film noir meme

[advancetheplot]

Comments

6 is just too apropos. Also HAT ICONS FOR ALL.

[guriel]

[The wind whips around them, tugging at clothes and feathers with the same mute, blind insistence, and Guri reaches up to tug his fedora lower over his eyes. The city's spread out in a dazzle of lights beneath them, all glittering and glorious. From up here, you can't see the false fronts, the dirt or the deception. Just the shine.

The angel makes a scoffing noise, nearly lost in the wind.] City of Angels. There she lies.

[guriel]

Surely does. But -- we do know one thing for sure, and that's that someone's out there with a weapon can do more than average damage to guys like you and me. I'd call that reason enough to track them down no matter what game Wynter thinks he's playing with us for pawns.

[werewolf_hacker]

That's so. Sooner the better, no doubt. Don't want that thing staying in the wrong hands for very long.

Not that I'm sure Wynter's are the right hands. Maybe we should just destroy it altogether.

[guriel]

There's a notion. Get Wynter back his money and claim collateral damage on the dingus. [Guriel knocks back a swallow of gin and grimaces.] Assuming we can find the way to do that.

Sounds like maybe a trip to the bookworm's on the table.

[werewolf_hacker]

Excellent ideas, brother. [Ben drops a bill on the table to cover their drinks and puts his hat back on.] Now's as good a time as any. Not like he sleeps.

[guriel]

Indeed it is. [Guriel replaces his own hat with an elegant flick of the wrist and rises.] City Library's not far. Walk that way and then Move up to Special Collections?

[werewolf_hacker]

Yep. [They step outside, and Ben claps his hand to his hat to stop it flying away in the wind.] What a filthy night.

Seems fitting, all in all.

[guriel]

So it does. [Guriel sinks down a little lower into his coat, bending his head against the wind.] It's an ill wind that blows no good, to coin a phrase.

[werewolf_hacker]

Blown us a load of trouble. Don't like Wynter thinking I'll jump when he snaps like that, the creep. So, yeah, I'm thinking he doesn't get everything he wants outta this deal.

[guriel]

Man thinks he owns you, just like he thinks he owns Will and all the others who jump when he snaps. He's got a disturbing sense of his own importance in the scheme of things.

[They make their way to the Central Library, a looming edifice of pale stone topped by a tiled, sun-bedecked pyramid. It's meant to represent the light of learning, a monument to the progressive days in which they live, but in the stormy night it looks vaguely sinister, more a fortress than a monument. Guriel cranes his neck and peers up at the structure for a moment before sweeping them inside, out of the howl of wind and into the tomblike silence of the Special Collections room.]

[werewolf_hacker]

[And Ben removes his hat as if he's just been transported into a cathedral. Which, well, he has.] Where do you think he's hiding?

[guriel]

He was lurking Byzantine Literature last time I saw him. [Guriel removes his own hat somewhat more casually than Ben and tosses it onto a reading table before strolling casually down one of the lines of shelves leading off into the dimly-lit distance of the room.]

[werewolf_hacker]

[A delighted honk sounds off to the right, and a dragon the size of a Great Dane comes barreling out of the stacks and hits Ben behind his knees, knocking him to the floor in an undignified flurry of limbs. She bounces on his chest on her front legs and drops a squeaky rat on his face, while he tries (unsuccessfully) to fend her off. His voice is muffled.] Hi -- oof -- Steven.

[notsogrimoire]

Steven, for pity's sake, don't maul the man. [A somewhat weedy-looking individual with the beginnings of a pot belly emerges from between the stacks on the dragon's heels, clad in slippers and a velvet smoking jacket without apparent concern for how incongruous the attire is.] Ben. Guriel. To what do we owe the unexpected company?

[werewolf_hacker]

[Ben flails around for a second, grabs the rat, and flings it down the stacks. Steven lets out another happy honk and dives after it, planting a foot squarely in Ben's stomach and leaving him winded for a few seconds before he can climb to his feet, grab a chair, and sit in it backwards.] Good Lord, Razas, that dragon will be the death of me sooner or later. [His voice is filled with fond exasperation, though.

To business.] What can you tell us about a supernatural weapon that can purportedly kill angels?

[notsogrimoire]

[Razas raises a slooooow eyebrow, disappears back into the stacks for a moment, and then returns with a stack of books so high he can barely peer over it, which he deposits on the table and then gives an affectionate pat.] This goes through the "Es". I don't suppose you'd care to narrow it down some?