Log:The Peculiar Charges of the Dowager MacGregor

2021/06/22 	 Dreamgirl Hotfoot Magda Sasha  Victory  Artemis

1

Mrs. MacGregor, Sasha in a magickal disguise, sits at a cluttered, but organized, table in the residential hotel you all are presently staying at. Most of the clutter seems to be various bills from tailors and seamtresses as well as furniture dealers. But, in front of her, on a blotter, sits two stacks of what look British and Canadian passports. She hums a Russian folksong as she puts the finishing touches on the one in front of her. It has Artemis' picture in it.

They haven't spent much time in this era, and already Artemis is restless. Dressed in her era appropriate dress with a sheer over-dress, her hair set in waves and pinned up for the time, the demigoddess stalks into the room. "Not even an alcohol exemption for Gods? This time be more barbaric than Urth's prior eras!" she grumbles to herself.

Each of you was photographed by Sasha in male guise on the first day you all arrived in 1924. In the few days since, you all have taken up temporary residcene in a residential hotel in Georgetown while a permanent house is looked for as a base of operatsion. Sasha, now Mrs. Minerva Macgregor, dowager of the family, has been working on false papers for you all since then while you all familiarize yourself with the world of the 1924.

Magda manages to get away with not only a) relatively simple wear (she /is/ a refugee of sorts), but also b) her own 'clothing'. Watching 'Mrs. MacGregor' at work, she seems to be studying the mystic's actions as well as waiting on 'her'. "Please," the German-Gypsy says, "do not tell me you tried to declare you were a god to someone."

"Of course not. I declared I was a Goddess," Artemis scoffs at Magda insinuating she would lie.

Magda opens her mouth, then closes her mouth, then looks towards Mrs. MacGregor. "You might need to add papers showing a stay in an institution. Short, but ..."

Magda looks towards Artemis again. "Metahumans are unusual, if not downright and exceptionally rare, in this day and age, Artemis. Declaring your ... metaphysical nature is /very/ likely to disrupt our project."

Artemis takes a seat upon a clear portion fo the table Mrs. MacGregor is working on. Her era appropriate dress runs short and reveals most of her legs as she crosses them. The Godflora laighs at Magda's nay-saying. "The mortal did not disagree with my statement and did address me appropriately as his goddess, even though he refused my request. Ye fret too much."

Mrs. MacGregor looks over at Artemis as he says in his Scots accented English, "Dear, one does not simply state that one is goddess to strangers in this time. It makes them nervous and doubt /your/ sanity. Just give them your name and the family name we are using for you." He holds up the passport. "Artemis Delaguerre."

Magda coughs at that revelation. "Oh dear. Well, it's not inaccurate. Though I thought you wanted her to have married an Englishman."

Hotfoot's dress is longer than Artemis', down just past her knees, with short sleeves and a white collar. She is, after all, supposed to be an office worker - Magda's assistant. But the heels are still giving her trouble.

Mrs. MacGregor shrugs slightly from her seat at the cluttered, but organized, table. "He was English, my sister's daugther husband, but French on his father's side, made him more acceptable to dear Papa, ye ken?"

Artemis looks over at the passport, her thin brows furrowing. "I cannot lie and state this falsehood as my name," she declares over the passport.

Magda sits for a moment, then shakes her head. "I presume there's historical precedent," she says, "but I don't know what it is." She looks up at Hotfoot. "We," she says mildly, "should get you into better wear. How do you feel about being a drifting pool shark and possible second-story lady?"

Mrs. MacGregor smiles. "That is why your family name on the passpoer means, 'Of war', my dear. Is that acceptable?"

Hotfoot grins. "I can do that. Been shootin' pool since I was 12."

[To Mrs. MacGregor] Dreamgirl says, "So, you've worked out covers for all of us?"

Artemis purses her lips as she tries to decide if that is acceptable or not. She hasn't yet reveled in enough glory to prove herself a Goddess of War. Battle, perhaps.

Hotfoot says, "I suppose it could also mean Warrior, right?"

Mrs. MacGregor murmurs softly, "It is what I was trained to do, yes, Dreamgirl." The elderly Scotswoman picks up a Canadian passport and holds it out to Dreamgirl. "Nearly all of you are Canadian. Artemis is British given accent. And Victory is American given his. I haven't added a name yet on yours, but, you are a widow in deep mourning. You'll were a veil much of the time in public. The reason is to not reveal your power or appearance unless necessary. Additionally, it's possible that whoever we are seeking might have a disguise we cannot penetrate. So, you become our detector of last resort. As it is unlikely an elven foeman's most desired would look quite human, ye ken?"

Magda shifts her gaze to Artemis for a few moments. "'Of' has several different possible implications -- that you are /of/ war does not need to mean that you command war." She nods to Hotfoot and says, "As she says."

Magda then smiles at Hotfoot. "I remember from last time," she says, referring to their stay in the 'Institute for the Normal', or whatever it was called. "Of course, you'll have to scout out some good pool-rooms that'll let you in. Beat the boys at their own game. Maybe pick a pocket or two, establish your less-than-savory credentials."

Dreamgirl says, "It's true. But you know, my clothes change when I do. A veil's not going to be any help if I slip and change accidentally."

"It's better than nothing though, Dreamgirl. I don't think you'd be happy being cooped up in a house, no?" As he hands over the Canadian passport to Dreamgirl, she says, "Pick a name and let me know. Hopefully we won't need these in any case. IDs as something you carry around are not, hmm, required in America as this time. "

Victory knocks, waits a moment...and then walks in from the hallway, having come from his room. He gives the others a wave.

Magda grimaces a little at Dreamgirl's statement. "It would be nice to know the extent -- and drawbacks -- of your ability. And who," she adds as Victory enters, "is our wonderful soldier to be?"

[To Magda] Dreamgirl says, "Unfortunately, I still don't know the full details myself. I keep being surprised - one way or another. But at least I have more control than I used to."

Artemis still looks immensely displeased. "So I am meant to tell mortals of this era to call me Artemis Delaguerre. And must not tell them what I true am." She sighs and gives her passport a sour look. "What be this talk of marriage to an Englishman?"

"As you all know, you're mostly, Hotfoot excluded, supposed to be my grandnieces and nephews, or cousins with the exception of Magda, who is the granddaugher of an old school friend. Who was German. Magda is cast in the role of my companion." She then looks over at Victory. "Why, he is Wade Woods, my darling grandnephew. He fought in the Great War with the US Expeditionary Force. Does that fit well enough, dear Wade?"

Victory nods slowly. "That should work quite nicely. It certainly was a same what I experienced at the Second Battle of the Marne."

Hotfoot says, "Just tell them to call you 'Artemis', and leave the last name on the documents."

Artemis nods and smiles at Hotfoot's suggestion. "Very well. It shall be so," she says as she sets her passport down.

Victory grins, at Artemis's last name for her cover ID. "'De La Guerre' means 'Of the war', by the way."

Artemis chuckles. "Aye, so they say. Though I not be a Goddess over all War...it may be fitting enough."

Magda nods again to Hotfoot's advice. "Eminently practical, and as unusual in this day and age as you normally are in our own." She asides a look at 'Mrs. MacGregor'. "Oh, wonderful. Companion. That ties us fairly well together at the hip ... though if you're officially the retiring type, I'll likely be regularly requested to go out for you, which ... would not be bad."

[To Mrs. MacGregor] Dreamgirl says, "You might as well pick my name, too, if we're all supposed to be related somehow. I don't want to complicate things. And I'm used to having different names!"

Mrs. MacGregor glances over at Artemis. "Do you think Nohrbor will mind pretending to be your brother?" She then sighs, "And what would be a better last name, Artemis. It's not like I have to infiltrate computers so it's easy enough to change."

"You could use her actual last name of Constantine," suggests Magda. "Isn't that an English surname also?"

Mrs. MacGregor glances over at Dreamgirl. "Well, you should pick one you'll respond to. So close to your own name or your favorite alias, my dear. As to family names? Well, they will be varied given the difference in our ages."

She places a hand on the jade necklace around her neck. "Mr. MacGregor, Ewan, and I were never blessed with children despite all of our efforts. It's why I feel I /must/ do better for you, the descendants of siblings," the elderly woman says with a catch to her voice.

Artemis thinks on that. "Use my true name? If that would not cause time ripples, mayhaps. Though there be some familiar with it in thy present."

Magda bows her head. It's an open question of whether she's concealing her efforts to not laugh or to appear a show of reverence for the passed Mr. MacGregor. "It isn't 'John Smith'," she says to Artemis, "but it's not unique enough to raise comment, I wouldn't think -- even if you somehow manage to make it into the history books."

Artemis chortles at Mrs. MacGregor's question. "He be my Bloodbound Brother. Of course Nohrbor would not be troubled by such!"

Dreamgirl says, "Well - my name, for what it's worth, is Desiree. Does that work in this time?"

Mrs. MacGregor looks over at Magda. "Yes, Constantine works well. For Americans is different but not different enought to be...bad."

Her attentoin then returns to Dreamgirl. "Desiree is an unusual but not outstanding name, Dreamgirl, so it's perfect. We are a bit eccentric as a family after all." She smiles. "And for a last name, may I suggest Delacort. It is...appropriate I think. And, a nice French-Canadian family name."

She then turns her attention to Artemis. "How about Dusang as a family name for Nohrbor and yourself, Artemis. It means 'of the blood' in French. And, well, you do look a bit of the vamp for this era."

Hotfoot asks Mrs. MacGregor, "What do you have for me?"

Dreamgirl says, "Hm. Duchesne?"

"Ye said I should not use the name of a Goddess. Would not Artemis inform them of this?" Artemis asks, remaining seated on the table. She looks puzzled by the statement. "What mean thee? What of me appears...'vamp for this era'?"

Mrs. MacGregor looks at Hotfoot then says, "Magda is correct in thinking we should set you up as a pool shark and, secretly, second story woman." She frowns slightly. "Due to the...prejudices of this era, it'd be hard to claim you a memmber of th family and I refuse to let you pretend to be a servant. So, no need for a passport for you, but, we do need to establish who you are, just in case. So, once we get a name for you, I'll insert it into the birth records of a hospital here. Acceptable?"

Hotfoot says, "If I'm gonna hustle pool, why not give a nod to the best? Eddie Felson."

Magda lifts her head, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "That ... Mrs. MacGregor, I do not think a hospital birth record is necessary for Hotfoot. Or even desired. County birth records, a certificate of live birth, maybe. But I seem to recall that in this day and age, a home birth or one at a midwife's would be more likely for a young woman of Hotfoot's skin color, registration only to come later at the county courthouse."

Hotfoot says, "For that matter, I think even most white folks are born at home."

Mrs. MacGregor smiles slightly. "Edward Felson is shall be then," as she makes a note on a scrap of paper. "17 years old, so born in 1907. Let's say April as the winter was cold and early in 1923," she adds with a slight grin.

She then nods to Magda. "And so it shall be then. I'll slip it into a nearby county courthouse records."

Victory nods as he listens to the plans, not making any comments for the time being.

Artemis still looks confused at all the name changes, and at being called vamp. "When ye hath decided upon a final name for thy record keeping, inform me," she leaves it to them.

Mrs. MacGregor seems to think for a moment. "Why did I says an early winter in 1923. I meant an early fall and winter in 1906. Time lag must be catching up with me.

Mrs. MacGregor gestures to Artemis to hand back the passport as she says, "Hand me back the passport, Artemis. Norhbor and yourself will be Artemis and Norbert Dusang. Brother and sister." She then says, "And a vamp is a strong willed, usually seductive, woman of this time. It is slang for this time and place, Artemis. OH, and having the name of goddess doesn't mean you are a goddess in human languages. Usually it means you are named after the god or goddess, Artemsi, for humans."

Magda, recalled to Artemis's question, was about to answer, but 'Mrs. MacGregor' does so instead. Well, good enough. She sighs, lifting her fingers to dig a little at her scalp beneath the wealth of her hair. "Anyone have any ideas on how to get someone close to the President?"

Artemis hands the passport back. "I will struggle to call thee all false names. 'Tis not in my nature to tell falsehoods. Mine brother struggles not with such things."

"Just don't call me World-Killer. I am not good with false names," states Magda, "so much so that I've kept my own all these years, even though I masqueraded as my daugthers."

Mrs. MacGregor nods to Artemis. "We are but actors upon a stage in the River of Time, Artemis. We are playing roles so that Time may once again flow the way it should to its proper End. So, if a lie, it is good and necessary one so that what was will be again," he then murmurs.

Dreamgirl says, "Well, if I can get close to someone who is close to the President that might do the trick - but my powers are rather hit and miss. No guarantee I'd end up as the sort of person to be presented in respectablle company."

Magda eyes Sasha, then Artemis, then Sasha again. "We /were/ keeping our names as close to the same as possible, weren't we? In addition to reducing the stress on the lady, it'd reduce the stress on ourselves. Well, in any case." She looks over at Dreamgirl, then nods. "Yeah, that ... might be difficult. I seem to recall it can be an involuntary action on your part; might we know what typically triggers such?"

Artemis sighs at the very situation. "Mortals and thy convoluted lies," she laments and rises to her feet and walks over to a window to gaze outside, folding her arms over her chest to contemplate the direness of being stuck in this time period. "Next ye will be telling me I cannot fight nor protect mortals," she scoffs.

[To Magda] Dreamgirl says, "It's a bit hard too explain - generally it's when someone makes a sudden deep impression on me, so I'm really focused on them."

"But if you're more generally focused, you're unlikely to change?" Magda wonders.

Dreamgirl says, "Yes. I'd say so."

Mrs. MacGregor gets up and walks over to Artemis. "Unless we wish to break the timeline again, yes, we must tell little lies. Names change over time, Artemis. This is one of those times." She sets an aged hand on Artemis' arm. "And yes, you can defend mortals, but you must do so as quietly and without notice as possible. This is a time before the metas. While there are a few proto-metas out there in the world: the Raven, the Masked Rider, Doktor Bronz, this is not a Time where metas as we are, exist. Those that do are hidden and operate in greater secrecy than any in our proper place in Time. So, be remarkable, but don't be noticed. And yes, I know that goes against your nature. I'm sorry for that."

Hotfoot says, "So we should avoid doing that, I guess."

Magda hmmms thoughtfully. "That sounds like a recipe for ... hm. Interesting. Have you considered the benefits of meditation? I need to be in what I think might be called in eastern religions a 'meditative state' if I'm to do large-area manipulations ..."

Magda trails off as Sasha -- Mrs. MacGregor -- rises and walks over to Artemis. She listens closely, then smiles a little at a thought.

Dreamgirl nods to Magda. "As I said, I've got more control than I used to have."

Artemis gets the devastating news and takes it...well. Relatively. She feels her hearts sink at the news and the realization that this endeavor will be a few months long. She will vent her frustrating later. For now, she says, "It be not thee who hath cast us in this lamentable time period."

Dreamgirl says, "I suppose it's about the worst period for using superpowers. Much earlier, and photographic proof wouldn't be possible, so anyone claiming to have witnesses powers is likely to be dismissed."

Mrs. MacGregor turns from where she's talking to Artemis by the window. "Madame Citlali, you are also of Scots ancestry and possible French-Canadian. Your false ID says you are from Canada. But, I've not settled on a name for you. Do you have any suggestoins. If possible, close enought to your name so you answer to it is best."

"That really depends upon which powers, and how they are used. Some can be quite subtle." suggests Citlali as she mentally tunes her holographic projector. "How should I appear?" she asks.

"Name?" asks Citlali as she shakes her head, "Not sure really. I am easy though. Pick one for me."

Mrs. MacGregor murmurs, "As you did when I took the photogragh a few days ago. The flapper look, I believe. Much like, oh, the brunette in that old 2d musical film 'Chicago'. The murderess singer and dancer. But with green eyes."

Tilting her head to the left, Citlali asks, "Chicago? Is that not the name of a city, not a movie?" Okay, so she missed about twenty thousand years of events and entertainment.

"And any sugggestions as for names?" Mrs. MacGregor asks you all. "My mind is heading towards Russian which is just not on right now in this time."

Mrs. MacGregor raises a hand and then moves it one side as if shifting a curtain. And beside him Catherine Zeta-Jones in her role from 'Chicago' appears as a translucent image. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/560768591096130098/

"Like this, madame," murmurs Mrs. MacGregor. "The 'look' of this time. But, more the facial features, body, and hair. The clothes." She gestures to the table with its piles of papers. "Those will change. We've paid enough for them."

Glancing over them, Citlali tilts her head. Her dark eyes take it all in, and she psionically transmits data to her generator. Before long, she assumes a true flapper look. Skinny with the tight dress and the hair cut -just so-...

"I could be Doris MacGuire?" she asks.

Magda says drily, "That sort of thing works in, it should be noted, limited circumstances. Look out the window and work with what you see; we've curtains enough. However, we were considering whether or not we could assemble a retrans station out of ... current technology."

"Micro, psionic, or bio-technology specialties of mine. So, I could theoretically engineer tech that would help." offers Citlali, aka Doris. "Please give me the chance to assist."

Magda shakes her head. "No. No advanced tech. Radio is taking off; the question is whether or not we can serve our needs without leaving anything inexplicable behind."

Mrs. MacGregor nods to Citlali and makes another note on some paper on the table. "That fits well. So that is everyone. Now then, remember, I'm your great-aunt Mrs. Minerva MacGregor, your benefactress and elderly busybody." She then adds, "Well, save for you, Miss Constantine," she says to Magda. "Although I'm still looking for a husband for you. Named in memory your sweet grandmother, my dear friend." The elderly lady dabs her eyes with a handkerchief taken from her sleeve. "If only she knew of you interest in radio."

Magda blinks at 'Minerva'. "I am /not/ Miss Constantine," she says firmly. "That was a suggestion for Artemis, to use for her her own last name. You may use Gutzu; Romanian strays into Germany is perfectly workable."

Artemis glances over her shoulder at the mention of one of her names.

Mrs. MacGregor smiles slightly. "Ah, I missed that. Magda Gutzu it is then." He makes another note the looks to Artemis. "Constantine? Would you preger that, Artemis?"

Victory glances over at Magda after the interaction, but he doesnt' say anything.

"'Twould be easier for me if ye wish for me to pretend to be...Mortal," Artemis says with a sigh.

Mrs. MacGregor makes another note, underlines it, then looks at everyone, "So, that;s that then. I'll finish up the documents and then give the passports to people. Already most of the stamped. That's an easy part with a little magick." She then discretely yawns before saying, "And I'll do all that after a nap. Need plenty of rest at my age after all."

Victory nods. "Sounds good. Thanks for doing the hard work on this."

"Thy lie becomes thy truth that ye need a nap?" Artemis asks curiously.

Mrs. MacGregor smiles gently at Artemis. "Unlike some mages, my shapeshifting is not illusion. I /am/ an elderly Scotwoman right now down to re-arrangement of organs, age, etc. While not nearly as frail as I appear, well, I try to conform to the limits of my chosen form. I can overcome it, but, well, I usually don't bother. So, I'm in need of a nap. So, yes, a lie made truth, I suppose, Artemis."

She picks up her cane and starts to a nearby bedroom door. "So, a nap, finish the docuements, then some light B & E before morning for me."

Hotfoot yawns, "Nap for me too, but wake me for that last part." She heads for her designated bed.

Artemis is perplexed by the concept of a lie made truth. It shouldn't be possible. How can the others be so tired while she feels so restless? "Very well. Rest in preparation for thy research. I...require the outdoors." Feeling stifled by all this subterfuge, she decides it's time to look for a way outside.

Magda glances at Artemis's rise and departure from the room, then rises as well and gestures with her head at Wade. "I think we'd best provide an escort," she murmurs to him.

Victory nods, "You're probably right." He gets up as well, and goes to follow Artemis.