10941/Liquor and Legends

Liquor and Legends
Date of Scene:	28 April 2022
Location:	The Velvet Room
Synopsis:	Lydia and Jon catch up on some things now that things have quieted down in the aftermath of the Angels. Special guest star appearance by Cael.
Cast of Characters:	Lydia Dietrich, Jonathan Sims, Cael Becker

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Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia spent the last hour wandering the halls of the Velvet Room, exploring the labyrinthine halls the Justice League Dark now called home. It makes about as much sense as anything in the Astral does. It has a logic of its own that, once you get a hang of, becomes easy to navigate. She makes her way back to the Velvet Room itself and settles into one of the comfortable plush chairs.

    She pulls out her phone to check her messages, and is about halfway scrolling through her emails when she suddenly realizes that.... her phone is connected to wifi. Exactly /how/ this is possible is kind of mind boggling. Somebody much better versed in the astral plane and cellular technology could probably explain it.

    Shaking her head she opens up her text messages and starts typing out a text: <Guess where I am? Velvet Room. Guess who has cellular service here! This vampire. Come on up and meet me for drinks.> She giggles as she presses 'send' to send it to Jon. He'll get a kick out of that.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    So the funny thing about this is that Jon was /also/ in the Velvet Room, but in his case, he was in the library. The Velvet Room has an expansive library, probably magical, and let's be honest--even if he wasn't looking at the books, Jon just prefers to be in library-esque surroundings most of the time. Even his own home is lined with bookshelves in every available space.

    At any rate, he's just finishing a very close re-reading of Through the Looking Glass, using a conjured pair of chessboards to play through the game in the story as a game of Alice chess rather than normal chess, in the hopes this might jog out /some/ sort of thought about what in the world is going on in Titans Tower, when his phone beeps. He takes it out and looks at it without really thinking about how improbable that is.

    Then he blinks.

    In a moment, he's coming out of the library (which is off the main room) with very wide eyes. "We have cell service here. What in the world...?" He shakes his head as he makes his way over to the bar, closing the door behind him. "This place is... something else."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "I know, right?!?" Lydia says with a huge grin, waving her phone at Jon. She gets up off the chair and makes her way over to the bar herself. "I have no idea how it could possibly work," she says, taking a seat next to him, "but it does." She gives an exaggerated shrug and says, as if this answers everything, "Magic."

    She takes a moment to rest an arm on the bar and get a good look at Jon. It's been a while since they've been together when nothing else is going on and just /hung out/. She takes in all the changes that's happened over the past year, especially since his return to the Duat and finds herself smiling.

    "You smell different," she says suddenly, but fondly. "Sandalwood and ink, with a hint of clove. It suits you." She grins and averts her eyes, "I mean, it's not /literally/ that. But that's how it translates in my brain."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon pulls a hairband out of his pocket and idly pulls the fading violet curls up into a bun at the back of his head, stopping midway to blink at Lydia. There /are/ significant differences--the glowing emerald arm replacing his right not least of all--but a lot of it's subtle. He wears jeans more than slacks now, Converse sneakers more than loafers, but despite the casual attire he's more confident and less given to hunching, which makes him seem taller.

    "Sandalwood and ink and clove?" they ask as they finish putting their hair up. "What was it before?" It's a tone of curiosity. Also long-gone are the days Jon was actively afraid of Lydia. Vampiric senses are just part of her, now.

    He reaches out to grab a bottle of whiskey. "You like Manhattans, right? I've been trying to practice a bit, though I'll admit to cheating; my great-grandfather moonlit as a bartender. Turns out to be a great way to get people to talk to you, as Archivist."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "The ink wasn't as pronounced, and the sandalwood was more oud-y," Lydia answers. "Probably because when you got your new body you were more accepting of your role as the Archivist than before. In general, you're more at ease in this one. The differences are subtle, but if you've got a sharp eye... or a sharp nose.... you can pick them out. Death'll do that to you."

    She bobs her head, "A Manhattan would be lovely," she says. "But I just don't see you as the bartender type. Maybe the kind of a bartender at the kind of a bar that you would see in a film noir, but they don't make them like that anymore."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon grins. "That's precisely the type my great-grandfather was. Serving stiff drinks to hard men and harder women, all washed in sepia tones--except with British accents, of course. Well, aside from the stint he did in France between the wars." A sigh. "All the predecessors that lived very long wind up seeming like people out of a movie. I've got a ways to go to catch up. I suppose I /am/ more at ease, but I can't quite fathom what I'll wind up seeming like."

    He pauses a moment, recalling the recipe, then starts to measure out whiskey and vermouth and a dash of bitters. "How've you been, now that everything's quieting down? Catching up on that book you wanted to write about the... war? Was it a war? I don't know what to call it. 'That time an archangel messed with us'?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    A faint glow serves as the only warning as a door set into the wall swings open - allowing massive white dog through, followed by a massive grey dog - and only then followed by Cael who speaks in a scolding tone. "Lady, come." The errant pup skids to a halt - hurrying back to Cael, while Bear ceases in his play to let out a quiet growl. "Bear, you too. Come." Once she has both dogs in hand she puts her hands on her hips, staring down at them both. "Lady - home. Go." She points back through the door - and watches as the younger of the two dogs slinks off. Cael closes the door after her, and fixes Bear with a stern look. "As for you - we like Lydia. So be nice, alright? Geeze. What's getting into you? Heel, Bear."
    That excitement handled - she finally starts her way towards the bar, smiling at Jon and Lydia as she takes a position on one of the bar stools - leaving Bear to plop down at her feet - the pup's eyes trained onto Lydia warily.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "Yeah." Lydia turns in her stool to watch Jon go about the motions of making a Manhattan. "It was a war. People fought. People died. Lines were drawn in the sand and were crossed. To call it anything else would be a disservice to those who gave their lives defending Manhattan."

    She takes the Manhattan once he's done making it and takes a tentative sip, giving it an appreciative nod. "I'm still working on it. Almost done, though. I just need to get your statement on how it ended, and then I'm going to go and talk to Michael. It's as much his story as it is ours, and he should have a chance to let his voice be known."

    "If I'm to be honest, I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it when I'm done," she says thoughtfully. "I'm not entirely sure I want to publish it. So much of it is personal to us, and it feels like opening our hearts for everybody to see, and I wouldn't do it anyway without everybody's express permission to do so."

    "But on the other hand, what happened... it's /important/." She scowls as she takes another sip of her drink. "Biblically so, so it /needs/ to be written down and preserved so that future generations won't forget what we fought for and what sacrifices we made." She laughs and shakes her head. "I've been calling it the Book of Lydia for want of a better title. How's /that/ for hubris?"

    Cael's entrance interrupts her train of thought, and she turns and smiles at the dogs antics. "Who's your new friend, Cael? Lady, was it?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It just feels so strange, you know? 'Back during the war.' Gods, we can't be... /war heroes/, you know?" Jon makes a face while he stirs the contents of the mixing glass, then pours them through a strainer into a cocktail glass and garishes with a cherry. He slides the drink over to Lydia.

    He peers over and up at the balcony as the entrances door glows, and adds his own, "Lady, go /home/," to the mix. Aside to Lydia, "That's my dog. Mine and Martin's. She's going to be bigger than Bear when she's grown." For a man who didn't /want/ the dog, he sounds awfully fond. "She's probably just looking for me. We're moving back to Manhattan so things have been in a ruckus lately. Hey, Cael, d'you want a drink? I'm practicing."

    Since he's already got the whiskey and bitters out, he grabs some sugar from behind the bar to muddle with the bitters and starts making himself an old fashioned. Where does all of this come from? Better not to ask, probably. "I'll be glad to sit down with you whenver you like. And I mean... a lot of the books of the Bible are named for the authors, so why /not/ the Book of Lydia?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Yes you can, Jon," Cael remarks with amusement. "And there's film footage on national and international news to prove it. 'Jonathan Sims: The Archivist, facing off against the forces of the Angelic Host.'" She's remarkably calm about it at the moment - now that it's finally all behind them.
    "I'm between bottles of whiskey," she remarks. "And this was easier than going shopping," she explains with amusmenet - beckoning Jon over so she can give him a brief kiss by way of greeting. "If you wanted to make me something that's whiskey-forward as practice - feel free. Nothing sweet, though."
    Her attention shifts to Lydia as she adds, "Her full name's Lady Grey - because Martin, of course. And- well. I suppose I'm not front and center in the book but- I think it ought to be available, somehow, because you're right. What happened was important. Maybe... there's an abridged version, and the unabridged can come out... posthumously? You know, in a hundred years, when all of us but yor, yourself, are gone."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "It's worse than that," Lydia says with a sly grin. "We're /mythic/ heroes that they sing ballads about. Especially /you/. You died, went to the Duat, convinced the Gods that you were a pharaoh, and went and got yourself reborn. That's Orpheus level shit right there. Like I said.... biblical."

    Lydia nods her appreciation of Jon's handiwork. "Not bad, not bad at all. It's a bit hard to screw up a Manhattan, though."

    She considers Cael's suggestion for a moment. "I don't know how I can abridge it so that people can't figure out who the major players were. There's video footage of us all over the place doing our thing. There's even one out there of the Rite that grew the Great Ash."

    Now there's a thought. "I think I'm going to /have/ to publish it. Already with all the videos that's been uploaded to Youtube, and anecdotal essays that people have been written, people are bound to make their own narratives out of what happened. People are bound to twist things out of context for their own agenda."
    

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon stops in muddling the sugar and the bitters to stare at both Cael and Lydia. "No. No! There is not. There won't be. There /can't/ be. I mean... someone did stop me on the street the other day asking for my autograph, but you'd think that'd happen all the time, if it was that... much." Then he shakes his head, sharply. "Anyway, if it /is/ that, then it's hardly /just/ me. It... I..."

    He furrows his brow, then pours whiskey into the glass and puts in an orange zest and cherry. He tastes the drink, hums softly, then puts it aside and grabs lemon juice, mixing it with whiskey and syrup in a strainer. "It didn't feel biblical at the time. It doesn't now. Not to me. It was just... I was going to die, and there was nothing for it, and I refused to just sit around and accept that when I had a family and friends. So I did what I had to do. /We/ did what /we/ had to do--I mean, /you/ grew the Great Ash, and Terry got Michael to give up with a bloody musical number."

    The drink--a whiskey sour--gets poured out of the strainer and into a glass and handed over to Cael. "You're probably right, about the book. Best to at least have our version out there. Not /the/ truth--Truth is harder to get at. But /our/ truth, you know?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "That's not what I meant by 'abridge,' Lydia," Cael replies with amusement. "I meant more like - well, like how the diary entries about Anne Frank having her period were left out when the book was published. You could give each person the parts that are about them - and let them tell you if there's anything that makes them uncomfortable. And see if there's a way to obscure those facts without damaging the truth of what happened." She gives a shrug of her shoulders as she says this - it sees simple enough to her. Though it could end up being a massive amount of extra work for Lydia.
    After a sip of the drink Jon passes to her, she gives the man an amused smile. "You're a big deal, Jon. That's just the way it is. But when all those groupies come after you - I'm going to tell them to fuck off. You're mine." She takes another sip.
    "Oh and Martin's."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "I hate to tell you this, Jon, but that's how heroes are made." Lydia gestures to the door to the library, "You've read enough. Nobody /sets out/ to be a hero. It's just some random schmuck who has the courage and determination to do what needs to be done in the face of great opposition and somehow manages to pull it off."

    "And, yes, you're not the /only/ hero of the story," she concedes, "but if you look at it from an author's perspective, /you're/ the one that goes on the heroes journey. The call to adventure, and all that. If this was a narrative about a single person it would be about /you/," she says jabbing a finger at Jon.

    "But it's not. It's about all of us. It's about humanity. It's about Michael, and The Presence. It's about Ammit having a severe case of indigestion." She grins, "I'm doing my best to capture it all. I want it to be /the/ truth, Jon. Or as close to it as I can get. As close as any human... well, human or vampire... can manage to get. I'm not writing this to aggrandize our exploits."

    She nods at Cael. "Yeah. That's a lot of people that I'd have to go through, and a lot of rewrites, to make it coherent. But probably a good idea."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon almost drops his glass at the mention of groupies, but covers for it by saying, "I'll tell Martin you /deigned/ to share me with him," with a smirk. Groupies, though. Gods help him. What would /Jonathan Sims/ do with /groupies/?

    Then he glowers at Lydia for a moment before sighing. "I suppose I just... I balk at that characterization because... well... when it all first came to light, the 'Champion' business, some people... got upset. Insisted it couldn't be true, couldn't be me, that I'd fail. Some people turned away. So I tried to... insist it's /us/, because it /was/, and it /is/. I cared a lot more what people thought about me at the time."

    They frown thoughtfully. "I guess there /was/ the 'refusal of the call' and the dying and coming back and literally meeting and merging with the Goddess. Ugh. I /hate/ Campbell and the 'hero's journey,' the whole thing's so... so... stereotypically /male/. I'd hate my life story to read like Demian, full of philosophical insights that treat women as an afterthought." They make a face.

    After a moment, "I think if anyone can capture the breadth and scope of it, though, you can. I mean, look, maybe I'm a big deal /now/, though I really don't know how much of one. I mean, it's not getting me free tickets to Broadway shows, you know? Wouldn't get me in the door at the Hellfire Club." He smirks. "But with the Archive in here I just... look, you know who's a big deal?" He nods at Lydia. "Hatsepshut's a big deal. Three and a half millenia on and we still know her name, if many of the details of her life have been lost. So come back in a few thousand years, see if anyone remembers the Archivist, let alone Jonathan Sims."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Just make sure there's something about Amit in that book. The boy... deserves at least a mention. He was- He was a good kid. The fact that he's not still here - it's what I regret the most about all of this." Cael's expression is solemn, and sad. It always is when she recalls her former assistant. She always tries to think of what she did wrong - what she could have done differently to save his life. He was just a kid.
    She doesn't linger in the moment, though as she smirks at Jon in amusement. "You do that. Martin and I came to an understanding months ago." After another sip of her drink she adds, "You've never treated me as an afterthought. I'm fairly certain you're incapable of that sort of... idiocy."
    She pauses a beat before adding, "Who the hell is Hatsepshut?"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lyida holds Jon's gaze for a moment. "I'll remember." She reaches out and takes their hand, giving them a gentle smile. "How could I ever forget somebody like you?"

    Cael's question elicits a snort from the vampire. "Hatshepsut was one of a few female Pharaohs of Egypt. She ruled at around 1500 BCE, most famously is depicted wearing a false beard to affirm her legitimacy." She gives Cael a grin, "If you want to know more, you can ask her yourself, you know. She's still around. She's my Sire, my mentor, my grandmother."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks at Lydia's statement and smiles softly, almost shyly. "Thanks. That... means a lot."

    After a moment, he comes around the bar to give Cael a side-hug with his real arm, while the emerald glowy one holds his drink. "Amit's statement is in the Archive. We'll make sure he isn't forgotten." He sighs. "He'd have believed we were a big deal. He though we were a big deal back then, too. He was so proud he killed an angel."

    A shake of the head, and Jon adds, "I'd like to meet her, some time. I have a /lot/ in here about history, but the oldest bits are the hardest to access, and it's all from a singular perspective, you know?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael leans into Jon's presence, wrapping her arm around them in return, seemingly perfectly at ease - even with Lydia there as a witness. "He wanted to do his part," Cael remarks with quiet pride in the boy. "He did do his part." More than.
    Her attention shifts to Lydia next - uncertainty in her gaze as she asks, "Why did she make you a vampire...?" Lydia was a known quantity. She'd proven herself trustworthy. But //other// vampires? They can't all be trust worthy. ...can they?

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "I'm pretty sure I can arrange it," Lydia tells Jon. "I have to meet up with her soon, anyway. We hadn't talked much during the whole crisis, but now that that's died down I want to check in."

    Her attention is drawn to Cael's question, and a frown tugs at her lips. "It was either that or let me die," she explains. "Vampires have clans.... cliques of likeminded vampires that usually share a common bloodline. Not every vampire is part of a clan, mind you. Just a bunch of us."

    She waves a hand to dismiss that train of thought, "Anyway, Hatshepsut's rival clan has been doing everything they can to bring her under their control, ever since she broke out of it when they turned her. She's been protecting her bloodline for millennia, since every once in a while one of us will be born with power. Thus my magic."

    "This time their great plan was to kidnap me and turn me into one of /their/ vampires, so I could be under their thrall." She shakes her head. "Depending on the bloodline, a bond is formed from sire to childe making them easy to command and control. Eventually one gets strong enough to break out of it, but that could take hundreds of years."

    "In my case," she continues, "after they kidnapped me, Hatshepsut, Mystique and Clarice, three people I care about most deeply, came to my rescue, but a little bit too late. They had started the process to turn me. They'd drained me of all my blood, but instead of finishing the job and risk a straight up fight with a thirty-five hundred year old vampire, they just abandoned me to die."

    She pauses a moment to take a sip of her Manhattan. "When they got there, Hatshepsut give Mystique a choice. Let me die in peace or raise me as one of the undead which... let's face it. It really isn't much of a choice. So I was turned. /Fortunately/ it was with a bloodline that doesn't abandon their humanity."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's heard the story, but he listens again with a grave expression, arm still settled around Cael's shoulders. "It was good to hear that you and Clarice and Raven had... reconciled about all of that a bit. I remember a few months back you told me nobody would... talk about your death. I hope they are, now."

    He takes a sip of his drink, and answers Cael's unspoken question, "Most vampires give up their humanity, as Lydia noted. With Moon Knight and the Heliopolitans we had to fight an offshoot of the clan that attacked Lydia, that had taken on snake-like qualities. The Uraeans. But I get the sense it's not... inevitable? There's another member of the Justice League Dark, Jubilation Lee... she hasn't been around for a while, but she's a vampire too, and so far as I know still not killing people."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "It sounds terrifying," Cael remarks gravely. She still thinks of Lydia as 'Jon's friend' - at least in part because she's so slow to welcome friends into her life. Still - doesn't mean she can be rude to the woman. "I'm sorry you have to endure that. I never realized- well. I mean, all I 'know' about vampires is... that Interview with a Vampire movie, and the Twilight movies." Of course she's seen them - she was 12 when the first one came out.
    "I'm glad it didn't go worse than it did."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia nods in agreement. "Sadly, yes. Most vampires abandon their humanity. Some aren't given a choice, some don't have the will or the desire to fight their Beast.... the... vampire part of you. The instincts that you're given to make you a predator. It's a bit much at first and can easily overwhelm you."

    "But there /are/ good ones out there. Myself, Hatshepsut, Jubilation, as you so noted," she says, nodding to Jon. "I met one a few months before I was turned, myself. Blake. I believe she's one of the good ones, too, but wasn't always. I wouldn't go trusting every vampire you meet, but leave some room to be open that we're not all that bad."

    "I hope that I don't turn bad as I get older, that I don't abandon humanity like so many others do," she says, sounding introspective and sad. "I can see why it'd be easy, though. Watching everybody you love grow old and die while you stay timeless. It's just.... take Bear, for example," she says giving the pup a friendly smile, but still keeping her distance. "He'll be with you for a good fourteen years or so and you'll cherish every moment with him. Eventually he'll pass, and you'll mourn his loss. But, also eventually, another dog will come into your life and you'll love them with all your heart."

    Her eyes widen as she suddenly realizes the implications of what she said. "Oh!" she squeaks, covering her mouth with her hand. "I... I didn't mean to imply that I view humans as pets. I'm just saying that.... I'm going to outlive you all, and just because you'll eventually pass it doesn't mean I shouldn't care."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon actually /gasps/. "Oh, /Cael/. Oh, this won't do. I'm certain the library has a copy of Dracula. You /must/ read Dracula, the original, at /least/." His eyes narrow as he peers at her. "...Have you read Frankenstein? H.G. Wells? I'm going to have to come up with a list, aren't I?"

    A pause, and then, "Look, at the /least/ Dracula, and then Pratchett, because you'd /like/ Discworld."

    Then they smirk at Lydia. "It's alright, we understand what you meant. Better pets than livestock." They're /grinning/ now. Teasing, clearly.

    After a moment, more soberly, "We will all, if we live long enough, lose many people we love. It's important to have a... healthy way to deal with the loss, and move on. It's fine."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Oh God. She's being plied with books. "Well, gee, look at the time," Cael remarks - lifting a watchless wrist and looking at it. "Sara's expecting me. We were going to, uh, ride our motorcycles together." Yup. That's her story and she's sticking to it. She pushes away from the bar, Bear rising to move with her, as she glances back towards Lydia. "Who knows if I'll get another dog. Bear's here... to serve a purpose. I love him, of course, but I'm hoping I won't //need// another after her." She gives the woman a nod before she adds, "I won't stake all vampires on sight." But she won't trust them.
    That said, she heads towards the door, and leaves - before Jon can think of more books to thrust upon her.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia nods eagerly, "Yes, you /must/. The classics! And /Carmilla/, which I like /much more/ than Dracula." Because of course she does. "But because I am a kind and benevolent vampire, I won't subject you to Twilight, even though it was my favorite books when I was a tween."

    And then Cael is making up excuses to leave, which causes laughter to bubble out of Lydia. "But why? We have /so many more books/ to share with you." Her laughter doubles as all that does is cause Cael to flee even faster. "Okay, go on then. Have fun riding motorcycles with Sara. Tell her I said 'hi'."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon snorts as Cael leaves. "Love you too, Becker," he calls. "Don't worry, I'll have an /entire list/ written up for you tomorrow morning! Maybe I'll convince Sam to make it all required reading!"

    He snickers as she walks out, shaking his head. "How, I ask you, did I--literally 'the Archivist'--fall for a woman who doesn't like to /read/? She'll listen to audiobooks and she loves movies, but getting her to sit still long enough to read a proper book..." He shakes his head, fondly, as he downs the last of his old fashioned and goes to make himself another.

    "Speaking of, you were writing a normal novel, right? That coming along?"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "The heart knows no bounds, Jon," Lydia says with an affectionate grin. "Trust me. I write romance novels."

    She then lets out a long, drawn out sigh. "That's been put on the backburner until I can get the Book of Lydia finished. I still go back to it from time to time but..." she shakes her head. "It's just hard to get back into the mindset to write it when I've got this other project just taking up so much space in my head. I'll tell my editor about The Book, and maybe she'll stop yelling at me about working it."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon nods. "That makes sense. I got the office closed finally. Got all the files out, made sure all my patients have other arrangements, helped my assistant find a new job. I suppose I didn't have to do all of that but..." He shrugs. "It felt like the right thing to do. I'm going to miss it, though. I suppose writing's different, though... you're going to write, if you're a writer, whether or not you're making money at it."

    He ponders while he muddles the sugar and bitters again. "And... I suppose I'll still be trying to /help/ people, whatever form it's taking. But when the world needs saving, other things do wind up on the back burner."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "Yeah..." Lydia says, in soft agreement. "I never thought I'd be one of those people. I mean... a superhero." She looks up and catches Jon's eye with a grin. "That's what we are, like it or not. We're the superhero team that the Justice League calls when things get /too weird/ for them."

    "As I was saying, I never thought I'd be one. I never /wanted/ to be one." She holds out a hand, and and the twinkling stars of her ectoplasm swirl about her and coalesce into the shape of a highly detailed golden raven sitting in her hand. "I mean, before all of /this/ I could have been, with just my mutant power alone, and I always thought, 'there are so many Superheroes out there to save the world, they don't really need /me/.'"

    "And I thought, 'What about the macroheroes? The ones that save lives in small ways." She says. "They're important too. Encouraging underprivileged kids to read and pursue their education. Setting up a community center where people can come in off the street and get the help they so desperately need. /That's/ where I always saw myself."

    "That's how the Golem came around to being built," she says taking a sip of her Manhattan. "It was one of those 'I'm laying in bed just trying to fall asleep and thinking' ideas. I'd been meddling around with magic for a while now. I wanted to make a realistic magic system work in my novels, but I wanted to know enough about /real/ magic to know what I shouldn't put into the book. And so I'm laying there in bed just kind of thinking about Bushwick and the ways that I could help, and I found myself thinking, 'Too bad Bushwick doesn't have a Golem to help out like Prague did.'"

    "And that sat there, in the back of my mind for /months/ refusing to leave," she explains. "And the more I thought about it, and the more I learned about magic, the more plausible it seemed to be able to make one. So... one day... I just kind of decided to /do/ it."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I wanted to save the world," Jon says softly, a frown furrowing his brow. "I wanted to save it so badly I stumbled into a cult and got all my friends killed." He sighs. "So I... told myself I couldn't be a hero of any sort, and I keep resisting the idea even when it's shoved in my face."

    He pours whiskey in the glass, more garnish, takes a sip. "I think we make a mistake when we idolize heroes generally. I've been thinking about that a lot lately. I... talked to Phoebe, and something she said struck me, and I finally figured out some of why we miscommunicate. She sees heroism in the Gotham way--as someone /sacrificing/ for others. You know, superheroes are special and different and suffer and sacrifice so other people can have 'normal' lives."

    He sighs, and says, "I'm a New Yorker." A beat. "Gods, that's still odd to say, but I am. And I mean, this town... you /know/ it takes all types, you can /see/ it every day. So many people, so packed into so little space... everyone sacrifices, a little bit, to make the community work. And in the neighborhoods where that works, it /works/. In some corners--and not always the ones you'd expect--this city /glows/." He smiles. "Like Bushwick."

    A shrug. "So I suppose I just feel like... maybe I'm a superhero, sure, but I'm not really working any more hours than I was when I was a resident. Fewer, in fact. I risk my life out there... but so does a firefighter. The barista at the corner Starbucks gets up earlier than I do, to get in before the store opens and have coffee ready." He gestures at Lydia. "And some people sacrifice time and effort to make art and entertainment, that enriches my life. We're part of a larger community of... humanity? Well, not just humans. A larger community, anyway. We do a big, high-profile, obvious thing, but we're not... we shouldn't be... worshipped. It's no more or less important than any of the rest."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia snorts as Jon talk's about Phoebe's take on the superheroing "Yeah. That sounds like her." She sits and listens as Jon talks, idly running a finger across the lip of her glass.

    "I don't see it as sacrifice, necessarily," she responds after a thoughtful minute. "Not always. It's more like /compromise/ that makes a community work. Give a little, take a little, reach a kind of equilibrium that works for everybody. It's /collaboration/. Thinking of it as a sacrifice frames it all as something that is /lost/, not /given/."

    She shakes her head, "An artist doesn't sacrifice their time and effort for their art. They gladly spend it. It isn't lost, it's gladly given. The amount of work that I'm putting into The Book," she shakes her head again, more resolutely this time, "is work I do /not/ regret giving."

    A crooked grin teases at the edge of her lips, "I know it's all a matter of perspective, really. Whether you consider it a sacrifice or a gift, something is given away."

    "I think it's okay to idolize heroes," she concludes. "I mean, not to the point of /worship/, I'm with you there. But having people you can look up to, having role models that can help you find the inspiration you need to live a better life... I don't see that there's anything wrong with that."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Oh that's a much better word for it, yes," Jon says with a grin. "Compromise! Well, see, you're the writer." He grins. "But I mean, it's funny... I /died/, but... maybe in the moment I sacrificed myself for Caitlin, but I knew it was happening. I didn't see it that way. It was a step on a road--I made sure /she/ didn't die, and we opened a way to fix the universe. And I got a lot out of the deal, myself."

    He settles back against the bar, crossing his arms. "Mmm, yes. Role models are good. Heroes are good, generally! Idolizing, that's where I take issue. Or maybe... the idea that only certain people, special people, can step up." A pause. "Or maybe specifically... the idea of /waiting/ for someone to step up. Looking to someone else to solve our problems."

    He waves the hand holding the glass--and thus the glass--at Lydia. "You thinking about a golem to help Bushwick... that's the sort of thing I wish people would do more, that's all. What can I give, how can I help."

    He sighs. "Phoebe was worried she'd ruined your ceremony. I told her she hadn't."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia nods as the glass is waved at her. "I see where you're coming from, and yeah, I agree with you. I'd like to see more people step up and pitch in. This is what I was talking about when I said microheroes. The ordinary people taking a bit of effort to make the world a better place. Individually it may not seem all that big, but together? With millions of people doing it? You could move mountains."

    When the subject of Phoebe comes up Lydia lets out a little frustrated huff. "She didn't ruin /anything/. I was glad she was there. I wish she'd stop pushing us all away. It's like..." she folds her arms and lifts her eyes to the ceiling as she pieces her thoughts together. "It's like she's so /convinced/ that everybody who cares about her leaves in the end, that she's pushing them away hard enough so that when they do leave, it will be on her terms."

    Her gaze drops from the ceiling and falls to Jon, "I still want to be her friend. I still care for her, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't want me to, and I don't know what to do about that."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon gapes at Lydia. "Oh. Oh, for /fuck's/ sake. I'm the bloody /therapist/, and I didn't even..." He actually puts his head on the bar and bangs his forehead against it. Repeatedly.

    "It's so obvious," he murmurs. "It's /so obvious/. It's classic. It's... textbook." He puts out one hand. "Person has been hurt. Person does not want to be hurt again." He puts out the other, still holding the glass. "Person pushes away things that might hurt them, pre-empetively, to avoid the deeper hurt of loss. Fuck."

    He stops banging his head against the bar and plops himself onto a stool. "But, then, that's why you don't treat friends. You're too close to the business." He takes a drink from his glass and shakes his head. "I mean, you might not be right, but... you might very well be. She doesn't trust us not to leave or die on her, so she tries to convince herself she doesn't belong at all. Gods. That explains the way she's acting about Chas, too. So worried she'll lose him--because she almost did--that she's trying to pull away before she does."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Just watches Jon injure themselves on the countertop with some amusement. "I'm.... glad I was able to help you see with some clarity? Jon... Jon stop before you give yourself a headache."

    "So.... how do I handle this? It just seems like a catch-22. Whenever I try to get closer to her she tries to push me away harder. If I give her space, then I'm giving her what she wants." She shakes her head. "I'm at a loss as to what to do."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs. "Part of the problem, I think, is that... she /has/ gone through a lot, and from her point of view she's in a certain place, a certain... niche in society, and people going 'no no we value and love you!' and then not... giving her what she needs, like a place to /live/..." He shakes his head. "I thought Zatanna was on that. I should've double-checked. Gods."

    He huffs out a breath. "I just mean... I suspect part of what she needs, we're not going to... give. Not... not the way she got before... with the 'other' Constantine, you know? Stability, and purpose, and belonging. And I'd expect she feels that keenly every time she's around us. Remembering that was all a lie, and then we're not moving in to shore all of that up. Not that I'm saying we /should/. But some of it's... I am, personally, having to accept that I can't really... step up and mentor her, even if we're both tied to Egypt. We don't... mesh in the right way. Or, alternately, if I'm going to continue to worry and go 'what can I do?!' then... maybe I need to make the offer. You know? Instead of... wringing my hands."

    A frown. "I suppose I just mean... you have to decide what you're willing to offer, and put up with. Are you going to be there, be her friend, no matter what? I can offer that, myself. And that's important. You could call, I suppose, see her one-on-one? But to some degree... a lot of it's on her, to decide where she wants to be, /who/ she wants to be. We could reach out and make every effort--and I'm not sure we have--and it still might not be enough."

    He sighs. "I... /want/ the JLD to be a place people like her can belong. But some of what she's looking for... I don't know. I stopped looking for surrogate parents long before I was her age, so I can't quite understand some of what she's going through."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "I don't know..." Lydia begins. She scowls and folds her arms and begins again, "I've offered her a roof over her head. To make sure that she's taken care of, as much as I could. She told me she wasn't looking for another parent. I wasn't trying to be a parent, but I guess I can see how she could see that."

    "I want to be there for her," she says, trying to keep herself from sounding desperate. "I want to be somebody she can depend on, that if, for whatever reason, she needs a Jewish vampire mutant witch, she'll always have one that's ready to drop what she's doing to come and help."

    She scowls, and her crossed arms turns into hugging herself. "And... I don't think she wants that. And that rejection hurts."

    A derisive snort escapes her. "Listen to me. Big bad spooky vampire girl getting bummed out a teenager doesn't want to be friends with her."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns. "Well evidently /Batman/ fits the bill. And he thinks the JLD's bad for her, which, well... I'd say he should come say that to our faces but..." He makes a face. But Batman's kind of terrifying, so who knows that they'd stand up to that?

    He sighs. "She's got a home now, though. Money, a roof over her head. And admittedly, from what I know of the situation... they're people who do care about her, that she cares about, a place she belongs. And that's good. And she still has Chas, parent-wise. It's just..."

    He frowns down at the bar. "I know the feeling," he says softly. "She feels like she doesn't belong, but we all care. We've risked our lives for her. She insists getting Chas back was all about Geraldine, but I've met the girl /once./ How many of us wanted him back for Phoebe's sake? Along with his own, of course."

    He shakes his head. "But, no, I mean... it's damn hard, yeah. To reach out and be rejected. To... fight, and try, and help, and try to... respect her and build her up and watch her walk away. And to know she thinks we see her as an annoying teenager, which I certainly don't. But then again, if you think about it, from the original Night Brigade... it's, what, you and me and Phoebe and Chas? Everyone else has kind of... disappeared."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "She's running with /Batman/ now?" Lydia says, shocked. "This is not a turn of events that I had expected." She lets out a dejected sigh. "I guess I was traded up for a better vampire. It's... good, though, that she finally has a home. I hope it brings her happiness."

    She thinks back to the origin of the Justice League dark... a bunch of magic misfits bumping back the things that go bump in the night. At least that what they all thought they were getting roped into. Who knows what kind of plans unConstantine had.

    "Now that you've brought up the Night Brigade, that reminds me that the wards are still there in the Curio," Lydia says, pulling a frown. "I don't think I'm comfortable with a bit of my blood and power fueling it for a place that's more or less abandoned. I've wanted to dismantle it ever since I found out about unConstantine, and I think it's finally time to pull the trigger on that."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I am not remotely surprised Phoebe's running with Batman now, but then... well... she started out in Gotham. It is nearly impossible to understate the place Batman occupies in the collective psyche of Gotham. There are criminals in Arkham who have never seen the man who are /convinced/ he was behind their incarceration." Jon shakes his head, smirking wryly.

    Then he swallows. "I... would be willing to help with that. I don't... I don't know what Phoebe would think. She put Chas up there, I don't know if she intended to move back or... what... but..."

    He frowns, briefly, then shrugs. "But you're right. A bunch of people--some of whom aren't /around/ anymore--put their blood into the wards of the place. If Phoebe wants to stay there, she could always put up new wards, or ask for help doing so. So I guess..." He bites his lip. "How would we go about doing that? The unConstantine--I like that name--got Zatanna's help putting them up, and they were both fairly powerful." A beat. "That said, we've got some powerful folks ourselves. But we'd want to make sure the effort doesn't backfire."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia shakes her head. "It sounds like she's got her place in Gotham and... yeah. She can put up some wards if she wants to. Regardless, the wards aren't going to come down soon."

    She takes a sip of her Manhattan and rolls the liquid around on her tongue. "You have perfect recall, right? As one of your Archivist perks? Think you can draw all the symbols that Zee used and the incantations that were said? That'll help."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I wasn't /there/ for all of it," Jon notes. "I can recall what I was around for, yes, but..." He purses his lips. "But I /also/ have /really/ good magical Sight. If nothing else, I can transform into Ma'at and maybe /she/ can see whatever might have been--"

    Jon stops. Blinks. "Maybe... /maybe/... I can pull the statement off the Curio. Which would mean that I would see what they did, hear what they did." He shrugs. "It's a thought. We should think about how to counter them otherwise, though, without triggering any backlash. Maybe Rien might have some ideas, she did one of your binding circles back when we bound Michael when he was inside Chas."

    A snort. "I'd say we could call Zee and ask for her help, but I don't even know if she'd answer our calls, these days."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    Lydia looks amazed. "You can pull the statements out of /objects/?" Her eyes go wide as a thought occurs to her and she makes a kind of face, like she's trying to blush. "Just.... there's some objects you probably /wouldn't/ want to go get statements out of."

    "Do you even have her number?" she asks. "I don't. unConstantine was having us use those amulets to get a hold of each other."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I do, because I needed to get in touch with her when I gave the amulet back. And... what if I didn't have it?" Jon shrugs. "I won't say I was always wary of the amulets, because I wasn't, but I tend to think about fallback plans and such. So... what if I lost my amulet? What if she lost hers? I mean, did I ever tell you I had plans for if absolutely everything we were doing in Manhattan failed? Specifically, 'what if we lose this battle,' for every battle. I even had a final, 'everything has gone to shit' failsafe trigger set up with Donna Troy, in fact." A brief frown crosses his features. Just for a moment.

    He smiles, then. "Yeah, actually, it's... well, locations, more than objects, but it's more common than people, actually. I, well... I've seen plenty of embarassing things, secrets... comes with the territory. I do my best to keep it to myself." He huffs. "I can't always /control/ it, though, so I can't guarantee I'd be able to help. Still, it's worth a shot."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "I'm glad it didn't come to that," Lydia says, nodding. "I'm glad you can plan like that, and think of that kind of thing. I'm not.... nearly as good as that," she says. "Which is why you're a good leader and I'm not."

    She grins and gives Jon a little nudge. "Don't go into my bedroom, then, because you probably don't want to see the kind of stuff I get up to in there."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks rapidly at Lydia at 'good leader.' "Thank you. I mean. I try. I think I'm doing better than I was at first. Gods, I was a /mess/, do you remember? I got so frustrated any time people questioned me or didn't agree." He smirks and shakes his head. "Not so, ahh, insecure anymore, thankfully."

    His cheeks darken. "Don't go into Lydia's bedroom... goooot it. Yeah, no, I wouldn't want to know. I get enough of that from my ancestors. /Gods/, do they give me crap for it. Being asexual isn't because of the Archive, evidently." He rolls his eyes.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "Oh GOD!" Lydia cries out, the sudden realization that Jon has his entire ancestors sex lives crammed in his head just coming to her. "Jon, you poor thing! I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have joked. How do you even manage?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon laughs. "It's fine, it's fine. It's embarassing, but, you know... better /that/ than re-living my girlfriend's torture at Michael's hands. And there's something other things..." He shakes his head. "It could be worse, is all I'm saying."

    A beat. "And anyway... that's how I got here, right? One way and another."

    He smirks. "Anyway... I've got an appointment with moving furniture. Portals are /awfully/ convenient for that, so long as I can aim the thing properly." He frowns. "Maybe I'll start in Chelsea and open the portal to the Trisk. I seem to be okay at hitting the apartment properly. But! It's been good talking to you."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
    "Well, look at /you/ mister fancy 'I can make portals wherever I want now' pants," Lydia says in a friendly mocking tone. "But can you do.... /this/?"

    *POOF*

    There's now a bat flapping about in the room. One would think that she would have chosen a menacing kind of bat form, but, no. Apparently Lydia's bat is a Pallid Bad. Kinda white and cute. "How do you like /that/ mister?" she squeaks.

    Another *POOF* and she's back to her normal self, grinning like a maniac. "Go. Do your moving thing. Don't be a stranger."