OOC: this thread is happening somewhat ahead of the current timeline.

To those not otherwise occupied around noon may witness a rather strange sight.

Prometheus skipping down the hallway to Mistral's room, humming a what sounds like some kinda pop song, although nothing currently on the charts. His face is dominated by a large grin.

Stopping at the door, he knocked loudly, before he said, "Are you in Misty?" After that she goes back to humming.

OOC: The song in question is this one for those who are curious. https://youtu.be/gJLIiF15wjQ Its quite possible Sal knows it, and its possible its been remade or remixed by some obscure artists obviously, so feel free to actually know it.

Mistral answered her cabin door in a neon green bathrobe that could only have been fabricated according to Grey’s distinctive fashion sense.  She glowered out at Prometheus, and stared at him a long moment before saying, “The Spice Girls, truly?  Come in, then.”  She stepped out of the way and let the red-jacketed man skip jauntily into her cabin.  She turned and leveled a speculative look at him and asked, “The so-called Lonely Mage has the reins, I take it?  What is it you want?  If you wish to spit more venom then I’d warn against it, unless you tire of being tethered to this world.”

"You have good taste," Prometheus, or rather as Mistral has guessed, the Lonely Mage, said with a smile as she skipped through the door, "Probably comes with the French. I always wanted to go to France... never got there, but I used to know the language."

The smile left her face for a moment, and she muttered, "It too is now dust. Gone, a memory of a memory, blown away in the wind."

But it was back way to quickly, "Still, Spice Girls and Neon Green. Clearly I knew I cam to the right place. Mmhmm, you will be perfect.

As Mistral asked why she was here, The Lonely Mage looked around the room, trying to pick where to sit. Finally throwing herself onto the couch she said, "You're right its me...and your wrong, I don't want to insult you. Never wanted to hurt you."

She giggled for a minute, "Okay, that's a lie, but this is why you should be careful seeking the truth. It hurts. It cuts like a bathtub full of razors. Still, its in the blood that drips from the body after such a swim that true knowledge can be found."

She goes quiet for a second, before muttering, "We all need to bleed...it proves we aren't dust. Aren't wood and folds and ink either."

She waved her hand, as if shoeing away something invisible, "Should you wish an apology for what I was forced to reveal, I will give it. But I can lie now and you know it. Would you rather start a friendship on a painful truth...or a happy lie."

Kicking her legs up, she giggled once again then slipped and fell of the couch, "Stupid slippery coat. Almost as dumb as the metal hair."

Sal recognized the now 'classic' earworm, and, suspicious, followed the sound, staying out of sight. Quietly, he eavesdropped on the mages, prepared to provide support in case the Lonely Mage was up to something unpleasant.

“I will be perfect?  Careful, mon chérie.  Your schemes are showing.”  Mistral remained standing with arms crossed, leaning against the bulkhead wall not far from the door, her discerning gaze never leaving Prometheus and his possessor.  At the end of the curiously poetic and half-mad diatribe Mistral shook her head and said, “I require no apology, nor to be shielded from hard truths.  We met on poor terms.  I understand why you reacted so, if yourself and your sister suffered such torments at the hands of forebears of my Order.  I know nothing of that, and do not take kindly to false accusations, spécialement of that kind.  If we may move past such nonsense, we may speak as reasonable folk do.”

Mistral paused, then asked, “So, why is it you have sought me out?”

"Scheme?" She looks at Mistral in confusion, "I don't scheme. Plot, plan, draw Flow charts... but scheming sound far to long term and complex for me. That's Prometheus' thing. He's the one with the complex long term goals.

I just want to save my family. And right now not even that."

Standing up she said, "Then if it helps, I am sorry that I let my hate and anger at your order, combined with effectively being tied to a chair and compelled to speak, morph into an accusation. YOU have done nothing to me, and I am sorry if I implied otherwise."

She smiles and tilts her head, "I just want to be your friend....and go shopping. And fashion adivce. Like I said, you have good taste." She gestures at her own outfit, "Seriously I don't know modern fashion, but I am fairly sure that animal skin was bad taste in the 1900s, let alone the 2100s. And I don't own a single pair of high heals...I mean, SERIOUSLY what kind of cruel universe has a closet with no heals."

She paused, and her eyes widened, "High heals are still a thing right? They are not dust too? Please, PLEASE tell me they aren't dust.

And Red, seriously, vibrant red... far to much like blood. This...no, I can't keep wearing this abomination..." Its very clear at this point that if she isn't stopped she will continue to find every possible flaw with Prometheus' fashion choices.

Mistral inclined her head toward the Lonely Mage in acknowledgment of the apology, though she would be content to speak no further on the unpleasant matter of their first meeting.  She expected then to hear details of the sister’s captivity and whatever curse kept both of their shades bound to the fallen world, but instead... a request for fashion consultation?  Mist was more knowledgeable on demons and the Shadow than on fashion and high heels!

Her mouth slowly fell open the longer the Mage prattled on through Prometheus’s mouth, but with mannerisms and voice pitched in a way that left no doubt that this was not him speaking.  At last she answered hesitantly, “I am afraid I am not so much a fashionista as you might hope, mon amie...  Heels are still a fashion, though I confess I’ve only worn them once before, and it went rather... poorly.”  She thought a moment and then asked, “What year did you come from, if I might ask?  It may help to better understand what you seek.”

Mistral then frowned and asked a question she probably ought to have brought up at the outset, “Has Prometheus given permission to use his body so, much less to seek new fashions on his behalf?”

"You know the Spice girls, but can't guess an era? Did they come back again and again, dead but never dying. Zombie Spice, Vampire Spice, Frankenstein Spice, Mummy Spice..." She paused, thinking for a moment, "Baby could be Ghost Spice. She'd be adorable." A giggle past her lips and she shook her head once more, "Nineties and early 2000s was when I was most me...although am I me now...how much is me, how much remains, how much is yet to come. It all is dust in the end. Dust and darkness...I freed her from the darkness you know."

The mix of sorrow and anger returns and she turned away, "No, no, it doesn't help to think like that. Latter, latter. Death never leaves us their is always latter."

Turning back to Mistral she said, "And something is better then nothing. We can make a game out of it. It will be fun I am sure. I can learn what little you know, and use my own grace to figure out the rest. We are Mages, we can do anything. Surely looking stunning is enough."

She paused for a moment, "Also...you have a door to Paris. I do not have a door to Paris. And a brief google tells me the good shops won't be open in New York right now. Also I don't have a door to New York. Or Old York. You have all the doors, and I am not even sure I could drive a boat. And Drowning isn't fun. I don't want to drown again. Drowning in water, or drowning in death, it makes little difference..."

She seemingly at that point jumped topic without warning, "He sleeps and he walks, but he does not awaken. A blessing and a curse. He can't give me permission nor hear me properly... but could you imagine if you couldn't not hear me? All my madness, all my fears and ravings of dust and death and darkness...of familiy long gone, and family yet to be found. I killed my sister, and I have to live with it....and for now you do as well...

But he, he is blissfully unaware.

She rocks her head from side to side, and then added, "Well no...if I try REALLY hard, somethings get through. But filtered. Most of the time he thinks its him. Understandable...with id and ego and superego, and devil and angel and desire and all those other people sitting on his shoulder in imaginary land...easy to miss another one. Still, he has guessed once...

Only once, but once. But its not a conversation he could hold. I would hear him, and he would hear what he wants to hear. Like coffee... no one wants the bitter grains, just the yummy liquid. I miss coffee....I haven't had a coffee in SOOOOOOOOO long. Like literal decades. Can you still be an addict if you don't have a body."

She looked at the coat, "I am not sure why his opinion matters. I will let him keep the hobo suit. And no matter what wig I wear, I can't fix this hair. I googled braided cables but its not the same, never the same. You'd think he would have thought about that, but NOOOOOO. Man doesn't understand that sometimes the best way to stand out is to say little. A dash of colour.

Ofcourse bright is fun too, thus the Neon Green... bold, brave, ciche. But still freedom to be judged, freedom from lies and truth, right and wrong. Your dress shapes your words and your words shape your dress.

This, She flicks the collection of cables, "This says 'I couldn't install a Neon sign that said computer nerd on my head, so I went with the next best thing.' And he chooses this. 30 seconds with Noah and he could have something SOOOO much better. He wants this look. He could be so many things but this coat and hair.... but they will forever be the first, last and only impression to most. Where is the Mystery, Misty?

Mistral opened her mouth to give some response at a number of points during the Lonely Mage’s meandering monologue, but shut it again as topics were abandoned and replaced between eye-blinks.  Eventually she simply listened, eyes intent with a degree of concern but also with genuine fascination.  This long-forgotten mage had clearly been a brilliant intellect once, but decades into centuries of grief and solitude had driven her into a chaotic roil of disturbing, amusing, and weirdly-insightful notions and emotions that bore scarce resemblance to reality.  ‘Lonely Mage’ was an apt moniker indeed, for she seemed quite lonely and simply wished for someone to talk to.

She cut in at some point to remark, “I happen to like the coat, as it is a striking color and un style intéressant.  The wired hair is intriguing if strange.  I appreciate the practical use of enabling swift access to old hardware.”  She raised her hands and confessed, “Case in point for my lack of sens de la mode, perhaps.”  Nonetheless, the topic got Mistral considering some fashion considerations she was familiar with but had not really thought much on.

She showed the Lonely Mage her coat, which was a tactical design by a French fashion designer whose name she’d forgotten, but customized with the aid of a Guardian she’d known some years ago with tailoring skills (who was presently missing for unrelated reasons, last Mist knew).  She showed a few of the more obvious hidden pockets, though did not show all.  She also described how she’d worked a space spell to expand the volume of pockets to be larger on the inside than the outside, and demonstrated the effect by putting her entire arm into a pocket that ought to be hand-sized, with no noticeable outward shift in the material.  A fun trick, at times.

After this demonstration Mistral returned to the matter of whether the Lonely Mage had permission to use Prometheus’s body in this way, though not directly.  She asked, “Might I speak with Prometheus a moment?”  Should Prometheus be returned to himself he might be curious as to how he’d come to be alone with Mistral in her bedroom while she donned no more than a neon green bathrobe, though she herself made no note at all of the circumstance.  Instead she asked him upon his return, “Bonjour, mon ami.  I am unsure if you are aware, but I have been conversing with the Lonely Mage for some time now, and she has many notions for women’s fashion she hopes to indulge on your behalf.  I thought you might like to know.”  After that Mistral added nonchalantly, “I could attempt an exorcism if you wish to be rid of her, as well.  I find her rather fascinante, but as the one who has been possessed I leave that choice to you.”

The Lonely Mages paused and frowned for a moment, "I'll acknowledge the cut... Its quite a fancy Trench coat but..." She shudders, "Its made of dead animal...its literally a cocoon of death. Its not dust, its more solid, harder, firm, you can't drown in this death. But I can't imagine how many animals had to die to make this.

But," She sighed, "I see your point. I will point out my Alternative is a Vampire AND you, as you are the way, the door and the key. But he's possible older then I am. Vampires almost always look amazing, I swear its part of their power and why I loved to paint them. But they live forever locked, like a ghost, in the past. Seeking that which is lost, and remembering some things that they cling to forevermore. The mind drowns in blood and one day we too will be forgotten."

Still, she did have a look over the coat, and enjoyed the little bits of flare it did have. On showing her the space magic, she smiled weakly and then said, "Yes...maybe I could have done that. I don't know...I chased the spirits, the ghosts and the things beyond, and Space was part of that....but now...

One with no soul can cast no magic. I am not even sure I could borrow Prometheus', Misty. He has spirit and death so maybe...maybe. And Life too, although far more then I ever got. Can you drown if you touch magic that you don't understand? Can an Arcanthus even cast using the magic of a Thyrsus? I fear the Fae, they are tricksters, nasty evil things who want to see you hurt, want to see you suffer...but I know them, I know their power. I was friends with one of them once even. He kept me sane when everything else tried to destroy me.

Would the Primal Wilds consume me? Claws and teeth and venom, and rage at a intruder, who should not be. We are neighbors I think...Arcadia and the Wilds. Kindrid souls. Yet is it close enough? Will I ever cast again or am I doomed, dead, with only darkness and dust awaiting me.

When the request to speak to Prometheus comes forward, the Lonely Mage pouts, "You have no idea how hard it is to get a moment's control... and you want me to give it back?" She shook her head, "Please, please don't make me do that, I don't know when I will be free again. You don't know what its like, being able to see and hear and think but no one can hear you, no one can see you, you can't control your actions or your body. Please, please don't make me go back... not yet, we don't have to go shopping, we can do something else. Anything else."

She is silent for a moment, before she whispered, "He doesn't know me or hear me, or anything else... but do you hear a cold, do you know the flu? I am thought without soul, mind without body, less then a spirit, less then a ghost. Just death and darkness and dust bound together and trapped, waiting for someone to let me free, let me escape. I didn't want to die, but I didn't expect this. SHE LIED TO ME...and yet I love her still. I can still save her, as she saved me, I know I can.

But Prometheus is Awaken. So are you. You have so much more then a soul, you have flame that glows with Celestial Fire. And it knows I should not be. The Dead should die, the dead always die, the dead pass on and yet I did not. My soul is gone but my mind remains.

She is silent for a long moment and then she said, "Maybe with Sal... yes the Vampire...his mind and soul fought me less then, so I could step forward with ease. I was exhausted but I could do it. Get him and I'll give you a minute or two."

She falls silent for a minute then said, "I am not sure your concern, Misty. I mean its not like I can force Prometheus to wear anything I buy. I am me and he is he. This is for me. Just something I can claim as my own? Don't I deserve just that? A dress...some shoes...its the little things no? And with you there, its not like I will bankrupt him. Honestly even his wallet should be fine. I was many things in my past life, but wealthy wasn't one. I never held much gold, the dollars always slipped through my fingers and Vampire paintings are a rare commission at best. I can be frugal, I promise. So we don't need to talk to him, right?"

“If it is any reassurance, it is quite possible that no animal was harmed in the making of the coat.  Laboratory bio-fabrication of animal meat and hides has been in widespread practice since the twenty-fifties.  There is a popular restaurant chain whose signature dish is made from the meat of the North American bison, which has been extinct for more than a century.”  She touched the red-scaled fabric of the jacket, feeling the texture, and added, “I have not heard of this process being used for peau d'alligator, but it is probable.”

Mistral listened quietly to the Lonely Mage’s rambling theorizations about the supernal realms and the possibilities and risks of will-working without a soul.  Mistral shrugged, “I survived Pandemonium, once, and our cabal escaped the deathly desert of Stygia.  I doubt you would meet a more hostile reception in any of the realms than I faced in those awful places.  I cannot say whether you will work the supernal arts again, but nothing is impossible.”

The Lonely Mage lamented being imprisoned as a conscious will without body nor voice, which did indeed sound terrible.  Mistral said evenly, “I am sympathetic to the trials of this cursed existence of yours.  I cannot know the full suffering you have experienced over the long years, but I understand your wish to be free.”  She paused and then turned her steady gaze upon Prometheus, who perhaps still looked out from somewhere behind his own eyes, “Consider, however, that when you seize control in this way you subject Prometheus to that same emprisonnement within his own body.  You have escaped your cage by locking another into it in your place.  Perhaps the cage is not so bad for him as it is for you, but I would not call that justification to seize une volonté consciente without consent.”  Mistral crossed her arms and said, “I am afraid I must insist.  If Prometheus consents to your borrowing of his body then I will entertain your fancies for... shopping, and the like.  Otherwise, I cannot.  It is his body with which to decide, not yours.”

Mistral raised a pale brow and said, “There may be... other options for your freedom, as well.  Ones that do not require the subversion of another.  I would need to discuss with Noah to assess whether it would even be possible.  I make no promises.”
This message was last edited by the player at 05:38, Thu 19 Dec 2019.

Deciding that Lonely Mage wasn't likely to harm Mistral, Sal was about to leave the hallway outside Mistral's room when his name was mentioned. He peeked in and said, "You need something? I was headed up to see Noah, and I thought I heard my name."

OOC: All technically true...

She shook her head, "Its real, its real. Prometheus is a strange one for a Thyrsus, an odd one to walk the Primal Wild, but walk it he did. Stood before the Huntesses throne and sign a name in the only thing of value in the Wilds.

Just as the Fae changed me, and..." She paused for a long moment, before she said, Pandamonium means demons?. The demons saw you and you saw them, yes? Strong moral guides...but twisted challenges. He had the amoral hunters. The spirits, the animals that never were, and never will be. Maybe he met a Rex...maybe it killed him or he killed it. Prey is predator and predator is prey, yes? And in the end all is eaten by the dirt."

She shuddered, "Better then dust, much better then dust, but a strange lot, oddest of the Paths. And yet here I am walking around in one."

She offered Mistral a smile, one that looked more genuinue then any other emotion she had thus far shown,"Thank you...but the spells I know that I could cast with this soul are not ones you would ever want me to cast. Maybe I will figure something out. But right now darkness is all I can touch."

Then, in a quick, almost whiplash like change, her look went flat, "He sleeps and walks, remember. Knows, but cannot interact. Awareness, but missing key pieces. When he takes over once more, he won't remember a thing. However as Mistral insists, she signs, "Misty, Misty, Misty, if I didn't need you I would...something. Not sure which. tickle you? No... not close enough to you for that. It'll come in time or it won't and I will forget. But I suppose I have little choice."

At that moment Sal pokes his head into the room, and The Lonely Mage grins almost manically, "Ooooooohhhh, Sal.... Will you do me a favor? I promise you a portrait for it...if I can ever get these fingers to work right. He fiddles with tiny screws but he can't hold a brush to save his life. I blame the hair. If he never has to brush the cables, why would he learn to brush anything.... She paused, then wondered out loud, "You'd think they would be like ear buds in a pocket or a bag. Always getting in knots. How does he avoid that? Especially with the dog."

Now that she mentions it, it is worth noting that Charlotte is no where to be found.

"Anyway, Saaaaaallllll, I don't suppose if I let Prometheus talk for a bit, you'll act as the boost I need to take back over a bit latter. WE ARE GOING SHOOOPPPPING!" She literally hugs Mistral with one arm, grinning widely.

Then she suddenly paused, "You are Parisian, right? It would be awkward if we could only go to Quebec after all my planning. Especially rural Quebec."

"Shopping? I will help how I can, if Prometheus doesn't mind. If you should like to go to Tokyo or Milan, I can help with that, as well. I haven't been in years, and would love to make the trip."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:24, Thu 19 Dec 2019.

“So you say.  You would say the same if he were rattling the bars of his cage in desperation to escape, as well.  I must speak with him, or I take you nowhere.”  She added with a smirk, “I am not ticklish, so you’ll find no help there.”

Just then Sal happened by, though she guessed he’d heard more of this exchange than he let on.  Mistral called to him, “Bonjour, Sal.  Perhaps you might help us here.  The Lonely Mage has control now, and has her own ambitions, as you heard.  I must consult Prometheus on the matter first.”  She glanced from the vampire to the possessed mage and asked, “Might you... contact him, while she is in control?  Via hypnosis as before, but in reverse?”


Mistral tensed momentarily at the unexpected half-hug, but then half-returned it.  There was a faint smirk on her lips as she did so.  The Lonely Mage was rather charming, in an overly-excitable, schizophrenic way.  Mistral shook her head and said drily, “I am not Parisienne, nor Québécois.  My Portes open to either, regardless.  I have been to neither Tokyo nor Milan, though with a map I could get near enough.”

The Lonely Mage grinned. She clearly hadn't thought of that, and this was a much better outcome then she had considered, "Please, Sal....Please. I would offer to pay you back, but I am fairly sure Misty would object to me offering up Prometheus' blood."

She looks at Mistral, "Yeah...I can already see the objections on your lips. They are very pretty Lips... you know that?"

And with that odd asside, she let go, stepped back, and collapsed back onto the couch, grinning back up at Sal, "So?"

Sal says, "The blood of Mages has unpredictable side effects. Even if Promethius offered it himself, I would only take it if desperate. I don't know if I can do what Mistral suggested, nor do I think it would be right to do so. It is his body. If you return control to Promethius, I can bring you back as before. Understand that, while I am a man of my word, and I promise to do my best to convince him to willingly cooperate, I will not return control of Promethius' body to you without his consent. Can you offer him anything to help convince him?"

The Lonely Mage’s compliment about Mistral’s lips left her momentarily speechless.  She was not good at receiving compliments normally, but a flirtatious compliment from a woman’s ghost possessing a man’s body was another thing altogether.  At length she replied, “Merci...?”  Then she returned to the matter at hand and confirmed, “Nothing of Prometheus’s is yours to offer.  This is his choice.”  As is the option to be exorcised, Mistral thought but did not say.

As Sal negotiated with the Lonely Mage, Mistral said to her, “You have forgotten your name, but it would help this discussion if you were to have one.”  She paused and then offered drily, “Might I suggest ‘Spectral Spice’?”

"That's hardly less cumbersome than Lonely mage. How about Lola? L-o-l-a, Lola." He wondered if the ghost would recognize the musical reference. It was a bit older than the Spice Girls.

The Lonely Mage is silent for a long minute, and then said, "You know...its often said Crazy people don't know they are crazy, that the rest of the world has gone mad. I am not sure that's true, but speaking as me, we are aware what other people think of us. And you ask me to offer something to make him trust me."

She looks at both Sal and Mistral, "Do either of you trust me? For without that I can only offer this. It is much easier for us both if we are friends, then if we are enemies. Better for me, better for Prometheus."

The serious expression vanishes as Mistral reacted to her compliment, "Ooohhh, I'll have to remember that. I mean I must admit, I am mostly a flirt, to be honest... but then again that was before I spent god knows how long as less then a person, less then a thing, waiting. Maybe I could be more..."
She shook her head almost immediately, "No, no, you would never accept that. Its Prometheus body and that would be violation. Still, I can flirt." She gets up and dances around Mistral for a few second in what looks like its meant to be club style dancing....if the dancer had only read about the idea. After a moment she giggles, which then progresses to a laugh, and she lightly cups Mistral's face and whispered, "I'll have to practice... this felt so very very wrong. To long without legs, to little of me remembering muscles, all this time as dust and not a possible second to move. Dust and glue and darkness. Waiting and hoping I had made the right choice. Still, I woke up to good, beautiful people. And the fun thing about flirting is just because its not gonna go any further....doesn't mean you won't blush."

And then she took a few steps back, and sang to Sal, "Well, I'm not the world's most physical guy,
But when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine" A giggle passed her lips again, "A classic, and an interesting take on my situation. I don't mind Lola."

Recognizing that they were all in agreement now, she sighed, "Lola is gonna go now... Please remember I trusted you...and I am watching you..." She quickly hugged both, then collapsed on the couch, and gave an over exuberant wave, "Bye...."

Her eyes loose focus for barely a moment and then Prometheus looks at Sal and Mistral, before saying, "Fuck, again? What did she do? Should I be worried? I mean you know where I woke up last time." He quickly looks over himself to make sure nothing bad has happened, before his concerned eyes returned to his companions.

To the question of trust Mistral said, “I trust you to pursue your own interests, which at this moment seem to be primarily companionship and to relive what you enjoyed in life.  That is enough to work with, for now.  I do much appreciate your willingness to accept boundaries with regard to your use of Prometheus.”

When the Lonely Mage went on about flirting Mistral’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, suddenly conscious of her bathrobe and whether the waistband remained on securely enough.  At the bizarre dance, her mouth slowly fell open as her eyes tracked the gyrations.  She asked with half-amused scorn, “Que faites-vous?  Have you induced a seizure in your host?”  When s/he touched her face she quickly snatched the wrist, pulling the hand back from her face and holding it there while glaring in close quarters, and listened.  At the end of the little speech Mistral released the wrist with a scoffing sound, lips pursed and not meeting the Lonely Mage’s eye as she said, “Enough nonsense.”

The Lonely Mage accepted Sal’s name for her, and then at last she agreed to let Prometheus resurface.  Mistral awkwardly accepted the hug and then waved silently as Lola went away and Prometheus returned, groggy.  She smirked at his worried questions and shook her head, relieved at least that he genuinely did not seem to recall what had just happened.  She said, “Bonjour, mon ami.  Worried... I do not think so.  We have been conversing with the Lonely Mage for some time now, or ‘Lola’ as we now call her.  She has many notions for travel, shopping, and women’s fashion she hopes to indulge on your behalf.  It seems relatively harmless to moi, and simply desiring to relive her joie de vivre.  We insisted it be your decision whether to allow her use of your body for such pursuits.  She is willing to set boundaries.”  After that Mistral added nonchalantly, “I could attempt an exorcism if you wish to be rid of her, as well.  I find her rather fascinante, but as the one who has been possessed I leave that choice to you.”

Prometheus is silent for a long moment before he said, "I am not familiar with Possession Mistral, but is it normally like this? Control flipping back and forth?" He smiled weakly clearly forcing it to his lips, before he said, "Admittedly my experience with such things is limited to horror films."

Looking down he said, "I am comfortable enough with myself that I care little for whatever she is buying or making me wear. It would likely make her easier to identify. Nor am I concerned about the money such things will cost. Noah pays me well, and that's ignoring the perks of my job..."

My concern is her sanity. Sal didn't paint the prettiest picture last time, but it was mostly under hypnosis. Now that you have met her free from control... is she dangerous? What do you think is wrong with her? Do you think it is or will get better or worse?"

Sal thinks for a moment, "She seems a bit better than before. It seems her thinking is... chaotic, muddled. She goes on tangents, and her mood shifts when she things upon her past. She has a lot to be sad about. But she has focused on the present. She's been friendly. I think she really is just lonely. It wasn't difficult to convince her to return control to you. She seems to still have a sense of right and wrong, as well. I feel the only threat is her making Mistral so uncomfortable she leaves us in Europe. She likes to flirt... oh, I wouldn't leave her alone in a salon! She hates the mass of cables that makes up your hair."

“It is an unusual form of possession.  Her taking of control appears more opportunistic than an attempt to overtake you entirely.  According to her you’ve a habit of somnambulance, which provides her an opening to assume control.  I do not think she is able to otherwise, except via Sal’s methods.”  Mistral gave a nod of agreement with Sal’s assessment, as well as his warning of Lola’s flirtatiousness.  She added drily, “She does appear to fancy moi.  So, what are your thoughts, mon ami?”

---

(Sorry for quick post, busy!)  Here’s an Occult roll to assess the possession situation:

• 09:56, Today: Mistral rolled 1 success using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 10(+7),6,2,6,3,5,6.  Int + Occult + spirit spec.

Prometheus blinks, "Somnambulance?" He pauses for a second, clearly googling that word using his cyberware and then said, "Huh? I don't see how since both times I was doing something else as my last memory. It would imply I am falling asleep out of no where, which is concerning in its own right."

Shaking his head, he said, "If you both think she is safe, here is my suggestion...We go along with it for now. Give her time to misstep if this is all a disguise. And when we are all satisfied she is harmless, we try moving her to a new body." He is silent for a long moment and then said, "What little I know of ghosts and spirits keeps highlighting whats unusual about this situation. Where is her unfinished business? Where is her anchor? When did she possess me? And why is she so willing to play ball?

And where did her hate from the Guardians come from? That last one is possibly the most concerning question." He smiled, "But if it turns out the answers to these questions are harmless, if we can find out what makes her unique, its possible one of the problems with trying to get an answer from the dead could possibly be solved. And I am quite sure Noah would also find some application for using Synths to house spirits."

He looks at the both, "Assuming you are both okay with this?"

Sal nodded. "I have no objection. As one who clings as tightly as possible to the space between life and death, fighting for control with another entity I somewhat understand what she is going through. Helping her seems right."

Mistral gave a slight shrug and said, “‘He sleeps and he walks, but he does not awaken.’ was how she put it.  That sounded like somnambulism to moi, but I would not take Lola’s word as diagnosis.”  As to the questions over the oddity of the possession, Mistral considered and then answered with her recollection of the previous encounter, “Lola claims to have had a sister who was captured and imprisoned by Guardians in some form of eternal torment.  She appears to wish to release this sister, yet at times also feels anger and betrayal toward the same.  The retelling has been inconsistante, you understand, but there is a tale there.”  As for the means of possession, Mistral suggested, “I recall from the previous meeting she claimed that you were ‘using her stuff,’ which leads me to suspect that her ghost was imprinted upon an artifact owned by her in life, then came to you via its usage.”  She turned Prometheus a curious look and asked off-handedly, “Do you happen to possess anything that may have belonged to une sorcière à la mode over a century past?”

After discussing the possession itself, Mistral agreed, “I am willing to entertain Lola’s adventure.  I will keep an eye upon her, and will stand ready to perform the exorcism if necessary.”  She glanced down to her neon green bathrobe, turned Prometheus and Sal an enigmatic smile, then said, “Now, excusez-moi, messieurs, but if we’re to depart upon une aventure internationale I must ready myself.  Perhaps in the meantime you might resummon madame Lola and decide upon our destination?”  Mistral showed the gentlemen out of her cabin and closed the door, leaving Sal and Prometheus to arrange for Lola’s return.

Prometheus considered the words Mistral said, before he finally said, "While I don't understand exactly what she means its worth noting that to a Mage, Sleepwalker has more then one meaning.

Still, I will have myself checked out regardless.

As for the Anchor," He paused, "I have an idea from that, but that will take quite a bit of discussing. We can come back to it..." While he trailed off, based off his tone of voice it was clear he was thinking about the fact he thought they may die very shortly

He looked at Sal, and took a breath, "Lets not keep the Lady waiting..."

Sal looks Promethius in the eyes, and says in a soothing voice, "Here we go. Just try and relax. Clear your mind and focus on my voice. Feel your eyes get heavy. Sleep, Promethius... Now wake, Lola!"

13:58, Fri 20 Dec: Sal rolled 3 successes using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 9,2,9,5,6,10(+2),1.  Wits+Persuasion+Dominate .

As Prometheus falls under the same odd transition happens as that happened last time. While Prometheus is slowly falling under, his stance and mannerism shift to that of Lola. And when Lola is called forward, that all fades to his mannerisms.

Grinning more then a little, she whispered, "It worked. I wonder Mistral... how does it work?" Still her eyes remain locked on Sal's for the moment due to the effects of the Hypnosis.

Mistral re-opened her cabin door a short time later, now garbed in a slim black leather motorcycle jacket, matching knitted scarf, pom-pom beanie and gloves all in the same shade of blue as her hair-tips, complemented by jeans and black heeled boots.  She glanced from Sal to Prometheus, whom she could tell was now occupied by Lola without needing to ask.  She said, “It is evening in Europe and cold this time of year.  Lola, you will do well with la jaquette and Sal... do you experience cold, as mortals do?  I have always been curious of that.”

When all were ready Mistral led then into her room and toward a closet door, in which she opened a portal with a word and a gesture.  Beyond this was a chilly subterranean cavern of strange angles that at least Prometheus had seen before, and in which she led them to the edge of a circular pool of clear water.  After a brief ritual she drew open a mist-limned portal and stepped through it.  The portal left them in a darkened utility room full of paint cans and cleaning products with French labels.  Mistral went to the door, unlocked the bolt and ascended a narrow staircase to a long boulevard at night but well-lit by lights strung through the trees down the center, as well as the glows from the shops in the tall old European-style buildings lining either side.  The street was packed with pedestrians milling in and out of the designer boutiques, trendy fashion outlets and small cafes.  Mistral said, “L’Avenue Montaigne, Paris.  Avenue des Champs-Elysées is fifty meters this way.  Any fashion worth the name can be found within fifteen minutes walk from where we stand.”  She looked to Prometheus/Lola and asked, “Where shall we begin?”

Lola pouts but makes no complaints about having to wear the jacket, "Whenever I step forward, I will probably be wearing it, it makes sense to wear it just one more time. If you think they will let me into the building wearing it."

As they moved through the portal to Mistrals hidden cave, Lola skipped after Mistral, and grin on her face, "Finally. A body, 100 years and who knows how much lost and changed.... but I finally get to live the dream of me and my sister. I get to walk in France. I could just scream...."

And as soon as they are up the stairs and Mistral tries to explain where they are, it quickly becomes clear Lola isn't listening, literally dancing from shop to shop, Singing in the Rain style, clearly looking and trying to decide what she wants.

Its also rapidly seems to become apparently forgotten she doesn't speak French anymore, after running into someone, getting insulted and told to watch where she is going, only for her to reply, "I know, isn't it just AMAZING!!!"

Sal wore the long coat he had previously purchased, and if possible, had Grey make him a scarf and mittens. He didn't mind that they were bright green. Just to be safe, he brought his pistol and telescopic baton, concealed within the coat. Under the coat, he wore his business attire. "The biggest problem a lack of cold weather attire presents my kind, is tye questions it attracts. Thought frostbite could still damage my flesh, I suppose."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:42, Mon 30 Dec 2019.

Lola’s outrageously exuberant behavior made Mistral wary, but she couldn’t help be amused by it as well.  That unrestrained joy was a sure sign that this had been the right thing to do.  There was, however, a pressing concern that it might all go wrong as well, if not reined in.

Pacing after the prancing fashionista in a half-cyborg male body, Mistral stepped in and took her by the arm while apologizing in French to a young couple she’d nearly bowled over.  “Let us have a look in cette boutique, shall we?”  She dragged her enthusiastic companion into a high-end boutique for women’s clothing and shoes called Ciel du Sud.  The shop was spacious and lavishly-appointed, as were most establishments in the area, and the mirrored walls were lined with sparse but artful displays of designer fashions tastefully lit with warm underlighting.  She was aware that this particular shop had a generally helpful English-speaking staff, solid security, and an in-house designer/tailor who was more than happy to cater to all manner of cross-dressing needs.

Mistral led Prometheus to a clerk who looked pompous only to an acceptable degree and introduced her companion in French, explaining that Lola was an American tech mogul who’d recently come out of the closet and was excited to finally find apparel to flaunt her true gender identity.  With Lola now set loose upon an expert who would be more than happy to help her spend five or more figures on fashion, Mistral let out a sigh and shared a knowing look with Sal.  She remained near the door... just in case.

Lola is quickly swept away into her white girl fantasy and while it take a while to figure out a balance between her 90s style and the modern flavors and materials, its very clear that between her enthusiasm, and knowledge of 'historic trends' and both his actual knowledge of fashion, materials and sewing, it looked like she was going to get a few outfits that would be a real impressive fusion of old and new.

STILL, that didn't stop her from grabbing half a dozen things off the racking that she clearly wanted to try. Poking her head through the curtains just after she passed through them, she said, "Is Pink still considered way to bright? I think it is, but that maybe my past view limiting me. I want to avoid darkness....seen to much, felt to much, drowned in to much. Better to shine, reborn and new again. Maybe baby blue?"

Sal thinks for a moment, then says, "I'm fond of blue myself, though I wear warm colors better. I think bright colors would suit you better than pale. Grey loves neon green, as you can see by the scarf and gloves she made me."

PM
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:42, Fri 03 Jan 2020.

Mistral was amazed by the the way Lola took command of this fashion adventure, demonstrating considerable actual expertise in addition to her boundless enthusiasm.  Though she was wary of the showiness of fashion in general, she couldn't help but appreciate the finely-crafted aesthetics of the articles carried by this boutique.

"Whichever colour makes you feel fabuleuse is the correct one, à mon avis."  Mistral waggled her woven scarf with gloves of the same vibrant blue shade as her hair-tips and said, "I favor bleue myself, but to each their own.  I am certain that Monsieurs Gabriel and Antoine would be happy to advise."  She inclined her head in the direction of the pair of tastefully-flamboyant 'fashion consultants' presently attending to Lola's whims.

While Lola changed into another outfit Mistral took a casual glance at the price tag on a jacket displayed on a nearby mannequin, and nearly choked.  She gestured to Sal to have a look at the exorbitant price and whispered to him, "Did Monsieur Prometheus provide a budget for this adventure?  Whatever savings he may have will not survive Madame Lola!"

Sal looked at the tag, and remembered seeing houses go on sale for less. But he was long past being shocked by inflation. He said, "he never specified. Now that I think about it, did we tell him we were coming to Paris? With his talents, maybe money isn't a problem."

"Typically a purple girl myself. The colour of royalty, you walk into a room with Violet on, with a dash of Indigo and every eye in the world is drawn to you. Humans can't help it, 4000 years of being told what to do by someone in purple."

She giggled, although it was hard to tell if she was joking or some other bit of her madness had amused her, before she said, Well that and Purple Silk catch the light in such interesting ways. But to dark...far to dark. I want to bath in light. Escape my fate, escape the endless dark, escape the dust. Deserve to celebrate that, yes?"

Skipping over to a mannequin, she said, "White is for purity, but I always found white looks best on dark skin. And while Prometheus is darker then I...isn't dark enough. Heart black as coal, wires in the brain and yet still white skin. But Blood, is blood is blood."

She shook her head, "Need to focus...can't freak people out. Have to be good. Can't buy anything if all they see is creepy."

Turning to Gabriel and Antoine, she apologized and then began to discuss color and options, clearly using all her willpower to focus on this issue alone, clearly discussing Lilac and Lavender and other pale purples that she could possibly use to mix light and darkness.

However as the discussion of money comes up, she smiled, and reached into Prometheus coat pocket, "I have a plaaaaaannnn!!!" Her hand flashed out holding the Burner Card that Noah had given Prometheus a few days ago.

Given the nature of such cards, the odds of it still being functional were essentially zero.

 Antoine returned a few moments with the card. "I am so sorry Madame, there seems to be a problem with your card."

 He hands it back to Lola, looking at her with a mixture of expectation and suspicion.

Mistral’s eye twitched when the black card came out, which was doubtless a spent card Lola happened to find in Prometheus’s jacket pocket.  When Antoine delivered the expected news of a declined payment, Mistral stepped in to apologize in French on Lola’s behalf, and ask for a moment of privacy to clear something up with the bank in America.

She took the bill and pulled Sal and Lola to a small salon off the show floor and out of hearing of the employees.  She said to them in an urgent whisper, “We must speak with Prometheus.  À présent.  He will be able to access his funds, and it would be a courtesy that he see the bill before being asked to pay it.”  Mistral then looked at the bill for the first time and let out a small hiss of breath, pale gray eyes wide with alarm.

Sal nodded and looked at Lola, saying, "Promethius will understand how important it is to return control to you before we leave this room. If not, I will convince him. Are you ready, Lola?" Sal wondered what it was like for Lola when she wasn't in control of Promethius' body.

"I don't understand why that didn't work. Its a standard Paywave credit card I found in his room, and clearly has a lot on it. How did it not work..." Lola looks more shocked then anything and then finally nods to Sal.

"He's not gonna be happy. I can guess that much." Collapsing into one of the chairs she sighed and looked into Sal's eyes, "I don't expect to get let back in control today. No one mentioned Paris at all to him....and this....this isn't cheap.

Who keeps a useless credit card lying around anyway."

Sal looked into Lola's eyes, "Promethius, wake up!" When Promethius returned, he explained the situation.

OOC: Sal and Mist both told Promethius "Europe." Who goes to Europe to buy clothes without being prepared to spend a lot?

OOC: Someone who thought we were doing it to just avoid the Storm. You are right, common sense tells you that Prom should have asked more questions for specifics...

But common sense isn't common. :D

I am also assuming that ordering two custom outfits at a fancy place in France could easily hit $1000, let alone the off the shelf stuff.

Prometheus came too and shook his head, "Okay, I don't recognize where I am so what went so whats...." He paused and looked around, clearly judging the store he was in, then turned to Mistral and Sal, "I am curious....how much do you think Noah pays me?"

He paused for a moment then added, "Actually, does he pay you? Because given our location I may need to ask for a pay rise."

He looked down at the bill, and said to Mistral, "This...this is bad. I can see the full stop in the number so that's over 1000 if I remember French numbers correctly." He falls silent for a moment, clearly checking something through his cybernetics.

Finally he said, "I can probably, MAYBE manage a dress with these prices...and maybe a hat. Depending on the hat."

PM

He nods, confirming what he had seen, "Yeah, lets skip the hat. Just the dress will probably be my limit. Sooooo...."  He looked at the dresses that Lola had been looking at, then realises he was still wearing one, "...This one I guess."

Sal frowned and said, "My apologies, I didn't think Lola would have such expensive tastes. May I bring her back? It could cause problems if the clerks notice a sudden personality shift, not to mention the way you walk..."

"You have no need to apologize. I assumed... and its gonna cost me." He shrugged, "As long as she doesn't expect more then the dress, we're okay, and this trip still serves a purpose other then keepin' her happy."

Looking into Sal's eyes he said, "Lets get this over with and go home."

Sal once again hypnotizes Promethius so Lola can take over.

PM

Lola seems to take longer to come foreward this time, and shakes her head, "I don't think this is good for one of us. Brains aren't meant to work that way. I mean not a shrink or a mind mage, but onoffonoffonoffonoffonoffonoff...seems bad."

Standing up she twirls in the dress, "Just one...and no hat. Urgh, its like back when I was alive. He can afford bits of metal in his head, and works for one of the richest men in the world, and yet can't buy a girl a dress...men. Still, better then no men, or no girls or no people... people is always better then no people. Although I am not sure dogs are better then no people. Charlotte doesn't like me... nope, nope nope. Probably smell funny...

Do I smell of something? Or do I just smell like Prometheus."

Stopping her twirl she looks at both of them, as if expecting an answer.

When Prometheus justifiably balked at Lola's bill, Mistral gave an enigmatic smile and said, "You did say you were 'unconcerned with the cost,' but perhaps you failed to appreciate le coût de la mode.  We could bring her to a department store next time, if you prefer."

As Sal spoke with Prometheus about the transaction and then the hypnosis, Mistral noticed a mannequin in a smart-looking gray women's pantsuit.  Their cabal would be before the Concilium tomorrow and Noah was probably correct that it would be wise to dress for the occasion.  Mistral conferred with Gabriel the fashion consultant, and after a fitting and a few quick adjustments she gave her own black card for the transaction.  The price for her bill was given, and Mistral considered, then sighed.  She said quietly to Gabriel, "Ajoutez l'autre robe pour Madame Lola, s'il vous plaît."

Mistral rejoined her companions carrying two Ciel du Sud shopping bags, one of which she put in Lola's hands.  Seeing that Lola's transaction had been completed for the dress she was wearing, Mistral said evenly, "You do smell like Prometheus, mon chérie, but perfume shopping may need to wait for another time.  Shall we be on our way?"

Sal said, as they left the store,"You smell like Promethius, to be sure, but dogs are very empathic and perceptive creatures. You don't feel like Promethius. Your presence, aside from the biological, is that of an entirely different person. Perfume probable won't change Charlotte's opinion of you. I'm afraid it may be difficult for her to get used to you wearing her best friend, especially if, as you say, switching back and forth between the two of you is damaging the brain you share. Once we can, I will try to get Promethius and Noah to prioritize coming up a solution that works for you both."