You've all seen the poem in a variety of places and figured out (though some means) that the meeting in this 'Rabbit Hole' is to be on this night at such-and-such a time. Upon arrival to the Hypnotiq you notice a white rabbit logo on the basement door to the side of the building and decide to enter.
Isrieal awaits in the Rabbit Hole as promised. The name of the basement of her club if any cult members were able to decipher such a thing. Not knowing much of what these people are capable of she's come in her raven feather dress that exposes her scarecrow silhouette tattoo on her arm and the head of a crow that peeks up from the V of her chest, the rest hidden under the clothing. There is a drink before her, a tray of drinks on the table and she stares towards the steps with those piercing blue eyes, on guard but curious all the same if the Father of Crows decides to show themselves or not.
Edwin walks down the red carpeted steps with already one hand occupied with a drink - a scotch on the rocks. The cubes faintly clatter to the glass with each step until he enters the room properly. In the room proper - Edwin's pale blue eyes shift about the room until his attention falls upon Isrieal. A faint smile touches his head lips as he heads towards her - a small dip of his head falls, "Good evening." He comes to a pause standing nearby - his own attention works over the room as he is absolutely awaiting something as well, even as he causally takesa sip of his drink.
Frankie arrives with Damian. He's in a suit, because he's Damian, and Frankie's dressed like a Frankie: t-shirt, leather jacket, jeans, boots. "I don't even like icing most of the time and that was good cake," she's telling Damian as they step into the club. Frankie glances about, then gestures toward the door with the rabbit on it. "I think it's there. C'mon."
Riding on Frankie's shoulder is a ghost crow, inkky-black with red glowing eyes. A psychopomp, he answers to Norbert. He is invisible to anyone that can't see ghosts.
Aurore - in clubbing gear, but with a small pack on her back to bring along her most essential ritual items - spent some time loitering in the upper part of the club, to try to get a 'feel' for the place... via all her array of unconventional senses. It all seemed surprisingly normal up there, for a fantasy-themed bar in *this* city... and then the shiver down her spine of a nearby ghost draws her attention to the familiar figure of Frankie. Hesitating a moment, she then bites her lip before taking the risk of entering a light trance, slowly overlaying the mundane world with sight and sound of the ghostly element of the Twilight. That done, the native sorceress sets off downstairs - pausing only for a second when she detects the proximity of World-Breaker magic. This promises to be an interesting gathering.
Damian nods to Frankie, though he doesn't comment on the cake. He seems stoic. At least his suit doesn't seem awkward in this atmosphere. His eyes flicker around the place. He sees the rabbit himself and follows her, still ever aware, as if expecting something to happen before it ever does. He might always be like that though. On guard. He also looks uncomfortable, enough to suggest this is not his scene.
Isrieal half smiles to Edwin and sits up some. "Hey, something up?" She asks him with a quirk of her brown. Then her brows furrow when Frankie arrives to her club with the others. She runs a hand through those moon white locks of hers and she stands up, two men in suits move in nearer to her and at first confused she now eyes everyone suspiciously. "So what is ever....wait...don't tell me...you are all members of...that cult?" She asks slowly. If this is some sort of ambush she's suddenly very attent.
Frankie spots Aurore and arches an eyebrow at her. She also tips her chin in a sort of greeting, which is more than most people get. Frankie adjusts her course to meet up with the thaumaturge. She purses her lips, scanning their surroundings, and her gaze rests on Isrieal. Up go both eyebrows now. "No. Just interested if one actually shows up." Norbert flaps up off Frankie's shoulder and glides back through the door to the club proper.
Edwin is dressed in fine attire - a dark blue button down shirt, black pants, and splash of silver of his belt buckle and the watch on his wrist. Muscles ripples under his tailored attire as his drink hovers just below his lips as he glances over towards the new-comers, Frankie, Damian and Aurore. One pale brow quirks in question and then raises his glass in a toast. "Hmm, well...heard about the potential for the King Raven," he whispers towards her in a quiet voice. A small shake comes in answer to Isrieal, "Searching here."
Damian doesn't know anyone. Maybe he's just hanging with Frankie because he loves the club. Or needs a drink, or something. Whatever the case, he hangs near Frankie, but doesn't answer any questions about a cult. guess. He might even be oblivious to what they are talking about. His eyes just constantly scan the place like the shadows hold dangers he can't even begin to guess at. His expression doesn't shift at the mention of it, he's all but unreadable. He orders a water, yes, a water at the bar and glances over at Frankie. "Whiskey?"
Aurore offered Frankie a rather relieved smile and nod of acknowledgement, shivering slightly as the sensation of Norbert's proximity recedes. Downstairs, she recognises their apparent hostess from time spent in Kilo's shop, though she's not one of those with whom she can recall ever exchanging words. A wry smile is offered... before she pauses, frowning and glancing up and around. "Someone," she says, her voice a richly magical alto, "just peeked in on us. Though it doesn't feel as if they're currently observing. A quick check, or a sweep, perhaps? And no, I'm not a part of the cult, either. Just someone hoping to confirm whether or not they really have reappeared, and have done so here."
Edwin's lips start to part as if to say thing more to Isrieal and his lips press together hard and his brow furrows, intensity his glances around the room. In a low, whisper, "I felt something...or someone, a prying eye." Nostrils flare as he pushes out a breath and he glances from Isrieal, over to the other trio with a hint of tension showing in his corded neck. "Powerful," he muses in a husky purr and he nods in agreement with Aurore. "The same here..."
Kasey arrives at the club and casually looks around the place. It was her first time in the place, but she was always looking for new stuff to do. Noticing the red carpet she knew that was always a sign of good things and so she follows it down the stairs into the rabbit hole.
Isrieal rubs at the bridge of her nose. "Well hell, I wish you guys would have told me you all knew about this too sooner than now. It might have been nice to know." She sighs then takes a sip of her drink. "Welp, we're all in this together now." Her gaze darts towards Aurore and Edwin when they speak of feeling something and her eyes narrow. "We give them a chance to see what they want, if they fuck it up then we fuck 'them' up." She says. "Nothing better dare try and attack guests in my club." She looks up towards Kasey, the one face she hasn't seen before and smiles. "Oh hello." She chimes but she whispers something to one of those men in suits who sends out a text so the rest can keep an eye around the place.
Damian's eyes flicker up, to the ceiling at Aurroe's words, but he doesn't look at all concerned. Maybe he thinks he can see this mystical connection this way. And he must have a great poker face. Eyes fall back down to give Aurore a study. Then the move around the room to land on Isrieal. They fall there for some time, giving a once over. Curious, it would seem, though he seems to have a particular penchant for never giving away what he's feeling. Water ordered he sips it, but makes no move to be friendly.
Frankie shakes her head at Isrieal. She opens her mouth like she's going to say something, then closes it again. A shake of her head to Damian. She does not want whiskey. She's also paying more attention to Aurore. "Well, it makes sense, given the situation." She gives Edwin a once-over, detached, and then turns her attention toward Kasey.
Last to arrive, possibly because it took him awhile to get down the steps, is an older gentleman, possibly in his late fifties and walking with a cane, slowly steps into the room and glances around. He's wearing a well-tailored, dark-grey suit and has a sharp, if somewhat chiseled face that is adorned with a thin beard and goatee that's gone to grey in a few places - contrasting his dark brown hair. His only jewelry, aside from the ornate but difficult to see, handle of his cane, is a small, silvery ring on his pinky. He radiates a striking presence standing at the entrance, like a politician or businessman who's quite used to snapping his fingers to send people scurrying to do his bidding yet there's no disarming smile or aura of charm to suggest that he does this behind smiles and masks of politeness. He's all business.
He scans the room for a moment, seems to scoff unimpressed by the decor and wanders to a seat by himself. His steps are slow but not glacial, like someone who has had to learn to walk with a cane a few years back and has gotten the hang of it over time. It just takes him a while to move.
(Image: http://imgur.com/yxxzPhX )
Isrieal lifts a brow at Frankies hesitance to talk but shrugs it off and looks towards the stairs as the man with the cane enters. She darts a glance over the others in the room then looks towards the new arrival, drawing nearer to the seat he has taken up. The Scarecrow laces her fingers together as she eyes him with that sharp gaze. "Excuse me, sir. Can I help you?" She wonders.
"Discovery of the... activity here was recent, on my part," Aurore dryly responds to Isrieal... though her attention momentarily shifts to Kasey, before settling upon the older gentleman. Mildly to her surprise, he doesn't trigger any of her assorted alarms or register as odd to her additional senses. "For someone to check who is here before arriving would indeed make sense," she says in agreement with Frankie... and invitation to the new arrival to identify himself.
Edwin's head turns enough as he rocks to the left in a subtle sway as he spies the face of Kasey, he grants her a toast. "Then I am glad I am here," he quips in earnest to Isrieal's remark on protecting her guests..." his voice trails off and he lifts his chin as he notes Frankie's glance and Edwin's attention flickers over Damian. That is until the entrance of the Fifty-something gentleman, Edwin's eyes slip over him and one brow lifts as he remains motionless for the moment.
Kasey smiles as she looks over to Isrieal and even though she has no clue who she is she lifts a hand to give a friendly wave. "Hello there." She seems to take the greeting as an invation to come over to talk and heads right over in her direction.
Frankie nods to Aurore. Frankie is doing a poor job of looking like someone who wants to be at a club. She's kind of wary-seeming. Maybe she's a bodyguard. Maybe she's Damian's bodyguard. Her attention goes to the gentleman with a cane, then back to Kasey. Frankie sighs a bit.
Could be just another rich guy in a bar. Nothing about him draws particular interest from Damian. Eyes flicker to the man in the study, but he makes no approach, he makes little movement, at all. Splitting his attention, he goes from that to the conversation between Frankie and Aurore. He might be listening to it, but he doesn't add anything to it, though a brow raises ever so slightly. There's no doubt about it though, if you're watching the man carefully, Damian is still, subtly watching the room.
The older gentleman, hearing Isrieal's querry, responds sharply before he takes his seat. "I doubt it." His tone is matter-of-factional if a bit off-putting. There's an European accent to his speech - but at least practiced in speaking English. It takes a moment, perhaps even what one might note as effort for the man to lower himself into his seat. The finish on his small ring catching the light ever-so-remarkably and it flashes in reflection.
Isrieal glares daggers at the hooded man that has not only trespassed in her territory but is now wrecking violence in it. She stalks forth, the Scarecrow dredging up fear from the depths of the beings soul and in front of all eyes to see she transforms into a nine-foot crow like being wreathed in shadows and death that swirl around it. Glowing eyes stare over her beaked face and onto the figure that is now ensnared by his greatest fears, immobile and harmed from the beings very presence. "How dare you..."
Isrieal looks to Kasey as she comes near and she rests a hand on her shoulder. "Im sorry, darling." She purrs in her Russian accent. "There seems to be something going on. Is there something one of my men can get for you?" She smiles with a gesture towards a well dressed men before turning her attention back to the older man with an even more pleasant of a smile. "Well, as Ownder of this club I am positive that I can help you. Or at least attend to what it is that you need. Sir?" She quirks a brow, still not trusting him.
Frankie's blue eyes flick toward the man's ring as he seats himself. Her lips press together in a thin line, and she murmurs something quietly to Damian and Aurore. "Great. Nazi. That symbol was used by a Neo-Nazi movement in the early nineteen eighties that had some Germano-Pagan overtones. Or maybe he doesn't know what it is, but somehow, I doubt that." One of her hands curls up into a fist.
A faintly sour look shows on Edwin's pale alabaster flesh as he obviously overhears the older gentleman's tone to Isrieal. Edwin's attention pans over the man's ring and then back to Kasey. Out of the corner of his eye he spies the whispered conversation of Frankie, one brow lifts as he spies the fist. That seems to signal Edwin to abandon his drink and to free up his hands and takes a step closer towards the seated man and Isrieal.
"Your poetic invitation has been accepted," Aurore points out to the club-owner. "Unless the gentleman's choice of signet ring is a remarkable coincidence, you would seem to have drawn the attention of those you sought to meet." Frankie receives a surprised look, and the arch of a brow. Then she murmurs something back to those nearest her. "It goes back a good deal farther than that: it was employed by an exceedingly dangerous death-cult before the Second World War, first active - that I could find - in the latter half of the nineteenth century."
Kasey notices the ring but doesn't think much of it, she was wearing several rings herself. She smiles to Isrieal. "Oh you are the owner of this place? It is a very nice place you have here."
To a man watching a room and not focusing on anything particular, or so it seems, a gleam from a ring tends to catch ones eye. Draw you two it. At a slight distance, Damian squints at the older man, or his ring. Still, no expression crosses his face if he gleans anything from it. He leans a little towards Frankie and Aurore and what they whisper, but there is still no reaction drawn from him more than a nod. But, the new arrival, the man with the cane, does now have Damian's attention. Also, Damian's phone is pulled from his pocket, it's a computer in the right hands, and it is in the right hands. His fingers fly across those little keys as if he was built for them.
This poor, poor girl. "Jay, please see if she'd like something?" Isrieal mutters to one of her men then nods to Aurore before taking a seat across from the man. She glances to Edwin as well, beckoning him in towards the table before turning her attention to the older man. "We know who you are...obviously. Can we cut the games?" She wonders. "I'd like to know why you seem to be targeting our city. We'd like to keep this...civil if we could." She pushes a glass of whiskey across to him.
Jay nods and gestures to Kasey. "Would you like something to drink?" He asks her while guiding her over towards the smaller bar down there.
Frankie raises her eyebrows at Aurore and nods. "Good to know." She hangs back for a moment, waiting to see if Aurore will join Isrieal and Edwin at the table. A sidelong glance at Damian.
Edwin fluidly steps forward towards the table properly, not taking a seat instead his fingers curl around the back of one the the chairs. Almost a bored expression shifts over his chiselled features, his blue eyes linger upon the older gentleman. Now that the jig is up by Isrieal questions, a half smile touches Edwin's lips and he nods in agreement to the Hostess and glances over to Frankie, Damian and Aurore - plus noting that the guard is interacting with Kasey.
You ever see a man that looks like he belongs to a computer, any computer? This is Damian and in the world of information, it's his world. His fingers tap relentlessly, watching him is a marvel even on a simple device such as a phone. An occasional glance up at the man, and then back down to his phone. Until, it stops, and Damian seems to find exactly what he was searching for. One more glance up for confirmation, maybe the ring. His eyes start skimming the information. He reads the entire article, before handing his phone to Frankie, to read. If she lets Aurore read it, too. That's up to her. Even as he does so, unseen to most, save Frankie, an inky blackness begins to surround him. The forming of a shroud.
The older man, seated at some isolated table looks around the place as though he were the only 'righteous' one in a den of sin. You can almost feel the contempt radiating off him as he rests his hand upon the top of his cane. He's not checking his phone. He doesn't ask anyone for a drink. He's just there...waiting.
The older man, seated at some isolated table looks around the place as though he were the only 'righteous' one in a den of sin. You can almost feel the contempt radiating off him as he rests his hand upon the top of his cane. He's not checking his phone. He doesn't ask anyone for a drink. He's just there...waiting.
One might think he's suffering from migraine headaches because when he looks at the cluster of folks around/near Isrieal he winces suddenly. Sharp pain seems to have stabbed him in the temple or forehead and his ringed, right hand reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose as though it would sooth the sting. "I assure you madam...I am not here for...games." he intones through half-clenched teeth and closed eyes.
Kasey might be underaged, and not legally allowed to drink but she takes advantage of the distraction and smiles to Jay, "Sure, I will have a glass of wine. The best you got." She says it as if she orders them all the time, and she might very well. She then takes a seat at one of the couches.
Coming down the stairs into the Rabbit Hole is a woman dressed in a sharp, well tailored business attire, smokey grey paired with a dark navy blue blazer and simple understated black pumps. Auburn locks are braided tightly and wound into a bun on the back of her head with a few strands of bangs left free to frame most of her face. Sleek thinly framed black glasses rest on the edge of her nose and a little silver blutooth earpiece is attached to her left ear. A little leather satchel is held in Amastacia's hand as she glances around at the patronage of the establishment, before making her way in short clipped steps to the bar and places her case upon its surface.
Aurore's own brow furrows, an instant after the elderly man's... and remains creased for some few seconds. "And again," she murmurs to Frankie and Damian... before nodding to whatever it is that she sees on the latter's phone. "Looks accurate," she says with confidence. "I've got... *that* one." Her fingernail precisely indicates something on the screen. Then she glances up, arching a brow as she studies the latest arrival with some evident interest. A slight, confused shake of the head, then she looks back to her nearer companions. "I'd say he's the real deal," she mutters.
Isrieal squints her eyes at the man and glances curiously to Edwin. "Then why did you come?" She tips her head then, silvery locks spilling over her shoulder. "Is...something wrong?" She questions. She notes someone else entering now and she nods towards another man in a suit. "Please lock that door will you?" He nods and goes to do so.
Meanwhile, Jay pours a glass of red wine for Kasey and sets it before her on the bar. "There you are m'am."
Edwin's gaze turns flat as he gazes squarely at the man and a single brow rises, a questioning gesture. Then belatedly the second one rises as the older gentleman appears to suffer, "Maybe not games...but someone is prying again," with his nostrils flaring with tired irritation as his gaze meets Isrieal. A single forefinger rises and falls against the back of the chair where his hand rests. Distractedly, he glances over his shoulder to the newcomer, Amastacia and then back to the older gentleman.
Frankie glances between Aurore and Damian, murmuring something else. "Is the poetry fragment part of the Canticle?" And then, she pauses, cocks her head to the side, and says something else quietly. "We're at three dozen crows outside with more coming."
Damian nods, taking his phone back, his fingers fly across it again. A brow raises though at what Aurore says, "I'd like to see it." A question, maybe. And then Damian is working again. He's got something to find. Fingers going over the phone, finally he says something to his group. "That can't be good. Let's try something." Then he looks up and draws attention to himself for the first time. "Rabenvater." Because sometimes people like to her things in their own language. It's said loud enough to be heard by anyone. Though, it's not necessarily directed at the old man.
Kasey smiles as she accept the glass of wine and sips on it a little as she looks around the room. She sits back and relaxes while taking in the atmosphere, which seemed slightly tense.
The brunette at the bar settles on a stool and orders a drink from the bartender, "Just a gingerale with a slice of lemon." Her voice is sharp and clipped, with a soft guttural aspect to the spoken word. Amastacia crosses her legs in the business skirt and pulls open the leather satchel before her, taking out a foloded up newspaper and peering it over. As she does so she runs her fingers in patterns across the words before her, not actually reading them but instead tracing outlines in her mind and writing her Will upon the world. She adjusts her glasses and looks away from her newspaper for a moment, glancing around and then seeming to take an interest in studying the elderly fellow that was standing alone when she arrived.
The second that Isrieal instructs her staff to lock the door, the older man pushes himself up from his chair and starts to hobble towards the door. "I will -NOT- be your prisoner here..." He's not exactly sprinting across the room but for cane-assisted walking, he's not doing too bad. There seems to be an element of tension to his shoulders now. His body is tightly wound and an expression which -could- approximate fear breaks through his mask. The staff member walks towards the door, perhaps at normal speed at first but then hastens since the old man tries to leave. Should he let the man out or block his path?
And then, the word "Rabenvater" penetrates the scene and the doorway to the room is filled by a tall fellow in an old, black hoody. His jeans are stained and ripped at the knee and there's something in his hand that he's raising to point at the old man.
Frankie bursts into motion, launching herself after the man with the cane. He might be moving fast for a guy with a cane, but she's moving fast for a woman who runs over obstacles and up walls for funsies. Frankie dashes up to one of the tables, vaults it, and dives after the man, reaching for his wrist. Not a word said.
Aurore, meanwhile, is backing *away* from trouble. Compared to the average civilian, she's combat-capable. Compared to everything *else* in Maine's equivalent of a Hellmouth, she is oh-so-breakable and seriously inept in a fight. She *had* been reaching to retrieve a piece of paper from a side-pocket of her pack... but sharing information can wait, for the time being.
Damian might have been wrong. But he's ever aware, and evil comes in so many forms. He's moving almost as quickly as Frankie, almost. For the old man. Moving around objects and dodging, throwing his body in front of the old man and bring him down in a tackle. It's sloppy, but necessary.
With such a sudden turn of events, Amastacia still seems quite composed, turning on her stool to look up the stairs at the hoody wearing newcomer, a quick glance between the old man and this arrival before she folds her hands upon her knee and lightly cocks her head to one side, bangs cascading lightly across her face as she does so, intently focusing on the man that had spoken, eyes squinting behind the lightweight frames perched upon her face. The newspaper and satchel forgotten for now, though a trimmed fingernail does lightly tap against her knee. And then there's crow-monster suddenly forming out of a girl, Amastacia reaches back behind her with her left hand, rooting in the satchel for a moment to withdraw a sleek little smartphone in a gunmetal grey case.
The old man takes whatever round that the hoody guy was pointing at him full in the chest and goes down in a slump. Though it may have entered with a moderatly small hole, the round blew out a chunk of his back that probably would have splattered blood and gore upon anyone heading to him or his direction. Satisfied with the shot, the assassin starts to lower his weapon for a final coup-de-grace shot but then spies...well...such a figure could only be described as...=The Raven King=. He cowers in fear, muttering something close to *I kill him* and *I did it.* and *Master*.
"Keep them alive!", Aurore calls out - before pausing to swallow back the urge to vomit, half-turning away from the scene near the door. For once, layering the ghostly side of things over the (supposedly) mundane world is a blessing, doing something to mask quite how much attention the gore and horror are able to grab in her mind. "And there's someone trying to affect our minds."
The sound rocks through Edwin's form and surely makes his ears ring and his pale eyes flashes from the hooded figure and then back towards the now large Crow-being, a single blink and then a pearly white grin despite the chaos. The blast of course sends a shower - effectively soiling his left half with whatever is blown out of the old gentleman, "I do dislike guns." He mutters. "Someone is really playing about tonight with all the probing," he remarks in agreement with Aurore. Then he sprints up towards the hooded figure to take the weapon away from the figure - while skirting around the giant Crow (Isrieal).
Kasey might freak out over the crazy crow thing but she can't even see it. She hit the ground the moment she saw the gun come out, and is on the floor with her arms up over her head. She hears the gun shot, and doesn't even consider sticking her head back up.
Amastacia starts recording the scene just after the crow-bird-thing has been formed, sweeping her phone to take in the entire room and trying to get a shot of everyone's face as well. Meanwhile though her eyes themselves are still studying the man now seemingly paralyzed by fear. A shake of her head, a grim frown set into her lips and etching at the corners of her mouth, so the video might not turn out perfect since it's just doing broad sweeps of the room. She remains silent however and doesn't move from her spot at the bar.
Frankie gets painted with a fine splash of red. Thankfully, her mouth wasn't open. Also thankfully, she's been bonded to something that eats carrion for the past couple of years. The most disturbing part of seeing someone get splattered like that is kind of wanting to snack on it after. Trying to ignore the ringing in her ears, Frankie turns to try to figure out what the hell just happened. Oh. Wow. Nine foot crow thing. "Crow," marvels Frankie, blinking.
Jay does peek up at the chaos but stays down on the floor behind the bar, keeping Kasey there and from looking up just yet as well. "It's gonna be okay, trust me." He tells her, trying to calm her.
Damian goes down into a heap with the man, too late. He rolls off of him, blood staining his chest a little, but not his own blood. That's an expensive suit. The blood and gore though, don't even seem to faze him. That's a little weird, to be sure. He pauses to assess the situation, he was just a man reacting, trying to save a life, but now his logical mind engages. Eyes flicker to the hoody, to the nine foot beast and then to the almost dead man. Another oddity, the nine foot crow barely seems to get any extra attention. No expression forms on his face, except the slight pull at the corners of his mouth, possibly downwards. He has to shake his head to clear the cobwebs from the blast, but then focus is on the old man. He checks his pulse, he looks around for something, a cloth, anything to put on the wound. Where did he learn first aid? It seems he does know it, or some form of it. And why is he trying to save a Neo-Nazi?
Isrieal doesnt know what she turned into, she can't see it but Frankies awe and revelation does indeed give her that much needed hint and she knows Frankie loves crows as much as she seems to. She bows that form and spreads a wing in grateful gesture to Frankie, but also giving Frankie the crow like respect she must love from the creature. The Raven King looks back towards the Hooded figure. "Why did I tell you to kill him? Where are you going to find me..." Its voice hisses, trying to gain anything useful while they have the advantage.
In a soft, nearly whimpering tone, the shooter blubbers out. "You told me to kill him, Sire. He was going to betray you." His eyes are still looking down as he dare not look at his god in the face. "Look...there...I killed him...for you...Sire..."
Yeah the phone is still recording, though now that she isn't actively studying the poor killer, she's looking at the phone and taking proper video of all those involved, a few good seconds of crow-thingy. Then the phone is lowered once more and Amastacia closes her eyes beneath the glasses and a few mutters uner her breath as within her mind she focuses on the stranger in the hoodie, weaving Fate like a cage around his Pattern. Once the spell is complete she opens her eyes and resumes filming.
Frankie leans back when the crow thing spreads its wing. She looks hurriedly at Damian, eyes wide, and then turns her attention to the hooded man the giant crow thing is addressing. Seems to be cowering. Frankie starts to stand up, peering about and looking for Aurore.
Kasey stays down on the ground for a bit longer, as she doesn't want to peek at what is going on and end up getting shot in the head. Though as things start to calm down a little, she calms a bit as well.
Edwin glances down to the hood and stares down at the figure, "Well..." he glance between the hooded man and the massive Crow. Understanding develops as the exchange is heard. Lips twist into a small frown as he glances around the room to look at the carnage, his own features splattered in bits of old dead body man.
Damian is attending to the gentleman's body, nothing more. He has to take off his suit coat to attend to the wound, but the wound looks far too grievous to save the man. It seems to occur to Damian after a moment, you can't save him. Even his feeble knowledge of first aid tells him this. He pats the man's hand briefly, as if saying a few words over him, and then leave his coat covering him. It's better for the masses until the ambulance and first responders arrive, if they do. Standing up, he turns to assess again.
The Raven King copy plucks a feather from somewhere upon itself and hands it to the hooded man. "Give this to me where I reside...hide it there well." He commands. "Do this...and leave here now." He orders. "Leave this place and never return."
Just to make sure that she feels *even better* about all this, Aurore receives the rippling sensation of so-called 'High' magic to add to the more natural ones provided by the scene... and then she has to fight back the urge to vomit once again, as she sees the old man all-too-rapidly start to show just *how* old he really was. She chokes a little, shaking her head in mild disbelief at seeing one suspicion confirmed... but doesn't dare intervene in the display of supernatural power presently taking place.
People have started to calm down from the initial blast and at least one person got off a call to 911 (or so it would seem) as word comes down from staff that the police are coming. They're not here yet but soon. Could it be that someone tipped them off? There's a body, a 9-foot tall crow-skull thing and a shooter that is freaked out (for now) but will eventually shake it off.
At the command from his...uh...GOD..., the man in the hoody takes the feather and bows deeply before trying to retreat.
Just another Monday night, right?
Amastacia stops recording, tucking the phone and the newspaper into the satchel, then straightening her blazer before taking its handle in her grip and standing. SHe lifts her left arm, looking at the silver wristwatch upon her forearm and taking mental note before she starts striding around the edge of the group and up the stairs after the retreating hoodie gentleman.
Frankie heads for Aurore, still splattered in gore. "Hey - are you alright?" Just ignore the giant crow that's not even behind the curtain.
Frankie adds, "The police are coming. They're about four... three blocks away now. There are three or four cars." She's got that distant look again, as though her attention is divided.
A black mist swirls around the crow creature and when it settles Isrieal is standing back in its place looking down at the body. She bites at her lip. "Do we tell them the truth? Someone came here, shot him, and ran off? Or anyone have any tricks up their sleeves to make them believe something or not?"
"His real age caught up with him," Aurore says, waving a hand in the direction of the all-too-dead old man on the floor. Her voice is more than a little thick, but she doesn't seem to be about to either vomit or fall apart. "The... the cult... steal life. Lunar month. Sacrifice three children. Preserve youth and vigour. Or so the story goes. Fuck. I... think I need to get out of here. I'm no use in any sort of 'explanation'. But the cops are going to want to know why you have a two hundred year old corpse here for someone to shoot, if you try to tell them about this. He's decayed to his real age."
Ah, a phone. Damian makes note of it. That's particularly annoying, but he doesn't do anything about it, or so anyone but Frankie can see. Those black mists that had encircles him moments ago, are surrounded (To Sin-Eaters eyes only) by white mist that forms into metal, protectively. To anyone else, Damian has done nothing, but looked back down at the body. Then wisp of invisible plasm smoke off his armor, encase Amastacia's phone and poof. Her phone is stops recording. It stops doing everything.
"Noted," Frankie tells Aurore. "Thank you. Norbert saw the shooter's car and he's tailing him," Frankie says, voice a little distant. She snaps back to her present surroundings. "Are there security cameras in here, Isrieal?"
Isrieal shakes her head. "I haven't installed cameras since my men are here at all times. They're my eyes." She tells her. "Can you guys help me get rid of this body? I'm not expert on where to move these things." She says with a frown. "I really...really don't want it, but I can mask it for now and get the cops to leave." She tells them.
Kasey finally lowers her hands back down and starts to sit up a little and peeks over the table she was hiding under. She looks around to see what was going on, now that it seemed like it was safe.
Amastacia heads back upstairs to the main floor.
Kasey is just a student at the local university, though she was studying medicine. So with things calmed down she goes over to the body to see if there is any chance to save the guy who was shot.
"I'll, uhhh... make myself scarce," Aurore heroically volunteers, looking more than a little queasy. On the way out, she does pause, looking to Frankie to catch her eye, at least. "And I'll put this somewhere *safe*," she says, snaring the cane before effecting her escape - heading, in her case, for the Society for the Uplifting of Humanity and its secure, hidden, warded vault.
Frankie nods to Aurore and whips out her smartphone and takes several pictures of the cane. "Go. We need to talk later." She glances Damian's way, and then toward the door.
Frankie nods to Aurore. "Go. We need to talk later." She moves back to Damian and stoops down beside him. "How much longer do you need? We should probably go." Kasey is glanced at. "Shit."
Damian kneels back down, hand going to the corpses chest. Again, Frankie is the only one that can see the inky-black plasm that leaves Damian and enters the corpse. Like some sort of re-animation ritual that never comes to completion. Like transferring your own soul into this body. He closes his eyes and his mouth appears to move silently. A prayer, surely.
Damian adds, speaking, despite what he's doing. "Go, I'll talk to the police." Damian is a fantastic liar, she knows that.
Kasey moves a little closer as she looks at the body, hoping that maybe she could save him if he was hurt, but it seemed like he might of been dead for a while. "What happened to him? That doesn't look normal...Like he has been dead for a long time."
Frankie nods to Damian and turns away. She doesn't reply to Kasey; she moves up the stairs. Plasm flows over her form again as she flexes her hands, then flows over it again. She turns a corner and is suddenly gone. Disappeared. Only Damian can see what she did, and he can't see her anymore.
Isrieal leaves the basement to go deal with the cops and as she passes from the door it seemingly vanishes as if the room never existed in the first place. Nothing to see! She will explain it was a false alarm, people getting rowdy while Frankie and Damian deal with the body and make their own escapes. Jay offer to get Kasey out of the mess and see her home, leaving her with his and Isrieal's numbers if she needs and promising at least a week of free drinks for dealing with all this.
Damian finishes with what he's doing. But this can be done elsewhere, and no one really wants this body examined. He's coy though, saying he's not sure what happen to the body when Kasey asks and waiting for most people to vacate. Then, another shroud envelops him, one made of blood, that is invisible to most eyes. He picks the body up, and then next thing you know neither of them are there. Unless you can see into Twilight.
Breaking News just in, there were gun shots at a local bar and club, the Hypnotiq! Live and on the scene a reporter interviewed one of the witness.
"I was in the club enjoying a night out when some guy in a hood totally pulled out a gun and shot this old guy. It was crazy, and everyone was screaming and running around. Though after I saw the guy's body and it looked like he had been dead for 30 years! I am a medical student so I know what that look like too, it is true. Maybe some crazy stunt or prank with a corpse to fake his death? I didn't actually see him get shot, because I ducked and hid when the gun was pulled out. It was super scary though!"