Log:Cutting Fate's Strings

The Madness of David Flyte 2020/02/27 Grimm Charity Dialydd Radical 38

On the evening news: The famous horror author gone insane, David Flyte, was broken out of the Blank Asylum earlier this evening. Other patients escaped during the confusion, including Clarissa Davis, also known as Dolly Dark. The Asylum director has refused to comment. Police note that Flyte and Davis are dangerous. Do not approach. More news on this developing story as it unfolds...

So, the scene changes, it is early afternoon, chilly but not badly so as late winter days go in CB, but it is humid so the chill has a nip. Copper Skeins is open for business, the metal grate lifted high and tucked away, a new solar system orrery ticking away in the window (only 5 planets but one of them, a littler larger than Earth sized, has 7 moons!) as it rests on some black with gold threaded through cloth.

The sign's turned to 'Open' and the lights are on inside.

Grimm makes her way to Copper Skeins on foot, checking for any new graffiti to remove as she goes. Seeing the place is open, opens the door and steps inside in search of Dialydd.

Well, Charity's not on her normal perch across the street. Nor in the front portion of the shop. Dee's not present either on first glance, but Nona's sitting on the top of the counter, one eye on the front door and another two on the human PDA in it's tentacles. One of them seems almost stuck into the input port.

A chipper English accented female voice comes from the PDA. "Welcome to Copper Skeins, Ms Grimm! How can I help today?" Nona waves a tentacle at you as the PDA speaks.

Grimm slows her steps as Nona's PDA spouts at her. She knew it had a feminine name, but for some reason she didn't expect a female voice. "Hello, Nona. Is Dialydd in? I wanted to catch up with him about the guarantee he wanted."

"Certainly, Ms Grimm...No, this voice is not right either..." says the PDA. There is bit of static then a German accented female vocie, deeper and less chipper, says, "Yes, the young master is the back with a client. She's commissioning some clothing. Would you like me to fetch him?"

Somehow that is more disturbing, yet also more fitting. Gabrielle smiles. "I wouldn't want to interrupt him while he's working. I could wait, or come back later?" She offers.

Nona's about to reply then you hear a Scots accented, female voice loudly say, "Do I luk like da sort of gail who'd wear lace?" from the back room followed by a deeper rumble that you expect is Dee's reply.

Grimm freezes for a moment at the Scottish accent, her eyes and shadow sight turning towards the back room.

You see Dialydd sitting on the divan holding a pad on which he's got some drawings of ball gowns? Standing just a few feet from, having just stood, is a statuesque young woman, probably younger than you in appearance, her hands on her hips and a roguish smile on her lips even as she says, "Just look at me, ya great goon! Do I luk like a princess?" Yes, it's Charity. Her sword is concealed under a clever illusion but is still on her back.

Grimm stays stock still for a moment as she spots Charity. She's supposed to kill her in some grassy, dirty patch of earth, unless that's changed along with the prediction of Lereau never crossing her path. She whispers to Nona, "Don't let him know I'm here yet. Not while his client is around."

Nona nods then asks in a mere whisper, "Is the young master in danger from the female? If so, you can de-activate my non-lethal protocols as the database indicates you are Trusted."

You can hear Dialydd say something in a placating but firm tone to Charity. She responds with, "Fine, fine, yuir the expart. So, why the lace? And won't it tangle with me sword?" She draws the sword from over her shoulder, maybe to demonstrate?

"No, no, he's not. But I am. She may be a danger to me. I...did you say Trusted?" Grimm asks in surprise, considering Dialydd's feelings on her powers.

"You are in the Trusted category, yes Ms Grimm. Placed there 7 days, 14 hours, 18 minutes, and 32 seconds from mark ago. Mark," states the pentapus.

Chairty apparently calms down as she sits back down across from Dialydd. She places her broadsword on the table between them as they converse in quieter tones.

Grimm debates if talking to Charity in the store will make her stay her blade, or if it'll cause a fight in the shop. The latter is less than idea. "I might wait here for the client. I need to talk to them. But they may become violent towards me. I don't want to cause trouble in the store."

"I will speak to the young master and use one of the code phrases that would cover such a situation," states the pentapus. None sets down the PDA and starts to move to the edge of the counter.

Grimm nods and waits, keeping her attention on the back room.

Nona scuttles into the back room, meeping as it goes. You can sense the glyphs flashing on its skin as Dialydd listens to the pentapus.

He tilts his head to one side at the end then looks over at Charity. He murmurs something to her which causes her to smile warmly at him while she responds.

As he stands, Charity reached for her sword, then you feel a pulse of magick from her. She hesitates then picks up the sword and re-sheathes it over her shoulder.

The pulse? A spell that detects the living and the dead in a radius around herself. You've been pinged.

Her voice carries as she says to Dialydd, "Oi'll see ye soon then Dee, ye ken? And I can see me own way out."

Dialydd gives some sort of farewell to her as he bows in that manner of his then he goes to one of the work benches.

Nona comes back out of the back as Charity approaches the half shut door to the front.

Uh oh. Pinged! Grimm isn't entirely surprised she was noticed at this point, but now she knows Charity can sense her much the way she can sense Charity. She'll have to get some distance first before approaching Charity, so Gabrielle vanishes in a swirl of darkness and a hush of whispers, teleporting herself straight up and out of the shop to hover. She looks down and cloaks herself from the minds of those around her.

After a half dozen seconds or so, Charity comes out of the front door. Her first action is to look up, then quickly to both sides. She stops right outside the door, hooking one thumb into her belt while tapping her fingers against it. You feel a flare of magick as an physically invisible magickal barrier springs up around her. It not super tough but enough to well blunt any surprise attack. It looks, to your senses, like Celtic knots woven one over the other. Defends against not just direct damage but indirect as well (Mental Def and Power Def buint in). Moves with her as well.

The muscular auburn haired beauty just stands for a moment then says, "Well, are ye still around or no?"

Grimm watches Charity carefully, seeing her defenses come up. Her own have enveloped her, outlining her in dark energy. "Yeah, I'm here," she finally says as she drops her cloak. She needs to settle things with this kid so things don't end the way they did in Connor's spell.

Charity looks up at you floating above when you speak, starts to reach for her sword, then stops and says, "Feckin' goblinshite! Ye can fly?!? I hate flyers!" She seems both greatly irritated and envious at the same time.

Grimm smirks. "I can do way more than that, 'Chosen One'. Glad to know I have the advantage if you're going to start a conversation with a sword."

Charity shakes a finger at you. "Now, I don go callin' ye 'Hellspawn' if ye don call me 'Chosen One'. I chose meself no matter wha tha gaggle of old ninnies think." You do note that her gaze does not shift from you. "An I'm well aware of some of yuir powers. This Internet spirit of yourn is a most useful familiar."

She then adds, "So, I take it ye wan to talk? If so, pick somewhere."

Grimm glances around and notices a park with very little people. She points to a spot far from the playground area. "How about over there? Away from the crowds."

"That's foine. I'll speak to you there." She keeps a steady eye on you as she makes her way towards the park, deftly avoiding other pedestrians and cars, and apparently unconcerned about any looks she gets from them as well.

Grimm vanishes, teleporting ahead to the spot and keeping her guard up.

As she gets within hailing range, she calls out with a grin, "I knew about tha trick! It's so impressive the nobs on the Internet rave about anyone who can do tha."

She stops about ten feet from you then says, "Normally, I dunna care if people overhear, but this time, I du. So, can ye muddle the hearing of folks?"

"I probably can. I'm rather interested on why you've been researching me on the internet," Gabrielle says as she focuses on the area around them, trying to dampen the sound for others.

You sense Charity 'testing' the spell's effectiveness with a magickal sense of her own. "Well, it'll du, I spose," she says with a slight grin. "An I research, or ask the ninnies, to research potential threats, lass. I may be a strong headed faleen who likes to fight with a sword, but that don mean I go in blinded anymore. Been there, done that, got trapped in a book for far too long." She shakes her head. "So, ye want to talk, aye? So?" She makes a come-on gesture with her right hand. You note that's she's probably left handed.

Grimm thinks. o O (She should've stayed in that book.) "Yeah. I've been noticing you lurking about when I've visited that store. Interesting that you're now a client. You aren't planning on harming the store owner, are you?"

Charity looks at you for a long moment then starts to laugh. "Harm tha foine bit o'stuff? Are ye mad, lass? It's all I can du not to have me way wid 'im. He's so...edible." she eventually gets out.

Despite her humor, her eyes stay on you and her defenses don't falter. "So you just happened to be watching him as...eye candy?" Grimm smirks.

"Well, nu. One of them furrin fox spirits popped up durin' a divination about future dangers and suggested I sould seek 'im oot." She waves a hand. "Not diredt like o' course. Just a puch in the laddie's general direction." She smirks. "Was pure chance I seen ye there."

Grimm frowns faintly at that. "Was this fox spirit named Frank, by any chance?" She asks suspiciously.

Charity shakes her head. "Nu...but he say he spoke frankly...At first, I thought he meant Frankish, but tha language is long dead." She looks at you, curiosity filling her eyes. "Why? Do ye ken him?"

"I met -a- fox spirit that was speaking frankly," Grimm comments carefully as she considers things.

Charity's eyes narrow a bit at your words. "Are ye thinkin' this spirit is using us, lass? Fur it's own reasons?"

"Depends on why he sent you and me to deal with the same threat and the same person," Gabrielle comments, narrowing her eyes back at her rival.

"The spirit sent me saying I would see much of interest, lass. And I have, aye." She drums the fingers of her right hand against her thigh. "Was not me intent to find ye."

She starts to say something more when the two of you hear a voice over to one side and the sound of a bag crinkling open. "Oh, go on? Is there going to be a fight?" says a familiar, foxy voice to you.

If you glance over, you see a humanoid figure with a fox head and fur covered body all covered by an absolutely stunning white embroidered kimono with his six, no seven tails, al curled lazily around his lower feet/paws.

Grimm shoots a look towards the figure. "Is that what you were planning all along? Because someone saw a vision of how a fight between us ends."

Charity remains quite, but her hand drifts back to the sword on her back, but, stops just short of it. She is scowling at the kitsune though but, for whatever reason, lets you take the verbal lead.

The bag crinkling opens appears to be popcorn...if popcorn comes in every color in and out of the iridescent rainbow spectrum. As he pops a handful into his maw, chewing noisily, the fox spirit says, "Now, that would be telling....but, just between you, me, Charity, and that charming tree of over there, to get directly to the point, it may be that I and others, who /shall/ remain nameless, some of them because their names just /cannot/ be spoken by humans, yes."

Grimm scowls as she narrows her eyes. "So all that stuff you said to me was to put me in her path so she could kill me?!" she growls as shadow tentacles begin to spread from her dark aura. Two on each side of her, sprouting from shoulders and waist.

Your anger is reflected by Charity who does draw her sword. "Do ye want his head or heart?" she says.

The spirit raises one paw/hand. "So help me Me, my answer is Nope." A few kernels of iridescent popcorn circle his paw/hand as he adds, "So, you'd not kill each other. Or one the other. Or the other one the, hmm, other one."

He grins widely, an image slightly offputting given the number of Grandmother eating teeth it reveals. "I, and nameless others, want both of you alive. So, get you togather with the foine bit of linen of the Dream Child, a little music, some good home cooking, maybe a threesome and you're best buds...Well, some of us thought that was the way to go...But No, free will, blah, blah, blah."

Grimm frowns, the tendrils withdrawing back into her field. "Oh yeah, we're about to go skipping merrily to that tune," she comments. Although she can't deny Dialydd is a good looking catch.

"You'd condone bending our wills with glamour?" growls out Charity. She does let her sword go into a guard position though.

"Lassies? A little less free will would /suck/ but when I balance this world versus some good lcen dirty fun to stop two warriors for Life live? Well, shine me up spank me booty and call me Shirley!" He then crunches down some more popcorn. "But, overruled...again...by the morals and ethics squad. Maybe I should take that rod out of..." he trails off into a growly mutter.

"Okay, Shirley," Grimm smirks. "What's your game, and who are these others you're answering to?"

Charity seems, if not content, at least willing to let you take the lead in questioning the spirit.

"Dear Gabrielle, I /answer/ to no one and am /commanded/ by none. We work together to a common purpose: keeping the sandbox you call Assiah free the Qliphothic," 'Frank' says in a superior tone somewaht undercut by him wriggling a claw from his paw/hand in the side of his maw. "Ah, got it loose! Yay me!" he states as he flickes away a bit of glittering popcorn kernel.

The fox headed humanoid then quirks an ear. "Aaaannnd, what was the second question again?"

"Who is 'we', and what do you mean Assiah? I've never heard that before," Grimm states with lessening patience as she plants her hands on her hips.

Charity speaks up, "Assiah be the physical universe, or physical universes I'm now told," puts in Charity. "Tis Hebrew and means means, well, the Material World." She starts to say more but trails off. Perhaps embarrassed to reveal; she's brain as well as brawn given the slight flush as 'Frank' claps at her explanation.

"I couldn't have said it better myself...well, I tell a fib, I could, but good explanation for the traditionally trained students, lass!" remakes 'Frank' as he turns back to eating the popcorn.

"And as to the we, hmm, there is the guy with sickle, the secretive guy, the triplets, the musician and the artist, and well, me. That help?"

"And of course, various others from time to time as alliances shift and merge and get pregnant."

As 'Frank' lists off the 'others', spirits or those beyond spirits rather, Archetypes, those whom the gods call gods, come to mind. The sickle? Death; secretive? maybe Kryptos, Lord of Secrets; tripelt: The Triple Goddess or maybe the Fates?; the artist and the musician? could refer to several Avatars or Archetypes.

The Archetypes/Avatars are 'personifications' of universal concepts. Even they range in power but none can enter the 'lesser realities' in whole. It would destroy that 'lesser' reality, but they can send anthropomorphic personaticaions of Great but finite ( compared to themselves) power or simply possess a god.

Grimm has to take a deep breath as she thinks on it. "It helps a little. It doesn't make me feel any better, though."

"It's not supposed to, my dear children," says the spirit with a grin. "You asked and I answered. You didn't ask for gentle truths and whispered words of support. You've got truth." He crumples up his bag and tosses it. It vanishes with a streak of light as it redshifts away.

"We've given you the tools, the words. Use them or not. But keep those monsters out of this realm." He sniffs. "I kinda like this Earth. I keep a lot of things I like here."

Grimm looks to Charity in clueless panic, then back to Frank. "Wait, what tools? Dialydd? What words??" she asks as she tries to remember the things he said on the island.

Charity returns much the same look to you then asks Frank. "Aye, what words and tool?"

'Frank' roll his eyes as he stands up...and up...and UP...growing fainter the larger he gets until he towers over the neighborhood and yourselves, a translucent giant that, somehow, no one else notices. "USE WITS I GAVE YOU! DON'T MAKE ME COME BACK DOWN THERE AND BITE YOU!" he says in voice of thunder and whispers. Then, with a *pop* he disappears.

Charity looks over at you. "Ah...So, is there sometin' goin' on I can aid ye wid?" She then seems to notice the sword in her hand and re-sheathes it over his shoulder.

Grimm stares speechless for a moment at that grand exit. "Uh." She slowly turns her head to Charity. At least the sword is resheathed. "Yeah. I thought you were going to be my enemy this whole time, though."

An urban fox pokes it head out from under a nearby bush and yawns, then yips when it sees the two of you and ducks back into the bushes.

"Well, I could hear a pair of scissors cutting that strand 'bout halfway through...whatever tha's one's name is...speechifying," says Charity just before the fox appears/disappears. She blinks at where it was then looks to you. "Ye saw tha, aye?"

Grimm stares at the fox and nods. "Yeah, I saw that, too. But I didn't hear whatever it is you heard earlier."

"It was going on about Destiny and forging yuir own Path and not blindly believing there at the end, ye ken? Then said I had the tools and words I needed to make up me own mind." She shrugs. "And by the way tha Dee seems so, well, proud of how ye fight fur yuir own soul and sanity? Well, I could hear a 'snip' as the Three Sisters cut out the strand tha makes us foes just by right, ye ken?"

"I mean, don get me wrong...Your a frightening lass and I think yuir a dagner to yuirself and others, but...Not evil, mind?"

"That's...that's not what I heard him say exactly. He didn't talk at all about forging my own path. It's like we were listening to different conversations. If he's really a cosmic being, that doesn't surprise me." Grimm glances around for the fox again before looking back to Charity. "You and Dee were talking about me?" She blinks at the talk of the Three Sisters. Were they able to see the string of fate Connor foresaw? "Wow. I couldn't hear that and didn't even know they did anything."

"Um, I meant metaphorically, Gabrielle. You know, the Three Sisters, the Fates? The spinner, the weaver and the cutter?...Are ye talking bout...You've met them?!?"

Her emotions seem to go from confusion to patient explaining to WTF in that order.

You can sense the fox under the bushes watching you...and watching a rather plump and unsuspecting pigeon as well. It's attention seems torn between the humans near the den it's dug out under a nearby wall and a meal.

"No, no I haven't. I don't think I have, anyway," Gabrielle says, though she has her suspicions. "Well, anyway...maybe we should go back go Dee's shop in case he worries," she mentions as she senses the fox.

"Ah, erm, certainly, Gabrielle," says Charity as she looks around. "Do ye mind if I call ye Gabrielle? Tis less, hmm, grim than Grimm, aye?" A sparkle of humor lights her eye.

"Yeah, that's fine," Gabrielle offers that as an olive branch. "Just call me Grimm if you feel like you need to shorten it," she says as she starts walking back towards the shop. Some weight's been lifted off her shoulders at least. "Did Frank tell you anything about the situation with me? Or Dee?"

"No, for Frank, and nu, no details from Dee," Charity remakes as she walks alongside you, her gaze raking slowly over people, lines of sight, ledges, it seems. Bodyguard or hunter mode, hard to tell. "Nu details either. The laddie likes his secrets. And fancy drssess fur the ladies, it seems," she says with a gentle snort.

She adds, "He mostly spoke about how yuir caught twixt desires but fighting fur your friends and for your soul. Waxes a bit poetical about it." She grins. "Iffen I dinnae have a glimpse of your powers, well, I'd think him a bit loony."

Grimm chuckles at the fancy dresses comment. "I'm more in the practical side of clothing myself, but there's fun dressing up sometimes." She listens with some awkwardness at the explanation. "He may be better at explaining some parts of this than I am. But yeah...I'm fighting to prevent something terrible happening. Something was done to me and I can't control it, and I can't even see it to fight it. It's been affecting me in several ways," she says as she checks and crosses the street with Charity.

Charity opens her mouth to reply when a luxury sports hovercar window rolls to a stop nearby and a woman's voice, rich with a Scots brogue, calls out, "Charity Anne Susannah Levy! Get yuir arse over here!" The woman who calls out seems to be in her mid 20s, a stunning statuesque red head with green eyes. She looks like she's probably Charity's older sister given the resemblance.

You recognize her as Cateran, a super strong and tough villainess who wields a claymore. She claims to be over 300 years old. She mostly commits robberies despite the fact she carries the claymore she seems to prefer fisticuffs and to avoid killing. And one fact that you you remember from a recent Starguard memo Malcolm got: tests have recently proven she's a mutant.

Grimm glances towards the fancy hovercar, looking surprised. She glances between Charity and Cateran, then says quietly to Charity, "You...know her?"

Charity stiffens up like all people do when a close relative, usually a parent, three or four names them. She grimaces as she says quietly through clenched teeth, "Aye, I do. To me ever lasting sorro..."

She gets cut off by Cateran who says, "Lassie? Do you know wha day this is? I've been all over this sticky seaside shanytown looking fur ye. Now get in so we can get on a plane." The hovercar settles and the doors unlock. "Chip chop."

"Granny, I've go buziness to take care of down the street. I'll met ye at the coffeehouse...the CoffeeBucks down tha way in half an hour, ken?"

Grimm raises an eyebrow in surprise, seeing the family resemblance. "What day is she talking about?" she says quietly to Charity.

Grimm thinks. o O (Grannie!?)

Charity whispers back. "Family memorials. Put flowers on me parent's graves back in Edinburgh."

"Oh. Sorry about that," Gabrielle says quietly. Then wonders why she's sorry? They've been dead for probably a few hundred years. Then she realizes, for Charity, it hasn't seemed that long.

"Bizness is it? Wid tha bit of foine linen I've heard yuir hangin' about? Janet tole me..."

"Jesus wept! I'll meet ye at the shop," she states then stomps her way down towards Copper Skeins.

Grimm blinks and looks between the two, then quick-steps to catch up with Charity, grinning a bit like a cheshire cat. So she HAD just been there to check Dee out.

Cateran watches Charity stomp off, a teasing, yet proud, smile on her lips as Charity marches off. She then nods to you politely as she puts back on her sunglasses. "Have a good one, lass!" she's says with a smile as she starts the fancy hover Porsche and glides off.

You catch up with Charity outside Copper Skeins where the Scots warrior-mage is running her hands through her auburn locks as she mutters to herself. You catch the words 'get a grip' and 'scheming she-devil' and 'haggis'.

Grimm can't help but smirk at the curses. "She's that bad, huh?"

"She's one of the main reasons I fle...shipped off to America, aye," says Charity as she does apparently 'get a grip' after a moment. "Tha and all the vampires tha were emigrating. She just /cannae/ keep her nose out of me life!"

"That sounds annoying," Gabrielle commiserates. Her mom can be nosey at times, but her father remains distant.

"She wants bairns she can dandle and spoil and then hand back to me! I'm nae interested right now, aye? Tis a whole new world to me, ya ken?" Charity shakes her head. "She's so...charming to others, but wid family she's a right meddling tyrant...if ye let her!"

"Uhhh. Do you mean she wants you to give her a grandchild?" Grimm asks in puzzlement as she opens the door to Copper Skeins to allow Charity in. At least neither one of them has killed the other.

The Scots lass Grimm is with states, "Aye, but it's a great-grans she's after wid me. As she's me granny." She shakes her head. "I dunno what Grandfather saw in her..." She then shakes her head slightly. "Well, other than the obvious tracts of land, tha is," she adds with a grin. Grimm chuckles in amusement. "Wow, well. Different strokes for different folks?" she shrugs. "Your gran looks pretty good for her age."

"Ah, tha she does. Gran once thought she was a witch, but she's nae magickal at all," Charity says as she opens the door to the shop ands teps insdie.

The crystalline chimes over the door ring and, after a moment, a deep rich Scandanavian voice calls out, "Welcome to Copper Skeins! I'll be out in a moment! Please look about!" comes through the slightly ajar Dutch doors at the back of the shop.

Grimm glances about again as they step inside. "It's us, Dialydd," she calls back.

"Who is us?" Dialydd calls back as he comes through from the back. His ever present smile flickers for a brief moment, or perhaps that's the light, as he spots hunter and prey, together, and unmussed. His eyes light up with some emotion as he says, "Cha, so, the hatchet is not buried in anyone, yes?"

"I think everything's okay at the moment," Grimm says heopfully. At least for now.

One might note that Charity seems, well, captivated for a moment when she spots Dialydd. But she quickly compoes herself into 'business mode', her left hand coming to rest on her belt loops.

Radical appears from out of nowhere on the sidewalk outside of the shop. He's currently looking for Grimm to try to check on her status, and this is on his list of locations to try. He opens the door carefully and looks inside.

The alien Adonis looks from one of you to the other, then remarks, "Well, if you are thirsty, you can..." Whatever he's about to say is interruptined as Radical opens the door to the shop to the pleasant ring of the chimes. "Welcome to...Oh, welcome ser Radical," states Dialydd. "PLease, come in."

Charity turns as the door opens and takes a step back, one hand rising for a moment to the claymore over her sholder, one that is quite invisible to normal sight as her fingers tap the belt at her waits.

Radical nods to Dialydd, "Thank you, sir." He steps inside and closes the door. He raises a brow and looks at Charity for a moment with his magic sight, just assessing what the current situation is.

Grimm senses Radical's arrival outside and smiles a bit. She waits for him to enter and politely turns to greet him when she notices Charity reaching for the hidden sword. "W-whoa, wait, stop! He's a good guy!" she quickly tries to calm Charity down.

At inspect, Gabrielle's aura is severely cracked. It's drastically worse than it was just the other night. Spider-web cracks aplenty amidst larger, gaping pieces.

To magickal senses, she radiates passive protective charms for her mind and body as well as the cloaking inillusin around the claymore over her shoulder. The belt at her waist holds waiting defensive magicks. The sword is espeically puissant agaisnt 'creatures of the night' and seems irritable for lack of a better term right now.

At Grimms' word and, with a glance at Dialydd, Charity lowers her hand from the hilt of the claymore. "So," she remarks to Grimm, "he a friend? Or just a friendly foeman?" Her voice is thick with a Scots brogue.

"Friend," Grimm says with no hesitation.

Radical says...in Gaelic, no less, << I'm a friend of Gabrielle's. >>

Grimm looks surprised by Radical's words, looking to gauge Charity's reaction, since she has no idea what was said.

Dialydd looks at the group of you then seems to reach some sort of decision. "I was about to take some tea. WOuld the three of you care to join me?" He steps to one side as he opens the counter up and then the Dutch doors to the back.

Radical doesn't look like he's in a defensive posture at all. He's just keeping his eyes on Charity cautiously.

Radical chuckles at Grimm's reaction. "Gabrielle, I speak eight languages. Gaelic happens to be one of them. Though I think I learned more 'Irish Gaelic' than Scottish."

Charity raises an eyebrow at the Gaelic and then says in the same tongue, <>

Radical nods to Charity, "That's correct. And I've been helping Gabrielle with her...current issues."

"Whaaat? Where in the heck did you find time for that? You never said anything," Gabrielle plants her hands on her hips and smirks. "What else can you speak? Are there any other surprises I should know about?"

Radical counts them off for Grimm, "Atlantean, Arabic, Ancient Greek, German, Latin, Gaelic, and Fae. And English, of course." He chuckles. "I just...have a knack for it."

The three, well four, of you can hear the whistle of a tea pot as Dialydd fully opens the door as well as the enticing scent of, sniff, shortbread?

Grimm gives a little shiver. "At least you don't know Italian," she murmurs to herself under her breath. She has a weak spot for languages.

Radical shrugs, "I knew about half of those while I was the Cartesian. I picked up the rest while I was trying to adapt to my situation."

As Charity heads towards the back room, she murmurs, "Gabrielle was going to tell me about her problems. Tis why we decided to come back here." She hesitates for a moment then asks of Radical, "Ye dinnae see an older lass outside who looks a bit like me, did ye?"

Grimm grins at Radical in amusement. "You need to get out more," she says playfully. "That's an impressive list. I'm still surprised Atlantean is still a thing, since they've been a dead culture for ages. Except for Matt, I guess."

Grimm follows with the others to indulge in tea.

Radical shakes his head and says to Charity, "No. I didn't see anyone like that outside." He then turns to Grimm as they head toward the back, "It's for just that reason, actually. Researching old magic texts usually doesn't involve learning modern languages. You need to know the older deader languages."

"Yeah, it's a bit difficult to study by the book. I don't really read many of the other languages, since Frankie handled that. I can still communicate without them, though," Gabrielle shrugs. "It's how I was able to communicate with that Order-based thing way back during the issues with the Ataxianate. And sometimes, the shadows just whisper to me with the answers." She pulls a face. "Except for tests. They're useless at tests."

Nona, the bluish purple pentapus, stands on the induction surface tending the large teapot. It seems like it should be too heavy for such a small creature to move, but Nona handles it effortlessly. It makes an annoyed meeping sound at Dialydd as several glyphs flash on the surface of it's skin.

Dialydd sighs softly, "Yes, I realize I should've asked you before I offered, Nona, but we have guests. Expand, no, cha, stretch the food, yes?" He gestures to the cushions and the divan. "Please make yourselves comfortable. I'll be along in a moment, just let me aid sera'a." And with that, he starts taking some food from containers in the cabiner and arranging it on plates.

Radical nods again to Grimm. "Antherion's messengers communicate in binary. It can be challenging to communicate with them."

Charity goes over and stakes out a seat on the divan, taking off her claymore and setting it close to hand beside herself. "The Council keeps trying to get me to study more languages, but, I've no ear for 'em. I can read well enow in several but I stumble over the speaking."

"Binary? So that's what that was? Huh. Wild," Gabrielle chuckles as she sits down on one of the cushions, legs crossed.

Dialydd brings over a set of fine, but plain, china teacups along with the still slightly whisteling teapot on a bamboo tray. He points out several tea bags and one container. "Although my father would be scandalized, I think tea bags as a wonderful invention. They are all herbal as, cha, caffeine is not a friend of my people. This container, I suggest not be used by any of you, as it contains a close mixture to a, cha, native tea of my people. It is an alkaloid poison to humans, I fear." He sets down the tray and goes back to get some plates of food.

Radical takes a seat on a cushion as well, taking care to not sit on his long coat. "Thank you for the tea. This is very kind of you."

Charity quirks an eyebrow at the mentin of the 'poison' tea. "Well, I think I'll have some," she leans over and looks at the teabags. "Um, rosehips and mint? Well, why not?" She does wait, however, until Dialydd returns.

Grimm avoids the poisoned tea, tempted though she may be, and takes an earl grey mix. "Thanks for the hospitality, Dialydd," she smiles and calls out to him as he steps away.

Dialydd says from the 'kitchen', with a smile in his voice, "I was preparing the tea for whomever retruned from the park...I hoped it would be both of the sera, but was not certain. And you are all most welcome. I shall be there in a moment to pour."

Grimm looks a bit appalled by that. "Oh, I see. Tea and treats for the survivor," she mutters grumpily.

Dialydd has what seems to be a 'whispered' argument with Nona then comes back over with a plate of shortbread cookies and a charcutrie plate. "Cha, I might have served my native tea depending on the outcome, aye, sera Grimm," murmurs Dialydd with a slight grin.

This statement earns him a glare form Charity as well.

Grimm seems appeased to some degree by Dialydd's explanation.

Charity taps a finger against her belt as she says, "I dinnae think ye so underhanded, Dee." She seems confused by the youth.

Dialydd seems serene as he pouts hot water in each of your cups in turn starting with Grimm, then Charity, followed by Radical and last himself. "I wazs born in what humans might call, cha, a potentilly decadent deadly court, I think was the term I read. As men as not allowed, by tradition, weapons, we learn other arts to, cha, survive our sisters and mothers politics."

"Admittedly, such skills are more tradition, than use, but, cha, the knowledge is passed down father to son." He then adds after a beat. "The shortbread is quite good. It's made by a (Guild member race) baker a street over. I fear, baking is not a skill I possess."

Nona pipes up with a meeping sound and trill. "Sera'a," Dialydd translates, "is a quite good baker and chef. I'd probably starve without Nona."

Grimm asks hesitantly, "Is the shortbreads safe?"

Radical pulls his mask up just far enough to be able to drink and eat. He then takes the cup of tea and just smells it for the time being, rather than drinking.

With a gentle smile, Dialydd says, "Cha, if you eat too much, you may develop high cholestrol and put on weight, but in modertaion, it is safe, yes."

This earns his a shake of the head from Charity.

Charity does drink her tea and nibble of some shortbread. She remarks, "Not quite as good as my mum's but close enow." She then looks over at Grimm. "So, this trouble yuir in, Dee's told me little 'bout it. Said it had to come from ye. So...give already."

Radical looks to Grimm to see what she says, rather than interrupt at all.

Grimm sips her tea and takes one of the shortbread cookies to dip in her coffee. "Um. Well." She takes a breath. "Some madman used a ritual to try and unleash an elder god into this reality. Are you familiar with any of those?"

Dialydd listens politely sipping his tea from time to time and picking meats and cheeses from the charcutrie plate.

Charity chuckles, "Aye, I'm well familiar with rituals and madmen, lass. As fur elder gods, nu, I'm no as familiar as I'd like but then tha's why I've the Council behind me, aye? All I know is these elder gods seem to be monsters and tha's why I exist, to stop 'em."

"Riiiight," Gabrielle replies at Charity's idea of stopping an elder god. "I don't exactly thing these things can die. But maybe they can be stopped. It's imprisoned in a dimension, but the ritual used me as a key to access its prison to set it free. The ritual was stopped, but the door was still left open. Just a crack. And we can't fully close it just yet."

Radical adds, "This...elder god...is actively trying to hold the rift open. I can actually see it when I use my ability to see across dimensions. We haven't managed to get it to let go entirely. But we did weaken its grip for a time."

"And yuir tryin' to get the beastie to let go cmpletely, aye? As it's got it's teeth into Grimm, aye?" states Charity. "Tha furrin fox spirit seems to think this elder god comin' to Earth'd be like the end o' the world."

"It definitely wouldn't be good for it, that's for sure," Grimm comments as she munches on her cookie.

"Earth would likely survive, but, there woild be thousands of deaths I think," murmurs Dialydd as he finally picks up a cookie. "And who knows how long it would take to drive it off even with metas in abundance?"

Charity seems to take this all in as she sips her tea. "Well, I'll aid ye the best I can, Gabrielle. The fox spirit seemed to think twas important." She then grins slightly. "An I'm supposed to listen to the spirits an I'm a witch after all. Prefer they don't grow all giant like though."

"Either way, we're going to do whatever it takes to stop this thing from breaking through," Gabrielle says with determination.

Radical nods. "When Grimm feels good feelings and thoughts...the grip loosens. When she feels negative emotions, it tightens its grip. Ideally, what we need is a distraction for it. Something to draw it away. Then I can close hte rift in a matter of seconds, probably. The issue with that is...it's in a prison dimension. Which means that my normal way of getting in and out of a dimension like that...isn't going to work well. It's possible, but very dangerous."

Radical says, "And...I'd need to be on the outside to heal the rift."

"Is this not why sera Grimm spoke to the Qliphothic mage?" asks Dialydd.

He looks over at Grimm then back to Radical. "And she has told you of my offer to lure N'zrathol away, yes?"

Grimm looks into her cup and avoids looking at Radical for a moment.

At the word 'Qliphothic', Charity pales for a moment. "The anti-universe? The shadow of Creation?"

Radical nods. "He claims...he can get people out of there as needed. But there's a cost. Because nothing like that doesn't come with a cost." He raises a brow as Dialydd's statement about luring N'zrathol away. "No. She did not mention that." He looks to Grimm, "Did you meet with Lereau again?"

"Yeah. That's what my powers come from," Grimm answers Charity. "Or...some aspect of that." Gabrielle tenses her jaw a bit at Radical's question. "Dialydd did offer to help. If I could secure a guarantee..."

Charity and Dialydd both listen quietly as they watch the interplay between Radical and Grimm. One with polite interest and the other as if hoping blood or fists will fly. Which is which is, well, easy to tell.

Radical raises a brow, "A guarantee from Lereau? Because I know you didn't mention it to me."

Grimm cups her teacup and glances at Radical. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you yet. It just happened and I came here to tell Dialydd to see if that would help him be willing to help. Then I ran into ...some other things outside."

"Well, Gabrielle ran into me, ye ken, Radical," puts in Charity. "And then when we went to the park to, hmm, sort things out, we had a visitor."

She seems about to say more when Dialydd interjects, "So, you weer able to secure a promise from Lereau, sera Grimm?"

Radical sighs quietly, resigning himself to Grimm taking excessive risks. He looks to her to see how she answers Dialydd's question.

Grimm sighs guiltily. "Yes, Dialydd. If we absolutely need it, we have it."

Grimm adds, "And I made sure to negotiate that it wouldn't require any innocents to be harmed."

"Well, as much I, cha, fear having to work with one of the Corrupted, the one advantage is the different sects work poorly with one another. You are certain Lereau is opposed to the Tentacled One's follower?" inquires Dialydd. The youth then visually checks the levels of everyone's teas and adds hot water to those who are low.

Charity looks over at Dialydd as if reassessing him again. As her eyes grow a bit hooded as she looks at him, it's possible her thoughts are drifting a bit.

"I can't be sure of anything," Grimm admits. "He could be lying about being opposed and saying he serves another."

Radical shakes his head, "I think that's unlikely. I believe he wants to save you from N'zranthol so he can fulfill his goal.

Charity tears her gaze away from contemplating Dialydd to focus on the conversation at hand, "As me gran says, 'work with yuir enemies in common cause if ye must, but don forget they're yuir foeman.' Havin never met nor seen this Lereau, I cannae say iffen he's one ye can trust not to stab ye in the back." She takes a bite of shortbread, swallows, then says, "So, I'll be offering to help ye keep an eye on him, iffen ye want."

Grimm nods faintly. "Which sounds like something I'll have to deal with later," she sighs. She glances at Dialydd and smirks. "Maybe I -should- try some of your native tea." She looks back to Charity and nods. "I'd keep a careful eye on him. But I think he's too powerful for you to take on alone."

"An would I be alone? Ain't this one," she points at Radical, "gonne be there as well?"

Radical nods. "I'd like to be, yes."

"And sure enow, Dee's gonna be there playing bait fur this N'zrathol, aye? So, iffen Lereau objects to the rest of us bein there, why, we can say we're there to look after the lad, nu?" She looks over at Dialydd. "Iffen tha's alright wid ye? Being protected by womenfolk?" There's a touch of challenge in her voice.

Dialydd takes a sip of his tea as if contemplating the idea then says with a gentle smile, "And this would be different than near all my life to this point?" He gives a one shoulderd shrug and adds, "I have no objection. You will perform the ritual, ser Radical?"

Radical looks to Dialydd, "To close the rift? Yes, I can do that. I woudln't trust Lereau to do so."

Grimm adds, "And I'd only trust Radical to do the ritual."

To which Charity adds, "Which is a good thing, as me ritual magick is, ah, not good. I'm nae patient enow for it." She glances over at Dialydd. "And while laddie here knows aboot magick, he cannae perform it, or so he says."

Dialydd just grins then selects some more cheese and meat from the charcutrie plate.

Radical nods. "It's just...something I relearned from when I was the Cartesian." . o O (Though..given my current status, maybe I could learn from Lazare? That's an odd thought.)

Grimm sips her tea. "I know a fair bit about rituals, but...I don't know. I guess maybe I could cast the ritual myself, but that sounds problematic."

Dialydd looks over at Grimm. "Sera Grimm, it makes little sense, to this one, that you lead the ritual as you are the /focus/ of the ritual. It would be like, cha, the leader of an orchestra trying to play all the major solo pieces while trying to conduct, yes?" He looks at the otthes preseent. "This is a good analoggy, agreed?"

Radical shakes his head, "You can't see the rift, Grimm. How would you know when you're done?"

"Yeah, exactly," Grimm smiles faintly to Radical. "I'd be flying blind, hence the problem. I hate not being able to take care of things myself."

Charity claps slowly at this riposte from Grimm.

Dialydd looks a bit confused for a moment at the slow clapping then his features smooth back into his normal pleasant smile and attentiveness. He thinks << I'm certain I'm missing the nuances here. But, so long as the Destroyers are defeated, I need not understand all, just enough so we can succeed>>

Radical nods. "So, is dealing with Lereau the last-ditch option?"

Grimm nods. "Absolute last if you guys are at risk," Grimm says, though she doesn't seem too happy.

"I cannot enter or return from the Qliphopthic under my own power, ser Radical," murmurs Dialydd. "My Gifts do not, cha, head that direction, I am afraid. And my ability as a distraction means I should be on the 'other' side of the rift that is sera Grimm. From what sera Grimm has stated Lereau can send and retrieve me from the Crouching Darkness."

Grimm looks to Dialydd. "How exactly are you going to distract it, though?" Radical nods. "I could get into and out of that prison dimension myself...as long as the rift is open. But I think as soon as it closes, I'd be stuck. At least...that's my impression of how my harness works. I'm not sure how Lereau intends to circumvent the prison nature of that dimension."

Charity chimes in, "I mean yuir a foine bit of linen, Dee, but I don think these creatures care fur looks."

"I do not know how Lereau will accomplish it either, but if it save sera Grimm soul and sanity, cha, it is worth the risk. Or so my training says." He then looks over at Grimm. "Tell me, sera, what do you feel when I do this?"

'This' seems to be touching the bracer that encircles his left forearm which causes that silvery gold energy to rise up around him, encasing him.

It feels attractive, repulsive at the same time. Very hard to ignore.

"Sanity, at least," Gabrielle mutters under her breath. She's not so sure about her soul.

Grimm shudders a bit. "Weird," she says as she brushes her arm. "Like...being pulled and pushed at the same time," she bristles a little.

"The bracer channels, cha, my people call it 'vi'ir'. I suppose cosmic power is a good, cha, near hit." He adds, "Pure vi'ir, in this case, much like our Lords radiate and use, is both anathema to the Destroyers, well most, and desired by them."

Radical nods slowly as he thinks about Lereau's claim, "I suspect he can actually get Dialydd out of there. But it does imply that he has...shall we say...access to a patron that's more powerful than N'zrathol. But..we already knew that to likely be the case."

Grimm sighs and rocks back a little on her floor cushion. "Yeah, he keeps saying he serves something greater, and needs me to survive for...whatever it has planned."

Grimm gives another shudder. "He kept calling me the Chosen One. I told him that title was taken."

"I should say so," says Charity, the Chosen One, with a grin.

Grimm says, "And mentioned he was awaiting my...what was it. Apotheosis...?"

"Yuir apotheosis, Gabrielle? Don take this in the wrong manner, but, lass, I don see ye as becoming divine," states Charity. "Well nu, not divine in the 'good' sense, mind."

Grimm sputters while drinking her tea. "What!?"

Dialydd blinks at this revelation, first his inner eyelids then his outer. Otherwise, his face remains a cheerful mask.

Radical raises a brow. "That's what that word means. Becoming a deity. "I thought it was some fancy name for change," Gabrielle looks embarrassed and flustered. "That's not happening. I've seen other versions of me that went that route. I'm not going to be like them. Not ever." She's adamant about that.

"Cha...Well, let us set foot on that shore when we come to it, yes? No need, at this time, hopefully, to dwell on it, no?" says Dialydd in an encouraging tone.

Gabrielle's aura begins to crack and split in bases. "No need ever. I'm never going to be like those corrupt bes. Drunk on power, using it to conquer and benefit themselves, changing people to be slavishly loyal to them," she says with rising bitterness in her voice. The cracks begin to widen as she seethes.

Radical reaches out and puts an hand on Gabrielle's shoulder. It seems to be that ever-present move he uses when he can see something getting out of hand. "You're right. You won't. But it will help if you remain calm."

Dialydd quickly touches his bracer again, removing one irritant from the equation. "Perhaps Charity and I should go get some dessert to bring back?" murmurs the Adonis as he stands, casting a look at Charity.

Grimm takes a breath as Radical's hand and calm reaction helps calm her. She closes her eyes a moment to clear her mind before she really gets going. The ceasing of the cosmic energy's presence makes Grimm's shoulders sag in relief. "Yeah, sure. Dessert would be nice," she says as she opens her eyes, looking guilty.

Radical nods slowly, "That's why we're here, you know. To help you. Just remember that."

Grimm rubs her face as Dialydd and Charity step out of the shop, flipping the "Closed" sign forward as they go. "I know. Sorry. I...shick. Thank you," she sighs out as she fully calms down, then looks up at Radical with gratitude and apology written across her face.

Radical nods slowly. "Please...don't just go with the option to have Lereau help you without my being there. Okay?"

Grimm nods softly. "I wouldn't do it without you," she promises. "I had to make an arrangement. He's only to help if someone gets trapped in N'zrathol's prison. That's it. And he can't harm innocents or use souls. He said there'd be a price, but he and his followers would be the one to pay it."

Radical narrows his eyes at that. "I'm not entirely sure what that cost would be. I don't know enough about their style of magic."

Grimm holds her breath a moment. "What else do you think it would be?"

Grimm says, "Originally he said it would cost lives..."

Radical shrugs, "Lives was one option. But it doesn't mean that they die. It might mean they're transformed."

Grimm cringes a little at that. "Would that mean there's a chance to change them back?"

Radical takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Maybe? But there's the matter of...would they want to change back, if that's the case? These are cultists we're talking about."

Grimm unfolds her legs so she can draw up her knees. "Yeah...that's a fair point. Lereau claimed he'd happily slit his own throat for me if that's what it took for his other goals..."

Radical snorts, "If he's the one to do that, I won't cry about it."

Grimm chuckles weakly, though it doesn't cover up how unsettled she is. "Yeah, me neither. I kind of wish he'd do that in advanced."

Radical chuckles quietly. "Well, it should be after he helps Dialydd get out of the prison dimension, I guess."

"Yeah, definitely. I'm really hoping nobody gets trapped or stuck," Gabrielle says softly, the issue having worried her. "I only reached out for a last resort. And because Dialydd wouldn't agree to help otherwise."

Radical nods. "Okay...so we can try a couple of other options first, then. Pushing, like we did before when you were...high. If we loosen the grip enough, I can close the rift. Or alternatively, creating some kind of...flare. Chaff. Launch it through the rift to draw N away from the rift. That would require...probably some life energy stored in whatever was launched."

"I think Dialydd believed he could be a living flare of some sort. Whatever energy his bracer admits, it feels...wrong. And right. I...don't really know how to describe it," Grimm struggles.

Radical nods. "I'm afraid I didn't get a good look at it, to analyze what you were feeling."

Grimm quirks a brow at Radical. "You can sense what I feel? Oh wait. You can..." she realizes suddenly. She relaxes from her drawn in position, going back to sitting Indian-style.

Radical chuckles. "No, I can't. But I can analyze magic when I see it."

"Right. I can't give you that information, I think. I could only share the physical sensation and the sense I got from it," Gabrielle offers. "I can sense magic without even seeing it, but I'm not sure how it differs from you."

Radical nods. "It probably wouldn't be enough to go on. I'll just have to pay better attention in the future."

Grimm nods in agreement with it. "In that case, all I could share with you is the sensation it gave me physically, and that won't really help you figure that out."

Radical chuckles at the idea of his student 'sharing her physical sensations with him'. "Yeah, probably not helpful." He pauses and then says, "How are you holding up?"

Grimm makes no sign of realizing the implication of her offer. She takes a breath at his question and sighs. "I've been trying to hold it together. You and Randal have helped a lot with that." There's still some larger cracks that were there from before Gabrielle steaming about her alternate selves. Those were new, too.

Radical nods slowly. "There's something else big that's bothering you. I can see that. There are some larger cracks I can see coming from the rift."

Grimm sighs softly and runs her fingers through her hair. "Just...having some relationship trouble," she finally drops her tough act, looking and sounding lost and forlorn. "My frickin' heart hurts." That could very well be the cracks, since last time she had a sudden, large crack in her aura, it hurt her.

Radical nods, "That might be literal in this case. Your emotions have a physical impact right now."

Grimm sighs softly and rubs her chest, over her heart and one of the larger gaps. "I guess," she says sullenly. "I...better not tell Mal. He already feels bad enough."

Radical places a hand on her shoulder again. "Normally, I would say it is better to be open and honest. But...that also comes with some pain attached. The question is...is it more pain than holding what you feel inside?"

Grimm looks up at Radical, her eyes a bit wet. "I...don't think he wants to talk to me for a bit. And I don't want to hurt him again."

Radical nods. "Well...you can always vent to Randal or myself. You know we're there for you."

Grimm smiles softly. "You two have already put up with so much already. I'd rather try and do something to...I dunno..be there for you two. Or thank you better." She thinks about it and has some ideas. "Plus there's your concert tonight if you need help getting ready again."

Radical nods. "You should be there, in case Flyte is. Or something else goes down.

Grimm nods. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there. I'll try and get a ticket. Or, y'know, just sneak in." She flashes a grin at that.

Radical chuckles. "I figured it wouldn't be hard for you to pull off."

Grimm chuckles in return. "Though maybe I should go in disguise in Flyte might be there. I want to give him a piece of my mind."

Radical nods. "A disguise might be good. Just in case."

Grimm smiles. "I just need to figure out what to look like," she ponders and sips her tea.

A text alert from Randal comes up on Radical's phone. << Something came up in my research for our special project that I think you should know. We can discuss at my house the next time you're free. >>

Radical checks his phone and writes back, << I'll be there shortly. Give me about a half hour. >>

Radical says to Grimm, "Just heard from Randal. He has some information for me." << I'll get the water going for tea. >>

Grimm looks a bit surprised. "Oh? Hope it's good news," she smiles softly, though her broken heart shows through a bit.

Radical shrugs, "No idea. He didn't give any indication. But I'll let you know. You're welcome to come along, if you like."

Grimm thinks a moment. "Sure, why not? All I have left to do is get ready for the show tonight," she smiles.

Radical nods, "Sounds good. Let's go see what he has to say..."

Next: Log:Randal's Caveat