maskormenacelogs | [CLOSED]

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WHO: Herr Starr and David Blake
WHERE: A classy restaurant in De Chima
WHEN: Early April
WHAT: Starr's on the hunt for a murder cult, and he has a hunch David might be able to point him in the right direction.
WARNINGS: Talk of murder cults at the very least. Possible WicDiv spoilers. Tread lightly!

Gone was the official uniform of Chilton's hospital in favor of his pure white suit and red tie -- something a bit more to his tastes and more suitable to the sort of restaurant he had invited David to meet him at. The reservations brought them to a private section overlooking the illuminated city and a complimentary bottle of fancy wine awaited them at the table.

"I appreciate you meeting with me. I shall pick up the tab, so do not feel limited in what you choose to order." Starr said generously. Perhaps a bit too generous which could mean he was paying with someone else's money, but he wouldn't advertise the fact. "The least I can do since it is not pleasure that brings us here, but business. I believe you to be uniquely qualified in giving me the information I desire."

Starr opened the wine in order to fill both of their glasses.

"How much do you know about the gods who have ported in from your world to this one? At least in terms of the duration of their stay and their particular habits in this universe."

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David is much less dressed up for the occasion, although he doesn't show shame in that fact. If anything, the professor has a certain...way that he moves, a casualness that's effectuated in every movement. He arrived looking as though he'd stepped out of his classroom at a moment's notice -- slacks, a shit he hadn't bothered to unbutton, and a leather jacket, red. If anything, he dressed a hair younger than his pale hair would suggest.

"Oh," he murmured, niceties over with, and his fingers steepled in front of him. That...was a question he could answer, wasn't it? He watched the wine for a moment -- he really wasn't much of a drinker these days, but he couldn't quite share something like that. "Yes, I suppose you could say I'm the expert. I've devoted my life to...studying them," he paused, and his lips curled, slightly.

"I've been privy to...a great deal of information about the Pantheon, their situations, and... their places in the world," he took the glass, one of his fingers looked stiff, placed oddly against the glass. "What prompted you to look into our recurring gods?"

"Well. I am on the hunt for a displaced murder cult." All casual. Starr figured if David could handle the complexities of his gods and their stories, then surely he wouldn't even bat an eye at Starr's comment. "Several months ago, there was an incident with cloned imPorts. Frederick Chilton's clone in particular had gathered together his own cult of individuals and made quite the spectacle of them as he murdered and sent them tumbling to the ground in De Chima with a flourish. He killed many, but he did not kill all of them. And I am seeking those he did not kill."

He paused, wetting his palate with some wine before getting to the main point. "I thought perhaps they might have found their way toward some of your gods. When lost and in search of direction, people often seek out a replacement. Chilton's clone was charming, charismatic, and an inspiring leader. He also preached the message of release and freedom while keeping these people in a chemically induced haze. Maybe this aligns with some of the messages your own are trying to send."

Starr licked his lips, folding his hands in front of himself as he kept an unblinking gaze on David. "These people are weak-willed, desiring to be sacrifices for some greater divinity. So which of your gods may be most likely to not only appeal to that type, but to capitalize upon it?"

"Oh," David said, his tone mild, as if he couldn't help himself. His lip twitched, but he picked up his drink to sip at it, his eyes tracked Starr, but he looked away after a moment -- without his helmet, he didn't have the presence to unnerve people like he normally did. "Then you came to the right place!" he set the glass down, for emphasis. "It just so happens that I have a perfect memory of the legends of my world, and I've been working with the Pantheon here rather closely."

Well -- kind of. He ticked off his fingers, almost carelessly. "I think you can exclude Cassandra for certain -- She isn't the type," despite, of course, his earlier murders, but... he knew that he had cruelly forced their hands for his own purposes. "Neither is Baphomet, but the rest..." he paused, and held his chin, considering.

"Drug-induced hazes would suggest Dionysus," he pointed out. "Although he's rather dim," to put it likely. He hated the wine god. "Persephone and Lucifer are...more than willing to go that far, and Inanna would surprise you with how sharp their blade can be."

He did, however, completely exclude one member.

"Persephone and Lucifer are lesbians." Starr spoke as though such a fact had relevance. And to him it did. Of course Lucifer would be a lesbian, so steeped in sin! "To go from a man with strong sexual appeal to them does not seem like a solid match." At least not in Starr's eyes. Perhaps in the eyes of clone Chilton's cult followers, it was a different story. He would at least give it a check even if it led to nothing.

"But tell me more of Inanna. And Dionysus, I suppose. It could be a match. Even if he is a bit dim, so too are the cult followers I imagine." It was what he was hoping anyway. It would be far easier to lead them away in order to follow the real Chilton.

David's eyebrow rose, but he said nothing of the statement. While he would be more incline to suspect Persephone and Lucifer over Dionysus and Inanna... any of them being under suspicion served his purposes, at least. He fiddled with his silverware, almost as if he were gathering his thoughts, before he began to speak.

"You're likely to find difficulty with Dionysus, if your concern is sexual appeal," it was almost offhand, but with a touch of annoyance. "He can...manipulate minds, use his music to create..." he took another drink. "Well, if they want a large, thrumming mass of people under his own banner, they would be it, but..." his lip quirked. "He's hardly going to have much need for a cult. He can do anything he wants with a club, and he makes them happy."

Annoying. "Inanna is...interesting. A much more sexual presence, and they can clap-back harder than most. They are, however, very keen on their appearance of being the kind one. They did also just arrive again recently. When did your cult re-surface?"

Starr's lips pursed in mild disappointment. No, no, no. None of these seemed quite right. None of them seemed to have the perfect qualities that would draw everyone to them. Perhaps the cult members divided themselves among these gods from David's world -- but that would make it increasingly more difficult to find them.

"They have not resurfaced. At least not publicly. I have taken the initiative to find them myself. Since the incident, they have seemed to vanish. And it is quite possible the creators of the clones took them out of the picture as a means of 'damage control.' But I tend to doubt it. With their hatred of imPorts, they would hope these broken people would ruin the lives or reputations of those in our community."

Starr slowly opened the menu to peruse the options.

"Is there not another one? Another God from your world? The one who turned Maurtia Falls into a hunting ground last month? What of him?"

"Mm," David paused, and took the queue to pick up his own menu. This would put his acting skills to work, and he'd done well so far, but he'd done well around teenagers who all were not looking for him. He was under no illusion that imports here were a more dangerous sort, that could certainly find more than the average. David's eyes looked over the menu, but he didn't really see it.

Bringing up Woden when he was out of mask always tended to make him feel...strained. Under the spotlight. His fingers danced against the back of the menu, one made a different sound than the others, like it was synthetic, instead of real.

"I suppose, although that's not quite his usual," he paused. Cautious. "He doesn't have the charisma to lure the same kinds of crowds that the others do. He doesn't sing, at least in public, like they all do," and David looked over the menu, carefully reading each word, even though it was consumed, and then immediately discarded. He looked up at Herr Starr. "I seriously doubt he would do anything with someone else's cult, particularly Doctor Chilton's. He doesn't seem to like him."

Starr, on the other hand, was both eyes on David. And while he didn't immediately notice anything off entirely about David's demeanor -- nothing suspicious at least because it mostly seemed dismissive -- he still continued to watch him. Unmoving. Unblinking. Perhaps David's morals caused him to dismiss Woden. After all, the masked god had been the most visibly destructive when compared to the rest.

"It could be possible he is unaware that these people once belonged to Chilton. I am uncertain how much they would advertise their part in those murders in De Chima. But Chilton's clone was not a singer. He lured them with words and...sedative cocktails, I assume." Well. Starr knew the truth of Chilton's powers. He knew it was through his own hands that he could administer those chemical cocktails. But as his head of security, he was obliged to protect Chilton. And that meant holding his tongue about his abilities. "It is not a perfect match. But the level of destruction, the conscious decision to create a hunt. That seems more in line with what I am searching for."

And then, Starr did something unexpected. He took a leap of faith and confessed his intentions. Maybe David would think him mad, but Starr had hope the man might be intrigued instead. "I want to take Chilton as he is and turn him into something far greater. I am interested in creating a God of my own choosing, and this cult -- these people would be the base upon which I build."

David's silence to the statement, he suspected, was damning. He stared at Starr, mouth open, but he didn't think he was mad, that was clear on his face. His eyebrows knitted together, his eyes narrowed. No, he didn't think Starr was made, he thought he was trying to say something to him that shouldn't be said. Hadn't he suggested that to him, at first? David had nothing in his hands, but he flattened them to the table. One didn't quite make it -- a pinky. If Starr were distracted enough by the detail, he'd notice it wasn't actually a finger, but fake.

"Didn't Woden already try to do that to him? He didn't seem to like it," he pointed out. David, of course, hadn't been ported in at the time, ostensibly, but he could do his research, maybe. More accurately, David had been in that room, and he looked at Starr, his gaze cautious and careful. He was no longer an academic, boring and mild. There was something else there.

"Why are you so...interested in creating a god?" he asked, after a moment. He didn't intend to leave the thread of his own knowledge of Woden's comings and goings left that outright. Not without feeling this man out more. Only one person knew of the truth, and that had been foolish of David to let him get that far. But Starr... Starr might be an ally, if played right.

They have both shown interest in Chilton, and in making him something better than himself. "Especially one who is not yourself?" he paused, then, and took a drink. He needed the alcohol, now. "I would think that if you had the means... it would be more fitting to make yourself into the deity."

Edited 2018-04-16 03:56 (UTC)

And now there was suspicion. Starr didn't have the answer, he hadn't pieced it together just yet. But he knew there was something more to this professor -- something more than met the eye. Considering David wasn't trying to talk him out of it -- wasn't immediately fleeing the scene, Starr knew David's interest in his Gods went beyond a simple fascination.

"I do not want to be the God." Starr confessed. "The God is merely a face for my ideas." Perhaps it was a bit too much to admit. But Starr didn't care. And more than his lack of concern, he imagined David would understand. He felt as though he had found someone who actually understood the method to his madness. "I am not the sort who inspires people. It must be a softer, kinder touch. Doctor Chilton is a candidate merely because he is both cruel and compassionate while being intelligent. Joshua is also a candidate because he is a clone of the actual Christ. But either way, the world must change. And since people are incapable of changing on their own, they need a deity to show them the way."

The waiter approached them to take their order and Starr lifted his hand to dismiss him -- eyes locked on David all the while. "Leave us. I will summon you when you are needed." Clearly taken aback, the server simply nodded and walked off. Starr, in the meantime, leaned in closer across the table -- turning the heat on David so to speak. "You seem to know an awful lot about Woden. I was not even aware about his attempt to make Chilton a God. Was this a public affair? Or do you have insight you are not sharing?"

A power to keep tabs on these gods, perhaps? Or something else....

Edited 2018-04-18 03:08 (UTC)

David didn't look away. He didn't dare, but his face, usually rather expressive, he remained cautiously blank. He didn't dare even let his lips curl, an eyebrow twitch. His hands flattened to his menu, and he leaned forward as well, as if to tell Starr that he was not intimidated by the statement through body language alone.

Interesting, of course, that he would rely on body language so heavily.

"I have heard rumors," he said, his voice even, even a touch chill. "While I agree that society should change... in my world, that is the point of our recurrence. They are the soul of the new century, directing the future through their influence," and then, he lifted an eyebrow, a slight tip of his head. He didn't smile, but it was there, in his voice.

He lifted a hand, as if to be dismissive of the very idea. "I wonder what would happen, if your god and my -- world's pantheon were to clash? Or if they would work together to change the course of the future? Of history itself?" as if Starr had to be reminded, that David Blake was involved in Pantheon Studies, although it was as much a degree in history as it was in mythology.

He suspected, of course, that Starr was dangerous, but not to someone like him.

Hadn't he been the one to suggest that David become a god? Funny, then, that they both had such a thought, independent of one another.

Edited (i wanted a better icon) 2018-04-18 03:31 (UTC)

Odd. The whole course of this interaction was odd. David's behavior -- lacking in expression and emotion was also odd. And that was entirely intriguing to Starr. He broke eye contact after a pause of consideration in favor of grabbing his drink. But his eyes instead focused on David's hand -- on the out of place finger.

"Are your Gods capable of cooperating with one another? With someone outside of their circle? They are teenagers. An entirely erratic and unpredictable breed driven by hormones and emotions. I have not pursued your gods because I find most of them to be a joke. With the exception of one."

And his eyes met David's again.

"Woden does not seem to fit neatly into the mold. And if he has thought along the same lines as I, then perhaps we should call him to this meeting. Would it not be fascinating for you to sit down with one of the gods you admire?"

Starr hoped to create some discomfort -- to push David into admitting his methods for knowing about these gods, confess to some ability that allowed him to keep tabs...something he might want to keep secret from his world's pantheon.

"I hardly admire Woden," David said, his tone matter-of-fact. He looked Starr in the eye, then, as if to sell the lie. He was genuine, because he met his eye. That's what they always said, and with David, he didn't necessarily have to lie about this. He did hate Woden, he hated the person he was, and who he'd became. The sacrifice was a dark, terrible sacrifice -- something that no person should ever have to do, but he'd done it anyway. He'd given up something so important, just to be who he was

Why wouldn't he hate himself?

He paused, even so. Either way this went, it was a gamble. It was something that could turn out very badly for him, and he wasn't quite certain he was ready for that moment. He hadn't consolidated power, he hadn't prepared everything yet. Kylo Ren had held onto the knowledge so far, but how long would that last? Would Herr Starr do the same? With his own admission that he wanted to make his own Messiah, he'd given David leverage. Freely. David didn't feel trapped, which was key, and he instead paused, to allow several moments for suspense.

"You are correct, that he thinks along the same lines, I suspect. How would you get him to this meeting so quickly?"

David was...curious. He wanted to see this pan out.

"I suppose I would call him up and extend the invitation."

Granted, being that Woden was one of those younger gods, he might turn it down. And there was nothing Starr could do to force his hand -- no leverage he had, nothing terribly intriguing to offer. Unless...

"This might not be his scene per se, but he already proved himself to be a fan of bloodshed and chaos. Gods often enjoy a sacrifice, do they not?" Starr's eyes flickered toward the waiter briefly.

Saying something like that and being the sort of man he was, it was clear Starr was serious about it. He had no qualms about murdering someone right in the middle of this restaurant to get a bit of leverage with an unpredictable and chaotic god. And maybe he should have been concerned about saying something outright in front of David, but he wasn't. And most of that was because he was fairly certain he could overpower David if necessary.

"But circling back to you not admiring Woden...which of your gods do you admire?"

He asked as he withdrew his communicator and started to search through the list.

"Cassandra," he responded immediately, before his eyes caught sight of Starr shifting through the phone, hard. This was a moment here. He could subtly shift, and mute his phone. That would be of no matter, or... he could see what happened. "You would know her more accurately as Urðr, of the Norse fates," his lips curled, just slightly.

"I've always had something of a penchant for the Nordic pantheon, and she is...an intellectual. Cut from the same cloth as I," he paused, and his hands fell beneath the table, to grip together, anticipation built. "Well, perhaps not the same cloth," he admitted, and he attempted to effectuate a more relaxed pose. He swallowed, but it did little to alleviate that bubble in his throat, the way he felt slightly choked, the way the heat crept up his neck. He ached for something to hide the building anxiety, before he slowly pulled out one phone, and placed it on the table.

Slim, pale, nothing interesting. He shifted, and placed a second on the table, black, face up.

"Why don't you try to contact him?" he said, and it almost sounded a challenge.

Let's see what happens, is unspoken, and he kept his eyes trained on Starr, now. Watching.

Intelligence was a fine feature for a god, Starr supposed. But they needed more than intelligence. There should have been a charm and a ruthlessness -- something inspirational, something that terrified people as much as it enamored. But before he could comment on the idle conversation any further, David had drawn out the phone. He drew out both phones and placed them on the table. An action that seemed out of place. Perhaps a display only David could contact Woden? With the way the professor laid out the challenge, it seemed as though there would be some loophole -- something only David could achieve.

But Herr Starr wasn't a man to back down from a challenge. And so, his mouth set in a thin line and as he highlighted Woden's contact name, he hit connect in order to make the call -- eyes locked with David the entire time as he drew the communicator to his ear.

David kept his eyes on Starr, didn't even look away from his face, as he started to locate Woden's name, and then he started to call him. David Blake, PhD, watched as he held the phone up to his ear. He watched as what he assumed was the start of a ringing begin on his end.

David felt a heavy weight of anticipation bubble in his stomach. He felt almost choked with the knowledge that someone was going to know his secret, likely someone that could appreciate the lengths he went to, appreciate the genius in what he was doing. Even his favorite of gods, the paragon of truth, hadn't been able to figure it out. David always had to tell people, before the truth came out.

His phone, the black one, lit up, neon green, and it began to buzz. David didn't answer it. He just watched Starr, and let it ring, waiting, illuminating his face from below.

Edited (I LINKED THIS AND NOTICED A TYPO I'M SORRY JEAN) 2018-05-10 02:53 (UTC)

Starr broke eye contact sharply when the vibration of the phone thrummed beneath their table. He looked down at the communicator, stared at his name splayed across the screen and allowed it to ring further as he digested what was being shown to him. How was this possible? But at the same time, how was this not possible? David had known as much as he possibly could about his gods. David surely knew enough to be able to pose among their numbers -- to carefully craft this persona.

Suddenly, David was far more interesting than he once had been.

When the voicemail picked up, Starr's eyes returned to the man sitting before him, regarding him in a whole new light. "Nevermind. I think you have already accepted my invitation." The phone was hung up and returned carefully to his pocket. For a moment, he remained in silence -- likely going over everything he had known of Woden and comparing it to everything he had known of David. The wild hunt. David was the mastermind behind what had been a purging -- a well-needed cleansing.

"I imagine even those from your world do not know this truth. Your work is commendable. Admirable, even. I meant what I said when I said you are the most fascinating among your lot, the one most in line with what I believe. Which begs the question, why let me in on this secret? Do you wish for me to subscribe to your authority -- to help you pave the way toward being this world's one true god? Or do you wish to aid me in creating another Messiah...?"

Or perhaps C. None of the above. Maybe David/Woden had his own agenda. Maybe Starr was to play some part in his plan. For the first time in a long time, Starr felt some tension creep into the back of his neck. And he loved it -- that unshakable feeling of unease. It had been so very long since he felt anything of the sort.

When Starr had put the pieces together, when recognition had settled, and he turned the phone off, and returned it to his pocket, David did the same, both phones back into his pocket, and his lips turned up, slightly, a sharp smile, more like a shark than anything else. It was clear, from the way his head tipped, that David was now in his element, the person that he really was, no longer the meek professor, and no longer the persona of a god who was all airs.

No, this was a different person, a man somewhere in between, but still a man. A man who'd fashioned his face, given it up, to play a god. His eyebrow quirked, when he started to talk, and his lips spread into a sharper smile, he was clearly so pleased with himself, and it showed. "Well, thank you," he said, his tone almost amused.

"You were the one to suggest it, hadn't you?" he asked, and held a hand to his chest. "Which I would never do," his expression darkened, for a moment. "As I'm sure you can understand. I would never do what you're suggesting," and then he paused, and relaxed. He crossed an ankle over his knee, and leaned back, one elbow over the chair, and he gestured with his hand. If there had been any doubt in his mind, the way he moved -- too confident and too comfortable -- it was clear this man was Woden.

"I'm interested in your plans, to see where they go. I don't have any interest in becoming a Messiah," he paused, and his lip curled into a smile. "I know how that story ends. I intend to continue along my lines, and perhaps... just maybe, we can be of use to one another. I'm not above helping my fellow...man. When needed."

It was fascinating to see the mask stripped -- to see David's very demeanor change right before his eyes. Starr, too, had been blinded by the persona and missed this gem hiding right under his nose the entire time. "Huh." Was all he said for a moment, also settling back in his chair to get a fuller view of the God before him.

"It is always beneficial to have a powerful ally. But do rest assured, I would not spearhead an effort to make you the Messiah. A God cannot be the Messiah. But a God can manipulate things for the manufactured Messiah as he stands in representation of what the God wants. Is that not the Christian way?" Starr tapped his index finger against his chin in thought.

"Now. Tell me more of what you did to Dr. Chilton and his response to such a thing."

"Oh," David chuckled, softly. Before, when he made the sound, it was mild, and unassuming. With his mask stripped away, with the man before Starr who he truly was, it was derisive, mocking. Almost dark, and his lips curled into a smile. David's finger tapped against the table, idly, that off-sound of his pinky hitting the menu just as out of place as always.

"Oh, that," he tipped his head, just like he would have, had his helmet been on. The curl of his lip was almost alien, too satisfied, and he looked Starr right in the eye.

"I came into his office, and gave him a pen. I named him Eir, goddess of healing, and he...touched me," his finger trembled, then. Faced with his own power, at what it could do, it was great and terrible, even to him. "He hated it. He reached out, and he gave me a taste of his power, and it was like...electricity, light, and color," he paused, and closed his eyes, inhaled.

"It was really quite something. Something terrible and great."

Starr was enraptured by the story. Enthralled. Imagining Chilton with such power -- imagining him untamed and in need of guidance. Was it a path he could steer the doctor toward again? Probably not. He hated it as David said, and wouldn't be willing to dive right in without some coaxing.

"I can only imagine." A shame he hadn't gotten to witness it. A shame he hadn't gotten to experience it. Still, there was another question lurking beneath all of this. Starr reached out to collect his wine and take a sip. "Are you able to replicate it? Or was this a one time thing?"

If Woden could create gods, wouldn't he go around doing so at will? Wouldn't there be a ton of people wandering around with powers and new identities? So Starr could only deduce there were limitations or a special set of circumstances to make it happen. And Starr was highly interested in repeating those special circumstances if it turned out to be the latter.

He paused, the false god who wore a man's face as his mask. That was something he wasn't quite sure he was ready to divulge, his truth was one thing -- a part of his truth -- but it was another to talk about what he could do in full. But at the same time, if he wanted Starr to give him back up, then he may need to give him more than just this. Besides... What was life without a little risk?

David felt like it was all risk, these days.

"I could perhaps create one. The amount of power that it takes to create a god is astronomical, and I am without my source of power in this world," he paused, and considered."But I intend to find a way to make it work better -- increase my power and my limit like before."

David's face formed a sharp grin. "I intend to make a new pantheon."

Oh. Oh. A certain thrill ran down his spine at David's confession. Starr's lips turned upward with approval. "I take it this new one is meant to replace those you do not deem worthy within the current set..." And Starr was going to have to get to know them now -- to see which ones were worthwhile and which ones could fall by the wayside to Woden's plan.

"It would highly align with my interests to aid you in acquiring this new source of power in this world. I will confess I do not know the first place to begin the search for such a thing. But should you need someone taken out of the picture to acquire it..."

Starr raised his hands as though to say: I'm your man.

David smiled, then, and he leaned forward. "And if you need assistance with...convincing Chilton, or perhaps a bad guy to awaken latent abilities..." he tipped his head, and rolled a shoulder. "I may know someone who can offer assistance to... swoop in, and be the bad guy," complete with air quotes, Starr would know the villain of which David spoke.

"I may ask for your assistance, soon. The noose tightens, and we're in a precarious position. The longer I wait, the closer the children are to figuring things out," his pinky tapped on the table. "They have...fewer limits than before. More willing to torture and maim," he shook his head. "Ordinarily I wouldn't mind, but it's directed toward me, and thus, we must be cautious."

But if they could pull this off... they could really make something truly great.

"All the better to not move forward alone. I do not have the same sort of resources I had at home, but the hospital has built a network. Perhaps most helpful is my employee Tate Langdon. He is young, eager to please. He can fit in well with your pantheon's typical age group and do work from the inside. And moreover, he does not ask questions." So Starr wouldn't necessarily need to disclose that they were doing work for David.

"But these are your people...so I will look to your guidance on how best to proceed, what needs to be done, so on and so forth. But I will say you have just earned my vote in the ambassadorial election." He raised his wine glass in David's honor before drawing in a sip.

"Now then. I suppose we should eat -- should we not?"

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Is it public knowledge Woden was behind the Wild Hunt in MF?

oh yes absolutely he slathered his name all over tha thing

>) perfect

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<33

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