World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - Resurfacing

[z021]

Oneca only heard the first bit of Declan's murmurings as she caught sight of the strangely colored and tatooed 'man'. She stopped in her tracks and grasped instinctively for Remy's hand, her face turning a sickly ashen gray. He didn't look like Saja, but she'd seen quite a few that didn't and to her there was no mistaking that inhuman look they all had.

Declan caught a wiff of the fear that had rushed through her, adrenaline and sweat too subtle for most to pick up on but enough to tell him something was not okay. That and the fact that he was now several feet farther from Oneca than he'd been only a few seconds before.

At the table laden with party foods and drinks, Jeremy felt the cold creeping sensation of being stared at. It wasn't a friendly feeling.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Being the marvelously fortunate creature she was, it was in the midst of this moment of awkwardness that Sarah chose to step up to Declan's side, all grins and eagerness as she was starting to get into what passed for her as the swing of things.

"Hey, Dec," she uttered, apparently oblivious to the daggers Oneca was staring into Jeremy. "Looks like we've got a fair bit of the bunch here. Heck of a party you managed to throw, Oneca."

[Jeremy]

Jeremy sighed. How to explain the pain, the history of a changeling in accurate but careful terms? It probably was an impossible task, so he elected to be subtle and get the basics over to August.

"The actual term I'm not going to use, but here's the basic sort of idea. Tinkerbell is evil as hell, she takes you to fairy land as a slave, leaving a duplicate in your place. If and when you escape back to Earth, you've been changed. Kinda-part Fae now, and you look different, behind the Mask. Nothing's ever the same again." He told her in a quiet, grim tone.

Then, he stopped, nervous as he felt being watched. He started to turn towards the party, head turning very slowly. It seemed a long time before his locked with Oneca's and Remy's.

[Owns-The-Night]

Dec was distracted for a brief moment by Sarah, even as he realised that Oneca was not entirely thrilled with the sight of Jeremy. Uh-oh. Nodding and giving the Dead Wolf a smile of greeting, he moved to stand in front of Oneca, whose view of Jeremy was suddenly blocked by a broad chest and shoulders.

"Hey." Owns-The-Night ducked his head, forcing Oneca to meet his eye. "He's with me. One of the good guys. And he might be able to help you out some, or at least explain shit better. Stay cool, okay?"

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

As Declan went into protective mode, Sarah finally caught on: Oneca looked scared as hell, and that fear was of Jeremy.

She'd never gotten much from her Rahu friend about Oneca, other than that she was "part of the club" in some way or fashion. But that was enough to trigger her own small bit of protective instinct.

Stepping in closer, she lowered her voice to a near whisper as she spoke to the ashen-faced woman. "S'ok. He's gone to bat for us, fought beside us. Dec's told me you're somewhat in-the-know, so I figure you get what I'm saying."

[z021]

"Good guy?"

The exclimation came out as a strangled, hissed sound. She looked confused and angry, which was never the safest thing around the the tempermental pyrokinetic. So far, though, nothing seemed to be bursting into flame. "He's one of them!"

Remy gave the party a quick glance around, but most of the guests were far too concerned with own dramas or impending dramas to be giving them any notice. His eyes lingered on several people in the room, but never for more than a moment before sweeping on again. Sarah elicited a politely blank look as he had no idea who she was but also gave him that odd goose-bump like sensation that told him whatever she was, it wasn't normal. He tugged his hand out from Oneca's and slipped his arm around her waist, speaking quietly but insistantly. "Ona, take a deep breath. Give him a chance to explain."

He glanced around Declan to the slight young man that had Oneca so dangerously rigid next to him; whatever the werewolf's explination was, it'd better be good and quick.

[Lucien Hunt]

Ah, it seems Oneca has met Jeremy. Lucien thought to himself as the pulsing wave of Oneca's negative feelings for the Changeling washed over the high spirited mood of the party. Although no where near their conversation, in fact he was over near the stereo talking to a few classmates, the sudden emotional shift tugged at his Mind's Eye. He couldn't see the assembled supernaturals, but he could sense them, mentally keeping tabs on his allies in case something in poor taste broke out.

It had nothing to do with him though, he had his own conversations to be a part of and all too soon it would be his turn for introductions and all that. Sensing his own distraction that had lured his attention away from his conversation, he snapped his attentiveness back to those he was entertaining, prying his eyes off Oneca from across the room.

"Oneca?" his company observed, following his line of sight. "You could do way better. Trust me, she thinks she's way hotter than she really is." She went back to her speech about lifelong aspirations. "So anyway, I really wanna go into modeling, or helping animals, as long as I don't have to touch them, y'know?"

"Oh, she's every bit as hot as she thinks she is," He grinned, wondering if she was going to make the house explode -then wondering if perhaps he should go move his car. "Animals huh? That's great. Modeling too? You and everyone else in L.A."

[Jeremy]

Things were pretty clear to Jeremy now. The hostess was a mortal who could see past the Mask, and thought him to be one of the Gentry. Great luck.

"I'm not one of the Others..." he managed to calmly say to Oneca, "but I can tell they've given you grief. Who did they take? Parent, brother, sister?"

[Owns-The-Night]

"Oneca. He's not one of Them. He's a guy taken by them who managed to get back here. But it changed him. Give the guy a chance, okay? Listen, if I'm wrong about him and he tries to fuck with you, I'll be first in line to rip him a new windpipe." Dec kept his eyes on hers, his voice low and urgent. "But like Sarah says: he's shed blood with us, his own mostly. Jeremy's alright. Hear him out, and see if he can help you. The dude escaped Them: maybe he can get the monkey off your back too."

[z021]

"Escaped? You...there's...you can escape?" Rage and fear were quickly washed away with confusion and just possible a tiny flicker of hope. She seemed to deflate a little, though, as the adrenaline started to taper off.

Remy leaned her into him and answered Jeremy's question for her. "One of them took her sister when they were little." He winced at how loudly he had to speak to be heard over the music and crowd and motioned to the stairwall in the front hall. "C'mon, this really isn't the place for talking about it. Why don't we go chase some co-eds out of one of the bedrooms and talk there?"

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

A quick glance around confirmed what Sarah had suspected: the crowd had more or less drifted away from the little group. Between Declan and herself, they had that effect on people; something about predators in a world of potential prey. Still, Oneca's friend was right. And if nothing else, the music was loud enough to be painful at moments.

"Yeah, good call. Let's take this somewhere more private." She didn't really wait beyond that, just made a purposeful bee-line for - and then up - the stairs at something just a touch beyond a brisk walk. By the time the rest of the gang hit the top of the stairs, they could see a semi-clad couple scurrying out an open door and further down the call.

A red-haired head emerged from the lit room, watching the pair hustle off before turning with a grin back to Oneca and Company. "Meetin' room's ready."

[Jeremy]

Jeremy nodded and walked in quietly. The attitude of Oneca worried him, and frankly he was less sure about this favor, or whatever he was supposed to do. And what did Declan say about a monkey? The taken sister's fetch?

[z021]

Remy settled Oneca down on her bed, Sarah having managed to clear out the hostesses on room. The sheets were rumpled and there was a pair of men's boxer shorts on the floor, but otherwise it was a clean and neat room with about as much personality as a cadaver. The furniture was good quality, but sparse and obviously utilitarian, the wasn't any art up on the walls, and the one touch of the personal in the room was a small group picture tucked into the corner of the mirror over the dresser. Most of the people in the picture could be found downstairs right now, if you looked hard enough.

Oneca's eyes were still on the changeling, watching him like he was a snake curled around a diamond: fear and hope mixed up enough to make her light-headed and a little spacey. Remy motioned people to take up floor or bed space as they could and addressed Jeremy, "Alright, let's start from the beginning. Who are you, what are you, and who or what is the Gentry? Oneca might know, but there's some stuff she can't talk about and there's a lot I don't know."

****************************

Downstairs Alex and Kevin watched the march upstairs with rasied eyebrows.

"Any idea what that's all about?" Alex asked.

Kevin shook his head, "With those two right now, I'm just trying to stay out of the way. Way too much drama lately, and Yolanda's got enough on her plate with her thesis these days without me diving into the middle of that storm and bringing it home."

He poured them all cups of his apple pie cider, which he assured them both was entirely non-alcoholic, "Here's to keeping life as simple as you can."

[SalmonMax]

In perfect ironic counterpoint to Kevin's toast, Ariel knocked on the door at that moment. A passing partygoer opened the door for her...it was far too late, and people were having far too much fun, for most folks to worry about crashers now. She stepped in with a nod at the young woman who opened the door and asked, "You know where Declan is?"

"Who?" the partygoer asked back.

"Big guy, silver eyes?"

The little blonde girl grinned, if a bit uneasily. "Haven't really seen him around. Sorry!"

As she quickly moved on, Ariel's green eyes scanned the room with unblinking intensity. She listened carefully. No weird sounds or sights. Ordinary party. So she sniffed. In human form her nose was no more acute than it had been before her change, but she was more aware of smells now than she had been. Of course, even if there HAD been something to smell, the overpower scent of drink and smoke would shield it.

So she pushed out into the crowd and started looking. It was striking to her how different it felt now to be in a mass of human beings than it had before. She'd felt distance from people before; as a cop it was inevitable. Even off duty you tended to make mental lists of charges, look for suspicious bulges, that sort of thing. You were watching the party instead of being IN the party. After a few drinks and a half hour or so that faded, and all was well. That wasn't going to happen this time. There was something in her none of these others could ever share; something that set her apart.

It didn't bother her anymore though. She imagined what the Hsil must look like in this room right now and smiled. People were doing what they did...shaking things up and keeping the world moving. Moving towards what, no one knew...but it was quite a ride, and fun while it lasted.

Abruptly Ariel stopped. Now there was an unexpected face. She made her way over to none other than Lucian: The Underwear King, and gave him a smile.

"I'm not sure who's more out of place here, you or me."

[Owns-The-Night]

Dec sat down on one side of the bed, drawing August down to sit beside him and wrapping an arm around her, a gesture both protective and intimate. He took a drink from the beer in his other hand and stayed quiet, watching Oneca and Remy as Jeremy started to explain.

[Jeremy]

Jeremy began. "I'm a changeling, and I'll begin with Changeling 101. There is this otherworld faerie dimension of Arcadia, populated by very powerful entities we call the the True Fae, Others or the Gentry. They don't all look like Tinkerbell, basically anything conceivable, generally from fairy tales, Grimm's, old stories, etc. They're pretty much damn evil and pretty alien to mortals too.

Now, for any reason, at any time, place, what have you, any one of any kind can be taken by the Fae and whisked off to Arcadia, and end up as some kind of slave. If you escape, which you can, before considering the major issues that prevent any chance of a normal life, the fact is you've changed. You're a changeling now.

Being in Arcadia makes you... guess you could say part-Fae, with related powers and problems. You look and are different, except the Mask covers anything Wyrd-related. Most non-Wyrd related entities can't see past the Mask."

[Astra D.]

It had been four days since Morgan fled Evergreen Cemetery as if the legions of Hell were nipping at her heels. For all she knew, they might’ve been. Four days since she pounded on the door to Reva’s dorm room, crying hysterically, carrying nothing more substantial than a plastic shopping bag filled with oddments and her cigarette case. Gods bless her, Reva never asked, and Morgan didn’t have to lie.

For the last four days, everyone had been telling her that everything would be all right, but she knew better. It couldn’t be all right, not now. Not after what she’d done. Thinking about it still made her shiver, froze her blood in her veins. It shouldn’t have been possible; she had a sneaking suspicion Michael hadn’t expected it, either, despite his bravado. The trouble was, possible or not, she had done it, and was now utterly terrified she wouldn’t be able to undo it.

With one hand in her pocket and one occasionally lifting a cigarette to her lips, she paced the sidewalk in front of Hunt Manor. The remnants of three half-crushed black filters lay scattered about in the circle of light beneath the streetlamp, a testament to her indecision. Every footstep, every rustle of leaves and distant siren became somehow sinister in the darkness, and when someone she couldn’t see suddenly laughed nearby, her fear of the night overcame her fear of confession. Hurriedly, she knocked on the front door, and when Lucien’s housekeeper greeted her, she scarcely gave the poor woman time to step aside before she darted in.

“Er, Morgan… Nice to see you,” Roz offered. There were a dozen questions in her pretty coffee-colored eyes, and that number doubled after she closed the door and got a good look at the young woman. No make-up, no heels, her hair’s not done, and she’s wearing somebody else’s clothes. Something is definitely up, the dark-eyed woman thought speculatively. Morgan was usually animated, but the descriptor of the evening was apparently ‘agitated,’ instead. She had to be in some kind of trouble, which meant… “If you were looking for Lucien,” she continued when the girl simply nodded, “he’s already at the party.”

“He’s not here?” The young woman’s face crumpled in despair, and it looked like she might burst into tears. Roz hadn’t seen someone so completely crushed in a very long time, and she worked quickly to smooth things over. She’d heard Morgan had moved in with her mother, and evidently, things hadn’t worked out well. It wasn’t surprising she’d come looking for Lucien, all things considered, and maybe he’d be able to cheer her up.

“No, he’s already gone out, but I’m sure he’d just love to see you,” she replied reassuringly. “I’m surprised you didn’t know about it, actually. Apparently, most of LA got the text message.” She grinned, shaking her head as she ushered Morgan out the back, toward her apartment over the garage.

“No, I, um… I lost my cell phone,” the young Acanthus murmured dazedly, only dimly aware that she was being led outside. “Where are we going?”

“To get you in some decent clothes and send you packing, dear. I’ve got a date tonight, and you’re already running late, so we don’t have a lot of time.” With a wink, the brunette bombshell firmly placed both hands on Morgan’s shoulders and gently pushed her inside.

.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.

"Okay," Morgan breathed, lips curving downward as they pressed against the black filter of the clove. As she exhaled, listening to the maddening pulse of music muffled by the door, a silvery plume of fragrant smoke snaked behind her. The heels of her black suede boots rapped out a sharp, staccato rhythm as she strode up the sidewalk. The matching suede mini-skirt and silvery cashmere sweater felt a little... dressy for a house party, but Roz's tastes were (understandably) a little on the high-end side. "This is a party. You remember parties. Parties are fun, relaxing, and generally of the good. You will go, you will drink, you will engage in debauchery, and you will find Lucien Hunt. You will not ruin anyone else's good time, and you will make arrangements to fucking. Fix. Things." This last was ground out through gritted teeth, and she forced a smile as she opened the door and strolled right in. Given the size of the crowd, she figured no one would assume she didn't belong there.

Kohl-lined emerald eyes scanned the teeming throngs of people, briefly watching the living tide's ebb and flow until she located the alcohol. She didn't recognize anyone immediately, and with a long exhalation to steady the apprehension swirling in the pit of her stomach, poured her first drink of the night.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah listened with interest as Jeremy explained the basics of what exactly he really was. Until now, she'd more or less dismissed him as "the elf" for lack of a better term; she knew he could do some sort of magic (though not on anything close to a par with Lucien, she noted), and that he was handy with a knife, but that was really it.

Hearing that he'd been dragged away to another world, served as a slave and then escaped to somehow find his way back here... that certainly sounded much, much involved than dying beside a barren stretch of road and getting pulled into unlife by blood trickled down her throat.

"Cripes Jeremy, I didn't know you'd been through all that. But then, I guess I wasn't exactly asking, either."

She sighed, then looked back at Oneca. "See, he's one of the good guys. Hell, if anyone's a monster here, it's probably me, with that whole not-actually-alive-anymore thing. At least Jeremy's still breathing and has a heartbeat."

[Jeremy]

"Don't worry Sarah, there are those who will differ with you on that score." Jeremy murmured in a light-hearted manner, though the reference to the Hunters was more of a dark humor type.

"Personally, I've got less than you think it would take to make it out. 'Course, cleverness the Wizened have in spades." He realized clarification was called for. "There are several 'races', so to speak of the Changelings. Categories based on elements of appearance, conditions of servitude, personality change, abduction etc. They are called seemings, of which there are Wizened, Beasts, Elementals, Ogres, Darklings, and the Fairest."

[z021]

Remy gave Sarah a look like she'd just grown a.....corpse, apparently. "Uh...good to know, I guess?"

Oneca was doing her best to take in what Jeremy was saying; it was one thing to have to sit and listen to, well, if not something like Saja, something close. Listening to them tell you that you might be able to get your sister back after almost two decades of dealing with her evil-twig replacement was another situation entirely. "But, you remember who you are? I mean, you were human once, right? You still remember who you were before you were taken?"

The pleading hope in her voice was nearly painful to hear.

[Jeremy]

Oneca was breaking his heart. Jeremy could tell how much she wanted to have her sis back. But, he knew probably wasn't too be. This would be the part he hated saying.

"Yes, for how else could we be able to escape." his voice reflected her pain all of a sudden. "But not all escape, and because of those 'major issues' I need to tell you about...

Oneca, in all likelihood, you won't see your sister again. Barring a miracle."

[z021]

Her eyes flashed brightly and her voice was thick with a fanatic devotion, "Then I'll go get her. There's a way in and way out and that means I can find her and bring her home and finally have that thing out of our lives."

Those near Oneca could feel a warmth radiating out from her and part of the spartan decoration of the room became understandable as the cups left on the dresser shot across the room and crumpled in a sticky, alcoholic mess on impact with the wall.

[z-August Turner]

Being in the crook of Declan's arm had a way of making her feel both safe and alright. She felt safe and warm, even if she was in the room with a vampire and God knows what else. August had been listening, struggling to understand the stories here. It wasn't a matter of not getting the words but getting the concepts being casually tossed around. She understood one thing pretty clearly; the girl before her had lost a sister, too. August wasn't sure she should express sympathies and understandings to the girl before her; their situations didn't sound the same and she wasn't sure if that would be welcome or not.

Her indecision was solved when their host got mad and went all Carrie on them. August let out a little yelp and cringed against Declan's side, his arm feeling more like a protective barrier than ever. She stared wide-eyed at the girl, wondering when the pig's blood was going to start dripping down the walls.

[Jeremy]

Honestly, what she did was scary. But Jeremy was fully away that this had to be headed off now. "Oneca!" his voice snapped angry. "Calm down now, you're scaring August! Did I mention that going on a rescue mission into Arcadia is a one-way path to death or worse?!"

[Owns-The-Night]

"Jer." Dec's voice cut across the angry air in the room like a rising rumble of thunder. The tone wasn't so much threatening as imposing: for now. "Don't go off like that. Oneca didn't hurt no-one, but trust me: you don't want this girl to get mad at you." He gave August a reassuring squeeze as his silver gaze moved from Jeremy to Oneca.

"Oneca, just because there's a way in there don't mean you can get back. I've been on a little trip to the fringes of this place with Jeremy, and it weren't a fun time had by all. It's not a place for us, any more than other planes of existence are. From what I understand, everything is ass-backwards there." His tone was frank and sincere, with a hint of the gruff frustration he still had after dealing with the Hedge.

"The main reason I introduced you two is that Oneca, here, is under the thrall of some kinda pod-people copy of her sis. Jeremy, you know about the Gentry and their particular brand of bullshit, so I was wonderin' if that might be of some use. Maybe we can't get your sister back, Oneca. Maybe." Dec told her gently. "But we can certainly take care of that fuckin' imposter."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah was worried. Anyone who saw inanimate objects hurled across the room apparently by the mind of an obviously upset young woman would be worried at the very least.

But despite the worry, what Oneca was saying pulled hard on strings that were attached to Sarah's heart, beating or not. The Dead-Wolf had put everything on the line - including her life - for her family. She was still desperately trying to get to some kind of accord with her cousin. And if ever she thought there was a chance that Shane was actually alive, she'd go to hell and back if necessary to get him.

That's what Oneca was clearly determined upon: going to some godawful place to save her sister. And while Sarah wasn't prone to suicidal missions, once such as this formed perhaps the sole exception to her rules of self-preservation.

The quiet but sincere words were out of her mouth before she realized she was speaking them. "I'll go with you." Once out there and floating around, they seemed to demand a follow-up; summoning a weak attempt at a smile, she added, "After all, what're they really gonna do? Kill me more?"

[Jeremy]

Damn it, the madness must stop. Jeremy couldn't believe what was happening. But, keeping Dec's words in mind, he chose a new tactic. Groaning in apparent defeat, "Fine, go on your crusade. Just know that it's nearly impossible to even get into the boundary lines of Earth and Arcadia without a changeling, much less navigate. And neither me nor any other will help you do that."

"Additionally, there now seems little point in my helping with getting rid of that fetch, your sister's duplicate goodbye. I'm sure she'd love to bring you two to your sister's Keeper." Jeremy continued in a somewhat sarcastic voice.

Furthermore, he gave Dec and Remy looks that said Stop this now.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah's eyes went a dangerous shade of angry as they shifted to Jeremy. So did her voice.

"I don't think you understand, but I sure as hell do. This is about family. Sometimes, people will go above and beyond for family. Sometimes, they'll give anything for them, even on the slimmest of chances. Sometimes they'll even give their lives." She looked down at herself, then back up at the changeling with less anger and more compassion and sorrow and hope in those green eyes. "Sometimes they even keep going after that."

She took a deep, calming (and useless) breath before continuing. "I'm not saying, 'Hey, let's all pick up our drinks and go running off to faerie-land.' But I am saying that finding out all we can about this situation, that making a good solid plan, that preparing ourselves so that at some point we can make the attempt with something better than sure death or slavery at the end... that that's something good and right." She looked to Declan. "That it has honor." And back to Jeremy. "And maybe some retribution." And then to Oneca. "And maybe even some hope."

[Jeremy]

Jeremy sighed. "I think you aren't listening to anything I say. It's a suicide mission, no chance of success. I can tell you want to succeed, but you won't. So who does it benefit if Oneca and you and those you drag along get wiped out? Oneca's sister? I think not. Same for Remy, Lucien, Amber, Moss, essentially everyone we care about here. What good is it?"

[Lucien Hunt]

"...I'm happy with a 'C' really, but I think a 'D' will really help my self esteem, y'know?" She contunied to speak. Lucien wasn't really sure if she honestly thought she was interesting if the smell of money compelled her to continue speaking in some vain attempt to impress him. He was getting used to it though, the more and more enlightened her became, the less he understood or connected with humanity. He saw every flaw in their speeches, he read through every word they spoke and could honestly see when they meant beyond what they were saying. Needless to say it made conversations about boob jobs less enticing when he knew all she was doing was trying to hook up with him and in three months get him to pay for it. Being a Mage was not always as cool as the brochure stated.

"That's great, really. Been wanting to get a set for myself, just haven't had the time." He didn't even know what he was replying to at this point, he just needed to get away. He'd heard enough of the conversation through riding Sarah's senses and decided it needed to end. "Could you excuse me for a moment? Thanks." Without a good bye he left her holding his red cup and walked off.

Quote:

Abruptly Ariel stopped. Now there was an unexpected face. She made her way over to none other than Lucian: The Underwear King, and gave him a smile.

"I'm not sure who's more out of place here, you or me."

"Ariel, hey, wow." Lucien smiled as she caught him just a few paces away from the stairs. "I think we can both wear that hat tonight if you like." He chuckled. "Actually your timing is perfect, I'm about to go break up a little spat the local Drama Club is cooking up and I could use some back up." He clasped her hand and led her along up the stairs. She started to protest -the thought it might have been a protest, anyway- and quickly interjected. "Declan? Yeah, he's up there too, and encouraging it of all things."

He winked at few guests and smiled to a few others with a casual calmness that only a guy whose mind was everywhere and yet no where all once could possess. "S'cuse us... pardon us..." They weaved through the crowd, Lucien holding her hand the whole way and earning her a few approving and jealous glares. "Trying to find a room here people, come on, you know the drill, can't keep her waiting." When they finally found the right door they slowed and he looked at her one last time, giving her the appraisal he meant to a few moments ago save that he was in a hurry. "By the way, you look fantastic tonight, any one told you that? Wow, it's like you're a whole new woman." Ariel attempted to either except or decline the compliment before Lucien realized he was here for a purpose. "Hold that thought," he asked, pressing his finger to her lips. "Be right back."

The door to the Drama Sauna cracked open and Lucien peeked in. "And here we are." He let himself in once his identity had been approved under Declan's watchful 'I could pounce and flay you from here' profiling technique. It was quite efficient, he had to admit. "I swear, you people have a knack for drama that would make Aaron Spelling envious." The door closed behind him, softly.

The room was filled with a sudden measure of comfort. It was no spell on Lucien's behalf, just simply the empathic resonance of who he was and the effect he had on those around him. "I see a hostess that is being rude to her guests by spending her time up here instead of down there with them." He was straight to the point, as always, but the Mastigos needed those assembled to understand. "And also what I see are guests being rude to our hostess by spoiling her mood with talk of places, topics, and memories of things that are better left discussed elsewhere."

He certainly carried the demeanor of a disapproving father figure with his hands in his pockets while he casually paced about the entrance way looking at the assembled.

"While I have little to no qualms about sharing our secret identities with those that can be trusted," He looked about the room. "Spoiling a party because we had to 'talk shop' is ot something I can take lightly. Let's face it, if Oneca is in a foul mood she's not going to want to do any dirty dancing with me later..." We wagged his finger at the crowd. "And that I will not stand for."

He turned to Oneca and looked at her, his gaze becoming more serious. "Sweetie, I gave you my word that we'd find her, and we will. But, as the old saying goes, 'One does not simply walk into Mordor.'. Trust be beautiful, Arcadia is no different. Give us time, and lend us your hope, hmm?"

His hands clapped together loudly. "Now! I'm going to leave you all with that thought and go do something really irresposible, because this is a party and that's what people do at par-" He paused suddenly, as if something had caught his attention within the boundaries of his senses. "Morgan?" He said softly and looked to the door. His bravado seemed to melt away into an expression of pure curiosity. "If you'll excuse me... and try to start having some fun, huh?"

With that he left as quickly as he arrived.

[Jeremy]

Jeremy let out an exasperated groan. Immediately he walked out through the doorway. He turned back to look at the group, and for a few moments, the perceptive could see in his eyes, the pain, torment, anguish, horror and other emotional scars he experienced in Arcadia. It was a sight terrible and scary.

"I'll help with your sister's fetch, Oneca. But I hope you change your mind about this idiocy."

With that, he turned and headed downstairs into the party. As the

crowds circulated and moved, he returned to the grill for more food.

He took more swigs from the flask and savored the juices of the hamburger he got.

[SalmonMax]

Ariel paused outside, thoroughly confused. Lucien seemed to be juggling flaming chainsaws with one hand behind his back here...but he'd said Declan was this way so she figured she'd go with it. She was only too happy not to wonder too deeply about what the young mage was up to...she had her hands full with just two worlds, thank you very much. She'd leave the rest to those better suited to walk them.

Then Lucien stampeded back out, right past her down the stairs. Just as she was about to move in, another guy came out...one she wasn't sure if she'd met before. He seemed vaguely familiar but he was gone before she had a chance to place him.

What the hell is going on in there?!

Carefully she opened the door and peeked inside, half expecting blood spattered all over the walls, or charred bodies strewn all over the place. Instead she saw a couple of women, and Declan.

She let her breath out in a relieved sigh, and only then became aware she'd been holding it.

"Declan...as hard to find as ever," she said, opening the door fully. She was a good looking redhead with faint spattering of freckles on her cheeks and wearing a tan, well-worn leather jacket over a navy blue T-shirt and pair of blue jeans. Declan noticed right away that Ariel looked a bit less skinny than she had when she left. Better exercised, perhaps, because she certainly wasn't fatter...just more solid. Her hair was cut shorter, and a bit unevenly, and was loose around her head down to her neck instead of tied back.

She paused immediately on entering though, picking up on the tense vibe.

"Should I come back later?"

[z021]

There was a couple on the couch, or at least what could assumed to be a couple since the man had his arms wrapped the dark-haired woman, and the man of the couple watched Lucien leave with an utterly confused look on his face. He glanced over at Declan, "Um...did an underwear model just chide us like little kids? "

His eyes flicked up to Ariel, "And....well, you seem like you'd fit in," whatever that meant, "so, it's really up to you. Not much going on anymore. We'll probably be back downstairs in a few minutes. Was there someone you needed to talk to?"

[SalmonMax]

"Yeah..." Ariel nodded towards Declan. "But it's no emergency. I've been out of town awhile, so I'm reconnecting."

She smiled and offered a hand towards the man doing the talking.

"I'm Ariel, one of Declan's friends. Sorry about all the drama there. I've got no idea what got Lucien's underoos all twisted up like that."

[z-August Turner]

Things went from bad to worse; nothing in her life had prepared her for this kind of drama and craziness. Vampires with family issues; an angry man who claimed to be kidnapped, and she couldn't forget her werewolf boyfriend. For a moment, it was way too surreal.

Then the handsome man barged into the room like a bizarre den mother, wagging his finger about how partying was way more serious than what they were dealing with. August wasn't certain, but she was pretty sure that kidnapped relatives took precedence over partying, though if it stopped this crazy fight, she probably wouldn't mind.

"Was... that the Lucian Hunt?" August asked, pretty sure that she knew the answer already. First, he was very recognizable. Second, the party-over-life mentality was common among models. Admittedly, she wanted to live like that most of the time, but that didn't seem to be the way of things while dating Declan.

She smiled at the woman who nodded at Declan, wondering if she was part of his group. She didn't look like a werewolf, but August was learning that meant nothing.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah noddded; if she'd still been alive, she'd had blushed.

"That was indeed 'the Lucien Hunt.' That would indeed also be my boyfriend."

The Dead-Wolf shot a near-instinctual look of challenge out to the room in general, daring anyone to say different.

[z021]

Something in Sarah's territorial declaration finally broke the tension in Oneca. She began shaking in Remy's arms and giggling furiously. Too many ups and way downs over the past months had her stretched emotionally too thin, and Lucien's admonishions and Sarah's brittle challenge to...someone, probably in the room, was just too much of the absurd.

Remy cradled her in his arms, looking not entirely happy but at least a little relieved that Oneca was doing something other than a Carrie impression now. The raven-haired pyrokinetic sneaked a glance up at the undead woman and stuttered out a, "S-sorry...not laughing at you...just...everything...Life...stupid right now."

[z-August Turner]

August didn't say anything, but she knew that look. It meant 'I call him my boyfriend and we fuck, but I'm not sure that he really likes me.' She gave herself brownie points for her silence, and then more for not instinctively blurting out, "Lucian Hunt dates the dead?"

The giggle-fit from the other woman caught her attention, and August slipped out of Declan's arms to hand her the drink she'd been clutching. "Here," she said in a soft voice, "this might settle you. I know booze helps me when life gets too dumb for words." She smiled at the pretty woman, hoping that alcohol worked on her like it did on August.

[Lucien Hunt]

The Underwear King moved through the people and down the stairs. His attention was divided between his rather short, but needed speech, to his friends upstairs and the familiar, but disturbed aura of consciousness that entered his realm of perceptions. He felt her, it was faint but he knew her aura. Morgan was here, but she went home and was living with her mother, wasn't she? The forceful tug of curiosity got the best of him and away he went wondering if she was luring him to her by jingling the threads on the Loom of Fate she controlled.

Its hard to describe how Lucien viewed the world, his senses existed in a place that saw the conscious mind and the aura of emotions in a myriad of colors all about him. The faces of people were but a haze, unnecessary to his vision because he saw right through the exterior and knew who they were on the inside. He could see the change in their moods, could sense when they were lying -and half the men here were in order to get company for the night-, could hear the blood pump in their chest their stomachs churn and bubble to digest the alcohol, everything seemed known to him. Te strangest by far was his sense of distance, he could 'feel' how far people were from him, knew when to move or sway to dodge the guy with the drinks or when to stop a second early enough to prevent someone from cutting him off and colliding with him.

All these senses now he used to locate the source of his curiosity, the beautiful raven haired Acanthus, Morgan Westbrook. He approached her, knowing it was her, and out of the mass of veiled, hazy identities around him she seemed to come through as clear as crystal. He knew her well, much like Declan, Sarah and those above (save a few) those he possessed strong connections with came through clearer and more vividly.

"Morgan?" He asked, skepticism in his voice as he reached out his hand and rested in on her shoulder. He could sense something, conflict, fear, uncertainty and... regret? "What are you doing here? I thought you moved away?"

[Astra D.]

It was a little easier to forget everything that had happened over the last few months when there was too much going on to think. Whoever was throwing the party seemed to have decent taste in music, and there was apparently some phenomenal X going around, or something, because everyone looked like they were having the time of their lives. Surreptitiously, she sniffed the bright blue liquid in her cup, and shrugged. She was just stubbing out the remains of her cigarette in a heavy glass ashtray when someone put a hand on her shoulder.

The casual, artificial smile froze on her lips when she turned, and found herself face-to-face with a familiar Mastigos.

Damn, she swore internally, unable to resist a quick shake of her head as she gave Lucien a quick once-over when he approached. Exactly the right parts, in exactly the right configuration, and with exactly the wrong timing. If I hadn't been so wrapped up in Declan... Ugh. No. Not thinking about him. Not thinking about Evergreen. Not thinking at all, if I can help it. Focus, Morgan. Eye candy. Party. Smile.

"Hey, Lucien," she replied, lifting her cup in salute. "I, ah, just got out- just got back recently." Nodding at nothing in particular, she took a long drink and folded her arms across her chest. Mentally, she kicked herself, but hoped he wouldn't notice the slip. She still hadn't figured out how to tell him the truth, and that apprehension was a knot of serpents in her belly. "Seems like ages, doesn't it? How've you been?"