|
Post by OurLadyWar on Dec 23, 2020 12:46:09 GMT -5
The Count was not the only one itching to see what was behind closed doors. These moments...
The how-do-you-do's, Charmed-I am -sure's, Indeed's.
... She hated them, but she was so damn good at smiling. Even when faced with Essex, whose named carried a suspicion and a threat for her. The Braddock Manor on Essex had been a sore for the surrounding nobility and lordships for a long time. Elizabeth had various suspects for the fire, and this was one of them. Any evidence was built on an emotional platform, at best, so all she had for now were pleasantries.
Her gaze lingered on The Silver Beatles setting up. Once they started playing, up and coming as they were, that could be a good time to slink away and investigate further. For now, she was made polite with Irene Adler, nodding once and deeply to her.
"A pleasure to meet you. Thank you for lending us your worse half for the evening. He has been a gracious host."
|
|
|
Post by mcr on Dec 23, 2020 13:58:02 GMT -5
Irene tilts her head slightly, giving the group a puzzled stare, as if she is looking past and through, rather than at them. Her lips curl slightly as she reaches out before herself tentatively, pulling her hand back as she remembers where she is, muttering the word "Uncanny..." as she does so.
Shaw himself can barely contain a frown, though after Irene's painfully awkward introduction, her frown is replaced by a forced smile:
"You must forgive me. I am...was...afflicted, as a young girl. As I believe you are?"
She questions, though any fears that Azazel may have had that she had pierced his disguise and seen his true self are displaced when she unfolds a small cane she had been sitting near to walk alongside them without crashing into any obstacles, Shaw leading her by the other hand.
Shaw replies curtly, but disappointed:
"It is not a curse, no more than one's hair color or whether they are born right or left handed. It is a simple biological fact. Charles knows what he's talking about."
"Is he here?! If we don't do this exactly right, there's no way to predict how we might change things!" Kate practically shouts, for as loud as a disembodied psychic presence can, inside Pryde's head.
Irene, meanwhile, responds with a faint smile:
"No, you are right. In some ways, it might even be called a gift. I give psychic readings - can see glimpses of someone's future. Madame Destiny, they call me."
She paused:
"But...when I look at you, I see nothing. Like you're there...but not. To see, or not to see, that is the question..."
She giggled at her own joke.
|
|
|
Post by Gris on Dec 24, 2020 6:42:41 GMT -5
What did she mean with afflicted? Pryde knew what a mutant was and what that could mean, Kate had made sure of that, was that what she meant? Shaw's words made it almost clear, but before she could even think about it, Kate's thoughts boomed in her head. Pryde winced for a moment, hoping all eyes were on their hosts and no one noticed her reaction, but with that company it was a long shot for sure. "What was that? Who's Charles?" she managed to ask back, but her attention was caught by Irene's words.
Could she really see the future too? What did she meant with that gibberish? She could kinda get that someone with that sort of powers had trouble with her, given how Kate could steer her from certain events, but if the so called Madame Destiny's powers were true, what did that meant for the rest of them? Who were they really?
|
|
|
Post by mcr on Dec 28, 2020 7:31:51 GMT -5
--Elsewhere-- As the room folded in on itself, the dimensions flattened like a book closing, walls stacking one on top of one another. A stern voice dispelled the dark shadow: "Who cares for you?" The room sorted itself out as a pair of sinister eyes watched on: "You're nothing but a pack of cards." The Television clicked back on. --Meanwhile-- A grim sinister figure grinned a wide Cheshire grin: "Rise and shine, Alice, the guests are almost here for our tea party."
|
|
|
Post by OurLadyWar on Dec 28, 2020 10:49:31 GMT -5
Adler seemed well occupied with the others. At the mention of psychic readings and knowing one's future, Elizabeth decided it was time for a little air. She had an aversion to such things; as someone who was very much in control of her life and her identity, it was no surprise she preferred to privatize her thoughts and keep her destiny a secret. The jet-setter deftly slipped her hand from around Shaw's arm and quietly left the group in favor for the French doors leading to the balcony. Elizabeth would catch up if they continued, but for now she could not recall the last time she had looked out across some splendid view in Essex.
Once outside, Elizabeth pinched one more sip off her champagne, and when she was sure there was no one else around, chucked the rest into a nearby plant. She leaned with a sigh on the balcony overlooking the countryside. She tapped the empty flute thoughtfully against her lower lip. When they were being transported, she could not help but humor herself in thinking she recognized the bumpy ride. The smell of the air when they were led inside. Maybe there was something to be said for her gut after all, if that was the case.
"Hello, old girl," she whispered to the view as memories of growing up with her brothers in the countryside came flooding back.
|
|
|
Post by mcr on Dec 29, 2020 14:12:02 GMT -5
As Elizabeth sneaks out, she passes another presence whose attitude and appearance has been a stark contrast to the other party guests. Where Shaw was in posh reverence, and Irene in strange bewilderment, this woman possessed a cold air of indifference, as if the whole world were beneath her. It was an attitude Elizabeth knew well - a woman who felt she was clearly her superior, for better or for worse. And perhaps just as curiously, where even the unsighted were dressed to the nines, worried about making an impression, this woman, well... For such a formal occasion, she could hardly be wearing ... less? Perhaps a subconscious or overt desire for attention spurred her choice of wardrobe, or a need to express her own disdain with the bindings of convention, imposing itself upon the female sex. Such a trend, growing ever so slowly even in the last few years now, appeared to be reaching new heights. If such were the case, then, it was a wonder this woman was wearing clothes at all. Snapping her fingers as Betsy walks by, an elderly serving lady rushes to attend her with a small notepad and a pen before she sends the latter looking for Betsy when she disappears. After she does, Emma Frost leads the remaining four into the library, standing around a small reading nook carved out into the wall, one of several. She introduces herself to the group by answering Pryde's question: "Charles Xavier." She states, as if reading Pryde's mind. "And, no, he is not here tonight." She focuses a bit on Kate and Pryde's dual and dueling thoughts, though she, too, appears to be reaching a barrier of sorts, a hidden obstacle to knowing the secrets lurking under the surface and tantalizingly close but out of reach. It is Shaw's turn to interrupt, answering Azazel's question: "Miss Emma Frost. The White Queen of the Hellfire Club. Emma..." He speaks, as if on familiar terms with her: "Emma, Count Dragos was wondering when he would meet you tonight." Looking right at Azazel as she speaks, she smirks: "Well, I'll cut right to it, then: What do any of you know about alternate dimensions?" ======================================================== --Meanwhile-- "Pardon? Er, uh, yes, ma'am?" The servant had finally tracked down Elizabeth, an elderly lady who may have thought mistakenly that Elizabeth had noticed and been speaking to her: "That is to say, er, m'lady, that the Miss, er..." She pauses to try to read her notes: "The Miss would like to request your presence in the library. She's er...well...'s not m'place to speak for her, I s'pose. You've just passed it on your way out here." She hemmed and hawed, trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject before finally simply giving up. "Begging your pardon, m'lady, but if you don't mind me saying, you look just like your da'. He and the Master would often meet here, and the others, discussing Club business......" Her voice trails off as she suddenly remembered the fate of the elder Braddock. "That is, er...I'm so very sorry for your loss." ==================================================== [[OOC: Betsy will indeed know the library she passed as she snuck out, and can find her way back without a guide, though she can also wander around some more or stay out here. phencerx and UrbanBlue, Charles's name is one certainly well known to your characters, as he's making waves in academic circles around Oxford University right now, being watched closely by the recruiters around campus looking to poach top minds for government work.]]
|
|
|
Post by Gris on Dec 30, 2020 6:16:17 GMT -5
Pryde's doubts about the intricacies of what was going on took a backseat as soon as Emma Frost walked in. No one in the party could now be afraid of being underdressed, as she was a couple of inches, if any, from just being wearing underwear and a cloak. She would have blushed at the sight, if all the color didn't abandon her face as soon as Frost first answered a question she never voiced, then answered Kate herself. With Irene she had doubts, all of it could be the act of an eccentric woman, even if that seemed a more unlikely answer every minute she passed in that company. But Frost? There was no qualms about it, she was the real deal.
How much Emma Frost could see was a mystery, as any surprise at Pryde's particular situation or frustration about it didn't show on her face. Either way she said nothing else, acting as she had lost interest on the young one to shift it towards another of the newcomers. Even with the questionable choice of attire, the White Queen was a woman of power, one she better had in mind, or better even, not, specially if her thoughts turned out to be so permeable.
Kate was startled before even meeting Frost, but the encounter and her eerie mind reading prowess didn't do wonders for her. The young one just got there and things were already at a disarray. At least she wouldn't have to worry about Professor Xavier, not yet, providing Frost was telling the truth. Her grasp of not only what was going on or could happen in the future was growing as tenuous as the reach she had on her own memories. Did she really fix things when she traveled back? Did she really travel back to her own past or something else went on? Things hadn't been fine for a while, how obsessed had she been with the futures to come to not notice how things didn't match? "You have whined before about how I could be a bad influence on you..." Kate said, almost tender. "But maybe the very travel back... something happened" she added, as Frost's question about alternate dimensions only rattled her more and more. "Buy me time, something's going on" Kate asked, sounding more nervous than ever. "Fine" was all that the young one answered, clenching teeth and enduring the confusion she felt. There would be time for answers, all she could do was move forward.
"As in different planes of existence? Or as in different timelines?" Pryde outright asked, once a bit of a fan of a science fiction genre that was getting less and less fictional as she aged.
Health: 3/3 ; Energy: 8/9 Action: Social Skills 4, keeping a relaxed and casual expression to the best of her abilities. Health: 3/3 ; Energy: 4/9
|
|
|
Post by UrbanBlue on Dec 30, 2020 11:31:12 GMT -5
"Alternate dimensions? Well in scientific circles it's been brought up through the ages. Multiverse theory, for one. As to the idea that they actually exist, I'd say that is beyond my current ability to calculate, though given the other wonders of the world (at this he gives a sidelong glance at Ms. Frost) I wouldn't rule it out in any capacity."
Boy, he thought, embarrassed, I hope she wasn't using her telepathy on me that whole time. I was rather, err, distracted for a moment. Oh my stars and garters.
|
|
|
Post by Black Sam on Dec 30, 2020 13:05:09 GMT -5
Azazel's face did not betray his thoughts. He reached out and laid his hand on Dr. McCoy's shoulder.
"Don't blink," he said. Before the good doctor could catch his breath, the two of them vanished in a flash of fire and smoke, only to reappear directly in front of Ms. Frost a moment later. "There you are, Comrade, now you have first-hand experience with another dimension."
He released McCoy and bowed deeply to Frost. Unlike his bookish companion, Azazel was not shy about admiring her immodest display. His grin was positively wicked as he took her hand and offered a debonaire kiss.
"Moya koroleva."
********************
HEALTH: 4/4 ENERGY: 18/18
ACTION ONE: 1 stone into Teleportation to give Dr. McCoy a glimpse of Hell ACTION TWO: 3 stones into Social Skills to impress Emma Frost
ATTACK: none DEFENSE: 3 (RD + Prescience/Teleportation)
MODIFIERS: Enhanced Vision (see in darkness); Healing Factor (heal 1w stone/hour); Limited Prescience (shift stones allocated to other actions into Teleportation after other stones are revealed); Metal Defense 4; Reflexive Dodge 3
HEALTH: 4/4 ENERGY: 14/18 REGENERATION: 7
|
|
|
Post by UrbanBlue on Dec 31, 2020 6:43:29 GMT -5
"My word, the data I could compile. The farthest reaches of understanding that I could mine. Could it be real? Wait, that was Hell?"
|
|
|
Post by mcr on Dec 31, 2020 11:49:18 GMT -5
Emma relishes in the attention fawned upon her by the Count, but a careful eye will note that her attention has shifted more to Shaw than the Russian.
Shaw clears his throat in obvious annoyance, upon which Emma withdraws her hand, pouting.
Shaw speaks, choosing his words very carefully:
"Quite."
He pauses again:
"A...patient of Doctor Millbury, one of our associates, ...has recently...vanished. Taken, we believe. We know where - that is the simple part. Her psychic presence is still ... here, but not? Cut off from us. We were able to open a channel, as it were. But we have been unable to follow her physically through the rift to pull her out."
Turning to Pryde, Pete, and Hank, he adds:
"We were hoping the group of you might be able to help. We need someone who can cross the space between spaces - to be here, but not. And as for whether it is another plane of existence, or another timeline, well, that is, quite simply, beyond my expertise. We were hoping - that is to say, Doctor, Mister Wisdom, perhaps, this is a void you can fill."
|
|
|
Post by UrbanBlue on Dec 31, 2020 13:32:16 GMT -5
Intrigued, McCoy brushed his hand over his smooth chin.
Imagine if I grew a beard. Nah, I could never be that fuzzy.
"I'd be more than willing to offer any expertise I could. Let me think..."
Action -----------
4 stones into General Knowledge to muster up anything I can think about other universes.
|
|
|
Post by OurLadyWar on Dec 31, 2020 16:39:11 GMT -5
Elizabeth blinked from her reverie, returning to the real world. "Hm? Looks like I went away, there." Her hands smoothed over the front of her dress, resetting to her celebrity-mode. She made a good show in expressing delight upon receiving Emma's summons, but the servant's earnest observation and condolence made Elizabeth falter. That practiced, doe-eyed mask dropped and her lips parted wordlessly. The hurt left her features, replaced instead with a warm and grateful smile. "You are very kind, mam," Elizabeth nodded to her. "He was a good man. I shall have to bend your Master's ear some time. It would be nice to hear more stories about my father." Her violet gaze flit back to the glass doors. Beyond was the party, cloaked daggers, and poisonous pleasantry. "Thank you," Elizabeth added quietly, and swept back into manor.
Eventually, she was at the library entrance, silently listening and observing. A step removed from the group, she could watch their behavior and reactions, learn more about them. The Count, for example, seemed eager to please. All of this was done from behind that perfect mask that seemed to say: "Gosh, alternate dimensions. Sounds so science-y." But really she was exhilarated and fascinated. She had done her own independent research when Brian disappeared, but this was a way to really immerse herself in her search.
|
|
|
Post by phencerx on Jan 2, 2021 16:28:25 GMT -5
Peter had been only half paying attention to what was being said as he was further surveying the crowd and counting rooms. Upon hearing the gawking of several people he looked up to see Ms. Frost. He raised an eyebrow and was transported back to his days hustling on the streets of Hackney to make a living after his father had kicked him out. Often he had found refuge in houses of ill repute in return for enforcing the Madam of the houses rule. Emma Frost reminded her of one such madam. So much more than the other tarts who were just there turning tricks to make a living.
Snapped back into reality upon hearing his name, Peter can't help but wonder just how much these people know about him already. This was supposed to be a covert mission, but Shaw was clearly hinting at knowing much more than just his cover.
"What exactly do you have in mind Mr. Shaw. In my past I've dabbled in viewing "other" dimensions and been an agent of, well lets just say, alternating others expected timelines."
|
|
|
Post by mcr on Jan 2, 2021 20:22:17 GMT -5
Shaw pulled a book out from the bookcase, and the sound of rusty gears turning revealed the existence of a secret passageway hidden behind before Shaw hefted the bookcase open. Leading the way inward, the group can see various scientific experiments in various states of abandonment, with clear signs of age and disuse. Numerous large glass vats which appear to have once been filled with fluid lay haphazardly strewn about the room, now emptied. Cobwebs linger over vials, beakers, and books.
And in the center of the room, a large, ornate mirror stands, tethered to various wires, sparks crackling from some of the protrusions. A large wooden crank rests atop what must be some kind of hand-powered generator. All-together, the equipment looks like what must have been state of the art at the turn of the century, but had evidently not been replaced or repaired since.
With some effort, Shaw bodily winds the crank, which sends large arcs of electricity crackling through the mirror. The sound is cacophonous, instantly drowning out any other ambient noise. A faint, greenish glow flickers for no more than a second before dissipating, the glass becoming slightly milky before quickly solidifying.
Shouting over the din raised by the activation of the device, Shaw bellows:
"The most we've ever been able to do is hold it open for a few seconds, with someone manually powering the contraption before it overheats and triggers some kind of internal circuit breaker or similar safety feature! We've tried rigging it with modern equipment, but nothing seems to have worked!"
As the machinery cools off, he leans into the device for support.
"We've tried sending others through, but none have returned. Miss Pryde, Count, we are hoping with your abilities you might be able to succeed where we have failed before."
Nodding towards the others, he adds:
"The rest of you, well, we won't say no to volunteers. But I will need to stay behind to keep the device running. I've been studying it for the last several days now, trying to wrap my head around it - I can make!"
He pushes himself back up, scurries behind the mirror to fiddle with some of the parts as he speaks:
"The necessary repairs and maintain the machine so that you have a chance - a *chance*, to return. I must warn you though, we do not know what lies beyond. We would not ask this of you if we did not have every confidence in your abilities, any of you."
Emma speaks telepathically into their minds, though they can all tell it is taking her considerable effort and focus:
"I will also remain behind - I can maintain this link with you so that you have something to follow back once you are through. Hold fast to it, I cannot guarantee I will be able to find you if we are separated."
Shaw adds one more thing:
"Save who you can, but I must stress, the girl is of the utmost importance. Her future is extremely important to all of us in ways I cannot begin to explain."
Readjusting the wires between the generator and the mirror, he prepares to wind it up once more.
|
|