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[halfblaked]

ᚫ Hello, you've reached Professor Blake. I'm likely in lecture right now, but you may leave a message. ᚫ

ᚫ VOICE | TEXT | VIDEO | EMAIL ᚫ

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[queenofseers]

[ For a moment, she's reassured. So much of this matches up with a man who simply has made their acquaintance, who felt obligated to speak of them for pestering students. Pictures off for those who have never been present, some from places she knows he was- Baphomet's concert, for example. Nothing particularly incriminating.

But she can't stop thinking about why the hell he would use a picture of her from the Wild Hunt.

Plenty of normal paparazzi pictures to use, yeah? Maybe she's getting too hung up on these little things. She nearly laughs to herself, just out of anxiety.

If he really wasn't involved, this is going to cause problems later, but- well, fuck, she's one of the Pantheon. She can find some way to explain. She finally messages the colleague back, only barely trying to keep the Professor's voice: Just checking in. It's not much of a holiday! Did you think I was going somewhere? ]

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[halfblaked]

[ Why would he use a picture of her from that, in particular?

There's a small indication that the colleague is typing back, blithely unaware that anything was going down -- beyond the usual import chaos. "You said you were going to take a trip and look into some sort of mythology thing? Honestly, David, I don't know how someone like you can find something like that so interesting. It's all Greek to me! (LOL)

A few moments later, and then:

Are you remoting in? I thought you said you were leaving on the 2nd, and wouldn't be back for at least a few weeks! "Very important things with your world's 'pantheon', and now you're missing out on all this mess! Are you psychic? ]

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[queenofseers]

[ And there goes her mood back into a 180, enough to make her stomach sink. She gulps. So he must have known...

What could he have known? This is David Blake she's thinking about. What could he really have done?

She doesn't bother with the messages anymore- she's gotten more than enough from them, and if he was really involved in this, she suspects he wouldn't have said more. She goes clicking around instead, moving through his folders, wondering if there's something more she missed. Chatlogs? Something buried in a normal-looking document?

And while things are loading, she starts moving things around, restlessly, more for the sake of moving than anything. If he really hid so much in one place...is that foolish or predictable for someone related to Woden? ]

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[halfblaked]

[ It's buried in the computer. Deep in the system files, there's an encrypted series of folders as hidden files -- twelve of them. Each one with a God's name (the gods of the new pantheon, at that) and each one with its own unique password. All random letters and numbers with no convention like the last two seemed to have. Each one was filled with observations, video, notes, documents. Starr, in particular has a series of methods to safely cut off a hand. Utena, Kylo Ren, Eli Vanto -- the ones from the previous pantheon attempt in December have observations, notes, what worked and didn't work. It's meticulous, it's detailed, and it's on David Blake's computer.

While Cassandra shifts, peering through the files, she'll notice some powder on the desk, seemingly dust, but there's little here, and it's tucked against a corner.

Maybe there's something more in his desk...?]

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[queenofseers]

[ It's funny how your brain will work to find ways to deny things you don't want to hear. And among her many flaws is that Cassandra's brain is incredible at doing that, refusing to acknowledge even the most obvious things at times. It's a solid moment after seeing the files where she doesn't quite put things together, not out of any unintelligence but simply of sheer denial.

That's not possible. It's not. Was Woden using him as a plant? Accessing his computer somehow? Or- ]

No no no.

[ God, what the fuck else would it be? What the fuck else. She's dense, but not dumb. She doesn't know how he could have ever had powers, or where the hell the actual Jon Blake is. But suddenly she's run out of options. ]

Fuck fuck fuck no I fucking hate this fucking absolute horseshit fucking asshole-

[ And while she's sputtering, not really paying attention to how she must sound to those passing by, she smacks the desk harshly- and notices the powder. She moves her hand around the area. What the hell could that be? ]

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[halfblaked]

[ It's precisely what one would expect. The computer, its pages still up and humming quietly, as if it's not giving a picture into who precisely had been pulling Woden's strings the entire time.

When Cassandra slammed her hands on the desk, there's a sound of a small clatter in the desk, like something slipped off -- David was never prone to such outbursts, surely, and if she continued to investigate, she'd find an imperceptible catch on the underside of the desk, something that was just raised enough that she can hit it, before a few items would fall right into her hands.

It's incriminating, too. That white powder could be anything. Residue, anthrax, or even just dust, but a bag full of it is pretty...telling, as to what it is. The other item is just...a fidget cube. Something all the teens were into -- except it's black with green filigree, fitting a certain someone's theme, and pattern, and if she bumped just the right buttons... it'll open up precisely what she thinks it's going to open. ]

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[queenofseers]

[ Agh, fuck. Once the cocaine falls into her hands she makes a noise of disgust and flicks it onto the desk, knowing she'll have to pick it up for evidence and simultaneously hating that she'll have to do so. As if she needed more proof. She sets the fidget cube down, too, taking a moment to simply put her head in her hands, taking deep breaths, refusing to acknowledge how making herself adhere to that pattern just makes her more stressed.

He knows all her research. He did it with her. He knows so much about her, worked with her, she trusted him and fucking he does this and he was always doing this, and she needs to ball her hands into fists and rub her eyes to get herself thinking, doing anything else.

And then she picks up the cube, smacking it as much as she is pressing buttons. When the bifrost opens she hesitates, nearly expecting him to come out.

And after a moment of sitting there, thinking he's about to step in, she- hesitantly, ready to strike- moves just enough of her body in to see where it leads. ]

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[halfblaked]

[ It's a shame David isn't here, to watch Cassandra's freakout, because it's precisely what David always wanted out of this. The capability to be that present, that mysterious, to have that much of an impact. Perhaps it's the fact that he's never been considered interesting by anyone, least of all someone like Cassandra.

But David -- Woden -- isn't here. He doesn't step through the portal, or more accurately, flies through the portal, followed by his assailants. Nothing happens, and while Cassandra ponders it, time ticks by, the analogue clock in David's office softly ticking away, while she can stare out, waiting like a ticking time bomb, until --

When she peeked through -- it's to nowhere. Not really nowhere, but it's nothing exciting. It's outside the university. There's trick to the bifröst, after all. One must have intent to use it. But it works, and it doesn't vanish with Cass halfway through it, which all things considered, is pretty good when it comes to anything having to with David "actually Woden" Blake. ]

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[queenofseers]

[ The fact that the bifröst doesn't lead her directly to somewhere more relevatory surprises her- but hell, what can she expect? Her anxiety has been at such a height that it's almost a relief. After a moment, she sighs, exhausted, and pulls herself back into the office, pressing the cube again in hopes of turning the portal off.

Once she's attempted that, the sudden moment of calm reminds her of something; she reaches into the dark of her cloak, into the magical storage space she's somehow gained access to, and pulls out a spare flash drive. Nothing could kill the journalist in her, she supposes. How does she know Blake won't walk right in here, after all? She already may have tipped him off sending that message. She shoves the flash drive in, and starts dragging folders into it.

And once that's done, she sits back, her heart beating quick. Fuck. Fuck. ]

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[halfblaked]

[ With all of that, even with all of that, David -- Woden never shows. The clock still ticks away, the computer continues to hum softly, and the bifröst sat on his desk, as if it wasn'tWasn't a dead give-away of the fact that the supposed god wasn't who he said he was.

Did that mean he wasn't a god at all?

Nothing happened, in his office. No goading, no messages for Cassandra, the computer didn't even start to auto-delete, and wouldn't for a bit more -- not until David's presence left the plane.

Smart, then, that Cassandra was able to copy the files. The only other possible source was the bookshelf. ]

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[queenofseers]

[ Lucky for Cassandra, the anger's coming in waves. As she comprehends more and more a new flash of rage hits her, and as the folders load in she starts tearing around the room. When this is over? He's going to know that she knows who he is. Maybe not at this moment, but soon. Who cares if he tries to slink back in here and finds it trashed? He deserves it. He deserves so much worse.

She starts with the desk, pulling papers out, and when she's done with that she goes toward the bookshelf. Fuck these books. Fuck how fucking obvious his choices are, now, fuck how he hid it in plain sight like he was bragging.

When she starts pulling books out, it's as much looking for another sign as it is an excuse to ruin something. Anything. ]

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[halfblaked]

[ The thing is: he was bragging. Every moment that David tapped his false finger against a surface, every small, gesture and comment was a subtle dig at her. If she remembers back far enough, she can start to realize that David has been pretending, and rubbing it in all at once, every time they talked. He loved it, but it was also deeply personal, the things that he told her.

In his books, when they fell open, were notes, annotations, rogue pages filled with more diagrams, notes -- rough sketches of designs for the new pantheon, some notated and marked, notes on the sides.

The Prose Edda -- marked up -- page after page, heavy black lines over parts -- the Gylfaginning open, black lines, over an entire chapter. What could he have felt was so important to remove from a very expensive, very old translation of an obscure myth? ]

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[queenofseers]

[ It's been a long time since she'd read Prose Edda- it's the kind of thing that's buried in memories of grad school all-nighters. But she has a faint memory of what this part was about. An origin story. The basic set-up of the world.

He can buy his own version if he wants to take shitty notes so bad. She opens the window to her godly storage space and throws it in, and then adds his more specific notes on these new "gods"; she suspects she's going to have a hell of a time figuring this out, later. She's starting to get tense in this room, both wanting to move around and wanting to do something grander than this. She takes out her flash drive once all the information is done loading, throwing it in with the rest.

Part of her wonders if any of his colleagues are going to notice her leave, then come in and see the mess she's made. Yet another way this day could get shittier. But they wouldn't understand this. They wouldn't understand anything. So few people do. Maybe no one.

Fuck him. Fuck.

Glancing around, not even bothering to cover her tracks, she turns to leave. She wants him to know she's caught him. ]