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November 3, 2021. Claremont Academy. Diana Falk Cafeteria. Queenie Maybelle McQueen had not been assigned a specific student for Mentorship Day. She’d signed up, that much was true. But in a reversal of how things normally worked, there were too many heroes for the job. Instead, the Headmistress had asked if Queenie could cater the event instead, and she was more than happy to. So here she was in the cafeteria. The equipment was…adequate, but all in all Maybelle was very happy she’d premade what she could. Word quickly got out that the food in the cafeteria was really good today, and soon the entire student body was finding an excuse to swing through. Not all at once, naturally, but enough to keep the ring slinging chef busy as a bee.
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Many students were meeting their mentors in classrooms, the auditorium or nearby, the library, or various somewhat-private spots out on the ground, etc, no one had "laid claim" to the Doom Room. Not publicly, anyways; yet, days before the scheduled Mentor Day, the Room had nonetheless been booked for several hours. No names were in the system, just a letter: R. Everyone who cared could intuit what it meant. When young Calliope Summers walked into the room, it was the bare metal and grids of power lines and projector nodes of the actual Doom Room. Gleaming and shining in the too-bright lights. Standing directly in the middle, with his back to her, stood the current Raven. His armored cowl was off of his head and held under one arm, and he was seemingly staring at nothing in particular as she approached. When Callie was about halfway between the door and the Raven, he spoke. Only then would she notice that the observation room's windows were completely darkened and polarized, and Alek had been watching her in the reflection from those windows. "Glad you could make it." He turned around, his cape naturally flowing in a way that other heroes found maddening to replicate, and that Callie knew was thanks to the materials and weight of the multi-purpose "accessory". "So. Today, it's just the two of us. Your father, your older self, Charlie, everyone else, they're busy with other things. Even the alternate of your father; I think he's in the Rookery poking that suit of his." Alek's tone is neutral. He's not one for mind games, but he will occasionally test the younger heroes who work with him. He had already made it clear to Callie, more than once, that he did things the way he did for a reason, and they were always his own reasons. "I feel like, by and large, I have a good sense of your abilities, your skills, and your style of fighting. We get practice on that every week, if not every day. I'm certainly willing to talk about that, if you'd like. But my interest today is more fundamental. Callie..." Only now did he take his cowl and place it on his head. His hands came off of the sides, and even as the tiny armor plates clicked and moved into place, his voice was automatically altered and masked. "Why do we do what we do?"
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Phantom had debated strongly about whether or not to go in costume or civvies. While she was less recognizable in her civvies, and would be able to avoid a great deal more of the inevitable small talk, it really was the Master Mage that Callie wanted to see and unlike some of the other famous heroes, Phantom actually did hold onto her secret identity. So, she was there, floating over the fountain in front of the school in her full costume. The ghostly folds of her cloak floated out, blowing in astral winds. It was a very dramatic pose, one that most people would certainly chalk up to being a spooky spell caster. Only some of them would recognize that it was dread of such a large social gathering that had her hovering over the fountain to provide some sort of buffer. Hell, she hadn't talked to some of these people since JJ was little... Shying away from those memories, Phantom finally bit the bullet and drifted down to the pathway, buried deep in the shadows of her cloak. With a small nod towards the schools headmistress, she floated through the walls of the school proper and towards the classroom that she'd occasionally taught a lecture or two in for the more magically inclined to await the first student appointment. Inside the classroom, she relaxed at the familiar surroundings. Crowds had never been comfortable but classrooms... Really, what was a Master Mage but a very, very gifted nerd. With a slight smile, Phantom gestured, lighting up the room with a soft purple glow that filled the runes and ward lines etched in the walls with the fire of her magic.
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Claremont Academy, Leonard Fox Auditorium Bayview, Freedom City, New Jersey Wednesday November 3, 2021 Inside the front entryway to the large auditorium building on campus waited two members of the Freedom League for the pair of Claremont students they had been paired with. One of the League members was five foot five woman in a recognizable bright yellow form-fitting bodysuit with a this black and white checkered pattern strip running down the side of the arms and legs. Most of her head was covered in a matching yellow mask, with only the lower part of the face exposed. Long brown hair in a ponytail stuck out the back of the mask and a pair of hi-tech, mirrored goggles covered the speedster’s eyes and upper half of her face. Over the last few years, Velocity had actually become much more acquainted with Claremont, if from behind the scenes. Over the last three years she and her husband had been foster parents for a Claremont student. Next year, her own son would be a freshman at the school. But of course, today was not about her connections with the school, it was about what her and her fellow League member might be able to do in terms of assisting a pair of current students.
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November 3, 2021 Claremont Academy Casper hadn't exactly volounteered for the whole meet-a-mentor gig at Claremont. He had sworn that he didn't do well with kids, that he wasn't the mentor type or anything like that, but hey, that was how it went, and as one of the newest members of Freedom League Auxillary, well... he had to put in the hours, somehow. Sure, he had plenty of experience, but he really wasn't sure it was the kind of experience that he should share with these kids... But, here he was, hanging around in the middle of it all, looking around Claremont, trying to do his best to seem like the kind of guy that these kids shouldn't go to ask questions.
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As both an alumi and fellow educator Mike found himself at the Claremont Academy not infrequently. He had at times advised students before. But this mentorship program was a rare visit not in his mild mannered grade school teacher persona but as Phalanx and while his secret identity was by most reckoning the worst kept secret among heroes he at least attempted to draw a firm line between the two. One he hoped his partner for hte mornings event would abide. Though Geckoman was nowhere to be seen yet, not that running late was entirely out of character, and if truth be told Phalanx had arrived slightly early in his efforts not to be late. He kept a wary ear for the sound of the Pitchoo just in case as he waited cape blowing faintly in the low breeze and head just shy of brushing the rafters of the small pavilion adjacent to the gardens where he was to meet his fellow alumni and any students he might offer some measure of comfort and he hoped wisdom.
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Ouroboros had been more than slightly surprised when the letter of interest from his alma mater arrived inviting, or rather requesting he attend the Mentorship program, a way to give back to the the school. Farcical on it's face he was hardly a year out of the school himself, on the other hand one did not in general choose to say no to the headmistress. The short dossier he received on his matched student was somewhat more intriguing and managed to capture some genuine interest from the jaded beyond his years dhampir. The morning of the appointed day Owain would wake to a raven perched upon his windowsill with a tiny scroll clasped in its beak. It tilted it's head as it watched him stir awake and dropped the scroll as it let out a caw that to the ears of the knight enchanter rang out, Beneath the most storied tower Destiny awaits! Upon the parchment was writ his next clue, A lonely wanderer, wounded with iron, I am smitten with war-blades, sated with strife, Worn with the sword-edge; I have seen many battles, Much hazardous fighting, oft without hope Of comforts or help in the carnage of war Ere I perish and fall in the fighting of men. The leavings of hammers, the handiwork of smiths, Batter and bite me, hard-eged and sharp; The brunt of the battle I am doomed to endure. In all the folk-stead no leech could I find With wort or simple to heal my wounds; But day and night with the deadly blows The marks of the war-blades double and deepen. Let it never be said a Chun-Faretti lacked a flair for the dramatic.
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Claremont Academy Early Afternoon, Wednesday, November 3, 2021 Dr. Ellie Espadas had gotten used to walking the Claremont Academy campus as a visiting mentor rather than a student but she hadn't really been expecting to be asked back to speak with another student. Guess I'll take it as a vote of confidence, she mused to herself, long maroon coat switching about her ankles in the brisk November air. She'd worn a tan turtleneck and black slacks with enough stretch to move about freely; she wasn't expecting that sort of action specifically but around that many kids with powers you never knew when the situation might call for some acrobatics. Waiting outside one of the school's dormitories she mentally reviewed the brief description she'd gotten of Rosalind Sommaripa ahead of time, which hadn't been much more than a photo of an uncomfortable looking teenager and a couple of sentences about extraterrestrial jewelry. Ellie considered the chunky bangle bracelets hanging about her own wrists. Probably not looking for accessorizing advice.
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The fairy ring situation was getting out of control. Stesha kind of hated to admit it, especially when the rest of her pregnancy had gone so well, but it was definitely a problem that wasn't getting any smaller. With Amaryllis it had been mostly the funny kind of annoying, a couple months of extra mushrooms in the yard and the flower crowns she wore becoming lush cascades by the end of a day. She'd never started growing mushrooms in pile carpeting or made exposed wood surfaces start sprouting that time. This kiddo was apparently of a different temperament than her sweet and stable Ammy, even before birth. The good part was that the one surefire cure for excessive plant growth was tiring herself out, and that got easier and easier the bigger Stesha got. Today, for instance, she'd planned on puttering in the Claremont greenhouse until her new mentee arrived, but a morning full of harvest season activities on Sanctuary meant that all she wanted to do now was take fifteen minutes with her feet up and relax. A chaise made of plants gave her the best of both worlds, a chance to lay down and a chance to let the hungry greenhouse foliage absorb some extra energy. It was nice. She didn't really mean to doze off, but it wasn't exactly surprising when she did.
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11/3/2021 Claremont Academy The Patriot made no bombastic arrival when it came time to pick up her mentee; she didn't pose in her costume out among the other adult heroes there to impress teenagers that there was something noble about spending your life in combat. Costume on, she sat by her motorcycle in the outer Claremont parking lot for Sharaf, running a cloth over the red, white, and blue finish. The bike didn't need to look so patriotic, of course, or really gaudy if you asked her opinion - but it was something the kid would go for, and that was nice enough. For once she was in costume and in public and nobody was taking pictures or asking her opinion about crime or the Second World War, and that was just fine. She adjusted her jacket, the blue and gold sunburst of the Smithsonian having joined the pins on her lapel, and waited for the Patrioteen to arrive.
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November 3, 2021. Claremont Academy. Midday. David Sloane Library. Terrifica Terrifica had never actually been inside of Claremont Academy. Strange, yes? Considering her endlessly curious and suspicious nature? But indeed, she had not. Until today. But the Raven-the new one, not the woman; she was retired-had contacted her and asked for a small favor. Well, not in such words. The former Nevermore (who she’d worked with before) said that there was only but so much he could teach the second to bear the name. Terrifica, for her part, agreed. And not out of any ego on her part, surprisingly. The current Raven was a more than competent detective, but he was a fighter first. While Terrifica could, of course, fight and fight well; she was a thinker first. It made perfect sense to have someone with the opposite style mentor the young man. And so here she was, in the library waiting for Nevermore II. She was, naturally, in full costume. When he entered he’d find her seated, reading an old novel rather rapidly for someone who didn’t publically claim to have superpowers.
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11/3/2021 Claremont Academy Sea Devil in her armor and Singularity with her shield, the two heroines sat together by Claremont's outdoor pool and waited patiently for their mentees to arrive. Aquaria was doing her best to avoid agitating Jessie, having done some pleading to get them both to volunteer for this very exciting occasion, so she was sitting legs folded up beneath her by her friend, her iridescent armor gleaming like a statue beneath the wan sun of a Freedom City autumn. "So all of the dogs in all of his pictures are playing poker," she croaked thoughtfully, thinking of Baxter nearby. She was not entirely sure she understood the subject of the man Jessie's thesis was about but she understood he was definitely an artist. "But dogs do not want to play poker, so I should not try and train Baxter." She shifted back and forth where she crouched and said, "I understand why you write about him. His work is a great mystery! What does it mean?"
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Claremont Academy Workout Room It was strange being back at Claremont after all these years. When she got asked if she wanted to mentor a student, she jumped at the chance. She was sitting in one of the work out areas, waiting patiently. She had sent a note along to Multi-Girl to ask her to come here instead of meeting elsewhere. She assumed the young woman would benefit from her particular areas of expertise; kicking down doors, kicking bad guy ass, and sneaking around when it was the smarter thing to do. She was vaguely aware that the young woman could make duplicates of herself. That was a neat trick, Mali reflected. She'd been in the heroism business for about ten years, and having a second Crimson Tiger around would certainly make that easier. She hadn't been there for long, and just needed to wait a few minutes.
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Claremont Academy Quad. Wednesday, November 3rd, 2021. 9:00 am It would probably go down as one of the most colorful days in the history of Claremont Academy. Students, teachers, parents and established heroes walked the campus in unprecedented numbers, creating an air of excitement. Here and there powers were demonstrated by either mentors or mentees, and the many flashes of light and occasional gouts of flame almost made it feel like an autumn carnival. Out on the quad, a small wooden booth had appeared earlier, with any instantly familiar design. The placard above read 'Heroic Advice 5¢', while the sign below read 'The Grimalkin is IN'. Behind the booth sat a slender young woman in black and midnight blue leather, legs stretched out and twidling her thumbs. Her auburn hair was short and spiky, the eyes behind her black domino mask were dark brown, and her ears were pointed like a Vulcan. She looked barely older than any of the other students wandering the campus. Grim eagerly awaited the arrival of her mentee; from what she heard from his teachers, they would have a lot to talk about.
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Date: 11/3/2021 Location: Claremont Academy There had been posters hanging about the school as well as announcements in home-rooms. Even if one had missed all the discussion over the last week or two about the upcoming day, there was no way to miss the way that Claremont had been transformed for the first Meet-A-Mentor day held on the campus. Regular classes were canceled, and every student had been assigned at least one appointment with one of the many super heroes milling about and making presentations at various locations all over campus. Beyond that, students were encouraged to go out and and talk to any hero that caught their interest. Headmistress Summers had really gone all out in terms of calling in contacts and favors and students and staff had worked some serious (and in some cases, perhaps literal) magic to provide spaces for each hero to talk to the teenagers looking to join their august ranks. From the bright colors announcing the Freedom League, to the dark cowl of Prime's Master Mage, and no shortage of famous heroes and Claremont alumni in between, the campus was full of heroes. While some manned their provided stations, others mingled about, saying hello to friends and colleagues. It was a superhero fan's dream, although some of the more quiet and introverted students might find the entire affair more over an overwhelming nightmare. Either way, Meet-A-Mentor Day was in full swing and would last well into the evening hours and, in honor of the event, there were no classes to be held for the following days so at least introverts could look forward to a long weekend to recover. ((Links to Meet-A-Mentor threads should be posted below))
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The Espadas School of Self-Defence and Swordsmanship! Afternoon of Friday, October 22, 2021 Erik Espadas reflected that secret identities and half-truths had seemed a lot less bothersome when he hadn't been the one having to juggle them between other people. It was straightforward enough to respect the privacy and often complicated circumstances of the young people who came to train with him or his wives at the dojo but it was entirely thornier when those circumstances started to intersect with each other. Trickier still with a significant language barrier. He'd been putting it off for that reason but Utsuwa Ranaga has a session scheduled in about half an hour and when it came down to it he wasn't willing to let the quiet girl staying with his family get walk in on a reminder of her long dead abuser without fair warning. "Damn creepy tattoo sword," he muttered under his breath as he walked from room to room in the second floor apartment above the training space looking for Neko.
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"A friend of the Espadas... Espadases, Espadaii? Talya?" Ace replied when Davyd called to arrange a meeting finally settling on his old friend sans surname "Think nothing of it, swing by the manor, next Tuesday afternoon?" The ageless man of mystery effortlessly encouraged not offput in the slightest by the out of hte blue call. When Davyd arrived at the imposing manor house of the Danger clan the gates swung wide and awaiting him at the end of the manicured drive was a positively ancient butler in full black and whites gloves and all, "Young master Ace is expecting you." he intoned breathily without a hint of irony in his voice, "He awaits in the conservatory." not waiting for a response he turned to lead the young man through the storied halls of the manor at a surprisingly quick pace for a man of his apparent age. Throwing open the glass paned doors the butler announced in his same reedy tone, "Master Palahniuk to call on master Ace." beyond the doors tables lined with lush exotic flora and the heady smells of earth and humidity nearly obscured the famed adventurer as he carefully pruned one of the plants with a delicate pair of shears. "Thank you Georg." Ace called out and waved for Davyd to come in. Georg closing the doors behind the young man and shuffling off to his other duties. "Welcome Davyd, can I offer you a drink?" Ace politely invited as he finished his final cut and set the shears down, "How can I help?" he inquired with a paternal smile. He seemed open and affable comforting even in his demeanor but there was something in the appraising way his eyes darted over his guests form that spoke to the age and experience behind the innocuous question.
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GM Arcturus Orbital City, Dreeda III, Lor Republic Along the inner edge of the Perseus Arm Lor Time Mark 1993.1 (June 28, 2021 Terran Calendar) Before the Incursion, Dreeda III was simply a small, but growing Lor colony on a verdant, habitable world. Like many such worlds within the Republic or other Coalition controlled sectors, Dreeda III's population saw exponential growth as dislocated populations were resettled. To accommodate the massive influx of beings, entire cities had been built across several continents while two orbital cities had been placed in orbit over the world, helping to handle the vast influx of space traffic that the world started to experience. It was toward one of those orbital cities that the somewhat motley group of cosmic adventurers were travelling to further Star Knight Kath'lana's investigation into a smuggling ring that was operating out of the system. Currently the four individuals were aboard Space Ranger's spacecraft as it approached the main spaceport of Arcturus Orbital City.
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GM Rath & Stromberg Plaza in Wading Way, Freedom City October 24th, 2021 3:32 AM The doors to Rath and Stromberg caved in, a group of four standing in the entrance. A tall man in a trenchcoat and welder's mask stood silhouetted, an enormous rifle smoking in his large, gauntleted hands. The red lenses of his mask were glowing red. Behind him stood a titan of a man, ten feet tall and plated in armour from head to toe. On his shoulders sat a small, brunette woman with a vulpine grin and a fluffy mane of hair, a domino mask covering her eyes. Finally, there was another woman, surrounded by soft green light, who didn't seem to be very interested in the events unfolding. Those who'd been paying attention to their phones would have seen the clips caught on phones of this group doing a series of smash and grabs across Freedom, sometimes teleporting in, others simply running or driving across the city. After a short dramatic pause they started marching inside, the lead man talking as he walked. "Everyone on the ground, and hands where we can see them. Don't try to be a hero, I'm sure the professionals are on the way. Just stay down, we'll take what we're after and be out of your hair. Stay quiet and none of you will be in any danger." The words were calm and measured. Clinical. The grinning woman laughed slightly before speaking up. "Come on Shadey-" "Don't call me that." " -we're robbin' a bank! You can live a little! Have some fun! Come on, back me up Anarchilles." The large, armoured man, Anarchilles, laughed. It was a sound like a volcano erupting. "I wouldn't mind having some fun." The glowing woman just mumbled something unintelligible. Ignoring them Steel Shade just marched forwards, knocking out a pair of security guards who tried to intercept him and striding past the reception desk. Just as he was about to head through a Staff Only door, he turned to the trio. "Keep the heroes busy for the next two minutes. Non-lethal only. Don't hurt the civillians." To the tones of some more mumbling and a cheery "You gots it boss!" He disappeared through the doors.
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GM Hamburg, Germany Early August, 2021 The journey from Egypt to Germany took 5 hours, even using a top modern Danger International plane. The flight had been largely uneventful, as Veronica and J'onn arrived at the Hamburg Airport. The cloud layer was heavy and oppressive, hardly letting any sun shine through at all. Once they had made their way through customs, a pair of bikes were waiting for them, ready to continue their journey to the West, to find the map to the missing gem.
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11th October 2021 7.13am Sanchez's had been in Hardwick for around ten years now, a little café just off Pelecamos Street. Despite the sky-high rent; the business had trundled along by sheer popularity: the food wasn't complicated, but it was good; one of those places where the menu was an inch thick but the chef seemed up to the task. The windows were dusty and grimy, never quite able to get clean, the green paint around the frames flaking and worn to the decaying wood. The interior wasn't especially well lit, the walls painted in a splash of terracotta red, rows of small tables lined against either wall, leaving an alleyway leading to the creaking, worn wooden counter. "Eggs!" came a loud voice from behind the counter, a plate of the breakfast food being set on the ledge of the service hatch. Various commuters and early risers had already begun to filter in, some sitting down to their breakfast, some queuing for coffee, the two waitresses rushing and bustling to serve them with a smile. Osla stood in the line behind a couple of grumbling old gentlemen, sullenly looking to all as if she was ignoring the world. Her Converse were worn and tied loosely, her black jeans ripped at one knee. One hand was thrust into the pocket of a battered black leather jacket, the other hanging loose at her side, a white dressing on the palm, pink with blood in the very centre of it. Her impossibly blonde hair was pulled back in tight braids, pinned to the side of her head in looping coils. It didn't do much to hide the beginnings of blue and black bruise on her forehead. The shipment she'd stopped at the harbour last night had been more heavily guarded than she expected. One of the men clearly had combat experience, and she'd had no choice but to grab his knife. It could have been worse. At least she hadn't been the one being headbutted through a set of broken floorboards. The man at the head of the line filed back out of the store, the bell above the door ringing as he set off into the cool morning, cup of Joe clenched in his hand in a paper cup. Expression unchanging, she went to step forwards, pausing for a moment. One of the waitresses bustled past through the newly formed gap in the line, an apologetic smile on her face and a plate of pancakes in her hand. As soon as she passed, Osla took a step forward, moving along with the line.
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Silberman's Books. Sunday, October 10th, 2021. 7:00 pm It had been a while since Megan Harrow had heard from her friend Lynn Epstein; true, they didn't talk every day, but they usually reached out to each other on a fairly regular basis, just checking in. But starting near the end of 2019, her texts became both shorter and less frequent. She didn't go into details, but apparently her mother was sick; very sick, in fact. Lynn asked Megan to keep her family in her prayers, surely a very bad sign. And then quiet. Not complete silence; the occasional funny meme came from the fae bookseller, or the odd emoji. But by 21st Century standards, it was practically radio silence. And then out of the blue in early October, an actual handwritten letter arrived at the Harrow home. Lynn's handwriting was beautiful. Hey Megan, Sorry to disappear off the face of the Earth for so long, but the extended Epstein family has been going through a really rough time, and when we do that, we tend to circle the wagons. You may remember that I mentioned my mom was sick. Well, now I can go into more detail, because she didn't want me to tell many people about it, as she is...was a very private person. We lost Mom to ovarian cancer last September; I would have invited you to the services, but Mom's request was that we keep it very small and very Jewish. She was a brilliant, complicated and difficult woman, but I miss her every day. If at all possible, would you be able to get together sometime soon? Sunday evenings are usually best for me, after the store closes at 6; maybe around 7? I figure we could have a bite to eat, share some wine and just talk. I need to be around someone who's other than my immediate family right now. Much love, Lynn
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The Espadas School of Self Defence and Swordsmanship! 202 Fall (early November), a Saturday morning (probably after So Cruel and Beautiful) Davyd Palahniuk had graduated from the Claremont Academy a few months ago, but still wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He'd had a few ideas, and one of them -- after overhearing Uncle Sasha gripe about "government spooks" -- had been worming its way through his mind for about a year. He'd tried doing his own research on it, but, due to the idea's nature, he could only get so far. But then he remembered someone who had (it was rumored) fist-hand knowledge with the idea, someone he'd met (briefly) last April. The idea gained traction. And so he had returned to The Espadas School of Self Defence and Swordsmanship!, dressed plainly and simply -- brown khaki pants and a long-sleeved gray tee -- and knocked on the front door. Should I have called ahead? I probably should have called ahead. Or maybe not calling ahead was the right move? The initiative, the element of surprise...
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Fall 2021 Neko and Danica's room "Falling in love at first sight is less common in Japan than in the West; party because of the - peculiar constitution of Eastern society, and partly because much sorrow is prevented by early marriages which parents arrange. Love suicides, on the other hand, are not infrequent; but they have the particularity of being nearly always double. Moreover, they must be considered, in the majority of instances, the results of improper relationships." Having been speaking in a low whisper as she read the Hearn book, Neko closed the book with a sigh and set it on her desk, the largest piece of furniture on her side of the room. With much more care in picking out her words, she said, "Enough for today." Turning in her seat, she said to Danica, "Can you want to buy some food?"
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October 2021 Southside Serbian Orthodox Church (formerly) The Southside Serbian Orthodox Church had been a center for the Serbian community in this part of Freedom City since the turn of the last century. But though the Southside was still the working-class neighborhood it had been in 1900, now it was a neighborhood full of immigrants from Latin America and the Caribbean, immigrants who had their own community centers and own churches. The SSOC (or St. Stephen's if you wanted to get technical) had stood vacant and abandoned for over a decade, a remnant of what had once been a thriving place. But now good times had come. The long-abandoned building had been sold to a local organization and was about to be refit into a community center and skatepark. In a few months, skilled artisans would come in and carefully remove the art that long-dead craftspeople had laid down on the walls and ceilings to a Serbian-American museum across town. But in the meantime, ten years of neglect means plenty of time for a lot of cruft to accumulate, cruft that a group of young metahumans were just right to handle discreetly. So it was that early one Saturday morning, the teenagers had been dropped off outside St. Stephen's with empty dumpsters, gloves and cleaning equipment, and all anyone could need to clean the place. They had permission to use their powers, even wear their costumes, albeit discreetly. "This is such a shame," said Owain, his usually-jovial face solemn as he stood outside the church's side entrance. "A house of God left abandoned for so long, and to lose what it was even if they save the bones of the place. I wot not wither to go with such a task," he admitted. "At least you don't have to smell it," commented Neko in Japanese, wrinkling her nose as she looked at the long-abandoned church. She had actually fallen asleep leaning against Owain on the ride over, which meant her ears and tail had been visible the whole time as they were dropped off and given their instructions.
