World Tree MUSH

  By the time people arrive in Polyuchyn's town square, the presence of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division is a dead giveaway that weird is happening. Police barricades keep curious locals away from the commons. A group of officials discuss at the central fountain, opposite from a string of parked official vehicles.

  Most of them are black government sedans. Of those, one is... not a car. It's a fighter jet-sized aircraft with faint SHIELD roundels stenciled on its fuselage. Behold the humble quinjet: A transport fast as a jet and agile as a helicopter.

  There are a handful of people here. One looks like a government stiff in his suit. Three wear police uniforms, one has a chief's insignia, and one of them is lugging a banker's box full of papers. Two look like city officials of some kind; a mayor and assistant. There are reporters, too. They're being held at bay by a few exasperated police officers.

  Of the suits, one is an amicable and forgettable man of middle age. His mien is calm, avuncular; disarmingly friendly. Humble but self-assured authority. Chances are he's more capable than he looks, but that's Agent Philip J. Coulson in a nutshell.

  Next to him is his pilot. The red-headed woman wears an olive flight suit, one shoulder blazoned with double American and Sokovian flags, the agency roundel on the other, and 'A. STOJESPAL' embroidered over the breast pocket. She looks distracted, only half-listening to the conversation; curiously, she keeps the group firmly to her left. Her right eye is covered by an eyepatch, the right side of her face a ruin of long-healed but horrific burn scarring. Even the fingertips of her right hand are touched. Her left eye is the deep blue of an autumn sky.

  Under one arm is a helmet, the name 'A. STOJESPAL' blazoned over its tinted visor. She looks to Coulson, occasionally, but she's waiting for the offworlders. With her free hand she smokes a cigarette, its pungent aroma of cloves and spices chased by a warm breeze. A local import from this very city, in fact. Presumably she's waiting to explain the situation to the new arrivals.

  That quinjet looks a little different from the normal ones, though. It's sleeker. The cool blue of its running lights cycle in soft and familiar patterns, the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. A very close observer might note it matches the pilot's vital signs almost exactly. Captain Stojespal's vitals are low-grade agitated, even if she doesn't show it outwardly beyond her chain-smoking.

  ...Creepy.

    Into this little mess, appears a robot. It stands about 7' tall and is built like a labour unit, bulky and reinforced. It doesn't react to input initially, staring blankly into space with its orange optics. These then shift blue. It speaks in an elvish dialect. "Primus Nodes, online. Sensor suit, Online. Adaptive Tool Fabrication Matrix, Online. All systems show nominal." the voice is clipped, androgynous and robotic. This then swaps out as the robot whacks itself in the side of the head. A feminine voice, one that Coulsen and Stojespal would remember from their brief visit to Centria "I was sure I muted that... mental note, ensure all deployment models have their bootup rollcall muted." The optics then shift to the locals, and the Doll steps closer. "What's the situation?"

    Sometimes, Lian Kamoya knows where she's going. She'll hear a report, see a posted job, pick up a stray rumor, and some subtle instinct will tell her that she ought to follow up. Other times, she doesn't know where she's going to be until she gets there, following nothing more concrete than 'this feels like the right train to hop on'.

    This particular venture falls somewhere in the middle. The elder Jedi has come to this world following her instincts; but on arrival, the rumors of ghosts and strange electronic interference caught her at just the right time. With a goal in mind, her wandering became a lot more focused; and so, here the woman is, tap-tapping with her staff as she approaches the barricade - and the police standing on the line.

    "Hello there," she greets, the older woman wearing clothes that almost look medieval - and most certainly not from this world. Tunic, trousers, cloak and walking staff, the telltale signs of an adventuring sort. "I'd heard there might be some issue with both technology and the supernatural hereabouts. Might the people in charge be willing to hire on a seer?"

>> SUMMARY[Lian Kamoya] >> Obvious Offworld Adventurer speaking to a cop at the barricade to offer her services as a seer.

    Polyuchyn isn't a massive city, by normal standards. For Sokovia, it's one of the bigger ones, but still a quite rural area. Spooks and specters are not the kinds of things one typically finds in a modern, bustling city, but those of the superstitious bent have been proven right before.

    One of those superstitious types has suggested one Rusalka Petrovna Stojespal be the family's contact in dealing with this. Why her? Words on the wind, said her grandmother. The whispers of a deity, one easily placated but still wise beyond ken. Dragana Stojespal, Baroness and master of the Stojespal family, knows when to listen to such voices.

    A black BMW slowly cuts through the growing crowd, parking next to the Quinjet. Out of it steps the Stojespal family's representative, a young woman not even twenty years old. She's dressed formally, a proper suit and tie to show some dignity and gravitas - her mother's orders. The brunette waves to the slowly growing crowd of offworlders, blinking in surprise at the robot whacking itself in the head.

    "I...is everything alright?" Percussive maintenance, she suspects, before turning to Anneka. "Great-grandmother sends her regards. Good to see you, aunt." Blue eyes twinkle as she grins to the older woman, before turning to face Lian.

    "You're a traveler, then, I take it?" Not just in the typical sense, but she manages to infuse the word with an otherworldly meaning. "Absolutely we would benefit from your help." There's a soft Sokovian accent under her words, clearly very much a local girl.

    As it just so happens, a battered old 2003 Ford Windstar van rolls into Polyuchyn. Puttering through the streets to the town square before the driver... Sees all the commotion, hubbub, black cars, police, officials, reporters, a jet, and men in suits... And rolls BACK THE HELL UP and out of sight around a corner.
    "Master, I think they spotted us."
    "Haha awkwaaaaaard."
    Morrigan Lor'osa takes a moment to collect herself, black out the inside of her car with a Darkness spell and change her clothes.
    When she emerges from the van, the Warlock is clad in a pristine black suit, white shirt, slacks, black tie and shades.
    Mary Contrary is, equally, dressed in a doll-sized suit, the little shinki perched on Morrigan's shoulder as she approaches the square. If anyone so much as GETS IN HER WAY she flashes her driver's license way to fast to be really seen.
    "Special Agent Parton. Dolly Parton. This is my assistant, Jolene."
    Mary Contrary... Rolls with it when she's introduced in such a manner.
    "We heard this town may be suffering a Class 3 Spookening, Hauntening, or Frightening." She announces.
    Right before she spots Anneka who will absolutely know she's spouting a full crock of horseshit.
    To her credit Morrigan only begins mildly sweating bullets on this realization.

  The crowds eat that robot up, needless to say, and Justina's arrival is heralded by a whole bunch of people at a distance trying to get a decent photo from a cell phone. For their part, the cops just sigh and try to keep the onlookers as corralled as they can. Agent Stojespal takes a drag on her cigarette before choking once she spots Justina, eyeing the robot as it suddenly activates and starts running itself through a systems check.

  "Good to have you with us," Anneka adds, with a tilt of her head as the robot... whacks itself in the head. Good ol' percussive maintenance. Recognition sets in with the change in voice. "Aside from the fact that your conveyance here is attracting a lot of attention, nothing. I am waiting for others to arrive." She gestures with her cigarette towards the crowd. "Otherwise, I am not sure. SHIELD -- that is, Agent Philip Coulson and myself -- we have only just arrived on the scene ourselves."

  Might the people in charge be willing to hire on a seer?

  Most certainly not, but Anneka happens to overhear the line. "Let her through," she calls, voice gravelly and rough but certainly effective at being loud. The officers immediately step back to give Lian room to get through.

  Ah, and there's her adoptive niece. Anneka lifts her chin to the scion of House Stojespal. Anneka regards Rusalka with a tired expression, one that says I know you're going to look for trouble, and it's my job not to let you find it. "Sally Petrovna. Did you lose track of time driving the side roads again?" Snorting smoke, she grins, reaching out to muss Rusalka's shoulder. She'd muss her hair but the young woman is here as a diplomatic contact. Anneka has some mercy. Her own accent is strange; non-specifically Eastern European, but it could also be half a dozen different countries in the area.

  She blinks, slowly and owlishly, at Morrigan.

  Then, she smiles. It's a little ghastly, because half her face doesn't actually move.

  "Bullshit," she says, serenely. "But let her through, officers. I know that one." Anneka exhales a forceful jet of smoke. "All right. According to what I was able to shake out of the nearest bystanders earlier, a few alleys in town have had several incidents." She taps ash down onto the cobbles. "Agent Philip Coulson will stay here and handle the local law enforcement, among other things. Val will stay here because she will not fit where we are going."

  Captain Stojespal, travelling alone is not recommended. May I remind you that HYDRA does maintain nominal presence within Sokovian borders?

  The sound of Anneka's teeth grinding is loud in the brief silence. She glances to Coulson and flails a little to catch his attention; makes an irritably jerky am I going or not? gesture, and he gestures with his chin: Get going, Agent Stojespal.

  "Right, then." Anneka gestures to the rest of the group: Justina, Lian, Morrigan, Rusalka. "And you stay close, Sally Petrovna," she grumbles, "because Great Grandmother will poison me personally if anything happens to you. Come with me."

  Off she goes, toward the direction of the nearest thing to a shopping district in this town. Anneka gestures as though to let Rusalka lead if she wants. "This is your town, not mine, niece. Have you heard anything strange lately? I have not had as much time as I have liked to visit." She glances back over her shoulder, toward Coulson and his bureaucratic wrangling, before glancing back. "I am sorry. Things have been very busy with this whole..." Scarred and unscarred hands gesture, nebulously, "World Tree thing."

    The Doll turns to look at Rusalka. "Perfectly fine. The onboard subpersona keeps changing my settings back to default. I need to pull the aetheric resonator and see if it's a depolorization of the matrix, or if something really whacky is going on.". The feminine voice rambles, clearly more at home talking about machinery than anything.

    She settles into the group though as they start walking, offering a digital handshake to Mary, and a brief nod to Lian and Morrigan. "This Doll has a built in Auric Sensor, if we suspect a magical presence, I should be able to pick it up, though I will need to bind closer to the Doll to use it properly." she offers. "And if we come across tech I should be able to disable or at least analyze it... that is my area of expertise after all." She doesn't lack for confidence at least.

    "Hm?" The sound of Rusalka's voice draws Lian's eyes over. "Ah, yes, that's correct. I'm Lian. Adventurer by trade, seer by talent and training." She turns to regard Morrigan with an amused expression, but opts to say nothing. Between Rusalka's endorsement and Anneka's order, the woman has a clear path into the area, and she takes it quickly, giving Justina a curious look on the way. "A droid...? No, remote body of some sort? Fascinating." The nod of greeting is returned when it's given, and beyond that she's content to fall into step with the group. There is a look of interest when Anneka and Rusalka are revealed to be related, though.

    After Justina's explanation of her talents, Lian feels compelled to offer her own. "I call myself a 'seer', but this seems like one of the worlds more likely to call someone of my talents a 'psychic' of some sort. It's close enough. Extrasensory perception, telekinesis, some pre- and post-cognition... if there's any lingering spirits nursing grudges or grief, I can find them. Living people too, potentially." She's already doing just that; settling into the Force a bit, reaching out with her senses.

    Special Agent Parton's appearance gets a wave from the Sokovian race car enthusiast. Another SHIELD representative, it seems, and one with clear experience in this kind of work. Rusalka had heard stories from Anneka about the kinds of things SHIELD deals with, and knows this is right up their alley. Good, they must have sent their best.

    The robot, meanwhile, gets a long hard look from the junior engineer. Now that, Sally decides, is something /cool/ enough that she suspects even SHIELD does not have. She does her best to not stand on tiptoe and peer into the fascinating machine's innards, and instead grimaces a little at Anneka's chiding.

    "I am not late, you are simply early. I'm here, right?" Look for trouble? Trouble has her on google search, it's not her fault that things happen around her. "I have heard stories...I thought they were just a rash of new urban legends mixed with the old tales, but...some of them came with too many people saying the same thing." To Anneka's apology, Rusalka simply pats her aunt's shoulder in return. "You are here now, that is enough, is it not?" A simple enough statement.

    Justina gets a slow nod. "It could be - no. Absolutely another time," she interrupts herself. It's business time. But she can sense the fellow mechanophile easily, and makes a note to herself to find out more. Justina is officially Interesting in her book.

    Lian gets a nod. "Rusalka Stojespal. A pleasure to meet you." There's an aristocratic touch ot the girl, though not one she revels in. Like Michael Corleone, perhaps - tied to power, but with little of her own. Absolutely and we could use your help. The stories of spirits, and..." A gesture to Morrigan and the - wait is that a tiny robot girl on her shoulder? Okay the Tree is /cool/. "Ahem. And as Agent Parton said, 'hauntenings' have been happening. Too many stories to disbelieve..." Not that she's seen anything herself.

    Morrigan is handily called out on her bullshit. Wow watch how the Warlock wilts, sulking as she's let through the cordon.
    Mary pats her gently atop the head.
    "It almost worked." The Shinki says helpfully as Morrigan stuffs her hands in her pants pockets.
    "It worked the last time I said I was an OSHA agent..." She says sulking as she kicks a pebble. Huff.
    "Hi, Justina. Hi Lian. Hi Anneka. Hi new prson, Rusalka. Yes there is a tiny robot on my shoulder I can see you staring, her name is Mary Contrary. Say, hi, Mary."
    "Hi, Mary!" Mary chirrups. As...
    MORRIGAN LOR'OSA WOULD LIKE TO JOIN THE PARTY.
    >Y/N?
    She just kind of lets herself into the party.
    "Anyway, for those of you who don't know: as a Warlock this kind of thing is right in my ballcourt so here I ammmmmm."
    This is when Morrigan pauses completely. She looks at Anneka. Then to Rusalka. Then back again.
    "... Stojespal. Stojespal. ... Relation?" She asks before looking from one to the other again, eldritch green eyes squinting hard.
    "I mean. I can see the family resemblance I guess. But I have no idea how I'd be able to live if my mom was a secret agent."

  "Maybe one word out of six I can understand," Anneka points out to Justina's rambling, absently drawing on her cigarette. "But I am a pilot, not a mechanic. That honour goes to Sally Petrovna."

  Her pace is easy and unhurried as the group walks. "Good. SHIELD is using sophisticated technology, but we are not able to be anywhere or everywhere. There are things we cannot do. So. I am hoping one of you can pick up something, because the agency, we are not able to." Anneka sighs, reaching up to rub at her forehead, tiredly. "And if I do not get some sleep soon, I am going to break something." By 'something' she might mean 'her AI copilot.'

  That single eye swivels over to Lian, still curious. "Seer, psychic, ESP, telekinesis... whatever. If you can do any of that, you are doing better than most of our sensors. There are many things we can pick up, but not here." She shrugs. "Whatever this is, if it is something, it does not want to be found, I think."

  There's definitely something here. An aura of anger and despair lingers over this darkened back alley in one of Polyuchyn's poorer industrial districts. Tucked between manufactories and warehouses are a few back alleys. It's here that the area seems saturated by the sensation. Someone died here. No stories have been picked up by the local news outlets. The police have no records of any incidents in this area, either recently or not so recently. Lian would know, nonetheless.

  "I am not early," Anneka growls, bristling; "I have been here all morning and I would like to go to bed, because I spent all night flying here from Washington. I am tired." She sighs, irritated, but falls silent to let Rusalka explain. Her statements earn a tilted head, a frown, and a sigh. "You are right. I am here now."

  Anneka squints between Rusalka, and Justina, and Rusalka again. Wuh oh.

  "When they are all saying the same thing, I am suspicious." Ah, but before she can really dig into the subject, she's occupied with grinning at Morrigan's misfortune. Just a little. "Probably that was bullshit, too," she points out cheerfully, to Morrigan's comment on an OSHA agent disguise.

  The pilot blinks owlishly as Morrigan studies her, then Rusalka, then Anneka again.

  I mean. I can see the family resemblance I guess. Well, it's true, Anneka makes no effort to hide any sort of relation, but the resemblances are only happenstance; they don't actually share any blood, deep down. But I have no idea how I'd be able to live if my--

  Anneka's brain manages something akin to a record-scratch.

  "What," she croaks, forcefully, caught between a blank stare and a horrified stare.

    "Hello, Morrigan," Lian greets the warlock, nodding politely. In truth, however, most of what follows passes Lian by. Her focus is elsewhere... and, at the same time, 'here'. On the place they walk through, on the air that lingers in the alleyway. "...there has been death here," the Jedi murmurs after a moment, just loud enough to hear. "Violent, at that. I can feel the emotions lingering about this place. I'd need a fair bit of time to discern more, but we're certainly headed in the right direction." She regards the group. "Does anyone have forensic tools or spells? They'd make this a lot quicker than I can."

    Justina is pointedly not looking at Rusalka... Morrigan would be able to tell that the projected elf-scientist is uncomfortable, she's got the same kind of air about her as the last time she was in a group and didn't effectively have tech to distract herself with.

    Regardless, without a prompt to use the Auric sensors, she doesn't as that puts a lot more stress on both the rig, the Doll and her own soul/body. She settles into pace within the center of the group, idly checking systems as she lets the sub-persona keep pace and make the basic movement and turns necessary to keep in a formation. This is evidenced outwardly by the robotic frame being more... robotic instead of having the little quirks of an organic control.

    Special Agent Parton gets a nod when she's addessed, the warlock's companion getting a closer glance as Rusalka turns her attention to the goings on. "Sally, if you don't mind." Why she's named Rusalka, the Ukrainian word for a siren or mermaid, goes unsaid.

    Hi, Mary! It's adorable and gets a smile from the blue-eyed girl. "Hi, Mary." Wait wasn't her partner's name Jolene? There's a moment of confusion in her eyes before letting it go, who knows what a Warlock might call things. It's probably important, and thus probably secret.

    Wait. Mom? "Wh-no! Absolutely she is not my mother! Aunt."?There's a moment where she raises both hands in defense, getting flustered like Anneka does. "My mother is in the Air Force! Not..." Well, not Anneka. And not a secret agent either, fortunately.

    Ahem. Dignity is slow to return, but return it does as the gloomy, oppressive mood of the alleyway settles in. Rusalka doesn't have her ear to the winds like her great grandmother, but even someone as banal and down to earth as she is can feel...something. It's enough to get the hairs standing on the back of her neck, and she can't help but stand just a little closer to the rest of the group.

    Forensic tools? Lian gets a shake of the head, unfortunately. She is only there as a representative of the family, and isn't the kind of investigator of crime scenes. 

    Justina may not be looking at her, but she's giving the robot a glance every now and then. It's an impressive construct to the would-be racecar driver, something definitely far more advanced than anything Sokovia's meager manufacturing could produce.

    Uh oh, poor Justina is having social anxiety again. But not to worry. Because as soon as Morrigan spots the Doll behaving uncomfotably, the Warlock decides that it's UP TO HER TO COME TO THE RESCUE.
    Sidling herself pointedly between Rusalka and Justina, Morrigan flashes a sharp-toothed smile.
    She quickly presses on the subject of Rusalka's family.
    "Oh. So she's not you're mother. But your mother's in the air force?" Pause.
    Another glance at AGENT STOJESPAL.
    "Are we talking actual Air Force or... Secret Agent that pilots a talking jet and she really IS your mother?"
    Mary Contrary facepalms.
    "Master please focus! Do the thing!" The shinki pipes up.
    "--Right right... Sure, got it." She says before rubbing her eyes.
    And then squinting really hard.
    If there are any spooky magical type illusions around, she should be able to see through them.

  "Headed in the right direction?" Anneka frowns, glancing over her left shoulder at the Jedi Seer. "What does that mean? Is it getting stronger?" Should she be feeling a creepy feeling right now? Something spooky? Well, apparently she's not feeling much of anything, shrugging a little as she puffs on her cigarette. 

  Every so often she does eye Justina, as though unnerved by the sudden switch to robotic autopilot. Suddenly that proxy body doesn't have any of the little touches that make it organic. None of the small movements that might read as normal to a human, or humanoid. That single eye flicks away as Anneka shakes her head. Nope too creepy not gonna look too deeply into that today.

  Anneka veers a little closer to the rest of the group, the further they descend into the alleyway; the stance she takes near Rusalka is undeniably one of protection. Her hand rests loose over where her ICER pistol is holstered. "Stay close," she mutters, with a pat to Rusalka's shoulder.

  At Morrigan's gleeful pressuring, Anneka frowns around her cigarette.

  "No. I am SHIELD, not Air Force. I could not be Air Force with this." A hand flicks vaguely to indicate the ravaged side of her face. "I am not a secret agent, either." She digs into a pocket of her flight suit, fishing out a badge case and flipping it open to show the Warlock. "See?" It has the SHIELD eagle in silver bolted to one side and an identification and security card in the other. All the information matches up behind its shiny laminate cover. Apparently, Agent Anneka Stojespal is forty-eight years old, stands five feet and eight inches tall, and weighs about a hundred twenty-five pounds, which is probably not nearly enough for her height. Looks like her security clearance is Level Five, Provisional. That's probably not nearly enough security clearance for a real Secret Agent Ma'am.

  The badge is flipped closed and pocketed.

  A thumb jabs at Rusalka. "However much I would not mind if she really were, I could not be her mother." A flicker of something passes over her face; what, it's hard to say, and it's squelched in an instant. "Anyway. That is not my talking jet; it is assigned to Agent Philip Coulson." Funny how she always refers to him by title and full name. It seems to be something of a personal quirk.

  She quiets, though, to let Morrigan do her thing.

  There are no illusions. In fact there isn't even much of anything magical. It's a very plain, standard back-alley with very plain, standard back-alley vibes, except for OH HEY THAT SURE IS LIKE DEATH OVER THERE.

  The impression is strongest at the end of the alley, where it is of course naturally at its darkest point. Something is there, huddled in the corner, but it's not something that anybody but Morrigan can see. A spirit-shape; some kind of essence.

  Whatever it is, it was terrified when it died.

  Anneka frowns around her cigarette. "Morrigan. What do you see?"

    "I'd need more time and focus to garner anything further," Lian replies to Anneka, shaking her head faintly. "Best leave it to a specialist like Morrigan. I'll chime in if I sense anything relevant." Having said so, however, the Jedi retreats back into her senses, eyes closed. In large part, she's following her instincts, letting the Force tell her what it will, or nudge her whichever way it will; but she's also giving Morrigan time to work. She doesn't expect too much, anyway. Her talents mostly lie in sensing emotions and the flow of battle.

    Curiously, even with her eyes closed and her focus elsewhere, she still moves as if aware of those around her, even shifting out of someone's way if need be.

    Special Agent Parton sidles in between the object of her curiosity, and Rusalka slips over to make room. That shark smile helped distract her a little from her perusal of the robot's clearly advanced technology, but it doesn't take much to shake her attention span from the robotic envoy.

    Before she can say anything further, however, Anneka chimes in with an explanation that gets a nod - and then a blush, as the older woman admits she would not mind such a thing. Hey now, no buttering up the house scion or anything! She manages to stammer out a flustered coda to Anneka's words. "Mother is a part of the regular Sokovian Air Force. Aunt Anneka..." Well, she's SHIELD, as the redhead displays, and Sally just holds a hand up to gesture to her.

    The darkness at the end of the alley is foreboding, but only in the most banal of dangers to her senses. Nothing the others might be sensing registers to her; listening to the wind is not a skill she has learned yet. She'll follow the others, keeping her eyes searching around for...well, for whatever the others might sense. Lian gets a glance, as the Force-sensitive reaches out with her own senses, but there's nothing for Rusalka to see.

    At least, not yet. The fact that such things always go for the most vulnerable person (in the movies) is not lost on her, and she sticks close to Anneka as the SHIELD agent said.

    "I don't know how the Air Force works, okay, I studied magical, death-y, evil stuff not... Planes and flying stuff." Morrigan notes, waving a hand, when she's told Anneka can't be Air Force because of her... Features. She pauses long enough to go cross-eyed at the presented identification.
    Morrigan takes note of certain features that stand out so she can know how to BS a fake secret agent ma'am ID of her own.
    "I... See."
    So Rusalka isn't Anneka's daughter and Anneka not Air Force.
    Interesting.
    But as the group moves on, Morrigan frowns.
    She sees something.
    "That." She motions at the end of the alley.
    "That sure is a hauntening right there."
    The reason she's pointing is because a small mote of sickly green light appears at the tip of a finger, preparing a spell for anything that might be aggressive as she starts walking towards the shape cautiously.

  "All right. That is fine." This, to Lian, as Anneka exhales a wreath of smoke. Her tone is amicable, because this is all so far outside her wheelhouse that there's not much point in getting too invested. "If you feel anything or see something, though, let me know. It may be important."

  Only after a few seconds does she realise that Lian is walking with her eyes closed, and not actually bumping into anything. Oh. Well. That's sort of creepy. Anneka moves a little further aside so she's walking closer to Rusalka. At some point she's slid her ICER pistol back into her hand, keeping it aimed at the ground until it may be needed.

  The darkness writhes.

  Whoever or whatever it is, it flinches as Morrigan gets closer. Aggressive, no; if anything, it seems frightened. Deeply frightened.

  stay away

  It isn't words, precisely, but more a burst of raw emotion.

  no, go away

  Anneka shifts her weight uncomfortably, but it doesn't seem like she can see or 'hear' the thing crouched at the end of the alley.

  help me

  Without really knowing why, Anneka moves to put herself between Rusalka and the end of the alleyway, puffing smoke and frowning. "You see anything, Morrigan?"

    "I'm picking up something on passive sensors... can't make head or tails of it without going fully active though." remarks Justina, as the robot shifts back into full control mode, "Seems to be something on the spiritual prt of the spectrum, my skillset won't be too useful here." She remains back and near the 'squishy' locals, ready to interpose herself should something hostile occur.

    Morrigan edges closer... Closer... Cloooooser...
    And yet the closer she gets the more the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. Her heartbeat slowly quickens. The air becomes more cloying and thick- harder to breathe as her airway closes and she struggles with her body's natural Fight or Flight instincts.
    "SFRFDSGDSGFS." That's her initial response to the sudden flare of terror in the air. But she rallies, and to her credit does not SHOOT the specter of darkness before her as she edges closer, hands held up placatingly as though trying to say 'I am not a threat'.
    'No, go away' it demands and she halts in her tracks.
    "Okay... Okay, I'm backing up." She takes a step back slowly. But then...
    'help me'
    "Aw shit."
    A slow breath and Morrigan concentrates, attempting to open up a mental link between herself and the phantom.
    . o O ( Hey. Can you hear me? We're only here to help. ) She attempts contact.
    "I see something spooky guys. It's like a shadowy spectral... ~thing~."
    Morrigan is not the best at being descriptive.

    Lian's ability to 'read' a place might be limited. But emotions? Those she can sense. And it's strong enough that the older woman also visibly flinches when Morrigan reacts. She stops, dead in her tracks. Her eyes open, her brow furrows. "I feel it as well," she replies to the warlock, inclining her head slightly. "It's afraid. Calling out for help." Perhaps it's whoever was slain here; she's not sure.

    But she does try to lend her own telepathic voice to the contact as well, a soft and gentle, 'Don't be afraid,' projected through the Force.

    Lian and Morrigan both have experience in things maybe best not studied by the engineer, Rusalka decides, as she describes her background as death-y and evil. "That is...an interesting set of studies, Special Agent Parton." What, she's not in on the whole thing between Morrigan and Anneka.

    And then there's a glow of something at her fingertip when the warlock gestures to the Totally Normal shadow at the end of the alley. Um. One hand reaches up and clings to the other woman's flightsuit; she may be a brave teenager but she's still just a teenager.

    And the darkness writhed in her general direction.

    "That...is not permitted to do that," Rusalka replies quietly, one finger held in the air as if to make a point. The robot meanwhile gives its report, and it's something spiritual? "Like...a ghost, an actual one?" To be honest, she hadn't believed the stories, even the ones some of her own family reported. Ghosts could be anything, right?

    This was something else, a 'hauntening' as Morrigan put it. A shadowy spectral 'thing' - "That is hardly descriptive," Rusalka's voice manages with a quaver. "It is...s-something real then?"

    Her mother is the fearless one, why did she have to come here for this? Deep breath, now. She can hear her mother Irja's words already. "I am a Stojespal of Sokovia," she mumbles softly to herself. It helps.

    Calling out for help? Cobalt-blue eyes flick between Lian and Morrigan, wondering what they are able to sense - and in some distant part of her engineer's orderly mind, wondering /how/. "Is it...can it be helped?"

  The presence grasps at the offered help like one drowning seizing a life raft. Apparently it's been lingering here for a little while. It just has an air about it that seems like it's somehow less than a person, or perhaps one who's forgotten a lot past the initial trauma of whatever happened here.

  Anneka steps closer to Rusalka, frowning, and the hand clinging at her flight suit is met with the weight of scarred fingers over the young aristocrat's shoulder. This is all absolutely out of Anneka's wheelhouse, but she'll go down fighting, if anything threatens her allies.

  "A 'hauntening.'" Anneka's statement is flat and skeptical. "You are not very good at description," she tells Morrigan blandly.

  I am a Stojespal of Sokovia. Anneka's fingers tighten around Rusalka's shoulder; a brief but strong twitch. She dips her head, and speaks, softly, meant for the heiress' ears alone. It sounds like a more local dialect. The inflections are different. "Do not ever doubt." Her voice lowers further, this time cast for Morrigan and Lian. "What does it want?"

  The thing in their sights writhes a little, as though to crawl forward. It has a vaguely humanoid essence or 'figure' to their senses. It was probably human, once upon a time. Maybe.

  Those fingers at Rusalka's shoulders are trembling a little. The pilot is actually flat-ass scared, but hell if she's going to tell anybody that.

  you can see me

  It notices Lian and Morrigan.

  you can hear me

  The thing feels almost incredulous. Delighted surprise. Hope.

  you aren't with them

  With who?

  "What is a 'shadowy spectral thing?'" Anneka snaps, irritably. C'mon. Share with the class who doesn't have freaky metaphysical sense wuju!

  you can help me

  It seems to gain definition, perhaps bolstered by a little bit of hope. Details fade back in. It gains a human shape.

  It's a woman in a flight suit.

  She looks like Anneka.

  It's not... but it might be an unhappy shock because at first blush it looks like her, minus the disfigurement. Red hair, blue eyes... but the features are wrong. The red is a little more strawberry blonde. The eyes are more greyish than blue.

  Definitely a ghost. The figure is bleeding from a very definitely mortal wound in the chest. She was shot. It shows up very clearly against the flight suit -- it bears the livery of a Sokovian flight cadet. Whoever she was, she was young, and she hadn't even graduated from the nearest academy yet.

  Who are you?

  Even the impulses of communication gain definition.

  The stronger it gets, the more Anneka shifts her weight uncomfortably. Maybe she can feel something, but in that awful pit-of-the-stomach way.

    Lian is walking forward now, slow and careful steps. She doesn't want to startle the girl, even if she can't quite see her. The Jedi's face has drawn into a gentle, almost motherly smile; that same soft warmth finds its way into her voice as well, the woman noting the sharper focus in that communication and deciding to respond in spoken words. "My name is Lian. I'm a seer, and... a wandering knight, of a sort. Who has wronged you, young one?"

    "Oh this is real." Morrigan says pointedly to Sally. "This is very real." Said in a hushed tone. For as bad as she is at describing spooky shit, this is EXACTLY in her wheelhouse. "And something is very wrong with this place if a presence like this is here.
    . o O ( We can see you. ) Morrigan replies to the being, ( We can hear you. ... Who aren't we with? )
    Morrigan has SO many questions right now. Especially as the figure takes form of...
    "..."
    Morrigan looks from the specter to Anneka. And then back. Here's a description that actually describes stuff: "Uh. It looks like you, except if you hadn't been put through a blender and got shot in the heart, instead." She says.
    This has officially gotten too spooky for Mary Contrary- who dives off Morrigan's shoulder and down the back of her collar to tremble in her Master's suit jacket.
    . o O ( My name is Morrigan. I handle stuff like this for a living. ... What's your name? )

    Anneka's hand clutches her shoulder, and the tremble in her fingers tells Rusalka that her aunt is just as scared of whatever 'it' is as she is. Maybe she shouldn't be, the Sokovian thinks, since SHIELD deals with these kinds of things. It's why she was brought in! It's just not fair that adults are allowed to be scared too; aren't they supposed to be the strong ones?

    Lian steps forward, introducing herself to the spectral soldier, and Sally keeps her attention between the two spiritual specialists. Wronged her? Something bad happened.../well of course it did, idiot,/ she thinks. /Whatever it is is some kind of ghost, one of the dead!/

    And then a face enters her mind, a man always smiling and carefree, and Sally shakes her head. No, it can't be her father; but if this is a ghost - the dead spirit of a human who was alive - then perhaps...no. Such pain is best left unopened, and she focuses her mind hard on Lian and Morrigan again. Her hand reaches up to her shoulder, touching Anneka's, and giving it a squeeze to show strength.

    "I am fine," she lies to herself, as Morrigan confirms her suspicions. A presence like this? But then there's more, and Sally blinks as the ghost is described. Shot in the heart? That must...not be pretty, and she's glad she can't see what the ghost looks like. "Her name...what is it?" Something for the others to find out, but this sounds like they're describing a murder victim.

    One on her family's turf.

    That is not permitted at all.

  The features flicker and shift, but the young woman seems to be around Rusalka's age, give or take a few years. It's hard to say with the whole hauntening thing. She definitely came from this place, because the smudged patches on her flight suit have the Sokovian flag on them. The other patch where a squadron or task force would be is the sigil of Polyuchyn's local flight academy.

  Whoever she was, she was just a cadet.

  She seems to gain clarity and definition as Lian and Morrigan get closer. Her eyes are blank, though; the milky white of the dead, but she doesn't seem quite as disoriented any more. Who has wronged you?

  Zhenya. Who? It was Zhenya all along. Nobody knew where the pilots were going. They were disappearing. I knew it was her. She killed them. She killed me. I know it. It's hard to know whether the young woman hears quite everything said to her. She turns to face Morrigan. You're not with Zhenya.

  A step closer to Morrigan, those blank dead eyes suddenly intent. You can hear me. Oh, I've been waiting so long for someone...

  "What?" Anneka squints at Morrigan, her question a grunt. "Doesn't sound like anyone I know. Shot in the heart?"

  Valentina Stojespal. There's that name again. My name is Valentina Stojespal. I went out. I was going to go see my boyfriend. We finally had some leave. And then that's when they--

  The spectre's blank eyes suddenly widen as though in horror, and then, with a reedy and horrified shriek that's probably enough to make Lian and Morrigan's teeth itch -- she fades in a disorienting swirl. Something scared her off. The presence is gone, but not completely. It seems Valentina Stojespal is back to hiding. She ain't gonna be comin' out any time soon.

  Anneka is the first to react. A hand falls on her shoulder, but she knows it's not Rusalka's. Anneka makes the most interesting noise as she abruptly flails away from both her niece and the rest of the group, the sound too strangled to be a shriek, and too dignified to be a squawk, but yeah, it's totally both. "What the hell!"

  It's Coulson.

  "Sorry, Anneka. Didn't mean to scare you." That harmless chuckle. "Are you all about finished, here? I managed to get some information from the local law enforcement." He rocks back on his heels, perhaps reading the proverbial room. "Everything all right...?"

  Anneka's looking at him a little sourly. "Your timing could have been better... I think we found out what we cold, for now." Her eye slides back to Morrigan, then back to Coulson. "Absolutely we will have to come back here."

  "I'll expect a full debriefing."

  "You will get it. After I have had a chance to sleep." She glances to the others, frowning around her cigarette and surveying the alley. "What happened just now? It feels... different. What the hell did you two see, anyway...?"

    The sudden shriek has Lian stumbling back a step again. It's not often she feels surges of emotions that potent. But she straightens herself out afterwards, giving that corner a quiet, sad look. She doesn't speak aloud; instead, she reaches out in the Force, giving the now-vanished spirit a simple reply, an emotional impression. Too simple to put to words, but if one were to describe it-

    'You will have justice.'

    She doesn't seem at all surprised by the appearance of Phil Coulson; if anything, there's some amusement in the old Master's eyes. "Good of you to join us," she offers, the hint of mirth evident in her tone. Then, to Anneka, she replies a bit more seriously. "I didn't 'see' anything, per se. Morrigan is far more the expert here than I. But I felt the death here, and then I felt the emotions of that spirit. Fear, anger, regret. She spoke to us through emotion." She will leave more information to the spookening specialist.

    That shriek... That shriek is enough to give Morrigan a shiver. as the phantom chooses this moment to vanish. But the Spookening Specialist spends a moment chewing on her lower lip in thought before she pats herself on the back.
    "You can come out now, Special Agent Jolene. The Class 3 Hauntening is over now."
    This prompts Mary to peek out of Morrigan's collar.
    "I-is it?"
    Right about now, the Warlock is turning her attention back to the living Stojespals.
    "Ooooh, Agent Coulson, bad timing. We were in the middle of a deep spectral analysis." Pause. "There was an honest to god ghost." She then says, folding her hands together.
    This is where things get awkward.
    "Soooooooooooooooo... Anyone know the names Valentina Stojespal and 'Zhenya'?"
    Morrigan has precisely zero tact.

    She can't sense the spirit's presence herself, other than as an unnerving darkness in the alley. The details are lost to Rusalka, though she does her best to stand her ground alongside the others. It's to her benefit that Valentina's explanation and then sudden fright and disappearing scream was completely silent; she might have fled the alleyway had she been able to hear it.

    Anneka's shrawk at the arrival of Phil Coulson, however, practically stops her heart. Breathing heavily and on the downside of a moment of adrenaline, she can't help but protest to the older man. "Do that never again!" Her accent might be a bit thicker to go with the poor English, at least for that moment, before she manages to calm herself and run a hand through her hair as Anneka growls at the other man.

    As it is, Lian gives some explanation, and the Sokovian nods. Speaking through emotion...it's vague enough for a Jedi, but Sally just nods in assent. "I see..." Morrigan fills in more details, and Rusalka can't help but start at the mention of the name.

    "Valentina?" The family is large, but not so large it doesn't keep careful track of its members. A Valentina that's no longer alive is easy to sort out. "/Tak,/ yes, that name is known to me. A cousin, of a branch family." Lineages are weird.

    And the description matches, as well. "She disappeared three years ago, leaving flight classes without permission. We did not know what happened to her." Swallow. "Shot in the heart...then she is dead. I am sorry for her. Tell her..." The hauntening is over now, Special Agent Parton said. But Rusalka doesn't care; someone touched the Family. There's a moment where she's very much her mother's daughter, with the iron firmness of her next words. "That will not go unpunished, in this life or the next.

  Although he still appears perfectly amicable and easygoing, there's a little more focus in Coulson's eyes as he sweeps the assembled party, and his gaze lingers especially on Rusalka and Anneka; studying, perhaps, the two people in the proverbial room he knows how to read. Whatever analysis he picks up from them, he keeps it to himself.

  For her part, Anneka is eyeing Lian with a thoughtful frown and a slight, quizzical tilt to her head. "You felt death." It seems more an acknowledgement than fishing for clarity; she shakes her head after a moment, reaching up to swipe red hair from the good side of her face. "'She?'"

  "Well, that's unfortunate." Coulson seems genuinely apologetic, although that slight air of bureaucratic bland cheer is still there. It doesn't match up with the solemnity in his eyes. Whatever he'd heard from the city officials, it must not have been good news. "A ghost?" He seems slightly disbelieving, but not entirely disbelieving, because that kind of thing does happen from time to time in this world, and SHIELD does tend to be involved in plenty of weird stuff around the world.

  Anneka blinks, owlishly. Valentina Stojespal? Zhenya...?

  Her eyes are on Rusalka, though, and the blue in them is hard. This was the spirit of a Stojespal, and something terrible had happened to her, three years ago. It may not be that she was closely related to Rusalka, but... she could have been. It could have been Rusalka. The material of Anneka's gloves creak as she tightens one hand into a fist.

  "Zhenya is not a Sokovian name," she observes quietly. "It is a diminutive. Zhenya... what was that?" Anneka exhales smoke, but it's a little shaky. Coulson really scared the hell out of her, apparently. "Yevgenia. That name is a diminutive for 'Yevgenia.'" She frowns, shaking her head, but she does manage to pat Rusalka on the shoulder in comforting gesture. "Sally Petrovna; do you know that name? I do not. Who is Zhenya? And why would she kill a cadet pilot in what absolutely sounds like cold blood...?"

  "Hard to say, Agent Stojespal." Coulson slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "And questions for another day, I'd say. Come on. Let's get back to the Valkyrie, we can file a report, and you can get some rest." To the others, he gestures. "We'll make sure you all get where you need to go, too. Thank you for coming." He smiles at the others. "We'll investigate this area some more, and we may request the services of a few of you to do it."

  For the time being, shaking her head slowly in disbelief, Anneka allows herself to be practically scooted along back towards the quinjet in question. "Well, I guess we will not have any more answers today. May I speak with some of you later?" Anneka's having to turn her head to regard the others, now, because Coulson is gently but insistently ushering her away from the alley and back towards the town square. "You have my card...!"

    "Happily," Lian calls out, giving Anneka a cheerful wave as the woman is... urged to head out. "I'll linger in this world for a bit, I think. I've no particular home to return to, so I go where my 'insight' guides me. And," she adds, "I think I'd like to help see justice done in this case, if there's any way I can help."