multiversallogs | The City at Large & Mission Alpha

Entry tags:

The City at Large & Mission Alpha

Who: OPEN to all residents.
What: The ant-situation is changing!
Where: Throughout the city.
When: NOW. This thread will likely cover a few days.
Warnings: To be updated.

Dear Mission Alpha,

It is your undeniable privilege to bring back as many of the so-called 'crow pearls' as possible to the Temple. Any temple. No one important cares how you do it, just get it done. Try to be substantial about it, let's say more than 50, hmm? The actual task here is to deprive our deranged ant-friends of as many pearls as possible, but no one is going to be rewarded for stories like 'oh we absolutely threw two tons of pearls down the whirlpool, we swear on our broodmother's grave', okay? Okay. Peachy. Bring me the pearls, chop chop.

Your totally sweet gods have decided to lend you some ...boons I guess, however that goes, to aid you in your quest. Useful objects. For you, my gifted pilferers and negotiators:

A Skeleton Key - it will open any unwarded lock. It will not open warded locks. That means magical locks. No magical locks will be opened with this key. Unless the magic is broken first. Good luck with that.

Get-Out-of-Jail-Free Card - I realize no one has bothered to build proper jail cells in Our City yet so it's more of a Fend-off-The-Local-Authorities-Free Card but that's not as catchy. Think of it as An Official Voucher From the Gods that says you're on Official Twelve Point Business and can't be arrested right now. Keep it for the Sheriffs as it might not have the desired effect the Militia.

Privacy Ward or App For Your CiD - Well you don't want to get caught leaking signals and communication everywhere, do you.

It is a week and some change after the ants first noticeably began their labour and it seems they have finished rebuilding their houses. It's hard to see exactly what is going on from the ground, but the brave few who have ventured into and up the hives or climbed neighbouring buildings get a good enough view. The rooftops are now crowned with organic spires, much like malformed and undernourished termite nests reaching for the heavens. They are not the best constructs, some of them have broken off or imploded, but the majority of the spires stand.

Then one morning, individual ants are seen climbing to the very top of their towers. They then sit still, mandibles locked and antennae arched. It's hours before any change becomes noticeable, and by then it's too late. The ants have sprouted strange fleshy fungal tentacles, all filled to the bursting with spores.

Soon there after, reports come in from all across the city about people acting out of character; some have become catatonic or violent after brief a period of sickness. Individuals have been seen entering the ant-occupied buildings to help defend the ants against intruders, others have attempted to climb high points in the city or thrown themselves in the rivers.

Once again the City is under siege, but this time the enemy is invisible.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I am your sister." Her wand doesn't move, lowered to her side, but her chin rises as she bites the inside of her cheek not to recoil from what Bella has become, from that terrifying moment of unrecognition. Her perception of her sister has always been somehow warped, contradictory; in her mind's eye Bellatrix burns like the Amazon star she's named for, bright and beautiful and horrific and always, but by the same token she's always known the inevitability of this madness. A part of her had been mourning before she'd even been gone.

If not Azkaban, something else - if not Azkaban, perhaps just her.

"I'm your damn sister, Bella," she says, quieter.

Her eyes glint dangerously for a moment in a quick flash of disbelief, but it fades just as soon, particularly when her gaze comes to rest upon the other woman's wand, still idle at her side. Bellatrix does not lower her own - not just yet - but her hold on it slackens, if only a little.

"From when?"

It's lucky, then, that Bellatrix has had some experience with this, though it's only been mild.

As has Narcissa, judging by the way she doesn't hesitate or wonder why she's being asked - she does spare a brief self-congratulatory thought for thinking to fix her hair and her eyes before she came out of that humiliating entry room. Explaining her time in LeMat's world, with Moody, that's not something she'll be doing in a great rush.

"1986," she says, tucking her hands (and wand) behind her back as if she's a girl again, chided by Bella for being so foolish as to get caught by someone else doing anything scold-worthy; she is a grown woman and she straightens slightly as she reminds herself of as much. "I came only now through the inn-"

Bellatrix spares a moment's more consideration before, finally, lowering her wand. It's tucked out of sight with a flash of her old grace, something that's so rare to see now but evident still in her patterns of movement and speech, however haggard the years have left her.

By the time she moves forward any semblance of elegance has fled her again; she takes a few haphazard steps to close the distance between them, and then her thin arms are snaking their way around Narcissa's shoulders, embracing her with strength she barely looks to possess.

The change is so abrupt - the glimmers of grace, the sudden jaggedness of her movement, and an embrace that is so unlike her memories - that for a moment Narcissa is lost for words or a response. It's only a moment; with her own wand still clasped in one hand, she wraps her arms around Bellatrix in turn and for all else she cannot help the sense of relief that steals her breath.

(She still has one sister - even like this, Bellatrix is still her sister.)

Bellatrix won't linger long, but when she parts from the hold she leaves her hands at her sister's shoulders, pulling back to observe her a bit more kindly than she had before.

"You're so young," she comments, at last - and then the fondness is gone, replaced by an entirely different manner of glee. Bellatrix is her sister, true enough, but first and foremost she is a servant to something higher, and that's what fuels the newfound fire in her gaze, the smile that twists her features.

"But you've little need to worry, have you? We've won, Cissy." It's nothing but a hiss, but not malicious in the slightest - which might sound stranger, coming from her.

Won-? Narcissa doesn't understand (this is not what she's been told), but it's Bellatrix, and wouldn't she know? She's so much older, must have seen so much more...

Her response is reflexive, well-trained, one hand coming up to cover one of Bella's on her shoulder, "But that's marvellous." She may not have her sister's faith, but in her position (before the end, or what they'd thought it was) she taught herself to be unfailing, to never be seen to doubt.

She knows the war is coming back, but she was told they would lose and none of that wavering confusion comes through as she finds a way to mirror that smile, that pleasure. She is the more sedate, even if only in comparison, and it's so easy to fall back into certain patterns, ways and habits. "Of course we have. Are the others here, then...?" Does Bellatrix have any better idea than she has what the hell is going on around them? She suspects it's not at the top of her priorities.

Bellatrix, as far as she's aware, is not lying. Perhaps that's why it rings so concerning - for all she is, she's never been much of a liar. She's never had reason to, after all; when has she ever been anything but proud and sure, even in the face of the Ministry. The face of Azkaban and the Dementors, and all the tortures they imply.

"I don't... know. Not yet."

Her smile widens as she takes another step back from Narcissa, hand defaulting to her wand for a second time. "But those who are won't hesitate to show themselves, will they?"

Her intentions are quite obvious, then, and only painted moreso when she lifts the unfamiliar wand skyward, eyes still ablaze with sheer, unfounded delight.

At that, Narcissa takes a sudden step forward as she tries to think on her feet - this doesn't seem like the very best idea under the circumstances, but how to stop it without inciting Bellatrix's rage in her own direction? She doesn't fancy being choked by her own sister.

"There's chaos here already," she says, her hand around Bellatrix's wrist - not tight, not tense or anxious, a restraint but one she takes pains not to be sharp about. "If it is only the two of us, shouldn't we know with what we contend before we allow them to know us?"

Her form tenses visibly at the contact, head snapping aside (perhaps a little sharper than she'd intended) to regard her sister. As she speaks, though, her body slackens, albeit only slightly.

She cocks her head to one side, features softening into something almost sympathetic, which seems entirely too out of place.

"Do you honestly believe that anything - any of the trash that may reside in this place - have any hope of contending with us?"

Her fleeting expression in answer speaks all too clearly to her own arrogance; no, she doesn't, not really. She knows to second guess that impulse, to think before she acts, to remember that she does have to weigh risk when she thinks of gain, but her instinct isn't entirely unlike her sister's. She is a Black.

(And a Malfoy. If Lucius isn't here somewhere, she's going to kill him.)

"I believe we have better things to concern ourselves with than their attempts," she says, simply.

It seems answer enough to quell any suspicion arisen over her resistance, though there hadn't been much. Bellatrix lowers her wand, in time, and lifts her left arm in its place.

"I suppose I can employ less celebratory means, if it worries you. You still have so much to learn."

And such is the source of her sympathy before, alas. She tugs at the ragged sleeve of her dress, the Dark Mark (still burning black with evidence of recent use) easing into view.

Aware that she's being humoured, Narcissa's willing to accept it under the circumstances and she smiles, faintly, as Bellatrix alters her goal. Discretion has always been more her style - it's inconvenience and mess that she worries about, ultimately, not her sister's capabilities - and to be frank she's slightly more concerned by the notion of Bellatrix tending to her education. That seems like a statement that bodes, and to what can be nothing good.

"Young as you said," she says, one hand on her hip as she glances around the street they're standing on, the cape of her dress billowing over her elbow. Her gaze is dragged back to the Mark, for a moment, but even now it's too familiar to much shock her. She's seen it often enough on her husband's arm, too. "I rather think all this wretchedness speaks poorly of whatever leadership is claimed here, besides..."

Oh, and Bellatrix will tend to her education - considering the source of her own, who better to teach? But there's a time and a place, even for Bellatrix, and right now other matters have taken precedence.

"The wretchedness, yes. We'll see to that in time. For now.." her tone itself speaks volumes of her distraction, but it's her expression that holds all of the weight. It's almost reverent, the way she gazes upon the Mark, even if it's only her own, even if it's not signifying anything greater - yet.

She presses her wand to it, suddenly. The searing pain that accompanies the action doesn't so much as register, but her eyes are already scanning the space around them, expectant.

There must be others - and they would be insane, to do anything but come.

Lucius can only think, through the sharp, familiar pain - today of all days. But he's in no position to ignore it, no matter who is calling. (At best, Rodolphus is in trouble, but he somehow doesn't think so - his mark is gone, isn't it?)

He makes sure Narcissa is sedated and locked up tight, against her own illness and any outsiders. Praying to Merlin that leaving her isn't a mistake, he goes outside and apparates, ready for nearly anything.

His wife and his sister-and-law, though, are in that inch of "nearly."

On the one hand, Bellatrix and Lucius here with only the buffer of her seems potentially dangerous; on the other hand, if there is only the three of them, thank Merlin it's him. Besides, it's distracting, having to worry about him when she isn't sure where he is - it's much better just to know and be able to see that he's all right and focus on what's actually going wrong.

Which seems to be 'everything around them', come to that.

"Lucius!"

Bellatrix stays as she is for a long while, wand still burning into the mark at her arm. She doesn't actually move until Narcissa cries out - but she hadn't needed it, to know who'd answered her call. While her own sister had been too jarring, in her younger years, for her to acknowledge as such, Lucius Malfoy was one of those poor unfortunate souls that stuck out in Bellatrix's mind, that she'd never cease to recall for how very little she appreciated him.

That was putting it lightly. Wand lowered, she stays quiet for some time, simply regarding the two of them - silently hoping that someone else might show themselves - but they don't, and she'll just have to make do, won't she.

"This must be a joke."

...nobody said she'd be doing it politely.

His reaction is to Narcissa first - something that looks like relief and fierce joy. He doesn't have to ask to know she's his, and she's safe, eyes clear. "Oh thank Merlin."

He looked at Bellatrix, without much more love lost than she had for him. (He hid it better.) "Your husband is here, somewhere." Instead of explaining why he might not have felt the Mark, he adds, "He might be incapacitated for the moment - we're in the middle of a bit of a crisis."

He would let Rodolphus field that himself.

Well. All things considered, given the pair of them, that's damned near to civil and Narcissa, philosophically, refrains from getting herself in the midst of that straight away. They've got more important things to do than get sidetracked into bickering that might result in someone getting hexed.

"I knew you couldn't be far away," she says to Lucius, instead, holding her hands out to him. "What the devil is going on in this city? I saw- I don't quite know precisely what I saw, Lucius."

"If he were here, he'd be here." There's an unspoken he knows better there, somewhere, but... it needn't really be said. She doesn't look particularly agitated by the news of his presence (or lack thereof, as it stands); it's what it is and nothing more.

Far from favouring the happy reunion that's at risk of playing out before her, Bellatrix keeps her eyes trained on Lucius. Her sister's put forth a valid query, after all, and she's just as curious as to the answer - and aware of the fact that she's the more likely of them to get an honest one.

He takes one of Narcissa's hands and squeezes it. "We should get off the streets. One component is a contagion, and as there's no cure yet, it wouldn't do for any of us to be infected."

Bellatrix is spared much in the way of demonstrative affection, partly because of the seriousness of everything else and partly because Narcissa simply isn't the type; she clasps her husband's hand, thumb against his knuckles, and leaves it at that. "I hope you've some idea of where, then," she says, a bit tartly, as she glances back behind her. "But what are the other components, if this is only one?"

Bellatrix is glad for the restraint, though it doesn't show in her expression. More than anything, she's beginning to look impatient. Lucius's response - however valid - doesn't address any of her personal concerns, which, as always, makes it irrelevant to her.

"There is much to discuss, beyond this chaos." Her free hand drifts across her robes, over the weight of the mask still hidden within them, and something else, something far more important. "Be quick with it, if you intend to lead us elsewhere."

"I've a flat," he says, "not far. It's barely acceptable, but it's warded, at least." What had done for him alone doubtless wouldn't do for Narcissa in time, but that could be dealt with later.

"Follow me." They couldn't risk apparating when neither woman knew where they were going, so he walked briskly, clearly not relishing being out on the street. "I'll explain more once we're there."

Habit makes falling in step with Lucius easy and so she does, keeping a hold of his hand as they go. The flat will have to suffice as far as getting out of the chaos long enough to get an explanation, if he's not going to cough it up immediately; at least it isn't going to be a long walk.

They're beginning to make a new habit of showing up weeks apart in these bizarre situations. Narcissa doesn't much care for it.

The City at Large & Mission Alpha

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