Derren Krenshaw

Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

Takahiro woke up sometime later, comfortably positioned upon the seat where Galina had left him.

It was a... conflicted feeling.

His first act was one of confirmation, rising to his feet and quickly scanning the room for the false wall his contact had mentioned. It was found easily enough, the safe behind opened easily enough, and then closed and concealed soon after, as it was seen the contents had already been taken. Of course they had, but who would he be if he didn't check, at least?

There was nothing else of use in the room either, and no information that might point to anything else within the estate. Complete failure, all objectives left unmet. Nothing left to do then but damage control.

Takahiro slipped down to the second floor a minute after watching a servant saunter past the stairs, moving slowly -if gracefully- down to the main floor sometime later. All smiles and gallantry, he worked his way back into the crowd, trading pleasantries with knowns and greeting unknowns, the perfect picture of a samurai within western culture. He asked only what was polite, spoke only with respect and flattery, and left those he spoke with charmed and smiling until it was finally time to leave. And those few who had seen him with a young lady before, who had an inkling of who it was? Well, no one noticed if their conversation happened to last slightly longer than the rest, or cover almost improper subjects...

He moved out with the crowd, falling towards the back on account of his limp. Thanks were given to the Winchesters as he left for their splendid party, and received in turn for his given gift. It was a late night when his coach pulled up for him once more, full moon hanging high above, just visible past the lights still glowing all around. But the man who opened the door to admit Takahiro into his ride showed not a hint of the time. Slender and cleanshaven down to a seemingly-polished crown, his smile was wide and voice eager as he greeted his lord.

"Konbanwa, Takahiro-san."

"Goemon." Takahiro nodded slightly to the man, seating himself within the coach as Goemon moved to sit opposite. They set off at a leisurely pace, enjoying the night around them, moving steadily away from the Winchester lights and leaving crowds.

[["A good night, boss?"]]Goemon broke the silence tentatively, as all other sounds died away. [["Were you successful?"]]

[["No."]] Takahiro's shaking head started a look of growing shock upon his underling's face, though he remained silent for the moment. [["Someone beat me there- a Russian."]]

[["Russian!? They're after- and they got the documents?"]]

Before him, Goemon stuttered with too-wide eyes, the unthinkable having occurred before him. Takahiro Souma, son of Takahiro Masaru, who had convinced the nobles to elevate him to the Samurai class and embark on a journey to the Americas, was admitting defeat.

And was doing so, while smiling.

[["They did,"]] Takahiro's voice dropped low, then, vowels rolling across his tongue in savory tones as his smile only grew. [["But it's okay. Because we're going to use them to kidnap an engineer for us to deport."]]

[["Kidnap a- how?"]]

Takahiro allowed himself a moment to remember all that had happened that night. The fortuitous meeting of a lovely young lady, their wonderful conversations despite their apparent lack of fluency, and their travels throughout the Winchester mansion. He recalled her grace, her laughter, the look as she eyed the paintings and architecture they passed by... and her voice, as she read him into a drugged sleep, lying cushioned upon her lap.

Something gleamed within his eyes as the moment ended, something that caused Goemon to shrink back against the side of the coach.

[["We're going to find a Baronessa Galina Demidova."]]

On Winding Roads (Lillian & Derren )

A ghost of a smile danced over Alexi's lips at the sight of Katherine's own grin, vanishing swiftly as she turned her attention back towards him. He took the opportunity to pull one of the remaining pieces of bread from between them, fingers tapping idly upon it's sides as he took a moment to ponder the proper response to her question.

"Security would be one reason, I suppose." He managed to keep himself from shrugging along with the statement. Confidence was necessary, not indifference. "I'm heading to Avantshire to complete a commission, and while caravans stress security and safety for all who travel with them... many people mean many more ways for things to go wrong. That's also one reason why I didn't hire a courier."

He also wasn't quite finished with the translation of the documents, but Alexi didn't feel like he should start talking about the papers in question here. Public locations -no matter how upstanding- were rife with wandering ears, and only Katherine was the one who needed to know the details of his trip. The documents weren't the same as spices or gold, but could still be valuable if one knew how to pawn it off. It's loss or destruction would also mean the loss of trust Alexi had managed to build up over the years, effectively destroying any possibility of continuing his work as a scribe.

And the loss of that shelter was not one he could easily overcome.

"The other reason is that, after my business in Avantshire is completed, I hope to continue travelling." The smell of the bread in his hands was enticing, but he resisted taking a bite for now. Katherine's question still needed to be answered in full. "There are a number of small villages between there and the southern sands that caravans almost never reach. I hope to travel among them for as long as I am able, after my commission."

The smell was too much. Having felt he had said enough to answer her question, Alexi chose to finally allow himself the bread held in his hands. It proved a balm to his otherwise-empty stomach, richer than his recent fare and leaving his mouth watering for more. He polished off the piece he had taken with quick, neat bites, resisting for now the urge to take another, but eyeing it about as often as he matched Katherine's gaze.

The stomach was a terrible thing to try and compete against, despite current importance. But their meals should not be too long off... and if they were, then the bread would still be there to help.

Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

He didn't catch on nearly fast enough.

Galina's demeanor changed as his mind fogged over, shattering the facade he had fallen for so completely. Her words lilted with confident fluency into his hears as she maneuvered him down upon the nearby loveseat, far more easily than she should have. She was taunting him, really, positioning him as if a lover seeking brief respite, offering to lull him away with sweet words sung through her voice. This room had been her goal all along, it was clear now, the only obstacle left now lying pillowed on her lap.

And he couldn't do a thing about it.

Takahiro fought the drug as much as he could, but time only proved the futility of that action. It acted quickly, even in such a small dose, empty stomach only accelerating the process and making it easier for Galina to manipulate him further. His body felt sluggish, weak, off-balance, while Galina only seemed more sure and graceful with each passing moment.

He couldn't make a move now, not anymore.

Even if he tried, even if he forced the drug away with every ounce of willpower he could muster, he'd fail in the end. She was aiming for the same treasure he had been, that was painfully apparent now. Woman or not, fighter or not, he couldn't take on someone who had been prepared to do what she must to succeed, not when he was like this.

So Takahiro surrendered to Galina's ministrations, allowed her to position him just so, consciousness slowly fading as she began to read. He had lost, tonight, defeated by the kindness he had shown her before, by his reluctance to drag her into what he planned to do. She would take the contents of the safe, almost certainly, and he would wake to find her gone, with enough time to reappear amongst the crowd and continue the performance he had begun not so long ago. It wasn't all bad, actually. She made no sign of knowing he had held the same goal, his own mask retained while hers was cast aside.

The thought almost brought a smile to his lips, last wisps of will managing to hold it back at the very end. She had won this time, but he hadn't quite lost. The advantage was no his, only needing the opportunity to take it, later down the line.

One thing was certain, as Takahiro faded into sleep, he would not be forgetting anything that had happened this night.

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Semyon had watched the young woman's scrying with only mild interest, still wondering if trying to kill a beast like Fenrir was the only option. He pain only minor attention to Tamarind's introductions for the sake of Gabriel, as it seemed she needed no assistance.

He did turn to pay greater attention, when Tamarind mentioned the Young Reaper's name, and again when she mentioned the young scrying woman.

Semyon then spun on his heel, and paid quite a bit more attention to the sudden appearance of an absurdly monstrous, towering furred form. It stood there, unmoving within a moment of absolute silence, a single thought rising in the Wight's mind.

Dead. He was about to be very, very dead.

"SEMYON!"

The cry snapped the old soldier's mind back into focus, body moving before his thoughts had the chance to catch up. He was beside Tamarind before the last word of her call had faded. One hand held out his Stetchkin and a pair of spare magazines for her to take, eyes focusing in on a target before he even realized what he was looking for.

"Here." He tensed as Tamarind took the pistol and ammo from him, offering her only a curt nod and short words to tell her his next move. "Like Alexandria."

Then he was off.

As when he had chased after the white werewolf before, Semyon surged across the ground with impressive speed. Unlike before, however, his target was stationary, and it was mere instants before his leading foot struck the front of the great wolf's paw. The Wight didn't slow, didn't pause, rushing up the beast on all fours. Gloved hands snagged upon its fur and hauled upwards, while booted feet kicked and slammed against its flesh for traction. Like a tic, Semyon scaled the wolf with almost natural ease. Yet he didn't need to search for the right place to sink his fangs, the proper target having long been clear in his mind.

God-beast or no, eyes were still vulnerable.

Fenris' sheer size proved the true obstacle, no matter how quickly or surely Semyon moved. It might only take moments, or just a minute, but that was still time. Time for the beast to take action, or for his comrades to find plans of their own.

Just moments, or a minute, either way Semyon didn't slow. The head, the face, the eyes were his target, and the wight continued to climb towards his goal.

On Winding Roads (Lillian & Derren )

"Meat pies or ham?" Alexi contemplated the flavors in his head, offering Katherine a small smile. "I think I will."

The arrival of their host kept him from responding to the following comment, though perhaps it was for the best. They had both agreed to wait until after they had ordered, possibly until after they had their food and had begun to eat. No reason to force the conversation now in light of that, it would likely reflect poorly on him if he did so, anyways. She knew the area near Avantshire, the next-best thing to having been to the town itself. Not that he had options at this point anyways, but it meant that he truly, desperately needed to keep from sabotaging this meeting through simple mistakes.

And given the gusto with which Katherine dug into the offered bread, it seemed she wouldn't hear him if he had thought it a good idea, anyways.

So Alexi turned his attentions to the innkeeper Florie speaking beside them, keeping his eyes politely upon her own. While no priest, working on church grounds had caused their sense of propriety to rub off on him. Not enough to keep his hands from absently adjusting his clothing under the woman's gaze, hoping to somehow pull out the wrinkles or conceal the stains. But at least he was looking at her, rather than at her... well...

Well, propriety would fall to past habits soon, if he kept up that line of thought.

"I've heard wonderful things about the ham. I'll have that, please." His smile grew as he spoke, before his attentions turned towards Katherine across from him. "And... whichever catches your fancy, Miss Galt?"

Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

Fortune upon fortune, Takahiro followed Galina into the room with the same easy smile he had held for much of the evening. He heard and saw her appreciation of the book-filled room they entered, smile growing in the wake of the pleasure he knew she felt. He stood there, just inside, as she moved in, taking in the scenery around with a meandering -yet appreciating- gaze.

It was the kind of place he would never have found himself before. Not twelve years ago, not four years ago, not two years ago. Rooms like these were reserved for a very specific kind of people, the kind Takahiro could never be, no matter what happened. The expensive, tailored clothes he wore didn't truly belong to him. The title of samurai he held among his own people didn't truly mean anything for him. The rank he held within his homeland was an empty one, all nothing more than a costume woven by his sponsor, meant to be worn by whoever might fit inside. He belonged in this room -in this house- about as much as the young boy peddling papers in the street this morning.

But that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate all around him. Why else had he chosen to put on the disguise?

"Is beautiful, very much." Takahiro accepted his drink back from Galina, answering her question for a toast with nothing more than a nod and raised glass. Following suit, he took a long drink from the glass, even the weak alcohol managing to work its way into his head. Embarrassing, but then it had been a while since he had tasted a true drink, maybe he was out of practice?

And... that was why his eyes were growing heavy? With each word Galina spoke?

"Read? Can... can try..." Something churned within his mind as Takahiro spoke, thoughts racing along crumbling roads. He continued to smile, to speak easily and relish the company he kept, but something struck wrong within himself. It couldn't be placed, not now, not yet, but there was something...

"Know some english, some english words." He nodded a little longer than he should have. Why? "Important to lear- oh!"

Walking over to stand beside Galina and take in the works around them, Takahiro stumbled, just catching himself before toppling like before. He held for a moment, crouched and barely balanced, drink rippling dangerously within his glass as brown eyes widened in their sockets, concealed by a bowed head.

Why. Why was he suddenly falling apart?

He had been sipping his drink just fine earlier, it couldn't only be hitting him now, not so quickly. But it was the drink, right? He'd only had a little of the champagne, first after Galina had taken it from the servant and again after...

"Sorry... sorry." Takahiro stood carefully, steadying his glass and offering Galina a reassuring smile, practice hiding the thought that began to needle into his mind. His eyelids seemed too heavy to hold open for long, his body for some reason standing just off-balance. "Think, too much drink, not enough food... could try read, but,"

He steadied himself again, seeming drunk on the surface, while behind the scenes struggling to fight what might not be alcohol at all.

"But, might be hard now. Do you? Read english?"

Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

Infectious! That was the word, wasn't it? Galina Demidova's simple cheer and energy was infectious. Such so that Takahiro found himself eagerly limping over to run his own hand along the columns of the hall, moving easily to the tune of her words before he even realized the opportunity she was providing.

He could pick any door, really. Perhaps leave her in one room somewhere down the hall, but found himself mentally shaking the idea from his mind. There was no reason for something like that, not here, not now. He could still find an opportunity to get what he came for and ensure Galina was left none the wiser, no reason to give up now. Worst-case, he could take the opportunity to scout the final destination, then return sometime later in the night. The celebrations below were still winding on, there was still time.

Time to enjoy Galina's infectious mood, certainly.

"Any door? Yes, let's go see." His smile was wide and gleaming, mirth hiding behind his words as he moved cautiously after Galina before him. She still held his glass, and he didn't go to retrieve it quite yet, finding a free hand better suited for the job before him.

Takahiro made a show out of choosing the perfect door. Moving from one to the other down the hall, he tapped them lightly, listened to the wood grain, or peered with scrutiny at the cracks in their frames. He denied one after another with exaggerated motions, balancing precariously on his good leg with a playful wink to his partner nearby. There was no reason to rush, and she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself so far. It seemed only right he give her more reason to have some fun, before he found the perfect- "Oah!"

He stumbled, cane slipping out from under in an attempt to send Takahiro crashing to the floor. His leg buckled, but a doorknob saved him, offering nearby leverage for his free hand to latch upon in desperation, saving him halfway down.

"Aheh-" Rising slowly, Takahiro turned to face Galina with nervous laughter, brushing unseen dust from his suit cautiously as he steadied himself once more. Brown eyes fell appreciatively upon the doorknob that had saved him, belonging to the fourth door on the right of the hall from where they entered. It seemed a good door, kind and selfless to aid a clumsy foreigner, the perfect place to look for beauty.

"Shall we try, Missu Demidova?" With a gesture towards the door, he composed himself with a smile. "Here?"

On Winding Roads (Lillian & Derren )

A little delayed, but there we are!

On Winding Roads (Lillian & Derren )

"O- Ah! Certainly."

Alexi shook himself to attention once more, moving carefully along to the gestured table. Even if it was quieter than other Inns, the Locust was by no means empty. People joked and talked and yelled, or ate and drank, or simply lounged within the music strumming up from the red-headed bard. Lively was the term. Not crammed or crowded or overbearing, but in a way still 'full'.

How long, since he had been in a place like this?

While he couldn't help but glance around almost wildly as they first entered, Alexi managed to focus himself quickly as Katherine spoke. He needed to appear somewhat collected, at least, and hopefully aware enough so that if she did decide to escort him to Avantshire, it would be just to rip him off.

Though if she got him to the town first, it wouldn't be that terrible, just depressingly unfortunate.

He moved cautiously around the Inn's patrons and over to the seats Katherine had pointed out, recognizing many but knowing none. Names and faces passed in and out of the church day after day, his room on it's grounds and work spent in its archives affording him plenty of time to remember. But they were only names and faces, things found in passing and recorded without meaning. Few of those he actually 'knew' would be found in a place like this, most opting for far more opulent settings.

And those few exceptions, usually favored far, far less inviting ones.

"Shall we order first?" Reaching the table, Alexi took a step back so that Kathrine could sit first, offering a polite nod to accompany the question. "Given the scent, it might be easier to discuss business when we aren't distracted by our stomachs."

Pieces of 8: Bones of the North

Semyon listened quietly to Atticus, absorbing the meaning of the demon's words in rapt attention. Norse mythology wasn't a subject the Wight was well-versed in, the gods and superstitions of his own land far, far more important to the choices he continued to make. Besides, there had been no shortage of comrades in the Boston Branch one could go to for that information, Tamarind and Grimm just two notable examples of many. So he took in and mulled over all Atticus said, waiting until the demon had turned to address others in specific before turning to Gabriel nearby.

"Valuable and dangerous, both." He nodded along with the words in answer to the man's previous comment. "Once we know where our quarry has fled, we can quickl- ah-"

Semyon had ignored the smaller conversations of others out of politeness -that was the reason he didn't look anywhere near the Reaper... in a sense- but Henry Grimm's words were meant for all, and drew his attention. As he had with Atticus before, Semyon listened, contemplating what the Siren said to combine with what little he knew of the mythology in question.

He didn't know 'Ylva' or her connection to Grimm, and much of what the Siren said there was lost on the Wight. A quick rundown of likely opponents proved very interesting, however, as it meant he shouldn't re-load for werewolves exclusively.

He was still going to carry one magazine of silver rounds, however. Just in case.

The words on how to possibly kill the 'Fenrir' were also listened to, but caused Semyon's lips to pull downwards the more he heard. The preferred weapon seemed far too difficult to craft, and the more the Wight heard of the god-beast and the ways to kill it, the less sure he was that plan might succeed. Anything could die, oh certainly, Semyon knew that far better than he had ever hoped to. But a spear crafted of cold iron, blessed silver and Yggdrasil heartwood? The only vulnerability being through the god-beast's open jaws?

This was a beast meant to bring about the Norse Armageddon, yes?

...and now, according to Tamarind, it was indeed free.

"The mouth is a difficult way to reach the heart..." He mused the words in the silence that rose up after Grimm's speech and Tamarind's declaration. "This beast was imprisoned, correct? Could it be done again?"

Semyon looked from Grimm to Tamarind to Atticus, offering nothing of his own to follow the question. A question was all it was, to try and find out what options they truly had.

"I don't know these Gods. Can we trap Fenrir, or do we have to kill it?"