((Amune, like many of my magic users, believes magic is in fact simply a form of science, with measurable and quantifiable results. In her opinion, the word originated with those who had such abilities and then superstition and fear twisted the meaning into something fictional. Magic describes the fictitious concept, but also a branch of science. She'll probably say something to that effect if it's ever brought up.
I'm going to assume that, even though Cera and Orion and the others are a day ahead of Amune and Tsitua and that lot, given what we've done so far, that they're still on the same day right now.
I actually don't have anyone in mind for the information broker. Just that as Cera said, there are a ton of stories and rumors, people who claim they know people who know people who had something happen, that sort of thing. And they probably charge through the nose. =P
Zane is the one with golden eyes.))))
Jareth walked up behind the man at the screen, watching the blueprints take form. He could understand only a little of it, since he was more of a robotics guy than a circuitry one, but he knew enough to be confidently conversant with his computer engineer buddies. This, however, was a completely different ballgame. The noise from the printer attracted the young man's attention, but the device roughly resembled the 3d printer on campus, so he went back to looking at the screen. Victor's compliment made him flush. "I try," he mumbled. "Gotta know a little about circuitry for robotics, and that's what I'm into most. This, though...." He waved a hand at the screen, the printer, the tiny ball of circuits, even the entire ship. "/Way/ beyond what I get to play with. I mean...." He trailed off, at a loss for words.
---
The hesitation before she took his hand was barely noticeable, and Amuné came smoothly to her feet and followed Tsitua across the hall. The new woman had to be related to Lya, and her hair was equally vibrant. The demonic tattoo drew Amuné's attention for a brief moment, before she was told to go change. A wistful expression crossed the Seer's face at the other woman's words. Perhaps if she had never needed to use any of the skills she'd learned, she might consider it fun. Certainly the exertion was pleasant, and she liked the confidence that came from knowing precisely what she was capable of, and the strain of pushing herself further. She enjoyed such training. But she would never call it fun. "Fighting isn't fun," she murmured, turning to go. "Merely necessary."
When she returned she wore the simple clothes she'd been given. A simple necklace, just a flat metal disk, and her shoes were the only other things she wore. Her knife and its sheath were in her hand, and she tossed it gently against one of the walls. Even though she knew it would do her little good, Amuné was unwilling to leave it too far from her person. She was average height, with a solid build, but her frame and motion gave a sense of leashed power. "So what's the plan?" she asked, looking from Mae to Tsitua and back again.
---
"New powers or something? Maybe they leveled up." Her words were flippant, but Cera was concerned. As she'd said, a shift in the balance could make everything fall apart. She watched him at the window, thinking hard. "Well," she said at last, drawing the word out, "every place has its information brokers. This town's no different. I'll warn you, though. This is a last resort sort of deal. I can't say any of it's been proven, but stories often have a grain of truth, and there's enough stories that I'm betting that's the case here. People going missing, ending up dead -- there's even some that say they get cursed. Not everyone, but it's seen as a poor choice of profession, and a risky sort of association." Red eyes watched Orion solemnly. "If you're sure that's what you want, I'll take you, but be sure it will cost you dear. Information doesn't come cheap."
---
Bart was wiping down a table. There were more people around, now that the sun had set. Cliche though it might be, nighttime was when the non-humans liked to come out, it seemed. The coffee-shop area had been converted into a dance floor, with the furniture moved aside and music pumping over the speakers. Not deafening, but not quiet either. Wolf's approach had triggered an alarm, and Upstairs staff were quietly preparing to fight, additional people finding a reason to be somewhere nearby. A dark-haired man with bronzed skin and golden eyes pushed his wire-frame glasses up his nose as he went to speak with a young lady sporting a cascade of hair in brilliant oranges, reds, and blues. Another girl, thin to the point of waifishness, hummed tunelessly under her breath as she stocked the bar. Curly was the host, but Wolf had passed him by, and now the broad-shouldered man was checking a list on his stand. Nor were these the only ones.
Bart was trying to stay cool, but the sight of someone looking for a fight and heading for him had the ghoul off-balance. Still, it was easy enough to fall into a lie made of nothing but the truth. "Blankface?" he repeated, eyes widening before an uneasy grin stretched across his face. "Man, I'm a huge fan of that guy! Don't gotta make a fuss, dude, if I knew where he was I'd be there in an instant! But I've not seen a ghoul with that mask anywhere around. Nor news of anyone answering to that name. ...You really think he's in town?" Even his nervousness couldn't completely dampen the fanboy's enthusiasm, and the shift to excitement was genuine. "Geez, meeting him...that'd be amazing!"
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