ERode

Iris Ascendis

_{@Nanaya@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@AThousandCurses}

Otis’s eye twitched at that unnecessary bit of wordplay.

But the Strigidae kept his thoughts to himself as he lowered Ciara on one of the beds. Here, at least, there were no longer any mannekins to be concerned about, so he removed the blanket from the shadow-witch and moved towards the cabinets to pull out a few healing potions off the shelves. One he passed to Iraleth, the elven paladin somehow still moving and conscious despite her stony silence. The other he uncorked for Ciara, propping her up against the frame of the bed before tilting it gradually into her mouth.

Then, because he was economical and because he doubted Kann would care in such circumstances, Otis pocketed the empty vial, found a chair to drape his fur-lined jacket over, and then sent a message to the undermage’s Adapa:

Ciara Ventura is currently in the clinic, receiving treatment. She is immobilized and relatively calm. This would be a good time to reset dialogue and call off the emergency.

A nice, quick, clandestinely sent message, before the Strigidae turned to Doctor Kann once more, his amber eyes unclouded, perhaps even bearing a spark of curiosity.

“I’m good with my hands, Doctor. Put me to work.”

Magic in the Park

I look away for a second and half y'all have posted

@Asuras

Magic in the Park

Amaya nodded at his question.

“Yeah, I can’t.”

Hadn’t been home for a long while. At this point, it’d be more trouble if she returned than if she simply continued to maintain radio silence. Couriers like herself didn’t have the same sort of enemies that a House member would have, but she’d definitely find it harder to keep those around her safe than a House with all their resources and people would.

That wasn’t to say that they were impenetrable though. Even the finest clothes frayed, and most Houses were unkempt antiques whose value came more from age than from quality.

“Call me Amaya,” the raven-haired woman spoke, in time with the beeping of her kettle. As the water boiled, she pulled out a pack of Mountain House Teriyaki Chicken and an aluminum mug, blue with white specks. A bag of tea was dropped in the mug and hot water was poured, before she torn open the dehydrated meal and filled that up to the line as well. A puff of teriyaki powder bloomed in the air; she waved it aside before stirring the bagged meal with a spork, then sealed it up. Roland seemed the decent sort. Some smokers seemed to delight in tipping their ashes wherever they wanted, like marking their territory. Some residents of the Dark City liked to posture and jockey for authority, every line designed to scrape out more information or win some invisible social war.

Mere creatures, granted power they used without thought or purpose.

The door rattled. Her eyes lifted towards the windows, translucent slits evolving with every raindrop that cascaded against it.

“Did they follow you?”

Amaya dabbed the teabag around the mug, steam bursting apart as the surface rippled without rhyme.

“Did they follow me?”

She lifted the mug to her mouth, blowing upon it before taking a tentative sip. A wince, and she placed it down. Her tongue stuck out as she fanned it. Too hot still.

“Or are they the one who’s followed?”

Turning on the bar stool, she faced the door entirely, yellow eyes gleaming in the dim lighting of the warehouse. There were more dangerous things than non-dangerous things in the Dark City, more villains than innocents stalking the umbra of the Realspace. Didn’t mean that she had to be the one who pulled the trigger first though.

There was a door, after all. Maybe they’d just leave.

Iris Ascendis

If anyone can handle this, I Kann!"

It's on sight.

Magic in the Park

Always a good sign when the RP starts and people are eager to post ye.

Iris Ascendis

Aaaaand muscled that post out.

Iris Ascendis

_{@Nanaya@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@AThousandCurses}

Otis looked down at Ciara, his amber eyes reflecting no guilt or glee.

“I gave you a potion, which you drank.”

Regardless of the situation, it was the guards in the Iris Record whose emotions burned the highest now. Iraleth was too burnt out, Chunji seemed completely unaware or uninterested in treating Ciara as a threat, and the undermage was still locked in combat with the second Umbralist. Bending down, the Strigidae hauled Ciara back up onto her feet, awkwardly hefting her over his back and shoulders, before trudging into the Door.

The galactic laboratory awaited him, but it was only a detour, for the Door on the opposite side of the universe was already cracked open. A one-way ‘mirror’ revealed the state of emergency in the only clinic that he was aware of. Students flocked together for security, skittish eyes reflecting none of the claimed heroism that had gotten them a spot in Wingram Academy. Mannekins of all positions were unified in a singular, lethal purpose, Rekordian longguns loaded and ready, their inhuman poise the only thing that gave them greater qualifications than regular guards. He considered the situation with the World Between Doors, then manifested a simple essence-shielding cloak into existence, draping it over the paralyzed shadow-witch.

Otis had taken apart those mannekins just a day before, after all. He knew what they were made of, which mechanisms they used to tell students apart. Simply scrambling the base essence that constructed a regular mortal would do enough to mess with their identification protocols. And for humans? Well…

He glanced towards the others. Considered whether it’d be better to strand Iraleth in here, because the paladin no doubt still wanted Ciara’s blood after all this. They may have fought a real Umbralist together, but that didn’t change the permanent damage that was done, the perverse act of essence-draining applied.

“Play nice, would you?”

And thus, the Door opened.

…

A group of haggard students, most of them bloodied and on the verge of rebound, stumbled into the clinic, the galactic void seen behind them the sign of someone’s Ethos. The one on the forefront, a Strigidae who carried a blanketed girl on his shoulders, called out to the receptionist, his voice the emotionless affect of someone clearly in shock.

“My friends were attacked by the Umbralist in the tower.” he spoke. “First aid was done, but one of them needs more medical attention, and the others need a room to rest in. Which rooms are open?”

The mannekins had yet to stir, their gaze seeming to recognize only Otis and the indistinct ‘lump’ of human essence on his back. Good, but he’d rather Ciara not remain long in the lobby, in public view. And it was true that Davil would die even with the best first aid in the world, so long as first aid was all he received.

Then, another thought crossed his mind.

Was Chloe still in the clinic, or had she already been sent back to the dorms?

Magic in the Park

Aaaand a quick post out.

Magic in the Park

“Evening.”

Her response was curt, but not hostile. It was a good thing that the older man had announced his arrival with the rattling of his keys; from experience, Amaya had little trust to spare for those who habitually silenced their movements.

She stepped into the safehouse, shaking the rain off her jacket at the entrance. Concrete flooring. No need to kick off her boots then. Her gaze swept across the dimly lit environment, marking shuttered windows and exits. Expert couriers would have memorized the layouts of their safehouses by now, but Amaya preferred to treat every environment as if it were the first time. The cost of complacency was hefty, after all. The woman strode for the bar, ducking her head beneath the table in search of an outlet.

There.

Her duffel bag, a thrift shop steal for how long it had stuck with her, was swung up top of the counter. She unzipped it, pulling out a small electric kettle and a two-liter jug of water, plugged the appliance in, and boiled the first pot of water for the night. Blue light shone from within the glass, gradually transitioning to purple, then red, as the temperature climbed and the water boiled. Rainy nights called for hot food, and even freelancers of the Dark Sphere weren’t so hard-boiled as to eschew all human comforts. Though there were types out there. A flicker of a memory, of that dumpster-dwelling girl who turned out to having been the heiress of some big House.

Amaya lifted her hand up, refusing the offered cigarette. “No, thank you. Here for a property inspection?”

Rare to speak to the landlord-types, certainly, but she wasn’t against it. It’d take a while longer for the water to boil, and then another five minutes for her food to rehydrate. Plenty of time to decide whether to stay the night or to find a bridge.

Iris Ascendis

Could you give me a quick paragraph or two regarding the situation at the hospital? Is it also on high alert, or is all the chaos contained within the Tower?

Thinking of just yeeting the peeps there in my coming post.