(no subject)

[gemma-masters.livejournal.com]

She'd made her way to the phone booth by the khazis to try and call someone...anyone really...to give her a ride home or at least to give them an idea on where she was and why.

The shadowy alcove really didn't do much to heighten her sense of confidence.

Picking up the phone she dropped in a bunch of change and dialed only to have it spit back out at her. Frowning she dialed 0 for the operator and the handset squalled out a mixture of high pitched tones in her ear.

The receiver was slammed back down.

"Fine I get the point no need to bloody my ears." Closing her eyes she leaned against the wall with its scribbles of foul language and phone numbers.

"Zauriel, I need you, I hope you can hear me."

Comments

[a-winged-prayer.livejournal.com]

High above Los Angeles, the Aerie reflects the final red-tinged rays of the sun from spire to bronzed spire until the Heaven-built edifice seems to gleam with its own radience.

On the lone terrace that served as balcony and landing platform, an angel lie flat on his back, eyes closed and wings spread to collect the last warmth of the sunset as he meditates on the world below. Zauriel does not precisely sleep, but mortal flesh must rest occasionally. It is not a limitation he is altogether happy with. Even now, his mind remains alert to the Aerie's warning systems and to the JLA communicator afixed to his bracer.

Gemma's words come to him as if a prayer, but muffled and somehow further away than mere distance should allow. Within moments, he has donned his armor and taken flight.

Zauriel closes the distance between Los Angeles and Louisiana in only a few minutes, but the feeling that Gemma is somehow beyond reach persists, even as he touches down on one of Bete Noire's steeples. Gemma's presence should draw him like a beacon at this proximity, but he still cannot pinpoint her. Bete Noire writhes with old magic. It is as if the city itself has somehow masked her from his perceptions. His alternatives are to waste what may be vital moments searching on foot --

'Calm yourself. She did not seem distressed.'

-- or to seek help from those who might have faster methods of locating her.

Zauriel sighs quietly as he takes to the air again. It had to happen sooner or later.

Minutes later, Zauriel knocks firmly at Shadowcrest's front door.

[zatanna-z.livejournal.com]

The knock is echoed through the house until it locates her. Her brows lift in a bit of surprise then lift further as she picks up on the subtle warning the house gives her. It doesn't feel like danger is standing on her front porch...more like a potential for...something.

It's with mixed curiousity and more than a touch of trepidation that she opens the door dressed for more cleaning: sweatshirt, jeans and her hair in pigtails, of all things.

She blinks a couple of times at who she finds there. "Zauriel! Um...hi?"

She knows he was involved with all of the stuff going on lately. This might explain the warning. And she is SO not ready to see anyone yet. She quietly asks the house to prod John into getting his butt downstairs.

[laughing-mage.livejournal.com]

Shadowcrest is getting frustrated with all the things going on and it's prodding of John is less than subtle as a chair tips him out and a door opens. It would be nicer but John has a distressing tolerance for ignoring its nicer clues.

"Your bloody flat is gettin' a swelled head luv."

There's an angel in the door and that brings on an instant scowl.

"There goes the neighborhood now doesn't it?"

[a-winged-prayer.livejournal.com]

Zauriel hadn't exactly expected a warm reception; he's aware of John Constantine's difficulties with Heaven and vice versa. He's also aware that right now likely isn't the best time to try and smooth out those differences, assuming that will ever even be possible.

"I believe Gemma may be in trouble," Zauriel states simply, not yet attempting to cross the threshold of Shadowcrest. "She's currently in a city located in the southern region of Louisiana, but I can't locate her any more precisely than that. The entire place writhes with binding magic. I believe it may be trying to trap her." It's not exactly a full explanation and he knows questions will be coming. He's just not sure he knows how to answer them, or even if he has the time to.

[zatanna-z.livejournal.com]

She mumbles out a rather creative expletive before glancing back at John. This news really isn't going to go over well...which may possibly explain even further the warning the house gave her only that doesn't seem to sit right either.

She gestures Zauriel into the house, quietly informing Shadowcrest that he is welcome...to a point.

"Come in. Please."

[laughing-mage.livejournal.com]

"Don't get comfortable." he scowls and picks up his coat.

"We're headin' to the tower, find out why m'neice got nicked out from under Hector's nose an get his help."

[a-winged-prayer.livejournal.com]

"Of course." Zauriel steps through the doorway. It's difficult to be around John Constantine. The demon blood alone is enough to put even a guardian angel on edge, and his presence alone is enough to send a kind of moral static across Zauriel's evil-sense. At least Zatanna's presence acts as a sort of balance. "Lead the way."

[zatanna-z.livejournal.com]

She hesitates. Going out! Not something she really wants to do. And going to see someone? Even worse. But this is Gemma. Her hesitation doesn't last for long.

"I need something a little more appropriate." Her brows lower into a scowl. "esaelp ,no sehtolc gnilevarT."

Her confidence isn't what it should be and it becomes immediately apparent as her cleaning clothes transform into a pair of khakis, a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of snake boots.

She blinks a couple of times, blushing to the roots of her ponytails, sighs and just grabs a coat to throw over the loud shirt.