2019.01.26 - Through the Eye of the Needle

**Emitter:** Staff

*The expedition into Seattle departs in search of the Shattered Mirror, agreeing that the Space Needle should be their first destination.*

January 3rd, Year Unknown; Morning to Midday

Seattle

### Seattle - Bainbridge Island - Port Madison

*This area, the north end of the island, is residentially zoned but mostly taken up by light woodlands. Various homes dot the area, each fairly well secluded by the surrounding trees, and though some are fine houses or mansions in good repair, others are abandoned, slowly falling from affluent grandeur into silent disrepair.*

*Port Orchard Bay runs along the western shore of the island, while the body of water called Port Madison, an inlet off of Puget Sound, touches the north shore. Port Madison also wraps around the western edge of this area, winding its way in toward the center of the island from the north and into a sheltered harbor.*

*The eastern shore of the island touches Puget Sound, and the body of water called Port Madison extends westward from the Sound, both across the island's north shore and dipping into a harbor within it, dividing Port Madison from West Port Madison.*

*The area, however, seems washed out, faded, even dreamlike. It's as if a fundamental component of reality had been drained away and replaced with something pale, sickly, and twisted. Angles don't fully make sense, and one's senses seem to carry a slight echo, as if of discomfort and vertigo. Smells are muted, fouled, and sounds have the faintest impression of being underwater. The air feels thin and lacking, yet somehow also thick and oily. It is very clear that, whatever is going on, all is very much not right with the world.*

They gather on the front drive of Rowanwood, just before the gates. Beyond them, the woods of Bainbridge Island can be seen, only they look... wrong, somehow, almost like a painting that's dried and then spattered again with water, warped and faded. As the gates swing open, seemingly of their own accord, the sense of wrongess grows, stronger and stronger as they move out of the protective realm of the Vale and into the woods, beyond. The path before them will take them east, where they must cross Puget Sound, and then into Seattle, proper, in search of the artifact known as the Shattered Mirror....

"Port *Madison*, it's like they knew." Together with Myrtle on the drive stands Madison Montgomery, slightly shorter, dressed in suitable simplicity: a black pantsuit that is undoubtedly high-price but not ostentatiously so. They cut quite a look, the both of them, with the blonde shorter than Myrtle, with her fiery hair and her bold paisley ensemble with accenting wrap scarf, and of course gloves.

Myrtle almost wears a smirk. It's the closest anyone may have ever seen her to one. "Only because I don't believe there is a Port Zoe anywhere close," the elder witch replies, glancing around to make sure everyone has assembled that offered. "I still say we ought to go to the Space Needle first. It'll give us the vantage point from which we may then make our subsequent decisions. A strategic advantage!"

Jack had been sent along by Lady Nessa as a guardian. He was currently floating behind everyone lazily and it was unclear exacly how the shirtless youth would be helpful to anyone as very few here had met him. Nessa had simply called him Jack and told him Jack and told him to protect them. He looks over to Madame Snow, "If you want I could fly up and get a better vantage?"

Jason Christopher has been preparing for this trip for much of the day, since the meeting earlier in the day. Now he stands a bit apart from the actual group. The malaise of the world around him makes him feel ill at ease and humor. But his voice is still carries despite being relatively quiet. "I agree. It affords us a strategic view of the city, and a defensible position." He glances back at the assembled group. More than a few of which he did not know. That was a disadvantage. In addition to not knowing the eneny. That was another disadvantage, they'd need all the additional advantages they could get to offset it.

Jacob is wearing one of the backpacks, which he'd helped a bit with preparing. He glances to Myrtle, then Jason, and nods. "Yeah, I like the idea of higher ground," he says. "Anyone got an idea how we get across, though? Are we stealing a ferry, or are we swimming, or what?" Apart from his backpack, all he's wearing is a pair of khakis shorts and an unlaced pair of shoes, ready to phase at a moment's notice without much to get in the way.

Sly looks quite curious about Jack, and he too makes a face at the sensations a they emerge, but as he promised he vanishes slowly from view, only barely perceptible as there to Enhanced or keener senses.

In the background, as they depart, Rey Devoss watches them go. He raises a hand in silent salute as they depart, wordlessly wishing them good luck godspeed while he remains behind to aid in marshaling the defense.

"Flying is ostentatious," Derek comments, surveying the assembled group. He knows some of them better than others, and others still he doesn't know at all. But he's dressed for action and pragmatism, which is reasonable to anyone that knows him. Stiles isn't with him; neither is the rest of his pack, which will be something most here haven't seen: Derek alone. He looks as resolute as always, though, and then stands still and quiet until they start to move.

Meeting up with the others in the yard, Darius follows the others to the gate and proceeds with them out of the protected area. He's wearing a slim fitting jacket that hangs to about his knees and has been buttoned all the way up, and carries a satchel with a moderate amount of supplies over his shoulder. A basic first aid kit, some rations, a pocket knife, everything carefully stowed to keep it from shuffling. His boots are his standard tactical affair, and he wears a beanie pulled down tight over his head. "Are you sure you just aren't wanting to sight see, ma'am?" he teases the witch, "But yes, that sounds like a good vantage," he agrees with everyone else.

Probably the only one in the group that doesn't appear--on the surface-- to be taking much of it very seriously. Sure he packed up a backpack, and sure he got himself prepared. But right now, the giant man is kinda sauntering with the group somewhat laxly, looking tired or even bored, which for those who know him is not unusual. The man can be a goof-off on appearances. His past displays of actions have proven that his demeanor is something to be taken with a grain of salt. He gives a huge sigh, yawning wide and scratching his chest, "Swim of course." the huge Australian answers, "An' clime the buildin' when we get there. It ain't that bigga deal, aye?"

Kiara had packed herself just a rather sparse survival pack for the expedition. Just some spare socks, a T-shirt and a blanket in a tight roll held together by a rubber band. As she left through the front gate she had grabbed one of the backpacks standing in the hallway, fixing her roll to the supplies and items that needed to be moved, shouldering it together with the old Mauser, the bayonet belonging to it hanging from the belt. As she follows the lead, one hand reaches for her pocket, pulling out a stipper clip of 8mm Mauser. The brass shines a couple moments as she pushes it down into the magazine of the rifle, then the metalic clack of the bolt closing comes from it. "As the old Chinese says: All armies prefer high ground to low. So while we might get a good vantage up there and have an easy defense in the staircases where numbers don't count... so will the enemy, and they might wait there. So be vigilant." She ponders as she eyes the group once more, the rifle seemingly carelessly hanging in the sling, just stabilized by the right hand resting on it. But even as they march, she speaks rather matter of factly, almost a little jaded. "Before we end up neck deep in dirt: I am Kiara. If people get wounded: I heal, so tend to those that are more squishy first. If you get wouned, I know how to fix it till a doctor can look at it or you heal yourself. And if we need to jury rig something, there's always tape."

Merek has put on his best cloak with the hood up, while he comes with the others on the quest. He doesn't talk a lot, though he does offer some words, "I can heal too, quite skillfully... And I don't think anyone here needs to be told to be vigilant, most everyone that we came in with has been through a lot also."

Angel has fully recovered by now, and in addition...he has a mission. "I'm not sure what I'm looking for here, but I know I'm looking for a redhead, not you Myrtle...and fire. Also something to do with an hourglass running backwards...maybe there's a temporal distortion somewhere? That'd explain why the city looks...off, to me at least." Angel pauses, and adds, "Hope we've revised the wards. Since the enemy likes sending in exploding soldiers, not everyone can take a direct hit from bone shrapnel and do alright for themselves."

### Seattle - Central Puget Sound

*This large ocean inlet is termed a sound, sometimes called a seaway, which entails being larger and deeper than a bay, as well as wider than a fjord. Essentially, it is a narrow ocean channel between two land masses, akin to a strait. Puget Sound in particular comprises a complex system of marine waterways, basins, and estuaries.*

*The distinctive skyline of Seattle rises along the shoreline to the east, gleaming in such sunlight as is available by day and dazzling with its array of bright lights by night. The much greener mass of Bainbridge Island can be seen to the east, vanishing into darkness by night but for the scattered clusters of city lights in its more densely populated areas.*

*The area, however, seems washed out, faded, even dreamlike. It's as if a fundamental component of reality had been drained away and replaced with something pale, sickly, and twisted. Angles don't fully make sense, and one's senses seem to carry a slight echo, as if of discomfort and vertigo. Smells are muted, fouled, and sounds have the faintest impression of being underwater. The air feels thin and lacking, yet somehow also thick and oily. It is very clear that, whatever is going on, all is very much not right with the world.*

The group is completely alone as they make their way to the edge of Puget Sound. There's no sign of even any animals, the very plants seeming hardly there, washed out and still. Nothing troubles them. It's almost like wandering through a particularly unsettling dream, but one benefit of this is that they're able to make good time. The morning is still quite young as they reach the water, the Sound stretched out before them. They may not be at a major marina, but it doesn't seem that the ferries are running, anyway. Even the water hardly seems to move at all....

"If she wanted to sight-see, she'd just go by herself." Madison answers with a smirk perhaps sharper than she intended. But her whole manner implies strongly that it happens fairly often. The blonde turns back to Myrtle, lowering her voice...but not enough for it to be hard to hear. "Looks like we got the Saturday soldier crowd representing."

Myrtle waves a hand, somewhat casual about the whole business before her. "Thank you, but I must agree with Mr. Hale. We cannot afford flight at this early juncture." An apologetic smile is given to Jack, though she does turn to look first at Sly disappearing, then to Jacob for a moment, followed by Derek, and then Darius, Brock, and Kiara. Merek is given a light note of attention, before she lifts a hand to Rey and smoothly transitions to face Angel. His words seem to carry more weight with her, and she nods a few times, little nods, narrowing her eyes behind those bold glasses. "Nessa has done the best she can. What happened when Michael attacked was not her fault." But she doesn't seem to take it too much to heart. The vision is more important to her in detail. "We will have to see. Time has a strangeness about it, especially right now. How ironic -- this moment holds a temporal oddity, and perhaps a space oddity as well."

But then they set out, and Myrtle remains quiet, flanked by a surprisingly focused Madison, who doesn't say much of anything. The two witches have almost an inhuman quality about them. Or perhaps better, superhuman.

"When we get to the shore I'll handle it if no one else minds. It's kinda my job to be ostentacious. " He winks at Derek and is Idly juggling snowballs as he floats through the air." As the others talk he shrugs, "If anyone gets hurt I'm not doing my job and I intend to do my job. Oh but since we're saying stuff like this. If I tell you guys to run don't try to save me. I'll be fine." He gives the gun a dirty look, "You do realize the power of the gods couldn't stop what we're fighting right? Your little popgun won't do much of anything to them." He looks at it with distate for a moment.

As they reach the water Jack doesn't stop moving he settles down his feet touching the ground for the first time that anyone has seen and then he steps onto the water. As he walks the water arround his freezes and moves in a fashion and what sort of resembles a Golden Gate bridge for foot traffit appears. Any who set foot on it will find it not slippery in the least and more solid that the ground beneath them. "Lady Nessa suggested we needed something Very solid and magical beneath us when we crossed. It's frozen all the way through." He crosses to a mid way point just to ensure that he can maintain the whole pridge without any issues. It seems much more solid and stable than the world around them. It seems real pretty much nothing else does.

Jason Christopher considers those he is with, aside from Jacob and Sly of course. Derek he knew in some fashion, and Brock seemed familiar to him, in that distant manner. That was it though, nobody else. He looks into the air and whistles softly, calling the small gray chickadee from earlier in the day, his most recent 'spy'. It lands on his finger after a few minutes. He stares at it and it stops and stares back at him. Then suddenly takes flight again. "We have our view from above now." His demeanor is still dark, but he arches an eyebrow as Jack creates a path for them. "Interesting" he murmurs softly as he just walks out onto the bridge, pausing to reach down and touch it. Interesting is very high praise from him. "I'll scout ahead." He nods to Jacob and Sly, even if he has vanished, then slowly fades from view himself. Vanishing from senses to scout ahead for any enemies.

"Right?" says Sly's voice, directed at Jack. "Guns are so *dumb*." But he stays vanished.

Jacob's eyes widen at the ice bridge conjured from nothing, duly impressed. But he doesn't hesitate, either. As Jason steps forward, Jacob too follows, relieved to find the bridge sturdy rather than slippery. Watching the water around them, he looks as wary and alert as he actually is, which is to say *quite*. He does remark to, quietly, to Myrtle, "Can I just say I'm really glad to have witches with us right now? It makes the whole 'creepy factor' feel less stacked against us, knowing we've got our own magic heavy-hitters along." Jake doesn't know much about magic, but he knows he feels much better with strong allies beside him. Brock, Merek, Angel, and Darius get meaningful looks, while he glances at Kiara more uncertainty. Sly and Jack heckling her gun aside, he's not sure what she's really capable of, and he's not going to assume anything. Plenty of them are full of surprises--like, say, Jack whipping up a massive ice bridge out of nothing.

"Visions," he mutters. "I'm starting to kinda hate that word."

Derek just follows along, waiting for Jack to perform his feat, and the gruff alpha looks adequately impressed when he does. He'll trust Nessa's discretion; if she think an ice bridge won't compromise their presence and their nature, then so be it. He steps carefully onto it and goes with the others, but his attention is more on their surroundings. He's keeping his senses alert, in case of any attack or, simply, notice by people who shouldn't. They don't need to become a spectacle. "Visions can be helpful," he rumbles over at Jacob. "They can give us an advantage." He nods, to confirm this and to punctuate his own words, in a comforting sort of way. Or so he intends.

Moving along with the others at whatever pace they set, Darius eyes the bridge and where it connects with the land on the far side. "This might be a poor choice, we've just pointed a big arrow at where we are, and where we'll be coming to land on the other side, and then crossing over open ground--water," he mentions but starts across with everyone else despite his words. Perhaps feeling a bit cynical or perhaps just paranoid about the strategy. Fishing a granola bar out of his bag as he moves, he munches on it.

Whatever pace everyone is going at seems to be a bit too slow for Brock. The man makes a face, taking a large hand and wiping it down his face in exasperation. "Alright, if we're breakin' form an' goin' ahead. Then I'm goin' FAR ahead. This tippy-toe thing is makin' me anxie." For a second, Brock starts to move ahead, taking a look at the bridge and then taking a couple steps back. It looks like he's going to try to hurdle it? Really? Well he looks really confident that he's going to, at least for a second. His large head and blue eyes look around and down at everyone else, taking something into consideration. "Shite..." he sighs with a grumble. "If all us stronger types go on ahead, don't leave much for the defense does it? Alright fine... tippy-toe it is." he resigns to fate.

Merek watches as the bridge is appearing, and he shifts his gaze from under his cloak to look to the others a moment. "Yes, a bit obvious," he tells them, then he steps forward to lift up both hands while he chants. An illusion seems to cover all the ice bridge, which puts a mostly basic barrier on it. The others can see it, and be able to use it.

The Mage takes a moment to look to the others, nodding, "Should be a bit less of an issue with that," he says. He keeps up that barrier while it is required, seeming to focus his magic with that.

Angel nods once. They know their own craft...speaking of which, that's one heck of an ice bridge. "...Well done." As for scouting...Angel is actually pretty good at stealth himself, in a more 'Batman' sort of way than having actual stealth powers. Still, he's decided his primary responsibility, unless any of the visions come to pass, is to stay with the mages. There are many things only they can do. Hmmm. "There is a way to sort of tell 'when' the trouble started. If we see a store, we can check expiration dates on things like raw meat. Those don't typically last longer than a week. So if everyone disappeared on the same day, more or less..."

Where have the people gone? There's no sign of any mass vanishing. Cars haven't crashed. There's no sign of any violence, anywhere. It's just an eerie stillness, a sense of haziness, as if the very world had forgotten itself, allowing foulness to seep in through cracks that ought to be tightly sealed. As the group, scouts and rear guard alike, make their way across the bridge, they'll feel that unnatural stillness, broken only by movement that always seems to come from the edge of one's perceptions. A flash of movement in the water out the corner of one's eye seems to make no sound, leaving no sign of disturbed water, while distant sounds seem to come from above the clouds or carried on the wind, almost like the cries of animals or distantly plaintive sighs, but nothing definitive. Nothing even relatable.

It's a long walk across the bridge, not only because of the physical distance but because the tension and unsettling quality only seem to grow the longer they've been out in it. It may seem no mystery that there's been no sign of violence... there's almost no need. With things like this, few people would likely even have the stomach to venture out of their houses. There's a quality to the conditions that just seems to sap the will, dull the resolve. The party on the ice bridge is of sterner stuff than most, able to persevere, but it's not hard to imagine it all being too much for most. Could the population all be lying in bed, listless and afraid? Did they all just give up and stop leaving their homes? Or has it, indeed, been some kind of sinister twist on the Rapture?

If there are answers, there is no sign, even when they eventually reach the far side of the bridge.

### Seattle - Ballard

*This area, known as Ballard, was founded as its own township and remained separate from Seattle until its annexation in 1907. The Ballard is now the northwesternmost district of Seattle proper and is made up of five smaller neighborhoods. Sunset Hill lies to the west along Puget Sound, while Adams and West Woodland can be found bordering Salmon Bay on the south side of the district. Loyal Heights and Whittier Heights make up the northern area of Ballard. Much of this space is still occupied by private homes, but it has increasingly become home to commercial and industrial properties.*

*Ballard is most well-known for its historic fishing culture, but much of this has given way to new construction. Modern homes and apartment buildings have taken over large blocks of space, and buildings of polished steel and glass rise over the few remaining historic homes and local shops. Many of these newer structures boast unique and innovative designs, such as the Ballard Library, a building mainly comprised of glass windows yet featuring a sloping wooden roof that resembles nothing so much as a picnic awning. The southern border of the district is the Ballard Locks, in which one will find a mixture of picturesque historic homes alongside classic seafood restaurants and fisheries.*

*Just off the coastline is the Nordic Heritage Museum, the heart of Ballard's large Scandinavian community. The Carl S. English, Jr. Botanical Garden can be found on the water of the Locks. Farther inland, to the east of 20th street, the signs of modernization begin to show in the forms of the many light industrial and architecturally experimental buildings that have begun to take over the neighborhood in recent years.*

*The area, however, seems washed out, faded, even dreamlike. It's as if a fundamental component of reality had been drained away and replaced with something pale, sickly, and twisted. Angles don't fully make sense, and one's senses seem to carry a slight echo, as if of discomfort and vertigo. Smells are muted, fouled, and sounds have the faintest impression of being underwater. The air feels thin and lacking, yet somehow also thick and oily. It is very clear that, whatever is going on, all is very much not right with the world.*

Myrtle seems pleased at Jacob's words. "We all have our own niche," she replies. "Our greatest strengths and the things we do best. I'm extremely pleased that you and the intrepid Mr. Christopher are here as well, not to mention Mr. Hale -- our hale and hardy company!" It's a small joke, given her small smile with it.

Madison doesn't intrude in the conversation. Like Jacob, she's just satisfied that the bridge isn't slippery or freezing cold.

But when they're across it, and the whole place reeks of an unsettling quality of being Not Right, not at all, that strikes Myrtle as particularly unsavory. She shakes her head once, narrowing her eyes again and setting her jaw. "Madison, remember yourself." It's a simple utterance, but with more meaning behind it with the way it is said.

"Witches are fun, and sometimes really annoying, but always useful friends and allies. But it doesn't hurt to have what's left of Jack Frost with you either." He shakes his head his voice carrying across the distance, "We needed something that spanned the whole distance otherwise we could have been trapped in the middle. And trust me you don't want to touch that water if you can help it. It's ... been corrupted. The whole world has really, just trust me. And I'd appreciate if we all stayed mostly together. Lady Nessa asked me to make sure everyone comes back in one piece and I really don't want to disappoint her. OR get a lecture." He shrugs at the illusion he needs to learn those mortal magics, he thinks he remembers once having a knowledge of such things. "I'm a lot more noticible than the bridge is. But honestly we all are." He's now walking normally and his hands are glowing with ready magic what appear to be snowballs in each hand. Though any with magic senses will be able to tell these aren't normal snowballs.

Jason Christopher has been missing for some time now, as the company made it's way across the bridge. His voice returns quiet, and disembodied a moment before he fades into view. "Thank you Ms Snow. The feeling is mutual." He hugs Jacob and looks around for Sly, confident he is still with the group. "I've scouted some distance ahead. There is nothing but more of this, malaise. A group this big will eventually attract attention. But it would appear we haven't yet. The path ahead is safe, for now." He is voice is heard, and he is seen. But his movements make no sound, and he has no scent. He is still stalking, looking for enemies that may or may not be there just now.

Jacob hugs Jason tightly, but he doesn't relax. Even if there have been no enemies, it's very clear that something is *wrong* with the world. He reluctantly separates from Jason, moving with reasonable stealth, but nothing like Jason or even Sly. He's not sure to be relieved when they touch on solid ground, but the surroundings don't really seem like much of an improvement, if any. He draws a slow, deep breath, bobs another polite nod to Myrtle, even if it's a delayed reaction, and just continues to make his way along, wary and on edge.

Sly fades in just long enough to make his presence clear to his father, smiling some, and then turns to wink at the others before vanishing again, doing his best to keep out of the way and ensure that nobody has to worry about him, at least as much as he can.

"We need to make a direct line as possible to the Space Needle." Derek doesn't look on edge, but he's attentive. If Stiles were here, surely there'd be notice of him being on high alert, more than usual. This is the kind of posture that the rest of his pack would recognize: cautious, and aware that danger is here, probably mortal peril. "It's large, defensible, and a landmark."

"Or newspapers," Darius says to Angel absently as he finishes off the last of his granola bar and folds the wrapper up so that it doesn't crinkle when he moves. When they near the far side of the bridge, he stretches his shoulders a little and searches the sky with a long gaze, standing aside for a second to sort of just get a feel for the offness of the area. Yep. Still just messed up. "We might be able to use a car or truck and load up the slow movers, hoof it quickly by pushing the car," he suggests with a half-shrug, it's not exactly his best idea, but he doesn't think it's the worst either. He nods in agreement with Derek.

Brock grunts, growing a bit more frustrated as the moments pass. This environment, the whole situation and its uncertainty is only serving to make him anxious. "Somethin' tells me that goin' to that place ain't gonna do much, but I might be wrong. I say we need ta go on the offense and hunt down somethin'-- anythin' alive." And without further discussion, Brock leans forward and his body bulks and changes, sprouting fur, growing out a giant mane and going from two legs to four as he becomes a lion with sharp saber fangs, his whole body about the size of a horse. He puts his nose to the ground and starts to sniff.

Merek relaxes a bit as he takes a thermos from the cloak to drink his coffee. He nods a bit to Jack, "Nice bridge," he says, seeming to be a compliment. The Mage seems to be content with following the others for the moment as he nods to them.

"...Whatever cleaned out the living beings doesn't look like it cleaned out inanimate objects. ...Anyone know how to hotwire a car? There's no way of telling if the gas in the cars still work, but since I'm not seeing violence, I'd think that the cars would work if they could be started at all. They probably still have gas in them." Angel doesn't seem to have that particular crime ability.

The weather shifts. It is now: fog.

Things don't become any more pleasant as they enter the city. Perhaps most notably, a thick and unnatural fog rolls in, seemingly from nowhere. It's clammy and wet, heavy on the air, and it makes it hard to see very far, even for the keenest eyes. It also seems to muddle magical senses to a small degree, though more to the level of being nerve-wracking than blinding. As they move there are indeed many vehicles to be found, even a city bus, just parked on the side of the road with its doors still open. Movement continues to flicker here and there, just out of clear perception, down alleyways and around corners or lost in the depths of the fog. There is still not a soul to be seen, but they haven't reached a densely residential area, yet, either.

"Excellent. Now we have an even more conspicuous pet, an intractable and oversized housecat." Myrtle purses her lips, coming to a stop there and then. She sighs and reaches up to remove her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose and then massaging it with gloved fingertips.

Madison is less delicate with her phrasing. "Can you rein in your cat balls or whatever? There's no way we're going to pull this off with you just...lion...ing...around."

And there it is. What very nearly becomes a pun, but it avoids it by a hair. A cat hair, she shouldn't imagine; Myrtle places her glasses back on and looks around them, moving to join Madison at her pace. "We're not far," she calls out, in a calculated and quiet tone. "We should definitely at least stop at the Needle. We have to get above all this."

Jack stays quiet. He's not offering a direction to go here. He's focusing all his power and energy into making sure everyone is okay. And he says, "I can't sense anything in particular around here. But lets keep moving we need to get back to Rowanwood as soon as we can. The longer we're out here..."

Jason Christopher watches as Brock changes, and he is a little more certain he had known him at some point in the past. Or perhaps someone like him at least. He listens as the varying opinions are weighed upon. How long since this occured and where they should go, what they should focus on. Quietly he finally speaks again. "We have objectives. Right now we establish a defensible forward position in the city. The Space Needle makes the most sense. If others are there, we will discover either enemies or allies. Either way, it is information. Intelligence that will help our allies. Find Curious Goods and the discover if the Mirror is still there. If not, we find out what became of it." As the fig rolls in over them he moves closer to Jacob and Sly. His senses keenly alert for anything in the fog. His mate and his son were here, and both were a far cry from helpless. But just the same, he was very vigilant.

"If we need to move fast," Jacob says matter-of-factly, "then let's move fast. Who needs a ride?" He steps out of his shoes, then unceremoniously slips off his shorts, too. He wraps the shorts around the shoes, making a bundle, and then bends down, flowing forward into the shape of a massive, brownish furred wolf. He glances back at the bundle, then at the others, and clearly seems to be trying to convey his intention that someone should hop on, someone should carry his things, and they should all get moving as fast as possible.

Sly fades in long enough to pick up Jacob's stuff, then fades out again, and his voice says, "I can keep up. Let's go!"

Jacob Black phases to his wolf form.

Derek nods once as Jason speaks, in clear agreement, and then he looks to Jacob, waiting for the inevitable transformation. Before he can collect the clothes left behind, Sly has them, so Derek doesn't move to get them. He momentarily considers shifting himself, but decides against it; he'd just end up leaving his own clothes in shreds, and then he'd either have to remain an especially large wolf, or he'd have to find new ones. And shirts notoriously do not fit him. So he moves in place, limbering up, and waiting for Jacob to start on the way. He's confident that he can keep up on foot.

When Madison makes her half-pun, Darius laughs a bit and looks to Angel who seems to have just reiterated his idea in a good way, and he nods a bit for emphasis. "We can just sniff around for keys, maybe?" he proposes and continues along at a good clip. "Witches and wizard sorts, I think you might have the hardest time with the hoofin' it part, or at least maybe you should save your energy? If you guys can magic a car into neutral, the rest of us will push you along somewhat quiet like?" he suggests, again. He indicates a heavy duty SUV, an Escalade rollin' on some shiny rims. "This one, maybe?" he asks.

No one has made any requests for rides, which Brock goes about unbothered, sniffing and searching for any variance or scent unusual from whatever is around in the area. At least he can stay alert this way, if anything attacks. His ears flick, keeping up with the conversation, and staying silent as a lion can for now.

Kiara gives Jack a glare as he calls the rifle a popgun, but is rather silent as they pass, her eyes more focussed on the landscape they pass, the rifle following her view as she speeds her steps over the bridge, keeping an almost fixed distance to the others. "I know how to rig a car, but a single car in this silence will alert everybody in miles." Kiara almost whispers as she scans the surrounding buildings, hunting for signs of life in the fog. "Miss Snow's choice ultimately."

Merek looks then to Kiara, "Right, in case they all didn't notice the ice bridge, I am sure that that the sound of that will surely awaken them," he says, with an amused little chuckle. None of this is really a subtle thing that people are doing, so he's bringing up from the back with his magic chanting.

Angel shakes his head. "All I know for sure is, I'm looking for fire. And upside down hourglasses and a redhead. So...hey, there's an idea. You wolf types and or lion types, can you smell smoke anywhere? Like, the usual smoke created by fire?" If there's smoke to be smelled, that'd be a positive under current circumstances...

There is no smoke on the air. But then, it's become increasingly difficult to smell anything but the damp of the fog, which somewhat mutes even the foul smells that seem to pervade the rest of the city. Sound seems dampened by the fog, too, even when there seems to be motion. On the subject of motion, those looking closely into the distance may notice what seem like great, looming shapes, quite like buildings in size but moving like swaying, organic things. Or is it just more fog, shifting and swirling? If the latter, then it seems to pose no threat. If the former, then there are some *massive* somethings out there, and it may indeed be best to move as quickly as possible....

"We must be ever mindful!" Myrtle points out, frustration showing at the way this is being dealt with, or isn't being dealt with, she would say. After it all, she just shakes her head, walking to Jacob and looking back to Madison. "I hope you can conduct yourself smoothly from point A to point B if we're riding bareback, as it were." This is directed to Jacob, of course.

Madison folds her arms and shakes her head, but she comes over anyway and pats Jacob on his fluffy back. "If I'm honest? I'd rather he carry me the way he looked before he turned into Fluffy here." She seems ready to climb aboard though, despite her objections.

Jack stares appreciatively as the native american wolf strips. And then when he offers people a ride. Jack is right there riding the wolf. Sure he can ride but he's probably tired after making a several mile long bridge. That's totally his excuse. And he's smiling while he waits for his ride. He looks toward Madison, "Me too sweetie Me too."

Jason Christopher looks at Angel and considers as he scents the air looking for smoke. "The fog is not natural. It is masking sounds and scents as much as visual range. However, Micki Foster has red hair. One of the people we would be looking for at Curious Goods. I think we have that much of your vision-" Jason gestures to the movement in the fog. He falls silent and starts to quickly and efficiently undress as well. As soon as his clothing is removed, and unceremoniously put into his backpack. He phases into his dire wolf form. Clearly intent on likewise moving swiftly and silently away from the area. He is fortunately not the jealous type, or he might have a rather withering glare for Madison.

Jason Christopher phases to his dire-wolf form.

Jacob gives Myrtle an almost wounded look at her question, but he crouches down to allow the passengers to climb on. He snorts softly at Jack's comment, but if he's offended, he does nothing about it. Instead, he lets everyone get settled, then rises smoothly to his feet. Sly's voice cuts in to say, "Oh, he can, but, uh, you'll want to hang on tight!" And then, after giving them a moment to do so, Jacob rises to his feet and starts to move swiftly along with the others, moving not only smoothly and near-silently, but easily as fast as highway speeds... as long as everyone else seems able to keep up.

Derek doesn't even change his phase. He waits for the others to set off through the streets, and then he takes off on foot after them, and he does a very good job at doing it. That daily training regimen works wonders, especially with the natural gifts he possesses. He tries not to think about the shapes in the fog. They will only distract him and trouble his mind.

Darius shrugs when nobody seems enthusiastic about quietly pushing a car full of witches instead of making them ride on wolfback, but isn't about to sit around debating the merits of a car vs. encumbering a wolf behind enemy lines. He could write his father a letter about it later, perhaps. As the group lurches into motion, he makes sure to cinch his backpack a bit tighter and moves along with them, running at speed. Staying within the confines of the wolves since even though the fog is there, he's certain they have much keener senses.

Brock's ears go straight up at the appearance of some sort of change, and things in the distance. The fur along the ridge of his back goes up and from the look of his tail going straight, he appears ready to defend of necessary. Of, if they can avoid anything by intimidation alone, that would be suitable as well.

"The bay can only be seen from high up or the water's edge, so only a tiny fraction of the city. If they saw us, they will await uss and sure, we might have made huge ripple in the force or whatever, but that's different than having an engine constantly lure in everything with ears on our current position. Believe me, you don't want to be the beacon." Kiara notes, glaring at Merek, her voice still hushed. At least the animal forms were actively silent, in contrast to him. As Jacob though seems intent to speed up the march, she just smiles, her feet starting to hit the ground in the faster pace without breaking a sweat. As as apparent human. She does however fasten her rifle in a different way as they run, making sure it won't get in her way as they speed along.

Mrek looks to the side and lifts his brow, then he shakes his head a bit, "I am going to hold up my magic for the time being," he says.

The whole 'dampening of vision' and other senses thing was annoying...and it was odd that whatever was doing it was affecting wolves and lions and vampires and witches alike. Someone was very thorough, as usually someone or something gets left out of such wards. But...evidently this one got everyone. "...Better get on with it then."

### Seattle - Ballard

*This area, known as Ballard, was founded as its own township and remained separate from Seattle until its annexation in 1907. The Ballard is now the northwesternmost district of Seattle proper and is made up of five smaller neighborhoods. Sunset Hill lies to the west along Puget Sound, while Adams and West Woodland can be found bordering Salmon Bay on the south side of the district. Loyal Heights and Whittier Heights make up the northern area of Ballard. Much of this space is still occupied by private homes, but it has increasingly become home to commercial and industrial properties.*

*Ballard is most well-known for its historic fishing culture, but much of this has given way to new construction. Modern homes and apartment buildings have taken over large blocks of space, and buildings of polished steel and glass rise over the few remaining historic homes and local shops. Many of these newer structures boast unique and innovative designs, such as the Ballard Library, a building mainly comprised of glass windows yet featuring a sloping wooden roof that resembles nothing so much as a picnic awning. The southern border of the district is the Ballard Locks, in which one will find a mixture of picturesque historic homes alongside classic seafood restaurants and fisheries.*

*Just off the coastline is the Nordic Heritage Museum, the heart of Ballard's large Scandinavian community. The Carl S. English, Jr. Botanical Garden can be found on the water of the Locks. Farther inland, to the east of 20th street, the signs of modernization begin to show in the forms of the many light industrial and architecturally experimental buildings that have begun to take over the neighborhood in recent years.*

*The area, however, seems washed out, faded, even dreamlike. It's as if a fundamental component of reality had been drained away and replaced with something pale, sickly, and twisted. Angles don't fully make sense, and one's senses seem to carry a slight echo, as if of discomfort and vertigo. Smells are muted, fouled, and sounds have the faintest impression of being underwater. The air feels thin and lacking, yet somehow also thick and oily. It is very clear that, whatever is going on, all is very much not right with the world.*

Some ride wolfback, the others run on two to four legs, but in any case they're off, moving rapidly through the streets. It could be that nothing is chasing them at all, nothing closing in, nothing even threatening. But it *feels* like there is, it *feels* like the fog itself is closing in around them, all drifting malice and suggested horror... but whatever it is, if it is, they move swiftly and keep just ahead of it, and the Space Needle looms larger and larger as they approach Seattle Center. Then, they're suddenly at the edge of the campus, a cluster of museums and other attractions, all around the base of the towering needle.

Myrtle rides with style, but she does make sure to stay secure on Jacob's back. Madison just holds on firmly and doesn't let go the whole time. But once they arrive on the perimeter, the witches dismount.

"It would seem we are not alone," Myrtle states, holding up a hand. "Don't let your guard down. We don't know if it's friend or foe here. Though I'd presume friend -- whatever threatens us does not come from this place. It comes in like the tide against it."

Jack snorts he is a magicaly beacon. Anyone who thought that doing somethign that huge wouldn't stand out to anything senstive to magic for well... far beyond miles. He doesn't say anythign though. Instead he rides the wolf though that's partially so he can ensure the safety of the other's riding the wolf, if needed he can flip off and distract anything hopefully long enough for them to get away. He looks around, "We definitely need to keep moving. If what's out there catches up with us I won't be able to hold it off for long. Well What I think is out there anyway."

Jason Christopher is physically smaller height wise than Jacob is in his dire-wolf phase. But is very broad and powerful. He lunges forward at speed, still eerily making no sound as his paws thunder across the pavement. He draws up next to Jacob and fluidly phases back to a two legged form. Easier to communicate that way. His voice a bit more gutteral now. "We are close." A small growl rumbling in his chest as he does.

Jason Christopher phases to his wolf-man form.

Unlike Jason, Jacob doesn't have a two-legged form besides his human phase, so he stays in the shape of a wolf. Sniffing around, he seems rather on edge, not liking the blunting effect on his senses one bit. He moves forward now slowly and cautiously, as they arrive in the area so close to their destination. Myrtle's words have put him on high alert, but as yet he can't perceive anything, and that's not helping his mood.

Sly, for once, has noting to say and keeps silent and vanished.

Derek slows down once the others do, and once he's caught up, he comes to a gradual halt. But his senses are still pricked to their limits. He's determined not to dwell on the pressing issue of the shapes he glimpsed. They gnaw at his subconscious, but he refuses to let them roll into his conscious mind. "Let's get into the Needle and fortify it."

Peering up at the Space Needle, Darius scratches at the back of his head a few times. "She's bigger than I thought she'd be," he says to no-one in particular and while he is watchful of everything that might be hidden in the fog, he has to focus on the task for the moment. He doesn't rely on inhuman senses anyhow, so this is a lot like he's used to anyhow. He nods at Derek's words.

On four legs, Brock isn't the fastest still. Not by running at least. If he were leaping like usual, yes. But this speed keeps him from running ahead of the rest. As the group nears the destination, the lion pushes up and returns to his human form, his effects quite in tact rather than leaving him without. "Alright, guess we made it then." casting his head upward, looking up at the large building, "Ain't locked or anythin is it?"

"If it is, we make us an entry." Kiara notes as she closes in on the building, the rifle getting re-slung for active carry, but this time the bayonet comes out too, making it into a spearlike weapon... or a tool to part sliding doors in case it was locked...

### Seattle - Seattle Center

*Originally built for the 1962 World's Fair, the Seattle Center is a green campus of paths and buildings, each dedicated to another educational or entertainment purpose. The central feature of the center, itself, is a central green space with a round section of paved plaza, at the center of which the International Fountain stands. With myriad spouts, the fountain goes through programmed cycles of water patterns, set to music from around the world, which is piped in from speakers. Adjacent to this central are the Key Arena, a venue for everything from basketball to concerts, and the outdoor Memorial Stadium, dedicated to veterans of World War II.*

*Several museums can be found here, including the hands-on Seattle Children's Museum, the immersive Pacific Science Center, the Chihuly Garden and Glass sculpture garden, and the Museum of Pop Culture and Experience Music Project. There are also the Seattle Children's Theatre to the south and the Marion Oliver McCaw Hall to the north, home to the Pacific Northwest Ballet and Seattle Opera. Overall, the place is one of much to see, much to do, offering many entertainment options.*

*The center also has its own monorail line, which runs between here and Westlake Center, Downtown. The Space Needle, located in the southeast corner of the campus, looms over the entire area, gleaming white in the glow of the many lights built onto its surface.*

*The area, however, seems washed out, faded, even dreamlike. It's as if a fundamental component of reality had been drained away and replaced with something pale, sickly, and twisted. Angles don't fully make sense, and one's senses seem to carry a slight echo, as if of discomfort and vertigo. Smells are muted, fouled, and sounds have the faintest impression of being underwater. The air feels thin and lacking, yet somehow also thick and oily. It is very clear that, whatever is going on, all is very much not right with the world.*

The fog doesn't actually part suddenly, but it seems a bit like it does. In fact, it's just less dense as they draw near to the building, held back by what those with the senses to perceive it will clearly recognize as protective mystic wards. They're not the most powerful, but they're skillfully cast, and they seem to be keeping back the worst of... whatever is in the air. As the group approaches, however, it also becomes clear that they aren't alone. Standing outside the base of the tower is a group of what appears to be largely teenagers and twenty-somethings, unnaturally still and silent, with marble pale skin and dusky golden eyes. They look wary, uncertain....

Except for the girl, dark-haired and slight, who stands at the front of the group. She bears a battery-powered lantern in her hand, holding it up high, and as the group draws near, she offers them a hesitant smile. "Oh, good," she calls out to them. "You're not any of *them*." Her voice is high and clear, more a girl's voice than a woman's, and she doesn't look older than fifteen or sixteen, quite young in appearance for a vampire. "My name's Bree," she tells them. "You shouldn't be out here with *them*, but we've got magic. It will keep you safe." She gestures to the Space Needle, behind her, and says, "This is our hideout. Come inside, and you can meet Riley. He's our leader."

Jack will be one of the last to enter if not the last. He carves a fure runes with Ie around the space needle. Hopefully it'll be enough to hide them even further than it was and keep anything from noticing them. These runes were keyed especially for what he expected to be out there. Then he'll enter after checking that it felt safe and slump against a wall for atleast a moment.

Jason Christopher scents the air, and growls low in his throat. There is something there just on the other side of the fog. Something familiar at that. "I recognize that scent, I think." He phases fully back to human and starts to get dressed with the clothing from the bag once more. Managing to change in mere moments, with quick and efficient movements. Barely slowing down as they move forward. If he needs to shift again, so be it. But no sense appearing in a wolf phase needlessly.

As they pass through and into the immediate area around the Space Needle Jason shakes his head. He did recognize the scent after all. He nods to the young female vampire, noticing the eye color immediately. How did they describe themselves, The Cullens, vegetarian vampires. A very interesting development. Very Interesting.