there's a secret world

                "Apollo! Can you stop polishing your instrument for five minutes I’ve been calling,” Aphrodite snapped, her voice not at all svelte but sharp, almost shrill in annoyance. Beside her, a boy whose shirt she held by the neck in an iron-tight fist. “I found...something,” she said, pushing the boy forward -- all the better to put distance between her and it. The boy, Ryley, remained quiet and unperturbed despite it all, and only curiously looked on with a possibly amused expression. “You’re all-seeing aren’t you? What is it?” Aphrodite asked. “Or is that something Helios can do better than you at as well?”

           “Point still applies.” Tate retorted, peering into the darkness of the cavern–every bit as wary as one might expect of someone who radiated nothing but pure anxiety out into the world. “That’s a terrible reason–why didn’t I think it was a terrible reason before we drove all this way and I climbed off a cliff?” Because Damien was somehow annoyingly persuasive by pure measure of being obnoxiously charming, and very occasionally Tate got swept up in that. Which was a pain in the ass, but it happened none the less.

          “Well I’m glad something happened in the whole year of 1284, a single thing of any note happened.” He drawled, glancing reluctantly between the darkness and the blindingly bright light coming in from the outside. “Suppose there’s only one way to find out.” Though no one had ever sounded more miserable while saying such a phrase. “–there’s no way they’d come up this close to the surface, would they? This is definitely weird? Not just me being–” me.

                In the process of Tate’s muttering about their being here, Scott had already opened his bag and pulled out the camera. Something small enough to carry around easily, but which recording in good quality. There was no way he was going to lug around a shoulder mount for Damien’s adventurous streak. He switched it on, and started recording somewhere in the middle of '-- climbed off a cliff?', and kept the camera fixed on Tate and the dark hole behind him. ”It’s weird,” Scott answered, while Damien fumbled through his backpack for a flashlight, which Scott briefly recorded, before capturing the entrance and the edge of the ledge, looking straight down just so whoever watched could get a sense of where they were. There was a town somewhere in the distance, probably Herford.

               “They could be–I don’t know that they aren’t. And that’s the problem with New Zealand: you can’t move the sheep out of the way. There’s always more sheep.” Well, in theory there was. In practice, Jason had never actually been to New Zealand. World ending things didn’t tend to happen there–possibly because of the sheep thing. “I mean…sure? That sort of seems more like your area of expertise. Werewolves fall squarely outside of my knowledge.” A pause. “Aren’t they your landlords? Because honestly if your landlord is a werewolf then this is officially a sit com and I’m leaving.”

                   “Yes, but I–like any sane person–have not met your roommates. Because they sound bizarre and terrifying.” Thogh he supposed the same could be said for Imogen–even if she was, somehow, the world’s least threatening vampire. Half the time she looked like a scene kid–it took away some of the potential fear factor, in his defense. “But would you really want to go to New Zealand? They have more sheep than people there. Which has to say something about what a thrilling place to live it is.” Jason, for all that he complained about having no peace, couldn’t imagine living anywhere but a huge city–it just didn’t suit him. City kid, and all that. “Well good luck with finding those–” Come to think of it, he really had no idea how common (or uncommon) ghosts and werewolves might be. By the sounds of it, wandering around London, you were practically tripping over the hoards of various supernatural entities doing whatever the hell it was they did.