"The Doc has signed off on this right? I don't like that there's no-one else here. I would't put it past you to be trying to take me out while no-one else is looking."

"Don't tempt me, dog. Now quit bitching and start a shift. I do not have all day." Dr Kovalenko lifted a slender finger off the intercom button and returned her attention to her notes.

The researcher was stood behind a thick barrier of re-enforced glass in order to observe and collate data. Whilst funding was not boundless in these times, and the installation of a locked-down test chamber within the HQ was quite a big outgoing; she had pointed out to others within the network that could could never afford to be too cautious when you were dealing with cryptid species. And, certainly, she felt better in this case that there was going to be several inches of near unbreakable material between her and that damned animal.

Operative Norrevinter, stood inside the white walls of the test chamber, colourful sensor wires trailing from underneath the set of scrubs she was wearing, was feeling a little less re-assured by her position. The tall, intimidating norwegian woman regarded the researcher at the viewing window with undisguised contempt and adjusted the shapeless garments awkwardly. They were, of course, a bit of a gesture in futility. The beast was only going to tear free of them within seconds, and possibly eat half of the fabric in the process. Oren wouldn't allow anything , other than herself and her shifting focus, in from outside of research out of concern it might influence the readings. However, it was embarrassing enough to have been assigned to a session of being the bitch doctor's lab rat, but she was not doing without some form of clothing.

"Are you recording?" Kora asked, pushing a strand of wavy, ginger hair out of her face to scrutinise what the biologist was doing. She trusted that soulless leech about as far as she could throw her, but orders were orders.
...though on reflection, she could probably throw her pretty far..

"Yes. Get on with it."
The vampress' cold grey eyes flickered from her annotations to a monitor set to one side that was gathering data. Pulse rate, brainwave patterns, temperature, electrical and magnetic impulses, that kind of thing. All the sorts of things you might want to know about a transforming werewolf.

Back in the chamber itself, the nordic woman reached below the neckline of the top and pulled out a simple pewter mjolnir, a few etchings in the scarred metal. Her large hand closed around the small metallic object, and gripped tightly, gripped until the edges started to dig into the skin on her palm. She then started to mutter something under her breath. Oren would have asked her to speak up for the recording...but who exactly spoke old norse? Well, aside from the backward Game of Thrones-esque lycanthropes that seemed to dwell around the scandinavian coastlines. There wasn't a lot of data to be gathered anyway. As far as her research had concluded, the actual words of a focus was not important, but the state of mind it brought about, in order to force a change, a werewolf needed to-

Her thought were cut off by screams. Screaming and the sickening organic crunching of snapping bones. She looked back to the viewing window to see Kora bent double, arms wrapped round her ribs as they shattered themselves. The noise was deafening, and was not going to let up until about the thirty second mark, when the vocal chords ripped in half. Oren muted the audio output on her end. She didn't need that distraction.

The observation room in the research section was soundproofed. The test chamber, less so. Oren would not be totally surprised if the screaming was not filtering out into the rest of the building.

The HQ was an older building. Once it had been a house to some wealth eccentric supposedly, then a boarding school, then an ageing relic out far away from anything of note. Then it had been purchased by their anonymous benefactor.. So far, it had proved a worthy enough location. The house was large and sprawling, enough main complex and outbuildings to house the staff members, and set far enough away from anything, amid thick woodland, so they didn't get many unwanted guests.

The age of the building though did mean that things such as sound did suffer from time to time, and the people eating breakfast in the cafeteria that morning might have been put off their food somewhat.

By that point, Kora had dropped to her hands and knees, limbs beginning to lengthen in sudden, spasmodic spurts of growth. Her facial bones had split and elongated, pulling together into some twisted snout that was cultivating a set of pointed white fangs. The pulse on the monitors was racing and body temperature had spiked. Fur had begun to spread over her skin as the scrubs began to rip with the rapid expanse of the chest and shoulders.

At the two minute mark the pulse would stutter and momentarily fail before returning faster, more rapid and forceful.

After about the five minute mark, Oren stopped the timer. Change was complete.

Int he middle of the test chamber crouched a hulking monstrosity covered in thick, reddish fur. It stood on two large, paw-like feet, legs bent like the hind quarters of an animal, but its hunched torso carrying some hint of a human-like spinal structure. Its arms were long, wiry, ending in twisted hand-paws with great yellowing claws. The face was all that of some kind of monstrous canid, perfectly formed set of carnivore teeth on display at it watched her, snarling, planting its feet to move.

"You're going to try to kill me again aren't you?" Oren asked, wearily as she ticked something off on her list. The vampress took a small, but deliberate step away from the glass moments before the full weight of the werewolf flung itself against the barrier, snarling, clawing, leaving streaks of foamy drool against the formerly clear surface.

She was going to have to clean that.

"I can't tell, Norrevinter, if you just have no self control, or whether you know exactly what you're doing and just do this to piss me off....because you can't think it scares me." Dr Kovalenko remarked contemptuously as she went to check the readings.

No, it didn't scare her. Well, not any more. The fact that the first time had gotten a flinch out of her was not really worth mentioning as far as she was concerned. Though funnily enough since then the Kora-wolf had tried it every time, and the Kora-person had denied remembering doing it at all with the expression of a child caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

Oren sighed as she tried to collate the data and ignore the rattling of the observation window as the beast inside tore at it. She was going to be so irritated if that got scratched.

What was that quote?

Never work with children or animals.

While Ash had an amazing power of concentration in comparison to others, she doubted anyone could work with all the screaming. Her eyebrow twitched as the howling filled the small room she used as a makeshift office. Inside here she could be more relaxed but work harder. The vampire’s hair fell gracefully over her shoulders and her clothes were a tank top and some jeans. Her feet were bare, what point did wearing shoes have if your toes were always going to be cold. For a few moments she stuck by her computer doing research on her team’s next target but eventually it became too much. After a deep sigh, she stood up and grabbed a jacket. Her icy hand reached for the door when she realized she still wasn’t wearing any shoes. For the sake of time she put on her grey bunny slippers, one of the last remains of her old life. “They had enough money for a chamber but not soundproof walls,” the vampire muttered to herself as she pushed past the door and out of her safe little haven.

Her hands automatically starting forming her trademark bun with her hair as she walked. On the other hand, the rest of her body had only one goal, to stop that noise. As she tore down the hallway she stared out the windows she passed by and she might have been able to daydream about her human life if it wasn’t for the infernal sound coming from the werewolf. Personally, she had nothing personal with the wolves but the sounds they made when “wolfing out” seemed to her like just theatrics. She never made hissing sounds when feeding or any dramatic faces like you might expect. Ash was a quiet hunter, fueling herself on the prey’s fear more than on other techniques. Her stomach gurgled a little, reminding her that she had yet to eat. I have a blood bag in my dorm. I can get it after I deal with this. The screaming stopped as she came to the door. She knew the researchers were picky about respect for their work and everything so she knocked on the door politely before speaking. “Please could you keep it down a little?” Her voice was not meek, but she kept the aggressive edge of the statement to herself, for all she knew this could be some old powerful vampire who could step out and tear her head away from her body in less than two seconds. That was what she found most detrimental about being a relatively young vampire, not only could other species attack her and make her into sashimi but her own species could too. After fulfilling her mission, her tunnel vision subsided and she became more aware of her surroundings. It did not seem like too many people were out and about today; maybe they had all fled outside and away from the noise. What I would give to go outside and not become a human shaped fritter. Her eyes turned away from the door back to the windows and then back to the door. She had to stay focused; it was the only way she would not break down. Remembering and wishing was useless. She was a vampire now and she should act like one.

Oren scratched a few readings down on her notes.

Whilst people tended toward the more technological, she was a child of the 1920's, and had a measure of mistrust for anything too non-tangible. She had learned the usage of computers as a necessity rather than out of any kind of appreciation for the things. Most of her research notes existed in paper form and were backed up digitally, to make it easier to compile them into the data she was after.

Oren was attempting to create proper scientific studies on the cryptid species and document their abilities in concrete terms. SCION allowed a unique opportunity for that. Though the sample size was little and the participants were...

A knock on the door.

The vampress sighed, her distaste rising when the individual on the other side of the door spoke up.

As much as she was not happy about it, it was increasingly clear that she was going to have to address this directly to avoid any further problems.

The door swung open and Oren regarded the figure of Ashley with a weary disdain. Entirely the opposite of someone old before their time, Oren had the rarely-seen look about her of a person who had been old inside for a long time, but lacked the weathered face to properly express it.

Trevon. Vampire. Hunter's Moon.

She supposed she shouldn't be surprised.

"At the risk of sounding condescending," The researcher began, casually scratching off a few things on her note paper as she stood in the doorway,
"You're not going to have much luck asking me when I'm not the person making the noise."

Somewhere through the wall there could be heard the scratching and snarling of the wolf that had caught vampire scent and was not handling this gracefully.

"I could open the seal if you'd like to have a word with the 300lb of wolf there, perhaps tell it your problems with its behaviour. aside from that all I can suggest is that you deal with it and understand that my work is just as important as yours."
Her dark grey gaze flickered up for a moment to hold eye contact.

"Will that be all?"

Humming to himself in his massive open Lab, Terran works on his latest attempt at a new spell. It has been a while since he created one, and was hoping that a disaster wasn't needed this time... Especially given how powerful the spells he made were. To most, he seemed like a blind and crazy mage, who disregarded all rules and conduct. The latter was only half true, in principle. Being blessed by a god and thus cursed with blindness that he was told he could fix, it was his life goal to find a way. Though he seemed to find that humans and cryptids alike were a study he disliked. There were a few good moments... He had his magical sight and a few times was granted full use of his eyes by his Patron... But he only used them to further his research. He had a goal... Fix himself, and he would gain more than he could dream of.

Tagging a guiding stone in the lab, he hurried to where the middle of the pentagram was supposed to be. All around him were bone runes. This particular magic was something that did exist, though it was in theory. No mortal was shown using it, and even hearing his Patron go on about how upset that they couldn't use it right... Well, here he is... He cups the runes in his hands and picks out one. It looks like an empty cup. "The path of magic, is to empty oneself of all that you are... Let go of your fear and ego, and embrace the energy within... Once you are empty... Then you will be filled with power." He takes the next time and looks at it with his magical sight. "This is the path of magic. Wrought with pain, and built on sacrifice." Placing the runes together gives a magical glow. All around him light starts to shine and the room begins to shake as intense magical energy gathers. Then as quick as it comes, it's over. Frowning at the single runestone in his hand he looks it over. Both runes became one. And the stone is unetched. A blank slate. "What is this..."

Standing, Terran walks over to the table and places the rune on it. As he does, he swears the rune brightened in his magic sight. "What a peculiar thing..." He turns the run over in his hands. "It seems to be... Unknown... If I had my eyes I'd get a better view..."

Dr. Silas Whitmore was not a picky man, nor did he crave many posh comforts: His study, a little alcove sectioned off from the main body of Scion's library, sported only an L-shaped desk across which several scrolls and transcription papers were spread, a glass case and gloves for handling especially delicate texts, a rolling chair, and a tea kettle.

At least, that was all he had stocked for himself.

The arrangements required by his guests were another story entirely.

The first thing most visitors noticed was the sound of running water, streaming from a rather large waterfall fountain and pool in the far corner. The next was likely the low-hanging grid of bars, grates, and mock vines suspended from the ceiling, rustling slightly as if inhabited by something just out of sight. The entire space was littered with strategically placed heating pads, lamps, stones, and sandboxes, arranged so that the footboards of the room were all but invisible.

Above the desk, and alongside of the bookshelf, cooling fans breezed a constant stream of frigid air over Dr. Whitmore's work, protecting it from both humidity and his array of constant companions.

Or, perhaps before noting any of these things, one would note the five-foot-long monitor lizard curled up inside the aforementioned pond. Or the tree boas.

Or, perhaps, Dr. Whitmore himself, hunched at his desk, his back nearly covered in climbing lizards.

Silas was hard at work, unbothered by the screaming howls filtering in from down the hall: He had accepted that earplugs were just a part of working for SCION. His his eyes squinted behind their owllike lenses to read the nuances of some well-aged tablet, his gloved-fingers grazing over the surface while his lips moved to clarify certain points.

He paused, scribbled something in his notebook, and resumed reading.

So absorbed was he in his work, that when the wall neighboring the Blue Moon laboratory began to tremble, he did not immediately notice.

Until an emerald boa on the ceiling was shaken down onto his lap.

And then a chameleon.

Several of the geckos on his lab coat dashed for the cover of his collar, and Silas at last took his earplugs out. "What in the name of--"

The tremors subsided suddenly, but Silas pushed his chair back and walked to the door (no simple task, given that several critters had been shaken to the ground by the quake,) nonetheless. With a small posse of companions clinging to him, he exited the library, too a quick turn down the hall, and stopped to outside the door of his wall-neighbor.

"Ah, Mister.. Mr. Bjornson?" he called in, and then rapped lightly against the door with the backs of his knuckles, "Is everything alright in there? It's Si- Dr. Whit- Um. It's Silas. I uh- It sounded kind of um. Are you alright?"

Terran blinks reactively and turns towards the sound. He recognizes the voice then when the name is said it clicks. Silas was similar to him. They both had connections to Deities... Silas being a host to one and Terran being offered... He blinks, trying to banish the rampant thoughts that Magnus often planted. Standing, he shuffles through the room, using the guiding stones and the magic lines to reach the entrance to the room that wasn't a portal. He almost makes it to the door when he trips over a guide stone and goes down, swearing rather loudly as he hits his head. In his mind he can swear Magnus is laughing. "Laugh all you want old man... I'll get you..." Getting to his feet he notes he feels some wetness on his head. He ignores this as he palms the door after tagging the guide stone, which slides open. "Sorry bout that..." Terran smiles, not noticing his head is bleeding and blood is running down his face. "I have actually just created something new... Pretty advanced magic. Would like to see it?" He is rather excited about his find.

The audible thunk of Theran's tumble carried through the door, and Silas leaned in closer.

"Ah, Mr. Bjornson? Are yo-" Silas was cut off as the door swung inward, and he took a stumbling step back. "Oh! Mr. Bjornson. Hi, there I was just ah-- Oh."

The sight of the other researcher's wound caught Silas lost for words for an instant, and he completely missed whatever it was that Theran seemed so very excited about. "Ah. Um. Yes. Very exciting stuff. Um." Silas put a hand on his own head, flinching in sympathy for the bump.

"You're bleeding a lot," he blurted at last, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it into Theran's hand, "On your head. It's all- Do you need a hand, with that? It's- It's a lot."

His eyes fluttered opened as he was in the Wolf Moon section of the SCION HQ. Aries was at a desk as he opened his eyes he realised the wood that lied beneath his skull. Groaning from his body being still he slowly sat up in the chair he was positioned in. Rubbing the side of his head that was lying on the hard wooden desk. He hissed slightly as he felt a slight shock of pain that lead to a throbbing headache. Both hands on each side of his skull Aries held onto his head as he rubbed his temples. "Ah..." He moaned a little. Clenching his teeth together he sucked air through them.

"I-I'm at..." He paused for a moment and his eyes moved round the place in front of him as they adjusted more to their scenery. "...at headquarters...did I pass out?" Aries seemed slightly confused on the whole thing. It was odd for him to pass out at SCION's HQ. Happening in the past very little he was never getting used to waking up in this area.
Pushing himself back so the chair scratched across the ground making a lovely squeaking sound that rang in the morning ears....sometimes any other part of the day. "Ugh..." He rubbed his temple's more as he heard the sound. Slowly getting up and placing his right hand on the desk Aries supported himself as he was still somewhat tired from just waking up in an awful position.  fThanks or teamwork....no one even got me a blanket." He puffed out air as he chuckled combing slightly his fingers through his hair. He didn't really care that no one got him a blanket. Aries actually thought he deserved it since he fell asleep at headquarters and didn't just go home in the first place.

Aries then made his way out of the one office room of the field group Wolf Moon. Getting in the doorway he leaned up against the frame as he seemed to just try and focus instead of pushing himself in this blurred state. I wonder who are already here..." He mumbled slightly as he then stepped out into the hallway. As he did so he started walking down the corridor as he looked around. Still, he was playing with his hair making it look decent and he was still in his field uniform from yesterday. He probably looked horrible in his mind how he was picturing himself he did. In other cases, he probably didn't look as horrible as he was thinking he did.
Aries rolled his eyes as he heard loud noises already at this time of day. Covering his ears, his headache seemed to just be a waking one as it was already fading away. But, he didn't want it sticking around so; he was trying his best not to be round the noises he could hear.

Shifting his weight as he stopped in middle of the hallway he looked towards a door which had noises coming from it. "Mhm...somebody is here..." He then kept walking he wasn't trying to seek out human interaction...well creature...species...Aries wasn't caring to interact with anything at the moment. He was hungry. He woke up without anything in his stomach he felt like. But, he couldn't remember if there was anything edible in the SCION HQ or not....,since he probably ate it all if there was.
As Aries approaches another door some more noise. He kept walking, though. But, the noises always would catch his interests and eyes to scan the doors to see if there was any movement underneath. The side that was lying on the desk seemed to pulsate and have its own heartbeat. Causing Aries to rub the area a bit more to see if it would stop being irritated. Which seemed to help a little but, not fully. Sighing at the moment, he got to the section where food was kept. It was HQ after all he knew there was food in here. He just for some reason always seemed to forget especially in the mornings. Once entering the room he shifted his weight and looked around. Cracking his neck a little he went to the fridge and opened it up as he looked around.
. . .name
. . . name . . . name . . .
. . . labeled with another name . . .
all the food in the area of the fridge seemed to be labeled with somebody's name except the one that caught his eye was his own. He knew he had something in here. He remembered he went out and ate at a place the other night. It's just he brought food back like always. As he opened it and closed the fridge he started plopping one by one of the fries in his mouth. They were potato wedges, sauced green beans, fried rice and a half medium rare steak left. Aries smiled at this as he sat down at the table and started eating. "Delicious...I'm glad I brought this here last night." He hummed to himself as he kept eating.

Terran blinks. He was bleeding badly... "Hmm... That isn't much of a problem given how I'm no longer-" He trails of. He hated that part. Hated wuat he'd been forced to do, forced to become. SCION hardly knew anything... Only that he wasn't fully human...

Turning, Terran makes his way to the pentagram. Now that the guiding stones are up he can see better. Fumbling through the runes on the ground he motions Silas over. "Come here... This is what I've done..." Taking two runes, which he identifies as Laguz and Sowilo, he places them together. "This shoukd do it..." Light shines from his hands and a golden light engulfs the room, it is as if a mist sprayed itself in the room and quickly fades. The bleeding stops and Terran looks much better, albiet the blood that was already on his face is there. "See?!? I've found it! I found Wyrd!"

"But you're- It's going to-" Silas's hands then engaged in a confused display of modern dance, reaching first to help, then to perhaps take the handkerchief back and dab Terran's wound, and finally just stammering a bit in mid air before falling to his sides.

Sometimes, Silas felt like the only normal one in the house.

And then a leopard gecko climbed up his face to lick a bead of nervous sweat from his brow. This was not one of those times.

"Alright," he surrendered, falling into step behind Terran. "What is it you've made, n-" Silas stopped talking as Terran introduced the stones, (which Silas mentally logged as "water," and "sun," if his recollection was not too rusty,) and watched the ensuing process.

The glowing caused him to take a healthy step back, nearly losing his footing over a chair behind him. ""That's quite, um-" He nudged his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and stepped back in to look. "The.. Wyrd is the blank, isn't it? Or..." He leaned over the stone Terran was holding now, trying to see if there was any crack or fusion line.

There was not.

As a linguist, Dr. Whitmore had a bit more than a casual interest in the nature of runic casting, but knew well enough to keep his nose out of something beyond his league.

"But Wyrd is the 'blank rune,' is it not? Old English for 'fate.' Well, vaguely. Missing some of the finer points of cultural meaning in that translation- More similar to the German werden, in that sense, really, but um."

He stepped back. People had personal space. Right.

"Sorry.

"You are close, to the meaning. Alas that is what I would mean in the old way... Wyrd does mean fate but, these runes have more meaning than mere sun, or water... The blank rune has a double meaning. It is both mundane, and Divine." Terran picks up the runes and places them in his lap. He would need a more... Vivid explanation, as this was rather confusing. "Pardon the shift."

Snapping his fingers the room seems to bend and snap back in place but they are at a table that is not filled with items, just some chalk, candles, the runestones, and a pen that Terran grabs. "Now, this is something more your speed... What do you know about Odin and his quest for the runes?" He taps the pen and starts writing something in the air, eyes glowing softly as he does this. He draws all of the runes in a circle. Tir on top, Pertho on bottom, and Laguz and Sowilo at the horizons. In the middle, he just draws a circle. At the completion of this, power seems to radiate through the room softly. In Terran's mind he can hear a soft him and sees little threads that seem to connect the runes. "Do you know how he came to obtain them?"

Something more his speed.

Silas nodded, unperturbed by the change in scenery. He took a quick glance around, but was not alarmed. One of his bosses turned into a cat. Avalon had poked around his brain more than once. He had fallen into a chamber an been possessed by an entity that had slept for millennia.

He was not alarmed by benign changes.

He looked at the chart, squinted a bit at the question, and then fixed his glasses again.

"Well," he started, "I can't know that which I don't know. But um. You don't really know what I don't know until I say what I do, so I guess you're right for starting with that which... Sorry. Yes. Runes.

"Allegedly, and according to the- the Hávamál? I think? Forgive me, my Norse mythology is rusty. Very. But according to that poem, Odin envied the Norns, the... I believe they were the destiny makers of Norse mythology, who wrote the fate of the Nine Worlds by carving runes into... Was it Yggdrasil? The tree that supports the worlds. Yggdrasil, I think. And they lived at the bottom of the Well of Urd at the base of the tree, carving the future of the Nine Worlds into the trunk. And. Um. Odin, who was a big man, king og the gods, he was jealous. He wanted that power. But he knew the runes were only for the worthy, and only revealed themselves to such.

"So, like any God in a pissing contest with the universe, he hung himself from the branches of the tree, impaled himself on his own spear, and stared down into the depths of the Well of Urd with no food or water, in tremendous pain, for nine days, until the runes deemed him worthy in his suffering, and revealed themselves to him. They granted him mighty powers beyond that which he already had, because he was... Um. Well, when you engage in sacrificial masochism, I suppose you are now worthy, according to the runes.

"Which does make a lovely story.

"But they were really more than likely, ah... Well, historically speaking, as opposed to religiously- I don't want to step on any toes- But historically speaking, they were probably derived from the old Italic alphabets, at the point in history where Germanic mercenaries working for the Roman Empire traveled to the Italian peninsula and were involved in cultural exchange there. And they're written as they are- jagged, and such- because they were generally carved.

"Well. Except Wyrd. That was added to the Elder Futhark in the 1980s, most likely, or possibly the 16th century if you rely on some patchy evidence. Which is why I was a bit confused. Some people call it Odin's rune. but that's also a patchy place to be, because Odin already had a rune, which, again, I may be wrong- I'm no Norse expert here- just a dabbler- is Ansuz.

"But if I missed something there, please do fill in the gap. I don't know that which I don't know. And uh. Sorry. For carrying on. I'm a bit of a- Well, you know. I carry on. It's a professor thing. Very sorry. Sorry. Please. Share what you were going to. I would love to know."

There was no malice or challenge in his statements, but rather a genuine recitation of that which he knew. A summary offered with the intention of being added to.

He leaned in, wide-eyed and curious, staring at the chart of symbols. He knew them, and had a general grasp of their significance. The concept of a word which was more than a word was not a culturally unique one- The talking drums of West Africa, for one, or the Indian concept of the "Ohm" that breathed life into being.

But, Dr. Whitmore could not know what that which he did not, and if there was one thing he wanted, it was always a chance to expand his knowledge. Or at least the perspective view of another.

The back door to the kitchen from the training field swung open to the bright morning light, and was held open by Thunder Moon Leader Missy Tsavo. “Uh-uh. Absolutely not. No ma’am,” the woman chided, sweat-splotched from some early morning training, clad in a ponytail, leggings, and a sports bra. Her honey-brown glare was directed toward whomever she was holding the door for, one hand on her hip, the other on the knob.

Missy had a very short list of people on her “bad side,” but it was generally considered an unfavorable place to be.

“If you were supposed to have access, you would have a key. And as I have not given you a key, you know you aren’t supposed to have access. And that’s just the end of it, Miss Martin. If I have to go over it again, I may very well- Oh, good morning, Agent Campbell.”

Her tone changed at the sight of someone else in the kitchen, and she gave a quick nod toward the other agent. “Awful early for you to be here, isn’t it?"

She cocked her head to one side at the various sounds coming from down the hall. Noisy for an early morning.

But SCION was not often a quiet place. She turned her attention back to Aries, holding the door with the side of her foot. "But yeah. Graveyard shift?"

Terran grins. "Finally. Someone interested as I am in magical lore. Yes, the blank rune is what I believe to be Wyrd. The rune of the Norns themselves. For they carve the fate of the world itself on Yggdrasil." He swipes and the runes move to the side. "But Odin got a power that isn't used by most who use runes... In fact, the way you just saw, none but he and the Norns we're capable of doing. Sure, one can foretell the future. But, the true power, is to access the very thing that defines creation. And to do that..." Terran let's out a sigh. "One must have lost everything, and made themselves a vessel. I have not done it in Odin's way... But I... I have been on this path for as long as I remember. For me, I am a child born with the blessing of Magnus. Not exactly sure what his real name is. Only that the curse is blindness." I take out Kenaz. "This rune started it all. I feel a resonance with it. Kenaz represents harnessing forces and energy greater than ourselves. For me, Kenaz means that I am destined to be a very powerful mage, one that can understand the depths of magic."

It was his goal. To restore his sight, and to walk this path. He was afraid, that he would fail. But his Patron always told him that all that would happen, was meant to be. Destiny is something he believed in. "Learning that I am able to use this... Tells me that this is the right path. A small victory that will one day bring me sight." He tilts his head. "I have an experiment I would like to try..."

Taking the runes, Terran grabs a bag and drops them in. He takes out the blank rune and places it in one of the other Silas' hands. He places the bag of runes before him. "Close your eyes. Imagine in your mind an empty void. Push out the thoughts of the deity within you... And take a rune. Before you grab one... Feel around, find the one that resonates. It will be warm."

Was facing the other way when noise came into the kitchen. Aries couldn't help but overhear everything though he tried ignoring it the best he could as he was eating. He seemed uninterested mainly in it or he was just putting on a good act so they wouldn't get him in trouble for making that bad habit of his.
The tone of voice and atmosphere then shifted as he heard new words. "-Oh, good morning, Agent Campbell." the words he heard made him looking over his shoulder as he somewhat seemed to glare at the individual that directed his title. "Good morning." Aries said clearly. "You can call me Aries you know? You don't gotta be so formal...you scare me when you do that." He questioned the individual somewhat but then laughed a little. He slightly but warmly smiled at her.

Going back to eating the potato wedges he then got another question thrown at him and he let his head fall slightly. "I kinda spent the night here..." He mumbled. Yet the words were clear enough for the female to hear everything he said. Aries hated when he had to admit things he usually never did. "Also, I was hungry, and I knew I left something in here....and I'm happy I did...or I would've stole yours." Aries said teasingly as he looked over his shoulder and smirked at the female.

Aries then went back to eating. "Graveyard shift?" he heard though he didn't think it was directed to him till everything fell quiet. "Ugh..." He stopped eating as those words fell out of his mouth. "Mhm..." He turned around as he had a potato wedge in his mouth. "Are you talking to me?" He questioned the female. "And the graveyard shift is what exactly?" he raised an eyebrow at her as the potato wedge fell out of his mouth and he caught it. "I don't recall getting assigned to..." he paused."a graveyard shift...or are you assigning that now?" Aries huffed slightly and shrugged his shoulders."This early in the morning and you're assigning stuff...I should have just gone home." he pouted as he whispered these words but he knew he said them loud enough for her to hear.

His body tensed up and he groaned in pain as a headache which was fading slammed against his skull again. "Ah..." He rubbed his temples. It seemed to be because of the morning how much noise and everything that was happening. "Sorry, I have a headache..." He hissed. Aries body felt stiff still. From the way he was positioned he hurt and it wasn't a kind hurting. It was the type that stung if touched, the body sleeping and stiff, a painful hurt that was also easily annoyed. He stretched a little as he was trying to get his blood moving again from being still.

Silas listened with a slightly turned head, taking in what Terran was saying to compare his notes on later. He did not correct any discrepancies he heard-- If working with SCION had taught him one thing, it was that facts had a way of turning themselves about.

And if it had taught him a second thing, it was not to question someone with magical talents to their face.

So he sat, and he listened, and kept any disagreements or bit facts to himself. There was a time and a place for analysis. A personal moment with someone who was kind enough to invite another into his worldview was not that time.

When Terran took his hand, however, Silas jerked back. "That's a very kind offer, Terran. But. Ah..." he fumbled. As carefully as he could, he tucked the blank back into Terran's hand, and closed the other man's fingers around it. "I'm afraid I have a bit of a personal policy against meddling in magical 'experiments.' I'm not- Ah. I've had my share of accidents. Not that I doubt your competency. At all. I just. Erm."

Silas wriggled in his chair, and folded his hands in his lap. "I don't mean it offensively. It's just... It's a bit far out of my comfort zone, if you will."

"Graveyard shift?" Aires asked, and Missy furrowed her brow.

"Yeah, the, uh- graveyard shift, Aires," she affirmed, placing emphasis on his name. It was hard, sometimes, to try and use the right address with everyone. The other leaders tended to call others by title, but the werecat was on uneven footing with the whole thing. "As in a shift overnight. It's a thing people say..." She shook her head, shrugging off the thought. "I mean. We don't have one. Unless you made one up. To catch up on something, or... Never mind. It was a joke. Kind of. I'm uh-" she started to attempt a conversational laugh, but it died into a dry chuckle that came out a bit like trying to clear her throat. "Sorry. I'm trying to get better at those. And- Sorry, hold on."

She leaned out the door, and cupped a hand over her mouth to call out, "Junior Agent Martin! You'd better stop dragging those heels. You're not getting to stay out there unsupervised, ma'am."

And then, back to Aires. "Sorry," and then a more genuine, light laugh, "Kids, right?"

Montana was in the advanced testing area, checking on his newest commission, a stealth suit. The Modified AD, or MAD for short. While a large portion of their duties involved the subterfuge of espionage, a well placed smile and a keen eye, one could never be too certain of what one might run into.

That aside, some assaults needed a subtler touch then the raw power of Thunder or Wolfs Moon. The suit was multifaceted, like any Agent worth the expensive clothing they slipped into.

The ballistic and strike testing had gone quite well. The thin plating was braced with a gel that solidified to counteract kinetic force. They were spaced to cover the internal organs without sacrificing the mobility of the wearer. It was an advanced bit of technology, all made possible by S.C.I.O.N's R&D teams. Imagination and innovation without the tight grip bureaucracy and politics. Research supplemented by what was for all intents and purposes, a black budget.

Speaking of research, Montana could hear some being conducted from the hallway adjacent to his office. Kora could be high strung, preferring to use bravado and brawn to push her way through life, but he did feel some sympathy for the werewolf he watched grow up.

Sympathy here being a detached, oddly objective emotion for Montana.

His fingers glided over his Hunters Moon issued PADD. The suit was responsive to multiple kinds of electromagnetic stimuli, including your average touch screen.

He was currently playing a "connect the dots" or "clue" styled game of his own design. Montana would take current events, world news, and diplomatic cables, find correlations between them, and ascribe each event with what branch of intelligence was involved, and why.

It was a mental game to pass the time. Later, he'd launch lines of inquiry through his intelligence channels for the predicted answers.

Montana rose from his seat, he felt his muscles flex beneath the fabric of the stealth suit, like memory foam, contorted itself to fit his body.

Nothing about him particularly screamed "Cold War Spook". There was no repetitiveness to his method, no hours spent trying to decipher long abandoned numbers stations. He was a man of the times, as the world of espionage evolved so did he. The abstract objectivity he viewed the world in however, remained the same, and he understood that some methods retained their usefulness no matter the decade.

Which is why he'd transport the more classified documents regarding the last Hunters Moon outing by hand.

Everything he felt the department head, one rank above the leader, needed to know.

The part about the lipstick, cyanid, and his personal conduct with The Fist, And The Femme Fatal was best left redacted. In his opinion.

He stepped out into the hallway, and moved toward the department heads office.

It was no coincidence that he soon passed,

"Good Morning Ms.Kovalenko, Miss Trevon."

Aries was looking at the female as he saw her brow furrow up. He smiled slightly at Missy and chuckled a bit. Cracking his neck as he rolled his head on his shoulders.

Aries tilted his head and smiled at her warmly. He knew his question was going to probably get her like this and he couldn't help but chuckle at her stutters, unknowing what to say or just trailing off into a different sentence.
"A joke?" Aries questioned as he plopped another potato wedge in his mouth before he consumed it quickly.

Standing up he went over grabbing a hand towel and wiping his hands off on it. As the female turned to the door he approached Missy who was popping her head out of the door yelling at an Agent Martin. Aries stood inches in front of her now as he looked at her and smiled. "Don't be sorry." He titled his head one way to show he didn't mind. "No harm done right?" he raised a brow to Missy as he smiled warmly at her.

"Mhm...I don't know...I have never really been around kids."he shrugged his shoulder at his answer. Knowing this might seem a bit weird.But Aries was never really raised round children. Though he does love how innocent and playful they are.He's been round a few children but that's only because he goes around and he seems to have kids prone to run up to him or into him.

@Rhabdophobia

Brooks squinted his eyes as the harsh afternoon sunlight stuttered through the tall pine trees surrounding the road leading seemingly nowhere. Lifting the hand that was previously hanging out the driver's seat window to slap down the sun visor, Brooks let out a low irritating guttural noise to clear his throat, accompanied by the scratching of his slowly thickening beard, Brooks wasn’t particularly thinking about anything specific. For him, this was nothing but another normal drive on a normal day at his normal job to lead a normal life. “Almost there.”

Abigail murmured something incoherent in response, pushing the side of her head off the window pillar whilst rubbing her eyes blearily. “Uh-huh?” she continued, already starting to tidy herself up. She checked out her appearance in the wing mirror, tucking loose strands of hair behind one ear. One hand reached out to grab the large book spread open on her lap. “I hope we didn’t forget to pack anything this time…” she mused, snapping the book shut and pushing it into her backpack.

“They really need a grocers up there.” he’d nod in agreement, reminiscing about the countless times a toothbrush had been forgotten home. Abigail groaned in agreement, chuckling lightly.

“They love to boast about having a fuckin’...big library and research lab but god forbid you run out of tampons up there. Maybe we should ask-...” Abigail paused, frowning. “That’s the other thing about them, there’s no complaints department. Or manager. Or-...anything, really.” She looked over at Brooks searchingly.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I don’t stick my nose nowhere it don’t belong. I go for work, I do my work, I get my pay.” Brooks shot Abigail a glance as the pick-up truck finally turned its tenth swerve and onto a straight road, giving her a pursed-lip look while simultaneously lifting his fingers off the steering wheel and shrugging them along with his shoulders.

“That doesn’t piss you off?” asked Abigail incredulously. “What if it’s all some big ploy and we’re being controlled by the government? We- you- might just be a pawn in some large-scale manipulation of the supernatural world, unable to-”

“Alright, Jerry Fletcher, put your notebook away.”

Abigail cocked her head to the side. “Showing your age there you old fart,” she retorted with a smirk. Her smile faltered. She looked out of the window. “So uh-...did you get any targets for this week?” she asked reluctantly.

A contemplative sigh followed by the sound of Brooks’ beard rustling under another instinctive and thoughtful scratch, “Nothin’ yet, nah.” As the truck nears a dirt path splitting off at a seemingly random location on the road, Brooks gazed briefly into his rearview mirror to ensure no incoming car would see the transition before doing so. Abigail was less subtle - she twisted around in the passenger seat and squinted out of the back window.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s coming…” she rolled up her passenger window and tugged idly on the straps of her backpack.
“Mhrm, doesn’t even matter really.” was the last thing Brooks said before, around forty minutes later, the pickup truck found it’s destination at the entrance of the large, abandoned mansion that was the SCION headquarters. Abigail was the first to get out, shoving the door open with her shoulder and slinging her backpack onto her back in one fluid movement.

Brooks remained silent and waited as the pickup truck came to a halt before the S.C.I.O.N headquarters, still planted in his seat with the engine running. He’d silently watch her get out and make way towards the large front door of the seemingly abandoned mansion, at which he’d honk the horn to catch her attention: “You got shit in the back, carry it up.” Abigail jolted at the noise and wheeled around, thrusting two middle fingers into the air as she stomped back across the gravel to the pick-up truck.

“Fuck you too.”

“-Language-.”

Abigail shot Brooks an accusatory glare as she passed the driver’s window. She stacked and grabbed the three cardboard boxes with a grunt and gingerly made her way back inside. Luckily, Abigail didn’t need to see where she was going - she knew the route to her room off by heart and she couldn’t hear anyone coming her way. Plus it was always easy to find Abigail’s room, even if you don’t know your way around the Headquarters; there were always odd lights dancing from underneath the door and a floral “KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING” sign seemed to be affixed onto the door at eye-level without the use of an adhesive. The door swung open as Abigail approached. She entered, remained in there for a few minutes, and then left again to wander the corridors.

...At which point, Abigail discovered Ash staring wistfully at a window. She cocked her head to the side with curiosity before jovially approaching the vampire and flashing one of her signature smirks. “Y’know, if you want to go outside it’s as easy as putting on a coat and a hat...think I got a pair of sunglasses lying around in my room too, somewhere.” Her face scrunched up in concentration as she tried, in vain, to remember where she misplaced her shades. “I should probably look into making some sort of potion to get around that whole daylight thing, but I haven’t the foggiest where to start. Anyway, how’s things been around here?”

With the pickup truck stowed away, Brooks didn’t waste much time and made his way towards the kitchen. Still groggy from the drive, he aimed straight for the fridge with nothing but a grumpy grunt of acknowledgement towards anyone present. He rummaged through the shelves until he found a tupperware box with his name scrawled on with permanent marker. He slammed the box into the microwave, peeled the lid off, slammed the microwave door shut, jabbed at some numbers with his calloused fingers and pressed the start button.