STEAM LONDON: Realms of Aether Game Thread

[MWBailey]

Dreyfuss paused and turned around, and there, a little ways away stood Sam, apparently unsure of what to do.

Samuel, are you rooming here tonight, or on one of the airships? I'm heading back to the St. Elmo, you can billet there tonight if you want; word of warning though, there's a really rough squad of marines down off teh engine room. theres plenty of officer's country bunks, though,  and a couple of foc's'le cabins open. You dont have to sign on unlees you want to.

Mr. Leyton? You staying here or coming back to the ship? We're going back now. I think I'm starting to see things, and I have somewhat to think over...

[Genevieve Ozuna]

At some point, she must have temporarily lost consciousness, as the next thing Nadya knew, she was laying propped against a pile of oriental pillows in a richly furnished room that reminded her so terribly much of the lounges back home that she nearly began to weep. She vaguely recalled a pair of deft hands sewing the narrow gash on her scalp together, and reached her hand up to check for stitching when she heard a voice snap out, telling her to stop.

Through the dim lights of the room, she saw the figure of her beloved Madame cross the room and then she was directly in front of her. Mentally she awed at how youthful Madame appeared in this world, she was obviously a good fifteen to twenty years the junior of her otherworldy counterpart, though still just as stunning. Through the foggy murk that was her memory of the last few hours, Nadya recalled this woman resting her hand upon her cheek, and prominsing her everything would be alright. Clips and phrases flashed through the confusion. “…bad bump… blood loss... stay awake for twenty four hours… stay here for a bit," the idea was easy enough to grasp. She couldn’t have blacked out for more than a few minutes, at the two gentlemen who had carried her in to the room were still present.

The first was the gentleman who resembled good ol’ Bloody Jack, and the second was a man she had yet to be introduced to. Looking over Madame’s shoulder, she got the feeling they weren’t quite comfortable in the bordello, and immediately felt frustrated that such an occasion had occurred. Weakness was not high on her list of interests.

Turning her attention back to the woman in front of her, she failed to hide the blush creeping across her caramel cheeks as she managed to say, “Thank you for your hospitality.” She struggled to express her gratitude even in the best of times, and now, as she reflected back upon the nonsense she had spouted— well, embarrassed could only begin to describe her disposition.

Her eyes scanned the dimming room once more and she noted that her original escorts were nowhere too be found. Disappointment crept into her eyes as she realized Dreyfuss was missing, though the absence of Samuel seemed somewhat unremarkable and the absence of that other, more prim-proper, individual seemed altogether an improvement.

Nadya paused for a considerable amount of time before continuing, to gather her thoughts. During her interlude, Madame Arachne felt her forehead and cheeks, and the girl could not help but close her eyes and sigh. Reopening them, she spoke in subdued tones, unsure of whether she could trust the gentlemen in the room, but naturally inclined to trust her mentor’s double. “I feel I should explain myself for earlier Madame. I’m terribly sorry for making such a scene, but you seem to be the double of my beloved mentor in my world— which parallels this one. My own talents allow me to shift between the planes of existence, and after said mentor’s death in my world, I never believed I would see her again. And yet here you are, flesh and blood before me. It’s both terribly and wonderfully disorienting.”

[Stella Gaslight]

"I um...I think would like that." She said in a rush looking at the floor.  Helena had read a lot about love and even dated a bit but nothing felt like this.  It was like having her senses turned up all the way.  She wondered briefly how people lived like this without being constantly overwhelmed.

Angel had been thinking about something for a long time.  "Cain do you think there is some world out here where I am bad like the other Emma is?"  She didn't like that idea much but understood it was a possibility.

"You can take Black but I want to be the one to take the other me out.  Not out of bravado or any other such thing but because I think I can best handle the aftermath of killing something with my face.  And as much as I dislike the taking of life she is too much of a threat to just be let go.  I know myself and I know what a monster I could be with out my moral compass pointing steady home."  Emma was completly sure of her course of action now and she would thunder on like a freight train.

[MWBailey]

"As You wish, Miss Emma," Dreyfuss said as he turned back, and returned to the room. "On second thought, perhaps I should stay a bit longer." He saw Nadya brighten up a bit. "Careful, Miss Nadya," he teased, "or you'll have me sending Sam here back for my banjo and serenading the room; the last time I tried to sing, all the trees in the sahara desert burnt down."

[Genevieve Ozuna]

She couldn't help but grin as Dreyfuss reentered the room, distracting her from her subdued conversation with the bordello's owner. It quickly became smug though, as the gentleman began an obvious quip at her excitement. Now, now, she couldn’t let that continue without a fight.

Adopting what she knew to be an adorable pout, she set her sights on Mister Dreyfuss and replied, “Now sir, why would you say such terribly frightening things to a gal in her sickbed. ‘Tis quite treacherous sir. Quite treacherous indeed to tease about flaming savannahs and the true horror that would be your vocals.” She cast an arm across her face and fell back against the pillows on her down mattress, laying it on quite thick.

Never let it be said that Nadya Zarate could be brought down from her good humor— even in the most uncanny of situations.

[ClockworkLeprechaun]

Samuel, are you rooming here tonight, or on one of the airships? I'm heading back to the St. Elmo, you can billet there tonight if you want; word of warning though, there's a really rough squad of marines down off teh engine room. theres plenty of officer's country bunks, though,  and a couple of foc's'le cabins open. You dont have to sign on unlees you want to.

"I'll billet on the Elmo, familiarize myself with the environment and what not." he responded. "What exactly would be my role on the ship, though, if you don't mind muh asking?"

[Nigel Wetherby]

Madame Arachne coudlnt't help but giggle at her patient's little show.
"The other version of myself must have been very lucky to have you miss Nadya. You seem to be a woman of multiple facets, much like a well-cut diamond." Madame Arachne's sweet words seemed to bring an unseemly warmth into the air. Indeed, this young woman was terribly beautiful in her sight. She began to speculate what may have happened had she met this little beauty before meeting her ex husband.
"Dreyfuss, dear. I understand you need a ship surgeon? Perhaps I can be of assistance? I've plenty of combat skill if you need it, and i can stitch a wound and patch a burn like the best of them. Besides i'd rather like to see how my assistant Shai would do substituting for me."


"Well," Cain wished he did not need to ponder the thought. "I would suppose so. There may be a world in which you are evil, and it is just as likeley there is a world in which I am seperate yet still evil...But to be honest, evil is not the best choice of words. There is no such thing as an evil person. Just a person wanted to do something for the wrong method or reason." He watched the way madame Arachne looked at Nadya, it was oddly similar in the way that Patrick looked at Jen.
"Angel, you should never consider anyone evil. That is the one thing I have learned in my travels."

"I must say, he's a rather pale fellow. He reminds me very much of that ghastly cat of yours Angel dubbed "sweets" The one that tried to claw my face off." Gejiro's stern critical face flipped back into a cheerful grin.
"But I suppose you'll have to assure your little friend there stays in line! Might I suggest a bottle of water?"
Sigmund's cheeks reddened with embarassment at Gejiro's comments, he wished greatly that something aboard his ship would catch fire and force him to leave the museum immediately.

[MWBailey]

"Well, now, Sam...I think you mentioned something about explosives, or maybe an explosive; Do you have any formal training, such as chemistry, say, or Aether Mechanics? the Saint Elmo lacks any actual conventional explosive devices, other than the warheads on the rockets and the explosive shells."

"Back on the Boheme, I adapted a thaumaturgical power-storage grid into a sort of half-sorcerous, half-technological grenade --well, actually, Miss Emma contributed most of the technological parts. But they're rather horrifically powerful and dependent upon the degree to which the ambient aether is active (there's no safety letoff for excess power, you see. when they overload, they explode; it usually only takes 30 seconds, but sometimes less than 10). We could really use an explosive device thats a bit more predictable under all conditions and a means to deploy it... and of course, there're many other uses for a person who's conversant and accomplished in chemistry or alchemy..."

"The St. Elmo hunts and deals with basically the supernatural bits of society that get out of hand and/or out-of-control; a large part of the things that work against such creatures are chemical/metallurgical in nature. "

"Does any of that sound interesting?"

---
"Madame? That would be wonderful, if you can stand being on an old iron-hull steamboat converted to an aether-powered pocket war zeppelin! accommodations on the boat part are pretty much just like you'd expect on a small ocean-going coaster steamer of about fifteen years ago, minus two or three midships cabins (they were used up making the gun deck)."

"Folks, the St. Elmo is a supernatural threats hunter, basically, but aty least for the nonce, she's also escort for the Boheme while she's rescuing George Lewistine and fighting the Cold Ones wherever we find 'em. She's not a White Star Liner by any means, but she's a sight better than most of the underslung airships we had in the Marauders. Pretty much standard navy-type rules and regs; we are commissioned as an RTAF warship after all. Ten men and two women, Eight of us former marauders! Sounds like we've a jolly crew!"

[ShredsnPatches]

Jen smiled and sat up in the bed, returning Patrick's kiss with a smile. The white-haired couple sat cross-legged, demolishing Patrick's carefully prepared breakfast with gusto. As they ate, they discussed their plans for the day.

"Do you have any idea if the crew will be coming to London on this latest business?" Jen asked. "It would be lovely to meet with them again - it seems like forever since that dinner party."

"I think they'll be around. Ya never know these days though," Patrick replied.

"Perhaps we should send a message to Madame Arachne's, and directions to the school. That's the most likely place they'll congregate at."

[ClockworkLeprechaun]

Well, now, Sam...I think you mentioned something about explosives, or maybe an explosive; Do you have any formal training, such as chemistry, say, or Aether Mechanics? the Saint Elmo lacks any actual conventional explosive devices, other than the warheads on the rockets and the explosive shells.

Back on the Boheme, I adapted a thaumaturgical power-storage grid into a sort of half-sorcerous, half-technological grenade --well, actually, Miss Emma contributed most of the technological parts. But they're rather horrifically powerful and dependent upon the degree to which the ambient aether is active (there's no safety letoff for excess power, you see. when they overload, they explode; it usually only takes 30 seconds, but sometimes less than 10). We could really use an explosive device thats a bit more predictable under all conditions and a means to deploy it... and of course, there're many other uses for a person who's conversant and accomplished in chemistry or alchemy...

The St. Elmo hunts and deals with basically the supernatural bits of society that get out of hand and/or out-of-control; a large part of the things that work against such creatures are chemical/metallurgical in nature.

Does any of that sound interesting?

"Explosives I can do, when I worked for the Institute I was primarily an Alchemical Engineer, but I have worked with the Aether as well.  I'd be glad to sign up on the Elmo and do my best to give you more reliable explosives.  I'm also a bit handy with Tesla-coils, though thats more of a hobby than a part of my profession."

[Duellist]

Leyton took advantage of the lull to track down his cases and choose an outfit more suited to the airship.  While technically clean, it was impossible to avoid the occasional spot of grease or grime from its mechanical and martial parts.  He sought out a slightly-battered pair of boots and a brown canvas 'duster' coat as concessions to the coarseness of his surroundings.  He did not mean to wear them, but he had never tried spatial-folding across planes of existence, so it would make sense to place them on the St. Elmo in case he needed them.

He pondered acquiring one of the broad hats so popular with the colonials, to round out his horseman-like ensemble.  His case prepared, he resolved to find Dreyfuss and see about finding a place to keep his effects and tools.  If possible, he was also interested in setting up a small laboratory either in the Tinker's Dock or even on the St Elmo.  If they followed his advice, he would soon be ousted from the medical facilities in favour of a real doctor.

With a swift folding of space, Leyton drew himself a clean and pressed coat to replace the mildly soiled and creased one he was wearing.  He smiled as he drew on his clothing, realising that Dreyfuss and his associates were a bad influence on him as a gentleman; here he was using his post-euclidean talents without even a consideration of propriety.  It would not do, of course, but such devil-may-care behaviour sent a thrill through him.

[MWBailey]

The next morning, Esmeralda stood at the dormitory room window looking down at the small dusting of potted-plant dirt that she had picked up in the foyer not ten minutes before; Professor Jen O'Landry had looked at her quizzically as Esme cheerfully pocketed the dirt and walked back upstairs, but had not asked her what she was up to. She probably just thought that it was just another of the myriad undergraduate shenanigans that one encountered in a place like the school, she mused.

The odd bit was that the dirt sat not on the floor of the Dormitory room that she shared with her old chum Lotta Crabtree, but in midair about twelve feet above the small courtyad next-door to the school. HE rroommate, Lotta, came in behind her, saw her standing at the window, and said, "You're not going to go gallivanting around out there in clear broad daylight! I won't have it! what if someone sees -- well, you know..."
"Silly, I'd be wearing pants!"
"Pants!? We can't wear pants! We're women!"
"Professor Sheehan-O'Landry wears pants all the time!"
"And she's one of the most powerful mages in the world, and a famous immunologist-"
"Immy-youwhat?!"
"Immunologist. Person who makes immunity cures for diseases. It was in the Times, Esme! Anyway, she's a famous one for curing that plague in the colonies, " said 'Lotta, "So who in their right mind would argue with anything she does? We, on the other hand, are two schoolgirls in a school for technomancy whom no one has ever heard of. Big difference, there, wouldn't you say?"

As they walked to breakfast in the Great Hall of the school, past the back door of teh apartments of The headmaster and headmistress, 'Lotta glanced quickly around and then bent over to adjust the snugness of her left shoe; while she was thus occupied, Esmeralda leaned over and listened at the keyhole, as she could hear laughter and something about... tickling? -- and something else, something very exciting...

"'Lotta! I heard that the Boheme crew might be coming here for a reunion. Maybe we could sneak back with them and get famous so we can wear pants like Mrs. Professor O'Landry!"
"Where on Earth did you hear a thing like that?"
"Just now, when I was sneaking a listen at that door over there.
And how did you find out about this door that tells secrets?
I heard other kinds of things coming from behind it when I sneaked past it this morning to steal some dirt to put down on the invisible road, of course!"
"Evesdropping, now! You are determined to get us expelled!"
"Calm yourself, dear 'Lotta, things aren't always so bad and dark, you know..."

[ShredsnPatches]

"Argh! Patrick!!!!" Jen squealed, gasping for breath during a quick respite from Patrick's tickling.

"All right, all right, I give in!" she laughed.

Standing up, she looked squarely at the door. In her sternest teacher-voice, she called aloud:

"And you, ladies, stay right there. I want a Very Good Explanation as to what you're doing outside our private rooms."

[Nigel Wetherby]

"Indeed!" PAtrick called in reply, his voice bewcomign stony and authoritative.
"And afterwards. Ye'll be spendin a week cleanin' up tha spills in miss Jen's office after periods are over!" Evesdropping was loooked heavily down upon by the class. It lead to stealing inventions and ignorant assumptions, both of which mister O'Landry could not stand.

[Stella Gaslight]

Angel nodded she knew bad people could get better, her big sister had shown her that.  "I wish the other me could just make them be nice."  Angel looked thoughtful for a moment then giggled.  "I bet there is a world were puppy Angel and kitty Cain are real."  Angel grinned she would very much like to go there someday.

Helena gave Sigmund a sly smile.  "I am quite sure a water bottle wont be necessary."  A warning chime sounded and quite suddenly Helena looked like a little girl again.  She took his hand and all most bounced on her feet. "Come on Sigmund we are going to miss the chiming of the hours on the big courtyard clock.  It puts on one heck of a show.  Good afternoon Gejiro I will be sure to tell Emma I saw you."  Just like that they were off down the hall and in to the sunlight hand in hand.

Emma was sleeping on top of the d hopper plans in a pool of sunlight.  The lack of sleep had caught up with her at last.  She dreamed of a red thread that led out from her chest to a dozen different worlds that were balanced on the end of pikes like a giant plate spinning act.  Emma knew without being told that each world with a line held a part of George.  Something came out of the darkness and severed one of the treads and the world it was in wobbled and fell.  That wobble spread and the worlds fell even as she tried to save them.  Emma woke with a start surprised to see it was sunny.  She hoped that her dream was not as prophetic as it seemed.

[Nigel Wetherby]

Cain found himself smiling at the thought. A world in which Cain had fuzzy ears and Angel had a waggling tail. The queen had never existed and all they needed to worry about when they would have their picnic. He thought it was a particularly nice thought, but saw it as little else.

The loud clanging of the courtyard bells seemed to shake the cobbles of the streets of london. Beneath the clock's face, massive wooden doors opened, revealing a perfect replica of Angel standing on a pedestal. The machine sang a pre-recorded melody sung at first by Angel. Then a replicant authomitous Cain emerged to her side, joining in on the song. Followed by a replica of Patrick, then Emma, then Jenna, Then George, or what they thought george looked like. A metal Dreyfuss and Elisha entered from either side, firing their guns into the air, sending off smoke, confetti, and fireworks as a metallic Trip appeared behind them, raising a metal rod into the air, causing sparks of white lightning to crackle in the air.

[MWBailey]

"HOW CAN SHE HEAR US ALL THE WAY OUT HERE!?" 'Lotta preactically screamed.
"Well, she'll hear even better with you yelling like that," Esmeralda opined, with an arch look.
"AArrgghh!" It's so unfair! and you," 'Lotta rounded on her roommate, "I'd love to go to things like Boheme reunions, but nooo, I have to get in trouble along with you!" she sat down on a hallway bench and whimpered, "At this rate, I'll be lucky if I can get invited to the Convicts' Ball at Newgate!"

"...they have a Convicts' Ball?" For a goody-two-shoes, you sure do seem to get around! And you say I'm wild..."

'Lotta, for her part, was dutifully trying to think up a plausible excuse...

[Stella Gaslight]

Cain braced himself as Angel put her hands on the side of her head to mimic ears and then pounced.  Puppy Angel just had to have her kisses.

Helena clapped and quite a few others people joined her. "I remember when they first started work on this. The sculptor had so much trouble getting Emma to sit still that he ended up taking a bunch of reference pictures and using those.  We aught to head back before my belly starts talking in full sentences." It was odd to see them all glamorized like this, yes they had done wonderful things but she couldn't help but think of all the times she had to help Emma find her socks or go out for new shirts for Trip because he had scorched the last non stained one.  It was a bit like knowing Santa lost the naughty and nice list on a regular basis.

[Duellist]

The gentleman known as Leyton awoke gently to see sunlight cascading onto the coverlet.  For a moment, all was calm and he smiled at the feel of a soft bed beneath him after weeks of travelling.  He had been enjoying a pleasant, though entirely private dream, about a certain 'lady' he had known in his youth.

The idea shook free another, beginning the cascade that would soon bring him bolt-upright and awake.  He remembered a woman of the Roma; half-dressed and brazen about it.  He remembered Dreyfuss, the rogue, bringing him to a place that smelt suspiciously like a house of ill repute.  He pondered the soft sheets, the warmth of the bed, the half-remembered smiles of...

Leyton sat up in the bed and waited for his racing heart to slow.  He was alone, he had left the commodore while he took some equipment to the dirigible and sought out more permanent lodgings.  Tinker's Row was not bereft of places to stay and he was hardly apt to sleep on an air-ship when he had the money to pay for a suite of rooms.  He had paid up-front, arranging to have HM Government cover his costs later.

Though he was sure that it would not pass without notice, he decided to take his cane with him.  He despised superstition, but common sense dictated that the future dangers would be better met with this one concession to folklore than without.  It had been a special order from a craftsman near the Black Forest; the shaft was white ash, with a head of sterling silver engraved with a cross and ferrule of cold iron.  It had saved his life, even if his precious science could not wholly explain its effectiveness, and so had earned its place in his travels.

Now prepared, he left a silver sixpence (a habit born of silver often transcending details like local currency) with a note asking the maid not to disturb or clear away his belongings, and set out to find the commodore.  He knew that his cases were sealed with more than just conventional locks, but it never hurt to make yourself plain.

[Nigel Wetherby]

"I suppose so..." He turned from the fantastic portrayal of the heroes of tinker's row and followed Helena, occaisonally glancing up at the heroes as they dissapeared into the clock once more, wondering perhaps if these metal copies had lives of their own. Drinking hot cups of axle grease and talking casually until next hour when they preform their song. He wondered if he would ever be made into a clock...

Cain let out an alarmed "Mew!" before being knocked to the floor by Angel's love. Angel licked his cheek hapilly.

Madame Arachne found herself greatly enjoying the company of Nadya. The young woman reminded her much of one of her first "clients" Young, a bit jumpy, but sweeter than berry wine. "Seeing as how you seem to be an advocate for head Injuries, perhaps it is essential that I come aboard the ship with you." A subtle but warm smile crossed her cherry lips.

[MWBailey]

Nadya had finally been allowed to lay back and rest, and Dreyfuss, Sam, and Leyton had headed back to the St. Elmo. Or at least, Samuel and Dreyfuss did; they couldn't quite make out where Leyton had gone.

"Must be one of his many "post-euclidean" tricks," Dreyfuss muttered aloud, and led Samuel back to the ship, giving him the Officer's Country cabin next to the port-side EmDe Port. Dreyfuss went to check on the others, and found them all asleep in  their varios rooms; Jock in the stateroom just off the Engine room, the marines in the bunkroom below to Jock's cabin, and the new Leiutenant in the cabin between the Bunkroom and Sickbay. He almost resolved to move the fellow upstairs, but realized that down here, he'd be better-located to deal with the marines while they were getting used to the ship and to their duties.

He also decided to wait until the Ladies got to the ship around sunup, and give them the choice of the cabins on the opposite side of the quarters deck, or the the pick of the three staterooms besides jock's on the opposite side of the engine deck, or the remaining forecastle cabins up by the steering room. He then put Cleopatra in her basket by his bed (not expecting her to stay there, of course, she had the run of the whole ship, but he liked to think she would keep coming back to him), and then got dressed for bed and lay down, trying to work out where Leyton might have got to... oh, yes, he had seen him with some luggage, he must've stayed over at the Bordello, the sneaky rogue.

Ah, well, we'll get the accommodations figured out tomorrow, he said to himself, and suddenly dropped off to sleep, dreaming of a gypsy caravan full of beautiful Ladies, very like Nadya and Madame Arachne, all of whom had cat's feet, and kept walking through the walls of houses, trees, barn walls, fences... what these things were doing out on the windswept steppes that they had flown over in teh Boheme, he couldn't fathom, nor why the horsemen of the caravan kept riding off into a nearby castle.

HE turned, and asked one of the catfooted girls about that, and was answered by a "Hiiiiissssssppp!"

And found himself more than slightly awake, on his bed in his cabin, and looking up at the reflection of the sun bouncing from the water in the washbasin and onto the ceiling. Something bumped him, gently, on the right side of his head, and he turned his head to face that side. He found Cleo staring at him, her red eyes almost puppyish. He got up and dressed quickly, pausing just long enough to give Cleo her normal morning treat -- a pinkie-finger's length of jerky from his possibles bag. 

He had gotten all of his kit on, and adjusted, just before somebody banged insistently on the EmDe port outside his cabin. HE adjusted his cravat again as he went to answer the loud summons.

[Genevieve Ozuna]

Nadya smiled shyly at Madame Arachne's subtle advances. She wasn't openly saying anything of course, but in her line of work, you learned to pick up on body language rather quick. Pick the customer who most desired you— you'd always get a better tip, and if you served 'em well they'd always come back for more. She paused mid-thought on that one, and decided to abandon that train. The part of her life was behind her. Well, mostly. It had certainly left visible scars, ones she didn't mind in the least. Most of them had given her the confidence she now exuded in waves. No, nothing wrong with them at all.

“Advocate? Why I’m nothing of the sort. Poster child perhaps…” Nadya trailed with a mischievous grin. “Oh I do hope you can come along Madame. And myself as well!”

Turning quickly, she sought confirmation from the remaining gentlemen in the room, predominantly Dreyfuss though. After receiving a nod of approval, she settled back against her pillows contentedly. Her mind was beginning to fog again, and she heard a voice assuring her it would be fine to rest now, the worst was past, and so allowed her eyelids to droop. Absently, she noted that she still had no idea just what she and Madame were coming along with, but at that point she was beyond caring. Feeling warm and safe for the first time in months, she drifted to sleep.

When she awoke, she was alone in an unfamiliar room. Sunlight shone through a small window on the west wall, and it disoriented her at first when she sat to take in her surroundings. It was a casually furnished room, with naught but a small bunk, a desk jutting from the wall beneath the window, a small chest, and a plain chair. Confused, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and marveled at a change in wardrobe. A plain, but new, white chemise draped over her tan legs, with subtle cream embroidery at the neck and hem. Her corset and a chemise were draped over the chair, as were her assorted weapons laid neatly on the desk. Well, that had to be an interesting discovery for whoever had been responsible for care. She stood slowly, checking her balance, before crossing the room to the desk. Eight knives of assorted sizes, and her revolver in its holster, lay categorized by size on the desk. As did the vial of  arsenic that she kept on a long chain around her neck. Interesting discovery indeed.

After returning each of the weapons to their rightful holsters, she crossed to the chair and began to dress. Midway through replacing her former ensemble though, she realized it would likely be in her best interest to slip back in to her own home world, if only for the time it would take to gather some of her belongings. Glancing about for a moment, she took a breath, concentrated, and was suddenly returned to her richly furnished cell in London, one dimension over.

Quickly, she snatched up a leather traveling bag from beneath her bed, and thanked the powers that be for allowing her a quiet entrance. She slipped a few dresses and a pair of trousers she’d filched from a patron once into the bag, then added another corset, all of her jewels— for future trade— and money, her favorite pair of high-laced boots, a pair of soft leather gloves, the rest of her knives and her revolver’s twin, her father’s goggles that she had kept all these years, her mother’s tarot deck, some stockings and underthings, a bag of hair pins and cosmetics, and a few others necessities and desires.

Pausing, she decided to dress quickly, slipping on a black blouse with a high lace collar that fit like a glove after tying her own corset— though the piece was obviously a size too small for the current fashion in that world, it was still easy to move about in and she valued her own clothing. A sapphire blue skirt followed, then black stockings and her boots. Her hair she re-pinned into a knot, then slipping her father’s goggles over her temples as a sort of band around her head. She didn’t really need them per say, but there were the last bit of the ol’ mechanic that she had left, and she wore them proudly. Who knew, she may eventually have need of them on the St. Elmo. The revolvers sat boldly in plain sight over her skirts, resting in their holster on either side of her commendable hips.

Soon she was finished, and just in time, as she heard footsteps leading to the door. Rapidly, she scooped up her favorite blanket— an oriental thing one of her favorite suitors had brought for her after one of the woman’s numerous trips— scanned the room once more for anything else, and slipped back to the St. Elmo mere moments before the door opened.

Blinking and taking deep, calming breaths, Nadya settled herself in to a chair, allowing the bag to slip from her hand and hugging the blanket to her chest. That had been rather close indeed. Recovering from her panic though, she startled to see a familiar gentleman standing in front of her. A familiar older gentleman, who just the night before she had been teasing about his singing voice. And judging from the look on his face, he’d witnessed the entire spectacle of her reappearance.

This was not the room she had originally found herself in. The displacement had exited incorrectly yet again.

Damn.

[Stella Gaslight]

Helena had done a lot of thinking during the wee hours of the night.  Working with the nearly nocturnal Emma had reset her body clock, early morning was something she saw quite often it was late morning that was a rare visitor.  She liked Sigmund that was something that had grown quite naturally and she wished to know more about his childhood but she didn't want to poke at his sore spot.  Finally she decided just to take things as they came.

She was woken by someone crashing in to the wall near her door.  Blinking the sleep from her eyes she opened the door to find Emma still dressed in yesterdays clothes and rubbing her shin.  "Helena is that you? I lost my glasses again."  Helena just smiled and pulled out one of the many spare sets that were scattered around the labs and living quarters.  "Thank you. You may want to go wake Sigmund I have the d hopper set to the next world and I want to launch soon."  The dream still weighed on her mind, things were so precariously balanced.

Angel woke up in the best place in the whole world, Cain's arms.  "Wakey wakey Cain, I smell breakfast."  Angel's appetite was legendary and the cooks took it as a challenge and really put out a spread when ever she was around at meal times.

[MWBailey]

"Well, now, Miss Nadya Worldwalker," Dreyfuss said, in what he hoped was a softly-teasing voice. "You certainly do have a talent for surprising folks." HE hoped he wasn't making her embarrassment too much worse. "You do so remind me of my niece; she has a knack for hair-raising escapes as well -- and you do look as though you've just had one."

He took her by the hand that wasn't actually holding anything up, and pulled her to her feet, doing his best to smile in a fatherly way, so as not to scare her; she was packing a pair of pistols, after all, and while he wouldn't hesitate to defend himself, he hated the idea of shooting such a pretty young lady. "Miss Nadya, you look for all the world as if your sudden entrance here was the last thing you wanted, and while that kinda hurts an older fellow like me, I do understand.

If it was intentional, it's only fair to inform you that I already have a potential paramour, a fellow operative in Her Britannic Majesty's Service. I cringe to think what she might do to you if she walked in on us right now, here, in my stateroom." He laughed, "And I think I fear what she might do to me, as well." You are a very beautiful young lady, miss Nadya, and I won't deny that I have had my thoughts, but Mr. Leyton's opinion notwithstanding, I do try to be a gentleman as well as an officer.

A loud, raucous banging interrupted the brief interlude, punctuated by a cockney voice calling, "oi! ahoy on the Boheme! You gots a deliv'ry by special post!"

"Arrgghh, can't these kids read anymore!?" He bowed slightly, and said "excuse me for a moment, Miss... "OI YERSELF! This is the SAINT ELMO, the BOHEME is at the OTHER end of the DOCK!"

"OI! SORR--! uh, sorry, sir! good day to ye!

"GOOD DAY!"

Nadya tried as hard as she could not to, obviously, but she burst out laughing despite what were obviously her best efforts.

Dreyfuss told her to put on  her shoes, and when she had, he got an old carpoetbag out of his footlocker, adn put her things in it for her,handed it to her. and said, "lets see if we can find you a better set of lodgings, shall we? and stuck out his elbow, putting on his sombrero with the other hand, and walking with her down the hall to the port side of the ship.

[Nigel Wetherby]

  Madame Arachne glided into Nadya's room. Her outfit consisting of a crimson corset top and a ruffled black skirt that would have reached her ankles if she had them. Her black hair was wound back into the usual bun, and her thin arms had been covered by a pair of black silken bracers. A rattling leather satchel hung from her rounded hips.
"Now now, dryefuss. Were you planning on moving Nadya without informing me? I'dve been greatly upset if she went missing. I would have assumed something had happened to her. She's a strong girl and all, but if she were to get hurt..." Her voice was somewhere between sharp and supple, like the thorns of a rose.

Sigmund was in the grasps of a terrible nightmare. He was locked in the embrace of countless tentacles, each one cutting off his breathing as he felt himself dragged into an unforgiving abyss. He could almost hear the queen's voice, commanding him.
You will always be my loyal soldier, boy. It is in your blood.
Sigmund awoke screaming and standing in the middle of the hallway, wearing naught but his underpants. He darted towards his quarters, cheeks flushed blood red.

Cain snapped himself back into the concious world, greeted by a smiling Angel. "Hmmm, I smell sausages." He announced with a smirk on his lips as he gave her a good-morning kiss.
"I suppose we had better get there to motivate the other crew members to wake up before you and I eat them all." He chuckled.Angel giggled in reply and the two bolted down the hallway.