multiversallogs | A toast to that invincible bunch [OPEN]

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A toast to that invincible bunch [OPEN]

Who: Mina and YOU
What: A "thank God we're not dead" party
Where: Common Room, Valhalla Inn
When: Wednesday evening
Notes: Party log; please specify if you're tagging someone in particular, or if it's open season on your character
Warnings: Angering Mina probably results in unhappiness

There were two things Mina rarely did; over-indulge and wear dresses. Tonight, she decided, was a night to throw both inhibitions to the wind. And so, as she made her way up to the common room, she made her way in style, wearing a slinky crimson gown with no back and a plunging neckline. She looked good. Classy, as any society woman of her day. Well, the 1930s, anyway, since she would always consider her day to be the 1720s, really. The only drawback of the dress was that it left both her pirate brand and her Valkyrien Amazon tattoo uncovered, but at this point, Mina was fairly certain that no one would recognize or care about either marking.

The room had been arranged to her satisfaction. She enjoyed ostentation immensely, but opted for a more low-key take on the celebrations. The lights were pleasantly dimmed and there was jazz music playing out of some marvelous contraption that Mina had borrowed. Around the room, she had a few trays of food arranged. Since Mina had no sense of taste to speak of, she hired someone to take care of the food and drinks. The only culinary arrangement she had made for herself was a special mixed drink; store-bought blood (dreadful though it was) laced with ample amounts of rum. That was being kept under a table for now.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the angle of her fedora slightly. There was no telling what to expect tonight. And frankly, given her experiences in Chicago, she probably should have known better to arrange for any kind of public affair. But Mina was in a bad mood and when she was in a bad mood, she tended to revert into her flippant, false persona to spare herself of too much thought. Besides, she was in the mood to dance with someone handsome.

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"A fair bit. I don't own my own tools yet, and I haven't been here long, but I've got a feel for how it works around here." Sebastian is more than willing to talk shop in the hopes that it bores Apollo and encourages him to go help some other lost little lamb. "The Guilds are a lot like unions, so it's a good idea to get in with one of them."

Well! It seems like someone around here has at least enough sense to organize properly. That's encouraging. "Do you work for a particular unio—er, Guild, then? I've heard of a few of them, like, uh... the Guild of Battling..." She gives up on remembering the long name. "I think they call themselves Hellsing?"

"Hellsing, mostly, but there's a Handyman's Guild that I'll be applying to once I've got the dues saved. What sort of work do you specialize in?" Sebastian gestures that they should go get some punch and safely escape from Apollo's range of 'assistance'.

"Oh, I am running out of punch, aren't I," Jones says, catching his drift. "I suppose I'd call myself a sort of jack-of-all-trades inventor and fix-it. I've actually been doing some work with the local academia, particularly at the big school for physics—that's University of Chicago—and for the mechanical engineering department at the Armour Institute, which is really quite an honor."

She carefully avoids the matter of her academic background. Her lack of education has always been something she regards with mixed feelings—on one hand, it is what it is; on the other hand, some days she wishes she were the one going to school instead of Petras and Justina, as much as she loves them.

"I've been doing a little bit of work with electrical signals, since a friend of mine was doing some... projects with radio signals." And the less said about them, the better. Actually, most of the Ordo Dracul's work was a little on the disreputable side. "Although I do a little bit of everything, honestly. I've been doing some work with experimental photo developing; special chemicals and the like." She grabs the ladle to pour herself some more punch, and then dips it again and holds it out, offering it to Sebastian.

"You are a kind and good person," he says a little sheepishly once they're out of Apollo's general vicinity.

"Truly, I owe you one for this." While he's had years to adjust and gain some measure of control over it, Sebastian was beginning to lose his temper. Rationally, he's aware that getting angry at a being that was or was once a god is a supremely poor idea. "And, that's fantastic. I don't know the first thing about photography."

"Ah—" Jones flushes slightly. "Oh, don't worry about it! It's what anyone would do, you just looked so uncomfortable." She laughs. "I'd ask how you got roped into that, but I've met Mr. Apollo before. He seems to be the sort of person that wouldn't even ask."

She fiddles with a loose strand of hair. "Photography's really a very fun hobby, once you pick it up," she says. "I should see about getting a camera here. I could teach you sometime, if you like."

"He decided that I needed to meet more people and somehow that turned into a cattle auction." It's taking him a little time, but Sebastian is able to cool his temper and regain his usual subdued expression. "I think he was trying to be helpful though."

"I had a friend who was very good with a camera and he lent me his sometimes. I know I've no eye for it," he says sincerely unbothered by his lack of talent. There are other things he's good at and he'd much rather enjoy art than make it. "But I do appreciate the offer. I'd like to see your shots, if you get a camera."

"Oh, I will," she says, brightly. "After all, there's no shortage of interesting things here to take pictures of, right?" Jones laughs. "It really is a city full of surprises. So, Sebastian, what do you do when you're not being a handyman?"

"These days, I read a fair bit, gently argue politics with Malfoy--," he says, pausing while trying to figure out how best to describe their relationship, "An acquaintance of mine, take Velcro out, nothing too exciting,really."

It's also worth noting that he's qualified his answer as something he does 'these days', implying that at one point in his life he did rather a lot of exciting things. For someone in his early to mid-twenties, he can come across as much older and world-weary.

"Oh, politics?" she says, before she can stop herself—after all, there are enough people that dislike her politics that bringing them up in a social situation is a bad idea if one's trying to make friends. "Erm, uh... British politics, then?"

"While it's in context of Britain, a lot of it is more generally applicable," he replies, clearly comfortable with the terminology and speech that goes into a political argument. "We both want what's best, but have very different views about how to get there."

Ah, a problem with which Jones is not unfamiliar. "I know how that is. I've got a friend—she's actually here, I don't know if you've met Anna—and we've mostly agreed not to talk politics." In any case, it doesn't matter, because Jones has already won that battle, anyway. "What do you think would be best?"

"That's a loaded question and one I'm not entirely qualified to answer," Sebastian laughs a bit before pausing, "Well, I might be qualified in that I've thought about it and read some, but I don't know if I can articulate it properly."

"What about you?"

"Oh, God, you'll be in for an earful if you ask me that kind of question!" Jones laughs, a little self-consciously. "I really think governments could be doing a Hell of a lot more to make sure that their citizens are taken care of.

"I don't know how anyone can feel good about the way things are going when a fraction of the population has mansions and lavish meals every day and the rest are starving and dying for their standard of living." She's lost all the self-consciousness by now, though. This is serious business to her.

"I think," he says slowly, after what looks to be some considerably thought, "That it's not that people feel good about it, but that they don't think about it. I don't know that it's right to put the onus on governments to change -- in my experience, they're just systems, archaic paper-pushing machines -- and it's dedicated, passionate people who need to change their governments."

While there was economic inequality in the wizarding world, it was never to the extent that was common in muggle societies. The Weasleys weren't well-off, but they had a good home, the children were fed and dressed, went to school, and had a promising future ahead of them.

"Oh, see, you do get it! I mean, that's what I've been working on, getting people to care--we've been making a lot of progress in Chicago, though of course for it to really work like it needs to it ought to be a bit more... widespread."

Someone who gets it! He really does! "It's just so difficult, because I know it's hard for people to take risks when they're struggling, and even harder when they're not..." She sighs. "I just wish I could get everyone to understand."

He really does, yes. Sebastian has spent a lot of time thinking about how the world ought to work and the ways in which it has failed him and others like him.

"That's something I'm still caught-up on. How to convince others that what's always been is actually, actively harmful to them and, by extension, the whole society." Sebastian stalls and looks for Velcro, before continuing, "Not that I'd ever be the one doing the convincing, but..."

Jones runs a hand through her hair. "It's a shame, really, because the sort of people who tend to be good at convincing aren't usually interested in this sort of cause..." She sighs. "And, I mean, I've got friends who are a bit better at that sort of thing, but they're a bit too much into Communism as an end in itself that they want to achieve by any means necessary, rather than a means to an end."

She stretches, swinging her arms a bit—she isn't the sort of person used to standing still. Almost out of habit, her hands start to move into the familiar pattern for casting the Supernal Vision. She still hasn't forgotten that he correctly identified her as a magic-user when they first spoke, and she's more than a little interested in what sort of person he is.

"Once upon a time, I was very good at swaying the opinions of others," he says with a gentle, almost wistful smile, "But that time is past and in another country."

Should she get a look at his aura, or whatever it is mages look into, Jones might be able to see a whole host of nasty old injuries: it's clear that he was once (and might still be) very powerful, but layered over and through that is the remains of a horcrux, multiple hexes and curses that were never fully unwound or treated immediately, and, in general, damage that made a Verbena raise an eyebrow and whistle. (Thanks, Sol.) Starting at a young age, Sebastian was involved in a vicious, long-term magical war and it shows.

If she notices nothing else, there's a bright and unsubtle ~~magical tramp stamp~~ working on him that, roughly, translates to 'MINE. If found, please return to Princess Nuala'.

Jones does a bit of a double-take, getting a glimpse of his aura—dear God in heaven, what has been done to him—and a number are clearly magical injuries. Well, it's clear why he knew she was magical; he's had more than his share of encounters with the magical. Why he's not running screaming from her now is the real question, given what he's been through.

She studies him closely. "Say, here's one thing I've been wondering for a while," she says. Her tone is level. Maybe a little too level. "How did you know I was a magical sort when we first spoke? I realize magic is more common here than it is most places, but...?"

With the sudden turn in conversation, Sebastian's quiet, gentle sort of contentment at discussing politics fades, his expression cooling to something less personable and more non-committal, "You said your home had been relocated to Arcadia. It seemed a pretty logical leap and when I asked, you agreed."

In Sebastian's experience, muggles and other 'vanilla' humans don't last long when dealing with the fae.

"I suppose that's a fair assumption," says Jones, mildly. She's really just curious. "Especially from someone who's no stranger to magic himself. I'm right, aren't I?" She takes a sip of punch, and looks down at her feet. "Er, sorry if you're trying to keep it quiet, I guess; it's just I've been kind of hoping for more people like me here and I just..."

She laughs nervously. "Wow, um. I've singlehandedly made this conversation really uncomfortable for everyone, haven't I."

"No, you haven't." Sebastian is quiet again, taking his time to through what he wants to say and what he ought to say.

"I'm not trying to hide what I am or was. When I was younger, I was heavily involved in a wizarding war and now I don't do magic anymore."

"Oh. Oh. I... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry." She bites her lip. "War is a terrible thing. I can only imagine an all-out war fought by sorcerers would be exponentially worse. I... I can see how that would put someone off magic altogether."

"I'm not put off it, not at all." Sebastian looks away from Jones, out and over the room. He's not really used to talking about this sort of thing with strangers, but he recognizes that it's healthy for him to actually speak about it. "Would you mind stepping outside for a moment? I could use a smoke."

It's a nervous habit more than anything else.

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