(Untitled)

[stilljustandrew]

*Okay. There's starting to be a plan, now. Or at least the first outlines of one, and some ideas as to fleshing them out

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[river_meimei]

Here's someone he's seen before a time or two.

Currently, she's drifting past his table, her concentration firmly fixed on the bowl of spice-coated peanuts in her hands.

[stilljustandrew]

*He doesn't quite register River's presence; he's scanning the crowd for someone else at the moment.*

[river_meimei]

River moves through his line of sight, and one step past.

And then her steps stutter abruptly, and her head turns sharply towards him.

[stilljustandrew]

*That sharp movement does catch his attention, and he turns to blink at her.*

...River. Hi.

[river_meimei]

"Everything's red," River says, unmoving.

Her eyes flick down to his hands, empty on the table, and back up. "On the blades."

Beat.

"You're worried."

[stilljustandrew]

*He studies her face for a moment.*

Yeah.

Yeah, I'm worried.

[river_meimei]

River turns more fully towards him, placing her bare feet with silent care: one pivoting step, a second.

The bowl of peanuts tips unnoticed in her hands, not quite to the point of spilling.

She's listening.

[stilljustandrew]

They're all gonna die.

*His voice is tight, desperate, almost pleading.* They're all gonna die and it's my fault, I talked them into letting her stay --

*Blink and he's still looking at her silently, waiting for her to say something.*

[river_meimei]

River's fingers tighten convulsively on the bowl, though she only stiffens fractionally; the peanuts rattle.

Low, and tight: "Choose the flight path."

Then, softer, "Aid and succor."

[stilljustandrew]

... flight path?

Um -- kind of, yeah, if I get what you're saying. We're trying to figure out how to do this.

[river_meimei]

River glances down, and startles slightly at the sight of what's in her hands.

Moving too carefully -- not with tension, but as if she's not sure of the objects around her -- she sets the bowl near the edge of Andrew's table. One hand stays on the wood, fingers splayed.

The other lifts, and two fingers twirl.

[stilljustandrew]

*It's such a prosaic gesture that he almost laughs.*

Okay, long story short -- the bad guys stole our maguffin, and if we don't get it back it's, um.

It'll be bad.

[river_meimei]

Beat.

Beat.

"Scythe," she says, frowning slightly. "In the technical terminology."

Macguffin is not on the usual lists of weaponry categories.

"Reap the blood."

[stilljustandrew]

*'Scythe' isn't either, of course.*

Yeah. The Scythe. I mean, it's not a scythe, it's a combination stake-spear-battleaxe Ultimate Slayer Weapon, but that's its name, The Scythe.

And it's mystically linked to the Slayer line, and that means they can use it to affect all Slayers everywhere.

[river_meimei]

River's head cocks sideways, birdlike.

"It's a channel," she says softly.

In front of her, the bowl of peanuts is

(a 'Riza plate, gleaming lethal-edged titanium)

small and still, and her fingers

(come, reap)

trace slowly around the rim.

"So can you."

[stilljustandrew]

... me personally? No, I can't work that kind of mojo.

That's probably a good thing.

*He didn't say that last out loud.*

But yeah.