3757/Dial 911 for Nine Wicked Witches

Dial 911 for Nine Wicked Witches
Date of Scene:	28 January 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Black Queen, Loki

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Black Queen has posed:
It is the old lady thing to do, sit around a park and watch the birds. Feed them, you know, the regular tasks that the elderly and retired do. Selene isn't old, that much is for sure, she looks to be in her early 20s, barely old enough to buy alcohol or maybe she just ages well? She is currently sitting at a park bench, and she's just sitting there and sipping at some coffee that she got from someplace nearby. At the parking lot, in this particular park, is a tesla and inside of it sits her driver - ever waiting for her for whenever she's ready to leave.

A few people walk past her and one couple seem to be moving by, "Oh, hello. That is a rather beautiful little girl you have there." Selene mentions to the couple who stop for a second, and start to smile back at the young woman who seems to compliment their children. There's a few nods of her head to a question they ask her, "Oh, you know, just sitting and watching the world go by. Very relaxing at times."

Loki has posed:
    It truly is idyllic at the passing glance, a look from afar and it's a tableau that might befit a Rockwell painting were it not for the tell-tale hints of modern times that might give the lie to such a depiction. That car is terribly modern in the small lot just off of the park, and the skyline with its various vehicles flying in the distance and the buildings that have come and gone with the turn of history. Yet even with such a lovely relaxing weekend there is ever the hint of something on the horizon. In this instance it is the faint greyness of the clouds off across the river, offering the promise of rain for when the sun goes down. It's just enough of a hint of the future that it might well draw the eye. And in that look towards the coming storm one might very well see the man in the olive green coat.
    To his client he's known as Sam Gwydion, to his family he is the trickster, and to others his names are myriad. But for now he is a brown haired man who strides down the sidewalk, hands deep into the pockets of his great coat. The brief touch of winter some weeks ago has faded but the chill remains, though the snow has mostly melted this week. Yet there are still a few piles of grey grim snow banks along the path as he moves, likely shoveled there during the storm.
    For a moment his steps falter, a gloved hand turning upwards as he glances down at it, then closes the fingers of that glove as if wiping something free. Yet for some reason that action is followed by a glance to the side and to the woman who is seated exchanging pleasantries with that young couple.
    That's her.
    He steps to the left at the crossroads of the sidewalk, and moves towards the bench and that small car park. A few moments later and he's there. Though he holds his words until there is a suitable instant. And once that is found his voice lifts, "Ms. Gallio?"

Black Queen has posed:
The woman is leaning forward some and looking at some kind of piece of candy that this little 8 year old may have. Selene's form, to those with the vision, extends much beyond her person. Most mystics have a contained, controlled, precise aura and the aura itself then reaches out into the ebbs and flows of magic. They are untouched, and yet they influence. Selene is something else. Connected, fully, to the magic around her, that life force of hers almost infesting that which surrounds her, pulling it in, stretching the energies of living beings in her direction. And right now those shadowy wisps are dancing, playing, flickering in the direction of this couple and their child.

A maw of shadow just about to extend from her hand to the mother as she reaches out to shake her hand... and then... it recoisl, glaring, turning in the direction of the voice before Selene seems to even respond. Pulling away she says, "Yes, yes, next weekend then I will come over for dinner. I will not be late." She takes a card and pockets it before turning to the very plain looking man and she wonders, "Hello?" Looking him over she smiles a bit and sips at her coffee before settling back into her benched seat, "Is this yet -another- interview? I keep telling them, I will not star in any movies. Nor do I need a modeling career. If you are here for either of those reasons, tell Jim and Jack, or Bob and Susan, whomever you work for that I am simply not interested. And I clearly do not need the money."

Loki has posed:
    "No, you wouldn't would you?" The tall man asks of her with a slight look of curiousity in his eyes, a subtle tilt of his head to the side as if eyeing her askance might aid in his perception of her. "Though, I have found when one has few material needs they tend to trade on experiences, no?"
    That having been said he casually reaches one hand into the folds of his coat, slipping to one of the interior pockets and producing a printed photograph that he extends towards her between thumb and forefinger. "You may call me, Sam Gwydion." He offers to her, and to be fair there is little of remark to him. Oh he is handsome enough, in a world where beauty is almost an ubiquitous thing, and his features are a touch elven if anything what with the green eyes lending themselves to something curious. "I've been engaged by a client to find this urn."
    A look to the photograph and it shows a piece of dark earthenware, glazed and dark of colour. At one look it seems some form of deep green or blue, but looking from another angle it could seem to be brown or grey. It's form is as if someone decided to sculpt thousands of serpents entwined together around the body of that urn, slithering together, almost lascivious in the action of it, yet on some level repugnant.
    "I was hoping you might be able to help me."

Black Queen has posed:
The woman in the red jacket does not notice the man's elven features or his handsomeness. She only sees skin deep, and that's her own. Beauty has lost much meaning when you feel wholeheartedly that you are the most beautiful. Just like taste would mean nothing if you had already sampled the greatest flavors of all of the universe. Selene looks quizzically at the man though, "Trade on experience?" She is almost about to say something when the photograph is produced.

Reaching out with her hands, soft and unmarked by any toil, and those nails are extremely well taken care of and just recently probably given a manicure by one of the best New York has to offer. Everything about her shows expense. From her jacket that is custom made by Prada, to the skirt something from Gucci, and those boots are definitely custom Dior. For those who would notice it shows that she's wearing more cost in clothes than most people's cars are worth, and for those who wouldn't notice? Who cares about riff-raff.

With a delicate grab of the photograph, Selene looks between the man and the photograph. She recognizes the urn, something from just before the centralization of Egypt. Very old. Very mystical in nature. Though she hrmmms a little and looks at it longer, she remembers touching the urn itself, she remembers when it was made, the gold that it took, the technique to fashion it for the different colorations at different angles. The snakes, a symbol of Apep... "Why do you think I would know anything about this urn? And why would your client be looking for something so... well, disgusting really. An old urn?" She scoffs a bit, though keeps holding onto the photograph as she waves it toward Sam. "And what brought you here again? Are you some sort of super investigator?" A soft humorous tone coming to her words as her attention goes more to Sam than the photograph at this point.

Loki has posed:
    "Everyone likes to imagine they are staggeringly competent at what they set their mind to, Ms. Gallio." He offers in rejoinder, his smile given with an ease. He seems ready to allow her to keep the photo, no move made to reclaim it as he replaces his hands back into the pockets of his coat. He then glances to the side towards the seat next to her and cocks an eyebrow as if to ask silently, 'May I?' and if she gives an agreement in some form he'll take the seat. If not he'll remain where he is.
    "But I was given a small list of names of individuals who have some measure of a reputation as an antiquarian. I did a little digging and your name came up several times." He slides a hand free from the pocket of his coat and gestures to the side almost absently, "To be fair I thought I might have a more difficult time finding you, Ms. Gallio." His eyes drift away for a time, head tilting as if hearing some distant sound.
    But then those green eyes return to hers and the smile returns, "But you do leave quite the impression upon people when they meet you. Though were I to say more you would assuredly accuse me of flattery."

Black Queen has posed:
"Yes, everyone does..." Selene comments, somewhat insulting in tone as she grumbles a little with a shake of her head, "Not Ms. Gallio. Call me Selene, please, you will make me feel old if you don't. And... clearly." She just indicates herself with a hand gesture, as if to say - there is no way I am old, just look at how young I am - and then she waves that hand gesture to the bench so you can settle down into a seat and no longer stand above her.

When you start talking about her merits though, her eyes pick up a bit, she smiles and ohs, "You heard my name from quite a few people? That is, interesting, I mean it is rather often that I am in and about the antique shops. I do appreciate old things, that which has stood the test of time... and is still here. You know, they sort of speak to me in a way. Beautiful objects, hand crafted for a task, still around, leaving their mark on the world in ways we rarely see."

She waxes and wanes about these antiques and anything old, for that matter, before she takes in a bit of a deep breath and almost giggles at the compliment, as she smiles largely, eyes doey for a moment, "No, please, please, flatter away." She offers, willing to listen of course, but she looks back at the photograph, "Well, you see. This is earthenware, of a particular kind. This technique, in the glazing that makes it look to be different colors, the irridescent quality is mostly because of an accident. A funny story I could tell you about htat, but the coloration says it is before they... who we would call Egyptians today, perfected their craft." She pauses and then tilts her head a little to the side, before adding, "And the snakes, are likely that of the god Apep. Though, he was not the god of death, and urns were very unusual at the time, this particular one would likely symbolize the death of Apep when he and Ra fought. Such an urn was rumored about and in the large world war with the Nazis, it was thought to have been discovered again. Hitler was very much into mysticism, and this urn was said to carry sand inside and nothing more."

With that she extends back the picture to you and smiles, "Though, of course, it is also rumored to have contained the actual ashes of the god Apep. With them, it is said he could be resurrected. But that is, of course, myth. Why is your client so interested in such an antique?"

Loki has posed:
    The smile shifts a touch sardonic, amused at her suggestion he continue along the path of flattery but he holds up a gloved hand as if to stay her as he looks away for a moment. But then she begins to speak of the urn itself and his attention returns back to her. His eyebrows climb as he listens, curiousity evident in his manner as he leans forwards to consider the photo she holds as she speaks. "Apep, you say?"
    He extends a hand towards the photo, just turning it slightly so he can eyeball it closer while she speaks. "Hm," Comes from him as he ponders, leaning forwards on that benchseat.
    Once she finishes and extends the photo back he pockets it inside his coat and then returns his attention fully to her. "Oh, I believe she may view it as her way to enter into a particular circle of higher society that may well be closed off to her at the moment." He offers that insight so easily, his own read of his employer. "But it could well be she is acting as an agent for another. Alas, such is not entirely my lot to consider. Though, to be fair," His smile broadens as he offers, "Her money spends well enough."
    That having been said he scritches a fingertip along the curve of his jawline, thoughtful as he looks to her. "I don't suppose you might have any knowledge of someone who might have an interest in such an artifact or a further source of information? Unless, of course, you are holding something back..." That last is said with the devil's own smile as he tilts his head just so.

Black Queen has posed:
There is only a glint in her eye, flattery is the quickest way to a narcissistic woman's heart, however cold and dark it is, "Naturally Apep. He and Ra were rivals. Constantly fighting. Apep is more the god of chaos than Ra's all consuming light. It is said he was consantly attempting to devour the sun but would get in his own way. It is perhaps a derivation of the Ouroboros, though I think it is much more insightful than that."

She listens the words about your client and she shakes her head dismissively, and coughs lightly. "Ancient, egyptian artifacts? Such a cliche." Indicates Selene and takes a look longer at Sam as he suggests she might be working for another agent. Her eyebrow raises at this point, "Is there someone, in specific, that you think your client would be working on behalf of? A piece such as this is rare, hard to find, likely unfindable for much of its story is lost to time..." Selene lingers a moment before she offers, "And there is a sufficiently long section of time between the second World War and now. Much of Hitler's spoils were found, and re-appropriated or at the very least hung in a museum somewhere. Some pieces, however, were smuggled out of the country."

Loki has posed:
    "Ah, but then Selene, that would be telling." He replies to her as to the possibility of his true client being named, and accompanies those words with that same smile that to some might very well be considered charming while others... might just find it infuriating. He seems to not mind either way as he gestures aside as if brushing his own words out of the way. "And one must keep at least /some/ element of mystery to themselves lest they lose the interest of a worldly young woman such as yourself."
    "Ouroboros..." He says to himself even as he starts to gain his feet, arms folding over his chest as he looks off into the distance, fingers tapping out a faint rhythm upon his bicep as he considers the possibilities. But then he looks towards her, "You have been, actually, very helpful." He says that last as if it was a mild surprise to himself. "I'd stay longer if only to enjoy the company of someone as yourself, but I would not dare to waste your time so."
    He starts to turn away, but then pauses and turns back. "Might I impose to call upon you again at some point in the future, should needs be?"

Black Queen has posed:
Sam refuses to give up the actual client's name, though at least seems to indicate that there may very well be someone else looking into this thing. "Mysteries do intrigue me Sam. The mystery right now is - why a client hires someone such as yourself? You must be very good at what you do. Clearly, else your client would never have hired you." She looks over Sam for a moment longer and then adds "And then you are getting up and leaving before the story concludes, before you know where the urn may be. Either you knew the origins of the urn before you asked, and this was all a ruse to get to this last question, or else you already have the urn but did not know what it is..."

With a slight smile she offers a little shrug of her shoulders, "I do not mind. Though be wary of a device that can contain a god. Even if in ashes. The egyptians were well versed in curses and hexes... or so the stories go. These stories pre-date written record, and if the fates of those who have plundered the egyptian pyramids are of any indication, they are at least partially true or an uncanny matter of coincidence."

When you get up and start to walk away she shakes her head, "You are no more wasting my time than that of a watch. It would be no imposition to ask for me in the future, and instead of harassing the store owners that I frequent to find me... I am here often enough. And frequent the Duck Soup restaurant in Chinatown often, the hostess can get me a message."

Loki has posed:
    As she speaks of the possibilities she can see in those green eyes an appreciation for the way her mind turns and wends down the path of such possibilities. His smile remains there, intact, and perhaps a little warm of sentiment as he gives her a nod finally at the end when she finishes offering those possibilities. "Perhaps it is more simply that I recognize I am a fallible individual and it is always best to get a point of view of another. Pleasant, however, to find that other point of view in one such as /your/self," He says, mirroring the faint rhythm in her earlier words companionably.
    He shifts his weight onto his heels for a moment as he meets her eyes and smiles. "If I need to impose further upon you I will try to get word to you, though if I am worth my per diem then I should be able to find you even without the aid of the Duck Soup hostess, yes?"
    That said he lowers his eyes and extends one hand to the side as if executing a rather elegant if shallow bow and then adds with that same smile, "Til then, Selene." With that he turns and begins his stride back and away, down the path the way he came as if he had no other business in the area and was off whence he came.

Black Queen has posed:
Watching as you speak, Selene does not turn her eyes away. Many humans have a problem with eye to eye contact. It makes them fluster, or flutter, it makes them back down or feel aggressive. Usually there is some kind of emotional response, but Selene stares onward without any of these responses. She smiles though and says, "Fallible perhaps. That may very well be the answer you seek."

Not pressing any further on the point, Selene merely brings her coffee up to her lips to sip at it as you suggest she's findable even without the hostess. "There are places each of us go that cannot be found, either by being hidden or merely out of reach. So, if you cannot find me, then Duck Soup. The name sounds horrible in English." She watches the bow with some bemusement and lets Sam Gwydion head away.

When he is sufficiently away, people all around her turn away, looking in another direction as she circles one finger about like she were creating a cyclone in the air. A small cheshire cat like face begins to appear, and then the rest of a shadowy creature forms on the top of her hand. "Follow this Sam. Find how who is looking into this urn. Be smart, and if you bring me something useful... you will get a treat." She says, smiling to the wispy creature which then laughs a bit and nods its head excitedly, up and down with exaggeration. When done it leaps from her hand and wisps away in the direction after Sam, being more like the dirt rustled by the wind than anything else. Fast, and hard to detect. Then, when it has blended into its surroundings, people begin their path again walking like normal and once again able to look in her direction.