Post by Liessel on Dec 31, 2019 12:27:19 GMT -5
Bobbi:
It was late enough that the streets of London were all but empty, the freezing rain that drenched the city took care of the rest. There were not many who wanted to be out on a night like this. Night time, though, was when some people found their daily ways come to life, it just wasn't as thick of a life as what was seen in the day time by the city when only the respectable were out and about. "Come on, open." A glance went down one way, taking in the depths of darkness that were creeping into the alleyway, and then the other. No one had heard her, yet. Or maybe no one cared. Whichever the case may have been, Liessel went back to work. There was a light knocking to the door, a ring of the bell, and then a jigging of the door's handle. "Come on, please…" These were not the actions of someone with the patience to wait. They were frantic, and insistent, made by hands that were trembling. If she'd only known how to pick locks... Beyond the alley on King's Orchard End, all of the shops had closed for the night some time ago. There was no worry of anyone from the shops hearing her. It was the tenants of the surrounding buildings she worried about. It was also what could come from the shadows. She could barely feel her fingertips, and the weight of the dress she wore felt like tons against her body as she tried the door again. "Avery -- Felix -- come on." She hadn't seen them in a while, having done as promised when she told them she'd lay low. But now, now she needed to know it was safe. She needed to feel safe herself.
Char:
Yellow light reached around the corner at the back of the alley, winking out again, swinging back more boldly to light the yard back there. Someone's hand-held lantern, rocking on its handle. The light turned the rain into gleaming scratches, there then gone, there then gone, there then gone in a silvery curtain, and lit the front half of the cloak-coated man who held it upraised to light his way in the storm.
'His,' yes, at least to judge by height, by clothing and boots, and by the broad shoulders.
He had to have heard the bell--that defied the roar of the storm most of all. He hesitated, though, when he came around.
Bobbi:
The gleam of light, the way the rain changed color when the light moved, caught her attention when she glanced down the alleyway again. That was enough for her to still beyond the drenched shivering that had overtaken her limbs. She hadn't worried about protecting herself from the weather when she made way for Flynn & Flynn. There had been no time for it, and it still wasn't a concern. What worried her now was getting an idea of who was holding that lantern, and more importantly than that was did they see her standing on the landing of the Flynn's modest apartments? She'd stopped moving, right hand curled around the door's handle, fingertips pink from exposure to the chill. Her breath was a heavy mist that came with each exhale that she dare not count as she watched the man and his lantern.
Char:
He watched her right back, throwing a glance back the way he'd come, checking shadows with a flick of attention. The lantern, held high, threw the shadow of his hat brim over his face, but it lit hers--just a little--and the arm lowered. The light came under the dripping brim to light a young face. A familiar, pale face, that housed very surprised black eyes.
"Miss--"
Yes, that was a Flynn, there. Likely impossible to tell which at this distance, in this storm, without a comfortable backdrop in which to study.
"--Wickham?"
Bobbi:
She released the door's handle, her right hand hesitating in a motion that just a handful of months ago would have been second nature. It would have been done without a thought given to it. the difference was now she'd gotten used to thinking about it given her surroundings. She did, though, spare half a second to thank the old ones before flying into action. Down the steps she went, a flurry of heavy wet taffeta and satin, the colors of which blended together into a soggy black-looking mess in the lack of light. She was heading quickly for the lantern bearer, "I am sorry to come so late, and without warning." Much as she had been on their first meeting, this night she was soaked to the bone.
Char:
The man flinched back slightly--just slightly--instead of moving in closer, but it was over in a flash, and he swung the cape of his coat up and across her shoulders to shield her. "Is someone out here?" he asked first. His key was in the hand that would be across her shoulders if she'd let him. The other held the lantern aloft. The open coat exposed a double shoulder holster and two big, very unique guns.
So this was Felix, then.
Bobbi:
"I pray not," The warmth of the cape settling over her wasn't going to be immediately felt, but the relief of finding one of them was enough to take the sharp edge out of the cold, "I did my best not to be followed." There was no fight against the hand that settled against her shoulder, in fact she could have wept for the solidness of it, and the unique guns that Felix was carrying.
Char:
"Then let's get inside." That was her warning that Felix was going to move. He did, pushing up to the doorway and bringing his arm down long enough to unlock the door. There were several locks on that door, but only the main one engaged. The door swung in, making a black mouth. The lantern led the way inside, picking out the warm pattern of the runner that hugged the stairs and the little coat alcove and mudroom across the opening at the foot of the stairs.
Normally, of course, all wet things would be shed in that little room, boots wiped down, and voila. Not this time. Once inside, the storm was muted. The door closing would seal it out. But the interior of the building was, right then, not much warmer than the weather. All it was was quieter, shelter from the wind, and smelling of home.
Bobbi:
More welcome words had never been spoken, but the memory of warmth was not what greeted them when they were finally inside. On the landing, she had kept an eye on the darkness beyond Felix's lantern, watching for movement of any sort within the sheets of rain that continued to cover London. In just that brief moment there was nothing to be seen. Stepping into the foyer brought no relief from the cold, but it was dryer inside, and far more quiet than being out in the streets. The rain was but a distant pelting once the door was closed behind them. Liessel stood, skirts dripping, hair nothing but a flouncy mess of would-be curls and ribbon, rain puddling around her unseen feet, "I am sorry to have come like this," the need to break the silence was strong, she felt. The place didn't seem nearly as alive as it had the last time she'd been there.
Char:
Felix hooked the lantern on the hatrack and left it there, not even shedding his coat. He went a yard and a half up the hall next to the stairs to the telephone alcove with its stool and tiny built-in desk under the stairs. With soaked gloves, he started to dismantle the telephone.
"What's happened?" he asked Liessel without glancing at her.
He didn't toss out an apology, or check to see if she was all right. He figured she'd tell him what she needed. He figured she could get herself dry. He figured she'd say so if she were shot or dying. Yes, definitely this was Felix. Avery would have already been hunting up towels for her.
Bobbi:
"I went out this evening -- I needed to get some things -- I saw Septimius while I was out. I don't know if he saw me," She answered, shaking where she stood, unmoving to see to her own comfort, "I went home straight away. I waited as long as I could before making the attempt again. I stepped out of my home, and he was there down the street. I ducked back inside, locked the door and left out the back."
Char:
That got a look from Felix, finally, as he cut through two wires with clippers from a pouch he wore under his coat. The pause only lasted a second. Then he reached over and with a curt tug simply tore the other end of the cord out of the wall, displaying a fray-ended spray of tortured copper wire. Immediately, he was coiling it all up. "I need two things from my workshop," he told her, "then you should come with me. The apartment's not safe right now. Avery will know what to do."
Bobbi:
"Would you like my help?" The offer was made because she was there, watching him coil the wire he'd just ripped from the wall.
Char:
"Carry this, would you?" Felix pressed the phone and the coiled cord into her hands on his way back up the corridor, rounding the foot of the bannister and heading up at a rapid pace.
It was, at least, a degree or two warmer on the second floor, but every doorway was dark or sealed off. The parlor room, where Liessel had been magicked by the twins and then sat describing while their sister sketched, was cool, half-empty, its hearth too clean to have been used in some time.
Bobbi:
The phone was taken as he passed by, handing it over to her. Her grasp on the cable, and the structure of the phone felt fleeting. She could barely feel anything in her hands beyond that she was, in fact, holding something just then. And after that it was a split second decision to follow him up, Liessel doing her best juggling act to handle both the phone, its cable, and her soaked skirts as she traveled up the steps behind Felix, "What's happened? Why is the apartment not safe?"
It did look to her that the place had been empty for quite some time now. It felt that way, too.
Char:
"Ah. Well." Felix pushed into what had once been the apartment's formal dining room, but was now, as it had been for a long time, Felix's specimen room and workshop. Only it was a lot emptier than it used to be. "I suppose we all have our personal Septimiuses, don't we? Over here. I've a case for that."
He dragged out a short stack of boxes from under a workbench that had been shoved to one end of the room. He set the top two boxes aside, unlidded the third, and pulled out a leather satchel with a sturdy top. Setting it on the bench, he opened it for the phone.
He didn't seem to look Liessel over, but he said, "I've got a cloak that'll work for you. Might drag the ground."
She was short.
Bobbi:
Felix's statement was just a reminder that she knew very little about the twins. But what had she needed to know beyond this moment? They had helped her without question, and even to the point of putting themselves at risk. All for a stranger from a strange land they knew almost nothing of. She followed him across the room, leaving a moist trail behind her where the rain dripped from the ruffles of her skirt. The phone she carried as placed into the satchel with care, "I don't mind that," she answered, following that quickly with, "You and your brother are alright, though? I mean, I can find a way to handle Septimius. I don't want to burden either of you -- I just needed to know it was still safe."
Char:
"It's safe," Felix said.
Then he paused, thinking about it. Where it was now... how it was protected. It wasn't as if he'd personally made sure it was still there, unmolested, when he and Avery had scrammed after their arrest.
But as he stood there, the likelihood that it was still safe was high. It was no longer in this building. It, like the twins themselves, had been deemed safer at a decentralized location. For the sake of accuracy, he said, "Probably," and looked at her. "--Don't worry--ah. We'll verify. If you think Septimius is on to you, you have to come back with me. I suppose because consolidation of problems is more efficient than leaving them just scattered around, yes?"
Before she could react or reply, he'd spun away to go dig for those tools he needed. Just two. But now revealed to be an important two. They'd go in the satchel, as well, and then the cloak, and then... away. Out of there. To the coach. Yes. Good plan. All boxes ticked, all matters neatly rounded up in one dangerous and highly compromised location.
Bobbi”
That 'probably' caused her to follow after Felix as he went to collect the tools. "You don't sound too sure about that, Mr Flynn."
Char:
"I am sure," Felix said, stretching high to retrieve what looked like a doctor's bag from a high shelf, "just not one-hundred percent sure. More like ninety-seven percent sure. That, if graphed, would still lay within the realm of 'sure,' I'm certain. I have wards on it, and I should be alerted if anything tampered with or broke them. But you know--that three percent. It's an iffy world. Don't worry. This is serious! I know. Very serious--here, take this, would you?--" 'This' was a lens set in a rectangle of brass and wood, with measurement markings all around the outside and what appeared to be decorative eyeballs stamped in the brass in repeating relief. "--there's just a small mountain of serious things, right now. We'll get it all sorted. Most important ingredient for managing that is not being dead. Here we go."
Bobbi:
She listened, but she was looking upward to where Felix was reaching, watching for anything that might fall on their heads while he got what he needed. Nothing caved in over them, which was something of a relief, and she was then reaching out to take the box from Felix. It was heavier than first expected causing Liessel to adjust the way she was just then holding the box of lenses so she wouldn't drop them. Balancing the wooden container against wet satin meant calculated movements of her hands and arms until she was sure she wasn't going to drop the thing, "What are these?" It might not have been the right time for such a question, but curiosity was what it was.
Char:
"I'm having a hard time rigging a regular telephone to communicate using a weave I set up--that can find people, you know? So either our telephone works in the safehouse, or I'm going to have to sight a new thread for the weave. Can't do that if you can't see what you're doing." He said all of this as if discussing buttering toast.
Bobbi
Thread for the what-now? Liessel turned to take the box back to where the satchel had been left. For whatever that all meant, she could understand the importance of whatever these things were. Though, she did say "I'm sorry, Mr Flynn, but the only things I understood from that are telephone and finding people."
Char:
"Normally, with telephone and transcore service," Felix said, crossing back with her to close up the satchel and get going, "you have to know the code--the number--for the location to which you hope to connect, and hope the individual you wish to call is nearby. Right? My weave makes use of existing infrastructure, but tracks the individual--currentlyifthatindividualisequippedwithmylatestmarker--and then works backwards to discern the appropriate code to dial to get a telephone close to them." He shrugged. "I'm still perfecting it. It's less flexible than it should be. We could really use it tonight, though."
It was unlikely that he was going to make any breakthroughs tonight, but even the basic rudimentary version would be of use from the safehouse, if he could get it going.
Bobbi:
"So, these will help with that work, then?" That was asked as she stepped back, giving Felix room to close the bag. She still didn't understand much of what he has said, but the -why- of what made those lenses important was becoming clearer, she thought.
It was late enough that the streets of London were all but empty, the freezing rain that drenched the city took care of the rest. There were not many who wanted to be out on a night like this. Night time, though, was when some people found their daily ways come to life, it just wasn't as thick of a life as what was seen in the day time by the city when only the respectable were out and about. "Come on, open." A glance went down one way, taking in the depths of darkness that were creeping into the alleyway, and then the other. No one had heard her, yet. Or maybe no one cared. Whichever the case may have been, Liessel went back to work. There was a light knocking to the door, a ring of the bell, and then a jigging of the door's handle. "Come on, please…" These were not the actions of someone with the patience to wait. They were frantic, and insistent, made by hands that were trembling. If she'd only known how to pick locks... Beyond the alley on King's Orchard End, all of the shops had closed for the night some time ago. There was no worry of anyone from the shops hearing her. It was the tenants of the surrounding buildings she worried about. It was also what could come from the shadows. She could barely feel her fingertips, and the weight of the dress she wore felt like tons against her body as she tried the door again. "Avery -- Felix -- come on." She hadn't seen them in a while, having done as promised when she told them she'd lay low. But now, now she needed to know it was safe. She needed to feel safe herself.
Char:
Yellow light reached around the corner at the back of the alley, winking out again, swinging back more boldly to light the yard back there. Someone's hand-held lantern, rocking on its handle. The light turned the rain into gleaming scratches, there then gone, there then gone, there then gone in a silvery curtain, and lit the front half of the cloak-coated man who held it upraised to light his way in the storm.
'His,' yes, at least to judge by height, by clothing and boots, and by the broad shoulders.
He had to have heard the bell--that defied the roar of the storm most of all. He hesitated, though, when he came around.
Bobbi:
The gleam of light, the way the rain changed color when the light moved, caught her attention when she glanced down the alleyway again. That was enough for her to still beyond the drenched shivering that had overtaken her limbs. She hadn't worried about protecting herself from the weather when she made way for Flynn & Flynn. There had been no time for it, and it still wasn't a concern. What worried her now was getting an idea of who was holding that lantern, and more importantly than that was did they see her standing on the landing of the Flynn's modest apartments? She'd stopped moving, right hand curled around the door's handle, fingertips pink from exposure to the chill. Her breath was a heavy mist that came with each exhale that she dare not count as she watched the man and his lantern.
Char:
He watched her right back, throwing a glance back the way he'd come, checking shadows with a flick of attention. The lantern, held high, threw the shadow of his hat brim over his face, but it lit hers--just a little--and the arm lowered. The light came under the dripping brim to light a young face. A familiar, pale face, that housed very surprised black eyes.
"Miss--"
Yes, that was a Flynn, there. Likely impossible to tell which at this distance, in this storm, without a comfortable backdrop in which to study.
"--Wickham?"
Bobbi:
She released the door's handle, her right hand hesitating in a motion that just a handful of months ago would have been second nature. It would have been done without a thought given to it. the difference was now she'd gotten used to thinking about it given her surroundings. She did, though, spare half a second to thank the old ones before flying into action. Down the steps she went, a flurry of heavy wet taffeta and satin, the colors of which blended together into a soggy black-looking mess in the lack of light. She was heading quickly for the lantern bearer, "I am sorry to come so late, and without warning." Much as she had been on their first meeting, this night she was soaked to the bone.
Char:
The man flinched back slightly--just slightly--instead of moving in closer, but it was over in a flash, and he swung the cape of his coat up and across her shoulders to shield her. "Is someone out here?" he asked first. His key was in the hand that would be across her shoulders if she'd let him. The other held the lantern aloft. The open coat exposed a double shoulder holster and two big, very unique guns.
So this was Felix, then.
Bobbi:
"I pray not," The warmth of the cape settling over her wasn't going to be immediately felt, but the relief of finding one of them was enough to take the sharp edge out of the cold, "I did my best not to be followed." There was no fight against the hand that settled against her shoulder, in fact she could have wept for the solidness of it, and the unique guns that Felix was carrying.
Char:
"Then let's get inside." That was her warning that Felix was going to move. He did, pushing up to the doorway and bringing his arm down long enough to unlock the door. There were several locks on that door, but only the main one engaged. The door swung in, making a black mouth. The lantern led the way inside, picking out the warm pattern of the runner that hugged the stairs and the little coat alcove and mudroom across the opening at the foot of the stairs.
Normally, of course, all wet things would be shed in that little room, boots wiped down, and voila. Not this time. Once inside, the storm was muted. The door closing would seal it out. But the interior of the building was, right then, not much warmer than the weather. All it was was quieter, shelter from the wind, and smelling of home.
Bobbi:
More welcome words had never been spoken, but the memory of warmth was not what greeted them when they were finally inside. On the landing, she had kept an eye on the darkness beyond Felix's lantern, watching for movement of any sort within the sheets of rain that continued to cover London. In just that brief moment there was nothing to be seen. Stepping into the foyer brought no relief from the cold, but it was dryer inside, and far more quiet than being out in the streets. The rain was but a distant pelting once the door was closed behind them. Liessel stood, skirts dripping, hair nothing but a flouncy mess of would-be curls and ribbon, rain puddling around her unseen feet, "I am sorry to have come like this," the need to break the silence was strong, she felt. The place didn't seem nearly as alive as it had the last time she'd been there.
Char:
Felix hooked the lantern on the hatrack and left it there, not even shedding his coat. He went a yard and a half up the hall next to the stairs to the telephone alcove with its stool and tiny built-in desk under the stairs. With soaked gloves, he started to dismantle the telephone.
"What's happened?" he asked Liessel without glancing at her.
He didn't toss out an apology, or check to see if she was all right. He figured she'd tell him what she needed. He figured she could get herself dry. He figured she'd say so if she were shot or dying. Yes, definitely this was Felix. Avery would have already been hunting up towels for her.
Bobbi:
"I went out this evening -- I needed to get some things -- I saw Septimius while I was out. I don't know if he saw me," She answered, shaking where she stood, unmoving to see to her own comfort, "I went home straight away. I waited as long as I could before making the attempt again. I stepped out of my home, and he was there down the street. I ducked back inside, locked the door and left out the back."
Char:
That got a look from Felix, finally, as he cut through two wires with clippers from a pouch he wore under his coat. The pause only lasted a second. Then he reached over and with a curt tug simply tore the other end of the cord out of the wall, displaying a fray-ended spray of tortured copper wire. Immediately, he was coiling it all up. "I need two things from my workshop," he told her, "then you should come with me. The apartment's not safe right now. Avery will know what to do."
Bobbi:
"Would you like my help?" The offer was made because she was there, watching him coil the wire he'd just ripped from the wall.
Char:
"Carry this, would you?" Felix pressed the phone and the coiled cord into her hands on his way back up the corridor, rounding the foot of the bannister and heading up at a rapid pace.
It was, at least, a degree or two warmer on the second floor, but every doorway was dark or sealed off. The parlor room, where Liessel had been magicked by the twins and then sat describing while their sister sketched, was cool, half-empty, its hearth too clean to have been used in some time.
Bobbi:
The phone was taken as he passed by, handing it over to her. Her grasp on the cable, and the structure of the phone felt fleeting. She could barely feel anything in her hands beyond that she was, in fact, holding something just then. And after that it was a split second decision to follow him up, Liessel doing her best juggling act to handle both the phone, its cable, and her soaked skirts as she traveled up the steps behind Felix, "What's happened? Why is the apartment not safe?"
It did look to her that the place had been empty for quite some time now. It felt that way, too.
Char:
"Ah. Well." Felix pushed into what had once been the apartment's formal dining room, but was now, as it had been for a long time, Felix's specimen room and workshop. Only it was a lot emptier than it used to be. "I suppose we all have our personal Septimiuses, don't we? Over here. I've a case for that."
He dragged out a short stack of boxes from under a workbench that had been shoved to one end of the room. He set the top two boxes aside, unlidded the third, and pulled out a leather satchel with a sturdy top. Setting it on the bench, he opened it for the phone.
He didn't seem to look Liessel over, but he said, "I've got a cloak that'll work for you. Might drag the ground."
She was short.
Bobbi:
Felix's statement was just a reminder that she knew very little about the twins. But what had she needed to know beyond this moment? They had helped her without question, and even to the point of putting themselves at risk. All for a stranger from a strange land they knew almost nothing of. She followed him across the room, leaving a moist trail behind her where the rain dripped from the ruffles of her skirt. The phone she carried as placed into the satchel with care, "I don't mind that," she answered, following that quickly with, "You and your brother are alright, though? I mean, I can find a way to handle Septimius. I don't want to burden either of you -- I just needed to know it was still safe."
Char:
"It's safe," Felix said.
Then he paused, thinking about it. Where it was now... how it was protected. It wasn't as if he'd personally made sure it was still there, unmolested, when he and Avery had scrammed after their arrest.
But as he stood there, the likelihood that it was still safe was high. It was no longer in this building. It, like the twins themselves, had been deemed safer at a decentralized location. For the sake of accuracy, he said, "Probably," and looked at her. "--Don't worry--ah. We'll verify. If you think Septimius is on to you, you have to come back with me. I suppose because consolidation of problems is more efficient than leaving them just scattered around, yes?"
Before she could react or reply, he'd spun away to go dig for those tools he needed. Just two. But now revealed to be an important two. They'd go in the satchel, as well, and then the cloak, and then... away. Out of there. To the coach. Yes. Good plan. All boxes ticked, all matters neatly rounded up in one dangerous and highly compromised location.
Bobbi”
That 'probably' caused her to follow after Felix as he went to collect the tools. "You don't sound too sure about that, Mr Flynn."
Char:
"I am sure," Felix said, stretching high to retrieve what looked like a doctor's bag from a high shelf, "just not one-hundred percent sure. More like ninety-seven percent sure. That, if graphed, would still lay within the realm of 'sure,' I'm certain. I have wards on it, and I should be alerted if anything tampered with or broke them. But you know--that three percent. It's an iffy world. Don't worry. This is serious! I know. Very serious--here, take this, would you?--" 'This' was a lens set in a rectangle of brass and wood, with measurement markings all around the outside and what appeared to be decorative eyeballs stamped in the brass in repeating relief. "--there's just a small mountain of serious things, right now. We'll get it all sorted. Most important ingredient for managing that is not being dead. Here we go."
Bobbi:
She listened, but she was looking upward to where Felix was reaching, watching for anything that might fall on their heads while he got what he needed. Nothing caved in over them, which was something of a relief, and she was then reaching out to take the box from Felix. It was heavier than first expected causing Liessel to adjust the way she was just then holding the box of lenses so she wouldn't drop them. Balancing the wooden container against wet satin meant calculated movements of her hands and arms until she was sure she wasn't going to drop the thing, "What are these?" It might not have been the right time for such a question, but curiosity was what it was.
Char:
"I'm having a hard time rigging a regular telephone to communicate using a weave I set up--that can find people, you know? So either our telephone works in the safehouse, or I'm going to have to sight a new thread for the weave. Can't do that if you can't see what you're doing." He said all of this as if discussing buttering toast.
Bobbi
Thread for the what-now? Liessel turned to take the box back to where the satchel had been left. For whatever that all meant, she could understand the importance of whatever these things were. Though, she did say "I'm sorry, Mr Flynn, but the only things I understood from that are telephone and finding people."
Char:
"Normally, with telephone and transcore service," Felix said, crossing back with her to close up the satchel and get going, "you have to know the code--the number--for the location to which you hope to connect, and hope the individual you wish to call is nearby. Right? My weave makes use of existing infrastructure, but tracks the individual--currentlyifthatindividualisequippedwithmylatestmarker--and then works backwards to discern the appropriate code to dial to get a telephone close to them." He shrugged. "I'm still perfecting it. It's less flexible than it should be. We could really use it tonight, though."
It was unlikely that he was going to make any breakthroughs tonight, but even the basic rudimentary version would be of use from the safehouse, if he could get it going.
Bobbi:
"So, these will help with that work, then?" That was asked as she stepped back, giving Felix room to close the bag. She still didn't understand much of what he has said, but the -why- of what made those lenses important was becoming clearer, she thought.