12385/Asgardian Mead in the Garden!

Asgardian Mead in the Garden!
Date of Scene:	08 August 2022
Location:	The Velvet Room - Gardens
Synopsis:	Serious business is discussed, blame is insisted upon being laid, and Jon attempts to be mean to the French.
Cast of Characters:	Rien D'Arqueness, Jonathan Sims

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Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien has managed to sneak a barrel of Asgardian Mead from the storerooms on Asgard and has set it up in the garden! It's lovely out, they can smoke out here, and there's plenty of room for the barrel itself!

Rien is in shorts, sandals, and a breezy off-the-shoulder blouse. She's sent out a text to Jon, inviting him over to the garden for some mead and chill time, just the two of them. It's been a hectic and crazy couple of weeks (years, for Jon) and they haven't had a chance to catch up lately. She aims to fix that.

There's a drinking horn stamped with the feather of Ma'at already sitting and waiting for him. It holds itself upright on a side table, needing nothing ot keep it aloft. Why? Because magic, that's why!

Rien is smoking one of her herbal cigarettes and enjoying a light breeze, a mere thought inducing the Garden to shift slightly and put some 'birds' into the sky and on a few trees, just for the added ambience. There's the feeling of warm sun and the smell of fresh grass and loamy soil, because she wills it so and the VR is happy to comply!

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's wearing a sapphire blue skirt and emerald green t-shirt when he comes out to the garden. Summer's the season for jewel tones, evidently. It's probably not hard to get the garden to comply with feeling summer-y, given the heat in New York just now, but for his part he sighs. "It was 10 degrees cooler in Oxford today," he says. "Bournemouth, too. I do miss the seaside, sometimes." He walks over to sit down, and adds, "Funny, though--I rather like New York winters. Suppose it's because I don't have to drive in the snow, but--I do /like/ the snow."

    He peers at the drinking horn, then, picking it up and examining the feather stamped thereon. "Nice," he murmurs, before shifting back a bit to settle in the chair. "Do you know I've only had Asgardian mead the once? At the celebration after we defeated Michael." A chuckle. "It's dangerous stuff for someone like me."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Smiling at Jon's appearance, Rien lifts her own horn towards him and chuckles, "New York is an island, it's all seaside. You should come out to the safehouse sometime, it backs right up onto an estuary, we get some really nice breezes without the noise of the traffic." Taking a swallow of the mead, she tips her head back and looks up, "I miss the Alps in the winter... not the mountains themselves, but at the base, it was so gorgeous and open and the air was crisp and clean."

Shaking her head, she smiles, "Eventually I'll get a chalet out there and enjoy some winter weeks curled up in front of a giant stone fireplace with the mountains rising up behind me..." Rien flashes a grin towards them and looks into her horn, "Balder stopped by so I appropriated some for us. After he took off, I figured you'd appreciate some of it yourself. Besides, it seems like its been ages since we actually got to talk."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It's not /quite/ the same thing," Jon says with a chuckle. "I grew up in the south of England. Holiday town, great cliffs down to the beach, tourists, boardwalk, ice cream on the pier, all of that. You can't really /swim/ in most of New York's beaches, you know? I love this town, but it can be /terribly/ dirty." He shakes his head.

    He leans down to fill the horn, takes a long drink, then says, "Can I get one of those cigarettes? I think I might need to switch to rolling my own. I'm starting to--I discovered, just before I, err, left, that I need to eat and drink... well, like a god." He chuckles. "So, more natural or magical ingredients. I'm thinking I might start growing and curing my own tobacco, but in the meantime..."

    After a pause, "It /has/ been ages for me. Ten years." He shakes his head. "And it wasn't until several years in that I got my proper memories of you back. I'm still reconciling--I can see how /wrong/ the other one was, but it's still... there."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Oh no, it will never be the /same/... New York suffers from being an international shipping port for the past, three or four hundred years. Venice had to undertake some /severe/ measures to clean their canals, and it still took decades of effort. I just don't see New York doing that," Rien quirks a half smile before lifting her horn for a swallow as well.

Lofting the tin with the cigarettes across to him, it hovers just in front of Jon, top opened to display the homerolled cigarettes, "I hear you there. I go to no small expense to get the most organic, untainted tobacco that I can.. but if you do decide to start growing your own, let me know. Maybe we can start a small plot out here. It might infuse the tobacco with some lingering magical traces."

She gives a nod and murmurs, "I'm hoping that once the creature is dead that those memories will be shown for the lie they are. But in either case, I intend to take up the reins and claim my throne as Queen of Nothing. It's time I start embracing more of myself."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Oh, that's an /excellent/ idea," Jon enthuses as he pulls out a cigarette. "Growing the tobacco here, I mean. We can probably even convince a part of the garden to remain dry and warm the way the tobacco will need, to grow properly. I'll talk to one of the attendants and see if it's doable."

    They light the cigarette with a snap of their fingers and a tiny magical flame, then take a long drag. "I suspect it's my perfect recall, and the Archive, working against me. Perhaps meeting the creature properly will be all I need to categorize those memories firmly as 'Not-Rien.'" They smirk. "I need to perhaps remember that what I see and know isn't necessarily what's /real/ or /true/. It's just what I can see. Thus, my memory is only /my/ memory of a thing."

    He glances over. "Gods, I'm sorry. I should've just trusted Cael from the outset and tried to get you back sooner."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Nodding, Rien glances around the garden and smiles, "I have no doubt that if we, collectively, asserted our influence on the garden, we could convince it to keep a small section of it hot and arid for the crop." She draws on her own cigarette, letting the plume of smoke out towards the 'sky'. "Excellent. If I can help at all, I'm happy to. Anything to get a better grade of tobacco."

Chuckling softly, Rien gives a nod, "I can imagine that would make things difficult, that perfect recall. Especially when something is rewriting reality to make it happen." She leans back, taking another swallow from her drinking horn, then flashes a grin, "I mean, that's largely everyone, isn't it? Our memories are really just our own individual perceptions of events."

There's a blink, then Rien is shaking her head and turning a smile towards Jon, "That is /not/ your fault. Besides, my being stuck there gave me the opportunity to taunt Nikola until she dropped information she wasn't supposed to." She shakes her head and grins, "Besides, I truly enjoyed blowing the top off that ivory tower..."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Oh?" Jon tilts his head. "I hadn't heard the whole story. Cael wasn't there for the whole thing, after all, given that the Fears decided to come after her directly during all of that. And I suppose it seems like it was longer, to me, because it was a good... five or six years? Hmm, yes, I was just about to cross from the fourth circle to the third, so five years in. At the time I wasn't sure whether time was running differently for me or whether it really did just take Cael /five years/ to convince everyone else she was right." A brief smirk.

    Then their expression softens. "What... happened? I remember... you were fading away, your aura was just progressively getting worse and worse, and then I went on vacation and the next time I saw you--it wasn't /you/. So what... happened?"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Chuckling, Rien shakes her head lightly, "Not five years, just.. a couple weeks for me." She lets out a breath, "It's dumb. Robbie went off to do something nefarious for Janet, so I stepped out onto the lanai to have a glass of wine and a cigarette and just enjoy the quiet of the sunsent." She shakes her head, "I forgot that the wards are only on the /house/, they didn't extend to the lanai."

She lifts a shrug, "It popped in... and like an idiot, I tried to fight it. As soon as I touched it... I was transported to the ivory tower. It tried to touch me again, so it could make a perfect replica. That time I was wise and kept the Hell away from it." Rien quirks a faint smile, "So instead you guys got the shitty third-rate copy that you remember." She lifts a small shrug, "And there I stayed, watching but unable to assist."

She draws on her cigarette, then pauses, and looks towards Jon, "I watched you, too. I saw your treks through the circles... well, the ones that I could see before I was sprung from the tower. I didn't know if what I was seeing was real, or if it was just.. something they were using to torment me with."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Balconies and lanais are harder to ward," Jon agrees. "A door's a natural portal, so's a window, but a balcony's meant to be shared with the world. I'm still working on how exactly to ward mine, and whether I even should, given that people seem to like coming in that way." He smirks.

    "Which bits did you see, I wonder?" They glance over, raising a brow and then taking another long drink of mead. "Half-drowning in the Stygian Swamp, slipping in the mud and getting eaten by the Hound of Hell?" Another smirk. "Actually, in the same vein--I was rather proud of beating Asterius by faking my own defeat. One thing I hope I never forget about being mortal is the concept of not /staying/ down. Immortals seem to take that slip in the mud or fall before the sword as the same as dying, as if, well, that's it, fight's over now."

    They tilt their head. "I wonder if the Old Gods thought that about you, hmm? But you didn't stay down, evidently. You... what on Earth possessed you to /blow up/ the tower they were keeping you in?"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Mmmmm, I'm looking at expanding the wards to the entire property instead... it would take some doing, but having somewhere free of the uninvited would be worth it," Rien lifts a small shrug and smiles across at them. "Nobody really visits the safehouse, which is.. well, part of what makes it the safehouse."

She lifts both brows, then chuckles, "Just bits and pieces, really. I couldn't keep the scry window up for too long or else risk them finding out I wasn't stuck only watching the Not-Me." Rien lets out a small chuckle and shakes her head, "Don't look at me. I've died just to win a fight. Admittedly, it's easier to fight dirty when I know I'll come right back."

Rien shake sher head, "I have no idea what part of any of my history gave them the idea that... well, actually. Maybe it's /because/ I'm from another timeline. Maybe the Rien that /would/ have been born in this when was supposed to have given up." A grin flashes across her face, "Nikola /said/ it would take enough C4 to level a city block to get her... so I obliged her."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I just think it's a universal sort of thing," Jon muses. "Some kind of... old codes, or presumptions perhaps. If you assume you're going to defeat your enemy no matter what, then when it seems to happen, I suppose you let your guard down. I just feel like I need to remember not to get overconfident."

    He glances to her, then, and says, "Was there a Rien that was supposed to be born in this timeline? I wasn't aware of that. I suppose I just figured that would just have been... things going as they had in your original timeline. But I'm no expert on all of that." A pause. "Which reminds me... how /do/ we get in touch with the TVA about all of this?"

    Another drink from the horn and he laughs. "That sounds about right for what I know of these things. Blown up a city block, submerge a city in concrete, drop a satellite on something. So, you blew up the tower--I know how /you're/ still around. How is Nikola still around?"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Sometimes you have to let your guard down to win the fight, too. Sometimes, you need to let them get in close enough to feel the heat of their breath before you can get them where they're vulnerable," Rien blinks once or twice, then glances aside and clears her throat. Looking back, she puts on a smile again, "But that is ancient history."

Chuckling, she gives a nod, "Oh yes. You see, when we opened the portal to this timeline, we opened it onto the exact time and place where my grandmother was summoning the demon to save my mother. That's how we managed to trap them both.. on seeing one another, they realized that they were.. eternal, never ending, never dying." Rien takes a swallow from her horn and stares down into it, "We trapped them both into a cage forged by magic, locked by love, and buried it in the deepest depths of Hell. I had a choice. Go back to my time and place, where my parents were gone, my grandmother dead, and my family had no more use for me now their debt was paid... or I could go through the portal where my parents and grandmother all lived, and my family had never been told to hate me." She quirks a faint smile and glances back up.

"But, by doing that, my father and mother never went through all the instances of fighting the demon. There was never a 'debt' to settle. So I was never born in this timeline." Rien finishes her horn and moves to refill it, "As for how to get hold of the TVA, I can do that. I still have their.. frequency.. from when they would visit."

She turns back to Jon and smiles, "From what I understand, it used up a 'life' to be remade.. suggesting it has a limited number of 'lives' to use up before it's truly dead."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "There's a difference between letting your guard down and... hmm. Stopping the fight. Thinking it's over. The former's what I did with Asterius. Let him think he'd beat me, that he'd given me a mortal blow. Let him smell the blood of a good meal. And when he got in close, I slit his throat." Jon says this matter-of-factly, with none of the squeamishness he'd have had just a couple of weeks ago. It's a viable way to win a fight, after all.

    He frowns, and sighs. "Well, you're more cemented in this timeline now, right? More... 'real' here. You have a name now, I think? A proper one." He smiles. "How does that square with taking up your throne as 'Queen of Nothing?' Not that I'd discourage that--on the contrary, I think it's probably the right idea. All those things you've been running from... turn around and embrace them."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"That /is/ letting your guard down, is my point. I've let an enemy get a 'mortal' blow on me so that I could get the killing blow to them. Sometimes you have to. Being.. more than mortal.. gives an advantage in that sense," Rien smiles towards Jon. "I think we're saying the same thing in different words." She calls her cigarettes back to claim a fresh one, lighting up and drawing on the smoke.

She looks back to them and lifts a brow, "Seems the ten years did you some good though. You don't flinch from violence anymore. Not that I thought any less of you before... but given the things we face off against, violence is going to be... more and more common." Rien smiles towards Jon and offers, "I just mean that... it's good to see you feeling more confident."

She gives a nod, looking down to her cigarette, setting her horn aside where it hovers as their own was when they entered the garden. "Given that the current 'Nothing' is a servitor to an Old God, I don't see how anyone or anything can complain about my taking over. Besides, there's something more going on... something about my magic, about the Nullspace, and that... title.. that bears further investigation."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Lavenza told me that the real purpose of my sojourn in Hell and the Astral was to give me the time to sort of... catch up to where I ought to be." Jon takes a long drag on the cigarette. "I learned magic quite young, actually. Gran--Gertrude, the former Archivist--knew damn well I was homo magi, and a potential latent Archivist, so she taught me as much as she could when my other grandmother would let her. A lot of basic concepts, and as I got older and started manifesting power, some easy spells, simple constructs. That's the real reason I progressed so fast once I became Archivist--I already knew how to do magic, I'd just forgotten that I had. Like someone removed my memory of learning to ride a bike without removing the muscle memory of doing so."

    He sighs, and sits back. "I should have spent the last decade or so studying magic in my free time, learning some martial arts--hell, maybe if Annabelle hadn't removed my memories I'd have petitioned to join SHIELD when we moved to the States. Instead, I... fiddled around collecting coins and watching nature documentaries." He shakes his head. "Because I didn't remember who I really /am/. That I'm the kind of idiot that looks at a bully threatening me and decides 'the fight's going to happen anyway I'll get in the first punch.' That I have magic, and I /love/ magic, and that magic is everywhere and in everything." A shrug, another drag on the cigarette. "So... now I've had that extra time. I hope it turns out I put it to good use."

    He peers over at Rien again. "Is it as simple as declaring you're taking it all over? Or will there be a struggle? You know I'll be there if you need the help, yeah?" He smirks. "We'll usurp all other claimants and install the proper heir to the throne, forego all these American notions of 'democracy' and 'equality.' So what if Nikola didn't vote for you? She's evil, she doesn't get a vote!"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien settles in to listen to Jon, at turns smiling or frowning, looking a touch concerned at a few points, but ultimately looking happy for Jon that he was able to take that time and get that necessary experience. "I can... somewhat empathize with your journey. That's pretty close to how I fel the first few decades in this timestream... I had to.. to learn things that had never been important before. That I hadn't known were things /taught/ before." She chuckles softly and murmurs, "I wasn't always this.. socialized."

Looking back to Jon, she gives a small nod, "Well, if you ever want someone to spar against, magically or physically, let me know. I need to remind Chas that we need to get back into the swing of his training, too." She chuckles, "Actually, we could all use some training, I think. It's been a long, crazy ride and it isn't over yet."

Both brows jump up and Rien laughs, "Oh Gods so I wish it were that simple. No.. declaring intent will be part of it, but I'm almost certainly going to have to /take/ it from the current 'holder'. Which means there's going to be an army to fight through to get to the current 'monarch'." She grins towards them, "ANd one I will absolutely bring as many of you along for as possible."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon nods. "Well, let me know when and I'll be there. I agree, on training. Even with all of this going on--training might be /more/ important than ever. You don't stop having drills just because there's a war on."

    He frowns, bites his lip. "Which reminds me... Lydia." This seems to get him to go ahead and take a /long/ drink of the mead, enough that he goes to refill the horn again before he actually says anything further.

    "So we heard rumors of a place people were could go to get body modifications done, easily. Invite only, opens at midnight. Somewhere in Bushwick." He sighs. "We went to investigte, given the sense of... taint on her, and found..."

    They blow out a breath. "She's changing people, with some kind of power given her by the Old Gods. Helping people, I think--or that's the idea--but Chas is worried about corruption, and I... gods, I don't know." They rub at their face. "I'm worried about her. I'm going to go talk to her soon."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Oh I would say that training is almost /vital/ right now. I'm going to start those classes back up as well. I think the first one should be about the Old Ones, a primer of sorts. We need people to know what we're ultimately up against," Rien frowns faintly, then shakes her head and looks back to Jon. "Also, it might be good to set up regular combat training classes. Both physical and magical."

She reaches for her horn, pausing at Lydia's name and heaving a sigh, "Yes. Lydia." To her credit, there's no outward sign of dislike or antipathy, she simply lifts the horn for a swallow, then drags from her cigarette.

"Look... I know she's your friend, and she's certainly closer to you and Chas than she is to me. But she has /got/ to have a come to Jesus moment or she's just going to keep on believing that she always knows best. And to be very blunt, she's a neophyte. She has magic that she's barely been scratching the surface of and then calls herself a 'master'. Now she has the power of an Old God and she thinks she's doing good, but is she really? Everything you saw, what about the things you /didn't/ see? And those people that have been changed, how is this going to effect them? I mean long-term. You don't just take evil and use it for good and everything is hunky-dory." Rien scrubs at her face with one hand and looks to Jon, "I want to like her, there's a lot there to like. But she's like... she's like the guy from Jurassic Park. The geneticist... what's his face... BD Wong plays him. Anyways, it's progress for the sake of progress. Power for the sake of power. There's a reason that I was forced into literal decades of magical training before I was turned loose."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon downs the entire drinking horn he just filled in a display of chugging that would impress an Ivy League frat house. Just--takes that powerful alcohol and /downs/ it, gulp by gulp. By the time he's done, and Rien is done, he's a little woozy, but he's gone to fill the horn /again/, and now is lying back staring up at the sky, blinking back tears.

    "I know," he says softly. "I /know/. Do you think I don't--gods, this is what I've been /terrified/ of. Having to--" He sniffles. "One of my best friends might be one of the things I have to /judge/. I mean--I hope--I don't want to think--but what if she's--"

    He's not managing to form coherent sentences. Stop. Slow down. Go back.

    "I'm not taking Cael in because I'm scared. I'm scared of what happens if Lydia snaps, and goes after Cael. What I'd do, to protect her. And then the chance to de-escalate is..." He makes a 'pfft' sound and an exploding motion with his hand. "Best case? This really all is good and above board and I can help her wrest the power from Viscera. Worst case?"

    A pause. "Even if she manages to kill me, I'll come back. I'm asking Cael to give me an hour and then come in." He swallows. "Fuck. I hate this. I really do."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien watches him with a deeply concerned expression, sitting almost too still as she watches him verge on breaking down. Not because she doens't want to offer him comfort, but because she's wrestling between offering friendly comfort and tying him up before going to check on Lydia herself. In the end, however, she lets out a heavy breath and rises up to move across the way and lean in over him just enough to catch his gaze.

"I get it, I do. Believe me, I understand the potential of having to lose someone you care about because of choices they made. But you don't have to do this alone, Jon. You didn't before and you certainly don't have to now." She offers a soft smile towards her friend and reaches out to flick a lock of hair from their eyes. "I don't /like/ any of this. But that's sort of the point. We're being tested. And some of us might not pass. And that's... not a good feeling."

Rien frowns faintly, "I don't like the idea of you going in to see her alone. And leaving Cael outside doesn't count as not being alone. If she's truly fallen to fleshcrafting, then she could take your mouth, your hands, and your eyes before you could ever make a peep to alert Cael. An hour is far longer than would be needed to do /massive/ damage to you. Or kill you. I don't mean 'stop breathing' dead.. I mean actually dead."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "She's the first person I came out to," Jon says softly, staring up at the sky, though he does smile briefly at the flick of hair. "Before Cael, before Martin. She took me up on that asteroid base she used to live on, showed me the Earth, from space. It was..." He closes his eyes for a moment, letting tears fall out. "Gods, it was exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it. And I... told her. About my gender identity, or lack thereof. She's been there, all through all of this crazy shit. She helped me rescue Agnes. She... every night, when I was in the Astral Plane, writing in my journals, I thought 'Lydia will be /so/ thrilled to have these--'"

    He scrunches up his face for a moment, starts sobbing, and takes a minute or two to pull himself back together.

    Finally, opening his eyes, "I'm worried that anyone else will just... set her off. I have a chance, maybe, to /talk/ to her. Group interventions don't really--work." He sighs. "But you and Chas could be there outside if you want, it's just--look, she can't kill me permanently. Ma'at won't /let/ her. But we don't know for sure that there's a problem yet, and I'm not going to set her off and get into a fight we don't need to get into."

    A pause. "Anyway, I don't need /any/ of that to do my magic. Well--eyes, maybe, but the Watcher would protect those from Viscera."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien smiles softly as he recounts various memories with Lydia, or about her, just watching him with that calm implacability that the REAL Rien is known for. When he starts to sob, she offers him a hand to hold but doesn't try to intrude any further into their space unless invited. "She sounds like a very special friend to you. And I'm very glad that you had her there when you needed her." There's a but coming, surely.

"But you have to also accept that it may not be the Lydia you know that you find. You've seen firsthand what these Fears do to people. What they're capable of. The sort of power they wield. If she'd given in to it, to them... then this is no longer the Lydia you have all those memories of." Rien speaks softly, gently, but with a firm undertone. "And that is why I worry for you. You.. think with your heart. That isn't bad, far from it.. but it can be very dangerous. /Has/ been very dangerous. I don't want to see sentiment get you killed."

She lets out a soft sigh and murmurs, "I sincerely hope that you're right.. but I am still going to take you up on being outside with Cael, because if you don't come back out, I /will/ be going in. I don't mean to kill her, but I will damn sure throw her ass into the Phantom Zone until we can determine what to do."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon takes in a deep breath, and then lets it out. "I know," he softly. "I know. I know that maybe..." A pause. "Well, no. No, I refuse to believe that she's /gone/. Corrupted, maybe. But /gone/... no. If there's any way to... talk her down from this, I want to try. I want to give her a /chance/."

    He swallows. "And if this... /thing/ has taken her away entirely, destroyed her... then I want to make sure, first. And then get revenge."

    He sighs, and looks over at Rien, finally reaching out to squeeze her hand. "But this is my responsibility, in a way. A younger, more foolish man heard his friend talking about power, and that the Old Ones had given her a taste of it, and just--told her his door was open. Didn't push. Didn't dig, because he thought, well, who am /I/ to judge? I have the Watcher on a leash, after all." He rolls his eyes.

    "Well, judging is my /job/, I've realized. And as one of the leaders, I have to keep an eye on things. Not that her choices aren't her own--they are. But maybe if I'd moved faster on this, fewer people would be hurt, if people are being hurt. So I need to go in and try to fix this."

    They shake their head. "You told me once 'the world ends every ten years or so.' This is what you meant, isn't it? There's always... something, in our world. It doesn't... stop."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien gives a small nod and murmurs, "I understand. I would ask the same chance, were it Robbie instead of Lydia. I do understand." She draws in a swift breath and adds, "I just ask that you try to look at her with the eyes of a /leader/, not the eyes of a friend. THe friend will want to soften everything, will want to find excuses, or deliberately 'miss' things. Not consciously, perhaps, but that friendship, that /feeling/ is going to make you want to skip over the bad to look for the good."

Taking his hand, she gives a squeeze, "If she's in there, we'll find a way to get her back. If we can't save her, then we'll make it as quick as we can. And we'll remember her as she was /before/." Rien smiles faintly, "And we will help you get that revenge."

Shaking her head, Rien murmurs, "It was all of our responsibility. We all saw what was going on with her and consciously chose not to pursue it. To assume that she 'had it under control'. Perhaps me moreso than most. The Not-Me saw her, saw the influence, reveled in it. But when I returned, I chose not to act on it, thinking that her situation would be similar to mine. Assuming that she wasn't that far along." She quirks a faint smile towards them.

"So we all own a measure of responsibility in letting this go for too long. All of us. That's the other thing you'll have to learn as a leader... nothing is ever /solely/ your responsibility. We all have a hand in it. You, me, Chas.. we're supposed to be /watching/ for these things." Giving their hand another squeeze, Rien smiles softly, sadly.

THere's a small nod as she murmurs, "Always. If there was something that The Truth taught me, its that every decade will have its 'world ending event'... and that there will always be those that need to rise up against it. To ensure the world continues to spin on."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I know her better than either of you do. I was already--" Jon sighs. "She... did something to herself, a few weeks ago. Carved out some of her emotions, somehow. She's been struggling, since. And I knew that, and I haven't pushed harder. Too wrapped up in my own shit." He says this ruefully, more than bitterly. A man reaching middle age, looking back on the foibles of his younger self.

    "Which doesn't mean the rest of you didn't have a responsibility. You and Chas both, in different ways. I just have to own the part of this that is--I knew about the problem first. I'm the psychiatrist. If a demon slipped past you, you'd expect me and Chas to do something about it--but you'd also look at yourself and go 'why'd that demon slip past me? That's supposed to be my thing.'"

    They smirk. "Well... I /do/ have the answer to /that/. I was angry, and bitter, and still terribly insecure." A laugh. "Do you know--okay, I never told anyone this, but, it used to bother me /so much/ that Batman would just show up and kind of stare at us all like he was judging us and then leave. I felt like the Justice League were judging us, not taking us seriously. Or, worse--that they didn't know or care that we existed, despite our name." They shake their head, looking a little bemused. "I remember it /really/ bothered me, sometimes. I think I was just taking all my years of feeling like a laughingstock in the psychiatric community and transferring it to the superhero community. I have no bloody clue what anyone actually thinks of us. And I'm not sure I /care/ now, if I'm being honest. Which, y'know, I have to be."

    He snickers. "Y'know. Because. Ma'at. Oh, gods, I'm drunk."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"That almost certainly didn't help things but... I also wouldn't have called it a giant red flag. Most of us try to suppress or remove certain emotions after some form of trauma... to greater or lesser success. But it's nearly always part of the process of dealing with said trauma. This one just happened to be compounded by the Old Gods finding us at the perfectly wrong time," Rien offers with a faint smile and shake of her head. "I should never have let any of you go /near/ that apartment."

Letting out a small chuckle, she grins, "I will let you in on something... there are far far more demons than I could ever hope to catch. I had to give myself permission to 'miss' them years ago. And I /still/ kick myself when I do, even though I've tried to be more forgiving towards myself."

Both brows lift up, then Rien is laughing softly and shaking her head, "I used to have a thing for Batman. I will deny it up and down if you /ever/ mention it to anyone at all. But there's something very appealing about someone /that/ broody and competent." She lifts a shrug, "And I happen to be old enough that nobody can accuse me of having a thing for an 'older man'.. at my age, age truly is relative." She lets out a breath, "I used to get very hot under the collar when he would show up." She flashes a grin towards Jon, "But that just goes to show how utterly different two reactions can be to the same thing!"

Patting his hand lightly, she chuckles, 'Yes you are. Jon Sims, you cannot hold your Asgardian mead. You should probably sit up, let me get you some water and tea."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "D'you know how hard it is for me to get properly /drunk/ these days?" Jon grouses. "On the one hand--it's led to me drinking a /lot/ more scotch, a fact of which I approve, because I actually like the taste. /On the other/..."

    He sighs. "On the other... I've been away from everyone I care about for ten years, except it hasn't been, and bloody /Nyarlathotep/ is coming after the team, and my friend is maybe falling to one of his servants, and it's come after Cael, and Gabby, and who knows who's next. And I still haven't really processed that they want my /daughter/." There's a bit of a growl in his tone, there. "So. Might be nice to just be properly drunk for a bit. Wallow, y'know? Everyone needs a good wallow from time to time. 'Specially me."

    He peers at Rien. "You really think that would've helped? If it's like a disease--maybe it might've spread just by contact with you. Well. You and then Robbie. It was already on him before we came to the apartment. Still." A beat. "S'not just... s'not just idle speculation. Trying to, umm..." He waves a hand. "I know a liiiiittle bit about this stuff. Epidemiology. /No/ expert by /any/ means, I just... if we know the transmission vectors, we can... maybe save others. Y'know?"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Laughing lightly, Rien shakes her head, "Speaking as someone who /can't/ get drunk... I envy you somewhat for being able to." She purses up her lips, "I still like a good bourbon. A good brandy. And of course, an /excellent/ wine. I really should have you over to the house sometime. You can see the wine cellar, we can open a bottle of something ridiculously old and simply enjoy the bouquet and flavor of it."

She shakes her head and pats them on the shoulder, "No. No talking like that. Remember, the world ends every ten years or so. You /have/ to take the time for yourself or... you become like me. All work, all the time. You don't want that. Nobody wants that. Even Chas would agree with me there." Rien straightens from her lean and shakes her head, "We aren't going to let that happen. That's why we're going to push on their timetable and see if we can't figure things out before they're ready for us."

Looking back to Jon, she nods, "It was contact with the 'infection' that spread it. I'd been staying away from you guys explicitly because I was afraid it would spread, especially after Robbie started to act a little stranger than normal." Rien blows out a breath, "For all that Gabby complained that it was lack of talking that made it worse... it was really contact that did it. Not just verbal contact... you had to be in person, normal speaking distance seems about right. Think about it. Robbie got it from being in constant contact with me. You, Cael, and Lydia didn't get it until /after/ you'd come to the apartment... with Robbie and I. Once the three of you had it, it started to spread further." Rien lifts a shrug, "I was the Typhoid Mary of the group.. spreading it to everyone else."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Gabby complains that..." Jon furrows his brow. "Hmm. Well. She /does/ have a point, in that--it's possible they would've found a way even if you'd isolated yourself. Cael and Gabby were able to brace for what was coming. Maybe they'd have told 'em to fuck off anyway, but--forewarned is forearmed, right?"

    A pause. "But, y'know. Could've talked on the phone or something. Doesn't have to be in-person. Hmm. Have t'see if there's a... prophylactic. 'Cause by now, who knows who all's... infected? Walking around and... /fuck/."

    He closes his eyes. "No. Nope. /Nooope/. I'm drunk. I'm worrying about this /tomorrow/." Without opening his eyes, he shakes a finger at Rien. "You're gonna let me sit here and be drunk. Maybe bring some water and tea, sounds good. We're gonna talk about nothing that's world ending for a bit. Argue about the proper way to pronounce 'croissant,' maybe." A smirk. "Trade notes on Hell. Normal people stuff. So /you/ can relax a bit. And then tomorrow we'll take care of our people. Sound good?"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"It's possible.. but it would have been another monkey wrench in their plans. They would have had to come up with an alternate means to infect everyone..." Rien seems insistent on taking blame for the start of this howl mess, though she never once raises her voice or even sounds particularly heated about the issue. It's simple fact to her.

She lifts a shrug, "I think its a bit late now. Like shutting the barn door after the horse has escaped." Rien smiles faintly, "They're after the JLD, so I doubt the infection will spread beyond us. We're the keye to this whole mess, so we're the ones in danger."

There's a bit of laughter when he insists she let him be drunk. Lifting both hands in surrender, she grins, "Alright, alright. Here.." Rien reaches into nothing and pulls out a bottle of water, handing it to him, "Start with this and I'll get the tea set up." There's a pause and she sniffs, "Its a French word, there's only /one/ way to pronounce it. The correct way. Everything else is a poor understanding of the French tongue." THen she's flashes a grin towards him, "Sounds like a plan, though I wish you luck in the monumental task of getting /me/ to relax."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "The French way sounds stupid," Jon says bluntly. Is he /trying/ to pick a fight? The faint smirk on his lips might indicate such. "'Cwoissan,'" he says, in a /bad/ imitation of a French accent. "All nasally and... stupid."

    He cracks an eye open to grab the bottle, and adds, "I have my responsibility, Rien. You have yours. I know you'll help fix this mess, 'cause you started it. Alright? But for my part--I forgive you. And it's good to have you back. The real you."

    Taking a gulp from the bottle, he lies back again. "Even if the /real/ you is awful and... and /French/. Ugh. With your... bread and your sauces." He makes a face. "...I'm really bad at this. Chas is better."