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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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.))
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"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}}
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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.
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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 ( ... )
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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 ( ... )
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"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."
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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 ( ... )
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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.
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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]]
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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 ( ... )
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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?"
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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 ( ... )
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"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))<
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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!))
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