14289/The Curio Basement

The Curio Basement
Date of Scene:	01 March 2023
Location:	Basement Apartment (The Curio)
Synopsis:	Phoebe shows Tim her workshop in the Curio
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Tim Drake

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It had taken Phoebe a significant amount of time to admit that she had a place where she stored the books gathered from Iaru-Wayet -- the village she had been born in, and longer to actually invite Tim to 'The Lab' -- which was adjacent to a retro-atomic-age bar that was housed in The Curio, and below the apartments that used to house a number of people from The Before Times.

    Phoebe leads the way down a spiral staircase into the room, overtaken by Idu who obviously enjoyed spending time with Tim and his owner. The room is organized neatly, and there are some things that Tim may recognize pinned to the wall -- an overlay of Phoebe's containment/dampening tattoo from her left wrist, with notes made in Latin. Pages from The Book of the Dead with notation in Middle Egyptian. A doodle of Tim pinned near a desk with his phone number on it in case she loses her phone. The work table has some bits and bobs here and there -- shabti from an Egyptian gravesite (fake, of course), some fruit and Phoebe's school sketch pad with a black and white still life on it. A sweatshirt that definitely once belonged to someone else in the Outsiders but apparently lives down here now.

    "-- so, this is where I come to do all the heavy research for... well..." she gives a small shrug, "everything?" she states, brushing her fingers through her short braids as Idu goes to hop on the narrow bed, sinking into it with his tail wagging.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim knows Phoebe doesn't get up to much magic stuff in the Manor. He's observed that much at least, and despite his own lack of general knowledge in the area (he gets the broad brushstrokes of the supernatural, but his concerns remain in the realm of the scientific) he knows there must be a greater cache of mystical accoutrements somewhere else.

    Well, here they are. This explains a lot, and Tim bends to the side to let his fingers glide through Idu's fur as the dog races past, towards the bed.

    "It's cozy. I can definitely picture you racking up some study hours here," he says as he scans the room. The sketched image of himself (including his number) earns a brief smile before his eyes move on, to other things. Mostly they catch on the spines of books, titles in languages he may or may not be able to read. Most of his fluencies reside in the realm of non-dead languages, admittedly. "You working on anything in particular right now?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Idu's tail continues to wag from Tim's pettings, and he rolls to his back, giving a half-yodel, pawing at Tim's arm for more pats. The books are mostly numbered in varying forms of Egyptian -- ancient, middle, Pre-Dynastic, Coptic and Latin. A few in Japanese that might not have been rescued during the fight against Leksandra at the village ruins that are cultural and mythology orientated.

    "Ah -- actually yeah." she states, and her ears darken a moment, and she rubs the back of her neck in an embarrassed fashion.

    "I started it *before* we were..." she takes a deep breath, and lets out "-- seeing each other."

    And Phoebe pulls aside some blueprint-sized sheets of paper, showing the construction of something that at passing glance looks similar to her own wrist-ring.

    "So, Ghost Riders like Robbie or Daniel have dualities -- I've jokingly referred to them as hitchhikers but it's a bit more Jeckyll-Hyde -- or Banner-Hulk, where they're actually two separate entities. This isn't anything concrete enough to even to like, henna let alone a finished, forever-in-the-dermis project --" she states, and then lays the papers out.

    It's a bit like when she was doing all the math to try and portal and filled several sketchbooks with math. Who knew magic was so much mathematics? The Irish. That's why there's literally a God of Magic called Math.

    "So I've been doing this, while unspooling how to alter my own to kinda fix auric holes in a tangible way that translates to the astral. And man, let me tell you--"

    Phoebe gets a flat expression, though her excitement at showing off her work to Tim was absolutely palpable:

    "Doing fancy tattoos on yourself SUUUUCKS."

Tim Drake has posed:
    It's only the Latin ones that Tim can really parse. He's picked up bits and pieces of the various forms of Egyptian here and there, all of which falls into the same realm as someone who took a second language class in elementary school; he might be able to count to ten and recognize a handful of very common words, but that's really it. And even that much might be a little spotty.

    He turns to address Idu, giving the pup a few more ear-ruffling pets before pulling away so that he can stand next to Phoebe instead, and consider the work she's laying out.

    And never in his life has Tim felt as out of his depths as he does right here, right now. He does a very good job of not showing it, though, his expression placid as he scans the blueprints, nodding once or twice at salient points in Phoebe's explanation.

    "I can imagine," is all Tim says to the tattoo comment. He has none of his own for no particular reason beyond some vague consideration about recognizable marks, but it's a paltry excuse at best. After a long moment of considering Phoebe's work in closer detail, he straightens up from the slight lean he'd affected during the examination. "Are you trying to undo the binding between the host and the spirit," and here Tim pauses to make a face, clearly uncertain if that's the right term to use for Robbie's Ghost Rider manifestation, "Or just provide a layer of control?" he asks.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    This is how Phoebe feels whenever she looks at suit schematics or AR emitting programming. She's far more comfortable with ancient Greek.

    Phoebe looks over at Tim, and she gives a slight smile. "Additional control. But it's... complicated." she tilts her head back a moment.

    "You know how I used to not be able to control my aura? Like, literally even people who weren't magical would feel it. Unbound, healing their bodies of aches and pains, fixing cuts and cutting the healing time of sprains and everything? It also made me a target, since I couldn't turn it off." she states, and she holds up her left wrist.

    "That's where this came in. It let me hide, like... a lampshade." she pauses, and wrinkles her nose.

    "... more like a veil. A Blackout curtain." she states, and she taps her fingers a moment.

    "I'm going to need to do more experimenting, maybe if Daniel agrees to meet up some time, or if I can summon and hold an actual--" she pauses, and bites at her thumbnail a moment "-- no that's probably a bad idea-- but basically they're more joined than simply switching places." she pauses, and then she looks at Tim. "Robbie's isn't nice."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Given that Tim spent plenty of time around Phoebe when her aura was active, here at least he can nod and at the same time feel some kind of surety that he actually understands what they're discussing. It's not often that Tim is out of his depths, but he acknowledges that when it comes to magic, he's just about capable of treading water but there's no way his feet will ever touch the bottom.

    "Definitely agree that summoning a whatever-the-Ghost-Riders-are for testing is not a good idea," Tim says, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. "As much as we both love a good experiment to prove our hypothesis, I feel like this is something you need to work at until your confidence in it is one-hundred percent."

    He leans his hip against the desk, arms crossed over his chest. "And then work at it some more. Sometimes being obsessive pays off, you know?"

    That's about as much as Tim feels comfortable saying, because what advice can he truly offer here? He nods, and then goes over to Idu, who definitely deserves some attention after being so woefully neglected. For all of, what, a minute or two? "For what it's worth, I know you'll figure it out, Pheebs."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Oh it's a horrible idea because the differences between Daniel and Robbie are... even to my limited knowledge of it - staggering. Magically speaking. It's kinda like... Linux and Windows. Both operating systems that you can run Word on, but one is basically black magic and the other requires a subscription." Phoebe states, "... the OSes, not the Ghost Riders. I can't even begin to question what you would need for a subscription to being..." Phoebe babbles a moment, and then she breathes out.

    Idu rolls to his back and accepts these attentions from Tim. Yes, pet the demon hunting doggo.

    "... sorry. Yeah, it's something I'm still at the very, very front of working on. It'd be different if I still had other resources, but--" she motions to the books.

    "My ancestors were dreadfully mum on some subjects."

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Have you considered that it might be because they might not have encountered a Ghost Rider?" Tim looks up from where he's obligingly rubbing Idu's tummy, which Idu deserves, because he is a Very Good Boy. He shrugs, without letting up on the pets. "Maybe that just... wasn't a thing, back then. Or they were active elsewhere, so some other culture might have more to say about the subject?"

    This is all conjecture, on a topic Tim only has the barest knowledge of. He's spitballing, here. "Sorry. I know this is beyond my understanding, just trying to be helpful."

    He sits down on the edge of the bed so that he can keep petting Idu without bending over to do it. It's hard on the back, after all. "It sounds like you need to track what Robbie's Ghost Rider *specifically* has been up to in the past, unless they're a new entity on the block."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Or they called it something different. Or they had a different understanding of it. I can't Aasimov this one." she mutters, and then she flops down next to Tim and Idu, and she breathes out, and she looks over at Tim.

    "I know it's not your wheelhouse. But there's a real, real small number of people I trust with pretty much... everything. And you're pretty much the literal It." Phoebe admits, and she scritches a bit at Idu's stomach.

    Idu wiggles on his back, tongue rolling out to the side.

    "So. Lighter subject. How's Lonnie?"

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim tilts his head from side to side. "Sure, but you can't miss the whole flaming skull thing. Gotta be mention of that somewhere." He leans back against one arm in a lounge, twisted at the waist so that his free hand can still be occupied with giving Idu belly rubs. His eyebrows go up at the question-slash-change of subject, but he doesn't fight it.

    "You know, it's weird. Bruce... actually acknowledged him, in conversation. I mean, as my boyfriend. Not just as an anarchist semi-reformed Bat-antagonist." That doesn't sound right, so Tim frowns. "Bat-villain? Bat-enemy? ...Bat-foe?"

    Judging by the continuing frown, none of these options are particularly pleasing.

    Tim gives another shrug, same as before. "I don't know. But Lonnie's good. Busy, but so am I, and it works for us. I think if we were up in each other's business twenty-four seven we'd drive each other crazy," he admits.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I vote Bat-foe. Sounds like something Dick would say at a properly dramatic moment." Phoebe states as she leans back in the bed.

    "Bruce has expressed concerns with me and Robbie." she takes a deep breath. "I know the longer we're together the more likely he's going to figure out who everyone is, but I guess that's part of the danger of dating another... ah..." she weakly adds: "hero."

    Even though they're not the same caliber of vengeance.

    "How'd you deal with the inevitability of a genius like Lonnie figuring out everyone's identities?" she inquires, turning to look up at Tim.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim echoes the "Bat-foe," with another one of his own, and apparently this time around it sounds better. Maybe it just took Phoebe's vote of confidence -- and her thoroughly accurate rationale -- to convince him.

    "Does he come around to Gotham much? In his, uh, vengeance business? Kind of our thing, you know, stealing our shtick." He waggles his eyebrows and then rolls his eyes as he sits up, one hand at his lower back to rub at a developing knot in his muscles. "Mostly I just... didn't."

    After that admission Tim stares at the far wall, kneading his back distractedly before both his arms goes up and he gives a mighty stretch. Something pops and he mutters a "Oh thank god finally" before settling back down and twisting again, this time with significantly more range of movement, to look at Phoebe. "He's a genius. Just by associating with him in costume like I was, working with him on investigations, he would have figured it out eventually. But I learned to trust him, and that's... that, really."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "You know, I *could* have fixed that for you." Phoebe points out after the pop, and she crosses one arm over her eyes. "WHy does no one want me to heeeeeeeellllp-uh." she complains in a playful tone, and then she just gently pokes at Tim's side.

    "Bruce asked if I trusted Reyes with your identities. He specifically stays out of Gotham -- for the most part -- on account of not wanting to mess with our family. So mostly now? Personal business." Phoebe looks up at Tim.

    "We chill in the apartment upstairs and eat cookies or fried tofu and sometimes, we even watch the news. Like ... *normal* people."

    She purses her lips then.

    "I trust him with everything else. I trust him with my family."

Tim Drake has posed:
    "You could have," Tim agrees. "But it was just a minor annoyance that I'd already been ignoring, so asking you for a heal didn't come to mind. Tumbled kinda wrong a couple nights ago on patrol, n-b-d."

    As always, yes, he absolutely spells out the acronym rather than just saying the words.

    He pushes himself up from the bed and then he's back on his feet, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie as he goes to consider the bookshelves again. Instead of skimming over everything, Tim makes a point now to consider each title. "It's ultimately your decision, you know," is what he says, eventually. "We all trust you, so we have to trust that you'll make the right decision for everyone. And if you believe that he's trustworthy, and you're at that point in your relationship, then... well." Tim shrugs. "You know what to do."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a weak flail. "See my body just corrects that. I haven't been able to pop a joint or anything in *five years*." she complains, and Idu rolls over right and pricks his ears up at Tim, tilting his head, and then turns and pokes his nose at Phoebe.

    The titles seem sequential at the shelf Tim examines. They also subtlely change in the calligraphy on the spines.

    "Yeah..." Phoebe trails off, and then she shifts forward. She hops to her feet, and follows Tim to the shelf of tomes he's considering, and she trails to the last one, and pulls it.

    "Birth registers for the village. Recorded each child born there, for close to six thousand years."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim opens his mouth, then after a lingering moment it snaps shut again, and he turns to face Phoebe head-on. "That's a lot of history you're holding there." He stares down at the book in her hands, brow furrowed with some nameless emotion, before he blows out a breath.

    Then, wordlessly, he steps in close so that he can peer over Phoebe's shoulder to read the pages, if she's willing to crack the tome open and show him.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "It is." Phoebe agrees, and she opens the book.

    And she turns to the last page that has anything written on it, written in swirling script, to the very last entry. "They took names from Egyptian, Arabic, Coptic and Greek. My great-uncle Benji lived in New York ... for a time." she smiles, and then points out the careful script.

    "There. That's me." she states, turning and looking to Tim with a small smile.

    "You're the only one I've shown this to. Because my name wasn't Phoebe when I was born."