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Timekeeper	The warpgate that Vertin gives the coordinates to is a chrome construct of machinery built into the wall of a room that's halfway between a cell and a hospital ward, draped in the aesthetics of technofuturism. Crisp linoleum flooring and unadorned white walls lit by a domed florescent light makes the room feel sterile and unwelcoming, but Vertin's implied that the Foundation isn't ready to properly accept people through the warpgate yet. Through the windows on the far side of the room that look into the hallway of the building, there's researchers in white lab coats running around, pushing racks of machinery, and beyond them, a railing that drops off into at least a dozen floors more of the same. A pulsating alarm sounds throughout the building, muffled slightly by the door. <THE STORM IS COMING. PLEASE TAKE PRECAUTIONS. REPEAT, THE STORM IS COMING.>     Despite the surrounding panic and the time limit they talked about, Vertin looks as placid as they've always sounded. They have light greenish-grey hair, loosely tied into a bun on the side, and covered up by a flat brim top hat. Their outfit-- navy blue coat and waistcoat, ascot affixed with a blue gem at their throat, floral leather sleeve cuffs, one of which has a nixie tube clock displaying 0 2 : 4 7 and ticking down-- makes them look like a Victorian dandy, and they carry a large leather suitcase. They're around 160 centimeters tall, and extremely slender.     Without wasting a second, they kneel down and drop their suitcase, flipping open the clasps while talking, even-toned despite the haste.     "Thank you for your assistance. Right now, the Storm warning has left Laplace and the Foundation disorganized, so I can only rely on you. We only have a short time until someone checks this room, so I apologize in advance for not explaining the details of the mission until we've arrived. Now, quickly step into the suitcase. I'll call for you after I've used a teleport ritual disk. Sonetto is already on pursuit."     When the suitcase flips open, the interior is just a starry void. Vertin recites an incantation in an unknown language, "Ne i u m   e en t  n b   n n    n," and the stars loosely arrange themselves into a constellation of a staircase, leading down into darkness. They stand up and look towards the Elites, suitcase at their feet. "Close your eyes and walk to the end of the path. You won't fall." > Descend
Timekeeper	The stairwell in the suitcase goes down, much deeper than it should, beyond the floor and into a pitch-black passageway like a dream. At the end of it is a heavy wooden door, and blindly fumbling for the knob and pulling it open takes you into a structure completely unlike the one you left. It enters into a gorgeous sunroom in an art deco mansion, full of warm browns and draping dark greens and golds, with floor to ceiling windows flanked by bookshelves stacked with novels and art. Houseplants and retro technology interweave across every free surface, notably with a large nixie tube clock in the corner matching the one Vertin wears. Sunlight glows through the windows, despite the fact that fog presses up against them to obscure any view of whatever may be outside.     To one side of the sunroom is a burnished mahogany table, around which a eclectic group is sitting and playing a game of cards. Squatting on one seat is a hulking scarecrow wearing a suit, with his hand of cards tucked between tufts of straw sticking out of his sleeves. Across from him is a stack of CRT televisions with a brown-haired girl displayed spread across them, disjointed by their misalignment, whose cards are face-down on the table, and digitally shuffling around on the screen below her face. Lastly is a frail-looking girl with white hair, sitting in a wheelchair with an IV attached to her arm. The cl-clack of the suitcase clasps closing echoes around from seemingly nowhere around you.     The TV girl notices the new arrivals first, widening her eyes with a smile and leaning forwards so that her face comes 'close' enough to the top screen to take up nearly the entire thing. An indicator for [[Audio Port 2: MUTE]] pops up in the corner, shutting off the jukebox rock and roll that had been playing until now. Her voice has digital grittiness around the edges, as if processed through a low-quality microphone that doesn't seem visible on the image in the screen.     "OooOoOoooo~ well hel*lo* there, you colorful bunch of strangers! How did *you* all end up here today?"     The white-haired girl wheels herself slightly back from the table to face the Elites with a meek smile on her face, voice soft and apologetic by default. "Oh, hello. My name is Cristallo. You must be more of Miss Timekeeper's friends, aren't you? Mister Rabies, please, feel free to introduce yourself as well."     The scarecrow ponderously sets his cards down on the table (carelessly face-up) and then rotates his torso to look in the Elites' direction, twisted like a curious cat. With a low rumble, he slowly says, "Rrrrrraaaaaabiiiiiiesss...." and then emits a perfect mimicry of dog barking overlaid with birdsong.     "Aaaahhh, ahahaha! I should too! Hi!! I'm TTT! You've all got names too, don'tcha?"
Audrey Basque	Audrey has several things she's interested here, and so of course she came rushing along. She didn't particularly have anything going on, though she might well have had to excuse herself from the Library in a hurry after a day in class otherwise. The homework could wait, too.     Taking a whole two minutes to not come trudging along in her uniform(s), she's slipped on a black long-sleeved shirt, with a red skirt, black hosery and brown boots. The inside of her sleeves glimmers like the night sky, as does the inside of her collar, like the inner layer of her shirt is not fabric but just the sky outright. Her hair is drilled up, as it ought to be, in the usual two large drill buns that trail behind her.     Stepping in through the Warpgate and immediately hearing alarms is upsetting/concerning, but Audrey focuses on the Timekeeper's instructions rather than linger. She stares at their suitcase for a moment, before smiling knowingly.     "That is really cool. I never thought about doing that with a suitcase before. Clever! ... but what happens if something happens to it while we're in there?" Oh, well, no time to worry about that, right? Audrey heads down into the suitcase, following the stairs. "OooOoOoooo~ well hel*lo* there, you colorful bunch of strangers! How did *you* all end up here today?"     Audrey whistles, evidently charmed by the decor and setup of the dimension inside the suitcase, though the sight of the hulking scarecrow, stack of TVs and sick girl makes her stop for a second.     "Oh. Hello, TTT, Cristallo... um, M-Mister Rabies. I'm Audrey. We... y-yes, we're here to help the Timekeeper. This is a neat arrangement. Do you all just live in here, inbetween missions?"     She wanders over, slowly, towards the windows, to try to get a better view of what's out of the sunroom, despite the fog's best attempt to hide that. Curiosity demands she takes a peek, at least, if there is even anything to see.
Veronica	Veronica emerges from the warpgate in a hurry, and looks a little surprised to not find herself immediately staring down danger. After she puts it together that she's not in London yet, and Vertin mentions something about a 'teleport disc', she relaxes a little and offers her flesh-and-blood left hand for Vertin to shake. "Hey, I'm Veronica. Thought I'd show up to help."     Following Vertin's instructions, Veronica descends into the suitcase. The room seems comfortable, if a bit classier than she's used to. The poker game is what throws her off, after Vertin's urgent request for aid and the hubbub around the warpgate. "Hey, uh, you folks gonna be helping us with this Storm business? Veronica, by the way."
Odette Raskins	The unfamiliar yet familiar environment that Vertin's warpgate leads everyone to is a comforting-enough place for Odette. Even if she hasn't been in this particular world's hospitals before, it's still enough to get her to loosen up a bit while joining the timekeeper to take a curious look at their suitcase. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to going into things half-blind these days." She laughs awkwardly at her own joke, although it dies down fairly quickly when she thinks about it for more than the three seconds it took for her to say it. Dressed in her Company-issued blues, she stares at the open suitcase blankly for a moment before taking it all in stride and just stepping towards the void inside, foot pointed at an angle like she's wary about falling right into a pool or something if she put all her weight on it at once. It takes her a second longer to close her eyes, then try her best to actually keep walking in a straight line without so much as peeking. Is she supposed to be going in a straight line? It feels like she's going the right way, but she's hesitating often, like she's still wary about tumbling down the stairs and landing on anyone in front of her. Eventually, though, she ends up in that mansion-esque sunroom, gasping briefly at what should be impossible for her to be seeing right there. The occupants of the suitcase-room, in comparison, are far less surprising to the EMT than even she would expect. Inhaling softly as the greetings come forth, Odette dips into a quick bow at her waist before waving att he trio inside. "H.. Hello! My name's Odette. Yeah, Miss Vertin led us here to.. Uh. Rabies?" Odette starts to sweat. She doesn't have anything for rabies in her bag! Maybe something to treat the symptoms at best, but... Her line of thinking is interrupted when she actually hears the scarecrow speaking, opening her mouth just in time for him to start bark-singing and inadvertently yelping in response. "... Nice to meet you! Er. Miss Cristallo. Mister Rabies. Miss TTT. So! We'll be working together, then?" She asks while approaching the trio, taking note of their cards glancing back at where she had come in from with everyone else. "Or will we be coordinating through radios and stuff? Sorry, this Storm business is still all super new to me, so... I'm not really sure what the plan is."
Riku Asakura	Riku shows up at the warp gate in his normal get-up.  A jean jacket with a pair of jeans and tennis shoes.  Underneath the jean jacket, which remains open, is an orange shirt with a space agency design on it.  He's got short black hair and a bright smile on his face, as it seems to melt into concern about the approaching Storm.   The alarms are both concerning and upsetting, and his face reflects the concern he has for what's going on.  He's not sure what he's going to be able to do to help, but he's here and is going to do his best.  After all, standing around doing nothing won't accomplish anything, or so he likes to say.   Caught off guard by the suitcase being dropped in front of them, and given instructions to close their eyes and step into the thing, he shrugs and does as he's told.  Closing his eyes and stepping inside it.  Only opening them once he's through the threshold and walking down the spiral staircase.   What he notices on the way down is the beautiful space and the characters in front of him.  "Oh.  Uh.  Hello!  Yes, we're friends of Ms. Timekeeper.  I'm Riku Asakura.  It's a pleasure to meet you all!"
White	White would be hard pressed to arrive 'early' to any meaningful degree like she usually might, so she has to settle with simply arriving as soon as she can. Coming through the warpgate, it seems like the only particular preparations she's made for this outing were to wrap her mighty body-length hairbraid around her left arm so that it isn't loose and liable to snag. She takes a brief moment to look around, eyes still shut as she takes in the sterile state of the room. She isn't exactly enthused about how the decor makes it feel like she's going to be experimented on, but after her face turns back toward Vertin- and their suitcase- it seems like she's managed to dispel her misgivings.      She's familiar enough with her own spatial magic to get a feeling from examining the suitcase's interior, and Vertin's explanation very nearly seems to coax a 'Say no more' out of White's demeanor, if not quite her voice. She'd rather help with this kind of under-the-table request, rather than just doing an organization's work for it. Maybe it's that 'Charisma' Vertin's known for, or maybe it's just relatability... So, after giving Vertin a small, wordless half-bow in greeting, she steps around the suitcase and onto the first step. Her eyes are always closed, of course... But she can still see. She doesn't consider in the moment if that might be a problem as she's walking down the conjured stairway into the suitcase.      At the 'bottom' of the magic passage, White finds the decor surprisingly pleasing, wondering if this is the sort of appeal boys are looking for when things like tree-houses and basement man-caves are spoken of. There's something to be said for a nice, secret base that you can arrange how you like... And the occupants waiting there when she arrives help recontextualize the purpose of this special little hidey-hole. While a scarecrow and a stack of TVs aren't the obvious thing to imagine when thinking of a person, it *does* fit her media-brained understanding of what an Arcanist might effectively be, and seeing them behave like people and interact with another person immediately solidifies her assumptions. These are just Weird Friends. They're less weird than the Abnormalities that Angela introduced her to, so it'd be strange for her to take umbrage with them. So, being just Weird Friends, White gives them the same greeting she typically gives anyone; the half-bow, and her name, "White."      Only after that does she work around to answering any of their questions, first nodding to the girl- Cristallo apparently- then simply murmuring in the TV girl's direction, "She asked for some help." She then searches out a place to sit, ideally a little off to the side and apart from the table they are playing cards on. 'Rabies' and 'TTT'... Well, maybe they named themselves, like Wrath did? Being barked at does slightly startle her, enough to flinch a little bit, but aside from a pensive squimsh of her brow she doesn't criticise... It's rude to talk bad about someone's friends, right? Well, unless they want you to, probably.
Einar	Einar arrives flanked by a pair of... actually perfectly-ordinary looking siblings dressed in civilian clothes. The man himself is, for better or worse, not immediately in a 1960s London-prepared outfit, as he is still enclosed in a suit of black-and-pale-gold power armor and is over seven feet tall. Even without it, it would take a lot of effort for him to not be obtrusive-- and he has methods for that when the time comes. Not getting changed straight away is at least partially a result of the urgency of the call, though. A turn of his head and the angle of his grated visor is all that really suggests he's looking towards Vertin as he follows their instructions. This is a man who is both used to authority-- and to ceding it on a dime to whoever on the ground actually knows what's going on. He moves steadily through, seemingly at ease with moving with his eyes shut, and on the other side of it all... moves off to the side and tries to keep his distance from anything he could side-swipe stuff off of if he was a hair inattentive. A manor sunroom it might be, but he takes up an inordinate amount of space in it. For a long moment he was silent. It remained unclear exactly who among the strange folk 'within' the suitcase he was looking at, if any of them at all. But that he was listening became abundantly clear, because after a couple of introductions-- "We are a part of an emergency dispatch requested on short notice. The precise parameters of the meaning of this invitation have been produced in brief, relating to a Philosopher's Stone and the individual who has absconded it it, but we were also told that the full explanation would have to wait owing to certain restrictive realities," The Black Knight rumbles, his voice deep and carrying, but relatively subdued all the same. "I am Einar of the Spiral Empire, and I am pleased to meet you-- Cristallo, Rabies, TTT." Einar brought his arm forward across himself and bowed slightly-- though it was obvious he was still being careful about his surroundings.
Tamamo	The important thing is that Tamamo is here. We need not dwell long on her reasons for appearance, nor on her appearance, itself, for that is all perfectly normal -- a three-tailed fox and bunrei of the Solar variety expressed an interest, and then arrived, first through a warpgate, and then descending a staircase, geta clacking to the maximum extent allowed by solid constellations.     "Oh, hello! Yes, of course. I am Tamamo-no-mae, bunrei of Amaterasu-omikami, She of the White-Gold Face, Goddess of the Sun. Separately, I am a Chevalier of the Paladins. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Cristallo, Ms. TTT, and Mr. Rabies." Nothing strange about this crew. Perfectly normal, by all accounts. "I understand that there is a certain element of haste in our summoning and goals...?"     She hasn't been to London in the 20th century. Preparing an outfit will take a little while. Vertin's and Sonetto's were rather different from one another, and imitating a uniform would be... well, that's not really done.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel Parsons is here, and more than perfectly matched to the locale. If you ever asked for a twentieth century man, you'd get... well, not exactly Flamel Parsons, but if you asked for maybe ten of them, one would definitely look very similar to him. And the technofuturist environment matches his own knowledge perfectly as well, not to mention the scanning gear he's got strapped to the harness over his blazer.     "Now, quickly step into the suitcase."     "Just warning you, I only have human flexibility." He tries to opine helpfully, until the stairs make themselves clear. "Oh, much better." He zips down the stairs in a hurried single-file descent, careful to neither dawdle nor push. When he hits the bottom... "Special agent Parsons! Agent of a vague yet ominous government organization." He offers. "Good to meet you, Cristallo, Rabies, TTT." A glance around -- Audrey, he knows a little. Odette, he hopes they won't need, but better safe than sorry. Riku is already a lot compressed into a little space, so he briefly hopes that the suitcase handles recursion well. He doesn't recognize any others yet, but he's keeping note. "What's it sound like when she calls for you? I think we have to be ready."     He does. He's easygoing, but it's the kind of relaxation that's designed to keep his mind spry and active, ready to go at a moment's notice, topped up as much as it can on mental health and mental energy. Ready to dash right back up those stairs and into something, while he has the few hours to see what the Storm is like...
Tamiel Luxis	Tamiel arrives in full gear, a rainbow scarf hovering pensively behind her as she wanders into the unfamiliar warpgate. Even if she didn't know what it was, the alarms would have set her on edge. The air of panic in the shelter more than enough to tell her that she was on the cusp of something terrible.     Her clothes grasped uneasily, her skirt pulling in like a living thing. She pulls her hood down, when it tries to pull over her head, and she reaches up a hand to stop it murmuring a gentle scolding.     It didn't feel like a place for people. Too clean, too crisp, too pristine. The soft buzzing of florecent lights almost felt like a warning in itself. Made her feel like an intruder. A thought reinforced, once Vertin suggested that no one else actually knew they were all here. "Shh..." She said again, into her shoulder, when Vertin was done with her brief explanation. She was all too happy to descend into the suitcase, spurned by her twisting gut, to get out of this place...though her first steps into the starry void were trepadicious.     Her steps down, down, down into the suitcase felt like they took longer than they really did...Until...     "Wow..." Tamiel raised her hand over her eyes, as they adjusted to the light, before jostling aside as someone pressed up behind her.     "Oh, sorry..." But the little sunroom was beautiful, and brought a little smile to her face. She spends a moment looking at some of the photographs on the wall.     "...I like it..."     "Oh!" She was being rude. She cleared her throat, looking toward the three arcanists. A bundle of questions pushed themselves up her throat...only for her to gulp them all back down.      "It's good to meet you..." Her eyes lingered on Rabies. Did they even understand her...? They can play a card game. At least. So...     "Vertin called for help. Yeah. My name is Tamiel..."
Natsuki Nuki	Natsuki Nuki, of Osakan fame and Concord claim, had engaged with the enigmatic Timekeeper only once, and only because Vertin had given her a semi-non-answer about what an 'Arcanist' is to any satisfaction. The yokai from Japan had not grasped the fine and detailed point of the marked nuance of 'like humans, but different'. Natsuki was 'like humans, but different', even if she would spill quite the lake of differences at command. Socialized into a society that homogenized spirits and humans after a rough sixty years of not quite meshing, she asked the Timekeeper if it was a similar situation and had received... Dissatisfaction. Really, it was now just something she needed to figure out for herself, but -- 1966? Her school of fashion was only invented in the 1980's! Natsuki was from the distant and far future of roughly 2005! The stone age fashion had thrown her more than anything else and making sure her look worked. And so, instead, she used help. For the first time, she finally summoned the help provided to her via the Concord's concierge program. "Okay, Concord." She had begun into her flip phone. The digital assistant had bink-bonked and assented its availability by chime, and then she had summoned up 'Counterculture Fashion, 1966'. And started gagging. "What the fuck is wrong with these people? Hello? That jacket looks terrible on you! Okay, the band uniform tied-button is a look, but with what, a whole brass section behind me? Hard pass. Pass, pass, pass," Her down-arrow clicking thumb hard stops on a shot of a luridly aggressive pair of black-swirled golden bell bottoms under a black jacket and pauses for a second. Her phone screen distorts around the tip of a fingernail pressed against the image's display screen, and finally she gets a worthy idea. "Okay. I can do 1966. If I *have* to, for answers." --- Arriving at the warpgate, and thus, Vertin's invitation, Natsuki Nuki appears as a tiger-eared and dark brown eyemask-patterned Japanese woman with a mid-back length platinum blonde-white ponytail tied with an amber-and-black clasp. She is dressed in an absolutely Loud outfit - a shiny black silk collared shirt with the first two buttons left undone and a gold tie, grey vest, and black blazer jacket with gold buttons that closes around an ink-black and snakeskin pattern belt with a thick serpent-headed buckle set with two red jewels for eyes that appear to constantly stare out over gold-swirled black bell bottoms and thick-backed heels that disappear into the break of her pants. It's difficult to comment before she gets in, immediately pointed down into a suitcase rather than anywhere else - with her eyes closed - until she reaches the sunroom down beneath. A little disoriented, she looks around, expecting a 'Storm' in several senses, and instead sees: A cancer patient, some televisions projecting a v-tuber, and a living scarecrow. And at that third individual, Natsuki swipes a hand over the top of her head and pantomimes throwing down a hat. "I knew it! I knew there were yokai here, or whatever they call yokai in Europe-" She's too mad to remember. "And--..." She trails off, sighing and planting angry right hand on bell bottom lowriding hip and jacketed side, canting at a faint angle and not quite hitting a bow in her lean forward. "I'm the Lady Nue. You can call me Natsuki if we'll be working together. Is the problem down in here, or..." The area she was in before felt more like London than this sunroom, though, she honestly didn't know the difference between London and San Francisco at this point.
Lilian Rook	Lilian had browsed some amount of the 1960s ever since Vertin had first answered her question on the broadband, but until now, hadn't considered it a high priority. For one, it wasn't sure where in the world she might eventually deploy, if she ever did. For another, the Foundation was allegedly still in the stages of negotiating Paladins allyship, and so that day should be far off. For three, there are a million other things to do, and she'd like a couple of weeks to forget about Laplace.     Having less than three hours of notice means it's hardly time to go clothes shopping. Finding out that it's in London just adds insult to injury. It'd have been so easy to secure era-appropriate cover, had she known. Lilian curses the whole way she gathers up her things from overtime at her Trídéag office. At least, she reasons, any problems will last less than three hours before ceasing to exist; that reassures her for five minutes before she remembers to feel bad about it. She cuts in line at the headquarters internal staff gate, and everyone there is too scared by her mood to say anything.     Lilian trots through the Warpgate at a brisk clip, shielding her eyes from the flourescent light glaring off the walls as though she were stepping into bright sunlight. Having not had the time to change into anything not already on-hand, nor stow anything that requires a secure location, she has to show up in slapped together casual officewear; short black box-pleat skirt, leather boots, tights, sleeveless white button-up innerblouse, black ribbon tie, half-worn fitted red cashmere cardigan with gold buttons; her coat is slung over her shoulder, both Night Mist and her Type-13 sheathed at her waist like a ridiculously heavy western daisho, and her sidearm poking and thigh strap poking out just under the hem of her skirt. She only just had time to find half a tactical harness and slap it over her belt.     'Thank you for your assistance. Right now, the Storm warning has left Laplace and the Foundation disorganized'     Lilian has only to look out the window to agree. "Anyone would be disorganized given only three hours notice." she says, her patience slightly brittle. It takes her a second to skim through everything and pick out "What do you mean 'check' this room? What would they be--"     "Beg pardon? Step into what?"     For some reason, the phrase 'Come with me! There's no time to explain!' echoes in irritating refrain as Lilian hustles down the suitcase steps, not having the luxury of being slower than everyone else either. She has no idea if closing her eyes is actually necessary, but she used to tell people that before using fairy circles too, so she'd feel like a jackass for not listening.     What she expects at the other end is their destination. She'd heard something about teleportation, after all. What Lilian gets instead stuns her into temporary silence. She scans one way, then the other, checking both back corners, the exits, the windows, and then finally begins to move, letting her fingers brush along the thick leaf of an indoor fern as if to verify its authenticity. The click of her heels on this particular floor is immediately satisfying. The warmth indoors despite the fog outside is soothing. The books on the shelves and the strange little jukebox, even the old monitors; for some reason, the first strings of her impression sound similar to Sapient Heuristics, of all things.     The suitcase click causes her to turn around, squint thoughtfully, and whisper "Oh you mother-"
Lilian Rook	'OooOoOoooo~ well hel*lo* there, you colorful bunch of strangers! How did *you* all end up here today?'     Now Lilian really, truly, has no idea what to make of this. She's so backfooted that it engages her habitual reflex to stop thinking about it and charge forward. Casually running her fingers through her hair on her scar side, Lilian replies automatically, "Dame Commander Lilian Isabelle Rook. Are you a contact on the other side of where we're going? I'm surprised you can remote in under these conditions."     'Oh, hello. My name is Cristallo. You must be more of Miss Timekeeper's friends, aren't you?'     A wheelchair is one thing, but an IV? Lilian pauses for a second, pressing her lips together, then asks, "Begging your pardon, but is it safe for you to be here? You could say that I'm an acquaintance-- we've met each other before-- but you do know that we're headed into a dangerous situation, don't you?"     'Rrrrrraaaaaabiiiiiiesss....'     Lilian's thumb taps on the crossguard of one sword at her waist, where her hand rests, and then finally decides on an awkward, "A pleasure to meet you." instead.     Seeing no clear way to proceed straight away, Lilian looks over the sun room one more time, folds her jacket a second time over her arm, and says "Do you mind if I hang up some things?"
Swords of Justice	Shirou and Medusa arrive through the warp gate to the designated meeting spot. While they didn't really have time to prepare time-appropriate attire, Shirou's college clothes are thankfully not that out of place so long as somebody doesn't look too closely. Medusa has it harder, but luckily Shirou has experience in disguising Servants. While her outfit is entirely unchanged, it's now somewhat covered up by an awful yellow rain poncho and hat...      Their disguises (or honestly lack there of) don't get to see a lot of use however, as they're now quickly ushered inside the Timekeeper's suitcase. It's all a bit too sudden to complain or question, much less sit and think about, so they simply follow Vertin's instructions, waiting for everyone else to enter first before following themselves.      An entire world inside of a single suitcase? Or an apartment? Maybe it's just a single room. It's kind of hard to tell at first, but once they open the door and get a look- No, it's still hard to tell just how much space is in this simple suitcase. Again, though, both of them (mainly Shirou) are denied their chance to quietly speculate, as they're greeted by a new group of people, none of whom they recognize as climbing in with them.      "Huh? Oh, I'm Shirou. Shirou Emiya."      "...Medusa."      They're given names, and then asked theirs. After all, they're probably going to be working together.
James Bond	If James Bond can die of old age with the knowledge that this is the last sterile, unwelcoming room pressing down on him, then he'll die a happy man. As it is, the environment is different, but the vibe is familiar--especially with the researchers scurrying in the periphery. His navy wool check three-piece suit is finely tailored; it suggests a core of iron beneath the well-dressed, sophisticated exterior, without emphasizing it so much as to be gauche or blatant in its statement. It is, however, unapologetically a product of his native time in its expression of that statement; the lapels are peaked in that undeniably late 1980s fashion, and the collar of his sky blue dress shirt is likewise more prominent for it, as is the darker blue necktie in its four-in-hand knot.      'Quickly step into the suitcase' gives him pause only so much as it takes him to realize that it's far from the most unusual thing he's been asked to do in this line of work. Compared to the last time he had to work with his eyes closed, walking along a path is a small ask, too. His brow furrows in thought the farther down he descends. How far down does it go? Perhaps a foolish question--he supposes it goes as far as it will, and he'll know it when his outstretched hand hits a wall or when his dress shoes find flat ground.      His hand finds the knob, though not without someone else having found it first--the creak of the door gave it away.      How did you all end up here today?      "We took the stairs," Bond says, with a mildly insufferable smirk and a motion of his head back towards the door, as if those same stairs would still be there. For all he knows, they might be.      "The Timekeeper sent us along," he answers more seriously. You've all got names too, don'tcha?      "Bond," he introduces himself. "James Bond." There's a brief pause where he considers his options. He doesn't really bow in the way that Einar does. But his usual handshake-for-work isn't an option here, or at least he imagines it isn't due to TTT's presence inside the TVs. So, instead: "It's a pleasure to meet you all."      I'm Shirou. Shirou Emiya.      Bond exchanges a look with Lilian.
Rita Ma	"The Storm is coming."      The odds, Rita knows, that this world's temporal unraveling will prove contagious to the rest of the Multiverse are very very low. So are the odds that she, personally, can do anything about the Storm regardless; not that this little excursion ('to retrieve a certain item and recruit the alchemist in possession of it') has anything to do with really solving it.      But the ways the human* mind deals with 'tiny chance of a huge consequence' are infamously irrational, and so, she shows up a bit severe-subdued despite the manageably low stakes. Crisp white shirt, pleated skirt, and that little ribbon as the only splash of color; arms crossed tightly behind her back.      It suits where they're going reasonably well, she assumes, until 'where they're going' doesn't look much like London at all.      "Um. It's," she starts, with a hasty resentful glance back in the vague direction they came as if to accuse Vertin for dumping them into A Social Situation, "a pleasure to meet you?? I'm Rita. Are you..."      Lilian hazards a guess that they're working, but Rita beside her shakes her head: "Do you all live here?"      She's trying her best not to stare at the IV line.
Timekeeper	"Anyone would be disorganized given only three hours notice."     Vertin tries to make an apologetic smile at Lilian while ushering everyone into their suitcase, but fact that it only results in a faint twitch exposes the muscular tension in her face. "They had twenty-four. I'm sorry to have waited until the last minute to inform you. I hope you'll understand."     None of the new shapes, whether the familiar ones or Einar's massive armor, make Vertin so much as blink with surprise or confusion. It's entirely impossible to read 'why' that is, off of their face, whether it's because an 'arcanist' can be someone who's seven feet tall like that, or because they have a phenomenal poker face. All that can really be interpreted out of them is a dulled sense of urgency, and even that is almost invisible.     At everyone's introductions, Cristallo-- who comes across as the most sociable normal-style of the trio-- nods her head with a weary smile, ghostly-pale hands folded in her lap. "I'm glad to meet all of you. Miss Timekeeper has been kind to me, so...."     She trails off without finishing the sentiment, so it's easy enough to project whatever end to that sentence seems correct to interpretation. The easiest to assume would be that she's expressing some amount of positivity or gratitude, for giving your assistance to someone she feels indebted to. Reading into her apologetic tone makes it come across as faintly guilty, as if she's asking that you don't get Vertin in trouble for something or other. "Do you all just live in here, inbetween missions?"     "'Missions'...?" Cristallo softly touches a finger to the side of her chin, curious at the phrasing. After a moment, she shakes her head. "Miss Timekeeper offered me a room to stay here after... an incident with the hospital, but I'm not fit for field investigations... we might have to leave soon, before the Storm comes."     Rabies droops his head to the side to look at Natsuki with an unchanging smile on his onion-shaped head. He's silent for a while, and then abruptly gurgles out "Nnnnnuuueeeeeeeee..." slurring it together like 'nweh'. Then he makes several more bird-hooting noises, followed by the sound of a cat yelping after its tail is stepped on.     With a little bzoop, TTT's image blips off of her TV screens and appears in chibi-mode on the singular computer sitting on a shelf on the side of the room. "Woahhh! New words already! Good job, you big lug!" She kicks back her itty bitty mary janes and waves her hand dismissively. "He couldn't hack a job with the busy bees upstairs! Vertin's the only one with the kind of open space for a funny little layabout like that, 'cause she's smart enough to know that empty rooms always draw the most interesting visitors! Like all of you, huhh??"     TTT blips off of the computer and appears in the tiny screen of White's phone, hands brought together to cup under her chin while her feet kick behind her. "But so~orry! I'm not here to help either! In fact, I've gotta get the H-E-double-hockey-sticks outta here before the Storm hits too! But hey, lemme leave you my number, see if we can't talk sometime when the world isn't ending!"     WHITE'S PHONE has acquired a new CONTACT!
Timekeeper	> OUT THE WINDOW     Audrey finds that it's actually *impossible* to see out the window. Any kind of realistic fog would have some permeability, even if it's just glimpses while the vapor particles shift around, but this is more like a sunlit golden wall than anything natural. There's stairs up and down within the manor, but what's outside appears to be 'nothing'.     White's perception of the magic of the area surrounding them makes the state of the suitcase slightly *more* confusing rather than less. While Spacial magic is clearly the dominating force of this pocket realm, there's a dozen other minor kinds of magic interwove with it, including time-category and a mess of currently dormant spells. The latter of which are mainly concentrated 'outside'. > LOOKING AT PHOTOGRAPHS     There's a lot of them, anyone can see at a glance. Not just the framed sort that are neatly positioned on the bookshelves, but tons and tons of loose printed Polaroids and developed film. The subjects of the vast majority of them are people, or groups of people, across different eras in their environments. "Sorry, this Storm business is still all super new to me, so... I'm not really sure what the plan is."     TTT blips again, this time appearing in the 'screen' of the medical HUD in Odette's own glasses. When she's contained onto one screen like this, she *displays* different than at full size, so it can't possibly just be that she's got a video camera on her somewhere. She skips across the lens of Odette's glasses, kicking back and lounging across the bridge of her nose, split in half by the space between the lenses. "First timers? Gosh, well let ol' TTT give you some advice then! When the Timekeeper goes 'bap bap bap!' and then says your names, that's when it's time to roll on up outta here! And, second piece of advice, don't hang around when the rain starts going up, or you'll be kaput along with the rest of the world! And you're all my new friends, so I can't allow that!" "We took the stairs,"     "Ha!! You're funny!" TTT is now a little pixellated display inside the screen of Bond's watch, arms folded across the 0 in the current time and leaning against it with an amused smile. "We should keep in touch if you don't get reversed!" "-- but you do know that we're headed into a dangerous situation, don't you?"     Cristallo stretches around a bit to reach for the mount of her IV and attach it to the back of her wheelchair, so that both hands are free to move around. She taps a Foundation-branded transponder in her lap, and TTT zips over to retreat into its screen, and then she offers a hand to Rabies to coax him out of his chair. "I do know, but thank you for your concern. We'll be on our way now, and... good luck on your missions. I hope they take you somewhere beautiful."     After they all head out the same door you came in from, there's no other voice or movement within the manor. For a couple tense minutes, everyone is free to relax, prepare, or fret as needed, until three knocks sound on the outside of the suitcase, and Vertin's voice comes through.     "It's time."
Timekeeper	LONDON, JULY 1966 TWO HOURS BEFORE THE STORM     At Vertin's signal, the suitcase is once again opened and laid on the ground, so that the Elites can climb back out one by one. Rather than the chrome and linoleum interior of Laplace, your first step out of the starry void of the suitcase is onto an overcast brick footpath in the dense inner city of London. Tucked into an alleyway to be out of immediate view of the citizenry, the smell of damp asphalt and cigarette smoke merges as a perfect first impression of the period and city, with a bright red double decker bus rolling down the street outside. Up in the sky, through rare gaps in the clouds, the moon is split into technicolor triplicate, partially overlapping and wavering at the edges as if seen through 3D glasses.     Despite this being Vertin's country and world, they don't look any less out of place here. Once everyone's out of the suitcase, they pick it back up again and hold their hat down to their head with their other hand, with one eye covered by the brim and the other piercingly staring at the group.     "Welcome to the end of 1966. Sonetto is somewhere nearby with a briefing on the status of the mission for all of us. Two things before we go." A breeze sweeps through the alleyway, forcing them to clutch their hat tighter as it tugs at the tails of their coat. Along with the breeze comes a light pattering of raindrops, and a moment of dizziness where the lines of the bricks seem to squirm and writhe in the ground.     "Firstly, we cannot mention the Storm to any of the inhabitants of the era, nor make any acknowledgement of the 'era'. Only those working with the Foundation, or who have braved the Storm before, may know about it. Secondly..." Outside the alleyway, the faint sound of guitar music and singing clashes with a crowd of loud indistinct shouting. "The Storm is close enough that you may begin to feel the effects of Storm Syndrome. Please hold on to your senses as long as possible, and forgive those of this era who cannot."
Riku Asakura	"It was nice to meet you!" Riku says to the departing trio as they are left alone in the suitcase-turned-waiting room.  It's hard to say how long they waited, but Riku hears the familiar voice of Timekeeper, who wishes them to come out of the suitcase.  Riku, who is full of wonder at the situation, follows the group up. The first thing that catches his attention is the technicolor moon, split into its three colors.  "Wow..." he says, staring up at it. Timekeeper's voice breaks the spell, snatching his attention back to earth and their duties here.   Sonetto is nearby with the briefing, so their general movement is to find her and get the information they need.  The rest is important information about the era.  "We can't mention anything about this 'era' or that the storm is coming?  Okay..." he says, swallowing.   "Is there no way to warn people about what's coming, or... would it just cause panic for no reason?" But then she mentions holding onto their senses for as long as possible.  Is that it?  Does trying to warn about the storm bring its effects sooner?  He's not sure, so he keeps his question to Timekeeper open.   "What's stopping us from warning people about what's to come?"
Audrey Basque	"I knew it! I knew there were yokai here, or whatever they call yokai in Europe-" "Oh! Natsuki, hello!" Well, Audrey's looking a bit less miserable than usual, and a bit better dressed than usual, so it must be a good day for a change of pace. Or a good enough day at least! "Your ability to dress for the occasion really is something else. Sadly, I didn't have anything suitable for this time period... or time to look for anything of the sort, though I'm sure the family wardrobe is bursting with London-favorable options." They're kind of a on literal timer, here, so there was no time for *that*. "White."     "White! You're here too." Audrey is certainly not going to complain that she can recognize so many faces present; even if it's in-passing. Riku, Odette and Flamel all get waves, at least! Einar... she's never seen, or met, or heard, the giant of a man, but he's certainly hard to miss, along with his entourage. "Oh, hello! Yes, of course. I am Tamamo-no-mae,"     Tamamo is easy to spot too, and prompts a quick:     "Lady Tamamo, a pleasure to be working with you as usual." "Do you all live here?"     "Rita! You're here too? I hope you've been well?" "Dame Commander Lilian Isabelle Rook."     What's left of Audrey's social energy evaporates promptly, though after a moment and then another moment... PHONE: Petra Soroka says, "Anyways. If you don't start a conversation with Lilian by the end of the week, I'm gonna shoot a hole through your hand."     She sighs, turns away from the foggy windows through which she can see absolutely nothing anyway, and approaches Lilian while they have downtime. "It's interesting, right? This place looks like it could be a time capsule. Do you suppose the Timekeeper just collects things from the different eras before the Storm sweeps it all away? I guess I would too, if I were in their position."
Audrey Basque	"'Missions'...?"     "Oh. My apologies. I presumed you were all... in the same sort of situation as us. That was very kind of the Timekeeper, then. I hope you'll be alright."     Cristallo mentioning an 'incident with the hospital' makes Audrey perk a brow up. "If I may ask... what incident? Something to do with the Timekeeper or...?" "It's time."     Oh. Well, there's-- no time.     "Ah. Looks like our cue. I wouldn't count on beautiful, but I hope you'll be alright," Audrey asides to Cristallo, before heading towardsthe exit of the suitcase to head back out.     Exiting out into an alleyway, Audrey stretches, before reaching out with her senses. New world; no use gambling. She'd like to know how the energy is flowing. She wants to know if the sky's normal, and if it's what she's used to. She'd like to be prepared, this time! No leaping blindly into something without some information.     So anyway **THE MOON** answers her questions and curiosity, partially. "... excuse me, Timekeeper? Is this how your moon normally looks, or are we agreed it's broken and definitely, absolutely, abnormal? Is this the Storm's doing, too?"
Veronica	Veronica spends the few minutes of waiting doing her best to look comfortable leaning against a wall. When the knock to exit comes, she looks almost relieved to be free of the idle chatter.     Emerging from the suitcase, Veronica nearly stops dead at the top of the stairs before remembering to awkwardly shuffle out of the way. Even without actively putting a metaphorical ear to the ground, she can tell that something is wrong with the local psychogeography. She nods along to Vertin's warning about the Storm Syndrome, and makes a mental note not to tap into the psychic background unless absolutely necessary.     "So our first job's finding Sonetto, yeah? Got a signal figured out with her, or should we start searching?"
Odette Raskins	"Miss Timekeeper offered me a room to stay here after..." Audrey's and Rita's questions connect a few potential dots in Odette's mind, especially when she looks back over at Cristalo. "That makes sense... Oh! If that's the case, do you need any extra medication?" She asks while patting the medical case at her side. "The stuff in here is more for treating symptoms rather than cures, but I can pick up some more stuff for you the next time I'm on the station." She offers, neatly hiding the fact that she's totally just going to steal it. "Well, the next time we meet after this Storm." She's distracted by Einar's presence sooner rather than later, though, and for entirely shallow reasons. Size? Check. Armor? Check. Voice? Check. It's not hard to notice her staring right at him, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the headlights. She's quick to look away if it so much as looks like he's turning towards her, though, quick to get a better read on the many other faces here. There's plenty of familiar ones here, after all, and it's reassuring to see several she's even worked with before. As she scans the room, however, she's distracted by yet more unfamiliar faces that have doing brief double-takes. Natsuki's and Medusa's outfits both grab her attention almost immediately for wildly opposing reasons, and she catches herself staring at the two for a while longer before taking mental notes on what kinds of clothes to look into when she's not on the clock. As she starts getting her head back on track, though, Odette doesn't see TTT on the TVs. Instead, she sees her appearing right on her glasses, and the EMT lets out a startled yelp at someone suddenly laying across her nose. "Huh?! Oh, you're.. Wait. You got into...? Oh, that's so cool!" Sounding excited, she promptly stays as still as she can, partially from not knowing if rapid movement might actually affect TTT's ability to lounge, and partially because she doesn't want to force anyone else to look around too much if TTT can be seen from the other side of her glasses, too. "Bap bap bap... And then we come out, but we watch out for the rain coming... Up?" Oh yeah. That was mentioned over the radio, wasn't it? Swallowing lightly to keep her nerves in check, Odette raises her hand up near her face in a thumbs up specifically to try and account for TTT's visible size in front of her. "Don't worry, Miss TTT. We'll all get through this safely along with..." How many people could fit in here, anyway? How many people does Vertin plan to recover? That thought lingers in Odette's mind as she starts glancing around the room slowly, wondering how many people could fit inside the suitcase. "If it's standing room only... Oh, and if there's anyone really strong that could carry..." "It's time." With her medical case checked and her mind snapped back to reality, the EMT looks ready and raring to head out of the suitcase. She waits for everyone else to head on out first, though, knowing full well her role here today. Like Flamel, she's hoping she won't actually be needed, but she doesn't expect it. The multi-colored moon has her looking up at it, of course, and Odette's mind swims briefly before she forces her gaze away from it. She can't recall ever seeing a moon like that before, but it might be rude to comment on it directly. "Hello, Miss Vertin! Sounds straightforward enough... Don't say the S word, the E word, and... Uh. S Syndrome?" She'll need to pay close attention to her mental state from the sounds of it. Odette nods, pauses, then speaks up again. "Got it. Ah. What were those effects again? I might have something for that, too, maybe...?" She sounds less confident about that.
Rita Ma	Rita, still tense-polite-withdrawn, spends a little while thinking about how one could get out of here if Vertin dies or loses the suitcase. (It's a good mood for worst-cases.) Just popping out might work, but it'd be rude to test. Most of the plan Bs she comes up with involve biting White.      "Of course, Ms. Cristallo. We'll all do our best by her," she says, with a little lowering of her head. That's the member of the trio she gravitates towards most easily, and not just for the red. It's ill girl solidarity. "You don't mean the hospital kicked a sick person out? Isn't that terrible, though...?"      ----      Up in the smoky air of London, she braces again. The rain drizzles off Rita oddly smoothly, without dampening her hair or shirt. She doesn't mind that. She does mind the bricks, though; her lips open in a soft-startle while she touches the wibbly brick-edges, trying to still them with her fingertips.      Only those working with the Foundation, or who have braved the Storm before, may know about it.      "Is that a Foundation rule, Ms. Timekeeper? Or will knowing the Storm is coming do something bad to them?" Rita says, turning her attention back to Vertin with water still dripping from her fluffy bangs. She nods to Riku, echoing the same point, and then: "Um, not that I mean to break it either way."      But she uneasily chews over associated thoughts a little further. "We don't know, yet, if people from this world can be saved if they run through a Warpgate beforehand, do we? Since Warpgates were first found after the Storm. All these people are more or less going to... I mean, shouldn't the Foundation at least take a chance to..."      Large consequences, slim chances. Her lips scrunch and squiggle. "... No, I'm sorry, Ms. Timekeeper. I guess the Foundation doesn't bring you in for decisions like that."
Tamamo	As the room fills up, Tamamo engages in a talk with Lilian about London fashion and epithets, and with her and Natsuki about European youkai. Tamamo only knows a bit about the latter, herself, when counting the parts of Europe she hasn't really visited 'in person.' Still, "Oh, calling everything a 'goblin' passed out of favor some time before... probably." It can be a little difficult to keep all the centuries straight.     Catching Lilian looking outside, she says, "Glass doors, somewhere foggy, perhaps..." A mental note has been made.     'Nnnnnuuueeeeeeeee...'     Oh, thank goodness. Tamamo would still keep a straight face if they called him Rabies because it was the only word he could say, but it'd be a strain. The barking was bad enough, and had almost frizzed her fur.     '...'cause she's smart enough to know that empty rooms always draw the most interesting visitors! Like all of you, huhh??'     "Timekeeper Vertin did invite us here. I suppose that could be termed 'a draw,' as we did allow ourselves to be played." She likely means cards.     '...we might have to leave soon, before the Storm comes.'     "...Is that so? I had thought there to be some place of safety to which others were being moved, but..." Tamamo leaves the exact nature of her ignorance unstated.     As they leave, "Let us meet again, on another occasion." It's time to head out.     'Firstly, we cannot mention the Storm to any of the inhabitants of the era, nor make any acknowledgement of the 'era'.'     "Is that... necessary?" Tamamo, who is still dressed like some 12th century courtesan-priestess, tilts her head. "Will they recall what it was that was said?"     'Please hold on to your senses as long as possible, and forgive those of this era who cannot.'     Tamamo, who does not have mental immunity, says, "I shall certainly try. Ms. Sonetto will explain the rest, then? Very well."
Rita Ma	"Rita! You're here too? I hope you've been well?"      "Mmmm. I don't have anything to complain about," Rita says to Audrey, and she doesn't, but this isn't necessarily a reassuring statement if you know how little she complains.      "I'm glad you're here too, Ms. Audrey. Are you here for the Library, or just yourself?"
Einar	The pair of extremely ordinary-looking people beside Einar, who fell in alongside him, raise their hands feebly and both give the extremely believable aliases of Arthur and Ivy. They're a little out of their element, but not actually bad at selling themselves as normal. Contextually, they're obviously here to do the blending in that Einar is either unable or unwilling to do-- or at least, that he's not yet bothering to pretend he will do. //I'm glad to meet all of you. Miss Timekeeper has been kind to me, so...// Gesticulating loosely with a taloned gauntlet, Einar rumbles, "It is exceedingly difficult, at times, to be completely plain with one another. This I know, or I would not cloak myself so thoroughly in the visage of a knight, of sorts. But if you at any time ever wish to be more plain, and may not bring yourself to speak to the room at large, beckon me closer and I will receive your message. For now, I think that I understand." Lowering his hand, his head turns slightly, tracking-- perhaps Rabies, perhaps TTT, it's hard to tell. At any rate, Einar doesn't seem to be the sort not to be paying attention, even though he remains relatively silent until Vertin's declaration. His two subordinates go ahead of him through the suitcase, one of them sparing a noteworthy look towards James Bond that is probably some sort of acknowledging exchange-- these people are in a very similar line of business as he is. Einar himself trails closely behind them, pausing a few paces past arrival -- he's not thoughtless enough to let people run into the back of him, after all -- to look up at the moon. A tinny, interested vocalizaton rumbles out of his armor. Riku asks the questions he might have, so he simply listens for an answer. But while he does so, he falls in to one side of Audrey, folding his arms behind his back. "Is something the matter, young lady?" He asks. Apparently, he didn't miss her sighing just before she talked to Lilian a moment ago. Odette... would not get the impression that Einar noticed her staring, but it's impossible to tell, that visor is opaque. It's probably safest to assume he did considering how he's been reacting to things in general. Truthfully, his armor has several mounted cameras for creating a complete history of the day's events, so whatever he didn't catch the first time around he will later. He combines all the terrors of a note-taker with a competent station intelligence.
Lilian Rook	Lilian has time for giving Bond a look back. She purses her lips, then shakes her head, but it takes her a second to think about it.     'It's interesting, right? This place looks like it could be a time capsule. Do you suppose the Timekeeper just collects things from the different eras before the Storm sweeps it all away? I guess I would too, if I were in their position.'     "Would you?" Lilian says to Audrey, unmistakably a rhetorical question. "If the world were ending around you, over and over and over again, everyone you know disappearing each time, with nothing but photographs to show for it, would you be bravely sentimental about it? Or would you curl up in on yourself and give up?"     'Miss Timekeeper offered me a room to stay here after... an incident with the hospital, but I'm not fit for field investigations... we might have to leave soon, before the Storm comes.'     'I do know, but thank you for your concern. We'll be on our way now, and... good luck on your missions.'     "Leave? To where?" That draws Lilian's attention, looking back at the trio in the middle of hanging up her coat on a shelf corner and propping her Type-13 sword against it. "Won't this little transport hub only take us to London? Is there a way to get back to where we came from here?" she asks, carefully dodging the fact that she isn't entirely sure which building it was. Intuiting that Rita might be right, she watches her reaction for a little, then fastidiously adjusts her hairpin, watching the foggy windows while talking to Cristallo. "I'll admit that I'm a tiny bit relieved. Not that I'd be averse to working with you all, by the way, but because this is already such an unusually crowded scenario that I'd worry about outnumbering our local help by this much."     Scanning around the room a little, she murmurs, "Look at these faces. MI6, Psychonauts, the Spiral Empire, the Zaibatsu, the Demon Army, next to some plucky teenagers, low level interns, and nobody street rats. I'm beginning to see why they assigned this job to Vertin; if they can get the Winter Bloom of Humanity and the Playbrick cuckold on the same operation, just like that . . ."     'But so~orry! I'm not here to help either! In fact, I've gotta get the H-E-double-hockey-sticks outta here before the Storm hits too!'     Lilian fondly watches TTT bounce all about the room like a cartoon character. She seems softly shocked that she can even do so, and ventures to ask, "Inhabiting spirit? Or sentient program? That's absolutely fascinating." but shortly relents under sheer force of charm into, "Goodness, you're a charmer aren't you? I'd love to have even half your energy."     'Vertin's the only one with the kind of open space for a funny little layabout like that, 'cause she's smart enough to know that empty rooms always draw the most interesting visitors! Like all of you, huhh??'     Lilian smiles, in a faraway-fond manner, and says, "Well, that's absolutely correct. And it does take a certain sort of person to notice. I'll do my very best not to disappoint."     'It's time.'     Without really thinking about it, Lilian leaps to summons. This means leaving some of her stuff in the suitcase, but surely that won't be a problem!     Lilian gags at the ordinary stench of a back alley and waves her hand as if she can clear up the air somehow, instantly outing herself as someone who doesn't know shit about fuck when it comes to real 20th century urban architecture, freak little fairy forest child she is. The moon catches her attention secondly, and staring at it through an overcast sky, the first thought in her mind is: "Is that dangerous?" Shortly after, she realizes how out-of-place her sword is going to look, and so she banishes Night Mist back into its glamered black-iron pendant again, staring ruefully at the scabbard and dropping it back into the suitcase before it's closed.
Lilian Rook	'Two things before we go.'     "That's fine, but I have two questions for you as well, Timekeeper." says Lilian, already gravitating to Tamamo. "One, why were you required to leave separately from Sonetto if she's your assistant? It sounds as if we ourselves are already breaking that rule, not being officially with the Foundation or having experienced the Storm before. And two, what precisely is 'Storm Syndrome'? I would like to identify our vulnerable members beforehand."     'What's stopping us from warning people about what's to come?'     "Presumably the fact that we can do nothing about it and neither can they." Lilian says, proactively intercepting the question exactly like nobody asked her to do.     'Oh, calling everything a 'goblin' passed out of favor some time before... probably.'     "In favour of denying they exist at all." Lilian smiles, drily. "Well, this era doesn't look fantastical at all, so I won't expect many surprises. Humanity looks to be going about business as usual, despite 'arcanum'."
Lilian Rook	'Mmmm. I don't have anything to complain about'     Lilian looks at Lilian with a 'so that's your story?' sort of frown of concern. She decides to say, "I'm glad you're here, Rita." instead of probing. "I'm always completely confident when the two of us can be on the same job."     'It is exceedingly difficult, at times, to be completely plain with one another. This I know, or I would not cloak myself so thoroughly in the visage of a knight, of sorts.'     "Oh, is that what it is?" Lilian says, blinking in surprise. "Well, obviously I see it, but I wasn't quite certain what your goal was with it, you know? The statement that it makes, as a head of state and as a soldier." Deciding how she feels after a few conflicted seconds, she settles on smiling for reasons that become clear to her only after she does it. "You're actually quite 'in-touch with people', aren't you?"     'Is something the matter, young lady?'     "Don't mind her."     'So our first job's finding Sonetto, yeah? Got a signal figured out with her, or should we start searching?'     "No need. Even if Vertin somehow can't find her, I can point us to her easily."
Swords of Justice	"Bap bap bap? Well, uh, we'll keep that in mind. Anyway, I think that's our signal to go, you all take care."      Shirou just scratches the back of his head as he's barely able to follow along, kind of happy to be called out when he was. Medusa meanwhile, gives the group a simple nod, making sure to hold onto her rain hat as she does so, given that it's balancing off of an existing hat and not properly seated on her head.     The Storm is close enough that you may begin to feel the effects of Storm Syndrome.      "So uh, two questions. What does the Storm exactly look like, and-"      "What is Storm Sydrome?"      Shirou's question is cut off by Medusa's own, which catches him off guard as he begins stumbling and muttering to find what he should ask next, before simply giving up and letting his sentence end there.
Flamel Parsons	A quick greeting to the others who recognized him. Hey, it's Lilian and Tamamo! Who get a sheepish wave. And an old favorite, James Bond! And... Rita Ma... His friendly waves falter a little -- not the friendliness part, the waving part, obviously. She's great, he just, briefly, re-sets his mental focus on doing good in this situation.     Time to head up.     Flamel looks in awe at what's happening to the sky. "No kidding about that syndrome..." He mutters, as he peeks over his sunglasses. "Heck, if I had another few days to set up some scanning gear..." He mutters idly, before shaking his head. "Something astral going on, but I won't get much about it unless we find that alchemist." And then he beams, brightly. "As for the syndrome -- don't you worry about forgiving! I've been around people in all kinds of psychic situations. I'll keep short-term memories wiped and I'll deal with the problems at the source."     Guitar music and shouting... "That sounds pretty significant. Let me see if I can take a crack at that Storm Syndrome at least, and get it reduced locally." He approaches the crowd, the shouting, the noise... he tries to find the nexus of psychic activity, project astrally into it, and fight, or solve, it as necessary. He might not know much about this temporal disaster, or any of that reality-breaking going on up in the sky, but there's one thing he's *really* good at, and it's helping people regain their senses.     It should give him a look at the psychic side of the Storm too.
Lilian Rook	'So uh, two questions. What does the Storm exactly look like, and-'     "When the rain goes 'up'." Lilian repeats TTT ever so helpfully. It's like she knows anything at all!
White	White listens peaceably, adjusting to even Rabies' noisy vocalizations with a bit of time and not much pressure (not for this, at least). She *almost* manages to smile when 'Nue' passes through Rabies' voice, and she looks at Natsuki momentarily as if to make some kind of comment, but TTT's screen-hopping antics catch her attention instead in short order. Especially when she ends up in White's phone! She frets momentarily, wondering if this is some kind of data security issue or if it's more of a trick of appearances- the best she can do to find out is crack a pink-gleaming eye open to look at her phone and see if TTT's information comes up. Either way, once TTT moves on to another screen, White convinces herself that it's not an issue until it becomes an issue, and bravely procrastinates thinking about it any further. Audrey might be a bit of an embarrassment whose correction is still pending, but White has already delegated that job to Sophia, so for now she's able to nod back at Audrey like nothing's amiss.      She's still thinking about the functions of the suitcase-space too of course. She isn't terribly surprised that she can't fully decode every bit of the magic, given it's from another world and she doesn't have a lot of experience with elaborate magical constructs built into objects, not as much as live-cast magic anyway. She simply has to rely on intuition to fill in the gaps; it's a suitcase, people are living inside of it, those people are seemingly unsuitable to live in the environment Vertin does, it can be used to transport people, and Vertin is clearly sheltering them. That means it's a mobile safe area, at least under normal conditions between flare-ups of the Storm, which going by their reactions creates at least a temporary issue within the separated space. It'd be nice if White had something like this too. Maybe once she's made some progress on the recovery of her proverbial 'vessel', she'll figure something out. But, the quiet can't last forever. She waves as TTT, Cristallo and Rabies gather up to depart, presumably for some other secure place. Maybe when they meet again, White can bring something nice for them. Maybe she can sew a little screen into a plushie. She'll think about it more later, because now she and the others are being called out.      White is among either the first or last to leave, depending on how enthusiastic everyone else is, since she doesn't want to be squished too close together with the others as they climb out. Either way, she steps out into the brand new locale and moves a bit out of the way, giving away the 'blindness' ruse with how she turns and looks around to get her bearings. She doesn't let the smell offend her, but she's mindful with the hem of her dress to keep it from touching the alley walls or other potentially dirty things right nearby; she's wearing light colors on white silk, so it'd be annoyingly noticeable if she wasn't careful. The distorted moon catches her attention longer than most of the other scenery, but it still doesn't stop her from looking to Vertin when she begins to provide guidance and instruction.      'Storm Syndrome'... Is a mental effect of some kind, from what she remembers. Uncomfortable. But, like she did with Angela's abnormalities, she'll just have to hang in there. As long as at least one Parallel Mind maintains its senses she can at least counteract cumulative effects by... Well, forcing her brain to reconstruct itself. But she hopes that kind of draining and stressful measure isn't needed, in the end. Maybe someone psychically sensitive will help her notice if she's slipping that badly.      So, while thinking these very unpleasant thoughts, she offers a simple and silent nod to Vertin, and glances around at those present beside her while allowing one of her spiderlings to crawl out of her sleeve into her palm, like a demonstration piece.
White	"Should I... Begin searching..?" she offers, though doesn't specify between their runaway arcanist or Miss Sonetto in the moment. She just kind of figures someone will tell her if they say yes! If she spreads her spy-der forces around the city, she figures she can find at least Sonetto before too terribly long if there isn't some kind of magical concealment in use. But if it's unnecessary and Vertin has a way to contact her assistant prepared, White is content to follow their lead and keep an eye out in a more general sense.
Natsuki Nuki	There is such a gathering to the mystery of the 'Storm', and the Timekeeper, that at least Natsuki feels sufficiently in-place. Actually fitting in didn't actually matter to her so much as hitting the right notes of locality and personal style. She didn't want to fit in. She wanted to wear loud clothes that drew looks and looked good doing it. The small suffering of confidently wearing near full-break bellbottoms over what would otherwise be statement heels was the tiniest price to pay for a period specific hard fit. . . And it wasn't like the cost was any object! So Natsuki stands, among the *crowd* of people being introduced to TTT, Cristallo, and Rabies, and despite there being a bouncy chibi TV-character answering every question, the Lady Nue takes two steps forward towards the large scarecrow and brings out a hand low. To strike? To swing in? To-- Natsuki, bursting into active birdsong and tweetlechirping, hits Rabies with a full out straw-shake-into-hold-into-complex 'my GUY!' familiarity while going into a mix of chuffly great feline noises interspersed with jovial-conversational chirping. Those with a gift of communication can pick out the lyrical motions through greeting, a praise of his fine straw (birds have at least two dozen pseudowords for how fine a piece of straw can be, and Natsuki is pulling the high shelf ones off), several conversational lines about how he's perched and mild praise of his tie, which is of course (and then the bird really comes into her accent) nothing compared to *her* tie-- Natsuki goes about finishing her handshake, adjusting her tie and vest (they match!) and smirking at the fetching band about straw-filled bicep. It's primarily puffery, but that's how birds talk! Natsuki is beyond pleased that Rabies is the first person of this world to truly appreciate Natuski despite a surreptitious rumble in aside about how she's 'really tucked it in for now'. What's 'tucked in', though, might not be clear until the eyes on her snake-headed belt buckle turn to look at Audrey when Natsuki is finally addressed. "Hah? Oh! Girl, you've got to learn how to *find* an outfit. And if you can't, just ask Concierge Services, they'll fit you for any occasion. What, do you think the Concord doesn't provide its Partners *tailoring* services?" Natsuki asks, chuckle-chuffing and rolling neck with a chirrup laugh. "Well, as your senior, it's only right for me to teach you --" Tamamo-no-Mae bringing up 'goblins' gets a soured look but a shrug and a nod. "And like I said, if they call me a 'goblin' I'll rearrange the offender's fashion for them. Just to make sure everything's clear. Europe can't have been worse than the Metal Priests at home." She insists, though there's the hanging threat of her being wrong without knowing. But there's actually no time to get Audrey in gold bell bottoms and a black belt or discuss the finer points of spirits with Amaterasu's incarnation, because almost as quickly-seeming as they were ushered into the suitcase, there's a knock at the top and they're let back out. Giving a two-finger kiss to index and middle and then peace-signing at Rabies (her new birdsong bestie) on her way out, Natsuki follows Einar up the stairs, which means that she has no idea what she's getting into at the top of the stairs until she's out into London, and the Storm, and looking around with slit-red eyes that narrow while she tracks up into the sky. "You kept calling it a storm, but that's just a name for it, isn't it?" Natsuki asks, primarily to Vertin, drawing a deep breath to scent and sense the air, searching for the 'storm' (lowercase) in the sky that she would herald as a bringer of terrible weather, the expressive crackle of her tension and the boom-peal of her fury. "It doesn't feel like any storm I've called before."
Tamiel Luxis	Her assessment of the pictures continued on. Are they people in the Foundation? Arcanists? Or... The last possibility makes the shards of her wings droop. The angel spends the minutes they--or just Vertin?--travels looking at pictures, offering Rita a small smile as she steps into the sunroom.     "...Winter Bloom of Humanity and the Playbrick cuckold..."     Tamiel's whole body bristles, and then slumps, like an animal that's just been dunked in water. "I really don't like being called that..." She makes a helpless, near-resigned protest. Why, of all things, was THAT what was catching on? Who had even told her? And why had she listened?     She was spared the rigors of further humiliation by three knocks at the suitcase, and then Tamiel was eager to get out, as fast as she could.     Once free of the suddenly claustrophobic sunroom, Tamiel gapes, for a moment, like a tourist at the moon, and at the city. "I've never been in a London before," she admits, rubbing at her wrist.     Her own questions about the Storm Syndrome anticipated, and already asked, Tamiel finds another. "...Why are we being let out here? Instead of near Sonetto, if that's where the brief is being done."
Lilian Rook	'I really don't like being called that...'     "Hmm? You heard that?" Lilian says, half-attentive at best. "I couldn't remember your job." is said in place of 'sorry'. "You're just sort of the second most withered up and pitiful person in the room."     Staring at her wings once they're on the street, Lilian makes a thoughtful expression, and then says, "Can't you put them away? They're so gaudy. You're going to attract even more attention than Nuki Natsuki."
Einar	"There was a time when I was not comfortable with... much... about myself. I believed that I was a harmful element in the world," Einar answered Lilian, unfolding his hands from behind his back and gesticulating around him as he went. "The Princess has largely disabused me of these feelings, but I am gravely familiar with a certain degree of reticence towards people, and the world. The specific imagery is a little less complicated than that. Literacy was not common where I grew up, but I happened to be fortunate enough to be learned in that regard when I came to the Spiral Empire. I devoured a great many stories along the way-- and plays, and the like, once I had access to stores of these things. When the Princess pulled me out of the Spiral Intelligence Service it was both desirable and necessary to reinvent myself." "Well..." He spread both arms wide around him, briefly, because he took up too much space to keep doing this for long. "It was undeniable that my background was rather dim, and the Knight-Captain of the Royal Guard favored white. So I thought that I ought to cloak myself in the dark. Partly, because a seven foot tall man in black and gold armor gets a certain immediate reaction. Partly, because a seven foot tall man in black and gold armor in an ice cream truck gets a certain other immediate reaction, and I though that was very entertaining." Clearing his throat, he concludes, "So yes, I suppose that I am." His attention turns towards Natsuki. "How would you describe it? My world would simply call it anomalous until the nature of the underlying energies could be identified. We would be tempted to deem it a result of a reality hazard, I think."
James Bond	Miss Timekeeper has been kind to me, so... So? Bond's eyes focus longer than he'd like on her hands. The conclusion he draws is that she's had a hard life; that either kindness is a rare treat, or, he imagines to be more likely, that the Timekeeper is among a select few who understand what it really is to be kind. The guilt in her voice is familiar to him, as would be a neighbor two or three doors down. He doesn't know the kind that lingers unspoken in her words, has never spoken to it, but it seems familiar somehow. The only other place his eyes are drawn is to her eyes, and so he forces himself to meet them with a thin smile and a nod. We should keep in touch if you don't get reversed!     Bond's eyes flick from the screen of the watch to the TVs, then back to the watch. There's a little less apprehensive guard in his blue eyes than a moment ago. He even smiles. "We shouldn't," he says. "But I imagine if you got in that easily, you already know how to reach me." He's certain that she will. It's time.     Bond's posture straightens, and so does his expression, both as a matter of practiced habit. Those words have that effect on him, having heard them just enough, a lifetime ago, to know that there is rarely anything so true, and so inescapable, as those two simple words. . . .     Bond checks his watch upon leaving, the time adjusting automatically for the locale. He then smooths the lapels of his now-anachronistic blazer and adjusts the lay of his tie. The tightness he expected to find in his chest after the passing of that double decker is absent. The people he knew--would they have counterparts here? Likely not. He's never met any before. Still, his thoughts drift to lives unled; of who would be happier, if this had happened, if that hadn't. '1966' snaps him out of his thought.     "One of these days I'll stop taking assignments where I have to 'hold onto my senses.'"     'Somewhere' is all the impetus Bond needs to start looking. He scopes out the alley, first, with a subdued sweep of his head as he turns to put his back to the nearest wall. Is there only one way in and out? Lots of people coming from one end will draw attention, but there is that shouting from down the street. It might not be so obvious. Maybe a performance? He turns his attention upwards.     Twisting the bezel on his expensive-looking wristwatch, he presses the stop. A small chamber opens along the watch's frame, and with a sharp, soft chirp like a flying arrow, something small is fired upwards at the nearest overhead power line, streetlight, or awning of a building. A microcamera affixed to a small spike begins transmitting its feed to his watch. The video feed progresses for a few seconds before Bond twists the bezel further in the same direction, starting up another feature.     Ultimately, he ignores the notifications of negative IDs on Sonetto, because she'd naturally be someplace nearby given the urgency despite the need for secrecy. What he's much more concerned about is--"Why are there so many damned street concerts?" Not one, but many; the watch's screen shows them up and down the street. <Q-Conversation> James Bond says, "Well, if any of you were worried about sticking out, you might be in luck." <Q-Conversation> Riku Asakura says, "Yeah..?" <Q-Conversation> Lilian Rook says, "God forbid anyone pay attention to you."     The remark draws a silently amused quake of his upper body and a curl at the corner of his mouth. <Q-Conversation> Lilian Rook says, "As long as we don't wildly blow our cover as Foundation agents on a field operation, it really doesn't matter if you get stared at."     That's true. But--
James Bond	<Q-Conversation> James Bond says, "I remember this time period." <Q-Conversation> James Bond says, "There was a certain band that took the world by storm. And you can imagine they inspired a lot of imitation acts. But there were never so many that they lined the streets. That noise you're hearing isn't a concert; it's a whole street full of them." <Q-Conversation> Lilian Rook snaps her fingers. "Oh! The Beatles!" <Q-Conversation> Lilian Rook says, "Right! And this year had . . . Rhodesia? And . . . didn't the FIFA world cup go missing?"     And the coups all over Africa. The Byrds and Badfinger, too, I suppose. <Q-Conversation> James Bond says, "Mm-hm."     It doesn't take nearly this many people to find Sonetto when both Lilian and Vertin are here. Lowering the watch and cutting the camera feed, he heads out into the alley to investigate the many musicians more closely, trusting that he'll be able to make the briefing in time to catch the relevant portions. Moving through crowds is an art perfected with practice. Are there any commonalities between the music or the lyrics? What are the people in the crowds doing, if not listening?
Tamamo	'This I know, or I would not cloak myself so thoroughly in the visage of a knight, of sorts.'     "To say that you are 'cloaked in'... If you do not mind my asking, would you say that you are not a knight 'in truth,' sir Einar?" That's a bit forward for someone Tamamo just met, but it was a curious thing to say, about a topic of interest to her.     'Lady Tamamo...'     "Ms. Basque, how nice of you to come." She was remembering something, but... no, that's a question Tamamo needs to pose to Petra, specifically. Forcing Audrey to be honest over a trivial curiosity is unnecessary trouble.     'Is this how your moon normally looks, or are we agreed it's broken and definitely, absolutely, abnormal?'     Opening an oiled paper umbrella she definitely wasn't holding a moment ago, "Oh, is that not merely the light?" Tamamo gives the moon a closer look -- which is to say, a more focused look. She doesn't get any closer to it.     'And like I said, if they call me a 'goblin' I'll rearrange the offender's fashion for them.'     "I expect there should be no issues with howsoever you would like to handle them, in the long-term..." Tamamo's still looking toward Vertin for an answer on whether this would, in fact, matter. The last time she was in a time loop, it did matter what happened in it, but that one was more of a spiral than a circle.     "Metal Priests, did you say? I am only especially familiar with priests of cloth." Men of cloth, mostly, and most troublesomely, but not exclusively.
Audrey Basque	"Are you here for the Library, or just yourself?"     "Oh, myself. If I was here for the Library, I would've come wearing that uniform, probably. And along with Roland or a Sephirah, more than likely. Though... if there's books laying around..."     Well, it's not 'official' business but, opportunity. "Or would you curl up in on yourself and give up?"     "Realistically? Putting pride and ego aside, and without trying to impress you? I'd like to think I'd sentimentally hoard things like this for a few cycles... and then probably curl up after a while of doing it. But I'd try," she crosses her arms, angling her stare down. "I've done enough 'not even trying and curling up', haven't I?" "Is something the matter, young lady?" "Don't mind her."     "Oh! Oh. Apologies. I'm fine," Audrey says, turning to look at Einar-- turning to look UP at Einar, specifically. "I, ah, it's a lot of new faces. You said your name was Einar? It's a pleasure to meet you. Audrey Basque. Concord Partner, but at the moment that seems unimportant." "the Winter Bloom of Humanity"     Her attention pans back to Lilian. Bloom. It's always that word, isn't it? Coming from her, and from Petra. What was it Petra said, once, when she asked about the secrets of her world... 'If I told you, I'd have to kill you'?     Ugh. Oh well. More terms for the metaphorical corkboard. It'll clear up eventually, surely. "Well, as your senior, it's only right for me to teach you --"     "Ha, well... somehow it feels wrong to bother them for something as petty as my wardrobe. But if you're thinking a night out to do some shopping... I wouldn't mind. I'll hold my drinks in, this time."
Einar	//To say that you are 'cloaked in'... If you do not mind my asking, would you say that you are not a knight 'in truth,' sir Einar?// "I have been a Knight for a very long time. When I put the armor on the first time, I regarded myself as something closer to cancer," Einar says, simply. //"Oh! Oh. Apologies. I'm fine,"// //"I, ah, it's a lot of new faces. You said your name was Einar? It's a pleasure to meet you. Audrey Basque.// Though his face was for all practical purposes no more than his helmet, a smile -- or at least some amusement -- was plain in his voice when he replied, "Indeed so, and it would be remarkably difficult to learn a face that is not there at all. Nevertheless you have correctly recalled my name, and it is a delight to meet you, Miss Basque."
Lilian Rook	'There was a time when I was not comfortable with... much... about myself. I believed that I was a harmful element in the world'     Lilian breathes a little more sharply than she means to. She glances away to double check her hairpin, leaving her necklace over her blouse.     'The Princess has largely disabused me of these feelings, but I am gravely familiar with a certain degree of reticence towards people, and the world.'     'I devoured a great many stories along the way-- and plays, and the like, once I had access to stores of these things. When the Princess pulled me out of the Spiral Intelligence Service it was both desirable and necessary to reinvent myself.'     "Then congratulations. That sort of thing is one of the most difficult that anyone can approach." Lilian says, a little too nervous to really be effusive praise. "I immediately understand why the Princess holds you in such high regard, if that's the case. Those words alone are enough for those in the know to understand that they can rely on you." she says, a little cryptic.     'Partly, because a seven foot tall man in black and gold armor gets a certain immediate reaction. Partly, because a seven foot tall man in black and gold armor in an ice cream truck gets a certain other immediate reaction, and I though that was very entertaining.'     Lilian cough-laughs, and the tension bleeds out of her again; probably as Einar was aiming for.     'One of these days I'll stop taking assignments where I have to 'hold onto my senses.''     "Come now Mister Bond. That's every single job where you have to work alongside Elites."     'Realistically? Putting pride and ego aside, and without trying to impress you?'     Case in point. Lilian doesn't even look at Audrey when she says, "You know, it might be good for you if you tried to impress me for once. A whipped dog is only better than a rabid one."
Audrey Basque	"Indeed so, and it would be remarkably difficult to learn a face that is not there at all."     "Poor choice of words on my part," Audrey says with a hint of laughter. "Do you not take the helmet off even for talking? If it's not too disrespectful to ask." Even though she already asked! Oops. "You know, it might be good for you if you tried to impress me for once. A whipped dog is only better than a rabid one."     "If I'm to try to impress you for a change, Miss Rook, I'd rather do it without lying... and without diminishing the weight of the Timekeeper's task by implying I could carry it too. Theirs is not an enviable task and it is even less so one I can relate to... but I'll assist, and then maybe I'll have a different answer for you?"
Einar	//"Then congratulations. That sort of thing is one of the most difficult that anyone can approach."// //I immediately understand why the Princess holds you in such high regard, if that's the case. Those words alone are enough for those in the know to understand that they can rely on you.// "I will take some credit, but it would not have happened without her. If she had asked me, I would have continued doing what I was doing. She fed me when I was starving, and so, I wished to help. But I think that she perceived that it was rotting me, before even I was ready to acknowledge that possibility," Einar says, and this time he doesn't do any gesticulating at all. Whatever malaise that little fragment of conversation summoned into him was dispelled by Lilian's laughter, and it reset his entire body language back to normal-- it was something he was very deliberate about, even though it didn't seem so at first. Assuming a quieter posture seems to be an underlying defensive instinct for him. //Do you not take the helmet off even for talking? If it's not too disrespectful to ask.// "I do not remove it often when I am away from home, and it is designed with certain features to permit me to go without removing it at all for long periods, because I once had to conduct a week-long battle without going farther than the back line for an hour or two's recuperation at a time. Certainly, the average conversation does not warrant its removal, and as for most ceremonies, the armor is my formal uniform for those also. I would suppose the most common cause for me to remove it in a public setting is for occasions where its removal is required for the activities I am desired for. The Princess and I do take beach trips, on occasion," he replies, shrugging faintly with a clicking-together of plates.
Natsuki Nuki	Natsuki, outside the suitcase, lingers with her upturned gaze and contemplative look. Rarely does she stand in fainted awe of anything, but for the storm she at least pauses. It's an issue of identity, of self-truth, of calling to the sky and being heard. Cracking the sky open and pouring down the bowl of her discontent, smoking the air with her wet countenance, stalking as mist and lingering as ill pressure - a claim to immiseration as her own, her element, a cloak draped across her shoulders, and this-- This was something else?         It wasn't hers, and that drew out her pause. Without looking at Einar, as he asks her, Natsuki shifts the rest of her jaw to suck at a sharp eyetooth and try to call the feeling she has no words for. "Weight? A pressure?" She begins, sounding it out with her words, and not discarding her initial tries. Rain can fall on her, but where it soaks into her clothes it continues to soak deeper, leaving the illusion or reality of disappearance all the same. She's not dry, but neither is she wet in a mundane storm -- she simply 'is', because she belongs there as a fish belongs in the water. "'Anomalous' is nothing. 'I don't know' but it's wrong and one-off. This isn't an anomaly. This is, something," The chimera woman in bellbottoms drops her chin and shakes her head while slicking a hand back across her wetted hair and closing fingers around the round of her ponytail's tie-point while resting forearm against shoulder. "That's like a storm, but different. Storms come from pressure, from friction, from the sling-down of the tears of the sky, and this..." Natsuki's arm drops, and she shrugs, still needing to feel through what this even was, having just hit the scents and sounds and sights of London town at a jog through a supernatural event that might make her (more?) crazy. "I'll tell you if I think of something worth saying." She decides, not certain of it herself. The fall of that, the lack of her fullthroated and proud declarations is telling all on its own: She didn't show doubt and now on this identity-point for her she was still working out what it meant for her here. "I'm not thinking about drinks right now, Audrey. We're on a tighter clock than finding the local liquor den to shark them in cards to drink for free." That nixie clock had said less than three hours. And she could tell, at least initially, that the other-pressure was getting just slightly worse with every drop. A bucket, being filled, and each drop was the same as the last until just one would finally spill the crescented top overfull and down.
Odette Raskins	Unfortunately for Odette, Einar's lack of obvious tells means she is absolutely getting caught staring when he eventually reviews those cameras. Diligent as she might be about avoiding a station's cameras, the idea that a person might have that same kind of technology has not reached her yet. "I mean, shouldn't the Foundation at least take a chance to..." Rita's question gets a slightly uncomfortable noise from Odette as she rolls that around in her mind. Still remembering what Vertin said about the Foundation, Odette can at least hold some hope about them not being like the Company. " "They must've tried already, if we're being called in to find Miss Sonetto and whoever took the stone instead of.. Um. Evacuating as many people as we can. Right?" "It doesn't feel like any storm I've called before." Having never actually met Natsuki before, Odette's eyes widen a bit more behind her fancy HUD-enabled glasses. "You can control the weather, Miss Natsuki? Wow... That could do so much in worlds with less-wait.  Is this rain-" She freezes briefly, holding her arm out to feel the rain hitting her and then letting out a relieved sigh afterwards. "-coming down. Good, not the other way like Miss TTT said to watch out for.. Um. S-sorry, what're your storms like? If they're not the strange moon and music-in-the-streets kind like this..." She trails off to look Natsuki over quickly, trying to piece together some kind of guess. "More like... Snow storms?"
Timekeeper	"You don't mean the hospital kicked a sick person out? Isn't that terrible, though...?" "If I may ask... what incident?"     Cristallo's smile is strained, just a little bit. "It's a long story. I won't bother you with it." That probably means she doesn't want to talk about it, at least not right now. "If that's the case, do you need any extra medication?"     Oh boy! Opioids by the fistful! Cristallo gingerly shakes her head. "I appreciate the offer, but the Rehabilitation Center has me on a strict regimine already...." "But if you at any time ever wish to be more plain, and may not bring yourself to speak to the room at large, beckon me closer and I will receive your message."     Cristallo studies Einar, literally half the height of the knight from where she's seated for a few seconds, while her fingers brush over a book in her lap. Then her expression softens in some way, along with her voice. "I've never met a knight before. You're a very kind person, aren't you?" > RABIES HANDSHAKE     Rabies' 'hands' barely meet the definition in the first place, and he's placidly, delicately slow for his size. He seems vaguely pleased at Natsuki's conversation and interaction with his straw tufts, and emits a singing snippet of more elaborate birdsong in response-- it feels like all of his noises are 'pre-recorded' in some sense, rather than ones he makes on his own, but they hold some meaning to him either way. That clip felt like a 'special occasion' kind of noise, like he's only seen the bird that made it once.     After staring down at Natsuki's hand, Rabies suddenly shifts. He lifts one of his big hands up, bringing it to plop down on top of Natsuki's head between her tiger ears. Fondly, and shockingly gently considering that he moves like a giant controlled by QWOP, he strokes the top of her head and emits chittering cat noises and meows. > TTT     White's analysis of TTT shows that she is in fact some kind of 'digital spirit', a fact that she (sort of) corroborates when replying to Lilian. "Iunno! I'm on one side of the screen, you're on the other! That's all there is to it, right? It's one of liiiiiife's gr*eat* mysteries! Ahaha!" "Is there a way to get back to where we came from here?"     Cristallo tilts her head to the side, finger poked into her cheek. "If Miss Timekeeper brought you there, I think? We just need to get out of here before she leaves the safe zone of the Foundation... Headquarters."
Timekeeper	> not telling people about the Storm     Vertin nods while picking the suitcase up again. "It's like Lilian says. There's... no reason to cause more panic than they're already experiencing. Now, all we can do is focus our efforts on the few who might have the chance to survive to the next era, and improve our tactics for next time."     "Nothing is stopping us, besides the rules. But the Storm Syndrome is a psychological state of irrationality and hostility induced by the coming Storm, that escalates until people are driven mad. It's characterized by a certain trait that changes each era... in 1966, that is music, a contemporary artistic style known as 'pop art', and psychedelics. In this state, those affected by Storm Syndrome will resort to violence in response to most emotions, and panic especially can only cause more panic and violence." "One, why were you required to leave separately from Sonetto if she's your assistant?"     "I alerted the Foundation to the coming Storm twenty two hours ago when I first sensed it. Until just recently, I was in the field with Sonetto. We weren't making progress, so I expended a teleport disk to return to Laplace and the warpgate." "It sounds as if we ourselves are already breaking that rule, not being officially with the Foundation or having experienced the Storm before."     "Yes." That's Vertin's entire answer, along with a short nod of her head. > MOON QUESTIONS     Vertin shakes their head, leaning out of the alleyway to look both ways. "I'm not sure what you know a 'normal' moon to look like, but it's likely that what you're seeing is a result of the Storm Syndrome. Are there any other senses accompanying it? Does looking at it emotionally or physically affect you?"     Similarly, Rita touching the ground gives her briefly dissonent sensory information that causes her stomach to churn. The ground is stable in reference to her finger, but it still looks like blooms of grainy color sprout in her vision, and straight lines wobble and undulate in place. James Bond, or anyone appropriately experienced, might be able to place the sensation as being similar to LSD or magic mushrooms. > WHERE'S SONETTO?"     "She's likely by the river. Our target was trying to sail down the Thames in her ship, last I knew." "...Why are we being let out here? Instead of near Sonetto, if that's where the brief is being done."     Vertin stares at Tamiel blankly. "... I suppose I could have done that." "Should I... Begin searching..?"     "Through divination? Or summoning?" Vertin is all business, and would easily take the idea of the swarm of spy-ders in stride, but, "It may be easier to track her once Sonetto provides the briefing. Her name is Regulus, and she wears a blue polka-dot scarf tied around her neck."
Timekeeper	James Bond's camera launches up and sticks to one of the dismal curved streetlights over the main street outside of the alley. In the street, the first impression he gets is that it looks practically like a spat of civil disobedience, with none of the organization or consistency. All around, people have clambered up onto stairs, rooftops, even on top of *moving* cars, in order to make their own personal, dissonant performances. A man strums a guitar while sitting cross-legged in the street, cars swerving and honking around him. A record player spins on its own, blasting the voice of John Lennon into the street. In response, half of the pedestrians seem enraptured, and half seem infuriated, and only a minute later, someone charges out of the crowd and starts pounding the record player into scrap with their fists, despite their hands being cut up in return.     It's effortless for *someone* to learn the direction Sonetto is in, though. Whether it's a sent-out spy-der, a camera angled towards the river, or whatever else, Sonetto is just a short walk away. She's gripping the handrail of the boardwalk overlooking the reeds that slope down into the river, while the gusts of wind pull at her long orange hair. Vertin slips out of the alleyway and beckons for everyone to follow, deftly maneuvering around the crowds theirselves. > What does the Storm look like?"     "By the time you see it, you'll only have moments to leave." Vertin leaves it at that for a bit, before eventually adding, "The world disintegrating into the sky. Madness reclaiming order. You'll know what it looks like, because it will be something you've never seen before. In... two hours and four minutes." "You kept calling it a storm, but that's just a name for it, isn't it?"     "It is. We like to think ourselves wiser than those in the past who named legends of storms being caused by a god's battle with a dragon, but we're no closer to divining the true name of the 'Storm' than them. If you have any insights on what it is, then everyone will be grateful."     There *is* bad weather coming. In the next hours, the rain will intensify, but whatever the 'Storm' carries along with it, it isn't meteorological.     Walking down the pavement, the large and bizarre group goes almost unnoticed by the civilians in their weirdness, though some people do call out to them. The shouts are a mix of praise-- for their bold, tradition-defying looks-- or heckling, for the same. Someone tries to grab Audrey's arm and yank her into an impromptu mosh pit happening around a few guys who've started singing while standing on a table. The music, as you hear it filtering in from around, inspires dizzyingly strong feelings, far more than it should-- joy, excitement, bitterness, anger, misery, frustration, all stewing together at almost random.     That seems to be what the locals are experiencing too, only without your somewhat higher resilience to it. Flamel can catch one person, playing her guitar on top of a car and followed by a crowd of people cheering, when the person driving the car suddenly floors the accelerator, aiming to throw the car into the river and take its additional rider with it. Some psychic earplugs or the quick execution of a psychohazard associated with Those Bitch Kids And Their Satan Music calms the driver down before that can happen, and the crowd quickly regains their senses and disperses with some alarm.     Vertin glances back at Flamel, faintly approving. "You can treat Storm Syndrome? Good. Keep an eye out for people who seem to be intent on hurting themselves or others, including within our group."
Timekeeper	Vertin steps onto the boardwalk, and Sonetto's eyes widen at the group tailing behind them. "T-Timekeeper! This is...!"     Vertin cuts her off with an even tone, sounding so stable in the hectic environment that Sonetto shuts up instantly. "The Foundation couldn't spare any more internal assistance. I requested them from other worlds. Now, do you mind, Sonetto?" Sonetto nods silently, and Vertin runs through a list of questions and responses that seem practiced by both of them. "What shape is the sun?" "Spherical." "Which of these can you eat: wires, televisions, cabbage, or Carbuncles?" "Cabbage." "When someone is experiencing adversity, what are you meant to do?" "Give them assistance in whatever way I can." "Employee ID?" "S-F-3-8-0-0-0-0-0-0-8-0-1-1-0-2-Y." "Alright. May the peace be with us." "May the peace be with mankind."     After that ritual, both of them relax slightly, and Vertin smiles faintly at Sonetto. "You're holding up quite well to the Storm Syndrome. I'm glad." "Mm! My training is paying off." "So, get us up to speed if you will, Sonetto."     Sonetto clears her throat and puts her hand to her chest, uniform already damp with rain and scuffed up from what must have been hours of pursuit and combat up until now. "Our target is Regulus, last name unknown. She is a rogue arcanist, known to be rebellious and law-breaking to the government of the era, as well as the Foundation's regulations for arcanists. Her arcane skill is the manipulation of light, and she is also a skilled alchemical machinist and sailor. And... DJ."     Vertin tilts up the brim of their hat slightly. "DJ?" Sonetto solemnly responds, "It is... what she refers to herself as, while hijacking local radio frequencies." "I see."     "Regulus is the current holder of the Philosopher's Stone, an arcane artifact that the Foundation has been pursuing throughout this era. It was first stolen from the Freemasons by a heist orchestrated by the Manus Vindictae, and ever since, neither us nor the locals of the era have been able to maintain possession of it. Regulus stole it from a Field Investigator squad twenty six hours and thirty four minutes ago, and shortly after, they were recalled back to Headquarters when the Timekeeper alerted us to the coming Storm. As such, the Timekeeper and I have not been able to outpace the Manus Vindictae in their pursuit of Regulus, whom they also hope to recruit, by force or otherwise."     "The current threats to be aware of are as follows: Regulus is the captain of her ship, the Apple, currently in the Thames and headed seawards. Regulus has an Awakened Arcanist in her employment, also known as APPLe, whose arcane skill seems to also involve the manipulation of light. I have also spotted a Manus Vindictae sea vessel in pursuit of her, as well as many Manus arcanists and monsters."
Riku Asakura	'It's like Lilian says. There's... no reason to cause more panic than they're already experiencing. Now, all we can do is focus our efforts on the few who might have the chance to survive to the next era, and improve our tactics for next time.' "But there are people here whom we can save..." 'Nothing is stopping us, besides the rules. But the Storm Syndrome is a psychological state of irrationality and hostility induced by the coming Storm, that escalates until people are driven mad.' "So it's already too late for them, and spreading the word of the oncoming apocalypse will only make things worse.  Got it," Riku says with a downcast look.  He hates not being able to save the people who are right in front of him, but if trying to would cause greater harm, then it's too late.   "So we need to get to her ship, stop her, and stop these Manus Vindictae people who are in pursuit of her as well.  It's a lot to get all at once, but if we hurry, we can catch up to them, correct?" he follows the group because he can't find the Thames from a hole in the ground right now.  He isn't a resident here! "Will Ms. Regulus be hostile towards us, or will she be open to working together?"
Veronica	Veronica sticks close to the gathering of Elites, but doesn't have much to add to their side conversations. She does give Tamiel a nod of acknowledgement, and makes a mental note to ask later about that Rita girl the angel spoke to.     Then, after taking in Sonetto's report: "Do we have a boat, or do we need to get ahold of one? Or have we as good as lost if she makes it out of harbor, and we just need to make sure that doesn't happen? Either way it sounds like there's no time to lose..."     She steps forward to lean on the railing and peer out up- and downstream, watching for boats on the move. "Do we know which way her boat is from here?"
Einar	TECHNICALLY IN THE PAST... //"I've never met a knight before. You're a very kind person, aren't you?"// Although the temporal particulars of this exchange is currently questionable, Einar nonetheless spreads both arms out as if to illustrate something before him, to reply to Cristallo before departure. "I am told so, on occasion. Whether it is true or not, I have always been doubtful. I do not think it is wise, to think of one's self as kind. It is too easy, then, to believe that all one does falls under the auspices of acts of kindness. But I do not object to being called so by an observer, and so I thank you for your generous assessment of my character."
Lilian Rook	'I will take some credit, but it would not have happened without her. If she had asked me, I would have continued doing what I was doing. She fed me when I was starving, and so, I wished to help. But I think that she perceived that it was rotting me, before even I was ready to acknowledge that possibility'     "If only everyone could be so fortunate." Lilian says, airily in the way of someone who doesn't quite mean 'everyone'. "I'll have to do better than my regards the next time I see her." Finally looking to his aides(?), Lilian thinks to ask, "And those two? Arthur and Ivy." She falls to thoughtful face-touching while thinking about why his helmet is so important. "No, certainly not . . ." Lilian whispers, nearly inaudible, about something.     ''Anomalous' is nothing. 'I don't know' but it's wrong and one-off. This isn't an anomaly. This is, something, that's like a storm, but different. Storms come from pressure, from friction, from the sling-down of the tears of the sky, and this...'     That grabs Lilian again. She was prepared to deal with the 'Storm' as it is; an inexplicable disaster that simply happens for unknown reasons and has to be worked around; but if Natsuki has something to say about it, that's something that makes Lilian want to know more. Turning around expectantly, Lilian watches her for the entire length of her pause, nearly holding her breath, as if it would disrupt something that Natsuki is only tenuously grasping.     'I'll tell you if I think of something worth saying.'     ". . . Please see that you do." says Lilian.     'But the Storm Syndrome is a psychological state of irrationality and hostility induced by the coming Storm, that escalates until people are driven mad.'     Nodding along, pleased that her analysis is being vocally confirmed correct, Lilian says first, blandly businesslike, "Secure on my end, then. Of course, if I'm somehow wrong, there's nothing anyone can do about it anyways." Then, second, "So practically everyone is on a 'bad trip' because of the habits they've formed in this era? How . . ." She forces a more saccharine tone. "Helpfully straightforward."     'I alerted the Foundation to the coming Storm twenty two hours ago when I first sensed it.'     "Lilian raises an eyebrow. "When you first sensed it?"     'Yes.'     Lilian lets her arms drop to her sides, tilts her head back, and sighs, long and dragged out.     'I'm not sure what you know a 'normal' moon to look like, but it's likely that what you're seeing is a result of the Storm Syndrome.'     "Mm? Don't you see it?" Lilian says, diverting her attention back down again instead of bitching about having already caused trouble with the government the second she got here.     'Her name is Regulus, and she wears a blue polka-dot scarf tied around her neck.'     "That's hardly anything to go on." Lilian frowns. "And what sort of a name is 'Regulus' anyways?" she says to the person named 'Sonetto', after just talking to 'TTT' and 'Rabies'. "Sonetto looks after a lot of small details for you, doesn't she?" Lilian says, suspicion creeping into her voice.     . . . . . . . .     The street is a mess, and Lilian takes a while to decide how much she hates it. Of course it's not quite so terrifying as a massive failure of countermeasures against 'The Man in the Moon', but that's only owing to how familiarly 'human' it all is; the fact that it evokes skin-crawling similarity to Caelton, somewhere in her hindbrain, makes her walk faster, keep her arms to herself, and filter out the shouting and singing-- even the heckling-- as if were so much tortured screaming. She does nothing to help Audrey, nor anyone else; though, for very different reasons.
Lilian Rook	'Mm! My training is paying off.'     "Even the seventeen digit employee number?" Lilian murmurs, softly awed, on the verge of horror. "--Ah, that's perfect then. There's plenty I'd like to hear from you, Sonetto, whilst we still have the time." she says.     'DJ?'     "Disc jockey." Lilian interjects this and only this in the midst of Sonetto's briefing. Otherwise, her attention is on the intel, because that's what she does as part of her job.     'I have also spotted a Manus Vindictae sea vessel in pursuit of her, as well as many Manus arcanists and monsters.'     Lilian, arms folded, finger tapping above her elbow, takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, inclines her head, and thinks very hard. When she opens them again, her hairpin jingles slightly from the sharp motion of looking up. "'Manipulation of light' is a vague and far-reaching sort of power. Does the Foundation have any means of assessing how powerful she is? Or a generalized threat level as a person of interest? Also, if she's guilty of various illegal activities, now including assault and theft relating to Foundation agents, what legal authority are we within our rights to exercise in retaliation?"     Lilian pauses for a moment, then adds, "That is to say, by what means will the Foundation approve of retrieving the Philosopher's Stone? What are the rules of engagement with Manus Vindictae in a military sense? Does the Foundation have any intent to perform an extraordinary rendition of Regulus, or is she an inconsequential individual? And what are we, as outsiders, permitted to use at our disposal?"     Hearing that the Foundation's enemy is already here and in hot pursuit, Lilian's fingers clap the side of her skirt, and she draws Winter Crow from her thigh holster, performing a brisk chamber check of the alchemical array built inside of it. "Please be as precise and efficient as you can. If we're to be representing the Saint Pavlov Foundation, I'd rather this be done by the book, but I can't even adhere to it myself, much less ensure any sort of discipline in the ranks, without first knowing what that book says." Loading her weapon with a geometric rod of amalgamated metal, Lilian snaps the receiver closed and breaks out a brisk stride. "My apologies, but let's talk and walk. I'll break off ahead once I'm fully informed."
Audrey Basque	"I do not remove it often when I am away from home,"     "Oh. I see. I would ask about the discomfort, but it sounds like yours handles that. Beach trips with the princess of an empire sounds like a good occasion to make an exception, at least." "I'm not thinking about drinks right now, Audrey."     "Heavens no, not right now. I'd like not to still be here when the Storm crashes through and... rewinds all this. I'd really rather not find out how that feels, and it very much sounded like you don't make it out of that one way or another," Audrey answers Natsuki, before adding: "I meant some other time. The air here is... not conductive to relaxing, anyway."     Nor is the moon.     That thing is so upsetting. "Oh, is that not merely the light?" "I'm not sure what you know a 'normal' moon to look like, but it's likely that what you're seeing is a result of the Storm Syndrome. Are there any other senses accompanying it? Does looking at it emotionally or physically affect you?"     Speaking of the moon...     "Erm, well..." Audrey just takes her phone out to show Vertin *the moon*, normal-style. "Like this, right? And..."     Experimentally she tries to take a photo of the technicolor triple moon, to see if she can also show that to them. Otherwise, she describes: "Lady Tamamo might be right, it might just be a trick of the light in the sky... it's like there's three moons, each a different color, overlapping. Like if you crossed your eyes a certain way they might overlap to make a single moon, maybe."     Audrey considers the rest of the question. "But it's not like it's-- provoking emotions? Unrest, I suppose, because that's such a strange sight. I'm okay. I think." Someone tries to grab Audrey's arm and yank her into an impromptu mosh pit happening around a few guys who've started singing while standing on a table.     Well, she is, but the locals clearly aren't. "H-Hey! Hang on, don't just--" Audrey is kidnapped! And subjected to weird music that makes her feel Strongly, in a way that's evidently unnatural but that she's not particularly shielded or resilient against in any way. She barely catches herself from joining the dance, because the idea of faffing around in front of Lilian is a force onto itself, wandering back uneasily towards Natsuki specifically, like that's the safer place to be right now.     And if the men won't let her go, she's not above playing tricks with space to put a bit of distance between her and them. "Our target is Regulus, last name unknown."     The BRIEFING means she can focus on literally anything that isn't Lilian calling her out or suddenly getting pulled into a dancing frenzy with weird psychic music. Everything is going *great*.     "So she's... an arcanist... alchemist... machinist, sailor... DJ?" Audrey blinks, but decides to just accept this for what it is. Lilian is already drilling Vertin with a thousand relevant questions, and so Audrey will just diligently listen to the answers, because it's all extremely important.     Well, except one question that comes to mind.     "You mentioned we can't tell people about the Storm, to avoid panic, but if a fight breaks out openly, won't there be panic all the same? Should we be taking measures against that?" Does it even matter? The thought crosses her mind that in less than three hours, functionally the entire population of this world is going to be, for all intents and purposes, dead. So are there even consequences anymore?
Tamiel Luxis	> Storm Syndrome     "That's not what my training was supposed to be about resisting," Tamiel murmured, staring now at that strange, impossible moon. "But. Maybe it's better than nothing..."     One of the crowd in the streets, in their revelries, spontaneous and wild, grabbed at her halo. She gave a soft yelp, her progress pulled short as firmly as if they'd seized hold of her shoulder, before pulling the shard steadily free, her expression apologetic but the force of her movement implacable.     When the time came, it seemed to Tamiel more like Vertin had rolled over any of Sonatto's looming concerns, before she had a chance to voice them. Maybe that's why? So she would have a chance to explain to us, and not her? It was a strange relationship between her and her assistant. Maybe not a good one.     She listened to Sonetto with rapt attention, nodding softly. A ship named Apple. Moving along the Thames. Pursued by Manus Vindictae.     She closed her eyes a moment, and splinters of shadow shook free behind her, darting from dark place to dark place. Tamiel felt herself feeling a little sick--too much visual input, distorted too much--but for now, she held on. She sent them toward the river, where they would then split up to navigate both up and downstream.     "I'll help White keep eyes out for Regulus and the Manus Vindictae...We'll find her..."
Tamamo	Flamel talks about mental exercises, and Tamamo gives each word serious consideration, only commenting, together with a look, when he mentioned 'experiments.' Walking together with Lilian, Tamamo can't help but listen to her speak to Riku. Medusa's reaction aside...     "But now, having told him, can you still say that it meant nothing? Not the act of 'thinking,' but with the act of 'communicating,' it is a different matter, no? If I told you that I imagined doing something quite humiliating to you, would the fact that those thoughts were chosen to pass into words mean nothing?" She hasn't said she's doing that.     'There's... no reason to cause more panic than they're already experiencing.'     "I see. I understand you a little better, now. Yes, so long as there is no good reason for us to trouble them, then, we should not do so."     'Are there any other senses accompanying it?'     After taking that second look, Tamamo shakes her head. "It does not seem so."     'By the time you see it, you'll only have moments to leave.'     "That would be sufficient, should an open path be known." Not through her own power, but by leaning on her knight. Tamamo doesn't clarify the difference.     They pass near enough to people behaving violently toward and around music. Tamamo, deciding she'd like to not be involved in that, projects an invisible, golden heat of unapproachability, in an inversion of her far more common use of Charm. It won't stop people from grabbing Audrey (unless she somehow gets close into Tamamo's orbit), and it won't halt the party, but it will stymie those at the edges, overriding impulsive thoughts with uncomfortably foreboding, yet unverbalized, concern.     They find Sonetto. 'Mm! My training is paying off.'     Tamamo leans in close to Lilian to whisper to something, though the only part that can be caught otherwise is, "...merely 'inspired by' a uniform?"     The briefing is given. "Oh, a conflict at sea would be... well, it is outside my own field of influence, though there is no issue with a river. 'Storms' are... ah, never mind that, for now." She gives her umbrella a twirl.     "There is one matter on which I would like some clarification. If multiple organizations able to survive, in some way, the Storm are in pursuit of the Philosopher's Stone, what should happen if all groups fail to reach it before the Storm does?"
James Bond	in 1966, that is music, a contemporary artistic style known as 'pop art', and psychedelics.     And what would it be in 1987? Austerity, cocaine and paranoia? "That explains it." Does looking at it emotionally or physically affect you?     "Yes," says Bond noncommittally. He wasn't much for that scene. The James Bond of that era was angry, isolated, bitter, and looking for an outlet. For him, there was no 'free love,' or free anything; although he didn't deny the contempt that society had for him, something about the happiness that his peers could find, ephemeral as it was, upset him deeply.     But there was one person who tried very hard to connect with him, stumbling, awkwardly, but sincere. He liked her. "It reminds me of someone," he says, after a noticeable pause--and with a faint tinge of regret. It's the kind of distant regret one feels for something very long ago; the kind that mixes with idle thoughts about what might have been. Our target was trying to sail down the Thames in her ship, last I knew.     "Her ship," Bond repeats. "Alright." That, for whatever reason, seems like familiar territory. Bond realizes how difficult it would be to explain how that became the case, indulges another brief paroxysm of amusement, shakes his head and sets a timer on his watch. He hopes to have this 'Regulus' in tow and out of here before minutes become a subject of concern.     Bond listens to the briefing with the same detached professionalism he'd observed during the grounding exercise, minus the twitch at his index finger and the grimace that followed it. "I've worked closely with Rita, Lilian and Tamamo in the past," he says. "Parsons I know because of a few mutual circles, and I was briefed on Einar as part of a diplomatic mission some time ago." He has also absolutely read files about Parsons, but declines to say so out of professional courtesy. Should we be taking measures against that?     "Tamamo and Parsons are easily our best for that," he answers.     "I'd be very surprised if Rita can't catch up to that ship. I'm comfortable boarding or dealing with the Manus tails after it," he says. "And I'll pivot depending on my assessment of the operation's needs."     "Lilian has command experience and she's used to fighting outnumbered. In unusual conditions, too," he says. "If you don't know what to do, listen to her. If you do, listen anyway. Now, I'm going to go do something about transportation for myself, to keep up. I'll be in regular contact." He procures a set of keys. They're for an Aston Martin, a model that won't be seen here for another twenty years. Despite that, they'll open and start up any car he chooses to use them on. The only question is which ones are worth the effort. Time is ticking, but he does have his standards.
White	White listens carefully throughout, but once Vertin gets around to giving her some information and asking her methods, White sets her spider down on the ground, at which point it skitters off swiftly and begins to scale a building for a high vantage point. With her freed hand, White makes a little flat-palmed wobble of 'sorta' when Vertin says 'summoning'. A few more spiders rush out of her sleeve and down to the ground to scatter out into the city, but none of them are necessarily a 'search party' yet since Vertin recommended meeting with Sonetto first. They'll just help her keep tabs on the city as a whole as much as possible, and if that helps her direct the group toward the river and Sonetto by coincidence then all the better. She nods again when given a name and something to look for; names are very useful for her in times like this!      The sensory-distorting effects of the Storm are... A little discomforting, admittedly. She barely even remembers scraps of being drunk, so more exotic drugs aren't something she has any experience with, and she can't completely rely on the Evil Eye to correct for every little oddity so much as to tell her whether what she's looking at is what she thinks it is. She isn't typically inclined toward violence either, but she's still going to be paying a lot of attention, cross-comparing how each portion of her mind is holding up relative to the others and trying to keep any one part from acting out against the rest. All in all, these couple of hours might be a little stressful for her.      If she's going to be relying on the Evil Eye anyway, she might as well keep her eyes open for the immediate future. And if she might as well do that, she also might as well make a minor effort at quelling some of the chaos as the group goes, if only to make their passage easier. She's no Psychonaut, and it isn't a true 'treatment', but using the Evil Eye of Hypnosis to dull some of the more riotous people's consciousnesses for a little while might still help in the short-term. The music, though... It bothers her. Inflicted emotions are something she's both sensitive to and vigilant against, and having multiple different Parallel Minds come away with different feelings from the same sound, at a higher intensity than she naturally experiences... It's almost enough to be taken as a threat. There's a moment where her hand lifts from her side, and a glint of pre-glyphic violet light flickers beneath her fingers, but that light is squished out of sight in her closed fist the next moment. She can handle it. She just has to be... Patient. Even if that's getting harder by the moment. Though it isn't typical of her, she twines a strand of her thread around two fingertips and plucks at it with the nail of her thumb like a tiny guitarstring, trying to vent some of her anxiety. She's barely even absorbing anything said by the people their group passes along the way.
White	By the time they find Sonetto together, her glinting arcane stare is a bit sharper than she typically tries to make it. She's not showing signs of lashing out, but it seems the process of tightening all of the proverbial bolts and screws in her brain to make sure nothing shakes loose is taking enough of her attention that she doesn't have a lot to spare to her (already forced) social graces. She's paying attention to the briefing at least, and maybe the lack of edge in her tone when she mumbles a question will help soothe the uncomfortable fixation of her gaze. "Light magic... Is dangerous. But we can... Stop a boat." Her eyes turn toward Natsuki, toward Riku, and even toward Audrey eventually as she takes account of the 'Power Types' at hand for such a thing besides herself. There are others too, but stopping a boat physically is hardly going to be the biggest task. Hearing what to look for and even which direction to look is enough for her to send more little spiders rushing down alongside the river, some diverting up to rooftops while others keep aground. The more perspectives she can share from her servants, the less likely she is to screw something up because of her altered perception, even if the spiders aren't able to catch up to the boat as quickly as she could. If this means she (or Tamiel) can get an early warning of where Manus Vindictae might be approaching from as well, even better. Really though, she's surprised she's not seeing the boat with her enhanced vision as she peers down-river. Is it that far away, or is it just that the river isn't straight enough and something's in-between? She'll have to double check from a few different angles...
Einar	When the group arrives at their destination, Einar has spent a rather long time watching the triple-moon. He doesn't seem perturbed by what's going on, but he definitely perceives it. It isn't the first time, by any stretch of the imagination, that he has been at the center of an event which compromises the minds of the people in it. The intense emotions that crash in and out are... interesting. But he seems to be able to keep a hold of it. Whether it's good acting or in actuality an extraordinary tolerance for these things will remain unclear for some time to come, though. When they arrive, he is silent while Sonetto runs through her 'prove you're not crazy' exercise. It's around this time that Einar's two agents return to the group, and they look a little worse-for-the-wear-- one has clearly been in some kind of scuffle, and the other just looks out of it. "I am not interested in testing your resilience to this phenomena. You've done well so far. Go and rest at the desk and write a report on what you saw." He makes a gesture like turning a knob in the air, and both of his subordinates vanish into nonspace. Those who are paying close attention might observe a featureless plane that is otherwise filled with: A desk, a few chairs, and what is definitely the foot of a giant robot. There is a certain unease in the motion Einar makes as well-- he would've preferred if he didn't need to do that. But he's not willing to risk a deterioration, and isn't confident in his specific personnel choice. His attention turns to Sonetto. "Einar. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Nothing else-- he evidently has no questions, and just didn't want her to be dealing with no name to put to one of the multitude of extra faces around her. //If only everyone could be so fortunate.// "Making as many other folk as I possibly could so fortunate was the task that I was given. I began with an airship, some old SIS comrades who were rotating out of intelligence, civil service workers out for a little more excitement -- but not too much more -- and the ice cream truck. It has been..." There, Einar pauses, seriously thinking about it. "It has involved more close relationships with alien super-beings than I had expected it would, but you have seen Cathedral Luna. There are bigger dreams to dream, Lilian Rook, and I dream them yet. But that is one dream that was realized as close to as whole as anyone can expect in a lifetime, and all else that comes is icing on the proverbial cake." //And those two? Arthur and Ivy.// "Oh, they're octopus beastfolk," Einar explains, gesturing towards where the rifts in reality he had produced had been. "Some of my juniors in the SIS that came along with me to poke about unobtrusively. I believe they just picked some sufficiently British names to use. The names I usually use for them are Rolf and Gisela, I don't think they've ever bothered telling me names that didn't relate to a cover. Some SIS beastfolk are like that, they don't relate completely to their original given name." //Oh. I see. I would ask about the discomfort, but it sounds like yours handles that. Beach trips with the princess of an empire sounds like a good occasion to make an exception, at least.// "I've been wearing it for over a decade, whatever aggravations I originally had have long since been either designed out or gotten used to. Truthfully though my prior occupation was so much less comfortable in terms of regular environmental stressors that even being a regular grunt would have been better. Have you ever eaten a mildly poisonous plant to distort your voice for a week or two?"
Einar	On the specific topic of addressing the vehicle problem presented, Einar clears his throat and interjects: "If it is a vehicle capable of following onto and through the water if need be that is required, I would be able to supply this. One is tethered to me extraspatially and could be summoned regardless, though I suspect all would be able to cling to it in pursuit if nothing else. If someone here is capable of calling something from a remote distance WITHOUT damaging the fabric of reality, we could produce a more able vehicle for this purpose. I'm not confident that my particular talents to do so would not fray things worse than they already are however, so I won't do it outside of an emergency."
Odette Raskins	"but the Rehabilitation Center has me on a strict regimine already...." That's something Odette can certainly understand, and she nods once before smiling pleasantly at Cristallo. "As long as they're giving you what you need. I don't want to get in your actual doctor's way, so!" With that weight off her shoulders, she settles for leaving Cristallo a little card with her StationChat ID. She'll realize eventually that that might not actually help much. "psychological state of irrationality and hostility" "in 1966, that is music" "And if it's hitting us, too... Mm. D-definitely don't want to stay in it too long, then, or get too worked up over anything too... Weird." Odette says after a slightly labored breath, eyes drifting back up to the multicolored moon even while nudging her cap forward to shield her eye and glasses from the rain. Stupid rain. Even if it's hitting her glasses instead of her face, the little jolts of visibility-harming rain still annoy her somewhat. "Nothing too weird so far, at least. Um. I mean, it's kind of giving me a bit of a headache, but nothing.. Too different yet?" She'll run into different later, of course, when it's time to search for Sonetto! It's more difficult than she expected just to get through the streets, though, with all those rooftop concerts going on and various temptations to join those reveling rather than rescuing their target. Why can't they just go and grab some of these people, anyway? Vertin even makes it sound like those rules really are just meant for the Foundation rather than unofficial helpers, but why should Odette care about that? Why should anyone here care? Why's she still so willing to go along with it instead of doing what's right? It's sickening, and she can feel all that frustration at the situation already starting to boil in the pit of her stomach. She has to pinch herself to snap out of it before hurrying to keep up with the group. "Nnh.. I hope neither of them are too far from here. It's... Is it going to get worse the closer we get to the last hou?" Like those people already getting hit by the Storm Syndrome, Odette may need a check from Flamel every now and then at the rate things are going already. Moving to aid locals on the street, especially those getting into fights of thrown off cars, does at least keep Odette's mind focused for those moments while she's working to stabilize and perform quick bouts of first aid on those with dangerously orange meters on her HUD. Shoulder-bumping a few of them 'accidentally' to help Audrey out is also something of a release valve for that, but not by much. She needs to be careful not to do it too much, or too hard.
Odette Raskins	"Cabbage." That's definitely the first of two people to find here, alright. Breathing out a heavy sigh of relief, Odette gets front row seats to that exchange between Vertin and Sonetto that doesn't sound too odd to her. "Maybe we should try that kind of thing ourselves, before the next thing." She suggests, glancing around at the rest of the group and desperately hoping someone picks up on that. Anyone. It's a little sour feeling in her chest already, since she just KNOWS that they're all scoffing at her on the inside. Why, because she doesn't have superpowers or amazing technology? Maybe it'd be easier if she just-she really needs something to stop her mind from spiraling. A quick pinch and drawing of blood from a finger later, and her head's on straight again! ""And... DJ." "Is that why the Storm Syndrome feels like a messed up a concert?" Odette wonders aloud as she looks back at the crowds that she had to push through, connecting a few more dots in her mind while still trying to convince herself that she actually hates this music and that it isn't catchy at all even though her really has to try not to tap on anything to the occasional beats she keeps hearing. "If she's got light magic, then a rave wouldn't even be out of the question." "her ship, the Apple" "an Awakened Arcanist in her employment, also known as APPLe," "Her ship and her ally... Hm. That might get a little confusing, but at least it's only two like that." Odette concludes with a slight nod. "I heard there was a company that used that name back during this century... Or was it the next one?" She guesses, then taps her chin. "But calling the ship and the person the same thing... W-well, maybe we'll hear a different name for one of them later when we run into this Regulus." "At least we're already near the water. How hard can it be to find a boat still out during a s... Rainstorm?"
White	White, for what it's worth, is still alert enough to notice when her buzzwords are spoken. Einar's question about summoning a vehicle leads her to gesture 'where?' at him, then in considering what he said further about it being 'tethered' to him, starts examining his person with the Evil Eye. It's not typical for spatial pockets to be that... Accessible, in her experience, but if anyone's going to reach into the cookie jar without touching the edges, it's probably her. As long as she can sense it well enough to affix the target marker accurately, at least.
Natsuki Nuki	THE HEADPAT INCIDENT: Natsuki Nuki, fiercely dressed and tiger-eared and bird-caught throated falls a shocked sort of still when she's straw-hand papped between her ears. They don't lay flat, and she shows no true agitation, but there's a. . . Can Rabies do that? Is this okay? Answering that takes Natsuki a second, though she eventually smooths and calms from her shock over the straw-strand stroke, left ear flicking away a little golden hay that came loose in the fringe of her orange. Chuffing once, she offers a side-of-the-arm pat (before her fingerkiss and peace-out), and then, she's out... On the streets, her skyward stare at the storm comes with her walking and the pressure-madness of the era, not quite having it hit her the same way. Used to living in fairly densely populated areas, the scramble of the impromptu music festival only hits her after she starts using more mundane senses than testing out the surrounds of foreign weather with her own pressure-twisted feelings, something more far off than tensing and slackening muscle but no less tangible for the Lady Nue. "I bring storms." Natsuki declares, more somber as they walk down the mad musical streets of London. It's like a huge party and nobody is at quite the same one, and that's distracting as Odette asks her. Weaving around the motions of lorries of the mad carried straight towards the water, Natsuki isn't searching for Sonetto so much as she's fashionably following. Catcalls get waves but no further, jeers get a firmly presented middle finger, and the world slides around her as noise. "Rainfall, thunder, darkening-clouds. But that doesn't get people to go out into the streets. It's a statement, a promise, that if you stand under my skies you'll get *wet*, that you'll feel a pressure. My pressure. And this?" A curl-flourish of the hand up, a faint sigh at nothing (at Audrey falling back in after her tousel-about with the crowd), and then a drop of the hand to tuck the hooks of her thumbs into the shallow pockets of her jacket. "This is a different sort, this Storm. Is it another, bigger curse's bearing?" Natsuki wonders, before the eyes on her belt beat the eyes on her head to saccade across to Audrey at flank. "It's conductive to something." Her head cants in indication that flicks an ear at the crowds that are to either side and pressing at the fore. "But this? This is like deer before a monsoon, or..." The metaphor hits her and she doesn't like the alignment. "... like from a fire that you've not scented yet. But it's there, as surely as every feather and foot flees from it." Oddly poetic and restrained, at least for her, the somberness cuts through her usually flagrant attitude and flaunting behavior. This was all a party she wanted no part of, and so the party girl was on hold for a different priestess. "A fire doesn't make the emotions happen - a fire is. The forest reacts to it all the same." It's not quite at her level of something worth declaring as her actual answer, but it fits more having walked to it, talked to it on the way across London following the trackers. Fully distracted by 'scenting the air for smoke' herself, she's perhaps less effective than Audrey might hope at protecting her, but there's not any more people driving cars into them before the impromptu rendezvous.
Natsuki Nuki	'I alerted the Foundation to the coming Storm twenty two hours ago when I first sensed it.' Lilian raises an eyebrow. 'When you first sensed it?' Natsuki lands on this after the strange girlbesties code exchange (and Sonetto somehow slamming down that whole ID in cadence without skipping a beat. Impressive!) and her lips tug across the right of her face, eyes squinting. "Are you *this* Storm's herald, Timekeeper? Or do you just scent the smoke first among the forest?" Natsuki asks, still that somber priestess in bellbottoms questioning. The rest of the operational details are a little more normal, and finally what they're actually doing in London makes sense. "So your enemies are also after this powerful artifact and we're collectively under a time limit of about an hour, hour and a half? Before a point of no return." Before it'd be too tight to pursue, and the decision to force the worst kind of tie or attempt a retreat would be all that was left. "These Manus ships - and the Apple, do we know what they look like? If we're not chasing through the streets it'll be faster. Can we take the rivers into the Thames? It'll avoid the all-day Scramble crossing."
Lilian Rook	'It has involved more close relationships with alien super-beings than I had expected it would, but you have seen Cathedral Luna.'     Lilian 'pfuhf's quietly, and wishes that Einar would stop batting a hundred directly over home in her direction. "I see. So you're the type to wish that everyone would have what you do as well." she says, not clarifying who she's comparing him to. "Mmh. 'In a lifetime', is it? I suppose you see it as one of those things that can only get infinitely close."     'Oh, they're octopus beastfolk'     Lilian only barely doesn't say 'Wow! I totally couldn't tell!' "I see."     'If I told you that I imagined doing something quite humiliating to you, would the fact that those thoughts were chosen to pass into words mean nothing?'     Lilian thinks about this very hard. So hard that she turns a little red from the exertion of it. She's such a good listener.     '...merely 'inspired by' a uniform?'     Lilian leans closer, keeping her eyes on the path ahead, and whispers back. "...planning to...?...cute, I admit..." She tries no to glance at Sonetto more than once, and fails. "...Me?!"     'Lilian has command experience and she's used to fighting outnumbered. In unusual conditions, too'     hat snaps back her attention. Lilian clears her throat. "I concur that dealing with the Manus Vindictae vessel should be delegated to Rita, at minimum. I can transport two, maybe three people at a stretch to 'the Apple', so anything that she can do to kneecap it would also be appreciated. I also second that Tamamo and Parsons should handle civilians, but I'll further suggest that N-- atsuki assist as well. If possible, I'd like White to cast a broad net preemptively across any routes or points of interest that Regulus might flee to. If we can secure anything of hers, we can also have Tamamo perform divining to track her."     Getting back into her Official tone, Lilian straightens out further. "If it comes to subduing Regulus herself, please leave the matter to Bond and I. Raskins is to immediately comply with any requests made of her, and should be on-call for any injuries Regulus may incur, or have already accrued from skirmishing with the field agents. With this many people, we should have no issue with delegation, so all available hands should be ready to engage Manus Vindictae forces in small teams. I would especially prefer Natsuki and White to thoroughly assess the capabilities of the enemy, and for Bond to scrape up any information on their movements, strategy, organizational structure, or anything else he might have the time for. If any of you can secure their materiel, bring it to Tamamo or Parsons for analysis."     "If I haven't mentioned your name yet, I either don't know you well enough and will leave matters to your discretion, or, I expect you to assist wherever you're able and to not hinder anyone with specific directions. If any of you encounter extremely heavy resistance, call Rita or myself first. Ensure that you don't venture too far from the Timekeeper; assume that suitcase is your only protection at zero hour."     She hadn't really intended to give out this level of direction in the first place; Lilian's preference would be to keep her nose to the grindstone and bang this one out before anyone else could fuck it up too badly. Bond doing his thing seems to have catalyzed that pushy professionalism within her, and spurred her into a delegating mood. "Of course, I expect everyone to respect the authority of the Timekeeper and Sonetto as Foundation agents to the best of their ability; myself included."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel is looking wild-eyed behind the sunglasses when he turns back to Vertin. "It's my specialty, actually!" He calls out, brightly. "Only local and individualized, but..." He unruffles his hair a little to try to get his head on straight. "It's a bit of a fight every time, so I can only engage with it in bursts, I think. It seems like it riles up existing psychohazards, *especially* in the collective unconscious... For once, I think I almost don't want to know what that looks like right now."     He does, though.     "I love the sound of this pirate. I bet she has really straightforward motivations we can work with! People with that kind of independence and focus usually have a psyche I can really get around." He's talking-and-walking just as Lilian is, working his psychic magic as he goes, purifying the mind of civilian and operator alike. He's not unwilling to take orders, because, I mean, he's *been* in that mind, he trusts Lilian. "I'll keep them out of the way, and I'm *very* ready for studying!"     Seems he'll be paired with Tamamo for most of this. "Been a while since our last shared operation!" He calls out, cheerfully. "Why do we always seem to meet in the most *psychologically twisting* circumstances? At least I can see this one, though." If this is how it is two hours out, how bad is it gonna be later? "Even in my visual cortex... I'm surprised it's strong enough to leak that badly. It must be the global scale..."     Cheerfully, he pops a thumbs-up back to Lilian, when she talks about following the Timekeeper. "Seems like she runs a good operation! She's got quick-psych-evals and everything! I think I like her, I definitely need to connect with these Pavlov guys."     "Maybe it's better than nothing..."     "Any mental defense is better than none! Heck, try square breathing if it's all you got." He pipes up.     "Parsons I know because of a few mutual circles..."     "We're in some of the same security fandoms!" Flamel says the word as if he learned it a few weeks ago and has been looking for opportunities to use it. "See you at one of the ships? I have a funny feeling I'll see you there!"     Something at the center of this storm riles up psychohazards, intensifies them... Flamel's starting to form the core of a longer-term interest, something that will drive him forward through this more and more soon. Having been exposed to the Light of the White Night, now the Storm Syndrome offers its counterpart -- and one can almost hear his mind churning as he processes the two in comparison.
Einar	What is going on with Einar, in terms that the Evil Eye perceives? Firstly: Peering into his internal world, the structure of his mind, is comprehensively fruitless. It is not a vault-- he IS strong in that regard, and his fundamental nature almost literally announces itself through this whole inspection. But getting past the heart he wears on his sleeve, that's the problem. Because space is his nature. Distance is his nature. Putting something in front of somebody else is his nature. Making a road where a road is impossible is his nature. All there is to see is a figure infinitely distant and pink clovers. Secondly: He was probably referring to something not tethered to him. There is a spatial distortion that hovers around him like a shadow, but it isn't one that is actually connected to anything. The shadows in the tether are clear enough to the Evil Eye-- a great armored knight, a giant that could easily stride the waters, lingers there in black-and-gold. Beneath it is a featureless plane, in which there is a desk with some chairs and all of the fixings you'd expect a desk to have, and Arthur and Ivy who were dismissed to this place. But the only connection is that man-- this space is new, fresh, completely without origin. It is the universe made a little bigger, an anomaly introduced into a closed system. If the whole universe collapsed around him, this man could make a space to exist in from nothing but the tiny spark of his life, and this little pocket tethered to him is the smallest conceivable expression of that. But there is an innate reticence to it, relative to the nature that White is able to observe. There is a gap that can't be bridged with this knowledge alone-- shielded by the distance that keeps him forever on the horizon. Shielded by those flowers. "If I am estimating correctly it would be--" Einar rattles off a completely insane figure to White that is only sensible within the multiverse, and points off to one side, "in that direction." His attention turns to Natsuki. "I would be curious to know-- what do you think of those who enjoy the storms? Enjoy the rain? Porch-watchers and rain-dancers, and so on." There's a gentleness to his voice when he asks-- he seems to understand it might be a little personal. //Mmh. 'In a lifetime', is it? I suppose you see it as one of those things that can only get infinitely close.// "I have ambition to exceed what is realistic, but there are many other ambitious souls in the world who are interested in things to the contrary. I believe that my ambition will in time crush theirs, but I do not wish to become complacent with myself. And I do need help. But I would prefer to talk about the particulars of that at a later date, in more secure company. I do not wish to cast doubt on the characters of anyone present, but I have not managed to stride so far into impossibility by trusting every ear in my vicinity," he answers, oscillating back and forth between high-and-low-energy. Einar has spent a long, long time thinking about this. After a couple of moments of silence, he adds, "But... for Nia, I think I could accomplish anything." The strategizing and delegation proceeds. Einar remains silent until it is completely done. "I have a vehicle capable of aquatic engagement that I may deploy freely even if teleportation of my outside assets is impossible, so I will engage on the vehicular level with Rita and evaluate whether or not she requires the support. Based on present arrangement my expectation is that she will be fine on her own. If we don't get any surprises in that regard, I will rotate to the boarding crew and attempt to join yourself and Bond. Otherwise I will simply try to cover any gaps that I can," he rumbles, inclining his head faintly.
Rita Ma	Rita, kneeling to touch her fingers against the wavering brick wall, looks a little ill. She straightens up and--      "Keep an eye out for people who seem to be intent on hurting themselves or others, including within our group."      Hm. If Rita had, say, a stylish top hat to tug down over her eyes, she might right now.      "music, a contemporary artistic style known as 'pop art', and psychedelics."      "Huh? So the Storm is... cultural?? I didn't think something big like 'time' would care about something small like 'what art people are making'. That's so strange," Rita trails off, in a 'but you probably don't need me to tell you that' self-conscious way.      Moving through the havoc of the crowd is uniquely uncomfortable for her, in more than one way. Rita holds her breath for a while, but her eyes are on every injured person anyway, face held halfway to a constant grimace.      After a smiling-and-almost-shy wave at Sonetto, Rita absorbs the briefing in silence except for a "She has light powers, but she decided to go into music...?" little marveling.      "There's plenty I'd like to hear from you, Sonetto, whilst we still have the time."      Rita's eyes fall to Vertin's nixie tube wristwatch, still showing two-hours-something. "'While we still have the time'," she repeats, the words double-faced.      "I'd be very surprised if Rita can't catch up to that ship."      "I concur that dealing with the Manus Vindictae vessel should be delegated to Rita, at minimum."      Rita inclines her head in a respectful 'of course' while walking down the boardwalk past them. "Mr. Bond's very capable," she says as endorsement in-turn; that Lilian is goes without saying. "I might be able to track 'Regulus' too, even if she's hidden, but I can't be sure."      Then she climbs up onto the railings, and swings her legs over- "I'll appreciate that, Mr. Einar. Maybe I'll need it. A 'ship' can kind of mean anything, can't it?"- and pulls a little flip-top phone out of her shirt pocket. The rain still drizzles down on her; it still beads right off, as if her whole body were somehow covered in plastic. Enviably half a world apart.      For once, she doesn't bother to get out of earshot to ask her contacts questions. This one isn't exactly sensitive. After dialing: "Hi. Um, yeah. It's Rita. Has anybody seen a weird boat?"
Audrey Basque	"Have you ever eaten a mildly poisonous plant to distort your voice for a week or two?"     "I'm certainly gathering you've lived a very eventful life," Audrey answers Einar with the obvious implication being she's not averting her ears from his other retellings (especially the ones directed at Lilian). "Which, well, I haven't. So I certainly can't say I've intentionally poisoned myself to change my voice. Or... for any other purpose, besides."     She stops, to think about that wording a bit.     Hm.     "No, actually... perhaps I have poisoned myself before, for entirely personal reasons. But nothing worth retelling."     It's a good poison, though. (Odette) Shoulder-bumping a few of them 'accidentally' to help Audrey out is also something of a release valve for that, but not by much.     Audrey obviously thanks Odette! It'd be incredibly rude not to, and it spares her from having to use magic just yet. "It's conductive to something."     "Nothing good, though. I don't have the sense you do for it, just the knowledge bad things are about to happen. I wonder, actually... if the Storm is inevitable... is there even a tomorrow to divine, right now?"     She glances up, past the moon. The stars underneath her shirt glimmer a bit brighter, and she tries to divine ahead. Nothing in particular. No single, great question for the stars. She just wonders if there's a tomorrow, or if predictions halt abruptly a few hours from now. "If I haven't mentioned your name yet,"     Audrey bites her lip, rather than her tongue, and ends up caving. "Let me handle moving people between land and the vessels, both the Apple and Manus' own. It's trivial for me and it frees everyone else's hands from having to worry about that. I can also keep either of them from moving easily enough by distorting space around them, it'll let people deal with them however they want."
Einar	"Just so, Miss Rita. I am less worried about the target ship, and more about unknown incoming ships. If this other organization is attempting the same operation, what forces they will deploy is the biggest x-factor. To the extent that it is helpful to say so, I am primarily a defensive combatant, and while we are engaged together I will more than likely take actions to extend defenses to your person," Einar replies to Rita, gesticulating loosely into the air as he does so. That little wrist-motion he distorted space with is included in there, this time. //I'm certainly gathering you've lived a very eventful life// "Yes, Einar says. "At this point in my life I have been a part of several different departments of the Spiral Empire's government, both civil and military, as well as the central government. I did not trouble myself with my full title earlier, but perhaps it would be illustrative at this point: I am Divine General Einar, of the Spiral Frontier Defense Force." //No, actually... perhaps I have poisoned myself before, for entirely personal reasons. But nothing worth retelling.// "I find that stories thought to be unworthy of telling are usually less unworthy, and more embarrassing."
White	White multitasks between listening to Lilian's instructions and trying to interpret Einar's guidance and what she can sense from him. With her agents already spreading out, White's relative web of teleportive instant access through the city is spreading even without her immediate action, so she puts a little longer than she otherwise might into figuring out how to leverage her abilities toward Einar's request. Both because it would be helpful, and because the idea of a teleportation she couldn't accomplish *bothers her*. She's already a bit bothered by other factors tonight, so she's willing to get a little stubborn, a little selfish, to stroke her ego a little bit. She's got pride to maintain, damnit.      Working with extreme but precise measurements is almost harder than using relative-descriptive targetting, but she'll make it work. Fifteen seconds of thought paired with a vague reaching gesture isn't quite enough for her to acquire the target even with the relative information she's gleaned from seeing through the 'door' before, or examining Einar himself. So, it goes to thirty seconds, and she clenches her fingers in annoyance, spins on her heel to face the river, and raises both of her hands loosely in front of herself. The river is deep and wide, so it obscures most of the light, but the magically sensitive may notice a glyph forming at the bottom, and the mundanely perceptive will see a faint trickle of her violet-pink fluctuating brand of magical light emitting from underwater.      Forty seconds in, White goes from quietly annoyed to suddenly more relaxed. The teleportation happens non-instantly, not quite bringing the entire machine through at one instant as much as pulling it up from the bottom of the river like an absurd piece of supertech salvage. By the time the entire thing is brought over, it's been just over a minute. If the robot worries the locals, that's what Flamel is there to help abate, so she's not going to worry about it, and she doesn't turn back to Einar either. Instead she's just going to let her arms drop to her sides, enjoying her success with a tiny, self-satisfied smile as the arcane light abates from beneath the river, and water streams off of the arisen super-mecha. It's hard not to be a little proud when you prove to yourself you can still do difficult things even with a handicap, right? This is only the second time anyone here might have seen her use glyphs in a teleportation at all. She's rarely challenged like this, anymore. A giant *robot* from unfathomable distances... Wrath would be so jealous.
Einar	Divine General Einar raises a hand, evidently very close to summoning the Chur-- but as he makes the gesture to do so, White has already begun summoning from the indicated location. There was, however, a very minor miscommunication here, ultimately making the feat itself a great deal more impressive. The actual relative position of the knight-like robot is quite close -- essentially Einar's own location -- but the thing that White brings based on the direction he gives is a ship. It is not... compact, although by the standards of the Spiral Empire it is a modest vessel, mid-sized, and it is able to sit at the bottom of the river Thames without breaching the surface. Were it a sailing vessel in particular it would probably be the largest thing that has sailed the river Thames, but as it is, it's more like the starship Enterprise concealing itself thinly. It becomes a great shadow, lurking beneath, its frame shifting visibly beneath the water as its crew realize that it has entered a different locale and shift to underwater mode. The HMS Clover is most easily witnessed from above by the four-petal clover design that blooms forth from the middle of its mass, both above and below-- for those in the surroundings who are suffering psychadelics, it probably doesn't help. The black knight turns bodily towards White, head tilting slightly to one side. "That is quite remarkable. Thank you. Do not trouble yourself with the robot hiding in my shadow, if the Clover is here I will be able to do what I want more effectively by far than with a Chur. It is actually a boat, you see. Or a ship, I suppose."
Audrey Basque	"I am Divine General Einar, of the Spiral Frontier Defense Force."     The weight of the title catches Audrey offguard, quite transparently at that. "Oh. Oh, I see. I-- ah. Apologies if I've been speaking to you too casually?" Is that a concern? Suddenly, she seems to think it very much might be! You don't just-- chitchat a Divine General about why he doesn't take his helmet off, do you? "I'd love to hear about the Spiral Empire, when we aren't so pressed on time. I'm still terribly uneducated on the major landmarks of the sector. There's so much to see." "I find that stories thought to be unworthy of telling are usually less unworthy, and more embarrassing."     "Extremely," Audrey admits. "It's also really stupid."     But any potential desire to explain further, or NOT explain further actually, is squashed by the sight of White bringing in Einar's vessel.     "Oh! White, wow. You can do that from just...? I have... so much further left to push myself..." It's a good thing she has access to White to learn/study the tricks, but that much seems out of her reach anyway.
Rita Ma	Being called "Miss Rita" by a huge knight guy cheers her up enough to enter her 'kicking her legs over the water a little' idle animation. Health bar refilled!      She does lean away from the knob-turning gesture a little, though, as if it might dismiss her to the paperwork dimension too, and as if an extra couple inches distance could save her from that horror.      "I am primarily a defensive combatant..."      After shutting her phone: "Right! I'll appreciate it. I'm... not the best at lots of big structural damage, if it's really large ships, but especially if I get to be reckless there's probably something breakable below the water-line."
Einar	"The amount of disrespect that lies behind informal speech is relative. Even if I were to hold you to some such standard, I would not do it while omitting my titles, young lady," Einar rumbles at Audrey. "And I would be most glad to talk about the Spiral Empire in less imminently hostile surroundings." A notable turn of his facing betrays that he noticed Rita's flinching away. He folds his hands behind his back and straightens up. "Well, then we will be not the best at structural damage together. We will make do."