Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: A lazy Sunday morning at the Morgan/Jacobs apartment. Michelle's sitting next to the smoking area, next to the window as she reads through the front page of the newspaper. Grumblings every now and then as she reads something or another she doesn't like. She's not dressed properly for her day yet...just a pair of sweats and a T-Shirt, hair still messy.

Samantha Jacobs: There is a kitten in one hand, a fork sticking out of the other as she boots Sprout from the kitchen, finally taking the fork out of her mouth. Silly cat trying to eat HER food. Her own hair spikes in very odd angles, dressed in sleep pants in a tank top.

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: With a scowl, she tosses the paper down. "Fuckin' Bush." She sighs, and stubs her cigarette out.

Samantha Jacobs: "What?" She asks as she watches the cat slink away, pretty sure it's cursing her in cat talk or something.

Robert Wright: *And perhaps the cat is pushed back towards them, as it lets out another noise, and goes running past Sam, with a rrrrrrrow! noise.*

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: "Fuckin' asshole he's nominated to the Supreme Court. John Roberts...he's all about prayer in public school, apparently. Thinks that banning it is indefensible, according to the Constitution."

Samantha Jacobs: She raises an eyebrow, watching Sprout high tail it back, distracted from Michelle's answer "What's up with you?"

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: Her eyes pass down to Sprout, frowning a little. "Hey, what's your problem?" Eyes pass up to Sam, brow slightly furrowed.

Samantha Jacobs: She gives Michelle an 'I don't know' look with a shrug, glancing back at the cat.

Robert Wright: *There is a tink... tinktink... tingleingleingle....rrrrrrrl... noise... something... falling? From the area of the bedroom. Maybe the cat knocked it over.*

Samantha Jacobs: She shakes her head with a grunt, and moves back to the bedroom to see what the cat had done. She didn't THINK they had anything breakable back there...

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: She looks off in the direction Sprout high-tailed it from. Maybe Quaffle sprayed there last time he was here? Yeah, not likely, but she can hope. Then, she looks up to the bedroom, sighing. "What is it with you guys today..." She starts off toward the bedroom.

Robert Wright: ((All right... So... pause for JUST a second. Is Sam going in first, and THEN Michelle following up? What is the timing on this?))

Samantha Jacobs: ((Sam is going in first, as Michelle was sitting, I believe))

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: ((What Sam said))

Robert Wright: *Sam sees... a jar. A jar that has fallen off of the dresser, maybe, as she enters the room. Her foot kicks it, as she steps in in it... a rosary. Beautiful, white beads.*

Samantha Jacobs: Eyes narrow faintly, eyes flicking around the room, as she reaches down to pick up the jar. "Michelle, when did you get a rosary?"

Robert Wright: ((Michelle, per+alert?))

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: 6,5,1,9,4,

Robert Wright: 2,8,9,

Robert Wright: *Tink, it lets out, as Samantha picks it up. It is so beautiful. She can't help but stare at it.*

Robert Wright: 1,2,7,7,

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: She moves into the bedroom, frowning a little. "A rosary?"

Samantha Jacobs: She blinks slowly, holding the jar in one hand, and staring at the rosary. She was raised roman catholic, but she'd never seen a rosary QUITE like that...

Samantha Jacobs: "Yeah..." Comes the response. "When'd you get a white rosry? S'beautiful."

Robert Wright: ((Per+Awareness))

Robert Wright: ((From the both of yeh. Sorry...))

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: "I don't have a rosary, Sam. I've never had one."

Samantha Jacobs: 5,4,3,9,

Samantha Jacobs: "You... don't?" She tries to shift her eyes from the rosary, to Michelle.

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: 6,6,9,9,4,1,

Robert Wright: *The rosary looks so pretty to Sam, and part of her, an odd part, is aware it is not natural. Michelle can feel it, from behind her. Directly behind her.*

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: Her eyes widen. "...no." She takes a breath, steeling herself, and spins around.

Samantha Jacobs: Something is wrong, and Michelle is moving. She tries to wrench attention to her lover, and away from the rosary.

Robert Wright: ((Gimme a WP roll...))

Samantha Jacobs: 6,2,5,7,5,

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: 7,4,7,10,8,3,

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: ((Oh, just Sam, I'm guessing. *Thwaps head*))

Robert Wright: ((Spending 2 Quint, and one WP here...))

Robert Wright: 5,6,5,3,

Robert Wright: ((Yeah... is okay, still looves ye... *grin*))

Robert Wright: ((Per+Awareness... go...))

Samantha Jacobs: 7,7,9,5,

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: 9,5,3,6,6,

Robert Wright: *Sam manages to yank her eyes free of the glorious rosary, though it breaks her heart to do so... and she can see the dark haired man chanting behind Michelle, softly, raising his hand. A sign of the cross, as he murmurs in Latin. This time, the spell is targeting Michelle.*

Samantha Jacobs: "NO!" It's loud, so loud. Fear sudden, gripping. Trying to turn, to get Michelle out of the way. Dropping the jar to the floor, hand reaching.

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: "Robert!" Her face goes dead white, and she thinks quickly, trying to throw a desperate counter to the spell.

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: 8,4,3,

Robert Wright: *It is a valiant effort, but the rage, the utter belief cuts through... and her image starts to fade. Almost glorious, majestic, as he murmurs his prayers.*

Robert Wright: ((2 more quint, and one more WP))

Robert Wright: 8,7,6,7,

Samantha Jacobs: "NO!" It's screamed. There is no gun, there is no magic. One hand ries to hold to Michelle, and the other tries to swing at Robert. To get him to STOP.

Robert Wright: *For a while, Sam seems to push the fading image, before her hand slips through midair.*

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: Oh, gods, she's vanishing...he's teleporting her. Another, last-ditch attempt, as she screams, "SAMANTHA, RUN!" ((Counter attempt))

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: 5,8,4,

Samantha Jacobs: Her face is a mask of absolute horror. No. Horror, turning to rage. A fist moving to SMASH INTO HIS FACE.

Robert Wright: ((Dex+Brawl))

Samantha Jacobs: 8,10,7,5,10,1,

Robert Wright: ((Damage - Str + 3))

Samantha Jacobs: 5,8,2,5,7,6,

Robert Wright: 1,2,7,

Robert Wright: *The pain almost startles him, as if he is... shocked that someone would dare hit him. And he turns to her, his hand flying up, as he whispers words in Latin once more. Manus. Deus.*

Samantha Jacobs: "NO." She raises a fist, moving to strike again. Break his jaw, stop the words.

Robert Wright: ((Prime blast - rolling straight Arete))

Robert Wright: 5,4,4,3,

Robert Wright: ((God is TOTALLY not with me today.))

Samantha Jacobs: ((He sure as hell is with Sam!))

Robert Wright: ((Dex+Brawl))

Samantha Jacobs: 1,8,5,6,7,3,

Robert Wright: ((Dam - Str +1))

Michelle Morgan [August 14th AM]: ((I don't think that's God, Sam. I believe the proper phrase is "Hell hath no fury..."))

Samantha Jacobs: 8,10,8,9,

Samantha Jacobs: ((OH yeah.))

Robert Wright: 2,6,4,

Robert Wright: ((Holy CRAP!)) *His head snaps back, and he takes a few steps back. Retreat. Retreat, for God is not responding to his calls.* ((Last two Quint, one WP to ignore wound penalties.))

Robert Wright: 2,9,9,2,

Samantha Jacobs: Hit him. AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN! Trying to strike him violently again, hate and rage blazing behind her eyes.

Robert Wright: *But the spell goes off... and he slowly fades.* ((But just for kicks, roll one more punch for me.))

Samantha Jacobs: 5,7,4,1,10,8,

Samantha Jacobs: 8,3,7,10,

Robert Wright: 8,2,3,

Robert Wright: 10,3,5,2,

Robert Wright: *And he vanishes from sight.*

Samantha Jacobs: She's left standing there, trembling in an empty room, chest heaving, wide eyed, fist poised to hit someone who's not there. Eyes dart around, the military woman twitching. Before she screams.

Samantha Jacobs: And screams, and screams. Until she's gasping for breathing, throat raw, chest heaving, body twitching. A sound, not human in the slightest, or rage and pain. Her fist pounds into a wall as she whirls into the bedroom, tearing things apart. Looking for gun and cell phone.

Robert Wright: ((aaaand... finis?))

Samantha Jacobs: ((Unless I should roll WP to stop a flashback?))

Sam: 5,6,1,8,5,

Sam: ((Jeebus. She barely manages to keep her head))