Owner	Pose
Phoebe Beacon	GRAND CENTRAL STATION in New York City -- Center of the Universe, apparently. RENT wasn't lying.     Phoebe has taken up shop in the North Concourse Food area, where there was a starbucks (that she has broken into and made herself coffee), and was currently sitting on one of the tables in the most curious attire.     She was wearing flipflops. Shorts, showing untended to legs that sported a couple of old childhood scars like skinned knees are wont to leave. She also is showing her midriff, and the mass of scars on her right side that never really healed, along with the whorled black magic scarring on her left shoulder, wearing a cut-off tee. HEr hair was pulled up in a bun, and from there was just coiling all over the place. She has a couple of books around her, and a red pen in her mouth, wearing glasses that were lighting up in the dim light of the room.     THere was a kettle on and a box of Earl Grey tea bags off to the side, but she has a literal small bucket of iced coffee in front of her.
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia appears in the middle of Grand Central Station in a flash of purple, followed by what could possibly be half of her library, held aloft by the golden glow of her ectoplasm, and in one hand is the spear of orichalcum at Atun-Re had left behind. She makes her way across the concourse to where Phoebe has set up shop. "Knock knock?" she says before stepping through the threshold. "I've brought some of my books that might be helpful. I figure, well, we both have been working alone on our projects, but we should be working together. That is if you don't mind. I can get my brother to bring in some bookshelves and another table so we don't get so crowded." "Also, I have an idea about your angel battery project that'll keep you from having to use yourself as a storage device," she says. Holding up the spear she asks, "How would you like to be a Valkyrie?"
Jonathan Sims	Is it 'breaking into' the Starbucks when the entire point of this whole endeavor is making sure Starbucks still exists? Because, who knows if Michael would allow for Starbucks in whatever new creation he wants to make.     A world without Starbucks. Could you imagine??     Jon has not been drinking Starbucks, however. A plea to Peggy Carter got Grand Central stocked with plenty of tea, loose leaf and otherwise, so he's carrying a whole thermos of Assam around, spiced and boiled with milk--masala chai, on the go. He comes looking for Phoebe dressed in the black fatigues he's been wearing for the past few weeks, though he took the chance during a trip to the Triskelion to raid his closet. So he's got a cardigan on instead of a jacket, and looks much more... himself.     Lydia's appearance as he's walking up makes him... blink, no pun intended. "Good lord. Need some help with that...?" It's more a polite offering than anything else. "And... Phoebe... are you... do we need to adjust the heating...?"
Phoebe Beacon	It's not even really breaking into a Starbucks because a division of Wayne Tech bought this exact one somehow, probably.     Phoebe turns to Lydia's arrival and she gives a brilliant grin. "Is that how I get to have wings?" she asks, hopping to her feet and kicking off her flip-flops. The burnt-in circle on her left arm, along with the tiny pin-prick scars where the agonizing voudon pins were sealing it off with black magic, and she looks about.     Lydia might be able to see it, the text. The calculations. The circles -- all the circles. Written in black-light reactive pen up and down the walls and over some of the surfaces.     Jon? Eh. Maybe not. "I'm not sure if I'll be able to battery any more than I have, maybe to a window? no no, too fragile-- I'm so sorry, I haven't really slept. It's been a week. Week? How long --" she pauses, and she turns back to the two "What day is it? It's not Sunday again is it?"
Lydia Dietrich	"Well, I was thinking more 'spear and magic helmet,' but since you're already doing body mods, I'm sure I can come up with something that will give you wings." Lydia grins as she finds a corner of the area to start stacking her books. "Since we're going to be working on the seal together, and a lot of it is Kabbalistic magic, I brought over everything I had on the subject for you to reference. She looks about the walls of the place and just shakes her head. "Jon? Can you requisition us some white boards? I need one of those flippy ones that has a cork board on the back of it."
Cael Becker	"I can have one sent over from the Triskelion," comes an answering voice, as Cael appears - almost as if she were on Jon's heels.     Hell. Perhaps she had been.     "It's not something we just keep lying around in the store rooms. That's more food stuffs, blankets, and ammo." She looks a little more tired than she usually does - which honestly is saying something - but she offers a small smile to those present. "This place isn't out of coffee grounds yet is it?" she asks - starting towards the counter to whip herself up a pot. Hell, maybe she'll even experiment with //foam// and possibly break very expensive machinery...
Jonathan Sims	Jon glances around, not /quite/ able to see the circles, but then peers at Phoebe. "It's Wednesday," he says. "Phoebe... you need to /sleep/. Who do I need to call, to get you to /sleep?"     He sighs, and goes to sit at one of the other tables. He concentrates a moment, then waves a hand and a white board appears, complete with cork board on the back. "You'll want something more permanent," he says. "That'll disappear a few minutes after I stop concentrating on it. But it should do for now, yes? While we get something sent over from the Trisk." He gives Cael a brief smile.     "I'm trying to keep track... how many things do we have now? Angel battery, Lydia's Sepirots, some sort of plan to get people into Duat when I die... I'm sure I'm forgetting /something/."
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe is probably too young to understand the What's Opera Doc reference, and she tilts her head. "I mean, I was kinda hoping I'd end up with wings, at least a pair, something fancy. I had dreams I had wings, once, but it was when I was a kid an' I had just watched something -- she states, half-tired.     Cael fiddles with the machinery. something over there gives a mechanical POP! And a hiss, and then spits up some beans at Cael as if in disapproval. Phoebe twists her head around, and she hops up to her feet, stepping off the table, and bare-footing it across the floor.     "I don't know if I need to sleep. I absorbed it. I took it in. I absorbed the rest of the angelic energy. I could do more. I used it to open myself more fully -- Dad wouldn't have approved, I think. Messing with things beyond my ken--" she states, and, having worked at a coffee shop, she sets a new carafe in, her fingers moving quickly.     "So my angel battery idea worked, absolutely worked. I can hold and use the power indefinately. I jusdt didn't get the side-effect I was thinking." she explains. "but yes. The Sephirot. You brought books. I can read them. Unless they're in Hebrew, in which case I'll need a spell -- but if they're in English or annotated I could power through..."     She pauses.     "Wednesday. It's Wednesday isn'tit?"
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia nods in sympathy. "It wasn't until around college that I started dreaming of flying, really. And by then I had enough control over my mutant power to make it work." She pauses as something occurs to her. "If you're able to grab an angel feather next battle, I think I can cobble up something that will get you to fly. Or!" Her eyes light up, "You can add very fine orichalcum shavings into tattoo ink which would allow you to channel your power... your regular power, not just the angelic stuff that you've been holding onto. I need to get this down real quick...." she says and pulls out a journal from her stack of books and starts scribbling down notes. "The books are mostly in Hebrew. I also bought a couple of Hebrew primers so you can begin to learn the language and syntax," she says as she writes furiously. "It's a good one to learn, too. It's an ancient language that hasn't changed much over the years that has a lot of power in it." She looks up at the whiteboard that Jon has summoned and nods, "Yes. Just like that. I was thinking a few more of them and something more permanent so I can keep some notes up on it." Her attention is drawn over to Phoebe, however. "I don't know if she /can/ sleep with that much power in her, if I'm to be honest," she says, voice filled with concern. "I was /wired/ after I drank that angel and didn't sleep that day. I'm surprised it hasn't gotten her drunk or high."
Cael Becker	The 'pop' happens - quite noticeably - right when Jon remarks on 'getting people into Duat when he dies.' Cael just stands there for a moment, staring at the machine and finally taking a step back as Phoebe steps in to take over.     Of course, this frees her to stare at Phoebe with a distinctly dubious expression. "You haven't slept for a week because you're running high on angel juice?" she remarks in a dry voice. "You know what also does that to you? Coke and meth." Cael shoots a look towards Jon that doesn't bother to disguise how much she mistrusts this revelation - including the tense way her jaw has tightened and her posture has stiffened.     And then a moment later she adds, "People going to Duat?"
Jonathan Sims	"Not like he could talk, messing with things beyond /his/ ken," Jon mutters. Unless Phoebe means someone other than Chas, of course.     He looks between Lydia and Phoebe and frowns thoughtfully. "Using drugs to not sleep is a common wartime practice. That's actually how the German army managed the Blitzkrieg back in 1939. Arguably angelic energy is better for the body and soul than methamphetamines, though. And in this case it seems... rather the opposite? A side effect, not the goal. But if there /is/ a way to help you rest at least... I've been sleeping. Gaea seems to encourage it."     He looks to Cael. "Yes," he says. "I... it was inspired by Lydia, actually. I've been thinking people should figure out how to join me in the Underworld, to help fix this mess."
Phoebe Beacon	"Coke and meth have no affect on me. My body adapts. It's why meds didn't work on me after my dad Chuck was killed and I turned to vigilanteism and trying to ruinate the unfair system of health for the unhoused in Gotham." Phoebe adds, pouring a cup of coffee for Cael. And pouring one for Jon. And pouring one for Lydia (though a small one for sipping) and then one for herself. It is Strong Coffee. And tastes bitter and burnt.     "Side effect, yes, one of them. I also no longer feel cold." Phoebe motions to her scarred-up body in booty shorts and a short teeshirt. "Not an expected side effect... oooh. Is there enough orichulum to make wings? That would be pretty badass. Could rock the spear look then, I'd look like something out of a Ravnica set though --" Phoebe trails off, nonsense-speaking, and then she taps her cheek.     "Yes. Jon's going to die, we need a way to tether his memories. I was trying to track down Constantine, but he's slick when he doesn't want to be found and any divination I can conjure up slides off him like... like something oily." she frowns a moment, and scratches her left wrist where that pale circle still stays. "Which is weird to me because I think I always knew where the other one was. Eh. 'Nother time. 'Nother place! Now!"     She brings the coffee over to the table she was previously occupying, and she gives a toothy grin. "Are we talking the circles and bindings, or are we talking about Jon's imminent death?"
Lydia Dietrich	"I'm glad you took me seriously when I said that I was going to storm the gates of Duat to get you back," Lydia tells Jon, as she accepts the coffee from Phoebe. "I've been thinking about how to do that, but, sadly, my knowledge about the Egyptian afterlife is lacking. Was thinking about going to my mentor to ask for help." She also needs to tell Hatshepsut that she got her powers back and that they can rejoice. "Maybe go to my coven to see if they have any ideas." She takes a sniff of the coffee and tries not to blanch. Coffee really wasn't her thing but it's rude to turn down what's been offered to her so she takes a sip but can't hide her wince. "Bitter," she explains apologetically, "enhanced taste buds." "We had enough orichalcum for me to make a set of enchanted tinkers tools for me for when I do artificing. I'd commissioned them when I thought I wouldn't have my magic but they'll be doubly useful now." She shakes her head, "I don't have enough to build you actual wings. But I think I can come up with a tattoo that if we use orichalcum powder in the ink you can channel your power into it to form wings. Hopefully you don't have an allergy to the metal or else it won't heal properly." "But yes," she says nodding to Cael. "Jon's going to die. Unfortunately, there's no way to prevent it. He made a deal with Michael, the kind that's magically binding. If he reneges on the deal it'll catch up to him and kill him /anyway/. It's not something you can just /break/." "So," she says, pulling out a large map of Manhattan and unrolling it on a table that seems to have enough space on it. "We have to find a way to bring him back. Fortunately, his afterlife is destined to be the Duat, which is the Egyptian underworld. People /have/ gone to it and back in the past, but they went in alive. The trick is gong to be convincing the gods to let him come back with us."
Cael Becker	"I know," Cael answers Lydia - with more bite, and bitterness to her tone than she means to impart, as she glowers at Lydia. "...I know," she repeats more quietly, reining her emotions in as she stares down into her cup of coffee, staying behind the counter to give herself some space between herself and the others. "And it's not because of the deal with Michael - Jon has repeatedly assured me. Michael's going to torture him and then release him, because he's a kind and magnanimous soul - the fucking prick. Dying is something else."     She takes a few deep breaths, inhaling the scent of the coffee as she tries to get control of her whirling emotions. No one seems as bothered by the forces Phoebe is tampering with as she is, that much is clear. Hell, no one seems as bothered by the fact that Jon is going to be turtured, and subsequently murdered.     She doesn't think she's the mad one here.     "So how the hell do we get into Duat to get Jon back?"
Jonathan Sims	"Cael was one of the first people I told," Jon says, softly, to Phoebe and Lydia. "And she's right. It's nothing to do with the deal with Michael. It's part of Uriel's plan, evidently. Part of the game. Which is what leads me to believe that whatever's broken in the universe can be fixed down in the lands of death."     He sighs heavily. "We're talking... whichever is best to work on, just now? There's only so much time, for all of this, so it does need to be... hammered down. Figured out." He frowns for a moment and then conjures another whiteboard. "Cael, can you make sure we get actual physical whiteboards that won't dissolve into ectoplasm... as soon as possible?"
Phoebe Beacon	"Could try talking to Mine." Phoebe sets herself down backwards in the chair, looking like she stepped out of a 1980's rollerskate commercial. "Not that even I'd understand if they said anything. Gods don't usually talk to me and Sandalphon was a cheerful surprise."     Phoebe dumps the coffee into her Literal Bucket, and sips through two straws.     It's Bitter as Fuck.      "I'm almost confident that at this state I could open a gate to the Underworld at the same place I was able to enter last time I went but I'm really kinda high on my own petard at the moment. Opening a gateway isn't the hard part, the pard hart is justifying while a group of living people are visiting the land of the Dead. Last time it required taking the heart from a living mutant and weighing it on some scales in a Room Between and then there was a bit of a fight." Phoebe explains, and she tilts her head back a moment. She doesn't look like she's slept at all. Her eyes are exhausted.     She squints a moment, and looks at Lydia "You were there, weren't you?" she asks, and she scratches at her wrist a moment.     "Chas grounded me for that one."     And she gives a soft frown, and scratches at her left wrist.     "Are you going to unplug existence and plug it in again from Duat?
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia rubs her temples in frustration. "I always seem to have only half the information at any given time," she sighs, and finds a seat of her own. She shakes her head at Phoebe. "I wasn't on that trip. I think it was before I got involved with... him." Her hand goes up to her ankh pendant which had somehow managed to survive her immolation. "Maybe I can contact Isis? She's my patron, and she /did/ resurrect Osiris. Maybe she has some ideas, since this is /her/ reality at stake too." She shakes her head. "I've never tried to contact her before, though. Never needed to, really." Her strange golden eyes turn towards the map. "I'll guess I'll add that onto the list."
Cael Becker	"I can get the boards here. Until then - photograph your notes," Cael says in a dry voice, gaze still locked downward on the dark opaque liquid in her hands. "I'll have them here by tomorrow morning."     She can feel her frustration rising as it's clear that no one has any notion what is really involved is 'going to Duat' - that Jon still doesn't really know how to deliver on his promise to come back. It knots her insides up, and she tries to force it back by taking a small sip of her drink. "Well. Whatever's involved, you can count me in. Though honestly, with Chas not here, maybe someone else should be fuckin' grounding you," she asserts, listing her head to frown at Phoebe. "It's been a long time since I saw someone strung out on days and days without sleep - but it's not a good look on you. This can't possibly end well - it can't possibly be good. But it seems like no one else wants to call you on your shit right now."
Jonathan Sims	"Isis is probably a good bet," Jon says slowly, frowning thoughtfully toward the white boards. "Figuring out 'what's involved' is the point of talking about all of this, rather than anyone trying to make it up as they go along. I've been looking through a bunch of the old funerary texts, every one I can get my hands on, and there's two main paths I see--Isis resurrected Osiris, and Ma'at preceded Ra before the first sunrise. The former more involves being a mummy, but that doesn't make it a bad idea."     He glances aside to Cael, then to Phoebe, raising his eyebrows. Then he slides his gaze back to Lydia. "What role do you have Phoebe playing in your plan, exactly? I was tired the other night, and you were... high, so I'm not certain I really caught what you're needing people to do."