alderwitch

Bombshell Spent her HP to surge and intercept the hit for spell bound: TOU: (1d20+8=16) Bombshell is dead and back alive in five minutes: Recovery check (1d20+5=15)

Talya chuckled, "You claim your prize and spend the rest of the afternoon planning for your party," her teacher said with a nod towards the pair of sky high heels. "I told you that if you did well, we'd finish early and I try very hard not to go back on my promises unless I really have to." Plus it seemed that Talya might have some research to do on Blackstone and Raina's parents. She'd spoken truly that she had no concerns about Blackstone - it was a known quantity after all - but she wasn't going to take Raina in blind to visit her parents. Which meant some digging and very likely some currency in favors to be prepared to take the girl to see her family. The sooner Talya started on that, the better. "You can make it up to me by doing some exercises during the week of trying to work on your proprioception."

Robin took a more cautious sip followed by another, "It's good," she assured Riley as she shifted the weight of the blackberry container to her hip, "It tasted different than regular lemonade but not like in a bad way. I like the fizz," Robin agreed as she took a few more sips from her cup. She offered Riley a reassuring sort of smile, "I think it'll be a hit with the other kids." She turned back into the room to catch Fred's last line of questioning and laughed, "I'm not going to arm-wrestle Phaedra. That's asking for a table to get broken."

"I am remarkably resilient," Robin pointed out with a matter of fact tone to her voice. She gave Fred a little shrug at her offer and pointed out, "I don't ask about other people's pasts. I don't really like talking about a lot of my own so it doesn't seem fair to pry. Besides, I'm bad at talking. I'd probably end up finding all the wrong questions to ask even if I did give it a go. But, if you wanna talk about what happened, if that's something that would make you feel better, I'm more'n willing to listen." She shifted on Fred's bed, pulling her legs up to cross them and give Fred her full attention, "I mean, I know that it was something like an experiment that went wrong. You've said as much that there were some goals that the serum was supposed to do and it wasn't quite right what happened."

Taylor gave a little shake of her head to Erik. She'd never mastered a proper poker face; Taylor relied on the mask and hood far more than many to remain enigmatic and clearly had grave reservations about this particular course of action. She was also well aware that Jack would be unlikely to back down in front of this particular group. Too much like showing weakness. "They do all look very tasty," Taylor agreed as Elis hustled past, reclaiming her beer from Jack when he'd finished sampling the food, "Personally, I think I'm going to have some of the shwarma but I imagine that JJ will be most interested in Richard's. Speaking of that, I should go try and get him to eat. He's got that look in his eyes," Taylor added the last to her spouse in an undertone. Hungry half-vampires were generally bad news. Pressing a quick kiss to Jack's cheek, Taylor turned to follow Ellis in wrangling her own offspring.

"Help is one of those things we do here!" Alex said cheerfully, not daunted by the task ahead of her. She cast Mike a faintly quizzical look at his increased awkwardness, rifling through his thoughts as with a deft light touch to ascertain the cause before amusement flickered across her features. She gave Mike's bicep a gentle pat of reassurance before continuing along, "Let me grab some paperwork from the front desk and I'll take you on upstairs to the labs. Don't worry about the entrance, dramatics have their place and purpose. You have timing as this saves them from paging me. I always try to help out on the meta-human aid projects." Still amused, Alex turned towards the desk to gesture for one of the tablets available.

Renegade Power Level: 10/12 (185/193PP) (Gold Reward) Trade-Offs: None Unspent Power Points: 8 In Brief: Surly exiled angel channeling celestial power through tattoos Residence: Riverside Base of Operations: Eternal Ink, lives above the shop that he owns Catchphrase: "Look, I don't even want to BE here." Alternate Identity: Araeriel / 'Ray Haskell' Identity: Secret Birthplace: Heaven Occupation: Tattoo Artist Affiliations: Heaven (currently out of favor) Family: Estranged but plentiful Description: Age: Circa 2500 BCE Apparent Age: Mid thirties Gender: Male Ethnicity: Caucasian Height: 6'3" Weight: 195 lbs Eyes: Green Hair: Blonde Ray is a tall, fit blonde man of ambiguous Western European ancestry that seems somehow perpetually scruffy. He usually favors tank tops and battered black BDUs. The most noteworthy feature Ray has are the prodigious amount of tattoos he's accumulated which all appear almost fresh with how bright the ink remains on his skin. The tattoos are mystic in origin with Enochian sigils hidden within the more evocative images and the bulk of Ray's tattoos shift based on what he needs to materialize at any given point. There are a few fixed points that do not change; the Enochian markings remain in place and although the wings might change position along his shoulders and back, they are always there. With the nature of his powers, Renegade's super hero costume is generally 'whatever Ray was wearing' right before there was a need for his super hero alter-ego, sometimes with his shirt abandoned if he's needing more than what he can pull from his arms for a conflict. Power Descriptions: Ray's picked up a few things over his time in the mortal realm. His place in the choir was a scholarly one, charged with observation and recording. He was never charged with a flaming sword or divine shield and so comes across more as a brawler and bar fighter than any sort of divine soldier as he's had the last few decades of getting into scrapes to draw on. The lingering divine grace locked within Ray gives his mortal body more natural potency and tenacity than it ought to have. When Ray utilizes his divine birthright through the medium of his tattoos, the ink on his flesh changes and reforms to represent his desires and he draws them from his flesh into reality. The sleeves on his arms most typically feature flames and chains which tend to be his go-to for manifestations but the images can ripple and change depending on his needs and whims. History: Araeriel was created during the Bronze Age and tasked with observing and recording. His was a silent, scholarly duty and it suited him, unsurprisingly, as if he were made for that purpose. It's important to note that his duty was not to understand or empathize, to heal or to fight, but simply to be a set of eyes and ears for those of higher rank and greater importance. Araeriel was a messenger, a scholar and an artist, low ranking but content in his use and purpose within the divine dimension he occupied. His focus remained on tracking the art and artists of the eras, documenting them and in his spare time, dabbling with creation himself. As time marched forward and art become more closely intwined with social and political commentary, it began to slowly alter Araeriel's own nature. He grew more recalcitrant in his duties, spending more time focusing on his personal work and less on his duties to the choir. It was clearly, entirely unacceptable behavior but nothing truly worthy of exile or damnation. At the close of the 1970's, Araeriel was exiled from Heaven to Earth, locked in a mortal body designed to blend in with his surroundings. The official party line on the matter was that Araeriel was to be given time to focus on this new and clearly overwhelming calling of his with less divine distraction. To Ray, however, it is clearly a punishment and, perhaps, a lesson. The tenants of that particular lesson, however, escape him. With his divine nature locked in a mortal shell, the difference was jarring. Ray has never longed for humanity and the longing he felt for home was keen in the first few years. Eventually, he put his not inconsiderable skills to use in attempting to shake off the restrictions of this mortal form. Through tattoos of Enochian inscriptions, he's managed to crack some of the shell and tap into some fragment of his true nature but he remains firmly land-locked, unable to go home until his sentence has been lifted. After bouncing around for the last few decades, Ray is no longer the fish out of water that he was originally. He has even come to enjoy some aspects of the human condition although it has only increased the rebellious streak just starting to crop up in Heaven. Adopting the moniker 'Renegade', Ray has taken on the occasional supernatural menaces that spill into his path. It might be in part that he hopes death in the line of protecting innocents might just be enough to send him home but mostly, even with his occasionally poor attitude, Ray's still an angel. Personality & Motivation: Ray is somewhat perpetually cranky. His outrage and homesickness have faded enough that it merely keeps him in a surly mindset. He does genuinely take a great amount of pleasure in his art and while he has a rather wide skill set of craft that he's perfected, his current love is in tattooing and he's very protective of his shop in Riverside. Despite his acerbic exterior, Ray has a good heart and maintains his angelic instincts to protect humanity. They are much harder to ignore down here than they were in Heaven, which may in fact have been the actual point of his current time-out. Powers & Tactics: Even after a few decades, Ray is not a subtle sort of fighter. He tends to take on threats head long and tossing everything and the kitchen sink at the most dangerous threat available. Its not that he's not capable of different tactics or stupid, Ray has no martial background to draw on and comes at the fight from a brawler's mindset. He has to work to remember that he can do more than hurt something as much as possible, as quickly as possible. For all of that, Ray has no desire to do more than is necessary to end the battle as he is neither overly violent nor cruel. He is more susceptible than many to various social deceptions as humans remain much less clear to him in their motivations than he might like. Functionally, he's a street level sorcerer with some firepower at his disposal. Complication Oi Polloi: Since Ray needs to channel his powers through his tattoos, he can be tripped up or limited by dress codes. Generally, to use most of his Enochian tattoo array, he needs at least his hands and forearms bare. Black tie events can really crimp his style more than most folks. Abrasive Wheels: Ray's cranky, surly and abrasive. Somehow this does not regularly endear him to the people around him. Further, he dresses like the tattoo artist he is and has things like neck and knuckle tattoos. This sometimes means that he is looked at askance. Dead Man's Shadow: It's not that Ray really wants to die but he misses his home and he misses his family, even if he's mad at them. Being on Prime is a gift but sometimes he'll take too much risk or danger because the idea of getting to be free from his fleshy prison is not the barrier it is for regular humans. Angelic Upstarts: Ray might be on an enforced sabbatical but he's part of the Abrahamic heavenly host and is sometimes constrained by that nature. It also sometimes means that demons try to eat his face. The Lurkers: Ray's not human, has never been human and they are sometimes still an enigma to him in their wants and needs. Abilities: 10 + 0 + 10 + 10 + 10 + 10 = 50PP Strength: 20 (+5) Dexterity: 10 (+0) Constitution: 20 (+5) Intelligence: 20 (+0) Wisdom: 20 (+0) Charisma: 20 (+0) Combat: 20 + 20 = 40PP Initiative: +0 Attack: +10 Melee, +10 Ranged Grapple: +15 Defense: +10 (+10 Base, +0 Dodge Focus), +5 Flat-Footed Knockback: -5 Saving Throws: 5 + 10 + 5 = 20PP Toughness: +10 (+5 Con, +5 Protection) Fortitude: +10 (+5 Con, +5) Reflex: +10 (+0 Dex, +10) Will: +10 (+5 Wis, +5) Skills: 40R = 10PP Knowledge (History) 10 (+15)Skill Mastery Knowledge (Arcane) 10 (+15)Skill Mastery Knowledge (Cosmology) 5 (+10)Skill Mastery Craft (Artistic) 15 (+20)Skill Mastery Feats: 5PP Artificer Ritualist Jack of All Trades Luck Skill Mastery (Knowledge: History, Arcane, Cosmology, and Craft: Artistic) Powers: 6 + 5 + 2 + 6 + 4 + 37 = 60PP Descriptors: All of Ray's powers are holy and celestial in nature. Variable descriptors have been added to powers to demonstrate the difference in what is summoned but those descriptors are additive and for flavor. All of his powers still come from the same source, its merely to represent the variability in the physical manifestations that he can draw forth. Comprehend 3 (Tower of Babel) (Speak/Understand/Read All Languages) (Holy, Celestial) [6PP] Protection 5 (Divine Grace) (Holy, Celestial) [5PP] Immunity 2 (Mortality's Embrace) (Disease, Aging) (Holy, Celestial) [2PP] Damage 5 (Divine Might) (Power Feat: Mighty) (Holy, Celestial) [6PP] Flight 4 (Angelic Wings) (100 MPH, Drawbacks: Forward Only, Power Loss [Wing Movement], Wide Turns, Reduced Load) [4PP] Enochian Tattoo Array 16 (Breaking the Chains) (32PP; Power Feat: Alternate Power 5) (Holy, Celestial) [37PP] Base Power: Damage 10 (Wrath) (Extra: Range, Autofire Power Feat: Variable Descriptor 2 [any elemental or kinetic]) [32PP] Alternate Power: Healing 10 (Benediction) (Extra: Total, Restoration, Flaws: Limited to Others, Power Feats: Persistant, Regrowth) [32 PP] Alternate Power: Move Object 10 (Chains and Bonds) (Lift Strength 50 / 4 tons light load; Extra: Damaging, Power Feats: Variable Descriptor 2 [any elemental or kinetic]) [32PP] Alternate Power: Create Object 10 (Creation) (Extra: Duration: Continuous, Power Feats: Precise, Innate) [32PP] Alternate Power: Environmental Control 10 (Castigation) (1 Mile Radius, Mix and Match: Cold [ice and snow], Distraction [DC 10, sleet and rain], Hamper Movement [frost], Heat [flames], Light [divine radiance], Visibility [fog]) (Extra: Independent, Power Feats: Slow Fade, Reversible) [32PP] Alternate Power: Dazzle 10 (The Glory) (Visual, Extra: Area [Cone], Power Feat: Incurable, Reversible) [32PP] Drawbacks: (-0) + (-0) = -0PP DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed (Includes Divine Might) Touch DC 25 Toughness Damage (Physical/Holy) Blast (Wrath) Ranged DC 25 Toughness (Autofire) Damage (Holy) Move Object (Chains and Bonds) Ranged DC 25 Toughness Damage (Holy) Dazzle (The Glory) Area: Cone DC 20 Reflex/Fort Dazzled (Staged) Totals: Abilities (50) + Combat (40) + Saving Throws (20) + Skills (10) + Feats (5) + Powers (60) - Drawbacks (0) = 185/193 Power Points

"It's no one's fault," Talya said, her words clearly directed to Dimitri although she didn't glance away from the other woman. As Dimitri's solid footsteps thumped off upstairs, Talya's serene mask faded as her bow creased and the corners of her full lips pulled downwards, "It's nothing to fret over, love, just ended up bandying words with another former agent. Old memories, most of them not good and not worth fretting over." Talya's voice softened and her hand came up to brush the pale white strands of Min's hair back from her face with tender fingertips, "She's contemplating immortality and wanted some genuine answers about personal matters, which you know I'm not overly prone to discussing. What's it like to love and lose, what's it actually like to watch people you care for age and die. I gave her good advice mixed in with a healthy dose of deflection but it's just old ghosts and too much vodka. I'm fine." Talya said and then corrected, "I'll be fine. Better now, certainly."

Marcia had been in the middle of assuring them both that her son was doing much better when Triakosia made her entrance. Alex turned with a friendly smile, already waving down any concerns from her employees in the lobby. Even if the red-head wasn't generally unflappable, her youth at Claremont had pretty much assured that Alex took the arrival of costumed characters in stride. She left the counter, assuming that Mike would probably follow her over to make polite introductions. The petite redhead crossed the room with a spring in her step and offered one slender hand, "Good morning! I'm Alex Albright," AEON's young CEO said with a genuinely friendly smile, "How can I help you?"

Player Name: Alderwitch Character Name: Renegade Power Level: 10/12 (180/180PP) Trade-Offs: None Unspent Power Points: 0 Progress To Bronze Status: 0/30 In Brief: Surly exiled angel channeling celestial power through tattoos Residence: Riverside Base of Operations: Eternal Ink, lives above the shop that he owns Catchphrase: "Look, I don't even want to BE here." Alternate Identity: Araeriel / 'Ray Haskell' Identity: Secret Birthplace: Heaven Occupation: Tattoo Artist Affiliations: Heaven (currently out of favor) Family: Estranged but plentiful Description: Age: Circa 2500 BCE Apparent Age: Mid thirties Gender: Male Ethnicity: Caucasian Height: 6'3" Weight: 195 lbs Eyes: Green Hair: Blonde Ray is a tall, fit blonde man of ambiguous Western European ancestry that seems somehow perpetually scruffy. He usually favors tank tops and battered black BDUs. The most noteworthy feature Ray has are the prodigious amount of tattoos he's accumulated which all appear almost fresh with how bright the ink remains on his skin. The tattoos are mystic in origin with Enochian sigils hidden within the more evocative images and the bulk of Ray's tattoos shift based on what he needs to materialize at any given point. There are a few fixed points that do not change; the Enochian markings remain in place and although the wings might change position along his shoulders and back, they are always there. With the nature of his powers, Renegade's super hero costume is generally 'whatever Ray was wearing' right before there was a need for his super hero alter-ego, sometimes with his shirt abandoned if he's needing more than what he can pull from his arms for a conflict. Power Descriptions: Ray's picked up a few things over his time in the mortal realm. His place in the choir was a scholarly one, charged with observation and recording. He was never charged with a flaming sword or divine shield and so comes across more as a brawler and bar fighter than any sort of divine soldier as he's had the last few decades of getting into scrapes to draw on. The lingering divine grace locked within Ray gives his mortal body more natural potency and tenacity than it ought to have. When Ray utilizes his divine birthright through the medium of his tattoos, the ink on his flesh changes and reforms to represent his desires and he draws them from his flesh into reality. The sleeves on his arms most typically feature flames and chains which tend to be his go-to for manifestations but the images can ripple and change depending on his needs and whims. History: Araeriel was created during the Bronze Age and tasked with observing and recording. His was a silent, scholarly duty and it suited him, unsurprisingly, as if he were made for that purpose. It's important to note that his duty was not to understand or empathize, to heal or to fight, but simply to be a set of eyes and ears for those of higher rank and greater importance. Araeriel was a messenger, a scholar and an artist, low ranking but content in his use and purpose within the divine dimension he occupied. His focus remained on tracking the art and artists of the eras, documenting them and in his spare time, dabbling with creation himself. As time marched forward and art become more closely intwined with social and political commentary, it began to slowly alter Araeriel's own nature. He grew more recalcitrant in his duties, spending more time focusing on his personal work and less on his duties to the choir. It was clearly, entirely unacceptable behavior but nothing truly worthy of exile or damnation. At the close of the 1970's, Araeriel was exiled from Heaven to Earth, locked in a mortal body designed to blend in with his surroundings. The official party line on the matter was that Araeriel was to be given time to focus on this new and clearly overwhelming calling of his with less divine distraction. To Ray, however, it is clearly a punishment and, perhaps, a lesson. The tenants of that particular lesson, however, escape him. With his divine nature locked in a mortal shell, the difference was jarring. Ray has never longed for humanity and the longing he felt for home was keen in the first few years. Eventually, he put his not inconsiderable skills to use in attempting to shake off the restrictions of this mortal form. Through tattoos of Enochian inscriptions, he's managed to crack some of the shell and tap into some fragment of his true nature but he remains firmly land-locked, unable to go home until his sentence has been lifted. After bouncing around for the last few decades, Ray is no longer the fish out of water that he was originally. He has even come to enjoy some aspects of the human condition although it has only increased the rebellious streak just starting to crop up in Heaven. Adopting the moniker 'Renegade', Ray has taken on the occasional supernatural menaces that spill into his path. It might be in part that he hopes death in the line of protecting innocents might just be enough to send him home but mostly, even with his occasionally poor attitude, Ray's still an angel. Personality & Motivation: Ray is somewhat perpetually cranky. His outrage and homesickness have faded enough that it merely keeps him in a surly mindset. He does genuinely take a great amount of pleasure in his art and while he has a rather wide skill set of craft that he's perfected, his current love is in tattooing and he's very protective of his shop in Riverside. Despite his acerbic exterior, Ray has a good heart and maintains his angelic instincts to protect humanity. They are much harder to ignore down here than they were in Heaven, which may in fact have been the actual point of his current time-out. Powers & Tactics: Even after a few decades, Ray is not a subtle sort of fighter. He tends to take on threats head long and tossing everything and the kitchen sink at the most dangerous threat available. Its not that he's not capable of different tactics or stupid, Ray has no martial background to draw on and comes at the fight from a brawler's mindset. He has to work to remember that he can do more than hurt something as much as possible, as quickly as possible. For all of that, Ray has no desire to do more than is necessary to end the battle as he is neither overly violent nor cruel. He is more susceptible than many to various social deceptions as humans remain much less clear to him in their motivations than he might like. Functionally, he's a street level sorcerer with some firepower at his disposal. Complication Name: Description Abilities: 10 + 0 + 10 + 10 + 10 + 10 = 50PP Strength: 20 (+5) Dexterity: 10 (+0) Constitution: 20 (+5) Intelligence: 20 (+0) Wisdom: 20 (+0) Charisma: 20 (+0) Combat: 20 + 20 = 40PP Initiative: +0 Attack: +10 Melee, +10 Ranged Grapple: +15 Defense: +10 (+10 Base, +0 Dodge Focus), +5 Flat-Footed Knockback: -5 Saving Throws: 5 + 10 + 5 = 20PP Toughness: +10 (+5 Con, +5 Protection) Fortitude: +10 (+5 Con, +5) Reflex: +10 (+0 Dex, +10) Will: +10 (+5 Wis, +5) Skills: 40R = 10PP Knowledge (History) 10 (+15)Skill Mastery Knowledge (Arcane) 10 (+15)Skill Mastery Knowledge (Cosmology) 5 (+10)Skill Mastery Craft (Artistic) 15 (+20)Skill Mastery Feats: 4PP Artificer Ritualist Jack of All Trades Skill Mastery (Knowledge: History, Arcane, Cosmology, and Craft: Artistic) Powers: 6 + 5 + 2 + 6 + 37 = 56PP Descriptors: All of Ray's powers are holy and celestial in nature. Variable descriptors have been added to powers to demonstrate the difference in what is summoned but those descriptors are additive and for flavor. All of his powers still come from the same source, its merely to represent the variability in the physical manifestations that he can draw forth. Comprehend 3 (Tower of Babel) (Speak/Understand/Read All Languages) (Holy, Celestial) [6 PP] Protection 5 (Divine Grace) (Holy, Celestial) [5 PP] Immunity 2 (Mortality's Embrace) (Disease, Aging) (Holy, Celestial) [2 PP] Damage 5 (Divine Might) (Power Feat: Mighty) (Holy, Celestial) [6 PP] Enochian Tattoo Array 11 (Breaking the Chains) (22 PP; Power Feat: Alternate Power x 5) (Holy, Celestial) [37PP] Base Power: Damage 10 (Wrath) (Extra: Range, Autofire Power Feat: Variable Descriptor x 2 (any elemental or kinetic) ) [32PP] Alternate Power: Flight 17 (Angelic Wings) (2,500,000 MPH; Drawbacks: Power Loss: Requires Wings Free, Reduced Load) [32PP] Alternate Power: Move Object 10 (Chains and Bonds) (Lift Strength 50 / 4 tons light load; Extra: Damaging, Power Feat: Variable Descriptor x 2 (elemental or kinetic) [32PP] Alternate Power: Create Object 10 (Creation) (Extra: Duration: Continuous, Power Feat: Precise, Innate) [32PP] Alternate Power: Environmental Control 10 (Castigation) (1 Mile Radius, Mix and Match: Cold [ice and snow], Distraction (DC 10) [sleet and rain], Hamper Movement [frost], Heat [flames], Light [divine radiance], Visibility [fog]) (Extra: Independent, Power Feat: Slow Fade, Reversible) [32PP] Alternate Power: Dazzle 10 (The Glory) (Visual, Extra: Area (Cone), Power Feat: Incurable, Reversible) [32 PP] Drawbacks: (-0) + (-0) = -0PP DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed (Includes Divine Might) Touch DC 25 Toughness Damage (Physical/Holy) Blast (Wrath) Ranged DC 25 Toughness (Autofire) Damage (Holy) Move Object (Chains and Bonds) Ranged DC 25 Toughness Damage (Holy) Dazzle (The Glory) Area: Cone DC 20 Reflex/Fort Dazzled (Staged) Totals: Abilities (50) + Combat (40) + Saving Throws (20) + Skills (10) + Feats (4) + Powers (56) - Drawbacks (0) = 180/180 Power Points

AEON's lobby was a comfortable place to wait, designed to encourage loitering rather than discourage it with available computer terminals for open use and plush chairs to wait in. Despite the obvious efforts made to make people feel comfortable, the gleaming lobby was clearly expensively designed and furnished with a wide receptionist desk staffed with a small number of receptionists. The individuals on duty noticeably straightened at their posts as a petite red-head stepped off of the elevator, gesturing animatedly to her far taller compatriot. Alex was dressed casually today, wearing blue jeans with be-dazzled patches on her pockets and a bright sweater with alternating bands of hot pink and vivid yellow. Her red curls were drawn up with barrettes. She looked, really, nothing like the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation. Truly, Alex looked out of place in her own lobby as she hustled towards the receptionist counter with a spring in her step, talking animatedly the whole way. "So, there's a badge here although the elevator's biometrics have already been calibrated to you but good to have it just in case security gets nervous," Alex said to Mike with an animated smile as she turned towards the counter. "Marcia, hello. How's your son doing, feeling better?" She asked before tipping her chin up towards Mike and explaining, "He got a cold that's been going around his school. Have you met Marcia?" Alex made quick introductions between Mike and the staff currently working the counter. Perfect recall meant never forgetting a name or face which came in handy more often than not.

Taylor fixed her off spring and the object of his affection with a distinctly unamused look, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she watched them both for a long, uncomfortable moment, "Jack Huang Faretti Junior, I have been arguing semantics with gods and demons since long before you were born. Someday, you will likely be in my league but you're not there yet. There are any number of rules I could be pointing out - the use of blood magic in your dorms to bring in an outsider, for example, is not exactly approved of in Claremont's list of rules. Or, for example, helping Set route Sekhmet to dodge her ground rules." Taylor gestured towards the demi-goddess with a short, sharp gesture. "However, I've always believed that its best to focus on what's actually critical. Heshem knows that you'll go your own path. Defiance, I fear, is in your genetics every bit as much as blue eyes and dimples. It is my very difficult task to see that you develop the skills to survive that instinct. So, first ground rule; no sneaking off. If Set's going to come visit here at Claremont, then he can go through the front gate and not get ripped from Sekhmet into your bedroom. For mercy's sake, go out to eat or go to the movies. Have a conversation that lasts for more than ten minutes, hm?"

Talya hesitated then, her pause brief but noticeable as she debated whether or not to blunt the reality although her expression never rippled. After a heart beat she replied with an even, "Dead, my dear. They've been dead a long time. It was during the war. There were many casualties on all sides." Her blue gaze remained steady holding Raina's for a long pause, "And I was a different sort of person, during a different sort of time." She turned then, breaking the eye contact to reach for the half socks that she usually wore in the dojo. Talya continued on, her voice remaining calm and unruffled as if they'd been just discussing the weather and not, for example, some of the blood that might be on her hands. "Erik's not going to grab you suddenly. He can always use one of the practice blades to tap your shoulder or leg when he's gotten close. He'd not just stealth up behind you and grab your shoulders. That would be rude. Also, clearly, ill advised for so many reasons."

This time, Robin's faint flush was with pleasure and she leaned in to press a quick kiss of appreciation to Riley's lips for the compliment. "Thanks, I hoped you'd like it. Not sure what else I'd ever wear a get up like this to, even." She laughed before reaching out to pick up one of the glassware jugs, lifting it with ease. She could have taken both easily but was reasonably certain Riley would not have appreciated her carrying both back and leaving him empty handed. "Sure, I'm willing to go first," Robin said without any sort of hesitation. She'd tried alcohol before this but hadn't cared much for the taste nor experienced the sort of fuzzy muzzy-headedness that her peers had and after the last few years of hard living, any pickiness she might have once had was rather eroded. "I've always liked lemonade so I'll go with that. Do you know where we're supposed to grab glasses from?" Robin glanced around the kitchen then to find the stack of cups and juggle them into her free hand, "Got 'em."

She cast a look towards Riley's outrage and offered a phlegmatic shrug. "Sometimes people have pushes to 'clean up the Fens' but usually it just ends up shuffling people around." The alley Robin led them down was less clean than the street had been and the Fens was not as pristine by any stretch as Bayview was. "Drugs? Nah, Henry's a drunk. Honey deals sometimes but only low end stuff like pot. The drug dealers aren't too fond of me in general enough to talk to me but I busted Honey's pimp in the nose when he was beating on her and the others. Sometimes they put my hair up in braids in thanks, when nights are slow," Robin offered as if it was explanation. She whistled once, a low note as they rounded the dumpster towards the back end of the alley and a mangy, one eye dog came trotting out. "Hey, Rufus. Where's the old man?" Robin asked the dog as she knelt down on one knee to scratch the dog's snarled head as he sniffed her coat. "Yeah, yeah. You want my sandwich, I know." Robin muttered as she fished out the requisite slightly squashed peanut butter sandwich in plastic bag. "The Chinese place is at the end of the alley and it's almost closing time so its a good time to wait for the trash to get dumped out. There's almost always rice that they toss out."

"Folks in Riley's world, I think, have too much else to worry about for that sorta thing from what he's said but, yeah, more'r less. My folks, at least, always used to talk about moving outta the Fens but they were both immigrants and didn't have a whole lot they could do for a living. Dad was going to night school, but," Robin gave a shrug and fished her t-shirt out of her pocket finally to knot the black fabric into place over her eyes and the top of her head. Sliding the ad-hoc mask into place that served as Nighthawk's disguise, she continued on, her voice flat and harsh, "Well, that never happened, obviously. More to the point, people can't get out because they gotta eat, and they gotta try and keep a roof over their heads and there's not much time to do much else. Henry says this is where dreams go to die but he's kinda dramatic. He's right though, this is where people get forgotten about. The only way to make enough to actually live on usually means ending up in a gang or worse." Robin gestured towards the brighter lit street ahead, "We'll cut down the alley. That's probably where we'll find one of the folks I know. Henry. Maybe Honey's out and about. Dunno, kinda early for her still."

Robin's expression turned to confusion at Huang's response, "Oh, uh," she said but fortunately finding any polite response was mitigated by the other teenagers. She turned towards Phae just in time to catch the spatter of blood droplets. The muscles under Riley's hand tensed into rock hard wariness as her party mood was briefly subsumed under threat assessment. She had take one step forward, her fingers curling into a solid fist only to realize that there was nothing remotely untoward going on. Just, you know, more Claremont weirdness. Coughing once, she took a quick step backwards practically into Riley. Her cheeks flushed and Robin ducked her head in embarrassment. Hopefully her over-reaction was hidden in everyone else's excitement. "You need a hand with your stuff?" She said, turning away to ask Riley in an undertone.

"Mmm," Talya agreed noncommittally as she slipped the other shoe off and walked to where she could put them away by her clothes, "You don't want to mess with that kind of power, period, I can assure you. It was 1940 and no one looked askance at undesirables vanishing from the streets. Even so, I assure you the intended consequence of those particular Thule cultists was not to imbue those of us they were sacrificing with a dubious form of immortality. That was clearly not the desired goal of their arcane intentions." Talya smiled as if the topic were only merely unpleasant. She was very, very good at managing a polite public facade. "Nasty time, nasty story. And, no, I don't think Erik would enjoy being set on fire either although I have every confidence that he would probably get out of the way. He's generally difficult to hit if he's not willing to be caught."

"The consequences being that you might try and smack me against the wall? S'okay, Fred. They wouldn't have put us together if they weren't sure I'd be alright. I don't trust grownups a whole lot, but I've already seen what happens when you freak out and I'm not scared about it happening again," Robin pointed out prosaically as she stood and crossed to get the requested water. She came back with a cup in short order that she pressed into Fred's fingers as she sat back down, "I can keep you busy until someone shows up to get you sorted out but if you don't wanna think about it, I'm sure not gonna make you. I know the advantage of keeping emotions under wraps." The last she added with a very faint smile.

"People put trash outside and people come clean it up," Robin agreed, unaware of Riley's research but well aware of her roommates Victorian sensibilities by now. She gave Riley's consternated look an apologetic shrug before continuing on with her explanation, "Actually, a lot of the folk who work for the trash company live out here. My, uh," here her voice briefly hiccuped before she continued on, tone flattening out to the dispassionate affect that did not welcome further inquiry. The fact that she even mentioned her parents was really progress, "My mom used to clean people's houses in the nicer neighborhoods for money." Giving a short, sharp shake of her head, Robin forced down those memories. Thoughts of her parents were always closer here in the Fens. Dr. Marquez thought that might be why she had such a hard time leaving it behind but Robin hadn't given that observation much more than a flat stare. "Anyway, folks 'round here usually work a couple of low paying jobs in service like that - if they have 'em. They pay people awful wages to literally clean up their crap. C'mon, we'll head down towards the bars. Maybe Henry's got some information on who needs some tough love this weekend."

"It's the blood sacrifices," Talya answered as she stepped back onto her heel, her manner matter of fact. "Leaves an unpleasant tang to the few who can sense the lingering magic. I assume that eventually it'll all get used up but it isn't as if the spell has any meter on its efficacy. I suppose we'll know its up when I cease to bounce back." She shifted her weight to one foot and went to remove her shoes, "But that's not the sort of senses I was talking about. I'll have to see if Erik can work with you on the proprioception. I think my nature's going to cause too much static for my teaching to be half so effective."

Bombshell turned to offer Jill a brief smile of appreciation but before she could brush off anything with a glib comment there was, of course, the requisite fire and chaos. What would an evening be without it. She vanished, falling back into the shadows as the miscreant's attention was focused on Jill. She popped out of cover to crack her baton across his broad back. It didn't appear to do any lasting harm, more's the pity, but at least she could be something of a nuisance in his quest to pummel Jill O'Cure. "I think, perhaps, you misunderstand the effect that fires have on a forest. Most do. L'arbre cache souvent la forêt."

Bombshell Move Action: Activate Concealment Standard Action: Power Attack with Baton from Concealment on the Beast 1d20+9=28 TOU Save: DC26

Talya turned then, barefoot on the floors of the dojo - her shoes and jacket neatly stacked next to the speakers. Her smile was warm for Min. There were subtle nuances that flickered across her fine-boned features, the lift of her lips and the inclination of her head as she welcomed the lovely woman, "Min, did we disturb you?" She asked as she flicked her fingertips over the iPhone to pull up the requested song before abandoning the MP3 player to cross the room. Talya's walk was more fluid, as while she was in no danger of losing her balance, she was past the point of adjusting her stance to hide her training. Catching Min's hand, she gave the woman a brief kiss, "Ah, so you've met, at least professionally." She said, sounding pleased, "Dimitri is an old, old friend. He can't actually get drunk so I take on that particular duty. It has been a dreadful day."

"We are visual creatures, humans are. You know where you happen to still be standing but you didn't know that I was about to touch you," Talya pointed out. "Or where your limbs are in relation to my body." Talya let her hands drop away, holding them just a bit away from Raina's skin. "When I move, it disturbs the air - it even changes the temperature near your skin, just a fraction. You can learn to read those signs like you do visual cues," Talya left her hands there a moment longer and then smiled faintly, "I'll contact the Headmistress and have your off-days changed to yoga and perhaps a dance class. I think you'll enjoy them and get more use from them than running laps. You can open your eyes and set your arms down, if you'd like."