9418/Reports From The Field

Reports From The Field
Date of Scene:	02 January 2022
Location:	Shadowcrest Manor - Bristol Township
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Zatanna Zatara, Jonathan Sims, John Constantine, Atrun Rai

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Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The library is cheery and warm. The fire burning in the large Tudor fireplace casts a rosy glow over the oak wainscoting and the gilt titles on the books lining the walls. A table is set between the two couches facing one another. The silver tea set reflects golden flames.

From her place next to John, Zatanna says, "Thank you all for responding to Atrun-Rai's request so quickly. I will let him tell you what the request concerns."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    It's not Jon's first time at Shadowcrest, but the last time was just after a bunch of weird portal-surfing, so this is the first time he's come and looked around properly. He compliments Zatanna on a lovely home and then settles in next to the others, nodding to Zatanna and then looking over at Atrun curiously.

John Constantine has posed:
"Didn't really have to go far, luv," John adds, lounging in his chair like a feudal lord and a cat all rolled into one, "But appreciate the appreciation. Appreaction all round."

His eyes wander over to Atrun-Rai, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Have you filled in the paperwork in triplicate? We can't have a sitting of the lordly lord mucky-mucks of the Justice League Magic Division without the necessary paperwork."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    The Atlantean, having returned to the manor after a few hours, sits quietly in his smiling, collected way - sipping from a mug of tea that's been conjured from thin air, he awaits the arrival of the rest. And when they do, he rises, smoothly ignoring John's sass and begins his report.

    "I have come," he begins, "From upstate, where I have met, and conversed at length, with the projection of the archangel, Mikha'el." That would be Michael, of course. The Atlantean seems to have bled into Hebrew, as that langauge does love to seep into the tongues of the postdiluvian ancient world.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
@emit "Oh, John, hush," she scolds with a half-smile.

Zatanna leans forward, the light shimmering moire in her silk blouse as she pours a cup of tea. The movement is arrested when she hears Michael's name. "What," she asks, posing the pot, "did /he/ have to say? And how did you manage that?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I think I'm probably the secretary," Jon says rather drolly. "I'll handle whatever paperwork we need."

    He frowns slightly at Atrun, then. "You... spoke to Michael. I didn't know he was taking calls." He continues to be droll, but the frown is still there. He glances to Zatanna. "Good question, actually. The ability to parlay may prove useful."

John Constantine has posed:
"Join the club, mate," John says with a shrug of his shoulders, "We've all had a chat with him. He's not very forthcoming save to tell us all how fucked we are. Say this for him, cunts not afraid of telling you how he feels. 'Cept all he feels is a strong desire to fuck everything up and change it. Did you try telling him to piss off?"

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "He's taking /my/ calls," replies Atrun-Rai, giving them all a collective shrug. "All I had to do was pray to him - it's a psychic call, nothing specifically religious. I think he was rather surprised that someone bothered."

    "At any rate." He clucks his tongue. "I offered him my hospitality, and we spoke at length about the situation: politeness and good conduct, apparently, do wonders for his opinion of his conversation partner. Given our history, I think he also wanted to know what I had to say - in my day, the archmages still spoke to gods and archangels alike, and had grown increasingly arrogant trying to bind them. Those stupid enough to try and bind Mikha'el were reduced to smears in record time.

    "At any rate, in exchange for my hospitality, Mikha'el confirmed to me the general situation - some or all of which you may know, but given how forthcoming he was, in word and in offered visions, I would relay the information given."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The tea is forgotten as Zatanna stares at Atrun-Rai nonplussed. "How is his wing holding up? Frankly, I thought that was nasty business though I don't wish him well. Well, go on, tell us what he had to say. Don't be polite and wait for questions."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks a few times at 'reduced to smears' and makes a face. "Seems we got lucky," he murmurs. Shudders at Zatanna's mention of the wing, and sighs.

    "Yes," he says in agreement with Zatanna, "if there's any new information we can ask about it once you've relayed."

John Constantine has posed:
"Yep, out with it. Last I heard, he plans to annihilate all of creation and make it into some boring Slough business park remodel. That still the deal or has he eased up a little?"

John just shakes his head, lighting a cigarette and peering through the smoke at Atrun-Rai: "Magic mummy wizard from antediluvian times you may be, you need to learn not to bury the lead."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "As you say," replies the sorceror with a shrug. "Very well, then, the bullet points: the universe is unstable, moving across creation drawing strength from other universes and dooming them to annihilation. If stable universes are soap bubbles, ours is an amoeba; the shell cannot keep its shape forever, and contact with others has a deleterious effect on them. We are, at the moment, in a vampire universe. It will destroy everything else if it isn't stabilized.

    "This was known since the beginning of Creation; Lucifer has been blamed for the instability, but one cannot say for sure - in any case, the Morningstar is no longer part of the equation, but could possibly be tapped for information about early Creation. As Michael created the dull matter of our universe, the Morningstar gave it life.

    "As it /has/ been known since the beginning of Creation of our universe, Gaea was approached by Uriel about the problem: at length, a deal was struck, in which at some point Mortality would be allowed to try and resolve the issue - too much power in the system, so to speak, is causing the instability - or Michael, being the implementation of the Presence, would recycle this reality for the creation of another. She did not want to, but she agreed. So, a single person, the Archivist, would find a way for we mortals to resolve the problem ourselves without external assistance. If failed within the time alotted, Michael and his Legions would do as they were bidden."

    "This challenge," Atrun-Rai clarifies, "Has never risen before; I had hoped that it had, and we might speak to some past champion for their experiences. But we are on the cusp of the challenge as it was determined in the Garden between the Mother and Uriel."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"There is an asteroid hurtling at us which may or may not be stoppable." Zatanna rubs her temple like she is fighting a sudden headache.

"How will we be able to see what you saw? What I mean is, without vision like that, can we do anything to reduce the energies to balance our role in the universe?" Her gaze moves between the other two, looking for their response.

John Constantine has posed:
"Well!" Constantine announces, rocking forward out of the chair to rise to his feet and clap his hands together too-noisily, "That sounds like that."

He wheels on Jon, pointing his cigarette-clasping hand at the man.

"You're the chosen one, me old China. Looks like it's up to you to solve our vampire universe problem."

He turns around to Atrun-Rai in the same motion, bowing extravagently with both arms held out to either side.

"And being unchosen as the fates may have it, I'm going on holiday."

Another point at Jon: "Good luck and all that."

An arm is cocked into an inverted C against his side, and he turns towards Zatanna.

"Zee, shall we, as they say, fuck right off?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon nods along, frowning slightly. "I'm told it wasn't always going to be me," he murmurs, but that's his only interjection. He rubs at his face, though. Hearing it again doesn't make it any more palatable.

    He glowers at John, then. "Oh, for... I cannot /possibly/ deal with this alone, and I refuse to believe it's just on me. Maybe in some key kind of 'I absolutely must be involved' sense but not... ugh!" He throws his hands in the air. "I need help! I /know/ I need help! I don't /care/ what all these overwrought winged gits think, if they want /me/ to be 'chosen' then they're just going to have to deal with me insisting that it shouldn't be down to just me."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    Atrun-Rai simply gives Zatanna a look. Polite, calm. But pointed. A general air of 'I told you so'.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna Zatara says, "Die in Faerie, die in New York, it's all the same, except you won't be there, " she looks at John forlornly, exasperation beginning to spark in her sapphire eyes.

As she turns her head to look at Jon, she catches Atrun-Rai's look. An angry cross-eyed moue flits across her face before she composes herself.

"Arranged since time's beginning, is it? But not the outcome. I have half a mind to cheer everyone on from Faerie. How are you supposed to do this? How are we even going to be able to help?""

John Constantine has posed:
"Sounds pretty clear to me, Jon lad," Constantine offers, shrugging his shoulders, "Besides, I've already done just about all I can do to help. Don't have much left in the arsenal beyond hopin' he'll change his mind. I'd have a chat with him, but I don't think he's my biggest fan."

He moves towards the door, waving a hand behind him as he goes. The tone of his voice is bitter and almost resentful, tamped down tight by a sense of self-control.

"Good luck, mate."

And he's gone.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "John...!" For a moment, Jon stands, about to go after his friend. Then he sighs and shakes his head.

    "He can't... he /can't/ just walk off. I mean. Right now he can. But he'll come 'round. He always does." He frowns after the man. "Chas is gone, and... and... look, it's hard, right now. He'll come 'round, in time." Like if Jon just says it often enough, it'll be true.

    He sits back down and sighs. "I think I'm supposed to die," he says miserably, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his hands to his temples. "I don't know how the bloody hell /that/ helps. I am /trying/ to figure it out, trust me. That's part of what I need help with. Whatever it is I'm supposed to do... look, maybe the fate of the universe comes down to me, but what about after? How do we be sure as many people survive as possible? And what even /am/ I supposed to do that's going to... balance everything?"

    He looks at Zatanna. "It hadn't even /occurred/ to me, to think of this as us somehow reducing our energies to balance ourselves. What I'm saying is, maybe I'm supposed to press the button that makes everything right, but I can't build the machine on my own."

    He frowns. "That's a bad metaphor. I just mean... yes, okay, these big world-saving events often depend on some Big Damn Hero doing something important, maybe dying in the process, but it /always/ relies on /other people/ too. Osiris doesn't come back to life without Isis. Maybe if the Justice League doesn't fight as hard as they can, Doomsday wins before Superman gets there. I just... I can't do this alone. I /can't/. Please, Zed, if you follow him, do it to... to help him. Not to..." He sighs. Shakes his head.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    With the departure of Constantine, Atrun-Rai looks between the other two leading members. "Our tripod has lost a leg," he observes, and for once his smile flattens into a line. Like it was at the Silver City, sober and grave. "Mistress Zatara? Will you be following Magus Constantine, as he asks?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna's frown is dark while she studies the library door as though she could bring John and Meggan back by force of will. Taking a long slow breath, she shakes her head, still troubled by their departure.

Hands calmly in her lap, she regards Jon. "A part of me doubts that you will need me if you are the elected one that sacrifices himself to save us all. The last one to do that died painfully calling for his father. I will stay so Charlie and Phoebe are not alone, I would not wish them to meet the end by themselves. That is my decision."

She bites her bottom lip with an abstracted air, lost in thought, "Though I wonder about these bargains struck between the, should I call them, factions? How do we redress the imbalance? Perhaps the Great Mother Gaia would speak to us though I know it won't be an easy thing and I'm unsure she can help. Help with telling us how the imbalance came qbout."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "That... might just be an idea," Jon muses. "I suppose if I'm supposed to be her... what, her chosen? Her champion? Well, whatever you call it... if I've stepped up to participate in this for her... I should talk to her about what it is she's expecting me to do."

    He looks to Zatanna. "/We/ are going to need to face this /together/. I am not going to sit by and let them kill me and foist the Archive onto a thirteen-year-old, and I'm not going to give up and say the world is doomed if I don't. And I am /not/ going to believe that I'm the only one who can affect this outcome. So I've been 'chosen.' So what? Does that mean no one else can possibly step up and do what's right? And how do we know /other/ people aren't chosen for other roles as well? There are many pieces on a chesse board, after all."

    He sighs and shakes his head. "We /do/ need more information... we can't figure out how to play this stupid game if we don't know the rules. If you'd be willing to take me along if you /can/ go speak to the Mother... I'd be grateful." He looks to Atrun. "The idea that Uriel precipitated this is new... did Michael give you anything else? Any hint about how to end this, how to... avoid the fighting, if we can?"

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Chosen one or not," says Atrun-Rai to Jonathan after a nod of solemn appreciation to Zatanna, "You cannot be at every vital point of the journey. You're a target as much as anything else - you die, the game is over. It is important one does not wrap oneself up too tightly in the cloth of the Chosen One, as well. Pride festers." A pause; he taps his lips, considering. "So. We speak to Gaea, we discover what we can. We speak to Uriel, we discover what we can. From these two sources we may well be able to determine what need be done."

    That said, he goes to sit down on the sofa once more. "As for Mikha'el, the battle is not to be delayed. In four days the vanguard lands, as we have heard him say at the gates of the Silver City. In the meantime, we do what we can. We fight, too, and this may delay his coming - indeed, the archangel does not have much confidence that we will win, but he certainly does not relish the idea. I have seen the solemn side of his character." A beat. "I asked him not to cull the innocent. He said that we have had ample time to clear the field, and who does not leave, they will be open. However. He also said that all but those who were named as combatants by the authority of the contest, this Prophet - who may or may not be yourself, Doctor Sims - will be given the same shelter as the faithful."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
After a long moment, in which she seemed to be communing with her thoughts, Zatanna focuses her gaze on both men, saying gravely, "I have sent a call telepathically to Meggan and Phoebe." She nods as if to say, yes, I have that ability. "I seldom do that without invitation. This situation merits breaking certain boundaries. I believe they both will come. Can you ready yourself for tomorrow? Less than a day from now. Likely Meggan will arrive last."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I don't /want/ to do this," Jon notes, "which is... precisely why I say I need help. But if I'm supposed to do this, then I should probably try to figure out what they want me to... do, if anything beyond 'die in the appointed time.' I'll speak to... my mole in Michael's camp, see what I can learn, but I /would/ like to talk to Gaea if I can." He nods to Zatanna. "I can do that, yes. Tomorrow. Thank you."

    He looks to Atrun. "There's already evacuation orders going into effect, and we've alerted every team we can get ahold of. As for the Prophet... I doubt that's me. /That/ is likely Caitlin Fairchild, as I mentioned at the meeting. Probably Michael's chosen champion or what-have-you, my opposite number." He rubs at his face. "Like I said--there are multiple roles in this play. All we know for sure is two of them. And no way to delay or avoid the fighting...? Well, then. I suppose we prepare for battle, and try to figure out how to fix this 'balance' problem in the meantime."

    He frowns. "And if the angels /won't/ leave the innocent be... then we defend them. That's why we've been putting out calls for help. I think we're about as prepared as we can be, though I suspect the 6th is merely the vanguard of the force--there are 50,000 angels in the asteroid 2021-JF09, I am told. There were a /lot/ more in the Silver City. Who knows when they arrive."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "As I have said," Atrun-Rai affirms at Jonathan's count of incoming angels. "The vanguard. We should speak to this Fairchild woman, yes. Has anyone done so? If we have a possible solution for preserving reality, /and/ ensuring that she and her followers are resolved, we should see if we cannot resolve things amiably. If not, she and her followers must be contained, or destroyed." Blunt and to the point, is Atrun-Rai in battle. "As for this visit, yes, you should be there - but I am here to advise you against trying to be a part of /every point/ of this situation. You rush about everywhere. You wish to be a leader; delegate. Delegation will ensure that more gets done, faster, and you will not be winded should the moment fall upon us ahead of schedule."

    To Zatanna, then, he nods once more. "I will be available."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna rouses herself from the previous shock at John and Meggan's decision and the ensuing conversation. "We are decided then? Tomorrow if all goes well with Meggan and Phoebe. Though we have yet to decide how."

There is a question in her eyes when she shifts her gaze to Atrun. "Your way is difficult and so is mine for very different reasons. There are three of us who can ward themselves. Perhaps Jon as well. We can also ward him from the dangers of traveling your path. What do you think?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon nods to Zatanna. "I have connections to Nullspace... I should be alright if I call upon the Eater of Hearts. It was... not so bad, the last time I was there." He shudders. Not so bad, but the 'not so bad' did bother him.

    He looks to Atrun. "I have spoken to Caitlin, yes, as have others. She is under Michael's sway in some manner. If you want to go to Saint Patrick's and talk to her, you can, but I /very/ much doubt she'll see you as anything more than a threat. I've informed her friends, the Titans, about the situation--they are the ones most likely to get through to her, and I'm trying to keep in touch."

    He sighs. "I'll be blunt here, Atrun--you seem to be projecting somewhat. I /am/ delegating--I asked someone else to handle the evacuation, I asked the Titans to see about helping Caitlin, Zatanna can get us to Gaea, and I will go along and see what I can learn. I am delegating much of the business of figuring out battle plans to other people in the Justice League Dark, such as Lydia and yourself. Many of the things you are talking about have been discussed already and seen to--some were brought up at the meeting at Oblivion."

    He shakes his head. "You don't know me, nor what I am doing. I am humble enough to recognize that not only am I probably /not/ the best choice for this 'Chosen' business, but I /do/ need seasoning as a leader, and I need help. A lot of help. I am grateful for your advice, but as one whose entire life's work is about giving others advice, let me give you some--be humble enough to truly assess a situation before you assume you know what's going on. You have met me only a few times now and think you have the measure of me. I can guarantee you that if you think I am rushing about not delegating, or prideful and unwilling to listen? You do not know me. I am full of doubts, and terrified of what I am facing. I am also dedicated to preserving life in whatever way I can, to the degree I can. I can't force anyone to /not/ fight with Caitlin and her people, but I'm going to ask that we do our best not to hurt them. If you have advice, given that? I'm more than willing to listen. I /have/ been listening. I begin to think that, maybe, you have not."

    He smiles, then. "I'm quite experienced in mentoring younger people. I find the best way is to approach it as a two-way street--they can learn from us, and we can learn from them. I am certain there is much we can learn from you--perhaps it's time you ask yourself what /you/ can learn from /us/. What purpose were you brought back for, for /yourself/, not merely 'preserving reality?' The answer to that may help you find your role in this play."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Or perhaps I am picking on you because I want to see how you'll respond," the magician says to Jon, a brow quirking faintly. "I am new, as you say. I do not know you, as you say. I want to get your measure, as I do not, yet, have it. These responses provide me with ample cloth." And with that, he looks between the two of them. "No being needs to be spoken to in order to transfer to us through the Void. I can provide the channel. But I do not recommend that we go physically, not when we can go astrally. There are ample members of the League that could monitor our bodies in the meantime while our minds are projected, are there not?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"You delegated nothing to me or to anyone that I am aware of Jon. Neither John or Meggan. Perhaps to Phoebe? We know there is a threat but learning details has required people like Atrun to take it upon themselves to meet Michael, as I decided to meet Gaia and perhaps, Merlin, too. What does Asariel have to say? Do we know? I consider us, under informed and unsure of who should do what and in what order."

Both eyebrows hiked high as two ravens on the fly, she regards the Archivist. "No one doubts that you are trying your best but there is not enough communication between us unless you feel the need for secrecy precludes it."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon chuckles at Atrun's reply. "Fair enough," he responds. "Let me know if you do get my measure; I'm still working on that myself." Pedantic, yes, but self-deprecating too. Confident, but doubtful. A man full of contradictions, but many people are. And he's been getting a lot better about not being irritated when people question him.

    Now he just needs to work on not getting /defensive/ when people question him. It's a process.

    He looks to Zatanna. "I... did not actually directly say that, did I? Gods /damn/ it." He rubs at his face. "Okay. I'm just going to... make some kind of... bullet point 'here's what you need to know' email and send it to people. Or print it out, or... something. It'll get done. Zatanna, I /really/ appreciate you thinking about talking to Gaea. Lydia and Atrun were talking at the meeting about some kind of big idea for taking down Michael, is what I meant. I'll... put something together that people can add to with what they're working on. It's like the world's /worst/ conference planning, you know? Who's got the refreshments?"

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Lydia wishes to draw circles to deflect Michael's vanguard, I believe," Atrun-Rai replies, moving on beyond the conflict at hand. "I do not know the full measure of her method - however, as she was concerned about the risk to the city, I have elected to share with her a large amount of transmuted orichalcum to add to her circled and give them stability and magical power."

    "As for Merlynos - Merlin - I have just recently spoken to Meggan to speak with him, as he was, originally, a magician of my time." A nod to Zatanna. "Great minds think alike, in this case."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Now, that I have decided to stay, I will help with the circle unless Gaia changes our course. I intend to help with fabricating the orichalcum. Fighting the vanguard deflects from the principle reason we may lose our universe. A diversion." Gesturing at the table where the scotch reflects amber light from the fire. "If you prefer food or something lighter I can have it brought, Jon. What can we get you?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon nods, and then grins. "Meeting Merlin... I think /that/ I can certainly leave to you, and I wish you well, unless you actually think I should be there. Gaea, for certain, I should talk to her." A sigh. "So you know, /my/ current focus is on psychoanalyzing the enemy. It may help us figure out what his plans are, in terms of battle, and I'm hoping it will help us figure out how to defeat him. I figure I should play to my strengths, and that's what I know best. Maybe it won't work anyway, but it's the best option I have, just now."

    He sighs. "I... should be getting to Queens, to prepare for tomorrow. There's a lot to do. I'll get that information out to people, in some way that we can coordinate--so Lydia can give information about her circle, and you can talk about the orichalcum, and so on."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Of course," replies the Atlantean, who nods and then bows his head once to the departing psychist. "Be well, Doctor. We will crry the day yet."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"We will see you tomorrow then. Atrun-Rai and I have some things to discuss." She stands to usher him to the door. "Thank you for coming."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    Now, with Jon gone, Atrun-Rai turns to look at Zatanna. His expression softens, now. Quietly, he offers. "Sister. Are you all right?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
She smiles wistfully at being called sister. She is the only one left of her line and at times, the wind whistles around her grand house and the fire doesn't warm her. "No, not really. We seem to lurch from emergency to emergency and we thought Demon John ran us ragged." She shakes her head no and considers the finger of scotch left in her glass.

"Tomorrow? Are we ready? I only wish that I could talk to Persephone, Demeter's daughter, one of Gaia's handmaidens."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "It is the burden of our position," he replies, smiling faintly. "It was so for me, too, when I was a member of the Amatakoi. Only when I joined the court was I given any respite, and that, too, was only fleeting." He gestures, conjuring a pair of cups, vaguely Grecian in design. Plain, red-glazed clay. "Come," he says. "Sit with me. Let us share a cup of wine."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Reaching for the cup, she dips her head as she accepts it. "Our position?" she purses her lips into a wry smile.

"I have no position. I am a mage and only that. I have seldom had responsibility beyond myself. True, I help where I can but don't consider it a position. Not like being at court or making the decisions that you did."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Perhaps you should." The wine is mulled, warm - very much as it was in ancient days, as the Greeks and the Romans might have had. Not strong, but very flavorful thanks to the herbs and spices added. "There is a great pleasure to be had in the service of something greater than oneself, even when one wields the power that we do - to know that it is not just something used selfishly."

    He takes a sip from his cup. "We will meet with Gaea. It will go well, you will see. Or it will be eventful at the very least."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"I was brought up to serve the greater good as well as being a stage performer." The cup hides her face as she drinks. "Well, so this is how my ancestors drank their wine! I like it. Perfect for cold weather, thank you. I wonder if we should take Gaia an offering?"

Atrun Rai has posed:
    He smiles. "Something like it," Atrun-Rai replies. "It's been a very long time, and I cannot say that I remember the flavors exactly. My father was a wine merchant, you know. I came from a mercantile house." Then he shakes his head. "I doubt it's necessary. We're coming to try and save her creation. I doubt gifts will be in mind."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"So you mentioned before. Did you ever think you would be one, too? I knew I would be a magician from an early age, not a mage funnily enough. I think it was to protect me." Zee shrugs nodding agreement. "Perhaps I can carry greetings from my patron Persephone. We will see if she will visit me before we leave."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "I had no idea," he says, chuckling. "I was only a small child when the Wise Maidens took me to the Red Palace. While I still saw my family often, I never was able to knkow if I would have done well there. Certainly my family never let me touch the business after that. A sorceror in their family? Too important for mere commerce, they thought." Atrun-Rai shakes his head. "I would have liked to have tried it, myself. But that is another time, another society. Different rules."

    He cants his head, then. "Persaphia? A good patron to have. Lady of the Dead, the Iron Princess. Yes. Equal parts gentle and stern."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna smiles fondly, her eyes distant, remembering. "She chose me and changed my life. I walked the underworld with others because of her patronage." She sips her wine, "I am sure she would like this. I like pomegranate now."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "It was pomegranate juice that I gave to your student the other night," the Atlantean points out. "Her reaction to that, now, makes a bit more sense." He laughs, his eyes twinkling faintly. As if the drama of the past hour or so did not happen at all. "She seems a kind soul, your Phoebe. Spirited. Brave. I expect she is not famous with our comrades due to her opinionated manner, though. She is young, easy to discount in that way." He shrugs, lifting the cup to his lips again. "Which would be most unwise, I think."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna's smile warms speaking of her, "She will be one of the great mages of the next generation. She comes from Egypt, her village reminds me of what you described. Most everyone used magic and worshipped the old gods under the guise of Christianity. She carries divine light."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "I sensed that, yes," he replies. "Which is, of course, the reason for our discussion about the orichalcum. I have seen the traces of my people in all the ancient cultures of your phase of history. It makes me wonder how many escaped the sinking of the land."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"More than you think. There half children, too. Something bout that village made me think of my ancestors."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    A flicker of a smile. "What about you, then? Who is sister Zatara? We have spoken at length about my people, but who are you?" He takes a liberal swallow of wine, now, eyes warm and curious now.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"I am the child of a mage and stage performer. My mother was one of the Hidden Ones, a line of homo magi that were descendants of Atlantis. She died or so I thought when I was young but she had gone into hiding to protect the family. Not an unusual story, considering the power she wielded. My father, born in Italy, raised me here in Shadowcrest which we moved to Gotham from Europe so my father could help the present Bruce Wayne." She smiles with a hint of shyness under her usual self-assuredness.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    "Hidden Ones," he echoes, considering. "It sounds like a lonely upbringing. I hope that you were happy."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"My father performed half the year, we traveled constantly. I knew all the stage hands in Paris, London, New York. What did I know? I thought it was normal. At sixteen I thought I knew it all and had seen it all." She snorts faintly in wonderment at her sixteen-year old self.

Atrun Rai has posed:
    He laughs at that, gesturing to his cup to fill it once more. "In that, things have never changed." Atrun-Rai shakes his head. "I remember myself at that age. And you say your father was a performer? What manner of artistry did he practice? I'm not overly familiar with the arts of these years." He looks to her, smiling still, aiming to keep her engaged so that she need not yet think of the trouble that happened just before.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"My father performed magic shows for people, he was really good at the traditional forms as well as being a mage in his own right. It is looked on by some. He enchanted people and was wildly popular."

Atrun Rai has posed:
    He squints at her from over the rim of his cup. "I thought you said that your mother was the sorceress."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zee tilts her head then shakes it no, "They both were mages."