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[IC] (Promethean: The Created 2E) Muddy Waters

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  • Earth
    Conditions: Patient, Watched, Connected (Winnipeg Ramble), Informed (Cuprum)
    Alembics: Verto (0), Stereo Humor (0), Arc (0)
    Health: OOOOOOOOOO | Willpower: 5/5 | Pyros: 12/12 | Beats: 2/5 | Vitriol Beats: 2/5


    Earth has been noticeably more chill for the last couple days. It's weird, even to her. But at least no one's been electrocuted!

    She came with the rest of the throng, but she's been sitting and watching more than talking. Seeing Satin sparks her interest enough to head over. "You're looking witchier than ever. How's the ghost world look tonight?"



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    • Mark 5
      Conditions: Tenacious, Guilty, Inspired
      Alembics: Hygeius (0), Motus (0), Charites (0), Unbroken (0), Unconquered (0), Unfettered (0)
      Health:OOOOOOOOOO | Willpower: 6/6 | Pyros: 11/11 | Beats: 3/5 | Vitriol Beats: 4/5
      Experiences: 2 I Vitriol Experiences 0




      This was... nice.
      Mark 5 didn't know if he deserved something like that, but he enjoyed the comfort of the others. It made him feel less alone, and it certainly made him feel more ready to tackle problems.

      The cold weather didn't bother him really, so he wore the same things he always did: black shirt and a pair of jeans. People recently started looking at him funny, so he carried a worn, dirty old mantle someone discarded under his arm. Out there, the Created had to fit in. But here, he didn't need to hide himself, like he does when he goes out as the Breaker.
      Unlike last time, he was less at rest at the Ramble. He was... looking for someone. Searching. But he didn't know who he was looking for - and neither did he know how to approach them and ask them.
      So if he could not find one, he'd just do the same as last time, and would speak to the whole of them. Maybe someone among them could help. Maybe - hopefully - there was a Light-Bringer among them.
      He just hoped his other message would not ruin his chances.

      For now, he just enjoyed the company. He waved at any Promethean he knew, and everyone that seemed friendly or unusual.
      He greeted some of them with a slightly-off jovial "Hi. I am Mark 5. How are you?"

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      • Adonis
        Conditions/Tilts: Masked (Refinement), Connected (Erwin, Persistent; Katerina, Persistent) Disquiet (Waitress, Stage 1), Callous
        Alembics: Eros (0), Assimilate (0), Stalker (0), Eris (0)
        Health: OOOOOOO I WP: 5/5 I Pyros 10/10
        Beats: 2/5 I Vitriol Beats: 1/5
        Experiences: 1 I Vitriol Experiences 1


        Adonis returns to his apartment at the day's end. He thinks back over the events of this insane day: inflicting Disquiet on the waitress, finding Mark 5 amidst the shredded corpses of the IC members, and the brawl that had erupted between him and Earth as a result. The end result of the battle he had prevented a month ago, the flood he had tried to hold back a month ago. He had known that a full-on fight between the two Named would be terrible to see, but he hadn't expected a Firestorm, to feel his blood turn to acid and feel an awful excitement at it.

        He had tried to stop the fight again, endangered himself when Earth's fury was at its greatest. And seemingly, the Divine Fire had rewarded him for it. He had felt more confident, like his gold had been put into a crucible, and come out all the better for it. But he had lessened himself almost- he had turned his blood to ice water to make Katerina compliant and useful. And she was, no doubt about it- if they ever needed an ally on the police force, all he would have to do would be to talk to her and she would do anything in her power for them. She was the perfect in. So why did that bother him? The crowds of people he passed every day... even Erwin... tools or obstacles to be manipulated as he saw fit. He hadn't been this way last time yesterday. He had done it to himself by letting his Azoth scorch himself, rather than Katerina. He had to undo it, but how? How did he let it go?

        Adonis slams his mattress in frustration. "Fuck!"
        The days and nights he spends with Erwin are... nice. He knows Erwin cares about him, maybe even loves him. He can fake the emotion, but it's so hollow. But he's happy for any contact with a human who actually likes him, one who seems resistant to Disquiet. He frequently steers their conversations towards learning more about Amalgama: who the employees are, what everybody is like. He even visits him during the work day, getting the lay of the land and a sense of the atmosphere. Tie up this loose end. End this threat. So long as Amalgama is operational in Winnipeg, we are all in danger.

        Adonis will attempt to get more information from Erwin about Amalgama, in anticipation of bringing down the Winnipeg branch of the company. He'll be attempting ten Social Maneuvering rolls on Erwin, as an extended action over the course of the Interlude to represent time spent with Erwin. Manipulation 3 + Persuasion 3 + Area of Expertise 2 = 8 dice. 5 successes, 1 success, 0 successes, 2 successes, 6 successes, 2 successes, 4 successes, 3 successes, 3 successes, 3 successes. If that doesn't get Adonis plenty of information he can use on Amalgama, I don't know what will.

        I'll also spend that normal Experience to get a dot of True Friend for Erwin. I also realized that I needed another Aspiration, so I want to add "Bring down Amalgama in Winnipeg" as Adonis' new Aspiration.



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        • Scout
          Conditions: Introspective, Informed (Amalgama LTD), Inspired (Azoth), Inspired (Alchemy)
          Alembics: Heed the Call (0) Plumb the Fathoms (0) Internalize (0) Weaponize (0)
          Health: OOOOOO | Willpower: 3/6 | Pyros: 5/13 | Beats: 0/5 | Vitriol Beats: 4/5
          XP: 1 | VXP: 1


          Scout had spent every day after meeting with Tom planning. He'd spent a solid day on how to get back to Old Mexico and where he should look. Another on what to do about the situation with Amalgama. The next day was nothing but reviews about what he'd learned in that day with Tom Barebones. By the time the Ramble came around, everyone had at least suffered through some of Scout's unusual talkative moments. He'd practically demanded that after the Ramble he speak with Adonis about the notes Tom had given him.

          As he arrived at the Ramble, however, Scout had gone quiet again. His outfit hadn't changed much- a blue hoodie sweater that made a strange face with dark eyes, large white teeth, and long floppy ears when it was pushed over his head. One of the people at The Salvation Army had said it looked cute, but when he put it on and looked up at her, she'd given him this strange look then bustled off. The hood was pulled up, and he wandered over to his fellow Nepri, listening to them. He waved at Tom when he saw him, but didn't approach him right away. He was supposed to get to know more of his fellow Nepri- or at least, he thought that sounded like what he was supposed to do.
          Last edited by ArchonAres; 05-10-2017, 09:23 AM.

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          • Adonis

            For now, Erwin seems to be holding out against Disquiet, but you have no idea if it's a side effect of his alchemical experimentation, or a matter of will to maintain the relationship against the scorching obsession of the Flame Immortal. He already knows that Erwin is likely working for Amalgama under duress, and one evening, when he first turns his callous and analytical mind towards the problem, turning the charm onto Erwin, it seems like a dam simply gave way under the pressure of his discontent. Erwin starts telling him everything, about how the company was more mercenary than he had let on, how working for them as a 'consultant' was the only way to reverse the cash flow from spending absurd amounts of money getting materials he needed, how the pharmaceuticals were mostly just good press and padding for their shadier corporate mercenary contract dealings. He'd seen some files. They were willing to do anything... for the right price.

            When Amalgama first got their hooks into him, Erwin was working on something he called Crucible Theory, the idea that the body's immune systems reacted viscerally and unusually to certain biologically active chemical compounds, working its way into immunological memory, and would eventually be passed along to the organism's offspring. The results, Erwin proposed, could be fantastical, but nothing that much stranger than what the body could already do. It almost got him kicked out of med school. He experimented on himself with spagyrics and tinctures, he looked into biological uses of different metals and how that could affect the results, he even (he said this with a chuckle) looked into alchemical practices. When he finally started getting real results, Amalgama scalped him. Erwin finally realized what he was telling his boyfriend, and clammed up. Amalgama was dangerous, he's seen his coworkers, and the higher-ups in the company, can do impossible things; things that Erwin had never even dreamed of being able to accomplish with Crucible Theory.

            The next couple of days, with little success, Adonis gets nowhere with his boyfriend. He even shows up at his workplace, only for Erwin to quickly, and in something of a protective panic, ushers him out of the building almost immediately, though security gives Adonis something of a peculiar look. But, finally, Adonis gets Erwin to open up again. It seems the alchemist has been plotting an escape from Amalgama, and wants to hurt them on his way out. Turn over as much information on their... peculiar and illegal activities to the government as he can. Adonis has convinced him that he can be trusted, and so Erwin and Adonis conspire together.

            OOC: Adonis gains the Informed (Amalgama LTD) Condition and the Steadfast Condition.

            The Forks


            Satin grins at their Named acquaintance, pulling back the hood on their parka and readjusting their braid, offering a hand to shake "It's good to see you Earth, we haven't seen much of you all here on the Friday meetings. Figured you all wanted to space. Been hearing some interesting rumours going around the city about someone calling themselves Darkstorm- the tags look a lot like Pilgrim Marks. That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?"

            Meanwhile, Mark 5 found himself mingling with the other Named that were there by a carving of a lion. They are among the most numerous Lineage, and each have their own peculiar markings and tattoos, for they have all been inscribed with the Word that brought them from the fires of the Principle and into life. Tom Barebones, something of an isolated recluse, is curled up with his notepad and tape recorder, while the other Tammuz share stories. He sees a newcomer, sitting in the middle, a little girl in a filthy white dress, caked in hardened red clay that moves like flesh even though it possesses the durability of terracotta. She seems to be sharing her own Ramble, with the other Named taking her Measure. She isn't obviously inscribed, but where the clay is cracked, flaking, and missing, you can see writing on the underside of the clay.

            And Scout has mingled in with the other Nepri, aloof and intellectual, trading bits of folklore, testing the keenness of one another's minds. There is a particular tall man, gaunt and with a shaved head and large, square, curly beard. His skin is a deep dark blue, and he wears a long canvas coat, his chest bound in bandages, arms crossed. This is Solomon, senior-most Osirian in the city, and a (relatively) well-known Cathar. Impurity is the focus of his study, and the intimate knowledge of how easily people are manipulated, and how they can break socially and psychologically, has left him a little disillusioned, but he isn't going to turn from the Pilgrimage. He needs context. "Eagle Scout," he says pleasantly "nice to see you again. I put the word out that Highwinds' child was looking for a way down south, and hopefully people will get back to us soon. Pilgrims need to help each other along the road." He notices the normally taciturn Scout practically bursting with energy and raises an eyebrow "Well? What is it. Obviously you've got something you want to share."


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            • Scout
              Conditions: Introspective, Informed (Amalgama LTD), Inspired (Azoth), Inspired (Alchemy)
              Alembics: Heed the Call (0) Plumb the Fathoms (0) Internalize (0) Weaponize (0)
              Health: OOOOOO | Willpower: 3/6 | Pyros: 5/13 | Beats: 0/5 | Vitriol Beats: 4/5
              XP: 1 | VXP: 1


              Scout was anxious at being addressed, and bit his lip- a habit he'd picked up from a movie.

              "Well... you may have heard about a recent Firestorm in the city. I had the opportunity to observe it, and received an Elpis vision for my pain."

              Scout paused and looked around to see if anyone else was listening, "I saw a rebis. It, like everything caught in the storm, was in pain. Marred by torment and flux. It helped me see how to stop the Firestorm."

              Scout stopped again, looking nervous. This was a big claim, but soothing the Torment of Olmec had stopped the Firestorm, he was certain.
              Last edited by ArchonAres; 05-10-2017, 09:23 AM.

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              • Earth shakes. Weird ritual, but she likes it. Physical communication instead of words feels right.

                "We've been dealing with our own stuff. Humans started calling me Darkstorm after I vented in the North End for a few weeks, and I went along with it. People have called me all kinds of things. I think it says more about the namer than the Named. Like, I guess Darkstorm is a thunderbird wearing a human mask? I dunno where they got that. Have you ever met a thunderbird?"

                "I've been thinking I wanna hang up that name. I've emptied out all my Pandorans into the world, and I haven't looked at what's left in the box without Torment. All I've ever known is Stannum, though. I was built for Ferrum, screwed that up. Heh. And I was a Fury on either side of the big lacuna. I haven't really seriously tried a different Refinement."


                She scratches behind her ears. "You're...what are you, Satin? Silver?"


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                • Mark 5
                  Conditions: Tenacious, Guilty, Inspired
                  Alembics: Hygeius (0), Motus (0), Charites (0), Unbroken (0), Unconquered (0), Unfettered (0)
                  Health:OOOOOOOOOO | Willpower: 6/6 | Pyros: 11/11 | Beats: 3/5 | Vitriol Beats: 4/5
                  Experiences: 2 I Vitriol Experiences 0


                  The Titan looked at the lion for a while. He could always appreciate craftsmanship, even though he was more of a wood-guy himself.
                  He was really stalling, though, and once he realized that, became annoyed with himself. Despite wanting to talk to Tom Barebones (he was smart, he knew a lot, surely he'd be able to help), he didn't go to him immediately.
                  The newcomer seemed intriguing.
                  And so, he went and joined the other Tammuz and listened to her tales.

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                  • The Forks

                    When Scout makes his announcement, the local Nepri get very, very still. Solomon takes a half step forwards, crossing his arms across his chest, his head at a quizzical tilt, eyes narrowed. "That so, Eagle Scout? Big claim, that. How did you do it? What alchemy did you draw on?" Some of the others are muttering to one another. At least one or two seem to have heard of a rebis before. One Nepri without a tongue is texting with elegantly swift fingers to a companion, who is staring intently at the screen of their own phone, nodding, and typing back, far more slowly, as they appear to be missing a finger or two. He has their attention, now he needs to keep it. Trial by fire.

                    Satin flashes Earth a proud smile. You can see their teeth are a little bit crooked, but it fits. Satin is silk, butterfly and spider, and they live hard. There's bound to be frayed edges, places where the world tried to rip and tear, but Satin is still here. The things that tried to shred them are not. "Damn. You certainly don't let the stories do the heavy lifting on your reputation, do you? Can't say I've met a thunderbird, but I haven't wandered far enough west to say for sure. Seen a lot of weird things on my road though, I've danced for the dead and in the shadow of the world, and I've danced where thorns would tear at your soul, but when they tried to grab hold all they got was burned." A fierce little smirk, a glow of triumph in their eyes "Silver is right, good guess, so I'm more of a moon person than a sun person, even if the Fire blazes hotter when dawn breaks. Who knows, maybe that will change. Maybe I'll give gold a try after this, but gold is a soft metal, and I am not soft. Not sure I ever want to be." Satin pauses, thinking, and gives Earth a serious up and down, looking intently at Earth's palm in the one hand they have a hold of, as if seeing something no one else can.

                    "You've tilled yourself well, but you need to know the soil before you plant the garden. Learning the Earth, eh? Moving to Copper? That's good. New is good. Change is good. Onwards towards the dawn is good. Just take care of yourself. You look close enough and anyone can find imperfections. Just... don't stare too hard at yourself, alright? Promise me you'll take care of yourself Earth?"

                    The Titan Mark 5 stands amongst his kin, and listens to the newcomer, so small and doll-like, but radiating a decent amount of Azothic heat. It might be her Inscription giving off a bit of a burn to give weight to her words, and you can see the exposed writing glower a bit, but it might just be that the little Golem is hiding a potent furnace in that tiny body. She chose the name Isla, she was saying, because everyone is an island; she read that at the Manitoba Museum, it was on one of the first signs. She didn't know who her genitor (or Demiurge) was, just that they had been ever so careful to wrap her in clay, inscribe her in a way she couldn't see. Were they ashamed of what they wrote? Was she not meant to see it? Isla doesn't know, but she keeps every piece of her shell that breaks off. Woke up in a coffin underground and stayed there for a good long while, hammering away until the seal cracked and the loose dirt let her swim to the surface. She's made her own way for many a long day now, she's not sure how long, careful to bury herself back up in the earth every night. The earth is supposed to be the mother of the first humans, isn't it? And what kind of girl would she be if she stayed away from mother. She keeps trying to go to a school, but she can never quite pull off being a "kid". It's hard enough figuring out humans, how was Isla to know that humans thought they were different at different ages? From what Isla can tell, it's a load of crap, people are people, but it matters to the humans, so it's the sort of thing she wants to know.

                    She came to the Ramble hoping someone could tell her about parents and siblings. A Muse, maybe, who had given it a shot, or gotten up close.


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                    • Adonis
                      Conditions/Tilts: Masked (Refinement), Connected (Erwin, Persistent; Katerina, Persistent) Disquiet (Waitress, Stage 1), Callous
                      Alembics: Eros (0), Assimilate (0), Stalker (0), Eris (0)
                      Health: OOOOOOO I WP: 5/5 I Pyros 10/10
                      Beats: 2/5 I Vitriol Beats: 1/5
                      Experiences: 1 I Vitriol Experiences 1


                      At the Ramble, Adonis leaves the others to mingle as they wish. He sees Earth talking to Satin, the Ulgan. Does Earth have feelings for Satin? Even with the effects of the Divine Fire turning his blood cold, he has never found another Created attractive. He has marveled at the construction of some, but in the same way humans admire the artistry of a stone statue. Maybe it was a consequence of Sharon making him for the purpose of being her lover, or because of his Refinement of Aurum. He doesn't judge Earth for any fascination she has for Satin.

                      He walks over to the other Muses, and spreads his hands in greeting. ‚Äč"Hello, everybody. It's been a while. Some of you may have heard about what my Throng has been up to in the past few weeks." He launches into a retelling of the events of the Firestorm- Mark 5's murderous rampage, Earth's violent response, his own attempt to stop them, the horror of the mutations, the small voice that whispered to him afterwards. He leaves out the part about his arousal at the effects of Flux on his body, and how Earth attacked Mark 5 even as he tried to shield her from the monster of his vision. "I feel different. Like my time in Aurum may be coming to an end soon, and something is starting to show through. The members of my Throng... they need guidance. I feel like more and more, I am trying to preserve their progress on the Pilgrimage. Is there anyone among us who has taken Bronze?" After the Muses answer, he licks his lips. "There's something else. I feel cold, cousins." He explains the encounter with Katerina, the way he hid his Disfigurements and froze his blood. "Any Mimics or Cathars here who know how to deal with this? Please. I have a... a boyfriend. And I don't want to keep treating him like a tool."


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                      • Scout
                        Conditions: Introspective, Informed (Amalgama LTD), Inspired (Azoth), Inspired (Alchemy)
                        Alembics: Heed the Call (0) Plumb the Fathoms (0) Internalize (0) Weaponize (0)
                        Health: OOOOOO | Willpower: 3/6 | Pyros: 5/13 | Beats: 0/5 | Vitriol Beats: 4/5
                        XP: 1 | VXP: 1


                        Scout nodded slowly at that. Okay that was a good sign. "I... drew upon the same energies that my fellow Originists do. As I can calm the torment of a Promethean and drive the flux from his flames, and had done so moments prior to this Firestorm on Mark V," Scout paused to point out Mark V for the record, "So did I call upon it in that moment of clarity. As I watched the Rebis, twisted in agony, I reached out with my energy and sought to calm the Torment within it, and drive out it's flux. I wasn't even sure it would do anything to the firestorm, at first. But then Olmec reacted to me, and spoke to me, and the firestorm subsided. It promised me wisdom, and spoke of how to progress along the path." he paused, then shrugged as he considered an alternative, "I suppose it's entirely possible it was Olmec that ended the firestorm once it's torment was ended. But I cannot know for certain until I speak with them again."

                        Scout waited now, to see how the others reacted to this information. He liked to believe his actions had directly ended the firestorm, but there was the off chance that Olmec had done so once it had been freed. He hadn't thought of that before now.

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                        • Earth
                          Conditions: Patient, Watched, Connected (Winnipeg Ramble), Informed (Cuprum)
                          Alembics: Verto (0), Stereo Humor (0), Arc (0)
                          Health: OOOOOOOOOO | Willpower: 5/5 | Pyros: 12/12 | Beats: 2/5 | Vitriol Beats: 2/5

                          Earth nods slowly with wide eyes at the dance for the dead-shadow of the world-thorns tearing souls bit. "I dunno what half of that meant, but it's badass. Whenever I listen to you talk about your world, I get this feeling like...fuck humanity, man. I want what you have so, so bad. Aurum is fool's gold. You've seen what's real. You shine better in the dark, anyway."

                          Satin's doing a palm reading. Earth, terror of the Manitoba plains, is slowly turning red. The Ulgan's words are buzzing and not really registering all the way, in the way that words fade away for Named when something more important is happening. She says: "You're still holding my hand."

                          Her humors are out of balance, so blood rushing to her face and heart is hard to process. Hopeless melancholic black bile is easier to fall back on. "I'm uh- probably being a fucking moron like always- but if you're trying to tell me you uh,want something- it's not good to get close to me like that. I hurt my last girl really, really bad. Tying my chain to somebody else won't help me change. This'll only work if the only one I'm letting down is me. So- no promise. Bye."

                          With her cheeks and brow hot in the dark, Earth pulls her hand back, shoves it in her jacket, and scurries off to the riverbank. Cool! Gold star! Great job! Embodying the Hermit!


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                          • Mark 5
                            Conditions: Tenacious, Guilty, Inspired
                            Alembics: Hygeius (0), Motus (0), Charites (0), Unbroken (0), Unconquered (0), Unfettered (0)
                            Health:OOOOOOOOOO | Willpower: 6/6 | Pyros: 11/11 | Beats: 3/5 | Vitriol Beats: 4/5
                            Experiences: 2 I Vitriol Experiences 0



                            Mark 5 listened to the tale, and found himself reminiscing about those very first days, when all was confusion, and nothing made sense.
                            He hadn't realized it so far, but he DID make progress on his Pilgrimage, didn't he? He had learned so much about humans.
                            Maybe, he will even learn what it truly means to be human one day.
                            Not knowing about your inscription, though? That was hard. The Tammuz imagined not knowing his Inscription - SURVIVOR- and what'd mean for him.
                            He shook his head. Poor thing. He remembered how he learned about how his body works, how the muscles function, let him move. All he had to do was pry them free, and what little pain he endured had been well worth it. So, Mark 5 apporached Isla:"Have you tried pricking the clay off, to look at what lies beneath?"
                            The Titan has a smattering of experience to share when it came to humans, too: "Kids are small humans. Their bodies are weaker, more frail. You will often see adults and old humans try to shape the new ones, to give them form, make them learn something. Like when you take a piece of wood, and carefully carve it into something that is useful, or fun to look at. And that takes time, which is why they are sad if something happens to the small ones. That's at least part of why they are treated differently."
                            If he was honest, he didn't know what the other parts were. He had to think about how someone spend a lot of time in shaping the ones he broke, and his mood fell again. Searching for a Muse? Well, there was a Muse he could direct her towards, couldn't he? "I know a Muse. The name's Adonis." He pointed the Muse out. "If you want to talk to him, tell him Mark 5 sent you. Maybe he can answer some of your questions."

                            With that, the Titan sat down, and waited for his turn. He'd talk about some things, about the Torment, about the massacre he commited, about the Firestorm and his Vision. Then he'd go see Tom Barebones, he told himself.
                            For now, thoughts bubbled in his head. Parents and siblings and children worried sick somewhere, waiting for someone to come home... who will never come back. Because he made it so. Not only did he take their lifes - he'd harmed others, too! Was that more guilt he'd have to carry?

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                            • The Forks

                              Adonis has never really mingled with his Lineage here before, but he certainly wasn't expecting them to all be so... different. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but would you really want to see through the gazes that had crafted such a beautiful and grotesque chorus? There is a man built to be the ideal for certain men, built not for love, but for adoration, a muscle-bound hulk ready to burst his skin, folding carefully the paper in his hand over and over until it becomes something new. There is an androgynous child with curled ringlets, a perfect wig sewn into their scalp with tiny sutures from translucent deep sea fishing line who looks like they've been living hard intentionally, trying to look less like a doll. A woman whose body is covered in razor-thin scars, nip here, tuck there, shave bone, inject silicone. An unfinished canvas that tore itself from a perfectionist who would never be finished. Men built by women, built for dexterity and tenderness, holding themselves tight as it afraid to fall apart. A woman, classically statuesque in her beauty, cyanosis at her lips, on her eyelids, her fingertips. Blood pooled and hardened in erogenous zones, a perpetual violet flush. A scarf around her neck. There are, after all, so few ways to die beautiful. People born for others who try to live for themselves, perfume-sweet hair and poison-heavy breath.

                              The musclebound hulk steps forwards. He is... enormous. Bigger than any human Adonis has ever seen. Bigger than any Created Adonis has ever seen, and there are some pretty big Golems and Wretches out there. His voice rumbles like distant thunder, but it is quiet. As if once upon a time he did nothing but yell, until he learned what it did to others, and is frightened of the sound of his own voice. Each phrase is short and clipped, like he's preventing his chest from billowing out and accidentally roaring. "I am Jax. I am a Sentry. I can teach, if you will learn."

                              A woman speaks up from the ground with quiet command in a red silk dress, "You burned yourself cousin. The alchemy wants out, the Fire wants to burn. All transmutations produce byproducts," she waves faintly "and if not Disquiet then an imbalance of your own humours. You want the blood to run again, chase it where it flows. Indulge that feeling, disregard the humans around you, they do it all the time. Learn from your weakness." Her cold silver eyes, sitting behind bruised lids, are alight, "I can help you find someone, if you want. I know where to find people who would worship you. But, there is another way. I am a Cathar. I know the alchemy to get inside your head, make it go away. Let me in?"

                              When Earth starts talking Satin doesn't say anything. They just stand and wait for the Named to be done. They've dealt with Pariahs before, you can just tell. The Ramble lets Earth go, but that's the way of it. They all know what it's like to need time to yourself, whether that's due to Torment, Refinement, or mood, and no one begrudges Earth the space. It is just Earth and the Red River, nearly black under the night sky, starting to freeze over. But Earth knows that in the daylight it is brown with mud and silt. The city is named for it; Winnipeg, Muddy Waters. Muddy, opaque, cyclical, predictable, wild. That is the nature of the Red. Maybe it isn't just Earth and the River. Maybe it is just Earth and their reflection.

                              The Titan approaches Isla and the little Golem looks scared when Mark 5 suggests that she pick off the clay that covers her body "I-I can't read." There's a little hiccupy sob "And no one I've met knows what it says. I've kept every piece in this bag," she hefts a backpack that was resting in the snow, purple with a face on it "but it isn't big enough for all of me... I don't know what I'll do when it all goes away." Mark 5 explains what little he knows of adult attitudes towards children, and Isla makes a face that is difficult to read, but might be disgust, you think. "Shape them, like whoever made us?" She seems angry with that, muttering under her breath- stupid, so stupid, doesn't make any sense "Why can't they shape themselves," her voice doesn't come out as a whine, the way you'd expect, but a kind of frustrated anguish "we have to. We all have to, all of us Pilgrims. We shape ourselves, and then we make it to Dawn, and then what? What will I have? People who will just want something from me? People who will try to tell me what to be, how to change?" She sits herself down, fuming a little, staring in irritation at the backpack.

                              "I'll go see your friend when I'm ready."

                              The Nepri around Scout listen intently, and Solomon raises an eyebrow at the name 'Olmec' but none of them question it. The Created live in a world of alchemy and miracles, so what's another incredible story? They've all learned that it's safer, and far more polite, to shut up, briefly believe, and discuss doubts in private with those they trust later. Solomon uncrosses his arms, and instead places them in his pockets, looking thoughtfully at the pint-sized Osirian.

                              "Well, damn, Eagle Scout. Not a bad feather to stick in your cap. You saw this Rebis when Elpis had you? You do know what you see when Elpis has your eyes, right? It's the Fire, the Azoth, coming from the inside. It talks to you. What makes you so sure that, uh, 'Olmec', isn't just you? Why try and talk to it again?" He pauses, thinking. "Highwinds ever talk about the Concordance?"


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                              • Mark 5
                                Conditions: Tenacious, Guilty, Inspired
                                Alembics: Hygeius (0), Motus (0), Charites (0), Unbroken (0), Unconquered (0), Unfettered (0)
                                Health:OOOOOOOOOO | Willpower: 6/6 | Pyros: 11/11 | Beats: 3/5 | Vitriol Beats: 4/5
                                Experiences: 2 I Vitriol Experiences 0



                                Mark 5 sat down opposite to her. He pitied the small Golem, because he well remembered the time letters didn't make sense to him. Oh, what a pain it was: Messages everywhere, and only he was excluded! Isolation is horrible thing. And oh, what a revelation reading proved to be - that X-Men Comic had been life-changing!
                                He wonders about books though - he always lost interest after the first few pages. Why anyone would read them was beyond him. Comics were far better. But then, a comic only took him an hour or two, and they told a whole story. A book was wordy, and within an hour or two he would have very little of a story.
                                "That won't do, you need to learn it. Reading is so very helpful. It is hard at first, but it gets easier. May I take a look at your Words?"
                                He knew that there were different languages. Maybe this was in a different language?
                                The Titan took note of the indignation and the anger. This one was impatient yet. And while he could understand her, the Titan inside him felt that she was on the wrong road there."Not that simple. Not the same. We are shaped by someone else, then shape ourselves. You think Humans aren't like that, too? To get somewhere, you have to start someplace else. I was made to be a Titan, but it was my decision to become a Titan, to make myself hardy, to challenge myself. I have seen humans do the same and become strong and hard, and seen humans do the opposite and become weak and soft. Decisions, big and small, good...and bad... they built up, gather, make us who we are, doesn't matter if you are human or Created. I don't know what there will be after the Dawn - how could I? But I believe that it is worth everything, for you will have a human soul. You will not be isolated anymore. And you know what? If there is just enough Iron left in me after the Dawn, I will be good! Because when someone makes life hard on you, you have to push through." He smacked his hands together forcefully at through, producing a loud noise."You will be better for it. I am thankful for challenges: they help me understand me. They help me learn new things. People will be trying to tell you how to be? Go ahead, and show them that they are wrong. You will be human - and unlike them, you will have earned it, on every step on the way you will have clawed your way up! You will be able to tell them how to be. Humans argue about that a lot, by the way."
                                Last edited by Wormwood; 05-22-2017, 02:52 AM.

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