Law -- Logs

The transfer of the unconscious host goes smoothly. Or as smoothly as anything has since the beginning of all this can be said to have gone. Ian lets the other Celestials know that his plan is to wake the kid up on the sidewalk and behave concerned as if he just found him lying there. It's apparently a technique he's used before. What he doesn't say is that he hopes there's a way to keep the fact that you hid one of the conspirators, even if it was with another Archangel.

Shateishael isn't sure why Ian would worry about that -- it's not like a Seraph would keep that secret, depending on who asked -- but he doesn't say anything, since he doesn't want to add to Ian's concerns.

Shateishael drums his fingers idly on the window frame of the door as he drives, adding, "Dunno if'n t'other name we wuz given works f'Temperance 'r not... but either way, 's gonna be a bitch t'protect him, what with him bein' in jail 'n all."

Shateishael says, "So... now all we's got t'worry 'bout is Sheba, Jakob, 'n Jared." He's silent a moment, then snorts amusedly, "...'all.' Think I need m'head examined.""

Devorael doesn't ask you if you're sure you want to be involved. If you weren't, Novalis would have known. It ponders instead. "We don't have any clues as to their natures, do we?"

Shateishael sighs, adding, "'N if'n we don' catch 'em this time, there's still Prudence 'n Courage." He shakes his head at the Kyrio's query, rumbling, "Nope. But 'm thinkin' Sheba might be either an older angel, 'r a Seraph, t'be able t'command t'others like this." He's silent a moment, then growls under his breath, "A damned dissonant Seraph!"

Shateishael glances at Deva, adding, "Y'wanna let Zeke know 'bout this, 'r not?"

Devorael says, "I..." It hesitates. "What would cause the least stress, do you think? I'm not sure I know what to do in this case."

Rosenstern is silently watching the sky roll by as the other angels discuss the next course of action.

Shateishael shakes his shaggy head a bit glumly, "Me neither, Deva-chan. Never hadta deal w'so much dissonance b'fore." He's silent a bit longer, then rumbles slowly, "Well. We gotta name f'a possible victim, 'n we know they're Temperance... 'n we know they're speedin' things up. So... 'm thinkin' callin' in alla th'possible help we can might be wise, so we don' end up wi'sumpthin' like this time -- a dead guy we jus' barely missed savin'."

Shateishael rumbles slowly, "You got any songs might help track these folks down, Deva-chan?"

Devorael says, "I don't, I'm afraid. Healing and Harmony are what I've learned."

Shateishael nods and sighs, resting his temple against one fist as he drives with the other hand. "Dammit, me neither. Think we're back t'square one ag'in, far as catchin' Sheba... 'less Rosie c'n persuade his S'perior t'talk Harry inta callin' her." He thinks for a while... then simply shrugs, "Well, we'll see what we see. First, back t'th'ranch, so's Bella 'n Thea don' worry."

Devorael nods and keeps pondering the rest of the way back.

Bella and Thea are both still up and watching some old black and white movie in the living room when the delegation arrives back at the Ranch. The Bright is wearing one of Slate's t-shirts and a pair of pajama bottoms with My Little Ponis all over them. She glances up, looking worried as everyone comes in, "Everyone seems to be in one piece..."

Shateishael grins happily at Bella and Thea, "We're all fine, ladies -- no worries!" He gives them both a warm hug, then settles on the couch next to Bella and gives Thea a kiss on the tip of her muzzle when she lips at the hair on the top of his head. "So, whatch'all been up to?" He grins quite mischievously at Bella, "Did a package arrive f'you, sweetheart?"

Shateishael adds solemnly to Bella, "Strikin' look y'got, beautiful. It's you."

Devorael pads in and curls up with Thea, tail and ears not quite perked but definitely not flat back or drooping.

Shateishael has deadpan down perfectly!

Bella nudges Slate with an elbow, smirking, "It did. And I didn't open it yet because I know how you are with gifts. You like to watch people's faces." She turns so she can put her legs across Slate's lap, rolling her eyes at the comment on her PJ's. "I'm dressed for comfort, not fashion." She pokes the Seraph in the arm, "So, spill. What happened?"

Shateishael rumbles a relaxed laugh and starts casually massaging Bella's feet, "Well, lessee..." He glances over at Devorael, "Y'wanna tell, since it's y'r mission, Deva-chan?"

Devorael sits up straighter in catform, while the crow leans forward. "We... didn't save the targeted human. But we did catch the killer. ANd I don't pretend to understand what the motivation for the killings was." The crow bates. "There is some kind of cult among some angels, it seems."

Shateishael nods in quiet grimness, listening and slowly, strongly massaging Bella's feet.

Bella does an admirable job of listening despite having her feet rubbed, "A cult? Of angels? I'd say that's new, but most religions start out as cults..."

Devorael says, "There were four in the cult. We know the use-names of three... Jared, Jakob, and Sheba. The fourth has been handled..." It looks over at Slate, plainly unsure of what to say. "And we have to find them soon."

The Bright nods quietly, green eyes serious, "Any clue where to start? Who they might go after?"

Shateishael nods, rumbling quietly, "They... 'took care' a' th'one in their group that was startin' t'question -- her name was Lillian. We handed over th'one we caught t'Novalis f'safe keepin' -- poor kid was hugely dissonant. Unfortunately all we know now is th'next one's s'pposedta be 'Temperance.'"

Shateishael sighs quietly, "So... we're back ta square one -- dunno how t'track 'r call 'em."

Bella worries at her bottom lip with her teeth, brows drawing together, "Well, if you think it's the guy in jail, you might be able to get Deva in there to watch him... take a guard or a cellmate as a host..."

Shateishael nods glumly, "Yeah, but 's gonna be a bitch t'protect 'im if'n they get in. How're we s'pposed t'stay discreet inna prison, y'know? Gonna need t'shift t'Celestial jus' t'get t'th'intended victim inna emergency."

Devorael listens to the older Celestials carefully, tail curled around toes.

Bella nods, smiling crookedly, "We could do some research and see if we could get him bailed out."

Shateishael draws in a slow breath, looking vaguely like he just bit into something vile.

Shateishael rumbles slowly, "Rather not... if'n we c'n think a' any other way."

The Bright chuckles slightly, "Or not... how well did they take care of this Lillian?" She frowns a little, as if the name sounds familiar.

Shateishael shakes his head, "Dunno, sweetheart. Th'kid jus' said Sheba took care 'a her."

Devorael says, "I wonder if there's a way to find out if anyone knows anyone by those names?"

Bella wrinkles her nose, "I used to know a Lillian. Back in New York. Before I ran. She was a Mercurian. One of Blandine's, I think. Used to hang out in a sort of neutral-ground bar up there."

Devorael says, "Were there any of these crimes up there?"

Shateishael sighs, "Well, even if th'odds 're 'gainst it, cain't hurt t'try... y'know how t'contact 'er?"

Shateishael glances at Deva, thinking... then slowly shakes his head, "Don' think so, Deva-chan. One was in Boston, t'other was... urg. Where was it..."

Shateishael says, "Down South more?"

Devorael says, "Boston's not that far from New York."

Shateishael frowns, remembering, and rumbles, "Ac'shully... alla th' other possible victims were East Coast, 'sides f'our jailed bomber. Y'all might be onta somethin'... Bellisima, any idea how t'find this Mercurian?"

Bella nods, "I can call the bar. It's a lot like Charlie's around here." She pulls her feet reluctantly out of Slate's lap and goes after her cell phone and starts calling directory assistance. After several minutes and two hang-ups, she finally gets through to the bar. She's moved into the kitchen, but can still be heard talking in an almost-shout, "Looking for Janice! Waitress! Purple ha-- ... Yeah, yeah, that's her!"

Shateishael grins, shaking his head and gently looping an arm under the big Maine Coon. If Deva doesn't object, Slate will scoop the cat into his lap and start gently rubbing her ears and chin.

Devorael is definitely scoopable. It purrs and pricks its whiskers forward. The crow, meanwhile, stays by the kitchen door and listens.

A brief conversation follows in which Bella apparently talks some sort of contact information out of whoever was on the other end of the line. She wanders back into the living room, calling another number, this conversation is a lot quieter, "Janice? It's Bella! Yes, that Bella. No, not exactly. More like switched sides..." She laughs, nodding as she listens to something, "Yeah. Very. Listen, Janice, I was wondering if you'd heard from Lillian lately? The little Dream Mercurian? The one that looked about fourteen?"

Devorael bates its wings nervously, seemingly at odds with itself. <p> As the Bright listens, she winces, "Ouch. Well, fuck, that was just mean..." She perches on the arm of the couch, nodding, then brightening, grinning. "When? Do you know where? Girl, I owe you about four drinks and a back rub." She says her goodbyes and grins at Deva, Rosie and Slate, "I have a lead."

Devorael blinks and sits up. Bella... owes? Maybe it IS just an expression. Then it pricks its ears forward, listening.

Shateishael looks both relieved, and a touch worried, "Um... 'owe'? You need someone t'help wi'that?"

Shateishael says, "An'... is Janice a demon?"

Bella chuckles, "I can buy her drinks and rub her back, though I'm sure she wouldn't mind a hunky Seraph getting his hands on her. She'd think it was funny. And, yes, but she's not very serious about it."

Shateishael looks a bit bemused at the thought of an unserious demon that wants a Seraph getting his hands on her... but simply grins lazily and shrugs, "Well, lemme know whatcha need, sweetheart. So what's th'lead?"

Bella slides back onto the couch and hugs her knees to her chest, "Lillian disappeared about two months ago. No one had heard from her or seen her in weeks, but apparently one of her regulars came into the bar the other night and said he'd seen her a couple of days ago."

Shateishael says, "In N'York."

Shateishael says, "Regulars?"

Devorael looks a bit confused by all that as well.

Shateishael continues gently rubbing Deva-kitty's chin, enjoying the cat's quiet purring. He's bemusedly remembering why he tends to avoid the really big cities... too many confusing half-truths and deceptions!

Shateishael rumbles thoughtfully, "Is... this bar a strip joint 'r sumpthin'?"

Bella nods, "Yeah. She was working the streets." The Bright shakes her head, "Nope. Just a bar. Lots of beer. Sometimes a band."

Shateishael says, "What's workin' th'streets mean?"

Shateishael adds hopefully, "Any dancin' at th'bar?"

Bella wriggles a little uncomfortably, "As a hooker. She used it mostly as a cover to keep an eye on the other girls, but if you don't ever actually turn any tricks, the other girls would start to suspect something weird." She grins at the question about the dancing, "Yeah, but the dancefloor's about the size of a postage stamp."

Shateishael ponders for a moment... "Hooker's 'nother term f'prostitute, right?"

Bella nods.

Shateishael nods thoughtfully, "'Kay..." then sighs amusedly, "Guess 'r next stop is N'York then." He glances at the big cat in his lap, "That 'kay w'you, Deva?"

Devorael says, "It's fine with me... I bet it smells bad, though."

Bella nods, wrinkling her nose and looking awfully young herself for a second, "Smells like a cross between a sewer and an oil refinery."

Shateishael rolls his eyes in amused resignation, "Wunnerful. Stink city, here we come." He chuckles, adding, "Y'gonna hafta come with so Janice'll talk t'us, lover, or no?"

Bella shakes her head, "Don't think you'll need to talk to Janice, but I'll go with to help find Lillian."

Shateishael smiles, his eyes lighting up, and rumbles, "That'll be nice. We wanna just fly Celestial, 'r try hoppin' through some Tethers?"

After some dicussion, Tethers are decided to be the best way to go. Bella seems just a little nervous about going back to her old stomping grounds. Once she's there, though, she actually seems to liven up. The Tether that you come down to New York in is in an enormous rooftop garden, one of Novalis' obviously. It turns out to be a semi-public park for an experimental arcology.

Shateishael looks around curiously, vaguely relieved it's not too alien to him, and rolls his shoulders a bit in his leather jacket. [Cool out tonight], he thinks. To him it's nice weather, after Phoenix. He looks at Bella, "Y'know th'city 'n how t'find this bar?"

Rosenstern himself looks actually to be in his element; the sheer number of people here makes it easy for him to blend in and reach out and touch others. He bundles up his jacket's hood a little, looking a bit less delicate.

Devorael looks around, brushing a forelock of blond hair out of his eyes. He looks uncomfortable, sticking close to the other two. His nose wrinkles a bit, but he's trying to keep calm.

Shateishael smiles quietly at Rosenstern, then glances at the young human Deva's riding, "Y'okay?"

Before the trip, Bella dressed in what can only really be called club wear. Fishnets and high heels, a black leather skirt that fits snugly down to her knees. A red silk halter top. And the make-up? It's far beyond what she normally wears. Over it, she's thrown a knee-length men's leather jacket, "I used to work there, so, yeah. I can find it."

Devorael says, "Yes.. it's just different. Male feels different in some species more than others..."

Shateishael grins at Bella, "Lead th'way, Bright lady."

Shateishael nods to Deva, "'Kay. Jus' checkin'."

Once they're at street level, Bella moves through the crowd like she was born to it. The angels thread through the streets to a neighborhood that's a little less than savory but not quite into the category of scary. A purple neon sign proclaims the name of the bar to be Limbo and the person on the door is a woman that looks like she might match Slate for sheer size.

Her hair is screaming royal purple and shaved into a Mohawk.

Shateishael is unwittingly starting to walk like he did in more dangerous times, his expression distant and his gaze tracking warily. He paces behind the small group, making sure no one gets clipped off.

Devorael moves... oddly. The expression is faintly curious, but the grace is very much feline.

Shateishael folds his arms at the back of the small group, and regards the woman and the club thoughtfully.

Rosenstern walks with the group, walking as if he belongs there, though doesn't outright own it. He's a Mercurian, there are people here, of course he's supposed to be there....

The Bright strides up to the door, grinning, "Jan! Since when are you door and not tables?" The Mohawked woman blinks and then laughs wrapping her arms around Bella in a rib-bruising hug, "Damn, girl, you look good enough to eat! They put me out here after I broke some schlub's nose."

The corners of Slate's mouth curl up slightly at that.

Shateishael studies the big woman curiously... so this is the not-very-serious demon. Interesting.

Rosenstern stifles a grin... okay, he doesn't quite stifle it, since it's to be expected. But he does inwardly wince a bit.

Devorael stays in the back, looking around the street carefully. Did his nose just twitch?

Janice wears a pair of bondage pants and a snug tank top. Her biceps are encircled by tribal tattoos and there are leather bands around her wrists. She looks over Bella's shoulder at the three men and arches one multiply-pierced brow, "This your harem or what?"

Rosenstern blinks at that, and for a brief moment is unable to think of something to say. he glances to Bella merrily to let her answer.

Bella laughs and hugs Janice back, stepping back. She certainly seems unconcerned that she just got hugged by a demon, "Not exactly." She waves the other three angels forward, "C'mon, guys, introduce yourselves."

Devorael glances at the others for cues.

Rosenstern considers for a moment if he should use an alias; then he decides against it. Bella didn't seem too concerned. He ducks his head in a nod. "I'm Rosie, hi." It's a lot less than he usually says, but in most urban centers, loquacity isn't always desired.

Shateishael remains behind the small group, arms still folded, and nods once, rumbling, "Slate. 'N tha's Deva."

Janice nods to each of the other angels, still grinning broadly. She whistles through her teeth, "I thought sure Baal was going to have your head for a footstool, girlie. Glad he didn't." She motions you all in through the door, "Lillian's actually in there. Back in the pool room."

Shateishael is wearing his motorcycle leathers, mostly as possible protection... but studying the woman, he amusedly wonders if he's over- or under-dressed for this place! He follows the others in, politely nodding once again to the large woman as he passes her.

Rosenstern nods to Janice, and says politely, "Thanks," with a quiet smile.

Bella starts to step in through door and Janice puts her hand on the smaller woman's shoulder, murmuring, "She's still not quiet all there... The Trauma was apparently pretty bad."

Shateishael growls quietly under his breath at that.

Rosenstern frowns. What in the world happened?

Devorael nods, but doesn't speak. Safer that way.

The Bright nods and steps through the door. Inside, the bar is dim, as many bars tend to be. It's also crowded. And loud. There's a rock band on a cramped stage and people dancing on a dance floor so small all they can really do is wiggle in place. Several people hail Bella, sounding pleased and surprised to see her. The throng is a crazy mix of punks and hippies and business suits. There's even one guy wearing a cowboy hat and nursing a Bud at the bar.

Shateishael gives the cowboy a faintly wistful look, wishing he could do that -- places like this make him feel vaguely weird. Not enough room to really dance either... he sighs in quiet amusement and just makes sure his friends get safely through the bar. No mosh pit tackles allowed!

Rosenstern keeps his attention visibly to himself, though he tries not to be furtive when he looks around, trying to keep it cool and casual. he doesn't want to be targeted here, not around others, which is why he's wearing a hoodie.

Shateishael wonders idly how many of the patrons and staff of the bar are actually Celestials.

Devorael has never been anywhere like this, but has the sense not to rubberneck. He stays close to Slate.

Bella leads the way into a much less crowded back room that has three pool tables that look as if they have been in use steadily for the past half-centure. All three are in use. There's a smaller bar and sitting on one of the stools is a nervous-looking girl with dirty-blonde hair, dressed in a denim mini-skirt and a midriff tank top that manages to mostly cover small breasts. She looks, as advertised, like she might be fourteen.

Shateishael keeps quietly and stolidly close to both Rosie and Deva, picking up on Deva's slightly nervous (and possibly disconcertingly feline, to humans) body language. He doesn't know how else to be reassuring, but he can be there for them.

Shateishael glances quietly to Rosie once they're in the room, and rumbles, "Looks like y'r forte, Flowerchile."

Devorael shifts from foot to foot. Were he a cat, he'd know what to do.

Shateishael puts a large hand on Deva's shoulder, rumbling very quietly just to him, "Be still, Deva. Calm."

Devorael steadies. Rock has that effect.

Rosenstern grimaces a little, nodding reluctantly to Slate. Is that the Vessel she had before? Urgh. He looks to Bella.

Shateishael rumbles to Rosenstern and Bella, "Gonna go talk t'her?"

It's toward this nervous girl that Bella heads, a friendly smile on her face. She moves with a sort of arrogant half-strut that is as far from her normal gait as the earth is from the moon. "Lil! Wow, honey, you look like ten miles of bad road." Bella slides herself onto the stool next to the waif-like angel.

Shateishael raises an amused eyebrow, watching Bella... then looks around. Going to be a while... he rumbles to the others, "Y'all wanna beer while we're waitin'?"

Shateishael figures having something to hold and sip from will help steady the folks here.

Rosenstern shakes his head a little. "No... actually, yeah, that'd look better, here. We'll sit near Bella but not on top of her.

Devorael nods warily. He follows Rosie's lead.

Shateishael nods to Rosenstern and flags a passing waitress, ordering 5 drinks. He knows his own, Bella's, and Rosenstern's preference. He gets a mild beer for Deva, and if he can tell what the waif has he'll order another one of those for her.

Shateishael leans back against the bar, placing himself where he gets a good view of the room and isn't too close to the possibly twitchy angel.

The waitress is dressed in pretty much the exact same outfit that Janice was wearing, though her hair is a much more normal shade of brown and cut into a chin-length bob. She takes the order, looking the three men over with a professionally flirtatious smile. "Comin' right up, babe." She sashays off to the bar, where a slender young man in the same pants but wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, starts getting the drinks together.

Bella is talking quietly with the girl, who flinches slightly, but then nods somewhat reluctantly and slides off her bar stool to follow the Bright over to the other angels. Bella has her arms around Lillian's shoulders as one would shepherd a nervous child, "Guys, this is Lil. Lil, this is Slate, Rosie and Deva."

Shateishael flicks a faint, polite smile at her, and when the drinks arrive he'll tip reasonably. Till then he half-listens to Bella's chatter, and half-keeps an eye on the crowd in the room. He's not really sure he wants any of them near him or his friends as it is.

Devorael offers a shy smile. "Hi..."

Shateishael nods politely to the waif-like girl, rumbling, "Ma'am. Pleasure t'meetcha."

Shateishael carefully makes no move towards her, not wanting to appear to loom or spook her worse.

Rosenstern ducks his head in a bow, giving a small smile of greeting. "Hello," he says simply. Every Celestial or Infernal goes through Trauma differently, but it's always best to be gentle and understanding.

Lillian hugs herself, seeming to shrink in on herself slightly, voice soft as she almost whispers, "Hiya." Her eyes flick nervously around the room before settling on Rosie, perhaps as the safest looking being in the group, "Belle tells me you're looking for th-them... Did they do something bad again?"

Rosenstern lets his expression droop. "Yes, they did," he says quietly. "We are trying to stop them before they do anything more bad."

Shateishael carefully suppresses his urge to growl again at what Sheba's done to the poor girl, and turns his head to take a drink instead.

Devorael tilts his head, feline, but something of the soft Maine Coon in him.

Lillian chews on a bottom lip that looks like it's been chewed on a lot lately and nods with a shudder, "Sheba... she..." The angel shakes her head, "She talks a good game, y'know? Life is sacred and all that, but I think she's crazy...." She swallows again and her voice drops so it's barely audible, "Or fallen... but don't think she knows she has...."

Shateishael wonders bemusedly how an angel couldn't feel their Heart shatter... Sheba must be one of the Liars, a Balseraph, to be so deluded. But how could the other angels not realize?!

Shateishael rumbles quietly, "We need t'find her, girl. Y'know how we c'n do that?"

Lillian flinches again, hugging herself more tightly and nodding miserably, "I could still call her, but I don't know if she'll answer..."

Shateishael says, "Not here."

Shateishael glances at the others, "C'n y'all learn th'Song from her, or d'we hafta have her along wherever we end up callin' from?"

Rosenstern puts a hand on Slate's arm, and says gently, "It's okay, Lil. Don't worry. She's not going to hurt you anymore. And if we find her in time, she's not going to hurt anyone anymore."

Shateishael sighs quietly and hushes. Sheba's cruelty is making him irritable enough that he's forgetting not to scare poor Lillian. Good thing Rosenstern's along.

Devorael murmurs softly "If you help us, you help others now. We know it's hard."

Shateishael leans his head to whisper to Rosenstern, "Y'know anyplace nearby safe t'call from?"

Lillian presses herself closer to Bella and the slightly larger woman puts her arm around the waif's shoulders. Lillian closes her eyes and nods, "It's just the song of Tongues, y'know? I can call her and ask her to meet me... but I don't want to be alone when I do..." Her breathing gets quick and shallow, eyes widening at the thought of that.

Shateishael forgets his determination to hush and not be accidentally scary, and rumbles firmly, "Y'won' be, Lil."

Rosenstern murmurs quietly to Slate, "I might be able to, though learning any Song normally takes a long time. As for a safe place around here, maybe. I never spent much time in New York, though. But there might be a couple of places...." He looks up to Lillian. "it's okay, Lil. You won't be alone with her. At all."

Devorael shakes his head at that. "Dreamers are strong, but you don't have to be that strong."

Bella hugs Lillian's shoulders and nods, looking fiercely proud of her companions for a moment, "There's no way we'd let her hurt you again, honey."

Shateishael rumbles to the others, "We need a place mos'ly free a' folks t'call from, though. Or a place tha's all Celestials a' one stripe 'r 'nother."

The Mercurian of Dreams looks around the tight circle of friends, nodding, "I've got a place... I was gonna leave it anyway. I want to be far away from here for a while. Maybe San Francisco..."

Shateishael smiles lazily, "That we c'n he'p with, after. F'now, le's get this monkey offa y'r back, 'kay?"

Devorael murmurs "I... might know a place with animals whose dreams need mending." It sounds almost like it's more to himself than to her.

Rosenstern nods, "Definitely we can help with that."

Bella smiles at the other three angels again, still hugging Lillian as if she truly were as young and fragile as she looks.

Shateishael has already paid for the drinks. He collects the others up, putting Rosenstern in front and flanking the girl with Bella and Deva, to head out of the bar. He paces along in the rear, making sure no one bothers them.

After drinks have been finished, Lillian takes the visiting angels to her place. She tells them on the way that it's "not much," and when they get there, "not much" turns out to be quite an understatement. It's what is called an economy apartment by rental agents. That translates into a one-room apartment with a shared toilet down the hall. It's maybe 10' square and provides no room for anyone to hide. On the upside, it also provides nowhere for anyone to run.

Shateishael shakes his head slowly, looking around... then smiles ruefully and shrugs, "Well... 'least there ain't no mortals 'roun'."

Rosenstern has, admittedly, seen worse, in the slums of Berlin in the midst of the Great Depression... but that wasn't by much of a margin. He nods to Slate. "This will work fine, I think."

Devorael hesitates. "We need to plan so that my ride has cover."

Shateishael nods to Deva, "You 'n th'girl too."

Lillian nods and motions at the sole window, "Fire escape... quick getaway if we need it."

Shateishael looks around and rumbles thoughtfully, "She ain't likely comin' 'less th'girl c'n lie t'her... offer her sumpthin' she wants."

Lillian smiles tiredly, sitting on the bed, back against the headboard and knees against her chest, pulling herself into as small a ball as possible. "I can just tell her she was right. Ask her to please come back. She... she probably will."

Rosenstern nods a little. "A leader like that... they like to be told they're right, and they'll grasp at anyone saying that they're right and who wants back in."

Shateishael tilts his head thoughtfully, "Be s'prisin' if she din' swoop through 'least once t'see what's waitin', don'tcha think?"

Shateishael says, "Celestially, I mean?"

Lillian shakes her head, voice still that tiny whisper, "She doesn't think I'm strong. She won't think I'd try to hurt her..." Burying her face against her knees muffles her voice, "And I wouldn't... not by myself."

Devorael says, still quiet but uncharacteristically blunt, "Then she's stupid, even if she's clever. You are strong."

Shateishael goes down to one knee by the bed and gently touches the girl's head, "Hey, li'l one... s'alright. We're gonna do our best t'stop her. Jus' needja t'be strong long 'nuff t'call her... 'n then if y'want, head out th'window t'th'bar, 'n we can catch up with ya there, 'kay?"

Rosenstern hesitates, then pads forward quietly, and very gently places a hand on Lillian's shoulder. "It took strength to come this far to help us stop her, Lillian."

The waif peeks over her knees at Deva, eyes shining. She jumps a little as Slate touches her, but doesn't exactly shy away. She then looks to Rosie and something seems to change in her, some light seems to come back into her eyes. The Dreamer uncurls slightly, sitting up straight and taking a deep breath. "OK. I'll send out the call... we'll see if she answers."

Shateishael smiles, straightening carefully and backing up so she's got some space, "There y'go." He glances over, rumbling, "Deva, c'n y'open th'window f'jus' in case? Bella, lock th'door, wouldja? 'N we c'n back up t'try t'keep her towards th'door 'n 'way from Lil 'n th'window. How's that?"

Devorael nods, pulling up the sash and checking the stability of the fire escape.

Rosenstern gives Lillian an encouraging smile, and backs up a bit, checking the small tanto set at the small of his back.

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Last modified: 2006-Aug-27 20:09:50

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