2021-07-02: The Hunter

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<Pose Tracker> Elise Riesdale has posed.

    "I welcome all of you who have gathered here today."

    Hubert Burroughs stands a distance away from the Derry Mine. Dressed in a tailored suit and tophat, his high cheekbones, striking sea-green eyes, and well-groomed mustache mark him as on the younger end of the businessman that have made their fortune from the mountains north of Guild Galad. (https://i.imgur.com/STLVICM.png) He adjusts looks at his watch, and adjusts his tie. "And too late, as well. At least, most of you."

    He would have been early as well, having been ferried here on one of those fancy cars the nouveau rich of Guild Galad were wont to drive. At least, until the thing got stuck in some pale mud some ways back, and he and two servants had to walk the rest of the way to the established vantage point. From here, the mountain's size and shape is better appreciated, as well as the run up to a distant tunnel.

    "Drat... the pumps must broken," the man mumbles under his breath. "Leave it to a bunch of demons to not know how a proper mining operation is done."

    Whatever the mountain was, the surrounding areas have seen better days. Colors of bright orange ochre coat the top of the mud, the vividness of which would be more appreciated in a bouquet of flowers than mixed in with the grays of the surrounding sedimentary rock and sludge closer to the group.

    Those with Seraph-aided or otherwise gifted sight will notice that these deposits are not supernatural in the slightest.

    It's not until the roses begin that the telltale itch of a Hellion's domain is felt, covering over a bare clay and mining spoil landscape like a perfumed Persian rug being draped over rotting floorboards. The roses come in shapes more fashionable in older ages, with wide, peony-like shapes, some baring the hint of yellow stamens and others spreading their petals like silken skirts to the air. The colors, set against green, run in a variety of pinks, yellows, violets, and reds, vivid, dark and pale. Even the palest rose is streaked with a bit of color, coating the mountainside and around the bottom of the mountain as far as the eye can see, before mist obscures the rest leading upwards.

    The smell is overpowering, but at least it could be preferrable to the smells of the runoff just beyond this border.

    "Do not be fooled. Play nice and these things will just walk all over you." He regards the group with a polite nod, as his servant supplies him his gunsmoke rifle. "We'll be heading in towards a back entrance. The main way is blocked, but I'm certain we'll be able to sneak up on them if we enter their hive from here." 

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.

    Seraph Lanval's along the moment he first hears the rumor about 'terrible beasts' and 'taking over an operation' and... given circumstances he hasn't been able to track as closely for some reason (he heard of this while he was tending to a sick eel, eels have become something of a convenient distraction)... now is as good a time as any to once again step up to the role of which he helps shoulder the burden of, as the Oracle of Schturdark.
 
     "Yep... Domain," Lanval points out as the less-than-pleasant company of Hubert Burroughs and his guided tour takes them towards the Malevolence-tainted roses of so many different colors and scents (to the spiritually aware, they are not good ones).
 
     "Mmmm." One eye remains half-open, looking to Hubert as he slows his strange idea of 'walking' to the point he is doing a passably acceptable imitation of how someone might put one foot in front of the other and not be a series of careening, cartwheeling, tumbling pratfalls. The Water Seraph looks to the rest with as serious a look as a face like his can muster, which is pretty dang serious.
 
     "'d keep an eye on 'em," he says as the gunsmoke rifle is passed to the man's grasp, "shomeone like that willin' ta take an ARM in hand with shomethin' thish... bad," he doesn't need to use fancy words to talk about the increasing, obscuring mist of Malevolence ahead, "might need a li'l extra attention shoon."
 
     He'll be ready to go into a vessel to conserve his strength in a worst case scenario - but a Malevolent Domain that's looking and feeling as bad as this is already high up on the 'worse vs. worst' scale. It's somewhere between the 'e' and 't,' for sure. Maybe 'r.' Worsr? 

<Pose Tracker> Layna Manydays has posed.

If there are two things Layna enjoys it's fighting, and being paid to fight. So naturally she's always on the look-out for jobs where she can put her skills to the test... and the mention of 'demons', of course, draws interest. These days, that can mean anything, but it's never boring. Her curiosity accordingly piqued, she decides it's worth checking into. And so she arrives as others do at the foot of the mountain.

There's a raised eyebrow as he calls mention to the time, but she doesn't draw mention to it directly. Instead, she takes note of him, and the vague film of Malevolence clinging to him - exposure, rather than a secret Hellion, she assumes. But it does give her an idea of what they're dealing with... an idea that proves correct as they draw closer, passing the edge of a Malevolent Domain.

The mountainside is covered with a rainbow of flowers, which she looks upon in interest.

"...You know, lad, are you sure you wanna fix this? This looks like a marked improvement if you ask me, eye?" She says, gesturing with a thumb toward the flowers. It's half a joke, half not. Her eyes track toward Lanval, then, as he speaks. She gets the feeling Hubert can't see him, so she instead just nods grimly in response to his observation.

This whole situation looks like it could be pretty bad in a flash. Maybe it's a good thing she decided to take this job. 

<Pose Tracker> Ines Colina has posed.

    Ines Colina was finding, more and more, that she much preferred the company of the treacherous bastards of the Geohound trade over the callous, self important assholes that made up Guild Galad's elite. Certainly, they gave off similar feelings, but if she was going to be stabbed in the back, she'd rather it be an associate than a rich guy who orders his butler to pay a guy do it.

    But work is work, and if she's going to keep herself and Furacao fed, then she needs work. And this sort of thing is... legitimate. At least over here. The Adventurers Guild of Aquvy must have much lower standards than Ignas. Advantage two of a giant, three and a half ton horse over cars, they aren't bothered by mud. So Ines anjd her boon companion make it up the mountain about in time for a terrible speech. The giant sharkwoman's eyes flow over the roses, though. "Damn. Something growing on Filgaia." ...Would be nice if they weren't, well, part of a domain."

    Ines dismounts, and pats Furacao on the neck. "You know the drill, buddy." The giant black horse gives a whinny. She doesn't bother to tie him up anywhere.

    The fact that Lanval is taking this seriously is enough to serve as a wake up call. And his point about Hubert makes sense. His whole attitude is wrong for this. For going after a hellion. "...You're planning on leading the way?" She still has no particular respect for her employer. You want that, you don't hire a Geohound. 

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Yvain has posed.

Demons... that gets Seraph Yvain's attention well enough, and while he can't actually sign on for the 'job', he can meddle, and meddle he will. Not the only one, either. Broken pumps, 'demons'...

And flowers anda Domain. Hmm.

"Definitely," Yvain agrees with Lanval as he goes. Yvain has an ARM with him, too, a rifle at his back of old excavated make, invisible along with him to those who can't see Seraphim. But the colors...

"I wonder what the flowers mean...?"

He follows along anyway. A Domain, yes--but there's more than that... 

<Pose Tracker> Venetia Vuong has posed.

 
Venetia Vuong is here because...

SHE NEEDS THE DOUGH.

She is unusually pale even for her, no doubt from feverish research. She is in an immaculately pressed version of her habitual dress, a new-bought lacy mask, her hip pouch of Stygian Crest Graphs with her. She even polished all of her facial piercings (of which there are several - more than you might think) for this excursion.

"Do you think so? I think it's a little garish, myself," Venetia says to Layna. "I think to be frank it's almost out of place. But I also admit that I don't care an enormous amount for the fine details of the sexual organs of our immobile colleagues, though I respect their work very much."

People who have hung out with Venetia in the past have probably noticed she has been archer (than usual (for her)) and has in general been acting like an established consultant. But then, that's what she went to school to do: Fix problems in mines.

"Tell me about your process here," she comments to Hubert. "Given the outflow I assume you at least pre-process, and the lack of stacks or fuel shipments suggests, however, that you do not smelt." 

<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

    It's just normal mud! Too bad, so sad!

    Magilou (and Bienfu, in there, presumably) is here today, and didn't even arrive too late -- though certainly she was a little, as if she only just now heard that something was happening and decided to divert her path to go investigate. Luckily, that makes her just as late as their surely-trustworthy host, who hasn't, Magilou notes, quite hit his limit yet.

    "Boy," she leans around his side (she's too short to go over his shoulder), ignoring entirely the fact that he was mumbling to himself. "Maybe those demons just aren't very good miners! You ever think of that?"

    She spins off on a heel, conveniently giving him space to breathe a moment later.

    Anyway, THE PIRATE GIRL OF HER DREAMS is here, and so is Lanval, who Bienfu told her all about after coming back to the inn a little sloshed one evening. To the former, she wags a finger, with a knife-split grin. (It's rather sharkish, but one can't use that adjective when the mother of all sharks is standing right there. Magilou is, for once in her life, outsharked.) "Don't get distracted by a pretty flower," she warns Layna, cheerfully. "Or else you might meet your doom!"

    Of course, there's also an OLD NEMESIS, THE GREATEST FOE IN EXISTENCE coming along, and Magilou asides to Yvain: "Well, they're good for marking graves, so I hear." Why is she talking to herself? ... well, she's a jester. Maybe she's just a little... strange.

    Anyway, Venetia is covering the actual process, so Magilou doesn't have to be useful here.

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Harmaus has posed.

    There is a vague presence in the area, one which might go unnoticed by all but the most spiritually sensitive. But it's not the presence of a Hellion, or anything similar.

    Rather, instead, it's...

    Blink and you'll miss it: a white-tipped long-haired tail of a cat vanishes between the crates and supplies piled outside the mine's entrance. Indeed, most of those here (Hubert, most probably) won't even be able to see even that.

    The cat after all is a Seraph, and for those without resonance, might as well not even be present.

    For now Harmaus waits, lurking about.

    Listening. 

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Among more Fancy People with Fancy Hats, Azoth keeps quiet and distanced to avoid participating in any proper etiquette. Understanding the social rules of organics was task enough without adding new, conflicting factors to it.

But demons, the job had said. That was enough for Azoth to take interest, although with how a term like 'demons' get tossed around, he does not come without keeping his mind open to the idea the potential targets aren't what they expect. Damage control is a good reason to pursue the job, too, if it were to come to that.

Azoth's eyes glow more brightly, but softly, as he senses the edges of a domain. So that's what the 'demons' are this time... He glances uneasily to Lanval and Layna to gauge their reactions before returning his attention to the collection of flowers.

"This may be the most color I've seen in one place in Filgaia," he says. It almost seems a shame to call it malevolent, even if it is Malevolence.

He tilts his head at Magilou's remark on the use of flowers. "...Oh, are they...?" Azoth's brow furrows in thought with that. Maybe that's a strange thing for a person not to know, but Azoth's been a lot less concerned with not being strange. 

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    This job has 'sketchy' written all over it. It's not the job that Ida Everstead-Rey would take. She'd put fifty-fifty odds on the "monsters" being a cover for unsafe conditions--she knows Derry has a high turnover rate, and men like Hubert are perfectly fine with the status quo. Ida is not about to do some would-be fossil baron's dirty work. She's no strikebreaker. She's not here.

    Incidentally, one of the Drifters Hubert has hired is especially suspicious-looking. She's wearing a long, trail-dirtied leather duster, boots, and a wide-brimmed hat. A blue cotton bandana covers her lower face, leaving her identity a mystery. Perhaps Ines Colina would recognize the disguise Ida used when she assisted one Ebenezer on the outskirts of Guild Galad, and okay, she also told Yvain and Layna and Lanval, but this is a delicate situation for her. It's best if Hubert doesn't know who he's dealing with--who is poised to pounce on him if he's caught with blood on his hands.

    "Monsters, huh," says the anonymous lady Drifter. Her voice is rough and deeper-pitched, with a lower-class Galadian accent. "Don't suppose you know what kind? The rumor mill mentioned some of the digs had Zabat trouble, but..." She trails off, looks up. The light hits her disguised face--the bandana, of course, necessary to filter out particulates and mine-fumes--and highlights bone structure that is markedly different from Ida's.

    They walk on. The Drifter steers clear of the sludge and runoff, gives Venetia a respectful nod, and... walks right up to the flowers, eyes going wide.

    "Granas' blood." She reaches out, touches a petal with a gloved hand, makes a show of recoiling. "Like someone's picked up my urn," she says. They don't do graves in Guild Galad. "'Domain', huh? Is that why there's things growing in mine runoff?"

    Ida glances back at Hubert, studying his reactions to the phenomena around him. How much does he see? How much does he know? How does he react when someone playing dumb is asking questions?

<Pose Tracker> Dash Caskett has posed.

It has been some time since Dash has surfaced anywhere. Almost nsofar that after the Main Gate incident, folks might have begun to worry about his scarcity. Well, it doesn't seem like Dash is dead or decomissioned, as he is standing at the back of the group, listening in to the conversation.

A source of Malevolence has been found, and the Caskett family was asked to assist from outside means. Dash didn't pry, but he assumed it was someone from the ARMS higher brass, like Marivel, or Irving himself.

A scent hangs in the air, mostly of flowers, but the scent of flowers trying to mask the scent of a landfill, and not doing a good job of it. A small frown encroaches o nDash's face until he gets used to the smell. "If you need someone to investigate a dig that can defend themselves, guess that was the reason I was sent out here." It being in the Digger's backyard was another reason to investigate, as well.

"Could be attempting to pollute the area on purpose. Or know of something inside tha twe don't?" Too many unknowns for the boy to take a rightful stab at one. 

<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.

    Dean has not yet been to Mt. Chug-Chug, so he doesn't yet have a concept of mines as being horrible pits of unsafe working conditions and worker abuse. All the same, the slurry of mud and... minerals... is not endearing. The overpowering stink of roses is almost preferable. Really, it's equally terrible, just in a different way. When he passes into the Malevolent Domain with the others, Dean sneezes.
    
    "Sorry," he says, rubbing a finger under his nose. "Geez, no kidding about all the color. It's real pretty, but..." He doesn't finish the thought. It's hard to put into words, and most people present get what he means anyway.
    
    A snatch of movement around the crates catches his eye--but all he spots is the tail end of a fluffy tail. A squirrel, probably. Dean doesn't give it a second thought. After all, he's with Azoth, since Ida is totally not here, and every day and every scenario is better when you're hanging with your robot buddy!
    
    Not that he doesn't have a bunch of other buddies around, like Lanval, and Layna, and Yvain, and the shark lady, and the other robot guy he hasn't met before, and... okay, literally everyone is Dean's friend.
    
    Except for Magilou, who is Dean's friend but just doesn't know and/or accept it yet. That's also okay. Dean has a bunch of friends like that, too. 

<Pose Tracker> Elise Riesdale has posed.

    Hubert regards Layna with a small smile, as if humoring her. "The roses aren't the worst thing to happen to this place, I admit, but this is a valuable part of our holdings at the Burroughs Mining company. You see, with the recent wars going on in Ignas and the expansions in Guild Galad, the most crucial thing to growth is ore. Now see here--" If Hubert is not stopped, he will begin to explain the importance of the various ores found in these mountains, why they are needed, and even the name of the cause of that run-off. "Of course these monsters wouldn't pollute this place on purpose," he says, to Dash. "This is clearly a symptom of why they need to be removed."

    As he gestures, Hubert's gloved hand almost slaps against Yvain's cheek, making it obvious (if it wasn't already), that the man does not and cannot see Seraphs. Or hear them, for that matter, as their comments go unremarked on.

    Then again, seeing as how Hubert tries his hardest to ignore Magilou's ramblings to the open air, maybe she's a Seraph as well. Azoth responding to her makes this more difficult for the man to ignore, as one well-manicured bushy eyebrow twitches at the mention of roses, urns, and graves. "I'd... *appreciate* it if you all took this more seriously?"

    Venetia's comments, at least, encourage his mood down a more pleasant route. "Ah, you understand, then. Herein is one of the reasons I will to gain back this mine. The monsters have managed to collapse one of the branches in their haste to colonize the structure. Our systems have been leaking since then, which has begun to, over the past month or so, lead to some acidic run-off, the usual." He begins to speak quickly, engaging Venetia with a small grin of interest.

    It's likely as Ida had suspected: the mines were profitable, but a quick glance between the lines shows why: the cost to workers. There's no mention from him of any casualties or injuries coming from any of the events leading up to the mine takeover so far, and Venetia may be able to assess, from his rundown, that the mountain's profits come from a slowly dwindling supply of ore, but even larger demand. The man had inherited the mine from his father, as well as the same interest and knowledge.

    What is new is a need to stand out from a sea of other businessmen, as he goes on about new possible techniques from overseas with a gleam in his eye and toothy grin.

    As they close in on the entrance to the mines, the roses begin to shift in a breeze. Harmaus's entry seems to go unremarked on by whatever presence is in this domain.

    Something seems to shoot through Hubert, as he straights straight, his eyes wide like a horse about to rear and buck.

    "Wh... Reeves? Darren? Where are you?" Hubert's composure breaks briefly as he looks about, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. A free hand removes a handkerchief from his pocket, and he delicately dabs his face. "None of you heard that, did you?"

    There was no sound, just the whisper of leaf on leaf.

    ".... Let us... go in..." 

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Yvain has posed.

Magilou mentions graves. Yvain quips back, "That's true, but I keep laying flowers at yours and you just don't stay!"

Yvain isn't that concerned with being useful yet either, admittedly. He looks around at the group as a whole. They are pretty colors, but... "Pretty, but deadly," he warns. "Potentially at least. We don't know the nature of this Domain yet."

He frowns as Hubert gets a little too close. Not cool, man.

When Hubert starts hearing things, though, Yvain looks concerned, and starts to move around to the back of the group. "...Is it something I missed? Or is he growing less stable?"

He isn't talking too much to Mysterious Drifter yet so as not to make her look crazy by responding to him, but he's definitely keeping an eye on her. 

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.

    When Yvain nearly gets himself struck by someone who is already harboring a fair amount of Malevolence within them, Lanval casts Yvain a quiet glance as if to say, 'are you all right?' A little Malevolence doesn't magically turn most Seraphim into Dragons on the spot, but he's going to give that concern to someone who almost fell past the point of no return as he - ironically, for his typically irrepressibly jovial, carefree, and sort of... not-all-that-cerebral nature.
 
     "Mmmm, nature, ya shay," Lanval says. He's in a unique position, considering what kind of place the realm he looked after about half a millennium ago turned out under his watch, rubbing away at his chin habitually as he strides well clear of the flowers themselves. Flowers are aligned with the element of Earth, which is what keeps Seraphim of his nature in check. "Conceit... that'sh the big one, ta go with," he says as he keeps close to Layna on principle. She's a Seer of his, and one of his very, very best friends besides. (not so best friend he gets to go in the Quartermaster's Stash whenever he wants, but one day. One day!)
 
     "...Bit of fear in there... lonely? Like they want... shomeone ta shee it..." Lanval continues on and on, until Hubert's composure flares up, and both of Lanval's eyes open half-lidded as he feels that feeling too.
 
     He looks over to not-Ida and any others interested in this analysis. "'m feelin' shome anger there. Like... mmm. Ya know how a Hellion can kinda go between two completely different moodsh?" Lanval points a thumb over to Hubert. "...Might be them they don't want." He says this only due to the spatial relationship between Hubert and the rest, which can be described neatly as 'he's in front and he just stepped up.'
 
     "...'ll let ya know if it flaresh up like that." They might all know by then if the Domain Master, whoever it is, rejects their collective presence - it's not always down to the finest detail, as feelings can get awful fuzzy and Malevolence thrives in conflict and contradictions. "Be careful 'bout touchin' the flowersh there..." 

<Pose Tracker> Venetia Vuong has posed.

 
Venetia listens to Hubert with the patience of Job (the inventor of work, notorious throughout the Seed Cities), occasionally glancing at others, particularly the tall Drifter who is absolutely not some kind of Galadian nobility.

"That's just Drifter talk," Venetia says to Hubert. "Make light of the day so that you don't fear its abrupt, gruesome ending."

Hubert keeps talking. Venetia takes this opportunity to look around at the others, Seraphic and conventional alike. Her lips purse to the side as they get up towards the entrance. As the roses shift. As the presence becomes more... apparent. Venetia thoughtfully touches her seal pouch. Then:

He straightens! Venetia feels her spinal muscles tighten for a moment. Is he going to die of apoplexy in front of them!? Was he shot?! - No. No.

Venetia blinks several times. Her arms come up, folding one over the other, her biceps gently tautening the quasi-silk fabric as she says, "My dear fellow, I would like you to take a breath before we do this, because I would like to draw your attention to the fact that there is no obligate duty of pursuit *and* rescue in the standard sorcery-consultation agreement that you signed with the S.O.M. hiring service, merely of *immediate* rescue."

She points towards the eerie fields of flowers, and states the obvious: "That isn't normal. And there's something very important to our plan here that I think we've only breezed over. You've referred to demons, to monsters." (At this point Venetia's head turns enough for her eyes to be seen by the woman who is absolutely not Ida, if she's looking.)

"Tell us more about what you've seen. It could make the difference between a slow, agonizing demise and a farcially simple resolution, if we know the nature of our... antagonists." 

<Pose Tracker> Ines Colina has posed.

    As Ines question about the guy who's paying deciding to lead the way is ignored, she likes this less and less. But fine. His funeral. The servants can pay out for him. She drops back to the Mysterious Drifter, who is simply a coworker she definitely hasn't met yet. She doesn't like what she's seeing, but she also doesn't have the authority on the situation. "...This place as bad as it looks?" She whispers to the woman.

    Yvain speaks up, and Ines looks over to he who was once a drake. Yeah, okay, that's her main reference point, sorry. "Not just you, " she whispers, trying not to draw the employer's attention. Ines has dealt with unstable employers before. "Keep an eye out. Just in case he decides we're the demons." She is not charitable.

    Her conversation done, she moves forward a bit, closer to Hubert. Not too close, but close enough to, say, tackle. Or jump in front of. One of the two, sure. She casts an eye over to Lanval, and nods. She trusts the water seraph, despite herself. "Let's be careful about this." Was this to Hubert, or to Lanval? Yes. 

<Pose Tracker> Layna Manydays has posed.

Layna pretends to not recognize the Anonymous Lady Drifter. Ida's plan is a good one, she feels, and it's important not to jeopardize it. She also tunes out Hubert as he rambles, not showing any particular interest but also not seeing any need to interrupt him, either.

"Garish is an improvement." Layna replies with a shrug and a glance Venetia's way. "...But you're not wrong, either."

They're definitely out of place, with suggests there might be something to this talk of demons after all. Someone else addresses Layna, then, and she looks toward the culprit.

"...Oh hey, you're that witch. So you weren't just a strange fever dream, after all, good to know." Layna remarks with a grin and shrugs. "Don't you worry. I'll keep an eye out."

She looks back toward Hubert, then, and chuckles.

"You don't hire a lot o' Drifter groups, do you, lad? This kind of banter, it's business as usual. If we go quiet, well... you better keep that ARM of yours close, aye? That's when things are about to go belly-up." She replies. Once again her attention draws toward Lanval as he speaks, making his observations on the feelings behind the Domain. She nods consideringly... and looks back briefly toward Hubert as Lanval points his way.

"Good lad. We'll be counting on you." Layna replies with a nod, as Lanval says he'll let them know if it flares up.

They draw closer, then, toward the entrance, and Layna's eyes go toward Hubert as he straightens up in fear. She assesses him for a moment.

"...Are you sure you're good for this?" She asks with a raised eyebrow. 

<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

    "I will rise from the grave, again and again, to stop your foul plots!" Magilou declares, pointing accusation to Yvain. "Though you may seem a homebody, I know your true face, villain!!" If she happens to be standing between the tragically-invisible Yvain and Hubert now, just coincidentally...

    Well, look, they're friends. Just like Dean..? (Dean, are you SURE you want to be Magilou's friend. Like, totally 100% sure. Is that really what you want to do with your life.)

    As for any other villains lurking around, Magilou doesn't comment on them. Maybe she hasn't noticed the cat.

    She winks to Azoth, and says: "Sure are, cutie!" Why Magilou would be flirting with a robot over grave flowers is... look, the less questions asked about Magilou the better, really. Of course, that's about when Hubert finally acknowledges her, and Magilou smirks, eyes half-lid. "I'm serious about my fooling around!" Is that supposed to be reassuring?

    "The usual, huh," she opines, cheerfully. "A few dozen people wind up doornail-dead, and thaaat's bad for business!" She lays it all out, cards on the table, and doesn't sound terribly disturbed by following his implications to their conclusion.

    She ambles on forwards. At one point, her foot very almost comes down on a rose. There's this little pause, in the constant movement of Magilou, before she consciously steps over it.

    Sigh.

    Magilou, tragically, is not the delicate type, despite Ines's warnings. She lets everyone else mutter about the true heart of the shining individual before them, as she prances along next to him. "You bet!" Magilou declares, cheerfully. "I heard everything! The entirity of the nothing that just transpired! Every inch of it, music to my ears!"

    This is the moment she chooses to cut in front of him, to the entryway. "Witches first," she declares, ostentatious, and it's questionable whether she even realises whether making sure Hubert doesn't enter in before the rest of them is a good idea, or whether she's just being annoying.

    (It might be both.)

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

One of Azoth's best qualities is being a robot buddy, and with Dean possessing his own expertise on purification matters, Azoth gravitates more toward Dean's space than anyone else's. He does not gravitate toward the mysterious Drifter lady at all, because she is a stranger he does not know. Obviously! Dash is also here, who Azoth is supposed to be... keeping tabs on. Thankfully, now isn't the opportune time to react, and he flashes Dash a smile and a wave in a silent effort to express he's glad he's out and about after the heavy talk they had before.

Why would Magilou be flirting with a robot over grave flowers? Magilou, this is at least six layers beyond what Azoth understands about either of those subjects! Calculations run and come up with... absolutely nothing. He simply blinks back at her, like a paralyzed baby fawn, then points slowly at himself as if to question himself as the recipient of such a response.

Hubert's annoyance knocks him out of his blue screening. Azoth grins sheepishly. "I'm sorry. We are -- we understand this is a grave matter."

You'll never know if he did that on purpose or not.

Azoth flinches when Hubert shows signs of distress. "Hey, are you all right...? Maybe you should let us take it from here."

Azoth doesn't glance toward Lanval in case that might worsen Hubert's sense of reality perception, but he listens to that explanation intently. Fear, loneliness, anger... And don't touch any flowers.

<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.

    What a silly question, Magilou! Of course Dean wants to be your friend. Who else is going to encourage the good person deep down inside of you from blooming into a wonderful flower? :)
    
    Though Hubert isn't addressing Dean, Dean wrinkles his nose at the comment about non-intentional pollution anyway. "So what *is* causing all this pollution?" he asks bluntly, because, again, he doesn't really get how mining works. His response to Venetia makes that clearer. Once again, bluntly: "Oh. So *you're* causing the pollution."
    
    It's not accusatory, despite how it's phrased. After all, Hubert said that the monsters made the systems start to leak, and that's not Hubert's fault, right? Right. Of course, Hubert's potential response to that remark might end up changing Dean's mind.
    
    Lanval starts describing the moods of the Malevolence, and points Hubert out as a possible persona non grata. Dean nods thoughtfully. "You think they'll attack if we keep going in with him?" he wonders, trying to keep his voice down.
    
    They all reach the entrance. The roses shift in a subtle wind, and Hubert jumps. Dean frowns at him as Layna voices her own concern, and Yvain and Ines wonder aloud(-ish) if he's stable. "Yeah, maybe you oughtta head back, and we'll check this out for you, mister?" he suggests, glancing at Azoth even as he addresses Hubert. Venetia makes another good suggestion, that he tell them more about what's actually plaguing this place.
    
    He's no help in getting Azoth to understand Magilou's flirting. Dean doesn't get it either. 

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida--the anonymous lady Drifter--listens to Hubert as he expounds about the family business. Things click into place. Beneath her bandana, her lips tighten into a thin little line. When he almost slaps Yvain, she steps forward, interposing herself between the magnate and the Seraph. She gives Yvain a subtle little nod. "She's right," says not-Ida, to Hubert. "You either learn to laugh at this, or it eats you alive." She rolls her shoulders in a cheery little shrug. "I mean, my guts are tying themselves in knots right now. Can't you smell it?"

    "Something's in the air. 's not mine-fumes, or exhaust." She turns away, glances to Lanval and Layna, and nods once, as subtly as she can. "Sounds accurate," not-Ida breathes. "Keep an eye on him. He's infected. I don't think he knows."

    But then Hubert calls out names, and not-Ida steps up beside him, waving a gloved hand in front of his face. (God how she's wanted to do that openly.) "You hear something?"

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Harmaus has posed.

    It had been a shame.

    There had been a Domain -- a Domain! -- in Filgaia again, but Harmaus had learned of it far too late to investigate. Still, though, his various duties and agreements aside, the Seraph had thought (hoped) it likely there might be another upswell in due time.

    Call it intuition, perhaps. Or experience.

    Now it feels he's on the threshold of something great.

    He lingers amidst the crates and boxes near the entrance, biding his time and watching.

    And then it's almost as if something went through that man just now. Yellow cat-eyes slit. Amidst the boxes, Harmaus creeps closer to the entrance.

    And Hubert. 

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida--the anonymous lady Drifter--listens to Hubert as he expounds about the family business. Things click into place. Beneath her bandana, her lips tighten into a thin little line. When he almost slaps Yvain, she steps forward, interposing herself between the magnate and the Seraph. She gives Yvain a subtle little nod. "She's right," says not-Ida, to Hubert. "You either learn to laugh at this, or it eats you alive." She rolls her shoulders in a cheery little shrug. "I mean, my guts are tying themselves in knots right now. Can't you smell it?"

    "Something's in the air. 's not mine-fumes, or exhaust." She turns away, glances to Lanval and Layna, and nods once, as subtly as she can. "Sounds accurate," not-Ida breathes. "Keep an eye on him. He's infected. I don't think he knows." She turns to Ines. She says nothing aloud, but her nod is as eloquent as it can be.

    But then Hubert calls out names, and not-Ida steps up beside him, waving a gloved hand in front of his face. (God how she's wanted to do that openly.) "You hear something?"

[OOC] Ida Everstead-Rey says, "blu-ray* use that pose"

<Pose Tracker> Elise Riesdale has posed.

    Azoth, Venetia, Layna, and, most unfortunately, Magilou, all seem to show one clear aspect of Hubert: he's just not used to dealing with Drifters. ".... I see." His mouth opens, ready with a quick remark, but finding none there.

    "... It is... for the best," he says then, as Magilou cuts in front of him, loosely waving away not-Ida's hand. "But please, do not mock me. This month has been... very stressful, for me, as you may understand. The runoff is not..." his eyes coldly cross Dean's own, to look at the back of Magilou. "It is not _my_ fault. Things were working just fine until the cave-in happened. A dead worker is.... not the best outcome, yes. We had been attempting to meet out quota on the next shipment, and in our grand haste, one of the explosives misfired. It is a tragedy, but not unexpected. I assure you, my workers are treated fairly, and my payments are above the average rate besides. I expect the most from them, but a dead worker cannot work, and neither can an injured one. Thus, it makes sense to prevent them in the first place, but we are men, not gods." He wipes his face, one sharp eye glancing towards Venetia.

    "As such, I expect the same from all of you. I've waited long enough, and I will not be made a fool of. And I will *not* sit back and let these monsters make a mockery of me from afar!"

    He seems to realize the volume and anger in his voice them, the way the veins in his neck pop against his collar as he stares at Venetia.

    ".... I am going in. I have hired you all to come, and I hold you to this. Now."

    He walks in.

    Further in they walk, the light of day reaching its boundaries.

    If the rose vines were not unnatural enough already, the way they slink through the entryway makes it worse. The light from the lanterns casts the tunnels in an ominous red. "Electricity is still going," Hubert remarks, frowning.

    The servants look to one another as Venetia asks her question, as Hubert stares ahead, his body standing like a marionette in that twilight moment between the strings being cut and gravity taking hold.

    When Ines comes near him, he turns abruptly, his mouth snarling--

    He takes a breath, and straightens his collar. ".... My apologies. This is light is... not doing anyone any favors."

    In the area ahead, beyond Magilou and whoever passed with her, there's a gentle clink clank of gears and cables.

    Something box-shaped comes down to rest at a platform beneath it, and from the gears and equipment next to it, it may be clear to anyone who has sufficient knowledge.

    It is an elevator, with a grille gate sliding back to welcome them in. It may be a tight for all, but certainly, that would mean no one would notice a cat sneaking in as well.

    The roses surrounding the elevator speak. "I apologize, but you caught us off guard, Mr. Burroughs." It's a voice of a young woman, velvetly and sweetly regal. "Your guards were well-armed, and I had no choice but to retaliate. Please, let me extend this invitation to my palace towards you, and your... new guard? You hired new ones, already?"

    Soft laughter sounds over the broadcasting roses, and Hubert's mouth sets.

    "That damned demon!!"

    Of course, he's going to get on, regardless of whether anyone has boards yet or not. He has a rifle. His servants look to one another, shrug, and follow. 

<Pose Tracker> Ines Colina has posed.

    Magilou's agitation just earns A Look, that probably only gives Magilou strength. You have chosen the wrong route, Ines. The Beastwoman looks completely unflustered by Hubert turning on her angrily, snarling. She's a professional. "We're supposed to be protecting you, right? Hard if you run in first." Ines simply stares him down in the way only 7'2" of shark lady can. "Or do you want to prioritize killing whatever's in there over you?" She's happy to go with that, but as long as he says it in front of her servants, she has a hope of enforcing it.

    And then there's an elevator descending, and a voice from the roses. This... she hates this. "...Sounds like they're already familiar." Her experience with Hellions is limited, but this is definitely not fucking right. Given Hubert charges onto the elevator, Ines grimaces. "Love the ones who walk headlong into traps, huh." It's resigned, but Ines walks onto the elevator too. This is the job, and she's been given no reason to quit. She leans against one wall, because, well, she takes up space and she's big. She also doesn't notice the cat. She casts looks to the more idealistic the group- Dean, Definitely Not Ida- and sighs. "Last chance to hand the cash back and change your mind, I think."

    What can she say, she doesn't want people throwing themselves away for an employer who probably deserves what's coming. Might be nice if it applied to herself. 

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Yvain has posed.

Yvain doesn't spot Harmaus, for the moment--he's focused on Hellions and on this guy, for the moment, who might turn into one at some point. And of course, on Magilou. "As if you could stop me," Yvain says impassively, 'hmph'-ing at Magilou.

A grave matter. Yvain can't help but laugh a little at that, even if it's only brief. "At least someone has a sense of humor."

Yvain watches Hubert impassively as he mentions what he does. As he talks about his business practices. He does not approve. But suddenly...

"Though he would surely leave any of you to die, we should save him," Yvain says, pulling the rifle from his back and stepping forward. "We'll see what's down there." 

<Pose Tracker> Layna Manydays has posed.

Layna takes the briefest of glances in Ida's direction as she makes a comment. She takes a moment to adjust her hat - a subtle sign that she had heard what she said and acknowledges it.

She looks back toward Hubert as he speaks, a slow frown crossing her face as he continues. Her opinion of him plummets with every word he speaks. Hubert insists on coming in, and so Layna grins slightly.

"Well, in that case... right behind you, boss." Layna says nonchalantly. It sounds polite, but those who know her best would know that it isn't exactly meant in a polite manner.

They proceed in to find the electricity still on... and are greeted with the elevator descending to meet them. Roses surround it, and they begin to speak in a young woman's voice. Layna pauses for a moment, frowning.

...That voice. She looks around at the others - with a focus on Ida and Lanval - to make sure she isn't the only one to find it familiar.

"So that's our 'demon', huh?" Layna says. She glances toward Ines, as she laments the fact that their employer just ran right into the elevator and sends a grim nod in her direction.

"Well, it'd be rude to turn down an invitation, aye?" Layna says with a shrug, following Hubert into the elevator. 

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.

    Lanval nods along at the assertions given about Hubert's state, and the character of the Domain. He looks over to Dean as he asks a critical question. "'m not of the mind ta let him go in alone even if sho... but 'd keep a watch on 'em." Keeping a watch is about all they can do, the intricacies of positioning in case he lashes out, or something else lashes out, not something that can be planned in advance when dealing with so many unknowns.
 
     Staying away from the flowers as best as one can is probably the most obvious tactical avenue of not getting consumed by the Domain and the whims of its master, whoever it may be.
 
     Lanval shifts his gaze once to the sight of something in the boxes, but just misses the finer nuances of their presence because letting one's mind wander in a Domain as thick as this one - one where the Master is home - is always dangerous for a Seraph no matter how great their spiritual strength and the protection of a Vessel. (Notably, he doesn't shout to stop Magilou despite it being a bad idea - as if he may have a certain level of Understanding from Unspecified Sources(tm), bieeeeen~.)
 
     Hubert's increasingly erratic mood is always a red flag, but he doesn't stop Venetia from asking the important questions (and they are), and they slip into a world of ominous red lights - and a voice from the roses, as Lanval nods almost imperceptibly at the speculation. He is extraordinarily careful about imparting any specific gesture that might bring out agitation.
 
     If that's their Domain Master's voice right there, the place already feels dangerous enough even if they want guests that are not Hubert... and he's not keen on leaving Hubert to what some may dismiss as a fitting fate.
 
     No one deserves to become a Hellion. No one Hellion ever fully keeps the damage they can do to just themselves, at that. 

<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

    "Scourge!" Magilou accuses Yvain, which, again, she's just declaring these things to open air, is Magilou okay?

    She forms her hands into the shape of a heart when she hears Azoth's pun, too. This may only further confuse matters for the poor, beleagured fellow.

    "Oh, yeah, it's totally stressful when your meal tickets up and die on you," Magilou agrees with him, breezily. "Say, speaking of, do you suppose these nasties have a sense of humour? I've been working on these jokes..."

    It would normally be a terrible idea for Magilou to prance on ahead, but strangely enough, the horrible din of Malevolence seems to roll off her like duck from a water's back. (That's not how that saying goes, Magilou, stop that.) The cute pirate girl of her dreams and the water hobo seem to have their own little muttering huddle about how to deal with him, and she's perfectly happy to leave them to it, alongside that gadfly of a Dean and a mysterious woman she's never seen before.

    Prance, prance, prance. Venetia can handle the sensible things. That's Venetia's job now. Good thing Magilou doesn't have to worry about it!

    "Hark! The ascension box beckons!" That's not what that contraption is called, Magilou. Stop that. Sadly, rather than stop that, she gallivants right into the elevator. A hand comes up tapping her fingertips to her temple, as she grins up at the sky.

    "Yup! Totally guards! One-hundred-percent! We're the guardiest guards that ever did guard a guard!" Somewhere, someone still devoted to Althena's Guard sneezes.

    Magilou scoots to the side to let Ines fold herself in at the edge, because even if she has natural lurking power, she has to respect seven feet of shark lady. And leans in, conspiratorially. "Sooo... is it as rough as it looks?" ... is Magilou making comments on Ines's skin complexion now?!

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Harmaus has posed.

    How... fascinating.
    He might just see something wonderful today.

    Something slips into the back of the elevator. It's quick, hurrying to close the gap to the lift before it moves. If someone feels something small brush against their leg, surely it's nothing but someone else jostling against them.

    They're close, Harmaus considers. A pity about the crush, but he'll handle whatever comes of it as he must. The imporant thing is to get further in before he begins his investigations in earnest. 

<Pose Tracker> Venetia Vuong has posed.

 
Venetia feels the muscles in the upper part of her cheek, the ones on either side of her nose, tense up. This makes her upper lip rise. The lower lip rises too in order to match it: a classical scowl, even if she does not, quite, bare her teeth, and even as the Void 41er's mask hides some of the nuance of her expression.

Hubert moves forwards.

She addresses the servants. "If you want to skedaddle, I won't say boo. Blame me if you want. I could care less, but I'd have to exert myself."

She ambles forwards, not in particular haste even as Hubert helpfully surges forwards. "I'd make an excuse for him, but I don't think I need to," Venetia remarks to Ines. "You realize, of course, that even if it's working from something already loathesome, that we are in a quite anomalous area, now? This is Malevolence, or I'm a chocobo."

They come, in time, to a perfectly ordinary elevator, and Venetia sucks in a brief gasp of breath when the roses speak -

and - she - names - them

"New *guards?*" says Venetia Vuong.

"*New* *guards*?" asks Venetia Vuong.

"**NEW** **GUARDS**?" expounds Venetia Vuong, fingers curling into fists.

Enemy designated. Venetia's eyes all but flash with little red sparks as she looks at Magilou, but she visibly, and literally, swallows what is clearly some sort of gathering fury. Most likely she can see the wisdom in the approach, but this does nothing to disguise her demeanor. She storms into the lift, briefly kicking at something she feels brushing against her bare calf. 

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

Yvain's chuckle and even Magilou's heart wins the tiniest of smiles, like a miniature v, from Azoth for those paying attention. Maybe he does know what he did.

Azoth winces at Hubert. "Not... unexpected? That's -- that's kind of terrible?!" But arguing over mining operations isn't going to get them anywhere, now is it? Especially not with someone who seems to be suffering from something beyond a bad mood.

The flowers! Are! Talking! For a brief moment Azoth's eyes are filled with brightness and delight. "Hello!"

But this is a domain and that this is a problem has him instantly drop his expression into something more appropriately tense. "...So you've had other tragedies that you didn't think were unexpected," he says, looking to Hubert... who continues on. Azoth slumps his shoulders. "We can't leave him to get himself killed, right?" He gives a glance to Dean as if for confirmation or solidarity before moving to keep up.

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida pulls her hand back. She listens to Hubert's explanation, even as part of her roils in fury. Men like him were part of why she fell, so long ago--she couldn't escape the feeling that she was just like him, someone born into a family made rich through violence and exploitation. A monster in fine, tailored clothes. When she'd killed, it felt like reinforcement of that nature. But there was a contradiction, there--she was expected to be civil about everything, to express regret, however shallow, at others' misfortunes.

    For an instant, Ida's gaze catches Hubert's. The mysterious, shady-looking Drifter seems to stare right through him, as if identifying something familiar in his very soul.

    "Right behind you, sir," the woman says. She follows Hubert deeper into the mine.

    The Malevolence is so thick it clings to every breath she takes. Every quality Lanval mentioned is there, and Ida can identify them in exquisite detail. Even the scent of roses brings forth strange, heartwarming nostalgia and terrible grief. It stops Ida in her tracks for a moment--her family didn't have actual plants, much less roses. She holds one between gloved fingers, careful to avoid pricking herself on its terrible, barbed thorns, and takes a deep breath.

    The scent, and the concentrated emotions, shoot directly to her brain. The balance between arrogance and something else--anger? sorrow? self-loathing?--reminds her of the scent of her own Domain. She lets go of the rose, takes a step back.

    A creaking noise. The elevator descends, and a voice speaks.

    I was right, Ida thinks, as Hubert promptly loses his shit. God, I didn't want to be right. But of course, who /else/ would be lairing in a mountain full of Malevolent roses growing in poisoned mine runoff? She turns to Layna, nods to her. "Lovely, isn't it?" she says, to Ines. "But you're right." That's for Yvain; she gives the Seraph as supportive a look as she can manage while most of her face is hidden and/or transformed. "I know her. She tried to stop us from saving you."

    Not-Ida dashes forwards, taking a place in the elevator next to Ines and Venetia. "Yeah," she says, face twisting beneath her bandana. "New guards. What happened to the old ones, I wonder?"

<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.

    Dean frowns. "'Not the best outcome'?" he utters, echoing Azoth's own outrage--but it's not necessarily proof that Hubert is terrible. Sometimes people just talk like that, trying to downplay terrible things because that's just how they were taught to talk. (He knows this because he's met Ida's family.) He doesn't get it, but you don't have to understand something to accept that it happens.
    
    Still, he respects that Hubert wants to see this through for himself. Dean grimaces as Lanval responds. "Yeah, it's not like we could let him go in alone either way." Ines tells him this is his last chance to leave, and he laughs a little, disbelieving. "You're joking, right?" Yvain makes his own stance plain; Dean nods firmly in agreement. "I'm going."
    
    He then jogs in after the man. By now, Dean's noticed he's got a good chunk of Malevolence himself, so... with Ida not here (cough cough), he's got to represent for Team Boudicca. (Team Moor Gault?) Soon enough, the group stops, seeing... a seemingly living cluster of roses, speaking in the voice of a woman that sounds oddly familiar. Where's he heard it before...?
    
    "You're the Hellion?" he wonders, eyeing the bush and otherwise ignoring the 'new guards' remark. It's technically sort of true. "Why're you doing all this?"
    
    Azoth, meanwhile, perceives that there were other tragedies that *were* expected. Dean looks over at him in astonishment. "Wait, really?" And Not-Ida asks what happened to the *old* guards, and Dean scowls, some important information finally dawning on him. But... He nods firmly to Azoth. "Maybe Hubert's a jerk, but we can't just let him die--and I'm not going to abandon you guys either!"
    
    And so onto the elevator he goes. 

<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.

    And so onto the elevator he goes. He huddles in next to Magilou, who is going off about guarding. Dean beams at her. "Wow, despite how you talk, you really are dedicated to protecting people, huh? You really are nice deep down, Magilou!"
    
    This might seem like mocking except for the fact that Dean shines sincerity from every pore. 

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Yvain has posed.

"...Did she now?" Yvain wonders at Ida. "Thank you for the warning. I'll have to be that much more careful."

Then Dean talks to Magilou and Yvain starts laughing for some reason, despite the danger. 

<Pose Tracker> Ines Colina has posed.

    As Magilou leans in, Ines looks down at her. There's a tired look in her eyes as Magilou asks, but she shrugs. "What, my skin, my attitude, or being a beastwomam?" She then holds her arm out to Magilou to feel. Like it just saves time. Like she's been asked this a bunch of times by the few 'well meaning' humans, or sometimes kids. It's less weird with other beastfolk because, well, sometimes they discuss the weird shit their bodies can do and it's fine, it's drunken campfire bragging and making the humans uncomfortable. "But what can I say. Some folks really like it how it feels. Same reason some folk like cat beastfolk, I guess."

    Oh hey she said that in front of Dean, the most naive and innocent kid in the world. Whoops. 

<Pose Tracker> Dash Caskett has posed.

Sensors detect an unregistered force within these bleak mineshafts. Well, perhaps unregistered isn't the right word. Unclassified fits better. Which means either Dash hasn't encountered it in this form before, or it is one of the myriad 'access denied' bits of info within his mind.

The cramming into the elevator doesn't help-- hopefully others don't hyperventilate. "I would have brought more digging tools if I knew there were so many people here!" the cramped space making this obvious now.

"So what is the best course of action now? Just charging in? We probably should come up with something first..." he muses. "Maybe we can make sure at least slow the pollution spread with this delve." 

<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

    Magilou dutifully pats Ines's arm, without a single comment to how rude this might be. (She also doesn't stop to validate Venetia's anger, but perhaps Venetia has an eye as to why she wouldn't.) "Wow, it's just like petting a cat, but only the pointy bits!" Why would Magilou mention a cat? It's probably just because of what Ines said, don't worry about it. "You truly are the one and only heritor of 'Looking Sharp'!"

    Then she looks at Dean, and just snickers, right alongside Yvain.

<Pose Tracker> Elise Riesdale has posed.

    Looking at Ines is enough for Hubert's anger to abruptly fade, lost somewhere inthe climb his gaze takes towards her face.

    "....." Hubert redirects his stare towards Ida's, filled with with the youthful stare of the invinciblity of ignorance, as Magilou's jab and Azoth and Dean's direct anger flow around him. "I... do not need to answer to this. Any of this. I am... a businessman."

    "A demon? Is that what he called me?" Layna's comment draws laughter from the newest rose. "What am I?"

    "A hellion. Am I... a hellion?" Now, the rose closest to Dean bobs once, considering. "Ah, yes, I believe that is an excellent name for me. You may call me that, if you wish, if the title of 'Rose Queen' is too much for you."

    A bud blooms close to Azoth. "You are different from the others." And another by Dash. "You as well. I do not know why, but you are welcome here."

    'New guards,' says the roses.
    'Totally guards', says Magilou.
    'New guards,' says Venetia, who then says it two times more with increasing emotion.
    "Yes, they are," says Hubert, his off-the-cuff remark no doubt adding insult to injury.

    The side panels of the elevator are pristine white, a fact likely not appreciated in this dark interior. The stylistic choice of grate and the scissor gate look like they'd be better suited than this dark, red-soaked tunnel, but their outlines cast geometric and curved shadows as everyone gathers in.

    There is suddenly another rose, blooming delicately next to Not-Ida's ear, curling beyond the grates of the elevator. "If you wish to know, I will tell you. But, are you sure you don't already know, deep in your heart?"
 
    'We'll see what's down there.'

    Yvain may be surprised when, instead of going down, when the engine motor starts, they start going up.

    There is an emotion some who are listening to the woven tapestry of emotion.

    It is joy.

    Through the grates they pass through levels, the first looking like old mining tunnels lined with roses, then as they ascend, life. White shield-shaped insects, lined decorately with gold and rose signils, climb the walls and ceilings of each level, cutting away at the stone, escorting it away, providing food and drink on their backs to the hellions that shelter or work there. The walls become lighter, more smooth, polished, furniture appears, tile is being laid, a glimpse into a Malevolent sky through a rapidly built stained glass window, and...

    A garden, atop the mountain.

    The elevator stops, and opens with a small ding.

    Illusion magic weave through the area, making things glimmer that much more, to smooth over the imperfections of this open garden palace, with a partially glass ceiling keeping the elements from coming in. Roses line the way in orderly rows, themselves allowed to stretch and bramble towards a blue sky. Bird sound is heard. Are there birds? There's fountains of marble, with waterlilies and iries of finely cut semi-precious stone.

    And in the center, it is the Hellion.

    The Rose Queen, as she introduced herself to several present, back when Yvail was not himself.

    She sits in a large gold chair, her pale feet bare except for the toes, dipped in gold.

    Her red-shadowed eyes halflid. https://i.imgur.com/STLVICM.png

    "I finally get to meet you all. Welcome to my palace. I am the Rose Queen." 

<Pose Tracker> Layna Manydays has posed.

"Aye, you're a businessman alright." Layna agrees with a nod. It's a simple enough statement, but the way she says it makes it sound like the harshest of insults.

But the voice from the roses speaks, and Layna grins slightly.

"Aye, that was the word exactly." She confirms. She listens, then, as the Rose Queen introduces herself and confirms Layna's suspicions that this is the same person.

The elevator carries them up, and as it does Layna observes. She notes those shield-shaped insects and the way they cut into the stone. But soon enough with a 'ding!' they arrive at the top. The door opens out into a garden. She takes a look around, noticing everything... and, especially, the throne in the center, on which the Rose Queen sits.

"Good to finally meet you face to face." Layna replies with a polite tip of the hat. "Layna Manydays, Captain of the Ruby Empress. Forget if I introduced myself last time or not."

She looks around again.

"Nice place you get here. But why this place, in particular, if you don't mind my asking?" She asks. She's being polite... but those familiar with her can tell she's waiting for the other shoe to drop. This situation doesn't bode well. 

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Lanval has posed.

    Lanval takes it as a relief and a good sign that Yvain can keep his laughter and cheer even this close to the heart of mortal danger for their kind. He will happily spare a bit of what power he can to that, but as in his capacity he'll have to be taking the brunt of a lot of this ambient discordant emotion as part of the act of Purification, he has to be a bit more reserved in the moment.
 
     "Mmm, she doeshn't know the name," he muses quietly as he watches Magilou feel up Ines' arm and Ida take in a whiff of the roses. (There are no other mortals he'd trust more with such a risky action than her, given her particular valuable and unique experiences.)
 
     The elevator goes up, and Lanval's eyes flutter open without the glow of color as they go up, and that the air is filled with unabashed joy - as if this were something they were so very, very intent to share with everyone. His eyes close, and he has a quick, guarded, careful sip of the contents of his drinking gourd as he comes face to face with the Hellion who interrupted their attempt to pull Yvain back out from the cusp of becoming a Fell Dragon.
 
     He opens up one eye again over to Dean, Ida, and Layna as if to gauge their feelings and thoughts - but he nods the once, as if to say 'I've got your backs whatever you want to say/do.'
 
     "Seraph Lanval. Oracle of Schturdark." He sits down. These words likely do not have much meaning to the Rose Queen, but putting those words out there are important. The Hellion before them is being inviting and is unabashedly delighted to speak to them...
 
     But they're not being 'open,' going by the environs. 

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Yvain has posed.

Indeed, it is mortal danger for their kind--but Yvain does not seem to be irreparably scarred from his time close to dragonhood. He is, however, still being careful--he has multiple objects on-hand that might be suitable as Vessels instead of only the one, for one thing.

He spares no other words for the businessman. He will help to save him, but not because he approves. He's still a person in need.

Yvain is mildly surprised that the elevator goes up instead of down, but he is not that used to elevators. Lanval, though, has a good handle on this Malevolence...and is an Oracle.

But here, now, in this place with gold and roses and sky and tile...

"The Seraph Yvain," Yvain introduces himself, stepping out and around. "I hear that we've met before, or near enough." 

<Pose Tracker> Seraph Harmaus has posed.

    Someone kicks Harmaus, not long at all after he slips into the elevator. There might be a bit of a scramble after; several people might feel something brush against their legs. But in the cram of the lift, who can properly see what's down at their feet?

    ...Probably, anyway.

    But there is pressure yet as they rise, ascending into the beyond. It grows in strength as the roses -- as the gilded surfaces -- become ever more present in their surroundings.

    And they exit at last at a garden.

    Unless someone looks behind them, they won't see the long-haired grey cat, with white tips and a red collar hung with several (silent) bells exit the lift not far behind them.

    Yes. They're here. He can feel its presence. Now he but only needs to wait.

    And so towards the back of this perfect rose garden, near the lift that had brought them here, sits a grey-white cat. Every so often, he swishes his tail.

    And he waits, patiently.

    It won't be long now. He'll get to see the process happen, this time. 

<Pose Tracker> Ines Colina has posed.

    "That's a first," Ines responds to Magilou's opinion. "Mostly I get 'ewww, weird'." Or a hateful look. Ines sighs, as the elevator rises.

    Joy. An unfamiliar feeling lately. The flowers grow more and more into a very large garden. "Yeah... nothing like those grows on Filgaia." She stares openly at the insects, and realizing what they're doing. "They're... building something? The hell?"

    And then the full Garden is grown, and Ines can only look around at what she's seeing. She voices her concern simply. "What the fuck is this?"

    And then she sees the throne, and the woman on it. She narrows her eyes. The Rose Queen introduces herself and Ines stares at her, anger in her eyes. She's silent for a moment. "...Name's Ines. I'd apologize for rudeness, but I don't give a damn about protocol." 

<Pose Tracker> Venetia Vuong has posed.

 
The roses keep speaking to them. Blooming at them. Venetia, having worked out a tithe of her stress by kicking at something, is still during the ride. She doesn't state anything. She lives in the shadow, but that's never been a big deal. The dark is natural for her.

Up they go.

Tunnels of red, red roses.

White insects. Glittering gold and rose. Creatures. Vibrancy. Life. A building. A construction. A garden.

It reads to Venetia (who, to be quite fair, is both predisposed to be nasty and already mad) as a trap. A bait. A seduction. Something that has appeals which she can spot, in her position; and she can put herself in the position of a worker in a mine, too. However good the pay (and that likely exaggerated), the danger, the peril, the confines. The stone, not yet tamed; the ways, not yet trod.

She answers Dash. "We'll have to speak with the owner." She turns her head, eyes clear behind the lace mask. "Remember: People died."

The elevator opens, and they are, seemingly, atop the mountain. Venetia carefully stiffens her spine, and even tilts her head back: just a little. Not enough to quite be an affront, but a certain and clear lack of a tilt *down*.

She sure doesn't look at the cat. Venetia steps forwards. "I am Venetia Vuong," she states, "descendant of Styx. It seems you've put on quite a show, haven't you." (FOR THE LOVE OF DINOGINOS, Venetia thinks to herself. IS THIS EVEN A REAL PLACE?) 

<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.

    Is she a hellion? Well, that is what they call them these days. Did the language change with the ability to cleanse them..? Ask a historian. Another historian, that is. Magilou's busy.

    She did call it an ascension box, and maybe it was a touch prescient, which is totally unfair, because the Oracle is over there slurring. (She's not going to explain the joke to him. It's MUCH funnier this way. Magilou may in fact be plotting out terrible schemes about deliberately misnaming objects around Lanval for months to come.)

    But strangely, as they go up, all the joy of Magilou's humour seems to dim, a little, even as the joy of the Domain overflowers. She's still smiling, but it's not so carved in with a knife, showing all her teeth and then some. Rather her lips thin, around a rueful smirk.

    She takes up a little less space in the elevator. That's how tension works.

    And so Magilou steps out into the mine, where there should be the scent of mud and clay and whatever horrible things are leaking out. It IS a mine, of course. She knows that very well, even as her eyes see what they see. What her eyes see is a lie. Magilou is no stranger to the lying.

    "It's not real," she informs Ines, her tone strangely flat. "This is an illusion. We may well be choking to death on fumes at this very moment." Just as Venetia says, people have died. Perhaps they will, too.

    Magilou doesn't sound too moved, either way.

    She exits, with the others, but she doesn't put herself at the front of the pack any more. Rather, at the back of everyone, she folds her arms high over her chest. "Well," Magilou says, more casual, too casual. "You've made yourself a pretty little palace, haven't you. All the better to welcome the evil witch, Magilou." She lifts a hand from her elbow, swatting it back and forth, disaffected. "Go on, get on with your speech."

    Everything is so happy, here. Why isn't Magilou?

<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.

    Ida shakes her head. She wonders, silently, if Hubert will turn within the next fifteen minutes--within the next five minutes, even--and if he'll keep his mind. Something brushes past her leg, but by the time she glances down, it's gone. The elevator rises up, and Ida glances around as a feeling of foreign joy surges into her heart. Her first instinct is to deny it, but she takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. Another deep breath, and another, and another, until the elevator comes to a stop.

    The Rose Queen spoke of her kingdom as a home for outcasts. Why wouldn't she share a taste of joy--of belonging? The presence of the stony insect-Hellions only clinches it. There are others, too. Subjects. The former guards?

    The doors swing open. Ida steps out into a Domain that seems, in some ways, the polar opposite of Castle Rabenstein. In other ways, it makes her feel right at home. She glances around, taking in all the alien, Malevolent beauty--and it stirs her heart. That loneliness... Is that why this exists?

    Ida takes off her hat and tips it, revealing dark brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail. "Yeah," she says, glancing at Ines as she puts it back on. "They are. Taking misery and pain and death and making it into something beautiful. A home for outcasts, if I remember rightly."

    Another glance to the side, and a nod at Venetia. "People died," she says. "Good people." Her gaze falls on the Rose Queen herself, then. She looks more like a statue than a being of flesh and blood, delicate and finely-sculpted.

    "Well," the woman says. "If we're showing our true faces..."

    Ida pulls the bandana down, tilts the hat up. Bone shifts and twists beneath the skin of her face, returning to its normal shape. Green eyes turn to grey-tinted blue. Her voice pitches upward, ever-so-slightly, regains its "proper" tone and accent. Even her frame expands, just a little.

    "Ida Everstead-Rey, Seer of Moor Gault. I've been waiting for this meeting for a long time."

<Pose Tracker> Dash Caskett has posed.

The waiting is unnerving. The worry of them walking int oa trap moreso. The flowars don't help any. "Different, huh?" Dash responds with. Well, a being of this type might be sensing living people, and then the 'others'. Azoth and Dash being the standouts, of course. "Guards? Huh."

The elevator slowly begins to rise instead of fall. "Going a different way than expected, it seems!" The flowers continue to talk to others. They seem so excited to see everyone. Eventually, the elevator stops, and the group steps out.

"Illusion magic? Hm." Dash mentions toward Magilou. "I don't detect any fumes, at least immediately." A small nod and smile is given toward Venetia.

Ida immediately readies for combat. Seems like combat is unavoidable. Then again these creatures are something of a threat, he hears. Some of which used to be people.

"As much as asking to stop is probably not on the table, don't suppose there is any other way, huh?"

Can't hurt to ask. 

<Pose Tracker> Dean Stark has posed.

    'Am I... a hellion?'
    
    Dean blinks, taken aback by this response. "Do you not know what you are?" he wonders. His brows furrow. "Wait... Rose Queen? Wasn't that... You're the one who tried to stop us from saving Yvain!"
    
    Nearby, Ines holds out an arm to Magilou to touch. Dean quirks a look her way in curiosity. "Oh, does it feel good? Can I touch?" he wonders in a completely non-sexual way (and also without realizing that this question might be *extremely* rude). That it is completely non-sexual is made apparent when confusion registers in his expression. "Wait, but aren't cat beastfolk furry, not rough?"
    
    Magilou comments that Ines's skin is just like petting a cat, but only the sharp bits. Dean's confusion increases. "Wait, really? How would that feel good?" Then Yvain and Magilou are *both* laughing at him, and Dean now radiates pure bewilderment.
    
    For the record, Dean turned 20 this year. Considering he's still only 5'5", it's probably reasonable to mistake him for still a kid.
    
    Fortunately or unfortunately, he's then distracted from his confusion when Hubert washes his hands of any responsibility with regard to the mine. Dean gapes at him in shock and anger. "What d'you mean, you don't need to answer to that?! People died working in YOUR mine! Don't you even feel bad about that?!"
    
    But the elevator starts to move--upwards. When the doors open, they open to a beautiful mountaintop garden. Dean's eyes widen in wonder. It's beautiful, but... at the center of it all is the so-called Rose Queen. He frowns a bit, then strides out. He won't immediately resort to hostility, but he's not going to let his guard down, either. This is especially so when Magilou confirms, tone and eyes strangely flat, that this is all an illusion. (Unfortunately, since Dean is so determined to face forward, he doesn't notice a certain bad kitty at their backs.)
    
    "Nice to meet you, Miss Rose Queen," he says. He looks over at Lanval and Layna, nodding Lanval's way in particular, and looks back at her. Ida doffs her disguise, and he double-takes at her--but quickly recovers. "My name's Dean--Dean Stark. I'm a Seer of Moor Gault, too. I... don't know if that means anything to you." If she doesn't know what a *Hellion* is, how would she know what Oracles and Seers are?
    
    He looks again at Magilou, whose usually manic energy seems distinctly dampened. He leans in and whispers in concern, "Are you okay?" 

<Pose Tracker> Azoth has posed.

The flowers knows Azoth and Dash differ, and Azoth's left wondering how she can tell. That itself is a warning sign. "Oh, um, thank you?"

Rose Queen. A name he's heard before while trying to help everyone purify Yvain, and an impressive title... with a domain that supports it. Azoth stares in awe and wonder over the landscape. There is something fascinating in the worlds that can be woven on emotion. He isn't capable of feeling the emotions swirling in Malevolence, but this one does not seem built only of the negative.

That isn't necessarily a good thing, he concludes.

"I'm Azoth!" he says, with all the cheer in the world, betraying none of his internal concerns. "Thanks for the welcome."

Ida removes her disguise and Azoth... waves with his fingers, happily but discreetly peering around Dean, because he did not get to do that earlier let him have this! But ever the emotional switch, Azoth's back to serious again, reading the room more than the Rose queen herself. Magilou seems especially displeased, expert on smiles he's made himself to be, and Azoth's a little startled by the look on her face.

Whatever emotions are involved, Malevolence is Malevolence, and several among them are considered vulnerable to its presence. (Including a cat he did not see.) How can he defend them, if this takes a turn for the violent...?

<Pose Tracker> Elise Riesdale has posed.

    Seraph. Oracle. Schturdark. Styx. Seer. Moor Gault. These words and what they relate to don't seem to draw emotion from the Rose Queen, but she takes them all in, eager to play the part of host.

    She raises to her feet, smiling, her golden claws spread wide. "It is so good to be able to welcome you here! My grounds are still in the process of being built, but... do you not agree that this scarred mountain would be the perfect place, Ms. Manydays? A place of death, and ruin. A grave of those who died for one man's gain, a garden of joy and rememberance. A place where roses will bloom...." She drifts off, seeing Magilou's... unhappy expression. "It is for all who are unwelcome. Even witches. Especially, the evil ones, cast aside by their own stories." She gestures to Dash. "There is always a way, a place to be, a kingdom to shelter in."

    'I hear that we've met before, or near enough.'

    "....? Your face is new to me." Her red gaze centers on Yvain's face. "I... feel sad, looking at you. But a part of me feels happy, as well. Yvain..." She turns her head to look at Dean. "... So this... I see. They have attained their happily ever after, then." She closes her eyes. "I remember her song. The one she played for you. It is..."

    "What the hell is this..." Hubert dabs at his neck, in the back of the group. "I get ferried up this mountain, to find some girl playing pretend?! Who are you, to think you can take my property away from me?!"

    The show was nearly derailed, but Hubert has helpfully readjusted the trajectory.

    Ida reveals her true identity. Elise glances on and smiles, settling back on her seat. "I did promise you an answer to your question, before. Have you figured it out? This is not the first time he has tried to enter. Not too long after he ordered his men to open fire on my subjects..." Her eyes widen, red lips split in a grim smile as she raises from her seat slightly. "He ran away. He abandoned his own guard. Some died, but they will live on within the garden. Others... they realized they had found paradise, and became my subjects. Some of them ran, and I let them. I know they'll come back eventually. Even being near my garden is enough for some to turn, but not everybody. Perhaps, one of you could tell me why? What makes a person a person, and another a hellion?"

    Hubert seems stuck in one spot, one wide eye glaring daggers at Ida. ".... You.... I know that name. You came all the way here, just to mock me?! My family may not be as high as yours, but your day will come _soon enough_. The old must make way for a *new* generation of high society!" Spit flies from his lips as he screams at Ida. The two servants back away, slowly, as Hubert grits his teeth, taking cover behind Azoth, who seems friendly, and perhaps hardy.

    "Look at him... he shudders. Just how long before he gives in, I wonder? He's fought back so hard against the forces that took root in him. The moment he smelled my roses was the moment he foresaw the coming of his rebirth. Do not worry, I welcome all here to join me. Him, and all of you. Be safe, as my subject. I only ask for you to bend your knee to me." She settles back into her throne. ".... But, I'm not really interested in all of you coming to join, just yet. I have another role for all of you today."

     Hubert steps back, clutching his face. "..... what sort of man.... do you take me to be?!"

     "Ah, but you cannot bear to be under the heel of someone else. I wonder, under that fine suit, if you're nothing more than a beast yourself?" Dark gold hair rises from behind her back. "The beast usually becomes a prince, but what becomes of princes who have yet to learn? They _become the beasts_. Hubert Mark Burroughs, _show me the true form of your soul_!!"

    Hubert screams, and the glass from the ceiling shatters, falling down--

    TO BE CONTINUED ---------------------->>

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