10457/Surprise Visists are the Best(

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Surprise Visists are the Best(
Date of Scene: 13 March 2022
Location: Martin and Jon's Suite
Synopsis: No description
Cast of Characters: Jonathan Sims, Lucy Blaze




Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jonathan Sims' living space is, perhaps surprisingly, not warded against magic. This oversight exists mostly because by the time he realized he /could/ do strong, effective wards he was spending his time in Grand Central Station during the angelic invasion of Manhattan. So /that/ space was well-warded against angels, but by the time he came home he was in no state to figure out how to do more general wards, nor to put them up. There's a ward over one bedroom, but it's more a ward against scrying than direct invasion. Admittedly, Jon tends to think of the Triskelion as inherently safe, even if he probably shouldn't.

    The living room of the suite is a comfortable space lined with bookshelves which carry a variety of volumes from poetry and military history to books on psychology and magical theory. The tops of the shelves are lined with potted plants, and more hang from hooks in the ceiling. There are throw pillows and crocheted blankets, and a spicy citrus scent in the air. The scent is coming from kyphi incense being burned on a small altar that holds statues of several ancient Egyptian gods, most prominently Ma'at.

    Jon, at the moment, is sitting on his living room couch with a brand new six-string acoustic guitar in his lap. His phone is on the coffee table in front of him, and he's frowning at a video showing him how to hold the thing, struggling somewhat with what to magical senses is obvious as an odd sort of prosthetic right arm. Despite looking just like the other arm, it stands out to mystic sight as not belonging. The man himself bursts with power as well, more than he probably realizes.

Lucy Blaze has posed:
Zealot is not one to normally just teleport into anothers' home. Or at all. Magic isn't something she generally enjoys using at all. But, there are times when it can be necessary. Say, when the person you seek to visit lives in the basement of an organization you'd rather not have tracking your movements. So in this instance, she makes an exception. Out of respect for the privacy of the inhabitants (as much as one can while teleporting into their home), Zealot chooses the communal living space to teleport into. Though in this instance it may perhaps be more startling, since Jonathan also happens to be right there.

Having a six-foot-tall woman suddenly appear in one's living room might be some men's fantasy, but perhaps not this particular man. She appears, leaning against the bookshelves, relaxed posture and no immediate appearance of weapons or armor. Instead she's dressed rather normally; black top, jeans, boots, short red leather jacket. Snow white hair cut into a pixie style close to her head. And perhaps the most closed off expression he will ever see. Even the bright blue eyes are a steel wall that offer no hints or insight to her person.

"Jonathan Sims?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon looks up an instant before Zealot actually appears, the burst of magic pinging on his senses before she actually appears. Given that Jon doesn't really /have/ fantasies the way many men do, six-foot-tall women suddenly appearing in his living room is more a cause for alarm than anything else. His immediate response is to conjure up a shield of shimmering blue light, which is rather impressive in its strength--but dissipates as it tries to fold itself over the prosthetic.

    "Bloody /hell/," he mutters, wincing at the backlash of his own magic failing on him. "I... yes, I'm Jonathan Sims, can I help you?"

    He doesn't /look/ like the leader of a mystic organization attached to the Justice League, nor the 'Savior of New York' or any of the other epiteths attached to him. He's blinking at Lucy rather owlishly from behind gold-rimmed glasses, the sides and back of his head are shaved leaving the rest of his curly dark hair to fall past his shoulders. He's wearing jeans and sneakers and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, one that looks old and worn enough that it might actually be from the UK tour in 1971. He doesn't look old enough to have been alive for that, despite the gray streaks in his hair, though. At least he's got the posh English accent, crisp and sharp. But he looks like he ought to be working at StarkTech rather than living in SHIELD HQ or claiming to be the leader of a group of mystics.

Lucy Blaze has posed:
"Ah, good. My apologies for... popping in like this. I wouldn't normally be so rude but you are rather difficult to catch alone and I'm not one to just lay my business out for a group," Zealot straightens from her lean and offers a nod towards him. The blue shield gets a lift of one brow before she murmurs, "..interesting.." then she's moving towards him, seating herself on the floor opposite the couch so they can converse more easily. "I am Lady Zannah of Khera. I am otherwise known as Zealot, to the costumed, masked, and otherwise brightly-colored brigades. I believe we can help one another."

She settles in easily, with the practice of one long-used to sitting on uncomfortable surfaces without complaint. She motions towards his prosthetic, then to him, "I believe I can help you with some meditative techniques that will allow you to more easily focus your will and control your arm. And in turn, I would like to apply for membership to the more mystical side of the Justice League, which I believe you are currently leader of?" Her brows lift slightly as she watches him.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks at the woman slowly and then his eyes go distant for a moment. "Lady Zannah of Khara... an alien, yes? I think? That's the implication I'm getting from my ancestors, but reaching that far back can be... troublesome. 'From the stars' would imply that, however." He considers her for a moment, then adds, "You're older than you look. Those memories are from the New Kingdom, some four thousand years ago."

    He turns and busies himself setting aside the guitar, placing it in a soft case that he leaves on the couch beside him. "I cannot channel magic through the prosthetic," he says as he does this. "The nature of the thing, where my husband got it... I can feel with it as normal, I can do fine work, though I'm needing to re-learn how to use the fingers. But the nature of the one who made it, even if they've since left that dimension, is anathema to where my own magic comes from. No amount of meditation or learning is going to overcome that."

    He looks back with a brief smile. "I'm quite capable of summoning up a magical replacement--but I can't feel anything with that. So this is for home and the magical one is for the field. However, membership in the Justice League Dark is not a transactional matter. The idea is to come together for mutual support, and to protect Earth from mystical threats. So the question is whether you're willing to, for instance, come to the Astral Plane to aid us in defeating Saint Michael the Archangel."

Lucy Blaze has posed:
"In your terminology, yes. Khera is the name of my homeworld. A small number of my people crash-landed here around four millenia ago, and we've been here ever since." Zannah gives a small nod as she cants her head at him, smiling ever so faintly. "We have been trying to protect the human race from the Daemonites since landing, though it has been no easy task. Your people make excellent hosts to them, it can make detection difficult. Especially with the growing number of mutants, metahumans, and other alien races that have been appearing here."

She looks at the prosthetic, then back to him, lifting both brows, "If you say so." She doesn't disbelieve him, he obviously believes what he's saying. But she clearly seems to think otherwise. Opinions differ! It does raise a curious point, however, prompting her to ask, "You can -feel- with the prosthetic? May I ask where it came from? Or rather, which dimension? I have seen technology do much, but that is fascinating."

Still, the next part catches her attention as well, one corner of her mouth tilting upward. Zannah gives a small nod and offers, "I'd be honored to join the fight. You'd be surprised how difficult it is to find a challenge after a certain amount of time has passed." She spreads her hands out to the sides and shrugs, "It is why I came here, to offer help. The membership was a request for application, not an expectation of immediate joining."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It was made by a former servant of the Old Ones, using magic. Thus, the energy ultimately comes from Nullspace, or the Anti-Matter Universe. I swore off using negative energy, which is probably part of why I can't use magic with the arm... the other reason being that I am an avatar of the goddess Ma'at, who is a personification of the concept of truth, balance, order, and justice." Jon smiles wryly. "I /just/ fixed the metaphorical plumbing of the universe so that souls would stop being fed to the Old Ones... I can't very well run around using my magic through a conduit that is so close to their power, can I?"

    He shrugs. "It is what it is. Nothing comes without a price. The price for this," he waggles the fingers of his right hand, "was my husband's second happiest memory and my ability to use magic easily while wearing it. It's a price I've decided I can accept."

    He sits back a bit, considering her for a long moment. "How did you hear about us? About me? And what can you do, besides showing up in people's living rooms unannounced?" He frowns, muttering something under his breath about needing to actually put up proper wards.

Lucy Blaze has posed:
"Interesting! Very well, I try not to mess with the Gods inasmuch as I can. Some of even older than I am, and that's saying somethimg," Zannah gives a raspy little chuckle, then nodding to him. She shifts her seating so her feet are flat on the floor with knees up, arms resting on them. "And I'm glad to know that we're not hastening the end of existence by feeding the Old Ones. I would feel bad if I'd known I was contributing to that."

She stays silent on the matter of what is an appropriate price to pay for the happiness of another, but then, Zannah's never really been in that position before. "If that is what you feel is appropriate, it's certainly not my place to question your judgment. You would know those risks and benefits far better than I." Lifting a small shrug, she lets that pass, too.

Both brows lifting, Zannah chuckles softly, "I've known for quite some time about this branch of the Justice League. That was as easy as being in certain mystical-friendly places and buying rounds for people that like to talk after a few drinks. You specifically was more difficult. That I didn't gain knowledge of until this most recent issue with the angels in New York. A lot more people were talking then. You can't do the things that have been done without names, descriptions, and deeds being talked about. At least not immediately. Give it a few hundred years and there will be a lot fewer that will remember. A few millenia and it will shrink to a handful." What she can do, that is a whole other bag of cats. "Did you wish a demonstration or simply a listing? And would you prefer I relegate the listing to only the mystical?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon chuckles. "I had an interview with Terry O'Neil of the Daily Planet... I was fairly certain I'd become better known. It's still hitting me, though. I have a rather... unique perspective on history. I know all too well that those we remember are not always the ones who performed the deeds claimed. Given everything else, I would hardly be surprised if somewhere down the line Batman is thought to be the Champion of Gaea and 'Savior of New York' and all the rest. I'd be lying if I said that I was entirely sanguine about that. Who doesn't want history to remember them? But just now I'm focused on making sure there's a universe left to worry about."

    He gestures with his left hand. "A listing is fine, and mundane alongside mystical. We may face mystical threats, but we do not always use magic against them. Red Robin works with us, the Titans helped figure out a scientific way to stop the angels, and my training as a psychiatrist and experience as a parent has been more valuable than my admittely questionable magical ability."

Lucy Blaze has posed:
"Mmm, I have no interest in being the next 'darling' of the press. Never have. Which is why I am quite careful to keep my name out of historical records as much as possible. As you said, things get distorted. And I have no more need for legend than I already have among my own people," Zannah lifts a small shrug and half-smiles, "But I will freely admit to being a minority in that respect."

She chuckles low in her throat, "I hope you have a lot of time, Mr. Sims. I've lived for 17 millenia, four of those being on this planet. There is very little that I've not 'dabbled' in across the ages." Zannah, draws in a breath, "I am a warrior, first and foremost, having trained extensively in nearly every fighting form known to man, as well as the strict warrior fighting style of my own people. It is not a brag to state that I am deadly with or without weapon in hand, though with a blade in my hand, there are few in this galaxy that could match me." She pauses, "I am an expert marksman, though guns are not a favored form of combat of mine. I prefer to be in the thick of things. I have a mastery over a number of subjects, we could likely swap stories about human history for weeks without running out of new things to speak on. Tactics, interrogation, athletics, acrobatics, stealth, technology, criminology, medicine, occultism, linguistics..." She lifts a shrug then moves along, "On the mystical side of things... I have natural psychic abilities that are enhanced by the magical tutelage I learned and refined for over a hundred years back around... 850 BCE. I've had time and effort since then to perfect my abilities. So. I am telepathic, and as for magic... I can create mystical blasts and shields, I can deflect and redirect magical energies with a thought, reconstruct matter at a whim, and my teleportation abilities have yet to find a limitation."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon listens quietly to all of that, quite attentively; he's clearly had training in active listening, in making sure someone feels heard. There's also a sense that he's filing everything she says away somewhere, in a personal cabinet with a new folder marked 'Zannah of Khera.'

    When she's done, he nods, eyes a little wide. "That sounds... more than useful, really." He's clearly impressed. "I'd have to consult with my counterpart, Phoebe, but... hmm. How's this: why don't you come with us on our next foray into the Astral, and we can see if you work well with some of the core members of the Justice League Dark. We've had several people come 'round and sort of nominally sign up and not stick around, and we've had... personality clashes. Not that I think you'll be a bad fit; far from it. But I feel like maybe just getting out in the field and seeing how things work might be the best idea."

    He tilts his head, and then says, "Meaning no offense, and admittedly this is, ahh, more due to my own..." He hesitates. "In my experience thus far, people who have as much... experience as you have some difficulty following the lead of... well, Phoebe's barely an adult by human standards, and I'm 34, however old the Archive is. It's been a potential problem in the past; we're often seen as children to those who have lived so long." He smiles. "I myself have little problem following the lead of a child when I'm in their space, but I know many... do have issue. So, in saying that the leaders of the Justice League Dark and 34 and 18... can you handle that with equanimity?"

Lucy Blaze has posed:
"17 millenia is a long time to hone one's skills and abilities, Mr. Sims. And my people have shown no sign of being anything but immortal, barring death, of course. Which reminds me, I should mention that I am stronger, faster, more durable, have sharper senses, and an extended vocal range from the usual human. And what I can't shrug off will heal quickly. So. If it comes down to damage, please, allow me to take the front position. There's little I cannot deflect, absorb, or ignore. This is not my trying to place myself in the limelight, but simply to protect those of you who are not as... hard to harm." Zealot throws the rest of that out as an afterthought, lifting a small shrug. One of those things she's had since birth, so it took a moment for her to remember she should probably mention it to him. "I cannot say that I am on the same physical level as Superman or Wonder Woman for sheer strength, but I can more than hold my own."

Lifting both brows, Zealot chuckles softly and murmurs, "Mr. Sims... I have been a leader for a very, very long time. But the best leaders know when to step back and let another take the reigns. This is your team, not mine. And we are dealing with an enemy that yourself and Miss Phoebe have more experience in handling. I have no issue with following orders, regardless of who is giving them. Or their age. I will offer suggestions if I feel I have something relevant to add, but in the end, it is not my decision." She quirks a faint smile, "Should we go seeking Daemonites, I might suggest allowing me to take charge for that particular mission, but otherwise I defer to yourself and Miss Phoebe."

One last thing occurs to her, however, and Zealot grows solemn once more, "I should mention that I have a strict warrior's code that I follow... the Coda. It does not allow me to withdraw from a fight once I've engaged. So that is something to keep in mind before picking fights. Once I've joined, it will last until I am dead, or the enemy is."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon nods, her statement reagrding leadership clearly drained a tension out of him that might not have been apparent. "Given that I've never heard of a Daemonite I'd be quite willing to follow your lead in that instance. I'm not concerned with being in charge so much as..." He considers a moment, then says, "A clear chain of command. Dealing with mystics is sometimes rather like herding cats. Imagine, a group made up of people who regularly tell the laws of physics to get bent can sometimes have issues with authority." He smirks, briefly.

    The mention of the warrior code gets a blink and then a slow nod. "I've known some who had such codes. You cannot accept a surrender, then? Must you pursue an enemy who manages to disengage?" He raises a brow, curiously.

Lucy Blaze has posed:
Zannah gives a low chuckle and shakes her head, "I have an ego, pride... but I've had a very long time to temper that with will and discipline. Much as I might like to think I know everything... I don't." She gives a swift nod of agreement to his statement, "Exactly. And... yes. Which is why I've taken so long to reach out to this particular group. I'm aware of how... aggravating... it can be to deal with such individuals."

She blinks, then shakes her head, "No, I can accept a surrender from the enemy, but it has been a very long time since one has done so. An enemy that runs is an honorless coward, not worth a warrior's death. I've gone back and hunted down some of them, if they are dangerous enough to warrant it, assassination is not beyond my scope. But if they pose little further threat then they are allowed to live out their years with the weight of their cowardice hung around their necks." Zannah lifts a shrug, "-I- cannot withdraw from a battle until it is done, but should the enemy choose to disengage or run, the battle is over."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon nods slowly. "Right," he says. "Good to know. I could argue with you about the value of tactical retreat... but I prefer my battles won before they start. And, admittedly, my battle experience has been less in the nature of single combat than it has been leading troops; the one time I've had to retreat was because I was a fool and didn't plan properly, and the enemy offered mercy." A pause. "We proceeded to soundly trounce him in every engagement since then, so I think it was the right decision."

    Notable, perhaps, that he says /he/ was a fool but /we/ succeeded. Clearly he believes one should shoulder blame but share credit.

    "Do you have any questions for me?" He lifts a brow. "I have no idea what rumors say about us, or our former incarnation as the Night Brigade."

Lucy Blaze has posed:
Nodding her agreement, Zannah rises up to her feet and offers a slight bow towards him, "At the risk of sound arrogant... you also didn't have me with you. I do have a way of.. turning tides." She smiles faintly, a touch self-deprecating, poking gentle fun at her own statement. Lifting both brows to his question, she gives a small shake of her head, "Not at the moment. I believe I have a fairly good grasp on what it is that this branch of the Justice League does, and I look forward to working with you all." She glances around the living room, then back to Jonathan, "I should probably pop back out before someone sees me, or my 'pattern' pings on a system."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs. "Given that our opponent quite literally created the universe and explodes upon dying... it's hard to say. But perhaps so. We shall see, I suppose."

    He nods as she stands and prepares to go. He stands himself, almost subconsciously. "How can I contact you? I never know if people have, you know, cell phone numbers."

Lucy Blaze has posed:
"There's a lot of universes. I'm pretty sure he didn't create all of them. And... I teleport. So we'll have at least five seconds between stabbing him or cutting off his head to get out. I've worked with worse odds," Zealot lifts a shrug, seeming largely unconcerned. She pauses, then glances back to Jonathan, "I presume he has the same invulnerabilities as someone like Superman?"

To the other question, she nods and pulls a cellphone from her jacket pocket, holding it out to him, "Go ahead and put yourself into my contacts and send yourself a text?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "He did not," Jon replies, as he takes the phone and inputs his number along with 'Dr. Jonathan Sims.' "Just this one. But he's, ahh, far, /far/ more powerful than Superman. He still holds the Demiurgic Force he used to create the universe, alongside what he ripped from his brother after the Fall. We're engaged in a 'game' of sorts, however, so there are rules in place that limit his power; I actually managed to destroy his physical shell myself, once, and then contained the blast. I don't have that power anymore, but he's been sealed away from the physical plane."

    He hands the phone back over. "Fortunately if he explodes he won't create craters or revive his angelic army anymore because he doesn't /have/ said army. Sheer force won't win the day, though. The purpose of our conflict is to convince him to give up the Demiurgic Force and go back to guarding the Gates of Heaven." He smirks. "Harder than it sounds. And because he's a warrior... sometimes it /does/ involve conflict."

    He sends off a text and adds, "He killed me, actually." A pause. "Obviously, I got better." He hands the phone back over. "I'll be in touch, the next time we're heading into the Astral Plane."

Lucy Blaze has posed:
"I carry a sword that has been so well-crafted, so finely made, that it cuts at the subatomic level, Mr. Sims. It was designed to absorb the heat of a thousand suns, to shave the rough edges off an electron. I think I can keep him beaten down until he's ready to talk," Zannah flickers a faint smile, taking her phone back and tucking it into the pokcet it came out of.

"Congratulations on your return from whichever land of the dead you visited. I'll look forward to hearing from you. And good luck with the guitar," Zannah gives him a nod before disappearing on a blink.