Heritage

I already said Miracle Girl will be joining this thread, so this is just me making it official

"Oh wait, I see him; it looks like he's okay." There was a sudden rush of air as Miracle Girl sped over to check up on the good doctor, moving like a golden blur. She came to an abrupt stop right in front of him, her long blonde hair swirling around her head as she offered him a breathless smile. "There you are, Doctor! You had us all worried!" She scanned the area as she shook her head, hands on her hips. "I don't know what they wanted exactly, but the two super criminals who came here were looking for you; I think they were hoping you could find some sort of cure for their condition." Casey looked back to Delacroix and shrugged. "I don't know if you'd want to, given they were planning to kidnap you, but I said I'd ask you about their case. Or, 'cases' I guess; their powers are very different."

When Lynn first heard the mention of 'IDF', she began to imagine all sorts of bizarre alternate universe theories, based on her associations with the term; oddly enough, the revelation that these two changelings actually served some sort of empress made much more sense! "Okay, I'm willing to come along and listen, and probably help." And here she collapsed in on herself as she shrunk down to pixie size, fully adopting the identity as Grimalkin as she, too, hovered in the air, her two pairs of gossamer wings humming on her back. "But let me ask you something, if I may; what is Her Majesty's official policy on religion?"

The silent clown nodded as she began to work; this was a somewhat unusual request for a girl, and she wanted to honor it appropriately. Was this child interested in science, or was there a favorite movie or TV show of hers that featured a robotic character? Then Lynn remembered the largely-forgotten movie Robots from back in the early 2000s; she'd snuck into a theater to see it when she was 17, and she always really liked it. Inspired by its retro, dieselpunk aesthetic, she has a vision of a sweet little robot girl rolling down the street with wheels on her feet like roller skates; cute, but still streamlined and built for speed, and not too girly, either. She decided to choose colors that complimented her client's dress as a clue to her personality, and hoped she would like it. How did I get stuck entertaining these girls, wondered 'Bubbles' as she shook her head; it was like hiring a vegan to run a butchershop, or putting a pre-Marley Scrooge in charge of a charity fundraiser. Clearly mistakes had been made, and it was only a matter of time before things went all to hell. And then the birthday girl pulled a faceplant. -The Princess is down! I repeat, the Princess is down!- -Oh s###! Check to see if she's okay; I packed a decent first aid, just in case.- Crouching down next to Ms Ellie, Gretch cleared her throat. "Hey. Uh, are you alright, kid?" She gingerly turned her over, half expecting some absurdly shocking injury that would require field surgery.

There was a quick smirk and raised eyebrow as she handed over the bag. "Sadly I am taken. And my girlfriend, while sweet as maple syrup, is a horrifying monster beneath her skin. I'd hate for you to be flayed alive." In response to her customer's statements about the moral failings of artists, she could only shrug. "That's an individual choice you have to make. At what point does an artist's behavior become so unforgivable that you can no longer enjoy their art. And why are we more forgiving of someone who died in the 17th century than someone who died last year?" Turning to her computer monitor, Gretchen rapidly tapped a few keys. "Our foreign language section is painfully small. A point of contention between me and Boss Lady." She peered down at the screen. "We don't have too much from Spanish language authors. Allende, Borges, the Garcias Lorca and Marquez, Neruda...just a handful of the big names. But we can order just about anything." The young barista awkwardly shifted her weight from one foot to the other; she never knew what to do with unwanted attention. For starters, sometimes she actually did want it, but telling people to piss off came as naturally to her as breathing, and sometimes she'd already flipped someone off before she realized she actually liked them. This one? Way too early to tell.

Grimalkin/Shrike (21) [Maxed] Cat Mother & The All Day Babysitters (2) Empire of Emerald and Jade (6) Homegrown Breads (2) Positions Available, Part 1 (1) The Box of Delights (1) There's Always Room For One More (1) Viva Val Verde (3) You Never Get A Second Change For First Impressions (5) Miracle Girl (15) Chosen By The Earth (4) Crystal History (2) Dueling Storms (1) Honey! I Shrunk The Heroes! (1) Lights, Camera, Action! (2) Once Seen (1) The Doctor is OUT (2) The Young Woman and the Sea (2) All points go to Ditra Fifty-Five

Standing invisibly on the roof of 'her' bookstore, Lynn noticed many things; for starters, the West End no longer seemed to be a neighborhood of old Jews and young hipsters. The crowd of people she saw was so diverse, in terms of age, gender and ethnicity, that it suggested some form of major urban planning, or even a lottery system, because in Lynn's experience for good or bad humans normally group together based on like or dislike, or else followed current socioeconomic trends, with one group gradually taking over a neighborhood as another moved out. Also the West End, while never as trashy as say the Fens or parts of Greenbank, was never this clean, nor did the air smell this fresh; her sensitive nose didn't pick up even a hint of internal combustion on the wind. Instead the changeling saw solar panels on every roof and the hazy outlines of several wind farms in the distance. Finally a thought hit her. Everything I'm seeing is based on science and logic; it's like all the issues Mom railed against my whole life were cleared away in one fell swoop. Did Neil Degrasse Tyson find a Ring of Three Wishes or something? No, not Neil; he still has a sense of fun and silliness. This was either done by machines or maybe aliens like the Vulcans; pure logic and ruthless efficiency. And then she noticed the clearly fae-touched couple in uniform...and the fact that they noticed her. Well, point in hiding, she guessed as she dismissed her cloak of glamour with a wave of her hand. "Ah, yes...okay. Be right down." She dropped down to pavement and did a little roll, jumping up to her feet in one smooth motion. Noting the pair's elfin features, she pointed to them and scratched her head. "What's with the faerie blood? I'd figure Lord Vader or whoever's in charge would have outlawed magic, along with religion and any other 'superstitions'."

Ah, the male gaze! Lynn was quite familiar with it, and of course had been so for years. As a creature made of glamour, and therefore the stuff of dreams and legends, she had complete control of her appearance and what story she wanted it to tell. Sometimes you wanted to be the Little Match Girl, and thus completely ignored, and other times (like now), you wanted to be dead center in the spotlight with a lot of pizazz. But any performer worth their salt knew there was a time to be a solo performer and a time to share the stage, and in the story they were telling today (with much frenzied improvisation), the true star was Presto the Preposterous and his triumphant return to Val Verde. And in this story, Lynn's role was quite clear: the lovely assistant to the great conjurer himself. (Gretchen's role...well, that was still unclear.) "/Ah, it is good to hear that the incomparable Presto is not so soon forgotten on the island he so dearly loves! I cannot describe the joy he felt upon receiving the letter from your president, after so many years away. A chance to once again walk your sunny streets and wander your colorful markets; a chance to once again come home!//" With a dramatic flourish, Lynn opened the door so Samuel could step out and make his grand entrance. Meanwhile, Gretch slumped down in the front seat and tried to disappear.

"I'll get us in there," said Miracle Girl as she began to tie her hair up into a ponytail; it seemed an odd time to try on a new style, but soon it became clear she just wanted it up and out of the way when she had work to do. Carefully positioning herself directly over the suspect's house, she took a deep breath, held out her arms...and began to spin. Faster and faster until all that could be seen was a glowing golden spindle hovering in the air. It spun there for several seconds, slowly building up speed as it began to hum at a teeth-rattling frequency. Until that spindle dropped straight out of the sky and effortlessly plunged through the roof like a hot needle going right through butter, forcing a cloud of sawdust and debris to plume upwards as the blonde powerhouse disappeared from view.

Dude! Consider it done!

At this point, Bubbles wasn't sure how much longer she could go on like this; eventually, the children would rebel and rip her limb from limb, and also she was getting bored. Knowing she couldn't actually hurl the children into the sun, at least not if they were still hoping to get paid, she turned once again to her girlfriend for advice. -I don't think I can do this much longer. These girls are on the verge of going feral.- -Okay, gimme a second to think of something.- -Please hurry. I see a maniacal gleam in Ms Ellie's eye. - -Okay, I got it. Tell them it's time to play a game, then reach inside the facepainting kit.- As she said this, the very observant might have noticed a thin stream of vapor rising out of the bag. The singing clown brought her cover of Ms Swift's song to a rollicking finish, then yawned and stretched dramatically. "Boy, all that singing really tuckered me out," she said without any sort of conviction. "Who wants to play a game?" Carefully putting her ukulele back in its case, Gretchen stepped over to the bag, reached inside, and pulled out a long red ribbon about two inches wide and about two feet long. -I know this one. We're going to play 'Hogtie Escape'.- -No, you little psychopath; you're gonna play 'Blind Man's Bluff'! Just make sure none of the girls falls and hurts themselves.- -Oh, okay...mine sounds like more fun.- Whisper chose not to respond to that, instead attending to her next customer's request. Lynn figured most kids probably learned everything they knew about faeries from watching Peter Pan and the various Tinker Bell spinoff movies, which was all well and good, except she really was a faerie, and therefore had some rather strong opinions on the matter, despite being a lifelong Disney enthusiast herself. However, a compromise of some sort could certainly be reached, and to be honest, the changeling did have a bit of a soft spot for Tink... So the wordless clown started by giving the girl's eyes up-swept eyebrows and a bit of a cat eye look at the corners, followed by sideburns made of green leaves, and then adding layers of green, yellow and brown to her cheeks, making her look half wild child and half cherub. The fae artist finished the facepainting by giving her client dark green lips and just a bit of brown on her upper lip and nose, somewhat reminiscent of a deer's snout. Lastly an idea struck her, and she reached back into the bag and 'found' a wreath of flowers and leaves to put on her head like a crown. Once again, the mirror was held up, but this time Lynn found herself being a little nervous; maybe this time she might have gone a little too 'Renn faire' on this one? Meanwhile Gretchen was explaining the rules of Blind Man's Bluff to any who didn't know them, while tying the ribbon around the birthday girl's eyes. "Let me know if I've cut off the circulation to your brain."

"Sorry. Wasn't trying to be racist, but clearly succeeded." Gretchen served up the drink after dusting it with cayenne pepper. "Generally when someone asks if I'm alone, I don't take it well. Nothing personal." Heading over to the register, she looked over the young woman's selections, and paused for a moment while holding the Hemingway, looking at the picture of 'Papa' on the back cover. "I know as a woman I'm supposed to hate Hemingway, but the a##hole sure could write." Shaking her head, she put everything in a paper bag and began to ring the customer up. "Anything else I can get for you?"

Some mornings, Gretchen liked to let her girlfriend sleep in; she was more than capable of opening the store by herself (actually she was better at it than Lynn, to which the changeling herself would probably agree), and sometimes she just didn't have the heart to wake her up. Because sometimes Lynn had nightmares, really bad ones from 80+ years of adventuring and crime-fighting; she would cry out a name, Bill or Colt being the most common, and clutch her pillow so tight that Gretch was afraid she'd rip it apart. Other times she was obviously dreaming about her kids, and those were the worst. Rough nights like these were fairly common, typically a few times a month, and then all that Gretch could do was hold her girl and send her gentle thoughts, guiding her dreams back to something more pleasant. So those mornings after a rough night, the young barista let her sleep in as long as she wanted, putting a pot of coffee on so she could wake up to the smell of something wonderful. And then Gretch opened the store solo, smiling at the thought of that beautiful elfin face in quiet repose. It was slow this morning, unusually so for a Tuesday, but it happened; when the young girl made her initial inquiry, Gretchen kept her face bored and neutral when she answered, though inside her head, her brain was spinning. "I am currently, alone, yes. The store's owner should be down in the not too distant future." This girl is a potential threat. Why else would she ask if I was alone? Possible shapeshifter, or just a child assassin? When she made her drink request, the barista nodded. "Yes, I can. It's not on the menu, but I keep the spices here behind the counter. I make them for myself sometimes." She pulled the shot and began steaming the milk, her eyes rarely leaving the girl as she worked.

"Well, we only reopened back in 2014; the store was closed for several years before that. Have a seat, help yourself to some candy." The candy in question sat in a bowl on top of a very large and probably very old desk, which made the store's owner look positively tiny by comparison when she sat behind it. Her chair was a large, overstuffed high back leather chair on a swivel. Opposite where two lower leather chairs, probably made by the same designer. The rest of the office was lined with bookshelves that nearly went to the ceiling, crammed full of interesting-looking books and several odd knickknacks. Above and behind the desk were two antique firearms, a revolver and a pump-action rifle, mounted in a frame. The desk also held a somewhat old-fashioned desktop computer(did anyone still use those?), a printer and an banker's lamp with a green shade. "Just give me a second to find the resume you emailed over." With deft fingers that seemed to dance across the keyboard (she was technically a hunt-and-pecker, but she made it look like an art form), Lynn called up his resume and quickly reviewed it. "Okay, so not a lot of retail experiencing, but I see some good-" She abruptly stopped as she leaned forward to squint at the screen. "Uh, it says here that you reside at the Parkhurst Hotel; is that true? I, uh, I wasn't aware it was open for paying guests." Meanwhile she sent a mental sending Gretchen's way. -I need you to Google something for me.- -Say it and it shall be done, O Glamorous One.- -The Parkhurst Hotel in Lantern Hill. Anything weird going back, say, fifty years.- -It is decidedly so.-

I was thinking of having Casey drop out of the sky, feet first, like a bunker-buster; right thorough the roof and down through the lead lining. But I'm not sure if she's capable of doing that, or even if it's a good idea. Suggestions?

"What the heck...?" Casey squinted her eyes, which made her head feel like it was cracking wide open, but it allowed her focus her vision a bit. But what she was seeing made no sense, like she was lying on the ground under a stack of glass boxes where shadowy figures were walking around overhead. For a few seconds she could make out a few details, but then someone fiddled with the controls and she had to squint again, and- "Ahhhhh!" Like daggers through her eyes! She sat up, turned towards the door and called out, eyes squeezed shut and tears streaming down her face. "Could somebody please help me? Please?" The blonde powerhouse wasn't used to asking for help; normally it was her who was helping others. She felt helpless and afraid, and she didn't like that feeling at all.

Lance continued to just sort of nod; this was all too much information for him to process right now, and he retreated behind the espresso bar, where he felt a bit safer. Gretchen was still smiling at his obvious discomfort. "It's scary when you know she's more powerful than you, isn't it?" "Uh, yeah, it kinda is." "Good. Because that's how it feels for us most of the time." "Yeah, I guess it does; never thought of it that way before." "You're learning. That's the important part." Back in her office, Lynn let out a long sigh. "Look, I could make a whole speech about not dating your coworkers because it's a bad idea, because it usually is. But that never stopped anyone, and besides, I'm dating my assistant manager, so I have absolutely no room to talk." She paused and frowned for a second. "I should probably rectify that some day soon." Then she shook her head and looked back to Merge. "Just no matter what you do, please be careful, okay? That's all I'm gonna say on the matter."

"Awesome, I will!" hen she turned to face the entire group. "Okay, now the important question is, where do we eat? I usually do better at a buffet-style restaurant, because otherwise it's just not cost effective." Then she looked around the park, her amazing eyes scanning the area. "Also I could really use a shower, because-" She pointed down at her sweat and dirt stained uniform. "I don't feel right going out to eat looking like this. Or I could just swing home, clean up, and meet you all wherever."

"Um, okay. I'll bear that in mind." She quickly grabbed the ring with her left hand and stuck it in the pocket of her jeans. "I'll give your regards to your great-grand-" - - - Suddenly Gretchen sat upright, much to everyone's surprise. A very startled Grim shot up to her feet. "Gah! Don't do that!" "Sorry. I know how we get out now." "Great, let's go!" The changeling looked about to make some of farewell gesture towards Ira Silberman before the young barista yelled out a warning. "Don't touch him! We need to just go and use this ring to-" She stopped and raised her left hand to her face; a golden ring was on her finger, with a large ruby on it. "What? What? WHAT?" She looked over to the 'sleeping' magician, who no longer wore his ring, or his cape or turban for that matter. "He tricked me. The minute I took the ring, it was bonded to me." The ring began to change, the gold draining away to pure silver as the style became simpler, less gaudy, a bit more feminine, but not too feminine; the ring had to match its wearer, after all. "Alright, f### this; granted, the ring is freaky, but you said you knew the way out, right? We need to leave now!" "Right. Right. Uh, let's...let's go." Gretchen, finally roused from her freakout, began to lead the others back towards the elevators.

Miracle Girl laughed. "You can reach me through Vigilant, America's First Line of Defense; he knows my work." She casually wiped a bit of debris off her uniform. "Now, if you don't know how to reach him, then I'm a little worried!" She turned to go, but then paused and turned back around. "Actually, agent, if you need to reach me quickly, broadcast a message at 121.5 megaHertz; that's the International Air Distress frequency, and I always monitor that." She pointed at one ear and smiled. And with that, she rose up into the air, waved at the AEGIS agents like the teenage girl she was, and then arced across the sky back toward the facility where all this craziness started. Landing in the OCEAN-Freedom parking lot, she looked for one of the security guards. "Excuse me, but has Dr. Delacroix been located? I was hoping to speak with him."

Oh, I didn't mean to imply she was having people killed. More about books and authors that predate her reign, and thus contradict her version of events and/or history.

Ugh, that's even more frightening! I was thinking like most despots she would begin censoring other voices, when in fact she's so confident that she doesn't consider other voices to be a threat! I will make the appropriate changes. EDIT: changes made!

Going for the Fascinate here, or would Distract be more appropriate? Either way, here's my roll. 1d20+20=29

Noting all the automatic weapons pointed in their direction, Gretchen sighed and shook her head. "We are well and truly f###ed right now." But Lynn was having none of it. "Not necessarily; just let me do the talking." Holding up her hands so the guards could see them, the changeling smiled nervously and spoke in perfect Mexican Spanish. "/Please don't shoot! I'm unarmed and I'm coming out!/" Somewhere between opening the door and stepping out onto the helipad, Lynn had changed, or at least her outfit had; that tasteful knee-length skirt was now much shorter, her wedges had become a pair of white 3 inch pumps, and her denim blouse had taken on a more corset-like appearance. Gretchen could only roll her eyes; she suspected her girlfriend had also snuck in an inch or two of height, which probably made her what, about 5 foot 8? As RuPaul would say, she was workin' it. The leggy brunette held a hand to her mouth and looked so embarrassed. And gorgeous. "/Gentlemen, we are so sorry! There was a problem on the way to the Presidential Palace, and my employer, Presto the Preposterous, felt it was an ideal time to try out his amazing new illusion, 'The Flying Chariot'. We certainly didn't mean to alarm anyone or put your beloved president in any danger. In fact, we have a letter showing that President Gallo personally invited my employer, and if you'd give me but a moment, I will happily produce it for your inspection.//"

By the time he ran back in, his new employer was waiting for him with another bag, which she held up along with his schedule. '"For your sister; it's a sticky cinnamon roll, so don't let her eat and drive." Once the boy was gone, they resumed their mental conversation. -You are such a mom.- -And you are such a dad.- -What? No! Take it back!- -"Well, I can't say 'I love you', son, but I can buy you this nifty catcher's mitt!"- -That is so...hmm...- -Hah, see? I've run circles 'round you logically!- They continued like this for some time, as playful couples are wont to do.