4891/A Little Birdy Told Me...

A Little Birdy Told Me...
Date of Scene:	26 January 2021
Location:	Lux
Synopsis:	Magical paths broaden a demonic conspiracy. A hunt for meaning leads to some bloody discoveries.
Cast of Characters:	Eric Brooks, Amora, Meggan Puceanu, Julio Richter

---

Eric Brooks has posed:
Blade.  Is not.  Wearing armor.  He's not carrying any weapons at the moment, either, which leaves him about as naked as he gets in real life.  He's not happy and it's not difficult to see; he's all eyebrows and shoulders as he sips at a neat glass of bourbon.  But there are rules and he respects them, unwritten or otherwise.  As he's come to understand it, it's considered extremely poor taste to come into clubs like this when you're either armed or looking for trouble. 

He's usually looking for trouble, to be fair, but tonight Blade's more keen on information and explanations.  As he's apparently entering a new and magical chapter in his life, he's decided to outsource his questions to those who are better equipped to answer them. 

He's chosen a perch on the top floor while he waits; his small table overlooks the main floor and serves as a respectable vantage point. It's a fairly quiet night, which suits him just fine.  And so, looking a bit sleeker than usual without dozens of pounds of gear, he drinks and fingers his way through a manila envelope that's full of some very disparate odds and ends.

Amora has posed:
Do you know who else isn't carrying weapons? Amora! And why do people know this? Because there isn't a single inch on that outrageous dress that would be capable of holding one. Truly, not the kind of dress to leave much to the imagination but instead just enough to not be called borderline obscene. A tight-fitting bodice that leaves her shoulders bare, flaring down to dark green leather pants that keep those shapely legs in line and finished by high heels.

She strides into the place as if she owned it, chin high, moving past many who just look desolate as the target of her gaze isn't any of them. No, she has a purpose here tonight besides simple entertainment, and that was to meet up with the insufferable vampire slayer and the elfin girl.

Crystal blue gaze eventually spots Blade on that top floor, making way across and up those stairs, clearly having no qualms about sashaying her way through. Confidence? She seems to have more than enough to spare.

"Hunter." She says in ways of greeting towards Blade, "No overcoat tonight? I thought your kind was all about the dark and broody." tone rich with amusement.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Weapons are somewhat pointless in a city where arrests for wielding plasma guns, huge guns, and giant blaster packs are probably more common than the NYPD let on. Meggan would never think of bringing weapons to a club. She works as a bartender, after all. Her silver-blonde hair is pulled back into a straightened ponytail, its usual lush waves teased out. An oversized trench coat pairs nicely by chance with the slinky wrap dress that's probably one of the nicer things she owns, but being a starving student leaves very few choices to go by. It's secured by a belt at the waist, and a tie around her neck would normally go with a gent's suit. Not on her, but somehow it works instead of a necklace. Entering the club after Amora and Blade do would be something of an anticlimax, but maybe that's how she likes it. Here, it's fancy. Different rules apply. That includes keeping her feet on the ground, most of the time. Human, too: ears round, cheekbones a little less high, smile bright with the world. So goeth the lamb into the maw of the lion.

She's easy to spot because the murmurs and appreciation of Amora's wake is almost damning in silence. Not likely to see anyone else but the Enchantress, the crowd doesn't have to notice her going. The silence following in her wake gives Meg an ability to slip through without any real problems, hardly squeezed. Up the stairs, then, flitting a little too fast to reach the upper floor for anyone normal. Not speedster, for sure, but graceful enough. "Blade," she murmurs when she gets there, dropping her voice to be something conspiratorial. "Is there a proper surname to that? Or should we use our..." Superhero names? "formal names?"

Eric Brooks has posed:
"I am dark and broody," Blade grumbles.  "This is me dressing down."  Such as it is.  All he's really done is stash his jacket, vest, and various toys in the car.  That leaves him with his standard-issue black pants and a long-sleeved maroon shirt, both cut close with more thought to ease of motion than style.  Minimal use of buttons and zippers. No sunglasses, either.  He looks surprisingly human. 

"Aren't you a nimble elfling?  No, it's been a lot of years since I went by anything other than 'Blade,'" the Daywalker admits to Meggan.  "I'd say longer than either of you have been alive, but the last few days have taught me to keep an open mind.  My real name doesn't exactly strike fear into the hearts of vampires, so I stick with the nickname they gave me."

There's a pause as he absently drags a fingertip across the surface of his envelope.  He's about to have to Ask For Help, but he's doing a pretty effective job of putting it off.

Amora has posed:
"Fear. Fair enough." The Asgardian says back to Blade with a brief nod, sliding onto a chair to settle down, all that leather squeaking. Once comfortable she slides one leg over the other, "Blade it shall be then. And you shall be Gloriana. Unless you wish for something else?" blue eyes settling on Meggan for a moment, taking her in, the corner of her lips curling up into a faint smile. "I do like your tie."

"I trust we have reasons to meet here tonight, mmm?" She cants her head to the side, extending one arm across the booth seat she is at, fingertips held high as if she was either expecting or requesting a drink. Her eyes fix on a man that is walking past with a martini who pauses once he notes Amora, blinking but then placing his drink on her extended fingertips. The smile she gives him is all but melting but a moment later her attention is back on the two at her table.

"Even if as clubs go this one isn't the worse I have been at." which for her it sounds almost like a compliment.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Oh, I would put you older than me, though I can't speak with real certainty." The nimble blonde changeling seeks a place to sit, circling around in front of the chair. She drops down, neat as anyone could please, and crosses her feet once she is ideally situated. There might be a strange resonance visually between her and Amora on many levels, but one has the cast of cunning and vanity, the other of sunny ignorance, by compare. Her hands clasp together, lending that gesture of eloquence. "It's a very good nickname. Don't get me wrong or take offense, I just want to use what you prefer."

No urge then to worry about a drink, since that intense interest scrutinized from across a floor ais at Amora, not her. Eventually liquor is going to show up. When the poor gentleman is snared in, she offers that smile full of summer light to him. "Marriage of Figaro, and heavy on the cardamom, please." Her thumb trails along the rise of her knuckles. "And a whiskey, neat, no ice."

Because only heathens drink whiskey with ice. Proper, her. "You are doing well, Amora?" The tie slithers playfully when she sits up. "I rather like your accessories too. They work well."

Eric Brooks has posed:
Blade eyes Amora's not-so-subtle manipulation.  "Nice trick, Enchantress With A Capital E.  What, the pleasure of my company isn't enough to get you out of the house?  Your loss, I'm a catch." 

His laugh is dry as he shakes out the contents of his envelope onto the table.  "Uh huh, Capital E looks stunning.  Nice frock.  Very snug.  I'm actually wondering if any of this means anything to either of you.  Or if you can, you know," he pauses and makes the poofing firework gesture that's become his all-purpose signal for magic. "Learn something."

Amora's inquiry saved him from having to come up with a clever segue into the subject, at least.  His collection is a strange one.  A Roman coin, very old.  A single page, not paper, but some form of vellum or possibly human skin.  It's got spidery writing on it, mostly in Latin, but with notes in a few other languages.  There are other papers as well; a combination of drawings, letters, and notes on arcane rituals.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The coin, for what it's worth, bears an appearance rather like: https://trello-attachments.s3.amazonaws.com/600b62ab21077733652d245a/600b66c79473df1240012173/7d32201fa2231e0a4a568e37e995fbdf/800px-Dekadrachm_of_Syracuse_one_of_the_thirty_pieces_of_silver_obverse.jpg

An aged, irregular piece from a time before mints actually hammered out identical coinage, this is a silver piece of considerable antiquity. On the face is a person in profile, most likely a man, with a slender fillet wrapped around flowing hair. On the inverse of the coin is the symbol of a cracked tower, pieces falling away.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The page which Blade brings, the one of dubious flesh, is a soft ashen hue turning more to the finish of deerskin. It contains spidery writing, incomplete, but sketched with boldness and certainty. It's hard to assess age, considering the ink has sunk in and remained clean and bright. However, the Latin used to write it is probably uncommon to the modern eye, especially since this clearly hasn't been printed off a press. Several elegant drawings are sketched in for detail, giving in every respect a sense this was snatched from a grimoire. Because it almost certainly was.

https://trello-attachments.s3.amazonaws.com/600b62ab21077733652d245a/600b7cfe20ef0b3260f47b61/e38f9dc488983af938982b605caac953/The%2Bdiscouerie%2Bof%2Bwitch%2Bby%2BReginald%2BScot.jpg

Amora has posed:
"I see you are quite enthralled with my title. But Amora will suffice for now, Blade." The Asgardian then taking a sip from her drink while looking at Blade, amused, "Do you truly think you'd be able to handle me?" a light laughter escaping her lips, "But I will at least admit that you are quite bold. Not many that keep their wits about me." she dipping her head just so back at the man.

She waits for Meggan to be done in getting her request done to the man that had shown up to give Amora the drink. It's not ..., exactly a waiter. But there's no refusal from him, wordlessly moving off to do Meggan's bidding. Soon enough the drinks will be there!

She slides forth on her seat towards the coin when it's shown, eyes shining with interest while observing it, head canting from one side to the other. She doesn't touch either item just yet. "Where did you come across these?" she questions. "They resonate with magic that is of the vilest sort." she confirms. As if written-on skin wasn't proof enough.

"This though..." and she wrinkles her nose towards the page displayed, "The darkness here comes from the deepest pits of Hel. Deeper even." she states, "It's short of oblivion magic.." she gestures with one hand, sharp, an incantation visible in the air while she tunes herself to the magic. She casts another look at the items, trying to discern a signature of which creature exactly could do this. "This is not the type of thing that the typical vampire comes across. Nor a dabbler in the magical arts."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Poor gentleman! He's got to carry a drink order far from the standard and hope the bartender has a clue of what another bartender requested, though nothing too ornery to show off. Meggan doesn't have the time or cruelty in her to do that to another without highly just cause.

She turns to rest her arm on the table, but then a frown distinguishes a mood dip after Blade lays out his gains on the table. She prefers to drop her hand back into her lap, then, a shudder running up and down her spine in a visible flutter. "Ugh. That kind of disgusting, a bit loud and like wallowing in a bucket of sick."

A slant away from her gaze from the papers doesn't help, empathy ricocheting through a poisoned miasma. All she can do not to hug herself on the spot, but it wouldn't be appropriate with Blade and Amora so much more chill. "That would explain why it feels like cold slime and rot. Not much up here would be like that. Could it?" She scowls for a moment, unable to resist showing contempt, though it's better than turning green.

Eric Brooks has posed:
"I'm not a vampire or a dabbler.  I'm just some guy," Blade replies, grossly oversimplifying things.  "I wouldn't presume to think I could handle you, Capital E.  I'd offer to try, but I don't want to die tonight.  I have shit to do tomorrow." 

The bits and baubles he's brought elicit a wrinkled nose.  "I don't know.  To me, this stuff stinks.  It smells //wrong//, like something that shouldn't be, or shouldn't exist.  It's something dangerous.  Malevolent." 

He picks up his nearly forgotten bourbon and drains off half of it in one swallow.  "Ugh.  Makes my skin crawl.  This all belonged to a priest, if you can believe that.  He was an archivist and he went missing.  I found it spread out between his office and his bedroom.  He'd been doing work on some special book, from what I can gather, but this is all a bit beyond me."

Amora has posed:
"And a dense one at that." Amora retorts with a brief roll of her eyes without taking her eyes off the objects, "I meant the ones you obviously took these from. Or where you came across them. A crypt somewhere?" she says as a guess even as her frown is now more pronounced. Clearly she isn't liking what she is seeing..

"You can sense it too, Gloriana. As I expected." Eyes turning up to briefly look at the elfin girl, "And you are right. Cold and rot ..." she placing a couple of fingers on the coin. "This coin, this is of the infernal realms. There are many demons who deal with cold and rot but only a select few powerful enough for the these two." a nod given towards the page. "The page ..., that is where the real power is." and of course that her gaze drift to it's contents, lips murmuring quietly to herself while she inspects the writing. Latin? Easy enough for one with the blessings of the Asgardians..

Her eyes widen just so. Too familiar? She pushes the page away and turns her head aside to look at the rest of the bar for a moment.

"A priest you said. Odd enough for a priest to be holding one of these. But tell me.." and she looks at the other two now, "What do you know about the gate of entropy?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The cool look through lowered lashes isn't showing any love lost between papers and the fae girl. She might be happier sliding under the table. Or possibly scattering to the dance floor. Neither would be much appropriate here, so she waits for that poor man to show up with their drinks. Whiskey neat; that'll go down in a slug when he brings it, sipped but steadily consumed with a purpose. Heat blossoms on her tongue, running down into her stomach like living spills of flame.

"A priest having this sort of thing probably wouldn't be a good man. From what I feel, all this probably ended up with someone who did awful things. Might be wrong, but it's hideous."

Proof then to Amora's supposition she can and probably does detect something. What, that's not clear. A worried look over her glass follows to Blade. "You're sure you are okay? Carrying such things around must be risky even for you. Are you sure you're safe?" That worried look darkens, the slanting gaze so intensely green that it's practically a living thing without an unholy glow to it.

"What do you make of it all? I can't imagine this is any good." Amora earns a nod.

Eric Brooks has posed:
"I didn't take them from anyone," Blade replies, though he doesn't seem defensive.  He does take things sometimes.  "No crypts, no evil monsters.  Definitely no gates of entropy.  Secret drawers and false floorboards.  A five year old has better hiding places for their allowance." 

He sighs and shuffles everything back into the envelope, then pushes it away with a wave that clearly says 'help yourself'.  "Safe is a relative term. Carrying it around makes my skin crawl, but it seems like it bothers you more.  I don't have anywhere to stash it except for my place, but I'm open to suggestions." 

The bourbon is finished, but it doesn't seem to hit the spot.  Blade rubs his thumb around the rim of his glass until it produces a soft chiming sound.  "What do we do now?"

Amora has posed:
"Apollyon, the destroyer. A Prince of Hell.." How ironic is it that they are meeting in the very same bar that Lucifer owns? Oh, that makes her smirk indeed, but then she lifts one hand, gesturing to the coin. "On one, the mark of the Prince. The resonance around the coin shows the entropy surrounding it, the cold. That is his signature. For he is the Inescapable End, the gate of entropy itself." she explains...

"And this, this is a rite of cleansing, of renewal by cold and death. And while many times one could associate it with Apollyon itself.." she pauses, frowning just so, "... there is another that has quite the connection to it. The curved obsidian." she doesn't really expect them to know it, perhaps a touch too smug, "Itztlacoliuhqui. The Aztec god of death. This ritual is about purging the blood of weaknesses of the flesh, arising anew without spent humanity. It very much feels like it's signature."

She drains her martini in one go. "I have reason to believe the two may be related to one another in this. But as for what reason ..." she lifts her shoulders in a shrug, nor does she explain the reason on *why* she actually believes it.

"I can certainly hold to those for you if you so wish." an oh-so-gentle smile given to Blade. Never one to refuse free magical items afterall.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"I would have said bottom of the ocean, but as you saw, the bottom of the ocean isn't particularly safe anymore." Meggan lifts her Marriage of Figaro to her lips, indulging in the spicy kick behind the fig swirl throughout. She nearly drops the glass, in a way that only halts because her fingers reflexively squeeze. It's a wonder they don't shatter the tumbler, but the walls of said vessel groan in protect, a crack going up the side beyond the amber glow.

"Shite." Don't swear to the gods when in the Morningstar's domain, even if she knows nothing of it. Meggan runs her tongue over her lips in habit, her eyes a maelstrom briefly losing all green and turned flat, stone grey for an instant or two. A rim of phosphorescent green only remains at her sclera, inverted to what normal people do.

Normal people. She might be sympathetic to Amora's need to drink the whole glass, in fact, the contents of her whiskey not enough to swallow the fire in her belly. "There was a man."

These words cost, bloody and tight and awful. "A priest. He was hurrying away to morning prayers and slipped on the ice, fell. He was in such a commotion. Fear, anger, longing to protect something. When he crashed in the snow, he spat at me to get out of his way even though I could see him struggle and limp. It was some days ago." Her expression turns, fraught, troubled. "Beautiful morning, though. He seemed to be hastening away like a bat out of... you know how it goes. He was very upset, quite so, but I never did understand over what. The place was saturated with this awful foreboding and its source never really stuck out." She lifts her hands, apologetic. "I've not the skill to see things so easily. The Seeing is all or nothing. But it bothered me because it felt so dark and burnt there. It felt like that thing." A slender finger points at the coin.

Eric Brooks has posed:
"I knew I recognized you from somewhere!"  Blade thumps his hand against the tabletop.  "You were there!  That's where I found all of this.  You were taking pictures, right?  Yeah, you were.  That's where the coin came from, probably why the place felt so nasty."

Thoroughly pleased to have solved at least one small mystery, he turns to Amora and eyes her for a moment.  "Why's your face making that face?  Yeah, I think I'll hold on to this.  There's a bratty Brit I want to run it by, anyway.  Blonde, unkempt, answers to the name of John.  Anyway, you're telling me that this is... what?  A recipe for Aztec vampires?"

He likes boiling things down into logical, quantifiable bits and pieces.  This might be overdoing it, but based on the description it seems like a legitimate concern.  "Or zombies," he allows.  "Whatever."  

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio can't afford to be here. Thanks to the sponsorship of a spendthrift heiress with the bad judgment to be on friendly terms with him, however, he owns an outfit or two that certainly cost enough to make him /look/ like he can afford to be here. However, she purchased them so he could attend the opening of Hellfire Club properties; as such, the fashion in question tends to get him... socially pigeonholed, shall we say, in mixed company.

There's leather. There's mesh. The Lux lights shine on metal studs and lingering specks of red glitter. The outfit isn't lewd, by any means -- certainly, one would wear less to a public beach -- it's just designed to emphasize very specific aspects of the wearer's build, and perhaps imply very specific things about his character.

The sartorial shift is so profound that the others can easily be forgiven not recognizing him -- even noticing him, really -- until he pulls up at their table, makes a face at Blade's cargo of horrors, and speaks in his distinct accent. "Don't fuck with Aztec gods," he says bluntly. "Trust me on this one. That is a harsh pantheon." He doesn't have a drink, due to budgetary concerns, but he offers each of them a nod and a greeting. "Blade; Amora; Meggan, you look like you're feeling better. So, what did I miss?"

Amora has posed:
"Who better than Morningstar to tell us about this?" She then tells Meggan with some amusement. Oh, she knows well what she is doing for sure! She even offers the elfin girl a wink, clearly not too perturbed. Yet she lifts a brow when Meggan speaks of her meet with that priest. It has her frown, thoughtful.

That Blade refuses to hand over the items has quite the displeased expression fall upon the blonde bombshell. Her eyes narrow dangerously. "This is how you repay me after all the information I am offering you? I shall put ungrateful to the rest of the adjectives we already established you are." she proclaims. Yet she doesn't seem to remain angry for too long, or perhaps she has other interests in sight, "Or a ritual to transcend death, to gain a new life." she explains. "Vampires...?" she shakes her head slowly. "That isn't the curved obsidian's domain ..."

Julio's approach has Amora raise a brow, not recognizing immediately but eventually she says, "The druid. Welcome." then a lilting laughter escaping her. "There are much better ones to fuck, I agree." then a gesture towards Blade. "Our friend here came across a few interesting items, perhaps related to one. The Curved Obsidian. Rings a bell?" she questions, eyes shining with curiosity.

Eric Brooks has posed:
Blade waggles a long finger back and forth, pointing at Julio and his clothing. There's a chuckle hiding somewhere, but he isn't letting it out.  "That's some outfit.  I get the sense I'm underdressed.  I don't get to say that very often."

Now he turns his finger-waggles on Amora.  "Tsk, tsk.  I hope you're not telling me that you require a reward to help sort out all this evil and maybe find a missing priest along the way? Or would that be a bribe?" Both hands are held out in a grand display of helplessness. "I wouldn't know. I'm just some guy." 

Despite the verbal fencing, he seems more amused than anything else.  "What do //you// know, dirt wizard?  I stumbled into this on accident and I wouldn't mind some help.  I haven't spent much time fucking Aztec gods, they're not really my type."

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio reddens slightly at Blade's teasing, forearms crossing between the elbows propped up on their table. This partially closes his jacket over the mesh top, but doesn't do much to blunt the overall effect of the ensemble. "A friend bought it for me," he says, in weak protest. "For a special occasion." He's so eager to get off the topic that he probably doesn't even realize that he's only making it sound MORE suggestive.

Instead, he takes a second to think over Amora's question, then shakes his head. When he starts speaking, it's obviously difficult for him. "I know obsidian, but not a god of it. It's not that I've studied, it's just... My powers first hit me in Mexico, and I, uh..." He shifts, his elbows propped up on the table, and eyes a neat whiskey enviously. "A lot of people died. Buried alive, a lot of them. It got the attention of some pretty scary gods. Tlaltecuhtli decided it was a blood sacrifice, and they've been after me ever since."

He takes a slow breath, then continues, "When I went to hell -- I told you about that, I think -- Cipactli took over my body for a while. I think they see me as some kind of priest, or avatar, or something. They want me to 'feed the river of blood.' So, not nice gods, I think."

Shifting his attention again, to the objects laid out on the table, he picks up the coin, eyes showing a slight sheen of green light for a second. "Guau... that's a weird resonance, there. I think it's silver, but it's also not any kind of silver I've ever felt. I'd recognize it in a second if I felt it again, though."

Amora has posed:
"Mmm, by your look does seem that it was worth it.." Amora muses, now taking more attention to Julio's ensemble, from head to toe. Nope, she isn't the type to let some topics go. Specially when people seem so eager to leave them! "I have always been of the opinion that the proper dress can make an occasion so much more memorable..." a wistful tone on her voice.

She then leans back on her chair, shifting to rest her hands atop her lap, a brow quirking at Blade, "Helping someone for the goodness of my heart..?" amusement at her features, "You clearly do not know me enough yet. But you are in luck that this .., business with these two Gods interests me. So for now..., you will have my aid.." yet how long would that last though? She pauses just enough to hear those last words from Blade, "Are you certain you can afford to have a type?" look, she likes to tease. Nature and all that!

But attention is caught by Julio when he starts to speak up, "It belongs to Apollyon." she says, "Can you sense the resonance around it? The entropy? That's his signature. But you seen to have a contact to this, a peculiar connection to the Gods of the Aztec pantheon. Destiny works in strange ways. I do wonder if we were brought together because of this.."

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Tell me about it," Blade says, nodding to Julio.  "I could smell anything there or anything that touched it from a mile away.  It's like my nose stepped in pig shit."

He shudders and makes a 'blech' noise.  When a member of the serving staff strays close to the table, she's snagged and handed a few crumpled bank notes.  "More bourbon, please. For all of us.  It's been one of those weeks." 

Once they're free to speak again he glances at Amora.  There's a smile, but it's a bare tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, I have a type.  Older women.  Pale.  Likes to bite.  Now if you two have a destiny, don't allow me to intrude.  That all sounds very romantic." 

Though he often plays at being uneducated or underinformed (and sometimes is) Blade is a quick study.  Behind his quips, shrewd eyes track the two magic users as they compare notes. He's paying very close attention while keywords and the names of various gods are memorized for later research.

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio still hasn't been a member of the spandex set long enough not to get self-conscious about revealing outfits, so Amora's comments have him blushing even more fiercely than before, his face lowering as if to present a less obvious target. Not that it works: he gives no answer at all to the suggestion of romantic, entwined destinies.

Over time, his embarrassment modulates into straightforward worry. He doesn't like the idea that he's still unwittingly dancing to the tune of Aztec prophecy, even if it might be for the best. "I mean, I hope I don't need to call up Cipactli again and ask about this obsidian person. But some Aztec symbols are definitely in the spells I do. There's a sort of thundering jaguar who shows up sometimes. Tepeyollotl? He doesn't seem as nasty as the others. Maybe I can talk to him."

At the comments about the coin, Julio sets it down, but doesn't let his finger leave it yet. "I can sense it, yeah. It's of the Earth, just a different earth. You should see me in Limbo. It's like trying to stand on the surface of the sun." He snickers at Blade's comment, then. "Pig shit by comparison is no big deal."

Amora has posed:
"I meant all of us here, insufferable one." Amora replies back to Blade at the notion of destiny and romanticism, waving one hand off in dismissal, ".. And about this that we are uncovering. You have a connection to it as well, even if it may just be unclear to you yet."

A nod is then offered to Julio. "If you are able to reach the Aztec Gods then it might be a good idea. Gather information off them. Yet do be wary, they are not to be trusted." nor is Amora to be trusted, but that's a completely different thing!

When they get to talk about pig shit Amora gets a distasteful look on her expression, checking her nails with a raised brow. "I wouldn't know the first thing about that." nope, never dwelled in pig shit this one! "But I will take your word on it."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan, for the most part, is quiet. Emotional currents filter in and out, but the rapturous ambiance of the place is hard to find when the corruption around her shows to be so dark. Profane things that demand her attention will not be silenced easily.

"No need to be uncomfortable with your clothes. You look wonderful and that chap over there fancies you. I've been feeling him admiring you since you sauntered in," she tells Julio, sotto voce. Her whiskey is empty, the cracked glass of the Marriage unfortunately leaking a bit. Leaning forward, she slips one of the other cocktail napkins other it, and then pours out the remaining contents into the whiskey glass as a salve for the wreck done. "Sounds like you right irked one of the powers, though."

A smirk follows for Blade. He's earned it. She doesn't do more than shake her head though. "Destiny. To think, things could be written in the stars? Not sure I buy that, but it sounds nice, I suppose."

Eric Brooks has posed:
The arrival of more bourbon is a welcome distraction.  Blade accepts the glasses and unceremoniously hands them out.  His own is sipped from more sparingly than the first.  Every day with this new crowd seems to take him further and further outside of his comfort zone, never mind his feelings on widening his circle of trust.

Then he arches an eyebrow and looks up at Amora.  He doesn't say anything, but there's a quick nod at her assessment.  It's about as close as he gets to being genuinely nice.

And the moment has passed.  "The only Destiny I know works at the Classy Chassis off 32nd, elfling.  If you're talking about fate, I like to think I'm the one who's in control of mine.  This has been a week for new ideas, though."

Julio Richter has posed:
Although Meggan clearly meant her words to be encouraging, Julio looks stricken and sinks a little closer to the tabletop when she cheerily announces he's getting checked out. Fortunately, just about then Blade's round of bourbons arrives, and he has something to do with his hands other than futz with the coin of entropy. Not to mention, as he lifts the glass to take a sip, a decent cover to try to catch a glimpse of whomever she might be referring to. He might be embarrassed, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to /look/.

Still, that doesn't mean he can't focus enough to continue the discussion. "The last time, I got in touch with Cipactli by accident," he explains. "I meant to summon my rock armor as a disguise while we were in the underworld, but it sort of took over. I could try to summon Tepeyollotl to this world, but I don't really know where to start. Other than just going into a cave and guessing."

He hovers one hand over the book, as if to try to read it like he did the coin, but there doesn't seem to be any stone in it, just an ugly mystical resonance that is well outside his domain. Instead, he suggests, "I could try doing a long-range search for more metal like this. I can cover a couple of miles if I take my time. On the Earth and below it."

Amora has posed:
"Everyone has a destiny, or fate, however you wish to call it." Amora speaks with a certainty that brooks no doubt. "How you get there is fully up to you, but there is no escaping it. Tangle your threads how much you want yet they always lead to where you are to be in the end." and then she takes the bourbon, head tossed back and she downing it on one go. Asgardians and their stamina!

A glance is given to that particular man that is looking at Julio and she confirms. "Yes. In fact if you ask for his number he will give it to you." Amora knows about these things, ok? "In fact, he may be willing to give you a lot more if you ask." again, she doesn't seem to have any doubt here too. Fate and Sex? Amora knows!

"There are rituals for you to accomplish this, of course. I thought you actually had knowledge on how to reach beyond." a calculating look given to Julio. "We can arrange it." a glance given to Blade, "Maybe even get that friend of yours to help. John you said the name was? As long as he has some measure of magical power it would aid in this summoning." eyes then roaming to Julio and Meggan. "And with the rest of us, yes. It would be feasible."

She looks down at her leather pants a moment, frowning at something. "That coin. It needs to be contained somewhere. It is seeping entropy, and affecting it's surroundings."

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Yeah, John.  John fucking Constantine, the chain-smoking masterponce of the greater New York region.  Wait, hold on a second.  Shh."  Blade's not trying to be rude.  Not ruder than usual, anyway, he's just realizing something.  He picks up the coin between his finger and thumb, then holds it over his shirt.  He's a bit on the monochromatic side, so maybe he's not the best test subject.  "Can you see?  Something's happening.  Here, Amora.  Hold still." 

He used someone's actual name.  He must really mean business.  This time when he holds the coin in front of her far flashier gown, the effect is more pronounced.  There's a dulling, as if the color and vibrancy is being sucked out of the immediate area.  "Is that what seeping entropy looks like?  Because it creeps the shit out of me.  

Julio Richter has posed:
"Whoever wove my fate was a real asshole," Julio says grouchily, sipping his drink. "I think mine was pre-tangled. Can I return it to the store?" After knocking back her own drink effortlessly, the Asgardian nearly causes Julio to choke on his, with her reading of his romantic prospects with that particular individual. He turns to squint at her. "Are you saying that I could get laid or that I could get a sugar daddy?" he hisses. In a club this upscale, he has to ask.

Granted, she offered him more important prospects than that, but he's a young man, and even for the most focused, the personal can so often supercede the professional. So it is only afterward that he goes on to say, "If you can walk me through a summoning, I can do it. I met that Constantine guy, once. He seems to know things, even if he is a pain in the ass. As for the coin?" He shrugs and watches it bleed the color out of Amora's gown. "I can try to do what I did with the gunk that was on Gloriana yesterday. Return it to the Earth and then purify the Earth."

Amora has posed:
"Really. Constantine?" That magician has a sort of infamy afterall. She rolls her eyes, "Should had expected it from the likes of you that it would be *him*. But I am certain it will be fun." just before her eyes go to Julio. "There are no refunds where it comes to fate, darling. Yet do not feel so down, you are one of the few remaining druids afterall." eyes then going to Julio's romantic prospect. "Maybe you will just have to take that chance and find out.." not hiding the teasing in her voice. She is only here to tease afterall, not to give them all the answers! And certainly not where it comes to romantic prospects!

"But yes, I can walk you through a summoning, Julio. Of course. Do you take me for a second rate magician?" a brow curling up briefly.

But taking the color out of her clothing? That brings a wrinkle of her nose out of the Asgardian, "Yes. You are doing it on purpose, aren't you?" she waving her hand for the man to take the coin away. "Purifying it would be for the best, even if the field should disappear on it's own soon enough. Whatever powered it is fading."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
A matter of sitting still, downing liquor, trying to hold the dark at bay. Meggan is yanked out of her reverie -- and it might really be reverie, if she plays by 5E reality rules -- and blinking back to the present a few seconds later. "What?" Turns out that liquor isn't doing its job. She still remembers, and memory means wincing slightly at Julio's reactions. His choke and Amora's immediate pounce on that vulnerability is as vicious as any lioness downing the surprised antelope. In some cases, more dangerous, given the reactions. "Is there a difference in purpose?"

A young man's moods are powerful enough to tilt her onto her toes, so to speak. Business is forgotten because it can be, though she goes round-eyed at Blade rubbing something on /Amora/. Or what at least looks like it, holding it out, not moving it as much as first glimpsed. "Care..." Okay, careful is an unnecessary statement. The coin's cool, chilly effect doesn't catch her attention so much as the other blonde's reaction.

"Have a care. Is fate influenced by the dark tides you've sensed? It would seem wiser for us to walk lightly."

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Of course I'm doing it on purpose.  That's why I picked you.  Do you really think we should destroy it?"  Blade's question is a legitimate one that's asked without a hint of sarcasm.  "Don't get me wrong, it skeeves me as bad as it does you guys.  I'm just reluctant to do what we can't undo until we know what we won't be able to do after it's done." 

Like much of Blade, his statement is a lot to swallow.  It makes a certain amount of sense if you can follow his logic, though.  "I want to show it to Constantine first.  Yes, the likes of *me* consort with the likes of *him*.  Don't get me wrong, he's a twat, but he's mostly trustworthy and he's good at what he does.  Wicked hard-on for demons and the like, too."

Mentally, he starts adding up what it will cost him in personal and professional pride to ask this particular magic-user for help.  There's a distasteful grimace, as if someone waved a spoonful of warm poo under his nose.  "I'll go see him.  Then you can melt the thing into slag for all I care. The sooner the better."

Julio Richter has posed:
"Lo siento -- I meant 'can you' as in 'will you,'" Julio clarifies for Amora. "I'm sure you could do one yourself. I was asking if I wouldn't slow you down too much." His humility isn't just politeness, there. He might not be wired to get infatuated with Amora in the usual sense, but that doesn't mean she hasn't been able to tantalize him with something he desires. Now, like so many others, he wants to keep her happy.

Turning to Blade, he says, "I'll take care of the coin when we leave. For now, though..." He takes one more sip of bourbon, then shuts his eyes and settles into his seat. "I should see if there are any more out there." He takes several deep breaths, the faintest whisper of green light making a quaking cascade up his arms as he absorbs and releases the power seismic, listening to the striations in what he feels. "This club is... unholy," he says, uncomfortably. He isn't a religious man, but he was raised Catholic enough to itch at how this spot makes him feel.

Still, Lucifer is not their concern today. He plumbs deeper, feeling for echoes of the coin right in front of him. And, all to quickly, he does. "Oh, wow. A few of them, actually," he says, eyes still shut and expression still focused. He lifts one hand, points in a seemingly random direction. "That way. Maybe a borough over. Then another one" -- another point, in the opposite direction -- "over there. Farther. More than that, too."

His eyes pop open and he sits farther upright. "That's going to take more time, more focus than I can get here in the club. But it's somewhere to start, at least. And no problem destroying this one, if there are more to spare." He passes a hand over the coin, sweeping it toward himself with geokinesis rather than touching it. "Now. I should probably bury this. And go find out just how much I can get out of that guy. Maybe in that order."

Amora has posed:
"Yes, I understood what you meant." Amora replies to Julio, inclining her head, "And I shall." she states, gesturing with one hand. And still no talk of what the payment would be. But with it being Amora, well, it would come sooner or later. "Don't worry, I will run you through the process."

She lets the worry about the coin and the page go over her, not one to press about keeping the items. And Blade does seem to have other ideas for them. Like bringing them to Constantine.. Ufff!

Yet she does look at Blade a moment when he confirms he was doing the 'coin-waving' at her clothing on purpose. "That's the second time in which you have an odd way of asking me to undress, Blade." a tsk escaping her lips and she shaking her head.

"But yes Gloriana. It would be best if the people here treaded lightly in the days and nights to come. It is possible that the items you carry may attract the attention of some of His followers."

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Negative, dirt wizard.  Considering I found it and that's the exact opposite of what I said I wanted to do, I'm gonna be taking it with me."  Blade retrieves it, along with the envelope containing the rest of the odds and ends. When he elaborates he's suprisingly good-natured, as if they were two boys trading baseball cards.  "Like I said, you can blow it up after my not-friend has a look.  Or if there's a bunch more, go find one of your own to melt."

He knocks back the last of his bourbon, stands, and jerks his head in the direction of the door.  "You seem awfully eager to get out of those clothes, Capital E. That's a topic for another day, I'm outta here. Look, Julio, if there really is a bunch more of these, maybe we should check that out. Food for thought."