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sixthiterationlogs2017-04-25 09:35 pm
mund) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-04-25 09:35 pm
obscurial event: town hall.
WHO: Percival Graves
WHERE: Town Hall
WHEN: Half an hour after the first sighting / hearing of the Obscurus
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of violence, abuse, hate, etc
STATUS: Something like a mingling -- feel free to post OTAs of your own. If you need Graves to respond, just put his name in the header / or in bold somewhere in your comment!
Graves has to get ahead of this; he must. The Obscurus that had raged across town is monstrous, magnificent; but it's twisted magic, dark beyond all comprehension, a parasite that had latched onto a young man who had no other recourse. Graves has never seen the likes of it in his life, but there will be plenty of time to ruminate on that later.
Right now, Graves' objectives are clear: keep a lynch mob from forming using whatever means necessary (in this case, with information -- MACUSA's not here to obliviate the entire lot of them), find Credence, and contain the damage. They can figure out contingencies later.
The fact that he should have seen this coming is not lost on him; as Director, he should have had more comprehensive measures in place -- no matter if no one has ever actually dealt with an Obscurus in written record in four hundred years. His own precautions and failsafes had not been enough, he had not anticipated a creature of nearly this much power, and with preliminary (incomplete) knowledge of the damage the Obscurus has caused, Graves holds this meeting.
It haunts him, the cries resounding within the wails of the thing. Credence's cries. He tries not to think about just why he's attacked him -- he knows exactly why, and the truth of it makes the bile rise in his throat, anger burning in his bones: all reactions that do not serve his objectives at this point in time.
He's healed himself somewhat, the bleeding from the gash in his forearm has stopped, wrapped up tight -- the dislocation fixed even if Graves still favors his right side almost imperceptibly. Nothing can be done for the cracked ribs but time, and after all, he's suffered through worse. And more importantly, Credence is in distress, lost out somewhere, and Graves knows he needs to keep the peace and protect him, to get him back before the parasite itself consumes him wholly. Newt (and perhaps Tina) are searching for him out there in the woods, and he's here, intent on dealing with whatever fallout may come their way.
He doesn't trust No-Majs, their violence and hatred bleeding deep and rampant in the centuries (then again, wizards are not much better), and despite altered circumstances within this village, he still does not trust most of them -- after all, fear is a powerful equalizer, it can turn even the most intelligent people into faceless, irrational mobs. And that had been why he had first sought out Stella and Peggy, enlisted their help. The centuries old law, the one thing that keeps them from war with the No-Majs, cannot apply here, it must not. He will Obliviate them all later if necessary, but Stella and Peggy have proven that they can be valuable partners, and with a common tie to Credence it's unlikely they would turn on him. He tells them what they need to know, withholds all that is irrelevant -- including the identities of the wizards amongst them.
His duty is to them, not to the No-Majs, and he will keep them safe however he can.
In a sea of unpredictable variables Graves makes the best decision possible; he alerts Queenie as well, even as he prepares to address the people. Graves looks a little worse for wear, which is an improvement from earlier in the evening, all things considered -- and while the squirrel on his shoulder is a deviation from the norm, the little creature is at least peaceable, settled.
"What happened out there is not a natural disaster." He says, getting right to the point without pomp or greeting. "The force that destroyed the schoolhouse is a part of Credence, and he is as much a victim to it as you are. That force is called an Obscurus, a parasite that latches itself onto a child who has -- special gifts, but who have been forced to repress and hide away those gifts out of shame and fear. An Obscurus is created through violence and pain -- by being constantly bullied or abused. Credence is an Obscurial."
Best to give them as much context as necessary but hold off on the details. Graves' words are crisp, almost impersonal, but the magic that gathers, crackles just under his skin is present and strong, detected only by fellow folk born to magic itself -- his failsafe: if anyone goes after Credence with the intent to hurt him, if the worst happens and the village turns on Credence, he will do what it takes to shield him from it. As Director, he has never shied from difficult decisions; he doesn't intend to make exceptions now.
"What you may have seen is an extreme. Some of you may have noticed that Credence has not been himself lately. When Obscurials reach their emotional and mental breaking points, they lose control, and it triggers a physical transformation into an Obscurus.
"This was what happened, and the causes of which are currently under investigation." The lie is effortless and undetectable. After all, he has spent his whole life professionally dealing in secrets and lies.
His words are calm, as he looks at each and every one present. Even now, he quietly guards Credence's shame, his past, giving only what is necessary. "The cries you may have heard within that cloud was him, and we are searching for him at the moment. We intend to put a stop to the destruction, retrieve him and help him, as well as to ensure that this does not happen again." He pauses. "I understand that you may be afraid, or have concerns. I am here to reassure you that we have the situation under control, and to address these concerns."
A beat, and Graves considers the crowd, silently warring with his own instincts when he realizes that at this point he has very little left to lose. "Credence Barebone is not a monster. And for those of you who know him, he is still a friend to you. He is someone who needs help. "
WHERE: Town Hall
WHEN: Half an hour after the first sighting / hearing of the Obscurus
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of violence, abuse, hate, etc
STATUS: Something like a mingling -- feel free to post OTAs of your own. If you need Graves to respond, just put his name in the header / or in bold somewhere in your comment!
Graves has to get ahead of this; he must. The Obscurus that had raged across town is monstrous, magnificent; but it's twisted magic, dark beyond all comprehension, a parasite that had latched onto a young man who had no other recourse. Graves has never seen the likes of it in his life, but there will be plenty of time to ruminate on that later.
Right now, Graves' objectives are clear: keep a lynch mob from forming using whatever means necessary (in this case, with information -- MACUSA's not here to obliviate the entire lot of them), find Credence, and contain the damage. They can figure out contingencies later.
The fact that he should have seen this coming is not lost on him; as Director, he should have had more comprehensive measures in place -- no matter if no one has ever actually dealt with an Obscurus in written record in four hundred years. His own precautions and failsafes had not been enough, he had not anticipated a creature of nearly this much power, and with preliminary (incomplete) knowledge of the damage the Obscurus has caused, Graves holds this meeting.
It haunts him, the cries resounding within the wails of the thing. Credence's cries. He tries not to think about just why he's attacked him -- he knows exactly why, and the truth of it makes the bile rise in his throat, anger burning in his bones: all reactions that do not serve his objectives at this point in time.
He's healed himself somewhat, the bleeding from the gash in his forearm has stopped, wrapped up tight -- the dislocation fixed even if Graves still favors his right side almost imperceptibly. Nothing can be done for the cracked ribs but time, and after all, he's suffered through worse. And more importantly, Credence is in distress, lost out somewhere, and Graves knows he needs to keep the peace and protect him, to get him back before the parasite itself consumes him wholly. Newt (and perhaps Tina) are searching for him out there in the woods, and he's here, intent on dealing with whatever fallout may come their way.
He doesn't trust No-Majs, their violence and hatred bleeding deep and rampant in the centuries (then again, wizards are not much better), and despite altered circumstances within this village, he still does not trust most of them -- after all, fear is a powerful equalizer, it can turn even the most intelligent people into faceless, irrational mobs. And that had been why he had first sought out Stella and Peggy, enlisted their help. The centuries old law, the one thing that keeps them from war with the No-Majs, cannot apply here, it must not. He will Obliviate them all later if necessary, but Stella and Peggy have proven that they can be valuable partners, and with a common tie to Credence it's unlikely they would turn on him. He tells them what they need to know, withholds all that is irrelevant -- including the identities of the wizards amongst them.
His duty is to them, not to the No-Majs, and he will keep them safe however he can.
In a sea of unpredictable variables Graves makes the best decision possible; he alerts Queenie as well, even as he prepares to address the people. Graves looks a little worse for wear, which is an improvement from earlier in the evening, all things considered -- and while the squirrel on his shoulder is a deviation from the norm, the little creature is at least peaceable, settled.
"What happened out there is not a natural disaster." He says, getting right to the point without pomp or greeting. "The force that destroyed the schoolhouse is a part of Credence, and he is as much a victim to it as you are. That force is called an Obscurus, a parasite that latches itself onto a child who has -- special gifts, but who have been forced to repress and hide away those gifts out of shame and fear. An Obscurus is created through violence and pain -- by being constantly bullied or abused. Credence is an Obscurial."
Best to give them as much context as necessary but hold off on the details. Graves' words are crisp, almost impersonal, but the magic that gathers, crackles just under his skin is present and strong, detected only by fellow folk born to magic itself -- his failsafe: if anyone goes after Credence with the intent to hurt him, if the worst happens and the village turns on Credence, he will do what it takes to shield him from it. As Director, he has never shied from difficult decisions; he doesn't intend to make exceptions now.
"What you may have seen is an extreme. Some of you may have noticed that Credence has not been himself lately. When Obscurials reach their emotional and mental breaking points, they lose control, and it triggers a physical transformation into an Obscurus.
"This was what happened, and the causes of which are currently under investigation." The lie is effortless and undetectable. After all, he has spent his whole life professionally dealing in secrets and lies.
His words are calm, as he looks at each and every one present. Even now, he quietly guards Credence's shame, his past, giving only what is necessary. "The cries you may have heard within that cloud was him, and we are searching for him at the moment. We intend to put a stop to the destruction, retrieve him and help him, as well as to ensure that this does not happen again." He pauses. "I understand that you may be afraid, or have concerns. I am here to reassure you that we have the situation under control, and to address these concerns."
A beat, and Graves considers the crowd, silently warring with his own instincts when he realizes that at this point he has very little left to lose. "Credence Barebone is not a monster. And for those of you who know him, he is still a friend to you. He is someone who needs help. "
OTA
Clint listens, though it's clear from the first that he doesn't like this. He, Sam, and Wanda live across the street from Graves and Credence, and he's well aware how close it probably came to having their house smashed - with them in it and no real chance of escape - and how he's already kind of failed in one of his self-imposed duties. All his life he's kept an eye out for kids from bad circumstances, and his brief meetings with Credence had set off some of those alarms - but he'd let it go at the time because wherever he'd come from, he wasn't there now, and from what he'd seen he had people here who cared about him. If he didn't have to interfere, he wouldn't push himself in unasked. Clearly, what support the young man had hadn't been enough.
He and Nat had found each other in the chaos of the aftermath, everyone awake and dragged from their beds by the noise and he knew that people besides him and Nat were ready to act but there was no time to organize anything. The two of them barely had to discuss their strategy after so many years together; information was what they needed now, her following the... thing to spy and observe, him staying in town to gather eyewitness accounts, judge the damage, help the injured, and see if anyone knew what the fuck was going on. Listening to Graves gives him a lot more information than he'd had, and not as much as he wants. He's been too involved in military, law enforcement, espionage, and (unwillingly) on the fringes of politics in his life to not notice the careful phrasing, the blanket statements that sound reassuring but are meant more to pacify than anything, the lack of many explicit statements. That's not something he's going to stand for.
Rising to his feet, Clint crosses his arms as he watches the man at the front of the building, taking mental note of every injury and trying to match that up with the wreckage and other hurt parties. He'd gotten off luckier than some, worse than others. Probably wouldn't be able to stay on his feet too long, but was unwilling to drop. Good enough to ask some very pointed questions of. "How are we supposed to trust you and what you're saying? You knew about this, you knew it could happen, so why didn't you warn us about this being an outcome? Even if it was a far reach in the past, why didn't you warn us in the past few days once he stopped 'being himself?' Now we've got people hurt, some really badly, and maybe it's not his fault but maybe something could've been done to help him before this."
Maybe it would have worked. Maybe it just would've made him change sooner. But they hadn't even been given the option to decide if that was something they wanted to try.
"How many of you are victims of abuse or have worked with them before? When he comes out of this, what's he going to need to help him deal with having this do- what, take him over and shred things? Do you know how to help him cope with the fact that people are hurt because of this?"
Maybe it's a lot. But he remembers Wanda, with the bomb in Lagos and what happened when she wasn't able to contain it. He remembers Tony and his guilt over Ultron. He can never forget what he did under Loki's control, perhaps the most obvious parallel to this situation in his own experience. And he remembers all too well the dull fear that never really leaves and comes from living in an abusive situation you can't escape, the mental pain from the yelling and the physical pain from when fists or belts are involved, and he remembers all too well wanting to never inflict that on anyone else.
no subject
She hated this, all of it, and it was only made worse by Peitro's recent disappearance. She knew what it felt like to lose control, when emotions were running so high that it was impossible to think clearly. She had wanted to kill Ultron and she would have done anything to make that possible. In the end she had ripped his heart out, wanting him to feel the pain that she was feeling. Having innocent bystanders between her and her goal wouldn't have mattered. Wanda didn't want to believe that she was capable of such darkness but she couldn't ignore it.
She reached for her abilities feeling the energy crackle beneath her fingertips. Wanda's eyes narrowed harshly at Graves. There was something about him, an aura that didn't sit right with her. She wasn't going to start a fight but she was there to back Clint up.
Wanda was just as pissed as Clint was. She hated people like Grave's, he looked so controlled and composed. Did he even hear what he was saying? This could have been prevented, they could have protect Credence. Wanda didn't know the boy but it didn't matter. It was easy for her to sympathize with him.
"Why does he feel like this?" The question was directed towards Grave's. "Something set off the pain." She wanted to yell at Grave's to fix it.
no subject
This man seems to be one of the most distrustful of them. Savvy, perhaps, of the machinations of public relations narratives. Graves gives only what he deems relevant, his statement plain and straightforward. "The draining of powers in this village should have bled most of the Obscurus' effects out of him." He stares back at Wanda, entirely fearless, unmoved. "That it has somehow surged was unexpected. There was no warning because there is no warning to give -- there has not been an Obscurial in the past four hundred years. The exact scale of his power had not been known to us."
Graves might be many things, but he is no Seer; the power drain should have kept Credence in check, but somehow the young man had blasted past his failsafes, his precautions. Graves only had a taste of his true capabilities in that instant, of the Obscurial's fear and pain and hatred, all directed right at him.
It's a wonder that Graves is still alive, but he's not naive enough to believe that it was mercy that stayed the thing's hand. He tries not to think about that. He tries not to think about what it means, the blatant truth and reminder of what will happen to him when he returns back to his world, his time. Still, no point going on and on about spilled milk -- Graves has no interest in mulling over 'should haves', not when more pertinent concerns are at hand.
"Now, it's much clearer what we are dealing with. I will be working with my colleagues on more effective failsafes, and to help him work on controlling that parasite." A beat. "We will be engaging a handful of the other volunteers here to ensure that he is appropriately cared for when he returns."
no subject
He doesn't even have to look to know that Wanda's tense, and angry, and upset, probably remembering everything she's been through as well. He's got no worries about voicing all of his objections since he knows she'll go after anyone who tries anything to him, just like she did Vision. But he reaches to take her hand in his, gripping it tightly to reassure her that he's there and he also won't let anyone do anything to her. That little mental "tag" he leaves open for her isn't much, but it's enough to sort of "broadcast" a feeling of wait and see - acting when they don't have all the information can make the situation worse, and he's not about to let her get hurt just like she's not about to let him be hurt.
The idea that the power reduction should have knocked out the thing inside Credence makes sense, he's seen how that works on Thor and Wanda, but obviously it didn't so that meant... what? That these people, whoever they are, didn't understand how strong the thing was to begin with? Maybe. That there'd been some surge of power to the creature? Also possible. There just wasn't any way to tell. Not without more information, and Clint keeps his gaze focused square on Graves. "Then you guys need to get some new measurements because you fucked up and other people paid the price." Yes, Graves had too, but he doesn't seem to care that there's at least five other people wounded who have a right to know what hit them like a falling building. "Answer the questions. What are you going to do? What kind of experience do you have in dealing with damaged kids? Do any of you have training with or even experience with therapy? Are any of the rest of your 'colleagues' hiding something like this? How many of you are there?"
no subject
And what about Credence? Wanda knew how heavy a weight it was to carry power, more so power that you lost control of. Would he really be okay? With people like this trying to help him. Telling him that who he was was wrong. Fuck that. Her eye color shifted from dark green to the same red that twisted around her finger tips.
Wanda was ready to lash out. Her emotions had been running high ever since her brother left the village and she wasn't in any mood to be jerked around. It was Clint that stopped her. His hand took hers and the red mist that had gathered slowly dissipated. She exhaled feeling her powers tense around her. Her guard wasn't completely lowered but she deferred to Clint, knowing in her heart that he had both of their best interests, as well as Credence's, in mind.
She fell into silence, allowing Clint to ask his questions. She was to close to the topic and she knew it. Fire burned in her chest and even if it wasn't in this meeting, she wanted to punch something with every ounce of strength she had.