Roderic Alder Mayburry Montana's Story

Damien Moore was wearing the opposite of professional attire as he walked through SCION’s halls. He’d recently returned from a mission, and everyone who knew what he did could tell. Exhibit one: The clothes. Too short, too tight, too ruffled for someone who had woken up and headed to the office after a full night’s sleep. Exhibit two: the attitude. Dami glowed with confidence, meaning someone has given him an ego boost. And not only that, there was exhibit three: the allure. Currently, Dami breathed his power out on every exhale, and it hung around him in a cloud of distraction, drawing second and third looks from everyone he passed.

A young vampire tripped over his feet trying to get the blond’s attention, causing Dami to smirk and blow him a kiss before slipping into Madison’s room. He was utterly unruffled by the Kora chaos going on outside - at this level of power, he could have several of the male werewolves throwing themselves to his defense, so he was safe. No need to worry. “Hello Aconite~ Hi Madison~” he purred, then brought a hand up to his mouth delicately.

“Sorry~” he continued, now having dropped the bedroom voice - something that for him took more effort than using it. “Just got back. Came here first. Remember that skirt I ruined?” he addressed the vampire, mostly ignoring the dryad for now. “I can replace it, if you give me the brand and line. Except quickly, I need to go tell my team leader I’m back and what I learned. Which is everything, as usual” he grinned again, and then flopped on the bed. “Why’re you here?” he asked Aconite, then busied himself fiddling with his bag.

"Of course it went well!" Dami pushed his hair behind his ears, and then promptly shook his head to make it fall in front once more. "It was a one person mission, but Montana wanted us all to go out for some reason. So we had more than enough skill to do this." the pride in his voice was evident. He frowned int he next minute though, put off by Madison trying to brush off the cost of the skirt; an ongoing argument between the two since the incident itself. "And I told you I would be getting you a new one because I looked it up and it wasn't cheap! It's not like it's going to set me back, and you can think of it as me being Robin Hood, in a way." the incubus paused. "Actually, there's a thought. Robin Hood for the next costume party. I could pull off a tunic and tights, don't you think?" His eyes scanned the area lazily while he fell back against the soft covers.

The baby blues - temporary, from the last target- settled on Aconite, who was watching him with the look of someone ensnared by his unconscious allure. Dami turned his head into his arm, baring his neck in the process, and smirked against the skin. He played with the idea of toying with the dryad a bit, but dismissed it, as Madison was in the room. By then, he'd been answered, and lazily, he turned his head to watch the green haired male stumble around in heels.

"It's hard, isn't it?" he commented, smiling just a bit. "Never got the hang of it myself. And you look just fine~" the purr was back as his eyes raked over the trim figure. "I know quite a few who'd love to snatch you up, dressed like that." Of course, finding them again would be a bit of a challenge, but he was sure he'd manage. And that was assuming Aconite gave consent, which Dami doubted he would...

Closing his eyes, Dami rolled onto his side. "You have such a nice bed, Madison~" he sighed. "I wish you'd let me share it." he teased, once again picking up that specific never ending quest.

The process of extracting information hadn't taken any special effort. Not when the ever blooming rose Lulu had snared their target with her hooked thorns, their generally hassle free getaway, courtesy of Dami's charismatic charms, or now, when he was copying the information onto his personal database. Once he had finished this painless process, Montana placed the chip into a small cover, one he closed with an audible click, then into the bigger plastic back. Blackout material. Label? Classified. Naturally.

Their cover to obtain this small but important piece of a larger puzzle was the kind that would bring such a trio together at night. Drinking. Mid Ballers with a little angst to work out underneath crystal chandeliers. A cover that required next to no prep, where the explanations could be lies because lies flow plenty when liquor hits the system.

Truthfully, their night at the Roxemburg had involved less drinking and more espionage. Less Alcohol, more Sodium Pentothal. With an end game that could put something a little deadlier then a hangover in ones head, but, they were professionals. Their seamless fabric of teamwork was strong when taunt, and they had gotten back to SCION in time for breakfast.

Speaking of breakfast, one of the three he wished to speak to had feeding habits that could leave him unavailable for the next hour or so. Miss Botrelle and the Young Valentine could be contact later.

Montana ran his thumb across the screen of his phone, contacting one,

"Mr Moore, I'll need you in for debriefing at your earliest convenience."

"Maybe I've given up on charming you and now hope to buy your affections with favours like these~" Dami suggested, his eyes shimmering into a striking leafy green. From his position fondling Aconite, he could see Madison write out the details of skirt upside-down. It had been a very nice skirt, one that had suited the leggy redhead he'd played very well. It hadn't been so nice a skirt after things had escalated, not that he'd noticed until after he'd fed. "And your expertise would be well appreciated," he cooed. "We haven't gone out for quite some time, have we?" And Madison never minded if the incubus flounced off for a quick snack mid shopping spree, especially if his meal happened to end up more inclined to do him favours in the form of discounts after the fact.

Then, between his hands, Aconite vanished, fluttering about in his eight inch form. Dami eyed the tiny thing hungrily, licking his lips. Did the dryad not realize that he could now stimulate his entire body with one stroke of a finger? But he'd have to catch him first... He'd been about to try when his cellphone rang.

Mr Moore, I'll need you in for debriefing at your earliest convenience said his boss's voice, and Dami's lips quirked up. "Right away, sir~" he said smoothly, then dropped the call, turning to grab the paper with Madison's skirt order on it. "Have to go, Roderic is calling~" he explained. "See you later? And Aconite?" he stopped by the door, turning his head to glance back into the room. "The offer still stands, you know where my rooms are."

Finished with his teasing, he sashayed down the hall, drawing more admiring looks and unwilling stares. The base was already becoming familiar, and he was at Montana's door, slipping in and wandering over to press his body as close to his leader's as possible.

"I'll be glad to remove your briefs, sir~" he purred, sliding one hand into a back pocket, the other onto a hip to dip just into the hemline of neatly pressed suit pants.

Because really, that opening was too obvious, and Montana should have known not to make it so easy if he didn't want to hear it.

The phonecall ended, and Montana's fingers left the smooth back of the device so he could plug it in to his now booting computer. Wait times were a thing of the past in large part due to the skill of their IT department, and a few further keystrokes brought up their mission report. Casualties, wounds sustained, possible witnesses, civilians spoken to, active operatives, and methods used were all contained in the report. Short-form, which was very unlike his typical flow of speech. At least, in this stage. On special request he'd add his personal touch to make an event seem more amorphous then it was.

Montana's coal black eyes left the orange tinted screen, night sensitive, to focus on Dami as he entered the office. The incubus's self assured stroll was a trademark he often recognized before seeing his face. Subtle movements that indicated a persons personality was essential to their line of work, as that was harder to hide then it was for a face to change. Dami's close proximity for instance, indicated more then Mr. Moore's flirtatious nature. It showed the deep level of trust both of them shared, as the air Montana exuded seemed to say he kept most people at arms length. True or not.

"It would be a misuse of SCION resources to use your expertise on something I'm capable of doing myself Mr.Moore." His mouth stayed in its usual line, it relaxed into it's downturn rather then any special line

"Now," Montana stood up from his chair, and placed his hand on the small of Dami's back, and pointed toward the screen with his free hand.

"This is my after mission report, everything's been compiled from my perspective and what the Hunter-Agents involved have mentioned."

He turned his head away from the screen, and regarded evenly.

"Would you like anything added, or expunged Mr. Moore?"

“Now, Roderic. You know how much I love my work; this really wouldn’t be any trouble.” His hands slipped underneath the shirt as if to prove his point, long fingers tracing the skin just above the fabric to demonstrate that it would not be a chore.

For all his flirtation, Damien didn’t have too strong of an interest in his human boss. He’d had the man in the past, and it was certainly an enjoyable experience, but when there were other options, he took them. However, he could gain quick bursts of energy through skin contact, and he did this at every opportunity presented. Since joining SCION, the incubus wasn’t feeding as well as he was used to. It was played havoc with his system, but he was sure he’d adjust in a reasonable time frame.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Dami savoured the friendly touch to his back, eyes reading over the screen. “Nothing much to add, sir~” and he couldn’t resist tacking on a playful purr to the sentence. “But if you could take out references to the mess that was made of me, I’d appreciate it. Also, if the damage to my wardrobe could be mentioned, so that I may reference this report on my next request to leave the base?” he asked, smiling hopefully. Having another day out when he wasn’t on a mission would go a long way towards soothing his restless spirit. There was only so much one could pace around the SCION grounds, after all.

"Oh, and. Madison says 'Hello'," he added belatedly.

Kreios got up from the couch at the sound of the Intercom buzzing in.

"Good morning SCION. Would all field and research teams please report to Meeting Room B for a briefing in five minutes. Five minutes in Meeting Room B. Thank you!"

Well, it was something, at least. He hoped it would bring him out into the field again, he missed being able to let a little loose, really push his limits. He had been getting bored of the recent "Milk-runs" he'd been sent on. Combat was his specialty, and quite frankly, he held a lust for it. Some might have called it a bloodlust, but it wasn't the gore that drew Kreios in. It was, something far more primal.

As he approached the meeting room, he adjusted his shirt-sleeve, in a vein attempt to stretch it so it would comfortably hold his arm. He was beginning to find this a problem, and would need to have a meeting for a "New clothes" bonus. Not that it was news to the higher ups, they had this meeting once a year.

He walked in the room, sliding a few chairs over to avoid physical contact with his co-workers. Not that there aren't a few he wouldn't mind brushing up against, but this was a professional setting, no time for such thoughts. He sat down, and waited for his team-mates to arrive.

"Of course." Montana's fingers touched the keyboard in front of him, with a lightness not unlike the comfortable way Damien had done against his skin. A long black bar was dragged across the longer sequences of his report, while the [expunged] tag replaced words that fit the theme of the Incubus's request. At the end of each correction, a point of reference was made as per Dami's wishes for a wardrobe replacement, in lieu of their most recent mission. Though he suspected a bit of time off sooner then his co workers request was filed, references for the future were always useful.

Montana straightened his back, which would cause Damien's hand to fall from his body, unless he made the special effort to keep it against his skin. He had come to expect passing contact like this, and didn't shy away from it. Cohesion between species required a sympathy that was effortless to his persona. Thus, he was never uncomfortable around his fellow Hunter.

"Ah. Thank you, I'll be sure to give my own hello to Mr.Lovette personally. Once base business has been attended to." Montana lifted a folder from his desk, along with a small black case containing his writing instruments. When all needed items were nestled in his arm, the loudspeaker went off, and with it, an announcement.

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind escorting me there Mr. Moore."

The duo left the office, and continued down the hallway without event. He choose a spot where his surroundings could be easily observed in their entirety and took a seat. As he settled, he made eye contact with Krieos, and nodded a hello. The files nestled under his arm were opened on his lap, and he spread the paper out evenly, fixing any creases on the surface.

It was not very long until the meeting room was graced by the presence of the first of the SCION officers, one of the three most senior members of the organization. Proven long ago in the field, they had come to serve as the strategic leaders, second only to their benefactor.

This one in question was a tall, dark-haired gentleman in a jacket with round brass buttons. Leofric Wyndham, a vampire that had been walking the earth since anglo-saxon times, and who headed up deployment and field operation.

He fofered a nod to those already present, but was not able to address any directly, as he had another conversation ongoing.

Pursuing Wyndham was the form of Oren, not looking terribly pleased.
"I thought we had come to the agreement that I was not expected to take part in field deployment. This was agreed upon in my conditions for my employment. No field work."

"And as I keep telling you Kovalenko, this is not field work. All staff are going to need to vacate the building during the placement of the wards. It's new security code. If you have a problem with it you can take it up with Elmessiri, but you'll get exactly the same response." Leo replied, a little dismissively as he took a set at the table against one wall and set down his files.

"This is totally unacceptable." came the vampress' response, her grip tightening around her set of files.

"Your contract covers not sending you into danger Kovalenko, it said nothing about you never leaving the building. We'll be putting all of you up somewhere. You can't honestly be complaining about getting paid holiday, can you?" Leo raised one eyebrow to regard the woman, whose expression implied that yes, she certainly could complain about it.

While Lulu took pride in being a true professional in her field, it was too much to deny herself a bit of fun at Makorai’s expense, especially when he had set himself up for the act with his teasing.

Childish? Going by Kovalenko’s expression, perhaps it was.



Worth it? Based on Saika’s face, undoubtedly.



She extended a hand to pull him to his feet, and dusted the shoulder of his shirt off with a quick swipe. “You know, if you make things that easy,” she said, grin broadening with Stride’s added laughter, “You’re going to make all of Hunter’s Moon think that you like being thrown on your back. And then you’ll have no problem with anyone thinking you haven’t— Well,” she trailed off and let the implied end of her comment dangle, casting a raised brow toward the gorgon.

Her gaze followed after Schofeild for a brief moment as he carried Norrevinter away, and her lips pouted into a question, but the thought was derailed by the intercom announcement. “Joy,” she muttered, and turned toward the door after one more adjustment of Makorai’s subtly disheveled shirt. “I’m going to rendezvous with Hunter’s Moon, speaking of. You two be kind to Schofield, now. Wouldn’t want to damage his ‘good spirits.’” 

She moved out of the way with a good natured smile as Dinah rushed past, careful to dodge the rivalrous sibling exchange as she proceeded down the corridor.

Once in the hall, she found her teammate’s position within minutes and slipped behind them to a seat beside Montana, brushing her hand over Dami’s shoulder in greeting as she passed. “Strangers,” she greeted, as if she had not spent the past fifteen hours with the two. 

Her emerald green eyes scanned about the room, taking in the amassed collection of cryptids and humans alike, noting their tones and body language. For what it was worth, and for all of the issues the organization had, few could deny that there was a general air of camaraderie amongst the coworkers. Some, even, she’d venture to say behaved like family.



Lulu’s musings were interrupted as Wyndham and Kovalenko entered, and the field agent watched them both out of the corner of her eye, listening. She cast a glance toward Montana and Damien, respectively, with the statement on her face reading somewhere between, “What’s going on?” and “Get a load of that nonsense.” 



All things have cycles— The moon, civilizations, the growth and shedding of skin from a snake’s back. All things that go around will recur once more, and if they should not, it likely means that you have not waited long enough. The only question, really, is how or when the recurrence will come, and what prompting will occur to make it so.

Rebirth, as it were: A fascinating subject in the lives of men for millennia, for reasons both obvious and obscure. Phoenixes and reincarnation cycles feature regularly in Eastern historical records, and many creatures influencing the rebirth of seasons are revered as deities.

One of the most prominent symbols of rebirth across cultures, however, is the yew tree. Multiple cultures (see following doccumment for specifics regarding Greek vs Celt representation) have viewed this slow-growing tree with reverence, likely drawing the connection to rebirth from the tree's ability to spring new trunks from the original root bole. While it is possible to cut a yew down, failure to remove the full bole from the ground will only result in a later growth of the same tree.

Despite being an incredibly toxic —

The stream of written text was interrupted as by the sound of the intercom filling the library’s archival study sent a rather startled bearded dragon lizard dropping from the writer’s head and onto the page.

The creature scuttled onto its feet after a second or two of struggle, bit the pen previously inscribing the briefing text, and then crawled onto the hand holding it to nuzzle for warmth. She was promptly hissed away by a garden snake, however, who had been hiding up the writer’s coat sleeve. The hissing set a leopard gecko on the sleeve’s outer portion to jumping further up the arm, which displaced a formerly contented ball python who had been draped about the coat’s shoulder.

The python moved to coil around her perch’s neck, only to be intercepted by the hands of Doctor Silas Whitmore as he wound her coils away from his body. “None of that now, Harriet,” the historian chastised, letting her wrap herself around his other wrist, “You know that tickles.”

Harriet flicked her tongue out, but settled into her new place just as well. “Hopeless lot, all of you. Did you know?” Silas proceeded to say, adjusting a lizard clinging to the frame of his thick bottle-bottom glasses so that the animal's foot did not obstruct the view of his strigine blue eyes. He reached up and pressed down his unkempt mop of brown hair, more out of habit than hope that it would stay down, and seemed completely unfazed as yet another small reptile crawled from his sleeve and made itself a nest amongst the strands.

He then moved to lay three different bookmarks in his work, in case someone else should want to open the resources he had been prepared to cite in the briefing note, but fumbled as he stretched across the desk and knocked a globe off of its stand.

Though he did manage to catch it in a haphazard dive to the side.

Even though said dive may have cost him his balance.

Cue a crash onto the floor and a scuttling exodus of the creatures formerly existing on his person.

“Yes, yes— I know. I’m going to be late.” He pulled himself up and dusted himself off, relaxing the globe and grabbing a notepad and pen in the same motion. “If you’re so bothered by it, you ought to help” he quipped as he bounced toward the door— though the bounce was more an effort to recover from stumbling over a corner of the rug than any intentionally graceless motion.

As the Historical research head strode toward the hall (with no further mishaps, for the moment,) he pulled out his phone and shot a quick text message to another member of Harvest Moon, to be sure that Aconite was in attendance.

Conference room in five. Or five minutes ago. Not sure. -Dr. W

And then,

Also, please meet after. Need you to pull the tome on yew wood inscribing. -Dr. W

As he pushed through the door with his worn menagerie and took a seat in the back corner nearest the door (so that no late-coming reptiles would disturb anyone when they entered,) he shot out one more text message, stating,

Also, meet before meeting after. Thinking of ordering lunch. -Dr. W

Dami watched the report being edited, leaning further and further over Montana’s shoulder in the meantime until his boss straightened, the incubus moving fluidly in sync to avoid collisions and yet maintain contact before drawing back on his own terms.

“Not a problem, sir.” He replied quietly, while frowning at his attire. As he followed Montana through the halls, the incubus trailed a bit behind, quickly straightening and smoothing his clothing until he looked as professional as one possibly could in short shorts and any piece of clothing as tight as his shirt was, barely acknowledging Lulu with his short smile. Entering the meeting room, Dami took time to make eyes at the werewolf already in the room, followed by a more subtle look-over of Issac Schofield and the only male higher up. It was through this focus, he caught enough of the man’s conversation with Oren to hear “paid vacation” being mentioned, and the incubus pouted, his cabin fever barely lifted by the mission he had just been on with his team.

And speaking of his team…Dami looked around once more only to see that he had missed his chance to esconce himself on Montana’s lap, and the pout grew as he left his position lingering by the door to hover by his teammates’ shoulders.

I know, right? his expression said back to the blonde vampire- a small amount of jealousy evident in his eyes- before he circled around to take his own seat, briefly raising a hand in greeting to Silas.

The thin pick dragged in a smooth curve over the glass surface, scoring a barely noticeable line against the glass she was working with, and to Christina’s pleasure, some of the tightly coiled energy around the center of the charm was diverting into the new circle, spiraling into the center and stabilizing the hollow creation as intended. Delicately as was necessary, the mage set the tiny weapon onto the tree-like stand she had for storing freshly made charms until their magic settled, stepped back from her table, and blinked furiously, clearing the complex spell that let her “see” magic from her eyes. She then laid down her tools, flexed her hands, and removed the large headphones and cotton in her ears just in time to catch the announcement.

The mage smiled at her good fortune, because a few minutes more on her part or less on the announcement’s and she’d have missed the memo, and paused by her mirror to check her thickly coiled hair, today done up in multiple loops of braid. Seeing it was in place – she didn’t favour these hairstyles completely because of vanity, it was also because they tended to stay in place better than ordinary ones – she carefully locked her door after herself and hurried down the hall. It was good to get a chance to stretch her legs, because when creating charms or doing research, she often had to stay very still.

Some of her research coworkers greatly objected to fidgeting.

Then again, Oren greatly objected to almost everything that wasn't science related.

The young woman came into the room, looking at the assembled teams and scanned for a place to sit. Eventually, she decided on a fellow researcher, and settled beside Silas after waving to Montana, delicately checking to make sure no reptiles were on her intended seat. “Hello!” she said meanwhile. “Found anything interesting recently?”

Always a good bet with Silas, who found most of his research fascinating and often didn’t know when to stop talking about it.

Aconite’s thanks was dismissed with the wave of a hand, as if physically ushered away. “It’s the least I could do,” Madison chirped. “Besides, I pride myself on being a good host.” The vampire did not lie- he was a man that greatly enjoyed his company, and a man that greatly enjoyed conversation. Manners were as important to him as an instrument to a musician, and this was something he knew well enough.

It was only when he saw Aconite exit that Madison beamed brightly and turned to leave, heels clicking nicely against the tiled floor. “Well, considering that I haven’t heard much, either, I’m assuming that it’s the latter.” The bright, cheerful tone never faded as he strolled through the hall, following the various scratches and claw marks that had been left from Kora’s charge. “I do have to agree with you on them being a tad...rowdy at times.”

A true understatement of the year.

At Aconite’s question, the researcher gave a slight roll of the shoulders, then gestured at the markings scattered before them. “I’m not completely sure at the moment, but from the trail Ms. Norrevinter left for us, I’m assuming that she was heading towards the back.” Madison lapsed into silence, then, eyes back on the damage, although it was during this quiet that the announcement sounded out above them. Blinking in surprise, he glanced up at the speaker, glanced back to the hallway, then turned his focus back to Aconite with a slight laugh.

“Well, then.” Madison said, clasping his hands together. “It seems like we won’t have much time to go check up on the others, then.” He wasn’t particularly concerned by the sudden calm, at any rate- transformed cryptids running about was a common enough occurrence that it didn’t warrant too much alarm anymore. Turning on his heel, Madison made his way to the meeting room, purposefully walking in stride with his company.

Upon his arrival, he was quick to see several familiar faces among those who had already arrived. Giving a cheery wave towards his fellow researchers- and a few others- Madison made his way to a chair beside one Mr. Moore and settled himself down with a smile and a muted “hello”. Noting the current argument between Oren and one of the officers, Madison turned a curious look over to his tablemates- and finding with a certain amusement that he was not alone in the gesture.

He supposed he hadn’t missed much, then.

Issac walked along at his own pace and found his way to the office where everybody was waiting.

He felt eyes on him walking in, tho not just from being one of the last to enter the room. He scanned the room for a moment but didn't find who had been eyeing him. Issac moved to a wall a few paces off from Oren and Wyndham as to over hear their conversation. He wasn't attempting to be subtle at it, but figured it was rude to just join their circle of conversation. As his ears picked out bits of conversation his eyes watched the room, with a stony expression. He gave a nod of greeting to anyone who made eye contact with him, but otherwise stood there with his armed folded neatly across his chest. He was interested in seeing what this was all about as much as anyone.

Christina nodded along with Silas’s words, occasionally opening her mouth as if to say something before closing it as he barrelled on talking. Eventually, the mage settled for nodding, listening with genuine interest to the reports. She waved back to Aconite when he appeared, and smiled knowingly as she made the connection between the dryad and the topic of yew trees. Aconite’s unique powers could come in handy with this thread of research.

“Could you?” she asked Silas when he made his offer. “I’ve been running low on new reading material lately and my own library order isn’t here yet. I know in sorcery, yew is used a lot in rituals for transformation. Especially on the tides of the seasons. And funeral rites as well.”

Nothing she said was anything new, likely Silas had found it all already in his own. But it would prompt the conversation along, which was the goal, in the end.


Dami spared no time in snatching one of Madison’s hands into his own, playing with the fingers as he chirped a bright “Hello~” to the vampire as if they hadn’t just spoken not that long ago. His eyes becoming honey brown, Dami stared soulfully at his friend, then sent another cutting glance towards Oren arguing with their superior. The raised eyebrow conveyed his confusion rather clearly, since the incubus had no idea why that researcher would be mad about a paid vacation, of all things, and then shared another significant look with his teammates.

“Sooo, Madison~” he finally voiced, lowering his lashes until his eyes were half lidded, and peeping up through them in a fetching manner. “Did anything manage to change in the short time we suffered apart?”