Rex does in fact have a cicada for Chanel. And as she opens it she can't really place who this belongs to. It reminds her of both Mr. Crockett, the Wizard Lit teacher, and Liquor Store Zed from town. It reminds her of Thorntrail. The trees, the squatches, the values of her House. Even up to the last step, she can't quite figure it out. It is not someone she knows, and yet, she feels like she could. And the woman certainly leaves an impression, the memory hitting like a slap across the face.

It's a meeting room of some sort. Not one Chanel recognizes from Peckenpaugh campus. Not one the memory owner is even all that familiar with, though she's never, ever been in a place where she didn't belong. A man in gray corduroy robes stands at the head of the table, projecting an image up from his wand. At first glance, it looks like a shrub, but upon closer inspection it's more like a cloud of smoke filled with a writhing mass. Everyone in the room is focused on the speaker as he drones on nervously.

"...emotions, like, uh, like a dementor, but not explicitly Dark in nature, given its immunity to most dark arts defenses. We believe the entity is—"

"Absolutely ludicrous," the memory owner smacks her finely manicured hand on the table, interrupting the men talking around her. The former head of Thorntrail, Zipporah Crockett shoves herself away from the long mahogany table, up and out of her chair. "Honestly, it doesn't matter what it is. Only that people are dying and it needs to stop."

Over to the window she goes, pulling aside the curtain. Chanel catches a glimpse of herself — of Zipporah Crockett — in the window's reflection, regal (if very 80s), hawkish, and deadly serious, before peering beyond. It's Elflock Falls, a view of the town from the upper floors of city hall. Outside, the sky is gray and ash rains down over the town. In the streets, wizards in dark robes are actively driving back growths of vines with frost. Far in the north, somewhere in the hills, smoke billows up in a place that can only be Paw Paw.
"So it's a creature born of, what? Hunger? Greed?" she asks with a scowl.

"Um, personification, actually...we think," corrects the corduroy robe, earning a frustrated snort.

"I'll be sure to let the boy who lost his leg and the children who've lost their parents know the exact genus of the thing that took them," Zipporah says sharply. Chanel can feel an aching sense of loss, quickly eaten up by fury. This woman has lost someone she cared for. "But I'll wait to do it until after we've destroyed it."

"I'm not sure if we can," offers the corduroy robed agent. "It's...well, it appears to be an endless hunger. Greed personified."

Now someone else is standing. Zipporah turns. It's Caleb Qualls, looking to Zipporah's eye, a shade of his former self. And yet. And yet there is still that unmistakable conviction in him. Seek greater heights. "No. That's not acceptable. We're going to figure out a way to stop this thing. Kill it or put it back." His anger builds, but his voice doesn't shake until the last of what he wants to say slips out, "It can't take any more than it already has."

Zipporah moves to put a hand on Caleb's shoulder. "We've already dawdled enough. It's been two days since Paw Paw was destroyed. Every second we aren't actively stopping it is a second wasted. So, do you have a plan, or not?"

"We...um, based on interviews—" stammers the man in the corduroy robes.

A wizard with a massive, elaborately braided beard and a flashy robe in Wildgulch's colors sighs impatiently. "Oy, is your superior any better at talking? You got any note cards I can read in your place?"

The reply comes not from the shaking BoMB agent, but from the door. A papery voice belonging to an ancient man, Al Falco. "Based on our interviews with the coalseam creepers who came up after the ritual, it seems the entity is stuck. Not all the way here. The muggles completed the ritual wrong, and the entity can't get through." Al Falco steps into the room, commanding of presence despite his small stature. "Currently, our working hypothesis is that we can push it back with a full on assault, then, using the magimagicicada—" Several gathered at the table raise their voices in dissent, but Al Falco raises one gnarled hand to silence them "—I misspoke. With the magimagicicada's help, we can seal the portal and, over time, it will heal. Mr. Qualls, we'll need you to start penning a glyph. We'll bring in whoever you need to help."

No one seems terribly pleased with this plan, but once again Zipporah is the first to speak on it. "What I'm hearing is that the school and town need to be evacuated."

Al Falco is silent a moment, and then gives a nod.

"Fine." The former head of Thorntrail makes for the door, brushing past the ancient BoMB Agent. "You all just come get me when you need spells flung. In the meantime, I'm moving everyone to safety."

Chanel wakes from her memory still full of righteous fury. Anger, so much anger, and that aching sense of loss. It seems this woman might know a great deal about what happened all those years ago.

[We will get back to you about your second thing in a day or so. In the meantime, since Armani knows who Zipporah Crockett is, you can either handwave that Chanel has figured it out and asked for assistance in looking up her address (and post a return note on the return hub ic/ooc), or talk it out in the journals.]