Owner Pose
Lydia Dietrich Lydia needs to get a hold of Tim, but isn't familiar with the man enough to have his contact information. She knows that Phoebe is good friends with him, however, and she has the contact information for /her/, so she gave her a text to meet her in Gotham at a coffee shop. (She's buying, now that they don't have access to free Starbucks anymore.)

She gets there early, and secures themselves a table, someplace off in the corner away from prying ears. She looks much healthier today, less corpse-like. Still looking a little anemic, she can still pass as human, and only gets the odd glances, which she supposes is more from the tiny motes of golden light that surround her. She's already gotten a cup of tea (blasphemy in a coffee shop) and waits patiently for her friend to arrive.
Phoebe Beacon     Tim? Being a difficult guy to get a hold of?

    It's more likely than you think. Unless you sleep at his place sometimes or know how to input messages to each other's dominos. Mask-to-Mask Texting is hilarious when you can make fun of people while you're being quiet.

    Phoebe walks in wearing a light jacket in spite of the chill that comes off the streets. She's wearing new clothes. Everything is label instead of Phoebe's usual second-and-third-hand clothing. Her braids are professionally done. She looks embarrassed and awkward and a bit like she wants to crawl into a hole and perish unknown -- but apparently she's known to this shop. THere's already a giant, hot, black coffee waiting for her as she's greeted by name.

    And she sits down to join Lydia, taking a deep breath, and she rubs at her left arm where Lyds would know that burned-in marking is.

    "You're looking good. Be nice if all of us could be relaxing." she offers as a joke.
Lydia Dietrich     Lydia's golden eyes light up at the sight of a fresh Phoebe. "You're looking good, too!" She winces at the accusation that she's taking time off. "It's less 'relaxing' and more 'recovering.' I spent myself casting that ritual. Nearly drained myself dry. You saw the state I was in during that meeting with Uriel."

    "Speaking of which," she says, pulling out a paper bag and sliding it across the table. Should Phoebe check inside there are two loaves of zucchini bread in there. "I'm sorry for being so short with everybody. Between the spell not going the way I intended, and still bone dry, my temper was up."

    "/Also/ speaking of Uriel, Cael decided to put it on herself to try to talk to both Lady Death and Ms. Fairchild before Jon comes back from being tortured," she says her voice dripping with bitterness. She /hates/ that Jon gave himself up so easily. "I didn't think she could do it by herself, so I offered to talk to Lady Death for her. I'd have offered to talk to Ms. Fairchild, too, but I'm one of those 'monsters' she talks about so I don't think I'd make a good first impression."

    "But, the real trick with talking to Lady Death is getting a hold of her," she continues. "Uriel mentioned to Cael that Tim would know how to do that." She shakes her head in puzzlement, "/Why/ Tim would know that is beyond me, but it's not like Uriel to outright lie about something like this. I don't have any way of getting a hold of him, but you're his friend, and I hope you can pass along my number to him and help me find some time to talk to him. Also, tell him I've got a signed copy of my book waiting for him."
Phoebe Beacon     "It's not my idea, but the majority of my clothes were on my clothesline in New York when we had to abandon ship." Phoebe replies, and she looks down. "I've... ah. Made some inroads with the local guys." she trails off a bit, looking upwards. It's not exactly a lie. "So I've gotten myself a brand new wardrobe that I didn't ask for because apparently walking around in ripped hoodies is 'hoodrat' or something." she gives a wry smile, and she sits herself down. "We were all in pretty awful sorts. You. Me. Meggan. Everyone." she states, and she gives a small, sad smile, and then she takes a pull of her coffee again. "We were all really testy."

    ... but she looks into the paper bag, and her eyebrows rise up. "It must kinda be torture for everyone up there to be smelling these while I get to enjoy them. Mwa-ha-ha-ha." she gives a small smile, and she pulls the bag over. "I'll make sure Tim gets one. He liked the last one."

    And she tracks the bitterness, and she leans back, her lips pursing, and she shakes her head. "I had only a little bit of conversation with Jon regarding what was to be done. It's a bit like..." she tilts her head back. "... a bit like reading Game of Thrones. You know someone's gonna eat it eventually... in learning from Constantine -- the *real* Constantine, mind you--" she cuts off any possible eyerolling regardint The Puppet "-- sometimes you gotta follow the trail something's leading you down, even if you know it hurts. Jon agreed to take the heat for all of us who were there that night trying to extract Michael out of my d- out of Chas."

    She goes quiet a moment "We all failed. Jon's just an idiot because he decided to take it all on himself because he torched the asshole's wing."

    And then she wrinkles her nose "Lyds, not even I would volunteer to talk to Cait. I had plans to eliminate her if it came down to it, in spite of the fact that for like, a whole *year* all I wanted to do was be an Amazon. Pretty sure best one for that's going to be Troia or someone who doesn't play in the Dark Sandbox of Magic." she cracks a little smile... and she shrugs her shoulder. "Tim has weird inroads, and gets along with some of the best people. Hold on--" she pulls her phone out. It's cracked across the screen now. The image on it is from the Laughing Magician -- there's her and Chas in the foreground, Selfie-Mode. Chas has a smile that says 'the kid told me to smile, so I am'. Jon Sims's glasses are picking up the flash, cigarette smoke hanging in the air, and in the back?

    Well. It's probably not the one she just calls Constantine. When she unlocks the phone with her fingerprint, the background is of her and The Man in Question himself, dark hair akimbo, wearing LARPing garb, trying to look Srus Bizness in the woods. There's a terrier between them.
Lydia Dietrich     "I actually bake in my apartment," Lydia says. "It's my warm cozy place. Don't get me wrong, I love the Asteroid, but it's built like a bunker save for the gardens. It's nice to have a little place to call your own." She winces when she realizes that Phoebe probably hasn't had a place like that, and her eyes cast down to her tea. "Sorry."

    She's silent for a moment as Phoebe kind of states the obvious. They all kind of failed. "You're right," she says simply. "In a fit of anger I yelled at Cael that Jon made his own bed and now he has to lay in it. He did. I don't like it, though. I don't like the thought of my friend being tortured. I can't imagine what he's going through other than it's ... biblical."

    She tries to avert her eyes so she doesn't accidentally spy on Phoebe when she messes around her phone. Her sharp eyesight makes it easy to catch the details though, and the dog catches her attention. "Is that Idu?" she asks.
Phoebe Beacon     "Oh -- no, this is Tim's dog, Yap. Tim and I did a Live Action Role Play thing up in the Catskills last fall.. before I got Idu. Idu is... almost twice Yap's size, now." Phoebe comments, and she opens her gallery and shows off what looks like an adolesesnt wire-haired Pharoah Hound in white and rusty red.

    And Phoebe goes a little quiet, rubbing the back of her neck.

    "One of the things I tried to impress upon one of the girls I used to hang out with a bit, was that magic demands payment -- but it's not just magic. Power of any sort. Jon seems to think he's the only one with the power to get through to Michael in a way that matters, in a way that we can win with the least amount of suffering. There is Suffering because there is a Desire to save us." she looks to Lydia quietly, and then she cracks a wane smile.

    "... or so says the seventeen-year-old who gets pissy when she remembers she'll miss out on going to prom."
Phoebe Beacon     Phoebe's nose wrinkles slightly. "Again, second year. I was expelled last year."
Lydia Dietrich     Lydia rotates her head so she can properly orient herself to look at Idu. "Ooh! He's a very handsome boy! I wish I could still get close to dogs," she says wistfully, "but whenever I do, they either try to run out of fear or bite me."

    "Jon asked me about what it was like to die, and come back." She nods, leaning back in her chair, "In much the same way as power, I told him that you don't get to come back from the dead without paying a price. I had to give up some of my humanity. I had to give up the sun, and being /alive/. These were the price I paid for my continued existence." She looks thoughtful, running a fingertip along the edge of her teacup. "A fair price, I would say, though I hope he gets a better deal. I came back for love. He's sacrificing himself for all of reality. He /deserves/ a better deal."

    Lydia's head tilts curiously, "Once we get a breather, will you be going back to high school? Or are you going to skip it altogether and go straight into college. You're certainly smart enough. Besides," she says, waving a hand. "Prom is overrated. I never had the guts to ask the girl I had a crush on out so I was there by myself. I was miserable."
Phoebe Beacon     "... I died at the village." PHoebe admits quietly, "I stopped my healing powers and bled out in the library beneath everyone, while Red Robin, Miss Martian, Chas, John, you, Zee -- while everyone was up fighting. Impulse I'd sent to Cairo to guard the books in case... things went wrong."

    She tilts her head back. "When Set was summoned, he had said my ancestors couldn't go to the afterlife until we were all dead. The End of the Line. So... the books were safe. Jon would have been capable of reading them, their legacy would live on as long as there was an Archivist."

    Phoebe sips her coffee, contemplative.

    "I don't know if it counts. I was just in a rose-gold colored place that smells like roses and black pepper -- smells like my mother, Paisi -- and I was able to speak with her for just a few minutes. She's beyond my ability to talk to anymore." she gives a small smile, and looks over to Lydia.

    "All power takes payment."

    And then she gets the flat 'frustraited teenager' expression.

    "... I couldn't ask anyone I liked to prom. Cass probably doesn't know what it is, Ben's in a different state of existence and Tim's dating a Chaotic Neutral Terrormuppet."
Lydia Dietrich     "I don't remember much about my death," Lydia says contemplatively. "I was only dead for a short while, a few minutes at most. There was..." she closes her eyes to remember the experience, "A kind of peace, and longing, and a sense of unfinished business. I think there was more," she says, shaking her head as she opens her eyes. "If I was the fatalistic sort, I would say that one of the archangels visited me, maybe Gabriel, and told me that this was my destiny. It always certainly /felt/ like I was fated to this existence from the start."

    "Wouldn't that be funny. A daughter of the Pharaohs... ancient enemies... all set up so that somebody with /just the right/ qualities could lead a band of adventurers safely out of the underworld." She lets out a wry chuckle, "I wouldn't put it past them."

    Lydia nods in sympathy. "Still. It's one of those things your just supposed to do as a teenager, isn't it?"
Phoebe Beacon     "Yeah, I was only dead long enough for the whole line to count. Then I woke up in a pool of my own blood with my wounds healing. Aaand then two days later I found out my dad was a demon infested meat puppet and sorta the whole world fell in on me."

    she sips her coffee again.

    "... but beating hell outta Michael kinda helped put the importance of things back into perspective, you know? Like *why* should I be upset about this at all? Reality's got a big hole in it. Maybe once it's plugged up things'll go back to normal and I can just be worried about mixing my laundry with a different person's at the laundromat." she mutters.

    "... I don't know what's more weird. The fact that I'm comparing saving existence to missing prom, or that there was absolutely zero surprise that I included a girl and guy's names."
Lydia Dietrich     "It's.... just too big to contemplate without having to break it down," answers Lydia. "You /have/ to compare it to something relatable because the mind just balks at the concept of 'all of reality'. So you have to focus on the small things about reality that matters to you. Like my books and Raven. Like your prom. It may be silly but it still /matters/."

    "When this is done we /all/ deserve to have a bit of normalcy in our lives." She lifts up the tea and gives it a sip, wincing that it's turned lukewarm. She hovers a hand over it, and a faint amber glow surrounds it and soon enough the tea starts steaming again. Another sip brings a satisfied nod. "I plan on focusing on working on my book after a week long romantic vacation in Paris." Because that's what lovers do, right?"

    She laughs however when it's pointed out her own lack of surprise at Phoebe's bisexuality. "I'm a raging lesbian," she explains. "I'm the last one to judge who one does or doesn't like."
Phoebe Beacon     "Well. You're pretty much the second person who knows about it. Maybe third. If you count Cass." she gives an awkward smile, and then she looks down at her cup.

    "... prom doesn't really matter. It's highschool stuff. Tim's trying to convince me to take courses at Gotham U this fall, and if my latest legal guardian insists, I might not be able to say no." she gives an awkward smile. "He already wants to see me take vacation time away from everyone to process things once this is resolved and we get Jon back from the dead. Sandalphon... did something for me, at Chas's behest. It's the only reason I've been able to remain so calm with everything going on, and once it ends, I have to sit and process all the emotions I didn't feel while it was active. So I'll be getting everything from..." she pauses, and she looks up

    "... right after I yelled at you and Zee in the Laughing Magician until I conciously make the decision to turn it off." she wrinkles her nose, and takes in more of the coffee.

    "And then I redouble my training, take the GED, and at least apply. Tim wants to see me test into the Pre-Med Program."
Lydia Dietrich     Lydia meets Phoebe's awkward smile with a soft one of her own. "Thank you for confiding in me, then. Coming out is a big step. I never came out in high school, and only a few people knew in college. I didn't even come out to my parents until this summer. I probably never would have had the courage to ask Raven out if I hadn't gotten so drunk I tried to get her into my bed." She grimaces, "Probably not the best way to go about it."

    She winces at the mention of Phoebe's bottle. "Hopefully not all at once," she says. "That would be overwhelming. I bottled up my emotions about having turned. I didn't want them to bother those that I loved, since they had their own emotions to worry about. I'm still processing, but it's kind of taken a back seat while I was working on the seal." Her gaze drifts out to watch the other people in the cafe. "But now that I have a bit of breathing room... I want to take care of it before we go into the Duat. I want all my ducks in a row." Before the universe ends. Before they're stuck in the underworld.

    "Pre-med is good. You'd be good at it. Definitely more useful than an English major."
Phoebe Beacon     "I'm kinda wondering how pre-med would work with me." Phoebe gives an embarrassed grin, and gives a small laugh. "Lydia, I don't think there's ducks or rows. There's squirrels. And they're at a rave, and loaded with molly and LSD." she points out to Lydia. "Magical lives are just... never normal. Heroic lives are never normal. We just kinda gotta wrangle the best we can, and occasionally send fruit baskets to people to make them question existence just a little bit." she gives a bright smile at that, and she takes a deep breath, and then looks down.

    "Yeah... Gotham has weirdly been my Breathing Room place." she looks up to Lydia.

    "My new mentor says that living on my own wasn't doing well for me, so I moved back here. I'm sure Chas knows... Sandalphon said that he can see us and hear us at a moment's thought..." she trails off, and gets a disturbed look "... which really just brings to mind that one time I interrupted Mass to ask the priest if Santa Claus could see me in the bathroom."
Lydia Dietrich     Lydia returns Phoebe's bright smile with one of her own. "You might be right at that. Even if I'm not dealing with magic stuff I'm dealing with mutant stuff. Which reminds me, I need to patch up the golem before he completely falls apart, now that I've got my magic back."

    She snerks, "Okay. I'm curious to know how your priest answered that, now."
Phoebe Beacon     "So we had a guest Priest, who was some big deal through the whole state, but I was five, what did I know? I know Christ said to let the little children come to him, so I just assumed it'd be chill to ask right in that minute."

    Phoebe gives a bright smile, and looks down.

    "Our regular priest, Father Donovan, was trying not to laugh his ass off. I don't think I'd seen Caroline so angry at me or see my dad Chuck try not to laugh so hard. It's one of the good memories I have of when I was still into going to church and being involved in religion."
Lydia Dietrich     "I wouldn't dare speak up like that in Temple," Lydia admits. "I was always a timid little thing when I was young. I just... went along with whatever my parents wanted. Well, really, with whatever my mother wanted." She gives a little shrug of defeat, "She can be kind of controlling."

    "It wasn't until my fourteenth birthday when my powers kicked in. There I was blowing out the candles and then I just sort of felt something *click* inside of me and I started glowing green." She lets out something of an embarrassed laugh, "When I found out it was because I was a mutant I felt relief. Finally, something about myself that my mother couldn't control."

    "At first my mom wanted to hide me away, when she wasn't trying to fix me. She said it was for my own protection, and I'm sure that was part of it. But, I could tell she was embarrassed by me as well." She shakes her head, "I didn't see Rabbi O'Toole for nearly a year until I snuck out to meet with him. He was shocked, but he handled it better than a lot of other Rabbis would."
Phoebe Beacon     "I like that both of our youth religious types were Irish in origin." Phoebe gives a little smile to Lydia. And she shrugs her shoulder.

    "I... found out last year that Caroline never wanted me as a daughter on 'adoption'. She thought it was a short-term foster. So... she made me straighten my hair so it was 'manageable', which made it really brittle. My hair's kinda difficult --" she states, and she motions a bit to her short braids "When i go au natural, it sticks up all over the place, so I braid it 'cause it was better for martial arts." she recounts, "But Caroine hated natural black hair. She thought it was ugly. She wouldn't get the special shampoos and stuff I needed, so my hair got worse, until I stood up to her and said that I wanted black girl hair. Which meant oil, braids, braiding shops, lots and lots and LOTS of youtube videos." Phoebe gives an awkward smile "So I wasn't black enough for some people, 'cause I was raised by a white couple. I obviously am not white, so I was seen as a pity adoption. And then when Chuck... when my dad was killed... she was stuck with a 'difficult' daughter. And when I was fourteen suddenly I could control my powers, a little bit. So I figured out recently that I wasn't sneaking outta the house 'cause I was that damn good..." she gives a sad smile "... Caroline didn't care because as long as I wasn't caught, I wasn't an embarrassment. Or maybe she was hoping I'd get in trouble and prove her right. Or that I wouldn't come home at all..." Phoebe's expression goes neutral. Whatever emotion she should be feeling right now, she wasn't.

    "And we both blame me for her current pains. So I suppose at least I have that in common with her."
Lydia Dietrich     Lydia listens as Phoebe talks about her hair and winces. "I can't imagine what that would be like," she says. "I mean, my own hair is really curly and unmanageable but it's not black girl hair. We call our hair 'jewfros' but I was never sure if that was racist or not." She shakes her head, "I may have had problems, but they're rich Jewish girl problems. It's why I work with the the people in Bushwick. Maybe it's just guilt, I don't know. I just want people to have the opportunity to have better lives."
Phoebe Beacon     "Nah, not racist. I for one welcome my 'fro'd brothers and sisters in banding together against racist people bein' racist and hair care products that aren't strong enough for the power of our 'dos." she smiles, and then she turns her phone around, and true to form, it is Phoebe. With all natural hair, and it does kinda stick out all over the place.

    "See why I keep it braided? I go to a shop sometimes when I want extensions for being fancy or if I want fancy braids."
Lydia Dietrich     "Hah!" Lydia says, as she leans over to look at the picture. "The braids look better on you anyways," she says. She pulls out her phone and starts going through the pictures. "Here we go," she says, turning the phone around. "This is the picture that my mom shows to other people to embarrass me." It's a picture of tiny little six year old Lydia grumping, her hair a halo of frizz and curls. "Apparently I didn't want mom to brush my hair."

    "I get it from my father's side of the family. They're Ashkenazi Jew, so it all makes sense. He keeps his cut short, and besides, he's mostly bald anyway." She takes the phone back, giving the picture one last look before tucking it away in her purse. "It took us a while to find products that would tame this mess. Dad never had to deal with it, and mom's hair is more manageable."
Phoebe Beacon     Phoebe gives a smile, and runs her hands over her short braids. "Yeah. They are more me, and I do all right with them I guess. But they're such a paaaain to do by yourself... but it takes a lot outta me to have someone else do it." she purses her lips. "Yeah, curly hair can be a pain. But we somehow survive." she smiles, and then drains the rest of her coffee. "Well, I should... probably get going. I'll pass on your contact info to Tim and ask him pretty please to reach out when he's not working. I'm sure, since it's for Jon, he'll do it a soon as he can. If not?"

    She purses her lips.

    "I'm sure if I start walking around Hell's Kitchen telling her my dad says she sucks, she might show up. She liked me, since I kinda stood between her and my dad during a fight 'cause I thought he was just some guy and she's like this Hell Lord and it was dumb then too." she smiles, going to stand.
Lydia Dietrich     Lydia nods, flashing Phoebe a grin. "I'm sure I'll hear from him. He /does/ want that autographed copy of my book, after all. I should go, too."

    "Be well, Phoebe. Try to rest some. I know you won't because nobody I know ever does," she jests, "but I worry about all of you."
Phoebe Beacon     "Nope. Mandated rest. Even had to withstand a day of poking Tim in the side with my foot because he had to babysit me to make sure I didn't escape." Phoebe gives a smile, and if Lydia looks down there is a crisp 50-dollar bill, with a sticky note.

    'For Coffee <3 <3 - PB'