Back Home?-No Event-BYOA

[grimholdkeeper]

After a quiet night in his room, Balthazar wakes in a labyrinth of clutter and dust, sprawled across a threadbare red velvet divan. The smell of the place, and the feel, is so utterly familiar he sits bolt upright. Home? Home! Delight and relief are immediately replaced by a vague sense of regret. He can't quite remember where he thought he

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[purewhitepaws]

So this was the place. The tour-guide of another group had mentioned it in passing, and as if bewitched, he'd found himself pulled inside. Or rather, even if he'd considered not going in, he wouldn't have been able to

[grimholdkeeper]

They're just out of view of one another, blocked by the counter and a suit of armor. He hasn't seen the strange boy, and he wasn't expecting a voice, so there's a jump and a brief flurry of motion as he flails to keep a sensitive porcelain figurine from tumbling off a shelf. A couple swear words later, he emerges, looking for the owner of the voice. It doesn't make any sense, because he has wards around this place. Heavy wards, and they should have told him there was another living presence here. "Hello. I didn't realize there was anyone else here. Did you..."

His gaze strays to the door and back. It's not inconceivable that this should be some sort of trick, or trap, but it seems unlikely that Roi's to blame. "Is there some sort of blackout?"

((I guess I'll play it by ear. I'll PM you if I'm about to throw out a plot twist.))

[purewhitepaws]

With how tight the hood is on his head, it's rather difficult to see his face from such an angle, even when he looks up to see him.

"N-no, it was just fine outside, but once I came in, I couldn't see outside.... But, if it was a blackout, wouldn't the people in their cars outside be turning on their headlights?"

His lips tilted into a repentant frown, and he wrung his hands together. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I can be really quiet on my feet. It's a bad habit." He's concerned and frightened, in all honesty. Even as he watches Balthazar, his body language easily speaks of the uncertainty that he refuses to let enter his voice.

{Works for me! :3c}}

[grimholdkeeper]

"That's assuming it's even night. It doesn't look right. Just blank." He places a hand on the glass pane, scowling into the darkness. After a moment of thinking and feeling things out, he turns a piercing gaze on the strange youth. Piercing, because he's not looking at the physical form so much as the surrounding aura. Unfortunately, it doesn't tell him much, either. Like his wards, his senses are dampened or nonexistent.

After a moment he asks evenly, "What brought you in here? Shopping?"

He's not trying to be intimidating, but there's a certain severity to his expression, like a teacher who's about to deal out a very long detention.

[of_florence]

Ezio thought that he was walking into his room. The Hotel gives him a headache sometimes, the very Borgia colors nearly assaulting, and it is a good day when he can crawl into his bed without some sort of unintended molestation.

Listen to him. How Frederico would laugh. Too much of a good thing, Ezio...Except his room is dark when he pushes aside the door and instead of the normal empty swing there is weight, a quiet scream of metal hinges that stands the hair up on the back of his neck. His boots find the click of hardwood under heel instead of plush carpet and not even assassin reflexes can catch the door as it slams shut behind him, wrenched from gloved fingertips. Ezio stares at the meshing. He stares at the cement steps behind the meshing, knowing he had not just climbed them

[grimholdkeeper]

There's some interesting stuff about, mounted on walls, stacked on the floor, piled on shelves. It's hard to tell if there's any real organization or deliberate order, but despite the extreme clutter, there's no filth, no vermin, very little dust. In one glass case, jewelry, figures, and poppets are laid out. In another, there are pistols, crossbows, and daggers ranging from obviously ceremonial pieces to one or two that look quite functional and very lethal. Even on the bookshelves there are a few unusual pieces of bric-a-brac. A taxidermied snake. An astrolabe. A porcelain doll with yellow eyes

[of_florence]

Ezio steps carefully, placing his feet with a precise care that is as natural to him as breathing-- he doesn't stalk, doesn't even walk so much as he glides from one shelf to the next, examining. He looks a little of everywhere at once and doesn't touch a thing. The dolls are given as much attention as the snake, and the case with the blades a little more. He doesn't need them-- he is empty handed but never empty-handed-- but their quality is noted. The pistol especially, since he's never seen anything quite its match.

The cough turns his head at the end of the aisle. Despite the light in the room, Ezio's beaked hood keeps most of his upper face in shadow as he looks at the man; hands empty, spread, body tenser than any man expecting a vistor. And his face--

Leonardo??There's nothing that betrays the sudden, chest-tightening thought except a slight upward tilt of his chin that pulls the shadows on his face upward to the bridge of his nose. But the voice is wrong, far gruffer and pointed than anything his artist friend has ever used

[grimholdkeeper]

Balthazar studies the visitor in turn, interest softening his usual wary severity. That's quite an outfit. Elegant, but clearly functional. It's also a style of clothing that he hasn't seen worn outside the theater for several centuries. And, hell, he gets attached to older styles of clothing, too--hence the battered leather longcoat and the mishmash of clothing from the earlier part of the 20th century currently on him--but it's not exactly low-profile.

"Hmm. I believe you, although you're the most visually unusual guest I can recall seeing in years. Yes, this place is mine. I think. My shop, only it's more of a museum these days." He comes out from behind the desk, calmer now. "Usually, though, I have a better grasp on what's going on outside and around it. Was it dark out when you came in?"

He comes just a bit closer, looking him over still, then offers a handclasp. "Balthazar Blake. If you mean me no harm, I mean you none."

[phosphoriel]

The door opens. He felt the man draw near, felt the enchantment that kept shut the door, but locks mean nothing to him; he touches the knob and it opens like a blossom to his hand. Every sense of the mortal man on the other side is curiously familiar. Lucifer studies him, saying nothing for long moments. He was drawn here, called at first by the sorcery and the arcane works layering this place and then compelled to wait for the return of the man who laid down such spellwork.

His guise is that of a mortal, golden-haired and blue-eyed, and yet there is still a suggestion of light surrounding him, of glory, of wings. Though he hides them from sight the feathers insist on rustling when he moves, as though in defiance of their master's wishes. He steps out of the apartment.

"You are the sorcerer?" He speaks as though assuming, though he knows perfectly well that's what this man is. The power in him is something he can feel. "Your door seems temperamental today."

[ooc: I'm sorry for abandoning old threads, I think I just lost the muse

[grimholdkeeper]

Already on edge, Balthazar gives a slight start at the appearance of the other man, one hand held up defensively despite being empty of any weapon. "I am a sorcerer," he says warily, studying Lucifer intently. "And the one that belongs to this particular building, ostensibly

[phosphoriel]

He looks the man over, studying first a face that seems weathered by ages, by long suffering, for all that it's relatively young. The man has a sense of longevity about him, something that tells Lucifer he is older than he appears, perhaps far older than any mortal has a right to be. He could find out how and why, perhaps, if he looked deeper. Still, there's some appeal in letting these mysteries reveal themselves

[grimholdkeeper]

"Do they?" He's trying to get the measure of this beautiful stranger, and, yes, he's already certain he's not human. What he is, he can't yet determine, even whether he's friend or foe. The calm confidence suggests that whoever or whatever he is, he feels he has nothing to fear from a sorcerer of Balthazar's caliber.

That's a little scary.

He's willing to accept the invitation into his own living space, though, slipping cautiously past the visitor. "Did you come to ask me something, as well?"

Glancing around the apartment, he finds things more or less as they should be. There's little decoration around the place; a few photo albums, an empty birdcage, a stack of books all over the coffee table. "I have tea, I think. Possibly something edible, depending on how long I've been unconscious."

Inside, he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on a rack by the wall. Beneath, his dress is shabby and patched.

[darkcataclysm]

Woah! What a minute? When did his bed change into something not a bed? Jack woke with a start as he found himself on top of a table. He sits there for a little bit wide eyed. How the hell did he get in here? Where was here? Oh, no. This couldn't be happening! Not now! Not when he was close to finding someone that could help him. Baah! He throws his hands up in the air dramatically as he swings his legs over the edge of the table. Something seemed off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. What could it have been? The blonde closed his eyes as he used his ears to hear further out. Hearing the second heartbeat in the room he went off after it. Jack did enjoy using his powers in things like this but finding someone who might have an answer would be greatly satisfying

[grimholdkeeper]

When Jack approaches, Balthazar is by the window, carefully moving artifacts out of the display. This glass, too, looks black and opaque, as if there's nothing at all outside. He's got one knee up on the sill, hands pressed against the glass, but his ring glimmers as the stranger approaches, and a suit of armor moves defensively between them, as if playing bodyguard. Balthazar barely glances over his shoulder. "Is that a rhetorical question or do you genuinely want an answer? Ostensibly this is my shop, but we're very effectively sealed in at the moment, and my wards aren't responding to me."

[darkcataclysm]

Jack made it to the window before the suit of armor moves out in front of him. Oooh, pretty cool trick. He stared at the hunk of metal in front of him wondering how it just moved out like that. Kind of different from the normal boring life he lived back at home. Acting, being indecisive and god only knows what else. The blonde haired man moved a hand up and knocked on the metal. "It's a question. So it's meant to get an answer. Wards? So now I'm in some kind of fantasy book dream. If this is a dream, but it seems very real."

He tilted his head up at the armor and knocked on it again. How did this thing move? It really didn't matter because he could just easily move it back. Unless this place decided to not like him with powers. "Is there anything that you haven't tried doing yet?"

[[ooc: I couldn't help but laugh, thanks Balthazar! :D]]

[grimholdkeeper]

Balthazar's already on edge, and he didn't move the armor the way he did as performance art. And now a stranger is past it and invading his personal space, effectively cornering him in the window display. That's not acceptable, but while he's willing to be defensive, he rarely strikes the first blow in a fight.

The sorcerer turns, with a blaze of searing light. His powers are slower than usual to respond, and take more effort to summon (concerning matters in and of themselves), but he's not helpless. He moves with very mortal but not unimpressive agility, out of the window area and into open floor.

"I haven't tried questioning my uninvited guest," his voice is even. "So why don't you answer me: how did you get in, and how long have you been here? Also, that suit of armor is worth between twenty and fifty thousand dollars, so don't put any dents in it, thank you."

((Glad to amuse, but do keep in mind Balthazar has no idea yet whether Jack is behind the weirdness or not. He's not going to be real friendly to start out with

[rollforarcane]

There is a loud clattering sound like someone just stumbled and muffled cursing. Also followed that the smell of burnt ozone and copper.

Inezia hadn't known where she was and had tried to get out using a spell to go to a place she knew. The spell not only failed because she was using it so far away from where she was trying to go but something said no.

The wizard groaned and touched her side where she could feel the blow from some kind of force magic. Carefully she pulled her cloak around her body hoping the dark material will cover up the fact she hurt herself.

"Hello?"

Oh, yay! :D

[grimholdkeeper]

He can feel that magic discharge, and immediately he's prepared to defend himself...except he can also feel (and smell) that whatever kind of spell it was meant to be, it didn't go so well.

Hrm. Uneasy, and with one hand held cupped as if ready to form a plasma bolt on the spot, he stalks away from the door and down an aisle of shelves. He hears the 'hello' before he sees the woman, and it strikes him that someone who was specifically after him wouldn't be calling out to see if he was around. Sticking his head around a large wardrobe, he finally spies Inezia and drops his hand. He tries not to underestimate strangers, but she looks just as wary and uncertain as he feels. More than that, she looks just a little familiar, although his muddled brain can't quite place her yet.

"Hello," he replies cautiously. "Was that your spell just now? I think there's some kind of field around the entire building. It's completely dark outside."

((Delighted you tagged! I have a craft show to prepare for so I'll be slow or absent until

:D

[rollforarcane]

"Aye it was," she replies. she keeps her cloak over the side of her that took the brunt of the damage from failing the spell so badly.

"And yer likely right. Almost like a sodding dimension lock. Keeps spells like the one I tried using from working." She winces as she picks her back pack up. It looks like it has been repaired many times and is made from soft leather and rough looking canvas.

"Does it look natural I have nae seen the windows from here." She has perked up a bit and is facing Balthazar now. She has a few very odd looking trinkets on her person. Her boots look strange and the amulet handing around her neck on occasion pulses a dark red.

(( Cool. And I figure Balthazar will get to notice a few of the magic items she'd have on her person in this kind of situation. :D))<

Back at last...

[grimholdkeeper]

The way the cloak is held strikes him as odd, but he's looking for weapons more so than injury. The long once-over he gives her picks up the pulse of the amulet, and he frowns a little, but the she's not talking like a Morganian who's there to attack him. Clearly, though, she's another sorcerer. "A dimension lock?" He's not familiar with the terminology, but it makes perfect sense from context. "No, it's definitely not natural. It might be magical, but it's far more powerful than anything I'm familiar with. It's not nighttime dark. More like the whole building's immersed in ink or oil."

He steps warily closer, and again he's struck by the sense he should know this woman. "Have we met? My name is Balthazar Blake. This is supposedly my shop..."

((Sounds great to me!))