be folded down enough to fit in a purse and unfolds in the same turn it is drawn thanks to the clockwork mechanism

"Score!" you toss the shield in celebration. Alas your throwing has not been improved as much as your sword fighting skills, but you hit the general area you were aiming for and not the window beside it. All's well that ends well...after you fix all the burns, cuts and chemical stains all over the workshop.

You can't wait to show dad what you made tomorrow...

As you open the windows again you realize it's late, like sundown already and you had not even realized it. Ah well you don't really need...

"Hey girl genius I saved you some casserole and ice cream from the rampaging jawas if you want some," Daniel calls from outside.

"Thanks, that's like... 1% of your debt paid," you say cheerfully falling into step beside him.

"Let's say I agree with your assessment, what am I paying the remaining 99% in?" he asks in half serious worry.

"Spill, who's the mystery girl whose bed you already reconnoitered?"

He goes from zero to tomato in no time flat. "I didn't... we didn't..."

"Sleep in a bed?" you ask innocently. "It's more comfortable than the floor I heard."

"You... you're terrible," he accuses, though his lips turn up in a reluctant smile.

"You've known me all your life and now you figure it out?" you ask archly.

"I slept on the couch," he mumbles, not that you really doubted him. Daniel had learned takes after dad in more than the color of his eyes or the way his smile shapes his face. If something more had happened you suspect he would be looking into buying a ring, common sense be damned.

He does get the story out, he met Lydia in karate class, where she is apparently 'really good' though you are inclined to take his judgement on the fact, just like his flattering description of her midnight black hair and perfect smile with a whole heap of salt. Her dad's apparently some kind of investment banker and he is never home, her mom is long since out of the picture, leaving her in the care of a revolving cast of au pairs and tutors and some really weird gaps in her experience. Like 'did not know what Mario was' weird.

"So daddy dearest didn't have the help chase you out with dogs, that's good at least," you joke. "Can I meet her?"

"You're grounded," he points out.

"I'm bored," you counter. "I'm going out to the clubs Saturday with Izzy, you can bring her along, we can all have fun."

"I don't know if Lydia would enjoy your idea of fun," Daniel hedges.

"She doesn't know what my idea of fun is like from what you told me, maybe she'll have a blast and if not you guys can bail I won't mind Izzy sure wouldn't." Honestly you would think all I do is go to raves.

"OK, I'm not helping you sneak out though," your brother says after a moment.

"Don't need it, I have magic," you reply instantly.

"You have sneaking out of being grounded magic," he laughs and shakes his head as if in wonder. "Only you sis, only you..."

"He is most wise to recognize your unique essence my princess," Usum concludes.

***​

13th of July 2006 A.D.

The thirteenth doesn't start off anymore unlucky than any other day, unless you count Hank knocking his eggs and bacon all over you, which you don't. Hank food related accidents happen to someone in the family at least once a week and now was just your turn. And then you get to school...

Gained 3 Essence (Cap)

You don't notice the people messing around at the third floor window, because who looks up when they are just out of their car and hurrying to class? You do notice the scream... and the freshman falling backwards out the window while his friends, phones still in hand look on in horror. He's gonna fall on that car, you realize and unlike the movies the hard metal roof of a car is more likely to break him than break his fall

How do you save the idiot?

[] Rush in as fast as yo can to catch him (Dexterity+Athletics; cannot Use Excellency)
-[] Write in stunt

[] Slice the roof off the car with one stroke of your sword allowing him to land on the soft seats (Dexterity+Melee; can use Excelency)
-[] Write in stunt

[] Write in

OOC: Normally there would also be an option to just let him fall, but that is not really in character for Molly

 

[DragonParadox]

Leaping Forward ​

13th of July 2006 A.D.

Dropping your bag to get both hands free you break into a dead sprint, sneakers pounding against the asphalt as you close the distance. A final stride and a leap take you off the top of an idling sedan as you jump, arms grabbing at the falling freshman as a part of your brain plots the least painful return trajectory for three hundred plus combined pounds of high school student.

"Ooh!" As it happens that involves grabbing him around the waist and swinging him around to bleed momentum, knocking the wind out of him. A lot less than he deserved to have knocked around for that tomfoolery, as your mom would say.

Lost 1 Temporary Willpower

You sit his dazed ass down on the car looking around to see if there is any mark on the car. With your luck it would be Mr Weis'. There isn't, but everyone in the parking lot sure did notice.

"How'd she get on the car?"

"The fuck, did you see that?"

"Holly shit, Carpenter."

You resist the urge to shout 'Language' at the last one only by dint of rounding on the freshman and carefully enunciating: "What on God's green earth were you doing?"

"Trying... trying to take a picture, you know a selfie," his voice breaks into a squeak on the last word.

Brushing some dust off his shirt, because your brain had apparently slotted him into 'hapless younger sibling' without asking your opinion you instruct: "Never try to take a selfie like that again unless you learn to how to fly."

He just kind of nods, not saying anything.

"That is called awe," Usum notes clinically from the back of your mind.

"Come on," you sigh, jumping lightly off the car before helping the kid down.

During the hour and a half's worth of questioning that follows first by the teachers, then by the school nurse then by officer Jones you have plenty of time to get acquainted. His name is Tim Andrews and he's new in town, new in school over this term, he claims the people with phones on the third floor were his friends. From the way he drops his gaze when he's questioned about them, you think there's a lot more pressure then friendship in there, especially since they are all older than him, but since they didn't fall out any windows and Tim is not going to point fingers they get off scoot free.

As for you, well you're a hero. Officer Jones even says you are likely to end up in the feel-good section of some paper.

"I'd rather not," you wince.

"Why not?" she asks looking at your funny. An African American lady with an accent that is more Chicago than Chicago she can't be more then five or six years older than you and she could not be more different than that asshole Greene when it came to questioning, though in fairness the circumstances were more favorable to you now.

"Because it's weird and uncomfortable," you give half the reason. Anyone would have done what you did and with your power it's not like you were ever in danger doing it. The other half of course is that you do not want to come near the unseen line of revealing magic. You hadn't done anything blatantly supernatural, but it must have looked at least improbable.

"Them's the breaks," she says sympathetically. "You had phones pointed right at you all through the thing. No way the news is going to miss the chance at that especially to pad out a slow day."

The two of you are alone in the room, the principal had decided to go do principal things and Tim was back in class. You decide to take a chance: "They were pushing him into leaning out that window, not physically maybe, but it amounts to the same thing."

"Noticed that did ya?" She gives you another quick once over. "You'd make a good cop, people with a good eye for trouble like that are rare, ones whose first instinct it is to rush in and help rarer."

"Wouldn't that make me a loose canon?" you joke.

"But damn it you'd get results," Officer Jones laughs as she finishes the other part of the old cop drama saw. She shakes her head. "You be careful now, I'd tell you to stay out of trouble but I don't think you'd listen."

"What about Tim?" you ask.

"Can't exactly arrest his 'friends' on suspicion of bullying, that's up to the school to deal with." She drops her voice a little. "Though between you and me if someone were to put the fear of God into the lot of them that'd probably work out fine too."

You nod, biting back a smile. It's the last week of school so it probably wouldn't do much good to deal out any instruction now for them to forget over the summer, but if they are still at it next year... well you have a good memory.

The rest of the day passes quickly in a flurry of impressed whispers and people who are trying a little too hard not to be impressed. At least Izzy and Alec are good about not bringing it up. Before you know it school's out.

***​

The Chicago Duelist's Association is not particularly large, but it is well respected in self-selecting circle of people who still hit eat other with broadswords for fun. Dad's an instructor on the weekends when he has the time so when he asks for the keys to the sale for a few hours on a weekday he has no trouble getting them. So the two of you make your way onto the polished wooden floor of the echoing mirror-fenced room, bag of clanking weapons in tow.

Dad brought plenty of swords, but he sets the Sword aside for this one. There is a part of you that really wants to see how you would do against that, but to do that you have to prove that normal steel just isn't enough.

How do you approach the first bout?

[] Defensively
-[] Write in stunt

[] Offensively
-[] Write in stunt

[] Write in

OOC: The Chicago Duelist's Association is made up, I'm going to try to keep a balance where the big national or international organizations are like in our world and the smaller you go the more divergent it gets so that when we get down to individual people they are all purely fictional.

 

[DragonParadox]

Lady of War ​

13th of July 2006 A.D.

Looking across he hall at your father, dressed in the same heavy padding as you, so different from the shining mail he wears as a Knight of the Cross you are reminded of all the times you had trained with a weighted practice sword. A middling student, but not an extraordinary one and without the drive to make up for the last, not since you found your magic and resolved that being a sorceress would suit you more than a warrior with sword in hand. Well you had been a sorceress, you had woven your sells and you had failed then descended into a place of nightmares from there drawing a sword beyond swords.

The two of you move as one as soon as the harsh buzzer rings, demonic forewarning barely enough to keep up with instincts honed by years of experience.

Weapons clang once, experimentally, almost in greeting, a smile cut from left to right... then again, faster and faster, as you twist and turn the practice blade end over end, giving way, then lunging forward. The faux sword should feel heavy in your hand, it should feel clumsy and in a way it is, but you use the weight and the momentum it gives you, use the blind spots of the padded helms as you never had before... you manage to get a point, two, three past your dad's guard in return. But points is all they are, you know. Had both of you been armed with steel and you intent to harm him the worst thing you might have given him through armor is a light bruise.

Pushing away hard from the last clinch you call: "I'll try attacking now!"

"Generally it's not a good idea to call these things Molly!" you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Maybe I'm lying," you quip as you circle looking for an opening... before giving lie to the those words, trying to jab and disconcert with quick thrusts that leave your wrist aching.

"That's bad form," your dad calls, parrying every strike. "You need to pull from your back."

"I heal gunshots to the chest dad," you counter "I'm not gonna sprain my wrist swinging a practice sword around."

"And therein lies some of the answers we have come here to find," he says before calling time. "You don't fight like you are afraid of getting hurt, I don't just mean consciously, I mean unconsciously, you don't flinch the way people do when the sword comes near your and neck or when it looks like it is going to land heavy."

"Huh..." you lower your sword. "So I fight like a vampire, or like one of those beserkers is they were't to angry to know what form is."

"You don't really have recognizable form either I'm afraid. Watch..." he quickly does a quick downward diagonal strike. Caught by surprise you just duck under the blow already bringing your body around for a full swing while his arm is extended.

"Most people use simple moves when caught off guard like a simple parry because those are the ones that are drilled into your muscles the most, not baroque full body turns. That looks..."

"What?" you ask when he cuts off.

"Seeing it in the mirror what it looks most like is stunt choreography, except with that you know where the opponent is going to be because it's staged. Are you seeing ahead?"

You think of that for a moment then shake your head. "Nope, just doing just comes natural..."

"That which is grand and glorious most befits the flow of your sublime essence," Usum speaks up for the first time in the fight.

"Although I do get better at fighting when I show off," you relay to your dad with a half proud half embarrassed smile. "My power thinks understatement is boring apparently."

"Boring is probably not the word..." he muses, his own smile fainter as he thinks. "But if its nature is to give dominion than what better way to find it on the field of battle than to draw every eye. Still predictability even one so grandiose can be a weakness. Can you resist it?"

"Sure," you shrug. For the next exchange you mirror his style, restrained, almost mechanical, like he is transcribing a book into kinetic form. One strike goes through, but the worst it would have done is pushed your arm out of the way for a follow-up.

"You were mirroring me, a useful skill to start a fight with," he advises. "If the enemy thinks they know how you fight that is half the victory. Harder to pull off if they are using a different weapon of course since form doesn't translate particularly well."

"Er.. dad I think I can use other weapons..." you do not need Usum to tell you this one, you just know.

"Which ones?" he asks glancing at the bag he had brought. You know he has at least passing familiarity with all of them, from warhammer to rapier to bearded axe.

"All of them, if its a weapon made by craft and cunning, one meant to be held in the hand I know how to use it." Briefly the words feel foreign in your hand, like you are translating from some other tongue, but the feeling passes like a dream.

No matter where it came from it is clear you did not boast in vain. You can use every single weapon in there as easily as you do a broadsword. According to dad the way you try to fight with a dagger is 'suicidal', though that may be the nature of daggers and not your strange battle-insight. "I've never met anyone who fought with a dagger as their primary weapon, that is a hold out, an off-hand weapon at most," he admits.

"Still," he sets the dagger in question back in the bag. "That got us some answers and ones that should help put your mom's heart at ease a bit..."

"Dad," you draw out the word just a little. "Aren't you forgetting something?" you glance at the sword. "I haven't used any magic and you didn't get to see my new shield."

He shakes his head "Amoracchius' calling is not the salle d'armes."

"Does that mean the knights never train against one another using the Swords?" you ask at once.

"No, we do," he admits reluctantly

"I have magic fighting powers, you have in your keeping a sword that evens the field against anyone you fight, that sounds like the opportunity to learn some stuff doesn't it?" You do your best to keep your tone reasonable.

Judging from his expression you manage it, still he hesitates. "It could hurt you..." he trails off, perhaps not knowing how to make the point without hurting you himself.

"Because of the stolen hell power," you finish bluntly. "If you are willing to trust my insights and I will note they have not been wrong yet... what does not kill me I can heal in time, even that."

Good job Molly, mention the word 'kill' to your dad, that is bound to make him want to spar, you are already kicking yourself but he just goes quiet for a long moment. Praying you realize after a moment.

The answer he hears in his heart is the one you had been hoping for. Your father walks over to where he had propped the Sword against the wall and flings it on his belt, then with a faintly musical tone that sounds to your ear almost jaunty the Sword of Love springs forth.

How do you meet the challenge?

[] Head on
-[] Write in stunt

[] Caution has served you well so far
-[] Write in stunt

[] Write in

OOC: Michael is s a bit more skilled than you, but your rolls have been slightly better compensating.

 

[Artemis1992]

If Molly's Exaltation remembered the Single Shining Point in the Void Style

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You look at the sword in your fathers hands, your own blade in the lower half of your field of sight.

Breathe in.

As you focus on the swords, all else falls away. You are nearly alone in the darkness.

Breathe out.

The line of not-steel that stands against you is held by a faceless figure, the white point closer to you is held by your will as much as any flesh.

Breathe in.

Your sword moves in a high thrust, aimed at the figure behind the bright blade of Amorrachius. The holy blade moves to block, but your body twists to the right, moving your sword but keeping the tip perfectly aligned to a point in the opponents shoulder.
You know, if there were a second blow, you would loose, having given up your footing and position utterly.

Breath out.

Time slows to your senses, the swords crawl closer to each other as Amorrachius still moves to parry and your nameless blade still seeks the target's shoulder.
You can see that you will hit, as the movement of your body brings your sword further to the right without loosing the alignment of the point, but you also know that you will hit only with a fraction of your momentum behind it, too much had been redirected to avoid the parry.

And so you watch as that single shining point touches its target.

And as time begins to flow again, your father stumbles back from a hit to the shoulder, the tip not even piercing his padding, even as you tumble to the ground from the near-jump you had made to bring your blade to the target.
This was propably not something to try in most real fights...


Just an Omake, of someone trying to imitate a Celestial Art without actually knowing it.

 

[DragonParadox]

To Teach and Learn​

13th of July 2006 A.D.

"Wait." You take off the heavy padding and tear off the helm. "What? It's not like I'm going to get into a real fight in this get up am I?"

Though your dad doesn't say anything his expression is telling. In the salle you wear proper protections, that was a mantra you had heard since your first lesson all bouncy thirteen years old that you were.

"Made my own," you say as the black mail gleams beneath common cloth. With a smile you reach into your purse and flips your shield open with a click of subtle mechanism, the arc closing in a couple of seconds. And yet if the shield closed with the speed of insight than the sword that is Usum is drawn with the speed of thought.

Lost 1 Essence

Guard up and mind set on the task you advance... you breathe and it is Essence not air that passes through your chest. Amoracchius like silver lightning rises to the defense, but from the way your dad's eyes widen you guess it's doing something he's never felt before and so you twist the blade this way and that and so you turn and so you strike, so fast that brass blurs in the air. Low and high, left and right, you pass his guard again and again, but frustratingly never with a blow heavy enough that it would be telling if it were for real.

When the attempts at parry had flowed into riposte you do not know, but when the blessed sword clashes with your own you feel it, not as you had been afraid you would, as fearsome judgement barely held in check. Instead you feel its namesake, love. Weariness echoes though the touch, heavy as the weight of long years and through it all relief that this time it is not used in deadly earnest, but only to temper and to train. Well was it named and heavy the task laid on it. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, for all that the knights have given for faith and for the protection of mankind the spirits in the swords have given more, for their vigil does not end in the span of one mortal life.

Lost 1 Essence

"What...?" your dad must have noticed your expression.

You shake your head. "I'm good, I just felt something, an impression from the Sword, let's keep going..."

Dad is not convinced, he stops and peers at you concerned.

"You said that Amoracchius is not the salle and that is true, but its calling weighs on it every bit as much as it does on its bearers. The sword of Love is alive and it loves. It remembers every hand that went slack on its hilt and every life ended on its point." Insight beyond mortality whispers in the back of your mind. "I think that is why Fidelacchius still rests and has not chosen a bearer, even sanctioned steel can only endure so much without rest."

"It just told you that..." Dad looks down at the sword his expression at once of sorrow and confusion.

"It was literally tapping against my soul like metaphysical Morse Code. think that is why I got impressions and no, it did not tell me the last bit, I guessed, but it feels like a good guess if you know what I mean." You pause. "It's happy to be in a duel that counts and yet one which is not paid for in blood."

"I never considered..." he shakes his head looking guilty

"Dad, it's a sword, of course you didn't consider it might be alive. Wired insights are not in your job description. If anything they are in mine," you conclude. "Come on let's go again."

Gained 2 Essence

Though he nods, granting the point you think he might still be distracted, the next exchange goes to you by a country mile, He'd be bleeding from his left arm and at best he would have a cut over his right eye that would make it hard to see, at worst he wouldn't have a right eye. Shaking off the way too vivid image of the damage you could have caused you go again.

Lost 1 Essence

This time you are not going go against dad at all, you are going to try something tricky, something you probably would not have been brave enough to try if you had not felt the sword and known it does not want to hurt you. You ask with blade and arcane cunning a simple question. What happens if you try to disarm a Knight of the Cross of his Sword?

You twist your way out of the clinch with more force than you should reasonably have... and you feel a pressure behind your temples, like the world itself rebelled against what you are trying to do.

I am not of this World, something in you rises to meet it... and Amoracchius flies from your father's fingers just as you had meant to.

"Was not expecting that to work, I really wasn't expecting that to work," you say a little stunned as you realize your inner reserves are a little lower than they had been a moment ago.

Lost 1 Essence

To your relief when the surprise clears off dad's face he looks at you with pride, maybe a little worry still but no anger. "When I took up the sword Shiro told me that only the greatest of powers can separate a knight form his sword even for a moment."

He doesn't have to say the rest, you are already thinking it. Be careful how you use it.

Introspection can only last so long. "Wait I want to try something, you try to get to it and I'll try to stop you, like body block you or something. I want to see if that burns Essence as well."

It does not, but you also just plain cannot do it. It feels like you are swimming against an riptide of fate and in a moment dad has the Sword again. You guess the lesson there is if you do manage to part a Knight form the physical Sword it does not part them from its power and any foe had best take their chance while they have it.

***​

Mom on the other hand is just plain weirded out by the fact that you had some kind of emphatic conversation with the Sword of Love, like she is afraid you might start talking to the mixer or the hairdryer given half the chance. You do not tell her that you could talk to them, but it would involve binding demons of the Wicked City into them.

Much of the reminder of the weekday is filled with last minute make up essays and projects, but you do snatch up a bit of time to look at what the internet has to say about the supernatural. What do you look for?

[] Signs of the big players, fey, vampires etc...
-[] Write in stunt

[] Minor talents in Chicago
-[] Write in stunt

[] Write in

OOC: To explain what happened there at the end, most people cannot disarm a knight, like you make the maneuver and no matter how good you are the sword says nope in a perfect defense. Beings of a certain weight class get to roll off against the Knight's Faith. I was not expecting your one die from Essence 1 to win against Michael's thee from True Faith 3. You also rolled Perception+Occult to get that insight on the Swords being alive and even with soul on soul contact you needed 3 successes, that is not an easy thing to learn.

 

[DragonParadox]

Inconspicuous Intermission ​

14th of July 2006 A.D.

Gained 2 Essence (Cap)

The very last day of term is filled with teachers giving speeches about responsibility and kids practically jumping out of their skin to cast it off on the altar of summer break. You wonder if like Pilate of Pontus they are just saying this so they can claim to have washed their hands of the lot of you when summer goes as summer does. Maybe you are being a bit too cynical, but that last chemistry essay was nonsense... and it wasn't even useful in in making bombs, much to Usum's disappointment. You'll just have to make do with more sedate technological projects for now.

"See you tomorrow," Izzy calls as you get into your car.

"Tomorrow, wear comfy shoes," you reply, part of you already daydreaming of freedom and what you are going to do with it.

Maybe you daydreamed too hard.

***​

The screen is bright with the colorful squares of way too many windows and your notes form small mounds of scribbled yellow paper all around the desk.

"So about those demons that can posses smart devices..." you send to your head companion, trying and not entirely managing to make it a joke. Looking for magicians on line turns out to be an exercise in frustration not because you get no hits, but because you get too many. Games movies, books, TV shows, plays you name it it's on there. Not to mention the sheer tangle of Wiccan Circles, neo-pagan revival circles and people who just like to dress like vampires. And that is just when you look at 'magic' but as Father Forthil's talk has reminded you miracles can mean 'magic I like'.

Using instances of 'Bock Ordered Books' on the other hand gives you a vast electronic wasteland punctured by 'did you mean ordering books?' No as it happened you did not mean it and you have never wanted to strangle a search engine so much in your life.

"You done?" Leech calls as she comes in with a tub of ice cream in hand.

"Oh I am so done," you gripe. Every single forum that even looked like it might have been promising is members only and email verification. Even though you make a burner email to use on them you don't have much hope of getting answers anytime soon.

"What'cha looking for?" you little sister asks between spoonfuls of cranberry ice cream.

Briefly, very briefly you consider enlisting her help, but there is no way to do that without telling her in detail what you are looking for and what leads you have. Mom would not take you teaching Leech where all the real occultists in town hang out well... really really not well.

"Just some people, turns out investigative work is not as easy as they make it out to be in the movies," you sigh.

"No montages in real life," she agrees, then motioning with the spoon. "D'you want some?"

Ice cream proves to be an imperfect salve for your failure but better than none

***​

15th of July 2006 A.D.

Saturday sets you on edge, it feels like mom hands you an extra helping of chores, just to see how you will react, to see if you are going to try to talk yourself out of being grounded. No doubt she has arguments already marshaled as to why ten days of study and going out with dad and saving a kid from breaking his neck falling out a window does not justify going out on your own. Joke's on her you plan do do it anyway and leave her none the wiser. You were this close to walking out the door when he made her ultimatum and while you don't regret your choice that night, you deserve a holiday of your own from it.

So that night you lay in your bed awake and listen to the noises of the house going to sleep, the faucet going with end of the day tooth-brushing, Amanda calling good night to everyone in part like the usually does. You wait until the clock by your bedside shows midnight, well past even the longest shows you mom and dad are likely to watch in bed. Weekend or no dad has to wake up early to deliver a commission tomorrow.

The shadows wrap around you like a concealing cloak, not a creak of the doors not a groaning of the floorboards to give away your plans. When you were younger your room was what is now Amanda's and the tall oak tree next to the window was your path to many unsanctioned nights out, but your mom had caught on and made you switch rooms.

You tuck your little sister more snugly in as you pass by her bedside, out the window and down the familiar way, more lightly than you had before.

What do you have planned for tonight

[] Clubbing, it has been way too long since you have been to a club and with your newly gained powers you could talk your way into the best clubs in town easy even with Daniel and his date in tow

[] Rollerblading, on the other hand you have been nostalgic for putting on skates as well and if you roped Daniel into this anyway why not take advantage of it. Izzy will probably be disappointed though

[] You could really go for a deep dish pizza. Head to Lincoln Park, they make really good ones there and the restaurants are open all night. You can all decide what to do from there

[] Write in

OOC: You guys can write in anything reasonable for 2006 Chicago, it can be a specific venue or just an activity.

 

[DragonParadox]

On the Town ​

15th of July 2006 A.D.

It's not too far to walk to Lincoln Park, the moon is out and the night is pleasant under the shadow of the rustling oak trees, so much so that you almost regret when you get close to your destination. The growing sounds of traffic, loud voices and louder music marking the nightlife of the city in full swing. The neighborhood is very trendy and in with both locals and tourists which means that you can find anything you might want along the bright lit avenues, fine dining and fine wine, music to suit every ear and if you know where to look people with little unmarked pill cases, joints and cigarettes of exotic provenience, maybe even worse things. There's almost a smell of wealth about the place, of money old and new, though if it be an aroma of affluence it cannot quite hide the scent of blood underneath.

Deep Dish Dave's Pizza Place is just across the street from where the St. Valentine's Day Massacre took place, which is what you had been looking for when you found the place. The actual parking lot where the shooting had taken place had been rather disappointing to the lurid imagination of thirteen year old you, but you had found a cool restaurant so it was worth it. The outside is red brick and oak with a decorative iron fence around the top and the inside is all polished wood and chrome with the delicious aroma of baking pizza wafting into the street.

"Molly, what took you so long?" Izzy asks, waving enthusiastically from the corner. Between the sparkly scrunchy emerald shirt and fluttery black skirt she looks like a pixie out for a real good time.

"Sneaking out of the house," you manage an eyeroll with the smile as you hug her, though you probably will not last long against her relentless good cheer. "Do you see Daniel and his date?"

Your brother is as punctual as usual, you spot him coming down the street in a white shirt and cream pants that make you instantly want to crack a joke about how it's the bride who should be wearing white, though your attention is quickly diverted to the girl on his arm. She is maybe a couple of inches shorter than him, pretty in a pale sort of way, accented by black eyeliner and dark red lipstick. Her hair is black with bleached white strands framing her face in contrast. As they come closer you notice the silver sparkle of ankh earrings. Points for style, you'll give her that.

Spoiler: Lydia

"Hi, you must be Molly," her voice is soft, her smile a little shy. "I heard a lot about you from Daniel."

"All lies I'm sure," you laugh. "Unless it's good things, then it's not lies."

To your surprise she stretches out a hand to shake, not seeming to notice, or care about the chill you bring into the warm summer night. She doesn't pull back her hand from your touch either. Weird.

"Supernatural weird?" you ask the demon in your head.

"Not necessarily, most mortals reject that which they do not understand, but not all. Some are drawn to it," he replies.

"You make it sound like she's into me," you send back shaking your head a little as the four of you head into the pizza place

"That would be somewhat awkward if I understand the social conventions of this age right," the demon sends back with what you are starting to recognize as humor dry enough to reduce the Pacific Ocean to salt flats. "Attraction can manifest in a less intimate manner as well magnificent sovereign of darkness . You recall what I said about cults yes?"

"Did you ever have a Chicago deep dish pizza before?" Izzy asks, thankfully drawing you out of the inner dialogue

Lydia shaker head head. "I've had pizza, but just the traditional Sicilian kind. My father is a bit... old fashioned about food, about most things really." She sounds a little defensive about it, not that Izzy notices.

"Oh man, you're gonna love this then don't go too crazy on the hot sauce though. I went and asked for the hottest they had one time and it turned out that meant 'too hot to taste anything else'."

"Perhaps that is a strategy then, if the customer asks for the hottest sauce they can save on the other ingredients," the girl jokes, drawing a laugh of course from Daniel, though you and Izzy smile as well. "And," she continues. "Since you are the one who asks to have your taste buds deadened you can't really complain what they feed you."

What do you try to steer the conversation towards while you eat?

[] Lydia's background, see if you can get her to talk about her family more

[] What everyone would like to do tonight

[] The odd and uncanny, maybe it's a bit blunt, but whether Lydia is not bothered by it or already part of it you want to know sooner rather than later

[] Write in

OOC: I know her earrings are not really ankhs in the picture, it's the closest I could find.