7998/Birthright: Pemesket

Birthright: Pemesket
Date of Scene:	21 October 2021
Location:	The British Museum
Synopsis:	A visit to the Museum at night proves enlightening... Pemesket, the original holder of the Primordial Spark, gifts John Constantine the means to save his daughter and put her breaking powers to right.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, John Constantine, Jonathan Sims, Lydia Dietrich, Marc Spector

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:

    THE BRITISH MUSEUM. A massive complex the size of a city block, with its major central rotunda housing its reading room and extensive gift shop for tourists. Leading up to its Grecco-Roman inspired main hall, adverts for the latest temporary exhibit, Treasures from Pre-Dynastic Egypt -- THE NEKBET TOMB.

    They decided to re-name it after some bad business in America following a debut that went horribly awry and some missing person cases that they claimed was caused by some plasters, which is ridiculous. Curses don't exist.

    Except for when they do.

    Security guards have been reporting the sounds of distant screaming coming from the exhibit at night, when the lights go down and it's just them and all the artifacts in the rooms. Nothing has ever turned up any living person... but the dead don't scream. Usually.

    The room the Nekbet Exhibit is in is just south of the famous Ginger -- another pre-dynastic mummy left int he sands of Egypt in not as nice a grave. Little shabti line display shelves and canopic jars are marked with whose tomb they were from, and what's in them.

    The door to the exhbit housing that famous 'Priest of Khonshu', is curtained and roped off.

John Constantine has posed:
    John knew something would be happening in London, he knew one of Phoebe's dead relatives was here, he knew he should have followed up on all of that sooner... but he's yet learned to clone himself, so there's still only one of him - praise be Jesus, right?

    But when reports of Weird Shit starts coming in, the issue got pressed for him, innit so? Doors, ropes, curtains? What's it all mean but nothing when a man can just be where it is he wants to be by whispering a few words to his House? So, it's the House of Mystery that drops John Constantine in the middle of that closed off exhibit room, along with anyone else that was hitching a ride with the Laughing Magician.

    As per the norm, he comes through with sight split between what's there and what's here, one overlaid atop the other seeing beyond the false truth of things to the deeper truth behind it.

    He also comes in guns at the ready to knock any guard, or other interloper in the room he needs to be in, for a loop. Mystical guns that is, hands raised, spell on his lips that will send any such into a gentle slumber.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jonathan Sims does not like the British Museum.

    No, no, let's be clear--he /hates/ the place. He participated in a student protest about re-patriating artifacts that nearly lost him his Oxford scholarship. He will go into long, /long/ rants about how terrible museums that house foreign artifacts are at the drop of a hat. Normally he'd be the kind of guy to fervently hope that there /is/ a curse and everyone involved in this ongoing cultural theft falls prey to it right quick.

    He's also having a /really/ bad week, so his grousing is almost entirely internal and mostly just shows on his face. They have business here, so even if he casts grouchy looks at the mummies as they enter, he follows along after Constantine quietly. He seems twitchy, blinking rapidly and startling--quietly--at sudden sounds.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Of course the cursed relics would be acting up again. When Lydia heard about this she wasn't even remotely surprised. She had ported down to the Laughing Magician to meet up with Constantine to see what's up, and with him used the House of Mystery to get /inside/ the museum.

"What do you suppose it is this time?" she asks. "Screaming at night. Maybe more souls trapped in the relics? There's a bunch of spirits around, but nothing particularly powerful, so probably not ghosts."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    John comes in with his finger-guns to the ready, but it seems like this particular section of the museum doesn't have a guard who wants to be here, behind the velvet-rope and curtained off section.

    And, well, there it is. It sounds like a scream, distant and echoing. Someone calling accross time and space.

    The relics here are similar in nature to the ones at the ruined Gotham preview; a couple of small make-up pallets. A low chair, preserved very carefully and supported by clear plastic rods.

    And in a dimmed glass container, the body from the grave, laying in state with its tomb-cover decorated with the stars of the sky overhead and eight gods and goddesses in groups of four making their way to a house on stilts. A rising sun without Re, without his barque.

    And the kids would be right; those hips do not look like they men's hips -- but all the indicators on the display kept saying 'priest'.

    How could the British Museum, someone from Oxford, label it so incorrectly?

John Constantine has posed:
    Someone obviously has something to say and John intends to listen. Finding the room void of absolute and immediate threats, he settles down near the skeleton, legs crossed, on the floor, leaning against anything he can and tells Lydia, "Ready to play guard dog, luv?" He manages to say it in a way that's actually complimentary and not insulting.

    From his trenchcoat pocket, he pulls a little vial of a pre-mixed concoction. It's mostly Dream Root, maybe a little Nightshade just to give a kick, a spot of Phoebe's blood and a little bit of dirt he took from the village.

    John's not only going 'in', he's going 'under'. There's no coming back from that until it's time to come back, so ... the rest of it, including keeping him safe, falls to the others.

    Time and space is it? Time for a road trip.

    He doesn't wait for an answer before he tips that vile of nasty back and swallows it down.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon takes a moment to pace around and peer at the artifacts, see if there's anything that stands out, before going back to stand next to John and Lydia. He focuses on the mummy, frowning slightly.

    "Could be souls trapped in the relics," he murmurs aside to Lydia. "Whatever it is, it's... waiting for something. Can you feel it?"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia walks up to the mummified corpse, the most likely source of the screams. As she gets closer she gets an unusual, almost electric tingling sensation on her tongue. "Pretty sure it's the mummy," she muses. She nods to Jon, "I can feel it."

When John settles down and starts doing his thing, Lydia starts drawing up wards. They're still not the best but they should slow down anything that might come at them. She also gets her ectoplasmic shield prepared.

John Constantine has posed:
    Everyone knows that John doesn't like to *wait*, situations like these are no different. Extra concentrated forms of the ingredients, coupled with a little umph or two put into the alchemy spell means it's a matter of seconds after that stuff passes his lips that it starts.

    First comes the sweating and the shaking, the fighting the urge to vomit it all up as his body protests literal *poison* being put into it. His eyes roll back to reveal whites, his hands clench into fists at his sides, his pale skin loses even more color.

    ...and then he just slumps, body relaxed, the crow on his hip taking flight as his soul, spirit, whatever one cares to call it lifts out of his body.

     In the Astral

    It's different this way, allows for more movement, more lateral movement, weaving in and out of time.

    "Hello!" he calls out, his voice directed at the source of that scream, directed back through time and space.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
     And Here's What Happens:

    The nightshade adds a nice kick indeed and that little bit of 'graveyard dirt' brings in that lovely earthy aftertas-- no, it doesn't. It's bloody awful, but this is where things start to go downhill.

    As John goes under -- without telling anyone (asshole), -- the room around the three begins to glow with a soft, not quite malevolent light. There's the sound of feet stepping around them, and then a rather uncomfortable feeling of their navels being pulled at from the inside. Pulled and pulled and TWISTED hard as something seeks to rip them out of the physical and drag them back with John. There is the barest glimpse of two women -- one washing blood from her eyes and nose at a dark basin made of stone, hood pulled down from her red coat and a familiar face laid up at the Laughing Magician with her shoulder stuffed full of gauze and dressings.

    And then the village. And the village reverses. Fast-backwards as sand retreats. And then buildings are un-built. The blood traces its way back up the Nile, past an ancient temple complex.

    John will find that the affect of the absolutely gross liquid he just consumed is lifted as the four are very neatly deposited -- about three feet up from the floor -- in a sandstone room. It's empty. Completely empty. Plasters torn from the walls. Nothing left but a simple stone platform, which is where a woman wearing a white linen kilt is sitting, with a knife in hand, looking peturbed.

    And she asks a question in her native tongue.

     How's everyone's pre-Dynastic Egyptian?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon /yelps/ as he's pulled... and then they're in the Astral, and it's all strangely familiar in its way, to the ancestors he carries around in his head. He peers at the woman and then blinks.

    He translates into English: "She asks 'Who are you, and where is my body?'"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
So much for wards. Lydia lets out a little squeak in surprise as she's suddenly /pulled/ into the astral and deposited unceremoniously into an empty room. She blinks at her new surroundings and turns to Jon as he translates for them. "Do we have a link back to our bodies?" she asks, worry in her voice. She doesn't want to be stuck int he astral plane.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight has been watching things unfold around them in silence. The black suit he wears these days gave him an eerie almost smoke-like existence when he desires: silence of foot fall and entire presence. Then he feels the tug. That shouldn't be happening, the suit protects him from the spiritual, unless the will of Khonshu allows such an action against him. Being deposited in the past forces his eyes wide. There is a sense of belonging here deep in his soul. This is where He was in power. Where He was truly revered by all. Where He was worshipped.

    "The will of my patron will ensure our safe return, do not fear" he says to Lydia, before doing a double take. He hasn't seen her in some time and something twitches inside him at the sight of her. No matter, focus on the here and the now.

    He turns to the woman with the knife. "Be calm," he says in her native tongue, doing his best to infuse the authority of Khonshu in his words.

John Constantine has posed:
    John still looks *bad* in the Astral realm, a reflection of the way he's been pushing too hard, so gaunt as to nearly be skeletal, a death pallor to his skin, thinning hair, sunken eyes. Better than what Zatanna saw, but not much. Recovery from all that will take a bit beyond just a few decent nights of sleep.

    His Spanish sucks, his French is barely passable lest it's Creole and needed for Necromancy as he's learned from Midnite, but hey! ...his Enochian and his Pre-Dynasty Egyptian, he rocks those amid a bunch of other *dead* and mostly useless (outside of magic) languages. Go figure that he'd be more conversational with demons and the long dead than with modern day sorts?

    Of course his name doesn't translate, so that's just gibberish when he speaks. "John Constantine, who are you? I believe I know the answer to your query, perhaps we can help one another?" He might miss a tense or flub a little syntax as this isn't ritual magic, it's *talking*, but the point'll make it.

    ...also, leave it to John Constantine to try and cut a *deal* regarding such a thing.

    Lydia's question garners her a grin and a wink. 'No worries, it's FINE'.

    It might be noted, blood from Leksandria's eyes and nose? Damn that did his heart and soul good. Even a brief glimpse at an apparently suffering Bitch was enough to make him laugh out loud just a little bit in that split of a second. He even whispered a quiet, "Gotcha..." in that moment, on the off chance Leksandria might hear him.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    His Spanish sucks, his French is Creole, and his pronunciation's... eeeh it's okay.

    The woman narrows her eyes a moment, and draws herself to a stand.

    "I am Pemeketh. You--" she points to John. "Have the scent of my blood about you. I cannot beleive that my grandchildren would breed with..." she looks John up and down.

    "... such pale creatures." she states qith an odd look to John.

    Lydia garners a curious look in the astral, and then Jon and Moon Knight.

    Moon Knight she narrows her eyes, and points at him.

    "You. You obviously are the leader, not this pale magician or his /librarian/. I demand to know why my body is gone."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon casts a worried glance to Constantine, on seeing his astral form. He'd heard from Zatanna, but to /see/ his friend so gaunt and awful, is... it hurts. He makes a mental note to check and be sure John's at least recovering, but later. Later. They're here for Phoebe.

    He keeps on translating so Lydia knows what's going on, including what Moon Knight and Constantine are saying, so that everyone stays in the metaphorical loop. He snorts audibly at 'such pale creatures' and rolls his eyes at 'librarian' and mutters "yes, yes."

    Then, aside to Lydia in English: "Good lord that didn't even occur to me, that there might not be a tether being pulled in this way." Worrisome stuff, but again, something to worry about later.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia's snort echoes Jon's at 'such pale creatures.' That certainly describes her to a T. She feels kind of out of place being the only one who doesn't understand the language.

"John seems pretty confident," Lydia says in her own aside to Jon. "Which... doesn't exactly fills /me/ with confidence that he's able to do that without hurting himself /further/."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight doesn't laugh. He wants to. Oh, does he want to. But the situation calls for more tact than that at the moment. He steps forward, if he is being labeled as leader, then he will compose himself as one.

    The woman was obviously the mummy, that much is clear, and so he decides to move for the truth. "The pale skinned people stole it away, Revered One" he says. "My..." he searches for a word and, again goes with truth, "my Wise Man and our associates are here to assist you in finding peace and returning to rest, Honored Priestess" he says gesturing to the three nearby. He gives Constantine a look, and 'speaks' through the amulet he still wears. <Play along for now. If you need apologies later, I will gladly give them.>

John Constantine has posed:
    So this *is* an ancestor. John reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb and lets out a little groan of impatience with all the formality. He does *not* lie to wait.

     "So," he begins, if there's a word that fits 'so' in such a language, if not... he just starts with a good old English 'so'. "Priestess, I don't really have that much time. One of your grandchildren removed by a hundred or so killed off your entire bloodline and trapped them in the Astral, unable to move on, save for one, her niece that happens to be my daughter." Not adopted, he doesn't make that distinction. Phoebe *is* his daughter.

    "I'm pretty certain that your body is back at the museum we just came from, but someone labeled it as a Priest rather than a Priestess. I don't know why that happened and I don't care right now. What I care about is saving the *last* *good* member of your family left in the time we come from. Her name is Phoebe, her mother was Paisi, the one who killed everyone is Leksandria."

    Way to rip off the bandaid, *John*.

    "This is me saying, please help us before Leksandria kills my daughter."

    Play along? John doesn't play well with others, everyone *knows* this. He's impatient most of the time, but even MORE SO when it comes to helping Phoebe. Moon Knight's 'look' is returned with raised eyebrows that say, 'Really?'.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... Then you come to me as a parent in concern. Mmn." Pemeketh purses her lips a moment, khol-darkened eyes narrowing a moment as she brings her hands up, drawing her fingers close.

    "... Phoebe. Daughter of Paisi. Leksandria, Daughter of Bahiti. My remaining bloodlines at war -- well. We cannot have them perish together. You will have to kill Leksandria before she kills your Daughter." she considers, and she narrows her eyes.

    "THey war for the Light, most likely. Huh. I thought it would fade after so long --" she trails off, and draws one leg up, looking all the world like a cat who's caught the canary, as she gives a small smile.

    "Why should I preserve Phoebe and not Leksandria? Who is most likely go give me a continuing to my line? As you can see--" she motions, "My rooms are empty. My body is gawked at but my name unsaid. I do not have worship from either of my warward grandchildren. So, John Constantine, why your daughter over Bahiti's? Bahiti's daughter seeks to raise my home kingdom to its previous glory, and needs the spark to grant Life to those of my bloodline who had passed."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs and murmurs to Lydia, "I am certain the gods will make sure we get back." If that's... at all reassuring.

    He frowns at Pemeketh. It's partly John's to note, but he says firmly, "I thought you served Khonshu? Can you not see that the gods are taking sides in this? Even Set--" He pauses. Set came later, didn't he? He sighs. Presses on. "The gods have put aside their family squabbles to side with John Constantine and his daughter in this." He has another thought, an offer to help, but only if John doesn't think of it first.

    She /might/ appreciate her body being returned to its proper place, after all.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia folds her arms, scowling at what the priestess has to say. She remains silent for now, letting the others who actually know the language do all the talking.

Marc Spector has posed:

    "The Archivist is correct" Moon Knight responds. "Even if Khonshu's worship is limited in this day and age... it still exists in pockets. My being here is proof enough of that. I have been instructed to help John Constantine by the Traveller. Should you, as his Priestess of days passed, not do the same?" he asks.

    Despite the black armor, a silvery glow begins to shine about Moon Knight. He adds, his words tinged with outrage and his own voice carrying a weight that wasn't there before. "Leksandria betrays Our people!" His language is Pre-dyanastic, but they echo in a plethora of others, booming and shifting through with each reverberation.

    "She has turned to those who do not walk under My Light! She consorts with demons most foul and should she succed her Light and all it touches will be tainted by that foulness." He fixes the Priestess with a hard gaze, the weight of the god that has infused part of his soul behind that golden glow. "Is that what you seek for My people, Pemeketh? Is that what My teachings has led you to believe is desired?"

John Constantine has posed:
    Finally, something he can agree with from Moon Knight and Jon and something he can elaborate on further, so much further.

    "Because my daughter is pure and good and was never given the *chance* to learn who she was or where she came from or how to honor her ancestors because Leksandria *killed them all* before she could learn. Because Bahiti's daughter seeks not to bring anything to *glory* but instead she twists the souls of your family into the bodies of the dead, both beast and human. Because she uses *children* to this end. Is that your thing? Using the helpless souls of *children* to create an army of the undead? I've seen what she wants to do with this light, with my daughter, she wants to use her as a monster making factory, breaking pieces of her off to twist and bend to her Necromancy."

    With each word spoken, John's ire grows. No, his righteous anger toward Leksandria grows. He takes a step toward the Priestess, his head held high.

    John already made that offer when the woman first asked about her body, he doesn't make it again.

    He raises his hands and begins to chant softly under his breath, not anything Egyptian, when it comes down to it, Latin is his strong point.

    Around them all, the air shimmers like a mirage in the dessert, there and not, there and not until finally it snaps into view via his will.

    The true intent of Leksandria's plans with the light, with his *daughter*.

    ...the room, the darkness, the screaming, the *all of it* that he's already been shown.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I am not a follower of Khonshu nor am I a follower of the gods of the Lower Nile. Mine were the original, those who knew the darkness, who remained hidden. Who were there when the waters of chaos first parted, and I was *gifted* that Light. Spark of the Primordial. Passed down to my daughter, to her daughter. Your threats do me no good, I shall not be *judged* by--" Pemeketh begins, looking to all in turn, her eyes settling on Lydia -- does she sense she was from later time? That their ancestors might have been at odds?

    But no, her next thoughts are interrupted as Constantine decides to come up, and speaks.

    Her head tilts. Her eyes narrowing a moment.

    Phoebe -- or what might be Phoebe -- is bound to the wall. Her hands are in chains, her eyes pressed shut and blood drawning from her tear ducts. Held eternally in pain, bleeding for Leksandria's army.

    The dead march. The land of the living is slowly enveloped and a Hellscape unleashed, fed by unending blood and corrpted light.

    The Vision that Set shared with him, the vision of what his daughter could do, what she could be weaponized as.

    The screams echo in the darkness, fading away to mewling, whimpering cries pleading for someone... anyone... for her dad.

    The vision had changed, just slightly.

    And Pemeketh looks at the vision. She steps forward, barefoot and clad in linen, and she reaches out to touch the cheek of her many-times great grandchild.

    "The four of you know the girl, then. Her father, and three others. Where is she now?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    /Something/ in the Archivist rises up in anger at the woman's attitude... and then dies back as Constantine shows Leksandria's plans and Pemeketh moves forward in understanding. One hopes it is understanding.

    "Safe, I... believe?" He looks to John. He knows where Phoebe is. She's safe, right?

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Their ancestors might be at odds, and she may follow a different god, but Lydia still serves the Light, to the best of her ability. That and her determination to protect Phoebe may set her apart.

This is the first time Lydia has seen the vision. It's terrible and horrifying, yet it's about as much as she expected from Leksandria. Her glower pulls down even further and her eyes glow red in anger. "We /will/ protect this child." she says with a kind of finality. This is going to happen regardless of what the Priestess may or may not want.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight nods and while the woman says she isn't a servant of Khonshu, the god's feelings toward the matter are different. To Him the primordial Ogdoad were progenitors and thus held in reverence but not truly separate. He nods in agreement to Jon's words. The vision, while terrible, doesn't truly bother him as He is certain that it will not come to pass. "She is in a place of safety. He adds, focusing on the Priestss before turning to John for final comfirmation.

    Lydia's comment gets a smile (even if it is hidden behind his mask and hood). His last reports, had the girl at the House of Mysteries; which mystically was a veritable fortress. Her own abilities as well as the protective nature of her other parent could likely see that any mundane threats were easily dispatched.

John Constantine has posed:
    Through it all, he'd closed his eyes tight. He couldn't see it again. Once was enough.

    When it's over, he jumps right into speaking, hurried because there's no time for it. "Leksandria nearly killed her," John begins. "I was too late, didn't move fast enough against her. I won't make the same mistake. She's behind my wards, safe, for the moment. Her powers aren't right, but the poison used against her has been banished, thrown back at Leksandria. I need to fix her powers, so she's not so vulnerable."

    It might be easy to believe that a person would have other motives for wanting that power back, but it's too easy to see, here in the Astral, that that's not John's motive. He wouldn't look the way he did now if ... he was using her that way. And his heart wouldn't be breaking in two the way it is as he speaks. ... and his tone wouldn't be so pleading when he says, "Please, help me save my daughter."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Meanwhile, at the Laughing Magician Loft -- Phoebe is attempting to balance two slices of pizza, a bowl of grapes, her cellphone which is playing the Muppets Haunted Mansion, and discussing the finer points of fisticuffs against a larger opponent with the responsible adult in the room, pretending not to think about that hole in her shoulder that's not healing, or the closed notebook with her half-hourly temperature checks and growing fever. She trusts John -- but doesn't want to worry her other Dad.

    Pemeketh frowns a moment. She steeples her fingers, and her head tilts.

    "My necklace is near by body. It is made of blue stones, wound on silver threads. I was wearing it when I was gifted that spark of light; it is made from pebbles from the side of the world when the waters first receeded and chaos no longer howled its way through a never-ending darkness. The Light remembers, John Constantine," and she looks around to the assembly, and gives a moment's thought.

    "You all plan on ending one thread of my bloodline, I would ask mercy for her... but... it appears she has none."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "You may not serve the gods of the Lower Nile," the Archivist says, and there's... something in his tone, some vague irritation, "but they are the successors of the ones you served, and the legacy of the world they built still stands." A pause. "She has been judged unworthy of the glorified afterlife. John Constantine will end her life, and then... well. And then I suppose the gods will do with her soul as they see fit."

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia is all for mercy but sometimes... sometimes you have to do what needs to be done. Killing is always a finality you should think deeply about before committing to it, since she believes most people can be redeemed. But sometimes? Sometimes you need to take somebody out before they manage to hurt many, many people. The number of people on this list is very, very short. Two. Leksandria, and the bitch that turned her, Bhanavi.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight nods. While he too wishes that Leksandria could be saved, he understands that her steps have led her to a path that does not end with her survival. It seems that this Priestess is willing to help them after all and so their task here is almost concluded.

    The glow about him fades, and his posture while strong is not as regal as it was. "We thank you... we will see that the Light is preserved and nourished" he says. "It will not fade and will not go to waste."

John Constantine has posed:
    "She's a monster now, I don't show mercy to monsters, even when they aren't trying to kill my daughter," John replies quietly and not without a bit of remorse in his tone. It's not as if he doesn't feel for Pemeketh and her lonely plight.

    By monster, he doesn't mean what Lydia's become or Jubilee... a monster isn't about *what* a person becomes, it's about *who* they become. It's something he could have easily become himself, something he even sometimes believes himself to be.

    'They would have written books and done studies and horror movies on the suffering you could have wrecked on others for no reason... but you do not.' ~ Paul Ramsey.

    He does not and he won't and neither will Lydia or any of the many many that he calls allies that would be considered 'monsters' in the eyes of most.

    "I'll get the necklace and I'll return your body to you. I'm in your debt and John Constantine pays his debts, as long as they don't include showing mercy to monsters." - or deals for his soul, but that's not on topic here.

    All the rest of it, the Gods that have found Leksandria unworthy? Matters not the slightest to John. God, Demons, Angels, Hell Lords, what difference does it make? They all see humans as little toys to be played with and put away to be ignored until they get bored again. One side might not be as apt to rip the arms off their toys, but it doesn't make that side any *better* than the other, just less violent.

    Now it's time to go. All John really needs to do is will it so and everyone's back to where they started. It should be an easy ride.

    It's the return that's bumpy, at least for John. He comes back to a body that was twitching, jerking, sweating, eyes rolled back in his head still open and dry. He immediately starts retching, puking, his body trying to purge itself of that vial crap he took to get where they were going. Where he *thought* only he would go. He almost chokes on the stuff, his on vomit, before he manages to lurch forward onto his hands and knees to avoid that happening, trembling arms barely holding his weight.

    Magic's messy innit? And sometimes it just downright *sucks*.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Be sure you do, John Constantine. Be sure you do." Pemeketh states as she returns to that lonely block of sandstone, where her body should have been laying.

    And they are returned. Anyone who didn't take in nightshade may awake feeling rather worn for the endevour.

    John? Well, he gets to feel every bit of that pain.

    "-- d'you hear that?" someone asks.

    "Well, it's better than the weird screaming sound. Reckon they got that fixed?"

    "... well *I'm* not going in there!" come voices from outside, as a couple of guards begin to argue.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs and rubs at his temples. He's tired a /lot/ lately. It's nothing new.

    He glances up and around at the voices. "We'd better grab that necklace and go." It's Lydia and Moon Knight he looks to. They're stronger than him, and not, well... throwing up.

    Instead, he goes to kneel down next to John. "Do you need anything, or will you be able to handle the aftereffects of whatever you took with what you have available?" He's a doctor, he's /going/ to worry.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
The ride back to her body is a lot smoother than the one to the astral plane and when she gets back she quickly gets to her feet. "Right. The necklace," She says, going over to the display case. "Get ready to leave, everybody."

Her ash black ectoplasm coalesces around her fist, forming an onyx gauntlet and she unceremoniously shatters the protective glass. As soon as she does, alarms go off and she hopes that nobody recognizes them in the cameras. She gently grabs the necklace and says, "Okay. I got it. Let's go."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight rolls his shoulders at the swift astral return. He much prefered being able to interact with that realm via his suit in the material plane. Going there was just... unpleasant.

    Since Jon is handling the sicking mage he looks to Lydia. "It seems we are to be the muscle in this operation," he says and turns toward the direction of the arguing guards. If they're going to steal something, best get the opposition out of the way. Necessary sacrifices for the greater good.

    It doesn't take much, a hulking shadow in the darkness and then two grunts of discomfort followed by two thumps as bodies hit the ground. He returns to the chamber and looks to Jon and John.

    "If you are well enough to open a rift, you should be on your way" he says. "I will be returning to New York in a day. Keep me abreast of your progress." He wasn't going with them it would seem. Perhaps he was also going to be a distraction for their escape--immediate as it was likely to be.

John Constantine has posed:
    John shakes his head, but it's hard to say what he's saying 'no' to. Do you need anything or will you be 'okay' on your own. He doesn't answer verbally because he's *still* puking, or trying to. It's a whole lot of painful dry heaving after the initial projectile mess of Scotch and... well, looks like there's *actual* food in the mix. Hard to tell what it is by now, just chunks of stuff. But it's *food*.

    Yeah, no, he's not going to be any good at getting the necklace or anything else really, not for at least a few hours. He *might* be able to will the House to open a portal at least? Walking *through it* on his own might be a different matter.

    His immediate future is nothing but kneeling in front of the porcelain throne unless Chas or Phoebe know a way to help that isn't Phoebe's healing.

    Rift no, portal to the House, that turns out to be a yes... all he really needs do is wish it so and the 'Wretched Pile of Sticks' will hear that wish and grant it. He just has to be one of the last through, even if someone's helping him along.

    Again, leaving him there might cross a mind or two.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The rift opens to the Miserable Pile of Sticks, and those who pass through are brought to its front parlor.

    Those who remain behind will need to find their own ways homeward bound.

    Elsewhere, Leksandria Sabry washes the blood from her eyes, her nose, her ears.

    "No... no no no..." she whispers, the basin already flowing red with cold water stained.

    "I need just a few more days... a few more days..."