Owner Pose
Michael Hannigan It has been an interesting start to 2022 for Shaw Studios. After a bit of time spent securing land, getting the proper permits and hiring the right contractors the Happy Harbor branch of Shaw Studios had reached completion. Street side, the buildings that house the new expansion don't seem different. They blend in to the surroundings well. The biggest tip off of anything unique about the place, besides the signage out front, would be the assorted appearances of those heading in and out of the property.

The expansion is busier than initially planned. Due to some issues in Manhattan, the employee lodging is spoken by the Manhattan based employees and so are the guest quarters. There's a bit of overflow to the common areas as well as people shift around to accommodate for some families as well.

Mike, is one of the Manhattan based persons, as such he's crashing here too. But as the evening is setting in place, he has migrated out to the front porch area with a book in hand and the porch light providing him luminance. He turns his head to watch as one of the studio workers' kids runs into the modified home.
Lydia Dietrich Lydia doesn't get out much these days. Most of her time is spent in Grand Central Station working on the seal that will keep Michael from having direct access to Gaea. When she isn't there, she's up on the Asteroid sleeping, for the most part. However, sometimes she ventures out to other locations to pick up supplies that she'll need for the rite.

Tonight, she's in Happy Harbor. She had been hunting around for a blacksmith that could handle the finnicky metal orichalcum and found one here of all places. She had put in a rush order for some tools and eleven spikes to be made out of the hunk of metal, as well as an order to grind some of it up into a fine powder.

While she's here, she thought to contact Terry's friend, Mike. She had learned that he wanted to help in the efforts, and God knows they could use all the help they could get. With a quick text to check if he's up to seeing visitors she makes her way to the studios.

She comes flying in on ebony wings, trailing a thick cardboard box behind her, wrapped in a black mist. Upon landing, the wings dissipate and points of amber lights starts to pop into existence around her, like fireflies on a warm autumn night. The mist that holds the box aloft changes from the black to the same warm amber glow, as she makes her way up to the houses.

Lydia is a pale woman, almost unnaturally so, with blood red lips and a mane of tightly curled brown hair. She's wearing grey woolen slacks and a burgundy knit sweater, and some boots that look like they've got some good traction on them for walking around in the snow.

"Hello," she says politely to the man on the porch. "I'm looking for Mike Hannigan. Could you possibly direct me where I could find him?"
Michael Hannigan Lydia's entrance to the front of the retreat does not go unnoticed. It is evening but not to the point that people aren't about. And when kids see someone flying onto the lawn of the place they're currently staying at, they're going to comment.

A blond boy about twelve or so stands at the door, wide eyed. He grins. "COOOOOOOoooooool."

It's not quite the works of Shakespeare but it is indeed a comment and one that causes the man with the book to glance up. Pale eyes look to the pale skinned womman, his head tilting in a manner reminiscent of the wolf form he had to take earlier in the week. And in his expression, could there be a glimmer of recognition? Book closing shut, he glances over to the lingering boy. "Hey Jeremy. Could you give us a few? Your mom's probably looking for you as well." Mike gives a smile, waiting patiently for the porch to be left to him before he looks back to the approaching Lydia. Smile still present. "Would you be Lydia?"
Lydia Dietrich To Jeremy, Lydia gives him a grin and a thumbs up. "It /is/ pretty cool, isn't it?" She waits, too, until the child is away before stepping up onto the porch, hand outstretched, "I would be. You must be Michael. A pleasure to meet you." The amber cloud that's hefting the box gently sets it down on the porch and dissipates. "Terry tells me you want to help out in Manhattan."
Michael Hannigan Name confirmed and Lydia stepping closer, Mike gets up off his seat, meeting Lydia halfway from the point of initial introduction. He lifts his hand to take the offered one, giving it a gentle shake before releasing it.

"That I am. You can call me 'Mike' if that helps with a bit of separation. Speakingwise." He glances to the door, confirming it to be closed shut. "Terry and I had gotten to talking and, he thought one aspect of my abilites might be useful. He asked if I'd be willing to let one of you guys find out." He pauses, "Um. This is going to sound weird but... were you by any chance in the Bronx a few months ago when a bunch of people got possessed in the middle of the street?"
Lydia Dietrich Lydia's hand is as cold as it is outside. She seems to realize this halfway through the shake before she ducks her head in embarrassment. "Sorry. I should have warmed it up," she says, flexing her fingers as she pulls her hand away.

"Mike it is," she says, nodding. "It's an unfortunate name to have at the moment. If you have anything you think can help, we can use it." She sighs as her gaze wanders out to the horizon where Manhattan is at. "We can use all the help we can get, at this point."

She looks surprised at his mention of the event. Has it only been a few months since that happened? "I was," she says. "It feels like it was a lifetime ago." For her, it /was/.
Michael Hannigan Mike's glance goes to the hands as Lydia draws attention to how cold they were. "Winter weather will do that," The musician comments, glancing back to the woman's face. The mention of the name being unfortunate does get a bit of a wry grin, "Well, if it's a lasting misfortune I at least know the process for legal name changes. But... There's power in the number of those using the name, I'm not sure it'll be a lasting stigma when this issue gets resolved."

Stepping back so he's not on top of Lydia, he slides a hand into his pocket, considering the expression. "I thought you looked familiar." Mike admits, He glances to the side, giving a momentary grimace at a thought, "...I'm glad I guessed right. That would have been a very awkward question if I was wrong."
Lydia Dietrich Lydia chuckles, "It'll be a stigma until the next apocalyptic event eventually happens around here. Then we're off onto a new thing." She puffs out a breath of frustration, "Then the fate of the universe can hang on somebody /else's/ shoulders and I can go on a vacation."

She lets slip a wry grin, "Either awkward, or somebody would have been at a completely /different/ possession event and then everybody would just get confused." She shakes her head, "So anyway, Terry mentioned you could possibly control angels through song?"
Michael Hannigan "My money's on October having the next one." Mike responds, going along with the dark humor that's being put forth. "You'd think they'd keep it to once a year."

With the banter dying away there is just the slightest bit of silence before the business at hand is brought up.

"Right..." Mike replies, "That. That's Terry's theory. I'm not as sure about that but...maybe we can figure out if it's useful."

Another glance is set to the door and then to the path leading up to the porch. "It's more that I've found that certain songs I've written when sung or spoken, has an effect. It's just all the songs I've noticed the effect with involved mentioning saints."

He pauses, "...Which, ok. Some would be considered angels."
Lydia Dietrich "Interesting," Lydia says thoughtfully. "What kind of effects have you observed with which lyrics? Have you tried writing a song about angels specifically?" She folds her arms, "Music and magic have a very close connection. When I cast I usually sing my spells because that seems to be more effective for me. Something about the symbolism of using your voice to create harmony. It's different for everybody, really."

She glances to the door that Michael keeps looking to and asks, "Do you want to go in? It's probably pretty chilly out."
Michael Hannigan Hearing Lydia's offer, Mike shakes his head, "No, I'm just checking for eavesdroppers. We've got a packed house and I don't really advertise that I can do things like this...directly."

Going back to Lydia's initial question he pauses in consideration. "Deprive- Raphael's Flask was my first one. Probably my best one. That one helped with illness. Physical. Mental. Even took nightmares away. I think it may have helped to save a friend's life. So..."

He pauses, giving a soft smile, "Lucia's Light though... That's the one that let me know what I created because I flat out glew when I played that one. Freaked. Me. Out. Made me stop working on the third one for awhile until I had some demon problems that convinced me to finish that one up."
Lydia Dietrich "Hunh," Lydia says, fascinated. "Is there a correlation between the lyrics and the effects?" She shakes her head at her own question, "Obviously something like Lucia's Light would make you glow. Is there a range of effect? For example, if you were to play Raphael's Flask at a concert would it heal the entire stadium?"

Already Lydia's mind is awhirl with possibilities. "Even at short range, that alone could be helpful in treating injuries as we fight. Fighting in any kind of war has it's own lasting psychological effects, but especially with angels..." she shakes her head. "I could have used that back when I had nightmares.

"How fast are you able to write songs?" she asks before rubbing her face wearily. "If only we had more /time/, we could do some experiments and determine the limits of your magic."
Michael Hannigan "Well, the chorus is usually asking the saint for help by loaning out something that's associated with them. Like Raphael has a flask and is associated with healing. Lucia's associated with light, leads the blind, chases away the dark. And Michael...well, battle. Fighting" He pauses, "I used that one once. In the Bronx against the possessions. Which might be why I recalled you so easily."

He clears his throat. "Uh, Lucia's Light is the area immediately around me. Seems to keep things of a demonic nature away. Call on St. Michael, I literally had to put into a stick to hit people with it. Raphael's Flask- Well. I can either use it on myself directly or pass it to someone else by touch. I know if you do it to yourself, it's almost neglible but if you cast on others it can be tiring and the effects last for a couple of days. But... I've found that one doesn't necesarily need me directly. I've come across a few people where a recording of it helped them for a period. The effects vary by the person...I think we have the remake still up on the free download site. Lucia's just on a hidden track. I didn't record the third one."

Mike pauses, trying to go through the stream of questions in his head. Eyes roll up in thought. "How fast...Uh." He bites his lip. Brow lifting he looks to Lydia, "I think I did a fourth with Cecilia but I didn't write that one down because it was a spur of the moment thing. I seem to work faster with the right motivation."
Lydia Dietrich Lydia nods, and reaches into her purse and pulls out a journal whose cover is pink and flowery from her purse, as well as a pen. She starts jotting down notes, and nodding as Mike tries to explain to her the specifics. "Okay, so it seems to effect people on the personal level than it does as a group," she notes.

She taps her chin with the bottom of the pen thoughtfully. "In the current climate, I'd refrain from writing anything that calls upon the angels directly. Their response will be.... immediate, most like, and I'm not entirely sure you'd be wanting to talk to an archangel." She gives him a wry grin, "Though, I must admit, not all of them are entirely on Michael's side. Calling on the saints will probably be much easier."

She looks at Mike thoughtfully. "Okay. Here's a big question. How are your feelings on performing while in the middle of battle? If you can provide any kind of boost in the field we'll take it, but I won't put any pressure on you to do anything you're not comfortable with. I can think of plenty of things for you to help out outside of combat. Like I said, we can use all the help we can get."
Michael Hannigan "It's not something that makes me go 'yay'." Mike admits, "I kind of did it in the Bronx, but last time I came across one of the battles in Harlem I used my other ability."

Mike mulls over the conversation a bit before wheeling back to the advice offered. "Ok so no direct calls to the saints that happen to be archangels. But referring to them in terms of ownership of the object being referenced is okay?" He tilts his head curiously, "I'm asking because, Raphael's flask flat out mentions Raphael as the owner and he's both saint and archangel." The frown deepens, "And a lot of people have access to that song now."
Lydia Dietrich Lydia considers the question for a moment. "I honestly don't know," she says. "I would /think/ referencing their artifacts is safer than calling upon them themselves. I'm pretty sure that you're not calling upon the saints for power, since using your songs tire you out. I think you're somehow imbuing your songs with your own power, making it a kind of spell that gets cast when it's played." She shakes her head, "I'm just guessing off the top of my head. I'm by no means an expert."

She sighs wearily, "I'll tell you what we really need. If you can create the song equivalent of caffeine we could really use the pick me up. A lot of us are putting in a lot of overtime and we're all worn out."
Michael Hannigan "I can see that." Mike admits, "I did describe it to Terry that the spells were like moving stuff on a desk. If it's my own desk, it's nothing. Like I'm just moving things around. But if it's someone else's desk, I'm having to get up, walk. maybe run up some steps, just to get to theirs."

He steps back a bit before leaning against the exterior wall. "I can understand the need for energy. I tend to run myself dry too. But, I had figured if I picked up the songs again, I'd do Saint Nicholas next. But...Hmm."

He glances up, closing his eyes. "Saint Christopher should be safe...And it does sound like you've been on a long journey of sorts."
Lydia Dietrich "We've got a /long/ way to go still," Lydia says. "Even after we get the angels out of Manhattan the danger isn't over. We're going to have to..." she bites her lip to keep herself from divulging more than she should. "Let's just say that the journey has just begun."

Her eyes wander back over to the horizon where the angelic host hovers over Manhattan, "But that journey is just for a few of us. For many, their part ends when the angels leave. We just... need to get them through this. Then we can rest for a while. Lick our wounds, get some sleep." She chuckles, "I'm taking my girlfriend out on a romantic vacation in Paris for a couple of days afterwards and just focus on ourselves."

She turns her gaze with her strange golden eyes back to Mike. "If you can do that for us, help us keep going, it would mean more than what you'd think."
Michael Hannigan Mike doesn't need to watch Lydia to pick up on the fatigue. It is present in her voice as she starts to give a hint of what they may be going through. Something looming over their heads perhaps. It's never a fun feeling having a monstorous cloud hanging overhead. And in a way, perhaps his knack for stumbling into things at the last minute is a blessing. Sure. He's confused a lot. But it certainly cuts down on the dred when there's no time for it.

Eyes open, looking over to Lydia. The side of his lips turns up slightly. "I'll work on the song." Mike promises, "I'll get it out to you as soon as I can. And. In the meantime I'll text you the link to where you can get a copy of Raphael's Flask. Just in case."
Lydia Dietrich Lydia nods, looking grateful. "I appreciate it. If you want to help out in other ways, we can always use an extra set of hands in Grand Central Station. Ask for Jonathan Sims and tell him Lydia sent you. In the meantime I'll try playing Raphael's Flask over the PA systems there and see what kind of effect it has."

She takes a step back, and the golden cloud lifts the box up off the porch and holds it behind her. "Thank you for meeting with me. I'll leave you to your evening. I have much work to do tonight."
Michael Hannigan Eyes shift to look to the box being lifted up before he looks back to Lydia. He gives a nod to the offer. "...Sims." He repeats, making sure he at least got the last name. John is such a common name. Like Michael. "Best wishes to you." Mike replies, "I'll send the song over when I can."
Lydia Dietrich Lydia nods, and raises a hand, as with the other she pulls out her cell phone. "Hey, Clarice. Can you pick me up at my location?" she asks, as she walks away. Soon enough a purple portal opens and she steps on through.
Michael Hannigan Mike is true to his word. Before Lydia could even make it back to where she planned to spend the evening, Lydia would get a link to the download page for Nick Drago's Deprive (Raphael's Flask). The download was free. And while the page it was on did encourage donations to some chosen charities on it, Mike would surely understand if Lydia skipped that step.

The promised song came a bit later.

In the wee hours of the morning when daylight would kiss the rooftops of New York City. There would be the melodious sounds of a message notification trumpeting the arrival of the promised product.

The email is short but to the point. 'Good thing I'm living in a recording studio right now.' - Mike (I guess you can call me Nick too) Best wishes.

There is another link, not on as public a website as Raphael's Flask was. This one led to a single music download simply named - 'Carry Us'.

'Carry Us'

    Carry us Saint Christopher,
    Through the battle led;
    Though our burdens heavy,
    We're certain you will tread.
    
    Give us the energy,
    To see this journey through;
    Shield us from fatigue,
    And the harm it would do.
    
    With you on our side,
    it quells all our fears;
    Hold back the pain,
    The sorrow, the tears.
    
    In you our trust is known,
    As we sail through the quarreling storm;
    Let the right path be shown,
    And good judgment take form.
    
    It's a long journey and,
    though we may roam;
    Carry us Saint Christopher,
    And bring us safely home.