IC: Underworld, SR Style, In Character thread for Underworld Options

[Fenris]

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The courtyard is quiet, dark, and deserted, except for the still forms of a young man and a young woman. The man sits, perfectly still, the breadth and depth of his considerable will focused inwards. The young redheaded woman kneels nearby, waiting patiently, as is her wont.

She blinks, once in the darkness, although no visible sound or movement has disturbed the yard. She nods, the gesture seemingly pointless, and returns to the stillness of her waiting.

A moment later the man speaks, dispelling the notion that he was unaware of what had transpired.

"A message, Lyra?" he prompts gently.

"It is. Kiren has a task, from...from Her, he says." She mentions it with only slight reluctance, born from a long experience in the types of tasks set before the young man. They were never easy, and never safe...

"We are to report to an address in Prague at 6pm in three days. We'll learn more after we arrive."

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"So you actually expect me to believe you have no idea what happened in that parking complex? You called me from that same area not two days before asking about some missing university kids, and now there are rumors that the light show people saw was some kind of magical strike team attacking something nobody's ever seen before. And you don't know anything about it?" Her question was pointed, but accompanied by the same small smile she always wore when she knew it was useless.

Kelly always seemed to know a little too much about things that were going on, but the support team her show provided her explained alot of it. And she was, to put it nicely, persistent.

He grinned at her across the table, taking another sip of the local red. "Not a thing."

The conversation was interrupted as the waiter stepped over, handing a small, hand written note to the slim elf.

My apologies, Fortune, for interrupting your dinner. We have a matter that requires your urgent attention. There is a plane waiting for you at the local field, readying to fly in two hours. You should be in Prague by 12:00pm tomorrow, giving you plenty of time to arrive at this address by 6:00pm.

You have our utmost appreciation for your efforts, as always.
Sean.

She arched her brows at him across the top of the note as he looked up. "That mysterious 'work', again?" she asked, half curious and half disappointed.

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The figure slunk through the night, trenchcoat flapping, hat pulled down low over his brow as he moved from pool of light to shadow, footsteps silent on the concrete. A figure ahead of him moved just as silently through the streets, apparently oblivious to his tail.

He turned a corner, and the figure in the back quickened his step slightly to make up the distance. Rounding the corner, he hesitated for just a moment. The street ahead was clear. The figure was gone, and there was no other movement down the avenue.

Just to his right, a soft voice floated out of the alleyway. "I can smell you, you know..."

He spun, hand instinctively reaching under the loose trenchcoat he wore. He spotted a pair of milky white eyes in the darkness, and a sigh of relief escaped him.

"The Brothers say you're to report here for an assignment for the Hand." The previously trailing figure stepped forward, revealing the faint yellowish cast to his skin and the milky white pupils of his own eyes as he handed over a small folded piece of paper.

"Tomorrow, by 6pm." He glanced nervously about, but by the time he looked back to the alleyway, it was empty.

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The pack moved like a scattered, silent river under the moonlight, occasional yips and howls coordinating the movement of 20+ bodies in the night. Surprisingly, an orc ran in their midst, his movements as confident and in tune as any of the pack. Ahead of them, bodies scuttered through the movement, game scattering in all directions ahead of the rushing predators.

Several quick, sharp noises up ahead, followed by a long, drawn out howl told the runners their task was done. He followed the group of them as they condensed, flowing through the trees in the forest, coming upon a small clearing. In the clearing, the forms of several more of the pack were obvious, the dark fur in stark contrast to moonlit brush, hunched over the form of 3 deer, 2 stags and 1 doe, blood still steaming into the night air.

Most of the pack ate in human form, huddled around a small campfire built in consideration of the one pack member that couldn't eat his meat raw. As he tore a chunk of flesh from the flank in his hands, Gault turned to look at the orc.

"The Elders say they've a task, something you're well suited for." The words were harsh in the shifters throat, the French stuttered with the harsh Russian accent of his first language.

The orc paused, looking up from his food. "Did they say what, or where?"

The shifter shook his head as he tore off another chunk of flesh. He talked around the meat, alternating speech with chewing. "They said the information had already been sent to your LTG. You leave tomorrow. I think it involves the Council."

The orc nodded, turning back to his food. There would be time enough tomorrow to head back to the helicopter and retrieve the information. Tonight would be spent with the pack.

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The darkness of pure bliss receded slowly, the dim light of the candles slowly penetrating the estatic haze of feeding she always experienced at his hands. She blink slowly, languidly, and looked around the exquisite chamber. Years ago, when they'd first met, this had all been in the sewers, hidden away. But she'd help him. She'd brought him food, helped him plan, and together they'd forced their way back into the underworld, back into the true politics that lay behind the day to day lives of the Blind. She never fooled herself, she wasn't unique, and he could have his pick if he so chose. But she was loyal, and competent, and they'd achieved much together.

She sat up slowly, glancing over at the figure in the high backed chair perched in front of the fire. She slid off the bed and over to him, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder.

"You seem troubled," she spoke quietly, using English because it pleased him to hear her speak the languages he'd taught her.

"Nevermore." He had always liked the name she had adopted.

"You have a task. There is an address on the card on my desk. You will be there tomorrow at 6:00pm, and you will do what is asked of you." He fell quiet, utterly confident of her obediance.

The moment gone, she nodded silently and turned, scooping up the holster with the pair of pistols she always carried with her, taking the address from his desk as she left.

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The ballroom was glorious, decorated in an old world style that existed in very few places in this modern world of steel and glass. Old fashioned chandoliers decorated the vaulted ceilings, and the candlelight softly filled the voluminous space. The dancers, swirling among the dancing light and the heavenly waltz, were a thing of splendor unto themselves. Old fashioned linen mingled with new polymers, and fey mixed with elves, humans, and even the Johnny-come-lately changlings, obvious from the wild assortment of evolutions they encompassed. Many wore masks, ranging from ornate gold and gilt constructions to simple slips of paper, hardly painted and barely covering the eyes.

Twilight twirled among the dancers, exceptional in her grace even in the room full of the exceptionally graceful, changing partners as the dance demanded. One such spun into her embrace, a smiling cats face covering his. He chuckled lightly, the sound barely audible over the music, and leaned close, closer then was appropriate. She recognized the sound of Joshua's voice as he whispered into her ear, flawlessly maintaining the dance.

"Plans shift, alliances crumble and fade, and Darkness moves across the playing field."

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and she pulled back to look at him, but he was already spinning away, caught up and disappearing in the flow of dancers. Feeling a prick, she touched her chest lightly, realizing he'd slipped a small business card under the edge of her dress. The address was in Prague, and the time was 6:00pm, barely more then 10 hours once time changes were taken into consideration.

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The shotgun roared, filling the cramped space with it's sound, and the the slugs ripping through the hide of the crouched, clawed figure hunched over the three bodies. The people wouldn't be getting back up, and Will fired again as he caught sight of the frozen scream on the face of one of the college age girls. The creature screamed, rearing up and rising to a height of just under three meters, towering over the small human, wings spreading out behind it as it lept towards what it considered just new prey.

The human's eyes fell to slits, and as the massive body of the gargoyle fell towards him, the nodachi flowed into his hands, power singing through the blade as his will released the bonds that held it in check. The creature had time to widen it's eyes before he buried over a meter of the blade in it's chest, the tip dipping to the ground as the creature abruptly became dead weight.

Will flicked the blade clean, resheathing it in a smooth motion as he stepped over to examine the bodies. Lips tightening was the only display of his reaction as he turned away, dropping a small metal canister on the collection of bodies and walking away, form lit in the sudden aura of light as the white phospherus consumed the bodies.

The message was waiting when he got back to his room, small red light beeping insistently, demanding he ignore his aches and pains, his needs and wants, and answer immediately.

Adam Jackson's voice was crisp and curt as ever, a carryover from the military he'd never abandoned.

"Davis. There's trouble stirring among the Low Council. I need your help with this one. I owe someone a favor, and their calling in chips from all over the place to work some kind of op. The meeting's in Prague, tomorrow at 6:00pm local time."

Davis nodded, glancing at the glowing digits of the clock readout on his Trix unit. There would be a plane ticket waiting, but he'd have to leave soon. Much sooner then he'd wanted to move again, never mind travel.

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The pot was lifted, and moved with slow, fluid movements. The tea steamed as it flowed into the small white cup, but the tea itself was the least important part of the ceremony. The cup was lifted, turned, and accepted with precise motions, the slightest sip taken only when the gestures were completed.

Mistress Izumi sat quietly for long moments after that first sip. Minako sat equally as still. It would be a great loss of face to cause a commotion at a moment like this.

She finally glanced down at her, the faintest smile touching her lips, contradicting with the tone of her voice as she spoke, that tone revealing only the most approprite amounts of anxiety or distress.

"An ill wind blows, and the scale is loaded even more heavily on each side, precariously balanced."

"The slightest improper touch, and the balanced is destroyed." Her glance is pointed, for the Mistress, although almost undetectably to most.

As Minako lifts her cup to drink, there is a small card underneath it, with an address and a time printed clearly in flowing calligraphy. The card cleary had not been there moments ago as she had poured the tea. She never ceased to wonder, as she lightly sipped, although such minor events were common in the Master's house.