Owner	Pose
Michael Demiurgos	The astral disruption resonating through Manhattan leads the investigators to the neighborhood of East Harlem. Not too far from Thomas Jefferson Park. A pattern is emerging with these sites. Near to the Wellsprings sealed by Jon and the defense forces of Manhattan but not directly on them. Perhaps, the astral disrupts location enough to put them slightly away from the centralized locations.     Crossing over is as simple as ever. A closed storefront offers a better opportunity than the brownstones lining the streets. The key slides easily into the lock and a soft click and opening later reveals... not the contents of the shop the key is used on but an open and expansive garden before a mansion. There are islands of vibrantly colored flowers, a large hedge maze to one side with what might be ten feet high shrubs marking the walls, and topiaries carefully sculpted to look like jungle animals: a giraffe, an elephant, and a male lion are only a few of the highlights.     The manor house--or perhaps its a hotel--itself is incredibly lavish from an external perspective. Four stories tall and spanning tens of thousands of square feet. The white walls of the building and red tile roof give it an almost rustic appearance amongst the mountainous landscape surrounding it.     Power thrums from somewhere inside the building and a pallor of danger hangs heavy in the air. Something is terrible and dire about the idyllic location. The item they seek is buried within and that means they must seek despite knowing that there is danger in the confines of the mansion. Almost on cue, the front door of the building cracks and slides open of its own accord.     An invitation for them to enter and try their hand at survival.
Jonathan Sims	Jon has been half-dreading this moment, but nonetheless contacts those he can--including a potential new member of the Justice League Dark in Lucy Blaze--and heads to the area of the disturbance. As they enter the Astral Plane his eyes glow teal and he takes on the power of Ma'at, sprouting multicolored wings, a circlet with an ostrich feather, and his clothing changes from rust-colored turtleneck and jeans to red kurta and gold trousers. It's safer for him to just hold on to Ma'at's power even with other people around.     He stares up at the hotel, eyes widening a bit. "I hated this movie," he mutters. "My gran's jackass handyman forced me to watch it when I was seven because he thought it'd be funny. Gave me nightmares for /weeks/." A pause. "Not that that's hard, admittedly."     He frowns toward the door. "I suppose we go in though."
Terry O'Neil	"Oh, I love this movie," Terry counters. He's dressed, against all odds, in a slick suit and tie, cane and top hat gone- for now- but he does carry a briefcase of sorts. The suit has been modified to allow the tail to be free, and thus avoid discomfort. "But I am going in with you under the most strident of protests. I remember the /one/ scene that involved a person dressed like an animal and if Michael thinks I am going to recreate /that/, he has something else coming to him."
Cael Becker	Cael enters just after Jon - dressed in SHIELD-issue combat gear, with the magical armor provided by her amulet over the top. A chest plate, grieves, and braces protect her - made of a blueish silver metal, with dark metalic wings sprouting from the armor's back. Strapped across her back, just under her wings, is a large bastard sword of a deep, black metal.      She reaches out to take Jon's left hand for a moment as she murmurs to him in an aside, "I stay with you to cover your back this time." No chances of letting Michael get Jon on his own. No changes of him coming across anymore //bloody gems// without someone to talk some sense into him.     No buts.     "Look, it doesn't matter what genre Michael's pulling from this time. It hasn't given him an upperhand yet - and it won't today. The guy's not the brightest for all this unfathomable age."
Lucy Blaze	Lucy arrives as requested, in her usual outfit of black top, jeans, boots, a short red leather jacket. As they pass through into the Astral Plane, however, her outfit blows away like sand on the wind, leaving her in something a bit more interesting. A bright red sleeveless bodysuit, amoring ar the shoulders, forearms, legs, armored boots. And the two blades strapped criss-cross to her back. One looks like a traditional, ancient katan. The other is.. different. It looks wickedly sharp, the length of a longsword, but with a slight sabre's curve at the end. She glances around, then looks to the others, "I take it this is a place of pop culture significance? And it is supposed to be scary?" There's a faint frown as she adds this to her mental file of things to look into later.
Jonathan Sims	Jon glances over at Terry. "People called me 'Jonny' as a child. You can imagine how often I've gotten to hear a bad Jack Nicholson impression from people over the years." He sighs, gripping Cael's hand tightly. There's a glowing tether clearly linking the two, wrapped around the wrists of the hands they're currently holding. At least it'll be hard for them to lose each other.     He glances to Lucy and nods. "A horror movie. Well, a book and then a movie. Frightening, but only in context." A pause. "Michael likely knows damn well how much the movie and then the book terrified me as a child, and might hope it'll terrify others. And I suppose the connection to psychic powers and nightmares manifesting does make sense."     He straightens his shoulders. "Well, nothing for it but to go in," he says, and heads on up to the door to go inside.
Terry O'Neil	"Worry not, Jon," the Cheshire smirks, patting his briefcase, "As it so happens, I am bringing a little thing just in case there is something strange in the neighborhood." He glances at the rest of the group and silently counts the heads, and then smiles. "Good... the right number, too." Taking a breath, he strides in after Jon and Cael, ready for the spook show.
Cael Becker	"...who you gonna call?" Cael asks Terry - her eyebrows going up. Why are they playing //Ghostbusters// against an Archangel?     Oh well. It's Terry - why question it? She enters the building hand in hand with Jon, looking around curiously at the decore with an attentive readiness for whatever may pop out at them. It's hard to know what to expect with these things - but she has every confidence that they can handle it.     Together.
Lucy Blaze	"Okay, that reference I know." Lucy looks between the other three, smiling ever so faintly as they approach the original House of Horror (or what looks like it anyways). She nods to Jon and steps in with the others, bringing up the rear as they all enter the hotel. Even as they enter, she looks across to Terry and Cael and offers, "I'm Lucy, by the way. Lucy Blaze. A pleasure to meet you both." Because you should totally introduce yourself AFTER entering the murder mansion, right?
Michael Demiurgos	The inside of the expansive building is deocrated in that familiar style of Art Deco, but with an rustic edge to it all. All browns, greys, and tans but having that odd mosaic pattern to the rugs and fancy chandeliers high up on the ceiling.     As the party enter the door behinds them closes and locks with an audible click. "Welcome, my esteemed guests, to the Overlook Hotel" intones the unmistakeable voice of Michael, disembodied for the moment. "I do hope you enjoy our accomodations. You will likely be seeing them for a very long time." The laughter that fades after is almost laughable in how stock it sounds.     The sensation of the power is coming from somewhere upstairs. There is a large double-wide staircase towards the back of this entry hall. There are also a few doors towards the back halls leading out behind the large staircase.
Jonathan Sims	Jon rather visibly flinches at Michael's voice and glares up at the ceiling. "Oh, terrific." To Jon's eyes, there is a clear path of teal light leading up the stairs. "With our luck he'll have put the thing in the room where all the worst weirdness happens," he mutters, looking up the stairs.     As he heads that way, he says, "Ms. Blaze came to me last week and offered her expertise to the Justice League Dark. She's a formidable warrior and magician. I thought it would be good for her to see how she works with us." He's /trying/ to sound calm and confident, but Cael can feel the way his hand's trembling, at least.
Terry O'Neil	"How do you do, Miss Blaze? I'm Terry. or Vorpal. I go by either-" Terry's introduction is cut short, however, by Michael. A pained glance at Cael, and then a heavy sigh. "Dear god. He could at least have tried to do the Vincent Price laugh. That laughter is the kind of cheesy laugh that even Elvira considers too cheesy to show on her show..." a pause. "Hey, maybe we should recruit Elvira. I think she'd be a smashing hit here..." The Cheshire starts padding towards the staircase, "Let us head towards the dinstinct and terribly obvious trap, Scooby."
Cael Becker	"Cael Becker," the woman offers simply in reply, giving Lucy a nod, before she returns her attention to the task at hand. Her expression darkens at the sound of Michael's voice - not that it's at all unexpected - and the horrible laughter earns a broad rolling of her eyes.     "Stronger together," she murmurs in a quiet aside to Jon, giving his hand a squeeze, before she releases it so they both have their hands empty, and prepared.     Of course, that doesn't mean she's straying much more than a few feet from his side, as they make their way towards and up the stairs.
Lucy Blaze	Lucy nods to both Terry and Cael, then glances forward to Jon with a subtle dip of her head. She's also keeping her head on a swivel, looking all around, every nook and cranny. "Lucy is fine, Terry. If we're going to be wandering a murderous mansion together, I think we can drop the formalities." Michael's voice has her lifting a brow, then sighing, "This is the being that created this universe? Did it require putting all his creativity and imagination into the making of it? That was just... sad." She points to Terry, "I don't know who Elvira is, but I'm with you on the Vincent Price part."
Phoebe Beacon	"That was probably something that should have been discussed, Jon." comes a voice from the back of the group as a black-hooded person brings up the rear, having been quiet until then. The hood is pulled back, and Phoebe's face pokes out and into the light, and she winces as she pulls back the hood fully, the healer looking at the assembled personages.     "Sorry I'm late; ran into some traffic." she explains her tardiness, and then claps her hands, trotting up behind Terry and Lucy. "Phoebe. Pleasure to meet your acquaintence." the young woman introduces herself simply, and breathes out. "I suppose as long as we're not starting in the bar."
Michael Demiurgos	As they reach the stairs, a number of things happen. For Jon the moment his first foot sets down on the stair and he pushes up, he finds himself where he began. Feet firmly on the floor in preparation to move up. Another attempt yields the same result. And again.     Terry and Phoebe get a different result. They make it halfway up the staircase and then they too stop in an endless loop of the same stair over and over. Going down does nothing to change their location; the step below them repeats as the same one they are stuck on.     Cael is better. She manages to make it up the entirety of the staircase, the impediment effect not seeming to even phase her as she reaches the landing before the stair branches to the left and right. The glowing tether around her and Jon's wrist accomodates the distance well enough, stretching and not seeming to truly have tension despite the increased length.     Lucy too finds herself impeded by a repeating loop after five steps and she too finds that descending the stair does nothing to change her progress. They all seem stuck where the odd looping effect has contained them. It seems that the first obstacle to bar their path is tame enough, if insanely annoying.
Jonathan Sims	"Michael did the actual /creating/, but Lucifer's the one who /designed/ things," Jon clarifies, stopping and turning to Lucy before heading up the staircase. "Lucifer was the Architect, and Michael was the actual Builder. When Lucifer Fell, Michael took his portion of the power of Creation, the Demiurgic Force, into himself. That's... actually part of the problem we're trying to solve. He should've given it up, but the Presence never told him to directly, and on top of that he has /double/ the power he should." He frowns. "He actually offered me Lucifer's piece of that power the other day, evidently. He seems to know he doesn't really have the /creativity/ himself. It's just... not part of what he is."     He turns to look at Phoebe and says, "I told her that I'd have to talk to you about her joining the JLD, naturally. But these excursions aren't restricted to full members, so I thought it would be a good chance to see how she fits in." Without really thinking about it, he goes to start heading up the stairs and then... doesn't.     He blinks and peers at the stairs, then tries again. And again. Then he shakes his head and mutters, "Well, shit." He frowns up at the others, considering options.
Terry O'Neil	"Well, isn't that special?" Terry asks in that Church Lady type of voice. Stopping at the ever-repeating step, he seems to think for a second. "He doesn't have the creativity, agreed. So this means that every challenge we come across is the facsimile of another challenge somewhere else. It stands to reason. So... this..." He gestures to the stairs, "Can be either surmounted by potentially getting a cat to dance with you in a re-creation of a Paula Abdul video... or you can also try..." He turns around and tries to ascend the stairs backwards. "If this doesn't work, there's always the /other/ way, of course."
Cael Becker	Cael - not willing to venture far from Jon, stops several steps past him, looking back to watch him struggling with the step with a wrinkled brow. "Fucking dream logic," she mutters under her breath before making her way back down to him. She latches back onto the man's hand - and then proceeds back up the staircase, curious to test the notion on whether or not they can climb the stairs //together//.     She is not letting Michael separate them. No fucking way.     "Maybe mom and dad can bicker about this later - when they're not in front of the children, or in the middle of a mission with a being of inexpressible strength and power, but miniscule intelligence and creativity?" she asks in a dry voice, while turning a curious eye towards Terry's attempt to get up the stairs.
Lucy Blaze	Lucy's hackles start to rise the third time she tries to acend the stairs and ends up right back at the base of them. Her eyes narrow and she mutters under her breath, turning to walk away from the staircase, at least a few feet. Turning back she gets a running start and pushes off to try and LEAP up to the landing, thus avoiding the stairs all together.
Phoebe Beacon	"That... is kind of obnoxious." Phoebe steps a couple times, steps back one step, and then finds herself looping again.     She gets a flat, wet-cat look face at the annoyance, and considers her options with the stairs.     "More that my powers can affect people negatively, so I like to know before I start causing harm or drunkeness in my alli--" Phoebe begins, sort of evenly explaining for the assembly before Lucy takes a running leap for the stairs, and Phoebe gives a soft sound of surprise and *ducks* down!
Michael Demiurgos	Cael's attempt to bring Jon with her is successful actually. But should she loosen her grip on his hand, he disappears and reappears at the base of the stairs a split second later. In a shocking twist of the song she uses to describe her relationship with the man, she must hold on too tight lest she lose him again.     Terry's imitation of the cartoon cat in Paula Abdul's video is also successful. It seems that there are more than one way to sk--make it up the stairway.     Lucy's leap is -also- a means to an end--brute forcing the situation, as it were--and her boots land with soft thuds on the carpeted landing before a large window that looks over the back of the property...     Which is identical to the front. In every way. Curious.     There is one remaining member of their crew on the stairs. Phoebe, she's been given a number of option of how to proceed... and it's possible any number of them could work... but which to choose is the decision of the moment.
Jonathan Sims	Jon glowers at the staircase, and doesn't let go of Cael's hand at all as they go up. "If 'obnoxious' is the worst we have to deal with I'll call this a win," he grumbles. Cael lets go of his hand as they reach the balcony and he sighs. The second time up, he holds on until they get to the balcony and then /keeps/ holding on until they're all up there. He's not moving forward without the others.     During all of this, he says, "Well, Lucy, do you have any particular weakness to Light or Holy magic? Terry's glitter actually makes me rather, ahh... loopy now, much like it does to the angels. Not unpleasantly so, but I'm going to have to duck if he needs to use Chaos magic. Stands to reason, I suppose."
Terry O'Neil	"Don't say that, you might end up actually getting turned into a duck. This /is/ Michael we're talking about, don't give him ideas." Terry smirks, and glances down the stairs. "Pheebs... do you want me to try to Rabbit Hole you? It's not technically cheating since it /is/ one of my powers. I don't recommend you try to do the backwards thing because that might trigger a music video and you'll have to be my Paula Abdul."
Cael Becker	"Who would be the Cold Hearted Snake in that case?" Cael asks. "Michael?"     She holds tightly to Jon's hand now, after having to go retrieve him for a second time - mildly exasperated by Michael's games as they continue to explore the building. Would she be stuck holding his hand for the rest of their time in the house? If she released his hand so they could engage with Michael - would he always snap right back to that damned step?     "I still don't understand what the hell Michael thinks he's achieving with all this."
Lucy Blaze	Lucy hits the landing and looks out the window in front of her, frowning faintly, "Wrong video... this would be Opposites Attract..." Its offered distractedly even as she shakes her head over the mirrored image of the front and 'back' of the hotel. "No imagination..." Then she's looking back to the group, then to Phoebe, and over to Terry, "If that doesn't work, I can try something..."
Phoebe Beacon	"I'm woefully unaware of any Paula Abdul video, sorry all." Phoebe gives a shrug from her position in the middle of the stairway, and she considers as she nods to Terry.     "Well, between offering Jon Lucifer's bit of power to shape existence, could it have been a temptation? If so... that would be a hard pressed chance to pass up, to shape the world in an image one thinks is more fair -- but I've been wrong pretty much every step of the way, so do with that info what you will." Phoebe shrugs.     "Rabbit hole away!" Phoebe states from the middle of the stairway -- and as soon as one is opened up, she hops through it, neat as you please.
Michael Demiurgos	At the balcony beyond the second stair is a long hall with an orange, brown, and red hexagonal pattern on the ground. More of the art deco feel marks the hall, with eggshell color on the walls, domed light fixtures on the ceiling and bright red doors for the various rooms of the hotel.     Partway down the hall is a child. A young boy who is maybe seven or eight years old with a blue coat and khaki colored pants over heavy hiking boots. His skin is pale white in color, pasty even, and his eyes are black--devoid of all color. "Oh good! You're here... now we can play" he says before he turns and flees up the hall and through a door without bothering to open it.     Jon's vision lets him know that the path to the item they seek goes through the room the boy passed into. It seems they will have to 'play' with him regardless of whether they want to or not.
Jonathan Sims	"He offered the power and I turned him down. Now he's angry. And probably trying to buy himself time to..." Jon frowns as he trails off. Opens his mouth. Closes it again. He can't /quite/ seem to get the words out. So he just shakes his head and starts down the hall.     Seeing the ghost child in the hall and then darting into the room, he mutters, "Naturally he goes into the room we need to pass through..." He'll head for that door, though he's not stepping through the doorway alone. But in they can go, regardless.
Terry O'Neil	"So he is an Archangel acting like a spurned ex?" Terry smirks, "That's very mature, don't you think?" he glances at Phoebe and Cael, and then confides to Lucy, "Do you think that if we produce a Switch, the little boy will just let us walk away with our prize?" He looks down at his suitcase and hmms. "I think it is getting time to open this baby up..." he reaches over to undo the combination lock: 123456. Hail Scroob! "Just in case. Easy to snap open in a jiffy and all that." He heads for the door as well.
Cael Becker	Cael looks askance at Jon before asking bluntly, "The gem?" Apparently she has very little qualms about bringing up the thing in mixed company as she fixes him with a stern look.     She knows he //literally can't// talk about it. And yet...          Jon won't be enterting the room alone - he'll be entering it with Cael, who doesn't hesitate to reach out towards the door with her free hand, trying the knob.
Lucy Blaze	Lucy looks forward towards Terry and calls up, "You'd be surprised how much eternity lends towards juvenile or selfish acts. The Greek pantheon is an excellent example, so is Old Testament God from the Christian and Jewish faith. The Celts have some real winners, the Norse as well. THe Japanese, Korean, and Chinese are chockablock with trickster spirits, or vengeance spirits. Be glad most of the Incan and Aztec pantheons aren't around anymore, they were selfish -and- scary." She glances past towards Jon and Cael but doesn't comment, just following everyone through the door.
Phoebe Beacon	"I'm actually surprised he didn't offer a power to others who would have a harder time with that temptation is what I'm saying, not that there's anyone he detests-slash-idolizes more than you. Except maybe his brother, but y'know. Contrarian." Phoebe replies with a shrug as she makes her way up and she spies the kid. She narrows her eyes, and she draws her left hand to her side, open palm, to try and get a sense of this kid, guidance, so to speak -- but he bolts through the door.     "So now we play." she mumbles crossly, and looks to Terry and Lucy, then to Cael and Jon, and breathes out uneasily.     "I got a bad feeling about this." she mumbles, and as the concentric circles of her innate Light form on the backs of her hands, she passes through after the others.     "Let's thank goodness the Egyptian gods were a little more mature then." Phoebe gives a wry smile to Lucy.
Michael Demiurgos	As soon as the door opens they are in the room. But they are not together. Not in any configuration they were before. They're separated. The room is divided it would seem. Jon and Terry find themselves in a section together. Lucy and Phoebe are likewise together. And Cael is on her own (even as the tether on her wrist passes through the wall to her left--at least letting her know Jon is alive.)     The room lights up and they are in a maze of mirrors. On each of the mirrors is a word. It's not hard to know what the word is if you're familiar with the story: REDRUM in blood red liquid on each panel. The laugh that echoes through the room is haunting and childlike. The boy flits from mirror to mirror. Never truly passing through one to the one next to it. "You've gotta catch me!" he calls to the separated individuals. "If you catch me, you win a prize. If you don't... well..." He laughs again in that haunting ghost laugh.
Jonathan Sims	Jon sighs at Cael before they step through the door. No, he literally /cannot/ talk about it, so... he doesn't. Instead, he snorts at Phoebe. "'Mature,' yes. All that business with Horus and Set, /very/ mature. Also, for the record, Anubis is kind of a stuck-up jerk. Not fond of the guy." He says this while wearing Ma'at's feather, even. Well, there's always infighting, right?     Then they're through the door, and Jon blinks and stares off to his right. "Oh, for--" He shakes his head. "Seriously?? Ugh. Just a moment, Terry."     He closes his eyes, and reaches out with his mind. <<Everyone alright? Just... think /really/ hard about me when you reply.>>     He opens his eyes, and goes to start following the boy's movements through the mirrors. He's off-kilter, though, disoriented by the weird pull of the tether and trying to pay attention to the others responding. This... is not going to end well.
Terry O'Neil	"But Jon, there is a sizable part of the Internet that thinks Anubis is incredibly hot. With that kind of a following, you would let it go to your head, too-" And then, there's mirrors. And Jon's contact. A mind of order touching a mind of chaos. Terry tries to reach back as he tries to follow the ghostly boy, but- well. He's not proud of it, but the cat actually gets entangled with /someone/ he can't quite make out. And the next thing he knows, he's falling to the ground and- Splorch. SPLORCH? The Cheshire frowns and looks at the liquid staining his fur. Eyes go wide. He smells it. "OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO GET THIS SHIT OFF /FUR/?"
Cael Becker	"Oh for the love of-" To say that Cael is less than pleased at being separated from Jon is an understatement, and she reaches over her shoulder to draw the black, two-handed bastard sword with his wavy, flame-like design. It bursts into flames of an orangey yellow hue, and without paying any attention to the child - Cael takes the most direct route towards Jon as she can, literally smashing her way through four or so mirrors to reach the man.     "I'm completely fine," she says simply, as she lowers her sword, and takes her place at Jon's side again. She, apparently, was not kidding about refusing to let Jon get out of her sight this time around.
Lucy Blaze	Following after the little boy, Lucy is quite tempted to simply start smashing mirrors until there are no more to dodge around. But just as she's having that thought, there's a drop, then a fall. Lucy turns to pick out Phoebe tumbling with her and quickly throws a magic shield under her to help mitigate any damage from the fall. She herself twists around in the air, rearranging her position and angle in the drop, and lands in the Superhero Pose amidst a huge splash of blood. Really it's quite impressive, if not a bit gross. Still, she stands, looking over to Phoebe, "Are you alright?" Then, almost instinctively, at Terry's yell, "Seltzer water for blood. And wear red." Seeming unconcerned about her own gore-painted self, she moves towards Phoebe and offers her a hand up.
Phoebe Beacon	"See, I'm always wrong, . Why am I ever included in things if I'm--" Phoebe blinks, confronted by the mirrors, and she breathes out, listening to the childish taunt of the black-eyed boy, and she follows the boy's movements.     "Stay cl--" she was about to say, when there was a sudden drop.     Phoebe twists herself around in the air, and tries to stick the three-point landing between the shield from unfamiliar Lucy and the slickness at the bottom, she skids a bit and lands on her butt.     <Blood. A Lot of Blood... oh it's up my nose again --> Phoebe thinks back to Jon, her nose wrinkling and she coughs up some gunk and spits it out to the side.     "In my Experience? Cold water rinse. Hydrogen peroxide to neutralize the proteins. Launder normally, wear black." she states, and she waggles her fingers. Mostly as a joke, since Phoebe's -- well.     "I'm fine. Not the first time I've twisted an ankle on a three-point."
Michael Demiurgos	There is another laugh from the little boy and then he appears in all the mirrors around them, covered in blood himself with a bloody straight razor in his hand. "That was fun..." he says, his voice overlayed with something deeper and darker than should come from the little boy. "We should play again sometime..."     He screams in an unearthly wail and it comes out in stereo as all the mirrors shatter around them and the lights go out in the room. After a moment of silence there is a click and a door at the far end of the now glass strewn room openes onto a lit hallway with that all too familiar hexagonal carpet and eggshell paint. The glowing path that appears in Jon's eyes tracks on to the hall.
Jonathan Sims	Ma'at's feather actually flickers as if in confusion as Jon, like an /idiot/, touches Terry's mind. His own isn't ordered in the sense of, say, neat boxes or rigid lines; it's /complex/ order, the sort that involves flow diagrams and intricate filing systems, rules that are meant to be riffed on like a jazz solo, flexible enough to laugh at its own foibles and admit that vegetable broth is a tea (heated leaf water) and ice cream is just sweet frozen bisque. Which is maybe worse, in its way, for Terry. You can't just smash your way through the walls or color outside the lines--this is the kind of mind that finds rules and patterns in the complexities of human behavior. The kind of order that underlies what mathematicians call chaos. The sort of person who finds Wonderland's chaos delightful and amusing if also a little giddy-making.     For Jon, everything is swirling confusion for a moment, disorder and randomness, and he reels, stumbles, and slips. And splorch. Ewww. "Oh good lord," he mutters, staring at the red staining his trousers. The sharp metallic scent is unmistakable: blood. They're /covered/ in blood.     "...Here, umm, let me..." He summons a globe of water, intended to be perfect for cleaning blood out of fur, and proceeds to dump it right on Terry's head. Result, possibly: one drenched cat.     Which sends Jon into a fit of giggles. "Hi Cael!" he says brightly, grinning up at her. "Phoebe's got blood up her nose and Lucy hasn't bothered checking in but I can hear her so that's okay! Aaaand there go the lights." He frowns, the effects of the chaos still fading from his mind.     "Funny," he says as he peers toward the open door, "this just isn't as terrifying as I remember it. Maybe I just don't find veiled metaphors for domestic dysfunction nearly as frightening when I've studied it all so much?"
Terry O'Neil	Terry slowly gets up, drenched. "Thank you, Jon. If you wanted to see me in a wet t-shirt, you could have just asked..." he seems grateful for the water to wash the uck out, though. He reaches for his briefcase and opens it, now, taking out something that dangles at the end of a cable. A trap. "Okay. If we get one more mother-effin' ghost trying to give us a jumpscare before the finale, I am /so/ using this bad boy. I have to take a bath, now, and my bathtub gets /clogged/. I am not happy."
Cael Becker	"...suddenly drunken Jon. Alright. This is happening." Cael offers the man a hand to help him back to his feet - and keeps hold of them until they're out of the room covered in blood and broken glass. She doesn't want to think about the possibility for infection if you were to cut yourself under these circumstances. Can you get Hepatitis or HIV in the astral plane?     "Well. I'm glad everyone's okay," she says simply, as she studies Terry's ghost trap.     "I'll admit," Cael remarks. "The whole thing reads more as 'over the top' than actually scary. It's like a haunted house at a high school, you know? Cliche, derivative bullshit. But then- well. It is Michael, so."
Lucy Blaze	"Apologies, I assumed that if we could hear one another physically, that a headpop would not be necessary. I'll make sure to check in mentally next time as well." Lucy offers to Jon with a small shrug before nodding to Phoebe. "As long as you're well enough to continue, then lets trudge onward." Terry's appearance has her glancing around, then smiling faintly, "I believe I can help with this..." As everyone moves through the door and back into the hallway, they will each of them have the sensation of stepping through a very soft brush, almost ticklish in nature. And as they exit, the blood, water, or glass they may have picked up is removed and deposited back in the room from whence it came. Instaclean! "There. Minor magic, but useful."
Phoebe Beacon	"Never liked the smell of blood--" Phoebe states, and begins to cast with "Expurgate omnes sordes et sangu...in..." -- but Lucy beats her to it.     "Minor magic?" she asks, mild disbeleif, and then she breathes out, looking to the new girl, and gives a half smile, and a shrug.     "Onward and outward." she states, and goes to follow the group again.
Michael Demiurgos	The hallway beyond is much like the one they came from before, only instead of red doors these have the same weird eggshell color as the wall and it ends in a dead end. At the deadend are a pair of girls, twins from the look of it. They wear little blue dresses with white trim and black Mary Janes over white knee high stockings.     "More friends?" they say in unison. "We haven't had friends in ages. Will you play with us?" they ask together again. "We've been so bored without someone to play with. The bartender here said he would play with us but then he got busy with guests so he didn't play with us. He just gave us a hug that didn't feel like a hug should feel. Come. Play with us."     They turn and on the back of their dresses are several deep bleeding stab wounds that ooze and drip with red. They turn and pass through a door next to them this time the leading one actually turns the knob and opens it before passing through followed by her sister. They door remains open as they fall from sight. "Come... play. Please." A placard next to the door reads in blocky typset '217.'
Jonathan Sims	Jon peers at Terry for a moment, and giggles. "Wet... t-shirt? No, no, I wouldn't... ask my husband, I don't..." He giggles again, and then blinks as the effect finally fades. Rubs at his face.     "Note to self: do /not/ reach out telepathically to Terry without bracing. Christ." He waves a hand at Lucy. "It's fine, I didn't presume we'd be able to /hear/ each other, because I presumed Michael would make this actually /difficult/! Gods, what a... a /poser/." There. He said it.     With a sort of 'harrumph' he steps through the door and... is clean? "Oh, that's handy. How do you do that without /manifesting/ anything...?" He shakes his head. "Shop talk later," he murmurs to himself.     He peers toward the girls at the end of the hallways and then sighs. "Onward, I suppose?" And, indeed, he'll follow the girls on into the room, making sure they all are relatively close together.     Hopefully Michael wasn't waiting for the third trap to actually spring something /bad/ on them.
Terry O'Neil	"Creepy twins. Of course there would be the creepy twins. At least they don't wear the faces of the political memes I've seen around lately. /That/ would be more terrifying." He takes the notes on how to wash his fur, though, and belatedly says "I appreciate the notes. I just hope that it will not turn my fur green or something like that. I am not ready to be Vorpal of Green Gables." He sighs softly, swinging the trap from side to side. "Right. Onto the Creepy Room it is."
Cael Becker	"I really don't need you acting drunkenly on missions," Cael agrees with Jon. "So yes. Next time."     She turns her attention to the twins next, frowning briefly, but not hesitating in following them towards the open door with the others. Her attitude - as with many of these missions against Michael - was the overwhelming drive to just get this bullshit //over// with. At this point, it was just getting tiresome.
Lucy Blaze	"Technically it would be a minor use of a larger magical practice, but I think it rubs out the same. And I'll be glad to compare notes later," Lucy consolidates her answer to both Phoebe and Jon, offering that faint smile in return before they start off again. She frowns at the sight of the twins, the strange request, the stranger speech. But really it's the sight of the blood-stained dresses that has her jaw clenching, "I'm really not a fan of anyone that like to hurt children. Even made-up children. I'm going to look forward to the end of this..." She glances to Jon and offers, "If it becomes too tedious, if you have a means of detecting whereabouts in here we need to -be-, I should be able to get us there. Skip over the rest of the shenanigans." But until then.. into room 217... beware the bathroom!
Phoebe Beacon	"Jon's made drunk by Cat, Cat's made drunk by me, this is going to be a long, complicated rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock." Phoebe replies, though there's a soft breath behind everyone.     "At least they're not real children. There's no souls behind the visages... I would have tried to send them on after all this was over, otherwise. That's the one thing I picked up really, really well from my past mentor." she gives a soft smile. It's one of comfort as she walks behind everyone, and is the last into the room.
Cael Becker	"...dibs on Spock," Cael remarks simply.     No way she's getting dubbed 'Lizard.'
Phoebe Beacon	"Pretty sure you already got the Nerd on the short leash, Cael." Phoebe answers back.
Michael Demiurgos	The room beyond is a large room. There are five beds, five dressers, five nightstands. All are in that same art deco style and in a myriad of colors and patterns. There are also five bodies. Their bodies. All brutally murdered in varying ways.     Jon is impaled on the bed, a sword driven deep into his chest. The bed beneath him is soaked in crimson fluid. Terry's body is pale and blue in color. His eyes stare lifelessly at the ceiling, his face twisted in a horrified grimace. Cael has what looks like an icepick driven into the middle of her skull, a small trickle of blood trailing in a Lichtenberg pattern over her face, her eyes clouded and vacant as they stare forward at nothing. Lucy has a number of axe wounds on her person and the weapon in question driven deep into the center of her chest. Blood spatter paints the wall her bed is set up against and more gore stains the sheets under her. Phoebe's throat is slit deeply from ear to ear blood drenching her chest and the bed beneath her.     On the wall, around the splatter from Lucy's wounds are the words "GET OUT!" written in more crimson gore. The lights flicker and then the bodies on the beds are pristine and normal. Unmarred by whatever wounds they had in death, they look peaceful. Sleeping.
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe gives a gasp, marred by an ugly gurgling sound. Her hands fly to her throat, her fingers curling against it as she stumbles back, eyes going wide. She can feel every cut, ever tendon and every muscle in her neck slit, the cuts making her swallow the illusionary taste of blood, and as she tries to fight it, it triggers a panic response.     Her wings flare out, her eyes staring, buldging, and then in a flash of rose-pink-and-gold light, the healer disappears into nothing, removed from the game.     Phoebe experiences her own death in the worst ways.
Jonathan Sims	"I'm hardly the only nerd around... here..." Jon trails off as he steps into the room, gaze fixed on his own body on the bed. He places a hand on his chest, more /remembering/ the feeling of dying than experiencing whatever the room wants him to feel. But that's bad enough; the way his memory works, he's stuck there again for a moment, the life ebbing out of him, slowly going cold as he desperately tries to press the vial holding the leaf into Caitlin's hands because without that everything's been for nothing and--     He closes his eyes and pushes the memory away, so he's spared seeing the others as more than periphery. As it is, it's an effort of will not to turn around and leave right then; he clenches his hands into fists and wills himself to /stay there/. Not to move. Not to run.     You're alive. You survived. This is not real. This is an illusion. You are all alive.     Phoebe gasps and then disappears and Jon's eyes snap open. He stares around for her, shouting, "Phoebe? Phoebe! Shit!"
Terry O'Neil	Here's the thing- as Phoebe well knows, Terry has almost died before. A mutant burned a hole in his gut and neatly almost severed his arm. Had it not been for Phoebe's timely intervention, the Cheshire Cat would have died. That pain, from then, might not be /as/ intense as this, but it's pretty goddamned close. Before he can let out a quip that, in human form, he /always/ looks that pale and blue, he is driven to his knees, his mouth open in a silent scream, as the pain of reliving those wounds overwhelms him. It almost seems like he is going to wink out, snap out from the trauma, his image growing faint for a moment- And then it changes. The Cheshire Cat seems to grow in size, his suit becomes nothing but shreds as he more than doubles his size. The claws grow long, and doom is in his eyes as burning purple lights replace his irises. The Manxome Foe stands upright, roiling chaos streaming from his form. In his right hand there is a blade that glows purple-red, so sharp that it leaves after-images of itself. "MiChaeeeeEeeeEell.... CoME OuT! I hAvE somEtHING forrrRR yOu tO plAY WiTH!" he snarls.
Cael Becker	Cael's gaze sweeps around the room - lingering for a moment on Jon's body - the very real memory of seeing just that happen to the man still a painful shock to her, as well. The sight of her own dead body is, perhaps strangely, of less concern to her - even as she lifts her hand to her head as if striken with a rather fierce headache. Worse than any she's experienced in her life. It's a manageable degree of pain - but it's extremely distracting to say the least, as she grits her teeth against it.     She siddles closer to Jon, wrapping her arm around his and squeezing it tightly as she murmurs, "It's not real. None of it's real. It's not real." Is she trying to reassure herself or Jon?     Yes.     Of course, that's just before Terry has his own transformation, and she has to spend a moment simply staring. Is the only one holding her shit together? Jon was struggling. Phoebe was gone. And Terry was- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT EVEN?     "Terry, what the //hell//?" she asks him flatly, while still pressing one hand to her forehead.
Lucy Blaze	Lucy stares at the gore surrounding her own dead body. Death isn't errible. She's been dead once or twice. At lest.. technically dead. SHOULD have been dead. Immortality is weird. But it doesn't mean she doesn't feel the pain each and every time. Each blow hits her, a phantom axe buried somewhere in her body. She can feel the wounds, can feel the blood running from them, the sheared bone, muscles, tendons. Sweat pops out across her forehead as she grits her teeth, grunting with each blow. Behind the pain, however, is anger. A fierce, hot anger that she keeps in check very carefully. Each blow of the axe severing another of the chains keeping that anger tucked away. The final blow to her chest has her staggering back a foot, gasping through ruined (not ruined) and blood-filled lungs. She knows what's coming, she's felt it before. Lucy dies in that moment... but then the scene flickers and it's like nothing ever happened. Drawing in a deep breath Lucy pulls the very nasty-looking sword from her back and glares up to the ceiling, "YOU HONORLESS COWARD! I HAVE DIED A HUNDRED TIMES AND NOT BEEN FELLED, QUIT HIDING BEHIND YOUR PALTRY ILLUSIONS!" Yep. Someone is done playing games.
Michael Demiurgos	The only answer for the remaining players is the soft hiss of wood on wood as drawers open around the room and a whisper of bells as Phoebe's body simply vanihses in a similar sprinkle of rosegold motes as does the bed it was in and the adornments around it. The room conforms to fit the remaining accomodations though without a sound.     The dresser before Jon's bed holds a simple, unadorned sword with a faded black leather wrapping around the hilt. Next to Terry's bed, (likely ignored by the monstrous beast that the Cheshire Cat has become), the drawer of the nightstand opens. Inside is a thin but long length of wire, perfect for a garrote. The nightstand next to Cael's bed open and inside is an icepick, identical to the one that was in her body's head a moment ago. The dressed behind Lucy opens and inside is a fireaxe.     More red words appear on the wall: "That which has been is what will be." A clue perhaps to passing this vile trial. The words fade after a moment.
Jonathan Sims	Terry snaps and changes, becomes the Cheshire Cat. Lucy screams in fury and draws her sword. Jon... becomes eerily calm. The roiling chaos that flows off Terry hits a dead zone around the Archivist, a bubble of stillness and calm.     "It's okay, love," Jon says softly to Cael. "I know it isn't real. Doesn't make it hurt any less." He smiles down at her. "I'm kind of done with his bullshit, though. I have an idea, actually. We can talk later." He gently unlinks her arm from his and steps away a bit. Giving himself room.     "Saint Michael cannot speak to us directly." Jon's voice is, quite suddenly not his own, not entirely. It's overlaid with something else, higher-pitched, feminine, soft but underlaid with unyielding power. The voice of something as implacable as water rolling downhill. "My Archivist stole his power to make illusions, and now Michael must put all of his effort into maintaining the illusion; he has none left for interaction."     They turn to look at Lucy, eyes glowing bright teal, matching the color on their wings. "Would you like to meet him? The creature that created this universe, and thinks himself therefore untouchable? He ought to know better. A tiny drip of water can wear down even the highest mountain, in time. But the Presence that is all things is not intelligent, nor fair, nor kind. It simply /is/. It imbued its power into a vessel and sent that vessel to create a universe without guidance or help, with no thought for the consequences. It is those of us broken off from the Presence that give the universe order and beauty and meaning."     They look at the dresser for a moment, then shake their head and pluck a feather from their right wing. "Enough games, Michael. Enough illusions. I speak truth: these are /your/ fears: stagnation, the endless cycle, the horror of your own actions, a death you still cannot understand. Come out and face us, or hide in the shadows and play your mind games with my vessel. Whatever you choose, we are done playing your way."     The Archivist holds the feather up in the air and with an effort of will sets it alight. The light that bursts off of them is teal and gold and blue all mixed together, like the feathers on their wings. It shatters the illusion as it goes, leaving them no longer in the hotel at all. Instead, they are in a space that is lit by bright sunshine, a park at the edge of an island. A glimmering structure towers before them, a tree made of metal and crystal, shining with the light of hope and joy. The Wellspring of Life, the Tree of Hope. Jon's spell can still be seen encasing the structure, glowing light in a hexafoil pattern, sealing Michael from attaining its power.
Terry O'Neil	"What will be Will BeE? Che SeRRaa SerrRraa. Bite my fuZzzzy LitTTle PEACH!" Vorpal snarls and brings the Vorpal Sword down on the drawer, and the garrote wire. Everything falls aside with a perfect cut, like he didn't even need to make the effort. As he wheels to face the writing on the wall- Ma'At appears. And the Manxome Foe feels the wave of order, matching his own wave of chaos- And he is very confused for a moment. When the illusions fall away, the Cheshire has not yet returned to his more ORDINARY Cheshire shape. He is still the Maxome foe, but now he is... Smiling. And the Vorpal Blade has rows and rows and rows of roses growing along it. Flor de mayo? By the mile. A hurricane of Jacarandas wrapped around the hilt. And while he was naked a moment ago, now he is wearing a strange outfit that looks like a Cattleya orchid tried to eat a marigold. "Yesss.... Let's meet the asshole!" He grins.
Cael Becker	Jon speaking so calmly, and confidently has Cael releasing his arm after a brief squeeze, directing a smile and nod to him, as she takes a small step away, herself.     "He's just the worst, ain't he?" she remarks to Lucy in a dry voice - while watching Terry pull a 'hulk smash'-like maneuver on the dressing table drawer. "...this whole thing is fucking sick. Did he really expect us to murder our own sleeping dopplegangers? I mean, even if they're not real... eww. How the hell did he end up such a sick fuck?" she asks coolly. "Getting me to crucify myself wasn't enough already?" The guy just doesn't know when to quit.     She shifts her position so she can keep her eye on both the strangely-behaving Terry, and J'at, as Michael's illusion is abruptly picked apart by the power of his avatar state.     "Where's the stair step at?" she asks bluntly. "Let's just get this over with."
Lucy Blaze	"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, yes. I want to get this Archangel in front of me and let him find out what pain -really- feels like..." Lucy is calm. Lucy is ANGRY. But Lucy is calm. The blend of Order and CHaos seems to work for her, and she is ready to fight someone. Then again, her magic doesn't seem to come from a defined 'source' other than herself. No avatar of anything, just someone who has learned how to manipulate magic with a scary level of ease. She flicks her gaze towards J'at (that's a thing now), "I have all the time in eternity to needle him at every opportunity. Now that he's put himself on my radar... well, he should ask the Daemonites how ruthless I am in pursuit of someone that's angered me." Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out, she nods to Cael, "I agree."
Michael Demiurgos	There is a flash of light and Michael appears at the top of the glowing orb of the Tree of Hope. He is dressed as normal this time and his face displays his own anger. In his right hand is a sword of glowing metal. The work of the forgesmiths of the Silver City. In his left is an oak board. The step for the Stairway.     "This is what you seek?" He asks before he leaps fromt he orb and lands softly on the ground with only a rush of air to signal his landing. "You want a fight?"     He tosses the board behind him and draws another blade identical to the first. "Then a fight you shall have. Chaos, Order, Time, Rage. I have existed before those were even concepts and I will return them to their roots with as much ease as your kind breathes."
Jonathan Sims	"Well, /they/ want a fight. /I/ just wanted you to face the truth. Evidently you're not a coward. I'm so proud." Jon/Ma'at (J'at, sure, why not) grins. "But we both know who will win if we fight."     A beat. "Me. It's me, in case you were wondering." They have an absolutely /shit-eating/ grin on their face, just now. Evidently much of Jon's personality is still there even when Ma'at has mostly taken over.     "Anyway, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got a thing. Terry, Lucy, Cael... have at him. Don't worry, I'll be backing you up."     And they /disappear/ from view, folding the Astral Plane around themself with ease. After all, in order to dispel illusions you need to be able to create them as well, and at least with Ma'at firmly in control the Archivist is /very/ good at going invisible.
Terry O'Neil	As Michael launches into his self-aggrandizement spiel, a man-sized globule consisting of the gaudiest, brightest, twinkliest, glowiest magical chaos glitter descends towards the Archangel from above. "He DOES go on a lot, doesn't he?" the Manxome Vorpal says with a grin, Vorpal sword at the ready. But then he looks massively disappointed. "Ma'at! No, wait, come back! I wanted to ask you to fix me up with Maahes, I've heard he's cute!" Well, if there was any doubt of how much of /Terry's/ personality was left when he goes full Chaos Cat, here's your answer.
Cael Becker	Michael's arrival is met immediately with a flare of temper from Cael - something immediately visible by the way the fire wreathing the sword she still holds at her side by one hand immediately flares, and shifts through the color spectrums - from orange, up through yellow, green, blue, and finally purple - before most of the light it sheds seems to dim, as the hellfire surrounding it sheds light in the ultraviolet spectrum.     She closes on Michael, boosting her speed with a few swift beats of her wings - putting her into the path of the falling glitter-storm? But does she care? ...not presently.     And as she charges at Michael, she lefts the sword up to swing it at him - but its form shifts in her hand, altering into that of a chair.     And identical chair to the one Michael had conjured in a wooden room with no exits, months earlier.     And she swings the chair, wreathed in hellfire, at the Archangel with all her might - the furious snarl on her features giving no hint to any pain she may be feeling as the skin on her hands blisters and burns.
Lucy Blaze	Lucy blinks out from where she was standing, then back in behind Michael so that the slice from her sword will time perfectly with Cael's burning chair. While Cael is going high, Lucy aim's low. The sword is brought in, blade slicing one way, then the other, an attempt to hamstring the being. She doesn't speak to him directly, she doesn't speak to honorless cowards that hide behind illusions. Looking over his shoulder towards Cael, however, she smiles at the other woman's snarl and murmurs, "Oh this is going to be a -good- fight." Lucy doesn't seem to have any fear of the burning chair or what it might do to her, encouraging Cael's swing with a nod.
Michael Demiurgos	Terry's glitter strikes Michael full on and while it doesn't have the disastrous effect it does on the lesser angels under his kind, it does distract and disorient him enough to be just a hair short on noticing the change in Cael's weapon.     He brings his swords up to deflect another sword and instead is struck by the heavy blunt force of a hellfire infused chair. He staggers from the blow and stumbles to one side; right into the blade of the waiting Lucy.     The Kusar blade should rend flesh, bone, and all manner of substance with ease but Michael is not of this world or any world in existence. The blade cuts but does not go deep enough to rend tendon, even so the Archangel hisses as his flesh is cut by the ancient weapon of Khera. He spins, golden wings--both pristine and perfect--flare out behind him to aid in his stability as he tries to free himself from the dual threat pincer of the women. Blood drips from his legs and from a cut at his brow.     "Good..." he says, bringing up the blades one pointing it at the hulking Cheshire the other at the women. "But a waste of time." A thin beam of white light so pure and uncorrupted fires from the tip of the blade pointed at Terry. Then with his other blade he rends the fabric of the astral with an effort of will and releases the energy as a horizontal wave of blue-white fire towards the pair of women who so wounded him, hoping to tear them down together.
Jonathan Sims	The Archivist reappears some ways behind Michael, picking up the discarded oak board. As soon as he does, the shimmering outline of a stairway appears nearby. He shoves the board into the stairway and it solidifies just a bit more; it looks about halfway to being solid. So, presumably, three down and three to go.     They turn away from the stairway, grinning--but the grin slides right off their face as Michael attacks their companions. As he uses the /Demiurgic Force/ to try to attack Terry. The scream of rage they let out is literally inhuman, the fury of Jon at his friend being attacked by something so powerful, and of Ma'at at the misuse of the power.     "THAT IS NOT WHAT THAT'S MEANT FOR, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" he hollers, and throws himself at the archangel, in an attempt to tackle him from behind and then just pummel him senseless. No fancy tricks, no magic or weapons, just fists on face. Presuming he catches Michael off-guard.
Terry O'Neil	Terry's very soul can perceive what is coming his way: the very essence of weaponized order, coming to undo him. He will not survive this. In order to stand a chance, any chance at all, he needs to be outside of the reach of that beam. He needs- "Oh fuck THAT crap-" In this state, he is much more capable of syphoning magic than in his regular state. Still, it takes just a half ofa fraction longer to open up the Rabbit Hole outside of the Astral. It is tiny, barely enough for a hand to dart through, but that's all he needs, and he does so. And touches the scepter. And then Vorpal is no longer there. Although, he is also everywhere, but not in a way that is substantial enough for the beam to pass through him. Although, in a way, it does. It's complicated. How do you like your tea, Mr. Schrodinger?
Cael Becker	"You are so fucking arrogant - what is your fucking problem?" Cael takes a second swing at Michael with her sword-turned-chair - just as the angelic being is striking at her. Her eyes widen - not at Jon's anger as he attacks from behind, but at that searing hot white light that is flung at her at a speed that seems impossible for her to avoid. She brings one of her bracers up, attempting to shield her face from the light that seems destined to hit her, with what result? She's not entirely certain.     But it can't be good.
Lucy Blaze	"Oh you lit-" Whatever unkind thing Lucy was about to say is cut off as she sees Michael wiming that astral energy straight at Cael. Racing across, she shoulders Cael out of the way, stepping in front of her. Planting her feet, she holds up the Kusar blade in a braced grip, ready to take the full force of a star. "You -are- going to pay for this, Archangel." And she facetanks that energy with her blade, letting it absorb it even as the handle heats, burning her palm until it sizzles. The Kherubim Lady merely grits her teeth and glares at Michael from beyond the blade. "WEAK. I have suffered far worse at the hands of HUMANS than that which you've managed to inflict!"
Michael Demiurgos	Michael is going to speak to the Kheran as he is indeed tackled by Jon. He falls back, uncertain about how to react to the sheer rage being throw at him. None of the blows truly -hurt- the angel but it's a startling sight to see someone so incensed.     As he is struck his eyes finds the Stair and realization dawns on him. "Oh... I see..." he says in surprise. "How very clever of him. He is smarter than I credited him for being."     He looks at Jon and takes another blow to the jaw before he says, "I understand more now, Jonathan. We will see whether you can retreive another piece for your friend's crafty work." Then his form simply vanishes and reappears above the sphere. "Perhaps we will have a rematch Kheran. But until then... I have to pick up some lumber. Farewell." And he is gone is burst of golden light.
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks as the archangel disappears from beneath him. He climbs to his feet and, as Michael disappears, shouts, "GET BACK HERE, YOU FUCKING PRICK!! I AM GOING TO WREST THAT POWER FROM YOUR UNWORTHY HANDS IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO! YOU WILL FACE JUSTICE FOR THIS, REVELATOR!!"     Evidently Michael pissed off a goddess. A New God, to be sure, but the very personifIcation of Justice, Balance, and Order. Not anyone you want to actually make /mad/.     They stare at the spot where Michael disappeared for a moment, chest heaving, breath heavy. Then the actuality of what just happened dawns on them and they spin around to look at the others. "Terry! Cael? /Cael/?!"
Cael Becker	Cael stumbles as she's shouldered out of the way by Lucy, with her enhanced strength - even with Cael's own training, and current magical enhancements, the blow had caught her off guard. All for the best, considering what had been head for her.     She ends up falling back onto her rump, watching the woman absorb the attack into her sword, watching Jon swinging with blind fury at Michael - and watching as the Archangel makes his exit. "Fucking prick," she mutters.     On the floor beside her the chair, wreathed in almost invisible flames that let off incredible heat, and still held in one hand - flickers and resumes it's natural state, that of a bastard sword. The flames begin to brighten again as they shift back down through the spectrum towards reds and oranges - before she releases it to look down at her blackened, blistered, cracked and peeling hands.     Again. ... ow.     "Jon, you good?" she asks, while gazing at her hands.
Lucy Blaze	Lucy moves to teleport after Michael, meaning to chase him across the cosmos if necessary, but then he's gone again before she can get a fix on him. Huffing out a breath, she mutters, "Fucking coward," and looks over her sword with a smile, "Finest Kheran forging..." It's taken the full brunt of a star and come out as sharp as ever, and perhaps even nastier for holding that absorbed energy. Sheathing the blade, she looks down at her hand, already healing on its own, then shrugs and looks towards Jon and Cael, "You're both okay? Terry? What about Phoebe? We lost her in the murder mansion... is she alright?"
Terry O'Neil	"Hey! Ya ever heard the joke of what the Buddhist said to the hot dog vendor?" The voice comes from one part, then another. "If at first you don't succeed-" "That's worth ten in the bush!" "If I said I thought you had a beautiful body-" "-Would it know where have all the flowers gone?" "And the one thing I know Is that I know all the lyrics to South Pacific-" There is a flash of purple light, and Terry O'Neil finally dislocates himself from being bilocated- or rather, he was polylocated, which is the first time that his physical presence has matched his relationship status! Heis no longer the Manxome Foe, he is back to his regular self. Or, rather, well... His suit is gone, and in its place there is this absolutely /stunning/ gown in red and black and white and gold, with a recurring motif of hearts all throughout. It has a ruff. It has a crown. And it has a wig that is half black, half white, and with such buns that Carrie Fisher might just come from the dead to admire them. "... Oh dear. I think I went through Her Majesty's wardrobe on my way back," he observes, the scepter clutched in his right hand. "She's going to be pissed." Then again, what's new?
Jonathan Sims	"Phoebe got sent out of the astral," Jon says distractedly as he stares at Terry. "It's happened before." The cat is... okay, at least, or he seems to be. There's nothing Jon can say to the outfit besides, "I imagine you'll play her better than Helena Bonham Carter." Then he turns to focus on Cael.     And his eyes widen.     He rushes over, reaching out to grab at her hands and then stopping. "You have to stop doing this," he hisses. "I can't... I don't know if I can... Cael, how can you /work/ if your hands are..." He's trembling. "He almost killed you. Oh, gods, he almost killed you. If not for..." He looks up and around at Lucy. "Thank you," he says fervently.     He looks back at Cael, then, and swallows. "My Archivist's healing would leave that scarred... but I can use the last of our current energy to heal it properly." The smile that Jon--Ma'at--J'at?--bestows on Cael isn't /quite/ the normal one Jon would give her. It's a little more aloof and parental. "I will warn you that he will likely need to sleep for about a day after this, as will you. Make your way back home post-haste." A pause. "And they are right--you /really/ need to stop doing this. Pain serves no inherent purpose; pain is a warning, not a blessing."     And then without another word or a 'by-your-leave,' the Archivist encases Cael's hands in a globe of glowing teal water. It soothes away the pain and then rapidly heals the damage done to her hands. As soon as the healing is done, Jon de-transforms completely. He sways and stumbles and nearly falls over, but manages to keep on his feet.
Cael Becker	"The amulet can handle the healing - it only takes a couple days," Cael protests quietly. Once she doesn't have the amulet, though... She glances at the sword lying by her side. Well. Then the bastard sword won't be terribly... practical. "It creates hellfire, Jon. It's //effective,//" she protests - letting out a sigh of relief as the pain in her hands eases.     As Jon reverts to himself and seems to sway - she's quickly on her feet, wrapping her arms around Jon and supporting him. "Let's get home. We're both fine, but- let's get into bed, yeah?"     Not willing to let go of Jon unless he stumbles, she nods her head towards the sword she left lying on the ground, looking at Lucy. "Can you hand me that? We'll go back through the door - and then Terry can send us straight back to the Triskelion. Yeah?" she suggests.     "Nice look by the way," she adds towards the feline fellow.
Lucy Blaze	Lucy nods to Jon, "I don't leave a fellow warrior to hang. Especially not from a being that's clearly compensating for a lack of something." Head tilting at the gown and neck ruff and wig that Terry shows back up in, she purses up her lips. "Keep the dress, but I would ditch the ruff and wig. If there was one thing the 17th century got right, it was getting rid of the Elizabethan collars. They flatter noone, not even Elizabeth. The wigs are just impractical and... itchy." Lucy lifts a shrug and looks to Cael with a faint smile, "No need. Just stay where you are." Waving a hand, Lucy sends Jon and Cael back to Jon's living room, the bastard sword will be leaning against the arm of the sofa. When they are ready, anyways. They can most certainly get in any parting words they might want to say! Lucy looks back to Terry and lifts her brows, "Do you need assistance in leaving the Astral Plane, or do you have it covered?"
Terry O'Neil	"It /is/ a good look, isn't it?" he fans himself. Where the hell did that fan come from? At this point it's better not to ask questions. "Sure thing, I can go anywhere with this," he holds up the scepter, which glows with a bright purple light. "But what you are ignoring, Lucy, is that the ruffs are a /brilliant/ safeguard that discourages vampires from neck romancing you. You don't want to get approached by neckromancers, right? A friend of mine told me Elizabeth used them just for that, and therefore it must be true!" He grins with that mischievous grin, "Don't you worry about me. I can go back on my own- and I had better haul gown before Donna notices this is gone and I get the ear-pulling of a lifetime."
Jonathan Sims	"Michael's lonely," Jon murmurs, putting a hand to his head. "Doesn't excuse a single bloody thing he's doing, it just... it's important to... understand. That's... that's what we have to do. Understand. Gods, I wish I didn't understand."     And then they're back in his living room, and he can't even seem to stumble to the bedroom; he collapses on the couch, at least making sure to leave room for Cael. Poor Martin's going to have to deal with that when he gets home.