Sigil

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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_{"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places."}

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Location: Almack's

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It was an uncommon occasion when someone at a high social gathering introduced themselves to Mary with a smile, and not an ulterior motive. "It is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Crane." responded Mary. Mosi's next words about less than ideal circumstances, followed by damaged Presence Guards and a lack of general security. While said fairly casually, it struck a note of alarm in Mary's thought process. Serenity still gracing her features, Mary attempted a diplomatic response.

"If the proprietors of Almack's Assembly Rooms has sent for someone like me, Miss Crane, you may rest assured that circumstances are far from optimal. Most people here would prefer not to speak with me at all, a testament to the desperation needed to request the help of a Papist, let alone a woman-knight of the Church." Her voice was still dulcet yet authoritative, passing along information in a matter-of-factly manner rather than offering complaint of her situation socially.

It was then Virginia's turn to drop troubling news. Something akin to a Cargast? Headed this way earlier today? Did no one hear that Jeanette had just said about downed Presence Guards? Mary's serene outer visage was becoming more difficult to maintain. Did these people not realize the dangerous position they were all in, caused either by design or neglect? Mary barely heard what Virginia said next, concentrating on her extra-sensory gift of Tanter. "Yes, Heresy. A long and complicated subject..." But her mind was not on the proper teaching of the subject. She had detected something. Not too near, nor too very far away; the shoddy and inadequate security of the event had failed to keep out that which it was tasked.

The odd feeling that Mary associated with looming combat took her. No longer serene of face, she quickly produced one of her flasks of holy water, wetting the cloth wraps around her forearms as a new couple approached and introduced themselves. Whomever the Lord Rutherford, Duke of the Realm was, and his fiancee, the first word either of them head Mary utter was a quiet but harsh issuance of Latin.

"Inanimati..."

She didn't bother introducing herself to the newcomers to the growing group of people around the Grand Duchess. No, Mary merely looked to Elizaveta for a second, moved her eyes to acknowledge the newcomers, and state openly, "Soulless. Already here." The Apostolic wished to study the reactions of those around her; who could be allies in this endeavor and who would be dead weight. "Indeed, Your Grace was correct. Blood will flow this evening."

Time to go to work.

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

@Lady Amalthea

Edit made. I think that works now. Yay.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

@The Grey Dust

That is an interesting bit of clairvoyance Thomas has access to while he's meditating. I'd worry that the GM would call me out for meta-ing, personally.

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

@Lady Amalthea

Need to request an edit to remove reference to Harper noticing Jahosafat. The map doesn't line up with his observations.

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Hallway just beyond -> Back to the Foy-er

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The scissors clipped on and on, occasionally pausing for a quick switch to layering snips and back again to the more methodical removal cuts. It was done quickly and proficiently, as only a generational barber could. One day, Foy would raise his own little gentleman. They would learn the wonder and niftiness of being dapper, of looking down upon the working classes, and of growing a fine moustache. But most importantly (and perhaps a little ironically), the various Foy Juinors would learn the trade of Barbercraft, hopefully to surpass even the likes of the astounding Mr. Foy Coiffeur. Such is the destiny of a generational professional.

That being barred, the hypothetical "Lil Foy" would make an excellent Haberdasher.

"Explosives, my good sir? Hmm... Seems unsporting. Though I should say, and from no small matter of experience, my good man, if you desire the impersonal disposal of several hundred plebeians at a common time and location, a bit of the Boomage does it none the better." The dapper fellow took a horsehair brush to the Shepherd's shoulders, giving a bit of turnaround to see if he had even lines. "Alright, cut is made... Now for the styling. Shan't be but a moment or two; this part is easy. Of course, it's all easy when you're of certain lineage."

He got out the various small bottles of salves and pomades, treatments and mousses and sprays. A comb in hand, he began the final stage in Atticus's follicle-based transformation. "It occurs, sir, that one may derive a certain amount of personal satisfaction and profit, were, once said explosives had been placed, one may station one's self in a point of vantage and perform a touch of ballistic crowd control. You know, just until the exothermic reaction du jour laid waste to the location in mind. Yes makes perfect sense... Oh! Perhaps also, one could take a differing vantage and pluck off those sent to assist any hypothetical survivors. Wouldn't you say, Shepherd? Scorch the earth, and whatnot? Strictly spoken in the academic, mind you. We need not ruffians of that sort mucking about in our already imperfect 'Verse, now do we?"

A couple more strokes of the comb, one more spritz of moisture, and he was done. "Well then, Psalms, how about you take a gander in the wall mirror just behind you. We are professionally concluded."

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William Harper

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Location: Retribution, Corridors -> Galley

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A shrewd man, while searching for a hostile Captain, finds a very good reason to be on the lookout, preferably with official looking documents of some kind. Harper could be accused of being shrewd. Intelligent, definitely. He was a very sharp man, if the slightest bit mentally traumatized by the past few years. But he was painfully bereft of official paperwork. Not that he honestly thought it would matter with this woman, but he couldn't show up with nothing. Plus, it would likely be highly insulting to hop on the PA and request her presence in his quarters. Such an action would likely be met with her indeed relocating to his room, only to paint it with Harper's own mix of brain matter grey and arterial red.

But going to his quarters first wasn't a bad idea. He couldn't dig up anything official, but he might scare up a peace offering. Point of fact, he was headed in that direction anyway. It was just a quick moment in his bunk, long enough to grab two jars from the big crate of goodies he brought along from that confectioner's in Persephone. He returned to the corridor, walking the length of the vessel back to Upper Engineering, down the stairs, and halfway back up the ship, poking his head into every public room he came across.

Harper was intrigued to find that there was an impromptu gathering in the Galley, of all places. One might have heard his footsteps coming down the hallway, especially in the operating night hours of the skeleton crewed vessel. And just in they didn't, Harper took it upon himself to clear his throat as he stepped in the doorway to the Galley opposite of Dorothy. He got a pretty good eyeful of Anisa standing present, and apparently the Medic arrived shortly before himself. Harper maintained his persona of the dutiful Alliance officer, for the most part.

"Ma'am," he began, regarding Anisa, "and ma'am," to Dorothy. It had been one hell of a day. Harper would have loved to have gotten into a bottle of something relaxing and flammable, but he was a little nervous about the person on the stick that shift. That, and he didn't remember packing any alcohol in his belongings. He did have a couple of personal luxuries, though, a little of which he brought with him.

The Lieutenant set one of the jars on the nearby table and slid it across. "I hadn't expected more than one, but... Preserved peaches, whole and pitted." The second one followed with a supplementing, "Preserved strawberries, whole." Looking towards the nearest galley cart, he offered, "I'll find us some spoons. Help yourselves, please. I'd prefer it if we spoke, unless the two of you were about to discuss something privately."

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

It's a fair point. Mary's Churchy Sense (work in progress with that name) is going off. Her mind is most assuredly not on finding a boyfriend for Virginia at the moment.

Although it's not not a priority, for both altruistic and professional reasons. But the only interest she's have right now with the new guy is seeing if he's actually a dead man in fancy clothes.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar y Keystone

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Location: Valentino's Italian Restaurant (Diamond District)

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The table was near the back of the restaurant, adorned with white tablecloth and (contrary to Keystone's narrative for information) a smallish, centrally located basket of bias sliced bread. There were no other tables seated nearby in the dim light of the dining floor, offering them a fair amount of privacy. Hopefully decent service, as well. Caesar took a seat first, positioned as to see the front of the room. Taking this as a cue, Keystone sat diagonally from him at the table. From his vantage, the kitchen doors and bathrooms could clearly be seen. Under ordinary circumstances, this looked like paranoia. This day in Justice, California? It was vital to continued survival. Both men seemed to treat this city as hostile territory, and for good reason.

Caesar motioned for Cecily to take a seat. Manners might have dictated the older man showing her to an appropriate chair and pulling it out for her, but the griefstricken Mexican's mind wasn't fixated on what Emily Post would have to say about the situation. On the other side, it was very possible that Keystone didn't possess manners to begin with. Only time and reflection would add more light to the discussion as to whether that made his lack of chivalry more or less forgivable, if it was even an issue to begin with.

"Well then," began Keystone. "Bread's already 'ere. I guess one o' you two's late with storytime, yeah?" He raised a hand for a waitress, apparently oblivious to the possibility of either of them actually wanted to answer right that second. The approach of the lady temporarily halted conversation from the two men; apparently it was considered very gauche to discuss sensitive personal or business matters around strangers when people were dropping like flies all over town. Keystone ordered wine service, having his bottle plus another delivered to the table immediately. He waved away the initial pour, confident in his abilities to put wine into vessels designed for the purpose of holding that selfsame liquid until it could be consumed. Preferably with a decent Penne Bolognese or their house made Ravioli. The two bottles held different varietals of grape; Keystone himself had already taken a glass from the Merlot, a pleasant neutral red that went well with many things, the unopened one held a Lambrusco, suitable for heavy sauce, spice, and meat based sauces. "Sorry, already ordered the aperitif, I did, thinkin' on what I was gonna order. If'n you lot're plannin' fish or white sauce, I can get a Pinot Bloody Gris straightaway."

His lack of social grace matched up oddly with his knowledge of epicure. Almost unsettlingly so.

Caesar spoke up, detailing the bare bones of the day. He kept his tone low and even, trying summarize everything that had happened, including the fact that Cecily was presently sitting at the table with a fresh bullet wound. "We're leaving town tomorrow, early. Alicia's body had been released, and the Familia Gonzalez is already gathering back home. We shouldn't be more than a couple of days. I'm talking to some of my people about easing your workload, but until then, you're taking over the account here in Justice fully. Just manage the account. Unless something massive happens that you can handle, or information falls in your lap, just stick to the routine. We'll reevaluate this after more of our people are in place."

The waitress picked that moment to come by and ask if they were ready to order. Caesar shook his head to indicate they needed another couple of minutes. Keystone had opened his mouth to order for himself, but instead settled into an annoyed look that he aimed at Caesar. "I got a couple bounders an' East Enders what's coming in from London town, next couple of days. Folks we can trust, got nothin' to do with this country or anyone in it. Might have to school 'em up on driving the wrong side of the road, though... And you says you got some techies comin' in from Seattle, replace the ones we got 'ere?"

"A few of them. Still need someone to manage that department. People we can trust are coming up short with those qualifications. No one is as good as M'hija." The truth was, he knew someone. One person. But there was no way in hell he was going to ask. Not after the last couple of weeks.

"Right. Glad that's all settled." Not that anything was settled, really. But from there on out, it was very possible that their discussion could plod along and sound very much like a company staffing issue, rather than a counter-plot against an unknown, evil entity. "Now, can we get some eats, prettyfongin'please? And howsabout your pretty young partner here, eh? She's been awful quiet. You ain't 'bout to replace me off the mallet, are ya Boss?" The last two sentences were delivered with an element of airy mirth. He could just imagine the comparatively tiny but strikingly professional looking girl taking over for him beating down miscreants, whipping the security staff into shape, and bodyguarding corporate executives.

Caesar's tone was serious, even if his words weren't. "Don't know yet, Keystone. Better stay on your toes."

"Well, it's a special girl what gets shot in the mornin' and is good for cocktails come evenin'." He addressed her directly, "So what of ya, little lady? How're you fittin' into all this?" He refilled his glass of merlot, motioning as to offer some to Cecily.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

@Morose

Nah. She just likes Compelling people. Though you have to admit, Virginia getting married would fix a couple of Crypt family difficulties. Plus, if it takes place in a Catholic church as well the Green, it would help solidify Vatican standing in the U.K. If just a bit.

But a compatable pairing in that regard might be a little more difficult.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

Aw, they don't need a Mrs. Wyndham...

...not when the Power of Christ compels them. At gunpoint.

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Grand Continental Hotel

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"Yes, my dear." remarked the Lord Major, continuing with them down the stairs and out into the night air of Cairo. "I know why. Nonetheless, you shall have the option of being the resident caretaker of the Brighton Estate at your leisure, with resources necessary to make official inquiries. Hopefully, soon as a family. But come along, we'll keep you safe in the meantime."

Out front, Reginald looked to his nephew. "Ah, excellent foresight, dear boy!" he called out, motioning to the cab. "Capital idea! Well then, we're off in..." he checked pocketwatch, "...some three minutes, madame and gentlemen. Now, I intend to travel in style, so whomever decides to spend the next few minutes in the Silver Ghost will have to do so in my prestigious company." His voice carried a gleam of humor, as if the old man was attempting to lighten an obviously tense mood. Granted, it was likely doomed to failure, but Reginald was already playing host, despite the fact that they were not quite back at the Barracks yet.

The Lord Major removed his officer's sabre from his belt, holding it close to himself in his left hand. He didn't intend to use it on anything, yet, but it made climbing into and out of vehicles comfortably difficult to the extreme, were it still hanging from his side. Not one to enter before a guest (as he was not under official orders from a higher-up to complete a task for His Majesty), the Lord Major stood at the ready, next to the door of his motor pool's finest Rolls-Royce, waiting the last guests of their Fellowship. Even checked his watch again.