Whispers run through the various orders in the city of London. The key players take little notice of the rumour mill, there are more important things to worry about than a small favour.
For others, the message is clear: Oz needs a favour.
Not a big one, mind. Just enough to get into her good graces, just enough to show that various mages still appreciate Hayfich and it's almost consulate status.

The invitations have already been sent out, just a cuppa tea with Oz. Talk about what she needs, let her find out who the newest faces in the city are.

Nevern Square is a five minute walk from the Earl's Court Tube Station. The buildings that line the street face into a small park that is lovingly maintained.
20 Nevern Square was once a small hotel that saw modest business, but these days it has all but dropped off the map as far as sleepers are concerned. The front of the building matches it's neighbours, red brick and tall windows that boast floral curtains inside.
A small bell signifies the entry of any who can take notice of the four story building.

Oz sits in the front sitting room, ginger hair pulled back in a pony tail and already conversing with a young man. Their mugs are full of still cooling tea and the conversation is currently light.

Weaver-of-the-Nexus stepped out of the Earl's Court station, walking with the unhurried slog of a native denizen of the tubes.  The spiky bangs of her short dark hair were dyed a brilliant electric blue, obscuring any hint of her eyes as she trudged the sidewalk towards Hayfich.  A typical Millennial, she never even bothered to look up from her phone as her feat ate up the ground.  Her fingers, escaping from finger-less leather gloves laser etched with obscure looking runes, danced over the keyboard with the ease and familiarity of a digital native.  She looked like a Millennial as well, or at least, one of the urban kids connected with the fashion and festival scenes.  Her ears and nose were covered with piercings, and her heavy black jacket was similarly adorned with patches and stitch work.  Where she deviated from the rest of her generation was what she was doing on her phone.  While most Millennials would be reading up on the news, chatting with friends, or just wasting time on reddit or Clash of Clans, Nexus communing with rather deeper mysteries.

At least, she was until she got to Hayfich's.  With a sigh, she blackened her screen and tore out her earbuds, her brown eyes adorned with vibrant blue mascara emerging from beneath the matching bangs and seeking out Oz.  When she spotted him, she found a place in the room where she was well within his line of sight, but waited until she noticed her to make the next move.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:48, Tue 18 Apr 2017.

"Please mind the gap," intoned the phantom woman above the throng of people.

Selene's smile beneath turned into a full laugh. "Oh! She actually says that!" she twanged, speaking to anyone who happened to listen. It was an easy thing to glide over the little space between the train and the platform. She took hold of one of the hanging straps, looping it around the belt of stars that itself looped her wrist. As the train rumbled forward Selene surveyed the collection of ads plastering the walls and the people with their faces pointed toward their phones. Only rarely did they look up, but each time Selene beamed at them beatifically.

When the train groaned and shrieked to a halt at Earl's Court Selene stepped off again. Gliding through the train station and street, her cheery mood undaunted by the dour English weather and people. Her wandering path took her down several allies and back streets before she finally found her way down the correct set of pavement to bring her to Hayfich's.

Selene was stopped again by the bell. She reached up, giving a tap that caused it to ring again and then once more. "That's a charmer!"

"That will be some of them now I expect", the newcomers could hear the proud, motherly tone from the entrance of Hayfich.
"My goodness! Look at your hair, what a brilliant colour! It sounds like we've got another just come in as well, we'll be back soon Stele", Oz's ponytail bobbed as she gently ushered Weaver-of-the-Nexus back out into the main hall and towards the kitchen.

Upon seeing Selene her smile widened, "He's a lovely little thing, isn't he? Better than any of the new alarm systems, I've always said. I've got some biscuits as well, and you're both so thin! You young people, all so underfed these days. Thank you so much for coming, tea? Coffee? Only I wasn't sure what you would like so I left the mugs empty. You did bring them didn't you?"

Though Oz forced neither of the women to come with her, the world was no longer one for casual touches, she moved to the kitchen with surprising speed for the heels she wore. Even in them she stood at a daunting five and a half feet at best.

As Clasm descended the stairs from her room, an empty mug in hand, she spotted Oz hustling toward the kitchen. Eyebrows perking up, she turned to see... nope. A glimpse at the dye job told her that if she took in the full picture, she'd get opinions, and then she'd say something to one of he fellow guests that might get Oz mad at her in a way that wasn't useful. Instead, Clasm turned her focus on Oz, and following the older woman into the kitchen. "The usual for me, please."

The usual, in this case, was whatever Oz happened to recommend at the time. Clasm had been in London for a bit, but not long enough to secure an informed opinion on the local good options. That being said, she was developing an enthusiasm for that one thing where she used a chocolate cookie as a straw.

Diana (pronounced Dee-na, but she hardly ever bothered correcting anyone anymore) came to a stop on the sidewalk across the street from Hayfich, taking a brief moment to study the building - and to prepare herself. You're ready for this, she thought to herself, casting a glance toward the ephemeral form sitting on her left shoulder. Mau nodded, sending her a brief sense of encouragement through their mental link. She nodded back, took a deep breath, and crossed the street to the entrance.

The doorbell pinged again as Bast strode through the door, her ankle-length skirt swirling around her as the outside air met the warmer air inside. A gold ankh pendant hung down on a thin chain in front of her black sweater which matched her dark hair, cut in a stylish bob. Around her neck was a thin black and gold choker, its center emblazoned with a curious ancient-looking cat-head-and-sun emblem.

"Good afternoon," she said politely to everyone already assembled, pulling her mug out from her black-leather purse. Despite her... "ethnic" appearance, her accent marked her as London born and raised.

Comfortable in his place on the sofa, Stele offered the mistress of Hayfich a little smile and a nod of understanding as she rose to deal with the newcomers.  Her seemingly boundless hospitality was something one either had to love or simply tolerate if they wished to spend any time within the sanctuary's walls, and thankfully he'd fallen into the first category.  Scooting back slightly to relax more deeply into the couch, the Moros brought his mug up and took a tentative sip from the nigh-scalding brew within.  'She's got good taste.'  He mused as he swallowed the delicate infusion and drew in a contemplative breath.

While he hadn't had much in the way of warning about what Oz had in mind when she'd summoned him, it certainly hadn’t included...well whoever these people were.  'That's a lot of blue and a lot of metal.'  Stele noted absently as he lowered his drink, cupping it between his hands to savor it's warmth as he cast a discerning eye over each of the guests in turn.  He was still new enough to these parts to be surprised now and then, but he'd begun to get a sort of feel for the styles of locals.  Despite what Rimmel might claim, the 'London Look' was definitely not natural for some of Hayfich's newcomers, and if he wasn't mistaken there were just as many foreigners here as natives.  Lifting one hand he offered a little wave  in response to the newest entrant, but otherwise kept his own council as he waited for their host to return.

"Tea would be lovely."

Nexus said to Oz, her accent distinctly Estuary English despite the color of her skin.  If she was an immigrant, she wasn't a recent one, or else she was some sort of savant with languages and accents.  She found a seat on a sofa, near the group that was forming without putting herself directly in the middle.  Without even realizing she was doing so, she flicked her phone on, her eyes scanning it briefly before returning to her new companions.

"Are we using names, or are we keeping this formal?"

This last was addressed to the room as a whole.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:20, Wed 19 Apr 2017.

"I'd take a tea. And a coffee. But also, funny story!" Selene answered Oz, the only person in London who seemed to be able to match her for good cheer. And it seems to diminish nothing when she reached into her pocket and pulled free a clear plastic bag of ceramic shards that had once, in all likelihood, been a teacup. "It's broken!"

Selene handed the baggie over, before she threw herself onto the sofa next to Nexus. "Your hair is excellent!" she exclaimed, before turning her attention to the only man yet present. "And so's yours. In fact, I believe everyone here has excellent hair. Or does that make it all average?"

Oz looked sadly at the pile of ceramic before gently taking the bag and the other cups.
“Not to worry dear, I’ve got a dozen more at least hiding around. Why don’t you all keep Stele company in the living room and I’ll fetch the tea”, she turned and moved away not pausing to call out to answer Nexus’ question:
“Do introduce yourselves! Single strands do not a web make!”
As Oz clicked further into the depths of Hayfich the entire place suddenly felt very quiet, as if the life and bustle of the hotel swirled around their hostess.

A web then, how fitting.

"Nexus."

She said simply, her gaze meeting each of theirs in turn.  It wasn't her full Shadow Name, to be sure, but it would do for now.  She'd been slow to trust before Davin, and the wounds of that betrayal hadn't even scarred over yet.  Now her life had become a seemingly endless series of compartmentalized facets, each distinct and yet part of a greater whole. Nexus was simply another face of the gestalt, and more than an adequate one given her current circumstances.

"Average, unfortunately."

She added, her gaze settling last on Selene.  Due to the lack of inflection in her tone it was difficult to discern if she was serious, or merely sharing in the joke.

"Subjectively average, anyway." Clasm spoke with an American accent, New York to those that had an ear for it. For this occasion, her attire was more of the same, black denim drawing emphasis to a canary yellow top. As she spoke, a coy smile came to her lips, and she looked toward the woman called Nexus with a raised eyebrow. Oz had left the room, and while the cat's away... "For us to be average in general we'd need to be average in general, if you know what I mean. I'd hardly call anyone here average by any measure. Name's Clasm."

Bast gave Oz a polite nod as she offered her her teacup, then turned back to the group, crossing over to one of the nearby chairs and taking a seat, crossing her legs in front of her. Mau hopped down from her shoulder to curl ephemerally in her lap.

"The only way any of us count as 'average' would be with an extremely small sample size of very weird people." She smiled. "I'm Bast. Good to meet you all."

When the blue-haired girl's question about formality reached him, one slim brow quirked up as Stele wondered briefly what other sort of circumstances they might be in before taking another cautious sip of his tea.  He couldn't help but wonder how Oz was connected to each of these people.  The rumors he'd heard spoke to her web of influence as a truly monolithic thing, but this was the first real hint he'd seen of that in the time he'd spent at Hayfich.  Offering the mistress of the house a sympathetic wince as she lifted the remains of her mug, Stele gripped his own a little more tightly.  For a true tea-lover such losses were terrible things no matter how many you might have.  'Not to mention it makes for an ill omen overall.'  The Moros mused as he cast a steely gaze around the room to count their number once again.

"The aforementioned Stele, it’s a pleasure to meet you all."  The necromancer added with that faintly slurring American diction that stood out so strongly against the British norm as Oz's footsteps receded.  Offering the group the crooked sort of grin that tended to get him into clubs and wherever else he wanted to go, he ignored the chill that ran across the nape of his neck as Nexus settled onto the couch in favor of joining the discussion.  "Average is one of those unfortunate things that depends entirely on your frame of reference.  Regardless, compliments from a beauty like you are always welcome."  Stele replied lightly with a little nod toward the strangely cheery amazon that had joined him on the sofa.

"Flatterer," Selene responded, her hand on Stele's shoulder to push him away playfully. It did nothing to dimish her spirits, though. She drew her legs up beneath herself, leaving her sandals unattended on the floor. Tattered jeans let her legs show through at both knees and again and again up their lengths. Each hole gave bits of blue fuzz to twirl between her fingertips and occupy her hands.

"Selene. And, wow, you guys are all really good at math. Maths? How many math do you have here? What happens if you've got two formulas sitting side by side? Maybe it's like with a mouse and they become, like... Meeth. As in, 'Oh look, I did all my homework and now my hand is all covered in meeth from doing all those figures.'" she continued wherever her thoughts lead her without real regard for anything else. Including whether or not it would be unusual for one to write maths problems out across one's hand.

Clasm's eyebrows slowly crawled up her forehead as Selene continued talking. It took her a moment to realize that the other woman had taken the talk of averages to refer to mathematics - the plural of math - rather than what was effectively survey data. Suddenly, the jokes that Mulligan had made at the expense of the Free Council made a bit more sense. It kind of made her curious as to what sort of jokes the Pentagram mages could make at the expense of the Seers.

"Survey results are more the domain of the sciences than of mathematics, if you ask me."

"Only when it counts."  Stele quipped with a little wink to soften the interpretation.  There was a palpable air of  sunny goodwill around the woman that was nigh infectious, though he rather expected that it wasn't quite natural.  Between the fidgeting and the rambling it wouldn't take much of a leap to guess that something was up, it just came down to figuring out what that might be.  'Hmm...am I seeing the results of a particularly trippy jaunt into the Realms or just plain uppers?'  The Moros mused as the side of him that was always watching his patients for signs of a bad reaction began to catalogue the little details that might tip his estimation one way or the other.

In the wake of Selene's speech he was rather thankful when the woman in the glaringly cheery shirt saved him from having to formulate an answer that could properly address 'meeth' being all over one's hands.  "Depends how far down the statistics rabbit hole we're going, but I think we'll all be happier avoiding that debacle."  He added easily, the words drawing to mind achingly repetitive hours spent correlating regression plots to admissible dosages in days gone by, though his smile remained an unwavering constant throughout.  Those college days weren't old enough to have gathered much in the way of nostalgia just yet, which made putting them from his mind rather more of a priority.  Generally speaking, Stele had never considered himself to have much of an ear for accents, but it didn't take a linguist to realise that at least half their party had a sort of elsewhere twang when compared with the English burr he'd grown accustomed to lately.  "So, obviously I'm from out of town.  Who else is learning their way about London?"

The bustle and clink of cups heralded Oz's return. The woman was strangely quiet in her focus of handing out the mugs, though her smile was ever present. Perhaps there was some personal reverence for tea, or perhaps it was just concentration to avoid spillage.
"Sorry to interrupt dears, but I've just got a call that the Runners are coming along soon to do some routes for me so I'll try to keep this easy for you".
The woman pulled a handful of business cards from her pocket and passed them out to the group. An address was written on the back of the cards, while a simple image of a house and the letters HAFH was printed on the front.
"I have a very dear friend who hasn't been responding to my calls. She's quite important in this city, though few know it. I need you to go an make sure that nothing has happened to her. Now I know that five of you feels like a bit much for the task, but if she's been harmed I need you to bring her here."
Idle fingers plucked at the weave of the blanket that was thrown over the settee Oz had perched upon, her previous smile gone and a worried look in her eyes.
"I've asked this as a favor, both to your Orders or your mentors personally. That favor extends to all of you of course, and if you have need in the future Hayfich will always be open to you. I hope that you'll go and make sure Belinda is alright".

The address on the card reads "74 Devonshire Close, E15 1UG", with the names 'Kevin + Belinda' written underneath.
"If Kevin or Bindy are there, just tell them Sally sent you from the inn"

"How long has she been missing?  Have you attempted to contact her through purely mundane means, or have other techniques been employed?"

Nexus' response was rote and automatic, an almost robotic sounding inquiry for additional information.

A wry smile drew itself across the woman's face, and the look in her eyes changed from worried to appreciative. Look for the helpers, a wise man once said, they are always there. He never mentioned to keeping a sharp eye out for the smart helpers.
"I've called but no one is answering their phone, so I asked the Police to check in on them. Apparently her husband answered and said everything was fine. I had told them he was out on business and I was worried, Bindy is quite old. I sent a sleepwalker over, collecting donations and the like, and she said Kev acted like nothing was wrong.
It's been a few weeks since I've spoken to her directly...The Seers have left her alone for over forty years, but who knows what they've been getting up to since Calaban passed, God rest 'is soul"

The final words were added as if upon a very old, very ingrained reflex. There was no kindness in the tone, simply spoken as one does when one has stood and sat and spoken on prompt every Sunday for over a decade.

"I didn't want to send anymore unless they were proper Mages. The Sleepers do try, bless them, but they can't see if a spell or a spirit is causing mischief where they shouldn't"

OOC: Calaban was a known leader of the Seers, to clarify. He's been dead for over a year at this point.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:43, Wed 26 Apr 2017.

Clasm shifted to a more alert posture at the mention of Calaban. Word had gotten across the ocean of his demise, and the reaction of his fellow Seers. Clasm knew, however, that there had to be more to it than that. A notorious paranoid dies in a way that nobody's in a position to 'inherit' his valuables, there's bound to be some sort of action. Unless, of course, the ruthless opportunism she'd seen following Lethe had been less a 'Seer' thing and more an 'American' thing. Unlikely, though.

"It's been long enough that the dust may have settled on any disputes in Calaban's inheritance. It wouldn't surprise me if one of his heirs got a new toy they wanted to play with, especially if the toy's profane." It wouldn't have to be the most prestigious of artifacts in the Seers' arsenal, since a sufficiently competent Watcher could manage screwing with Kev to make him turn a blind eye, but if Calaban had had one then it would explain the timing. "You know if Kev was protected against...?"

Clasm waggled her fingers in the air by her head, just short of tickling her temple.

"Oh, I'm sure she's ok!" Selene added in, her eyes focused down on the business card. For a moment, the process of trying to place the address on her mental map of London played out. Her eyes rolled up, scanning across the light fixtures. Her lips pulled together. They snapped quickly back into a smile when she had ever managed to place it or- more likely- given up. The card slipped into the pocket of her jeans. Whatever it found itself next to had Selene wiping her palm across her thigh after. "I mean, after all, who would want to do something to a nice old lady?"

Clasm glanced to her hands and started counting off on her fingers. She doesn't speak out loud, not immediately. Oz hadn't referred to the Seers as an organization by name, and Clasm didn't want to unless she knew it was safe to do so. Sympathy and connections, after all. Still, it didn't take long for her to run out of fingers, although her struggle to work around the business card in hand may have been a factor there. Huffing, she looked toward Selene. "Bad guys."

Settling back a bit and shifting his attention to the older woman as Oz reentered with her burden, Stele nodded slightly at her apology and accepted a card from her with a curios quirk of a brow.  Turning the slip of paper over to examine both sides as the mistress of Hayfich explained the task she had for them he slipped his phone from his pocket and tapped the address in, preparing to let Google do the work of orienting him toward it.  Offhand he might have agreed that five was a little much for a simple check in, but if the elder mage believed the task might actually require the old 'safety in numbers' advantage he'd trust in her judgement.

The picture Oz painted as she went on to answer their questions was a little unsettling, if only because of what it might imply.  Either they had a very bad case of miscommunication here or there was something capable of restraining one of Hayfich's allies was masquerading about Stratford.  'Profane?  Oh an Urim...that could be unpleasant.'  The necromancer mused as he listened to the others puzzle through the matter.  The minutiae of the consilium's squabbles with the Seers weren't known to him, but he'd heard enough about the Order to know a shift in leadership could be a bloody affair.  According to his preliminary search results Belinda lived right at the edge of the Westham Cemetary which was promising in a way, if only because he wouldn't lack for materials if this came down to an actual conflict.

"Or something entirely less moral."  Stele finally chimed in as the American gave the traditional answer to the age old question of 'who would do such a thing?'  There were more than a few creatures out there that could easily take a someone's place or even bend their mind into shape without access to the powers of the Supernal.  They would just have to hope that if it did turn out to be such a thing it hadn't done away with Belinda quite yet.

"We are jumping to conclusions."

Nexus intoned, her affect flat and emotionless.  She sat on the sofa, her posture straight and formal, her eyes sharp as she held each Mage's gaze in turn.

"We have not even attempted to Scry the home, let alone visited the property personally.  The sooner we depart, the sooner we can put this conjecture to rest and verify Belinda's safety."

She wasn't sure she wanted to attempt a Scry of the property either.  She was still new to the domain, but from her own experiments and the brief lectures she had received from her Mentor she was aware of a number of countermeasures that a Mage might employ to ward against intrusions.  She turned back to Oz, the stiffness in her body language softening slightly.

"Would you be willing to share Belinda's phone number?  I know she hasn't been picking up, but it is still a connection that could be utilized to possibly gain some information."

"Neither of them are Mages, but beyond the protection of walking the runes in their area I've held off on casting anything. The gauntlet has always been strong in that area as well...", Oz's bottom lip was briefly caught between her teeth, the back and forth motion of her jaw indicating the thought processes scrolling through her mind. There was just too much in their world that could have gone wrong.

Of course, Nexus had a point and Oz reached for a pen before thinking better of it. Pulling a Nokia phone that would have been right at home in the early 2000's out of her pocket she pulled up a contact and looked over to make sure Nexus was ready to take the number.
"Of course you can have her number, perhaps they'll actually talk to you. I didn't ask for a scrying in case someone is there that could sense such things. Mages never respond well to being watched, in my experience", after a pause she read out the number:

"020 7946 5223"

Bast nodded in response to Nexus' gaze. "I agree. There's no reason for us not to simply drop by and see what there is to see, at least to start with. It could be nothing out of the ordinary." And if not, well, there would at least be five of them, she mused to herself. Which was probably Oz's intent.

She glanced over the business card before sliding it into a side pocket of her purse. "We'll do our best to make sure Bind- excuse me, Belinda is safe and secure, Factotum Oz," she said with a deferential bow of her head toward the senior Thearch.

Any hint of cause for worry rolled off Selene like water off an unusually optimistic duck. She leaned forward a bit, hands on her knees. A bit of blond fell over her cheek, only to be brushed back with its unruly mates in quick order. "I bet we'll be back this afternoon with good news!" she chirped, before taking one of the mugs that Oz had come in with. She slurped a bit of whatever it contained without checking.

Then the mug is set back on its serving tray and Selene is to her feet. "C'mon! Let's not dawdle! I bet if we go now, we'll have time on the way to stop for something to eat," Selene slipped into her sandals again. Taking a few steps toward the door out, a puppy who just wants to run around outside.

While the more serious individuals present took their turns talking, Clasm set to work drinking the tea that Oz had provided her. At this point, she was eager to get to the action, but at the same time she didn't want to spurn the woman's hospitality. That meant not only drinking the tea, but drinking the tea at a polite pace. While Clasm had few compunctions against being rude when it was useful, chugging tea crossed the line into tacky even without British sensibilities.

The drinking gave Clasm time to consider what she was going to get out of this. Oz had mentioned that the most immediate benefactors would be mentors and Orders, and Clasm had made a point of spurning hers prior to her arrival in London. There was a simple, obvious explanation for what Clasm stood to gain from aiding Oz, though. That is, aiding her beyond the usual dish washing and cleaning. This was a chance for Clasm to demonstrate that she was worth speaking up for, a potential recruit rather than a potential liability.

Clasm sipped her tea, and considered how she might put herself forward. Well, she started to, but Selene proceeded to out-American her, drawing a smile to the witch's face. "Pretty sure Belinda's well-being takes a priority over munchies."

Oz smiled at Bast, "You can save the pomp and circumstance for Concillium dear, in Hayfich you don't need to worry about my title"

Three chimes rang out at the door and a pair of male voices could be heard in the hall, loudly joking and laughing.
"Oz! Ooooz! Ozzy Ozzy Oxenfreeee!", the voice was a rich timbre that quickly erupted in loud sniggers before a loud smack was heard. Yelps and an apology filtered into the sitting room and Oz rose with an exasperated smile on her face.

"That will be the Runners, I've got to show them the routes for this week and make sure they've eaten, skin and bones the lot of them! Do let me know if you find anything".

Just like that, the flurry that was Oz moved off again to tend to the latest visitors of Hayfich. The room felt suddenly quieter without her there, the atmosphere changing from feeling homey to one of cold indifference.

For his part Stele merely inclined his head in acknowledgement of the blue-haired girl's regard.  Their speculation might not be quite as definitive as she'd claimed, but the point stood.  They had far too little evidence to be deciding on anything quite yet, though it wouldn't hurt for everyone to be on the same page regarding potential outcomes.  Lifting his mug to take one last pull from his slowly cooling tea, the Moros set the empty vessel on the tray and rose to join the others.  "We'll be in touch.  Thank you for the tea and again for those boxes."  Stele replied politely as the elder mage took off, subsumed back into the hurricane of activity that was the heart of her little empire.

Glancing about the little group that remained, he couldn't quite help but feel like a bit of an outsider.  Oz had chosen a strange motley to carry out her reconnaissance and he was acutely aware of the fact they had scarce more than a name to put to each face.  'Haven't felt this outnumbered since that Fundamentals of Midwifery class.'  The Necromancer mused as he followed along in Selene's ridiculously cheerful wake.  There was an infectious sort of energy to the blonde woman's every move that was really quite enjoyable if you could ignore the occasional bit of oddness.  That little bit of the strange might be right on target though in this particular instance.  "Actually, one might give us a leg up on the other.  If we can all stomach a second cup, a quick stop at a café for a tray of tea and a bag of scones could give us a lovely way in when we bring Sally's good friend Belinda a little afternoon tea and company."  He opined, with a glance toward the other American, his own lips twitching up in a sly little smile of his own as he considered how they might approach this.  If Belinda were getting on in years and supposedly on her own while her husband was away, a how-do-you-do visit would be just the sort of thing a compassionate, but terribly busy friend might arrange.  "Just to see how she's been getting on of course."  He added with a little eye roll and just enough emphasis to make his sarcasm truly palpable.

The door to number 74 Devonshire Close is a cheery TARDIS blue, a potential hint to how much space one can really take up in such a compact little plot of land. Though 74 does not share a wall with the cemetery, it is certainly close enough that the quiet and reserved air kept for respecting the dead permeates.
Happy little spikes line the top of the cemetery wall. Happy in that they will happily pierce you if you do not mind their little barbs.

The small front area of the house is full of plants, all seeming to be trying to inch their way into the neighbours' patios. However, they are all carefully tended, kept to within the bounds of the property. If one were to inspect the various pots and troughs of soil one would find small popsicle sticks with labels proudly declaring the plants growing.
It is a wild garden, but it is well loved.

Unsurprisingly, the sky is grey and the lamp post across the street slowly flickers to life as the group rounds the corner onto the street.

It's not raining. Yet.

As their destination came into view Stele lowered his phone, putting it to sleep as he took in the quaint little house.  Despite its proximity to the graveyard there was an undeniable sense of habitation to the place, a quiet vitality that spoke well of the inhabitants unflagging spirit.  'Cute home, hope its still occupied by the end of the day.'  The necromancer mused somewhat grimly, his grasp tightening on the rolled top of the bag of sweets he hoped would provide them with an easy in.  Usually being this close to a cemetery would be soothing for him, something about the stillness that pervaded them syncing up with the fragments he remembered from another world entirely to create a calming whole, but it wasn't quite working today.

Looking at each of his companions in turn Stele huffed out a little puff of air to steel himself and offered the bag to whomever might have a free hand.  "Right, we're going for subtle first, so a little veil seems in order no?"  The moros asked softly, the question largely rhetorical as he reached back and slipped his cards from their case.  Fixing the goal in mind, he shuffled the pack with the ease of long practice before catching the topmost card between two fingers and turning it toward himself.  Studying the depiction of a man utterly engaged in his own scrutiny of the world, Stele nodded slightly and flipped the card around, letting it face outward as he began to chant in the tongue of the ancients detailing his intent as he reached for the perfection of Stygia.

OOC:  Casting Suppress Aura - Free reach on Advanced Duration (one month) & Casting Time.  Increasing Scale to target up to eight people.  Yantras are the card (Two of Wands) and High Speech.
12:17, Today: Stele rolled 2 successes using 6d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((4,2,9,6,6,9)).
This message was last edited by the player at 16:22, Tue 02 May 2017.

Necus had to suppress a sudden sense of panic when Stele began will-working, wondering what her mentor would think of her allowing a virtually unknown Mage to cast upon her.  Group think won the day in the end, and she submitted to the casting.  As he completed the Yantras, she opened up her own Mage Sight, suffusing it with elements of Spirit and Life to check their surroundings.  Specifically, she was looking for local Spirits around the home, something intelligent enough to be more than minimally aware of its surroundings.

OOC:  13:40, Today: Nexus rolled 2 successes using 6d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s.  Perception.

Was it any surprise that Selene was eager to take the bag of little cakes and sugar rolls from the necromancer? Of course not. She'd walked backward much of the way, giving her an angle to better maintain a friendly conversation at. Even when others refused to talk or had nothing to say, she seemed perfectly happy to wait in silence. Stele received most of her attention, but that seemed to be mostly in the form of teasing him about how well dressed he was and threatening to push him into the puddles that collected in every gutter.

"So! I bet I know who's going to knock on the door," Selene declared and soon heaved herself over the fence in front of the garden-lawn. "Anyone want to follow me, or are you the type of friendly visitors who stand by the footpath?"

OOC: Activating Mage Sight, in particular looking for Mind effects. But those likely won't be present until the door's open.

OOC: There are no major spirits to be found outside the house or in line of vision.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:13, Tue 02 May 2017.

"I still think this is a weird way to be neighborly." Despite her mumbled protestations, Clasm came along, drawing the business card that Oz had provided as she kept pace with the... more bubbly woman. She'd been an interesting source of conversation, so far, even if they hadn't talked about anything substantial yet. Unless Selene was only putting on an act, though, Clasm suspected that her going up alone had the potential to backfire. At the very least, it would help if someone who'd been working for Oz for a bit was present to give the errand a stronger air of legitimacy.

Using the walkway instead of jumping over the fence likely helps, as well.

"Someone has to."

Nexus added, her affect still flat, her gaze tracking everywhere but on her companions.

Between one word and the next Stele felt the shift, the whispers rising at the edges of his awareness as his Nimbus bled out into the world and washed the colour from it.  It was oppressive for a moment, an all encompassing pressure that muffled the soul, but as quickly as they had come, the shadows retreated.  In the wake of that flood they left just the gentlest of traces, a little bit of darkness to damp out the light that burned in most of them.  Relaxing the tension that had built in his shoulders while he focused on the imago, the Moros offered Selene a thankful little grin as he shuffled his deck back together and slipped them away.  Her good-natured ribbing and playful demeanor were oddly endearing, almost puppyish in a way, and he had wholeheartedly enjoyed the opportunity to gasp and flinch dramatically each and every time she'd threatened the wellbeing of his accoutrements.

He wasn't surprised in the least that the statuesque blonde had been the one to seize the initiative in both taking up the burden of sweets and approaching the house, so with his implements safely tucked away once more, he soon joined her if by the rather more conventional method of the footpath.  "We can always claim it's an American thing."  Stele offered Clasm conciliatorily.  He hadn't seen many other good options for approaching the house and none had been presented, so they'd just have to hope for the best with this one.  Pausing only to give the doorway a quick once over, the necromancer took a measured breath and unfocused his eyes just a bit, shifting his attention past the objects before him and into the symbols that lay just beneath the surface.

OOC:  Triggering Mage sight with Death and Matter to look for any lingering shades/death echoes or unusual substances.

OOC: Okay, spoken to Bast and we're going forward as if she has activated her Mage Sight as well.

Death: There are no Anchors on this side of the cemetery wall, but it seems the group has an audience. An elder woman and a teenage boy both sit on the cemetery wall.

Matter: There's nothing of great value around, and the door to Belinda's house is in good condition. It hasn't been recently broken or repaired.

Prime: No spells have been cast in the observable area. Nothing on or in the parts of the house you can see through windows.

Spirit: The gauntlet strength of this area is 3, typical for a suburb.

Mind: There are four thinking beings around you, surprise. Will expand as relevant.

Life: So anyone who has toxins, diseases and personal tilts should let Nexus know. It's obvious to her now.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:07, Fri 05 May 2017.

Bound. Selene takes a few long steps toward the door, hopping up the steps. She kept the bag of sweets tucked under an arm. To the flat of her palm she pressed a silver coin, rolling her fingers across the face of the Queen beneath the brown paper. She rapped her knuckles against the door once, twice, again and again. "Hello? Mister... Kevin! Are you home??"

A muffled call can be heard from somewhere within the house, sounding a lot like "Coming!". Heavy footsteps approach the door and, after a moment of rustling locks, a man who is much too tall for the frame of of the door opens it.
Kevin is tall and broad, and it looks as though he likely has to leave his own house ducked down and sideways. A salt and pepper beard and slightly leathery skin indicate he is not young by any means, but his blue eyes are bright and curious.
He seems surprised about the gaggle of folk in front of his door, though he clearly notes the precious cargo Selene is carrying almost instantly.

"Sounded like an Ozzy at my door! What brings you lot here then?"

The accent is unmistakably Australian, a discerning ear will guess Adelaide. Though he is not inviting the group into his home, the friendly giant doesn't seem overly cautious or concerned by their appearance.

OOC: Updating this now.
Mind: He is a thinking being, but there has been no mind altering affects on him.
Life: He is alive and well for the most part. Seems he's taken some painkillers, but it's something like acetaminophen.
Spirit: He is not possessed, nor has anything riding along.
Death: He's not dead, nor an anchor.
Matter: Kevin is wearing a diamond earring in one ear and a gold ring on his left finger.
Prime: He has no traces of magic cast on him and is definitely a sleeper.

I don't have my rulebook on me in the airport, but I hope that's clear enough.

"Sally sent us from the inn. Wanted to check in on Bindy." Clasm gave the man a polite smile, one she'd had plenty of practice with prior to her Awakening. The professional expression of cheer faded a bit, though, in favor of a more natural smirk as she nodded her head in the direction of Stele. "The gentleman here was of a mind that one can't be neighborly is such a manner without bringing snacks to be shared. Therefore!"

Clasm then gestured to Selene's foodstuffs, leaving the implication clear. She did so with her right hand, the left rubbing the ring on her finger as she shifted the card in her grip. The left hand drew the card that foretold the future, and Kevin's choice as to whether to let them in had yet to be decided. Hopefully, she could shift the odds to get a foot in the door.

OOC: Two free reaches and a point of Mana to cast Exceptional Luck reflexively, using her Dedicated Tool as a similarly reflexive Yantra.
12:32, Today: Clasm rolled 3 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s.  Gnosis + Fate + Yantra.
Exceptional Luck is Clasm's Praxes, so that's an exceptional success, which she'll use to refund the Mana spent, as well as getting bonus Mana on top of that. I'll then move the Primary Spell Factor up Fate - 1 steps, so Potency increases from 1 to 3. Clasm is giving herself a 1 Turn Boon that provides +2 dice and the Charmed Condition, which will go toward the following social roll to get in the door.
12:37, Today: Clasm rolled 2 successes using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s.  Persuasion + Manipulation + Boon.
I'll also resolve the Charmed Condition in the hopes of speeding things along in a favorable manner. Since it's not averting a serious injury, how it manifests is up to ST discretion. Since the Boon-granted Condition was gained through a casting that was an exceptional success, though, it grants a beat where it normally would not.

"S'pose you Yanks bring guns to check up on strangers", the statement was said with a widening grin, though at the mention of Sally his eyes had grown harder.
"May as well get this over with then, or else your Sally will be the one knocking down me door"

Leaving the door open, Kevin turned and moved down the narrow hall,
"I'm sure the civilized folk know, but you should take your shoes off, Yankie Doodle! Don't have time to clean the muck from outside. Kitchen's on the left!"

The walls of the hallway were a crisp white, but bright paintings were on the walls, showing square buildings, desert dunes and oases. The years of the paintings went back as far as the early 2000's and all signed in black acrylic with the same signature. The house smells clean and the interior is chilly, as if windows have been left open further in the small home.

Kevin leans against a counter in the kitchen, sipping at a ridiculously large mug of coffee. The rumbling of a percolator intermingles with the soft sound of curtains moving. His shoulders are rigid and his face drawn in a much more serious expression than just a few moments ago.

"Go on then, ask your questions, but Bindy isn't here"

"Might we ask where she is then?"

Nexus fell back on classic English politeness, including having refrained from speaking up when Kevin had referred to her as one of the Americans.  It didn't really feel like her anymore, when she wore this name, but she accepted it anyways.  She could say the words, the classic English avoidance of embarrassment, even if she couldn't feel them.

"The mime speaks! Or is it goths they call you lot these days?", the joke was weakly made and Kevin's grin faded quickly. Taking another swig from his mug, he addressed Nexus:
"Thing is, much as Sally's concern is kind, it's none of her business. I know if she finds out where Bindy is she'll go find her and try to fix her but... There's no fixing her anymore, and I don't want to upset Belinda by bringing old faces 'round"
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:41, Sat 06 May 2017.

"Thank you!" Selene beamed toward her countryman. She left her sandals on the porch, leather thinned from what must have been years of constant use. Her toes stretched out and wiggled. They curled into the carpet as she stepped into the house and bounced pads against the smooth floor of the kitchen as she entered. Setting the bag on the counter, and opening it with a quick rip down the side of the brown paper.

"I think we've got eclairs and ... Jammy, sticky things. Who wants what one?" she asked, inspecting the bag's contents. She paid little mind to the suddenly serious turn of the conversation. Instead, she's pulling out little cakes and carefully setting them out on a now loose leaf of brown paper. As she set them out, her eyes caught Kev's for a moment. Just long enough to grab the spark of memory in them that the pastries brought, the reaction and associations that everyone had for the first time they'd seen a fancy, bakery sweet. Too adult to be had as a child, but always the object of desire.

OOC: Casting Read the Depths. Reaches: instant casting, shifting Duration to Advanced and what the hell, a memory alteration if I want it. Yantras: Coin and Skills (Empathy).
19:58, Today: Selene rolled 3 successes using 8d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 6,3,8,5,1,9,9,2.  Gnosis+Mind+Yantra.

So that's mind and memory reading if he has less than 5 Resolve. Particularly, Selene would like the memory of the last time he spoke with or saw Bindy.

OOC: Response to Selene:
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:56, Sun 07 May 2017.

"Aw. That's not fair. You can have one of both," Selene says, pushing a pair of pastries toward Kev. Her smile had even shifted to a frown, but only for a moment. "We should've brought coffees. Isn't the coffee here just awful?" she asks, looking to Kev for confirmation. Even for someone from the wilds of Western Australia- as Selene was- recognized the inferiority of English coffee.

The large man relaxed at Selene's statement and gave his countrywoman a conspiratorial grin,
"Brits wouldn't know a good coffee if it was brought right to their veins, but I've got the good stuff here. Pot's on already with some ground I brought back with me from Turkey. Proper Turkish coffee! You're more than welcome to some, especially to have with these sweets"
He turned to grab some mugs, most decorated with the same art style that the paintings in the hallway had and all significantly smaller than the one Kevin was drinking from.
Though, that mostly meant they were normally sized.
In a move that was absolute avoidance of Nexus' question, Kevin plucked sugar and milk from their respective places and put them on the counter next to the food Selene had unpacked.
"You seem very nice, and I'm sorry that Sal twisted your arms to come here, but she sticks her nose where it don't belong and she needs to leave us be this time"

"If Sal getting personally involved is what's stopping you from getting whatever's wrong with Belinda fixed, then fixing her may be possible within that stipulation." Clasm smirked as she spread her arms wide, indicating the gathered Mages. She hadn't taken any of the offered foodstuffs yet, mainly because she figured it'd be more than a little awkward to stick around for snacks if negotiations fell apart. If being the key term, there. "After all, it isn't unheard of for Sal to delegate, and we're about as far from old faces as you can get. What needs fixing?"

For a moment the room became quiet as the wind died down and the final sputter of coffee fell into the pot. At Clasm’s words it was like what little energy Kevin had been putting forward was drained and he leaned heavily against the counter, going so far as to press his forehead against the cabinet in front of him.
“Alzheimer’s”, the word was shaky and the intake of breath after it stuttered slightly, “Bindy… her dad had it as well. Doc says it’s hereditary.”
Turning back to the group he scrubbed at misty eyes,
“She gets upset when she hears voices she should remember… It's why I want to keep Sally away. They take care of her and the nurses are lovely, but there’s no fixing it”
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:05, Mon 08 May 2017.

"That's a hard thing."  Stele commiserated, his steely gaze softening somewhat as he avoided the meaningless platitudes that came so easily at times like these.  Given that a goodly portion of his client base were well into their 'golden years' he'd seen his fair share of the kind of suffering a disease like this could bring, not just to the patient, but also to everyone who had known them.   Nodding his thanks to Selene as she portioned out the pastries, the necromancer tried not to frown too openly as he felt the chill of magic steal across the room from whatever she'd just done.  Stealth had gone out the window shortly after the door opened, but he couldn't quite shake the notion they needed to be on guard here.

"You're right of course, Sal didn't know what was going on when she sent us.  I think she was just worried that she hadn't heard from Belinda in a while."  He added, selecting a jam cookie and a napkin from the mess before retreating to a respectful distance.  It would be an easy thing to try and help this man, to give in and do whatever they could to ease the suffering that was right in front of them, but that was a dangerous habit to get into.  'Not my field anyway.'  The necromancer mused as he broke a tiny piece from the edge of the sweet and popping it into his mouth.  Maybe he could give Bindy a boost, let her avoid the worst of the slips for a week or two, but curing a persistent degenerative disease was a long way outside his wheelhouse.  "You don't know us well, but if it's all right with you I'd still like to check in on her.  At least then we can tell Sally we gave her a treat and her love even if that's all anyone can do."

Bast remained quiet as they entered the house, standing against the counter. Ordinarily she would speak up, but it looked like the others were handling it and with a group this large, she wasn't sure when to chime in...

She frowned almost imperceptibly as the older man mentioned Bindy's condition. That was sad, certainly, and it seemed like a logical explanation for her absence, but... wouldn't Oz have been able to discover that much on her own?

At her silent command, the ephemeral feline on her shoulder dropped off onto the nearby countertop and took off deeper into the house. It could be nothing, but... it couldn't hurt to check, right?

---

OOC: Sending Mau to scout briefly around the house for anything abnormal. If my understanding of the rules is correct, I believe I still get the effect of Mage Sight when using Mau's senses, so she should be able to see anything that Prime or Forces sight would pick up, though that's up to your ruling of how shared senses work, ST.

Rolling Finesse+Rank, since I'm assuming that's the most relevant dice pool for a spirit like this, and spending a point of Mau's WP to add dice -

11:40, Today: Bast rolled 4 successes using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((2,2,10(+3),4,9,9,8)).

With a small nod, Kevin walked past the group into what looked to be the living room, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen that were perched next to a corded telephone. The bright pink and yellow writing utensil looked ridiculous in hands stained by oil, cuts and bruises littering his hands and fingernails. Moving back into the kitchen, ducking his head under the entryway as he did so, Kevin passed the paper to Selene:

178 Romford Rd, E7 9HY

The words were printed in blocked lettering, as if to avoid any chance of them coming back for a correction.

"It's a fifteen minute walk, I wanted to keep her close..." The words were plaintive, as if asking to not be judged, "You let Sally know that my Belinda is fine and to leave well enough alone. That woman did always like to stick her fingers into every pie she could reach, especially when she was told not to"
He shook himself slightly, the expression on the Australian's face had slowly darkened in annoyance as he spoke but the futility of it was clear to him. Kevin rose and moved back to the phone,
"If you want to leave now, I can call them and tell them to let you in. Don't want to make more of a fuss for you than Sal already has"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:28, Mon 08 May 2017.

"Thank you, Kevin.  We will do our best to be circumspect.  My apologies for the inconvenience."

Nexus said in a clipped and polite tone, casting the others a glance as she rose and began to leave.

Clasm made a noise of agreement, but it wasn't intelligible due to her having a mouth full of some sort of baked good from the available snacks they'd brought. At the first mention of Alzheimer's, she'd done the Wise thing and stuffed her noise hole so that someone with more tact could handle the talking. She cast her gaze across the others as she inched toward the door, more specifically where she'd left her boots. She didn't know why she'd gotten into the mindset of 'shoes' before, her footwear were her weapons. She wasn't going to set them aside lightly in the future.