Ella reaches out a tentative hand pressing lightly on the glass separating her from falling into the star spangled nightscape before her. If the view had been impressive when they were tethered to a tall tower in London; it was nothing compared being one thin pane of glass away from the eternity of the heavens.

Ella tried to spot the ocean far below, but it was lost to the inky darkness unhindered by lights; it reminded her of another voyage in a glass vehicle, venturing forward into the unknown, brave and fearful by turns, unsure of what the future held, only that she speed towards it eyes open and hope in her heart.

Of course that night had lead indirectly to this one as all roads in your past lead to your future. Ella shook her head, hand curling at the cold surface, she was getting muddlen in her age…

@mike

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Jacob tucked the tray more firmly into his elbow giving the door a quick double tap before entering; they were six hours from London, the night was cold and dark this high up in the sky, but he knew his captain and partner would still be awake, honestly it was luck and sense of her own innate rhythm developed over the years that told him she would have returned to her rooms after tinkering with god only knew what.

What he also suspected was that she had been driven to her quarters by a biological need which she had than forgotten to satiate, likely finding something else to obesse over in the few minutes between entering and sitting down. “You need to eat Rauri.” came the gentle amused, yet persistent voice.

Jacob set down the covered tray, finding a clean chair (or making one) to sit with her, she always took better care of herself when he sat with her to keep her mind focused on the task of dealing with her bodies needs.

@alex

“Thank you.” Ella flashed a small smile at the maid who had been assigned to help her with her morning toilet; she’d not had a ladies maid in…well let us simply say a very long time and the strangeness of having someone bring in her bath water and help her dress was something she had never grown accustomed to.

“If you could help me with my corset?” logically she knew the girl would assume to have that duty, but the habit of polite requests instead of demanding orders was not one she was of a mind to break. Cornsilk hair was pulled over her shoulder to allow access to the laces - Ella could manage alone but effort would be slapdash - “not too tightly please.” she requested as the garment slide over her petticoats.

@megs

No, it wasn’t going to be for good, but Jack wasn’t especially looking forward to getting to New York. Nothing about the city felt like home to the man who’d been raised in the west, so to him, New York was just as abroad as London, with just one exception. In London, the things that hid in shadows were just a hobby. In New York, they were his responsibility again. So, needless to say, Garnet Jack thought that there was no way this zeppelin ride was going to be anywhere near long enough.

He’d been in the ship’s casino ever since takeoff, and right now he was letting his winnings settle in his pocket. There had been one person who’d started sweating when he’d laid down a handful of garnets to change into chips and that would bear looking into, but right now he just wanted to enjoy the ride and not worry about silly things like a possible monster in disguise. It was too early in the day for anything to be feeding anyway.

He leaned against the bar near the door, smiling amiably at the newcomer who came through the door, tipping his hat slightly with one hand, that endearingly western accent thick on his tongue. “Well now, good evenin' there."

There were days that Hannibal regretted getting involved with the Rippers, for the greater good and the family or not. Yes, he was more than passable at his role of Alienist for the group, none of them suspected that he was a magic user. And yet there were still days like this, he reflected as he leaned on the young man that walked him to the lady doctor’s door.

He really needed to find a physician who he could call upon regardless of the hour. Too many of the Rippers insisted on their missions occurring under the dark cover of night, when the good people of London were asleep in their beds.

Would that he join them each night as was his wont.

Instead, Hannibal grunted quietly as the young man helping him along shifted his weight, causing no small amount of pain in his shoulder. The gash wasn’t really all that bad, it was the fact that he’d had to wait till morning before he could have it looked at that was the problem, meaning that his ‘friends’ amongst the Rippers had left him to bleed until he could be taken in to a doctor.

It hadn’t been his choice to come here, but this was the closest place and one of the men’s wives had recommended that Dr. Smith would likely say little about the oddness of the wound or the fact that Hannibal still didn’t have a very viable story about how he’d come about getting it. Generally, he’d found that just making growling sounds and showing his ire often kept doctors from asking too many questions which would necessitate lies in order to answer.

So it was that young Mr. Jefferies dragged Hannibal into an office he’d yet to step foot into prior, asking for Doctor Smith, if she were available at the moment.

Do you know what is 'fun'?

Mingling with the bloated reeking, shrieking masses of humanity; even those of her ‘own’ class (-what pitiful few aspired to such heights) were for the most part ridiculous characters of better men, of women long gone who held more spark of gentility and nobility in their few shadow than any here could hope to dream of.

But the days of myth and legend were all but dead, science now carved its filthy mark into the very spirit world that bound everything living and dead - not that anyone seemed to care.

Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna looked neither left nor right, trusting her cadre of staff, both personal and provided by the ship to keep the riff raff from bothering her - of course the delicate points of her ears, and cat slitted eyes proudly displayed, unhidden by glamour or hairdressing drew stares. It wasn’t every day Fey walked openly among Men, and less so clearly one of the High Court.

Which High Court - Dark, or Light, that was left up to the personal assumptions of each watcher.

Her two charges (ostensibly her niece and nephew)flanked her obediently; as well they should for the amount of compulsions she’d placed on them - all she was required to do was bring the pair over the Great Sea and deliver them into the hands of those who had arranged her intervention - of course the implied preference was in one piece which was why they were bound by the simple yet effective spells of Simple Manners

-Do not speak lest you have something nice to say.
-Dress and maintain your appearance in the manner dictated by polite society.
-Eat and drink moderately and never to excess.

Simple little rules that together bound the pair into a nicely behaving set of baggage.

Just 5 more days and she would be rid of them.

The Impala was the same. Well, almost. John could pick out some of what had been replaced over the years. The interior had been retooled. The engine sounded different. Someone had replaced the transition, which had been starting to grind after ten years on the road.

Mary was driving. That John was wondering how many miles the transition had ultimately lasted probably meant he wasn’t processing that fact very well.

Mary, alive, in 2019. Young as the day she’d died. A damn hunter. Dean and Sam grown, or huddled together in the motel where he’d left them in 1993, depending on how you looked at it. Angels were real. His own father had been a man of letters and had left them a bunker.

Coupla hundred thousand, maybe? Nothing lasted forever. Could be on the third one by now, if that odometer was right. He was glad Dean had taken care of his car.

As they pulled into the long drive leading toward the bunker, he cleared his throat. “Well, uh,” he said. “Thanks for the ride.”

@eve

Celeste Smith woke as she did every morning to the sound of her household slowly stirring as well; a bright green eyed creature her beauty was only marred by a long twisting scar running from under her left ear, disappearing into the practical coiffure she pinned her dark hair into. One of the few practicing female doctors in London she accepted the cup of tea her maid brought her with a smile of thanks. Her household was small, only four people including herself, and only the bequeathment from her mother had afforded her the luxury of buying it even in the less desirable section of London near the theaters. But that suited her; Celeste when she was not keeping her admittance permissions active with London Gernal by taking bi weekly rounds, she kept a neat little practice catering discreetly to the ladies of the theater, those fallen birds that so many of her colleagues declined to treat.

This morning far too early for her mind, she was by nature a night owl, and facing waking the wrong side of dawn sat poorly with her, yet needs must, and as the most junior doctors she was forced to take the least desirable shifts or be left with out, and with her own practice so new (a discrete plaque at the door only stated Dr. C. Smith) and she would require the operation theaters at the hospital Celeste must as needful take on these horrible shifts.

Although…

Celeste could not help but smile as she lifted the baby who had decided to come into this world bottom first to his exhausted mothers breast, several hours later, how could she feel anything but grateful that it was she and not some other who might care less for mother and child?