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Dutemps Building, Château de Martel Early Afternoon, Around Lunchtime Eve leaned back in her office chair and sighed, rubbing her eyes and fighting off an encroaching headache. She needed something to eat, and to see the other ladies of the Castle. She gave herself a gentle mental chiding, reflecting that it was so typical of her to jump straight into to tackling the pile of paperwork tied to the company, the tower and the city projects she had instead of taking some time to reconnect with her friends. "Yeah," she said out loud, padding off toward the kitchen, "Food."

March 21, 2020 DuTemps Castle "Kimber!" called Eira from the guest bedroom the Claremont girls were using to change. "I need your advice!" Technically the members of Orange Squad (along with her room-mate and her friend Pan) were here for diplomatic and professional purposes. True North, Canada's super-team, had recently teamed up with the British super-team Vanguard to battle the forces of the Fenian Liberation Army - the fight had been long, been hard, and it was all very interesting if you cared about the history of cross-Atlantic imperialism and the lasting legacy of American and British imperialism. But what was relevant right now was that in the aftermath of the battle in upstate New York, the teams had come to a neutral spot to celebrate, reconnect, and enjoy the hospitality of one of their richest American partners. It was a great opportunity to meet adult heroes from all over Europe and Canada, use the DuTemps pool - the big one, that the Deep One who lived here typically avoided because of its chlorination, get acquainted with the Claremont alums who lived in the castle, get out from under Claremont discipline under the watchful eye of adult heroes, and maybe hit the sound system and eat snacks while they were at it.

The Rooftop Castle on the DuTemps Building. Friday, July 26th, 2019. 7:04 pm As first dates went for Casey Blankenship, this was the first; sure, she 'dated' Tim Krieger freshman year back in Colorado Springs, but that was mostly holding hands at Summer Bible Camp. She hadn't dated at all at Claremont, and despite the efforts of her sorority sisters, she'd yet to date anyone at FCU. But something about this new website intrigued her; just knowing your date was, well, different, somehow made everything much easier. She scanned the 'Men Looking For Women' listings in a matter of seconds, but only one listing really caught her eye. This Morgan, though... Messages were exchanged, a date was planned, somehow. Casey didn't want her date to feel uncomfortable, and they both flew, so she blurted out the one rooftop she knew in Freedom that combined an amazing view with a garden. A quick phone call to a simply delighted Daphne assured her that it would be 'totally fine' to meet her date on top the DuTemps Castle in time to eat while the sun set. Having no idea how normal people dated, the blonde powerhouse announced she'd bring the food, which thrust her into Martha Stewart mode; by 7pm, she had two folding chairs and a collapsible table set up, with a red and white tablecloth and a big wicker picnic basket. Since her date knew she was a hero, Casey opted to skip her glasses and wear her hair down; she'd picked a dark blue party dress she really liked, and did her best to not check her watch every five seconds, as she sat in a chair with her long legs crossed.

The DuTemps Building July 10th, 2018 10:59 AM Before the sky bled, Temperance was taken in by the city below. Things were tranquil, and she wasn't quite sure where they'd go next. She and Sharl were still happy in their relationship. They weren't necessarily making any moves towards any particular destinations, but they were okay with standing in the middle ground. She had just graduated from college, and while she was putting herself out on the job market, she was still experiencing that difficulty of having a good - but not incredible - GPA and some internship experience. Maybe I'll put my "night work" on the resume and see how many heads explode. There was peace. There was quiet. There was a city below, remembering what was lost and celebrating the victory that had been gained through great sacrifice. She stood on the lip of a castle in the sky, wondering how her life had gotten to this point, and where it might go next. Then the screaming began. In a hundred different voices, from boiling asphalt to sparking power lines. Her phone went off in her hand. A message from her father. THE CITY IS GOING MAD. RUN. Before she could even more, a great red rent was torn in the sky, and a swarm of steel locusts descended. She ran to the lip of the building, struck dumb for half a second, before she got a good look... No. Oh, gods, no. She ran back into the building, reaching for her phone to send out a mass blast to the group. UNDER ATTACK. TERMINUS.

"Okay, so what do you think about this?" Erin rested her back against the front passenger door of the Maserati convertible and studied the binder in her lap. She addressed her question to Trevor's legs, since they were the part sticking out from under the car. "We have the wedding in May, on the grounds here, over by that pond Aquaria's been mucking out. We get a trellis and a little platform built, rent a bunch of chairs, and have a florist do up a whole pile of flowers and cattails and stuff so it looks nice out there. Then we clean out the second floor ballroom, get a serious waxing done on the floor and have the bulbs in the chandeliers replaced, and have a reception in there? Easy, and we don't even have to go anywhere."

Saturday, September 5th, 1:13 PM Eve Martel's Chambers, DuTemps Building Even at her most human there were certain aspects of Becky Shuster's physiology that had been changed irrevocably by her possession by a wendigo spirit. Her appetite for raw flesh was one she could done without, for example, but the contented jungle cat purr that reverberated throughout her whole body as she snuggled closer to her girlfriend's back was alright. With the silk sheets below them so smooth that they turned the mattress into a reasonable stand-in for a cloud and the pair of alpaca wool blankets tangled around their legs forming a toasty cocoon it was hard to think of anywhere else she could possibly want to be. Even so, as she nuzzled her face into snow white hair and tightened her embrace around the Frenchwoman's waist she murmured, "Mmh... We should probably leave your castle at some point before I have to head back on Tuesday. Probably."

September 2015 It was a fine September morning when Tarva surprised Kimber in her bedroom - or rather, Kimber entered her bedroom and was surprised to find Tarva there. Tarva lay stretched out on her bed, wearing a short black dress that showed off her long, muscular legs. She'd been cutting back on the black in her wardrobe since their return from Thunder Bay and replacing it with acres of creamy-pale skin, sometimes just hidden beneath sheer black hose, other times hidden beneath nothing at all. "Why hello, Kimber," she said, sitting up on the bed and smiling brightly at her. "You're looking lovely this morning." Tarva had certainly been much more affectionate since that visit to the north as well, and her manner with Kimber these days seemed to lack the artifice of times past. Though as ever, it was hard to tell with the shadow-witch from the Terminus. "I've been down in the towers below today, doing necessary things. How was your night?" She folded her hands on her lap, shadow wrapped around them like yarn, looking Kimber up and down with frank interest.

April 15, 2015 Liberty Park After over a year in captivity, Tarva had quietly gone into action. She'd taken advantage of a driving rainstorm, one of the heaviest to hit this city in the year she'd lived there, and a rare mystical confluence produced by Seven's battle with Malador in order to slip away from the Dutemps Building's both physical and spiritual security. With a heavy rain jacket on and her face down, she had gone unnoticed by the many proles who walked the wide, nearly empty streets of this city, long enough for her to carefully make her way to her intended destination. She'd seen Liberty Park on a map of Freedom City and decided to make it her own - and as she approached, thanks to the lateness of the hour and the recent driving rains, she was delighted to find the park almost entirely empty. She stripped off her shoes and left them heedlessly by a walking path near the entrance, staring in wide-eyed fascination at the green beauty of the place. There was no smell of poison in the air, no whisper of monsters in the trees - and when she stepped into the grass, the soft blades were damp and cool against her bare feet. It was exactly what she'd wanted. A cool breeze came up, blowing softly against her skin, and in her soul she wanted to weep for the sheer beauty of the park by night. Keeping her hood up against the rain, she walked towards a nearby pond, staring into the water and thinking with fascination about the creatures who must live there! Settling down by the water, she turned and stared east, knowing the sun would be rising in just another hour or so. Plenty of time for her to see the new dawn, the first she had seen in...in an age, and then flee back to the tower like the rat she had become, away from the awesome beauty of this world's star. It was all perfect - except for one thing. She shot a glare up at the artificial lights scattered through the park and muttered a quick spell as the rain continued to die down, smiling as black globes appeared to cover all the lights she could see. Now the park was in the darkness it deserved, despite the glow of the city all around it, and from the curses and exclamations her sensitive hearing could just pick up from around the park, she would not be molested while she waited. She was alone; as she deserved. Taking out her diary, she began to write, letting her sensitive soul spring to glorious umbral life in the words of darkness and regret that lay beneath her skin like her black-tainted blood. The words flowed from her pen like lightning from a bottle - until suddenly she heard the too-heavy footfalls behind her. She leaped to her feet and screamed in horror at the sight of the oncoming Omegadrone, her fear dimmed not at all by the fact that it was not yet wearing its armor. "F-freedrone!" she exclaimed as she shoved her diary behind her back, terror at the fire burning in those cold eyes. "W-what do you want?" Steve's cold voice curdled into a growl as he stared at the Annihilist witch. "I wanted to be free of you, Tarva the Black, but look at you now! Wandering the streets of this city outside of your cage? Casting your spells? Writing who knows what horrible plans?" He turned anger into purpose, turned the urge to grab her by the neck into a surge forward that caught her by the wrist. "Be grateful that it is an ally who holds you captive, woman, or I would surely call the Freedom League and make some suggestions to your confinement." He pulled, and she pulled back, but his strength was far greater than hers. "Mercy! Please, mercy!" Tarva called, "Please, I only wanted to-" Steve came within an inch, a bare inch, of driving his fist against her face - and the thought must have shown on his, because she fell instantly silent. "You beg me for mercy. You beg me. For mercy." Armor erupted across his skin as holo-emitters came to life, transforming him into the armored figure of Caradoc, Tarva briefly crying out in alarm as armor shifted against her skin where his hand gripped her wrist. He didn't speak; instead he began picking her up so that he could fly her directly to the Dutemps Building. The sooner this was done, the better.

April 1, 2015 Dutemps Castle "They are not your slaves, Tarva." Furion's rage tempered by the coolness of Earth-Prime, Bluebird fixed a level gaze on Tarva, arms crossed over her chest, a face watching Tarva from the latter's personal computer. "They have a world that is theirs, a city that is theirs, and mighty laws and unions to guard them. If you speak to the cleaning staff like that, they will simply quit, and _you_ will have to explain to Blue Fox why you have driven away her handfast vassals." Her big blue eyes narrowed. "Do you think she will like what you said? Do you think she will laugh?" "No. No, she will not." Tarva looked away guiltily, shadows flushing in her cheeks. "I thought it a jest, to play to my-" "Would it have been a joke before, daughter of Nihilor?" asked Bluebird, her usual cheerful voice serious. "...yes," said Tarva, surrounding herself with a protective blanket of shadow. "But a true jest all the same. Please, please message them and tell them my apologies. I try so hard to be of this place, and I fail sometimes, but...I want to. I want to be a daughter of Earth-Prime." Bluebird let out a breath - an affectation for a projected consciousness. "You are a child in the soul, Tarva." It was, despite everything else, a statement of affection. "I will extend apologies. But then it must be _you_ who apologizes, shadow-witch, and takes them back to Blue Fox's bosom." "You are right. I will go write one." Tarva rose to her feet, a look of determination on her face. "I have procured several books on the subject, and with my vast brain I will surely find some..." The swinging doors closed behind her, cutting off her monologue. Bluebird herself made an appearance a few minutes later, in an immaterial holographic form. She looked around the room for a few moments before her eyes settled on one corner. "Ghost Girl." She smiled cheerfully. "Oh, was I not supposed to spy you?"

The Terminus High above the Silver Tree, deep in the cold red space of the Terminus itself, darkness billowed from the nothingness. It formed first into a black crescent that glowed with an impossible black radiance, then from the crescent there swelled a long spear with a pentagram at the tip. From the crescent resolved the figure of a pale-skinned woman, the spear in one hand and the crescent of shadow billowing behind her like a cape - her eyes deep voids of blackness as she looked down at the world of the Furions beneath her. Clutching her weapon, which was Starkiller, the slayer of suns in her hand, she waited in the void until the Furions came for her - and when they surrounded her, weapons glowing, she threw aside Starkiller and declared in a booming voice that resounded even in the true vacuum of the Terminus. "I am Tarva the Terrible! I bring grave tidings from the streets of Nihilor. But I will speak only to the Fleet-Footed!" --- March 1, 2014 As happens more often than you'd think, a swirling dimensional portal opened above the Martel Castle suspended itself a full hundred stories above Freedom City. Out stepped a man, if that was a man, all in black - the darkness of his garb marred by silvery lines that criss-crossed his muscular body in an abstract pattern and by his facemask - a white goat's face like that of Baphomet himself! Wielding a staff that glowed with searing red flame at the tip, he folded his arms expectantly and awaited in cold silence the arrival of his host and her escorts - for this was Scavros the Scarred, darkest and most terrifying of the Furions!

Tuesday, October 1st, 6:44 PM The Dutemps Building bustled with activity as the various office workers and residents of its lower and mid-levels shared space with the construction workers and ubiquitous scaffolding wrapping around the skyscraper like wireframe chrysalis. The hewn stone of the fantastical addition to the tower's upper levels was beginning to take shape, promising to be a memorable addition to the Freedom City skyline but most of the people forced to detour around cordoned-off area or squeeze into elevators alongside power tools seemed to be counting the days to its completion. One young woman had entirely different matters distracting her as she politely apologized for bumping into yet another person in the crowded lobby and made her way to an elevator. On the taller side, the unremarkable taupe trenchcoat she wore, fiddling absentmindedly with the buckles, concealed most of her athletic frame while the snow white streak in her otherwise dark, chocolate brown hair drew some small amount of attention. The other elevator riders were too consumed in their own schedules to pay her much mind, though one gossip-minded administrative assistant couldn't help but notice that the young woman selected the highest floor still open during construction after checking a room number jotted down on her phone. The last person to exit before the elevator headed back down, the young woman hesitated, having to shoot out a hand to stop the doors from closing when she took a moment too long. The sliding metal creaked in protest at the unexpected resistance but she slipped into the opulent hallway and let them shut behind her. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at her reflection in the floor to ceiling windows and quickly rubbed a bit of errant dirt from one cheek off on the back of a sleeve. Walking the rest of the way to the end of the hall she knocked quickly on the door as though worried she would loose her nerve otherwise.