⇨ The Tourist Trap: PROLOGUE

[ringleaders]

Who: Anyone, anywhere in Portland.
When: Any time before the start of the event.
Where: Portland area, in the new reality.
What: Once you've submitted your AU summary, you can use this post to do some CLOSED THREADING to play out some character interactions that happened before the event start. This means that memory regains will not be in play yet. Open top levels are not allowed - these threads are intended to sort out closed interactions between planned backstory connections, during the week leading up to the actual event start.
Warnings: Could be anything.

PORTLAND, AS YOU KNEW IT↴ The shift went unseen and unfelt. One moment you were one person, and the next, another. This before all that, though, in the new life that you remember living here in Portland. No memories of your true self have arisen yet, and at the time this was the only life you knew. Did these events truly happen at all? Or do they only exist in memory?

Comments

Negotiations for Sanctuary

[amusicaladventure]

The most irritating thing about diplomacy, in Ashleigh's mind, was the need to be diplomatic about it.

In an ideal world, she could have just had this... upstart? Agitator? Swiss Miss? She wasn't sure she had the proper word for it -- come to her office, where Ashleigh could sit at the comfort of her desk with her spell circles laid out where and how she wanted them, with her wards intact and her protections manifest, and felt perfectly comfortable dictating terms. Really, she wouldn't be harsher or more unreasonable in that circumstance; she recognized perfectly well that acknowledging this Sanctuary was in the Circle's best interests. She just would have been more comfortable.

The price one pays to look good.

Instead, here she was in a coffee shop, musing over a cup of some foreign blend that she couldn't really taste under an absurd amount of cream, and waiting for this 'Helen' woman to make her appearance. One hand idly tapped away on her laptop, innocent fidgeting to anyone looking over her shoulder. She kept the magic circle displays off-screen. Why they still worked that way, she had no idea, but when one needed to futz the perceptions of those nearby, the spell performed seeming miracles.

Re: Negotiations for Sanctuary

[promnibusanctis]

Helen was, by all means, not late even if she had ordered a tea to bring with her to this meeting. She sat without preamble, her expression pleasant. Aligning with those around her was absolutely necessary to avoid certain conflicts. This meeting was one of many and she nodded to the mage.

"Helen Magnus," she murmured warmly. "Shall we get started then?"

somewhere in "seattle" six years ago [peridot]

[whattaprick]

Lambert hadn't really been in the foster home long enough to think of it as home, but it was the closest to one he had. With the rest of his newfound college friends back out of state, he could either sit around in the dorms watching everyone else left get drunk and high off their asses -- a sight that had lost its hilarity after the fifth time an inebriated idiot threw up on him -- or harass Peridot and Miko and try to teach them some of the new krav maga moves he's picked up in case they need to punch some jerk in the balls while he's gone.

It's no contest, really. The idea's enough to lift his spirits as he hops off the bus, grin bright as he hefts his bag higher on his shoulder. Yeah, this is going to be a great break.

Of course, that's when the feeling of sudden dread hits him like punch to the gut, staggering him enough to make him reach out and catch his weight on a lamp-post, gasping. The homeless man begging for change by the bus station squints at him in confusion, then turns away, muttering something about drugs and stupid kids.

Lambert isn't listening, though. Lambert's already walking -- running -- towards the direction the feeling is pulling him towards.

[periphrasing]

Turns out that direction is towards the local library, which has always been a favorite haunt of Peridot's. Indeed, Lambert will find evidence that suggests she's been here: her backpack is sitting abandoned by one of the computer stations, with the timer still running on the screen. But as for Peridot herself? Well... She's nowhere to be seen.

To say Peridot has been feeling kind of off for the last few days would be something of an understatement, especially when the symptoms she's been experiencing have left her wondering if she is literally going insane from the stress of school. (Side note: She doesn't know who invented the concept of a 'mandatory school play', but after Peridot figures out what the hell is going on with her body, her next research project is going to involve identifying that person and taking them to court for damages.)

Every time she thinks about the injustice of having to go up on stage and clown around in a goofy costume for her English final, she feels indignant, and then angry, and then she feels wrong. It's the kind of wrongness that sends her fleeing for the comfort of privacy, tripping over herself to get to her room or a bathroom, whatever's available. and in those moments, she looks in the mirror and notices horrible changes. Changes like... her ears actively growing longer, or a strange upturn to her nose that wasn't there before, or her fingers-- not the nails, her actual fingers-- growing to sickening lengths, and she feels like she's in some kind of waking nightmare of spiraling panic just before the features in question snap back to the way they've been all her life, leaving her wondering if she's just hallucinating or...

That's why she'd come to the library today with a singular goal: research hard, and try to get some idea of just what the heck is going on. Of course, researching medical conditions by symptoms can be a rather anxiety inducing exercise on their own, and after about the fifth entry she'd read on brain tumors... that's when she'd had to drop everything and make for the unisex bathroom nearby.

She hadn't even had time to lock the door behind her before she blacked out on the floor, and then woke up in an entirely different body.

STEVEN'S ESCAPE

[starseedling]

The fight goes on for hours, and for most of it the hedge feels endless. No matter how far he pushes, how hard he struggles, there is nothing but tangles of deadly thorns, as far as he can see. Were it not for his ability to bypass the thorns unharmed, he would have been torn to pieces ages ago, his scant clothing and supplies already ripped away and abandoned to the thorns.

Exhaustion gnaws at his body, threatening to consume him whole, erasing any memory of a world outside of this pain - any memory of who he was before this, or who was still waiting for him. It's only his tenuous grasp on those flickering memories that keeps him pushing forward, pushing his body and mind to the breaking point... until, finally, the bindings of the hedge break, too.

Steven finds himself collapsing into the trees and bushes of the real world, cold and naked and alone. Eternity has finally come to an end, and that realization of fragile hope and temporary victory is all that keeps him moving, continuing to walk, to crawl, as far as his body will take him. As close as he can get to safety, and as far from the place he just left.

He succumbs to exhaustion on the edges of the rose gardens, shaken by the sights of a city he barely remembers. Did he ever really live here? Does his dad... still remember him, too?

He wraps his small, petaled wings around his shoulders, sinking against the shelter of a building wall. The cool air of the September night bites at his skin, but he doesn't stir.

Please let this be enough.

[dontpokethat]

It's by sheer coincidence that Ginko wanders by that night, staring up at the sky or just idly watching his surroundings. He's not paying much attention to where he's going, and not expecting much out of the ordinary to happen.

Safe to say, he's definitely not expecting to find a naked winged child curled up on the ground.

"Wh-- hey, are you alright?!" Ginko crouches down next to Steven, already pulling his coat off to drape over him. "Where... where did you come from?"

He has one guess, looking at the texture of those wings.

[Greg] In the garden

[hippocarnival]

While normally Yuya didn't venture far from the house during the day, this time Bob had taken him somewhere very early. It would be the housemaid who let Greg in to work, very hushed and coy about whew the two of them were. Normally she was such a gossip, but this time she only nudged him straight to his work.

When Yuya returns, he comes bounding up the steps even more enthusiastic than usual. He takes a detour straight to the garden, however, skidding down the stone path. "Greg! Hey, Greg, you're out here aren't you?"

Usually, this time he'd be pruning the hedges and watering the flowers. He hoped this wasn't an off week, because he was going to burst if he didn't tell someone.

[fragileandsoft]

"Over here, Yuya!" Greg waves from the hedges. He's gotten an awful lot further along than usual without the standard friendly chatter, but he's far happier to see Yuya than to get the work over with. There aren't very many clients who like to pass the time chatting.

"Careful on the mud there buddy, I just watered and I shouldn't hafta hose you down too." He chuckles at the boy's enthusiasm. "Looks like you had a busy morning."

douchebag au (strange & elsa)

[kingsroads]

Strange wasn't a novice. You don't shit where you eat, you don't cast summoning spells where you live. So, he was going to summon a demon in a hotel room. He had rented out a cheap motel suite for the evening, partly because of the seclusion, partly because you could probably get away with murder in a motel as long as you paid someone enough to look away. Was it classy? No. Was it going to get the job done? Yes.

He had drawn the summoning circle on the tile of the bathroom floor and set out the requisite incense, circle of salt, candles dripping wax onto the bathroom counter, all that jazz that was needed to properly summon a demon. Because fueled by rage and hurt at the death of his friend Bob (at the death of his only friend, the small little voice points out in the back of his head), Strange is going to make a dumbass decision. He's certainly not powerful enough to smite the demon outright and he's certainly not dumb enough to shackle himself to the fiend. But scaring the living daylights out of her? He can at least make an attempt to do that. He was a Circle mage, after all, and he wouldn't let this lesser being get away with what she had done.

Opening one of his texts to a certain page, Strange holds his hand towards the circle as he mutters an incantation. First a sentence in Latin, then a sentence in ancient Greek, then the text in English, calling forth Elsa and binding her to remain in the circle until he decides to send her back to where she came. Noticeably, there's no trace of any sort of spell to tie Elsa to his will, just spells layered on top of spells to keep her stuck in the circle and prevent her from attacking him where he stood. With a flash of light, the spells spring to life and Elsa is summoned.

Surprise, Elsa! You're in a shitty hotel room now. And there's Strange, book of magic in his hand, trying his hardest to look superior and powerful and competent. "There's no use trying to escape, demon. You're exactly where I want you to be."

[handwringing]

One minute, Elsa is enjoying a nice cup of coffee and some episode of House Hunters, the next she's standing in an absolutely horrid motel room (what are the smells in here?) staring at some mage trying his best to look intimidating.

She grits her teeth and tests the bounds of her entrapment with tendrils of magic. It's unsurprising that multiple spells keep her bound without in the circle (at least this one isn't a complete idiot), but it is surprising that he hasn't tried to bind her. Not that it would be a very good idea - Elsa is a powerful demon, and if his spells weren't spot on, he'd end up like that other one... She doesn't remember his name or even what he looked like, but he's dead now.

Confirming that there aren't any holes in the circle, Elsa eases back into a look of passivity, staring back at Strange.

"In a grimy hotel bathroom? I suppose being a mage doesn't pay what it used to..."

FIVE YEARS AGO IN DADTOWN

[starseedling]

The one problem with sharing a bed with your son is having to wait for him to calm the hell down before you can go to sleep properly. Steven is far from a difficult child, but he is also an excitable and talkative one, and tonight his roll has been difficult to slow.

They've only just settled down and gotten the lights turned off, laying curled up in silence for several minutes, when Steven pipes up again.

"Dad..." he starts, tentatively. Despite his hyperactivity earlier in the night, his tone is more subdued now. "What is mom like?"

He doesn't ask about her often, and they don't talk about her often. It's not that he's afraid to ask, but... it's just so strange. Greg is so normal, so real to him, and it's like his mom is from a completely different planet, conceptually.

[fragileandsoft]

The days are exhausting as ever, but Greg much prefers the weariness brought on by child-rearing to the bruises and near scrapes of his youth. Even without so much work, each day is just as much an adventure as before. He's already starting to drift in the dark before Steven's voice pulls him back out.

Steven's always bursting with questions about things big or small, though Greg can't say he was expecting one like this tonight. He shifts his weight to look down at Steven's silhouette against him. For a moment he's quiet, not sure how to answer, before staring up at the apartment ceiling.

"Well, let's see. She's full of life. Bursting with energy, and excitement... she loves to laugh, and be around things that make her happy. A lot like you." He still holds that sound in his mind, the pure and utter delight in her laughter. When he made her happy, it felt like nothing else in the world could possibly be so important.

Ginko and Axel's Great Escape

[nobodyperfect]

It's not been long, since the new boy was delivered here by Ignatius. Hard to say how much time has passed, in this place, but it's not been long. There's some kind of day-night cycle in this realm of faerie, something Axel's not yet used to; he still sleeps when he gets tired, not necessarily at night. Which makes it awkward that he and Ginko share a room. Glade. Space. It's hard to define what it is, but the changelings have been told to share it, and share they do.

Right now, though, Axel's not sleeping. His shaking shoulders betray that much. He's probably crying, but it's hard to say; he's learned to be silent. He cries sometimes, when he thinks he's alone. He's not often alone anymore, though.

lmk if this works!

[notyetsore]

Ginko is... also not exactly sleeping, though that's par for the course for him. He spends a lot of his limited free time like this, just lying on the ground and staring at the surrounding hedges in silence.

As little attention as he seems to be paying to his surroundings, however, he does sometimes notice things. And this time, he happens to glance idly over his shoulder to see his new roommate, shivering, or something like it. Ginko sits up, staring at him with something on the edge of concern.

"...Are you okay?"

Tamaki's Death (for Sans)

[puddingemote]

Tamaki wasn't sure if he had started feeling bad only that day, or if it was something that had been creeping up on him for some time. But he did know, as he got ready for school that morning, things were not right. His head felt weirdly heavy, his vision spun, and he felt too hot even though it was still early winter.

At school, his teachers didn't really notice anything off. It wasn't like he ever paid much attention, anyway. Probably on drugs, most of them guessed. Tamaki didn't do a lot to discourage that idea. He'd always been a bit of a troublemaker, never doing his work, telling teachers he didn't care, sleeping in class. With his long hair, ever-present hoodie, and frequent switches from one foster home to another, he was seen as not much more than a criminal in the making.

He made it home in a daze, staggering up to the little room he shared with another foster kid. That boy wasn't there - maybe he had friends or something? He and Tamaki didn't talk more than necessary. Right then, Tamaki didn't care, he only wanted to sleep.

He woke up a few hours later to the smell of food. Normally he would be happy for dinner, but tonight it only turned his stomach. He got up and sat at the edge his bed, holding his head in a vain attempt to steady himself. He felt even worse than ever.

"Are you coming? If you don't come down, you aren't eating," his faster father said from outside the door. Tamaki swallowed hard before speaking.

"I don't feel good."

"Suit yourself," said the man, and he left, leaving Tamaki alone to drift in and out of consciousness for another hour.

Eventually, they both came up, the man and woman. The other kid was there too, saying, "I don't know. He doesn't look good." Tamaki blinked his eyes and looked up.

"What do we do?" asked the woman, looking at her husband. "Take him to the hospital?"

"And have social services crawling around here? No way." The man leaned over Tamaki, looking him over, before shrugging. "Probably just a bug. Let him sleep it off." He shook Tamaki to be sure his eyes were open. "Don't puke on the sheets, you got me?"

Tamaki wanted to protest, but he didn't have the energy. He curled up on the bed as the door shut behind them, the other kid looking at him for a few more seconds before turning off the light.

The next few hours passed in agony. Tamaki's body was wracked with chills, but felt so hot in turns that it was miserable. His body was achey, his arms were sore, and his chest felt tight. He could barely breathe, and couldn't think at all, other than one petrifying thought: Am I dying?

And then, the worst pain yet, and Tamaki took a deep, rattling breath, and he wanted to scream, no no no NO-

And then he's sitting up in bed. He still feels some pain, in his head and his muscles, but it isn't as bad. Maybe it was all just a dream?

He's content to think that, until he looks back and sees his own body laying on the bed.

Tamaki yelps in fright, scrambling to get away from his own corpse. What is going on!?

[osteothropy]

As the boy passes, Sans can't help but feel like he could have done something. It hadn't been hard to connect the dots. The kid was sick, with death hanging over his head, and those so called foster parents just let it happen. Out of apathy. Out of carelessness.

And really, Sans had done the same.

He bites back his feelings of remorse, knowing there was no good answer. What was he supposed to do? Break in there and demand that the parents take him to the hospital? Show up fully winged and escort the kid himself? Neither were his job or responsibility, but both of them felt so doable in those final moments. He could have done something, but he didn't. Just like always.

Sans has been watching over Tamaki for the last few hours, remaining intangible, and it's only as his spirit rises that he'll see the angel waiting for him. A short man with the face and body of a skeleton, and a luminous halo and angelic wings. The look of him may be unsettling, but something about his aura is magnetic and calming. He's meant to be a guide after all.

"Heya," he says, casual as he suppresses his sombre mood. "Things are gunna be okay now, kid."

For Psi, idk within a year of the event

[stillwinningthehardway]

The symbol is messy, really complicated, and when she draws it for real it needs to be drawn all in one swoop to preserve the quality of the line. Otherwise all kinds of bad things will happen depending on how off it is, ranging from the enchantment not working as well as it should - wasting difficult-to-find spell components and the potion she'd spent months brewing, but no disaster - right down to draining Tallisibeth's magic and life force and setting up a metaphorical neon sign for things to come eat her while she's down.

She's not come this far to fail. Tallisibeth scans the symbol, blows it up and does some basic 'shopping on it, and prints it out at a reasonable size, darker and bolder. It's laminated and taped to her current research binder. When she's out and about, copying and making notes out of books or sitting in non-book spaces, she periodically takes a page of semitransparent paper, puts it atop the symbol, and traces it, trying to commit it to muscle memory. Tallisibeth applies her usual single-minded fervor on it and soon she doesn't need to look.

She's a tall and skinny young woman in cargo pants full of things, a backpack always bulging with books and paper, and a beige hoodie stitched with emblems for luck and safety and ignorability. A lot of the time there's a gray and white cockatiel hanging out around her, chewing on a toy or mangling things. It's got an inscribed legband with a bit of ribbon attached, covered in minute signs for protection from predators and cold and fear, whatever its owner could think of.

In the library, in parks, on the bus, in cafes, she can be found rapidly and repeatedly drawing a very obscure, elaborate magical symbol. Or maybe just doodling a design while clearly thinking hard about something else? Tallisibeth always seems busy and preoccupied.

[dorkypantsuit]

The symbol isn't what catches his attention first. It's actually the cockatiel that makes him look her way. Not only is it just strange for someone to walk about with a large bird hanging on them, he can sense the magic wrapped around it. Protective spells, emphasis on the plurality of that statement. The spells on it were the kinds people didn't even wear and rarely all at once. It makes him laugh. He just can't help it, it's things like this that make him love humanity. Why bother spending so much magical energy protecting a fucking bird? Only a human would do something as truly ridiculous.

"That bird isn't secretly your fiance in disguise is it?"

For Ginko: Probably within the last year or so.

[dorkypantsuit]

He doesn't actually know where he is when he wakes up the first time. His head hurts a bit and he's behind bars in a plain cement room. It isn't hard to figure out, based on that, he's in some kind of cell, but the why and the what of his location eluded him. What had he done and where was this cell? It took a few moments, but after a second or two of thought the memories started to come back to him. A wild party, ruined clothes, he'd tried to walk home alone. Well, that at least explained why he was completely naked. The details of the arrest are fuzzy, but he vaguely remembers an officer or two accosting him before bringing him down. Just humans then.

He relaxes pretty much immediately, not looking concerned with his nudity or the fact that he's in a cell. He waits for officers to come by, thinking to pull some strings and get out of this conversation scott free. However, when an officer does approach he realizes two things. One, there are multiple people that can see him both in and outside of the cell. That's right, he isn't alone behind the bars, and neither are the officers outside it. Manipulating one person into letting him out was a piece of cake, but manipulating the entire room could be a bit more tricky. His spaded tail twitches back and forth behind him as he thinks about it, unseen to almost everyone.

If he had been coherent during his arrest he could have stopped this, but as it stands now, well it seemed he'd have to deal with it the human way. He asks for his phone call, glad he has at least one person's number memorized.

"Hey," Psi starts, the amusement in his tone clear. "Can you come bail me out of jail?"

[dontpokethat]

...Okay, honestly, what the fuck.

"...Why are you in jail?" If he sounds very tired it's probbly because this phone call woke him up, and also because honestly what the fuck.

Meeting Steven: Like 8 Years Ago

[dorkypantsuit]

It's just another normal morning for Psi on earth post-severing. He's done his best to enjoy each day of freedom he's had so far, and today will be no different. He wakes up, gets dressed, feeds Slimey some crickets, and then moves to head out the door. He's barely looking where he's going as he does so. His cigarettes are in hand and he's already wondering which cute barista he should scam a free drink from today. If there's any small children nearby who can see through his "normal human" disguise he is completely oblivious.

[starseedling]

"Hi!"

A small voice peeps up, apparently belonging to a young child, about kindergarten age. His hair is all fluffy black curls, with pointed ears poking out of each side, unconcealed. He grins as soon as the demon faces him, waving in greeting.

There is no sign of a parent immediately in view.

strange & childermass, summoning a servant, a year ago

[kingsroads]

Alright, so summoning and binding a faerie servant in his apartment might be a bad idea. But Strange is a giant hypocrite who occasionally doesn't think things through and dammit, he just signed the divorce papers a few days ago, so he's still a bundle of anger and nerves and bad decisions. He had already picked out the faerie in question: Childermass, one who served the Rose Queen and who rumors say was very good at getting information and finding things out. Of course, he was a changeling and not a legitimate faerie...but beggars can't be choosers. Best to bind something lesser to his will and work his way up.

So congrats Childermass, you're now stuck in this magic circle thanks to an accountant. Strange's apartment is the sort that's desperately trying to look nicer than it actually is and, based on the boxes around, he's obvious not finished moving in yet. Strange himself looked a bit frazzled in his loosened necktie and dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Still, he's all business as he holds his hands out towards the magic circle (which is glowing a faint shade of blue) and casts the spells in a strong voice. A quick phrase in Latin, one in Greek, one in English that straight up tells Childermass that this is a binding spell.

The magic circle and the set-up takes most of the magical energy. The actual spell is brief yet powerful. Once the spell is finished being cast, Strange looks over at Childermass with a far too smug smirk. "You can step out of the circle, if you wish. And I wouldn't try anything rash. I've worked a Charm of Retribution in the framework of the binding circle, so whatever you try to do to me will be reflected back on you tenfold."

It's more like twofold. But like hell he's going to admit that to his newly bound faerie servant (God he is so pumped that the spell worked).

[atouts]

There's something about being unexpectantly summoned that puts people in a particularly bad mood and, gee, that may have a little to do with the abrupt change in locations or, additionally in this case, that Childermass had been in the middle of getting a coffee. So that's how he shows up, cash in hand, extended out towards the mage, the most bewildered look on his face... for all of six seconds. Then realization settles in, what's just happened.

For the record, he at least pauses a moment, taking a break from staring at Strange to fold over the bills and tuck them away in a pocket again for later. Then and only then does he step out of the circle and keeps on stepping right up until he's in the other man's personal space, grabbing for the front of his shirt to — should he not slip away like the smug little slime he is — drag him up and close.

"Have you? Really?" He growls, voice the low gravel of a chain-smoker. "And just how sure of that are you?"

Sora, Tamaki, Joker, and Snake/Sean - Less than a month ago - Either PSU or U of P

[ophidiarex]

The first day of school is quickly approaching for students at Portland's many universities. Every student has their own reasons for moving into the dorms, but at this school, those reasons come to a head today. Sean Reo, for example, lives on the other side of town and doesn't drive; he can't commute easily, so here he is, along with his luggage and a couple of carry cases, two large terrariums, and other pet supplies. This is his first time meeting his new roommate - they couldn't schedule anything sooner - and he's nervous.

His parents help him load his stuff into a couple of carts, but then they need to head back, to pick up his younger siblings. He's glad. The stress coiled tightly within him is already threatening to make scales appear on the palms of his hands. They're there, just under the skin, waiting to break free.

Said stress is not helped by the pitying look the RAs give him when he lists his room number. "The haunted room, huh? Good luck," they say. He didn't need that! But there's not really such a thing as ghosts, right? Right. And so soon he's in the hall proper, knocking on the door to the room that will be his new home.

Portland State University

[destiny_key]

Of course, the room isn't unoccupied when Sean gets there. It hasn't been unoccupied for a long time if we're being honest, but at the moment there's only one person there. Sora Pu'uwai, Sean's new roommate, has been here since check-in time began, early that morning when his foster parents dropped him off. He didn't have much, so putting his things away on the side of the room he'd claimed took less than thirty minutes. As soon as he's finished, Sparky leaps up onto the threadbare bedspread, curls up, and goes to sleep.

Sora climbs onto the bed beside his cat, petting his soft fur, and lies down next to him.

"I'm kind of scared," he admits, seemingly to the cat. "But I'm glad you're here with me."

He's heard the rumors about this room, but he hasn't seen anything yet. Or anyone. Nothing he shouldn't be seeing, anyway. It's strange, actually, how normal everything feels right now. It's been a long time since he's felt this way.

When the knocking comes, hours later, Sora scrambles off the bed, eager to meet his new roommate. Sparky, annoyed, meows and moves to a different spot. Sora opens the door and looks up at Sean, grinning.

"Hey! You must be Sean! I'm Sora," he babbles nervously. "I, um, I already picked my bed, if that's okay, but, uh, we can switch if you want."

The Fall, late 1800s (Sherlock and Helen)

[thevictoriandetective]

"Shall we go over together?" The Professor laughed, water dripping down his dark hair. He kept a firm grip on Sherlock's arms, they were precariously tipped over, one slip and they'd be gone.

"You're mad!" Sherlock Holmes growled, trying to regain his footing, but his shoes slipped on the wet rock. The roar of the waterfall was in his ears, and he was soaked with the spray, his tweed coat flapping soggily. He'd lost his deerstalker hat sometime in the struggle.

"Perhaps. But I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I owe you."

An eerie grin.

And quite suddenly, the Professor jumped, lunging, forcing himself and the detective over the cliff.

NO!

The last thing Sherlock knew was the rush of wind, the roar of the Falls, and the echoing laughter in his head.

He didn't feel a thing. It all went dark.

And then...

Pain. PAIN!

The feeling of being ripped to shreds, feeling as if he was being pulled, shredded, stabbed--the sensation of being trapped, inside something horrible.

It was dark--no, it was light--colors, everywhere, colors he didn't have a name for--Moriarty's voice, saying...something--Sherlock felt wrong, like everything was wrong, but his mind felt like it was being shredded--he could see, but it wasn't...he choked, trying to breathe, but he couldn't--laughter, maniacal laughter--

"Oh, Mr. Holmes, you've been a wonderful subject in my experiment. Unfortunately, I no longer have use of you. I am curious if your brain will survive long after the water has rendered your...hmm, dead body unusable. I'd love to see the results, but I have a train to catch."

D...dead? What?

Sherlock could vaguely see the world, but everything was wrong--trees, the Professor...things were in black and white then color, then misty, then clear--it was like he was being pulled in and out of something cold and still, it was painful and it seemed to wreak havoc on his battered mind. He might have been screaming.

Suddenly, he was lifted into the air and dumped unceremoniously into the river. Sherlock couldn't move, he couldn't swim...but he floated anyway, for some reason.

Sherlock was astounded to realize that he must be...he'd heard of stories, what if...the Professor had been obsessed with immortality...did he do something to himself? There was no way he could have survived the fall...was he dead? And doomed to float down this river until he rotted?

[promnibusanctis]

Switzerland was a beautiful location for this particular week-long symposium and its location near Reichenbach Falls was the deciding factor on her attendance. After three hours of the lecture, however, Helen Magnus suddenly needed air so badly she thought she wouldn't make it out of her seat much less out of the door.

She remembered the feeling as she moved through the hall and outside. Dark magic, something so evil it could only be reanimation and it wasn't being done right. She could feel the soul writhing as she went invisible and took to the sky. Finding it, finding him, was like being pulled through the falls themselves. Icy, cold, as she dropped into the water and became visible, her wings spread, her expression somewhere between sorrow and just pure anger.

Helen wordlessly pulled him out and into her arms, taking flight only to land where she could find a tree to rest against away from the noise of the falls, somewhere quiet with the rustle of grass and the birds singing. Somewhere peaceful to see how bad the damage actually was. The bark was rough against her back even through the dress and pulled at her blonde hair as she closed her eyes to delve into the soul's attachment. It was entirely wrong, ill attached, half-done. Whoever had done this was no master and she was more than furious at them. It was a sentiment that made her all the more gentle when it came to the soul she held.

"I have you, Sherlock Holmes," she whispered, cradling him close. Her wings shone in brilliant multicolour, like the light through the stained glass they resembled, as they fanned around them. Her hair, brightly haloed, came loose as she worked, in tendrils, then in waves, as she began putting him back together with the gentlest of touches. It would require a great deal of her strength to do so but she would give him that and more, if necessary.

IN THE QUEEN'S GARDENS: 3 YEARS AGO

[starseedling]

Another fae being here has Steven on edge. He's at least beginning to learn how to predict him mom's behaviour - he can tell what he needs to do to avoid her getting angry with him, and he's been trying to stick to that path more often than not lately. A fire fae, though? He doesn't know what to expect, and he has a feeling that things will be worse when there is a guest to entertain.

The Rose Queen had commanded him to collect a certain fruit from the gardens, and now that the two fae are mingling in the court yard he has been left to stand there nervously, holding the fruit bowl until he actually gets called upon. He doesn't dare approach them unbidden. His hands shake around the bowl, feeling extra weak and slippery. He's terrified that he's going to make a mistake or drop it somehow.

He can't afford to dwell too much on what would happen then.

Eventually he's beckoned forward, and his mom takes the bowl from him without so much of a glance. It's only then that Steven has the focus to observe the other changeling that has been brought along by the Lord of Conflagration - she almost looks close to his age. He sees other changelings so infrequently that he desperately wants to talk to her, but he can already tell that he probably won't get the chance.

At least, until the Rose Queen runs her fingers through his hair, and then tells him to leave. Apparently the adults have something to talk about.

Steven leaves the courtyard as quickly as he can manage without looking desperate.

[anti_nonsense]

This is Rita's first time away from her lord's realm in years. The occasion is an unusual one, though it has some perks. She was given a new dress, clean and without wear, unlike her usual rags. Its colors, of course, are red and black, to complement her master's aesthetics, and its design is simple enough not to draw too much attention to her. She is a mere servant, after all.

She stands at her master's side, silent and still while he socializes with the Rose Queen. At times, she stares at the other changeling in attendance, but averts her gaze whenever it seems like their eyes are about to meet. While he carries the fruit bowl, there doesn't appear to be much purpose to Rita's being here. Perhaps being accompanied by a servant is a sort of status symbol to the fae. It hardly matters to her, anyway.

When the Queen gives her command, the Lord of Conflagration makes a simple waving gesture, wordlessly communicating the same to Rita. She nods, turns, and walks away at a steady pace. Of course, she knows practically nothing about this area, and wandering into the wrong place could be a serious faux pas... and at a time when she needs to avoid trouble at all costs, no less. She decides to follow the other changeling as he leaves the courtyard.

When she catches up with him, she merely gives him a pointed, expectant stare. He ought to know the way to... wherever servants should go when they're not needed, right? Then obviously, he should lead the way.

Challenge | A few months ago... (Pearl and Carly)

[myownpearl]

The moon was full in the sky and the clouds from the day's storm were finally parting to reveal it. It was late enough that the streets weren't heavy with traffic, but not so late as to be completely empty. Then again, what big city is ever completely empty? The streets were still wet and slick, though at least the humidity had cleared out with the parting storm.

Which meant it was perfect weather to go riding through town on her bike. She wanted to clear her head anyway, there was something brewing with the fae and for once she was feeling like she wanted to distance herself from that. Of course, with a pair of wings on her back and ears that just barely poked out from beneath her bobbed hair, that was a challenge. Pearl maneuvered her bike to splash through a puddle, venting her frustrations with her lot in life on the road. She rounded a corner and a few feet later pulled to a stop at a light--and alongside a fellow biker.

Pearl glanced at her, smirked, and revved the engine teasingly.

[insidescoop]

Carly is still only half sure what's going on here. Her first thought, honestly, is that lady looks Pretty Cool. But when the engine revs, she's fairly certain that she's meant to react somehow, and beneath her helmet and the shadowed glass is a look of sheer confusion.

It is expressions and moments like this, where her shadow is thankful that he thought ahead of time and told her to get such a covering helmet. No sense looking weak on the streets, after all.

It's a CHALLENGE!, he hisses to her through their bond, snipping impatiently. Rev the engine, now!

She does so, leaning over somewhat-her expression still confused, but unreadable beneath the glass.

But what now then? The engine revs, and the light is only red for moments longer...

Now? She can hear the demon chuckle. Get ready to drive as fast as you can-and drive EXACTLY where I say.

...Eh? Uh oh

For Helen: The Sanctuary, two years ago

[anti_nonsense]

A place that helps people like her... where she'll be safe. That's the gist of what Rita was told, and now she finds herself at the doors to the Sanctuary. From here, it looks no different from what she heard... but that guy could have been lying. This could still be a trap.

But what other option does Rita have? Even after reading all those books written by humans, it turned out that she really doesn't know the first thing about this world, or how to live in it. She just has to try this... and if it is a trap, she'll fight her way out. No one's going to make her go back.

She opens one of the large doors and peers inside, cautious. When it's apparent that nothing's about to jump out at her, she steps inside, wincing when the door swings shut behind her. She has a glamour active, giving her an outward human appearance, but that doesn't mean she necessarily looks normal. Without much foreknowledge of human fashion, Rita didn't bother disguising her clothes, which consist of nothing more than a ragged, ill-fitting dress that falls to her knees. Her feet are bare, and her messy hair falls at an awkward length. She doesn't have any belongings with her.

Pushing the bangs from her eyes, Rita looks around the hall she's entered, evidently unsure of how to proceed from here.

[promnibusanctis]

"It's alright," Helen says, her high heels clicking against the floor as she moved into the entryway. "You're safe here. Please, let me offer you a room, a warm bath, perhaps some tea, if you would like some? Or something to eat if you're hungry."

Her hair is dark, long, and her smile is soft and warm.

"I'm Dr Helen Magnus," she added. "Welcome to the Sanctuary."

local man saves shitty bird from other shitty birds, three month ago

[atouts]

It isn't a wholly unusual sight to see several birds diving after a crow in any city. Smaller birds band together to drive the bigger one off, a natural course of defense, just something that happens. What is a little more unusual, however, are other crows doing the exact same thing, but that's what's happening across the early morning sky over Waterfront Park. Three smaller crows harass a much larger one and size does little to help against the odds.

Wheeling through the air, dropping suddenly, leveling out again, the larger crow does everything it can to try and put distance between itself and the trio hot on its tail, but it's all for nothing. The chase ends with one latching onto a wing and throwing itself into a sudden, earthward spin, yanking the larger one off balance with a shrill cry. Wild, desperate flailing manages to shake the smaller one off, but it's only by sheer luck that it careens straight into the bushes rather than crushing itself against the sidewalk.

For Lambert, if he hadn't been paying attention before, well, he'll want to pay attention now, since the blur of dark feathers shoots straight across his path and into the shrubbery lining the jogging path along the riverside. The remaining crows, still up in the air, begin to circle, as if waiting to see whether the one that's just crashed is going to rise again or not...

[whattaprick]

Lambert wouldn't consider himself a morning person by nature, but the quiet isolation -- the few minutes he has solely to himself and nobody else -- are nice. It gives him the chance spend some time in his own head thinking of nothing at all but the pound of his feet on the pavement, the quiet ache in his muscles. Which of course means it gets interrupted by squabbling birds crossing his path, something that draws him up short mid-jog.

These days, Lambert's been doing his best to ignore birds and anything small and rodent-like that flies (this has recently made his home life immensely difficult, since he can't even talk about it). It's not like he's about to pounce, or even has particularly cat-like instincts anymore, but there's a memory of feathers and blood in his mouth that should be unpleasantly visceral, but isn't, and he knows there's already enough wrong with him without adding that to the mix. As he glances between the dark shapes circling above and the broken twigs and fluttering leaves of the bushes at the side of the path, an uneasy feeling churns in his gut, intensifying the longer he hesitates.

With an internal groan, Lambert turns towards the bushes to investigate where the crash-landing bird went, hoping like hell this isn't a bad idea (and already suspecting that it is).

not-so-first impressions [scout]

[whattaprick]

It's a rare quiet afternoon in the cafe, when there aren't so many students coming in -- probably because they've got better things to do or it's the break. That also means Lambert's got more time to spend at the cafe, using the downtime to clean up behind the counter and read through a book between serving customers.

Even the cats seem to be feeling lazy, not quite as bloodthirsty as they usually are. When the shop bell rings, announcing someone's entrance, he tucks the bookmark back between the pages, and straightens up to give the new customer his attention.

"Welcome to Toe Beans. Is this your first visit?" The words come smooth and practiced, before he even really registers who's standing in front of him. He'll never sound really welcoming, but at least he doesn't sound like he'd rather visit death upon someone rather than serve them coffee, too.

[stillwinningthehardway]

Street cats will not allow her to harvest ingredients from them, Tallisibeth has noticed. Probably just as well, there are people who want worse from a cat than loose fur, but it's inconvenient. She really doesn't want to have to call in favors or look online for something like fresh cat hair, seriously. So, cat cafe. This one's even close to her favorite public library.

For now Thranta's in the hood of her sweater, out of sight and probably sulking about the weight of the charms Tallisibeth made to keep her from being noticed by cats. It was simple enough to adapt the spells that made hawks look past her. Took a few hours to draw though.

She doesn't notice immediately that the barista's familiar, just seeing his uniform at first, though her hindbrain stops her as she starts to order. "Yeah hi, I'd just like a macchiato with... oh, no!"

Just last week she'd fallen asleep at the study table on the notes she'd been taking on the Dictionary of Occult, Hermetic and Alchemical Sigils, comparing it to the newer revised edition she had at home, because of course she couldn't just check it out, not a book that thick and old. "It's you!"

Stakeout with Pearl

[spacewalnut]

Things have been quiet for a while now; the rain's started by now, and few pedestrians stay on the street long enough to take note of the car parked outside.

Greg takes in a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut as he spreads his senses as far as he can manage. Banks don't tend to have a lot of plantlife around inside, but he can pick up a smattering of details from the occasional desk orchid or potted fern. Somewhere, hidden behind security systems and safes and guards, he can sense the goal. The Queen says that the totem is by rights hers, but the bank doesn't seem too up on fae property laws.

"I never asked you," he says to his partner in crime, eyes still closed. "You ever do normal stuff, like with banks? Gonna make it hard not to draw attention if you get all fairy neurotic about errands."

[myownpearl]

Pearl waits. She isn't a fan of waiting or maybe it's more she isn't a fan of waiting with him. She knows her Queen must have a reason for pairing the two of them up for this mission. Pearl has worked with others before -- but honestly now the Queen is just messing with her.

She frowns, "I was human before you know. It may have been awhile, but banks aren't exactly a new concept." Pearl isn't sure if he has completed the scoping out of the place yet. Luckily, the streets are still clear and none of the warning charms she set up have activated. "Is it there or not?" The sooner she can be done with this, the better.

Axel and Rita - sometime before the event

[small_reservations]

The Toe Beans Cat Cafe is usually a little bit on the crowded side, and today is no exception. After all, the drinks are good, the cats are cute - it has earned its reputation. Axel's been a regular for a while now, and while he doesn't have a usual order, seeing as he likes to mix it up, the baristas remember him and he's always welcome.

However, this visit's a little weird. There's something familiar about the girl in front of him in line. He can't quite put his finger on it, but something's tugging at his memory. The color of her hair, and her eyes when she looks around, the shape of her chin...

Oops. He's staring. Maybe when she gives her name to be put on her cup he'll remember. For now, though, he's better off not being creepy, especially not to a girl who looks a decade younger than him. That's really not ok.

[anti_nonsense]

Unfortunately for Axel, Rita already noticed him staring at her. She can't imagine why, of course, so she'll naturally assume the worst of him. It doesn't help that she's already a little embarrassed about being seen in a place like this, making her defensive. Turning around sharply, she faces him with a scowl. "You got a problem?"

this is totally a kidnapping, four years ago

[atouts]

It's been such a nice day, gorgeous really, and the sun has only just begun to sink towards sunset in a clear blue sky. Shadows begin to stretch against the angle of the light and it's around that same time that a crow lands on a windowsill. It isn't the first time a crow has visited Greg's apartment before, especially this crow, and it isn't the first time he's arrived this way, either. The difference today is that Greg isn't there.

It won't be for long, Childermass assumes. Sooner or later the warlock will realize Pearl has lured him away from his son rather than actually needing his help. All the more reason to get on with this.

Steven will hear a caw from the window, a pause, and then another caw if the first doesn't manage to draw any attention.

[starseedling]

It's to Childermass's benefit that Steven is as curious as he is. He had been lying on his and Greg's shared bed, drawing some pictures, but the caw gets his attention immediately. He never misses the opportunity to look at a bird.

He creeps over to the window, half expecting that the crow will fly away upon seeing him. However, it doesn't. He moves closer and closer to the window, peering out at the bird through the glass. After a little while longer, he'll give the bird a careful wave.

"Hi," he says.

how the light gets in (some years ago, Joker and Sora)

[pipers_son]

They're not the most perfect foster family, Joker thinks, but they'll do. That's what you sometimes end up settling for, when you've lived long enough: it'll do over it's perfect. Nothing in the world is perfect, and to any smartass who would say 'God', well, Joker would point out that He isn't exactly on earth.

So he keeps his distance for a couple of days, although always in sight for his bright eyed charge, letting the humans tend to their new foster son. It's important, after all, for humans to care about other humans. If he gets too involved, has Sora focus too much on the other world, who knows what will happen to him? There's a lot of nasty things when it comes to the supernatural. Well, there's a lot of nasty things about humanity, too, but they tend to be more manageable.

Still, after enough time has passed with the boy's new family, Joker surprises him as he comes in for bed, seeming to come out of nowhere with a bright laugh no one else can hear and lifting him up in a twirl. "And there's my bright sky-eyed boy!" he says, sing-song. "So how do ya like 'em?"

[destiny_key]

It wouldn't be remiss to say that Sora has been alone for the majority of his eight years. Granted, he can't remember much before the last year or so, but he can't remember any parents or siblings. Only the endless roulette of houses, being shunted from one to another so quickly, he's barely anywhere for more than a few months at a time. Whether it's because the home is bad, or there's already too many kids, or even the few times he's been kicked out after being called a freak, he's never anywhere for long.

Joker, on the other hand, has been the one constant in his life for as long as he can remember. He goes wherever Sora goes, always happy to see him and ready to cheer him up. He doesn't judge or call him weird, and listens when he talks about the things he sees. Sometimes, Joker is what Sora imagines a big brother would be like, if he had one.

This time, however, Sora's been told that he'll be living at this new home permanently. They tell him a lot of things about it, that it's a nice house with a mother and father, that he'll be the only kid, and he'll get his own bedroom. He's skeptical that he'll stay that long, but it would be nice to have his own room for a little while. Maybe if he's on his best behavior, they'll keep him for a whole year.

The house is nice, like they said, and the parents are nice, like they said. It's a little sparse, a little small. The parents smile at him nicely, but don't say much. They're not ignoring him, per-say, but they don't talk to him either. It's quiet, and Sora misses talking.

So when Joker appears in his room, it's the best thing he can think of. The angel appears out of nowhere, picking him up and spinning him, and Sora squeals in delight at the movement, wrapping his arms around Joker's neck to hang on. It takes a long moment for the giggles to stop so he can answer.

"They're okay, I guess," Sora answers. "Not as good as you, though."

if a demon possessed me I’d just b like ok take it from here good luck man (joker and psi)

[pipers_son]

God is gone.

Or, rather- yeah, no, that's not right. God must surely be somewhere, but reaching Him, or the divine at all, is currently impossible. Joker has tried, again and again, almost forgetting Sora at the mounting panic and frustration, but nothing. He's not the only one, and gaggles of their kind draw together to frantically try and figure out what is happening. Yet hours pass, and no answers are forthcoming. Eventually, Joker has to return to his charge and, after making sure he's asleep and safe, stare blankly at the sky.

God isn't watching over them anymore. Now what?

Joker goes to a bar.

Being rid of his invisibility in such a public place after so long- hey he's been a pseudo-parent for year snow, cut his ass some slack- is a delightful little venture. He's an attractive redhead with great eyeliner, so he gets plenty of looks from the humans of the place. If there are any non-humans? Well, he doesn't really care, right now. Instead, standing just slightly away from the bar, he looks over his options and muses aloud to himelf, "Now what'll fuck me up the most...?"

[dorkypantsuit]

Hey may be talking to himself, but he isn't alone. Next to him, already seated at the bar is a demon. Four horns, fangs, bat wings, and of course a spade tail are all traits that make that obvious. The regular humans around them, don't notice. The can't see the demonic features, but Joker can. Not that the demon realizes that, he isn't even looking Joker's way when he begins to laugh at the angel's question.

"Hey!" he shouts, getting the barkeepers attention, "Fours shots of tequila for this guy right here!"

It's only then that he turns to see Joker and realizes he's talking to an angel. His eyes go wide, but only momentarily. No way an angel would smite him in a crowded place like this. Also the guy clearly came here to get drunk, so probably he was already a bit preoccupied. He ignores the sudden, but smile dose of fear before he smiles wide. Today was a good day, a very very good day.

"Four shots of anything will probably get you drunk pretty quick," he comments, looking the angel up and down. "But tequila tastes the greatest."

what, from the bottom of my heart, the fuck (joker and elsa)

[pipers_son]

It's a rare nice night: Sora is sleeping nice and sound after a decent dinner that isn't from the "Sad College Student's Recipe Book", Snake hasn't erupted into a snake creature, and Tamaki hasn't flipped his shit for a whole three hours. A nice, beautiful night, with just the right amount of breeze for him to sit on the window sill going through the box of Pretz Sora gets him sometimes.

So of course it has to get immediately fucked up.

Joker smells it in the air almost before he sees the suspicious figure in the shadows not far from the school or its dorms: blood and ice, the latter far too chilly even for Portland yet.

Funnily enough, it's also the latter that makes him sigh in exasperation, putting down the box of Pretz and stepping onto the window sill. From his back, light gathers, forms, becomes pale white wings that carry him through the air easily. He's hoping some dumb mage or a wayward fae of the Winter Court, and he really hates what he actually comes across. No doubt he makes a sight as he hovers across the scene, large white wings flapping, eyelids drooping over unimpressed lavender eyes.... and it's maybe a little ruined as he tosses a hand out at what's below him.

"Alright, what the bleedin' hell is this, now?"

[handwringing]

Elsa smells the angel before he's on her, though she doesn't pay him much mind at first. Ever since the Severing, most angels don't seem all that up for fighting with her, and the ones that do are easily dispatched.

But to her irritation, the angel keeps coming closer, and then is speaking to her, and she realizes he's not going to just pass on by without comment.

"It's a dead body," she says, dropping the dead mage unceremoniously on the ground before turning to look up at Joker. If Joker looks a bit closer, he'll see that it looks like the man died from some severe frostbite. "Are you a psychopomp? If so, he'll be needing you services."