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Sephar perches on Daimon's shoulder in mousie form.
Hitherby also sits on Daimon, as insects in his hair.
Daimon does not, in fact, have a map. He could buy one from a corner shop, but that would mean
having a map, and that ends all the fun. Therefore he contends himself with being lost and
wandering around.
Sephar also always looks right then left when they're crossing streets there to yell warning to
Daimon if something's coming from the near lane.
The crowds are London normal, which is to say, busy. There are all sorts of interesting things in
shop windows.
Daimon says "The last time I was here in this city was.... hrm.... right after the War."
Daimon stops and peers at stuff, as there is lots of stuff to peer at.
On the right is a window with a particularly enticing white acoustic guitar.
Daimon stares at the guitar, entranced for a few minutes.
Daimon ducks into the shop. Duck.
Out of half an ear you can hear the quick heavy sound of footsteps approaching, beating out an
impatient rhythm. But not quite in time to avoid the man who cannons into your shoulder as you
open the door.
"What th..?" he begins, in a very patrician accent that probably belongs on the stage. As he turns
to engage you, a bulging briefcase bursts at the overstrained lock and spills papers all over the
floor.
Daimon is not the biggest, or the strongest person in the entire universe, or at least not
corporeally. He gets buffetted and goes "oof". He blinks a few times, and then leans down. "Here,
let me help you pick those up."
Papers go scattering into the shop door and across the pavement, with such interesting titles as
NUCLEAR RESEARCH, GREATEST SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERIES OF THE TWENTIETH
CENTURY, GENE MAPPING, and, in Helltongue, LATEST SCIENTIFIC PUBLICATION
REVIEWS.
<
The last of those has various scribbles on it - also in Helltongue - and generally derogatory ones.
Apparently one "Matthias" is a stupid, impercipient, and totally brainless reviewer, according to
the scribbler.
Daimon scoops the papers up quickly, and attempts to get a quick eyelock on the stranger with
the briefcase. "Here you go. You should slow down a little, try to take things a little more
slowly."
"Out of my way. Out of my way, you guttersnipe!" He spins and crouches down to collect armfuls
of papers. You can tell he is scowling from the tilt of his moustache.
Hitherby rests in Daimon's hair, unaware of any Helltongue. It's all Greek to her, just like
Londonese.
Hitherby (particularly with this hair-clogged view :)
His hair is all over the place and his hands are constantly busy, collecting, collating, tapping and
squaring. He holds out a hand to Daimon for the rest of them impatiently and gazes into his eyes
for a brief moment, The man's eyes are pale blue, and very intent.
Daimon resonates, calmly.
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The man's current Needs are to collect all his papers, to take them to his target audience, and to
have his latest experiment work smoothly and to get fame and glory and recognition through
it.
Daimon . o O ( Wow. )
Daimon says "These all look very, um, scientific."
<
Daimon peers at the papers, with quick interest.
His brows lift, mocking. "A fellow scientist? How.. unexpected. Now if you'll return my property
we can all be on our ways." The man moves to snatch them out of Daimon's hand. "They aren't
of interest to your ilk. You won't understand them."
Daimon moves his hand to avoid the snatching grab. "Don't be so hasty to judgment. You never
know who or what you'll run into on the street."
Hitherby stirs faintly in Daimon's hair, not enough to make her easily visible from the outside, but
just an indication of Kyriotate interest coming to focus on this host instead of cataloguing insect
stories or reflecting onf the glory of God or whatever - and a reminder to Daimon that she's there
if he needs her.
"Fool," he snorts scornfully. "I don't have time for this. Return my property!"
Daimon peers at the papers again, and then hands them across. "Sorry. Here you go."
The man grabs them ungracefully, already shuffling them to the bottom of the pile. He pauses a
moment, and his expression shifts to a silent gloating smile, bringing out the lines of his face in
stark relief. "Yes. Yes I do," and suppressing a laugh, he spins on a heel and strides past.
Daimon stands and waves. "Have a nice day!"
Daimon says, much quieter to Hitherby, "Vapulan. Do we follow him?"
Hitherby chrisks, very softly, "My natural urge. Do you feel up to handling any problems this
causes? If he's a Djinn, he will lead us astray."
Daimon starts following, hands in pockets, looking like every other pedestrian in London. Well,
at least a mildly lost mapless one. He says, "I'd like to see his demonstration."
Hitherby floats up a bug to the top of Daimon's hair, splits it off into its own host, flutters it up
into the sky, and looks for a bird.
The man's retreating back moves as raidly as the crowds will allow to the end of the street, east
to pick out by the tweed jacket. Then he rounds the corner, holding the papers to his chest.
Daimon follows, calmly, and waits for Hitherby to return to slip on the Unnoticable Man
glasses.
The remainder of Hitherswarm, not counting the bug that split off into its own host and went
upwards, comments softly, "Careful rounding the corner."
Hitherby adds, "Experience, not knowledge."
Daimon nods, and makes a point of merging in with the crowd to round the corner.
The main road is crowded with people, tourists, shoppers, students, the usual clutter milling in
the streets. By the time you do make the man out again, he is further up the road, running a hand
through his hair, then stepping forwards to try to hail a black cab.
Daimon slips on his unnoticable man glasses.
<
A cab screeches to a stop behind him, the driver winding his window down slightly.
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Hitherby considers taking over the cabbie. Her driving default isn't very negative.
"Imperial College," he says, as he pulls the side door open and climbs in. Then, more muffled,
"And get a move on."
Daimon hurries to catch up to the man and the cab. He fully intends to slip into it,
unnoticable.
Hitherby decides she doesn't have the free Forces.
The door on the other side of the cab to the man who's just entered it is temptingly available.
Daimon opens the door and sneaks in, unnoticablelike, and knowing this is unimaginably
stupid.
<
The man glances round the cab suspiciously, peers directly at Daimon for a moment, then sighs
and settles back for the ride, fingers drumming against the papers.
The driver steps on the gas. Then eases off, London traffic being what it is. He heads across
London, towards South Kensington and Imperial College.
Daimon plops in the seat next to the man, and also starts peering at the papers.
Daimon is very Adventure-prone.
The top paper appears to be a basic discussion of the principles of nuclear physics.
Hitherby has a nervous thought, but has no way to convey it to Daimon.
Daimon fingers the papers. Heck, he's unnoticable.
Hitherby, if she's found a bird, releases the little bug that found it and streams the bird after the
cab.
The bird streams after the cab.
The man takes a couple of deep breaths, composing himself after the unseemly scuffling of earlier.
As the papers stir, his brows draw together in a faint V, and he leans across to make sure the
windows are properly closed.
The cab speeds towards Imperial College, and is shortly drawing up outside the science
buildings.
Daimon decides to mess with the papers just for the hell of it. Ruffle ruffle ruffle.
Hitherby covers her antennae with her legs.
The scientist leans across to pay the driver, quite generously, then grabs at his papers again. "And
do something about this damned draught!" Then that same unpleasant smirk crosses his face
again, "On second thoughts," he adds to the driver. "Don't bother."
Hitherby, in insect, . o O ( Oy. )
Daimon worries a bit about that last remark as he follows the guy out of the car.
Then he climbs out carefully, dusting off his sleeves and straightens the jacket as he looks up at
the front of the college.
Imperial College rears above, grand and grey and gloomy.
Daimon stands next to the guy, arms folded. It is indeed grey and gloomy.
<
Hitherby's bird peregrinates from perch to perch in the sky and building tops/ledges above.
(Assuming that, given traffic, it kept up.)
<
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He glances left and right -- again, he gazes directly at Daimon without seeing him -- then draws
himself up to his full height and paces up the concrete steps and along a paved walkway, barely
deigning to notice the few students who are still around.
Hitherby ponders whether this large building is a Vapulan Tether.
Hitherby is not in the mood to go to Hell today.
Daimon follows the man with a bounce in his step.
The man leads the way through the dingy glass-and-metal double doors of a large blocky building.
He steps smartly through the lobby, and calls an elevator to go right up to the 12th floor.
About five minutes later, an elevator arrives.
Daimon sticks right next to the guy. He's on a minor Adventure.
Completely oblivious to his un-noticeable companion, the man selects a set of keys from an inside
pocket and walks down a corridor, unlocking a set of wooden doors and pushing them open.
Hitherby's bird looks for places outside the building where she can look in at the elevator's
opening on the various floors, but if the windows aren't positioned that way, they aren't.
Daimon happily follows, sticking right next to the guy.
Unfortunately, the windows are not positioned to look at the elevator.
Hitherby simply flutters around looking in where she can, then. She might as well, since she has
only a little trouble with twelve but estimating floor 12 from outside would be difficult.
The first room you enter is a large long lab room, walls covered in posters from conferences and
presentations. Tables are set up with any number of computers of various vintages, some with
interesting looking pieces of rats-nest hardware poking out of the back. Two shelves of books line
one wall and wide windows look out onto the walkway, far below. The man looks neither to the
left nor right but walks efficiently to a door leading out from the corner and pauses, before turning
the handle silently and whipping the door open.
The young woman who is busy sorting papers at the desk stands bolt upright, pale with shock.
"Professor! I didn't expect you back so soon..."
The young woman has glasses, short-cut blonde hair, and a poloneck top and jeans under a lab
coat.
<
The young woman completely fails to see Daimon.
Daimon really really wants to check out all the loot in the room and play and get into all sorts of
trouble, but he's afraid to lose the guy in front of him. Darn it. He checks out what he can and
memorizes the entire room to analyze later in his leisure.
He simply lifts an eyebrow as he steps into the room beyond, closing the door behind him.
Daimon slips through the door. Slip.
Sepharmouse peeks out of the invisible pocket MouseHouse, eyes getting round and big at all the
equipment.
Sephar is good, though, and doesn't activate anything on purpose.
The young woman swallows, and steps round to the side of the desk. "I've finished marking the
papers, Professor."
The man pauses delicately, and closes the door. The room itself is much smaller than the lab
outside and largely fitted out as an office, with filing cabinets, room for a couple of privileged
research assistants to use the nicer workstations and.. furniture has evidently been moved around
to make room for a larger piece of equipment at the back of the room. It's a large metal booth,
around 7' high, which is coated in circuitry and wiring and control panels.
The man glances around again, checking his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door, then
he breaks into a gleaming practiced smile for the girl. "Good, good," he says, any previous temper
mollified. He moves round to sit behind one of the desks, "Coffee." he suggests to her.
The young woman nods eagerly, and briskly heads out of the room, closing the door behind
her.
Without loosing his grip on the papers, the scientist slides a desk drawer open and picks out a box
of tea bags which he puts on the desk.
Daimon examines the device with an eye which is absolutely untrained in electronics but has
watched lots and lots of late night cable.
Sepharmouse peers at the device with careful rein on its Remote Control, doesn't want to even
touch it with that.
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Daimon's eyes get really big and round and he goes "Woah".
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With a deft movement, the man slides something else out of the drawer and swivels in his chair
to level it directly at Daimon. It looks to be some kind of blaster. "Good afternoon." he says
politely, "I do so enjoy visitors. And you haven't even introduced yourself."
<
Sepharmouse hides in the pocket.
<
Daimon freezes in place and says, "Hi."
<
"Oh really," he says laconically, "Is that the best you can do? In times past, a formal introduction
would have involved name, family, _employer_ and any number of other niceties to allow your
proper social position to be placed. How standards are falling. Sadly, it really doesn't matter who
sent you, I fear it was a mistake, on their part!"
Daimon looks a tad embarrassed. "No one sent me. I got into this all by myself."
He moves fluidly to his feet, but the barrel of the blaster barely moves. "Interesting. Very
interesting. So is that what they told you to say? Don't try to cover up for them, I know they
stoop to anything, including subterfuge and blatant lying."
Daimon starts to slowly put his hands up. See? Nothing in them at all. "Woah. Really? I just make
up my life as I go along."
He snorts, "I see. But don't think to fool me so easily. Not when I'm so close." Then his lips curl
again, "Although it barely matters now. Perhaps it would be fitting after all that you are here to
witness my ultimate triumph, and those who sent you will learn.. one way or another.. that they
cannot hope to restrain my genius!"
Hitherby hums atonally, "Do you mind if I get out of this uncomfortable hair, so that I can witness
your triumph better?"
Daimon resonates on him Seraph of Creation-wise, to see if he really has any creative talent in
building evil electronic devices.
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Daimon says with the mind of a trained actor, "If you just put a little more oomph into your evil
speeches, they'd be really convincing. Just like... now lessee... " He changes his voice to a
menacing Baritone. "You are all here to witness my ultimate Triumph of Man over Physics. They
cannot restrain my genius!" His voice returns to normal. "Cool, yeah?"
The man's eyes blaze coldly and he orders Daimon, "Get into the booth," indicating it with a tiny
movement of the blaster. "NOW!"
Sepharmouse coughs, trying to keep its laughter in the pocket.
Daimon says "Um."
Hitherby hums atonally, "Oh, well. I don't need this human host any more; I don't like them
anyway."
Hitherby manifests her celestial form.
Daimon says, flatly, "What's. It. Worth. To. You?"
Sepharmouse peeks out at the man, looks up at Daimon, whispers, "Wedgie time?"
Daimon nods. It is indeed Wedgie Time.
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Sepharmouse uses the Electronic Wedgie on the man with the blaster.
The man takes in the scene, and an eyebrow lifts fractionally. Then he laughs and triggers the
gun...
Daimon dives!
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Hitherby rolls sideways!
<
The electric blast scorches towards Daimon's knees - and therefore directly into him as he dives,
slamming him backwards in a nerve-jangling blast, and throwing him into the machine.
Then, as the Sephar Wedgie takes effect, the blast tracks upward as the man makes a dignified
noise of shock, slamming into the electronic-coated booth. A low oscillating hum starts, rapidly
rising in pitch.
Daimon ooofs in the machine, and starts to get up.
Lights begin to flash.
Sephar says "Uht oh."
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Hitherby . o O ( This was not my plan. )
Sephar tries Remote Control on the booth to shut it down.
Daimon tries to get out of the machine.
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The Remote Control fails to work.
Hitherby's celestial form manifests her Vessel!
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Staggering as he crashes into the machine the man glances up at one of the flashing lights and his
eyes widen. "Hell's Bells. It's been triggered.. but it isn't primed..."
Sephar says "Oh, this is so not good..."
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The oscillating hum rises to fever pitch. Lights flash all over. There is a rising shriek in the air.
<
Hitherby, if her Vessel manifests, stumbles forward and spears the circuitry with her horn!
Daimon swears, and tries to claw his way out of the machine.
The scientist scrambles to his feet, mouth opening in shocked incomprehension at the sight of the
unicorn, and shoves forwards towards the booth frantically, wrenching past Daimon in his haste
to get inside.
The screeching noise and flashing lights blend into a single tone - which goes off-key as Hitherby's
horn stabs into the circuitry, and seems to hang in the air, on the edge of breaking, nearly,
nearly...
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Daimon tries bamfing one more time.
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He slams the shielded door tight behind him with a crash...
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Hitherby tugs her horn at least mostly free and rears. She has no room to maneuver, so she only
kicks the scientist if he's actually in her way; otherwise, she breaks the desk or something.
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Unfortunately, Hitherby's horn seems to be ... stuck.
Hitherby . o O ( Meep! )
And at that moment, the world *wrenches* sideways, and the whole universe seems to pause for
breath. (This is slightly easier on those inside the booth.) Horrible, dissonant noises fill the air, as
though the Symphony were being thrown into reverse.
Hitherby whinnies in slight puzzlement and tugs. This never happened to her rhinobugs.
Daimon clutches his head. Ow ow ow ow.
A spinning darkness surrounds the four, mouse, men and unicorn, and whirls faster and faster,
throbbing like the beat of a thousand horses, till...
... Nothingness. Unconsciousness.
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Consciousness returns with a taste of dirty fog in the mouth, and the feeling of soot and ashes.
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Hitherby hacks.
Hitherby . o O ( I haven't tasted this since I accidentally ate dirty fog 482 years ago. )
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The surface that Hitherby's unicorn is lying on seems to be wet slate. There is murky fog in the
air. From below come the sound of horses and people.
Hitherby tries to remember how horses get to their feet. It's been a while. Ah!
Hitherby struggles weakly to her feet, unless her horn is still stuck.
It would seem that Hitherby ... is on a roof. Her horn is no longer stuck. There are several men
in dark blue stiff uniforms that look a little odd. There is a scattering of metal machinery chunks
and ashes. One of the men is shaking the shoulder of the unconscious Daimon, who is beginning
to stir. There is no sign of the other man.
<
Hitherby whinnies politely.
Hitherby tosses out a mental feeler towards the bird to see if she's still in contact with it.
A different man in blue uniform, with a thick walrus moustache, looks across as Hitherby rises.
"There, there, girl. Don't worry, we'll have you down from this damned rooftop in a moment.
Damned students and their socialist ways."
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Daimon groans theatrically.
Hitherby makes a murfling noise of thanks.
Sepharmouse sneezes in Daimon's pocket.
The man comes across to rub Hitherby's nose, and head, and let her sniff his hands. "There's a
good girl. Shame about those idiots gluing bits onto you."
Sepharmouse covers its nose politely while it does it, but then coughs a bit at the taste of the
air.
The first man helps Daimon sit up. "Come along now, young fellow-me-lad. What on earth do you
think this stunt is?"
Hitherby shakes her head vigorously, although she tries not to hit the man. Hmph.
Daimon groans a bit, and sits up. He says, "It's a money trick, man."
Hitherby looks around for something to spear with her horn to demonstrate that they are just not
being properly appreciative of her gorgeous Vessel and what it means to the world.
<
The moustached man with Hitherby calls across to another of the blue-uniformed-men, "Go fetch
a bridle, Jenkins. We'll have some problems getting this filly down the stairs."
<
The policeman with Daimon - for such he clearly is, though his uniform looks a hundred years or
so out of date - blinks. "Come on now, young man. You'll be lucky not to be facing charges from
the college authorities."
Sepharmouse peeks out of Daimon's pocket to see if the man is here, too.
There is, indeed, a spare bit of paper blowing on the rooftop. There is, however, no sign of the
other man who was in the machine with them.
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Sepharmouse peers at the bits and pieces of machinery around them to see if they look like they
belonged to the magic booth...
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Hitherby pulls free, walks over to the paper, spears it with her horn very deliberately, walks over
to the man, bends her head low, and scrapes it down onto the roof with an agile if not practiced
movement of her hoof.
Hitherby looks up smugly.
<
The man with Hitherby says, "Good god, girl, you are well-trained. Circus horse, hm? Tch tch tch,
there's a filly. We'll have some sugar for you in a moment."
Hitherby sighs noisily.
Daimon groans as he gets up slowly. When in Rome, do as the Jews do.
Many of the scattered bits of machinery look as if they could have come from the magic booth.
One in particular attracts Sephar's attention.
<
The policemen are looking less than favourably at Daimon's clothing. One takes out a
notebook.
<
The man with the notebook says, "So, young man. Up here in your nightclothes. Setting off flares.
Leading around circus horses disguised as unicorns. I must warn you that anything you say will
be taken down and may be used in evidence against you."
Daimon says "I did all that? Wow."
Daimon is clearly impressed.
The man with the notebook notes this down.
Hitherby suspects she could talk bird-level pidgin in an equine Vessel, but has not had much
occasion to practice in either the wild or the city. The one time she was a magical wondrous
companion to a farmgirl destined to be a Soldier, she didn't actually say much.
Hitherby then had to leave due to that unfortunate incident with the plow. Ah, memories.
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Sepharmouse scampers down to the curious bit of machinery.
Daimon lifts up his t-shirt and wipes his face off on the hem. Then he looks around at the
destruction that he allegedly caused, feeling mildly impressed with himself for any havoc in his
name.
As Sephar examines the chunk of machinery, it realises that (a) it is a standard configuration for
containing nuclear material, (b) that other parts of the machine look as if they drew on it for
power, (c) it's broken.
The policeman sighs. "Not wanting to say anything yet, young man?"
Hitherby turns her head to get a clear view of Sephar, and ponders.
Daimon says "What's there to say other then 'Man, what a few shots of Tequila in you will
do.'"
Daimon eyes the scrap of paper on Hitherby's horn.
<
The policeman notes this down. "I think we're going to have to take you down to the station,
young man."
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Hitherby, not trusting Vapulans, checks to make sure that she isn't trapped in this Vessel by, say,
possessing one of the humans for half a second. Before we, say, leave Sephar on the roof.
Sephar aghaghagh!!
Sephar mouse jumps away from the material and back towards Daimon, squeaking fast and hard,
and does the Mercurian of Jean Attunement with Daimon.
Daimon says "Okay." He looks vaguely unconcerned. He wouldn't mind reliving the 20th century
again. It was pretty cool the first time.
Sepharbrain says to Daimonbrain, "Agh! That's a nuclear container that's broken open and
spreading radiation!!"
Hitherby picks up the paper again and offers it towards Daimon, who seemed interested.
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With ease, Hitherby takes over one of the policemen.
Daimon thinks, Oh shit.
Sepharbrain goes, "We have to ask them if they have radiation equipment... and if not, we have
to get them out of here..."
Daimon looks at the police men and smiles and says, "Let's go. I'm looking forward to hanging
around the station with unsavory types who may or may not want to bend me over a rail while
I wait for an arraignment. It'll be fun." He starts walking off the roof.
Sepharmouse looks around to see if there are suitable things for burying the pile.
<
There is nothing obvious in sight to bury stuff with. It is, after all, a roof.
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<
Hithercop looks thoughtful. As always, once she's exerted the willpower to take a Vessel, it's
tempting to keep it longer than originally conceived. However - well, she can't fake being a
policeman in a strange place. So she drops the host again, relieved that her full skills remain to
her.
<
The policeman with the notebook says, "We'll have none of that foreign anarchic slang, young
man. You come along with us." He follows Daimon.
Sepharbrain is mildly chanting, "Lead... lead... lead might contain it."
Hitherby falls in line behind the policeman.
The bit of paper on Hitherby's horn that Daimon took appears to be a set of equations.
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The equations are easily recognised - by Daimon's mighty brain - as a set of formulae to do with
rocket flight. The paper looks like one of the many in that bundle that guy had.
Daimon tries to snag the paper as he goes past.
The paper is snagged.
Daimon pockets it in the SepharMouse pocket.
The policemen lead the way down to the ground floor - you are currently on the fifth floor. Two
of them walk on either side of Hitherby-the-unicorn, carefully.
Sepharmouse hops onto it to look at it.
Daimon whistles a happy little tune.
Hitherby has faced a Demon Prince, albeit not by plan, and does not fear stairs. Although she
keeps her horn tilted so that if she tumbles, she won't spear someone.
The policeman next to Daimon says, with the air of one trying to be friendly, "Is that the new air
from that operetta, young man? The new one by Messires Gilbert and Sullivan?
Hitherby . o O ( Humans have such weird names. )
<
Sepharmouse peers from the pocket when it can and looks for anything that might be
lead-like...
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Daimon says "Nope. Dave Matthews."
<
As they pass the second floor, Sephar can hear the sounds of hammering metal, and see a
doorplate marked, "METALS WORKSHOP" and another marked, "ENGINEERING".
Hitherby nickers in harmony with Daimon, if he hums again.
<
Daimon hums happily.
Sepharmouse brain says to Daimonbrain, "Can we peek in there? I might be able to get
*someone* here."
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The policeman mutters, "One of those gypsy violinist types?"
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At Sephar's request, Daimon simply veers off the beaten path and tries the door.
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Sephar does remote control on the door to get it to open if it's locked.
The door opens before the policeman can stop Daimon. Inside is a busy metalshop. People are
hammering stuff or heating stuff.
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Sephar mouse hastily possesses someone in the shop.
Daimon sticks his head in and looks around curiously.
Sepharmouse tries for someone not involved in something dangerous, though.
A heavy hand falls on Daimon's shoulder. "Come along now, young man."
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The heavy-set man in the corner who had been sitting down for a cup of tea manages to throw
off Sephar's wiles unconsciously.
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Sephar tries again, if it has the time, for someone else... yes...
<
Daimon goes willingly with the cop.
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The thick-bearded gentleman with the big hammer and the iron piping is possessed.
Sepharmouse brain goes, "Got one." to Daimon.
Meanwhile, Daimon is led down the stairs, with Hitherbyunicorn.
Sepharmouse brain says, "Thanks." to Daimon.
The odd group of students pauses to watch.
Daimon thinks the word "Pipes" at Sephar, not knowing if this does anything.
Daimon grins and waves as people stop to gawk.
<
Sepharbrain says, "Pipes? What about them?"
Hitherby fights the urge to demanifest the Vessel just to see these guys explain how they lost the
unicorn. That would be malicious and abusive of Heaven's trust.
Daimon thinks "Made of lead".
Sepharbrain thinks, "Oh! Good."
Outside, in the street, there is a black hansom cab waiting. There are also two policemen holding
a bridle and tack, looking towards Hitherby.
Sepharman eyes the length of pipe to see if the energy unit might be contained in it.
Daimon goes back to singing something by the Dave Matthews Band, and continues to look
passively amused.
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The two policemen with the bridle advance on Hitherby. One coos, "Nice horsie, good
horsie."
Hitherby attempts to possess one of the cops with the bridle and tack just long enough to
synchronize the action of ripping it with her horn - to minimize the chance of hurting someone,
of course, or she'd just do it with natural agility.
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The policeman is possessed.
Hithercop "accidentally" extends the bridle just far enough forward that Hithercorn can rip it
viciously with her horn as a crowbar without poking him.
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The other policeman flinches back. He calls over his shoulder, "Get another bridle, man, and some
apples! This damn filly's been gingered."
Daimon continues to look amused. "She's very feisty, and she has a mind of her own."
Hitherby . o O ( More than one. )
Sepharmouse thinks to Daimon, "Yay! Looks like I can do the containment with what's in the
shop."
Hitherby releases the cop.
Daimon thinks at Sephar "Coolness. I'm just going to go along with this as long as I have to
here."
Hitherby nickers a Kyriotate scale, meekly.
The ex-possessed policeman blinks, and looks at the remains of the bridle in his hands. "Dammit,
sir, can we try and get the horn off it? Some soap and water should handle it."
Daimon says "Um..."
Daimon decides that now is a Major cigarrette time.
Hitherby glances around to see if there's any grass growing in or by the street to nibble at.
The policeman with the notebook turns to Daimon. "Perhaps you'd care to take your horse in
hand, young man. Get a bridle on her, and we'll put her in harness behind the cab, and lead her
down to the station for you."
There is definitely no grass. There is, however, a growing crowd.
Hitherby does not nibble at the growing crowd.
Sephar thinks to Daimon, "Then what? Or just take off? I think I can handle this bit."
Daimon says "Um. She doesn't take well to bridles and harneses."
Hitherby points herself not towards any particular cop and rears, with profile towards the crowd.
She holds the position elegantly for a few seconds, and then settles down.
Daimon thinks at Sephar, "I have no idea. See how broken the time machine is, and if it can be
repaired."
A stalwart-looking woman in bustle and parasol inspects the unicorn.
Sephar thinks, "Okay."
The woman says, loudly, "Look, you can see where they've glued the horn on. The poor helpless
beast. I shall write and complain to my MP."
Hitherby looks at her and snorts.
Daimon walks over to pat Hitherby and says, "Okay, enough. Let's just go along with this for a
while. Okay?"
The woman turns to the police. "On behalf of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals, I demand that this creature be removed to a properly equipped shelter!"
Hitherby nods her head to Daimon.
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Hitherby looks at the woman and attempts another temporary possession.
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Hitherby knows she should stop this, since she'll wind up queering her resonance, but.
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Daimon pats Hitherby in a reassuring way.
Daimon says "I'll have you all know that it's quite real."
An annoyed-sounding female voice - clearly that of the woman - says in the heads of Daimon and
Hitherby, "What on *earth* do you two think that you are up to? Servitors of the Wind, I take
it? This place does _not_ need shaking up."
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