Teagan’s Monday night odd encounter(Calazar)

February 9, 2026

Date: 2026-02-08 20:54

(Teagan’s Monday night odd encounter(Calazar):Calazar)

[Sun Feb 8 2026]

In An English Country Estate from a Time Immemorial
This picturesque estate is the epitomy of the traditional English country side estate. Its design has been built on over generations with incongruent influences from time immemorial.

It is about 50F(10C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Mayflower and Washington/span

Departing from the mirror gate in the depths of the Illusium Court of New Haven the trio step out of a mirror that is bathed in the moonlight of the European night sky through a large window with the blinds open. Despite stepping out into what appears to be a master bedroom for a couple given the touches of feminine flare and things like a gun rack, though perhaps it is just a decidedly good shooting Lady and not a couple. Whatever it is it is musty, the layer of dust on the furniture and room implies this is more museum piece than living situation. Beyond the open window with the moonlight are the rolling countryside hills of England and in the room it is dark save the light from three of these larger windows.
line Calazar reaches for a blanket and draws it from a sitting chair to place over the mirror so his reflection is obscured. “Welcome to England, a small very old property used to showcase rural country life. This is where a group of anthropologists discovered a magical wardrobe accessing a network that stretches across the continent. They are in the progress of mapping it getting ready to showcase their findings publicly. Our job is to map the lost section of the wardrobe network and of course stop the anthropologists.” he begins to explain pulling out two manilla folders with pictures of 6 anthropologists and some information on each of them courtesy of the Twilight Bureau.

Mercy flicks a hand out for the folder and is already flipping through it, brow furrowed with concentration. “Now when you say ‘stop’ them..”

Calazar says “To protect the secrecy of the supernatural everything is on the table, but generally the Twilight Bureau discourages the harming of regular humans. So destroying their research, getting them discredited, mental manipulations.“

A quick pass through the room and a drag of a fingertip through a layer of dust to estimate just how long it has been gathering leads Teagan to a stop to accept her folder. She leans on her staff, letting it rest in the crook of one arm and against her shoulder as she thumbs through the photos and profiles. “Planting drugs on them. Connecting them to conspiracy theory sites, other quote-unquote nutjobs in the field…” She scans over each in turn, nodding absently. “Easy enough. The mapping will be the trickier part, honestly.”

“As Teagan said, mapping is the tricky part. They are traveling the magical wardrobe network somewhere in the lost section.” Calazar explains to Mercy and Teagan. “So they are somewhere between here and the edges of Asia. The network has existed for centuries was the inspiration for the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe but also pre-dated mirrorgates for the Supernatural of the continent up until World War Two when much of the network was destroyed or certain junctions lost. So the map of this lost section is valuable not only to the Twilight Bureau, but the Hand, and the Court. Which is why mapping it in order to find them is the path we are taking instead of just dropping in on them. Their map will be invaluable too.”

Mercy adjusts the duffel bag she’d brought along that hangs from a shoulder, glancing between Teagan and Calazar a few times before her eyes settle on the latter, and she kind of leans in a little while asking, “So, uh.. no disguises this time?”

“So, mapping supplies, or…?” Teagan looks at Calazar expectantly as she continues looking through the folder. There is a glance over to Mercy and then to the duffel bag. “You… brought disguises?”

“No disguises. Although the wardrobes are connected to places and those places may not be uninhabited or even private. So.” Calazar reaches into his waistcoat and holds out what appears to be a simple leather badge cover with a blank piece of paper. “This is psychic paper. Whatever you claim to be, the viewers preconception of what official document or badge of that will appear here. Not quite a disguise but something to smooth unexpected encounters. There is only one.” and those green eyes drift between Teagan and Mercy to see whom grabs the tool for the journey.

Mercy clenches her jaw subtly and shoots Teagan a sidelong glance, quickly dropping the duffel bag and kicking it under the bed. “No.” is her unconvincing response before she’s looking to Calazar again and the badger cover, clearly tempted, though holding back. “.. Lawson probably better with the talkin’ stuff, if it do become an issue.”

Mercy says “Plus I got to have all the fun las’ time.“

Teagan coughs. Or it seems to be one. She’s holding that folder much higher than need be to read it and it covers most of her face. Maybe Mercy stirred up some dust when she kicked that duffel under the bed. But for a second that sure sounded like a… snicker? With a clearing of throat she lowers the file, tucks it into her messenger bag, and reaches out to accept the badge. “Hopefully it doesn’t become… too necessary. If we’re running into people in their homes, a badge and an American accent might not be enough.”

Mercy says “If that happen then I jus’ pull out my knife an’ we play the home invasion angle hopin’ they run off. Or somethin’.“

“Mercy is quite the actress.” Calazar says as he hands off the badge and then tucks his hands behind his back while approaching what appears to be a large wooden wardrobe. “Magical wardrobes are connected magically from two locations. Some are one way, some are two way. There is no mapping equipment because there is no way to tell where a wardrobe leads until you go through. Due to the magic of the connection wardrobes cannot exist in the same room, but can be in the same structure. Junctions are places where multiple wardrobes lead.” he explains in a gregarious and spanish accented briefing. “I figure you can map it on your phone or a piece of paper. We are in Bibury England now. We will go through this wardrobe and begin mapping and looking for the signs of the Anthropologists.” there is a look between both women. “If we can we will go to Edinburgh or Moscow where we can use a Court mirrorgate to return to Haven. If we find the Anthropologists we do something but this trip is primarily mapping and then once we have an idea of the lost portion we can hunt them down. Questions?”

Calazar says “Oh… To use, open, get inside, close the door, and then push against the backwall and it will open the door of its connector. If they are locked you will not be able to pass through. If we hit a dead end we will double back or look for another wardrobe in the structure or area.“

Mercy can’t resist the wry grin tugging at her lips. “Wonder if that poor girl did end up callin’ the IHOP in DC hopin’ fer that date..” She muses aloud, though is quick to refocus on Calazar while the briefing continues. A nod is given every so often as she commits the information to memory. “Got it. Wardrobe hop, an’ look fer these nerds to mess up along the way. Simple enough.”

“Phone it is then,” Teagan murmurs as she tucks the badge into a pocket for easy retrieval, but takes out her phone and calls up Google Earth to start creating her own map. Pin placed. “Means skulking around and locating other wardrobes at each location, too. So… Mind the noise levels, I imagine. Should’ve packed candy and jerky for the kids and pets.”

The vampire untucks his hands from behind his back and opens the wardrobe to reveal a spacious interior with mens coats and folded pants. It is big, but not big enough for three adults. “You two first and then I shall follow.” he suggests with an insufferable fanged smile.

Mercy loses the grin, but goes ahead and clambers into the wardrobe, brushing aside the musty clothes and making a few quiet sounds of aggravating every time a hanging garment falls back into her face.

Well, that settles whether it was a lady’s room or a couples’. Unless it was a Gentleman Jack which is… also possible. Teagan makes a face at the musty scent that surrounds her as soon as she goes to step inside. There’s an almost huffed sound that’s not quite a sneeze. “Doubt they came through this way,” she mutters as she follows Mercy in.

Mercy shuffles back around to face the opening of the wardrobe, beckoning for Calazar to go ahead and close them in since she’d rather not have to try and do so herself from inside.

Mercy says “Swear to jesus if this jus’ some weird sober seven minutes in heaven prank.“

The wardrobe is closed on the pair of women and there is a rap of knuckles on the outside as if indicating now is the time. Should they push they backwall of the wardrobe separates and reveals a dusty back room with heaps of fabric on specialized shelves and racking. The lights are off, no one is in the room, but the place is clearly a smaller business where some of the luxurious fabrics have not seen purchase nor use in quite some time. There is a love seat in faded lover’s pink in the french style. There is a small vanity and a full length mirror as well. Then there is a table for sewing and modifying dresses, a small stool for someone to stand on during their measurements, and of course a sewing machine with a pedal and a door across from the wardrobe. Quaint, it smells vaguely of perfumes of yesteryear.

After Teagan and Mercy step out of the wardrobe there is no immediate arrival of Calazar but there is a joint *ding ding* on both of their phones in a grouptext from the vampire: I will meet you back in New Haven. Make it to Edinburgh or Moscow to return. Also you two cannot kill or harm each other without violating hospitality so work out your differences. PS – I am turning off my phone so you cannot order me to let you back through. I locked the wardrobe you passed through.

Once through, no flashlight comes out nor the light on her phone. Teagan it would seem can see in the dark. At least this level of dark. She casts a look around and is satisfied enough they’re alone. Her phone does not ding. She keeps it on vibrate, thankyouverymuch. It is, however, pulled out, and there’s a long sigh from the redhead. “I… will be so glad when that man goes back to Brazil, I swear to god.”

The second Mercy steps out she’s taking stock of their new surroundings; and maybe getting her bearings some, this method of travel might be even more strange and disorienting than the mirrors. Like Teagan she needs no assistance seeing in the dark, and fishes out her own phone when it buzzes in her pocket. Unlike her fellow finger, however, the contents of the text are not taken with a sigh but rather her immediately charging back into the wardrobe to pound a fist on the sealed interior. “OPEN THE GOD DAMN DOOR YOU DUSTY FUCK!” Thank god the place seems mostly abandoned.

Unfortunately whether Mercy closes the wardrobe or not without the other side being a valid open doorway the magic does not hold and so she is simply pounding on the back of the wardrobe while Teagan stands outside to no avail. It seems Mercy and Teagan have been trapped in one of those adventures wherein two people must begrudingly work together to get to the other end and then seek vengeance on the smart, handsome, and beloved stranger who did this to them. True to Mercy’s assessment it does seem the shop is not occupied or at least the banging is not loud enough to prompt anything. It does look like the back of an Atelier’s shop in France somewhere. The door opposite the Wardrobe beckons as another magical wardrobe cannot exist in the same room.

Mercy only gets madder imagining said laugh, whirling around with an enraged huff to stomp her way through the shop towards the door, grumbling obscenities the whole way.

Teagan’s phone and google earth indicate Paris, France in the Le Marais district the time is 3:54am local.

Mercy says “He goin’ back to Brazil in an ashtray at this rate.“

Shaking her head after sending off a very inflammatory (and borderline racist) text to Calazar to be delivered once his phone is back on, Teagan switches to Google Earth once more and places another pin. “Fairly long distance for wardrobes,” she murmurs. “Might have contributed to why it broke down during the war…” There is a glance over her shoulder to Mercy and she snorts faintly. “Well, let’s get on with it.” She makes her way over to the door and leans to listen. Just in case. Just because one room is in disuse doesn’t mean they all are!

Despite all the stomping and huffing Mercy quiets once they get closer to the door and angles an ear towards it, going dead silent to listen for any sounds beyond what’s expected in an old, disused shop.

On the other side of the door there is no movement human nor animal. If the handle is jiggled it is locked, but from this side and a quick turn of the knob reveals a cozy but decidedly on the smaller side front to a ladies’ seamstress business. For all your fancy frenchie dress needs. It looks to be a bit of the older styles though nothing quite so fashionable but certainly the styles of yesteryear have their own allure. There is a all window front looking out onto a pre-dawn street. There is some cushy circle couch seating and mirrors for women to try on different outsides and see every angle. Almost like a showpiece there is a wardrobe opposite the three panel mirror with the shops name Sleeping Dragons Silks painted on the wardrobe. This one is much narrower and there is a little plague on a stand beside it.

The authentic Wardrobe of famous fete hostess Countessa Pehdre no Delaunay. Used during parties as part of a magic trick act meant to provide clandestine meetings during a disappearing act!

What an utterly unimaginative name. Who comes up with this stuff? It’s almost like they got it from a book or something. Teagan does glance to Mercy to make sure her wolf ears (not unlike elf ears in this case) don’t pick up anything amiss before pulling the door open and gesturing for the other to go on ahead. There is a glance out toward the street, but not too much concern. “If we’re careful, should anyone happen by-” unlikely, this hour and this sort of neighborhood, “we’ll just be another set of mannequins. People see what they want to see.” And people are quick to brush off ‘oh no a scary figur- oh just a mannequin’ because they’d rather it be the safe thing. Until the mannequin eats them, but that’s a different issue altogether.

Mercy would be quite the gaudy display in contrast to the shop’s chosen aesthetics and fashion priorities, but nonetheless when Teagan opens the door she lips through and keeps hunkered down, moving slowly so as not to draw extra attention should anyone be staring in or passing by outside. “Can’t believe people actually wear all this froofy stuff..” she comments quietly.

“French people,” is Teagan’s only explanation. She certainly doesn’t wear that stuff. Half the time she’s in jeans and some top as it is. She’s fairly well-dressed today, but then she was just told ‘Europe’ so she chose her most… European sartorial outfit. Which is… close enough but would probably still be mocked by the French, let’s be honest. She follows Mercy’s lead by trying to stay in the shadows heading to the other wardrobe. “Tight fit or one at a time. Your call.”

Mercy whips her head around to shoot Teagan a squinty-eyed, preemptively accusatory look while they both stealth walk towards the wardrobe, a hand already reaching for its doors. “The former, ain’ riskin’ comin’ out the other side alone with an impersonal breakup text.”

The cramped wardrobe is clearly meant to imply a seven minutes of heaven during fete’s to the gossiping of the crowd but was used per the plaque for clandestine meetings. Of course if one goes ahead of the other… they could shut the other side!

“Yes, because I want to find my way home from a small town in France,” Teagan says in a flat voice. But still, she’ll even offer to go first if Mercy seems too concerned! “If I was going to abandon you,” she informs the younger woman, “I’d do it in a more populated area where the likelihood of finding a functional mirrorgate is much higher.”

“How’m I to know what crazy schemes go on in those fae minds of yers?!” Mercy argues back with, definitely not paranoid at all, and steps aside while holding one of the doors open for Teagan while performing a little sweeping bow at the same time. “Apres vous, mademoiselle.”

The wardrobe opens to reveal the inside is empty except a little hidden peep hole to look out into the shop or if used during its day, the rest of the party!

Stepping inside the wardrobe, Teagan places a hand to her breast in mock offense. “Copy a vampire? You wound me. I’d come up with something far more creative. Like… trip you down a flight of stairs while we run from someone’s cleaver-wielding butler after we burst in on the master fucking the maid.” Because Europe is still in the Victorian times, of course. She does back in to press against the rear of the wardrobe because for clandestine meetings or no, she’s not going to get all cozy. She’s going to wait for Mercy to get in, close the door, and then immediately push through to the other side… and hope she does not, in fact, see someone schtupping the maid.

“Oddly specific. You speakin’ from experience?” With a little hoist Mercy hops up into the wardrobe after Teagan and carefully pulls the doors shut, sealing them in darkness save for what little light creeps in from the peep hole. For however long they’re in there, her breathing gets a little faster in these cramped quarters. Is someone secretly claustrophobic? Surely not.

Bibury England to Paris France. First connection mapped.

Inside the magical Wardrobe as Teagan pushes against the back it opens up into a luxurious bedroom. It has a hint of old world style simply because the architecture of the space is dated but the lights are built into the base board around the room providing gentle illumination that does not disrupt sleep. There is a beautiful view of a castle atop a hill… on an iron wrought terrace balcony there is indeed some schtupping going on. However it is a wildly attractive raven haired woman, in black heels, wearing a strap-on, plowing a redhead who is bent over speaking… Czech which it is somewhat unlikely either Mercy or Teagan speaks. But the approving sounds likely indicate they are encouraging? The pair are clearly enjoying the 4:31am pre-dawn view of the town and being dirty exhibitionists. The room has dresses thrown on the bed, some unmentionables unmentioned on the ground, and a champagne bottle holder. There is a big spacious bed in the middle and opposite the double-wide wardrobe there appears to be stairs leading down. Perhaps a fancy air bnb or someone’s vacation residence. Luckily the pair of wardrobe hopping ladies are not noticed but the schtuppers.

Google earh indicates Prague, Czech Republic time 4:31am

“No. Maybe it’s a Fae thing,” maybe she’s just been around Obie too long, “but it’s just…” Teagan wiggles fingers by her head as she pushes at the back of the wardrobe carefully- trying to get a peek rather than just tumble on through. There is a brief look to Mercy, clocking the quicker breathing. “You’re not getting all hot and bothered on me are you?” Is that better or worse than her guessing at claustrophobia?

As the wardrobe ekes open on the other side, Teagan is distracted by the… display on the balcony and perhaps even delayed in stepping out and giving Mercy room to free herself from her confines. After what is likely too long a stretch of time, she does finally move a few steps into the room to slow-walk toward the stairs and lifts her phone…

Is she taking a video? Absolutely, one hundred percent yes.

Mercy keeps in mind the need for stealth but still practically flies out of the wardrobe the second the doors open. Only then does she turn a vaguely disgruntled look over to Teagan which skews slightly more bewildered after she also notices the selling point, scenic view of balcony schtupping. “Course not, you ain’ my type.” It’s probably a compliment. Now with her super quiet creeping motions again she also makes for the stairs, listening for any movement below.

As both Teagan and Mercy are able to sneak downstairs as the solid 8s (maybe 9s if they are your type rawr) keep going at it like there is no tomorrow (tomorrow is quickly approaching and certainly some morning joggers might see those lewdly swaying and loudly slapping… Anyway!

Downstairs this is clearly an air bnb which indicates how it is possible that the Anthropologists might have come through here without running into two women having a schtup. Downstairs it is cozy and for Teagan and Mercy who might be used to American or at least more modern built spaces which are roomier and don’t have the feel of weight that stone or brick walls do or the feel of generations of building ontop of something gives these spaces. There is a small tv mounted on the wall, an off-white couch, a love seat, a coffee table, a kitchen with kitchen bar in an open design but tight. There is no immediate wardrobe though living room, kitchen, fridge, furniture, cabinets… there must be another connection somewhere? It may be true men only last 15 minutes or less more times, women likely gives them only 30 minutes before well satisfied sapphic ladies come downstairs for a refreshing beverage!

It all depends on the women and what stage of their night they’re in. It could be just the start! Maybe they’ll take turns. Maybe they’ll have a rest and go right back to it. There’s no recovery time like poor guys have. Teagan does reluctantly cut the video and descend with Mercy, swapping to Google Earth to mark another pin. Being a New England gal, she’s more used to cramped housing than most. It’s not too startling, really. But she does end up chewing on her lip as they do the first circuit. “Fuck,” she hisses to herself. “Pantry, maybe?” And off she goes to check for a walk-in pantry in the kitchen.

The is a pantry, but it is not a walk in… It has all the ingredients for a delicious goulash.

Mercy on the other hand, goes straight for the fridge; it’s large enough to fit a body or two, surely, but also there could be liquor or beer inside.

The fridge is a modern fridge. It has a lot of liquor, another bottle of champagne, some old world wines, and a lot of whipped cream cans… also charcuterie meats and cheeses and olives. No wardrobe.

There are no Female Body Inspectors needed in the Czech Republic because they do not have jurisdiction for these honies. Between Mercy and Teagan both of them notice as they walk there is a kind of hollow sound. Technically Teagan notices a whole 2 seconds sooner but which one is quicker to point it out there is undeniable… a basement and/or cellar beneath this property.

There may not be anything to cure her sobriety in the fridge, but there might be in that maybe-cellar down below and Mercy perks up with a glance towards Teagan. “.. Look fer more stairs. Or a secret hatch. Somethin’!”

If there happen to be any smoked or dried meats in the pantry, Teagan does pocket them (even if they are canned ones like those little sausages) on her way back out of it. In case of those aforementioned dogs. Same goes for candy, though that’s less likely. “I hear it,” she murmurs… though she was listening for sounds upstairs, which perhaps speaks to her mild delay in announcing it. Listening for… the women coming down and possibly catching them, of course! That’s totally it. Yup. But once out of the food stores, she does set to looking for the cellar (including venturing outside as so often these things are).

They both discover it but it is Mercy and her scoping out of the fridge with a lot of booze and finger foods (get it) that notices first. As Teagan examines the kitchen both women will see out the back window a cellar door outside in the back. There is a door into the small garden but just above is the terrace where the aforementioned honies who do not recognize FBI authority was schutpping. Can they sneak outside, open the old wooden cellar door in the ground, and find the wardrobe? Oh and the Ladies are still audibly going at it… Someone is shouting a breathy… Well they can’t understand it but it the delivery evokes you dirty girl vibes

Ever the animal and delinquent both, Mercy is unable to resist swiping a few choice cold cuts of meat from the charcuterie spread that are promptly stuffed into her mouth, along with the spare bottle of champagne which she carefully tucks inside her jacket for later. Then with a ducking whirl she motions for Teagan to follow her, quietly, to the garden door. A mindful glance is flicked up when she realizes the terrace is just above, brow furrowed. “Maybe we oughta distract ’em somehow.. Go flash ’em yer bazongas or somethin’ maybe they think you’ll wanna join in.”

“Maybe I do,” Teagan answers with an even stare at Mercy. It’s not quite Calazar level of unblinking, but she tries. Then it dissolves into a grin and a shrug. “Pretty sure they’re distracted enough. Just gotta blend into the shadows. They’re not looking at us.” She winks and heads for the door to slip out into the night and mince her way for the cellar door.

Mercy clicks her tongue at that but Teagan’s already out the door and the need to be quiet outweighs any snappy commentary she might have wanted to retaliate with. And so the stealth portion of the level commences once again, keeping close behind the other redhead.

Unfortunately for Mercy and Teagan as they exit the small air bnb with the beautiful view into a tiny garden with cobblestone walls they are unnoticed. It is when they open the wooden cellar doors and the hinges are… well they are old and who the fuck opens these at an air bnb, the door comes off the hinges loudly and the lewd moans above stop with a sudden gasp of fear and then hurried Czech dialogue followed by the sound of heels above… They are coming! Should Teagan and Mercy opt to escape instead of confront their hot interceptors the cellar is specious, cool, and clear where a lot of old furniture from the air bnb was dumped when the new stuff was added one of which is a beautiful stone of some kind wardrobe laid down on its back on a pallet it is huge big enough for three men or maybe seven women but it is double doored, looks sturdy, made of some kind of white stone imitating but not actual porcelain with beautiful painted- no time to admire the shouts that their meats have been robed (but in Czech) can be heard upstairs as well as heels clomping around.

You’d think they’d be more worried about the champagne. Maybe they haven’t Chezched the fridge yet. “Shit,” Teagan says, slipping her brass key into her hand. She gestures for Mercy to go on ahead and get into the wardrobe as she quickly works up some magic to draw on some of the vines on the old building to work themselves around the door and its handle to secure it closed. It won’t be a permanent solution, but it should (hopefully) give them enough time to escape! “Go go go,” the woman hisses.

Spacious or no Mercy has to momentarily wrestle with her choice between getting into the enclosed wardrobe first, or linger and risk confrontation with their unreasonably attractive pursuers. With the champagne at risk however, the choice is clear; no way she could afford a bottle like this if they reclaim it. “Okay fine but ain’ linger to flirt an’ make googly eyes or what ever!” She calls out to Teagan while awkwardly clambering into the horizontal wardrobe and having to lay down in it like it’s a coffin.

They did not Chezch the fridge but they did get knives and the fines are cut as they come outside and their silhouettes can be seen from the wardrobe. Teagan is standing there looking at a bombshell raven haired woman with a butcher knife aimed down at her from the top of the stairs in a robe, strap on swinging above in front of her… Meanwhile the red head is on the phone calling… presumably the police? She’s been spotted and Mercy is laying down in the wardrobe in the oddest ever home invasion. What do they do?! Escape and make the attractive pursuers seem crazy or stay and ‘talk things out’ with duct tape and more persuasive methods?

It is really, really tempting to stay. Like, suuuper tempting. But Teagan is not about to cause an international incident and miss their ride home (or hers if Mercy gets sick of waiting for her). So with a deep breath she just leans on that telempathy again and pushes a feeling of intense terror right at the one with two large… stabbing implements. Before jumping down into the cellar (and trying to pull the doors closed behind her) to rush for the wardrobe. She doesn’t even shout or try to tell Mercy they have to be quick: that much is obvious at this point!

Mercy can’t see shit from down on her back inside a wardrobe, so she’s kind of just listening to all the yelling and clacking heels and what ever the hell magic Teagan’s trying to do that’s making her skin prickle. Elevator music plays in her head in those seconds that tick by and then BAM, suddenly Teagan’s climbing in after her and it seems like this is it- so she sits up quickly to grab at the door on her side and help pull it in after them.

[OOC] Everyone take a bio break or you know, blow off some steam, we will be back in 10.

The pair escape the comical situation into… A rainy place where Teagan’s phone does not operate nor Mercy’s and in fact the sky is oddly blue-green in color. They are on a manicured lawn hedged in by massive thorned hedges. They have tumbled out of what appears to be a stone wardrobe in a Hedge maze. On the stone doors there is a blue circle and then a castle on a hill, perhaps indicating the destination. Both Teagan and Mercy feel a distinct shift in the world here… magic, steeped in the air, in the ground, in the very fabric of this world. Magic strenghtening their supernatural abilities. Magic of another world… The rain is soft, the clouds thin, like an Irish evening shower with stars already appearing in the sky. Where ever they are it is wet and mildly cold but temperate.

“Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” And honestly, by the way Teagan is squinting at the sky… she genuinely probably does not realize the double entendre there. She frowns down at her phone and huffs out a breath. “I was wondering how Lewis made the leap to fauns and talking lions and all of Narnia from a wardrobe and…” She looks over her shoulder to the one they’ve come through. “Shit. This is genuinely not good and before the cops come and start poking around and tumble through on their own adventure of turkish delight, we should secure this end.”

Mercy has had just about enough of being in the closet, but out they come into an even stranger location than the Schtup Republic without the next one to climb into anywhere in sight. With a huff, she surveys the maze with one hands on her hips, in kind of a full-body state of prickly discomfort from all the magic here. “Where the fuck even ARE we? An’ how we gonna find the next ride out in all-” Hands lift to gesture at the labyrinth surrounding them. “This? Ain’ learn how to shift into a bird or nothin’ by chance, have you?” Given Teagan’s worries are probably valid, she turns to carefully close the wardrobe doors back up and look for a locking mechanism, if any exists.

The wardrobe closes and the two guiding symbols out the outside indicate blue circle and castle on mountain. The sound of rain is persistent, they are going from mildly dripped on to lightly damp and continuing on to being soaking wet and this is after leaving the schtup republic. It appears the hedge maze heads away from the dead end of the now locked wardrobe and turns left.

While neither woman can be sure. Mercy suspects given her mild desire to shift into a wolf and run through the forest this might be the Wilds, but she has nothing but a gut sense of being near certain. Who can say.

There is a look over to Mercy and Teagan grits her teeth briefly. “I will never forgive Calazar for this,” she says in a low, annoyed voice. Because now, any chance of a reveal at the right time (good ol’ Court) is ruined. And it would appear, that yes… She has learned exactly that.

Mercy quite often has the desire to shift, if anything she’d probably prefer to stay in that form long-term and shirk responsibilities and human emotion both for a while. Being said, there is that unusual added tug and she knows she’s felt it before. “Might know where we are, maybe, least it kinda familiar, but I c-” and when she turns she’s apparently addressing a bird. For a few seconds she just stares at Teagan(Snowy Owl) blankly. “.. Oh. Well. Aigh’ go on then.”

Should someone ascend through the rain she will find the Hedge maze has a fountain in the center, which is a short distance and several branching turns away. There is also a literal tower at the end of the maze from the looks of it or the beginning who is to say about 4 stories in height. She also spies several other stone wardrobes from the air one of those junctions Calazar had mentioned. Near the fountain there is a bedraggled auburn haired man, whose balding, scrawny, in a white tattered shirt, and biege shorts, caucasian, barefoot, and shivering.

Should Teagan(Snowy Owl) ascend through the rain she will find the Hedge maze has a fountain in the center, which is a short distance and several branching turns away. There is also a literal tower at the end of the maze from the looks of it or the beginning who is to say about 4 stories in height. She also spies several other stone wardrobes from the air one of those junctions Calazar had mentioned. Near the fountain there is a bedraggled auburn haired man, whose balding, scrawny, in a white tattered shirt, and biege shorts, caucasian, barefoot, and shivering.

Teagan(Snowy Owl) just gives Mercy that slow owl blink, clicks her beak, and takes off after a flick of water off of wings. She does a few circuits of the hedge maze, just to make sure she hasn’t missed anything. Thankfully, owls have great vision. All the better to see their prey, after all. Since their wardrobe had markings on it, she looks for markings on the others in turn. The last loop of the area is done at an angle to get a better look at the man’s face before her return.

Coming back in for a landing, she shifts back just before hitting the ground… which could be super cool and action-sequence-y if the ground wasn’t wet grass and she didn’t end up skidding a few feet to land on her ass.

Waiting not-so-patiently for Teagan to do her lap in the air, Mercy witnesses her epic fail level landing with a wry grin and a suppressed snort of amusement. “Smooth. See anythin’ helpful?”

“You try flying sometime,” Teagan snaps back because it’s… probably the only thing she can counter to the experienced shifter. She brushes herself off as best she can and tugs the file out of her (thankfully leather, so the contents are safe) messenger bag to check through it. “I think we’re at a crossroads. There’s other wardrobes. And I thiiiiink,” she’s checking photos, “one of our guys is here and lost. Or if not one of them, some other rando.”

Mercy senses she’s touched a nerve and widens her grin, juuust a little. “M’good, more of a land creature.” Given there’s only one way out of this dead end presently, she heads that way but jerks her head to try and get Teagan moving, ideally ahead since she had a literal bird’s eye view of the maze and neither of them would survive being trapped in here together for days. “Hope you got a good idea on what to do with him if he is one of our guys then, cause my method of silencin’ aren’t real pleasant.”

Teagan can indeed navigate the maze to the center. There are several wrong turns to be made had she not seen it from above.

A bit of a nerve and a bit of Teagan has a wet ass now and no one enjoys that. She does call on her magic again, twisting the air around herself to create a sort of… umbrella of air. It’ll keep excess rain off of her at least. She leads them along through the maze. “Hopefully in his state he’s extra susceptible to psychic persuasion. I’ll just tell him he’s on a very bad drug trip and we’re here to take him home.”

Possessing no such magical tricks or a physical umbrella Mercy is just doused the whole way, though she doesn’t seem to mind. A snorty ‘HEH’ escapes her before she can hold it in. “This place does kinda bring to mind a real intense acid trip or somethin’..” She murmurs, falling quiet for a while as they walk and occasionally glancing at Teagan more pointedly. Eventually, she just comes out and asks, “Wanna kill Quintera when we get back?”

Sure Teagan the wet jeans are from going ass first into the slippery grass and no other reason. It does seem to be the case though. Thus do Mercy who is now properly soaked and Teagan who is dampened and soaked ass manage to find the center of the hedge maze. There a balding nerdy looking man with partially broken glasses, long unruly hair on the back and side of his head, and a missing right arm! Holy shit! rolls over on his back to look at them with brown eyes. “Oh my god!” he tries to scramble but slips and falls in the wet grass before just starting to cry. A kind of deep breath then aaaaaaaaaaah then deep breath ah ah ah ah then deep breath sobbing. It’s very pathetic…

“Yes, but also no,” Teagan answers Mercy. “For one thing, he was Matias’ mentor and he asked me to give him Sanctuary in the Court here until he’s strong enough to reclaim his own. I owe Matias that much at least. Also, Lykaia wants him dead just because he made fun of her on comms and she wanted me to handle it for her. I’m not her mommy to tell off the mean boy who pulled her pigtails.” She slows to a stop as they approach the man and she grimaces at seeing the missing arm. “That,” she says sotto-voice to Mercy, “is another use of alchemy,” seeming to call back to a previous discussion. “Matias regrew my leg once. No idea how. So… this guy’s SOL.” Raising her voice, she clears her throat and… puts on the voodoo. “Oh my gosh,” she calls out in just the most saccharine-sweet voice, “thank god we found you! You’ve been missing for days! We just need you to come with us,” those last three words being the ones with that secret psychic sauce on them, “so we can get you home, okay?” She even approaches to try to heft him up by his not-missing-arm.

Mercy rolls her head and eyes both back with an exaggerated ‘Uggghhh.’ at Teagan’s refusal. “Ayeah, yeah, what ever, was kiddin’ anyhow.” Was she, though? Then the awful sound of human anguish hits her ears and she snaps back to reality from what ever terrible fate for the vampire in question she was enjoying in her head. The missing arm was unexpected, and while Teagan runs over to him Mercy pulls the knife from its discreet sheathe at the small of her back in case something that might still be here was the cause of the injury. “Ayeah, totally professor uh.. you.” She didn’t memorize any names.

This is actually a PHD Applicant Anthropologist who will probably become a Professor thus continuing the cycle of anthropologists becoming Anthropologists to teach Anthropologists… and his name is Noah Arcess. Teagan’s psychic influence and the fact that Teagan and Mercy are objectively above average hot seems to make Noah the one-armed Anthropologist more pliant as he is helped to his feet and looks between them with shaky dilated fearful eyes. “But… My friends. He took them, oh my god, he took them and he’s doing things. I escaped. I escaped, but I am trapped in this maze… I have to find the magical doors to get home and get help!”

since Mercy is a bit more traditionally armed the anthropologist begs her, “You’ll protect me right?” and then to Teagan, “And you’ll stay with me?” he whines. Protect and comfort roles, assigned!

Mercy has never had someone beg her for something before. Not for protection, at any rate. She just stares at the man dumbfounded for a few seconds. “Uh.. course, yeah, ain’ gotta worry we’ll get you somewhere safe an’ get yer friends back from whoever ‘he’ is.”

“The demon… He. He has powers, he is here at the center of all things. The center of the doors!” the one-armed anthrpologist says in a crazed voice. “He was experimenting on us… Taking us apart. Putting us back together… Back… Apart… Oh God! We have to escape!” It sounds like a problem for another day!

There is a grimace and Teagan gets his arm over her shoulder. The grimace could be because clearly, clearly it’s her chest size that puts her as ‘comfort,’ but it’s more likely based on his reports as to what’s happening to him. To the other anthropologists. ‘Fleshforming’ she mouths to Mercy over the man’s shoulder. “It’s all a bad dream, promise. We’re gonna get you home, you’ll see everyone. It’ll be just fine. You were all celebrating some big discovery or another and someone brought a whole buncha drugs. They asked around for people to come find you. We volunteered to help.” At least it’ll work well for the disinformation story…

Teagan may find a stone wardrobe with a blue circle on it and on the other door grey cliffs with rolling green hills in the back and a castle between them.

Mercy furrows her brow, finding some of what the man rambles about genuinely concerning; for herself that is, since she would rather not become the next test subject in some demon project. Catching the word Teagan mouths to her, that concern deepens but she keeps the worst of it off her face and follows with the knife in-hand. One look at her scruffy, dead-eyed RBF self and it’s easy to see why she was not selected as a source of comfort. Brushing ahead once she knows what to look for, she leads the two to the correct and, hopefully, final wardrobe to squeeze into and get back through.