Auction No. XXVIII(Dovie)
Date: 2025-07-06 13:17
(Auction No. XXVIII(Dovie):Dovie)
[Sun Jul 6 2025]
At a hidden dock deep in the Louisiana bayou swamps /span>/spanThe swamp feels alive in ways it shouldn’t. The bayou sprawls as far as the eye can see: wild and tangled, thick with vines and trees, their moss draped limbs dipping into the dark as ink swamp water. Vines slither across twisted cypress trunks and shadows ripple through those murky waters without wind or cause./span>/spanHidden deep within the choked waterways is a dock that curls out from the underbrush, warped and sunken in places, as if the wood were being reclaimed by the swamp itself. Thick ropes of moss sway overhead, trailing low like skeletal fingers. The weathered boards of the dock groan with each step./span>/spanThe air is charged and electric. Swarms of gnats buzz in maddening spirals. Dragonflies the size of daggers dart over the black water. Every now and again there is a distant splash that seems to grow ever closer, but thats too large to be a fish, isnt it? Every rustle and ripple seems to imply that something is watching and waiting as the swamp murmurs, alive with its own secretive language./span>/spanmorning/span>/span71F(21C) degrees, and there are clear skies. The mist is heaviest At Church and Lake/span>/spanEsme takes a moment to reorient herself as they pass through the mirrorgate. She lets her gaze flit along their surroundings, stance shifting so she is standing a bit closer to Obadiah as she does. She makes a thoughtful sound, but otherwise remains quiet as she tries to spot the contact but ultimately settles her attention back on Dovie
As the group steps through the mirrorgate, they would find themselves suddenly in the thick of the Louisiana bayou, on a particular hidden dock. The first thing they would feel is the start humidity hanging in the morning air. Thick, clinging, and heavy, there’s already a mist that’s curling low over the water as dragonflies skim the surface and the sounds of things unseen rustle out of sight. The surrounding nature is beautiful in its own way, but eerie… and alive.
Standing at the end of the dock is a woman of average height, wearing a crisp tan suit. Her green eyes are critical, her blonde hair cropped short. Upon her neck is a tattoo of a fox, its cunning face plotting, planning, as it looks out onto the world. “You’re lucky I told you all to be here earlier, else you’d be late,” comes her sharp introduction. She nods to Dovie first. “Elodie Wind.”
Dovie apologizes. “Sorry about that Elodie, we had another member of the party unable to join, but we’re ready to go.” She smiles and looks to Elliot, Ambrose, Sofia, Esme, and Obadiah. “I’m confident in my crew.”
Stepping through the mirrorgate elicits reactions upon Ambrose, but no real reaction from him. The heat and humidity draws no sweat or discomfort, and his steps continue forward placidly behind Dovie, alongside Sofia, until his sunglasses fall on Elodie. “Apologies. Parking options were lacking.” Neutral and deadpan, as usual.
Esme offers Elodie a professionally polite smile. “Esme Chandler-Wei, pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Shifting rather starkly away from her usual laxed mannerisms. “Looking forward to hearing more about this Moonstone we’re after.”
Elliot gives a nod over towards Elodie, patting his own chest to introduce himself. “Elliot Harrington. Utterly charmed.” And with that, and with frown growing on his pouty lips, he immediately takes off his jacket, folding it up neatly before stowing it away in his backpack. “It’s rather humid here,” he comments to no one in particular.
Elodie turns her gaze towards those collected, her eyes skimming over each member, her eyes assessing, calculating. She clears her throat. “You’d better hope you can pull this off, Fairchild,” she remarks, a nod given to Esme and Elliot, and a sneer crossing her face at Ambrose’s snark, before she launches into things:
“The Bride’s Moonstone has been surrounded by an ancient magic for eons now. It has unusual properties, chiefly in its ability to draw out both secrets and misfortune. SCARE has somehow gotten their hands on it and the rumors have stirred interest from many parties. Violence is not ideal. If I needed bruisers, I’d not have hired you lot. But you will do what needs to be done. As for the organization itself, they’re quite … how do I say this… they love their traditions and their rituals, so what they may ask of participants, well, you’ll just have to see.”
Elodie chuckles, “Given your number, I suggest that you gather into two or three groups. Nominate one member to be the bidder, the rest of you can pose as you wish as an entourage.”
An airboat pulls up to the dock, driven by a driver in a mask. “Any questions? I’ll not be able to join you on this trip. SCARE are… perhaps not the biggest fans on mine,” Elodie grins at this, her canines sharp as she smirks.
Sofia pays attention to someone, arms folded as she looks around the swampy environs, and then at the crew gathered as if counting off people and seeing how groups will be divided. She says nothing for now, just silently sponging information through lightly narrowed eyes.
Whilst Elodie talks, Ambrose listens, as placid and unmoving as ever. Even the airboat’s approach gets clocked, but earns no motion beyond the movement of his eyes behind his shades. When the topic of splitting comes up, his gaze does naturally drift over to Sofia, before it’s back toward the departing woman. “None on my end. Thank you.” And then his attention wanders off elsewhere, gaze drawn to nowhere in particular, perhaps in thought or perhaps looking at things unseen.
Dovie shakes her head.
Sofia pays attention to Eloidie, stood by Ambrose with arms folded as she looks around the swampy environs, and then at the crew gathered as if counting off people and seeing how groups will be divided. She says nothing for now, shaking her head when the woman asks if there are any questions, and just returns to silently sponging information through lightly narrowed eyes. Perhaps she’s squinting at the sun?
Elodie looks around for more questions, remarking. “You’ll rendez vous back here after everything for the handoff back to me. When you’re ready, you can step into the airboat. Final call for questions.”
Esme nods in understanding, offering more for the rest of the group and not Elodie, “I’m posing as Dovie’s personal appraiser.” She mulls a moment, “I’m going to hazard a guess that the security isn’t going to be as tight as we thought.” Less a question, more a statement as she prepares to board the boat. No real questions it would seem.
Dovie nods at Esme. “Wonderful! Maybe we can split up our roles while on the boat?” She follows Esme onto the airboat.
Carefully gliding on to the boat with careful steps, Elliot gives a silent nod over towards Elodie before examining his cane. With a nod, he settles in, already wincing at the proximity of all that water that could mess up his suit. “I can serve as needed, I suppose,” he speculates eventually.
The airboat launches the group swifly through the waterways. Plenty of alligators can be seen lazing about. Dovie turns to the group, nodding at Elliot. “Let’s figure out our groups before we get there? Esme will be my appraiser. Who else wants to bid? I’m not sure what we’ll expect so do we want to figure out a rough plan?”
Obadiah glances to Sofia a moment before eyeing her for a long time squinting slightly before tonging his canine with the tip of his tongue, before commenting back to Dovie and Esme, “Miss White sent me with two devices the first generates a fixed set of illusions that are a non lethal smoke bomb or flash bang. Why she thought I would need that I don’t know.” He pauses then and holds out the pocket watch device, “This will allow us to track specific supernaturals based on their psychic signature, if we get something that they own. Otherwise consider me a utility infielders
“Heels were a bad choice, I didn’t know there was gonna be swamps and boats involved,” Sofia mutters as she makes her way onto the airboat and settles in. “Probably believable that Ambrose would be a bidder, she relates to Dovie, glancing over at Ambrose with a nod. “Stately, occult, good deadpan. I’d be happy enough being entourage, and, you know, meat shield if anything goes down.”
Settling in unbothered on the airboat, Ambrose rides in placid silence while others talk for a moment, before gently electing, “We also have more than one competent illusionist. If someone outbids, then perhaps they did not, or one of the rest of us did.” The shades turn on Obadiah for a moment, then back to Sofia, head placidly dipping. “I would agree.”
“Heels were a bad choice, I didn’t know there was gonna be swamps and boats involved,” Sofia mutters as she makes her way onto the airboat and settles in. “Probably believable that Ambrose would be a bidder,” she relates to Dovie, glancing over at Ambrose with a nod. “Stately, occult, good deadpan. I’d be happy enough being entourage, and, you know, meat shield if anything goes down.” -fix for clarity
Dovie nods to Sofia and Ambrose, asking Obadiah and Elliot. “Do you want to be a team, or would you prefer to join one of the other ones?”
The airboat skims over black water as cypress trees loom like silent watchers, their moss-draped limbs trailing whispers through the morning mist./span>/span“I don’t have any particular preferences,” Elliot tells Dovie, giving them a small smile. “Whatever gets us closer to our objectives.”
A chorus of frogs falls quiet all at once, broken only by the buzz of insects and the distant cry of something not quite bird, not quite human./span>/spanDovie turns to Obadiah. “Those items will be helpful, I hope! And what do you want to do since Elliot is open to either option?”
Esme is glancing out over the water toward their destination, mulling on something.
Alligator eyes glint like lanterns in the reeds, watching without blinking as the boat churns a path through the murk./span>/span“if you get hurt Arachne will tan my hide,” Obadiah says with a squint, “But you are the Architect. I am the face. And a Mercer.” He takes a breath, “Lets Mercerize something.”
As usual, Ambrose might be zoned out or he might be actively scouring the horizons; it’s hard to tell with his general demeanor and with those sunglasses. At least his umbrella isn’t open for the airboat ride.
Dovie giggles at Obadiah. “Alright, you and Elliot together then. We’ll all be in the same place, I presume, so you can still keep an eye on me and things,” she offers, squinting out into the distance, pointing to a white dot that looms larger as they get closer. “Look!”
Cypress knees jut from the water like half-buried bones, and somewhere nearby, something bubbles with a gurgling hiss./span>/spanAs the airboat reaches closer to an incoming dock, the white dot would quickly grow larger, becoming a white building that stands in the short distance, a worn path carved from the dilapidated dock towards the building. Under the harsh morning sun, the building is almost blinding with how white, and oddly, how 23clean it is…
As the airboat pulls up to the dock, two dockhands help passengers unload. They are both, markedly bald, wearing robes of hemp that seem homespun. A third individual, dressed the same, bows to the group. “The Society for the Conservation of Arcane and Rare Elements welcomes you… Please, proceed ahead to our sanctum.”
Obadiah nods to Elliot as he rolls up his sleeves in the heat slipping the cuff links back in to hold them up and double checks his gear again.
Dovie misses and looks or otherwise, too busy concentrating on the matters at hand. She smiles back at the lead individual, fanning herself with a hand. “Gosh, it’s hot out!” she remarks to Esme, adopting her best rendition of a spoiled rich girl. “I hope they have air conditioning inside!”
Dovie steps out of the airboat, onto the dock.
Ambrose unfurls and climbs off the boat with a neutral, “Thank you,” aside, to the help. “And thank you,” to the third fellow, before he moves to follow. The heat and humidity do not seem to bother or affect him too much; it’s just the sun that earns his umbrella’s popping open and holding over his shoulder for now.
Esme eyes the pristine building with a vaguely impressed look, muttering to Obadiah before she steps out and puts on a professional smile again. “I hope so too, Miss Fairchild. This heat is impossible.” She agrees, though for better or worse who suit jacket remains on.
Obadiah nods to Esme. “Right. Seems natural,” he says squeezing her arm before moving towards Elliot. “Alright, Harrington,” he says with a smirk, “Let’s win you a bride.”
Dovie waves to Elliot from the dock. “Coming?”
Elliot seems to ignore Ambrose and Sofia, his attention drawn to his phone as he unfolds it and takes notes, a stylus procured and used to swirl his cursive handwriting on the digitalized pad. When the boat ceases, he folds the device back up, secrets away the stylus, and carefully rises, extending his hands for balance as he treads and wanders on to the dock. “A bride?” he blinks in utter confusion, before throwing Obadiah a puzzled look. “I thought we were after a spooky magic stone?”
A bald acolyte waves for the group to follow. Another group recently disembarked from another airboat, troops along with Dovie and co as they wind up the path towards the building. As they get close, it’s clear that it is made entirely of some sort of white stone.
Sofia steps out of the boat with a slight wobble as her heels look to find purchase on the dock, and doesn’t complain about the heat: she just sweats a bit. Thankfully she wears to makeup to get mussed up, but does take a small handkercheif from her leather bag to dab away at her brow.
Obadiah deadpans to Elliot, “Called the brides moonstone.”
Dovie totally did not do that, that was already there…
Esme confidently strolls in a step behind Dovie, blue eyes taking stock of the location and trying to get a bead on how many other bidders there are.
As the larger group enters the entrance chamber, the first thing of note is the silence. The wilds of the bayou were alive, and loud. And now? Now there is only the sound of shuffling steps as the group enters. The second thing of note is the chill in the air, also strange in contrast from before.
A bald alcolyte stands in the center of the room by a raised altar. Upon the altar itself is a crystal ball and a polished brass pot.
The lead acolyte bows to the guests. “Welcome, we welcome you upon this most auspicious of days. This is the entrance chamber of our sanctum. Any and all who wish to be a part of our events need to peer into the future. The price of admission is to known the misfortune coming in your wake. And should you wish to avoid such a thing afterwards, you may leave a donation of your blood here,” they gesture to the brass pot. “Should you refuse these things, you will not be permitted entry and we will ask that you stay outside.”
The umbrella’s housed back to cane status in turn on Ambrose’s end, once they step through. Remaining comfortably close to Sofia in his drift along, his attention lingers on the acolyte, then drifts over to the ball and pot in momentary consideration.
A tall man in a green suit steps up, and peers into the crystal ball. What he sees is inscrutable to anyone else, but his face crumbles immediately. “Let me donate to avoid this fate,” he tells the acolyte. Two others move to help him, bringing out more modern means of extracting his blood into a plastic baggie, which is sealed and put within the brass pot. Relieved, the man continues onwards…
“Good luck and bad luck are both part of the cosmic cycle,” Dovie says as she steps up towards the crystal ball.
Dovie uses a a mysterious crystal ball/span>/spanYou are in great peril./span>/spanSofia uses a a mysterious crystal ball/span>/spanYou will arrive too late./span>/spanAmbrose ponders, too.
Ambrose uses a a mysterious crystal ball/span>/spanYour happiest moment will become your heaviest burden./span>/spana mysterious crystal ball/span>/spanYou will arrive too late./span>/spanObadiah considers with a smirk. “Maybe a wealthy Harrington should bid and I can be your assistant?” He chuckles a moment more then adds, “I mean the Fairchild has to win by statute.
When the Acolyte speaks, he quietly waits his turn before he pulls out his rune etched dirk and slices his palm, the same way he does every ritual, mostly for flair but also because it is an excuse to show off his dagger, but being the pain in the ass he is today, puts his bloody palm on the orb, and deadass gazes at the acolyte as he does so. “Two for one special at KMart.”
Elliot uses a a mysterious crystal ball/span>/spanThe next smile you see will lie./span>/spanDovie looks a bit nervous after peering into the crystal ball, glancing to the brass pot in thought.
“Listen, I am a Mercer and according to the Montroses we are poor,” Obadiah considers with a smirk. “Maybe a wealthy Harrington should bid and I can be your assistant?” He chuckles a moment more then adds, “I mean the Fairchild has to win by statute”.
When the Acolyte speaks, he quietly waits his turn before he pulls out his rune etched dirk and slices his palm, the same way he does every ritual, mostly for flair but also because it is an excuse to show off his dagger, but being the pain in the ass he is today, puts his bloody palm on the orb, and deadass gazes at the acolyte as he does so. “Two for one special at KMart.”
Obadiah uses a a mysterious crystal ball/span>/spanGrave danger lurks in your future./span>/spanThe lead acolyte sighs at the bloody handprint now left on the orb. Another acolyte brings in some kind of spray bottle and a rag. The air smells like lemon for a moment as they clean up the orb.
There’s a stare at the ball from Ambrose, too, expression generally unreadable as it ever is. He, too, steps aside, without consideration of the pot.
Dovie seems to decide not to sacrifice, nodding to Elliot. “Yes, I agree. Fate is fate,” she murmurs, leading the group into the other room.
Esme furrows her brow briefly at whatever she sees in the ball but, too, decides a blood tithe isn’t worth it. So she just follows the group in to the next area.
Through the double doors, the room ahead holds a magical quality. Fish as bright as gems dart through the water while a dry path is laid out for everyone. There are already a handful of patrons and their entourages seated within the sunken circle, all whispering amongst themselves, speculating upon the class case that is veiled in golden silk.
Dovie looks around with big eyes, and walks in closer to claim a spot within the sunken circle.
There’s a faint splash as a 14golden fish leaps from the water, breaking the surface, only to arc back down, slipping into the crystal waters once more./span>/spanWhilst waiting for things to start, Ambrose elects to find some seating amongst the circle, breaking away a smidge from the rest of the group, so as not to be in one giant cluster and stick out. While he sits, his eyes wander. Aimlessly? Maybe.
Dovie leans towards Esme, whispering loudly. “How expensive do you think this will run? They won’t even let us take a good look at it before, seems like!”
Esme tucks her phone away as she settles in beside Dovie, “Well, from everything I’ve heard I’d suppose in the millions at least. It’s quite sought after.” She briefly glances to the gathered and thenback toward the stage
“These things are always so quiet,” Sofia complains as she takes a slinky seat in the sunken circle, tilting her gaze up and to the side slightly to linger on Ambrose. “You’d think they spring for a brass band or something, we aren’t too far from New Orleans after all…”
Though Ambrose’s attention is elsewhere, he doesn’t seem to mind Sofia’s speaking a bit, though it’s belated when he replies, a quiet sotto: “One would think, yes.” Those sunglassed eyes are off god-knows-where else.
Gesturing over towards Obadiah, Elliot seats himself and offers a small, faint smile, a beckon forming from the small flourish of his right hand. Those stormy orbs of his flicker forward to regard the center with curiosity.
Ambrose’s survey of the room would result in pinpointing a few individuals. First, a tall woman wearing a black jumpsuit and a veil accompanied by what looks like a bodyguard who radiate a perhaps familiar energy. Second, is a trio of triplet teens wearing all white. Upon their wrists are watches which seem to glow. And lastly is a singular woman with long white hair and a youthful appearance, dressed in red.
Dovie waves a hand carelessly in the air, telling Esme. “Chump change,” she murmurs.
Obadiah makes a point of speaking quite loudly, “Fairchild, Harrington, Chandler-Wei, Mercer, Vasquez. Others.” He pauses before getting distracted, flicking a glance to Esme briefly breaking character, before glancing back to Elliot. “Bidding will be tight.”
Esme nods sagely to Dovie, “I am looking forward to examining the piece up close once you are the proud new owner.” Confident.
“Don’t worry, you can just say Other, singularly,” Sofia teases back towards Obadiah with faint amusement, not seeming terribly offended as she continues to scan the room, but with a bit less scrutiny than Ambrose.
A bald acolyte moves down the dry path, standing next to the platform with the glass. “Our biddings shall commence shortly! Monetary bids will be accepted.”
The golden silk is removed from the glass, and nestled upon a purple silk pillow is a perfectly round, white moonstone. Parts of it are as clear as glass while the eye is milky like jade and marble.
“As you may, or may not be aware, the Bride’s Moonstone received its name from its first owner, a young noblewoman who was gifted it as a dowry from a mysterious relation. Upon the morning of her wedding, the noblewoman disappeared from her locked chambers, leaving only this moonstone behind… We shall allow bidders to examine it up close, but be forewarned, that any who hold such a thing will be influenced by the stone to speak a secret into the world.” The acolyte looks around. “We shall begin the bidding at a hundred thousand dollars.”
Dovie raises an eyebrow, leaning to whisper to Esme. “I think it may be a good idea for you to appraise it first, don’t you?”
At the commencement, Ambrose turns his attention onto the moonstone wholesale, but does not initially, immediately bid.
Esme nods once to Dovie’s question, agreeing quietly. “Yes. We don’t want to spend your money on something fake after all.” She lifts her voice a little as she starts to rise. “My client wishes an examination be done first before we consider a bid.” Starting to walk toward the case for a closer look. Good thing she wore gloves!
The acolyte nods, and a second one lifts the glass so that Esme can get a closer look. “Of course, you should know that there will be no funny business. Not only are there many eyes upon you, the building is surrounded with our people. I say this not to you directly, but to all here who wish to examine the stone.”
The woman in the black veil, raises a languid hand. Her voice carries an accent that is hard to place. “My appraiser here wishes too, to see the stone.” She gestures to her bodyguard, who looks nothing like an appraiser.
Obadiah rises as well to appraise the stone as well, pulling out a jeweler’s loup from his occult bag and studies it without touching it.
Esme gives the someone a bland look, “I am a professional.” As such, she does not immediately go for picking up the orb, getting a good visual on it first as well.
Esme gives the acolyte a bland look, “I am a professional.” As such, she does not immediately go for picking up the orb, getting a good visual on it first as well.
Frowning slowly, Elliot nudges Obadiah murmuring over, “We should touch the stone. See if it’s real.”
Ambrose remains in his seat still, not bothering to go for a deeper examination himself just yet. The commentary of the woman in the jumpsuit, though, earns a shift of his gaze over, and then back to Sofia. “Perhaps give it a once-over,” he deigns, pulling a sheet of paper from his attache case, which is used as a writing surface to jot some specifications on it.
The moonstone looks to be of value. There’s an uncanniness to how the stone’s eye seems to watch those who gaze upon it.
Sofia leans in towards Ambrose with a bump of her shoulder to his, looking over the specifications curiously, with periodical glances up towards the moonstone just to make sure things are staying in place.
The triplets all seem eager to hold the stone, each of them lining up behind Esme. “Come on now, we wan tourselves a look too!”
Obadiah snaps his case closed, satisfied it is the genuine article. “It’s real,” he informs Elliot before taking his seat again, eyes briefly looking at his phone.
The woman in the black jumpsuit raises her hand calmly. “Two hundred thousand.”
“Professionalism takes time.” Esme rolls her eyes to the triplets and does venture to delicately touch the stone with a gloved finger as if it perhaps test the supernatural properties.
Sofia nods once firmly to Ambrose and then gets up to examine the piece herself, stumbling slightly as she passes Obadiah and dropping a sheet of paper inconspicuously on his lap, before continuing on to where the group is gathered around to assess.
Obadiah looks at the paper then at Sofia and rolls his eyes before dropping it face down in Esme’s seat.
Dovie raises her hand, “Two hundred fifty thousand!” she calls out.
Ambrose has his eyes on Obadiah and that sheet for a moment, before his gaze returns to the orb, and to Sofia inspecting it.
The acolyte points to Dovie as the highest bid and a golden clock shaped like the sun is hoisted up by yet another bald acolyte, showing that there is 25 more minutes to the auction.
“Nothing. Bid,” Obadiah returns back to Elliot. “Minor defect in the clock.”
Dovie glances at an auction clock/span>/spanEsme lifts her finger off, pursing her lips and finally strolls toward her seat. “It’s real.” She echoes as she glances to the paper, writing something else on it and shows it to Dovie. “Bid away, Miss Fairchild.”
Lifting a hand, Elliot immediately announces, “Four Hundred thousand,” scanning the crowd immediately afterwards. His lips squirm a little, as he glances back over towards Obadiah, knitting his eyebrows together.
Sofia fumes slightly as she catches Obadiah’s eyeroll back in passing, then leans over the moonstone, staring at it. All she does is stare, no closer inspection, just a full, intensifying glare, and a repeated, flexing, tensing of her fists, defined musculature on display in her arms and back. She storms back to take her seat again, visibly starting to boil over with rage as she sits down.
The woman in the black jumpsuit with the veil grimaces at being outbid by the others, bristling. “Five hundred thousand.” The body guard gives his master a double take.
Obadiah looks over by Ambrose and pulls out his gift from Isabella and starts to fiddle with it, appearing to wind the clock as he looks at the woman in the jumpsuit.
Once Sofia has sat, Ambrose all but ignores the bristling of both his entourage and of the woman in the jumpsuit, as well as Elliot’s immediacy, to placidly up the ante. “Six hundred thousand.”
The woman in the black jumpsuit leans over to her companion, who issues out a gruff mention to the acolyte in charge. “My master says she has seen a vision that someone in this room has malintent to steal the moonstone.”
The woman raises a languid hand, “And Seven Hundred Fifty thousand.”
The beefcake points a fat finger towards Ambrose. The acolyte looks between them, nervously. “Now, now. No need for literal finger pointing! We have a little over fifteen minutes left and at the end, the stone shall be with its newest owner, the highest bid!”
Focused on the moonstone instead for a moment, Ambrose perhaps considers his next bid, or whether he wants to up the stakes that much. There’s not much to be read in his expression. The finger-pointing goes unaddressed, if not unnoticed.
Sofia gives a blank stare up to the moonstone, eyes boring a hole in the wall past it, jaw set in indignant rage. The bidding seems to pass her by completely, the chattering of the rich and powerful flying over her head. Her fist keeps tensing, and relaxing, tensing, and relaxing, nails dug deep into her palm.
Dovie makes a show of being annoyed at the woman in black. “Eight hundred thousand!”
Obadiah looks at Elliot and his non-bidding and lets out a heavy sigh before looking back to the clock
Supernatural fuckery is supernatural fuckery. Maybe Esme only thought she put the stone down. Realizing it’s starting to glow though, she quickly tries to stash it in a suit pocket while some other magical fuckery is going down.
“Eight-hundred and fifty thousand,” Elliot announces after lifting his hand, tacking on, “And secured permission for building a secure site in Massachusetts, tax-free, the business, property, and owner tax-exempt, with a blind eye towards activities committed.” The Harrington easily ups the stakes, glancing at the acolyte with a small but firm smile, knitting his eyebrows together. “Something nearly unattainable otherwise.”
The woman in the black jumpsuit stands and gasps, pointing a finger at Esme. “Thief!” The acolyte steps forward to try to accost Esme. “Return that at once!” Other acolytes around the room approach, menacingly. Even the fish in the waters seem to be swimming more furiously now.
This is why, of course, Esme is the Fixer and Fence. Not the actual Thief.
Sofia ignores the chatter of everything, the ongoing bidding, the acolyte the chaos unfolding, and succumbs to the call of the moonstone. She just walks up, leans her hand down, and — instead of touching it, she notices Esme’s swap. She grins over to the woman and holds her palm out, saying. “Give it to me. I got this.”
A shocked murmur ripples through the crowd as all eyes are on Esme.
Ambrose remains quiet for a time, still, with his attention drifting over to Elliot and his claims. There’s no attempt made to outdo it just yet, or to claim otherwise; instead, his eyes fall back on the moonstone, on Esme, and on Sofia. And then they peel off of her to the woman in the jumpsuit, taking the moment during the fracas to openly study her when eyes aren’t particularly on him.
“Fuck me,” Obadiah says already reaching into his pocket to grab the illusion device but just waits for Sofia now to see what she does before causing a scene.
A duo of acolytes approaches Esme. “Hand over the moonstone. Make this easy on yourself, or else…”
Esme isn’t going to ask twice. There’s a job to be done. She gives the moonstone to Sofia without question while, at the same time, throwing the baseball at the acolyted.
One of the trio of teens snarks, “Toldya she was hogging it!”
Ambrose doesn’t bother getting up just yet, still in his seat. Fingers crook subtly in his lap, signet ring gently aglow.
Dovie looks horrified at the situation and clears her throat, “This, this is totally a misunderstanding!” she claims, rising and trying to shuffle as discreetly as she can towards the exit.
An acolyte gets beaned in the face by the baseball by Esme, crying out!
The room erupts into chaos with acolytes trying to rush after Sofia, and with guests and their entourages trying to run out of the room. There’s screams, yells, and people getting trampled. Throuhg it all, Sofia and Esme make their escape. The bodyguard for the woman in the black jumpsuit runs after Sofia, hot on her heels.
Dovie tries to hold her own and run!
It is utterly placid an unhurried, the way Ambrose collects himself out of his seat while the chaos erupts. One hand gathers up his cane-umbrella, and he starts drifting through the trampling din toward the door himself, behind the pair and behind the bodyguard, as well. Nothing to see here, certainly not Ambrose’s fingertips coiling and twisting at his side.
Sofia braces an arm and barrels forward once she pockets the moonstone, running with her elbow, forearm, and shoulder intentionally braced to cause damage, gleefully smashing into auction-goers, socialites, and acolytes as she runs. She doesn’t assess the damage as she goes, but instead grips the moonstone tightly in her palm, embracing whatever negative memories it might show her as she blazes through with wild eyes and a wicked grin.
Distraction successful, Obadiah says to Elliot, “Time to go. Get to the mirror gate.” He collects his magical box and tries to blend in with the crowd running for the door, but looking unhurried. “I will leave you behind, Harrington.”
With a sigh, Elliot raises himself upwards before following Obadiah, jogging forward, his hand behind his back and stuck upon what lies holstered.
Esme flees right into the other room and away from the acolytes!
The entire room is utter chaos. With so much going on, it’s hard to track what anyone is doing and the acolytes seem disorganized.
Dovie tries to duck and weave, crying out in fear at the press of the crowd at the double doors. “Go go go!!”
The bodyguard comes barreling out of the building, after Sofia. “Mine!” he howls, bringing out a baton from his side to attempt to swing at her.
Esme palms the crystal ball as they flee out of the building, running right for the dock and jumping into the boat.
Dovie sprints towards the airboat, jumping in after Esme before she turns to see the bodyguard attacking Sofia, gasping!
“Guess what everyone?” Sofia says, maniacal, now as she batters through people, smashing through the door like the kool-aid man and cackling wildly. “I just found out I’m a FUCKING MURDERER!” She glances over at Elliot then, a pointed stare through wild eyes, with sweat staining her forehead and matting hair to her face. “And right now I just need an excuse to do it again!” She glares at the bodyguard and throws a single punch at his jaw with the strength to shatter bones.
It’s a valiant attempt, but for whatever reason, the punch miscalculates and instead, the moonstone goes 30FLYING into the air. Various individuals on the ground scramble for it!
Obadiah looks around at the group then blinks at Sofia and says completely straight faced, “Who isn’t?” He looks as the stone goes flying then and tries to calculate the angle to catch it.
There is no attempt from Ambrose to go for the moonstone; its sail is clocked, but the laconic and lethargic man is likely not the best suited to swan dive for it. Fingers are still moving at his side, and the bodyguard has his attention for now.
“Since we’re all apparently going loud, and uncivil,” Elliot sighs, watching as Sofia attempts to murder someone before pulling out his revolver, “I believe now’s the time to establish order.” Lifting his hand he fires his revolver, several times into the sky to draw attention.
Some of the acolytes startle at the gunshots, turning to look at Elliot along with some of the crowd, but a few people keep running, escaping to their airboats.
Further chaos ensues as Obadiah misses the moonstone. Bodies tackle one another as they all attempt for it.
In the ensuing chaos, the bodyguard ends up falling on Ambrose instead.
Sofia catches air with her fist, instead of jaw, and didn’t even take the gemstone out of her hand before she punched so it sails. Amateur hour. But the outburst of emotion seems to have calmed her slightly and she tries to redeem herself, taking another whack at the bodyguard with renewed focus and barreling through towards the melee of various auctiongoers, scrambling across the ground to simply elbow her way through the chaos and snatch it up.
It’s just a clusterfuck, unfortunately, and Ambrose manages to shoulder-check himself into the bodyguard. Winding up with a weighted blanket across the lower half of his cold body, his feet kick to try to writhe out, seeking the moonstone in the chaos.
Dovie screams from the boat. “Let’s go!!!”
Esme lets the crystal ball roll on to the boat floor and stands up, watching Sofia try to regain the stone, “Come on Sofia! Let’s fuckin’ go!” She encourages the woman. A little crossbow is withdrawn from her pocket, providing some interesting cover fire for the woman.
“Oh Christ Almighty,” Elliot mutters as the situation escalates. Swiftly reloading his revolver, sliding the cylinder out before tossing rounds in, he steps calmly towards the airboat before hopping on revolver no longer aimed at the sky. But now, at any who would dare bound their way towards their new refuge and escape.
The woman in the black jumpsuit springs to help her companion, rolling him off of Ambrose with a kick. “You sloppy lout!” she hisses before trying to chase after Sofia now.
Sofia bashes and smashes at people indiscriminately to snatch up the moonstone and then leaps into the airboat with a thunk, just landing inside it with her dress all disheveled and one of the heels of her shoes being snapped in the process.
Ambrose peels himself off of the dock, pushing the bodyguard’s face away with a last plant of his Oxford’s soles, and rights himself. It’s just a short jaunt and a sprightly vault into the airboat as well.
Dovie looks around fantically at those on the airboat. “Where’s Obie??”
Obadiah looks around between the manic Sofia, who has the ball, Esme and Dovie already on the boat and casts one more distraction between the crowd pointing the bodyguard at an acolyte before jumping into the boat. “Gun it.”
The airboat zooms off just as the woman in the black jumpsuit gets to the edge of the dock, she loses her balance as the airboat pulls away, falling into the water.
Obadiah actually meant trick
Dovie looks around. “Holy fuck, is everyone okay?!”
Esme can’t help but laugh in a rush of adrenaline and disbelief. “I…think so.” She’s retrieved her crystal ball now, holding it to her person.
Sofia looks from Dovie, gaze steely and voice dripping with violence, over to Elliot, saying, “He won’t be, in a second, until he begs for forgiveness.”
Ambrose keeps his eyes on the woman for a long time as they pilot away, until she recedes entirely from their vision when they round a swampy bend. “… did not even need to deploy the scuba –” The placid consideration ends when his attention lands on Obadiah, and then back to Dovie. “Thus far.” And then on to Sofia, to linger.
Dovie tells Sofia. “Hey, hey, let’s not make any hasty moves now. Can you give me the moonstone?” she asks, her hand outstretched towards her.
“I can, after we hash this out.” Sofia confirms for Dovie, glancing to Elliot again. “You wanna admit what you did?”
As the airboat speeds along, a low hanging fog hugs the waterline, swallowing shapes and sounds in slow, creepi`#dx
Unmoving, without further commentary, Ambrose/span>/spanAs the airboat speeds along, a low hanging fog hugs the waterline, swallowing shapes and sounds in slow, creeping waves./span>/spanUnmoving, without further commentary, Ambrose drifts his attention to resettle upon Elliot at that.
Obadiah looks at Ambrose and starts to giggle like a school boy before sliding close to Esme and, pointedly, away from Elliot, though his attention does drift back to the Harrington.
Dovie looks between all the parties, seeming very, very confused. “Ambrose, what was that on that piece of paper? About that woman?”
Esme frowns subtly with a look between Elliot and Sofia and then takes her phone out to try briefly and see if she gets a signal out here.
It’s a long beat after Dovie asks before Ambrose finally wrenches his unblinking eyes off of Elliot, and over to her. Placid as ever, he gently murmurs, “The woman in the jumpsuit had a vulpine tattoo on her face. I do not recall the significance, but it’s on the cusp of memory. There is something there.” Eyes drift back toward where they came, long out of sight. “And I am sure it will become significant again.” And then his attention returns to Elliot.
The airboat hums along, the original dock able to be seen in the short distance./span>/spanEsme sighs when it doesn’t go through and pockets the phone again, touching her arm to Obadiah’s trying not to be anxious about whatever’s going on in her head, looking to the others on the boat.
Obadiah looks to Esme and then back to Elliot, “King is fine. It’s all going to be ok. They got him.” He glances back to Elliot and remarks to no one in particular, “I should go to church more. It is always healthy to confess your sins after a rough job.” He glances to Ambrose, “Don’t you agree?”
As the airboat pulls up to the dock, oddly, there is no Elodie. Dovie sighs, glancing between Elliot and Sofia, “Hand me the moonstone, Sofia? I’ll get it to the Concordat. I don’t know what’s going on with Elodie, but I don’t think we should stay. I’m in favor of stepping through the mirrorgate ASAP.”
When Ambrose’s attention diverts again, it’s back to Obadiah. “Perhaps.” He rises out of his seat slowly on the airboat, a step taken from shakiness onto the dry land of the dock. “Confessional means nothing when it is not accompanied by reform, restraint, and redemption. And those who merely go through the motions know none of those things.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you simpering little bitch. All I did was tell one of my people to be careful around you, and you proved me right immediately. Now as much as I would like to make you spit out bloody chiclets all over this airboat,” Sofia produces the moonstone from her bag and hands it over to Dovie, gaze unmoving from Elliot. “We should get back home before the cavalry comes in.”
Dovie looks relieved as she tucks the moonstone away carefully, giving a grateful nod to Sofia before she leads the group out of the airboat and towards the mirrorgate nearby.
After what Sofia has to say, Ambrose drifts his gaze back from her to Elliot, placidly. “Do not make me retaliate for your bruised ego.”
Ambrose has nothing more to say on that subject, though, apparently; he sets to motion behind Dovie, expression falling back to neutrality.
Obadiah says “We are short an Ambrose “
Dovie sighs in relief, looking around. “Thank you everyone! Perhaps a bit more chaotic than I thought it would be, but we finished.” She smiles at the group. “I’m grateful for all of you.” She blinks. “I’ll go back for him!”
Obadiah says “Back in town with Dovie. if I can be of assistance locating and retrieving my cousin let me know “
Obadiah says “we need Ambrose to get here “
Dovie tells the group. “He’ll be here soon.”
“I do not seek redemption, I wouldn’t seek it any longer. You Orderites are untrustworthy,” Elliot comments, before rolling his eyes at Sofia. “Insults are unbecoming of you, Miss Delvecchio. I’m not the one simpering or quaking in rage. I’ve done my part, I’m satisfied.” Turning towards Obadiah, he mentions, “I wouldn’t want to confess my sins towards the crazy nuns. They’re vicious and untrustworthy. I may as well confess to my confidant… seeing as he’s loyal and tends not to use my words against me. I should call him.”
“Please stay until Ambrose is here, then we can all depart,” Dovie tells the group.
Esme shows her phone to Obadiah
Dovie looks relived to see Ambrose.