2019.01.19 - The Siege of Rowanwood: 1

**Emitter:** Nessa Du Valle, Myrtle Snow

*The guests who awakened in Rowanwood gather in the great hall to learn what situation they've landed in. The Witches Council attempt to offer answers--until they are interrupted!*

January 1st, Year Unknown; Midday

Rowanwood

### Rowanwood House - Great Hall

*The great hall, made up as a formal dining room, is long and spacious, the walls paneled in mahogany and the floor done in a colorful mosaic of tiles. Three crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, which is done in a Gothic rib-vault style.*

*Long windows along the north wall let in natural light by day, covered in ivory damask curtains at night. The walls are hung with tapestries that depict natural scenes and mythical beasts, though they seem peaceful and majestic rather than ferocious. The major feature in the room is the long oak table with its forest velvet cushioned chairs, offering comfortable seating for up to fifty guests.*

*A massive fireplace occupies the western wall of the room, a large mirror hung above it. Beside the fireplace, double doors open into the library. Opposite this doorway, a similar set of doors in the east wall opens into the drawing room. A more discreet single doorway in the southeast corner allows one to duck easily back and forth from the kitchen, such as when serving meals. You may lookout from here.*

As the various guests find their way to Rowanwood's great hall, they find the room's great table laden with a wide variety of foodstuffs. All are designed to be easily eaten by hand, from small savory pies and pasties to sandwiches and other classic finger foods. There's generally a simple, hearty quality to this fare, but it's all quite excellent, and somehow everyone finds something they like, served just how they would wish it prepared. Various beverages, though no strong alcohol, are also in the offing.

By the time the crowds have begun to gather in earnest, the door from the drawing room opens to admit a woman who stands just a few inches over five feet tall. She's dressed simply in a plain white robe, a silver belt at her waist, and her hair is wrapped up in a neat knot, out of her way. For those who can tell, she smells of healing herbs and other remedies. Some may recognize her as Nessa Du Vale, the one who left them notes of welcome. She smiles tiredly as she enters, then moves to stand near the head of the table, raising both hands for quiet so that she may address the room.

"Welcome, everyone," she says in a warm tone, sounding motherly yet in that way that says, *I've been at work and on my feet for the last twelve hours, so please forgive me not being at my best*. "First of all, thank you for your patience, and I apologize for the abruptness of your arrival here. We will explain all we can, but for now what's most important is that you know we are threatened by a strange upheaval of reality, yet while you are here you are safe from that. We will do everything we can to keep each and every one of you safe. That is our primary purpose. But, beyond that, we must plan. We must decide how to confront this situation. And to do that, you must understand it."

Another woman, eccentric and distinctive, waited at the head of the table too, as if to receive Nessa's presence. She smiles softly, briefly, before her expression fades back to neutral. "This is the safest place in the world, I'd say. Now or ever." Her smile returns, very slight but warm. "I am Myrtle Snow, chair of the Witches' Council. And this is Lady Nessa Du Valle, mistress of this house, the stately Rowanwood." She gestures a gloved hand, and though she's radiant in her own way, she has a profound fatigue about her too. As she's a witch, it's probably for much the same reason as Nessa.

The young-looking man near the pair at the head of the table offers a slight nod of his head, though he doesn't rise from his seat. His condition is clearly injured, with bandages on him, visible since he's wearing a loose-fitting tunic of some kind, so perhaps that's why. "I'm Quentin Troy," he continues the series of introductions. "Also a witch, if you're wondering." Everyone that's here must have some supernatural awareness, so he's not going to bandy about with intrigue and masquerade.

As he heads down from the upper floor, Derek Hale is careful to keep himself close to Stiles, or maybe Stiles close to him. Whichever works! So he's slightly guilty of looming and hovering a bit, like a gruff, stubbly shadow. And of course, at the moment he's especially stubbly, though the house was courteous enough to supply him with a razor and other toiletries. He wanted to be out as soon as possible, finding the others and figuring out what happened.

But not without Stiles. So as the introductions are conducted, he reaches out to place a hand on Stiles's far shoulder, perhaps to keep him within reach, just in case.

Stiles has taken time to put himself a little more together. He'd wanted to explore before, but upon finding Nessa's note to gather at noon, he'd managed to *mostly* contain his curiosity. Exploration had yielded few answers, though, so he's here with Derek, standing at his side and clearly ready for the infodump. He nods politely to the witches, finding them familiar but feeling a little fuzzy about that, as he folds his arms across his chest and, for once, keeps his mouth shut. It's a rare enough thing, for those who know him, that Stiles doesn't have a smart-assed remark, but... well, he wants information, they have it. Ergo, he's listening!

Jacob is also standing fairly near the front of the room, though he's well enough back from Nessa, Myrtle, and Quentin that it's clear he doesn't consider himself part of their group. He has tense, worried look about him, arms held to his sides but hands lightly clenched, and there's an air of brooding discontent about him, like a caged animal who just can't wait to be turned loose, some kind of anxiety that goes beyond the niceties of any normal human experience. He doesn't seem as focused on listening as many of the others do, but he's also quiet and doing his best to pay attention.

Oz is sticking close to the members of his pack that he can find. Safety in numbers, right? It's clear that having them close by does help him feel better. His eyes are closed, and he almost seems out of it, but for those who know him well enough, they'll surely know it means he's listening very intently and hanging on every word. He stays silent much like the others, he's not one to interrupt a speech.

Tachi had stood when Nessa arrived, and since she began talking, his eyes and attention have been completely on the head of the table. He nods politely to the witches similarly to Stiles, but he stays quiet as well, it's not his turn to speak, after all.

Aiden had taken a seat at the table and been happy to start enjoying the food, but he seemed to forget to eat when people came in and started to talk. He misses the cue to stand politely, looking around in mild embarrassment, but the words being spoken are too ominous for him to worry much about it. He listens, looking to his various packmates with concern, and in particular makes sure to stick very close to Ethan, who he's sitting next to, but also to look to Derek, trusting the alpha for any guidance or other cues that they'll need to follow. In times like these, being part of a pack has its advantages.

Ethan Steiner is sticking close to the members of his pack, but especially his twin brother. Though he was eyeing the food before the witches entered, but seems to have been too anxious to actually eat. It's not clear just what he's so anxious about, but at least he's not visibly fidgeting at the table. When the hostesses begin talking, he leans forward on his elbows, paying close attention to their words. (re)

Corey Griffiths looks super relaxed at his place at the table, nibbling at a few strawberries. When Nessa and Myrtle enter, he pushes to his feet politely, but quickly sits again. Though he's clearly listening, he doesn't seem all that concerned with what's being said. This place doesn't seem dangerous at all, so why worry?

Rey sits beside Corey, though he's also looking across the table at Quentin with obvious concern... and a hint of confusion. Something's been nagging at him all morning, and seeing Quentin, now it's becoming very obvious and impossible to ignore. But, he doesn't disrupt the proceedings. When Nessa enters and the witches speak, he rises to offer a polite bow, then sits again. As he listens intently, there is a subtle but apparent shift in his demeanor. He is no longer a guest at a mysterious party. He is now a knight at a council of war, even if he does not yet know the enemy he faces. He is here to defend those who need defending.

Ryan is milling about on his own, looking around at all of the various people gathered while mostly keeping to himself and staying quiet. He's more interested in hearing why he's there than socializing with anyone, and there are -quite- a lot of people indeed! He's found some carrot sticks, so he's fairly happy to munch on a handful while staying out of the crowd's way, his attention shiftin from the two regal sort of women speaking, as he's anxious to hear more about exactl what is going on!

Merek has put on his crimson-black attire in camo, and makes his way to the room of the house people are meeting at. It has been a curious month so far, since awakening. He doesn't speak at the moment besides to say, "Merek," to those that might wish to know his name. He does all the proper etiquette as wll, then he settles a bit into his seat also.

Nessa smiles politely and nods to everyone as they arrive, gesturing to seats for those who haven't yet taken them. "Please, make yourselves comfortable, and have something to eat. Unfortunately, what I have to tell you won't take long. We're still gathering information, still trying to understand everything." She extends a hand, flat and palm dowm, in a combination stabilizing gesture and quiet appeal. "But, this is what we know for certain. There has been an upheaval across reality. The worlds you knew have been fractured through means we do not yet understand, but we've gathered those of you we could here for your own protection--and, frankly, because we need your help as much as we offer ours."

She gestures toward a window, explaining, "The world where we now find ourselves is dangerous and chaotic, and when we brought everyone here, many we sought out were injured. Some... we were not able to save. Others were brought with you, but we have asked them to assist in the care of the wounded. Our resources are taxed, stabilizing and defending this place, and we still seek to learn more about the situation and what can be done. But, again, this world is not entirely your world, not the one you knew. It's a stable point between fractured worlds, and the lands beyond the gates have become very unsafe." She pauses, smoothing the front of her robe slightly, then nods. "I will do what I can to answer any questions, but please forgive my limited information."

Myrtle says little, but she draws slightly closer to Nessa and, in doing, also draws closer to Quentin, as if out of concern. There is another woman near to her, of probably similar age to Myrtle, within arm's reach at one of the seats, who is styled in a Marilyn Monroe coif and dressed in a black dress off the shoulder, with fluffy trim around the bust. She looks like she stepped out of Hollywood of yesteryear, yet there's an elegance and dignity about her comparable to Myrtle's. They certainly seem like peas in a pod, or more accurately maybe birds of a feather. But they both remain quiet for the moment. The seated woman in black lifts her glass, which seems to contain either water or a martini, and sips gingerly from it.

Quentin listens, but this isn't news to him. He's quiet, respectful, but there's a clear discomfort in his expression. That's to be expected, though, given how he seems to be injured. With all of the power of those attending to the wounded, he must really have been hurt to still bear obvious injury. Naturally, he doesn't speak up. He doesn't have anything to add.

His eyes do go to Rey, though, and he offers a very soft, very subtle smile, meeting his gaze and then looking away, back to Nessa.

The whole time, Derek is absorbing. Any piece of data he can get, he's pulling it in like a sponge and filing it away. He doesn't think he'll be able to figure it out by himself -- this is far beyond him -- but he can certainly use information. You never know when it will become relevant. So he keeps his mouth shut and his ears open, and he doesn't move the hand on Stiles's shoulder. He's thoughtful, but he won't let his mind wander or fret over things he can't do anything about. He will have to find and secure his pack later. For now, he has these here, and he gives them each a nod of assurance. They will get through this. The pack has come through just as bad. Maybe just as bad-adjacent.

Stiles stance stiffens a bit as he takes this in. He looks to each of the pack he knows, jaw tightening, and he listens as patiently as he can, though Derek will feel the tension in him as he fights back just bursting into loud demands for information. But he manages. Finally, at the call for questions, he blurs out, "What about my dad, Noah Stilinski, and Scott, Scott McCall? Or Lydia, or Melissa, or--half the people we know? Do you know if any of them are okay?" He's too tense to be calm, but he's too serious and focused to erupt into any antics. He just clearly, desperately, needs to know whatever they can tell him.

Jacob just looks down and away, as though he already knew some of this. As if he'd had just a little warning. He mutters, perhaps to Stiles but almost to himself, "Lots of us have missing people. Some are people we love a lot." But it's not admonishing. It's not even really a direct reply. It's just a statement of fact, and he seems fairly stricken by it, but underneath that is a clear and steely determination. He may be upset, tense, and worried--but he has by no means given up on anything.

When Nessa gestures for people to sit, Oz immediately sat beside Aiden, on the other side from Ethan. He's worried, of course, but he trusts Derek. If Derek believes the pack can make it through this, well, then the pack can make it through this...right? It seems to be Oz's thinking. But his eyes are still closed, and he's still listening to what's going on around him.

Tachi also sat when Nessa gestured for seating. At her words, he becomes tense, and his expression becomes a deep frown. Suddenly, he doesn't look like a teenager anymore, all of his years alive and the stress that comes with them suddenly show on his face. He suddenly looks very old, and for the first time in a very long time, afraid. "How can we help?" He asks, quitly. He may be afraid, but there's still some determination there, like he's not willing to let fear overcome him, he will fight for those who can't.

Aiden looks troubled by Nessa's words, but he also looks a little unsure, as if he's not quite able to decide what he makes of the things she's saying, perhaps not quite fully believing them. Yet, when Stiles speaks, he starts to look really worried, thinking of who might be missing or absent. It's kind of fuzzy, trying to think of everyone, but that doesn't seem as important as hearing the answers is. He keeps his mouth shut for the moment, but he does look from Ethan to Oz and back, as if reassuring himself that they're okay.

He also looks toward Isaac, who's quietly lurking in the background. Well, it's not everyone, but... it's a start.

Ethan is frowns deeply, sitting further forward. Fractured worlds? Unstable, chaotic conditions outside this place? Just what is going on here? He starts to raise his hand, as though this were a classroom, but he thinks better of it and folds his hands together instead. There are smarter people here, so he'll let them ask the questions.

Corey is suddenly not quite so relaxed, sitting up a bit straighter. Unlike Ethan, he has no problem speaking up. "Excuse me, ma'am, but what are you saying? Is this some sort of Crisis on Infinite Earths situation?" He glances around the table to see if anyone gets the nerdy reference. "Has there been some sort of collapse of multiple realities? Because in every story I've ever seen, those situations never end well."

Rey's brow furrows as he takes all this in. He's seen and confronted many threats, but this is a new one for him. Corey surprises it by having such an easy grasp on things, and Rey looks to him, impressed. "A crisis, reaching across Earths? Through different realms and dimensions?" he murmurs in his deep, slightly raspy English accent. He seems to be searching for something to say, anything... so he says what one says when nothing else will do, and there's nothing else to say, heaving a groan of worry: "Fuck and bugger."

Merek seems thoughtful a moment, "Multiverse theory?" he asks, while he shakes his head a bit. He folds both his hands upon the table, while he watches the others for a moment. He takes a drink of the coffee he came with.

Nessa looks to Stiles and gives him a tight smile. "Your father and Melissa McCall are assisting in caring for the wounded," she explains. "I'm afraid that the others you've mentioned remain unaccounted for, but the gathering spell will continue seeking to locate them and bring them here. If it finds them, they will be brought here, and if they need help, we will do all we can for them." As Tachi speaks, Nessa explains, "When we know more, we will certainly have a need of everyone's aid. For now, you may be asked to help with simpler tasks as they arise. For instance," she says with a pained smile, as though she truly hated to admit it, "it would save some measure of my energy if others could take on the duties of cooking and providing for everyone. I'm truly sorry to have to ask it, but every bit of energy I can save may be of importance." She looks puzzled by Corey's question, saying, "I don't believe I understand that reference?" Though she does nod to Merek.

She's beginning to respond when the sudden peal of a bell fills the air, ringing three clear times. By the second toll, Nessa is already moving swiftly past others, on her way to the door where she entered.

"I must apologize again, my friends, but it seems that enemies are upon us. They have found a way to breach the defenses. I must ask all who are able to join me in defending this place. Some of you, please form a line at the front gates. Let nothing pass. The rest, they may enter through the woods. Please follow me to the rear grounds. I must get to the roof, where I can bolster the house's defenses and seek to push back whatever tide they're riding in on."

*The scene continues in 2019.01.19 - Welcome to the Apocalypse: 2 and 2019.01.19 - Welcome to the Apocalypse: 3.*