4873/What The Water Gave Me

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What The Water Gave Me
Date of Scene: 25 January 2021
Location: Brooklyn
Synopsis: Congratulations, you've been asked to save the world from Cthulhu Balrog monster!
Cast of Characters: Meggan Puceanu, Eric Brooks, Amora, Julio Richter

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Sitting on a bench near Coney Island might be one of the sadder things of winter! Hardly any of the rides function. The flapping awnings and plastic tarps covering certain rides hardly scream "year-round family attraction." A few lonesome food trucks rest on the side of the street, waiting for the siren call into Brooklyn to feed the hungry masses. Fresh cooking oil in the vats promises a meal in a couple hours. Taco? Check. Korean-African fusion? Check. Poke bowl, gotcha covered. Flautas and fish aren't the only choices, but the brigade of brightly coloured food trucks are about the only thing operating around here. Other than people walking their dogs on the boardwalk, a couple peering at birds with binoculars, and one really grumpy policeman with the dullest beat this side of a French fry theft by seven quarreling seagulls.

Dull, totally. Nothing ever happens in this part of Brooklyn except everything strange, which is probably why he's there. Grimacing, slurping coffee, that's the job of some kid stuck in a tourist shack. Listening to tunes, scrolling through their phone, the nanny waiting for her shift to start. Cyclists and walkers all catch the wan winter sun breaking through the clouds before a forecast of snow.

Grey surf, grey sand, grey concrete. It's not pretty until the water starts to bubble, slightly. Waves bulge and drop in great troughs, the distant echoed >>bang!<< of something dropping out of ultrasonic subsea speeds causing a weird compression halo through the water. Light, too, illuminates the depths in a way that sunlight by itself in the height of July can't normally do. Lurid flashes: emerald greens of a tropical sea, jade striations, the gorgeous aquamarine and a dozen shades of gold. Maybe something just detonated down there but it looks good in doing it.

Eric Brooks has posed:
Being a detective is annoying.  It involves a great deal of looking without much finding, or so Blade has come to believe.  Having uncovered a nest in his own neighborhood, he's been keeping himself busy with reconnaissance; mostly to try and figure out how big it is. 

Before the sun came up, he'd followed a couple of familiars in the hopes of learning something in the process, but managed to lose them.  He's propped against a railing and pondering his next move when...

The distant bang is louder to Blade's ears.  Loud enough to startle, considering where it's coming from.  He squints behind his sunglasses and leans out over the water, trying like hell to figure out what's going on. "Well," he mutters under his breath. "This ought to be interesting." 

Amora has posed:
It still amazed Amora what some people's notion of being romantic could be sometimes.. Meeting up during winter at some drab, low-end restaurant of all things. To eat a poke bowl of all things. Really, the sacrifices she did for her plots. But this particular person she was having lunch with had a certain item on their particular collection that interested her. And so .., here she was, prowling and smiling until she got what she wanted..

She was dressed in quite the striking dark-green dress, cut on one side to show just enough of leg, a fur coat about her shoulders and that lush blonde hair pinned up. She was in the middle of a rich, heartful laughter at some joke her 'date' just shared until there was that crash nearby. Curious. Crystal blue eyes turned in that direction, watching the light, the bang. More than curious..

"And so, the lawyer said...." her date is saying until Amora raises one elegant hand, a sharp motion for the man to shush. "Will you be a dear and take care of paying?" she never pays for her lunches, "I just realized I have an appointment." she gets up to her feet, brushing fingers over the man's cheek. "We will talk later." so much promise in her tone.

And then she steps out of the restaurant, wandering towards the area. All high heels and elegance.

Julio Richter has posed:
One of the dreary denizens of the nearly-empty boardwalk, a young Latino in a puffy parka, Docs, and jeans, is waiting for his order at one of the food trucks. His mood matches the vibe of the place: lonely, dour, perhaps a bit self-pitying. He keeps looking forlornly at some of the shuttered attractions: the famous Ferris wheel, in particular, but also, with blatant contempt, the Tunnel of Love.

The truck's operator finishes the mopey customer's flautas and tries to hand them over, but by then the disturbance in the water has caught everyone's attention. Good thing, too: as he stares out into the sparkling sea, a shifting, shuddering green corona starts to wreathe Julio's arms and shoulders, and he mutters something about wearing a new coat.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Displacing a lot of water takes energy. The sun, the moon, they play on that all the time. Jupiter, too, actually. Tides surge against the beach as they have since Long Island first broke the surface aeons ago. The disruption is just another reason for water to go around whatever is pushing up against it, and that's not a particularly large or voluminous force. That counts is speed, even with that momentum slowing greatly given the shallows. Moving to outfly missiles and torpedoes is sort of wasted when 1,000 meters from shore and closing. The light show escalates to a vibrant, too-bright burst seething with magic, for those sensitive enough to notice. A hell of a lot of raw mana, plasmic bursts and explosive dazzles. The things that physicists fill up textbooks with, using silly names, like sundogs and sylphs and noctilucent clouds. It's mostly compacted into a single phenomenon crashing upward into the atmosphere and plunging straight back down.

Displaced water spills off the very humanoid figure in the middle of that personal sun. A lot, especially when she hits the wavetops again. Not quite the majestic breaching humpback effect, this is more like someone remembering how to float. What air is, versus the crushing depths of a place beyond imagining. Coughing expels a significant volume of seawater from the lungs, gills fluttering madly before they melt away into normal skin on the throat.

Meggan stares blindly at the shore, then harshly over her shoulder with an instinctive sharpness that might be pretty in a story. Lot less elegant in real life, where the expectation a Russian sub or something worse might be following her into the shallows. She's a thing haloed in that prismatic sphere of an aura, utterly ragged, garments completely shredded and a wrongness, a black ichor staining the hems that just about seethes malevolent anti-creation. Even if it's just a stain. The waves toss her about without care, flinging her onto the beach like driftwood. So much for spectacular entries.

Eric Brooks has posed:
Blade's coat isn't new.  He's had it for a long time and someone else had it for a long time before him.  He's still attached to it, though.  He tugs it around his omnipresent bulletproof vest and concealed weapons as he stares into the waves.  There's a cylindrical document case slung over one shoulder by a strap; it's the type that's used to securely carry blueprints and other drafting materials. 

The burst of light earns a gloved hand in front of Blade's face.  It's bright as hell, even through his sunglasses.  The sight of the woman elicits a furrowed brow, then a sigh.  He's too far away to smell anything but the sea, so he does what almost no sane person would do.  He vaults over a railing and falls a couple of stories to the beach. 

It barely qualifies as a hop in Blade's book, as soon as he lands he shrugs out of the much-beloved jacket and holds it up for this strange woman while he approaches.  Then the smell hits him.  Malevolent anti-creation stinks pretty bad.  Bad enough to make him hesitate, as does the black goo.  "Uh."  Seems an appropriate way to begin while he sorts this out. There's another brief sniff and another long look at the ichor.  "You know, you don't look that cold, so I'm just gonna keep this."

Amora has posed:
The sudden glare of magic is enough to have Amora figure out this is no trick of the light, or some natural phenomena happening at the beach. Eyes wide just so before they are compelled to approach. Mystery? Magic? That's enough to have Amora become enthralled by uncovering it. Because for all the dullness that Midgard *could* have some moments were still worth it..

She makes way close to the beat cop who is peeking over too. Perhaps wondering if he should call it in. Get emergency teams here... But Amora places one hand on his shoulder, whispering gently in his ear. "This is fine. Continue on your beat and do not worry..." she murmurs, voice melodic and oh-so-easy to obey for those of weaker wills..

With the man on his way she now approaches more properly, a gesture made and a word spoken in Asgardian, <Reveal>, attuning herself to the magic energies around her and looking in..

That it is a young woman, of all things, coming to shore, along with being all ragged and shredded has Amora pause and blink. It was striking too close to home to recent .., visions. Or maybe she should call them nightmares.

And oh, look. Someone jumping in. Nothing like white knights! And if it turns out this is some kind trap she won't be the first to get eaten. Yet she also drops onto the sand. In heels. "What happened to chivalry, mmm?" she comments at Blade's back when he doesn't offer the jacket. "What happened to you, girl?", and now that she's closer she starts to look over that ichor, and the overall girl more attentively.

Julio Richter has posed:
No quicker to turn from the sight of the girl breaching and then beaching herself than anyone else is, Julio grabs his flautas in their little cardboard basket without turning around and saunters down to the spot where she landed. He lifts one fried tube of goodness from the basket and munches on it as he goes.

There's a spot of awkwardness when he has to get down from the boardwalk to the beach, but unlike Blade, he has the good sense to get to a spot where the drop is only six feet or so, and that's from the top of the railing. Still, one flauta is lost in the drop, rising out of the basket as he falls and then bouncing off the edge into the sand. He gives it a mournful look, then completes his journey, joining the trio on the beach.

He gives the ichor a disgusted look, then stoops, gives Meggan an apologetic look, and says, "This is gonna be weird but it should help," in an accented voice. He shoves his fingers into the wet sand, and then the green aura that has been clinging to him sinks into the beach. Shuddering to life, the Earth imitates the sea and rolls over Meggan's side in a wave that peels the filth off of her. Then green tendrils of light, jagged with abstract thorns, burst out from the sickened sand as it is purified by Earth magic. He stands, shrugs off his parka, and drapes it around her.

See? Chivalry isn't entirely dead. It's just wearing a Dead Kennedys t-shirt.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The sacrifice of coats and mighty lunches shall not be forgotten. The sorrowful flop of tasty food on the beach is the joy of searats everywhere. Amora's date will swan away, hardly remembering more than her beguiling grace. Never mind those shrill cries or the birdwatchers gaping behind their binoculars, or the poor tourist-shop wage slave mopping up coffee and still hiding behind her counter. Beat cop Bob is most certainly not standing there with his head cocked at a funny angle as one of the cyclists tears by, screaming about nuclear weapons and Spider-Man's arch nemesis, Seaspider-Man.

JJJ gets around in the age of paranoia.

Waves swirl around Meggan's feet, scoring lines up the beach in the endless froth. The danger of wet boots and wet clothes is mighty, especially with the unsettled cold breeze blowing hard against those who come down. It's almost enough to leave her iridescent hair a threat unto itself, given she has locs enough to make Rapunzel jealous and their radiance gives that effect of full summer sunshine even when she's facedown in the sand, trying to remember which way is up. Blade's sooner to reach her than she is to lift her head, gathering her arms beneath her. Never mind the slender pointed claws, those are just normal nails now. Definitely pointed ears, and her eyes are like staring into the heart of an opal, shot with delirious highlights and swirling galaxies that absolutely have no business being there. The rest, though, it /aims/ to be human.

Success is in the eye of the beholder. "It's coming." Bell-bright tones have a choral effect on the ear, like her voice wants to be full of song and light too. Not a joke of a stereo, but she coughs out more seawater and tries again. "Has anything followed me? Do not look directly at it. Run if it has." She pushes her hand down on the sand and forces her shoulders up, knees pulled together under her, and not doing a lot to actually resume an upright position. The look sidelong to Amora actually makes her flinch and she physically presses her hand over her eyes, making a pained sound at the back of her throat.

"Too bright. Cwdyn da, too /much/." She would stress more but the leap of magic around her causes the diminishing glimmer around her to surge in a full hemisphere full of eye-popping sparkles that act like a fireworks show crossed with the sun's corona, just none of the fire. Going flat to the ground again is just easier for a few seconds. "Atlantean wards fell. Unleashed an outsider. Have to tell the Doctor. I held it off, but it's coming."

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Chivalry?  This thing is vintage and that was the blood of something very, very bad.  Why didn't you give her //your// clothes, lady?"  Blade's quips might suffer or gain from a rumbling voice, he doesn't actually seem bothered.  People meddle with things.  Vampires kill people.  Blade kills vampires.  As always, he thinks of this circle of life as his form of job security.  Plus, here he is, meddling up a storm. "Nice trick, with the cleanup." 

When he said 'this ought to be interesting' he had no idea how right he'd be.  Blade quickly slips his coat back on and tries to get this girl into something resembling a proper posture.  "Relax.  Nothing's followed you.  Nothing I've seen yet and I've got pretty good eyes."  There's a pause and a look up at the other two people on the scene.  "Anyone know what she's talking about? O"

Amora has posed:
"You have a strange way of asking me to undress." Amora replies back to Blade, a finely-trimmed brow arching. She is amused for a brief moment until her senses tune down to the girl..

Amora's blue gaze focuses fully on Meggan for a moment, orbs swirling in an unnatural manner as she takes in the power emanating from the girl. Now here is something she didn't expect to find on Coney Island, of all places. Her lips curve up in a faint smile. Hungry? Perhaps. Yet it quickly disappears when the flauta-eating man starts doing his magic. "Earth magic.." she says, "It has been a time since I have seen one of you. A dying breed in this hole that is Midgard." a very faint nod of perhaps respect is given towards Julio. It's a respect that most likely will turn into something else when she realizes exactly how the man is dressed. Ugh..

Yet when Meggan speaks again her attention goes wholly to her, listening, eyes narrowing.. She steps out of her high heels, feet on the sand. Attuned senses go to the sea, "Atlantis has been having problems as of late. Denizens of the deep. And by what the girl is saying, it appears Namor may have failed in his duties.." she tsks disappointedly, "And to think I even offered him my help in this." but then rolls her eyes at the mention of the 'Doctor'.

"There are others who can help with this. I am Amora, the Enchantress." she offers.

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio gives the washed-up newcomer a funny look, and not just because she sounds like a bit of an oxymoron. "I don't see anything, either, but I can check the ocean with vibrations if you want," he offers, crossing his arms across his chest -- less to strike a posture of concern than to ward off the chill. "Did you say you were in Atlantis? Is Namor OK?"

Psh, yeah, he's on a first-name basis with a king or two. Like it's a big deal.

He flashes a quick smile at the compliment from Blade. He doesn't know him, but he doesn't carry himself like someone who hands out kind words frequently. "I'm kind of a dirt wizard," he explains. Or rather, fails to. "I've fought Lurkers before, with the Atlanteans. Not sure about outsiders. Are they the same thing?" With the concluding question, he shifts so that he's addressing Meggan -- it's easier to look at her with his parka obscuring at least part of her lightshow of a body, even if she is rolling around in the sand in it.

Amora handing out compliments is also not something he would have expected, even if her good graces are short-lived. "Yeah, I'm the only one I know," he agrees. "I only learned to use it a few months ago. I'm learning a lot, but there's a lot to learn." When she introduces herself, he does likewise, although he doesn't have an impressive title to offer, and even seems stingy with his last name: "I'm Julio."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan is still staring at nothing, flesh a good barrier and better than the ocean for stopping her from being temporarily overwhelmed. She struggles to sit up even with help, though Blade is bound to find her considerably lighter than meets the eye. She isn't on the ground once she sits up, still dazed and clearly drained, but floating naturally an inch or two above the kelp-scattered sand. No help for her clothes, though, which show every sign of not having weathered the traversing of the water well. Which might be a problem. More telling would be the rents and cuts that don't exactly have a parallel on her body, and since Julio dispensed of the rest of the evil ichor, she's mostly prone to sitting there politely in the parka. Not shivering, though, which is weird. Another matter, really, though she peers through her cracked fingers at the rock mage. "Thank you. I... you look much less bright now."

Her breath shudders out, blown away, the clear overtones of a British accent resonant around every word. Not London though; too much music in it. "Well met, Amora. Gentlemen. You are acquainted with Namor? That makes this easier, then."

She rakes her hair back, the faintest sheen still on it like the light of the sun and moon vibrates from the strands. Totally not natural. "His people buried something in the Challenger Deep. Under it in fact. It woke up hungry and broke the wards that guarded it. He wasn't there. He must know, his court magicians seem like they're competent. Merlin never relayed any warnings to me about their fall...?" She sounds entirely puzzled by that, the words skipping freely off her tongue, exhaustion probably making her go through the motions.
"Dropping a cave on it didn't stop it. I tried doing a Gandalf against Cthulhu. You're sure it isn't here? Hard to miss, all the tentacles and formless black nightmare." Maybe she sounds absolutely deranged in speaking this, but the unequivocal honesty in her at least suggests she puts total veracity in everything spoken. "There /were/ Lurkers there, yes. They were further corrupted than the original ones. This would be like the primordial Lurker god, very Lovecraft. Save the bloody thing was real. It tried to eat us all. Wanted to eat me, which meant taking the long way 'round. None of you have the void in your glows like that thing does, by the way."

A shudder reflexively burns through her body at that, and she shuffles onto her knees. "It comes from the outer beyond, I think. Beyond creation. It's... it's not natural. I saw into it and I don't think I can sleep anymore. Gloriana, by the way. Hullo, Julio. Sorry to have nicked your coat. Bloody Cthulhu Balrogs."

Eric Brooks has posed:
Blade snorts and shakes his head.  "I love this town.  I've got an elf, I've got Julio the dirt wizard, and I've got Amora the Enchantress.  I'm sensing an uppercase 'E' on that one.  I'm Blade, the Most Excellent Of Vampire Slayers."

Something about his tone makes it hard to feel stung by Blade's words.  It seems like really does love this town and all the inherent weirdness that comes along.  "Because why wouldn't Atlantis be real?  I'm surprised that I'm surprised.  So.  Someone has clearly released the kraken. Krakens, plural?  I get the impression that nobody here is terribly shocked by that being a possibility.  Me, I'm more of a crowd control guy."

He puts a pause on his attempts to get Megan back on her feet right away, as light as she is. Most of the way upright is better than most of the way flat. "You seem none the worse for wear, considering."

Amora has posed:
That this 'raggedy' earth magician is in speaking terms with Namor comes at a bit of a surprise to Amora, but it does make her eye shine on Julio for a while longer, curious.. It might be a dangerous thing though, to catch Amora's interest in such manner. In the same way that Meggan, with both her story and what she can read from the girl, does. So much potential here..And then there is Blade.. "Blade? Really? And you have the gall of talking about my name..?" eyes go over the man from head to toe, almost as if judging him. Yes, she can do a lot of judging when she wants to. Specially when people aren't promptly grovelling at her feet! Humanity can be so contrary sometimes ... "But still, well met to you all." these last words spoken in a rather polite manner, she dipping her head just so.

"There is always more to learn, more to discover." The Asgardian says to Julio, her accent now a touch more pronounced, "For someone who has only been learning for a few months you show remarkable progress. Who is your tutor? And please do not say Doctor Strange, or I may have to stage a rescue again." there is *clearly* some beef between her and the Sorcerer Supreme.

Yet the matters Gloriana speak of do seem of import. Dangerous news, and ones that could spell doom for much of Midgard, "For you to have survived. It shows remarkable will." the Asgardian then says in a kind voice, lowering herself to be at a level with the other woman, watching her eyes, "Perhaps we could get out of the beach, go somewhere warm. Have tea. Or even mead if you are feeling adventurous. This is the kind of experience that can leave a mark on us." her suggestion apparently meant to the small group at the beach.

Julio Richter has posed:
"Did... did you just say I look stupid?" Julio asks Meggan, cocking his head to one side as he looks at her. He sounds surprised, rather than offended. More than a little bit amused, too. The sparkling girl from the sea has an innocence about her that makes it hard to believe that she might have shown up just to insult him. He listens with attention and some concern as she continues her tale, then nods when she finishes. "De nada. I'll just 'nick' another one."

Turning to the others, he says, "The Lurkers are bad news all on their own. I hate to imagine their gods." Turning back to Meggan, he flashes a little smirk and adds, "But you might be surprised what some of us can do with a cave. Here, I'll make completely sure." He takes a couple of strides so that the ocean is lapping at his boots, then stoops to thrust his hands into the water. For a second, a flicker of green light scrawls a jittery, nervous line around his silhouette, then there's a dull, basso rumble, distant and more felt than heard.

He stays where he is for a moment, listening, then stands and returns to the others. "You weren't followed by any Lurker gods. Couple of whales, way out in the bay. I think I heard a submarine farther out in the ocean, but that's it."

Blade's enthusiasm for the weirdness of the city earns a laugh; Julio raises his eyebrows and answers skeptically, echoing Amora, "Your name is actually Blade? Seriously?" He doesn't seem to find 'vampire slayer' nearly as hard to believe, so either he's good at rolling with the weird or he's encountered such undead creatures before.

He holds his hands up, palms out, and answers Amora, "I met Doctor Strange, but only once. Most of what I learned, I got from my friend Illyana." There's a certain caution in dropping that particular name, as if he's wondering what judgment Amora will render there. "She's a demon queen, basically. But I have also been trying to figure stuff out on my own." He rubs his hands against his triceps for a second, then agrees with her suggestion, "I wouldn't mind going inside somewhere."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"It's not a kraken. Even the really big ones can be reasoned with. The hungry one wasn't born on earth, it's so poisoned that nature started recoiling. Almost screaming, trying to get away from the taint." Jagged syllables sharpen the nature of Meggan's reply, her eyes narrowed and lips contorted into a flat line against her teeth. "Bloody hell, to put it crudely. I'd like to scrub the memories from my skull but no chance of that, and no hope of downing a bottle of whiskey to make it go away either."

That most English of sentiments from a most polite young woman, pointy ears and all, might be at odds with the situation. She gets her feet under her and wobbles up to standing, still floating off the ground. You can fall when floating, asking any telekinetic. "I'm not sure what weapons work against it. If you control crowds, that thing is a top-tier boss that TPKs without a thought. Would have done, were it not for the wards buying some time."

She isn't falling at Amora's feet in part because her gaze stays averted from the radiant Asgardian, and in part because the manic empathy scored by the encounter with the Great Old One might well be soothed just to find vaguely human emotions anywhere. A slow shake of her head follows from Amora's compliment. "No. I couldn't keep it in. Someone with actual skill, they might not have let it go. The others with me survived. It came out of the trench, and now might be anywhere. Can you locate it?" This is an open-ended question, broadly applied, while she tugs the parka lower and pulls that wealth of blonde hair off her shoulder. A good shake of her head wouldn't remove the volume of water it's sucked up, but wringing out the bottom might help. See, just a normal English woman, totally.

"My tutor? Nonesuch, as it is. Roma of the Starlight Citadel and her father, Merlin of Avalon. Or Ambrosius or Britain, as you prefer." Just a toss of those languid credentials, and she smiles for the first time, a glimmer of hope showing up. Which means going back to Julio for a moment. "Stupid? Oh no, no. Bright. You burn." A circular gesture envelops his general profile. "You get that life glow and energy charge, and it /hurts/. Though not so much as the Enchantress. I apologise for being rude. After seeing only dark so long, you knocked me back. And that's not an excuse, I promise. But I'm worried where it /has/ gone. Because something like that wants to feast on everything and..."

She looks sick, arms wrapping around herself, clutching as tight as possible. The inverting of her emotional aura is visible enough in the Sight, a chaotic thrum plunged into the earth and rebounding right back from the sand and sea swirling in confused, gentle patterns under her feet. Nothing to see there, just a faint brush of muted light in blue and green rising to steady her. "It looks fun on telly or when the exorcist does it. God, not me though."

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Oh, I've got gall," Blade asides to Amora.  "I'm also bold, impudent, contentious, and sometimes downright irritating.  Nice to meet you." Decades of traveling and experiencing other languages have erased any trace of his accent.  He just sounds like he's from somewhere.  Somewhere that people aren't afraid to speak their minds.

"I didn't mean an //actual// kraken.  Just.  Wait, you've got to be kidding me with the demon queen stuff and no you aren't I can tell by the look on your face.  Because, again, why wouldn't there be a Merlin and a demon queen?"  Blade lowers his sunglasses toward the tip of his nose so he can pinch the bridge and give it a quick massage. Better to stick with topics he understands.  "I didn't give myself the name, it just sort of happened.  Surprise, surprise, vampires have a flair for the dramatic.  I have a real one, but I forgot it like fifty years ago." Joke? Maybe. 

There's a brief cough, along with a pause.  "Oh, wait, do you think I actually control crowds?  No, no, I'm just good at punching a lot of people at the same time.  I like guns and this tube has a sword in it.  I don't really..."  he makes a sort of poofing-firework gesture with his fingers.  "You know?"

Amora has posed:
"Illyana..?" Amora's tone is carefully neutral. If she knows the demon queen it doesn't show in her tone, but she does consider Julio for a small while longer, "A demon and a druid. Quite the odd pairing. But I have seen stranger." she says, "As long as it works. And from what I see, it does seem it is." but then a gentle smile coming to grace her features, "If you ever wish to delve deeper though, do seek me out. I am certain there is much I could unlock in your magic though." at what price though?!

She gets back up to her full height, gaze straying towards the sea once again, seeking, her eyes glowing in a deep emerald hue, "I can find it." she says, no doubt in her tone, "But it might take some time. I do not suppose you know it's name, do you?" names, making things easier since eons ago.. The glow disappears from her eyes and she looks back towards Blade, arching a brow, "At least you are self-aware enough to know what you are. Good. But you missed insufferable." yet at least she smiles, it not apparently meant as a downright insult. More like a tease.

She pivots in place to look back at Gloriana, "Merlin.. Well, there's a name, how is the old fool? It explains a lot too. Namely on how you were able to survive against a creature of such power." she gestures then, up towards the boardwalk and it's line of restaurants and bars.

Picking up her heels from the sand she then starts lifting up from the ground. "Shall we, then?"

Julio Richter has posed:
"Oh! Lo siento," Julio apologizes, once Meggan clarifies what brightness she was referring to. "I will let the power stay in the ground, then." Indeed, whatever reserve of seismic power he was holding in his body, spurred by nervousness at the Brit's thoughts of being followed, he lets bleed back into the Earth, leaving him with just the ordinary life force of any other mutant.

"I can find places. Creatures, not so much," he continues with a slight shrug. If someone is going to find the hungry one, it won't be him. "I can do wards, though. Maybe I can buy time, or help trap it again." He pauses for a second, wincing at his impression of the scale of the threat. "I mean, it might not be a bad idea to have a volcano or a major fault or something handy, if we're going to try it. Do you two really know Merlin?" That name, at least, is familiar to him only from myth.

He doesn't challenge Blade's claim regarding his name. Even if the vampire slayer is just messing with them, Julio doesn't begrudge anyone whatever level of anonymity they prefer. He has been there, and in some circles, very much still is.

He gives Amora a look that he probably intended as evaluating, but that likely comes off as more naïve and hopeful, especially to her practiced eye. "Yeah, it's mostly theory. She doesn't really do Earth magic, herself," he answers her comment about the odd pairing. "Like I said, I'm the only one I know. If you don't mind, I'd be happy to learn whatever you could teach me." If there's to be a price, he obviously hasn't considered it.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The petite grin is fleeting, but grateful, for all that when the magical discharge at least stops hammering a beat of greeting. Meggan ducks her head slightly, wrapping her arms around herself again. It's the easiest thing to manage when in that parka, and shrinking to a more petite size simply allows her to be less of a walking hazard to all and sundry. Fallen, ragged lines of cloth maybe pretend to be a skirt, but it's the best she can do.

"Name? No. I know there were glyphs and runes all over the cave it was in. Perhaps those had names on it, but I could not find them. Just the ichor, the memories, the attack. There is only the one place it was buried, in the trench, but if anything of Atlantis survives there? I am unsure. Neither was Troia able to understand what they read. I fear I can read the language but not the intent." Another reason to drop her shoulders, look away from them, as though being the messenger is not already bad enough.

Blade's crackle-bang finger gesture earns a smile from her again, though it's fleeting even moreso than the first. "I don't bite. The others, can't speak for them, but the world is very strange and wild. Isn't it? Good to have a sensible opinion and a sense of humour about it. Makes the moments like these a little less destructive."

Her teeth set, that smile lost, her expression more distant as she stares off at the line of restaurants, Coney Island whimsical and dismal, a weird blend. But she's British, they do that. "Aye, I know Merlin. His daughter's much nicer, on the whole. Saturnyne and Merlin are both products of their age; cantankerous, tetschy, prone to jabbing a finger accusingly if they must."

Eric Brooks has posed:
Have you ever showed up at a party where everybody knows each other except for you?  This is Blade at the moment.  He does snap off a quick, lazy salute to Amora.  "Guilty as charged."

Phrases like 'such power', and 'it might not be a bad idea to have a volcano handy' are making him a little nervous.  Just a little.  "I have explosives?" he offers, not really expecting this to be the most effective option.  This situation seems like it calls for poofy-firework fingers.  "More seriously, I'm only equipped to handle mundane threats.  If Cthulhu has foot soldiers, I have boxes of bullets to greet them with." 

Again, perhaps not the most effective plan, but he's a simple man with simple means at his disposal.

Amora has posed:
"Then learn you shall, Julio." Tone and expression as if Amora is pleased with the man's acceptance of her offer, "I will find you, soon." names, again, helping in locating people! "I feel one of our first lessons will be in the subtle uses of your power." a faint, amused smile coming to her expression. Yes, the part about having volcanos handy did catch her attention too. But then again, and considering her name, that does seem to be one of her strong points.

That the creature itself has no name that Gloriana knows is met with a brief sigh from Amora. "The location will help. And those magelings in Atlantis certainly know more too." a plan was forming.

As for biting, "Everyone's a biter with enough stimulation, my dear." again that teasing tone while she regards Gloriana. Look, she can't help it! Part of her nature and all that. She continues on floating up to the boardwalk, "Blade, you just said you kill vampires. It doesn't sound like mundane threats to me. Regardless, I have learned over the years to not underestimate human technology." damn you, Avengers!

"Versatility seems to be one of the greatest strengths of your people."

Julio Richter has posed:
For all his grand talk of unleashing a volcano on Cthulhu, what Julio currently needs to deal with is a basket of flautas, which he retrieves from the spot where he left it in the sand. Speaking of sand, he's got some on his hands, but a single burst of geokinetic vibration (quick and surreptitious, to spare Meggan's senses) is enough to get rid of the granules. Once he dries off the lingering seawater on his jeans, he considers that hand clean enough to snack with -- dirt wizard, indeed.

While he eats, he is perfectly willing to follow the others wherever they're headed. He falls in next to Blade and says, "If it makes you feel better, I have no idea what I would do if a vampire attacked me. Especially in bat mode." He takes a deep, embittered breath. "Jesucristo, I hate it when they fly." This is obviously an ongoing sticking point for him: that things should stay on the ground where they belong.

His own lips have just parted to make a similar comment about biters when Amora beats him to the punch, and he just flashes a grin. He considers offering the Enchantress a phone number, but she seems justifiably confident that she won't need one. "Subtle is not what I'm good at," he admits, "so I could use some help there." Then his grin widens and he adds, "I know a little bit about the strength of being versatile, though."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The blonde finally on the ground following after Asgardian, vampire slayer, and druid is much smaller than she was sprawled on the sand. Easier to walk in their wake without being too much of a problem. Nothing like being barefooted and going for a stroll on the beach with fine company. Meggan isn't complaining, beaming with a smile instead of looking utterly miserable.

She gives a little finger-wiggle of greeting to Blade anyway, and smiles wider. "Exciting, having explosives. I've no idea if white phosphorus would work with that. It is enormously large, fast, and drawn by anything living. Would that make you happy to see them removed from the board? I shouldn't be happy about seeing something wiped out, but it's a little personal."

She looks after Julio and Amora curiously, and then exhales a low, shining laugh. "Subtle? Is it possible to show me how you do anything subtle? I'm still seeing halos and shine everywhere, and it doesn't help at all." Her lashes slant down, an aching weight to the world pushed at arm's reach. "The location was great, though I warn you, it'll kill most people to be down there. Namor could make it, and others in his court. Not all the Atlanteans might want to be there, but I can give you the specifics. So might the others who went, a good number of Titans had their technology."

Technology clearly that doesn't apply to the light-radiating fae in their midst. Wherever they go, she happily goes along, bidden by food. "Vampires flying? That's probably the worst, utterly. Ugh! Biting and awful monsters. That's why you stop them. Dracula is /the worst/."

Eric Brooks has posed:
"You're all too kind."  Blade nods deeply, almost an abbreviated bow.  He manages to take compliments with some level of grace, even ones from pretty ladies, large or small.  Granted, he's a bit old fashioned.  "But I also don't have tea with Merlin or swim with the fishes, so I'll get in where I fit in." 

To him, that seems pretty reasonable, especially under these circumstances.  He wants to help; anyone who's not evil or crazy would probably want to help.  Sometimes that's enough.  "I like being bitten as much as the next guy, but it's dangerous in my line of work.  You know, I really do have a //lot// of explosives," he muses.  "You should try the thermite, it's excellent today."

The topic of vampires is one of few in which he's an expert.  He's got another nod, this one for Julio.  "I like the ones that hate silver.  They keep their feet on the ground, they're scared of garlic, they're greedy and stupid.  That's my kind of bad guy.  Not Dracula.  I hate Dracula.  Just...  No. Wait, he's not here, is he?"

Amora has posed:
"I can show you, of course." Amora says back to Gloriana, a glint on her eye, "Do you also wish to learn from me?" she then inquires. Oh so generous with her offers of teaching. But flying along she continues until she gets onto firm ground, taking her time in getting back into her high heels.

Dracula though, that brings a smile to Amora. A dangerous one. "Do you wish for me to give him a call?" she asks of Blade. It's a very nonchallant tone, but she might just be teasing again. Or not. Who knows?! Doesn't seem like she will confirm one way or another.

Fleeting as she is though, Amora looks towards the sky a moment, frowning, "But speaking of calls. Seems like something is pulling my attention.." the woman reaches inside her fur coat, producing a trio of cards. She flickers her fingertips, sending one towards each. "There is a number there. If you need me, call." a smirk then appearing on her lips. "Day or night." Amora with cellphones?! Well, she does like taking advantage of those *good* inventions humanity has. Never underestimate humans!

And then she waves her hand, taking a step forward, one moment there and the next .., gone.

Julio Richter has posed:
"¡No mames! Dracula has to be fake. He's in /movies/," Julio protests. "Merlin, OK, but Dracula?" OK, Merlin's in movies, too, but there has to be a line somewhere. He has yet to find it, even after a significant amount of searching, but surely it must be there. After a second, he lets go of this and turns to problems that, unlike the intrinsic absurdity of the universe, he can actually address.

"When I was in Atlantis, Namor had his people put some kind of spell on me so I would be OK at the bottom of the ocean," he says. "The details are fuzzy, though. That's pretty much the biggest volcano in the world, so I was kind of..." He trails off, and waggles one hand in a loose, sloppy way.

He takes Amora's card and looks it over with interest, then slides a phone from his hip pocket and starts tapping the number in. There's absolutely no telling what will become of an honest-to-gods business card if he slides it into one of his pockets, thereby subjecting it to his personal entropic field.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Dracula." Amora is wandering off and, with that, Meggan looks over at Julio, her expression turning direly serious. "Every bit as bad as you think. Probably a bit worse. The fashion sense is very Victorian in the movies but in person, no, nothing like that. The dark colours are still the case, though." What's that line he's thinking about? Nowhere near where she happens to be presently, so fear that state of her wandering off towards the edges of the universe.

Her expression softens a little, and she smiles. "The life-bind spell. The one so you could tolerate the pressure and water? It would help, since breathing down there is terrible. And the biggest volcano--you were at Mauna Kea?" A look forms over her expression, mildly concerned. Or greatly. "Or the massif out in the northwest Pacific? Tambor, Tamir, Tamu? Something like that." It's Tamu. For what it's worth. "Though maybe it's a lot of magma moving around a country of sorts."

Since cards are offered, she accepts Amora's with a smile and holds onto it like a precious thing. Given the state of affairs, a coat or a lot of rags aren't given choices on where to put things. "I shall call you if things are bad. Or I find that... thing. If it finds me. Would you imagine it goes to Atlantis first?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
After a flighty moment of indulging in the scent of Mexican food, the fae girl adds, "Oh. Not here. Last in London, but that's meaningless. I imagine he can travel."

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Everybody here has tricks," Blade chuckles dryly.  He tucks away Amora's card into one of the many pockets on his vest.  He seems like the type who's well-equipped to handle low-tech options. 

The topic of Dracula is worthy of an annoyed expression.  Blade wasn't startled by his name being mentioned.  Not one bit. Nor was he bothered. 

"Enchantress with a Capital E had a point.  If things get hectic, you might need some help."  Against all odds, Blade has both cards of his own and a sense of humor.  There's a stylized knife on one side and a phone number on the other.  That's it.  He passes them out.  "If you'd like my thermite and I to join you."

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio laughs as Meggan starts listing volcanos. "Not kind of the biggest; kind of a volcano. I meant the midatlantic rift. I looked it up afterward. It's like a big crack as long as the whole planet, and it spews out lava all the time. The city we went to was sitting right on it. All that seismic power..." He shakes his head, still a bit in awe of it. "I don't know what drug it was like, but it was like a lot of that drug."

He shrugs with a smile. "That does sound like the right spell, though. Not rock magic, so not one I can learn. I can move around on ley lines, though, so I can probably get down to Atlantis and ask someone to put it on me."

As for contact information... "I don't have cards," he says as he accepts Blade's, flicking it over and examining it with a perturbed expression. "Should I have cards made? I normally just text my name so you know it's me. Maybe we can have special communicator watches for the Infinity Watch, like in an old TV show. I don't think it's supposed to be that kind of watch, though."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The laugh is sunny as the day is long. "Oh, you were on the Mid-Atlantic Rift! What was it like there? Did you find it to be peacefully splitting apart or was it rumbling constantly? I confess I've never really been down there, only seen pictures of it. Impressive ones, though. Especially when you look at a globe, it's like half a zipper running up the side of the world." The enthusiasm she can evince for that rift zone, spreading and faulted, is genuine. But very little Meggan says or does is anything but.

"I'm sorry, too, Mr. Blade. Making you uncomfortable, if at all. I can change the subject." She leaves it at that, and then rolls her shoulders lightly to banish the notion from conversation. Let it be said the apology is given freely, and onward they go through the city itself. "Is everyone supposed to have cards? I'm the Lady of the Lake on Twitter, and a bunch more like that on the other socials. It's rather hard to miss me."

An entire generation and an army of followers proves that. Round the ears, lose the lightshow fantastic, and she's not a creature of the Otherworld so much as a hell of a well-known environmental activist.

"So, food. I think it's safe to consider that. I'm going to be starving for days, at this rate. Where do you recommend? Anywhere cheap?" The questions tumble over one another, anxious to avoid the Great Old Hole in the chatter.

Eric Brooks has posed:
Blade flashes his teeth and shakes his head.  "Relax, kids.  I don't think anyone actually //needs// cards anymore.  And there's no need to apologize to me, I'm happy that the poncey prick is still an ocean away.  'Oooh, I'm Dracula and I'm spooky because I've been in movies. Look at all my girlfriends.'  Pffft." 

As they move further into the proper portions of the island, he glances over at Julio.  "Any recommendations?  I don't really... you know... eat.  I mean, I can, but,"  he shrugs.  "I know as much about casual dining as I know about Twatter.  Social media agrees with my low profile like corn dogs agree with my digestion."

Julio Richter has posed:
"Sort of... both," Julio answers Meggan, sucking air through his teeth as he thinks back. "The rift itself is just doing its thing. Constant power bubbling up from the heart of the planet and meeting the water as the rock spreads away. But all around it? Vents, smokers, faults, constant groans and grumbles as everything shifts to make room. It was intense. I didn't use my powers the whole time I was there, because I was scared what might happen if I did. But if I'm fighting a Lurker god, maybe I don't have to hold back so much."

He has taken another bite of his own flauta when the others ask for recommendations, and he gives Blade a curious look over the top of the snack when he says he mostly doesn't eat. The concept simply does not compute. Then, around a mouthful, he says, "The food carts charge OK prices in the off season and, if you like street food, they're good." He gestures at the cart where he got his own basket of fried goodness. "The brick and mortar places are more expensive, but also warmer."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Can we not destroy the planet or cause mass tectonic problems in an attempt to blow apart the lurker god?" Meggan is essentially warm-spirited in this request. Her hands slide into her pockets, feeling around in the coat for something that might constitute a source of money if not warmth. Not her business. "Oh. What am I thinking? I've not a phone or a jot to call my own. I left all that on the surface when this began, and goodness knows I didn't think I would need a plastic card that low. I'm not even sure it would resist being compacted down to a bubble of plastic being on the bottom."

Because just prancing around the bottom of the ocean is totally normal, an experience she can try to share with others even if it's the kind of situation that causes a head-snap from passersby. Better that way, let them be more impressed by the two men with them. "I suppose that means I wait. Or call up school and find out about that. It's not so far."

Her fingers race through her hair, shaking out the considerably long, but infinitely shorter and less shiny mane. "I'm not so worried about the cold as I am pants. Might have to put out word for that. No matter, I'm sure some where's got a..." No, you don't have a phone either underwater. Or a computer terminal. She tips her head. "How /do/ people connect? I'll get 'round to it, anyway."

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Oh, yeah.  You're a little underdressed, lady.  And don't look at me like that, dirt wizard.  Didn't your mother teach you not to judge a species by their eating habits?"  Blade's grin grows a little wider.  His teeth are sharp, so he's clearly designed to eat something.  More's the mystery. 

"Hold on a sec."  He produces a handful of bills from another of his pockets.  It's not much, but he manages to swap a twenty for a pair of I <3 NYC sweats at a corner stand that's still not quite open.  Blade seems skeptical, but he brings them back.  "Better than nothing. Anyway, all of that--"  he waves in the direction of the previous light shows and booming sounds.  "-looked exhausting. There's another ten or so bucks, get a burrito and then you can figure your out your life and your phone situation.  That's all I have, I don't really carry cash."

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio gives Meggan a slightly harried look. "I can lend you my coat, but, um. I'm not lending you my /pants/." he glances awkwardly at Blade, then lets his posture relax as the vampire hunter devises a solution. In his defense, Meggan does, in fact, have his wallet, in the interior pocket over her heart.

Once her pants situation has been rectified, Julio reaches up to scritch below his stubbly jaw with a thumb. "If you remember where you left your stuff, I can see how close I can get you," he offers. "Depends on the ley lines. And the nearest place to start from is down there, across the street." He points toward a vacant lot some distance away.

"Not judging, just surprised," he tells Blade, hands coming up defensively. "I think I'd still eat, even if it were optional." He knows his vices.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
There's a matter of pants. Really. "I'm not asking you to!" Meggan shakes her head sharply, the laughter shining. "I have to /call/ a friend to bring them down. Some things I can do but just rob someone of clothes isn't one of them. That wouldn't be right. And of all the things I was expecting at the Mariana Trench, it wasn't to come skidding back to New York at top speed after being caught in a big luring match with some horrible abomination they didn't get locked up in there." There's an edge to that laughter, her hands covering her face for a moment. "This is utterly not how I thought I'd be spending today. I appreciate it all, I do. But I thought maybe jumping to the Doctor's place, tell him, maybe find out where my bag went. I bet he could find a way to... it doesn't much matter, does it? No need to be moaning about it. Promise, I am grateful."

It's been a hell of a day. That poor vendor is going to have a bit of a time finding himself chased about by Blade and then the elemental smiling and giving a cheerful, if abashed wave. Changing rooms have to be around, so she gives a quick nod. "I'll be right back. You can run off, I'll understand if you do. But if not, then back in two shakes."

It'll actually be faster than that, because the malleability of form can occasionally work to her advantage.

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Calm down, chico.  I'm just messing with you."  Blade waves off Julio's concerns, unworried.  "You're a nice kid, I'm not gonna turn you into a rare steak."

There's a lengthy bit of quiet, which isn't making him seem any more approachable.  Then he glances at the magic user and raises an eyebrow.  "This kind of stuff happen to you a lot?  Because it's not every day I joke about releasing the kraken and people think there might actually be one on the loose."  It seems an accurate enough way to read today's social temperature.  "Know what I mean?"

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio finishes his food off before Blade decides to break his silence. When he does, the Latino stuffs his hands into his hip pockets and shrugs. "I mean... kind of, si," he answers, sounding almost apologetic about it. "One time I went shopping for records and ended up purifying a bunch of abominations to create a god of New York. A friend of mine found out his dad had sold his soul before he was born, and we had to go to bargain with the hell lords to steal it back. The first time I got involved in this Lurker stuff, I was just at a vintage store and Namor showed up and kidnapped me because he mistook me for my friend's servant." He takes a breath and then laughs. "I don't know if it's a New York thing or a magic thing or a mutant thing, but it's just kind of my life now."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
It'll take time, but Meggan does return, rocking those sweats and somehow having acquired a black t-shirt in the process. Her hair pulled up in a ponytail gives her something of a casual look, like a girl about to bounce into the latest music video or off to a yoga class. Julio's coat is over her arm, and she returns it, ten dollars in her pocket and that's that. "Thanks for the loan. Here you go, don't get too cold."

Her breath isn't even steaming. Still, she gives a wiggle of her fingers and clearly eases back into the conversation well with easily amiability.

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Probably all of the above," Blade replies to Julio.  "Around here if you can keep yourself in one piece, that's a win." 

And then there's a fully dressed girl, which is what Blade was hoping to see.  It's winter, after all.  He tips her a quick nod.  "I've got to see a man about a dog.  From the sounds of it, you two ought to be alright from here.  Call me if you need me, yeah?"

Julio Richter has posed:
"You're probably right," Julio agrees with Blade, resigned to his many intersecting, dismal fates. "I'll keep doing my best. And I figure even if I go down fighting some drowned horror god, at least I'll die looking chido."

He tilts his head in greeting as Meggan returns with his coat, not about to ask too many questions about her expanded wardrobe. "Gracias," he simply says as he slips the puffy coat back on, pulling the soft, furry hood close against his ears to warm them up. Not every elemental can be immune to the elements!