| The address Dextra provided leads to a neighbourhood on the fringes of gentrification and the spreading blight of Leith, the port of Edinburgh. Long years of recession and a depressed economy have left their marks. Homes of the wealthy are subdivided, yards reduced to tiny parcels cluttered with debris, bicycles, laundry and flags. Tiny fly-by-night businesses crowd the main street, the terrace avenues taking narrow, crooked routes here and there. Staircases take the back way up the steep hillside to rows of tall, skinny flats probably built between the Wars. One of those belongs to Miss Marva, as marked on Google Maps by a green trash can. Most of the houses look fairly similar, telling them apart being a matter of staring over a stone fence at a patch of dead grass and a few shrubberies. The one in question is pretty much identical to its neighbours except for a pair of green bins at the side walk. There's no driveway to speak of, but then, cranky old Scots Moros probably have other ways to travel, like Electrolux vacuum cleaner under the moon.
Epikoros squints through his spectacles at the flat. "Not exactly the Fortress of Doom, is it?" By the tone of his voice, it sounds like the humor is covering up some real uncertainty about this whole situation. "Anyone got a plan of approach?"
"Well, we can leave things to chance and see if our multiculturalism causes her to consider the matter calmly, or I can give the skein a tweak and see what a little luck on our side produces." Lax says, looking rather somber in his leather jacket and jeans, though that may just be a reflection of the weather. He glances to the others and verbally shrugs for Abbi's benefit. "Any cost benefit analysis?"
Abbigail trails the lot by several steps, mostly to give her 'eye' room to work. She hmms softly at the description of it being not the Fortress of Doom. "Well, that is a blessing. Not certain we're up for Doombots anyway." She adjusts her own dark glasses. "Anyone for a tin cup? Probably not the first time I've been sent to knock on a door to see if the house wants to give to the fellowship of the...." She trails off and grins. "Just offering."
The green paisley curtains are drawn, the front door shut, and no porch light on. Tidy heather bushes and bent junipers crowd the front beds and a few yellowed flyers peek out, probably waiting for the landscaper at the spring thaw. All seems pretty quiet at the Fortress of Doom.
"I shouldn't think magic's off the table today," Epikoros offers in response to Lacrosse's question. "She's got to know we're mages in order to understand the message we’re sent to give."
Cairn inhales deeply, smelling the air and then she grimaces. Nothing was dead. She looks to the group and then up to the house. Pondering what others have said for a moment, then she cracks a smile, "Certainty of death, *small* chance of success... What are we waiting for?" she tells them. "I hate to use someone as a decoy. But the lady does have a sound plan." she nods to Abbigail. Who is going to shut the door on a blind person!
Epikoros says, "I'd like to take a quick look around for ghosts or attack dogs first. Shouldn't take a moment."
Epikoros frowns and pauses a bit, taking in a rush of information. "I don't sense anything in the house. Can't even be sure she's home yet. I'll shout if something changes."
Lacrosse nods to the others and begins a slow chant, high speech spoken in a cadence that invokes the tribal dances of his people. After a few moments there is a twinge of the supernal as he draws down Arcadia, and then his stance relaxes.
Three people loiter near the bus stop a couple dozen meters away. A couple returning from a shopping trip, maybe at Ocean Terminal mall, carry thin bags in each hand. The light is descending and not a whole lot disrupts the neighbourhood except the honk and squeal of traffic.
Epikoros says, "We should get moving before we start to really stand out."
Abbigail purses her lips as she listens to the gents start their warm-ups. She inclines her head towards where she last heard Cairn at and offers a small smile. "Not really using when the person offered, is it?" She shifts over so she can find one of the walls with a hand and starts trailing a finger along its top as she searches for the garbage cans that were mentioned with her cane. "Cup, cup a castle for a cup. Or the blasted stairs."
Cairn looks over herself when Epikoros talks about standing out. There's a hand that reaches up to rub over her face and then a look to the sky before she is moving. She's following after Abbi for the moment. Her hand slips into her jacket to make sure that her straight razor is in its usual pocket. For the moment she's just keeping a watch.
The garbage cans are on the side of the skinny house where the gravel path presumably leads to the backyard. It's a very narrow fit with Abbi's cane clacking from wall to stone fence after a brief sweep. The front walk goes all the way to the squat stoop mounted on a cement pad above three or four stairs. As the Norse mage approaches, no one answers the door or yells out the window.
Lacrosse chuckles and speaks softly, "Stand out more than our varied appearances do already?" following in the wake of the others. Floating on the winds of fate, his whole demeanor is much less stoic than normal, certainly a contrast to his first encounter with Epikoros.
Abbigail hmms softly to herself as there seems to be no response to her crossing into the yard. Her cane can take the abuse, her mentor saw to that much after probably the fifth or so can he replaced for this wild one. The steps give her pause for a moment before she starts up them to knock at the door. Keep it to a fairly normal activity, right? Blind leading the.... protectors. Yes, that's what they are.
Cairn follows quietly along after Abbi for the moment. But when the Moros gets up the steps she checks the windows and the door to find them both hidden from peeking in. Which makes her a bit wary. Her hands come up in a series of practiced mudras and there's a whisper of power as she splays her hands out and tries to look through the door. She eats the damage from her paradox like a good Legionnaire and steps back for a moment, rubbing at the new bruises forming on her cheek and jaw. "Lets see who is home."
Cairn's activities produce a rather striking effect. The solid wood door so lavishly entitling Miss Marva to privacy turns rather transparent. Inside is revealed a set of lovely tiles in polished orange and brown swirls, surrounded by a host of floral photos, a few peculiar tiki masks, and a large rug.
The couple wandering by isn't entirely wrapped up in themselves, and they're staring at the group clustered in front of a house without going in. And the bus stop triad is speculative about everything.
Epikoros says, "Might as well knock." He's starting to get very aware of the people watching. "We're not going to make her more likely to listen by breaking into her house."
Lacrosse reaches out to knock beside the door, knowing that the sleepers nearby will slowly erode the weaving that Cairn had performed, if given too much reason to peruse it.
A loud, ear piercing cackle makes a rather abrupt appearance. Yes, that's subtle.
Abbigail winces at the cackle and sighs, "Someone has a wierd sense of doorbells." Her nose wrinkling almost playfully as she turns towards where she heard the others. "Or did I just say that to her face? Didn't hear the door open." Her own hand lifted as if she was about to look for a doorbell or knocker.
Startled by the creepy voice sound effect, Epikoros quietly casts First Impressions.
Cairn nods to Lacrosse, "Knocking would have been more subtle yeah." she tells him. When the ear piercing shriek comes meets her eardrums she hisses, baring her teeth. She reaches out and takes a hold of Abbigail gently for a moment, "No one's at the door. There's no one here. No idea where that fucking cackle came from." she growls.
"Nyahahah!" The cackle continues and then tapers off into a wheezy laugh.
"Well, it doesn't appear to be a physical alarm, though it could have been a spell." Lax offers after an all too cursory glance around the door frame. "We could check around back, since it doesn't appear anyone's in the hall. Just need to put the door back first."
Abbigail finishes reaching out after being grabbed by Cairn and uses the knocked she felt, giving the door three good raps with it. It is polite to knock, even the Norns think so. And though her ears are ringing, she is still going to be polite about it. Maybe a bloodied nose in a bit, but polite first.
The bus slowly trundles its way up the hill to pick up the three people waiting at the stop. A few tired pedestrians trudge off and go in varied directions.
Cairn releases Abbigail and there's a step back. Letting her go about knocking on the door. The Norns would either get an answer or they'd make a new door. She waits to see if there is an answer.
The knocker resonates against the solid wood turned transparent by Cairn. It lands with solid thunks. Time passes with no answer, and after about two minutes, the only response appears to be the cloud of noxious fumes from the bus.
Epikoros says, "And if we just slip a note under the door and skip away...?"
Epikoros 'hmm's for a moment. "Any of you have a smartphone, and can check and see whether there's a telephone number tied to this address?"
"Then we won't know if she received it." Lacrosse points out. "And while Urien is losing his patience, he didn't send a sentinel out to break into her sanctum and haul her back. So, shall we take a peek around back, or keep peeking through the door here?"
The Mariner steps off said bus, brushing off the front of his turtleneck, walking up to the group. "Is it ever that easy? Just walking away?" He clears his throat: he has the sort of London blue collar accent that can really rub you the wrong way. "Here, while you're looking for a telephone number, I'll employ a little creative Supernal investigation. The Mariner, by the way. A pleasure."
Another one of Dextra's minions has arrived. No sign of the pixie herself, however. The sky is darkening and the fluorescent lights flick on.
Epikoros says, "Welcome to our quasi-felonious party, Mariner. As you can see, the lights are on but nobody's home." To Lacrosse: "A good point. Let's check 'round the back. I don't honestly feel comfortable doing any more to this door than we've already done."
The property is very narrow with access through a gravel path down the side of the house. It's a tight squeeze even for the smallest, Abbi, past the trash bins. The route leads to a very small yard cultivated massively under heaps of black landscaping cloth, dormant raised vegetable beds, and a ramshackle shed.
Lacrosse slips down the narrow lane, turning sideways to squeeze past the bins, and then signalling Epikoros and Mariner to follow. He traipses further on, relying on innate charm and good looks, or at least a healthy dose of the lunargent thorn, to get him through.
The Mariner follows Lax immediately afterwards, relying instead on his magic and indefatigable observational skills to investigate the area. He keeps his voice down as he sidles on through, hoping not to catch anyone or be caught by anyone unawares.
A Mastigos, an Acanthus, and a Mariner break into an old lady's backyard... has the sounds of a bad joke all over it. There are a pair of ground-level doors inset about six inches above the soil near the house. A pair of bird feeders hang outside the solid wood back door. In the meantime, the ladies out front have the pleasure of staring into a relatively dark house. There is a light on somewhere deeper in, possibly a bathroom or upstairs, lending a bit of a illumination. No sounds other than the persistent noise of the main road and its traffic gives anything away. A straight view to the back door is, alas, not possible.
Feeling increasingly out-of-place, Epikoros follows, stumbling briefly over a loose stone in the path. He's leaning heavily on his Sense Consciousness spell to warn him of imminent approach, and feeling a bit paranoid about it.
Cairn watches the menfolk wander off with a hint of amusement. Yes. You go check the back. She meanwhile releases the spell she has going. She pulls out her phone to look it over..so if passersby look up they can just look like they are waiting for someone to answer the door. She looks over to Abbigail, "I'm Cairn by the way." she offers quietly. Sounded like there was something wrong with her voice.
Abbigail just arches a brow up at the talk of B&E work. She tries to recall the angle to the street and though she doesn't constitute much of a barrier tries to keep herself between street and door. "Not my cup of tea or skills set. Though perhaps I need to add runes to my list of things. Maybe harvest and luck together to unlock the door." Then softer to Cairn, "What is happening with the door now? Not sure I'm covering up much of it."
A few pedestrians stroll by. One, an Indian or Pakistani by the look, stops long enough to ask, "Do you two have trouble?"
"I don't really see anything out here worth commenting on. The garden's well-tended," The Mariner comments, pursing his lips in contemplation. He folds his arms across his chest as they survey the scene.
Epikoros shrugs: "I'm starting to think there's no one home.
Lacrosse looks about the winterized garden briefly, but continues up to the back door. He offers a solid knock to the wooden barrier, knuckles rap rap rapping. He waits patiently for any response, keeping his attention on the portal rather than looking about to his companions.
Cairn drops her voice a bit lower and leans her head in, "I dropped the spell I had on it. Couldn't see anything out of place in the house." she tells the other woman. When the voice comes up there's a look to him and a smile, "Just trying to get a hold of her grandmother. Bad hip so it takes her a minute. Bless her. No trouble at all." she tells them.
"Oh, good luck. The police have a station around the corner near the Leith Walk." The gentleman nods and carries on his way.
"Maybe, but the garden would suggest someone keeps up regular residence. Hopefully that means she doesn't keep herself sequestered in some backroom, but I suppose she could hire in help, too." The Mariner glances over at Epikoros, keeping an eye on Lacrosse as they chat. "What did you say your name was again, mate?"
As soon as Lacrosse's hand strikes the back door, it makes a solid rap. But no one answers. From the back of the house, a small square window made of rippled glass blocks -- as often found in bathrooms -- is visibly alight. But curtains block all the other windows.
Abbigail nods slightly to Cairn, then offers a small grin. "She never answers her tele, so occasionally have to pop in to make sure she's still doing alright." She raises a hand as if to knock again and calls to the door. "Gram? Mum wanted to know if you needed help with the bushes again."
Epikoros paces around the backyard, looking around. "Epikoros. And you're Mariner, yes?" He regards the cellar doors balefully. "I'm not sure I feel okay going any farther with this. We're here to deliver a message, not to break in. We've made a good faith effort to have a chat; let's leave a note and leave it be, before we cross a line."
Cairn keeps that smile on her bruised face for the moment she nods to the man, "Good to know. May have a chat with someone if we can't get her to answer shortly." she tells them. Her eyes go back to Abbigail after that and there's a bit of a worried look that thankfully the woman can't see. She pulls out her notepad and pen that she keeps around for when she can't speak and starts to jot down a note. "I'll leave a note. Scalpel..not a mallet." she whispers to Abbi.
That infernally high cackle is heard from somewhere overhead near Cairn and Abbigail.
Lacrosse shrugs at the second barred and unresponsive entry, then steps over to crouch at the cellar doors. He raps upon them as well, shaking his head slightly in response. "You aren't sensing any thoughts other than ours, correct? That makes her unresponsiveness more suspect, since she's been actively rejecting previous attempts. You might check the shed, or get to writing the note you want to leave."
Epikoros says, "The only new minds I've noticed are the people who got off the bus earlier. I'll go back around and let the girls know what the back is like, and we'll get started on that note."
"You're right about that much. Breaking in is not just dangerous, it's the wrong thing to do here. She's a member of the Edinburgh Consilium in good standing, which is I imagine more than most of us could say for themselves. Did you hear that?" The Mariner turns around towards the front.
The creaky doors of the cellar don't quite resist as hard as the back door did to Lacrosse's fist if he tries to jounce them around.
"Good standing would imply she's returning missives. The last one they sent up here returned choking on ectoplasm. Trix wanted us to see if we could get further than the familiar faces were," Lax says, as the cellar doors seem less secure, though still locked from within. He stands up and takes a few steps back, fishing a few coins from his pocket and eyeing the lit window. "and I'd wager we've done that much, though to be fair, we've not violated her sanctum itself yet, just the grounds." Lax selects a shiny coin and tosses it, trying to rap against the lit glass.
Cairn looks down to the note she's writing and there's a silent baring of teeth, "Something isn't right." the Moros tells Abbigail. "I'm going to try something else." she states as she starts to pull and tug on the supernal around them. Rattling certain threads like a spider does in a web to sucker in their prey. She's calling all ghosts! The one that gets comes out of the house though and there's a bit of a blink at the sailor that looks like he's the poster boy for a 1940's Longshoreman. Big burly arms and the whole nine yards. Cairn blinks and then waves at him, "Excuse me sir. Can you be of service to two ladies in need this evening?" she asks him. "We're looking for someone in the house you just came out of." she tells him.
Abbigail winces at the cackle sounds again. "That has to be localized, otherwise the bus-stop would be rushing over to see who was having the wicked witch syndrom." she mutters. Brows furrowing at the disturbance so close. "No, breaking in is not a good thing. Notes are good. Tag it so that it gets to whom it needs to, but not breaking in."
Clink! As the coin touches the glass, it drops to the ground in the dormant shrubbery. Awakened senses flare to something not quite right. But that doesn't stop a gout of gushing string from blasting down in a torrent like someone upended a bucket of slime. The sticky globs pour down atop Lacrosse a rather spectacular volume, coating him from head to toe.
The burly sailor flexes his arms and postures without really trying for the women. At its back is the wavering outline of the wall, but he has the presence not to stand in it. He cocks his head at Cairn, and says from Twilight, "That so?" Milky eyes blink. "Who might that be?"
Lacrosse sputters ectoplasm away from his lips, shaking his hands to cleanse them slightly before wiping his face off. "Well. Now I can say that I've done at least as well as my predecessors. Do not disturb the lady when she's taking her bath."
Halfway to the corner of the house to meet with Cairn and Abbigail, Epikoros turns at the sound of the slime. "My god, what happened?" He reaches into a pocket and hands Lacrosse a clean handkerchief.
The Mariner blanches as Lax gets covered in sticky goo. Quickly, he casts a spell that might give him a shot at protecting himself were any subsequent traps to be sprung from helping Lacrosse. Then, he rushes to Lacrosse's aid as well, putting on a pair of black gloves so he can help wipe off some of the slime from the front of his shirt and such. "Are you alright, mate?"
Globs of the sticky goo cling to Lacrosse like the byproducts of a really angry spider.
"Cairn can help with cleanup. Save your linen." Lax quickly asides, stepping away to keep the others from getting similarly entangled.
Cairn does eye the dead guys arms, then she's back up to his milky eyes, "That is so." she tells him. "Goes by the name of Marva." she states as she looks him over. She's took the time to position herself between Abbigail and the huge ghost doesn't get the idea to get rowdy and go after the other Norse woman here. "She's not answering phones, windows or doors. We're concerned about her."
The sailor runs his hand over the back of his head. It's probably a rote gesture. He shuffles from one side to the left. "I shan't hurt a lady, you ken," he says, nodding. "My ma raised me right, not the sort. Miss Marva wouldn't tolerate none of that behaviour. She's right proper." Milky eyes stare at the Moros, long quenched of their lifespark. "We are not to let anyone in, you see. But I can't see Miss Marva either. She went down into her rooms. I don't have right to go down there."
Abbigail only catches half the conversation, so simply plants her cane and waits. A small runic stone drawn from her pocket, to get the rune traced over with the ball of her thumb as she waits and listens.
The back of the house is quiet other than for those horrific globs sticking the Lacrosse and now Mariner's fancy gloves.
The Mariner cringes a little as it sticks to his gloves. He walks over to the birdfeeders and finds the little jutting-out portion and puts the palm of his gloves on it so he can remove the gloves without getting his hands or anything on the actual sticky goo. He leaves them there on the feeder out of spite. "What a cheeky trap. And I imagine that's probably just her playing nice."
Cairn smiles apologetically to the sailor, "I apologize sir. I'm not always sure when dealing with new ghosts." she tells him. Leave it to Cairn to not be embarrassed. "That's a good trait though. Good woman for raising you that way." she states genuinely. That and the Moros had her own past experiences with huge men. So it was reflex. "How long has she been in her room? Do you know if she's alright down there?" she asks him. "If you don't know it's fine sailor. I'm just here to check on her." she tells him lowly. Raising a hand to rub at her throat she watches him.
"I am not positive it was her. Targeting something you can't see is tricky, though I suppose she could be standing in twilight, making faces at me." Lax says, trying to move from where he's standing amidst all the ectoplasmic web. "I should be fine here, if you want to let Cairn know that I need her help getting untangled."
Mariner's gloves hang from the bird feeders, depriving finches and starlings of foot-holds for seeds. Epikoros shadows the pair of men, having sacrificed his handkerchief for the greater good.
Abbigail hmms softly as she only hears Cairn's half of the conversation. "How young in Marva? Could she have slipped and injured herself to the point of needing help?" She might not be able to fully get the picture, but she figured out that the conversation is with the home security system.
"She could have just set up a prolonged spell that is contingent with fiddling with her doorway - commensurate with knowledge of Fate and a Master's powers. I wouldn't put anything past her capabilities. That said, I'll let them know. I absolve myself of any responsibility should you pry any further and get slimed, or worse!" The Mariner grouses, giving one last mournful look towards his gloves - they were like 10 fucking pound - and heading for the trash bins to sidle around front.
"No offense is taken, miss, you're not a rude sort." The ghost blinks again, staring at Cairn and Abbigail behind her. He stays put where he is, still a bit abashed. "I'm not so good with time. Been..." He mutters. "Been... Been..." The repetition is possibly not a good sign as his translucent form wavers and flexes, thickening a bit. "Don't rightly know. She goes into her rooms to do her work, and comes back up. Sometimes it seems right long and sometimes it's not. She takes her tea and biscuits with her a'times." He makes an uneasy noise, clearly reluctant and unsure of himself. More of that shuffling and scraping heard only in Twilight. "Not... not... he... not..."
"Bad news, ladies, Lax has managed to get himself into a sticky situation," The Mariner says when he emerges from the backyard, hands now in his pockets. "Covered in goo and he does need your help to get un...goo'd. Are you talking to someone?"
Cairn sees that the sailor is starting to fade in and out and there's a bit of a frown. Not to him. But the fact that this was an issue. She's calling on Stygia heavily this evening and she reaches out and places her hand on the sailors arm, "Stay with me for a minute." she asks in a bit of a plea. It seems that Cairn works much better with the dead. "What's your name?" she asks him. Just to try to focus the spectre on something. "You're doing wonderfully. Isn't he?" she looks over to Abbi. The inflection in her voice asking the girl to agree with her. Then there's a look to Mariner and a sigh, "I'm talking to someone..tell him to hold his horses and I'll be there momentarily."
The ghost sailor's panicky look turns to something of confusion. Need. Emotions etched across the pale face and tight throat, Adam's apple bobbing, are more than just transparent creations. He freezes under Cairn's hand, hungry for the heat and the tactile being. "Sean. Sean MacDuff." Good old name for a good old sailor, who doesn't look much a day past hard-worked thirty. He doesn't fade, but he's still saturated in the realness in a world where everything is transitory and broken.
The Mariner shrugs his shoulders, like it was no skin off his nose to keep waiting there while Cairn and Abbi attended to more serious business. He folds his arms and drums his fingers along his arms, looking around with Mage Sight on to see what he can see.
Abbigail nods gamely as she offers a grin, "Oh, yes. Quite splendidly." Her head turning towards the sounds of Mariner and the grin quirks a little at his news. "I hope he didn't land in a rose bush." A quiet sense of humor settles back into place as she turns back towards where she heard Cairn talking to the ghosty-ghost.
"Nyahahahah!" Another of those demented cackles comes from the front of the house. The neighbours must -love- that.
Cairn doesn't let go of the ghost and there's a bit of a look to him, "Pleasure to meet you Sean. I'm Cairn." she offers him her shadow name. "If you can. I'm going to leave a note for Miss Marva. When she comes up out of her rooms can you tell her that she has someone wanting to sit down to tea with her and have a small talk?" she moves her fingers up his arm. She is warm compared to him. But she doesn't seem to mind that she has a hold of him. "It would mean a lot..and maybe I can visit with you again." she offers with a smile.
Lacrosse remains in the backyard, still covered in ectoplasm, though he now gazes from portal to portal studying the spells laid upon them. "Oh, Clever clever. Still, that is a lot of spells to hang." More intent study follows.
"I can do that, yes miss." Sean the ghost nods to Cairn. "I can. I don't know whether she will come up or he will be back, but I can give her a message. Would you be wanting a paper one or me to have a word with Miss Marva?"
Abbigail's lips quirk at the half of the conversation she's hearing. One brow quirking up as she murmurs, "A little sweet on the Einherjar, are we?" she asks with a soft chuckle.
"You know, Lacrosse could really use your assistance, if you've just wrapped this up. I can't really tell, but...he's sort of stuck back there," The Mariner says, his lip pulling back as he gestures with his thumb over his shoulder.
Cairn smiles to Sean, "You are spectacular." she tells him as she gives his arm a squeeze. Bleeding warmth into the ghost. "I'll take a note from her or if you'd speak with her and then come back to me that would be wonderful." the woman tells him. There's a look back to Abbi and a soft smile, "I may be yes. They need someone to look after them sometimes as well." she tells her. Then she looks back to Sean and reluctantly starts to let go of him. "I'll let you do your work. I need to go collect my friend." she tells him. "Thank you for the assistance." she bows to him slightly.
"I'll be sure to, miss. Be safe out there." Sean sheepishly makes a bow, which isn't very practiced, but he does try. The hulking labourer bends forward and then says, "You and your lady friend be well tonight. Miss." He touches his brow in lieu of a hat, maybe a hat he forgot he had all along, and then melts back through the wall.
Cairn smiles and then blinks, "Sean. Wait a second." she calls to the ghost. Her voice giving a little. "When he gets back? Who is the man you're talking about?" she asks him quickly.
"Yes, miss?" Out comes the ghostly figure again. He's a little less substantial from the lack of a touch. "He... he... not to... say... not... Man. Man I don't know. Came. Came... came... Miss Marva."
Abbigail blinks as she catches that last bit from Cairn. "A man has been visiting?" She shifts her weight slightly to free up her cane and reaches out with it to poke it in hte general direction of where she heard Mariner last. "Are you still there? Are there any camera in the area that you can see?"
Cairn steps closer to Sean when he appears and the Moros reaches back to hold onto him. If it was going to keep him tangible she was going to do it. "Alright. I've got you. You're not supposed to talk about the man?" she asks him. Cairn's nose has started to bleed from the paradox damage she's taken. Sexy right? "He came for Miss Marva? Is he a friend?" she asks the ghost. She looks over to Mariner, "I have to keep him focused tell Lacrosse that we've got something going and I'll try to be there quick." she tells him.
"Don't know him," says the ghostly sailor. "Miss Marva gets guests sometimes. Not familiar with him. Not to say... said not to say..." He repeats himself helplessly. Such is the curse of Twilight. "He came and he went. You're injured, miss. I can't have hurt you, have I?"
"We didn't see any cameras or anything as such. I tried to make a map, but it's all normal stuff. Only thing worth mentioning is that she has a bunch of trigger-spells set up as traps, presumably to stop interlopers like us," The Mariner explains to Abbi quietly, so as not to interrupt Cairn's discussion. He'll hike back there and let Lax know in a minute. He puts his hands on his hips and tries to interpret based on only the things Cairn says, but then he interjects: "If there was a man here...you know, if he left anything behind, even so much as a hair, I could use that to find him, perhaps determine his identity. Ask him where he was?" The Mariner doesn't know that Cairn was injured, either. Derp. "Okay, I'll go back there and let Lax know." He shuffles off to go sidle around in the backyard again.
Cairn reaches up and pats Sean's cheek, "It's okay. If you don't know the name. I know that someone else has been here at least." she nods to that. "Did the man leave anything here?" she asks him. This was Moros vs Moros ala Spy vs Spy. She just left her hat at home. She shakes her head, "No you didn't hurt me. I hurt myself trying to talk to you." she chuckles. "Worth it."
Abbigail hmms softly as she hears the tread of steps heading towards the back again. "Drat, was a thought that even a traffic camera could maybe give a face. But yes, anything he left could be helpful." The number of people not knowing that Cairn has hurt herself remains in the climbing position. Silly Legionnaires munching 'Dox like poptarts.
"Wasn't there, miss. I don't ken, you see, and told not to say." The ghost wrings his hands, really fairly apologetic. "You should go to your friend now, as it's getting late."
"Bad news, Lax, you might be waiting a while yet for clean-up, considering how well Cairn is getting on with this ghost, by all accounts," The Mariner says as he emerges from the other side into the backyard.
Cairn nods to him, "We'll be fine. Thank you for helping with what you have and I'll hopefully hear from you." she tells Sean as she releases him again. Silly Moros and getting attached to ghosts. What were you going to do with them? She turns to Abbigail, "Seems I have a mess to clean up in the backyard. Should we head back there?" she asks her as she heads for the stairs.
"I'm not in a hurry. I'm admiring the intricacies of Marva's defenses." the acanthus explains, turning his gaze to Mariner. "I think she cast one rote to affect all of the windows, and another to affect all the doors. Time hangs the spell, and fate releases it when the condition is met. I knocked on the doors without issue, but just tapping the window got me drenched. I'd test the theory, but I don't want to get more covered and have trouble breathing through it all."
"That is some intricate spellwork," The Mariner says, eyebrows raised. "I thought maybe it would be just one, but to use three Arcana like that at once...I think we're wise not to push too hard."
Abbigail bows towards the house where she knows that Cairn was chatting with someone. "Thank you." Then turning she makes her way back down the stairs following the crunch of gravel under Cairn's feet. "It would probably be wise to get them. Don;t think Marva needs a new lawn gnome."