text & log option

[weyetch]

text
well well well
this is a fine kettle of fish we've all found ourselves in eh
hey idk what the policy on unsupervised animals is but i sent my familiar out to scout
so if you see a crow flying around and snooping
don't worry about it

so, i'm Witch
i've been here for maybe an hour
there are worse universes to get spontaneously spirited away to tbh. seems cozy here
i got the elevator pitch already but, really, what's a girl gotta know to get by
what's exciting, what's dangerous, where can i get a good iced coffee

side note: magic? we got a policy on that around here?
obviously this place is just oozing with it but if any of you are gonna flip your lids if you see me casting it'd be good to know sooner rather than later



log
Who; A little birdie, his mistress, and you!
What; Crow flies around and scouts out the city, OR Witch pokes around the Historium
Where; Out and about the city OR at the Historium
When; March 30th
Warnings; probably none?

a. out and about the city with Crow
[Whether or not you saw Witch's warning doesn't change that Crow is out and about, doing his thing. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, there's a crow here now.

He looks like a perfectly ordinary crow, though those with a sense for magic may detect something...off about him. Even without any magic, one can certainly tell he's up to something. He keeps trying to enter buildings and, when that inevitably doesn't work, he finds a perch so he can peer into the windows. He gets much too close to people, entirely too brazen for a bird. If items are left unattended he might start prodding at them with his beak.

If you stare at him for too long, he'll stare back. And then he'll caw, as if in greeting.]

b. in the Historium
[Whatever misgivings Witch had about this whole situation (and, honestly, Witch has met her latest surprise excursion into a brand new universe with an attitude of "this might as well happen") disappear the instant she enters the Historium.

Anyone present might hear a breathed-out,] Oh, fuck yes, [and see her find a desk to make herself comfortable at. Once in a while, he caws, and Witch looks up—she's got a considerable stack of books beside her, and has managed to acquire a notebook in which she's scrawling like a woman possessed; she's sat near the Directory so she can quiz it and make all sorts of requests, and she takes notes on the responses, in between texting on her tell phone. Here and there she strolls through the shelves, looking high up and letting her eye scan the titles top to bottom from under its patch, silent and imperceptible. When she finds a book she's interested in, she draws her wand, points it upwards, and a faint purple glow surrounds the book, which floats out of the shelf and lowers itself slowly into her other hand.

All of this is done quite casually, like it's entirely normal for her. She waves politely at any spectators or passersby.]

Comments

[weyetch]

[Crow is overflowing with magic, right down to his very being; that's not hard to pick up on. For all intents and purposes, though, he looks like an ordinary bird. Then again, ordinary birds aren't usually so comfortable so near people.

Really, Vincent isn't even a factor when Crow alights. It's just that this seems like the best place to pause and get a proper vantage over the harbor. He's hesitant to go into the fog, not without Witch, but he should at least get a sense of the boundaries so he can bring the data back to her.

Vincent speaks to him and Crow inclines his head. He turns it back towards the city—his mistress is in the Historium at the moment, making herself quite at home—and then back to Vincent. Another caw, as if that might pass as an answer.]

[chaosvessel]

Mmm.

[So, the creature sent couldn't speak. That was good to know in itself. He took the glance to mean what it did, though, that whoever sent him was back in the city. It wasn't a surprising response in any case. There were few places other than the city from which someone might send a scout, being a spell or an entity, and getting a look at the harbor was a wise move.

He nods at the creature, as though its response answered a question, and stands, cape falling down his back revealing the leather suit beneath. There is also an impressive looking firearm strapped to his hip and a bronze clawed gauntlet encases his left forearm, the tips weathered from regular use, presumably for exactly what one would use a clawed hand for.]

A bargain. I'll get you closer to the harbor to see what's in the fog, if you take me to your master.

[weyetch]

[Now, isn't that an array of weapons! And isn't that quite the offer. Crow doesn't answer right away, and instead sends a silent ping to Witch where she sits back in the city, interrogating the Directory. His own self-preservation instincts go only so far—he's not unlike his mistress that way, willing to trade security for knowledge. Running off with a stranger would be a reasonable enough way to get into the fog, so far as Crow's concerned, but he can't agree to a deal that might bring Witch trouble.

There's a light reflecting off his pupils, a shift in the magic surrounding him, and no other indication that Witch is taking a moment to look through her familiar's eyes. It disappears as quickly as it begins. From far away, Witch gives a signal that says go for it.

Crow caws, spreads his wings, and flutters his way onto Vincent's right shoulder. Lead the way.]

[chaosvessel]

[He only detected the fluctuation of magic at the edge of his senses and only vaguely, but it was enough to let him know some sort of communication occurred. Not a bird after all, then. The sun wouldn't be making its way to the horizon for a few hours which gave them plenty of time to have a look around, even if the mist that had enshrouded the harbor district when that strange ship had returned to port never receded, even with the rising sun.

He moved to the edge of the wall, peered for a moment through the thick veil to find the nearest roof and leapt, using mostly muscle memory to judge the distance. He made this jump often at night to get a better look at the creatures moving in the fog.

He didn't know how much the bird messenger, for that was what he thought of it as, could retain or relay, but he explained as he moved deeper into the district.]

There isn't much organization to the district. This building is residential, but on the next block you will find a tavern, a brothel, and a gambling den.

[The mist also became thicker as they moved deeper into the district, though they came upon what served as a small market square next. There weren't many people milling about, and those who were seemed to be doing so with purpose. The sharp ringing of a smith's hammer could be heard and just the vague outline of an outdoor forge adding its smoke to the haze across the way.]

Two weeks ago, a ship returned to port. We didn't know the docks were used. Until now, they seemed abandoned, but the locals weren't surprised enough to satisfy me. At night, there is more to see, but it's also much more dangerous.

[He shows the crow, and by extension its elusive master, more landmarks in the district, enough to give a sense of the place, including the obviously abandoned harbormaster's office, which in itself is strange.]

Now it's your turn.

[weyetch]

[Right now, Witch isn't watching. Crow does for her. It's in this way that she can be in two places at once: Crow stores the information away; landmarks, distances, layouts, and when they reunite, he'll offer it to his mistress as data, already processed and ready for her. He's a respectful passenger, silent and steady in his place on Vincent's shoulder except that his head swings around towards each acknowledged landmark. Especially as they travel, Vincent might notice that Crow is rather weighty—not uncomfortably so, but heavier than a bird probably ought to be.

Only when Vincent says now it's your turn does Crow respond at all to his ongoing monologue. With a caw, he takes flight again (wing flicking Vincent's cheek as it spreads), high enough to soar over the public as he heads towards the city without leaving sight. He flies without looking back to see if Vincent is following, but never goes too fast, never leaves the air above walkable paths.

Finally, they arrive at the Historium. He finally begins to descend as they approach it, and, without pausing, soars through the door, left open for him. There's a certainty in his path through the shelves, and with an absolute and confident grace, he lights on Witch's shoulder by her visible eye.

Witch doesn't look up right away—she's rapidly writing in a notebook, and quite determinedly finishes her sentence before settling back in her chair and looking up at Vincent. She smirks a little—it's the closest to a proper smile she gets in the day-to-day, usually.]

All right, but how fucking funny would it have been if you'd just been carrying around this random fuckin' bird this whole time? [She snorts.] No, really, thanks for giving my familiar the grand tour.

[chaosvessel]

[If the bird had reacted like a bird as he gave it the tour, he would have been less inclined to travel with the creature for any extended length of time. Given how attentive the crow was as he pointed out various landmarks, though, Vincent was content to continue, and when the bird started off, he followed quickly behind, faster than humanly possible, across the rooftops, sticking as close to a direct path as he could accomplish.

He wasn't altogether surprised to see where the beast headed, to the large archive to the north of their living quarters and followed as it entered. His frayed cape gathered around his legs as he moved, his copper vambraces catching the ambient lighting as he approached the bird and its curious master, or mistress to be more specific. whether or not her candor was appreciated was open to interpretation. His response was deadpan regardless, his too red eyes betraying no emotion, his deep voice rough as though he was perpetually hoarse.]

It didn't act like a bird. [It was a simple statement, as though that should clarify why he'd put forth the bargain in the first place.] And it wasn't grand.

[weyetch]

[She snorts.] Aw, don't sell yourself short, I'm sure the tour was excellent. What do you think, Crow?

[As Witch looks over to him, Crow caws once, and, despite that this means nothing to Vincent, Witch looks back at him and makes a wide, open gesture with her hands as if to say you see?

She looks away from Vincent to scratch something else down in her notebook, as if it's just occurred to her. Then, with a deliberate flourish, she shuts the front cover. She props her elbow up on the table, and her chin on the back of her hand, and she looks up at Vincent.]

All right, so. You wanted to find his mistress, and here she is. What do you need? Haven't been here for long, so I don't know if I can be of much help to you, though.

[chaosvessel]

[He watches her as she works and as she speaks, his expression unchanging, though the attentiveness in his eyes betrays the fact that he's remembering details about her appearance. He also notes her blindfold and the way she seemed to communicate with the bird.

He crossed his arms, rolling a shoulder in a shrug.]

I wanted to see who sent such an intelligent bird. Who are you?

[weyetch]

Ooh, you hear that, Crow? Such an intelligent bird!

[Crow caws, delighted, and Witch snorts.]

Careful, you're gonna inflate his ego like that. Call me Witch. This is Crow, my familiar. Had him out scouting for me.

[chaosvessel]

[A witch with no name, and a bird for a familiar. It was strange, and didn't fit folklore, but what could you do?]

Vincent.

[Glanced toward Crow again, curiously, before looking back to her.]

You arrived recently?

[weyetch]

Been here for a couple hours tops. Figured I'd do the reading [with a gesture at her book stack] and Crow could do the roaming. How about you? You nice and settled in here?

[chaosvessel]

Something like that. [He accentuated the statement with a nod. ]

Before arriving here, were you in your home world or another?

[weyetch]

Now, isn't that an interesting question. [She tilts her head a little.] The latter. The Universeity, specifically. And are you asking 'cause it's the same for you?

[chaosvessel]

Yes. [He nodded once.] But nothing that could be called a school.