Owner	Pose
Rien D'Arqueness	The remains of the group that haven't filtered off to get some alone time, or to apply gratuitous amounts of violence in lieu of dealing with their feelings, spreads out into the Sitting Room. Rien makes her way towards Nameless and lays a hand on top of the piano, "Mozart... Marriage of Figaro, play through the entire opera." As she turns away, she's already reaching for the herbal cigarettes she smokes, offering one out to Jon as well on her way to the bar. Looking to Cael, she asks, "If there's a good bourbon in there, could you bring that over for me, please and thank you?" Then she's lighting the cigarette without bothering to search for match or lighter and drawing deep on it, letting out a fragrant plume of smoke, "Okay. That was an intense one. If anyone needs to get anything off their chest, please feel free to do so. Mine has been... a long time coming, so I can't say it was wholly unexpected. But also more easily dealt with." Or at least, that's what she thinks.
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia has spent the last few minutes in the Velvet Room's bathroom, cleaning off all the blood on her face, and to try to get as much as she could off her sundress. She was able to get the worst of it, but it's going to need some special care in the wash to get the rest of it out. She checks herself in the mirror to make sure she's presentable when she sees the red threads that lace their way through her golden irises. Hunh. Wonder if she can do anything about that.     Finding herself more or less presentable she makes her way back to the lounge. Shaking her head to Rien as she slides into one of the seats she says, "Not really. It just kind of hit home the realities of being a vampire. A valuable lesson was learned and I think I'm a better person for it all in all."
Cael Becker	Asking Cael was only natural - because she was already at the bar, pulling down the bottle of 'High Priestess' and pouring a more than generous amount into a glass. She takes a deep drink before reaching for the bottles once more. She brings down Justice, pouring some of it into a glass - and leaving the bottle, and glass on the bar as she heads towards a couch. She gives Jon a gentle tug in passing, clearly urging them to join her, as she settles into the velvet couch to drink herself into oblivion.     "It definitely wasn't fun," she agrees tensely.
Jonathan Sims	Jon waves off the offer of the herbal cigarette. "Thanks, but I need the nicotine." He smokes menthols, but that probably doesn't quite take the harsh edge off of the smoke. He fishes a half-empty box of Marlboros out of a pocket and peers down at it for a moment, then says, "Y'know what? Fuck it, I'm going back to Silks. I smoked them before I met that jackass, and I'm tired of people like him ruining my life." With a shrug, he also pulls out a gold Zippo lighter with a spiderweb pattern and uses it to light the cigarette. He can and has lit it with magic but he does like his lighter.     Then he goes to peer at the bar for a long moment before pulling down the Hierophant bottle--single malt scotch--and taking the whole thing back to the couch to sit with Cael. "I finally gave Mr. Spider what-for, so that was... something." He eyes Cael for a moment. "I /am/ curious to know what the rest of you saw, but I understand that can be intensely personal. Still... talking can help. Obviously we all faced it and came to an understanding or we wouldn't have gotten out."
Rien D'Arqueness	Ignoring the glass, Rien goes straight for the bottle, lifting it up and taking a swig straight from the neck. Maybe two or three. She comes up for air in a few moments, then lets out a sigh. "There's tobacco in these, it just isn't chemically treated and processed. No rat feces or insecticides." Still, she shrugs and draws on her cigarette enjoyably, holding the smoke into her lungs. Rien looks back to Jon and waves a hand. a pack of his favored Silks popping in and dropping into his lap, "Happy.. something something celebration whatever day." Looking to Lydia, she gives a nod, "Well that's good then." Looking over to Cael, she asks, "Do you want to share what you went through?" Pausing, she looks at the floor for a long moment, "I didn't see anything. And I mean that literally, nothing. That's... that's all there was. Just... nothing. Just me and and an inky blackness that stretched out for eternity." Rien lifts the bottle for another swallow, then licks her lips, "I'm.. immortal. Not just functionally, actually. Reformation still hurts like Hell, but I can survive anything. But that means that, through eternity, it's... just me. Everyone I know, everyone I care about or love... they'll all eventually die, pass on... and I'll still be here." Letting out a breath, she mutters, "It scares the shit out of me."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia wrinkles her nose in distaste as everybody lights up. The smoke and the smell of the cigarettes irritating her sensitive nose. "Can you not, please?" She asks Jon, catching his eye. There is, perhaps a little *nudge* there. "I mean the smoking. I have heightened senses."     She waits for everybody to get their drinks before snaking out some tendrils of ectoplasm to make a Manhattan for herself. "It was... intensely personal, yes." she answers Jon. "It was about me and Mystique, and our relationship. She left me and..." she waves a hand dismissively, "it wasn't real."     "Mm," Lydia says, nodding her head to Rien. "I'm functionally immortal so... I'll live a long time, hopefully, before I meet my inevitable and violent death. As for those that you meet who will pass away, well, I guess you just need to cherish the time you have with them." God, that rings so hollow in her ears now.
Cael Becker	"Jon has similar fears," Cael remarks in a quiet voice. "I guess I'm the only one who doesn't really need to worry about that... here." She takes another deep drink from her glass, determinedly not looking towards Jon as she adds, "I dreamt I was hungry. That I was... hunting. Again, and again, and again." She takes a deep breath in, and lets it out slowly before adding, "But it wasn't real. It'll never be real. Never."
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks at the pack of Silks that drop into his lap, and looks up at Rien. "Thank you," he says, and it sounds sincere. "Silks don't have additives, but I suppose they're still treated. It's just..." He sighs. "I don't know. It's what I grew up with."     He shakes his head. "I don't fear being /alone/ in that long expanse of forever," he adds, and his voice suddenly takes on a falsely cheery tone. "I'll /never/ be alone." He taps his forehead. "I share my body with a goddess who can take over whenever she damn well pleases. I expect some day I'll hand off the Archive and run about being Ma'at's errand boy. Presuming I can't find some way to get away from the bitch first." Wow, that's... /very/ odd, for Jon.     He sighs, and shakes his head. "Sorry. It's... sorry." He leans over to kiss Cael's forehead. "It's not real," he repeats to her. "But I'll go have a smoke outside, okay?" He looks over toward the vampire. "I can't /not/, Lydia. I'm an addict. Big Tobacco's got strings tied to me I'm in no mood to try to cut just now. I'll be in the garden; give me a mo'." And with that, he leaves the Hierophant bottle, takes the new box of Silks and strides out toward the garden, hopefully taking his suddenly sour mood with him.
Rien D'Arqueness	Rien turns a slow, steady stare towards Lydia. "Mmhm. You're... what... early twenties? Mid? I don't think you're in any sort of position to talk to me about long-lived, or how to deal with it. Even by human standards, you're barely an adult." Rising up, picking up the bottle of Justice, "I don't know what sort of problem you have with me, Lydia, but you need to figure it the fuck out. I'm one of the two leaders of this organization, and I'm not going to keep letting your backhanded comments, disrespect, and dismissive bullshit slide. I'm being -nice- by not tearing down all your bragging and boasting of your abilities, your claims of expertise. By not taking you out back and staking your ass to the ground to let you just sit in timeout for awhile." Taking a heavy pull from her cigarette, she turns and moves to follow after Jonathan, taking her cigarette with her to the garden. And the bourbon. Definitely the bourbon.
Lydia Dietrich	"You never know," Lydia says to Cael. "If we can't cure you of your lycanthropy or... whatever the Latin equivalent is for jackals... a /lot/ of stories have them living long lives due to their regenerative powers." She takes a sip of her Manhattan, and flashes Cael a grin like, problem solved!     "You didn't use to smoke this much," Lydia says to Jon before he leaves. The concern that should be there isn't... quite.     Rien's cutting remarks get a blink and a furrowed brow of confusion. "What? I didn't... I was just trying to.." Flustered she just shakes her head. <See? This is what you get.> She closes her eyes for a moment to center herself. What does Rien want? Respect. She isn't sure /how/ she was disrespecting the woman but clearly she misstepped.          "I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to disrespect you."
Cael Becker	"Jon?" Cael asks. There's surprise there - for the way he speaks of Ma'at. And there's an underlying hint of discomfort as he gets up to leave. Part of her wants to follow after him - to remain arm in arm, but after a struggle, as she almost rises to her feet, she instead simply shifts and settles back into place with a frown.     "We're curing it," Cael says with flat determination. "I don't- I won't- I refuse to turn into some sort of monster," she insists uneasily.     Her gaze flicks between Lydia and Rien as she adds, "I think everyone's just, uh... on edge, after that. My recommendation is that we drink more, and beat the shit out of targets in the training room, yeah?"
Jonathan Sims	Outside, Jon is puffing away at his cigarette--one of the Silks, newly lit--glowering at one of the topiaries in the garden. "Get it together, Sims," he mutters to himself. "Your friends don't need to listen to your whinging; they've got their own shit to deal with."     He knows it's not that simple, of course. He knows that even with the deepest depression there are good days and bad days, that anxiety can hit unexpectedly, that emotions are strange and fickle things. But really, he's not quite okay /not/ being okay in front of the Justice League Dark yet.     He turns as Rien approaches, and frowns. "I said I'd be right back. I'm just..." He waves the cigarette. "I usually take these things outside anyhow. Doesn't damage my lungs any, given regeneration, but I don't really want to pass the habit on to Agnes."
Rien D'Arqueness	"Apology accepted," Rien calls back as she steps out into the garden. Flicking a glance towards Jon, she lifts a brow at him, "What makes you think I'm out here for you?" Rien cracks a tiny smile, drawing deeply from her own cigarette and lifting a shrug, "Same. Usually try to keep it outside for Gabe's sake. Robbie and I both do." She shakes her head and rubs at the bridge of her nose with a sigh, "We're a mess." She looks back to him and offers, "But to respond to your earlier gripe... that's not true, you know. It helps, I think, for all of us to realize that the other isn't some... perfect person gliding through life having all their shit together. Besides... sometimes what your friends want is to be able to help -you-." She looks down at her cigarette, "I'm as guilty of that as anyone else. I know it seems like nothing fazes me, that I've seen and done and experienced so much but... I'm as fallible, as prone to fears and faults, as anyone else. Doesn't mean I can't set that all aside when a friend is in pain, though." Her gaze flicks back to him. "So, you know... whenever you're ready to talk. Really talk. I'll be here." The faint hitns of a smile fades away and she lets out a heavy breath, "Forever."
Lydia Dietrich	Now it's just her and Cael, sitting in the lounge. There's an awkward silence as she stares at the woman wondering what she should say. Something comforting, perhaps, but nothing of the sort comes to mind. Might as well tell her the truth.     "I've been pouring through as many of the books here that I can read and understand," she says. "I haven't found much on werejackals, though, and the stuff I've read on werewolves are all contradictory." She shakes her head. "I've got an idea that I'm working on that if this the curse type of lycanthropy, it'll draw out the curse and trap it." Her eyes turn to where Jon and Rien are. "But I want to run it by Jon first."
Cael Becker	"Well - I'm not saying 'hey let's tryi it!' - right here right now," Cael remarks in a dry voice. "But if you've got some sort of nothing... what's involved?" Cael asks bluntly. "Because as far as i'm concerned, the sooner we get rid of this fucking thing, the better." She continues drinking steadily as she talks, the amount of whiskey in her glass dramatically decreasing as she does, while her gaze turns back to the door to the hall, looking for Jon.
Jonathan Sims	"More of a mess than usual," Jon grumbles. "It's... something happened the other day that... it's bad. Really bad. I'm... I've been... I'm not in a great place, just now. I'll definitely talk about it, soon, I just..." He glances back toward the door into the castle, and sighs.     "I dealt with my thing well enough. A childhood fear that I realized... I don't really need to be afraid of anymore. Not /really/. A stupid bloody giant cartoon spider, and I have /magic/, y'know? Although... I'm having some trouble, out in the real world. With magic, I mean. Summoning constructs." He sighs. "I'm sure it's just... a bit of burnout. Don't seem to have any problems here." He waggles his right hand.     "But other people... didn't do as well. Clearly." They shake their head. "At least she made it through. That's... good. That's progress, I think. But I shouldn't hover out here forever." He finishes his cigarette and goes to put it in one of the bins the garden does actually have.     "I'm definitely willing to listen to whatever's going on with you, too," he adds.
Rien D'Arqueness	Nodding, Rien blows out a plume of smoke with a gusty sigh of breath, running her free hand through her hair, "Yeah, tell me about it." She watches him for a long moment, "No, I get it, I do. Odlly enough, I really do. Been having some old fears rear up and start making themselves known, too. So... I get it. Starts making you question... everything." She glances back to the door, and for a moment, she looks like she might just teleport straight home... but then she doesn't. Putting out her own cigarette, Rien looks sidelong towards Jon, "That's a little troubling. But it can wait until you're ready for that sit down." She pitches the butt of the cigarette into the bin and lets out a hollow laugh. "You sure you really want to know? It goes pretty deep and it's a singular problem that I don't know if anyone else really has any... experience with."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia leans back against the bar, grinning. "Well, /you/ wouldn't have to do much other than stand there and step through a mirror." The rather dull, flat tone that she's kind of had since her experience with the High Priestess is gone and is replaced by exuberance. "See, okay. You know how mirrors reflect your image? It's basically a flat piece of glass with some kind of reflective metallic paint. When they /first/ started making mirrors, that paint was basically a silver compound."     "So I got to thinking... mirrors are a reflection of you. But they can be portals, too. Doors and windows into other realms." She takes a sip of her Manhattan, "So we take two enchanted mirrors, were one leads into the other, and use the silver as a kind of... magical sieve. /You'd/ pass through the mirror to the other one, but the curse wouldn't be able to."     She lifts her hands to forestall any comment. "I'm not saying this /will/ work," she says. "I want to run this by Jon and get his input. It'll also be expensive since we're going to need real silver to back these mirrors, and it'll take some time to manufacture them. And while that's happening we'll need to find somebody to carve the frames to our specifications, and I have absolutely /no/ idea how long that's going to take. The sooner the better, however," she says, turning serious. "The longer we wait the harder it'll be to separate the curse from you."
Cael Becker	"So. ... a pair of mirrors?" Cael surmises, making sure she understands the plan. "I... step in one, and out the other? I mean it would be - what, just to the other side of the room? That part doesn't matter, I imagine?" She presses her lips together thoughtfully. "I mean - fuck, sure, I'm definitely willing to give that a try. I'll blow as much money on silver as I have to but- yeah. We have to see what Jon thinks of the idea. I-" She lets out a sigh, and runs a hand through her hair. "This has to work. This has to work... somehow. Before- Before someone gets hurt."
Jonathan Sims	Jon spreads their hands. "As I said earlier, this is /literally/ what I trained for. Twelve years of schooling and several hundred thousand dollars in student loans ought to have /some/ use, yeah?" They snort. "You'd think 'I literally saved the campus from being destroyed by angels' might get Columbia to forgive my debts, but they're still taking payments. Who knows, maybe in a year or two they'll be feeling grateful."     He sighs. "I don't know how many people I really helped, besides Cael... but it's the one thing I'm all but certain is /mine/, because even if 'listening to people's trauma' is what the Archivist /does/, I try to /help/ them, not..." He huffs out a breath. "Later. That's later. Anyway, I'm willing, and who knows... maybe I can help?" A shrug. "It's worth a shot."     "Right now, I'm... I need some more scotch. C'mon, let's get inside." And he heads back in, to give Cael an apologetic smile.     "I... maybe we should go home, before we get too drunk to move and leave poor Agnes with the animals? There's plenty of alcohol at home."