333/Scrying Sentinels

From Heroes Assemble MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
Scrying Sentinels
Date of Scene: 07 March 2020
Location: Shadowcrest Manor - Bristol Township & Hammer Bay, Genosha
Synopsis: Zatanna and John were heading to Genosha to scry Sentinels. Illyana and Lois tag along. John disappears. Brings in Strange. And poo-poos on the idea. This is not over yet!
Thanks to: Gibson
Cast of Characters: Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine, Lois Lane, Illyana Rasputina, Stephen Strange
Tinyplot: Genosha Burns


Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna has been out of the public for the last few days. Things in Shadowcrest have been busy as the mage is making preparations for a major casting. Most of the Great Room has had its furniture moved back and out of the way as she works on the casting circle, setting down chalks and gems as she paces it off with an exact measure.

"Enitnatsnoc." she announces, to alert John that she's nearly ready to cast. As she works to bring John to her, a copy of the Daily Planet, with an article by Lois Lane falls from the shelf, and floats into the summoning circle, adding another name to those that Zatanna is bringing to her.

To complete John's summoning, in the middle of the circle is a table with an unopened bottle of Cutty Sark and a pack of smokes is on the table for him. She knows what works after all this time.

John Constantine has posed:
     John had been sitting in the drawing room in the House of Mystery when the bloke feels a certain magical tug on his collar. "Really, Zee?" He says, standing and putting on his trench coat. "I have a mobile!" He cries out, before the walks out of the door, fading almost instantly after he steps off of the stairs leading to the House of Mystery, and reappearing in Shadowcrest. "Oh!" He exclaims, reaching to the pack of Silk Cut and the bottle of Cutty Sark. "Don't mind if I do."

  He's already tugging at the bottle's seal as the circle, unbeknownst to him, continues to weave its magic.

Lois Lane has posed:
It's certainly a good thing Lois wasn't busy doing something strange. Sitting on her couch, checking through news articles on her phone, she's aware that there is some kind of weird sensation of /something/ happening. She searches her apartment in confusion, but she sees nothing out of the ordinary until she's abruptly just /elsewhere/.

She promptly falls on her but, no longer sitting on a couch, nearly dropping her phone as she looks a bit flabbergasted to be where she is. "Well, this is new. And it certainly doesn't look like Kansas, Toto." It's questionable who gets to be the dog.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Who /isn't/ in Shadowcrest, these days? Seems like any mystic who is anyone makes their way to rest on the doorstep of Zatanna's lovely home on the fringes of Gotham. What about those who are not, however? Amazon isn't making deliveries to a place they cannot find. Accidents hardly happen.

Except when they do, the intersectionality of space and sometimes time folded awry. And when they fold, shallowings take shape. On the other side of said shallowing, a young woman with a very strong tincture of Genosha's signature in her aura is //trying// to enjoy a cup of black tea.

It's not going to be her kind of night as the shadows warp and twist around her. Illyana Rasputina, floating cross-legged in Limbo, rolls her eyes with that sense of 'what now?' common to all young people her age. Until that rift eats her.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"You would have ignored the phone and made it go to voice mail. Again." Zatanna responds cooly to John as he appears and makes himself at home. "I need your help, and I couldn't wait." comes her explanation as she continues to work on the incantation. "We're going to Genosha." she explains. "I'm going to ask the Sentinel where it came from." The way she says it is a matter of fact, cool and controlled, that the sudden squeak as Lois arrives throws her off.

And her eyes immediately narrow and cut to John. "You didn't tell me you were /entertaining/." Because clearly, that's how she arrived here. Had to have been in John's vicinity. Even on his couch or... don't think those thoughts, Zee!

An apologetic smile is sent quickly to Lois. "I'd offer to send you back home, but I'm already in the middle of casting." Lois may recognize the brunette woman dressed in a corset with lace underbust, slacks, heels, and fishnet elbow-length gloves, her blue eyes glowing a bright sapphire.

And that's when Illyana arrives, and the other brow goes up. Okay, that magic was different. She didn't bring her, and she wasn't near John. But she knows what it feels like. "Wasn't expecting you, your highness." she addresses Illyana. "We're taking a field trip. Wanna come with?"

John Constantine has posed:
     The bottle opens, and a hefty tug is taken off it. "All the same, it's nice whe-" The sounds of a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist landing oh-so ladylike on the floor have him looking over the table and to Lois. "I wasn't..." He knew the face, but the name...not so much. "Just how many people are you going to summon with one circle, Zee? You know how bad that can go? I sure as hell don't want to be Cronenberged fer the rest of my days." He says, tugging once more on the bottle of whisky.

  "Aye, Zatana 'as it in her head that she's gonna be talking to the sentinel and it'll work like any other living being."

  "Fuckin' hell, did you summon the bloody Queen too?" John says, turning and rearing his head at Illyana. The stink of demons on her. "Zee..."

  Jeez, Zatana. What did you get him into?

Lois Lane has posed:
"Okay, great, someone should have given me the memo that we were going clubbing," Lois says, pushing herself to her feet. "I would've dressed appropriately." Dusting herself off with one hand, she takes a quick glance around to try and size up who and what she's in the middle of. "So, if you're in the middle of casting, am I supposed to just go get an Uber from..." She's not sure where she's at.

But her reporter senses are tingling. "Sentinel?" Now she really wants to know what's going on.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The Bloody Queen is only a dash off the mark, actually. Unlike some unpredictable ways of appearing, Illyana has at least the wherewithal to invert herself relative to the axial plane of the spell. The shallowing collapses around her, reality's mirthful mood evinced in a disturbing giggle completely devoid of charm and friendliness at the very edges of hearing. Whatever disembodied source voices that sound is not accompanying the petite blonde.

Oh, there may the stink of the demonic around the unassuming sorceress, but the scent of a properly made Earl Grey enmeshes her with the billowing, refreshing zing of bergamot to go with the ashen tremor of the otherspace she rules. No helping the fissures in her soul, or that ghastly aura roaring with scintillating light visible to any halfway competent mystic unless they narrowed the sensitive bandwidth or shut themselves off to the eldritch signatures tending to wander around magicians and mystic practitioners of all stripes.

There is a momentary look over the three assembled. One, at least, is familiar. "Miss Lane," she says with mildly frosty formality. It isn't rude, Russian accents make everything sparkling with a fresh patina of frost. "Ma'am." To Zatanna. To Constantine, the flat regard through ice-pale lashes. She really is just a teenager. Really. "Gospodin."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Don't you dare, John Constantine!" Zatanna snaps irritably. "I know where she's from, and we've /had this argument/." Then she adds, "She was a mutant before she went to Limbo." At least that's what Zatanna hopes is the case. "And I'm perfectly aware of the limits. I'm sure it will be fine!"

The great room of Shadowcrest is massive. A large fireplace dominates a wall of the room, while a library, reaching up as far as the eye can see is filled with books, spell components, and other odds and ends. "And I'm not talking to it. I'm scrying it." she corrects. "I'm hopeful I can follow it's last days and find out where it came from, or who programmed it." That's said with a frown. Okay, so she may not be computer savvy. She'll cross that bridge when she gets there.

And then she decides to make it happen. She focuses herself on the jar of dirt in the middle of the floor. Genoshian dirt.

Then she starts on the somatic side of the casting as she works. As her hands move, she holds them out and finally, she starts to speak.

"Sediser Lenitnes dedaeh-eerht eht erehw Yab Remmah ni noitacol eht ot su ekat!"

And if her spell works, Lois, John, Illyana and herself will find herself before the giant sentinel in the middle of Genosha's Hammer Bay. If it works.

Zee's winging it.

John Constantine has posed:
     John's left hand raised, and he starts to chant. In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti, demoni--" John gets cut off by a Zatana. He clears his throat as he straightens his tie and returns to a standing position. "Sorry, force of habit, Luv."

  Constantine offers Lois the bottle he was gifted before he takes out the white and purple pack of Silk Cut, placing the end in his mouth and lighting the tip. ".trat yretaw ,drows ym em evig won ,dnalgnE fo gnik ydoolb eht ma I" He chides Zee, giving her a wink.

  That was about the time the spell Zatana casts sends John with the others, until he ends up back at the House of Mystery, in his sitting room, and the Sex Pistols on the speaker. "Yeah...this is Genosha..."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
As the transportation spell goes into effect, Zatanna glances up at John and narrows her eyes. "You can be a right arse sometimes!" she complains at him, just as the spell snaps. The flames of the fireplace grow and increase, turning into a bright blue before encircling the group before they're taken from the warmth of Shadowcrest to the decimated Hammer Bay, where the giant three-headed Sentinel rests.

"Everyone here...?" she starts to asks as she looks around, drawing in a gentle breath at the destruction. Without any kind of recovery or support services, fires are still burning unchecked in the city, the smell of death and destruction hangs heavy in the air.

Then Zatanna realizes... someone's not here. "John?" she asks quietly, looking around, and then more frantically. "JOHN?!" she calls out, trying her best to try to feel him out. It's not like she //cares// for him or something! "JOHN CONSTANTINE!" she yells...

And then it hits her. She runs his words in her mind, reverses to forward, and, "THAT ASSHOLE!" she fumes.

"If you didn't want to come you didn't have to, you jerk!" Because he used //her// magic to send himself back home. King of England, her ass. "Dammit! We can still do this... Illyana, you're going to have to support me though. And Miss Lane, I hope your investigative skills are as top-notch as advertised."

Lois Lane has posed:
Well, this was certainly an unexpected trip to be going on. Lois takes a long moment looking around, a little stunned at it all. It's one thing to see it on TV, to look at photographs, there's an invisible wall between you and what's going on. Being there? That's why Lois does the type of reporting she does. There's something about experiencing and seeing it that needs to be personal to be relayed to people properly. At least, that's how she sees it.

"I'd question who was advertising, but I've got a habits of stubbornly finding what's hiding. We'll see if that can be of help here." This is /not/ a place she expected to be but one that's already making her mind cluttered with puzzle pieces to put together.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
<<Holy water next?>> asks the Rasputina in classical Latin. A language dead for the better part of fifteen hundred years, on the outside of being kind as opposed to unrealistic ends. <<A censor of holy incense? I can wait.>> She doesn't even break into a smile, giving that slight edge of a razor crescent to her lips. Russian stoicism meets what has to be a relatively harmless young woman plucked from the obscurest oblast, and surely the Englishman isn't even plussed by her. Turns out she's going to be waiting for a while.

When he asks for a sword, he might come to regret it; she's actually holding one. It's at her back, wrapped in nylon, and easy to disengage by pulling the strap over her head. Handed over with all the grim formality invested in someone with an actual legitimate reason to knight people, she gives it ribbon-wrapped hilt first to John. A katana. Of course.

When the spell severs he's still going to have himself a katana, one way or the other. She does not, flung into the aether and appearing in Hammer Bay where -- unfortunately -- shadows of familiarity hang in the air. It wasn't long ago she was here. "Da," she agrees, once bodily shunted into herself. Her hair falls around her shoulders. "He is not here," she tells Zatanna without a glimmer of light to her eyes. "Bravely ran away." The sing-song cadence implies someone revealed the joys of a Flying Circus to the petite sorceress. See, not all is bad. "You have my help." And Lois' axe!

The triune figure of suffering and horror is given a sharp, slow, coiling look that tends to strike horror into the bellies of the unsuspecting. It's rather like being under a viper or a shark's pitiless stare. "There are matters to be resolved."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
<<I will hold him down. You get to kick.>> responds Zatanna in that dead tongue, giving Illyana a thin smile as she waits for the spell to finish settling down so that it's not interfering with her next part of the work that she needs to do. "Illyana, I need a piece of the Sentinel. Can you provide it for me?" she asks before her attention drifts back to Lois and she considers. "I'm going to pick your mind. Well. All of us. When Illyana gets back, I'm going to link us all telepathically, and we'll work as a team to scry." she's explaining.

"We're going to use a piece of the Sentinel, melt it and then drop it in a cauldron for it to share its secrets. What I need from you is..." She summons forth a small container. "Fill this with water from the bay," she explains. And she draws in a breath. "I'm not sure I'm going to be powerful enough to do this." comes Zatanna's gentle admission. "It's why I asked John to come with me."

But now he's gone, and she's not used to the feel of Illyana's magic. It has her shaken, more than she cares to admit as she starts to work the threads of magic to bring forth her cauldron, cast of cold iron. Once in place, she starts to slowly link everyone together.

"Ruoy sthguoht era ym sthguoht dna rou sthguoht era yleerf derahs."

The connections are made, only at the surface, of Zatanna's well... it's more of a friend request that anything. Will you open your mind to her? Accept or Deny?

Lois Lane has posed:
Sharing thoughts? Now /that/ was a dangerous possibility. For a moment, Lois is actually conflicted, but pushes forward when she looks around the area. Right now, she's part of a team trying to help, nothing else. "Right, okay," she agrees, verbally while just... opening her mind? She doesn't know what she's doing with this magic stuff.

She has, of course, read enough books and watched enough movies to get an idea of what 'sharing its secrets' might mean. "Is it just images or is there freedom to... move around within the, uh, memories?" She's just trying to get a grip on it.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Some twenty feet away from the circle of mystics the air begins to ripple as a speck of orange sparks begins and then it grows outwards in a perfect line before again growing but upwards, in a perfect rectangle in the middle of the ground. A solid mass of orange energy that ripples across it's flat face for a moment before it swings outwards, and a rushing of wind flows to the door as the atmosphere's colide and a wooshing sound is heard as two men step through the portal.

    Stephen looks at the mystics and the reporter and squints before he turns his gaze to John beside him, "Probably better if you tell them." The wizard remarks as he makes a small slashing motion with his hand and the portal simply vanishes with a WHOMPH as the turbulence subsides.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Surely, asking Illyana to produce a piece of the Sentinel is a joke. The Russian sorceress, plucked spontaneously from her realm, is dressed in absolutely nothing worthy of hope on this front, at least not at the outset. As fetching as her sweater is, it drapes off her narrow shoulders and screams 'reading in a cozy window' more than 'deadliest thing this side of Black Widow's Broadway production.'

Zatanna all the same receives that subtle dip of her chin. She at least waits long enough for the plan to come forth, listening with her head tilted a degree. Pale golden bangs slew across her smooth brow. Certain options assessed out the window, she holds up her hand to empty space. It's all very impressive, Liberty lifting her lamp over the ruins of sixteen million souls sent venturing for the edge of the abyss and beyond. Into the brink.

Space sunders on itself, folded backwards as a gossamer filament of energy blossoms along non-Euclidean angles. Fragmented triangulations make origami art out from reality, discharging blue-white radiance over a rather massive, oversized sword with no business being there. John missed all the fun of a proper knighting with something as wide as he is! Almost as long. Almost almosts. Another time. It brightens its glow with another temporal rift collapsing down. Is the //sword// saying hello to Doctor Strange?

"Hello, Doctor gospodin." See, there is a greeting. "Miss Lane is very incisive. Miss Zatanna is very direct. This shall be an intriguing endeavour," muses Illyana. "Be right back." Short of someone stopping her, she's off at a dead sprint.

John Constantine has posed:
     John and the Doctor step out of the magic doorway. "Right."

  He drew on his cigarette, and exhaled. He didn't like this place much. "So, Strange and I have concluded. This does not bode well for our plane. The metal will become an open vessel. Someone on the other side already attacked the souls of Genosha's dead." John flicks the butt down, snuffing it under his shoe. "and comin' from me, Luv. That's sayin quite a somethin'."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"I don't want to know who you're dating or who your sources are, if that's what you're asking." Zatanna offers a grin. "A girl's got to have her secrets after all. It's more pooling our resources to work together without having to use pesky words." she offers to Lois as she waits for Illyana to return, her blue eyes turning to the water -- before that portal opens, and the ladies are joined by the two mages. She was about to say something to Strange when Constantine is with him.

"John?" Zatanna's voice catches for a moment. He's okay. He didn't get sent off someplace else. No....

He wasn't in dire trouble. He wasn't in peril. He was...

"So, what, you decided to detour to go have a beer with Strange at the Pub?" Her voice is strained for a moment as the Mistress of Magic rises to her feet. Her hands grasp to her sides as she crosses the sand, and she throws her arms around John, hugging him tightly for several seconds. And then she steps back and her hand flies up to //slap// John across the face unless blocked.

"YOU ASSHOLE!" she shouts, fuming as she glares at the two men. What they said clicked, but she's not saying anything on it.

After all... Lois Lane //is so much better// at getting information.

<<Sic 'em.>> is the thought shared between Illyana and Lois.

Lois Lane has posed:
Lois pauses. Well, the whole dating and sources thing really /is/ an issue, but now that Zatanna's covered that, she shrugs. "Right, no harm there then," she replies. The ease of communication with the mental connection /does/ seem pretty cool. It's almost like having a super power. Almost. But there's an incident happening.

Somehow, she's not surprised when John shows back up with someone else. She's starting to get a feel about how this day is going to go and what to expect. "Rule number one, never leave someone wondering if you're dead if you have the ability to help it." She puts one hand on her hip. But she did pay attention to what John said. "So, I'm way out of my league here, but am I to assume that if we do this whole..." Here, she waves her hands around to somehow indicate whatever they're currently doing. "... thing, we're basically opening a giant hole to let something climb its way right over here? Or am I off the mark here?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Stephen, wearing his navy blue with sky blue imprint on the chest tunic, with the sleeves fading into a pair of yellow gloves by way of a black effect that almost looks like the gloves and tunic bubble into each other. He wears simple black slacks and some heavy black timberlands and the most obnoxciously over the top collar on his cloak that frames much of his face and even his hair. The wizard looks to Zatanna as she hugs John and then-

    Strange doesn't speak but he does watch Zatanna and her fast and brave hands lest he get his comeuppance for a life time of jerkery, he's not quite ready to pay that bill just yet, and all those years moving stones for the Ancient One, Strange might believe his debt to society is paid.

    "In John's defense, we didn't go to the pub." He already had his smokes and a can at the house, no need for extra stops. "We had much to discuss, and we-" Stephen stops himself again, making sure he's staying in line with his duties as the Sorcerer Supreme.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana's all-out run isn't without some actual tactics behind it. Since no one is pulling the fastball special with the ethereal Russian Demon Queen, she improvises by leaping onto the first ruined wall giving reasonably a high vantage over the cracked and crumbling street. A springboard for launching her up into the air, much higher than anyone normal would ever get -- and laughably like a step for the Hulk -- brings her to another half-collapsed shop. Muscles in her thighs coil as she sinks low and kinetic potential escapes in a burst, sending her flying off to the next point.

Mind you, if the Sentinel is active and in the mood to fuss, life will get loud and interesting very quickly indeed.

The frost-crowned rocket doesn't wield one of the greatest eldritch artifacts of mortalkind for show alone. Throwing her full strength into the meteoric descent, she pours all her hellish strength into the Soulsword, aiming its pointed tip to the most obvious weak-point in that hideous metallic head. Cutting off the thing's nose to spite its faces? Sure. Chopping a corner aside, fine. Soulfire seethes along the brilliant edges of a blade disobeying laws of gravity. /It/ doesn't care if the Sentinel is metal, flesh or something in between, inflicting the fury of all Illyana's remaining purity. One shouldn't look so thrilled to smash through her inorganic target. All she needs is a halcyon chorus or a heavy bassline riff accompanied by a bit of Led Zeppelin at her entrance. Nyet! Zatanna's taking them out for a good time, damn straight Illyana plans on having fun.

John Constantine has posed:
     As Zatanna comes up to John and gives him an embrace, the blonde mage holds his hands up a moment. "Not quite luv, he came to the Hou--" SLAP! "Alright, I deserved that long long ago."

  "He came to me, he felt what was going on and..." He shrugged. "Knew...I was probably involved with it."

  Lois' remark has him opening up his RAZR and showing a sent message. 'At HoM, Strange is here. Incoming doorway.' "Genosha, no cell towers."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"You have other ways to contact me, John Constatine, don't pull that on me." Lurching back from John and Strange, Zatanna moves closer to Lois, and for a moment, she's more vexed and angry young woman than the confident mage she was a few minutes ago. Glancing up to Illyana, she calls out. "Come over here for a moment! It seems we have... reasons to not do this." Her arms fold around her mid-section, and her displeased face is probably adorable.

But do you want to tell her that?

Her attention returns to the other two. "Let's try this again. //Who's// messing with the souls on this island?"

Lois Lane has posed:
"What, you don't have some kind of magic to send a message to someone?" Lois is starting to wonder if the magic users got the short end of the stick when it came to neat tricks. She's at least channeling Zatanna on that one. Her hand stays on her hip. She's not upset like Zatanna, but she's certainly ready for the /information/. Information is how she helps.

"So you had a lovely chat. Elaborate for the rest of the class?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Stephen seems to release a breath as Zatanna backs up and then he looks out towards Illyana and is still impressed at the SoulSword, something he'd like to study someday but that's neither here nor there. At least not for the Sorcerer Supreme. He lowers his hands to his sides and gives a motion to the group to gather a bit closer.

    "Illyana and myself encountered a force trying to stop the souls of the Genoshan people from passing fully into the after life. I have reason to believe the same forces would be using the magic energies and gateways we create for incredibly nefarious ends."

    Stephen takes a deep breath as he tries to find the words while he aim his eyes skywards and up to have a miniature confrence with the greater powers of his station and as such he suddenly lowers his head and then himself to sit cross legged on the ruined ground. It appears the wizard has finished speaking.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"You're telling me that we have..." Zatanna looks around her and then back to Stephen. "Three of the most powerful magic users on this plane... and John." She's still miffed at him. "That we can't find out what's doing this, or stop it?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Severing, smashed pieces are brought to an end wherever they are. Illyana lands in rubble with a cloud of dust and debris, which surely is going to stain something. Shouting to her warrants a pause, arm raised with a hand to her brow as though to shield her. The sword gleams in her hand, and then she soundlessly stares up at the Sentinel. Well, too late, time won't cycle back on itself.

"Do we?" she calls back. The return back is at a slightly slower pace than leaping spot to spot, though she puts the Soulsword to her back where it obliges her. Its steady glow takes the place of the sun or a streetlamp well enough.

John Constantine has posed:
     "Yes, wonderful magic. It's called a cellular telephone. Magic carries a price, Miss Lane, and it is not used as a party trick. People get hurt...or worse." He looks to Zee, right to her eyes there, for Astra. John's pack of cigs is removed and he draws out another from the pack. His lighter is pulled out and the ping of the zippo rings out once again as he lights it. He sighs as he exhales.

  "The balance...as much as I think Strange and his inability to act until the very last moment...there's a reason why I wasn't brought here with you. The Wave didn't deem it for me, until you started to work on nickin' that bit of metal. So, you want to go forward with it, I'll help you, walkin' that line is a favourite of mine. But you deserved to know it was iffy on my end."

Lois Lane has posed:
"... sorry, didn't know that telling someone who actually seems to care about you that you're safe was a party trick." Lois shrugs. "Right, so since I obviously don't know how this works, humor me for a second and tell me the plausibility of this." This is more directed towards Zatanna at the moment. "The original plan was prep the cauldron and it'd whisper secrets or something. That won't work because it opens up to whatever the heck did this in the first place, right?" She glances around a bit. "... can't we just chuck something in to spy on it and close it? Sure, something might get through... but wouldn't that be a calculated risk that we get our thing in first and that we can handle whatever would come from the other side?"

She shrugs. "Just throwing out ideas."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
For a brief flicker of a thought, Zatanna comically imagines Strange with angel wings and John with devil horns and she snorts a laugh. It was probably an image shared with the other two women before she draws in her breath. She turns to look at Illyana and she lifts her chin. "Illyana, the Sorcerer Supreme said you've been here once before. What do you feel?" she asks. "Do we push forward, or do we call it a day?" she asks.

"I don't think it's fair that we let these souls linger." She says, looking to the others. "Is that what we're supposed to do?" she asks... everyone. She knows what it could cost. What she may have to offer up in all of this. She closes her eyes. "You say that finding out where this came from, what caused this... who caused this. We're supposed to just sit on our hands and accept it?" She bites down on her lower lip and looks towards the ruined city.

"It's not fair." she says quietly.

When Lois speaks up, Zatanna offers her a grateful smile. "We could... but if what they are saying is true, it would put you in danger. And I don't think that's something I'm willing to risk." she winks. "I'm a trained professional after all." But there's a bitterness in her tone. An acceptance. She doesn't want to cause harm to anyone.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Stephen has closed his eyes, rested his gloved hands upon his knees and allows the group to talk and decide what to do as he's bound by his second oath to not interfere with Earth's self-politics and changes. Though he can report upon what he's seen and experienced. "The souls are no longer bound, Illyana, with some minor assistance from myself, took care of that. This, what you're doing is-" Stephen halts himself as he suddenly stops talking mid thought and slowly nods again, an apology to the Vishanti for again, stepping his bounds.

    "John, fill them in." He notes before beginning to lift off the ground, the power of his magic senses and connectedness while meditating in the lotus position blooming out from the Sorcerer and washing across thsoe around, particularly those attuned to the magics, he's helping them to calm and understand if at all possible, and yet even Lois would get the sense that he's ... the least normal of the ones gathered.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Death." The barest flicker of fire crawls across thoese arctic-blue eyes. In them no warmth resides, no light of the everlasting nights of summer known to the highest latitudes. Illyana's nostrils flare slightly as she would take on the scent of a stain on the very atmosphere itself, though nothing quite so charnel-house in its awfulness rises to the fore. Not at least at this distance, over the brine and weak stink of sewage from broken lines under the streets. "Rot and death. A wall that held back a greater sin."

She taps her fingertips against the hilt of the sword, black and steady over her shoulder, a cruciform crossguard giving a fine example of craftsmanship of variable make. She is no angel; unfortunately, the devil horns go with the job. "We saw the stream of souls. We cut deep into the shell guarding them. Whatever does this must meet its end. Have you /been/ captive?"

This subtle stress is no accusation, a statement merely given with an underline. "Where do we stand, then, if we do this?" A glance for John, pinning him down with the intensity of an electron microscope on the atomic butterfly, though he might supply the absent answers. "I am not Sorcerer Supreme here." Which underlines a real oddity considering this is a teenaged girl saying that. "Keeping you," a nod to Lois, "safe is the right thing to do. A directive of importance. But when unleashed, I am Shiva to his Vishnu. And your Brahma?" This, to Zatanna. "You, I have not decided." Metaphor stretching in English is hard enough as it is.

Lois Lane has posed:
"I'm pretty sure there are one or two people that would be grateful for your concern for my safety," Lois does admit that much. She takes another look around, shaking her head. "I'm afraid that's about all the insight I've got into this. I don't exactly know how big of a risk we're even talking about right now. I could always just go stand way over there or something." She gestures off in the distance, though it's clearly a joke. A little levity in the situation.

"I'm also afraid that... I'm not sure any of my contacts would be of much use in this situation." Without a solid lead, the story's dead in the water.

John Constantine has posed:
     John rolls his eyes. "Yes yer majesty."

  Another sigh. "If the entity is sentient, I can talk it down." He comments, looking back to Illyana. "But we're going in blind from where I'm standing. Neither you, myself, Zee, or Strange know what is on the other side of that metal."

  "The souls are taken care of, as the Doc said. He can't talk further on it because some cosmic hag and a couple of cosmic wankers say he can't interfere." He's already rolling his eyes even more. "So...that's where it stands. The Doctor and I are on the edge of where we can go. But if you go with it, Zee. The Wave be damned."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna frowns for a moment. She looks around, from each person, studying their faces and expressions. They're a formidable force, to be sure. But, John's right. There's the unknown. And Zatanna cannot bring herself to throw Lois... who has no powers... against this.

Getting Superman to show up from anywhere on the planet doesn't count.

"We'll regroup. I need to talk to Wanda. This is her country. Her decision to make." she finally decides. "But if I back down now - if Wanda decides this is the path to take. I want to know that you're going to be here." That to John, Strange, and Illyana.

"I'm sorry, Miss Lane, it doesn't look like you're going to be getting your story tonight."

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Stephen slowly opens one eye as he floats in the air, his grey eye lingering on John for a moment and then just sighs as he has to lower his legs to get out of the lotus position to scold John now. "You may not care about the Vishanti, but at least give the greater powers a modicum of respect." Strange warns before he looks to Illyana and Zatanna and Lois.

    "Why does this feel like you're asking 'mom' for permission to do what dad already said no to?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"I am ready when you are," Illyana says. A fraction of a nod touches her, movement settled in rather languidly. She makes a gesture and the slight, faint curve of space bends around her to devour the sword at her back.

The mirthless glimmer of the statement settles into her to just resolving to be a rather normal girl again.

Lois Lane has posed:
While Lois might feel guilty for being the 'innocent civilian' in all of this, there was a solid point--the variables were unknown. "Maybe this is the kind of thing that needs a little more time, a bit more research." It's not stuff she knows how to look up, she doesn't have old tomes and magic books and stuff that might help in this situation. She does pause for a long moment. "If you find something big, really big, maybe whatever or whoever started all this, drop me a line? It's not for the story."

She pauses for a long moment. "I think I know someone who might help."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Call it getting a second opinion." Zatanna responds to Strange cooly, as she blows out her breath. "Alright. We'll call this off for now." she finally says. She gives an apologetic look towards the others. "I guess we won't be hanging around here for the clam bake afterward."

Nodding to Lois, she smiles. "Thank you, Miss Lane. I hope that at least gives you something to work for as a start of a story. Though I think your editor may wonder how much you had to drink." Amusement touches her voice and features. "Strange, do you want to open a portal for her to get home safely?"

John Constantine has posed:
     John takes one last exhale of his dart before flicking it wherever, answering Strange. "Because I don't answer to them, mate. They've not earned any o' mine." John comments with raised brow. "Wanda Maximoff wasn't the next in line, technically Princess Lorna was." He kicks a piece of rubble down the way. "Not that there's much of a country left to rule."

  "But I'll be ere for ye', Zee."