[hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/XiUHyUc.png[/img]     [img]https://i.imgur.com/K7gWNb1.png[/img]
[img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjk2LmE5YTlhOS5SWHB5WVNCV1lXNWlkWEpsYmcsLC4w/the-skytripe.regular.webp[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/jXKuaLI.png[/img]
[sub]With [@Atrophy][/sub][/center]
[right][code]November 1st, 1:03am
Anya’s Apartment -> Ezra’s Dream[/code][/right][hr]

It was past midnight by the time Anya got home - after a rather chaotic night, and ensuing time ensuring Sloane got home safely and didn’t choke in a puddle of her own vomit. It was late, but that didn’t bother Anya too much. For her, the night was only just starting. There was no point entering dreams too early and risking someone not being asleep yet. The item she’d given Ezra would induce dreams as soon as he was asleep but she couldn’t make assumptions that he was an early sleeper.

Past midnight was a safe bet.

After changing out of her still damp halloween outfit into a more comfortable jade turtleneck and loose, black dress pants, she pulled out her Channeller. The sleek, silver pen was held between delicate fingers and moved through the air to spell out the words: [i]Ezra Vanburen[/i].

It lit up a soft purple, a glow that soon surrounded Anya as she disappeared…

… and stepped out into Ezra’s dream.

Anya would find herself in a city not unlike St. Portwell, the geometry warped in subtle impossibilities, the windows of skyscrapers reflecting an ever shifting landscape. The streets were abandoned, the names on the signposts whirling gibberish that only stopped when stared at. A man in a suit, ill-fitting like that of a boy playing dress up with the sleeves drooping over his hands, walked the lonely roads, passing by corner stores and boutiques. The signs displayed no names, only ever changing numbers, a ticker tape of imaginary gains and losses. Mannequins were displayed not only in the window but behind the counters and perusing the shelves. Their heads turned ever so slightly as the man passed.

The sidewalk extended out beyond the horizon, the cityscape morphing into a marketplace. Tents and tables stretched to infinity. None of them displayed merch, only stacks upon stacks of dollar bills. The man paused to inspect the money as the shadow of a giant fell over the entire area, the shadow retreating as Ezra pulled his hand back from the cash. The bills began to get pulled away up to a swelling storm, drifting further and further out of reach, sweeping back towards the city. Ezra turned, following the trail slowly, the giant shadow just behind him, always upon his heels.

Keeping slightly out of sight, but not particularly concerned when it came to someone blind, Anya rolled her fountain pen between her fingers. It would be best to start with the most visible elements. She only planned to make a few changes - adding obvious objects that would be memorable and slightly out of place, and changing the environment to something distinctive. Those would be the best proof that her ‘dream manipulating box’ really worked. 

Of course it didn’t, but her magic was a perfectly good substitute until she could channel it into an object. 

She concentrated on their surroundings. Bring down the scale, bring them to a single room location. She manipulated the dream to create a bookcase in front of her first. A precaution when the space was going to be made smaller. Next, walls began to form - slowly from the ground up, shimmering along the top until they solidified. They were a muted teal in colour as they grew around them. To Anya, it was a slow and laborious process. To the blind, it wouldn’t be noticeable at all. But to those with Emotional-Fields? It would be obvious.

Anya was being more reckless than she normally would be. She was confident that Ezra was blind, and after such a tiring night she just wanted to get it over and done with. 

Ezra stopped his plodding to and fro as he found himself being boxed in. He looked around as if he were actually perceiving his environment for the first time instead of just absentmindedly drifting through it like a leaf in the breeze. His gaze stopped upon the bookshelf. He approached, picked a book from the shelf, and thumbed through its pages. He set the book back in the case, the sleeves on his suit shrinking to a more proper fit, turned to leave, and paused.

Slowly, he picked the book back up, the suit on his body no longer looking like that of a child wearing their father's but of a man who had spent too much money to have it perfectly tailored to fit his frame. His brow furrowed as he reread the page in front of him, the words unchanged from before and  tried to change them with his mind as he  focused on them, using an old trick of lucid dreamers to realize when they were lost in a dream or stuck in reality. The words remained the same. His lip twitched at the oddity as he went to put the book back and made direct eye contact with a pair of brown-green eyes observing him from behind the shelf.

[color=9966CC][i]Oh dear.[/i][/color] Anya's concentration faltered as she met Ezra's gaze, wall formation stopping just before the room was complete. It left them in an empty box of a room - no roof, just teal walls all around them, decorated with various art pieces and certificates. The outer dream was still visible through it, the shadow ever looming. 

After years spent walking in dreams, Anya could tell the difference between someone who saw her and someone who really [i]saw[/i] her. Ezra was the latter. Like a normal dreamer, he'd gone to leave the unremarkable bookcase. But he came back. Not only that, he picked back up the book. She could feel the subtle shift in the dream as he tried to change her creation. But something magically created couldn't be changed by mundane means. It wasn't a normal object in a dream anymore… which only made it clearer that she'd been caught.

No sense in hiding now.

[color=9966CC]”Well,”[/color] Anya said, lips pulling up into a diplomatic smile. She stepped out from behind the bookshelf, fountain pen carefully gripped in her fingers. While this was an unexpected development, she still had the upper hand. Dreams were her realm. [color=9966CC]”I suppose you didn't expect to see me here. I won't pretend I 'programmed' myself into your dream, as that's perhaps stranger than explaining the truth. But first…”[/color]

She trailed off, eyes narrowing in concentration. The fountain pen glowed softly and a comfortable, dark blue armchair began to form. After about thirty seconds it was complete, as if it was real and had always been there. Then, she created another identical armchair opposite it. The whole process was incredibly smooth, almost seamless. It seemed to take no effort on her part at all. 

[color=9966CC]”Take a seat,”[/color] Anya gestured with a smile, walking around to the further armchair and delicately sitting down on it. She crossed her legs, hands resting on them with her fountain pen lightly held beneath her fingers. Maybe she should have predicted this. If his vapid younger sister, Patricia, had an abstraction, why wouldn't he? But she had always got the impression from Patricia that it wasn't a common Vanburen trait. [color=9966CC]”So… you're an adept? Or, perhaps an Aberration?”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“Is that what we’re calling investors these days,”[/color] said Ezra, avoiding the question. He took the seat offered to him, running his hand across the fabric first as if to verify that it was tangible. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and studied Anya with a look that hinted more at curiosity than suspicion. His eyes lingered on her fountain pen. [color=darkgray]“Truth be told, I didn’t expect to see anything here tonight.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“I checked your dream box after we spoke. I may not look the part, but I have some technological expertise. I was impressed by the circuitry involved. None of it actually did anything but control the LEDs on the outside of the box, but it was nice to see someone put in the effort to make a dud that at the very least looked convincing. I imagine my intelligence would've felt more insulted if that hadn't been the case.”[/color]

Ezra had checked for other things: trackers, listening devices, etcetera. By the time he was done there were no secrets left undiscovered inside of that little black box. There was no need to give Anya any additional information now that she had shown herself to be dishonest. Yet she could've tried to play herself off as part of the dream but didn't. It was intriguing. She was acting like she held all the cards. Perhaps she did. He leaned back in his chair as if the prospect of not being the one in control was relaxing to him.

[color=darkgray]“So, your con is spoiled. Now what?”[/color] asked Ezra. He looked around at the sterile environment Anya had created for them. [color=darkgray]“If you’re trapping me in a dream world the least you could do is provide some drinks and a little entertainment.”[/color]

[color=9966CC]”I'm not trapping you anywhere,”[/color] Anya smiled, one slender finger tapping her fountain pen. With a soft glow a dark, oak coffee table appeared between them. [color=9966CC]”This is [I]your[/I] dream. You can leave anytime you want. All you need to do is wake up. So, tea? Coffee? Or something stronger?”[/color]

As she asked, she created an intricately designed pot of tea and two china cups. Another thought, and it was filled with warm liquid. Of course, she could change it to whatever she wanted without having to change the teapot exterior. [color=9966CC]”It won't affect you when you wake up, but it tastes like the real thing. If you want anymore changes, just ask. But anything larger will take time, and I'm sure you want to get straight to the point.”[/color]

[color=9966CC]”I wouldn't call this a con. Merely a twisting of the truth. Yes, the circuitry only controls the LEDs. That doesn't mean it's all the box does. The box is just a vessel, in a form best suited to the buyer. For you, it was a technological explanation. Of course, your expertise was an oversight on my part. But for others, it's crystals, or a charm. The explanation I gave you about generating signals to manipulate the brain's electrical impulses is entirely sound, in theory. Sadly, it's not possible with current technology. But, the box didn't do nothing. It ensured you dream tonight, allowing me to do this,”[/color] she gestured to the room around them. Of course, it wasn't very impressive yet, but she'd only had a short period of time to work on it. Give her an hour and the dream would look truly impressive. [color=9966CC]”One day, it will be able to do that in my place. But you wouldn't find that with your technological expertise, as it's not the circuitry. It's [i][b]magic[/b][/I].”[/color]

She let the word hang in the air for a moment. Her posture was completely relaxed, smile never once leaving her lips. If Ezra didn't see the value in a magic based business, and still viewed her as a fraud, that was fine. She would continue as she had been. And while she knew that he could hurt her in this dream if he truly wanted to, the reverse was true. And it was much easier for her to leave. [color=9966CC]”You may view our earlier conversation as dishonesty, but I view it as a way to explain the inexplicable.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“I see. I presented myself as a skeptic so you appealed to rationality instead of attempting to convince me of something others would consider a fantasy. Sounds like you already know how to target your audience and adjust accordingly,”[/color] said Ezra. He hardly reacted to Anya’s assertion that she was using magic, but it was clear that he seemed aware of its existence. He was handling everything too calmly for his reaction to mean anything else. [color=darkgray]“Well, I am dreaming, and you are manipulating it, so I suppose it was unfair of me to accuse you of being a charlatan. I apologize for that.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“But anyway, if you’re offering something stronger without the hangover then I’ll take a scotch,”[/color] said Ezra, watching for the flick of the pen and the shifting of the drink tray before pouring both himself and Anya a finger of scotch. He handed Anya the glass and sat back in his seat, swirling the brown liquid but refusing to take a drink.

[color=darkgray]“You’re an oddity. A curiosity. I’d be lying if I said you weren’t the first person who tried to sell me with magic, but you are the first person to drop the smoke and mirrors once I wised up to the act without having to be asked which means you’re smart and not here to waste my time. Your shit works and you’ve found a way to make it appeal to both the whackos who speak with trees and waste their salary on rocks and the regular, everyday people with their mediocre careers and boring children.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“But is this it? Adjusting the world of the dream and imagining up a drink?”[/color] asked Ezra, finally taking a sip of his scotch. His eyes lit up and he took another sip. [color=darkgray]“...Up a damn fine drink. Macallan 18? Good pick, really good pick. But I digress. One day you’d be able to get the box to do all of this on its own, but right now it’s all you. Typical corporate bullshit would be to  say something like ‘I’m not investing in a business, I’m investing in you’, but that actually feels like it is the case this time. So…”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“What else can you do when you’re in here?”[/color]

Anya raised her own glass to her lips, carefully taking a sip in a way that would preserve her soft brown lipstick. [color=9966CC]”You're correct. The business is nothing without me - no one else can manipulate dreams like me, and certainly can't do that and infuse the same power into an object. I'm confident enough in my magic to have no reason to hide it. It's been honed for many years, and is what my whole business was built around. It only remains hidden because the world of magic isn't one the mundane are privy to.”[/color] 

[color=9966CC]”Manipulating dreams is only one aspect of my abilities - and while it can certainly be more impressive than a slight shift in scenery and drink creation, it isn't everything. For a start, I'm physically in this dream.”[/color] Anya took another sip of the drink, her smile widening. [color=9966CC]”There are a few benefits to this. One, I can directly interact with it. Two, I can directly interact with you- or any other person's dream I'm in. I don't mean like we are right now. If I was to, say, create a knife and then cut you with it, you would expect to wake up without a wound, correct? It takes a certain spell and effort, but it's possible. Beyond this, I can even allow the dream itself to hurt whoever's in it. Quite useful, if not so marketable.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“Perhaps not to the mainstream, anyway,”[/color] offered Ezra with a smirk.

She finished the Scotch in her glass and put it down, while placing her fountain pen on the table beside it. Closer to her than him, but no longer in her hands. [color=9966CC]”I won't demonstrate, unless you're desperate for proof. Along with this, and perhaps more interestingly, I can weave subliminal messages into dreams. Perhaps suggestion is more of an apt word. These suggestions are then followed upon waking up. It can be as simple as making them return to my shop or making them wake up feeling more content. With enough time, I can create more intricate suggestions. It's a direct, but subtle and traceless, manipulation of the person whose dream I'm in.”[/color]

Ezra finished his own drink and moved to refill both of their glasses. His mind was churning, coming up with all the possibilities someone like her was capable of performing. His entire life he had been surrounded by mediocrity—from siblings who did nothing but disappoint to business partners who could barely stand on their own two feet or even inventions that over-promised and under-delivered. He had spent years cultivating a reputation for himself of carrying on his father’s legacy by pulling the downtrodden out of the muck and giving chances to businesses and people that others turned a blind eye towards. They said everything he touched turned to gold.

And it did.

Only, unlike his father he didn’t do it because of some magnanimity. He didn’t do it because he cared about the local economy or doing the right thing or helping out his fellow man or jerking off his own ego. Ezra only invested in startups and struggling businesses because he couldn’t stand seeing the sight of silver when he knew it could be gold. He had no time for incompetence, and by finding a way to eradicate such a headache it had made the rich man even richer. However, as Anya spoke of the things she could do, of the subtle manipulations or the cerebral assassinations, she had taken on a sort of shine. In a world where some people were bronze or silver but a vast majority of the population were plastic mass produced participation trophies, Anya was 24 karat. 

But even that could be polished to a perfection, and that was where someone like Ezra would come in. 

[color=darkgray]“Well, I do hope for the sake of our future business endeavors that you trust in your ability to convince me through conversation instead of manipulation. Being open and honest with your partner is the best way to be successful, be it in business or otherwise. Then again, if what you say is true, how would I ever know?”[/color] suggested Ezra with a shrug. It didn’t really matter as long as money was being made, although he made a note to return the dream box the next time they met in the physical world. [color=darkgray]“All of this has been rather intriguing. It seems I’d be an idiot not to do business with you. Really, from where I’m sitting I only see one problem…”[/color]

Ezra took a sip of his scotch and huffed, shaking his head in mild disappointment.

[color=darkgray]“I don’t do small term investments. Sorry, the box wasn’t the only thing I checked out,”[/color] said Ezra. He had made a few phone calls after disassembling and rebuilding the dream box. It was amazing the kind of information one could find out about a person when their resources were essentially unlimited. [color=darkgray]“Now. Why would a person want someone like you dead?”[/color]

[color=9966CC]”Unfortunately, I don't have a definitive answer to that.”[/color]

Anya was clearly unbothered by Ezra digging up information about her. She wasn't surprised about it. She wasn't all that worried, either. Her main 'secret' was the magical foundation of her business, and that had already been discovered. She was, however, surprised he was able to get information about their current killer. If he could get that information, it was likely he could find out about almost anything. It would be best to be honest, as he'd suggested, from here. Of course honesty was just another tool for her. Getting caught in a lie would be much more detrimental when she'd already convinced him of her brilliance. If the only remaining concern was her would be killer, this should be easy. She didn't plan to die. She had clearly already won him over, she just needed to convince him that she wasn't going to drop dead within months.

[color=9966CC]”I don't know how much information you uncovered about me, so I apologise if you know this already. Ten years ago I was part of a group- a coven- that fought and defeated the Stygian Snake, which caused the disaster in the city. There were at least a hundred of us, with an unfortunate lack of criteria over who could join. Even one of your sisters was involved."[/color]

Anya watched him carefully as she dropped this piece of information. Ezra’s eyes scrunched ever so slightly at the mention of one of his sisters. He was able to resist the urge to correct Anya: he didn’t have any sisters, only half-sisters. He began putting together a timeline in his head of who the culprit might be but then pushed it to the side, setting it atop a mental to-do list that towered and wobbled. Anya continued, [color=9966CC]"Now, after ten years, someone is killing the remaining members. The only definite reason is my part in the coven. We can form conjectures, such as it being a leftover follower of the Stygian Snake or a bitter ex-covenmate, but not conclusions.”[/color]

[color=9966CC]”I'm doing everything I can to ensure my survival, however it's rather difficult when surrounded by incompetence. The coven has reformed to deal with the problem, yet all they do is bicker and cause more issues. The few of us who try to be the voice of reason are already disliked by the less intelligent majority. All that has been suggested is an impractical 'buddy system'. Then, there's the government agent. The PRA- I'm sure you've heard of them.”[/color] Anya was unable to school her expression when she mentioned them, grimacing. She finally reached for her refilled glass and took another sip. She needed it just to mention them. But if this worked out, she wouldn't have to talk to them ever again. [color=9966CC]”Not only are they incompetent, but they actively abuse their power. They pushed us onto a trainee agent, who doesn’t appear to have a brain, rather than offering proper aid to catch a murderer who killed one of their own.”[/color]

She smiled at Ezra over her glass, taking another sip. [color=9966CC]”This may sound like complaining, but it is to ensure you have the full picture, in the spirit of being open and honest. There is one key conclusion that can be drawn from the information I have so far. Everyone killed was alone. I'm safe when with someone else, doubly so when it's not a coven member, and when I'm in a dream. Unfortunately I can only rely on fellow coven members for the former - with the only two I can really rely on being just as busy as I am. There is an easy solution. Money can buy many forms of protection, after all.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“And without it you’re as good as dead. It is the unfortunate reality of this country,”[/color] said Ezra, seemingly undisturbed by the idea. Another unfortunate reality was that money left a paper trail. There was always a certain, often manageable risk when getting involved in business with someone, but when that someone was potentially going to show up dead on the eleven o’clock news that risk suddenly became a different kind of migraine. A partnership with her had appealing potential, but Ezra wore too nice of shoes to step from the paved path before him and go traipsing through the woods. 

Still…

He smirked and shook his head, chuckling to himself.  [color=darkgray]“You know, I just realized something. You saved this city from disaster, but my family swooped in, gave away less than a percent of a percent, and claimed all of the praise, admiration, and benefits that come from being a quote-unquote hero.”[/color]

Ezra rolled his eyes, remembering the teary-eye speech given by the then Mayor of St. Portwell about his father, even though all his dad had done was sign the check. Ezra had dealt with all the annoying frustrations that always turned up when working with the public. Ezra had actively lost brain cells by hosting charity dinners with his half-sister and schmoozing with wealthy pricks. Ezra had to live with the fact that every time he drove past James Vanburen Blvd he had to fight the urge to roll down his window and scream at nobody that they had put the wrong first name on the sign. Still, when he had returned to St. Portwell every door still opened up for him as if Ezra had inherited the key to the city from James when he had passed. 

[color=darkgray]“As tempting as it is, I can’t invest in your business,”[/color] said Ezra. It was simple, cold logic. The risk was obviously too high. If Anya died there wasn’t any way to proceed forward with the product; she was the good. He took a sip from his scotch, letting the bad news fester as it lingered in the air. He stood up as if the conversation was over. 

And then, [color=darkgray]“But—”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“But my family does owe you. I can’t give you the money for your business right now. With what’s going on in your world it would simply be an awful idea. However, what I can offer is the opportunity to put yourself into a position where your dream can one day be realized. Money can buy many forms of protection, but magic is the only way to get the best kind. I’ll assign a security team to monitor and protect you. Unless someone threatens your life you won’t even realize they’re there. In turn, all I ask is that while under my protection you don’t sign any contracts with other investors without consulting me first. Once your future has become less mercurial we can get into the nitty gritty, put together a proper contract, and focus fully on expanding your business into an empire.” [/color]

[color=darkgray]“In the meantime, I could use some assistance with finding a way of [i]suggesting[/i] to a few bullheaded peers of mine to pull their heads out of their asses. Consider it a trial run for our future partnership. Obviously, you would be greatly compensated for your time. Some of them are quite unbearable,”[/color] said Ezra, grimacing before his face softened into a sly smile as he extended a hand down to Anya. [color=darkgray]“What do you say? Do we have a deal?”[/color]

Anya raised an eyebrow when Ezra said he couldn't invest in her business, but otherwise showed no external negative reaction. Her smile didn't even waver. It was a disappointment, but an understandable decision. Anya was someone who worked off logic herself, and investing in a business that would crumble under a single man's knife wasn't a logical decision. Unfortunate, but understandable. It didn't ruin her plans. She reached out to pick up her fountain pen as Ezra stood, just holding it in one hand. As a sign of no hard feelings, she would at least offer to adjust the dream to-

Oh. Anya's smile widened and turned more genuine, eyes warming a tad with it. It was a very good offer. She was patient, and her current plans didn't involve looking for other investors until she could infuse objects with a stronger form of dream manipulation. Talking to Ezra had been a chance she'd taken because an investment from someone so successful wasn't something she could let slip away. But it turned out to be very beneficial. Her largest problem right now was the threat of death looming over her head. A personal, magical security team would greatly reduce that risk. 

[color=9966CC]”Those are terms that I can easily agree to. A hidden security team will take care of my most pressing concern, so I don't have to consider sidelining my own business and magical development in favour of ensuring my safety. By the time it's safe enough to invest, I'm confident it will- I will- be even more worth it.”[/color] Anya shook his hand with a smile of her own, hints of smugness in its depths. [color=9966CC]”We have a deal.”[/color]

She stood, smoothing out imperceptible creases in her loose trousers. Rolling her fountain pen between her fingers, she took a moment to properly consider the assistance he'd requested now that she'd agreed to it. Temporarily dealing with unbearable people was a small price to pay for no longer needing to deal with the most unbearable person she'd ever met. [color=9966CC]”You will need to introduce me to those peers of yours in the real world before I can enter their dreams. An unfortunate limitation, but thankfully one meeting will be enough to gain me unlimited access. Knowing if they have magic or not before I enter their dreams will aid me in avoiding a... situation like this. Otherwise, it's something I can easily assist with.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“The necessary precautions will be taken to make sure you aren’t caught with your hand in the cookie jar again. Otherwise, I can’t imagine that getting you in the door will be a problem at all,”[/color] said Ezra with a nod. [color=darkgray]“ In the morning I’ll make arrangements with the security team. After that I’ll have my secretary contact you the next time I am scheduled to meet with one of these peers so we can introduce you.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“Until then, I don’t see why I should keep you around here for the rest of the night. Thank you, Anya. This has been the most productive night of sleep I’ve ever had,”[/color] he said. Ezra grabbed the bottle of scotch, poured himself a nearly full glass, and flopped down in his seat. He paused right before he took a sip and added, [color=darkgray]“Out of curiosity, which of my half-sisters was in your coven?”[/color]

Anya smiled, before she dropped the bombshell. [color=9966CC]”Ah, unfortunately, it was Patricia."[/color]

Abruptly, Ezra Vanburen vanished from his chair and the dream world collapsed. Elsewhere, in a penthouse apartment in the heart of St. Portwell a man shot up in bed, heart racing, chest heaving. He wiped sweat away from his forehead and fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, bright light piercing through the darkness of the room. Well that might’ve been the worst news he had ever heard. The woman laying beside him groaned and shifted in the sheets as Ezra pulled himself out of bed.

“What’s wrong?” she said, barely awake. “You have a nightmare?”

[color=darkgray]“Yeah I guess you could say that,”[/color] said Ezra, tightening a silk robe around his waist. He stared at the black box on his nightstand. [color=darkgray]“Go back to sleep. I’ve got to make some calls.”[/color]
[hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/XiUHyUc.png[/img]     [img]https://i.imgur.com/K7gWNb1.png[/img] [/center]
[right]Interactions: Auri (& Trevor via blocking) [@Punished GN], Everyone Present
[code]Kari Wilson’s House[/code][/right][hr]
Another night, another dream that wasn’t her own to end it. When Anya woke up she made sure to write down every detail of it. Not because she was worried about forgetting it, but rather than she might mix it up with her own mundane dreams or the ones she visited. Unlikely, but possible.

Aside from the dream and all of its implications, which she’d discuss with Sloane and possibly Jack when she got a chance, Anya was relatively relaxed going into the meeting. It was like there was a weight off her shoulders. There was one thing she didn’t have to worry about again. Something that was draining her, and even pushing her dreams towards nightmares. It was finally sorted.

She’d blocked Trevor. 

Thanks to her agreement with Ezra, she had no need for the security (or lack of it) that the PRA provided. There was no reason to suffer through Trevor again. She trusted Ezra’s business sense and that his resources would keep her alive. She was valuable, after all. If Sloane or Jack asked why she’d cut off the contact, she’d just say she couldn’t handle it anymore. Hopefully Trevor would get the hint and not get a new number to contact her on. 

Anya arrived just as Auri shared Lyss' death with the group. Unfortunate but not unexpected. The most unfortunate part was how useful her abstraction would be in the current situation. Was Father Wolf killing them in a specific order to prevent them from finding out who he was? 

Shaking her head, Anya made her way towards Sloane - who Anya could find no matter how much she tried to blend in with the equally expressionless wood - and the front door of the house. She wasn't sure what Sloane was doing, but it likely wasn't anything stupid… unlike these other morons that formed the coven. A subtle way to get in, perhaps. She would leave her to do it in peace. Anya's gaze shifted to the other members as she turned on the stairs leading up the house, leaning against the bannister. 

Three of the four jock squad members had gathered, and Drake had even brought roses. Was he already moving on? With someone here? When he hadn't apologised to Sloane yet? Disgraceful. Luca and his trio of friends were still alive, it seemed, after the part during the Halloween festival. Linqian just had to be the loudest person around, and Anya honestly couldn't care less if she was going to beat someone up as long as it wasn't in their presence.

Though, the person in question turned it into some kind of strange friendship ritual. Aryin. That was someone Anya hadn't expected to come back. There were a few new faces.

Ken was a pleasant surprise. One of the few sensible and useful members of the coven remaining. Perhaps it would help balance things out a little. Unlikely, but possible. Amara… well, it could go either way with her.

Anya just observed, rather than contributing. She no longer felt she had as much skin in the game - after all, she was no longer as much at risk. The only reason she was still attending was to get rid of the threat so she could get that promised investment, and because not coming would be quite difficult to explain to Sloane. She wasn't quite willing to ruin that friendship over a small effort on her part.

But she was already deciding what to say when everyone else quietened down. There were questions to ask Auri, to undermine her leadership. An opinion on the lack of respect in breaking and entering to be aired-
[h3][b]BANG![/b][/h3]
Anya flinched, spinning around on her heel to stare at Sloane and the now open door. A delicate hand raised to her forehead while the other let go its vice grip of her channeller. It was an efficient way to get inside, but certainly not a subtle one when Ken had already offered to find the spare key. What was another few minutes? Anya forcefully held back her thoughts and the disapproval she wanted to share. If she and Sloane didn't show a united front, it would be all too easy for the rest of the coven to pick them apart. While Anya didn’t care for their opinions at all, it was irritating to deal with. She just [I]wished[/I] Sloane had stopped to think for a moment about the consequences of breaking into a dead coven member's house, in front of people who had clearly cared for her.

Ah well. She would run damage control again.

[color=9966CC]”I suppose we should get started,”[/color] Anya smiled, following close behind Sloane and stepping into the door. However she paused on the threshold, facing the group below. [color=9966CC]”I'm sure you all agree we have no time to waste after losing another member. Lyss would want us to use her lead to find her murderer and stop more tragic deaths. Every second we waste is a second Father Wolf is using against us. And these deaths are taking quite the toll on us all.”[/color]

Anya's smile grew somewhat sad, and she glanced over her back at Sloane. The implication was clear - Sloane was acting the way she was because she wanted to keep everyone alive, and was upset about losing someone else. She continued to talk as if she was just making suggestions, rather than subtly undermining Auri’s authority. [color=9966CC]”We should split into smaller groups to look around, it will be much more efficient that way. What exactly are we looking for, Auri. Any ideas? Perhaps a handy, ordered list of all of Father Wolf’s victims?”[/color]