TillForPie
First Post
Is Agnasci genuine in his intention to protect Weinberg from the Dogs of War?
Nazareth Awakened - Chapter 02: Wives of Solomon
- Thread starter TillForPie
- Start date
OOC: Agnasci has no intent to risk or sacrifice anything to help or protect Weinberg.
TillForPie
First Post
Agnasci
[sblock=Lying to Weinberg]Roll: Manipulation 4 + Subterfuge 3 vs Composure + Highest of Empathy/Subterfuge = Tied with 1 success
Agnasci hasn't convinced Weinberg that he can be trusted to keep him safe[/sblock]"Uh, sparkle... right." Weinberg doesn't seem to know exactly how to react to Agnasci's instructions. "You can tell your friends I should have the stuff in a few days. Make it a week, just in case." He sighs.
Agnasci notes a few thin bands of dark blue in the man's aura - it smells of spices, and Agnasci can tell Weinberg is probably still weighing whether to trust him. Still, for now it seems Agnasci has Weinberg's cooperation.
[sblock=Lying to Weinberg]Roll: Manipulation 4 + Subterfuge 3 vs Composure + Highest of Empathy/Subterfuge = Tied with 1 success
Agnasci hasn't convinced Weinberg that he can be trusted to keep him safe[/sblock]"Uh, sparkle... right." Weinberg doesn't seem to know exactly how to react to Agnasci's instructions. "You can tell your friends I should have the stuff in a few days. Make it a week, just in case." He sighs.
Agnasci notes a few thin bands of dark blue in the man's aura - it smells of spices, and Agnasci can tell Weinberg is probably still weighing whether to trust him. Still, for now it seems Agnasci has Weinberg's cooperation.
"They're not my friends. I'll call you in a week. I'll need your number, unless you want someone to show up at your door again."
Once Weinberg gives Agnasci his contact information, the Mage takes one last look at Weinberg. Maybe he's underestimated the doctor. Or maybe Agnasci is just rusty, not having spread his wings in way too long.
"The name's Lan. Not that it matters." He doesn't try to shake the doctor's hand before he leaves.
On his way home, Agnasci sends a text to Big Rich. "Job's done. You'll have it in a week. Rachel has a cop friend checking up on the house a couple times a day. Lay low for now. See you then."
Hopefully that's enough to keep that knuckle-dragging ape away for awhile. Never can tell with someone like Rich, though.
Rachel won't be home when he gets there. The thought delights him. The lack of sleep and exertion of the day has worn him out, and the thought of finally getting some uninterrupted rest overcomes him.
Agnasci is finished with his side-quest today. He'll meet up with the others this evening to investigate the hallows.
GlassEye
Adventurer
Harper, Thyrsus mage
[section]
[sblock=Harper's Guitar]
[/sblock]
[section]
Harper seems particularly struck by Penrose's question. 'Who am I now, really?' He was no longer that Jameson Keller Dann so full of faith in god; that man was as changed by his college experience as a caterpillar after emerging from its cocoon. And when his parents couldn't accept that he held different beliefs, when his inability to find a job put him on the streets he became someone else again: JD, homeless street musician.
Then that afternoon under the overpass: Crazy Pete using a sharpie to draw a piece of art on his guitar and the vision, his Awakening, that came on him so suddenly and sent his spirit leaping from creature to creature... He was Harper now, more than any of those others but he realized he had received his name from Pete and wondered if the old man has some sort of power. Not a lie when he said he had told no one his name, but not the full truth, either.
He came out of his musing and shook his head. He had nothing to say to Penrose at the moment but when their mentor had gone he spoke to Law. "I'm going to catch a nap. If we're gong to be out late and have a lesson with Penrose after..." Harper shrugs. "Have someone come get me when we're ready to investigate."
[/section]Then that afternoon under the overpass: Crazy Pete using a sharpie to draw a piece of art on his guitar and the vision, his Awakening, that came on him so suddenly and sent his spirit leaping from creature to creature... He was Harper now, more than any of those others but he realized he had received his name from Pete and wondered if the old man has some sort of power. Not a lie when he said he had told no one his name, but not the full truth, either.
He came out of his musing and shook his head. He had nothing to say to Penrose at the moment but when their mentor had gone he spoke to Law. "I'm going to catch a nap. If we're gong to be out late and have a lesson with Penrose after..." Harper shrugs. "Have someone come get me when we're ready to investigate."
[sblock=Harper's Guitar]
Rubberneck
First Post
Law nods, and exits the bookstore to go finish his shift.
TillForPie
First Post
Agnasci
When I die and they lay me to rest,
Gonna go to the place that's the best!
When I lay me down to die,
Going up to the spirit in the sky!
Agnasci sees himself far below him, running down Main Street in a panic. Except for the purple bishop's cassock he sees himself wearing everything is colorless. Norman Greenbaum's Spirit of the Sky is pounding in his ears. It's loud, peppy, and joyous, but Agnasci feels nothing but terror.
Going up to the spirit in the sky,
That's where I'm gonna go when I die!
When I die and they lay me to rest,
Gonna go to the place that's the best!
There's a roar of engines in the distance and in the east there is a huge wave of bright blue water, hundreds of feet tall and roiling with the shape of thousands of racing motorcycles. The wave crashes through Tuxedo Springs, the trailers swept along with the water as it surges into Nazareth. Cars, signs, and the faceless people crowding the sidewalks of Main Street vanish beneath the waters. Agnasci is running for his life in the direction of the bookstore, the wave crashing behind him.
Prepare yourself - you know it's a must,
Gotta have a friend in Jesus!
So you know that when you die,
He's gonna recommend you to the spirit in the sky!
Agnasci turns into the shopping center parking lot, weaving his way between parked cars and the crowds of gawking, motionless pedestrians. The watery bikes devour everything as they change direction to follow him. He reaches the bookstore and yanks open the door before throwing himself inside. Faye is behind the counter, faceless and reading a book with a blank cover.
Gonna recommend you to the spirit in the sky,
That's where you're gonna go when you die!
When you die and they lay you to rest,
You're gonna go to the place that's the best!
Water smashes through the storefront as Agnasci is clearing the Employee's Only door on his way to the bathroom. He sprints down the exposed staircase behind the sink and into the waiting room under the store. He yanks open the door to Penrose's sanctum and finds that painting, Saint Michael Triumphs Over The Devil, staring back at him. The blue motorcycles collapse against Agnasci and he's swept into the painting.
Never been a sinner - I never sinned,
I got a friend in Jesus!
So you know that when I die,
He's gonna set me up with the spirit in the sky!
He's tumbling into the painting, stretched endlessly in all directions. Devils are falling all around him as he goes.
Oh, set me up with the spirit in the sky,
That's where I'm gonna go when I die!
When I die and they lay me to rest,
I'm gonna go to the place that's the best!
Go to the place that's the best!
Everything is dark.
When I die and they lay me to rest,
Gonna go to the place that's the best!
When I lay me down to die,
Going up to the spirit in the sky!
Agnasci sees himself far below him, running down Main Street in a panic. Except for the purple bishop's cassock he sees himself wearing everything is colorless. Norman Greenbaum's Spirit of the Sky is pounding in his ears. It's loud, peppy, and joyous, but Agnasci feels nothing but terror.
Going up to the spirit in the sky,
That's where I'm gonna go when I die!
When I die and they lay me to rest,
Gonna go to the place that's the best!
There's a roar of engines in the distance and in the east there is a huge wave of bright blue water, hundreds of feet tall and roiling with the shape of thousands of racing motorcycles. The wave crashes through Tuxedo Springs, the trailers swept along with the water as it surges into Nazareth. Cars, signs, and the faceless people crowding the sidewalks of Main Street vanish beneath the waters. Agnasci is running for his life in the direction of the bookstore, the wave crashing behind him.
Prepare yourself - you know it's a must,
Gotta have a friend in Jesus!
So you know that when you die,
He's gonna recommend you to the spirit in the sky!
Agnasci turns into the shopping center parking lot, weaving his way between parked cars and the crowds of gawking, motionless pedestrians. The watery bikes devour everything as they change direction to follow him. He reaches the bookstore and yanks open the door before throwing himself inside. Faye is behind the counter, faceless and reading a book with a blank cover.
Gonna recommend you to the spirit in the sky,
That's where you're gonna go when you die!
When you die and they lay you to rest,
You're gonna go to the place that's the best!
Water smashes through the storefront as Agnasci is clearing the Employee's Only door on his way to the bathroom. He sprints down the exposed staircase behind the sink and into the waiting room under the store. He yanks open the door to Penrose's sanctum and finds that painting, Saint Michael Triumphs Over The Devil, staring back at him. The blue motorcycles collapse against Agnasci and he's swept into the painting.
Never been a sinner - I never sinned,
I got a friend in Jesus!
So you know that when I die,
He's gonna set me up with the spirit in the sky!
He's tumbling into the painting, stretched endlessly in all directions. Devils are falling all around him as he goes.
Oh, set me up with the spirit in the sky,
That's where I'm gonna go when I die!
When I die and they lay me to rest,
I'm gonna go to the place that's the best!
Go to the place that's the best!
Everything is dark.
It was dark in the studio when Constance went in. The lights were down just to the point where she could make out the shadowy shapes of the chair and table; see with dark-adapted eyes the outline of the headset lying there. She liked to work that way. It made her feel connected to her audience when she was just a bodiless voice even to herself.
“Good mornin' to everyone in range of my voice,” she said warmly into the mic, on its little boom arm, as the headset settled over her ears as snug and soft as a pair of winter earmuffs. It played her words back to her, making her one of her own audience members. “Any of you ken listen to me, but my words ain’t fer every one of you.”
She played up her accent a bit on air. At first she hadn’t even been aware of it. Now she did it on purpose. Kind of. At least, she did it with self-awareness…but since she figured she couldn’t really stop if she wanted to, that meant it wasn’t exactly on purpose still.
“If you’re a person who treats the world like a fast food burger…which is to say, you grab what’s right there in front of you without lookin’ too hard, without chewin’ too long, and sure as hell without checkin’ the ingredients…well then you’ll get nothin’ from my show except a good chuckle and an eye roll or two. I don’t judge you. What you do is what every single little thing about how you learned to be has leaned you to do.”
“There’s another way though. You ken come at the world like a gourmet chef, samplin’ everything, findin’ your own ingredients, cookin’ up each little bit yerself. It’s a sacrifice. You work ten times as hard fer half as much…but there’s satisfaction in that. And you know exactly what yer puttin’ in yer mouth. Fer better or fer worse.”
“This is Constance and Variables.”
After she’d first Awakened, while still in the grip of that fierce and abiding epiphany, Constance had dreamed fitfully of revamping her show to explain everything she’d learned. She’d wanted to make her little program into a radio wave of transcendence, like a broadcast of fire that would set aflame the mind of anyone listening and let them see through the new eyes she’d found. Only two things stopped her.
The first was the simple impossibility of it. Constance found herself unable to pen a script. Words, no matter how long she hammered at them, always came up dry. The truths of revelation looked either mundane and self-evident, or completely insane, when set on paper by ink. On some level she realized that it was ‘reality’ fighting back…sloughing off contrary ideas into established ‘runoffs,’ like too much rain off of a house. She’d have kept trying, if it hadn’t been for Penrose…the second thing.
When Constance had confided in him her troubles, he’d regarded her with his impenetrable eyes, then sighed and said, “You can’t. Even if you could though, you shouldn’t.” He’d explained to her, in his measured tone, that without the call of a Tower, an Awakening was much worse than impossible. It was dangerous. A mind, a soul, could become caught in the Abyss without any guidance. That was, after all, one of its supposed functions. In another time, another age, anyone seeking enlightenment might find it with time and discipline. Now, delving too deeply into the nature of reality was at best a waste of most people’s time…but for those who had potential for magic but had not yet heard the call, it could be much worse.
So Constance had looked at her old transcripts again, and realized in hindsight that she didn’t have to change a thing. She’d always talked about not taking things for granted, about seeking your own answers, and about how the world was just too big for only one thing to be true. She just hadn’t understood before. Now she did…and that lent her words and voice a confidence that could be compelling.
“I’ve got a full plate for you tonight,” said Constance, “Some new twists in the Nazareth county clerk scandal, early results from the groundwater tests those college kids were doin’ that’ve come back with some disquieting information, and a sneak preview of my next big piece on the ongoing conflict in the Middle East, and how it could all mean somethin’ very different than what it all looks like.”
“But first I want to kick things off by talkin’ about a few things. A box. A postcard. And a doll. Sunset at the Grand Canyon. Blue diamonds. What does it all mean?”
She took a breath. “We find things sometimes that don’t fit into what we think we know to be true. Little things, usually. The big things, the world has a way of findin’ excuses for. But the little things sometimes slip through the cracks. They hint at a pattern outside the blanket we weave around ourselves, and no matter what you want to call that pattern…god or aliens or fate or what-have-you…what’s important is that you strive to know it better. Find the cracks those little things tumbled in through and squeeze yer eye tight against ‘em and try to get a glimpse.”
“Cuz you ken bet that the world we see when we look around is jes’ a little piece of the whole, even though it seems big enough to be complete. Remember that we only see in a tiny few colors, compared to all the ones possible, and only hear a fraction of all the sounds made. Limited by our bodies, we must make up the difference with our minds. Question everything. Accept the possibility of anything, cuz the world is bigger and stranger than we will ever know. Maybe all you need to figure out a question is a new mental wavelength…a bigger picture to show you how the pieces fit together. Pieces like a postcard, a box, and a cute little doll.”
Her chest hurt a bit, and Constance sucked another breath in.
“Hoo, okay then,” she laughed. “I figure that’s about enough out of me fer now. I’m gonna put on a song ‘r two and when I come back we’ll get to the meat.”
And the band played on.
Constance queued up a couple of songs, some old time rock that’d go over well with the Nazareth population, and went to get a bottle of water from the fridge in the breakroom. She hadn’t made it all the way there when…
“Dolls? Postcards? What the hell was that?”
She glanced over her shoulder and gave her boss, the owner, a winsome smile. “Jes’ makin’ a point.”
“If that was how you try to make a point, try harder,” he advised. “Point not made! It’s not news. News, remember? Save the philosophy hour!”
The little fridge made a squishy noise as it opened, and the light inside was a half-second later to turn on than it should have been. Same as always. Constance stooped over to snatch a clear plastic bottle (she took the labels off all her food and drink, just in case) that had her name stuck to it on a piece of masking tape.
“It ain’t jes’ philosophy,” she informed him loftily. “It’s about keepin’ an open mind and how doin’ that ken help find answers in places you’d never think to look otherwise. Innit that why we’re here? Why we’re doin’ this?”
“We’re here to find facts,” Waters replied, his eyes narrowing a bit. Her impish smile and teasing tone weren’t helping. One problem with relying on charm to get your way through life was that eventually folks got used to it. “Facts that are hidden; facts that are protected.” He grimaced and ran his hand through his thinning hair, but his voice softened. He and Constance went back a fair piece; and shared some of each other's suffering. They were friends, but friend-Joel had always been distinct from boss-Joel.
“Look, it’s your show, I’m not going to ride you on content too much, but…lets stick to the formula more. You know, you’ve got a decent thing going. Folks tune in. You get calls sometimes. Little station like this, that’s not bad. Lets keep that ball rolling.”
Constance nodded, even as a voice in her head laughed and laughed at the idea her show had EVER had a ‘formula.’ “Alright, well, I think the rest of what I got will make up fer that then. Anyway, gotta get back.” She tapped her wrist, where a watch would be if she had one.
She didn’t do watches anymore. The idea of ‘trapping’ time was almost as offensive as it was laughable to her now.
Her boss nodded and stepped aside. Dead air time was unthinkable, and one of the few things that would actually make him upset, even if he could come off as bombastic sometimes. Constance hurried past and back to the booth just in time to get a swig of water as the coda played out and she crossfaded back in.
“Now,” she said with satisfaction glowing in her voice, “You ain’t gonna believe this one.”
It wasn't until lunch that she had a chance to get away from the station to do a few things of her own. She went down to a little internet cafe over where the highway went through town and set up her laptop to do a little webfishing.
She looked up a couple of kachina doll enthusiast sites, and made some throwaway forum accounts with her dummy email address. Then with digital pictures of the doll she'd received, she posted a few 'i'm a nooby plz help wat r these?' posts to see if anyone in the hive mind could help identify anything special or unusual about it. She then cruised through the Nazareth yellow pages to see if there were any appraisers or anything like that in town. Heck even an insurer or pawn shop might be able to help.
Then it occurred to her that the police might have resources for figuring this kind of thing out that she lacked. If only she knew someone on the force.
Tee hee.
She figured he'd be working during the day though, same as her, so she'd wait for the evening to call him. Could just wait for everyone to meet at Penrose's, but...that was kind of late, and then they'd be busy with the Hallow stuff.
“Good mornin' to everyone in range of my voice,” she said warmly into the mic, on its little boom arm, as the headset settled over her ears as snug and soft as a pair of winter earmuffs. It played her words back to her, making her one of her own audience members. “Any of you ken listen to me, but my words ain’t fer every one of you.”
She played up her accent a bit on air. At first she hadn’t even been aware of it. Now she did it on purpose. Kind of. At least, she did it with self-awareness…but since she figured she couldn’t really stop if she wanted to, that meant it wasn’t exactly on purpose still.
“If you’re a person who treats the world like a fast food burger…which is to say, you grab what’s right there in front of you without lookin’ too hard, without chewin’ too long, and sure as hell without checkin’ the ingredients…well then you’ll get nothin’ from my show except a good chuckle and an eye roll or two. I don’t judge you. What you do is what every single little thing about how you learned to be has leaned you to do.”
“There’s another way though. You ken come at the world like a gourmet chef, samplin’ everything, findin’ your own ingredients, cookin’ up each little bit yerself. It’s a sacrifice. You work ten times as hard fer half as much…but there’s satisfaction in that. And you know exactly what yer puttin’ in yer mouth. Fer better or fer worse.”
“This is Constance and Variables.”
After she’d first Awakened, while still in the grip of that fierce and abiding epiphany, Constance had dreamed fitfully of revamping her show to explain everything she’d learned. She’d wanted to make her little program into a radio wave of transcendence, like a broadcast of fire that would set aflame the mind of anyone listening and let them see through the new eyes she’d found. Only two things stopped her.
The first was the simple impossibility of it. Constance found herself unable to pen a script. Words, no matter how long she hammered at them, always came up dry. The truths of revelation looked either mundane and self-evident, or completely insane, when set on paper by ink. On some level she realized that it was ‘reality’ fighting back…sloughing off contrary ideas into established ‘runoffs,’ like too much rain off of a house. She’d have kept trying, if it hadn’t been for Penrose…the second thing.
When Constance had confided in him her troubles, he’d regarded her with his impenetrable eyes, then sighed and said, “You can’t. Even if you could though, you shouldn’t.” He’d explained to her, in his measured tone, that without the call of a Tower, an Awakening was much worse than impossible. It was dangerous. A mind, a soul, could become caught in the Abyss without any guidance. That was, after all, one of its supposed functions. In another time, another age, anyone seeking enlightenment might find it with time and discipline. Now, delving too deeply into the nature of reality was at best a waste of most people’s time…but for those who had potential for magic but had not yet heard the call, it could be much worse.
So Constance had looked at her old transcripts again, and realized in hindsight that she didn’t have to change a thing. She’d always talked about not taking things for granted, about seeking your own answers, and about how the world was just too big for only one thing to be true. She just hadn’t understood before. Now she did…and that lent her words and voice a confidence that could be compelling.
“I’ve got a full plate for you tonight,” said Constance, “Some new twists in the Nazareth county clerk scandal, early results from the groundwater tests those college kids were doin’ that’ve come back with some disquieting information, and a sneak preview of my next big piece on the ongoing conflict in the Middle East, and how it could all mean somethin’ very different than what it all looks like.”
“But first I want to kick things off by talkin’ about a few things. A box. A postcard. And a doll. Sunset at the Grand Canyon. Blue diamonds. What does it all mean?”
She took a breath. “We find things sometimes that don’t fit into what we think we know to be true. Little things, usually. The big things, the world has a way of findin’ excuses for. But the little things sometimes slip through the cracks. They hint at a pattern outside the blanket we weave around ourselves, and no matter what you want to call that pattern…god or aliens or fate or what-have-you…what’s important is that you strive to know it better. Find the cracks those little things tumbled in through and squeeze yer eye tight against ‘em and try to get a glimpse.”
“Cuz you ken bet that the world we see when we look around is jes’ a little piece of the whole, even though it seems big enough to be complete. Remember that we only see in a tiny few colors, compared to all the ones possible, and only hear a fraction of all the sounds made. Limited by our bodies, we must make up the difference with our minds. Question everything. Accept the possibility of anything, cuz the world is bigger and stranger than we will ever know. Maybe all you need to figure out a question is a new mental wavelength…a bigger picture to show you how the pieces fit together. Pieces like a postcard, a box, and a cute little doll.”
Her chest hurt a bit, and Constance sucked another breath in.
“Hoo, okay then,” she laughed. “I figure that’s about enough out of me fer now. I’m gonna put on a song ‘r two and when I come back we’ll get to the meat.”
And the band played on.
Constance queued up a couple of songs, some old time rock that’d go over well with the Nazareth population, and went to get a bottle of water from the fridge in the breakroom. She hadn’t made it all the way there when…
“Dolls? Postcards? What the hell was that?”
She glanced over her shoulder and gave her boss, the owner, a winsome smile. “Jes’ makin’ a point.”
“If that was how you try to make a point, try harder,” he advised. “Point not made! It’s not news. News, remember? Save the philosophy hour!”
The little fridge made a squishy noise as it opened, and the light inside was a half-second later to turn on than it should have been. Same as always. Constance stooped over to snatch a clear plastic bottle (she took the labels off all her food and drink, just in case) that had her name stuck to it on a piece of masking tape.
“It ain’t jes’ philosophy,” she informed him loftily. “It’s about keepin’ an open mind and how doin’ that ken help find answers in places you’d never think to look otherwise. Innit that why we’re here? Why we’re doin’ this?”
“We’re here to find facts,” Waters replied, his eyes narrowing a bit. Her impish smile and teasing tone weren’t helping. One problem with relying on charm to get your way through life was that eventually folks got used to it. “Facts that are hidden; facts that are protected.” He grimaced and ran his hand through his thinning hair, but his voice softened. He and Constance went back a fair piece; and shared some of each other's suffering. They were friends, but friend-Joel had always been distinct from boss-Joel.
“Look, it’s your show, I’m not going to ride you on content too much, but…lets stick to the formula more. You know, you’ve got a decent thing going. Folks tune in. You get calls sometimes. Little station like this, that’s not bad. Lets keep that ball rolling.”
Constance nodded, even as a voice in her head laughed and laughed at the idea her show had EVER had a ‘formula.’ “Alright, well, I think the rest of what I got will make up fer that then. Anyway, gotta get back.” She tapped her wrist, where a watch would be if she had one.
She didn’t do watches anymore. The idea of ‘trapping’ time was almost as offensive as it was laughable to her now.
Her boss nodded and stepped aside. Dead air time was unthinkable, and one of the few things that would actually make him upset, even if he could come off as bombastic sometimes. Constance hurried past and back to the booth just in time to get a swig of water as the coda played out and she crossfaded back in.
“Now,” she said with satisfaction glowing in her voice, “You ain’t gonna believe this one.”
It wasn't until lunch that she had a chance to get away from the station to do a few things of her own. She went down to a little internet cafe over where the highway went through town and set up her laptop to do a little webfishing.
She looked up a couple of kachina doll enthusiast sites, and made some throwaway forum accounts with her dummy email address. Then with digital pictures of the doll she'd received, she posted a few 'i'm a nooby plz help wat r these?' posts to see if anyone in the hive mind could help identify anything special or unusual about it. She then cruised through the Nazareth yellow pages to see if there were any appraisers or anything like that in town. Heck even an insurer or pawn shop might be able to help.
Then it occurred to her that the police might have resources for figuring this kind of thing out that she lacked. If only she knew someone on the force.
Tee hee.
She figured he'd be working during the day though, same as her, so she'd wait for the evening to call him. Could just wait for everyone to meet at Penrose's, but...that was kind of late, and then they'd be busy with the Hallow stuff.
Last edited:
TillForPie
First Post
9:45 PM, Sunday, the 5th of January. It's been about 20 hours since the group investigated the Winnebago in the desert. Night comes early in winter and already it's nearly pitch dark, but the temperature isn't likely to fall below 47°F or so tonight.
Harper was the first one up. Faye woke him at around 7:30 PM and had him help her clear out trash from the alley behind the store that had been bothering her. But he rested well and even after helping Faye was feeling rejuvenated.
Law was the next at the bookstore, arriving in his personal vehicle and in plainclothes once more at about 9:15 PM. Law hadn't been able to catch a nap during the day and only got about three and a half hours of sleep this morning, so he's starting to tire - not enough to impair him, but he's feeling it. His mother had asked where he's been spending so many of his nights lately and he'd responded with some lie.
Chance and Agnasci were last, both arriving in Chance's car at about 9:30 PM: On Chance's way to the bookstore she'd seen Agnasci on the sidewalk and picked him up. Like Law, Chance hasn't napped and only got a few hours of sleep this morning (thanks to Agnasci), so she's tired, too. But she did get a response on one of the forums she posted to. A poster called KachinaBoy1968 had said that her doll was a relatively rare type called a Saquasohuh, or Blue Star Kachina. The Saquasohuh is, in Hopi mythology, a spirit that heralds the apocalypse.
Agnasci's sleep was plagued by fitful nightmares but it was enough that he's in no danger of fatiguing. He'd left right around the time Rachel gets home from work and thus avoided crossing paths with her.
Now everyone is standing in Nazareth Secondhand Books, deciding how to tackle the two dormant hallows. Should they split up and take a look at each simultaneously? Or should all four go to each hallow? Further, Penrose had asked Law and Harper to take Chance by the spot where they'd met Earnshaw so that she could look back to their meeting with her time magic. When the group's investigations are done they're to meet back here for a lesson with Penrose.
Faye is behind the counter as usual, a plate of half-eaten spaghetti in front of her (she'd made it shortly before Law arrived and this was her and Harper's dinner). She's watching the local news on a small television in the corner ceiling of the store. A reporter had interviewed locals this afternoon about their thoughts on Nazareth alderman Matthew Pittman's recent arrest for meth possession and those interviews are being aired now.
Harper was the first one up. Faye woke him at around 7:30 PM and had him help her clear out trash from the alley behind the store that had been bothering her. But he rested well and even after helping Faye was feeling rejuvenated.
Law was the next at the bookstore, arriving in his personal vehicle and in plainclothes once more at about 9:15 PM. Law hadn't been able to catch a nap during the day and only got about three and a half hours of sleep this morning, so he's starting to tire - not enough to impair him, but he's feeling it. His mother had asked where he's been spending so many of his nights lately and he'd responded with some lie.
Chance and Agnasci were last, both arriving in Chance's car at about 9:30 PM: On Chance's way to the bookstore she'd seen Agnasci on the sidewalk and picked him up. Like Law, Chance hasn't napped and only got a few hours of sleep this morning (thanks to Agnasci), so she's tired, too. But she did get a response on one of the forums she posted to. A poster called KachinaBoy1968 had said that her doll was a relatively rare type called a Saquasohuh, or Blue Star Kachina. The Saquasohuh is, in Hopi mythology, a spirit that heralds the apocalypse.
Agnasci's sleep was plagued by fitful nightmares but it was enough that he's in no danger of fatiguing. He'd left right around the time Rachel gets home from work and thus avoided crossing paths with her.
Now everyone is standing in Nazareth Secondhand Books, deciding how to tackle the two dormant hallows. Should they split up and take a look at each simultaneously? Or should all four go to each hallow? Further, Penrose had asked Law and Harper to take Chance by the spot where they'd met Earnshaw so that she could look back to their meeting with her time magic. When the group's investigations are done they're to meet back here for a lesson with Penrose.
Faye is behind the counter as usual, a plate of half-eaten spaghetti in front of her (she'd made it shortly before Law arrived and this was her and Harper's dinner). She's watching the local news on a small television in the corner ceiling of the store. A reporter had interviewed locals this afternoon about their thoughts on Nazareth alderman Matthew Pittman's recent arrest for meth possession and those interviews are being aired now.
"I think each of us brings something different to the table," Agnasci says. "Wouldn't want to overlook something because we brought the wrong mage. I think we should investigate the hallows together. Barring that, I'm going with the guy who has a badge and gun."
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