[IC] England Has No Native Gods

[Thanqol]

Okay, so, let me level with you here. I think that the consequence of you blowing this roll is that the clock's looking mighty close to full. Company's expected back any moment. And for the life of me, I think that what happens here is that Redeye ends up losing track of the time. The situation ends up defused, she collects the guns, everything's good, and then she realizes that she took way too long on this. Maybe it's residual, in the air, maybe there's something in what they're smoking- but it's time to bug out, right?

She was reminded how much she hated college.

"Brb," she slurred, moved out of the door, and then propped one of the folding chairs under the doorknob to wedge it shut. She slapped her face a couple of times to reorient herself, checked her phone for the time, and then nervously glances out the windows and takes stock to see if this is too late or Too Very Late.

[Anarion]

Lily happily carries the glass cage out of the office "Yep, I'm definitely naming you Susie" she whispers to herself, doing her best to keep the salamander steady and happy as she moves it. There's nothing really of note for her and she doesn't want to interrupt the others, so she sets the cage down near the lounge exit and starts drawing some glyphs on the floor. Nothing complex, certainly nothing that would identify her. But one of those things that, when somebody shows up and sees that stuff is missing they'll stop and go "woah, boss, what the heck is this?" and try to figure out it out for a few minutes. Which is why hers just says a coded version of "went to get a slushee at the corner store, it's too hot in here."

[Raz_Fox]

There, see? All we had to do was open one door, and now we know so much! Parlor tricks and vengeful ghosts... what a combo. Heh, guess Doc M's got his eyes on the Bonfire's favorite whatsit. Betcha yer name they don't spring for security like this for any of the other goodies they keep around here. It makes a body wonder, though of course there's no time for that. Clock started ticking more or less as soon as the normies took to wandering.

Jack heaves a dramatic but whisper quiet sigh and removes their mask, revealing... well, a face to the dim room, at any rate. The details aren't important. This next bit isn't something you just up and do with a bunch of veiled intentions, is all. See, under better circumstances the best play here would actually be to pluck this whole stupid thing out of the room, because then you would get the ghosts and all the time in the world to turn them to whatever ends you could dream of. Daresay that'd be more valuable than the slab, even. Just yoinkin' it would get messy, though. Someone would be bound to notice, which is why that plan woulda called for one Lily and at least three hours. With no Lilys and, like... thirty minutes? it calls for something a little bit simpler. If for no other reason than to show little miss "But Casta told me" there are other kinds of professionals in the world.

So off goes the mask, and out come the tools. A pen, some tweezers, a stick of incense (promptly lit). Jack grabs some random something from somewhere in this little 'bathroom' and gets to work. The trick here's not to undo this little nest of connections and possessions, it's just to wrap it around something else and let it take hold of that instead. The best security systems in the world'll guard a lump of coal as happily as they'll watch a diamond, ya know?

[We're invoking the supernatural art of Tinker here, to Indiana Jones this tablet. Which hits a 6. Can't really say what my position or effect are]

Oh, you're beautiful, Jack. Beautiful good. Your fingers tickle the stone right out and switch its keening, eager dance partner with a fine little bottle of dish soap (Lavender Scent Bonanza!). It's heavier than, by all rights, it should be. Not Mjolnir drops-to-the-floor only-the-worthy heavy, but noticeable. Doctor M's asking you for something that has a bit of serious mojo to it, if you're any judge.

Now that's done, Redeye's scanning the windows, and Lily's leaving some callsigns. Looks like you've got what you were asked for, though little- wait, hold that thought. Lily's got an actual salamander in a glass aquarium. Definitely serious payday, unless she insists on keeping it and teaching it tricks.

She was reminded how much she hated college.

"Brb," she slurred, moved out of the door, and then propped one of the folding chairs under the doorknob to wedge it shut. She slapped her face a couple of times to reorient herself, checked her phone for the time, and then nervously glances out the windows and takes stock to see if this is too late or Too Very Late.

All right, so. Van lights approaching the building, but they'll have to park in the side street and come around to the front and then come up the stairs. Phew. Lot of work, that. You lot will be out of there by then, no problem, unless something goes south.

Lily happily carries the glass cage out of the office "Yep, I'm definitely naming you Susie" she whispers to herself, doing her best to keep the salamander steady and happy as she moves it. There's nothing really of note for her and she doesn't want to interrupt the others, so she sets the cage down near the lounge exit and starts drawing some glyphs on the floor. Nothing complex, certainly nothing that would identify her. But one of those things that, when somebody shows up and sees that stuff is missing they'll stop and go "woah, boss, what the heck is this?" and try to figure out it out for a few minutes. Which is why hers just says a coded version of "went to get a slushee at the corner store, it's too hot in here."

I don't even think that calls for a roll. You're the Bull. It's good, it'll freak them bad, no problem.


So. There's only one problem, as I see it.

You've got one (1) tablet shard and one (1) salamander. All the other mystically attuned stuff that Doctor M said he'd have no problems with you all keeping? In the room that Redeye just wedged shut. You can bail out now for the low-pay, low-risk end, or you can try to hold up the cavalry and go through with a trash bag and sweep everything into it, while convincing the blazing crew to chill out.

I mean, it's your call.

[Anarion]

Redeye looks a little nervous (or just sleep-deprived? couldn't tell you for sure, but Lily is thinking nervous). "So...uh, thiefy people, we gotta get outta here now, or is there more stuff to do? I got us a new pet, her name's Suzie, and some photos of the maps that the Bonfire uses. Maybe valuable, I'm hoping."

[PhoeKun]

By the time Jack's come back out with the Job part of the job they've got the mask back on, which is good for morale because hoo boy, let me tell you that face is wearing a look nobody should want to see.

"You're keepin' the sally? 'Cause I know a fence who'd... nah. Nah, love. One of ya's gotta buy me say..." Jack peers out the window, "Five minutes? Somewhere in there n' we can have us a payday. 'Less you're chuffed runnin' a gig for a new pet? I ain't here to tell you how to run shit. I just... y'know. Got a way of doing things."

[Thanqol]

By the time Jack's come back out with the Job part of the job they've got the mask back on, which is good for morale because hoo boy, let me tell you that face is wearing a look nobody should want to see.

"You're keepin' the sally? 'Cause I know a fence who'd... nah. Nah, love. One of ya's gotta buy me say..." Jack peers out the window, "Five minutes? Somewhere in there n' we can have us a payday. 'Less you're chuffed runnin' a gig for a new pet? I ain't here to tell you how to run shit. I just... y'know. Got a way of doing things."

"I can get you five minutes," said Brittany. "There are a couple of very drugged up people in there, so, um..." she was going to say be careful but they were already robbing a church and that would make her sound like a worrywart and she was about to go roadblock a bunch of armed goons careful had come and gone. She coughed awkwardly and went down the stairs.

Think of a plan. How to bodyblock a crew of goons for a few minutes? How to... no, she knew how to do this. Casta had trained her for this. Find a concealed spot with good lines of fire and a clear escape route. Settle in, add some camouflage. When they come out fire a couple of bullets over their heads to scare them off and make them seek cover. Drop back in the chaos. Fire, retreat, fire, retreat, create danger and uncertainty. Nobody likes being ambushed.

Easy as cake.

[Using my camouflage skill and attacking from a prepared position, both skirmish and prowl are 1 so I don't need to stress about what stat it is. Two dice either way - 4, 2 - to run a delaying action on the reinforcements]

[Anarion]

"I'm not...necessarily, she just really looked like a Suzie. Anyway, I'll uh, help you look, Jack? I've got another arm, we can do it in 3 minutes."

[PhoeKun]

"Is that so? Then you just do whatever comes natural like."

In a blink, Jack is uncomfortably close to Lily and staring straight into her eyes. They reach a hand up as though to caress one of those perfect cheeks and... roughly claps their palm over Lily's eyes. There's a rustle and some soft shushing sounds, and when Lily can see again Jack's back is turning and she's wearing their mask. The fabric is soft, though the straps maybe a bit tight around the ears. So that's that, then.

There's no time to be clever about this, nor any time to be picky. Truth be told, Jack would be more than happy to cut and run. A theft with no living witness (and no new corpses) is more valuable than one that actually pays well, depending on the currency. But there's still a point of professionalism to consider: with such little loot, it'll be easy as breathing to figure out what the actual target tonight was and from there it's just some back-of-a-napkin maths to figure out who called it in. Doc M may be a weirdo shut in with no manners who doesn't pay... uh, anything, come to think, but a Star never does their employer dirty like that. No obvious threads.

Jack's body melts into a thing of shadow and smoke. The druggies must be used to seeing that sort of thing round these parts; between that and the very obvious 'thiefy person' just over yonder, that ought to be enough to snatch one or maybe two goodies off the walls without it costing the escape route. Ok then. Kick out the chair, open the door. The encore performance starts now.

[I believe they call this the Ghost Veil. Jack is paying the extra Stress to make it last for a few minutes. Prowl at the moment is 4, 2]

[Anarion]

Lily tries not to blush when Jack gets that close, and after a second she even remembers to breathe. He was so charming though, and the way he moved, even slipping into the smoke like that, it was like he really got the world the same way she saw it. And that butt of his...she was supposed to be helping him though, right, right. She lifts a gloved hand and just caresses the air, makes it a little more pliable, a little more in tune with the rhythms of the great lord and a little easier for Jack to make his way.

[spending a stress to help and give Jack an extra die to roll]

[Raz_Fox]

"I can get you five minutes," said Brittany. "There are a couple of very drugged up people in there, so, um..." she was going to say be careful but they were already robbing a church and that would make her sound like a worrywart and she was about to go roadblock a bunch of armed goons careful had come and gone. She coughed awkwardly and went down the stairs.

Think of a plan. How to bodyblock a crew of goons for a few minutes? How to... no, she knew how to do this. Casta had trained her for this. Find a concealed spot with good lines of fire and a clear escape route. Settle in, add some camouflage. When they come out fire a couple of bullets over their heads to scare them off and make them seek cover. Drop back in the chaos. Fire, retreat, fire, retreat, create danger and uncertainty. Nobody likes being ambushed.

Easy as cake.

[Using my camouflage skill and attacking from a prepared position, both skirmish and prowl are 1 so I don't need to stress about what stat it is. Two dice either way - 4, 2 - to run a delaying action on the reinforcements]

"Is that so? Then you just do whatever comes natural like."

In a blink, Jack is uncomfortably close to Lily and staring straight into her eyes. They reach a hand up as though to caress one of those perfect cheeks and... roughly claps their palm over Lily's eyes. There's a rustle and some soft shushing sounds, and when Lily can see again Jack's back is turning and she's wearing their mask. The fabric is soft, though the straps maybe a bit tight around the ears. So that's that, then.

There's no time to be clever about this, nor any time to be picky. Truth be told, Jack would be more than happy to cut and run. A theft with no living witness (and no new corpses) is more valuable than one that actually pays well, depending on the currency. But there's still a point of professionalism to consider: with such little loot, it'll be easy as breathing to figure out what the actual target tonight was and from there it's just some back-of-a-napkin maths to figure out who called it in. Doc M may be a weirdo shut in with no manners who doesn't pay... uh, anything, come to think, but a Star never does their employer dirty like that. No obvious threads.

Jack's body melts into a thing of shadow and smoke. The druggies must be used to seeing that sort of thing round these parts; between that and the very obvious 'thiefy person' just over yonder, that ought to be enough to snatch one or maybe two goodies off the walls without it costing the escape route. Ok then. Kick out the chair, open the door. The encore performance starts now.

[I believe they call this the Ghost Veil. Jack is paying the extra Stress to make it last for a few minutes. Prowl at the moment is 4, 2]

Here's how it goes down, then.

Jack? Untouchable. Terrifying. One of the druggies freaks out and tries to tackle them, ends up careening into the TV and ending up on the floor underneath it. I'll say this much for their chums: they are loyal. While Jack's slipping things off the wall, they're trying to lift the TV, cussing Jack out for being an ******* and spooking him. It's... unclear whether they think Jack is an interloper or an acquaintance playing a mean trick, and they are completely defanged. With the way our Lily is tangling up the dream around here, it's questionable whether they'll even remember why they got so worked up in the first place.

Redeye, meanwhile... this may be the east side of London, but guns are still guns, and it makes the returning conquering heroes freak something fierce when bullets start singing over their heads. There's a scattering, a yowling, a calling down of fire on your head. Not literal fire. Or even the metaphorical gunfire. But consider yourself marked by fire. Add it to the conditions list, or what have you. The fire will follow.

On the other hand, they're absolutely powerless to stop you from laying down covering fire and then waltzing out with Jack and Lily, so, y'know, good job.

[Raz_Fox]

The Royal parks have been royal since before Brutus arrived on these shores, and though they only still exist within the confines of London at the sufferance of the Dragon, there is a certain degree of diplomatic freedom within these embassies of high Faerie, not least because of what the Tuatha Dé Danaan would do should their flock be harmed. This means, well, if you want to steal dreams from some of the foremost citizens of London, the Hyde Park Ball provides an opportunity too enticing to ignore. After all, the Good Folk are almost dreams themselves.

If this heist works perfectly, without flow or mischance, Jack will walk out of Hyde Park at daybreak with three tokens in their pockets, physical representations of the Dream of London. No one will have been made suspicious, the Queen’s wrath will not be turned against you, and no one will have had a duel, been confronted by a ghost, or slept with someone they weren’t supposed to, Brittany.

On the other hand, this is the Hyde Park Ball. How the hell did you all, you motley and scandalous lot, get tickets? And what are you wearing???

[Thanqol]

or slept with someone they weren’t supposed to, Brittany.

The amount of time I have spent being faithful is orders of magnitude greater than the amount of time I have been cheating and I feel like I should get some credit for that. And besides, all that is behind me and I will soon be an ordinary member of society again.

And what are you wearing???

Brittany is surprisingly at home at balls. Not because she can dress well - she can shut up - but because one of the more profitable gigs for a photographer is doing weddings. Involves a lot of creeping around in the background with a camera wearing nice but extremely drab and unremarkable clothing. It's actually almost like nature photography where you're sneaking up on twitchy little birds, except its much louder and all the birds are drunk and your head gets filled with uncomfortably immediate ideas like 'forever'. So she's dressed in that nondescript shapeless black somewhere between 'roadie' and 'burglar' while drifting around, taking photographs, and trying to remember if eating the fruit means you have to be Hades' wife for all eternity or if she can actually have a crack at the buffet when no one is watching.

She doesn't really know much about the process of stealing dreams so she's mostly equipped to bring violence when exfiltration is needed. In the meantime she hopes she doesn't get pulled into any Faerie Drama.

[PhoeKun]

Well the how, that's pretty simple. First off, everyone's gotta make their own way. That's obvious, innit? Can't go showing up as a group, with all these moving parts and so much to do. A triple exit strategy from an open party? In Hyde Park?? You'd get pinched for sure. Three guests, three agendas. Nobody's gotta know they're keyed to each other. Much safer. Muuuuuuch cleaner. So that's that done and dusted. Anyway, the how. Plan A, we'll call it, was to get close to some fine faerie folk and pull a job or two for 'em, then sorta lighten their pockets a bit while dealing with payment. Didn't really pan out. Nobody really biting on any of the old channels, leastways not anybody with Hyde Park Ball cred. Deadline started getting too close, plus that still left poor Jack with nothing to wear. So instead they crashed plan B's house.

Plan B, you probably know her as Roslyn Kellis, is Old Money rich. And old money doesn't get old without a lot of connections, so yeah she's got an invitation. And now Jack's her +1. Mind, this only happens on three conditions. You might've guessed, but one's that Jack owes Ros a job. Specifically she wants them to relieve the British Museum of a feathered serpent egg that's on loan from somewhere or another I wasn't paying attention. So don't go making too many Jack-centric plans for a minute after tonight. Another condition is that our lovely Lady Kellis wants Jack in her bed for no less than four nights, and every night to bring a different... ah, 'experience'. Oh, and finally she gets to supply Jack's outfit for tonight.

So it is that Jack's millieu tonight is not to blend into the party by being a shadow or even by being bland and forgettable, but by looking so perfect that no one would deny our new belle their place at the ball. For Jack is a study in contrasts: tall, slender, with nary a curve to highlight. A low cut gown without a pretty little chest to show beneath it. The right half is a chessboard patterned party dress that ends just above the knee. It lengthens as it crosses to the left to a full floor length ballroom gown made of fabric sewn together with moonlight and the midnight sky that bounces and shifts up and down their body as they walk. Only one of Cinderella's glass slippers is shown. Whatever the other shoe is, it hides. Around their waist, cinching the two halves together is a large white ribbon tied into an ornate bow like you'd find on the fanciest of birthday presents.

Of sleeves there are none to speak of, just a delicate little frill that flares out over either shoulder in whichever color that side prefers. Their evening gloves are ivory white stretching up and down both arms, cutting to black in a jagged diamond pattern just where the wrists end and Jack's clever hands begin. Around the neck another, smaller, lacier ribbon, this one in black, tied into the same sort of bow that rests on their waist. Jack's tangled, raven hair has been cut and styled: the cutest of flat bangs sit atop their forehead. The right half is trimmed to shoulder length in a set of shaken out curls, while the left has been left as it was and simply combed out into a long ponytail hanging from the side of the head with a ring of pearls wrapped into it. A delicate and beautiful jaw is finally freed from all of Jack's normal sorts of masks, and their lips are painted the crystal blue of the ocean far away from land. The top half of their face is still covered, this time by a rustic orange mask shaped like a fox's face, right down to the little black nose and the pointed ears.

Jack makes their entrance draped around the arm of a much shorter, blonder woman in the world's most perfectly cut tuxedo. So that's the entrance taken care of. Now it's time to dance!

[Anarion]

Lily asked her mom for a ticket. Don't look at her like that, her mom has good connections with the Indian gods and was very happy to hear from her daughter, okay, shut up! Also, her mom wants her to meet a guy or something, whatever.

Look, the important thing is that the door opens up and Lily walks in alone. She has let her hair out. It is thick, dark, straight, and flowing to rest just below her shoulders, combed to perfection. Its darkness contrasts with the vivid red silk of her robes and blends like milk into the dark pool of one bare shoulder. The dress is embroidered with crimson thread that matches the dress, creating subtle patterns of flowers curling lazily down diagonals. Lilies, for herself, and lotuses for the great lord, their larger petals curling around the smaller lilies in nesting pairs, running a slash across her chest, along her thigh, and down one leg in a curl from front to back. One arm is smooth and bare, the other has a full silk sleeve, simple and free of any further design, ending with a slight flair of the fabric that ripples as she moves her arm. The dress is slit narrowly at the leg across from the marching flowers and her legs peek out just barely as she walks. She wears simple shoes, red heels matching the dress, not too high, not meant to attract any particular attention. Fitting enough to be striking at a ball, but compared to many of the guests, of no real note.

Here is the truth with Lily. She doesn't do the kind of fancy that Jack does, or the blending in that Brittany does. No, instead, she leans into who she is with every goal of attracting attention, converts, and targets. The great lord needs great dreams on which to feast and Lily is there to attract them. And so it is her shimmer, for lack of a better word, that makes onlookers hold their breath when she walks into the room. Her whole image, from the tip of the highest loose hair to the sharp souls of her feet seems to shift and shimmer like a mirage. With each step, she leaves an afterimage behind her, as though her soul is not entirely attached to its corporeal shell and needs to make its own way in the wake of the body to which it is tethered. The flowers of the dress seem almost real in the light, as the air shifts and they sway in tune with an unseen rhythm.

She steps gracefully into the ball, trailing a wake that looks down shyly and bends a leg as it crosses the threshold and steps across the carpet. She glances up and meets the eyes of the onlookers and walks lazily to join the dance, leaving a diaphanous trail behind her that she quite hopes will attract a crowd.

[Raz_Fox]

Three is the magic number. Three dreams, three tokens, three anchor points for what London will become. These are as follows:

Casta, a hunter who stalks the underground, who knows this city as well as any taxi driver. She will provide your coming dream with a stable foundation, and a connection to the Dragon (having, as it turns out, come from a family of Aldermen). Notably has had sex with Brittany. Repeatedly. And may be looking to pull her off into the bushes tonight.

Petra, the 36th Star, a clerk whose books are intermingled with the fates of everyone here, whose dreams are labyrinths painted perfectly, which will add the required verisimilitude. Notably, is shocked and appalled that both she and Jack are wearing the same little fox mask.

And the Queen of Hyde Park herself, the Queen of Air and Darkness, emissary of the Tuatha Dé, Mab.

She is, year for year, the longest continuous resident of this city. Winning a token from her would likely be easier than trying to steal it. May or may not actually know what you are up to tonight. It’s always hard to tell with the Good People.

What’s the plan, fine cultists here assembled?

[Anarion]

What’s the plan, fine cultists here assembled?

Three dreams, three tokens, three routes. It's a rule that things come in threes. It's a reflection of the perfect, a sign that the great lord has already placed in the world, so it is itself holy and perfect and precisely as it should be. Thus, there are three ways to power the ritual.

The first is for a valued dreamer to join us through sleep. If one such agreed to it, they would enter a long sleep and their soul would become a beacon in the dreaming world, a shining light unlock its true power. When all is arranged, their combined will would unlock the gate and bring the realms together.

The second is for a lordly dreamer to join us through blessing. Beings with power can, as you well know, grant that power in its myriad forms to others. The power of their dreams, made manifest and freely given will do for the ritual. Such power would need to be placed at key leylines throughout the city and shepherded until all was in place, at which point it would, as with a sleeper, shine forth like a beacon and complete the ritual.

The third is for a stubborn dreamer to join us through theft. Dreams are, after all, ephemeral things and they can be stolen as well as any such form without substance. Which is to say they can be stolen exceptionally well by the right thief. Jack. From there, it is much the same as the others, albeit with greater ire that needs deflection if the theft is discovered.

Lily's inclination is simply that each member of the team seek out one dreamer to complete their task. Perhaps Brittany to Casta, Jack to Petra and Lily to the Queen is too obvious an order, or perhaps just obvious enough? If one of her friends claims a different target, she will happily switch spots with them. And if one of them instead calls for a different method (perhaps a cunning triple theft?) then she is prepared to support that in whatever way she can.

[PhoeKun]

Mmm...k then. Gonna be real with ya, Boss, you lost me somewhere around 'valued dreamer'. Lot of real pretty words there but we're a bit light on specifics and applied skills, like. Now I mean, that's fine and all, grab your partner and take 'em for all their worth, I get you. But uh... yeah. What? So lemme break this down like a fraction for you:

One (1): You may or may not have heard this already, but this is the Hyde Park Ball. Name me a bigger treasure pile in all of London. Go on, name one. I'll wait. These people are wearing more money than Jack's ever held before in their whole career, and that's saying nothing about all of the intangibles: the laughter, the fear, the superiority, hopes, minds, wants. It goes on. A body could get drunk just standing here thinking about it. Jack is not content slipping off into the night with three tokens of three dreams in a three part plan. Jack wants the heist of the century. So they dance. Jack's upbringing hasn't left them with much time or desire to learn the waltz, but lucky them the Lady Kellis knows all the fanciest moves. Music, if you please. Jack be a lady tonight. First we steal attention. Then we steal hearts. In fact, Jack wants to hold nothing less than the heart of the Queen Mab. Everything else, including the three Big Dreams, can flow from that. And if some partygoers should wake up tomorrow morning and realize the stuff they brought with them wasn't exactly nailed down... well.

Two (2): Can. You. Believe. That. Petra? The Thirty Sixth, a Heavenly Star! And she's gonna go and pull a fashion faux pas like that? Well this is worth the price of admission right here. Jack finds some time off from dancing and mingling and being a star (get it?) to pirouette on over to their rival, offering a champagne flute and the world's least sincere curtsy.

"Well this must be right embarrassing for you, huh?" Blue lips curl upwards

Now mind you, Petra is a mark tonight but she's also a star. I don't need to tell you that means she's here working some kind of angle. And I shouldn't need to tell you how dangerous it is when two stars are in the same place at cross purposes. The teasing is free, but Jackie's got a lot on their plate tonight and looking after this one is a full course meal all its own. Anybody got dibs?

Three (3): Let's actually talk about how you steal a dream, yeah? It can be simple if you're willing to be crude. Just knock them out, slip them one of any number of drugs (I do believe every major in faction has their own cocktail), and let that sucker dribble out their mouth. It's messy, it's gross, and if you cheap out it degrades the quality of the dream, but it's very fast and needs no skill. Or! If you know the proper spells, you can slip inside of them. Sometimes metaphorically, sometimes... not. But either way, you get inside and when you feel it you pluck it clean out. It's another spell to store what you've got in a suitable container, or it'll spill everywhere and spoil. Hope you're a talented musician. Lastly, or leastways lastly so far as Jack knows about these things, maybe there's more to it, people do keep their dreams tucked away inside themselves even when they're awake. The real magic is getting them to open up about it. Make them vulnerable, make them scared, make them fall in love (for the love of God, don't make them angry), and bit by bit watch it come tumbling out. Remember, there's a song in every heart. It's hard and it can be very time consuming, but all you have to do is play it.

[Raz_Fox]

Brittany

Click. Click. Click. Photographs in Hyde Park during the Queen's parties tend to come out... weird, but even all blurred and glittery, they're likely to be hits when you upload them to social media later. #HydePark #Hospitality #GlamourFashion

Over here, note: leather jackets and lots of antler motifs. Looks like the top brass of WyldHunt is here tonight, maybe as guests, maybe because the Queen has need of their services. If violence breaks out, they punch well above their weight class, and they don't stop their pursuit of a target til dawn. In the photographs, they look... gaunt. A bit green. A bit dead. More dead than they look with your eyes, but not so dead that you'd look at them and go "yes, this man is deceased." Just a little hint of the grave, y'know?

Oh, over there: Jack's hateflirting with Petra. Her bodyguard's not in the picture. Odd. Celene is usually so professional. What could provoke that imposing Ethiopian woman to leave her ward's side?

Oh. Oh, that would. Casta got too close to Petra- not that anyone reasonable would see it that way. Heated words are being exchanged. Must be that fairy wine bringing the heart tripping onto the tongue. I mean, are they actually drinking the wine? Hard to tell. Tough to see anyone actually taking a drink, but glasses are emptying and trays are clearing, so it's probably you're just missing it. Probably.

If someone doesn't do something, Celene is going to try to take Casta out.

Oh, and Celene just jabbed a finger at you in the sort of way someone would point at a rat, and Casta has one hand on her belt. Nobody's packing weapons, but if you ask, well, the wait staff will provide. Won't they just.

****

Lily

So here's a question for you, sugar. Seeing as you're the dreamspeaker and the one who sees the dead on the subway. The Amadaun, the Queen's fool, who can strike men down with seizures at a touch of his hand or drive you right into a therapist's office for the rest of your life with a kiss...

Is he actually the real, no fooling, David Bowie, or is he the man post-death (for fairyland and the land of the dead rhyme), or is he a ghoulish impersonator, or what?

He's Ziggy Stardust tonight, either way, with a translucent gossamer cape and hair red as blood, offering you a smile and a dance.

"Valilyana," he says, smooth as steel, "Valilyana, Valilyana. I would like to play a game with you tonight. You may name your price in victory. Simply handle a dispute between a friend and I..."

This is almost certainly a trap. But not a rigged one. That would make its temptation moot. Whatever he wants, you could win. It's possible! It's just not likely.

****

Jack

Petra is saying something at you. A cheap little barb about your originality. How... daring, you look!

It doesn't matter. She's a Star, but not the star shining under the branches tonight.

Queen Mab is stepping down from her throne- not in the political sense, but quite literally- to take a moment to compose herself in a side garden. As she does, she stops a moment, and catches your eye. Your stranger's eyes, those eyes which could belong to anyone. One perfect hand rests against the necklace of opals that rests about her neck- in this moment, and no other, she would allow you to hold her by it in that garden.

Do you?

[Thanqol]

Brittany

Click. Click. Click. Photographs in Hyde Park during the Queen's parties tend to come out... weird, but even all blurred and glittery, they're likely to be hits when you upload them to social media later. #HydePark #Hospitality #GlamourFashion

Over here, note: leather jackets and lots of antler motifs. Looks like the top brass of WyldHunt is here tonight, maybe as guests, maybe because the Queen has need of their services. If violence breaks out, they punch well above their weight class, and they don't stop their pursuit of a target til dawn. In the photographs, they look... gaunt. A bit green. A bit dead. More dead than they look with your eyes, but not so dead that you'd look at them and go "yes, this man is deceased." Just a little hint of the grave, y'know?

Oh, over there: Jack's hateflirting with Petra. Her bodyguard's not in the picture. Odd. Celene is usually so professional. What could provoke that imposing Ethiopian woman to leave her ward's side?

Oh. Oh, that would. Casta got too close to Petra- not that anyone reasonable would see it that way. Heated words are being exchanged. Must be that fairy wine bringing the heart tripping onto the tongue. I mean, are they actually drinking the wine? Hard to tell. Tough to see anyone actually taking a drink, but glasses are emptying and trays are clearing, so it's probably you're just missing it. Probably.

If someone doesn't do something, Celene is going to try to take Casta out.

Oh, and Celene just jabbed a finger at you in the sort of way someone would point at a rat, and Casta has one hand on her belt. Nobody's packing weapons, but if you ask, well, the wait staff will provide. Won't they just.

What do you do when your target is the person who taught you everything you know?

She wished she'd thought of a better excuse when Lily divided up the missions. Now she was stuck facing the impossible task of stealing from someone who was you plus one - and who could also wrap you around her little finger with a smirk and toss of her hair. She'd stewed for days planning this mission and only stupid shyness had stopped her confessing she had no idea what to do.

But then she saw this.

How had she missed it? When she thought of Casta her mind was tangled, abraided, but when she was actually with Casta and she spent all her time mooning over Celene she could hardly stand it. And now with the clarifying lens of anger she could see the flaws she couldn't in her daydreaming-slash-planning sessions. Click click click went the camera, click click click went the gears.

She needed Casta incapacitated but not dead, and the idiot was just about to start a fight with her ex. We're at a party but it's a faerie party and they'd watch their own house burn down if they thought it was a good show. Wait for them to start duelling. If Casta is winning, intervene and duel Casta, if Celene is winning, intervene and duel Celene. Put enough emotional drama in whatever line I use to enter the fray and the faeries will applaud rather than intervene.

Do it. Do it you cowards.

[PhoeKun]

Do you?

"Ah, sweetie. Don't you cry, there'll be others."

Jack grins. Bares teeth. Fox face, wolf smile. Their breath is all over Petra's face. This is it. This is it! This is it this is it thisisitthisisit...

But. Then. A flutter of movement. A meeting of eyes. A vision of perfect loveliness, in darkness and starlight. For one beat, maybe two, Jack's heart stops. And when it starts again, they're gone: nothing but smoke and a kiss in the air where taunts and venom had been a moment ago. Jack dances more than walks, glides more than dances, and floats more than glides across the dance floor. Away, away, away. A wraith, a spirit, a Star. Wrapped in silks and moonbeams, so handsome and so pretty, that body that could belong to anyone. Away to the garden. Away to steal this moment. To take that perfect hand in their own clever sneaky fingers.

And yes, love. To even be so bold as to take these blue painted lips and to kiss that same hand with a touch as light as moth wings.

Jack smiles. Lips pursed demurely. Fox face, maiden's smile.

[Anarion]

****

Lily

So here's a question for you, sugar. Seeing as you're the dreamspeaker and the one who sees the dead on the subway. The Amadaun, the Queen's fool, who can strike men down with seizures at a touch of his hand or drive you right into a therapist's office for the rest of your life with a kiss...

Is he actually the real, no fooling, David Bowie, or is he the man post-death (for fairyland and the land of the dead rhyme), or is he a ghoulish impersonator, or what?

He's Ziggy Stardust tonight, either way, with a translucent gossamer cape and hair red as blood, offering you a smile and a dance.

"Valilyana," he says, smooth as steel, "Valilyana, Valilyana. I would like to play a game with you tonight. You may name your price in victory. Simply handle a dispute between a friend and I..."

This is almost certainly a trap. But not a rigged one. That would make its temptation moot. Whatever he wants, you could win. It's possible! It's just not likely.

****

Is it a stupid question to ask if I'm being foolish with a fool? Lily considers. She could just assist one of the others or pick a target that isn't taken. She had thought to go straight to Mab, to offer her ethereal services in exchange for a small payment of a dream, but she glances up and there's the queen departing and her glance is towards Jack and is Jack following her and ignoring Petra?!

She's taking Ziggy's hands before she's even looking his way, the afterimage of her movements creating a ghost that rises and delicately entwines his hands. "Three dreams of my choosing from anyone who attended tonight's ball." In her head she says and I want to have all the charm of Queen Mab and more but it freezes on her tongue because she is embarrassed to admit that she wants it. It sits in her eyes though, in her sideways glance and the awkward silence that says without sound that she wants something more. It floats in being a girl who is still young and who is not all that terribly hard to read and is very proud simply of not blurting out her innermost feelings to a total stranger just because he's a famous ghost with that indefinable charisma that says that some essence of the real thing is present here. So, yes, that is where her request sits, and of course she accepts his terms immediately and completely and begins dancing with Ziggy Stardust without hesitation, creating a translucent swirl of illusion that he steps deftly through as he leads. She dances and awaits him providing the detail that will, in all honesty, probably doom her, but may also wrap the whole affair up in one fell swoop.

[Raz_Fox]

Brittany

This wouldn't be a fairy party without some good, old-fashioned drama. And cameras don't lie, though people do. A fleeting moment of anguish on Celene's face, caught forever on your lens: she doesn't want to do this. It is killing her to do this. But she strikes Casta upon the cheek, and dueling pistols are provided at once in response to her challenge, by fairy waiters who pull them out of covered silver dishes. Wait, how did they know to have those ready? Is this an assassination going down? More classy than a drive-by, that's for sure.

They're going to straight-up Hamilton this over by the river, which - tonight - flows directly into the deepest parts of London. If someone falls in, they're not going to come back up, most like. Wouldn't you know it, this is the only place and time in London where you can do something like this and not get super arrested by the cops. Keep watching, Redeye-Redeye? You don't have to get involved, you know.

***

Lily

"There is a city," he begins, and of course he is not speaking of the only city that truly matters. "In this city there are two families of gods, of no account but for their natures and their fundamental argument." I hope that you appreciate the fact that you are living out the fantasy of every girl who grew up in the 80s. All you need is the poofy white dress. "The one stands by the door as a watchman, and belongs to the family. The other stays in the kitchen, and belongs to the house. When a family moves from house to house, the gods of the doorway travel with them, and the gods of the kitchen remain behind. Now, the argument is to which belongs the heart of the city. The gods of the doorway believe they are the city's soul, even if they have just arrived last year, and that they take the city with them when they emigrate. The gods of the kitchen, contrariwise, believe that the gods of the doorway are merely guests and that even if every living soul left the city, the gods of the kitchen would remain in the city which existed before stone was ever laid on stone. Now, which do you suppose is right?"

Do I need to spell out that you are out on thin ice? It's political allegory, and it's anyone's guess as to whose side the Amadaun is on; you might think he is on the side of the foreign gods, these gods who come from all over the world to London, but he is a contrarian by nature, and might argue that London is defined by the Dragon who has slept beneath it since before men ever came to these shores.

Answering either way risks offering deadly insult. Remember that the touch of the Amadaun can be just as deadly. How does the rhyme go? Be bold, be bold, but not too bold...

***

Jack

Jack, let me tell you a story. There once was a humble farmer who, looking up from his field, saw a white horse standing riderless and masterless upon the road, with a gleaming silver bridle about its neck. He could no more resist the temptation than any of us could resist a Ferarri sitting in our driveway with the keys still in the ignition. When he touched that silver bridle, his hand stuck fast, and he could no longer bid his fingers release what they held. The horse bolted at once, pulling him helplessly along in its wake, and when it came to the river it dived full and headlong in, and neither of them ever came back up. The farmer's bones are still lying on the riverbed, stripped whole and bare.

The dolphin-flowers wind close about the trellises and the wooden arches of the gazebo. Lay a petal upon your tongue and stay here forever. You stand beneath a blue flower sea, and your hand is caught fast. Perhaps on that necklace. Perhaps somewhere else. A lady never tells.

"Hello, Jack," Mab breathes, one hand whispering upon your chin. The foxglove-bells chime about the hedges. Her tongue is the honeycomb nestled in the lion's ribs. "My breath between the notes. My footfall of a cat. I have meat for you to eat. I have wine for you to drink."

Turns out you're not the only one who's got irons in the fire tonight. I mean, you couldn't have known that Mab let you all attend the party to use the Empty Star for her own purposes, right?

Right?

[Anarion]

[It seems to me that Lily would use a consort roll to gain some additional information to help with the answer. David Bowie seems like a tough nut to crack, so I would expect the effect to be normal or limited and the position to be risky but not desperate at this point. I only have one die for that, but I rolled a 6.]

Lily laughs when he tells the story, one ghostly hand coming to her mouth with a trail from his hand and then dipping back through its own wake. "This is a dispute between a friend and you? Do I know your friend, Ziggy? You and she must be quite at odds over this." Lily might seem a little giddy, she is dancing with the Ziggy Stardust after all, and she knows this is dangerous, knows that even a little slip in one direction could put her at risk, but she still has to keep asking. "Why am I the best suited to settle this dispute of yours? You've offered me anything I could wish for just to help make this decision. Is it a decision that will live in dreams ever after?"

[Thanqol]

Brittany

This wouldn't be a fairy party without some good, old-fashioned drama. And cameras don't lie, though people do. A fleeting moment of anguish on Celene's face, caught forever on your lens: she doesn't want to do this. It is killing her to do this. But she strikes Casta upon the cheek, and dueling pistols are provided at once in response to her challenge, by fairy waiters who pull them out of covered silver dishes. Wait, how did they know to have those ready? Is this an assassination going down? More classy than a drive-by, that's for sure.

They're going to straight-up Hamilton this over by the river, which - tonight - flows directly into the deepest parts of London. If someone falls in, they're not going to come back up, most like. Wouldn't you know it, this is the only place and time in London where you can do something like this and not get super arrested by the cops. Keep watching, Redeye-Redeye? You don't have to get involved, you know.

Before I can answer that, who are we talking for witnesses, seconds, hangers-on? Are there Faerie nobles in attendance and what are their aspects? There are several ways to stage this and there is a profound difference if this is an exhibition before a crowd or intimate violence between just two.

[Raz_Fox]

[It seems to me that Lily would use a consort roll to gain some additional information to help with the answer. David Bowie seems like a tough nut to crack, so I would expect the effect to be normal or limited and the position to be risky but not desperate at this point. I only have one die for that, but I rolled a 6.]

Lily laughs when he tells the story, one ghostly hand coming to her mouth with a trail from his hand and then dipping back through its own wake. "This is a dispute between a friend and you? Do I know your friend, Ziggy? You and she must be quite at odds over this." Lily might seem a little giddy, she is dancing with the Ziggy Stardust after all, and she knows this is dangerous, knows that even a little slip in one direction could put her at risk, but she still has to keep asking. "Why am I the best suited to settle this dispute of yours? You've offered me anything I could wish for just to help make this decision. Is it a decision that will live in dreams ever after?"

I do not think Ziggy will give you the answers here, dear heart, as he cannot plainly. But I will. They are the answers that chime in harmony with your dreaming heart, which sees beyond this half-awake world. It is political allegory; the gods that come with their families the pantheons, the kitchen-gods the dragon. Committing to one or the other, there is the wrong answer, even if those Stardust hands do not glide up your spine and knock your nerves all askew for the rest of your life. It's playing Russian roulette with two chambers left, and your opponent on the other side of the table with a knowing smile like he's rigged it, as if he can decide which chamber the bullet's in while you pull the trigger. So make both chambers one, and the bullet will vanish entirely.

And it is a decision that will live in dreams ever after, if you succeed. I think that he is making up his mind whether he is meant to kill you before you can fulfill your dream. There! It is said! And his decision will lie entirely on your answer. And the horrible thing? Knowing that he may yet kill you, even if it would be done with the greatest regret and an apology kissed into your ear, doesn't spoil the dance. It's a very good dance! He has a wonderful shimmy and leads graciously, our ghostly rock legend does.

"It's Julius Caesar," he says with a wink. It is not Julius Caesar. I think? It might be. "And why not you? Never doubt your own perspective."

Before I can answer that, who are we talking for witnesses, seconds, hangers-on? Are there Faerie nobles in attendance and what are their aspects? There are several ways to stage this and there is a profound difference if this is an exhibition before a crowd or intimate violence between just two.

The witnesses include a very confused teenager who was just trying to deliver a pizza, a thin woman in a hospital nightgown, and a man with a face like winter- an Aesir-blood, he. Seconds are still being established - there's a possible in there. The most senior member of the Good People in attendance is from Golias, with a face like a cloudless summer sky and water dripping from his hands, though if you want to juggle with the rankings the Prince of the Cats might outrank him. The trick is getting a cat to stick their neck out for you.

[PhoeKun]

"Hello, Jack," Mab breathes, one hand whispering upon your chin. The foxglove-bells chime about the hedges. Her tongue is the honeycomb nestled in the lion's ribs. "My breath between the notes. My footfall of a cat. I have meat for you to eat. I have wine for you to drink."

Turns out you're not the only one who's got irons in the fire tonight. I mean, you couldn't have known that Mab let you all attend the party to use the Empty Star for her own purposes, right?

Right?

Well aren't you a right clever one? Actually it's funny you should tell that story, because this one time I did no fooling find a Ferrari sitting in my driveway with the keys in the ignition. Well, a driveway anyhow. I don't got a house, see. But yeah, there I was and there it was and just like you said, how's a body supposed to ignore that when it's staring 'em in the face and all? So of course I jacked it (heh) and drove that fuckin' thing for all it was worth. Problem was, London doesn't have great streets for that sorta thing. Problem is, and I've lived a lot of lives, see? Worn a lot of faces. Been a lot of people. But problem was, still is come to think, I never learned to drive. You can imagine what came next.

And you know the thing of it? The real kick in the face? Turns out the whole damn thing was a test. And since I didn't get away clean, since I got pinched, I had to sit there on my ass and watch Petra score all kinds of points over me. Anyhow, since then I've been a bit more on the ball about my legwork.

Jack shivers to feel Mab's fingers under their chin. Their breathing is ragged and gaspy in that way that resembles nothing so much as the buildup to a night of very rough sex. Their body pulls close to the Queen's, their head rests softly on her chest. A low moan escapes their lips. But! Those clever fingers aren't held fast. They playfully caress that necklace and any other part of her that a lady wouldn't tell about. Take a moment and look at Jack's pretty head. Do you see the primrose dotting the inky hair like stars? Go ahead and fondle Jack's waist. And anywhere beneath that, for that matter, I promise they won't mind at all. But start at the ribbon sash, where you will find tucked into it some flowers of St John's Wort. Nothing meant to offend. Nothing meant to harm, but plants that love to guard against faerie mischief and faerie magic (is there a difference?). Jack sighs, still pressed against that chest.

"I will eat your meat and drink your wine, if you give them freely. I will be your princess or your knight. Jack is at your service, Grace. But I wish to hold your heart and call it mine, and see the shimmering dream beating at its core. If only for a while. Tell me: with what shall I bake the bread to offer you in exchange?"

[I believe this is simple enough to be a zero stress Flashback. Jack has also scored a 6 on their Sway roll to parlay (and other stuff) with the queen. I assume the position is risky, or might even be desperate. I won't guess at the base level of effect, but Jack is also pushing themselves to increase it]

[Anarion]

There are layers on layers here. Ziggy says "play my game" and says "pick A or B." And he lies because both A and B are the wrong answer, and his game isn't what he said out loud. But then, neither is simply ending the dance silently and walking away. That wouldn't be playing at all, and Lily might survive but she would hardly expect to receive her reward for such a poor showing. The game is to determine the game, to pierce through the illusion.

"You don't want me to pick a winner, do you?" Lily steps with the drumbeat playing and allows David to twirl her, which blurs into a whirlwind of ghostly light and mist that comes to rest against his oh so soft and sparkly chest. The sequins sparkle in the light and Lily allows herself a moment to just take it in. This was a man who danced in the dream. Perhaps he would understand. "Two sets of gods war with one another, dancing on the stones and the hearths of a city, moving about as the people move and the cars and the lights blur together into an unbroken train. But where then rests the city, Ziggy? And where rests the stone, and the earth, and the cradle of a planet?" Lily laughs wildly and releases herself to the very extent of his arm, leaning back so that Ziggy also must lean back to balance and the two are like a giant V slashed through the center by their locked arms. "You know the whole world rests in the mind of the dreamer. The argument is nothing but a dance on the stage, the people flowing in their lines braced on a vast lotus." She pulls back in, spinning herself to hold Ziggy with both her hands, one around his back, the other balanced delicately on her shoulder and lets the illusion she has been holding drop so that he stares into her wide dark eyes and her smiling face seen clearly for the first time. "The people and the buildings all dream their dreams and join the vaster dream, Ziggy. The heart and soul of the city is in dreams! I want to see the world become beautiful and vast and true to its reality. Neither side of your argument has the right of it."

[Raz_Fox]

Lily!

Ziggy dips you down low in time to that wonderful toe-tapping head-reeling bear, and there’s just a moment with his head low where there’s a flash of relief on his face. Whatever his metric was for killing you - or, at the very least, giving you severe health problems for the rest of your unpleasant life - you passed! Congratulations.

“You will have what you want,” he says, though I’ll note that he says nothing about personally collecting them. If he’s quite lucky, your fellow cultists will handle that. But, say, if none of you get around to handling Petra, he’ll get her dream for you. How gracious!

Then, a warning, as he pulls you close. “The Year King,” he says. The leader of WyldHunt. You get to run the pack for one year, burn bright and glorious, and then - well. There are stories. “When you leave, don’t stop. Don’t stop for anything.”

***

Jack!

“I have need of my heart, Jack,” Mab says in mock admonishment. There is a secret here unfolding like a lotus. “How else will we all find our way past the flood? All of my folk will lose themselves on the road if they cannot guide themselves by its light. Now, if I had a Star...”

Her breath is slow, deliberate, but her grip on you tightens. If you wanted to be insensitive, you might compare it to iron. “If I had the heart of a Star, then that would be a light enough. And you could even hold mine for a time.”

There are three Stars here, a constellation in miniature. One is called Jack, the second is scheming for your ruin, and the third is about to shoot Casta dead. But still! There are options, should you not wish to lose your self and become her shadow until the beginning of the dream.

[Thanqol]

The witnesses include a very confused teenager who was just trying to deliver a pizza, a thin woman in a hospital nightgown, and a man with a face like winter- an Aesir-blood, he. Seconds are still being established - there's a possible in there. The most senior member of the Good People in attendance is from Golias, with a face like a cloudless summer sky and water dripping from his hands, though if you want to juggle with the rankings the Prince of the Cats might outrank him. The trick is getting a cat to stick their neck out for you.

The plan started to form. Perhaps an alliance with the Prince of Cats might allow a speech to be made to Golias, which might serve to flush out the hidden mastermind behind this assassination which would then allow her to...

She abruptly and aggressively gives up. She is not one of these people and cannot play their stupid games. She just needs to get the target.

Brittany lunges out of the crowd, tackles Casta, and they fall together into the river.

[Raz_Fox]

Redeye-Redeye

The current is fierce. The river is shockingly cold, and deep, and it’s plunging down into the parts of London beneath even the Underground. The parts which are one and the same as the underworld.

Now, our friend Ziggy Stardust will find Casta wherever she ends up, and secure that dream - but you don’t know that. What you do know is that you can’t get your head up above the water. What you know is that you are dying. But, oh, how noble!