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

[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.

[norea]

She rises, then, meandering toward the shelves. "Is it?" Hasi raises her eyebrows, reaching up to almost pick up one book--but then she veers away from it. No, not that one, not that one-- "It's a little bit of a game I hear the proprietors like to play: seeing who will open them anyway, knowing what they might find."

She pauses, and taps her fingertip just under one red-bound book, its spine cracked. "This one. I can tell."

[fuckin_thirsty]

"Last time I got curious about what old books had to say didn't pan out great for me," Deacon intones lazily, watching her rather than the books as he comes to a halt and takes his cigarette between pinched fingers. He does look at the red-bound book she's picked out, as if he could tell just by sight what's so great about it.

Or decidedly not great about it. "Unfortunately, you can't judge them by the covers."

[norea]

"I hope you didn't decide to open the Necronomicon," she says (not really bothering to conceal her mild curiosity), turning away from the books to lean back against the shelves, hands clasped in front of herself.

"One of the reasons I like this place is they leave magic wide open, so the books are still dangerous. It makes it easy for us to be forgotten after we leave--a group this size would attract too much attention otherwise."

[fuckin_thirsty]

He shakes his head. Not the Necronomicon. Smoke unwinds around him as he expels a lungful after letting it simmer and burn in unnecessary breath in, thick and luxurious. "Its magic was only what you made of it, if you're curious enough. Not like these, exactly. But who knows, maybe I wouldn't get to be here if I hadn't."

Because unlike most, Deacon actually likes it here. We'll see if that lasts.

"I expect most people to play cautious, so I'm surprised at the turn out."

[norea]

She sort of appreciates that quality--it's not that Hasibe doesn't miss certain things about home, but ultimately she's sort of fine here, and she feels, most of the time, a bit like a freak for it. It's natural to be upset about being ripped from everything you love, but--well, she wasn't kidding when she said all she really needs is her dog and a good pair of high heels.

She inclines her head, agreeing with that general surprise; she's glad, though, since she wants to make damn sure she knows everyone involved in this by name.

"Maybe I just have a trustworthy face," Hasi says, lightly.