Cadalie’s Tuesday evening odd encounter(Cadalie)
Date: 2025-06-17 17:43
(Cadalie’s Tuesday evening odd encounter(Cadalie):Cadalie)
[Tue Jun 17 2025]
In the Coat Niche and Entryway of the Convent Refectory/span
A reverent silence, sealed in wood, greets entry as the sliding glass door seals shut. The ambience of downtown is not lost, for the passage of cars and muted tones of voices from outside still reach this space, but it is much the difference between being deafened and swallowed within the heavy fall of rain and being sheltered safely from it.
A modest Nun stands in front of what seems to be a rental of religious wear. Or perhaps she is a tailor? Both– as it turns out, though one can also make a purchase of the garment should they choose- as well as custom orders. Custom orders… Of religious apparel- really cornering the market it seems. God has many callings, and He has said, “Ay yo’ Sister Anna get them summa that holy drip.”
Or. Something like that. Probably.
It is about 60/spanF(15C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Birch and Hart/span
(Your target falls into some of the subway tunnels only to realize there are other creatures down here in the dark with them.
)
A trumpet of car horns sound as Cadalie leans on the counter. One responding to the other responding to the other, passing down the pain all the way to the green light where someone texts on their phone, oblivious. They’ll be at this stop for another five minutes- maybe more. Nothing quite like having an avenue of pain on crossing.
*Crrkkkkt..*
The sound is lost, this creaking below the wood. Like someone rattling their tongue across the back of their throat. And then, as quiet as a candle, something severs the supports below. Cadalie is surprising quiet as she plummets into a landslide of a hole right below her. It’s profoundly familiar, after all. Sister Anna, on the other hand, screams like Hell as the desk in front of her slides forward and her slippery sandals plummet her into the world below.
Constance joins Anna in shrieking as she falls into the basement, accompanied by a loud “FUCK!”
It’s not yet a dark place, this tunnel of cement. Cadalie lands on her rump, fine, hissing her hands to her temple as a wracking pain of force shield breaks her fall. Sister Anna is face down in a mess of strings- coiling just out of the light.
“Hell and high water!” The Pontifex grumbles, looking on either side of the black beyond. “I swear! If it’s not a failure to get running water , a liminal cost of rent date, or just the damn asinine building itself.. Are you alright, my Cardinal?”
Constance grumbles, sitting up. “I will be,” she mutters, rubbing at her bruising flesh beneath her habit. “Heal fast, after all,” she sighs.
*Crrkkkkt..*
The Pontifex sighs. Constance, indeed, feet on the ground, stable as the Earth and its plates (which are notoriously unstable, but all things in the grand scheme of perception and magnitude), is surrounded by a mess of wood. Cadalie staggers over to someone, using her gauntlet to slap her own arms free of some dust as she breaths in the dizzy dust of shattered woodwork. Reaching down to the Anna tentatively, she begins to pull her up. “Hey dear..”
The movement triggers something, and as the Church Supplier raises her face, rubbing gently the sour red cut lining parallel down her nose, the string recoils out from under her into the darkness.
*Crrkkkkt..*
*Crrkkkkt..*
The Pontifex sighs. Constance, indeed, feet on the ground, stable as the Earth and its plates (which are notoriously unstable, but all things in the grand scheme of perception and magnitude), is surrounded by a mess of wood. Cadalie staggers over to Anna, using her gauntlet to slap her own arms free of some dust as she breaths in the dizzy dust of shattered woodwork. Reaching down to the Anna tentatively, she begins to pull her up. “Hey dear..”
The movement triggers something, and as the Church Supplier raises her face, rubbing gently the sour red cut lining parallel down her nose, the string recoils out from under her into the darkness.
*Crrkkkkt..*
looks up, stiffening, squinting into the black.
Constance immediately leaps forwards with her halberd and attempts to sever the strings, figuring that they may be caught around Anna and about to drag her off into the depths.
“RIIIKKKKTTTTSSH!.”* the darkness hisses back as the strings pluck like an dagger across a guitar neck, whipping with faintly melodic sounds and writhing at their ends in a final throe of death. Cadalie bolts up, gauntlet raised, whipping out her pistol- and pulses a light throughout her arm to light the darkness.
Constance says “Something’s fucking down here-“
The light flashes, and four flesh-ridden marionette scream like Pinocchio- chords caught visible in its open, wooden throat. You could probably pluck them. A pulse of happiness rises as the one Constance strikes dies quickly.
Cadalie immediately begins to get wrangled by garrot like strings, the chords taut around her neck as her eyes bulge. Anna, Satan bless her, tackles fruitlessly into the side of one. She’s strong, she has the gift- but she’s not a combatent.
Constance pulls out her shotgun and nails one in the forehead, reloading rapidly as she snarls with fierce determination.
Constance says “Charge towards m e.“
Constance says “If you can, charge towards me.“
“I’m– ghh.. Tryin’!” Cadalie throws the marionette forward and off, limping out of its range.
Constance says “Oh, you triaged yourself.“
Constance says “Bad move.“
sighs. Gonna go ahead and call a win on that one.