[mission: hyrypia] i lived on dread

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: Everyone
WHERE: The Red Coast
WHEN: The Night of DAY :038 (man this sucks syntactically, doesn't it? - just go with it)
SUMMARY: The dread returns; the Hosts hatch a plan to ferret out the identity of the Enemy agent and chase down loose ends.
WARNINGS: N/A. Need something added? PM the mod account!

WHALSOME HOUSE
DAY :038 (NIGHT)

GIMME BACK THAT OLD FAMILIAR FEELING
IT'S ONLY JUST FULLY DARK when the nauseating sense of dread - some primal, instinctive fear of the symbiote - triggers for a third time. In the immediate aftermath, a fundamentally commanding voice manifests itself in the minds of all Hosts. Siva'co says:

( Return to our quarters immediately. There is no time to waste. )

In the cramped Carbauschian rooms of Whalsome House, an impromptu and desperate meeting is held and plans are hatched. Utilizing the radiation tracker Pidge spent the afternoon building, a small contingent of Hosts will attempt to infiltrate the Admiral's quarters in the effort to find evidence that somehow links him to the charred circle before the evidence has faded. However, with security so tight and an entire Pilgrimage of envoys milling around in the courtyard out of fear of either being murdered, attacked by some wild creature, or having their stuff set on fire, sneaking anywhere is easier said than done.

Luckily, there are a lot of helping hands ready to change that.


I. THE ONE MAN SHOW
YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT MUSICIANS. It's that they have impeccable timing. Attempting to thin the crowd while more over the top plans can be implemented, Gildor makes his way from Whalsome Home to Tyrisson Town's square. There he'll be staging a Very Enthralling Performance. Unfortunately, the effect only works on those that can actually hear it. Other Hosts will need to help encourage attendance and keep the crowd happy for as long as they can while elsewhere…--


II. OOPS, I ACCIDENTALLY AN ARSON
WHY MESS WITH A WINNING STRATEGY? Setting stuff on fire certainly seemed to do the trick covering tracks made earlier in the day, and that's the go-to plan for the evening. While Gildor's performance manages to contain some of the the area's denizens, it'll take more than sad songs to draw everyone out of the Whalsome Home and thin the guard detail posted there. So let's go big, shall we? The Hosts will compel a Red Coast local deep in his cups to stagger out of the public house to one of the storehouses keeping casks of harvested Garstall fat. There, the Hosts will make sure she makes a very flammable accident.

The storehouse catches fire with all the enthusiasm of a matchstick. With the breeze coming off the water, it isn't long before the fire is raging-- and then threatening to jump to other buildings: neighboring structures containing more Garstall fat, lacquers and glues, and who knows what else. Should those areas be consumed by fire, it's only a matter of time before it travels to devour the rest of Tyrisson Town. The stones won’t burn, but the roofs and the tapestries certainly will.

The immediate and very real danger is enough to drag every able-bodied Red Coast locals to attempt to fight the fire. The guards patrolling the courtyard surrounding Whalsome Home will rush to assist and compliments of individuals from each envoy may be persuaded to help join the effort to save the town. While this won't empty the Whalsome Home or Tyrisson Manor completely (there are more than a few individuals who would rather stay safe in their respective quarters than run down to fight a fire - they have servants to do that), the fire certainly thins the ranks enough to make the mission of the infiltration teams feasible.


III. ONLY YOU CAN STOP DOCK FIRES
LOOK, NO ONE WANTS TO BURN THE PLACE TO THE GROUND. We just want to keep it burning for long enough. Which means hampering fire relief efforts because, as it turns out, the Red Coast locals know how to deal with fire. Bucket brigades are quickly implemented to start soaking the structures closest to the burning storehouses in an effort to keep the flames from traveling; further, it isn't long before the locals are breaking out hoses and technomanced pumps to churn water up from the sea in an effort to douse the fire.

So there's plenty to mess with - whether it's exhausting relief efforts, sabotaging equipment, or pushing people around until tempers flare alongside the literal fires.

Between the Host's efforts to slow the relief efforts and the extremely flammable nature of the Garstall fat, the fire will burn for most the night. Unfortunately, the major envoys in attendance won't be there for the entire night - over the course of the evening, they'll trickle back to their quarters to catch a breather and get some rest. Better be quick about…--


IV. SNEAKY SNEAKS BEIN' SNEAKS
BREAKING INTO TYRISSON MANOR is no easy task. However, thanks to quick thinking to reroute and/or disable the guards and the communication perks of the mental link, a small contingent of Hosts is able to wind their way through the palatial, completely ostentatious rooms of Tyrisson Manor and eventually reach the (comparably) quiet wing where Shee Naraxa and Casiria are sequestered for their mourning ritual. Luckily, the fires seems to have drawn their attendants away from the area; unfortunately getting them to break from their mourning sequester for a quick conversation may be more tasking than reaching them. Further, the demands of the manor's security will eventually trigger a changing of the guard - better to get in and out as quickly as possible before someone catches you in the act. Meanwhile…--

THE ADMIRAL’S QUARTERS ARE UNASSUMING and, at least for the moment, unguarded. That isn’t likely to last long though. The team infiltrating will be able to break in and begin searching through the building for the evidence they seek. It will quickly become apparent that thought the front of the building had little to differentiate it from the standard housing, within the layout of this section of the Descendant housing varies radically from Sam's shared memories. Here, thick dark curtain have been hung to divide the shared room into closed off sections; beyond the last curtain lies a large space which must clearly serve as the Admiral's private quarters, complete with a folding desk meant for frequent travel. This space is dimly lit by several technomagical lanterns, and it is very, very quiet. The desk has several papers on it - the sort that someone would notice if they went missing -, an intricate pen in a stand and a seal, as well as a small dock for an absent communicator, all placed very intentionally.

Pidge’s scanner is working, and with a little Luck it can detect a spot of lingering radiation emanating from a burlap sack tucked away under the bed. Inside it is a set of Descendant clothing soaked in shockingly, unsettlingly fresh blood.* The evidence has been stored hastily - the bedclothes are disturbed and messy in a way nothing else in the room is.

However, it isn't long before the search will have to end. Despite the ongoing fire the Descendant security will return to their posts even if the Red Coast locals and Tyrisson guards continue to battle the flames. The Hosts will need to slip away before that happens and make sure they leave no evidence of their intrusion behind.


V. REGROUP
THE FIRE EVENTUALLY GOES OUT though the air remains choked with smoke and ash, and the lanterns that line the streets give off an eerie glow through the haze of it - sickly red and orange. The envoys are encouraged to return to the Whalsome Home. Exhausted and soot-smeared, the Carbauschians are no different. It will give everyone time to regroup - and report on what they’ve found.


VI. ONE LAST SURPRISE
DURING THE LAST DREDGES OF NIGHT a second interruption arrives at the Carbauschian quarters via a quiet knock on the door jamb of their barracks. It's one of the Red Coast servants and she is accompanied by two clearly exhausted guards. The servant gives the Hosts a short, perfunctory bow.

“We greatly regret the events of the past days, and House Tyrisson feels it would be best for the Pilgrimage to move on from this tragic place as quickly as possible. The House wishes sincerely for you to put these terrible things at your backs as you move on to more promising lands, all with the hope that you remember them kindly when you think of your time here.”

With that message delivered, they depart. The Hosts should be ready to pack their things in the morning.

---

((OOC Notes: This log serves as a general catch-all for the events occuring the Night of Day :038 and the immediate aftermath.

*PLEASE NOTE: The set of bloody clothes found in the Admiral's Quarters belongs to the unnamed Descendant from the 'Short Handed' prompt on the Garstall hunt log; any Host who both sees the bloody clothes and who went out on the water for the Garstall hunt (or who has both these memories shared with them via the symbiote link) may recognize this.

If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • GAME CALENDAR • MISSION: HYRYPIA • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

FIRETEAM.

[incinerates]

[ mine and eppy's alignment is chaotic chaotic so play fast and loose with it, kids ]

punches tracking button on this top level

[deployed]

( Is everyone in position? )

[ Bellamy's mind loops between all of them, establishing contact. It's more effective than Raven's walkie-talkies. Hopefully this skirmish would go better than the rain-drenched clash with the grounders that's ghosting along the edges of Bellamy's thoughts. ]

[persevere]

[Caroline's nervous as hell, but she's also on high alert, her advanced senses listening for anything that might be helpful or detrimental for what they're about to do.]

( Yeah, we're here. Coast is clear so far. Still waiting for a decent target. )

I. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1YDcQqaRLk

[perroquet]

❚❚❚❚❚ ENTHRALL (ota / no tagging order)

[ The sense of dread once again aches through the collective consciousness, but this time they must each push past it and get to work. Quick as his excuse for the conspicuous Seviilia's whereabouts, Gildor grabs his violin and heads to the center of Tyrisson town. He moves with a sureness not normally revealed, and a grace reserved for moments such as this. He needs to take the stage, or rather, create one and then take it. ]

( I am going to hold the attention of the townsfolk captive with a spell. I'll only be able to hold them half an hour, maybe twice that if nothing goes wrong, and only those able to hear me will be affected. Still, it should keep some attention away from the manor, at least until something else is done. )

[ Within the meeting and planning, there's a stray thought of causing a fire. While certain it's not his, he's not entirely opposed to it.

He chooses the town square. It's as crowded as a sleepy fishing village can get, and luckily the particular place he wants is currently unoccupied by other buskers - the base of a statue of some founding Tyrisson noble. He'll take that luck and buy them some time. Through pounding footsteps he feels the statue rising out of the paved ground. Setting his staff aside, he climbs the few steps up it's base, cups a hand to his veiled mouth, and raises his voice- ]

Gentle faranas and fair saranas, younglings and elders! Now I cannot see you, but I know I am not alone here tonight. I implore anyone who can hear me to please lend your attention! Gather round now, for I have something to be shared with any willing to listen! [ With that, the spell is cast. His mind remains open to those able to listen through other means, letting them know - It has started. I will try to keep it sensitive. ]

Since my fellow pilgrims and I arrived to your fair city, grief has inexplicably followed in our wake. I do not mean to cast superstitions or drag up painful memories by saying this! I only hope to drive out the darkness that lingers over our journey, this city, and to help the tragically departed souls find their way to the next world. Just as the Descendants mourn tonight, we Carbauchians mourn with them. And we mourn with you, Tyrisson, over the recent dangers plaguing your streets. We have a custom of playing music to help the dead cross over, to purify the land of the living - and personally, I find it eases the process of grieving. I ask that you listen to this humble score, and reflect on whatever grief you may carry, so that we may all come away from this dark time renewed.

[ Most in the immediate area - villagers and envoys alike - have already turned their heads to watch, curiously mesmerized before the first note plays from his fingers. Others don't seem as interested but linger idly, while others still turn away to carry on with their own business.

The music that follows isn't necessarily chosen for it's somber nature, but it's style, purpose, and length. He wasn't lying about the custom - only that it is Carbauchian. It's up to him to pour his own sorrow into it, but oh - after the last several days, it isn't a difficult feat. The difficulty will come in maintaining the magic. That, and performing flawlessly while communicating mentally. ]

( How is the crowd so far? ) [ He asks openly, worried and straining to form fluent thought as he focuses primarily on the mental effort of music making. ]

❚❚❚❚❚ AFTERMATH (ota)

[ Gildor returns to the barracks earlier than most. The fires along the docks aren't all out yet, but he overheard they were nearing containment, and that's good enough for him. He's weary from spellcasting and won't be much help with aiming a water pump. Besides, someone has to greet the other tired hosts as their schemes come to a close.

He sits in a high backed chair, cleaning his violin after a rough performance. Or at least he's trying to - he has to keep stopping to stretch sore fingers. The cut callouses on his first and second finger keep bleeding, and he doesn't want that getting on his rosin. The tent flaps part, and he raises his head towards the sound. ]

So, how'd it go for you?

[ He keeps his voice light, hoping for good news. ]

aftermath.

[detestable]

Just fine, considering I stayed out of it.

[ Which Seth doesn't regret in the slightest. The potential for a fuck up was too high for Seth to sign on. Even as he'd removed himself, the buzz and hubbub of the execution had been a pleasant drone in the back of his mind. It had been the equivalent of having a television on in the next room. Surfacing to find they'd managed to pull it off had been a nice surprise for him. Seth doesn't hate having his expectations surpassed. ]

Shit, your hands. That happen every time?

[ There's a drink in Seth's hand, because of course there is. He doesn't offer it to Gildor, though he sits beside him with the same ease he'd showed on the beach. ]

[perroquet]

Oh, how good for you. Not in a hurry to return the station?

[ The words form a mildly passive accusation, but if he’s being honest and open minded, (and he usually is) Gildor isn’t bothered by Seth’s decision to sit the night out. There was enough going on, and it was managed to the best of their collective abilities. There’s also a stray thought that crosses the connection, an answer to his own question. While he’d like to solve the puzzle, protect innocent lives, and end the mission, he isn’t eager to leave Tyrisson.

He picks up a cloth from the open violin case at his feet, feels it, then drops it and picks up another. There’s a soft one for cleaning, and a rough scrap of stained bandage he’s been pressing to his fingertips. Judging by Seth’s reaction, they’re still a mess. ]

Hm? Oh, no, they’re fine. I’m merely out of practice. Haven’t been able to get the usual hours in, and my callouses are going soft.

[ The scent of a drink is mentally noted, but he pointedly says nothing - ignoring it but, straining to. ]

IV. SHEE INTERROGATION

[ryohji]

[ they find her alone, predictably, but smaller than he'd anticipated.

he'd thought up a young-looking thing, aristocratically-featured, a face that seemed naturally inclined to frown, shadowed with the unique tension of fresh grief and worry. eyes red-rimmed, tautness at the corners suggesting recent tears. clothes tastefully, discreetly grand, well-tailored and richly-dyed in blues and purples. what they're met with, instead, is her back against the back of a chair. kaji cannot help but be reminded of fuyutsuki, wrists handcuffed behind him. shee is just as still as he was, but he was dead.

hesitation means time and time seems like something they're running out of. but with the immediate danger apparently past, he can afford to speak, very quietly, peeking through the small window insert. ]

Ever interrogated a child before? I can't say I have. [ to rust, the inquiry is soft. unobtrusive. ] That must be her.

IV. Sneaky Sneaking

[greentech]

[ They've gotten this far, but that doesn't really mean much if they can't find anything. Fortunately, everyone seems to be distracted so they probably have some time to find something. Well. Hopefully something. Because if they come up empty they might have to do this all over again. The quarters themselves look horribly neat and Pidge isn't immediately suspicious, but she is a bit cautious. She flicks on the detector in her hands, slowly sweeping it from one side of the room to the other as she starts to pick her way forward. ]

Anything immediately jump out at you guys...?

[wille]

[ Misato's by the desk, arms crossed in front of her chest to keep herself from touching anything unnecessarily. She is stock still, trying to decipher the meaning of something on its surface, calculating the distances between things, derive some kind of pattern in the lack of chaos. A few beats later, she sighs and turns to watch the others scouring the room. ]

There's something missing from this table. Some kind of gadget. But I don't think we should touch anything.

[greentech]

This guy is a definite neat-freak.

[ It's not entirely alien to Pidge and her own messy environment, but it's worth noting. Everything seems to have a place. She follows the little pings from her detector. There's something here. Somewhere. ]

Try not to leave anything out of place. I have a feeling he'd actually notice...

REGROUP | OPEN TO ALL FOR POKING AT THE EVIDENCE

[wille]

[ Safe at their own quarters, and the night still stretches long before them. It had taken such great effort from all to procure the palm-sized piece of bloodied cloth that Misato now rests on a table in the middle of the room, and this is only the start. A loose thread. The harder one tugs at it, the more it unravels without rhythm or rhyme, and as it stands they have only a handful of tangled threads. ]

Here. Classic, really. We found the radiation on bloodied clothes under his bed.

[ Only then does she push back her hood and tug off her gloves one by one, stepping back to let others approach the table. ]

We took only a scrap. It seemed a good idea to leave behind as little trace as possible, and any one of us can show you what the whole thing or even the room looks like.

[ ooc: threadjack, talk among yourselves, make a private thread examining the cloth, whatever works! ]

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam may or may not have been back seat hovering over their connections while the infiltration was going on - half because he wanted to know how long they needed to be sabotaging the fire containment efforts, and half because of who was on the team - but he's definitely there as they return.

There's the impression of why is it always under the bed? in his mind, for those who his connection is stronger with. He holds back from touching the cloth, looking it over instead before he glances up at Kate. ]

You think you could whip up something to test DNA? [ He's mostly teasing, but honestly, if anyone could do it, it's Katie.

Still, the blood makes him think immediately of Elena, and his mind reaches out to hers, tugging gently to try to get her to come over. ]

[greentech]

Possibly. But I'm not really a biologist or anything like that. Radiation and figuring out tech is totally my thing, but analyzing DNA... well, I can do that. But I'm not sure I have the parts to od a whole DNA scan thing right now. I'd need actual medical equipment.

[ Pidge shrugs. Sorry. ]

[iuno]

If you're looking to get anything useful off it, don't touch the damn thing.

[ it's a general warning, because he hasn't been a police detective for a long time now, but he still knows how to treat evidence when they're not sure what use it has yet and the best they could hope for is some scrap of DNA lifted off of it aside from the victim's. god, it really isn't much, is it. he knows they were on a tight schedule, but this isn't really how detective work goes; he's an investigator, not a psychic. the symbiote abilities are probably going to be better at his job than he is.

his mood is palpably frustrated, but scratching at the surface of that proves it's more to do with himself than the lack of evidence. he feels useless, not good enough to solve this. ]

The whole piece would've been more useful — we might have been able to pick up traces of something else. A few hairs, at least.

[ there's a sudden static sensation for anyone who's paying attention to Juno's mental link, and he startles: ] Wait, seriously? You didn't think that would have been useful for me to know before right now?

[wille]

[ There are many, many unusual personalities in this cohort, which is already an understatement, but seeing someone conduct a one-man argument is still pretty novel. Misato has the mind to wait a few beats until both his voices finish before speaking up. ]

What about the blood, can't you get something out of that?

[aluminumandash]

[ Rust's tired but no less awake for it, senses amped up—light shattering across his vision. Adrenal fatigue a ways off still. He takes in the cloth, its dimensions, without making a move toward closer examination. ] ( First— ) [ There's certainty in the way he grips Misato's mind. The yearning of a knife for the cut, pen for the page. ]

( Ready? )

[wille]

[ Now, certainty is a rare commodity in these times, that she would lap up even one built on make-believe. She turns both her eyes and her mind toward him in an attempt to focus her attention to a single narrow pathway. That is, if a mind is like a labyrinth then she is closing off all unnecessary exits, clearing the way for a path through to the very room in question, locking away secret doors before opening the entrance. ]

( If you veer off elsewhere, I'll make you regret it. )

BAKUGO & JUNO ( CLOSED ).

[incinerates]

[ The hardest part isn't getting the fire started. It's containing it, after it's really gotten going.

Bakugo understands fire. Maybe not in the same way that someone with an actual fire-based Quirk would, but close to it. He's had an intimate relationship with the way the flames can quickly overwhelm, how hungry they are. He might generate explosions at will, but that power leaves fire in its wake. After the fire's gone wild, he gets himself onto the containment team. ( They have to be VISIBLE. They have to be HELPFUL. They have to HAMPER the relief efforts. It matters, for the mission to work out properly. And, he needs to quell the sick feeling in his stomach -- starting fires on purpose and pinning it on some poor drunk is just. It's criminal. ) It's times like this, that he regrets leaving behind his world. He wonders what they'd think of him -- finally fulfilling society's fears, as he starts fires and keeps them going.

The locals are really, really good at organizing though. Which is reassuring.

What's not reassuring, is seeing Hadrian's damaged damsel stupid love interest out among the relief efforts. Whatever Juno's up to, Bakugo immediately hates him for it. He breaks from the beeline he's been jogging along the shoreline, after gumming up equipment with a few subtle, well-placed explosions, and seizes Juno by the back of his robes and yanks on them to grab his attention. One of the buildings before them is aggressively burning, and the water being pumped out of the sea has been turned on the neighboring structures -- it's a lost cause. An area to avoid. Already, the walls are starting to buckle as the fire eats holes in them. The whole thing looks ready to collapse. ]

Idiot!

[ It's how he says "hi", at this rate. But, even as he grabs for Juno's wrist to bring him away from the danger, one of the walls gives -- and the building slants sharply, crumbling down in their direction. ]

[iuno]

[ Juno is good at very few things, and even those few things are debatable. he knows that. he knows that none of his skills are of any use here, but he can't bring himself to stand by and do nothing to help the relief efforts or the mission, especially not when their mission is the reason all of this is happening in the first place. he's tired of being sidelined out here, feeling this helpless all the time.

the danger doesn't bother him, so he helps. he keeps his finger on the pulse of the Nest while he's at it, an ear to the ground for any change of plans, and so his attention snags on the way that Bakugo's focus swerves in his direction, that shadow of Nureyev: Juno, you idiot— ]

Me? [ he's pulled into motion by Bakugo's grip on his wrist, bristling: ] What are you doing—

[ the sound of the building giving way behind them is what turns Juno to look back. he can hear the Theia speaking to him in its steady tone, calculations about trajectory and radius and time until impact, how fast he needs to react to avoid it, things he doesn't need it to tell him. they're not going to get out of the way in time. neither of them, not him and not Bakugo, the idiot who threw himself into harm's way to drag Juno out of it, out of childish heroism or a misplaced protective urge, both of which sting like a splinter in Juno's heart. and on some bizarre instinct, he throws out his hand, like that would do anything to stop the collapse—

the barrier that springs up between him and the debris is blue, translucent, shimmering, and it withstands the impact without so much as buckling. but Juno doesn't; Juno staggers, feeling the blow somewhere beneath his ribs as sharply as if he'd been struck himself, and a strangled gasp of pain wrenches from him. it's fine — it's fine it's fine, he's had much worse, grits his teeth against it and keeps moving until they're further away from the danger zone.

once they are safe, a decent way from the building and the frantic relief efforts, he lets himself double over with a weak groan, one hand pressed to the ache. ]

Guess it's too much to ask for a regular freaky psychic shield instead of a double-edged one.

[ not to mention the fact that apparently his symbiote ability is just as self-destructive as he is. ]

[incinerates]

Shut up! I don't want to experience ANOTHER stupid argument between you and Hadr--

[ The building slips, the way he expects it to. One wall crumbles, and he innately understands the way it'll be coming down -- he's annihilated his fair share of structures before, with nothing more than his bare hands and a whole lot of fury. This is different, because while it's easy enough to plant a hand into the ground and blast the two of them out of the way, he hesitates. ( Of all the stupid fucking things to do, he hesitates. Because the majority of the damn team is urging him to play it cool, play it safe. Don't do anything loud and overt, it'll cost them their gains, cost them the mission. It's the worst thing to have hum through his brain, in this moment. Heroes don't hesitate. The nest-connection forces him to. )

Thankfully, Hadrian's old flame has something he can do that's not as loud, or flashy.

The building comes down on the two of them, even as Bakugo twists at the hip and the knee, trading the hold he has on Juno's wrist for one that crosses his hips. It's inelegant, but if he can just get Juno down on the ground, he can get over him. Use the flames and the crack of the collapsing structure to disguise his Quirk. None of which happens, because by the time he's got an arm across Juno, there's a flare of light and the rubble clatters around them in a half-circle. Cascades down into heaps and piles around them, as the world goes at once dark and then bright. He's able to catch Juno as he stumbles, bracing his taller, broader form against his to keep him from going down hard.

At least they're on the move, shortly after that. The silence emanating from Bakugo practically a pillow to be smothered with, as his hands work on reflex and instinct to support Juno while he limps ( he fucking limps out of this -- ), and further still, until he's pushing down on his shoulders to get him to sit his ass down. ]

Don't push. [ His voice is terse, but flat. Like he's moving on auto-pilot. ] You didn't get hit, how'd this happen?

just ilde things

[erbier]

House Tyrisson
[ She's been here before, and even before she lets anyone head inside, she offers her mental map of the place, the vision through her eyes of how she had wound her way inside the place the night of Keya's murder. There are attributes about Ilde's point of view which can be discerned, her razor-focus on the movements of shadows, her attention to where one can hide, and a constant, singing hum just barely audible, and almost coherent enough to make out the words of... One deeper, darker voice is even less cogent, and is more like the heavy sound of darkness than a voice of its own. You'll catch yourself hearing it later, when things ever get too quite.

She knows the way to the wing where Shee and Casiria have holed up, but she does not know what lies inside of it. Too many guards on hand at the door, too many stationed too nearby, and the same tricks she had used to sneak about the Opian jail may not be wise here. The Enemy hadn't found them out yet, but perhaps a cloud of psychic nightmares from her might do the trick. ]

( Come along. )

[ A voice like a schoolteacher calling to her flock as she leads them in at the ground floor. ]

( Our time is precious. )

Inside
[ She certainly can fight, but she would rather leave it to those who enjoy it more. Clean hands are her preference, and there is nothing here that presses her sense of urgency to draw a knife from her belt. Instead, she moves silently through a cleared hallway, watching the tracker for signs fo radiation. Nothing so far. Perhaps that relieves her, it was always a pity to be the center of attentions among their own troublesome cohort... ]

( Nothing here, is everything alright? )

[ Before she steps back out of the doorways and into sight. ]

On the way out
[ She is the last to leave the manor, secure that she will not be noticed nor seen, if you happen to linger back yourself, you might notice how close a guard passes to her without seeming to notice... Her presence is turned off. Her breathing, her heartbeat, even the vibrations of her mind. She's silent, all the way back to regroup. ]

inside

[whereabout]

[ "Enjoy" is a strong word. Joshua enjoys fighting, maybe, in the same way a hose enjoys watering a garden; he doesn't have strong feelings about it one way or another. A tool does what it was made for, and what it thinks about that is irrelevant.

And he was made for sneaking, killing, and getting the mission done, not necessarily in that order.

So he leaves handling the tracker to Ilde, and he instead keeps an eye on their surroundings as they sweep the area looking for any sign of radiation. If they're disturbed in the act, he has his hands free to handle it.

Ideally, it won't come to that. But Joshua's never put much energy into hoping for the best case scenario. ]

( Seems like we're still in the clear. )

[sistershoggoth]

this is fine.
[ The noise surrounding the fire wakes her up from the drug induced nap she had fallen in to. Sedatives were such a fucking downer, why the fuck did anyone do sedatives... Like she needed a fucking quaalude... She's sluggish and groggy trying to piece herself together enough to be of any fucking use. She isn't. She couldn't tie her own shoelaces. ]

( It's cool, I'll just die in the fire, it's fine... )

i can be useful too!
[ Sam Wilson sucks the stoner right out. It's disappointing, almost, to be sobered up like that. Like a slap in face having that sweet sedative haze yanked off, and while her faculties shape up, it's not like her brain's as gung-ho about the change. The bounce back makes her head hurt, returns the panic into her chest, the self-loathing into the forefront. But at least when she hates herself, she's willing to play with fire.

She comes to help corral Rabos and sabotage their best efforts to put out the fire, while keeping it under control in other places... ]

( We are the most self-defeating assholes in the galaxy. )

hey fuckface! -- fer shep
[ The aliens are not literally as stupid as cattle, but all the same, Annie still finds herself shouting after one member of the envoy trying to get through the flames, ]

You stupid fucking sheep! Get the fuck away from there, was your mother a donkey?

[ Knowing the nature of most creatures, she expects her shouting to have no effect at all, and that she's going to have to go over there and grab this idiot... But instead, they do turn around, anger on their features as they come barreling towards her. ]

Oh shit!

[ The Rabodocean is a lot bigger than her, and even as she's knocked to the ground she brings up her elbows to the center to block her organs and a little bit of her face. ]

after
[ She's asleep again, immediately, and no amount of prodding will wake her up. ]

this is not fine

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Well. There's a lot of reasons for sedatives, but none of them all that great right now.

Sam can feel the heavy churn of Annie's mind against his, like trying to wade through molasses, and he grabs on immediately. ]

( No one's gonna let you die in the fire, Annie, what the hell happened? )

Halt and Catch Fire

[redheadcarrier]

( I really hope this actually works. )

[ Asuka isn't sure about any of this. They're supposed to make up some mumbo-jumbo and grab attention and then - well. The plan is vague, but very direct (which she can get behind), but she dearly wishes that there was something more concrete. Then again, Lakshmi has always had a solid head on her shoulders and she's (relatively) confident in her own abilities. They're approaching Whalsome Home, listening to the sounds of the evening, and Asuka is hoping that they don't get caught. There's a small group outside, talking together and gesturing toward the red glow that's lighting up the sky in the direction of the fire. ]

( Do you want to introduce us or what? )