[i]Business class,[/i] Morgan thought, [i]I wonder if she’ll ever realize that trains exist.[/i] Then again, she had to admit that putting the crew in a confined space with the general public had never worked out all that well. Maybe the idea of a plane wasn’t so bad. Closer quarters, but much less time spent there, and the endless droning of the engines might distract everyone enough to make the trip bearable. On the other hand, if something did happen…well, at least trains weren’t so high off the ground.

She shook her head and stood, watching the others do the same. Long practice had prepared her for trips like this - she had little to gather, and what she did have could wait a few minutes. Morgan’s eyes tracked Cassandra’s path out of the room, Malone following after a moment. Her loss and pain, bewilderment, her anger and need to do something, anything, even if it was to engage what were obviously a bunch of charlatans, were written in every stiff-legged step, every brittle movement past a piece of furniture. Morgan blew out a sigh - this woman had nothing to hide, and somehow that made everything that much worse.

Tragellan’s voice interrupted Morgan’s thoughts halfway out of her chair. She finished standing and turned, eyes carefully not meeting the other woman’s. Again, she couldn’t help but notice the spots of color on her cheeks, the way her pupils were open further than they should be, and even that awareness washed through Morgan in an almost dizzying wave. She closed her eyes, cleared her throat, and followed Kennedy around the table, moving soundlessly.

“You may wish to be careful with that kind of request,” Morgan said, coming close to Tragellan, “If she were…twisted far enough, what’s left of Ms. Holt may not be something whose attention you want.” She cleared her throat, took a long breath, “What can I do for you, Eleanor?”

Ellie nodded to Morgan and gestured Kennedy back. The medium gave her a confused look but stepped away from the older woman, leaving the two of them in at least the semblance of privacy.  Ellie’s eyes slid over Morgan and she struggled to bring herself to complete focus a slight shiver ran down her but then her body stilled. Holding up a slender hand she crooked a finger beckoning the younger woman close. Morgan smelled faintly of some exotic spice which could not be readily identified. It hung in the air like the whisper of a distant grove, familiar yet elusive.  Ellie forced her nostrils not to flare. Inside her pocket she traced a miniscule circle with her index finger and then released her will. Magic surged through her, the raw energy of creation channeled by human will into a useful form as around them a ward sprung up. The ward was one of a series of prepared spells which Ellie used without the need of lengthy incantations or rituals. It was a simple enough thing in all truth, it simply made Morgan and Ellie very uninteresting. In theory everyone in the room could see and hear them, but their conscious minds would dismiss the too women as unimportant resulting in practical invisibility and near perfect privacy.  It wasn’t necessarily that Ellie didn’t trust her team, but there were things that were dangerous to even think about if you didn’t take precautions.

“This cult you mentioned, it wasn’t…” she trailed of seeking a proper key word that they could both reference, “Not the Sleeping or the Black Pyramid?” The words themselves buzzed against her mental defences trying to sleep free into the magical ether.

“I don’t read any geas on the client, but do we need to take steps to protect the others?”

One of Morgan's dark eyebrows rose in a delicate arch, "Now that you mention it, they weren't all that far off. The Lachallan Society was something...different, though. More ambition than the former, more subtlety than the latter, but no less dangerous. [i]Something[/i] gave the Society...well, if not the same kind of power that the Pyramid had, the same depth." She sighed, "I would say that it's been so long since then, but what's time to an immortal, hm?"

Truth to tell, Morgan had no idea if she really was immortal. Time seemed to lay a light finger on her, if it touched her at all, and the face that looked back in the mirror was one that had remained substantially similar for almost a century. She had seen friends grow old and wither and pass, and each one had taken at least one secret with them beyond. Still, she had no answer to her own question.

"We'll want to do something for Malone," Morgan said after a moment, "Leon, too. If something grabbed him by the brain, he'd be dangerous. There's no sense in excluding the others, but I don't know how much time you want to spend enchanting earrings and pendants." 

She smirked, the faint tug of one side of her lips, "And what about you, Eleanor? You're distracted, yes? Exciting evening after the morgue?" She managed, with difficulty, to refrain from making an "[i]eros[/i] and [i]thanatos[/i]" quip, but she watched Tragellan carefully all the same.

One of Ellie’s sculpted eyebrows rose archly at that. Despite her best efforts a little colour crept into her cheeks. Morgan had a way of getting under her skin and in a way that was maddeningly difficult to define. 

“Oh you would be surprised,” Ellie said, keeping her tone deliberately amused and drawing a curtain over the matter.

“If this Cult worshiped or had some connection to the Elder Gods, that would explain some things. They always seem to survive, like cockroaches. I can probably handle things on the Thaumaturgical end. If we do end up needing talismans… well we can burn that bridge when we get to it.”

She quirked her little finger inside her pocket and shivered with faint pleasure as the ward she had so subtlety constructed faded to a prickly sensation in the back of her throat. Ellie glanced at the clock, mentally calculating how long it would take to reach the airport. Tempus Fugit and all that.