2020-08-24 GreenMotion Info Exchange

GreenMotion Info Exchange

Participants: Addison Abigale Ikal Paola Basilia

Location: Bawn Speakeasy

Date and Time: August 24th, 2020 7:14PM

Summary: Information is shared and tasks are disbursed regarding the GreenMotion Incident.

Basilia is at the Speakeasy right now, a bottle of whiskey in front of her and her eyes on the far wall. She seems content to sit at the bar and fold her arms over her lap, thinking about somethhing or other. Far from the melancholy, brooding drunk Baz actually seems relatively at peace. Given the Rage that boils in her blood and soul, that is actually an accomplishment.

In the late hours of the night Addison finds himself wandering into the Speakeasy. His plain white dress shirt is scuffed with dirt on the elbows and splattered with a peppering of red blood over the front. Fatigued tugged underneath his dark brown eyes and there were freshly sealed short cuts on the lower half of his face. The New Moon stalks in, prowling wide path around the bar floor until he stands behind the bar. It's only thing he seems to notice Baz. His eyes flick up to regard the Ahroun with caution despite her peaceful state of being.

They almost seemed like opposites and not just in respects of their moons. The Uktena Ragabash was-- He didn't exactly visually meet the expectations of their warrior culture. His posture, clothing, and figure looked more math teacher than it did warrior. The glasses leaned into that even more. He was slim enough that if told he was one of the Ravens, one wouldn't second guess that claim.

"You smell like you could use a drink," Basilia called from the bar. She doesn't even look up, just pours another glass and slides it down the bar. Basilia, for the record, is wearing a tank top and cargo pants with a webbed belt and combat boots, looking for all the world like she's a commando from some Arnold Schwarzenegger movie save for the fact she carries a giant axe instead of a rifle across her back.

"Sit with me a moment." They do, of course, have information to share but Basilia apparently isn't too concerned with rushing those revelations. She sips on her whiskey quietly. "Did anything happen that I should be concerned about?"

Addison eyes the drink for a good few seconds before he reaches over. He lifts it up to his lips, sniffs it, and then drinks. The alcohol stings a cut on his lip enough to cause him to suck air through his teeth. "Some petty, but weird, criminal elements just outside the east side of the bawn," he says. "I just got in from reporting it to the warder.

The Uktena sets the glass back down and walks back around towards where Baz was seated. "Some guys in a van crashed into a red-brick building. They were smuggling, and you're not going to believe this, vipers in the back of their van. I would suspect cocaine, too, but I didn't really get a proper look. Some bystander called in LAPD and we had to become smoke."

"Vipers?" Basilia arches a brow as she looks over at Addison and gives a nod, taking a deep breath. "That is definitely a new one. I wonder what the snakes could have been for..." Shaking her head, the Wyrmfoe refills her glass, biting her bottom lip briefly as she does.

"Sounds like you had your fair share of fun then. The cops will clean it up, at least." Basilia takes a few seconds to sip her drink before turning slightly to actually let her gray eyes settle onto Addison.

"So, I'm told you're the one to ask if I want to learn about the GreenMotion incident."

He rounds the other side of the bar and settles into the stool. "LAPD doesn't clean up messes," Addison says tersely. He picks up the glass to take another drink, digging his teeth into his lip at the sting. "They tend to make them worse. I hope the snakes were the weirdest thing about that incident. Mending the Veil is not a task I relish in doing. Beyond that? I hope they don't become so emboldened to set foot on the bawn. It's enough of a nuisance that they park on the edge of Skid Row and snatch those moving in and out of our territory."

The Uktena nods to affirm the Wyrmfoe's question. "I scouted their lab twice. I was in the company of Circuit Trace, Protects-the-Fallen, and Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh." After a brief pause he introduces himself. "Ghostwalker," by the way. Basilia probably already knew that but there was something to be said of being introduced on their own terms."

"I wouldn't read too much into it for now. So long as they stay off the bawn I doubt it is business of ours, unless there's a complication we've yet to mention." Baz meets Addison's gaze for a moment and then offers him a quiet smile.

"Goddess-of-Victory," Basilia replies in turn, rolling her shoulders as she does. "So. Circuit Trace, Protects-the-Fallen, and Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh. Got it. And what brought you out there in the first place, just to be clear?"

"You mean the sept as a whole?" He asks with a blink? Basilia and Addison were sitting at the bar. His plain white shirt was roughed up with dirt and spattered with a peppering of bleed. Short freshly sealed cuts cover the lower half of his face. His injuries don't seem serious but there's one on his lip that stings ever time he takes a drink of whatever it was Basilia had pushed in front of him.

Whiskey, not cut with anything. "Yes, mostly." Basilia pauses for a second , as if she seems to have misspoken. She shakes her head. "So, you went into GreenMotion for the second time, you'd said? How much of the complex did you see?"

For once, Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh enters the speakeasy the normal way, through the front door, and on the ground. She is walking in a distinctly inhuman way, however, loping on three and sometimes four limbs. She is not moving with any great haste, or investigating all of the nooks and crannies of the place, instead, she seems to be keeping pace with her present companion, who is sharing some information that she learned from some of the two-leg mysteries. At first, Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh does not seem to notice what sort of company is occupying the place, because she is so focused on listening to the stories.

For once, Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh enters the speakeasy the normal way, through the front door, and on the ground. She is walking in a distinctly inhuman way, however, loping on three and sometimes four limbs. She is not moving with any great haste, or investigating all of the nooks and crannies of the place, instead, she seems to be keeping pace with her present companion, who is sharing some information that she learned from some of the two-leg mysteries. At first, Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh does not seem to notice what sort of company is occupying the place, because she is so focused on listening to the stories.

"I ran as Anruth for many years with a Strider pack. Long enough to earn my Rank doing tasks too annoying or too dangerous for Septs to want to give their local wolves. Long enough to realize that I was not a Strider. I could have returned where I was Mentored, Sept of the Roadrunner, but--" He presses his lips together. "It's a bit too nice there. It's hard to feel like you're doing good in a place where things are already in balance, you know. My mentors suggested Los Angeles or Beunos Aires. Los Angeles was a bit closer to home."

He pauses to think. "I saw the inside of their complex from the Other Side. It was more Weaver than Wyrm, if you would believe it. Between our two ventures, I did notice an increase in security on the Other Side of the Mirror. Stronger barriers between visits. Mor spiders. I would expect another increase after a third excursion." Addison nods. "Circuit Tracer held Rank, and he prioritized the liberation of the Bound spirit."

Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh's companion seemed to be filled with boundless energy, moving as her preferred shape having shifted once down in the tunnels. Abigale seemed to move around her friend in a bit of a flurry of activity recounting a story. "So then after the dead spirit of the man who fed the beetles the clear liquid killed the evil old human with a fire, the group of humans who were in the really metaled catterpillar with all of the fire sticks came in through the fence. There was a huge group of humans who had fire sticks and they spotted the horde of the spirits and didn't shoot, saying they were looking for a home too and shot off sky fires into the sky. The big guy, pillsbury tossed out a dead spirit and made a funny line. He was my favorite. Then they crawled away in the giant metal catterpiller. It was the latest mirage I saw in Ashleigh's mirage box. This one was called Land of the Dead."

Abigale didn't seem to take notice of the others in the speak easy either, but was focused on her friend. "I am no Galliard but these mirages are very good stories, even with pictures and everything!

Basilia stops to wave at the people entering the Speakeasy, nodding as Addison goes briefly into his history. "And I was raised at Western Eye, and came here to try to make a name for myself. Turned out I'm really good at killing Fomori so, like so many others coming up from Frisco, I've become Wyrmfoe here. Planning to make some moves as soon as we have the intelligence situation sorted-"

Basilia tips her bottle, filling two more glasses with amber liquid. "If you'd like a drink pull up a seat. We're talking out some things that happened recently. GreenMotion. Trying to finalize the layout before I bust down the doors."

It's not like they weren't talking in a public location anyway. Basilia didn't seem bothered at all by new entries. "You all did well freeing that spirit. How would you feel on going through to the Near side of the complex? The rumors about what trapped that spirit there are too much to ignore entirely."

The severe look on Addison's face seems to dissipate when he recognizes the familiar voices of his Tribemates. He swivles around in this stool. The smile on his lips almost cracks the cut from the earlier incident open again. He doesn't interrupt Abigale's story, not yet anyway.

Turning back to Basilia he continues to relay information. "The Spirit claimed that a Black Spiral had bound it there, but I couldn't sense any strong taint. I don't think such a spirit like that is capable of telling lies." He ponders. "If you want my opinion? I think we should be more cautious about razing that place. It's possible that the humans there were making genuine efforts into the research of alternate energies. The Spiral could have snuck in and worked its evil from the Other Side with none of being the wiser. You probably know as well as I that is just the sort of thing they indulge in. More than torture and cruelty they love corruption. Perhaps it is because I followed Dragonfly for a totem for many years, but I'm hesitant to jump the gun if it might mean the casualties are innocents."

The New Moon then looks to the Philodox. "My Tribemate... My Packmate... She was there when Flynn was with the Spirit. Perhaps she has more insights than I do."

"That doesn't sound anything like the land of the dead I know about," Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh replies to Abigale. Unlike her compatriot, she is not in Lupus, but in Homid. Nevertheless, her gait is a lot more similar to Abigale's than it is to someone who was born looking like her. "I don't get a lot of chances to watch the television, though. Sometimes I borrow telephones and they have stories inside of them too, but I like the music stories the best. Is there a lot of music in those stories? I bet you could make music out of fire stick sounds. How many times have you seen this story?" She looks up as she hears the voices of greeting and offers both Addison and Basilia a practiced, but distinctly /wrong/ sharp-toothed smile. "I don't think I'm supposed to drink that. But if we're talking about the Firebird that lived inside of Circuit Tracer--it did say that, and it said that after we cleansed it. I don't think it's a rumour."

Abi seemed to bounce around a bit "Once or twice. I love the mirages of the living dead. Who knew the spirits could do such things to defend their sacred places?" She wagged her tail while turning towards Addison. She whined, body curling up and tail now wagging in a furious fashion. She barked and charged at him, leaping up to tackle him!

"Addison-Rhya!" She exclaimed, licking his face and pushing herself into his face. She growled and barked, bouncing as if she were an excited pup and showering the older Uktena in affection. "Your here! Where have you been? You speak of spirits? Have you encountered some?! You must tell me! Tell me tell me!" All the while she did not relent her furious assault upon him.

"I am willing to wait to set the place ablaze," Basilia replies to Addison seriously. Those gray eyes study his face for a few long moments as she lets that settle in, lips pressed together to form a thin line. "If you're prepared to go inside and search the place thoroughly. But we'll get to that after I hear from your packmate."

Basilia turns on the bar stool then, glass in hand, and watches the two women who are approaching in their respective forms. "It doesn't seem like a rumor but we haven't seen the thing. It may have moved on afterward. Tell me about what you saw there, if you-"

Abigail's insistence on finding about spirits has Basilia's brows furrowing, though that soon turns into a slow smile. She just watches, for now.

His grin broadens to a painful amount under a shower of wolf-kisses. "Yes! It's me! Hello." He chuckles. Abigale's tongue would no doubt notice he'd been hurt. Not badly hurt but still hurt. He lifts his arms around the torso of the wolf, giving her a hug. He holds his arms there to keep her balanced, ruffling a hand between her wolf ears. "I think that was one of our stories first," Addison says finally about the stories. "Well not ours-ours. It comes from the Haitian people. The Living Dead Story. There's Haitians in our Family now. I think it's a bit sadder when they tell it."

He looks to Basilia and nods. "Going back is probably going to be more dangerous. Whoever bound that spirit there will be angry that it was freed. There might be traps." And then to Her-Wounds-Our-Fresh. "Did that go well? I didn't know the Walkers even knew how to do that."

Ikal steps into the Speakeasy and pauses upon finding it so full. The moon might be Waning Gibbous, but the wise Kinfolk is always careful down in the Bawn. However, realizing so many of them are his tribemates, he smiles and steps forward to stand at Paola's side. "Hello-" But then he stills as he catches sight of Addison and the traces of damage.

Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh takes a seat on one of the stool, climbing up onto it a bit awkwardly, but doing so to sit closer to Basilia, leaning in a little and flaring her nostrils. She watches the interaction between Addison and Abigale, her smile not leaving her lips. She even laughs quietly, though it almost sounds like it comes from a different person, her laugh is so deep and rough. But even as she watches the two of them, she speaks to the Wyrmfoe. "We went multiple times, and it was worse each time. Not Grandfather Serpent's children, but Grandfather Spider's. The webs were thick the first time, but I could crawl between them easily--this time it was worse. If I had to guess--and this is just that, I need more information--I might think that the Enemy we're dealing with once followed Cockroach, but now follows Whipporwill." She finally turns away to look to Basilia, but doesn't meet her eyes, lowering them in deference, "The last time I saw the Firebird it was with Circuit Tracer, and I believe departed with him. I've been...tracking the spirits it was commanding--the H'rugglings and Furmlings--but they seem to have lost a lot of cohesion with the disappearance of the Firebird."

When Ikal comes inside, her smile shifts into an absolute beam and she pulls one of the stools closer to her and pats it, indicating non-verbally where she thinks the Kinfolk ought to be sitting.

Abigale seemed to be satisfied though she did look concerned at Addison's injuries. She whined and looked towards the others. Removing herself, she shifted herself into her homid form, looking mildly uncomfortable as she tugged on her shirt. "Sounds serious...I had heard a little about that situation but I had gone to attend to some personal issues. Is there any way I might be of any assistance?" She asked, waving to Ikal as he entered and took a seat on the chair. She pulled up her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as she shuffled in her homid form.

Basilia listens intensely as Paola shares more about her encounter with the Firebird. She seems content to let others do the speaking, the expression of deep contempaltion almost chiseled onto that furrowed brow. She has no problem meeting people's eyes, of course, but she doesn't fore the issue when Paole looks away. "It will be worse a third time then," she agrees. "In which case, my counsel on the matter is thus.

I won't order you to go back inside, Ghostwalker. It's the dangerous path, and my responsibility is to the Sept, and our Garou, before it is to any potential bystanders. I'd prefer to stick to the Near, for now. Instead - I heard there's a list of the employed personnel on hand." She pauses for a moment. "I believe that our Sept Alpha has it if you do not already. I would like for you both to split the task of investigating the people on that list so we can find out their ties to the Spiral."

Basilia looks between those present now, finally setting down her glass on the bar. "Or to the Webs, if such a thing is really possible. We need to root them out at any cost. And if you happen to find that the facility itself isn't tainted then we can work that out with someone more qualified to deal with it than I am. How would you suggest we proceed?"

"That would make more sense than a Silver Spiral," Addison says in response to Paola's insight. "Betrayers." He frowns. With Abigale assuming homid shape he lets his hands down and reaches for his whiskey. Looking up from his drink, he smiles to Ikal, wincing as the alcohol stings the cut on his lips.

The Fostern is goes quiet to mull over Basilia's request. After a time he considers. "If we do return there it would be good to have someone at our backs on standby. We're good at not being seen and getting into places, though. My pack doesn't have an Ahroun in it. Not, yet." He looks to Paola and Abigale again. "That was a strong spirit. The one who bound it must, therefor, also be stronger than the spirit. That or more cunning. Either way. It's a betrayer and dangerous." He ponders. "Last-Living-Witness is good at looking at data like that," he notes.

The Ragabash lifts his hand, scratching at the corner of his jaw. He sucks in a long slow breath and then exhales it just as slow. "I've still have Concrete Coyote's request to fulfill." There was too much to do. There was always too much to do.

Ikal hesitates a little - not quite wanting to intrude on what sound like serious Garou matters. He lingers at the edge and offers Addison a nod of respect with a faint smile of concern. And he catches his lower lip a bit at the mention of the request Addison needs to fulfill. But as Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh pulls a stool closer to hers for him, the Kinfolk can't help but smile with a quiet glow and bow his head a bit as he sits down beside her. But then glancing back up at her and then to the others, he says, "Would anyone like something to eat? Something more to drink? I can go get something from the kitchen..."

Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh passes the whiskey that Basilia poured for her to Ikal, "Here. I don't think I'm supposed to drink this." She gives him a secret, sly smile, which she drops as soon as she looks away from him and back to the others. To Abigale, she says, "If we're going back there, I would like you to come. We could use some help dealing with the Ghostfolk. Last time, Circuit Tracer directed how we dealt with them--and I think I learned valuable things from that--but there were some approaches that I think he wasn't prepared to take that Older Brother could. Would you go with us, if we go back?" Then, she looks between the two higher ranked Garou and studies both of them in turn before she says, "I know a lot about Grandfather Serpent's tricks, but this feels mixed up with Grandfather Spider--and I don't know as much about that as I wish I did. I've asked the--I'm not sure what you're going to find there. I feel like there might be more secrets on the firm side, and I asked the...I've asked OmniFlux," she pronounces that word carefully, as if she'd only recently learned it, "to see if they can find out more there. It sounds like maybe they did, and gave that information to Peacekeeper-rhya."

Abigale blinked a couple of times, looking down towards her knees a bit as if indecisive. "I mean, I don't have much experience going into places like that. I might be more of a liability then an asset. But if a consensus were to be for me to come, I could go with you. I can speak the language of the spirits and can be helpful. More so then last time I went on a mission" She looked to Addison for a moment then back to her knees. "So I will say tentatively yes."

"So, *if* we go back," Basilia begins, stressing that carefully. "Then I will be backing you up personally. I want to be there whenever a Spiral might be involved, if possible." She takes a rather matter-of-fact tone, briefly casting her gaze across all those present. "Most of us have no real experience fighting them. I don't like taking chances. We can find other volunteers-" Abigail is acknowledged as she inclines her head. "-But rest assured you'll have all the backup that you need. Speak to Last-Living-Witness and the others. They have to know we're on to them, so we need to investigate as quickly we can. I wish I could say this part was my strong suit, but it sounds like you're off to a good start."

"Abigale is still learning with city-spirits," Addison says. There's encouragement in his tone even though it's followed by a slow nod. "The land she comes from is unspoiled, much like Sept of the Roadrunner. Still--" He ponders. "I would appreciate the perspectives of a Lupus. The Wolf-born are more and more rare these days. They are precious and their prespectives are precious. If it's not, too dangerous."

He nods slowly towards Basilia. "That's why I'd definitely prefer you with us, Wyrmfoe. With the Firebird free, there evidence of our meddling is going to be writing on the wall to the enemy." Finally he looks to Ikal. "I'm fine with the whiskey, for now. How about a hug? Looks like you need one."

Ikal shares a quirk of a grin with Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh as she hands him the drink. "Mm. I'll take care of it for you." He doesn't look any older than her in the slightest. But unless someone stops him, he brings the glass to his lips. But then he pauses as Addison addresses him. And offers that hug. "I... That... would be nice. But... I don't mean to interrupt. I can wait..." A subtle hint of heat has emerged in his face. The drink can't be hitting him that fast.

"I kind've doubt they'll just be there, but we could be unlucky," Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh says, "They might have abandoned it entirely, because of what we did. But if they haven't, there might be some way to follow the ghost-threads back to them. The Firebird, when it was still twisted, was commanding some of Grandfather Spider's children, directing them as...bodyguards. They might have some more understand of who has come and gone and who put the Firebird there, too." Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh glances back to the Theurge, and looks her up and down from where she is seated, studying her from the bottom of her feet to the hair on her head, as if she had never seen her before. "I think you should come either way. I'm sure you have greater knowledge than you are admitting, and even if you don't, you will learn something. I've learned a lot from this." Again, she looks back to Basilia, but doesn't meet her gaze, she tilts her head subtly to the side, but her antlers make the motion a lot more present than it would be in others. "Either way, it's important to go--even if it's just to sweep for more information. Do you think that you can ask Peacekeeper-rhya to share the information he has with Last-Living-Witness? I'd like it also. I asked for OmniFlux to look into it. But...the First of the Kill...I understand." She leans a little closer to Ikal then, tilting her gaze to watch him drink, but she doesn't say anything else.

Abigale watched them all speak and offered a small sigh. Resting her chin on her knees and watching all of them with a sort of wistful expression. "If any experience I had in the Umbra of this place, I could do with the lesson. Addison-rhya can attest to my ability to speak to both Weaver spirits and the Banes. Though I do attribute my success to more the machinations of fate then I do my own ability. I speak better to spirits of the elements as is my kinship with them. If I can be of assistance then I should very much like to be. Even if I am young and unblooded."