Mo climbed down the 9 flights of stairs or so to the main floor of EncenconnI, a small red fox padding behind her. When she reached the bar, she saw Jack there and wondered why anyone else was up so early. It couldn't have been very long after sunrise.

"Hey Jack", Mo greeted him casually as she swung behind the bar, Red following her in. There was a bit of dry blood blotched around her neck. She proceeded to remove from under her arm a tattered and singed looking men's pinstripe coat.
"What are you doing up so early?" She rooted around the bar and found a glass stein, filled it to the top with water and set it on the floor for the fox to drink out of. "Its not quite like lake water, but its better than street puddles.", Mo said apologetically to the fox.

Jack's whole body groaned as he turned to see who had arrived. It felt like the last few days had just been one long day that never really ended.
He regarded the fox for a moment, and then turned his tired gaze back to Mo.

"Mo. Couldn't sleep... Adrenaline from the night.. I guess. Went back to work in the shop to clear my head, but it just didn't work out that well. So here I am. Whats with the neck?" He took another sip of his whiskey, a mostly empty bottle beside him at the bar.

Mo put her hand up to her neck, not immediately sure what Jack meant, but then felt the dry blood and realized it probably looked odd. She picked up a rag from the bar... it already had drops of blood on it from all the blood drinks served there. She set it down and found a clean one. Dampening it she wiped the dry blood off herself.

She motioned with her head at the ground. "Red bites". The fox didn't stir at the comment, she kept lapping at the water keeping to herself. Mo takes the bottle from Jack and looks at the label. "Ah." She gave him an understanding glance. "Breakfast of champions" she said without as much sarcasm as she'd initially intended, before taking a swig herself. Her eye clenched as it burned down her throat. She much preferred gin.

"Do you need help sleeping..?" Mo offered tentatively.

"I'll get a little bit of rest sometime today while the vampires sleep. That's if the court regents don't bother me. Besides, after this day I don't much feel like seeing my dreams." He took another sip, and gave Mo a sidelong glance "What about you? What brings you here?"

Mo's gaze fell into the neck of the bottle, blank. "Bad dreams..." she muttered, before taking a second swig and setting the bottle back on top of the bar. "I should get to work anyway. Sleeping is for vampires."

A small nasal whining came from the ground. Mo looked down behind the bar. "There aren't any crayfish back here honey. We're gonna have to go...to this place I know. I'll get some for you soon. I promise."

The fox merely blinked twice at Mo, and then sauntered off, out from behind the bar, and out of sight. Mo sighed and picked the stein up off the ground, she washed it, and started to dry it off.

Jack grunted in agreement. "Lazy bunch. So I got Ashbird to make me a few rounds of that mage metal. Tough looking stuff. Got me thinking though, can you guys enchant regular bullets?"

"Depends", Mo got herself a glass with ice and poured herself some water to wash down the taste of whiskey. "I think its Alchemy that Frash uses to make the mage metal. Its more like matter magic than it is enchanting. I think I can enchant them though if you wanted. Its about time I brush up on my Prime skills..." She took a sip. "What did you want them enchanted to do, specifically?" Mo wondered.

"I was thinking.. some healing bullets might come in handy" Jack said, with no hint of sarcasm.

She realized quickly that he was serious. "Yes, I think I could probably do that relatively easily." Mo had to pause to frame the next part. "Not to burst your bubble or anything but uhm... doesn't shooting a person defeat the purpose of healing them. Or, y'know, vice versa."

"Well.. I could use rubber bullets, wouldn't do too much damage, just might sting or stun someone a bit." He accentuated this with a smack of one hand into the other, and continued. "Just, things being the way they are, it wouldn't hurt to have a few extra aces up our sleeves when people start dropping. All things considered, we got lucky. We really should have lost 3 werewolves back there."

Mo's gaze narrowed and her teeth gritted. "Ethan..." she growled. "That crazy son of a-" Mo dropped the sentence as to not fall victim to a bad pun. "He had the balls to lecture me TWICE yesterday about keeping a level head, and not rushing in, and not trying to be the hero because *I* was making it personal, despite all my best friends having vanished all at once!" She puts her glass down hard on the bar for emphasis. "And then the moment he sees Malcolm dead, what does he do?!" Mo was practically hissing, so she took a breath and tried to calm her nerves as she spoke. It made her words come out short and pointed. "He goes and grapples with Jon, takes the whole thing personal, and forgets the rest of us are even there."

She closed her eyes and inhaled. "I want to give him time to mourn- give ALL of us time to mourn for Malcolm. But I'm going to have to give him a piece of my mind before the next fight, before he goes and gets another hero complex leaving the rest of us hanging again."

"I agree, that was a little foolish of him. But he was doing it to try to protect us more than anything, I think. We all know how powerful Jon was. Ethan kept him from being able to attack, which could have easily ripped another person apart... Don't you find it a little strange though, that he just happened to get free as these snipers took shots at the upper rooms?"

Mo took a moment to think about what Jack meant. "You mean like... you think the Arrow had something to do with Jon going into death rage?" The notion confused her, but she supposed anything was possible. "I don't remember any bullet holes going through our entire building and smashing through into the basement. Do you?"

"No. But anything could have happened down there. Someone Malclom trusted could have sparked it and managed to leave before we got there. Malcolm may not have been much of a match for Jon, but he was no slowpoke either. He didn't even have time to change."

Jack had a point. Mo thought that maybe Malcolm hadn't been using his better judgment, after all he'd let Jon live that long. But it was entirely unlike him not to put up a fight. "You think someone interfered..? Who?" The notion made Mo very uneasy.

Jack's mind crunched through faces slowly, he wasn't cut out for this kind of thinking. "Jackal may be a lunatic, but he hides nuggets of truth in those crazy ideas. Did you have that one question on your test too? The one that asked which of a few people you thought was a traitor and why?"

Mo raised an eyebrow, and was none too happy to be reminded of the pop quiz. "No...he didn't ask me that" She sipped her water. "He asked me how big Snake's weasle was instead." There was no hint of amusement on her face.

Jack smirked at this remark. "Well, I had some interesting ones too. But he mentioned 3 names: Paramount, Trevor... and I forget the last one."

Mo glanced at him from the side of her vision. "You don't remember the last one..? Was it someone in the Motley?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't remember. I'll have to see if I still have the papers back at the garage."

She stared off blankly into a corner of the bar thinking about the possibility of Paramount having betrayed them. She didn't want to believe it, but considering his history and what she currently knew about his whereabouts, mainly nothing, it was possible. At the very least, he could have been captured and had his mind read, or possibly was even having it controlled.

"If Paramount is in Duke's control then my magic is going to be quite useless against the Arrow. If he's told them my true name, they can attack me from any range, and I will probably be much less capable of defending myself."

Jack nodded as he mulled over the ramifications of Mo's words. "I don't think he has turned, if only because he would have been more useful as a plant. No sense in disappearing when he could have lined us into a trap. But he could be taken. But regardless, you should take steps to safeguard against that chink in your armor. What can you do about it?"

I've thought about it. There are a few options. One would be to get married, that would change my name. But, y'know a true marriage. Something tells me that going to the local registrar and just changing my birth name on paper wouldn't do it.

Unfortunately the only man eligible for that is frozen in the supernal land of nightmares.

Either that or I'd need a big public wedding where everyone in the city, and my whole family started calling me by a different name. And... "She gave Jack a sideways glance. "You can imagine how fond I am of that idea. Not to mention it would take way too long to put together."

I may be able to ask the Loa to change my name. But I'm not sure how much I want to be meddling with them.

The other option, I actually wanted to ask your opinion on. When we went to the Goblin Market with Snake that one time, to find the fallen GotVeil mages... you were able to sell a memory. Do you think anyone in the market would buy my name off of me?

Jack let out a laugh just thinking of the absurdity of the idea. But it was that absurdity which made it a guarantee that there would be a buyer.

"Very likely. Question is whether its more dangerous to have it known by your mage buddies or owned by a hobgob. They don't necessarily have the same ideas of how deals work as we do. You may come back to find a Fae waltzing about with your name as an extra title. .... I don't like it, but if you're serious about it then we can see what Harker has to say about it."

Mo wasn't even sure what it would mean to have a Fae using her name like a title. Or what it would even mean to be without her true name at all. Would her parents know what to call her? Would they recognize her? All the same, it might be worth it to sell her name and survive to try and win it back, rather than die easy at the hands of mages who could use it against her.

She even thought for a moment... "I may not even want it back, Jack. If it keeps my family safe not to know me anymore, it might be for the best." She thought about all the mages in her bloodline King traced and told her about before he died, and how she was doing just the same thing they did. Cutting all family ties and disappearing. "Anyway I'd rather give myself a fighting chance at surviving a fight with the Arrow. If I live, I can decide if I wanna try getting my name back. So yeah, I'd really appreciate if we could talk to Harker about it."

She thought for a moment about another head of court she saw the previous night. "Oh, and those summer court guys. They're kind of like your fighters huh?"

"I guess you could say that. We've got fighters amongst all of the courts, but the more direct and simple kind of folk usually end up in summer. Brawlers, boxers, hunters. Not all of em, but a large degree. Hadrian's one of the best, though he fights smart from what I've heard. Very disciplined, that one. His second is too, but the rest of his Five are just bruisers."

"Hm..." The idea intrigued Mo. It had been a long time since she got to hang out with a trained group, and secretly she longed for the simple pleasure of knowing someone's stature and the recognition during competitive brawl.

"Would I be committing some kind of social faux pa if I went and introduced myself to them? Do I need like, a formal introduction from you?"

"Probably not, just don't go beating them up too much. We don't need to go losing friends from hurt pride. Then again they might like a challenge, who knows. "

Mo smiled a genuine smile for the first time in a long while. "Something tells me they're my kinda guys."

She finished the water in her glass and chewed on some of the ice. "So, bring me some rubber bullets, when you get a chance. I'm gonna be up in one of the demenses for a while enchanting shit to get some practice in." She started chewing a second cube. "And let me know when we can talk to your Harker friend."

"Will do, Mo. I'll see you at sundown" Jack smirked a bit and got up to leave.

It was good to still have people around to pick up the pieces after so much loss. The new changeling surge would certainly help, but they could definitely benefit from some pointers on all the different things that could kill them in this wonderful city.

"If we're lucky..." Mo added, saluting Jack as he got up to leave.

After a number of daylight hours spent in an EcneconnI demense working on her Prime talents, Mo decided to give her awakened spirit a little rest before continuing. On her way downstairs to the bar, she passed by a somewhat sullen looking Soren. They exchanged knowing glances and silent nods of hello as they continued in opposite directions.

It quickly reminded Mo that she should probably approach Ethan about the prior night. For a moment she tried to recall where he was staying, but thought better of it. A quick scan of the surrounding conscious minds in the building and she spotted him. She poured a couple tall glasses of cranberry juice, and proceed to the basement.

When she arrived at the entrance, sure enough Ethan was there. She cleared her throat gently to announce herself.

Ethan sat there, he didn't have a shirt. The scars were dissipating, but the shrapnel of silver was there. It seemed as though his sweat seemed to drip with the color of the metal that would kill him. It was so difficult being the monstrosity he was. He had a great deal of responsibilities and the more he thought on the situation, the more he realized that there. He could smell the cranberry juice and Mo’s approach. He was sitting in the chair that Malcolm had been the night before. That very night, his eyes staring just ahead of him. A blank expression over his face, as tears trailed down his cheek. He swallowed hard, his eyes were trained on the spot that the spirits lingered. They were still there he felt, not in death with any of them receive peace apparently. Even now, as Ethan stared into the demise of the man who gave him faith again. Something he’d lost. And now, as he leaned forward his hands slid over his face. A poor attempt at hiding the tears. He didn’t move it seemed, as Mo stood there he remained with a sullen peace about him. He knew the lot they had chosen, he’d lost others before. But it was when in so many occasions, he himself had the opportunity to change things. Ethan turned and spoke, his voice near a whisper, “Hey, Mo.” He had a feeling he knew what was coming, but everyone deserved to say their peace. He knew he’d get it from everyone else sooner or later. His eyes were still blank, his face had no expression, as the teeth marks were more evident now. He’d been sitting in near darkness. It was as though, part of him was there. And would always stay there.

"Hey Ethan." Mo moved forward and propped her back against the wall nearest the chair. She handed him one of the glasses of cranberry juice, and stood in silence for a moment. It was obvious he'd been crying, and she could see how much all of this tormented him. No one had to tell her how it felt. She took a sip from her own glass. "Why is it you're always drinking this stuff, anyway?"

Ethan just smirked at the question as he took the glass, his lips touching the cold glass. His eyes looking up to her. He took a long sip from the glass, and leaned back in the chair, his long wiry arm setting the glass on the floor beside him. “It’s always at bars. That and I’m usually on my period.” he made the joked, since it seemed to be what everyone said. He tried to make a joke. It was all he could do, as even now he looked to her in a manner that was completely blank. He ran his hands over his pants, trying in some way to just stay calm. He was amazed he didn’t rage last night. He was close, and then matters would have only been worse.

Mo smirked about the period comment. "You're on your period enough for the both of us it seems." She took a swig of the juice. "No, I mean, why don't you drink alcohol at the bar."

His eyes looked to her, as he leaned further back into his seat. “My first change, it made me not want to lose control.” he said it peacefully. Even now, so many years later he still felt responsible. “I’m a killer, I can tear human beings, and just about anything else to pieces. And walk away, as though nothing happened. When you have had no control of yourself, it only takes that one chance to never experience that again. So, that’s why I don’t drink. It’s a personal choice.”

She lifted her gaze up for a moment as though to think about it. "Guess that makes sense..."It made her wonder if drunken werewolves ever accidentally changed and went on killing binges, and if they should change the rules at the bar to accommodate.
"Y'know when I drink hard liquor I might as well be drinking water..."

Ethan smiled and just sighed, “We have a high tolerance not quite that high. But, some do. And some don’t. It takes about two bottles of whiskey to make a normal werewolf drunk. And probably a third to make him lose control. But, I’m a bit of a runt. So, facts are facts. I have to keep it easy. Plus, I experience my first change when I was thirteen. I never developed the taste for alcohol others have.”

Mo nodded and figured that was probably a really young change. Save for Snake Eyes, waking up that young for mages was virtually unheard of. "Yeah, I started drinking in high school, and college, but not really any more than anyone else. When I went through my uhm... change," she wasn't sure how else to phrase it in a way that would be obvious to Ethan, "I let my family believe that I was an alcoholic to describe my behavior through the messy parts. Then when I came to, fully awake, I told them that Paramount was my mentor, and that gave us all the excuse we ever needed for him to grab me at a moments' notice for duty."

Ethan looked to Mo, his eyes thinking about it. “So, Paramount was your sponsor?” He did the the air quotes. He was still a little too amazed to believe that one had gone off sans hitch. But he just let it go. “I guess, if you are looking for an explanation any will do.” he sighed, wondering what that would have been like. But he knew Mo, wasn’t there for small talk. She wasn’t the type to make idle banter or chit chat. So Ethan leaned back in his seat, and swallowed hard. “So, I’m guessing you wanted to speak to me?” he knew the answer and had some idea as to what it would pertain to.

Some people liked to chat, some people liked to get to business. Being the get-to-business kinda person herself, Mo found no insult in Ethan's cutting to the chase.

"Yeah, I did wanna talk to you. About a few things." Mo took breath. "You uhm-" She chewed her bottom lip for a second. "You died there on us last night... a couple times. I wanted to check in case you wanted to talk to someone about that. In case you wanted to talk about what it all means, y'know."

Ethan couldn’t help but shake his head at this one. It wasn’t an insult. “Death means different things to different people, and perhaps that’s the biggest difficulty with it. I am prepared to die, when one is born of violence death is inevitable.” he paused for a moment. He knew she was trying to help, so he tried to rephrase it. “Mo, I know what happened. It’s what will happen to me at some point. I will die, how and where is not determined. But I need to be smarter about the decisions I make. But truthfully, death to us is something that comes. We don’t fight it. It happens, we are machines created by Gaia. We fight, it’s in our nature. We are primal and fearless.” he was trying to explain to her something that was so difficult, especially to someone who wasn’t a werewolf. He paused for a moment, his eyes looking around the room. “You see, Mo. We were made to keep balance. That’s what Gaia has us for.” he knew he was more or less a tool.

She nodded, thinking about it. "You don't have to tell me about servitude and being ready to die for a cause. Shit, I think the Adamantine Arrow invented it." Mo stopped for a moment to think more carefully. "But beyond even all that protocol, I understand about service to a higher purpose, and being another cog in a very big, complicated machine."

Her gaze fell somewhere blindly on the floor as her thoughts carried ideas and visions not physically in front of her. "We're supernaturals. Odd threads in the tapestry of reality that get teased out, and stand out. We tend to get caught on the strange things that brush by or get too close to the weave we have going here. All at once, we're the first ones to cause trouble, and the first ones to put it back in its place."

The focus of her vision returned and centered back at Ethan. "So trust me, I understand how you feel about this whole fucking mess." Mo was careful not to raise her voice. "But back at the Arrow there's a saying, 'Frayed strands thread no needles'. And if you wanna continue to do your part in saving this crazy city, we need you to get on the same page as us Ethan..."

Ethan looked to her, there was something about being compared to a cog in a machine that he didn’t like. Maybe it was because truly, werewolves were spirits, and spirits of nature. He looked to her, and lowered his head. It was a difficult thing to explain. He took in deep breathes. It was now at this moment. That he truly started to understand how different supernaturals were from one another. She explained the weaving of a tapestry. An intricate design done by some greater being or beings. Where as to him, there wasn’t anything but Gaia. He leaned back in the chair, thinking about how she said he needed to get on the same page as the rest. He had to shake his head at this, “And what page would that be?” he didn’t know what she was getting at. But it had to do with the fight. His eyes were focused on her, those blue eyes held a startling primal being in them. His hand was gripping tight to his jeans now, he tried to surmise what she wanted to say. But he’d lean back. He would take in her words.


Mo tried to repress the frustration of the idea. "I mean we're not werewolves Ethan. I know you're the alpha in your pack, and you lead them into fights and take the lion's share of- of fuckin' everything I'm sure! The wounds, the glory, the guilt." She tried to take a deep breathe. "But I need you to get a few things through that thick hide of yours, mon frere. We're not your pack, we're not wolves. You're not our alpha. We fight as equals and we fight as a team. Maybe when you and 3 other wolves take on a Pure like Jon you can all jump on and tear him to shreds, but over on t less furry side of life, all we've got are guns, fists, and fire. Oh, and we're also a lot more resistant to silver, for that matter. You might wanna give us some room to take the lead when there's a lot of that involved." She opened and then clenched her free hand in the air at him as though gesturing and then trying to reign things in again. "You're not... you're not the hero here Ethan. We're all trying to fight and survive, and when you jump in and take it all on yourself, even if you're just trying to spare the rest of us, well- you wind up fucking us all over." She stopped to decide if it was a good idea to say anything, and went with it. "Me! Personally, Ethan. When you died, d'yknow I assumed your wounds within an inch of my life just to keep you afloat? Because half of the damage you took was friendly fire?"

Ethan took a deep breath as she mentioned being a hero to him. “You know, Mo. I can understand that you feel I may take the glory from my pack. But I never wanted to be Alpha, werewolf politics don’t work like that. And let me point something out to you, that you may not understand. Yes, you are all a lot more resistant to silver. This is true, but are you more resistant to being torn in half. If I hadn’t held him, it would happen again. I fight the one way I know how. I don’t know if you have noticed this, what am I supposed to do. Just stand there and clap for you Mo, while you say flame on. I fight, it’s what we do. I have to fight the one way I can.” he shook his head, seeing as she didn’t seem to grasp that idea. “I’m sorry you took on that Mo, but honestly. If I had died, I would have died. There are other wolves to replace me.” he shook his head standing up. Trying not to yell, it was more then apparent she didn’t get what he was going through. He walked within an inch of her, he wasn’t trying to start a fight. “Mo, you may not grasp this. But I let Malcolm die. I gave him his chances instead of ending Jon King when I had a number of chances. I let him die. My choices let him die.” he shook his head, and sighed. He wasn’t sure if she would understand this. “I don’t believe in a tapestry like you do Mo. I don’t believe in fate. I believe in choices, Mo. My choices killed Malcolm. And that is what I live with now.”

Mo had had more imposing people get in her face before. She let go of her the glass in her hand, and it floated to the floor. "When there are multiple objectives, melee all you want. But when there's one target, you step aside. Your inability to perform is not an excuse for getting in our way. And you're not an old dog, so learn some new fucking tricks. Evolve or die... like you did, TWICE."

But it was the comment about Malcolm that made her blood boil. "And you shut your fucking snout about Malcolm." She hissed. "We ALL let Jon live. We ALL knew where Malcolm was, and NONE of us- not me, not YOU, not even the ghost of King himself, or anyone else on the goddamned council could have made Malcolm do any different than he did. It was HIS choice, Mr. Choice shit. So don't you mouth off to me like you're so fuckin' big and wise that you could have changed his mind." She shook her head, indignant at his attitude. "What is it you said to me yesterday..? About Remy? About how he was a friend to ALL of us, and that I shouldn't go blaming myself or taking it personally, because MY people killed him. I'm not gonna go feeling sorry for you if all you're going to do is wallow in a pity party down here with the other two werewolves that died here last night. If you're gonna act like a ghost, then be prepared to turn into one."

She turned and took a few steps, getting out of his face. But she turned back to add. "Y'know the rest of us are doin something productive to keep our minds off this shit, and to get ready for the fucking fire fight that's gonna come from the Arrow. So stuff a tampon under your tail, drink your fuckin' cranberry juice, and start acting like a man."

Ethan just shook his head at her words. She had no idea where he was coming from. “You’re right, Mo step aside. So you can come in and set the world ablaze. You know, Mo you think it’s as easy as that saying those words to me. I told Malcolm I would take Jon away far away. I gave him more time. I let Malcolm have more time with Jon. Right before our meet and greet with the Changeling courts. That’s what I mean. I had more then one chance to kill Jon King. And I didn’t for Malcolm. He asked me not to. And last night, his words to me were take him as far away from here as possible. Those were the words, and I saw in his eyes, that he didn't want that.” he sighed and watched as she was going to leave on her terms saying what she wanted. “You say, your people kill Remy right, that is what you said. They stopped being your people. I am lingering in the moment, because both their spirits are here. And I have to come to terms with what happened.” his eyes looking sharply to her, as she stood there and telling him to get a tampon. “What did you do when Remy died? You chased a bullet, left us all in the dust. I saw you run out of here, while we were trying to figure things out. You got your chance to grieve. You had that opportunity. And no one has thought of affording the man who had been with him through thick and thin that chance. No one has told Desmond about Remy. That’s cold. We all deserve to grieve Mo. My point the other night, wasn’t that you didn’t. My point was simple, when the battle comes to separate it from you.” he shook his head. He was angry, all he had done was act like a man. “Mo, you don’t know what loss is. You don’t know what it’s like to never be able to see your family cause they think a monster ate you. To have to visit your father late at night on his death bed to try to sneak in a good bye when no one is looking. Mo. I don’t wish that on you or anyone.
But give me a chance to grieve for the one man, that has given me hope that their would be peace. Because since I was fourteen, I haven’t known what that was like.” his eyes were filled with rage. But he wouldn’t elevate his temper. “So, if you will don’t lecture me. I will be fine by tonight…. Oh, and let me remind you, I did die. So, I can grieve for myself in the process. Because, after all. It was my life that was lost on two occasions as you like to remind and everyone else likes to remind me.” he huffed loudly. His eyes looking to her now, “I won’t stand in the way of your one woman show to save the world anymore. You can torch up, all you like, Mo.” he said those words very pointedly. “I know you guys aren’t my pack. But you don’t fucking tell me how to do things. Because, before you learned your little fire trick I’m sure you got fair share of nicks because of bullets. You want to go on about sayings, here’s one. Let ye who is without sin cast the first stone. You want to be a hero Mo, you willing to leave New Orleans to bring Snake back. You were willing to bargain with a demon and play the martyr.” he made sure to emphasize that, “You know what Bayer told me someone was going to die. And he was right. But I had the choice to change that, and my choice didn’t involve me running. I didn’t take it. And I don’t wish I took it. I just wish I had done the right thing a long time ago.”

She shook her head, and lowered her voice. "No. Nothing you or anyone else could have done was going to change Malcolm's choice to handle Jon the way he did. And stop with the pity party about your family, you don't know what the rest of us have put ours through because of the monsters we are. Don't talk to me or anyone else about YOUR loss when you know who we've all lost in the past few days." Mo thought of Snake losing his father so soon after his mother, Jackal losing his brother of 2000 years, of all of them losing Remy, or missing Paramount, and Oni. She paused to muster up a thought. "Maybe I did run from Chicago, away from my family to keep them safe, and away from the Arrow to save my skin. But when it came down to it, I didn't deal with that devil for Snake Eyes. And I didn't deal with the one in Pandemonium to take Oni's place. I'm here, and alive because I keep myself that way, and I'll do anything to make sure New Orleans has a chance. And you're only alive because I want you that way too." She smirked wryly. "You're welcome, by the way." She hadn't been looking for thanks but it struck her at the moment this this was a funny way of going about it.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed on her, “No, you are right Mo. I should join yours. You ran away, and have been distant from everyone here. Including Oni, you don’t let anyone get to close. Because you fear what it might be like if they lose you.” She had gotten him somewhere, as she said those things. “And everyone had their chance to fucking go through it. Everyone suffered everyone was given an opportunity to let it all soak in. Why can’t I have that. I never told anyone how to live their fucking life. I don’t expect anyone to tell me how to live mine.” he came back to her, as he looked to her. “Now you think of that, well you go throw yourself that pity party. Cause, from what I hear they were in it together for a long time. And then suddenly, we’re supposed to feel worse for you. You know what Mo. I feel horrible for you. I do, cause you were close to him. And I’m sorry he died. I really am, sorry he died. Remy was a hell of a guy. But you ran off that night, and then we all got sent our separate ways. And maybe it was a blessing you weren’t there. But don’t go off thinking that you are better then me.” He was loosing his cool, and she was angering him. He tossed the chair clear across the room. “Through this whole thing, you have been upset and sad. Why can‘t you let me have my time to collect my thoughts. Because you had to make a point about what I did, you had to come and smack my nose and say bad dog.” He shook his head, “You know I came here to help. I didn’t come here to lecture or be viewed as wise. And when this town is in order. I’m fucking gone. I’m going to LA and trying to do the same. But don’t think for one minute, that I haven’t thought of that. Because at the end of it all. I still have feelings. And like I said, I’ll be fine by tonight.” he said pointedly. “Oh and another thing, if I’m dying don’t fucking rescue me. Let me die, so you don’t have to feel so obligated to tell me to watch myself. And next time there is a thirteen foot rampaging Predator King who might tear you to shreds. I won’t stand so close to him. And I won‘t get in your way. And if he so happens to kill you, like he probably will, even with your fireball trick, I won‘t jump in the way. I think we can have a fair accord on that one. I‘m not looking for anyone to save me Mo. I die. I die from now on. I don‘t deserve the second chance that King, Malcolm, or Remy didn‘t get.” He was angry because she was walking away. He was just supposed to hear her. No, he had heard enough. He clenched teeth and growled. It was probably best she leave. “I can be replaced. You can’t you’re our healer so don’t you go get yourself killed.” he said. It was the heat of the moment.

Mo turned to exit the basement, and at the door, her back still turned to Ethan, she added, "I didn't realize no one's told Desmond. I'm probly the last one he wants to hear it from... but I'll do anything for Remy."

The thought of having to tell Desmond about Remy had take all the fight out of her. She flinched an eye at the sound of a chair being hurled across the room. And he was coming at her snarling. But Mo had been in his shoes one too many times in the past couple days. "I'm the healer... who shouldn't be saving you. Makes perfect sense to me. Go ahead and grieve, Ethan. I'm sorry I yelled at you.", she said without malice or sarcasm. And she left the room to Ethan.

After Mo had taken the time to burn enough Mana to build a herd of elephants from scratch, she stopped to rest from her lessons in Prime magic in one of the smaller EcneconnI demesnes. Once she'd caught her breathe, she scoured some more power from the Lost Watchtower's signal, and paused to reflect on what she'd learned.
Thoughts of her screaming match with Ethan just a few hours prior threatened to plague Mo's conscience but she pushed the pain away again. This was not the time, and there was work to do. But more self reflection yielded feelings of loneliness. She'd never spent so much time by herself in a demesne, with nothing but herself and all the raw power, unhindered by threats of paradox. It was important work of course, but it felt corrupting all the same without someone spotting her, or sparring with her. When memories of Paramount snuck into her head, she stood abruptly and left the room.

On her way to get a glass of water, she remembered what Jack had said at the bar that dawn. He told her she could meet the Summer Court changelings at her leisure without any formal introductions. Deciding that this would be a productive thing to do, and a welcome break from solitude, her feet carried her to the other side of the EcneconnI complex, to the Changeling Quarter. Passing a few strange strangers on the way in, Mo asked where she might find Regent Hadrian. The answer was simply, 'In the Common Room'.

As she got deeper into this part of the building, she could feel the buzzing of Wyrd like never before. It was once so vacant, save for Jack's room and a couple random others. Now that a whole hoard of changelings from Philadelphia had migrated to New Orleans on the behest of Jack's request for help dealing with Belgoth, the quarter was bustling with them. It didn't seem like there were nearly as many, or as varied a bunch as she saw in the Great Council Room last night, but Mo imagined them out doing some site seeing or, heaven permitting, preparing themselves.

When she reached the common area of the quarter, she felt a distinct change in the air. The texture of it and the temperature were filled with weight, as though someone had lit a large bonfire in one end of the room, causing a sort of ambient breathe of steady warmth, bordering on solid heat. It mingled with the smell of human sweat... albeit, not the mortal kind. A number of changelings of various shapes and sizes were all training. They'd cleared the chairs and tables to the walls and had begun to practice their varying physical skills. There was a very large man, what Mo had learned was an ogre type, lifting very imposing weights. A small and spindly looking girl looked to be shuffling and punching the air to some unheard music, in the fashion of some sort of tai chi, or tae bo maybe?

To one corner, a very well built asian man, with tanned skin, long black hair tied back, dressed in a hakama that was faded and worn at the knees, was in the midst of kendo katas. Mo's eyes lingered on him for a while as she observed his well practiced stances, and she felt herself comparing him to a number of men she'd known. He looked younger than her own sensei, and years older than Oni. There was a patience that lingered at the ends of all his follow-throughs that escaped Paramount's fighting technique. His skin was a little darker than Oni's, and his frame was a good deal more broad. There was more gravity to the man, but somehow the quiet air that was Oni's seemed to hover behind him while he cut through the air with his boken.
Then Mo realized that almost everyone in the room other than Hadrian had stopped and stared at her. "Hi." She said meeting their eyes. "My name is Mo, I was hoping I could talk to Regent Hadrian."

Some regarded her warily for a moment, but it seemed like it only took them a moment to remember where they were, and the idea of a Mage seeking audience with one of them ceased to be so odd.
"He's in the middle of his morning practice", the big one replied, and tilted his head back to Hadrian. "He'll be done soon though."
Mo gestured with her hands, putting them up in front of her, denying any need to rush him. "By all means."

Waiting for Hadrian to finish, she continue to look around the room, and noticed someone that didn't quite fit in the way the others did. A thin, brittle looking, walking stick of a man, was clutching a book. He stayed close to the walls and was knocking here and there, touching everything as he went, peeking into nooks, and crannies. Mo smirked as she approached him.
"Hey you."
"Aah!" He yelped what seemed to be an average response. "What!"
"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Anything." Mo said, in as 'Jack' a fashion as she could.
"Hmm" He drew out his tone and seemed suspicious of Mo. "Why..?"
"I dunno, its something my friend, Jack, once told me, it turned out to be good advice."
"Jack!" The twiggy man barked the name with recognition. "He's a weird one."
Mo thought that was kind of like a crow calling a raven black, but continued the conversation. "What are you doing?"
"I'm checking the state of the hedge here." the man said as he continued his poking and prodding.
"Ah, yeah. Be careful with that. Its been... yeah." Mo realized she didn't have any good way to describe the state of the hedge, and that she had no point of reference to tell him whether it was normal lately, or fucked, up or what.
He stopped and eyed her suspiciously. "Who are you?"
"I'm Mo, I'm a mage that lives here." His glaring didn't seem to bother her, in fact it was almost amusing in the sense that he seemed to want to convey a threat, like a small animal might.
"A mage! You want information! Don't you!?" He accused her as he clutched his book tight to his chest.
"Well, really I just came to talk to Hadrian" Her brow lifted and she tried not to smirk at him, waiting for the next nutty thing out of his mouth.
His gaze suddenly became more piercing, and his long thin hand came up, two fingers pointing at his own eyes, and then back at her. "I'm watching you." He threatened, and then ran away.
Watching him scamper away Mo did release a chuckle despite herself.

When Mo turned again to look at the handful of other Changelings working out, she was surprised to see that the girl had come within a few feet of her, and was looking right at her.

"Hi!", the girl smiled wide and offered her hand. "I'm Paprika-Jane"

Taking her hand, and shaking it. "Name's Mo."

"Mo... that's short for something." Paprika seemed proud of herself for having deduced this, and she guessed slyly at her full name. "Short for.... Maurine?" Her tone was slightly mocking, as if to say Maurine was kind of a crappy name, and it only made sense that she chose to go by 'Mo' instead.

"Ugh. no," Mo reacted with a crinkle of the nose considering a name like Maurine. "Its short for Moderna."

"Yeah, sure it is!", the girl's brow jumped with doubt, but she smiled all the same as though it was part of game to her.

Mo was learning not to indulge this kind of changeling oddness with reason, and she moved on after repressing her exasperation. "Those were some moves you had going there on the mat."

"Oh yeah, you like that? That's kinda my style. Y'know, duck n' weave and all that". Paprika began to hop around a little, displaying what she meant. "What do you do?"

"Lots of things." Mo replied. "But mostly I punch stuff hard."

"Ah, great! We've got Bronson for that." And she titled her head to the ogre who had pointed Hadrian out to Mo before.

The two talked for a few minutes about the Council meeting the previous night, and what they thought about the plans under way to defeat Belgoth. Paprika divulged that Hadrian had some experience with defeating Fae, seeing as how that was the way he won his own escape. "Yeah, he killed his Keeper in combat, and just walked away..."

"Impressive." Mo said with all sincerity, as they glanced over at him, practicing.

Before very much longer, Hadrian had finished his morning practice, and one of his men handed him a towel. Mo asked Paprika if she'd introduce her to him, and the girl was more than happy to oblige.
"Hadrian!" Paprika called out to him, skipping in his direction. When she was standing next to him, and when Mo managed to hustle up to the spot, she continued. "This is Mo. Mo, this is Hadrian."

Mo nodded and shook Hadrian's hand. "Its an honor sir."

He nodded back politely. "To what do I owe the visit?"

"You may have heard me speaking last night during the council meeting. I'm one of the mages that are part of Jack's Motley-" she meant to continue but that seemed interesting to Hadrian.

"You're part of a Motley with him?" Hadrian lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes." She answered trying not to sound reluctant, but it was rather obvious in her expression that she wished he hadn't said that as though it might be a bad thing. "We signed our names on the hood of a taxi and promised not to hurt each other." This gave her pause. "Come to think of it, I'm not sure where the taxi is right now. Probably in Jack's shop..."

"I'd locate the taxi if I were you." He offered sound advice.

"Indeed." Mo pressed on. "I wanted to introduce myself, and discuss with you... what you've gotten yourself into." She was referring less to Belgoth, and more to the mage problem at hand. "You signed a contact with us, saying that you would help us defeat Belgoth, and that you'd assist us in any resistance we faced up through that point." Mo felt genuinely bad about this. "Maybe it was unfair, but I don't think anyone explained to you that we plan to experience a LOT of resistance. Like... the attack on the Council Hall just after you signed."

"Yes, that's becoming more obvious now that we're hearing the rumors." If Hadrian was bothered by the attack or by the unexpected conflict he'd agreed to put himself and his court through, he didn't show it.

"I don't know what rumors you've heard, but I can tell you specifically what we're anticipating. Last night's attack was perpetrated by a group of Mages called the Adamantine Arrow. They're a large militant order, highly organized and coordinated through all the major cities in the United States. Unfortunately, the corruption at the top of the chain of command has led the Arrow to seek dominance over various domains where supernatural influence is key. They've already taken their base of influence in Chicago, I believe cities in California as well, and they now have New Orleans as their next target.
The chief strategist amongst The Crucible faction, and one of the highest ranking commanders in all of the Arrow, Adamant Sage Duke, is now here with reinforced troops. He knows about our activities, and our attempts to re-establish a Supernatural council, which he obviously wants to keep from happening if he intends to keep New Orleans more susceptible to siege. But also, he's aware that some of our Motley have access to an ancient estate of powerful, magical relics. Are you familiar with the Canis Family Vault?"

"No, not particularly." Hadrian answered frankly.

"It's mostly known among Mages, but some of the artifacts are rumored to be very powerful Arcadian relics, so I thought it might also be rumored in Changeling circles. Anyway..." Mo picked up her train of thought. "Duke has threatened to assassinate members of our Motley one by one until we give him access to this vault." She lowered her eyes as she spoke. "He's already succeeded at killing a number of Brujah vampires that helped establish this building" a lot of Oni's friends, she thought, "and one vampire from our Motley."

She raised her head again to continue. "We were supposed to have until tomorrow to respond, but their attack last night was unexpected. So we have to be ready at a moment's notice if they decide to strike again. It's likely that they didn't expect us to start gathering Changeling reinforcements, so their tactic has probably changed to striking us before we can organize any further." Mo took a moment to allow all this information to sink in. When Hadrian nodded, she knew he understood, and she went on.

"Have you or any members of your- I suppose its not a cabal" She wasn't sure what to call it.

"A Pride", he gestured with his eyes to Bronson, Paprika, and the other men in the room still minding their own business. "They help me enforce any business I have as part of my regency."

"Has anyone in your Pride dealt with Mage hostility before?"

"There comes an odd time where a Mage will poke his nose where it doesn't belong, but only rarely. I don't think any of us have had to deal with any specific aggression like this. Or if our Freehold experiences any, there's a type we usually hire to champion the situation."

"Oh?" She wondered what he meant.

"Cocky bastards." Hadrian smirked, and both Bronson and Paprika joined in a chuckle of understanding as their regent went on. "There's a group of glory hogs that come out to flex their muscles when something really challenging comes along. They love making names and titles for themselves. Its not worth it to spend too much time around them, but they're effective when you need them. We may want to call this to their attention."

"Yeah, this whole situation is already a circus if you ask me, they'll fit right in." Mo replied in all earnest. "In the meantime though, I thought I would offer you a chance to see what you and your men will be up against if you get caught up in the fight."

Hadrian considered the offer, and it appeared to resonate with him. "Yes, that would be useful. When can we plan to see this."

"Right away." Mo said. "If you want to follow me to the Mage quarters' demenses, I'll give you a brief demonstration."

Time being of the essence, this suited Hadrian just fine. When he gestured to Mo to lead the way, she walked ahead. Paprika and Bronson followed suit as well.

The group got some odd looks from the Guardian of the Veil refugee residents they passed along the way as they entered the Mage hall, but no one bothered to ask questions. Mo found a demense suitable for the four of them, and ushered the group inside.

Once there, she explained that unlike changelings, Mages are entirely human and their connection to magic is a spiritual one, any physical changes that happen to reality are done so through actively pulling and fraying and weaving the threads of what magic-users call 'the tapestry'. Rarely does the use of magic become naturally flowing with reality, and so spells that are too far from what the mundane world allows cause a tear in the tapestry, called a paradox. Mo explained that the room that they were in was a space shielded from mundane reality, and that brutal magic would not cause tears in the fabric, meaning, no matter what magic she did in this place, it would not cause a paradox.

She began by discussing with the group what Prime magic was. To demonstrate, she created an invisible void where magic would be extinguished, quite literally. Mo set her arm on fire with her magic, and by putting her hand into this void, the magical fire ceased to cover that part of her. Her demonstration came with an explanation that the Adamantine Arrow was a fan of these 'voiding' spells and curses, but she suspected that changeling magic would not be affected, as per the example of Jack's ability to stop some of the bullets during the attack the previous night. But, when she had tried using magic to stop the bullets, she had become cursed. Mo explained that she wholly anticipated the presence of changelings at this fight would be very important.

After that, she offered to show her Summer Court guests what kind of fighting they might expect from Arrows. Bronson stepped up to spar with her, which was quite a site, considering that he easily doubled her in size. But just when he threw the first punch, Mo set herself on fire. This kept the behemoth of a man at bay for a few swings, but soon he had adjusted himself, and was able to land hits without being damaged by her fire.

"Good!" She cheered him on as they circled and swung. After a little while, Bronson began to throw some dirty punches, and Mo, not one to be cheated, drew back from their spar, extinguished her body, and began to fly out of his reach.

"Hey!" He yelled up at her.

"Whatcha got now?" she taunted him, and then sent a relatively gentle telekentic punch right to his head to show him she was more than capable of fighting him from way over his head.

The teleketic strike to his head seemed to disarm him though. Bronson's stance lowered and he walked back to stand next to Hadrian and Paprika.

Mo, still hovering somewhere above their heads called down. "Does anyone have any ranged weapons? A gun maybe? Someone try to shoot me." When they all just stared blankly at one another, Mo descended. "Nothing?" She seemed rather disappointed at how little fight there was in them.

She turned her sights to Hadrian. "I hear they call you the Lion...", and when she had his full attention, her body shifted shape and in a moment there prowled before them a lioness. She roared at him.

Hadrian smirked, but there was no humor in his eyes, "I no longer take that form."

Mo's response was to shift into the form of a grizzly bear, standing up on her hind legs, roaring threateningly. Then she was out of that form and into another, and another, until she settled for a minute on the form a female-looking Bronson. Large and grotesquely effeminate, she began to make body builder poses, flexing her unnaturally large muscles. At the very least, this seemed to tickle Paprika, and she and Hadrian joined in on a laugh at Bronson's expense.

When Mo returned to her natural form, she approached the small group. Leveling with them, she explained, "This is just the beginning of what our enemies are capable of, not to mention the majority of them will be able to heal any injuries you inflict on them. And this is just me showing you the defensive maneuvers, I haven't even made a strike against you." She was trying to emphasize to the changelings what they might find themselves up against.

But suddenly, Hadrian stepped forward. "Really? Why not..?" He began to circle her as he spoke. "What's stopping you from attacking us?"

Mo found herself a bit perplexed, but she stood on the spot. "I don't actually want to hurt you."

"Oh, you're showing us mercy. Is that it? That's a foolish move I think. Duke didn't show your vampire friend any mercy, did he?"

At the sound of Duke's name, at the thought of Remy's death, Mo felt her blood flash hot with anger, and she turned her head to lock eyes with Hadrian's. "Remy was-!" But when she looked Hadrian in the eye, she suddenly realized what he was doing. They both paused, quiet for a beat. Mo acknowledge silently that she accepted the challenge, and she replied. "I'm not my enemy. Mercy is what separates me from them."

"They're going to kill every last one of your friends, every one you've fought with to save this city will die by Duke's hand, and you'll be left with nothing but your precious mercy."

"I won't let that happen. I'll-"

"You'll what? Punch him really hard? Your friends are dying, Mo. You're failing them."

The circling, and the arguing continued for what seemed like a long time. Mo stood her ground, she kept herself as calm as possible, drawing on what faith she had in her own strength, and in the determination of her team, and she tried not listen to Hadrian. Three whole minutes of standing still while he picked her apart, Mo felt herself shaking, but continued to hold on.

Hadrian saw that she was finally close to the breaking point, and soon he went in for the kill. Mo stood facing forward, her eyes not daring to look at him anymore. She trembled, trying to turn the anger into agony. He stood behind her and spoke with a voice as quiet as a knife slipping past your spine. "What's the last thing you remember about Remy?" He paused until he could see through her eyes the final images she had of him flutter into her mind. "How pathetic... If only you were as good as your memory, maybe he would still be alive."

Mo felt something snap in her body, she screamed, and instantly her fist flung itself towards the mouth that spoke these terrible words. When there was no blow to satisfy her rage, she swung, again and again, blind to everything except hatred she felt deep down for those words, and those feelings.

Hadrian effortlessly stepped out of the way of each of her blows. "Paprika, heads up!" And as though she were just a puppet, he made Mo believe that the object of her greatest hatred was the spindly young girl.

For a while, Paprika made a dance of the fight, being in one spot, and suddenly just a couple inches to the left of where Mo thought she'd been. Again and again, the girl confused her, her fists being just short of a landing. Mo screamed with frustration, and stopped swinging all together. She focused on where Paprika was shuffling, waiting for another strike, but instead Mo lifted her hands, and clasped them together in the air. Paprika felt herself frozen to the spot, she shrieked realizing that there was a magical force holding her as though she were being squeezed inside a giant fist.

Mo used her magic to lift the girl straight off the ground, and would have hurled her right into the wall at bone shattering speeds, had not a sudden wave of clarity washed over her. Hadrian released her, Mo's spell waned, and Paprika fell a few feet to the ground, yelping as she landed.

Blinking, Mo finally saw what had happened. "Oh my god!" She ran to Paprika, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, are you alright?"

The girl laughed nervously, helping herself up. "Hehehe... you almost had me there... good one."

"I- I really didn't mean to- I just-" Mo could hardly comprehend her actions while apologizing, but she was interrupted by the sound of Hadrian's voice approaching them.

"I think that's enough practice for now, Paprika, Bronson..." He gestured with his head to the door of the Demense.

"Don't worry about it!" Paprika flashed a grin to Mo before skipping off towards the door after Bronson who'd headed out first.

Mo watched wordlessly as the girl ran off, and then turned to face Hadrian as he approached. She felt oddly speechless as it began to sink in what had just happened, but Hadrian took the initiative anyway.

"Thank you for showing us what to expect from the Adamantine Arrow. You did well."

Mo felt a little embarrassed now at her last display, and wondered if his praise was any indication of how she'd held up against his extended attempt to pull the anger out of her. "Of course, I'm glad to help however I can."

"It was good to meet you. I'm sure we'll run into each other again soon."

To this, Mo instinctively bowed her head and replied. "Hajimemashite, dozo yoroshiku."

Hadrian's brow lifted, and he smiled having been pleasantly surprised. "Well, I'm impressed."

Mo grinned, glad to finally have hit her mark. "Was the pronunciation alright? I'm really just starting to learn."

"Just fine." Hadrian smiled in return. "Come visit our quarter again if there's anything we can do for you."

"Domo arigato gozaimashita" she said bowing again, in a fashion acceptable of the thanks a student gives a sensei.

Hadrian bowed his head slightly in return, and he parted ways from Mo and the demense.