The Black Pot

"A lot of people seem to think that invisibility would be a great thing. You could steal things, you could sneak into the girls' locker room, you could do all sorts of things without getting caught." He sighs. "Well, I've been invisible, and let me tell you, it's not really that much fun."

He walks up to the front of the room, really getting into his stride. "I can't just make myself invisible. I got turned invisible, against my will." He makes a face. "It was right in the middle of a date, too. A date at the zoo. My invisibility did stop me from becoming tiger chow, so I guess it wasn't all bad. Anyway, some people had gotten hold of some alien technology and didn't really know what to do with it. And as a result of a long and very complicated string events, I ended up invisible. But not tiger food.

"You would expect, in the face of some horrible and life-changing work-related accident, that you might expect a bit of sympathy from your co-workers. Of course, Torchwood isn't your usual workplace. Instead of sympathy, or even pretend sympathy, all I got were jokes at my expense. They tried to perform a medical examination on me, to find out if there was anything wrong besides, you know, being invisible. So, lots of things along the lines of 'The doctor will see you now....No, wait, he can't.' and clever things like that. Not that the examination went that well, since they couldn't see to draw any blood or anything like that."

He takes a deep breath. "It's really hard being invisible. No one tells you that part. But try, for example, getting off a hospital bed when you can't see how far your feet are from the floor. And don't even get me started on going to the toilet. Muscle memory ends up being much more useful than you think."

He strokes a hand over his sleeve, almost unconsciously. "Clothing was another interesting issue. The clothes I had been wearing when I got turned ended up invisible too. Of course, you can't have a medical exam with your clothes on, and trying to find them and put them back on afterwards....So I was basically stuck with the option of walking around naked, or walking around as a mobile suit. And let me tell you, it is shameful some of the things people will say when they think you can't hear. I did end up going with the suit though, because it was cold. And I think everyone except Jack was disturbed by the idea of me walking around naked.

"Food is another important thing to consider when you're invisible. Basically, things that are visible, stay visible, even when put into an invisible body. And since nobody wanted to watch me chew my food, or.....what would have happened to it after than, there was pretty much a veto on me eating or drinking anything. Not very fun.

"Of course, as I mentioned earlier, being invisible is very useful for sneaking into places undetected, which we ended up needing to do. Unfortunately, being undetectable also meant being naked. Of course, it was cold, and raining, and there was gravel. It's also very difficult to use a number keypad when you can't see where your fingers are. Of course, there is also the possibility that the invisibility will wear off when you are on said sneaky mission and you'll be left with nothing but a pad of A-5 paper to try and maintain what little dignity you have left."

He looks out over the cafe and hakes his head. "So, those're my thoughts on invisibilty. You can keep it."

"Grazie, grazie mille" - he briefly looks up from the book Donna Isabel gave him - "what could be so interesting about invisibility?" He shrugs. He's got enough on his hands with Miquel whom he sees just fine unless Miquel doesn't want to, doesn't want to be seen or wants to be a pest, so the idea holds no great allure, not to him, whose greatest joy was to be seen, actually, at times and in places no-one expected him, and where his appearance put men to quaking. Granted, there was a degree of invisibility involved, making his return to the stage all the more dramatic, but that was just maschera, a play of masques and shadows. No great magic there.

And Your Honour wouldn't like to sneak up on your opponents, unseen, unheard? The swift judgment of invisible feme?

"Mh?" Cesare turns to Miquel. "No. No, why would I. Isn't that why I've got you?"

Miquel sits back and folds his hands in what seems to be a hoodie pouch, face too serene for his own good.

"I suppose it's a good thing you are invisible, now that your dress sense has firmly embraced the hideous," Cesare remarks. It sounds almost sweet.

Death leans back in his chair. “BEING INVISIBLE IS PART OF MY JOB,” he says casually. “PEOPLE DON’T LIKE TO SEE ME WHEN I’M OUT ON THE DUTY, OR AT ANY OTHER TIME REALLY.” He shrugs. “HUMANS HAVE A REMARKABLE CAPACITY FOR DENIAL. ONLY PROFESSIONAL MAGIC USERS, THOSE WHO ARE IN IMMEDIATE NEED OF MY SERVICES, OR THE ALREADY DECEASED ARE ABLE TO SEE ME.” He snaps his fingers. It sounds like two pool balls hitting each other. “AND CATS, OF COURSE.” He grins around the café. “WHICH CATEGORY DO YOU ALL FALL INTO I WONDER?”

The luggage pads up to the front of the room.


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He ambles over to a corner and stops. He tucks up his feet and, for all intents and purposes, he is invisible. Just an ordinary box. Not worth a second glance. Poe would have been delighted.

It is rumoured that Monçada, the Archbishop of Madrid, has entire palaces built in the realms of shadow and operates invisibly to even to the eyes of his own clan. It certainly accounts for his longevity, especially within the Sabbat factions. She has not his skills, but can easily slip into the shadows to move where she will. Is it the rustling of silks and silver, or the sounds that the shadows make when they are at play that whispers through the café? Who is to tell, for this once, both are true. Skills must always be honed, practised, and tested lest one lose them. To lose this discipline would be a near fatal mistake, for she relies upon the deception to hide her role as spy for the Family and to provide a skill that no one else in the Family has. Exclusivity has always been a superior survival skill.

Stepping from the shadows, Isabel brushes her hands down her blue and silver silk gown. Shoulders bare, they seem far too luminous to have been hidden from sight in the shadows that the fall of her hair calls to mind; or from the stark black silk masque that partially covers her face, complimenting perfectly the perfection of her complexion. It is still Carnevale, even here on these grey and damp shores.

"I have my own manner of invisibility, as you may see," her lips curl at the small play of words whilst her fingers adjust the lacing of her bodice until the fall of shadows from the laces across her white skin are to her liking: neither too tight, nor too loose, and allowing the drip of diamonds from her necklace to steal under them as she moves. It is only when she is satisfied that the gown gives the impression that it has been chosen and put on to ornament her body and not cover it for modesty's sake that she looks again at the assembly and continues, albeit, very briefly. "It is not perfect, but what is?"

This month I want to know what you'd all get up to should you happen to find yourselves invisible for a day. I realise that some of you may be able to make yourselves invisible at will, and so if that's the case, tell us about your experiences. If the idea of being invisible just doesn't appeal to you, tell us all about that instead.

The tag for this month is invisibility and you can claim your characters here.