2026.02.24: Measure of Many Pt.2

Measure of Many (Pt 2/7)
The group decided to return a week later, after some time to regroup.
IC Date	February 24th, 2026
Players	Archimedes, Book, Lavender, Maxwell, Paul, Phil, Robert, Storm (ST)
Location	The Nexus
Prp/Tp	Previous Scene Pt.1 <-- Measure of Many --> Next Scene
Spheres	Mage, Sorcerer, Psychic, Traditions

The Nexus

The courtyard remains a shaded, inviting space, although time has softened its edges. A large circular pergola made of metal beams arches overhead. The composite resin canopy at its center is intact but somewhat weathered, casting a muted glow over the low table and patio set below. The furniture is mismatched but usable. It was wiped down recently, though a thin layer of dust is beginning to gather again in the corners. The surrounding domes still stand in their unique arrangement.

Each is topped with intricate one inch square tiles laid diagonally in careful geometric patterns. The black tiles are dominant -- their small orange diamonds, bordered in dark red, remain vivid, though slightly dulled by sunlight and time. The knot-work band circling each dome's base is intact, though here and there a tile has been replaced with one that doesn’t quite match, showing patchwork care instead of full restoration.

Arched entryways provide shade at the doors. The embedded bars extending from the arch sides still hold their wind chimes -- tubular metal, bamboo, polished gemstones, and a whimsical fork with its school of spoon-shaped fish. They sway gently in the wind, some chiming clearly while others produce a softer, irregular note where a line has been restrung or a piece replaced.

Narrow archways and tunnel-like passages connect the domes. Their surfaces are swept but not polished. There is a sense not of abandonment but of infrequent visitors -- footpaths are visible in the dust where someone has walked recently. The ground within the circle of buildings is laid with large hexagonal concrete stones covered in Amazon Green Kool Deck. The surface is still functional and cool underfoot in the sunlight, although faint hairline cracks spider across a few sections, sealed but visible. Weeds have been cleared from between the stones, but the work seems recent rather than ongoing.

Umbra for those who can see it:

The Weaver’s webs are drawn tight across the domes and archways, reinforced but not newly spun. Their geometry is clean, deliberate, quietly humming with maintained tension. The patterning suggests periodic tending rather than neglect.

Yet there is something else—barely perceptible. Where multiple Awakened stand together, the webbing seems to draw minutely closer, threads aligning with subtle precision. The resonance does not increase. It clarifies.

Beyond the perimeter, the harsher spiritual landscape persists. Spirits of Pain drift at the margins, indistinct among Banes of Slaughter, Suffering, and Rage competing in the distance.

Gauntlet: 6

---

The Nexus looks much as it did last week. Quiet. Overgrown. Tended, but barely. The courtyard still shows recent signs of attention from when people were here last week. It's calmer today. There's no wind. Just the sounds that the desert makes.

Last week, weird things happened. Everyone decided to scoot out and reconvene at a later time. That's today. Storm got in touch with people and also put out a general call in Prospect Roasters and House Delaunay for anyone that wanted to investigate something weird going on at the Nexus. Storm suggested multiple vehicles because of what happened last week but would give rides if necessary. Just some pizza this time, to keep everyone from getting hungry if they end up here for a while. And some drinks. Storm set his pickup at the edge of the courtyard, declaring that as the place to start the evening out. He's sitting in the tail gate, nomming pizza with Lavender while he waits for people to arrive.

Lavender is sipping her drink of ginger ale, and nibbling on a piece of pizza while they wait. "Hopefully all goes better this time. I've certainly got a better handle on things this time, but I hope there are not any more surprises like last time."

Archimedes is one of the first to arrive, stepping out of his compact car and closing the door behind him. He walks towards the back of the truck, already looking around the courtyard. He looks in the back of the truck, raises an eyebrow and asks, "Is there a slice of cheese pizza in there, perhaps?" He then looks to Lavender, his eyebrows knitting together, "And how are you?"

The low growl of an engine announces Book's arrival before the headlights sweep across the outer edge of the courtyard. His old Jeep Wrangler rolls in at an unhurried pace, forest-green paint dulled by age and use, with dried mud splattered up along the rear panels and wheel wells as if it’s only recently been dragged out of the woods.

For a moment he just sits there, door open, taking in the pergola’s muted glow and the quiet domesticity of pizza boxes and lawn chairs against the backdrop of domes and chimes. Then he swings out of the driver’s seat, boots hitting the ground with a dull thud, and gives the Jeep an absentminded pat and adjusts the strap of his satchel as he approaches the others. "Evening..."

A silver Acura pulls up not long afterward, a few minutes late, but only that. It's held up well over the years, considering its age. So has its driver. Phil has a satchel of odds and ends slung over one shoulder, including some last minute purchases from a gas station along the way. Also, he's carrying a pane of glass almost as wide as he is tall.

Robert arrives wearing a simple jeans and dark green t-shirt in his decade old Jeep Patriot, checking various vials and bags in the back, (as he's apparently brought much of an apothecary with him) before joining the others.

Paul arrives with Robert, getting out of the Jeep and slipping a strap of his backpack over one shoulder. He adjusts a small pouch around his waist before heading towards the gathering group.

An oversized white-and blue-Maxwell Vespa pulls up to the scene, covered in bumper stickers and sporting comically high-up mirrors. Maxwell clears his throat as he steps off his bike, and looks around at his new acquaintances. "Is this the site of the recent dimensional anomaly? I'm Dr. Landry, of the etherites, I caught wind of the incident and just *had* to stick my nose in."

Lavender nods quickly to Archimedes, "There are cheese. Also veggie, meatlovers, and pepperoni. Plenty of options. Have some!" She opens the cheese one up for Archimedes. She offers to the others, "Before we start, welcome! Come have some pizza if you like!" The new man gets her attention and she replies, "Welcome to Prospect, Dr. Landry. Pizza?"

Max accepts a slice and doesn't say anything, but smiles and tips an imaginary hat to lavender.

Storm motions to the boxes. "Bottom one should be cheese. It's been an alright week. Lavender got back on her feet pretty quickly with a shiny new toy that she's getting pretty good at controlling." Each person is greeted as they come up. Pizza is pointed to, drinks are handed out. When Maxwell pulls up though, Storm is a little more vigilant.. until he introduces himself. "Cool. You've come to the right place. I'm Storm Riley, Ecstatic. I'll let other people introduce themselves as we go along. Weird shit's happening. We're going back in to check things out. Let's keep it simple. Scope the area, see what's weird now that we KIND of know what to expect maybe. Anyone have a plan more specific than that? We haven't even made it past the court yard."

"Phil, hi," that other guy offers, momentarily distracted with setting the sheet of glass down somewhere where no one will bump into it right away. "And you could have /told/ me he was coming," he mutters under his breath, "I would've picked up some Szechuan sauce while I was at it." It's unclear who specifically he is addressing at this point, if anyone.

Robert sniffs out the pizza, and goes for whichever one has the most meat on it. "Robert Daw, Lifeweaver." accepting the roll call as a necessity in case they have fo decide anyone is missing at the end of the night

Paul moves over to Lavender and gives her a smile, "Thanks, Ma'am." He controls himself and only takes a slice of cheese and a slice of veggie." Although his eyes do scan for cookies and if he spots them he takes a couple. He nods his head to Maxwell, "Nice meeting you, I'm Paul Barakat."

Book lingers a half-step back from the tailgate, one hand hooked casually into his pocket, the other resting on the strap of his satchel where it crosses his chest. After Storm finishes, Book tilts his head slightly, glasses catching a bit of the ambient light.

"Before we get too creative," he says calmly, tone even, practical, "has anything hostile been identified so far? Or at least potentially dangerous - entities, effects, environmental hazards?" His gaze flicks briefly toward the courtyard beyond the vehicles, then back to Storm. "Just trying to get a sense of whether we’re talking observe and document or observe and be ready to move fast."

Archimedes smiles as the cheese pizza box is open, and he takes a moment to pick up on of the slices. He nods to Lavender with a smile, "Thank you." He looks towards Storm and nods his head, before smiling once again towards Lavender, "I'm glad to hear that. If it's what I think it is, it's a wild ride. Glad you're feeling better." He folds the pizza, takes a bite and then looks towards Maxwell. He chews and swallows, then introduces himself, "Professor Archimedes Andrews, Order of Hermes and the Akashic Brotherhood." He turns now to look back towards Storm, nodding his head to indicate that he is ready to go. Or will be, as soon as he finishes his slice.

Lavender smiles to Paul, "I always remember to be sure there is Veggie." She knows he likes it. "Hi, more officially, Dr. Landry. I'm Lavender Rhoades. Verbena. I'd ask more about you, but we do have a mission here tonight... so to speak." She looks to Storm for that.

Storm shakes his head to Book. "So far, no ENTITIES at all. Just that weird feeling when we're all together. And nothing at all out HERE. It seems like it's within the walls of the Nexus. That's why we're meeting out here to start But I think the plan is observe, document, and be ready to move fast. It just doesn't FEEL hostile to me."

He nods and pushes up to his feet from the back of the truck. "I say we head in. Bunched together seems to be what triggers things. So let's go through one at a time. Give us.. I don't know.. 15 feet distance between us? See how that works. And aim for the front door? If anyone has a better idea, speak now."

Maxwell speaks up "now, when you say 'aim', you do just mean to walk there, right?" he's half-joking.

Robert looks over the webbing around the building. "It was meant to protect the people gathered here. It does seem to largely do so. But.. anything untended can grow thorns. Or attract new occupants."

Book listens without interrupting, nodding once at Storm’s assessment. At the suggestion of spacing out, he shifts his weight and adjusts the strap of his satchel, clearly already mapping distances in his head. "That works for me," he says to Storm. "Fifteen feet, single-file, front door. If proximity is the trigger, controlled spacing is the cleanest variable to test."

When Lavender addresses him, he turns slightly toward her, expression polite but focused. He offers a small nod of greeting. "Dr. Thomas Relieur," he says evenly. "Most people just call me Book." His eyes flick briefly to the pizza boxes, then back to Lavender. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Rhoades. Verbena noted." There is the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, professional rather than casual.

Phil finally heads over, grabbing a slice of pepperoni if he can find one, then diverts over to join the line to enter. More or less; he stops a couple feet off to one side. "Yeah, it felt more like it meant well, and needs to be /politely/ told to fuck off."

Archimedes looks towards the building and then shakes his head to Robert, "Not necessarily. If it was here to protect people who were here before, wouldn't it have been here before the Nexus fell to disuse?" He then turns his eyes towards Book, hmming for a moment and then looks to Storm, "Based on what we saw with the web before, I recommend twenty feet separation, front door. I go first." He looks towards Phil, nodding his head, "Agreed."

If no one else grabs any veggie pizza, Paul smiles shyly at Lavender as he gets another slice. He nibbles on it on as he prepares to head, moving up in place about 15 feet behind Robert.

Storm steps through the threshold into the courtyard first. He keeps his eye on the building and he moves along. Once he's a couple dozen paces into the courtyard, he glances over his shoulder to see who's coming next. As people start to file through, everyone notices some small bit of .. vibration...? Is that even really what it is? "So far so good, yeah?" He glances over his shoulder again to watch who's coming along before his attention swings back toward the huge front door. He'll get there first, of course.

For EVERYONE, regardless of awareness, things start to feel just a little off. Not malicious. Just not quite right.

Maxwell seems relatively unbothered. He brushes it off, he's become accustomed to things feeling off.

Book slows almost imperceptibly as the sensation settles in. "Yeah," he answers Storm aloud, tone calm, noncommittal. "So far."

Internally, he clocks the mismatch immediately. Footfalls, weight shifts, the subtle lag that should exist when light and motion disagree - except they do not. The shadows are too clean. Too synchronized. His gaze follows his own silhouette for a few steps, then flicks to Paul and Archimedes in turn, checking whether their shadows behave the same way. He adjusts his pace by half a step, watching whether the shadow compensates. When it does, his jaw tightens just a fraction.

"Non-hostile," he adds quietly, mostly to himself, "but definitely attentive." His hand rests on the satchel strap again, not gripping it, just grounding himself, as he keeps moving forward and lets the others keep the lead.

Lavender is staying behind Storm a bit more. Not sure what is happening, but certainly not leading. She did encourage Paul to take any more veggie pizza he likes, before making sure the boxes were all closed up if anything was left. "What is that? something is vibrating? Is something turned on?"

Archimedes finishes off the piece of pizza and then begins traversing through the courtyard. He walks towards the front door with a growing sense of caution regarding their traversal of the area. His eyes are fixated on the walls they move past, commenting, "The steps of our supposed shadows are a little too uniform. That isn't quite right." As they approach the door, Archimedes closes the space between him and Storm. He glances back towards Lavender and says, "Why don't you let me face whatever is on the other side of that door." He reaches down, unbuttoning his sleeves and making quick work of rolling them up. He shifts his messenger back to ride at his lower back, unzipped to allow flight to Xiaolong for those who know. He turns the handle of the door, pulling at it and then stepping through the portal into the Nexus.

Already a step and a half out of sync with the others, Phil pauses for another second along the way. "And that's /with/ me pushin' back right from the start," he grumbles, nodding and gesturing toward Archimedes. "Be my guest."

Paul isn't keeping up step for step with Robert, but he too is looking around him for anything since he is not certain what he sound be looking for. His eyes, which can be as sharp as a feline's at times, keep catching something that catches at the edges of his brain until he realizes that there is something wrong with the way the shadows on the wall are doing. It takes his ears a bit longer to notice that the footsteps aren't synching up but the shadows are a bit too much, "Something seems weird."

Maxwell might not be able to perceive exactly what's going on, but he can still recognize the distress of his companions. his smirk fades and he keeps a hand over his pocket as he continues forward. "Stand ready for anything, men."

Robert has no problem with someone else going first. "Too uniform? Calcification setting in?"

As they move deeper in, Book falls into an easy pace alongside Lavender, keeping his voice low enough not to cut across the group. His eyes stay forward, occasionally flicking to the walls and shadows, but his attention is clearly split between observation and conversation.

"Out of curiosity," he says quietly, "are the Verbena organized in the city? As in actual covens, regular meetings, shared rites, that sort of thing?" He adjusts the strap of his satchel as they walk, tone thoughtful rather than probing. "I’ve been studying different traditions since I started learning magic, and yours has always stood out. The way it treats place and practice as inseparable." He glances ahead and then back to her, "No obligation to answer if that’s not something you discuss with outsiders. Just figured I’d ask while we’re already dealing with weirdness."

Lavender replies to Book as he approaches her and speaks. "Truthfully? I only just recently joined them. Still actually waiting for the official induction, although that is more ceremonial. If you want to learn more about the Verbena, talk to Eloise or Xiu. Have you met either of them? Eloise owns Prospect Roasters. You can leave word with her there. She and her cabal.." she gestures to wherever Phil is "..support the basement 'book club' for all of us to meet at there."

"I would've called it 'this thing of ours'," Phil offers, "but I get why they went a different direction with it. So how we lookin'?" he adds, turning back to make sure Archimedes hasn't been dragged through a hidden bookcase or anything in the last ten seconds.

Robert says, “No, not really. Xiu tried to start something, but we're all the very independent sort, and just kinda thrown together due to the whole 'life finds a way' mentality.”

Book snickers softly at the mention of a book club, shaking his head as they keep pace. "A book club," he murmurs, clearly amused. "That tracks."

He grows a little more thoughtful as he continues. "I haven’t met any other Verbena yet. Or many Awakened at all, really. I only just got my bookstore open near campus, and most of the people I’ve run into so far have been Hedgers, er, I mean...I think you call them Sorcerers out here on the West Coast. I was actually thinking about doing something similar at my place for them. Seemed like a bookstore was as good an excuse as any to get people talking."

As Archimedes opens the door, his foot slides back and his body leans forward, a single unoccupied hand raised and held in a bladed fashion for just a moment. After a moment where he peers into the Nexus over the rims of his glasses, Archimedes replies, "So far so good, Phil." He then stands up, bringing his hands up to press his pinky and thumbs together, placing his hands in a meaningful position. With a moment of concentration, Archimedes rips away the veils of his perception, his eyes glancing past the gauntlet into the world of the Spirits, "Everything seems good so far."

---

The walls of this half dome, attached to the library are painted a soft, soothing blue, and the warm green carpet is centerpieced by a ring of white couches shaped into arcs in a circle around a glass coffee table. A place to relax and have light conversation, with a trio of vending machines beyond them offering drinks both hot and cold, and snack foods. Unfortunately they only seem to accept Canadian money, and tokens from Chuck E. Cheese's.

To the left of the couches are a variety of recreational devices, Air Hockey and Foosball tables, Table Tennis, and poker. Several multigame arcade cabinets showcase classics from the golden age, with sound thankfully dimmed low, line the wall. But the centerpiece is an honest to goodness Medieval Madness pinball machine on the end. For those looking for a less strenuous experience, a full bookshelf of various boardgames stands on the opposite end of the machines, near the vending units.

To the right of the couches, are a variety of recliner chairs of various makes and colors. They are arranged in a vague semi-circle around a massive high definition TV set against the curve of the wall, hooked up to a dvd player and every console from the atari forwards. Which is possibly a very good thing, since left to its own devices the TV only seems to receive stations showing the likes of Season Three of Galavant, and Spaceballs 2: The Search for More Money.

Although all this is present - it has been untouched for years.

---

Archimedes nods and proceeds into the door, stepping into the half dome and taking a look around. The walls are a dingier blue and everything seems to carry a layer of dust and the scent of mustiness hanging about the room. His lips thin for a moment, but he takes a good hard look around and then calls back behind him, "It's safe, but there are webs in here as well. Everyone please keep your distance." He ventures forward deeper into the apparent rec room, nodding his head slowly, "I never had the chance to come here when things were more active. This is an eye opening experience..."

Book slows and places his palm flat against the stone wall, fingers spread slightly as if testing the texture. His eyes close, jaw setting as he deliberately shuts out the sounds of footsteps, voices, and the faint hum in the air. For a heartbeat, he is very still. Then he pulls his hand back.

Not sharply, not like he has been burned, but fast enough to draw notice - the reflexive withdrawal of someone who reached into something unseen and immediately regretted it. His eyes open wide, breath catching for just a second before he reins it in. He shakes his hand once, more out of instinct than discomfort.

"Okay," he says quietly, unsettled. "Yeah. That is... weird." He looks at the wall again and squints his eyes as though trying to look through the wall itself. "There is arcane energy here," he continues, choosing his words carefully. "Not focused. Not hostile. Just... pervasive. Like the place itself is saturated." A pause, then, more honestly: "And I do not like how it feels."

Phil sets down his satchel and starts to dig through it, fishing out some sunglasses which he puts on, and a well-used pack of cards which he starts setting down at odd intervals near the entrance. "Me neither. Gonna see if I can tell how long it's been this bad."

Lavender lifts her hand and wipes it across her closed eyes, from her left to right. As she reopens her eyes, she blinks twice and is looking around more. "I do see the webbing." She's searching more to see if she notices anything else.

Book’s head turns at the word webbing, the shift sharp enough to break his otherwise measured pace. His shoulders tense slightly, and his hand drops to his belt on reflex, fingers brushing the familiar grip of the knife there.

"Webbing?" he repeats under his breath, already scanning the walls and corners with a wary look. "I really hate spiders."

He exhales, forcing himself not to draw the blade outright, though his hand lingers there a moment longer than necessary. After a beat, he adds more quietly, "You mean metaphorical webbing, right?"

Robert keeps his eyes on what Book is doing, mostly, with glances toward the other active involved individuals. "Pattern spiders, most likely, Building the Gauntlet, especially in cities, probably coerced into building the barriers that keep the outside chaos... outside."

Storm eyes Book. "Net. Not web. Think of it like a cheesecloth, not a spider."

As more and more things start to happen, both mystical and mundane, the shadows start to jitter a little bit. Where they were once aligning perfectly, now they're starting to flicker and shift. It seems a little more chaotic. Book's shadow, for example, sits just aside where his hand is pressed against the wall. A reflection in one of the mirrors closest to Phil turns slightly before he does, like it's anticipating what people are going to do, what they're about to do, or maybe what they already HAVE done. It's just a tiny little fragment of time off..

Phil doesn't look up, he's busy checking his watch as he sets down the last batch of cards, then circles back and picks some of them up again. "Literal, but in a different layer. Looks like something rotted out last summer, but it didn't /break/ till last week when we stepped on it. Except the opposite of 'rotted out'."

Then he looks up, and /then/ he reaches out and slams a fist into the nearest wall. "Fuck. Everyone do something different!"

Archimedes turns, his eyes scanning until he finds the source of the voice that said what stood out most to him. He eyes Book for a moment and asks, "Weird? We do magic, sir. You'll have to be a touch more precise." He looks away for a moment, taking a deep breath. His eyes widen suddenly and he mutters under his breath. He then calls out, "This place wants to be open to my Etheric sense." He takes a look around, eyes peering from behind his glasses in no particular direction, and then looking down, "This place... There should be a concentration of Prime energies or chi here, but it's gone. It's as if the space for it remains, but the substantive potential energy has been tapped out and not refilled." He then looks towards Book and says, "I know what you mean, but we haven't seen anything like that yet. Think of it less as a web and more as a net. You will remain happier for it." He then looks towards Phil, "I'm going to see if I can get an understanding of this place to the extent of my knowledge of Ars Potentiae."

He looks back towards Book, peering towards the wall for a moment, and then looking back to the bookseller, "Let's maybe not touch the walls for a minute. This is weird. You hit the nail on the head. Top marks." He turns, taking a few steps away from the wall and giving people more space as he looks around with consideration. He frowns and calls out, "Xiaolong, stay in the bag," eschewing their typically mind-to-mind connection. He looks towards Phil, his mouth dropping and then strikes one of the poses that have been etched into his mind as a student of the art of Do.

Robert looks a little closer at the 'cheesecloth'. "This is when I raise an eyebrow and say 'fascinating'? At least that means spiders aren't likely to come scurrying along when it's disturbed." and looking at Phil for a moment, dropping into a sitting position and fishing out a joint, lighting it up and dragging deep. The smell is a bit off, like there's some custom additives.

Paul blinks his eyes as flickers as things keep popping as if trying to catch his eyes through holes in a canvas, or distorted film rolling on a projector. He mumbles, maybe loud enough for the closest to him, Robert, to hear (not sure who is behind him), "Just as I think I got something for sure, even if I only see a bit of it, the area changes. Not in any one space, maybe not even in any kinda reality." His accent is seeming to get a bit heavier as his confusion might be turning towards a hint of anxiety. I can't pin nothing down."

Storm startles a little as Phil hits the wall and he reaches for Lavender, but then drops his hand, opting to stay a little further away. He puts up his hands, kind of out in front of him, like a warding gesture. "Okay. What are people seeing that I'm missing? Is it only happening when we're doing magic? Is it when we're close? Is it both?" He points at Paul and then at Phil. "What are you guys picking up on?

Book stills at Robert’s explanation, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to keep his hand from going back to the knife. The term clearly means nothing to him, but he doesn’t interrupt. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, battered notebook, thumbing it open with practiced ease. He scribbles as they move - pattern spiders, Gauntlet, urban construction? - shorthand meant for later research rather than understanding now.

"Noted," he murmurs quietly, and slips the notebook away. As the shadows begin to jitter, his attention snaps back to the present. His hand is still against the wall when his eyes drop to the silhouette beside it. The shadow sits just off, displaced by a few inches, like it missed its cue. His jaw tightens. "Okay," Book says quietly, pulling his hand away from the wall and watching the shadow resettle a beat late. "That’s new." He looks back to the others, voice still steady but more alert now. "Whatever this is," he adds, measured, "it’s not thinking like a person. I can't sense anything."

Lavender blinks a bit and jumps slightly when Phil hits the wall. "Um.. I think that you all are leaving something behind. The magic people have done? It's leaving an effect... like you know a floater you might get in your eye, but here in the umbra. Little tiny things I just see in peripheral vision."

True to his own suggestion, Phil grabs some more of his cards on his way back out the door, leaving some behind-- and, taking out a lighter, setting one on fire for good measure before tossing it aside and letting it ash out. "Makes sense," he says to Lavender, peeking back inside for a second. "Like I said, I was trying to work out how long it's been this way, in case that led to anyone saying 'oh, right, that was when we did /this/ thing'. But probably not."

Robert starts tapping on his knee, slow, rythmic.. "Someone hasn't disrupted the flow of time in here, have they? Or have they! Delays in shadows, uniformity, in reaction..."

A flurry of tiny feet skitters across the carpet. A dozen mice in patchwork robes ...

IN PATCHWORK ROBES

stop in a perfect semi-circle before Storm, Lavender, and Book, tails twitching in unison. One mouse, holding a miniature hammer, bows low. The squeak it emits carries an almost reverent cadence: “Great Purple One… the Nexus requires your attention.”

Book freezes at the skittering sound, the delayed telepathic ping clicking into place a heartbeat too late. His eyes drop to the mice, then lift again, tracking the impossible symmetry of them, the robes, the hammer, the bow. For a long second he just stares, mouth slightly open, hand hovering uselessly near his notebook instead of the knife this time. Then he exhales a short, incredulous breath. "...I take it back," he mutters quietly, eyes never leaving the semicircle. "I definitely sense something." His gaze flicks briefly to Storm and then to the 'Great Purple One' also known as Lavender, brows knitting with equal parts concern and academic fascination, before settling back on the mice. "Either this place just developed a sense of theater," he adds, dry and wary, "or we’ve officially crossed out of metaphor and into footnotes."

Lavender kneels down by the mouse that speaks to her and replies, "It is an honor to meet you. What is your name? And how can we help the Nexus? We came to see what was happening here and to help fix things up. Are you alone here?" She is quite calm and speaking with animals is her thing and all.

Phil ...was not /expecting/ talking mice either, but looks far less upset about it than the unnatural evenness from earlier. That said, seeing as they've already picked out a designated spokeswoman, he just sets about gathering up some more of the cards that he left behind earlier.

Archimedes turns his head to peer towards the Mouseguard, eyeing them for a moment before his eyebrows raise, "Xiaolong, you must not. Stay in the bag." He turns to look towards Book for a moment, "We've been in the footnotes for quite some time, Dr. Relieur." He turns on the balls of his feet to take a few steps away, keeping an ear on the conversation with the mice while keeping a cautious eye on the other activities around them.

Why is Storm not at all surprised and actually very pleased that Lavender just gets down there to talk to the mice?

"Peregrine!" The first one says declares. "The Scout." "Theophilus -- Engineer!" "Beatrix -- Scribe!" "Clemence! Medic and Healer!"

Each mouse sounds off, lifting up to their back legs and then dropping down in subjugation as the great purple one speaks to them. "We knew someone would come! We have been holding it together, but it's picked up in the last week! It's gotten Minerva and Eulalia. Ignatius thinks that they're looking for a crack to sneak back through!"

And yes, these teensy little talking mice sound exactly like you think they do. Tiny, squeaky, with little British accents

Lavender wonders if this is how K felt with the locker world. "I'm sorry about Minerva and Eulalia. What is looking for a crack to sneak back through? How many are you here protecting the nexus? Tell us all you can, and we together..." she gestures around the the group here "...will do everything we can to protect you and this place from whatever is threatening you."

Book just stares as the mice announce themselves, his expression cycling rapidly through disbelief, awe, and something dangerously close to delight. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his knuckle, as if better vision might somehow make this make more sense, then lets out a slow, quiet laugh under his breath. "Of course they have names," he mutters, half to himself. When the missing mice are mentioned and the tone shifts from pageantry to urgency, his amusement fades into focus.

He listens carefully, eyes flicking between the tiny figures, already cataloging details like titles, roles, and the implication of loss. "Minerva and Eulalia," he repeats softly, committing the names to memory. His hand drifts back to his pocket notebook, but he doesn’t write yet. Instead, he glances to Storm and Lavender, then back to the mice. "...All right," he says, quietly but sincerely. "Now I’m very glad we came."

Paul blinks his eyes and then freezes in mid step, a smile coming over his lips, "Oh... I heard about those." Seeing Lavender he stays in place and just watches and listens best he can from his position.

Robert tries to remember what they did with the mice from the train as he listens to their frantic call for help to Lavender.

A tiny little mouse with spectacles shuffles forward, her little glasses sliding down her nose. "Give or take a few anomalous variables, like the ones trapped Between, those of us who are Exalted, and those who merely comprise our unenlightened population, this number fluctuates, but is remarkably stable considering exponential growth curves...." She adjusts her glasses. "As of last census, there were 8,327 of us."

Phil leafs through his mostly reconstituted deck, flipping some of them over and glancing off into the distance. "Twenty-eight. Look behind the couch."

Book blinks, then very deliberately presses his lips together, as if physically restraining a grin. His eyes track the mouse with the spectacles the entire time she speaks, equal parts scholarly fascination and childhood memory lighting up behind the lenses of his glasses. "I feel like I should apologize to Mrs. Brisby," he murmurs quietly, more reverent than joking, "for ever doubting that mice were capable of census data and population modeling."

His fingers twitch once near his pocket, an almost unconscious urge to reach for his notebook and start sketching, but he resists it with visible effort, hands clasping together instead. "Eight thousand three hundred and twenty-seven," he repeats softly, committing the number to memory. "That is... remarkably impressive."

Lavender is not surprised, and yet...well, that is a good amount. "Sounds like a large colony, but fitting for this size of house. Ok, tell me please, what is going on here? What is trying to get in? What took Minerva and Eulalia? We'd like to eliminate the threat as we wish to bring new life to the Nexus once more."

"We don't know," Beatrix says. "There are theories. Some say it is a divine test of our faith, an obstacle imposed on the Nexus, therefore on us to prove our faith and diligence and problem solving skills." She wrings her tiny little paws briefly. "We've been fighting it, actively rebalancing fields, patching up distortions, making sure that the devices and wards that we've put up in the absence of the Great Ones, hold. We don't know WHY... and it's getting stronger. MUCH stronger since last week."

Robert looks around the room for a moment and gets an either brilliant or completely idiotic idea. "Can you give me a tour? Help to understand the situation? I can make myself your size to get it from your point of view."

Book listens without interrupting, his earlier humor draining away as Beatrix speaks. He crouches slightly, bringing himself closer to their level without looming, hands resting loosely on his knees as if grounding himself. "You’ve been maintaining it," he says quietly, more statement than question, eyes sharp with new understanding. "That explains why it feels orderly instead of broken."

At the mention of it growing stronger, his gaze flicks briefly toward the walls and their jittering shadows before returning to Beatrix. "Whatever this pressure is, it’s not random," he adds, measured and serious now. "If it’s pushing harder, it’s either testing limits or looking for failure points. And if last week changed the curve..." He trails off, jaw tightening. "Then something else acted on the system." Looking around to the others gathered he asks, "Anything big happen last week?"

Lavender asks the mice there, "Is there anything we can do for you tonight? We'll all work together to figure out what is going on. How can we keep you safe?" Book's questions are good, "Yes, what changed in the last week? Or was it just us coming here?"

There is movement off to the side and several little mice come skittering along, appearing from under a chair. These are just little chitters of mice. (Lavender can understand them. They're calling for a retreat and they're FRANTIC!)

Peregrine, the scout, the one dressed in a little robe and has a little tiny feather in his little tiny hat bounces up and down. "Oh no! It's going to spike! Retreat! Retreat!" He launches himself forward and PUSHES at Lavender's... knee. It does absolutely no good. A good number.. a hundred or so... all appear from various places. "Save the Gods! Get them to safety! Hurry! HUrry!" More appear. And more. More still. Only about a 1/4 of them are wearing clothing or have weapons or whatever, but they all kind of converge to one side, ready to push the mages and sorcerers out to safety. "PLEASE! For safety and integrity of the Nexus, you cannot be harmed here!"

Storm frowns and reaches for Lavender. "Come on. Everyone, let's retreat like .... the mice said..." He wonders if Lavender slipped something in his oatmeal this morning.

Robert frowns, but does as asked, making a mental note to get some mouse clothes for his next trip, but does join the exodus.

Paul seems like he would like to talk to the mice as well but he listens and turns to leave when Robert does.

Book straightens as the first wave of frantic movement spills out from under the furniture, his eyes widening slightly as the scale of it becomes clear. When Peregrine starts shouting and physically trying to shove Lavender, Book’s expression shifts fully into alert focus. He takes a quick step back in the direction the mice are urging them, hands lifting slightly, palms open in a universal sign of compliance. "All right, all right," he says calmly, projecting steadiness rather than panic.

Also,all powerful gods, please do not step on the mice

Phil nods and follows the others out. "Have to look up some novelty shops," he muses to himself. Someone must sell packs of cards the size of thumbprints, right? He'll come back and teach them to play Fizzbin.

As the current residents warn them off the investigation, Archimedes' jaw sets. He looks around, seem almost for a moment as if he was going to stay, but then turns towards the door they came in from and setting off at a brisk pace.

Lavender nods, "Yes, we will go. But we will return!" She reaches back to Storm who is reaching for her. "Let's go! Be safe new friends!" And off they go on out of there!