005; CLOSED. and darling, i saw it all.

[norea]

Who: The present anti-CL team.
What: Meeting to discuss.
Where: Lost Society, in the library.
When: Misdi, around midnight.
Notes: plotsss. I'll have three comment sections: one for Rhade showing up early, one for the collective group (we'll have to sort out orders since there are quite a few characters), and one for separate character interactions (one on one or whatever y'all prefer). AND... we will have to copypaste in our tags from LJ, soooo.
Warnings: idk yet.

The spell that Hasibe has worked over Lost Society means that no one is going to remember they were there; service will be a bit spotty, as a result, and the waiters on hand will seem peculiarly disinterested in whomever shows up, only providing them with drinks and necessities when deliberately prodded, but that's an aspect of the magic. She partially chose this location because it's easy to find a secluded area there, and in this case, she finds a table in the library, shrugging off her white coat to rest it on the back of her chair. She is dressed in a sleek, high-collared dark-green dress that is not too flashy, in order to keep with the discretion of the venue.

The other reason she chose this place is that they don't care if you smoke indoors. So that's what she's doing, rose-flavored Black Devil cigarette in hand, sitting back in her chair as she exhales smoke toward the ceiling. She has a couple books open on the table in front of her, and nothing in the way of food, but she does have a drink. Priorities.

Comments

MISC

[norea]

[fuckin_thirsty]

Deacon doesn't have anything against books. They contain useful shit.

Especially old ones, and some of these seem to be. He isn't taking any out, however, wandering dry fingertips along the leather spines as he waits for the meeting to begin. They never let you smoke in the archives - if they could help it, anyway - but this place doesn't hold the same reserve, and pages will soak up the scent of it. His own cigarette is caught between his blunter teeth at a casual dip, other hand stuffed into a pocket.

His skin has that slightly not-quite-dead shade of pale that indicates he isn't hungry, as promised, moving at a pace as slowly and lazily as the cat that does not currently need to hunt. He is dressed mainly in black, and had no reserve, wandering for the Library.

[norea]

Hasibe stays in her seat, for the moment, though she is near enough to where Deacon is casually meandering that she doesn't have to raise her voice to be heard. She rests one elbow on the table top, chin poised in hand. In some way, she's almost surprised he turned up. Almost, as there are good reasons to be interested in this. "Careful," she says, with a little tilt of her head toward the bookshelf, "I hear some of those are cursed."

Her tone is nonchalant enough to suggest she gives minimal credence to the idea, but then, it's hard to tell what she believes, and in this city, most anything is indeed possible.

[fuckin_thirsty]

There are good reasons to be surprised too. Deacon does not scream team player and for all that he had said he'd be here, he still considers it an impulse decision.

That, and most people are paranoid. He isn't an exception.

"Little late for me to worry about getting cursed," he comments around his cigarette, embered cylinder tipping along with each syllable. But he also stops touching.

[truth_is_cold]

Rhade strides in with his usual air of confidence (and a little bit of suspicion, but that's not out of the ordinary either), and takes a seat. He folds his hands on the table, before catching sight of Ilde.

He hasn't talked to her since that one afternoon by the water. It hadn't been anything personal. Later that day, the curiosity of things he'd overheard at the Vault had finally struck him, along with the guilt he still felt for a particular captain. He'd turned off his CiD and took his meager savings, left the inn, and found a way to start up a fake life. The CiD had stayed off for the entire time, and now his voice/face was never shown publicly.

It seems that they have mutual stake in all of this, and he shouldn't be surprised.

He inclines his head towards her, in silent greeting in case she's involved in any other conversations. He's patient. He can wait.

[rhinemaid]

Conversations aren't really something Ilde is participating in of her own volition this evening, not outside that which is necessary and the purpose of the meeting; she's quieter even than usual and her sometimes disconcerting focus seems wholly directed inward. It isn't that she can't be drawn, just that in whatever mood has a grip on her now she evidently needs to be, and her forthright socializing isn't really happening without outside intervention.

When he catches her eye with his nod, though, she smiles; it seems like a reflex, an I'm meant to do this reaction, but not wholly without warmth. It is good to see him again.

[truth_is_cold]

The few times he's conversed with Ilde, she's been vibrant and informative. Admirably blunt and passionate in her causes. It's strange that her acknowledgement is almost... sterile. That's the only word he can think to attach to it. But it's a smile, and there's enough familiarity and so little hostility that he moves his chair closer.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, swallowing.

"I couldn't use my CiD while I was undercover. I claimed to be familiar with a different cohort. After I healed- I have no excuses. You deserve an apology."

He's worried that she might have thought he'd been afraid of her. It's a misguided effort to correct that.

[deservesadaisy]

Ivan, for one, appreciates the smoking part of their setting as well. He and Ilde arrive promptly, and make their way over to Hasi. Ivan's manner is subdued, a bit less glib than normal, though he smiles at her. The last time they saw one another was a bit of more stressed, and he's not going to let it hinder him if she isn't.

"Good evening. Are we first?"

[rhinemaid]

Ilde is always a bit reserved when she's sober, but it's different this evening; she's abstract and withdrawn, not quite there, almost consciously a few steps back from the rest of the world and letting Ivan navigate it for her instead as she lingers at his elbow and fidgets with her bracelet. She musters a half-smile for Hasi in greeting-- but her gaze keeps wandering, making sure she knows where everything in the room is.

[norea]

Hasibe has her smile on before she even looks up, greeting them with a tiny sideways tilt of her hand (and its cigarette), waving just a little. Her gaze flicks from Ivan to Ilde, for a beat, and then back to Ivan. She's read the mood in the span of about a half-second, which means there is no undue pause before she says anything.

"Not quite, but I have someone I met here a little earlier. That's part of why I've called us all together." She tilts her head at the tables and chairs (even a small sofa) cloistered together, conveniently. "Sit wherever you like. The waitstaff is inattentive, I'm afraid, but they can be corralled when necessary."

[magnetic]

Erik can only inhale other people's smoke for so long before he must relent to the temptation to light one of his own—he's not made of stone, you know, despite what his estranged future relatives might say—but thus far he's resisted. Similarly, he's gone without a beverage, and neither has he touched any of the books, although he does make the obligatory meandering pass. Contemplating rows and rows of spines. His eyes move, or his head tilts, his hands always unoccupied.

It's not that he seems out of place—this is a fitting environment, in fact, more so than many others in the city. The haze and the intimacy and the mingling scents of old liquor and older leather suit him very well. He's merely in no big hurry to socialize. But then, he's not about to turn anyone away, either.

[rhinemaid]

As debatably good a thing as it is, Erik can also count himself one of the few exceptions to Ilde's disinterest in that which resembles actual socialization this evening-- though how much her subdued and abruptly unannounced presence counts as 'actual socialization' is arguable, too.

"I'm having a great harp custom made for the villa," she says, instead of a greeting, and this is his helpful warning before he receives a tiny hug of appreciation for having taken an interest in getting that done.

[magnetic]

Erik does count her interest among the few good things of the evening, especially given her little hello, here. He looks mildly surprised—not unpleasantly so—and as he lets her slip loose of the embrace and into friendly arms' reach, he looks down at Ilde with a more open expression than one might expect. He is genuinely pleased to see her.

"It's worked out well, then. Excellent."

[23rd]

Laura's in the habit of staring at people -- their reactions tend to be pretty telling, or at least interesting, but mostly she's just really bad at people skills. She doesn't care if she unnerves people (in fact, that's probably better, she doesn't want people thinking they can fuck with her) but she's not intentionally targeting anyone in particular.

Except Erik.

She knows who he is, and also that he's from a radically alternate timeline from her own. She knows what he can do and, in another universe, what he's capable of, but everything else is a giant question mark, which she doesn't like. It's a given that he'll notice her considering stare eventually, because unlike the more surreptitious people here, she doesn't give one flying fuck about subtlety.

He will undoubtedly notice the absurd amount of metal in her arms and feet -- she never had the full skeleton adamantium graft, which she considers an advantage for more than the obvious reasons.

[magnetic]

Erik does indeed notice, because how could he not, honestly. And by the way he looks at her outright, no doubt examining her fortified bones the instant they're sensed, it seems he's decided to give subtlety a miss as well. Since he has yet to encounter Logan in his enhanced state, Laura is the first to come bearing these secret gifts—he has never felt adamantium before now.

The scrutiny doesn't unsettle him, but it does provoke some suspicion and curiosity, too. He figures this girl, like the others he's met, knows him (or of him, anyway) from some other time and place. Some other iteration. It's beginning to nettle him, honestly, for some reason he can't yet name.

He does not smile, but both cants his head and turns it faintly away, still looking. Just so. Is there something he can help you with, tiny?

[norea]

"You must be Erik," Hasibe says, in the process of setting down a drink of her own (her second, though it doesn't appear to have had any impact on her, so either her tolerance is strange or she's not drinking anything too heavy). "You are, aren't you?" As though she'd be just a little embarrassed if he weren't, though that's not really the case. She feigns uncertainty at times because it's an ingredient to charm, and to putting others at ease.

"I'm afraid there are a few of us I haven't yet met in person."

FINALLY

[magnetic]

Wonderful, someone else who knows him. It was a bit thrilling at first, as a novelty, but he has since moved through the flattery part of this phenomenon and on to feeling somewhat put out by it. This is why the smile he wears is automatic and bland as he turns to spy the woman who addresses him, his eyebrows politely raised. ...The expression is short-lived. Her little embellishment seems to have done the trick. (Among other things.) (What, he's allowed to be stuck now and then.)

"I am indeed. And you're Hasibe, correct?" He doesn't need to ask, but it's only polite.

[fuckrobertfrost]

Almost none of the people here are anything alike, and there's no real sense, to John, of there being a cohesive group — this is an alliance and a gathering of like-minded people, but though some of them know each other, and some of them are friends (did someone just hug Magneto), it's not an organization, per se. There is not necessarily an 'odd one out' but John is pretty sure he is the least qualified person here, in terms of skill, experience, and/or contacts. It's annoying but familiar, and thus acceptable. He observes, as Erik told him to, and each person present gets their due. He'll remember faces, though he won't pick up everyone's names.

[norea]

Hasibe, the young woman with the pale gold eyes who has called them all there and seems to know the place quite well, is mindful of everyone attending--everyone gets a smile, a greeting (even the less chatty, like Laura, yes), and some of her attention. It's not exactly the manner she'd use at, say, a party, she's cognizant of the circumstances, but there's definitely the vibe she's making a note, too, of who everyone is. Less stealthily than John, though, given her sociable tendencies.

"You look familiar," she says, tapping her cigarette against an ashtray, "Not only from the Network, either. Where do you work?"

[fuckrobertfrost]

Though he had not been visibly uncomfortable to be among these varied strangers, when Hasi speaks to him, John grows a little gruff and stoic the way young men who aren't sure of themselves can sometimes get when interacting with more cultured adults.

"Samizdat," he says, equal parts wary and polite. "They take this idea more seriously than the other papers."

He added that because he knows Samizdat doesn't necessarily have the best reputation with the general Baedal populace.

[23rd]

Laura shows up because Remy shows up -- she is the exact opposite of a team player, she doesn't really do gatherings like this. Information-sharing is one thing, but this feels uncomfortably close to a conference, like one of those insufferable meetings the X-men were always holding that she eavesdropped on for the rest of the New Mutants. Too many people, is probably why.

(May she never have to hear the phrase "lone wolf" ever again.)

Upon their arrival, the first thing she does is assess the people and the exits. Simultaneously. She sizes up everyone in the room, rates them by estimated threat level, and immediately looks for all possible exits, both the normal kind and the kind you have to make, generally by blowing something up. She never relaxes. The space is too enclosed and there are too many people in it, most of whom she doesn't know and whose threat level she cannot accurately gauge -- she moves as far away from everyone else as she can and stands there glowering at everybody.

She's friendly! Really!

[bangyoudead]

This is not Laura's ideal atmosphere, and Remy knows it - hell, it isn't his, but he's done it enough times where he can fake it and seem to enjoy it without much trouble. The more people end up involved in a thing, the easier shit's going to go brilliantly wrong; but if this is going to happen, they have to be here, because they have to know exactly who is involved, in the event something does go brilliantly wrong.

Hideously fatalistic backdoor kill lists: fun for the whole family.

He glances down at Laura, not fazed by her glowering in the least. This is usual, y'all. "You think I can smoke in here?"

[fuckrobertfrost]

Though John is doing sort of the same thing, he is sort of depending on his lack of threatening appearance to make that mostly okay with people. The fact Laura visibly doesn't give a shit about that means that he observes her for about three seconds and decides not to look at her anymore. The only comparison he can make is Sabretooth. He also spent a lot of time not looking at Sabretooth. So, morose cigarette smoking over here in this other corner, hi.

[martyrdomoption]

At some point later than Deacon, Mitchell finally shows up, looking a little harried and dressed in his usual dark, casual grunge. He doesn't exactly make a bee-line for Hasibe, but she is the one he approaches first. And since there is a distinct absence of the normal risks when it comes to public displays of affection (not that...that stops them, really), he stoops to press a quick kiss to her cheek.

"I go caught up with something --sorry if I've been holding things back." As if this was the most normal of circumstances to greet the woman you're involved with, yes. He takes off his black woollen winter coat and drapes it over the back of a nearby chair.

[norea]

She's always warm with pretty much everyone, but there's a perceptible brightening in her expression when Mitchell appears--a particular kind of curve to her smile that she's reserved for his arrival. She speaks in a slightly lower voice. "Don't worry, I think everyone's taking their time in turning up. It might be nerves. They're not sure if it's secure."

It's hard to trust this situation, after all.