we are not evacuating this house. we don't believe in you and your wrecking crew.

[thehighestwing]

[ooc: I was finally able to put it up, yay me! This is a party thread, folks. Tag into it if you'd like, threadhop to your heart's content, assume whatever you need for the day is there in one of the many rooms. And fun! Have fun. ♥]The day has finally come and Phoebe's perhaps a little too excited for it, but whatever! A little excitement hurt no

Comments

d'awww, Phoebe does love her great justice. :) and errands nao, but will check in again later!

[sophicsulphur]

Iris hasn't been to a gathering of this many people since... well, ever. But certainly not since she fell through the Rift. A bewildering array of presences surround her, both human and unfamiliar, the unfamiliar ones making the room feel even more packed than it is. She's used to running into magical entities one at a time, and rarely, so the sheer spectrum of supernatural powers here is aweing

OOC:

[beyondriftmods]

For future reference, there are no pictures in the journal network unless they're drawn in or taped in.

Iris would not be able to recognize Phoebe from the journals. It's only the name of the person that writes it that appears beside entries/comments.

Thanks!

she does and yay! :D <3

[thehighestwing]

Phoebe's wings are out. There are slits on her shirt that allow them to be, and she's doing so to identify others that are also wearing their wings out. She doesn't care if they're demon or not. They're all here for the same reason.

She grins brightly at Iris as the girl heads on over.

"That would be me! Hiya, cutie. I'm Phoebe Donovan and I was totes impressed with you. You're the alchemist, yeah?"

She motions toward one of the tables. The ingredients Iris said she might need are there, scattered across the surface. Phoebe is making sure that this goes off without a hitch!

"Think these might work?"

[sophicsulphur]

She's so caught up in the light of her presence, she almost doesn't notice the very physical wings extending from the other woman's back. By the time she's up close enough to see her properly, she's gaping just a tiny bit in amazement.

It's not that she hasn't seen winged people here before. She has: she's met Jim, and back in her world there were others. It's just that every time she does, something catches, half-painfully, half-wonderingly, inside her, and she wants to... she doesn't know, really. But there's a burning under her skin where her shoulder blades are, and she's also probably blushing, and it probably looks wrong and she hopes it's just mistaken for the heat. There are a lot of people crammed in, here.

Between that, and Phoebe's swiftness at having everything ready, she pretty much trips over her tongue when she tries to speak. It takes her a few goes to get out a "That looks perfect, thank you," and return a genuine smile. It does help her out a lot, that Phoebe's gone out of her way to get everything prepared in

[starryeyed_cass]

Cassie still kinda hates herself for being here. She hates violence and would never resort to physical violence herself in any sort of argument both back home and here. But she's helpless and she really doesn't know what else to do anymore. She can't keep running anymore. It just won't work. It's pointless

[sophicsulphur]

"Hey," a small voice calls from across the room, getting closer. The sound of clinking glass accompanies her as she runs. "Hey, Cassie, isn't it?"

Iris pulls up to a halt from her brief sprint, panting a little. "I remember you from--" She stops herself short. She doesn't want to say when, exactly. Even if they're all here because of that night, she wants to focus on the present, not the past. "--from before. I," she glances around at the crowd, "just thought I'd say hi. Busy in here."

She's got a bag slung over her shoulder, evidently the source of the previous strange sounds, as it clinks and clatters audibly when she sets it down. "I'm glad you came. Looks like we found a way to do something, after all."

[starryeyed_cass]

Cassie pauses at a quiet voice and looks about confuse, trying to find where it came from. She frowns at the clinking of glass, what on earth is that? She frowns for a few moments before seeing a very small girl hurtling towards her. She doesn't actually think she'll stop in time and is tempted to brace herself for some kind of messy impact.

But she doesn't and Cassie just grins down at her, "That's me! Hey Iris!" she's happy to see her. The grin falls only slightly and she nods seriously, "Yeah, I know.."

She looks about and nods again in agreement, "Yeah, there's lots of us here," she comments before glancing down in the bag, "What's in the bag? Sounds like you've got a little warning jingle to get you through the crowd in there," Cassie giggles softly, she's only teasing of course.

[sophicsulphur]

Cassie is right to fear. Iris doesn't always stop in time. And lately, in particular, she's been in the habit of throwing herself against things - intentionally or accidentally - that a girl her size really should not be impacting with the full weight of her body

[ocptmycpt]

Jim's in one of the corners set up for anybody who wants to learn hand-to-hand comment, currently warming up with a punching bag. It's a bit weird performing the old maneuvers with the new center of gravity provided by the wings, but he spent the last day in the gym relearning how to work his body and feels rather confident by now. He's still not completely at ease with his new equilibrium, but he's well enough to fight off a good number of people rather easily, and certainly more than ready to teach the basics of hand-to-hand.

Back at Starfleet, he tutored the advanced hand-to-hand courses given to Command cadets, and it's a bit like waking up in a time machine. Well. Extremely like waking up in a time machine, given it's twenty-first century Earth. But Jim's not going to try and overthink that one.

Instead, he aims one last kick at the punching bag before wandering over to the wall besides the mat, where he left a water bottle. He takes a swig before reclining against the wall, waiting for any potential students.

[yourwonderings]

Jo's in one of those very same corners. She's got a pretty good handle on hand-to-hand combat, though her aim is a lot better when she's got a rifle in her hands, let me tell you. She's playing with a dartboard hanging on one of the walls.

Except she's using knives instead of darts. It's a good thing no one is really around, even though she is one helluva shot.

She's zooming in on the bullseye more often than not.

Jo stops to observe Jim while he gangs up on the punching bag. "Not bad, Captain."

[ocptmycpt]

"Thanks," Jim says with an easy grin, taking another long drink of water. "You're not too bad with knives. Remind me never to piss you off." He throws in a friendly wing for good measure.

He isn't very good at knife-throwing, himself. Jim's rather good at throwing darts due to the point in his life where half his days were spent inside bars, but it never really carried over to knives. He did well enough if he had to, but well. He'd rather use his fists or his phaser if given the choice.

Jim makes a note of going to the gun training area later on in the day. It's been a while since he had to use guns with bullets, so he figures it's probably a good idea to re-familiarize himself with the kickback and how to clean and reload them. Who knows how long his phaser's going to last before its battery dies. It has a long life by twenty-third century standards, but it isn't going to live forever

[yourwonderings]

Jo laughs. It is easy to grin back, in spite of herself. She'd been wondering how Jim was settling into the Kashtta, so it's good she stumbled upon him anyway. "Doubt you'll need the reminder, but will do."

Jo's whole life she grew up in a bar. Her mother was in charge of one, a saloon for hunters like her daddy to congregate. She ended up working there, too. She's got a good game when it comes to pool too, because of that. She's fond of the dart board though, not going to lie.

"Been keeping busy and patrolling most nights," she tells him, her grin widening slightly at the mention of the food coma. She did promise him damn good chili cheese fries, and Jo likes being able to deliver. "City knows how to keep us busy, doesn't it?" Not entirely in a good way, either. "How 'bout yourself?"

[ayanagichief]

Ryo has been keeping a quiet eye on the response to the CLF video. He's displeased that the police force of this city won't do anything to help-or can't do, in some respects, at least not openly. But he's heartened to see there's an effort being made by the Wanderer community to combat the terrorist group, though he wonders how much experience any of the people on this floor have with that. It isn't simply a matter of strength and show of force. There's tactics to be considered, if they intend this fight not to escalate into war.

So he is wandering down the hall, looking into the various rooms, searching for whoever might be in charge, here. Or anyone who's willing to talk about what's to be done next.

[smithnjones]

Martha Jones is not in charge of this particular group who've banded together to learn how to fight, but she is in charge of nearly everything else in the Tower. She looks like that leader too. People approach her asking different questions. She is directing those who need direction. It's all done with the calm, coolness of a leader, who is quite acquainted with being a leader.

She doesn't approach anyone else, because there are enough people approaching her.

Martha looks up when a man looks into the room that has been set up as a temporary office for those who need to know where to go. "Did you need help with something?"

[ayanagichief]

It takes him a moment to respond--he's just not sure he'll ever grow used to the fact that he can communicate in English. "No," he says, lowering his eyes briefly, a sign of nervousness and hesitation he snaps himself out of. "I was looking for the leader of this group. Are you her?"

She's not who he had in mind for a leader of such an organization, but then he's not entirely unfamiliar with women who have authority.

[smithnjones]

Martha watches his face but doesn't say anything until the question comes. It's funny in a way that isn't, being so far placed from the Martha Jones of the past.

"I'm not quite the leader of this particular group. I don't know that they have a leader so much as they're a group that's come together to learn how to defend themselves, but I do know Phoebe Donovan organized and set it into motion."

She folds her arms across her chest. "I am the closest you'll find to a leader for the Supernatural Community as a whole."

[princerat]

Saul can smell the respective presences of Cassie and Iris (girly shampoos and tea for the one, purified burnt things for the other) among the many unfamiliar odors. They're somewhere on this floor, so he's seeking them out to at least make sure they're doing okay. But he's also looking for Phoebe. He's only ever spoken with her on the journals, and it would be nice to put a face and a scent to the name.

He hasn't been seen yet, though he may have been smelled. To get the drippy gore of last night's monster (thanks, Rift) off of him he'd gone for a brief dive in the Chicago River. Then he'd kept an eye on the city from the vantage point of a quiet roof garden while he'd dried off. So today his scent is more like the river than the sewers, but it's not all that great of an improvement.

He approaches a group of people who'd been standing around talking. "Excuse me. Any of you able to point me in Phoebe's direction?" He words it carefully, any of you, breaking unnoticeability so that not only that specific group but also the whole

[sophicsulphur]

Iris doesn't have Saul's inhuman sense of smell, so she doesn't really notice his scent amongst the throng of people here. She's way across the room, and even to a trained alchemist, who's used to testing ingredients by scent, the large variety of perfumes and odours found in a crowd tends to blend into an indistinct smell of just people, after a while.

She does spot him, though, after his voice cuts through the crowd, a black shadow amongst the gathered in her magical senses. Even without his obscurity magic, there's always something shadowy about his very presence, something dark and indistinct. She doesn't think of it as a bad thing. Alchemy requires descent into darkness by its nature, and her recent chat with Tabitha has only reaffirmed her suspicion that, here as everywhere, dark and light, demon and angel, are not at all synonymous with evil and goodShe isn't all that sure she believes in evil, anyway. There are just people, trying to get by. As such, she's got some mixed feelings about being here. She wants to help, and might

[princerat]

Saul's usually the one who asks people if they're okay, and any inquiries as to his health and well-being get brushed aside. That's just how Saul operates. So of course after giving her a greeting smile, his answer is, "Yeah I'm fine," accompanied by a shrug. "I've been out at night looking for terrorists, but all I've been finding is the other kinds of monsters." It's a casually given bit of information, like that happens all the time. Like he hadn't had a rough time of it at all, and like the fact that he's gone out patrolling lately is so not born of his own angers and frustrations. He doesn't believe in understanding his enemy, at least not unless it's a means to get to the end where the enemy is being defeated by teeth and fists. He badly wants the violence, or at least for something to happen that he can do anything about. Saul is only a pacifist up to the point where people start getting killed

[sophicsulphur]

Iris is worried about him, but he really seems like he doesn't want to press the question, so she lets it slide, somewhat. If he says he's okay, then he probably is, and there's nothing of his energy that's radiating pain.

Still, her brow wrinkles a little at the talk of fighting monsters, and to a lesser man than Saul, she might well say, "Be careful". But Saul gives off I can take care of myself in waves. It simply wouldn't be respectful to say that to someone who can not only lift her and tote her about as if she were a day's rations in a knapsack, but commands the very shadows themselves. So she just nods, a little warily, and moves on.

"My glassware," she says, unzipping the bag and letting him get a look. There are a few flasks in there, some miscellaneous bits of kitchen equipment, and the like. "I thought I'd come and help people out with learning to make potions, and things. For healing, if anyone's hurt."