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NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround

Alex

Thanking the quartermaster, she picks up the ax and hefts it slightly. "Guess we're prepared if we meet any evil trees. Or rear end in a top hat clowns. Might want soften them up with grenades first."

"That stuff is scary, right Hobbs?" Alex eyes the phosphorus grenades warily. "Yikes. I suppose we better make sure to be well clear of that before using. And not look at it."

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DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis

Hobbs

He looked over the gear assembled. Having everything he wanted for the mission made him uncomfortable. After spending so much time just getting by limited food, water, and other resources; he worried that a huge bounty like this would be followed up with something horrible.

"Never know when we might deal with something that bullets can't hurt. That and various non-combat tasks. Wouldn't want to use a sword to knock a door down, for instance."

Willy-pete? Dean isn't taking chances, Hobbs thought to himself. If we stumble into anything underground, then that thing is going to wish it wasn't born.

"These grenades are big time dangerous. White phosphorus lights up just about anything around it. They also throw up a lot of smoke. If we need to get out of an area fast, these grenades would do a good job of putting up a smoke screen we could hide behind. Still gotta be real careful using them, don't want one going off too close to yourself."

Ambivalent
Oct 14, 2006



Allison

She tests a few more times, "Red. Red. Red." She clicks her tongue, swirling the results of her latest test and gazing into the bottom of her glass as Anca recounts her dream. Allison chuckles, "And if the stars stop shining, we're really hosed, is that it?" Given everything else, it isn't that far out of the realm of possibility. She tosses back what's left of the wine she's made and returns the cup to the sisters, turning her back, "Relax, I don't doubt us for a minute."

Oracle
Oct 9, 2004


Jennifer

She looks rather nicely horrified as Allison just... knocks back a glass or three of what could conceivably be the actual results of honest to God transubstantiation like she's a suburban housewife lush on a vineyard tour. Must be the residual Catholic in her. But she doesn't boil from within or turn to dust or fold her arms and scowl as she turns into a skeleton or anything, so... yeah. She shakes her head, trying to dismiss the uneasy feeling that the girl just ain't right all the same and looks at Anca as she explains. "Who is he, do you know? What's his deal? Grimm. He looks like the devil if you look at him right. Or when Gene took his picture. Well, our idea of such anyway. What's he get out of helping us? What's his play, here?"

She listens as she expounds upon her dream, nagging feelings of having maybe clipped their Magpie's wings being the true meaning behind it, but keeps that to herself, looking at Allison instead. "Try putting the wine in the cup and pouring it out. Then the bourbon I guess, though it seems kind of moot since it really does make wine."

Back to Anca, she leans forward over the table, resting her weight on her elbows and studying the woman she calls sister intently. "Have you ever been... dreamt?"

GaistHeidegger
May 20, 2001

"Can you see?"


Blackbird Dreaming

“It’s not beyond the realm of possibility.” Anca offers to Allison before turning her attention again to Jennifer; she knits her brow as she considers for a moment, mulling the matter of Grimm. “He’s a holdover, a survivor and it’s fair to say a schemer—someone who embraces paving the road to hell with good intentions.” A pause. “Sorry, that’s a bit… he’s between things. Among both the banished and embraced, I think—like most of the dreamt on the periphery, forgotten but not gone.” Anca helps herself to a pull of bourbon in the interim, letting it linger for a few moments.

“As far as helping or… meddling, I think Grimm’s been at it a long time—disseminating this and that for ages. Before things turned so… dire, he operated as something of an intermediary for wayward spirits and dreamers; it may not surprise you to imagine that there’s been contention as to who should go where and why after departing the mortal coil… for basically forever, really.” She offers a wry smile at that before taking another sip, settling back in her seat. “That has left him less than popular with anyone who has a vested interest where those travelers ultimately end up.”

Jennifer's latter question draws a few blinks from Anca before her brows rise. "What do you mean?"

Oracle
Oct 9, 2004


Jennifer

She listens as Anca describes Grimm, frowning in concentration as she attempts to put the pieces together. "So kind of like Anansi then? Only instead of information he traffics in souls, for lack of a better term?" At Anca's seeming confusion, she leans forward intently. "I mean have you ever been dreamt. Found yourself in someone else's dream as the star, or a player, or as someone else."

NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround

Alex

"Sword to knock down a door would be a bit hack-y. Heh." Alex nods at Hobbs. "We should probably pass them out among our group. In case we see a Mother. Or...if one of us gets eaten they don't all go off." She tests the weight of a grenade. "Huh. Think I can carry one of these if I'm a bird? That might really mess up someone's day."

Ambivalent
Oct 14, 2006



Allison

"Better Living Through Alchemy, with your host.” She plays with the wine a bit more, at Jennifer's suggestion, trying the wine out of the cup, then, somewhat more hesitantly, tries pouring bourbon into the cup, mumbling, “Little skeptical of about the practicality of turning bourbon into wine.”

She keeps an ear out during the talk of Grimm and Anansi and all those schemers, especially the bit about soul brokering, but stays mum throughout. Once Jennifer’s on about being ‘dreamed,’ she clicks her tongue, commiserating dryly, “Imagine being bound by an intangible force, compelled to play a role you don’t fully understand, all to cater to the base desires of some implacable dreamers...” She trails off, with a haunted look in her eyes. On cue, she knocks back the results of her experimentation with the cup, “Or as we call it, media day.”

Ambivalent fucked around with this message at Jul 27, 2018 around 03:23

DocBubonic
Mar 11, 2003

Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis

Hobbs

"Yeah, everyone should have at least one willy-pete grenade. The mothers won't know what hit them." He ponders the idea of someone getting eaten by a mother. "I'm not willing to entertain the idea that any of us would get eaten by a mother. We just have to keep our distance from those things and burn it. Or bring enough light that the mother goes away."

He watches Alex judge the weight of the phosphorus grenade.

"Yeah that would ruin someone's day. I think you could carry one of those as a bird, but do you think you could pull the pin on the thing?"

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NoControl
Aug 6, 2004
Genetic Runaround

Alex

"I don't want to think of anyone getting eaten by those either, but.." She shrugs and looks away. "At least we know what they don't like now, right?" Alex is quiet for a few moments as she examines the grenade. "As for the pin, well, I probably could with my beak. Definitely could if I was a bigger bird, like on the other side of the gate. I think I could pull that off?"

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