ic Gallia Renaître : Little Goth Lost (IC)

[Supercape]

Rene stroked his beard, feeling naked and fragile without the Iron Ring, forged from the basest of metals, born of Nercomancers he had defeated many years ago. Without it, his bones and flesh would snap like any other man's. He was, in truth, a helpless old man. 

 

Well, maybe not totally helpless. 

 

As he pondered the state of affairs, he felt a nagging sense of something unnatural, odd. And perhaps, familiar. 

 

"There is always ze bigger fish" replied Rene to the King of Suits. "Some portray themselves as strong, some as weak. I find ze latter is ze better way. I don't make a tasty meal..." he said, casting eyes around. 

 

"But still, I feel something amiss here, as if I was a meal. As if something is watching..."

[Ari]

"That's the truth, my friend," agreed the younger man, bright blue eyes darting about the room "every time Aloysius and I introduced ourselves as defenders of the weak in some small, forgotten town, something horrible happened."

 

Dodging around a small gaggle of girls in black lace, he paused for a second, considering the air in front of him "Perhaps we shouldn't have said such things to to the biggest bastard we could find. Or, at least, not to their face." Marceau shrugged, life was full of regrets and might-have-beens. Even one as rich and ardent as his.

 

"As to the matter of your eerie feeling...I feel it too." The incognito King of Suits frowned a little "I envy your second-sight and understanding of what we face, de Saens, I'd give much for it. Right now we seem to have blundered into the bear's den, and the only thing worse than a bear(and I never thought I would say that) is one you cannot see." Rubbing his face a little, the crimefighter silently steeled himself for whatever was to come. "If, for the sake of discussion, you were a superhuman spirit with a drive for vengeance, how would you strike at possible meddlers in the midst of a crowded convention?"

[Supercape]

Rene considered the question carefully. Marceau's razor sharp mind had once again hit the nail on the head. 

 

How indeed?

 

His memories cast over the years, now dim and distant. But he would never forget Gallia, ever since his first enigmatic encounter with her at the time of troubles in France. She had only seemed more twisted as the years and centuries past. 

 

"I would incite the crowd to rend us limb from limb, in a Dionysian frenzy" he said, glumly, aware of what a huge throng of people were here. An emotional throng of people. 

 

"I would paint us as the aggressor, the villain, the enemy, and console myself in my own righteousness" he sighed. "That would be the taste of satisfaction. To know one is right, rather than to question it, this is the seduction for the weak" he explained. 

 

"And given our present circumstances, I fear we have walked into a pit..."

[Ari]

That was a scenario Marceau had dreaded considering. Gallia had already shown she could command the wills of others, so she could all too easily do that here, and it would be hard to fight against a mind-controlled mob while trying to get Rene to safety. "Happy thoughts, my friend," he told the ancient painter with a gentle smile "we are in a bear pit, but we can at least quickly leave it. My grapple gun is ever-ready, and those rafters are admirably close to the windows. Besides," he nodded his close-shorn head to the hulking figure of the wandering Lancaster Witch "she might have stripped you of your sharper claws, but if Gallia starts anything I am sure we can count on her for aid. Evil, murderous spirits have few friends among scientists. So, let us keep alert yet relaxed, and enjoy being bewildered by the Moderne Yuthe."

 

Reaching over to politely tap a young lady in something frilly and anachronistic on the shoulder, the lean Frenchman beamed cheerily as he said "M'excuse, ma'mselle, are there any special guests expected? Me and my painterly amis" slapping Rene a little on the back and putting his arm around the old mage's shoulder "are newly arrived, and full of le curiosité for your strange Anglais goth customs!"