It isn't a fancy restaurant, by any accounting for tastes, that Kiara Woolfe invites Alexander to.
But it's charismatic in its own way. There was personality to the tiny Vietnamese restaurant pressed between a chain of other stores in a shopping strip. There was an adult book store nearby with a flashing neon sign featuring a scantily clad woman. Flickering between two coquettish poses in bright pink. Nestled up against this, a supermarket that seemed wearily resigned to its neighboring businesses; specials plastered to its windows.
Discount seasonal vegetables, one declared.
--
Hey. Going for the best phở in Denver. Meet me?
An address had followed with the assumption (and her initial tacked on) that the Orphan would either assume he was to meet Kalen at a tiny little cramped Vietnamese restaurant on Federal Boulevard - or his companion for the evening would turn out to be one half of the rescue team that had extracted him from a certain Union stronghold.
The latter, as it would turn out.
The brunette was sitting at a small table pressed up against the wall inside; the interior was painted a vibrant shade of red with gold trimming and a tiny bell that cheerfully declared every new visitor. A young man stood at a small podium to greet diners and seat them.
The place smelled of rich, welcoming aromas and despite the relative size constraints; it was evidently a popular place on a Friday night; quiet chatter rising up above the sounds of a kitchen at work and the soft strains of music piped through speakers.
It was Friday the 13th, one had to wonder if the Verbena had inclinations one way or the other about the date.
The brunette was reading the laminated contents of a menu when her companion arrives -- her dark hair loose and wild around her shoulders; a hand bearing several silver rings resting on the table. Even like this, sitting amidst the other patrons; the pagan seemed to elude a particular energy that drew the eye. Something in the way she held herself.
Something in the dark, painted eyes perhaps. The cherry red lips. That dynamic pull.
Alexander[Awareness - hopefully Jove has worked the runs of botches out of its system by now..?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )
AlexanderOne thing that can be said about Alexander is that he is no kind of snob. The location may not be particularly high-brow, but that didn’t mean anything when it came to how good a place actually was. The expensive, pretentious places that dotted the more exclusive areas of the city traded on their exclusivity just as much as their wares. Finding good food had nothing to do with the rent. Hell, this wasn’t even anywhere near the worst strip that he’d been on. At least there didn’t seem to be holes left in walls from drive-by shootings, or suspiciously iron-brown stains on the sidewalk.
The message had been a curious thing, signed only with a K. The wording didn’t quite come across as Kalen would, but it didn’t take long to work out the other possibilities of who it might be. For one awkward moment a certain person did come to mind, but that wouldn’t make sense. Not after the lengths various people had gone to… It was still a possibility, though, and one that leads him to wear a jacket on warm evening. Not as something to protect against the cold, but as a means of hiding something.
There had been a simple reply. Sure. When? There hadn’t been any digging into which K was making the offer. He still wasn’t entirely sure if anyone would be listening in, any more than they would be routinely.
He arrives around the time that had been arranged, having the advantage that a bike is relatively easy to weave through Friday night traffic and even easier to find parking for. Under the jacket – a light cotton hoodie – is a red t-shirt, grey trousers, and heavy bike boots that make a solid noise as they hit the ground. There are some flecks of colour on his hands, and possibly further up his arms, and a couple of small patches on the back of his neck. Something stubbornly attached that has survived showering.
Alex’s senses aren’t particularly honed right now, but they’re enough to work out which K sent the invitation around the time he reaches the podium. The faint wash of life’s pulse, of something waking from slumber and spurring into growth: it’s something that fits well with the season, as spring gets going and slowly heads towards summer. His own, of something once frozen now flowing into infinity maybe marks the move from winter into summer. Something slackens in the way he holds himself. This isn’t to be a battleground.
Alex smiles politely at the greeter, saying something about meeting a friend who was already there. Nodding in Kiara’s direction, he smiles again and wends his way around the tables to where she’s sitting.
“Hey. I’m not sure what a pho is, but if it isn’t going to fight back with suckers and tentacles then I’m happy to try. How are you?” He pulls a seat away from the table and slides into it. The jacket stays on.
KiaraThe woman at the table he settles at was wearing a long-sleeved blouse in a deep shade of green. The sleeves had been rolled up to her elbows and the top-most buttons left undone enough that a thin silver chain was visible around her neck, the end tipped with a clear quartz pendant. Her wrists were heavy with bracelets; they offered a musical underscore to the slightest movements Kiara made.
Alexander is greeted with a flash of white teeth; a bright smile. The Verbena was pleased to see him; Kiara Woolfe never had been (or likely would be) a creature inclined to mask her pleasure (or the distinct lack of it, as the case sometimes was).
"You've never tried pho?" Fine, dark brows lifted in playful dismay as she sat back; straightening. A petite Vietnamese waitress approached and set a menu down in front of the Orphan before scurrying over to assist another table nearby. Kiara's remaining outfit seemed to consist of ankle high boots and tights; a black skirt that almost touched the floor with a stylish cut along one leg.
"Clearly, you're in dire need of my help, Alexander Brandt. There's no tentacles, I promise." Kiara's eyes were bright. Teasing. "Try rice noodles in broth. With your choice of beef or chicken. They make amazing spring rolls here, too."
Her eyes dipped to her menu.
"Nothing has tried to attack or otherwise maim me in the last month so I consider that an achievement." A touch of her eyes back to his face, the edge of her mouth lifting. A joke, apparently. A witch's sense of humor, perhaps. Her eyes search his face. "I'm okay. How's life treating you outside that motel room?"
Alexander“I’ve tried Japanese and Chinese, but never quite made it to Vietnamese food.” One thing that Kiara will notice is that, regardless of the country of origin, Alexander does at least appear to have been eating properly. The last time they had met, there had been somewhat less than the time before that. He had never been bulky, but the solidity had started to return. If his clothes still hung off him a little, as least they were more filled out now. A month of proper food and a return to some amount of physical activity, rather than purely mental, was starting to show.
Clearly you’re in dire need of my help. There’s a smile at that, but something tinged with… something. Not regret. Melancholy. “I seem to be making a habit of that lately. Hopefully I’ll get to return the favour.” A breath, something short and sharp and exhaling as he shakes his head. The sadness fades as he tries to push it away. A little, at least. “Ever eaten German?”
This said as his own eyes look down and start scanning the menu. The type of food is new, so there’s a lot of reading of descriptions, making mental notes of which ones to look back to. Kiara makes her joke, and there’s a snort of amusement in response. “I’m sure things are just waiting until you get comfortable with the world not imminently ending before returning with a vengeance. They’re nice and considerate like that.” He glances up, looking for Kiara’s response, before returning to the food options.
There’s another breath as there is consideration of his answer. “I’m doing ok. I think I needed the trip to Seattle, or just the time away. No. It was going back. It helped me work out a few things.” The menu sags a little as he looks up again, meeting Kiara’s gaze if she’s not currently looking down at her own menu. “I guess I finally decided that it was time to move on. You know?”
KiaraThere's an awareness tucked in there somewhere, a registering of the reaction her teasing sparks. That tinge of sadness that brings an edge of empathy to Kiara's gaze where it rests on his face for a beat. She doesn't address it other than to offer that singular pause - a lingering look that read much for the way she felt about what had happened leading up to his temporary isolation in that motel room on the outskirts of town.
That conveyed she was appreciative for the gesture; that idea of returning the help she and Andrés had offered. There's a smile, then: "You forget, I'm from New York. There's not many things I haven't tried, at least once. Since I hit Denver? Not yet."
Alexander's eyes return to the menu and Kiara's follow suit, though they return, more than once, briefly, as if she were contemplating the changes she'd felt and glimpsed in him since they'd taken him back from the laboratory. It was less concern he'd catch articulated in those looks and far more a sort of mild scrutiny; the consideration of a friend.
Especially when he mentions his return from Seattle; the decision that it was time to move on.
Does she know?
There's a flicker of something close to anguish then; a shadow that passes across Kiara's lovely features. Wistful and full of a quiet loss. "I do. More than you know. Sometimes there really isn't any other way but to keep going." A beat, the pagan's eyes dip back to her menu. "I'm glad you decided to come back. This city's lost too many good people lately."
AlexanderYou forget, I’m from New York. “You know, I don’t actually know that much about you apart from you like to play basketball and…” There’s a squint, trying to remember some long-ago conversation. “Travelling? I guess you found your reason to stay in the city?”
Kiara’s pause, the appreciation for the gesture, receive a tiny jerk of a shoulder. Some unspoken version of no problem. Alex had already made his own contributions to the various crises that had plagued the city since his arrival two years ago, whether that was through churning through the sources of information that he had access to or drawing his pistol against a threat. There were times, in the not so distant past, when he had thoughts of leaving that all behind. They were nothing more than passing thoughts, though.
“I’ve only tried a couple of places so far, but neither of them really stood out. But that could just be because nothing ever matches home cooking. I’ve got a decent recipe for Kartoffelpuffer, though.”
Alex finally narrows down his selection: chicken noodle soup, with spring rolls (because Kiara said that they were good) and the house special bean curd skin. He sets the menu down to wait for the server.
“It was tempting to stay in Seattle, but it just didn’t feel right in the end. It was great catching up with my old friends there, but our lives have just changed a bit too much.” Some more than others. “There were too many experiences that I’d missed out on, I ended up feeling like a bit of an outsider. So, yeah.” A shrug. “I came home.” There is thought behind the word home. Even as recently as a few months ago, he still thought of Seattle as home. It was where he had grown up, it was the place he knew best, and the place where he had the strongest ties to. Now? Now, Denver is where he thinks of as home: for better or worse.
“What happened? Who’s gone?” There’s some concern, there, that he might have arrived back in the middle of some new disaster that he wasn’t aware of. Hell, there were still vampires in the city and a group of Hermetics all ready to kick them into a war with the Union for all he knew. Had things gone downhill in the proverbial handbasket?
KiaraI guess you found your reason to stay?
"Yes, I suppose I did." She sounds surprised, as if only just realizing the depths to which this was a truth.
The server appears with the sort of promptness that might be the envy of other restaurants. She takes their orders (a double serve of the spring rolls for entrée and what the Verbena defines as bun cha from the menu) and gives a little nod after reading them back to ensure she's recorded them correctly - vanishing into the kitchen and calling out the order in Vietnamese.
She doesn't expound on what those reasons are, after their server departs, the brunette, but she does offer, neatly pouring two glasses of chilled water and pushing one across to him: "What details interest you? I'm an only child," her mouth hooks, her eyes bright as if she's suggesting that kernel of truth should somehow have been self evident. "I woke up in New York, my mentor was a former nurse. She found a lot of potential Verbenae the way she did me.
Women who were searching for something."
A beat.
Who's gone, he wants to know. Kiara's eyes drop; her long lashes dipping. There was, in the moment, a particular (and unusual) degree of vulnerability written into the brunette's features. "I suspect Annie and her Cabal won't stay long. If they ever meant to. And Ian. Ian's gone." Kiara's eyes return to Alexander's face, her mouth stretches into a bittersweet little thing.
"I'd argue he would have wanted to say goodbye in person to everyone but - I don't think it was his style. Big fanfare. He's fine." There's a delicate stress here, as if she wanted to ensure it was clear: "I think he just needed answers he wasn't going to find in Denver."
Alexander[I don't think Alex knew about the Kiara/Ian thing, so Per+Emp to work out the reaction?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6) ( success x 1 )
KiaraThe reaction is, from what Alexander can see and sense further than that: one of sadness. There's a clear ache in the way the Verbena says the other Orphan's name that suggests whatever their relationship had been, Ian and Kiara, it had been more than simple polite association with one another.
The way the brunette speaks of his departure, it feels very much as if it comes attached with an implied break up of some kind. An emotional departure, as well as physical, apparently.
AlexanderAlex rests his elbows on the table, interlinking his fingers to use as a rest for his chin as Kiara gives her surprised reaction. A crooked smile appears, as her reaction seems to mirror one that he had not so long ago. “It’s strange how that happens, huh? You don’t think there’s anything tying you down until you finally think about leaving and realise what you’d be leaving behind.” He doesn’t dig, though. It doesn’t feel like they know each other well enough for that yet, so he lets it settle.
There’s a pause in the conversation as the server appears, Alex pointing out any items on the menu that he isn’t really sure how to pronounce. He mutters a quite thanks as Kiara pushes the glass of water towards him, but it goes untouched for the moment.
There’s a moment when he lifts his head and scans the tables around him. Purely because the conversation could start heading towards topics best not overheard, he’s curious to see if anyone is paying particular attention to them. It’s only a matter of seconds before his chin returns to its nest, though, but his voice drops – enough to fade into the background noise of the restaurant at any great distance.
“Did you spend much time without a Tradition before you became Verbena? I’m curious what makes people choose which one they join. Should I ask what you were looking for?”
Annie and her Cabal’s appearance had been a slightly odd thing, when it happened. The house had always been very much a communal area, but it always felt awkward, somehow, going there once they had moved in. Very much like intruding in someone’s home. So he hadn’t visited the chantry much after, except when he’d been invited. For dinner, for the seasonal parties. There’s a sigh, though, as he had at least gotten to know them and there’s always some sadness at parting.
His head rises, though, when Ian is mentioned. That was a surprise, as he hadn’t realised that the man was even having thoughts about moving on. He had never seemed particularly tied, but there didn’t seem to be any great push for him to move on elsewhere either. There was a time where he wouldn’t have thought twice about it – maybe even been quietly happy about the asshole leaving – but things had changes, as they have a habit of doing. He’d built up a respect for the man, maybe even considered him some degree of friend. “Damn…”
He isn’t picking up on clues as well as he usually does, the small clues of expression and body language that hint at the emotional state of a person. But he does pick up enough to realise that the two of them had been something more than acquaintances. More than friends?
His hands separate, one resting on hers for a moment before moving off again. “You knew him well?” he asks quietly. An interesting question, given a conversation that he once had with Ian. A conversation about how well anyone really knows anyone else.
KiaraHis hand settles on hers briefly, then makes to move away in the manner an acquaintance's might, when offering uncertain comfort. She sets her hand on top of his though - stays the intention to move it with a gentle squeeze and a flicker of gratitude. Physicality came easily to Kiara; it was her solace in many, many ways. It was also where her calling lay.
She was a healer and her hand felt very warm where it touched his skin.
"We were - together. I mean, as together as anyone can be with the lives we lead." She relinquishes his hand, then. Her fingers reaching instead for her water glass. "It wasn't anything either of us saw coming but - I don't regret any of it, either. I'm just not very good at processing what it feels like on the other side of being with someone like that."
Kiara's mouth curves a little, a thin shoulder lifts.
"Lack of practice with the whole thing, I guess." A beat, then quieter: "I miss him. I haven't told the others yet, that he's gone. In truth, I have no idea if he even wanted them to know, but: I think they should. It's easy enough to assume the worst."
The server re-appears with their entrées, then.
Setting down two plates of steaming spring rolls. The brunette appears, for a moment at least, somewhat relieved by the distraction. She orders a glass of red wine; then directs her attention back to the orphan. Directs their conversation back, too, out of dangerous waters and into fresh ones: "I really didn't spend much time at all on my own. My mentor sought me out and I was being groomed for the Coven before I even really knew what was happening."
What was she looking for, then. Kiara tears a roll in two between long, elegant fingers. "I think all I was ever really looking for, at least for a long time, was an escape. From my family. From a life I had no desire for. When I met the Verbenae - it just felt ... right. Natural. Nature isn't perfect by design. She's wild and angry and yet - she can restore life, restore balance.
It means something, for me. Being part of that cycle."
AlexanderThere was a little uncertainty behind the contact. Kiara hadn’t retreated or pushed away when he’d unexpectedly hugged her in the motel room, but circumstances there were a little different. Hell, he had (use to have?) a habit of pushing away contact when things were hitting the air conditioner. So when Kiara rests her hand on his, he turns his over and gives it a gentle squeeze. If it’s something that makes her feel easier, the contact is there for her.
…as together as anyone can be with the lives we lead. There’s a snort of something like amusement at that. Another conversation, another restaurant. “You know, I said something very similar to Sera once. That my life isn’t really one I’d want to bring anyone else into. It’s hard anyway, with the job. The work life has killed more than one relationship over the years. But add on the complication of everything else and…” There’s a shrug. “But I guess it’s still a good thing that you coming together happened? That you have some good memories to hold on to? And who knows, maybe you’ll get to make more. Nothing’s fixed.” He nods silently as Kiara talks about people assuming the worst. “I can try to let people know, if you like?”
When the food arrives, Alex mirrors Kiara in picking one of the rolls up. Where she tears, he bites the end off, careful of the steam. There’s a quiet crunching as he chews up the mouthful, returning the hot roll to the plate. “It’s interesting you say that, about how things feel. That… I guess that’s how all this works for me, more than staring at books and learning obscure theories and whatever. But it’s meant that none of the Traditions I’ve really had any contact with have felt right. I thought that I might fit with the Euthanatos, but I think we have some pretty basic disagreements about fate.” Another shrug as Alex picks up the bitten roll, picking out a stand of shredded vegetable and nibbling it away. “I thought that there was something wrong with me to start with, where nothing seemed to fit right. Then the prospect of being told that I’d been doing it all wrong the whole time… Yeah, no. But then I worked out that it doesn’t mean anybody’s wrong. We’re just not right for each other. Not in this life, anyway.” There’s another shrug, but there’s no real energy behind it. Things are, simply, as they are. They may change, or they might not.
KiaraThere's a cant of the Verbena's head at that. This slight gleam that surfaces in her eyes. They're expressive, Kiara's eyes, a very dark brown that she took particular care to highlight with liners and bold, smokey eyeshadows. There was (and always had been) too about the woman a particular inclination toward bold, flirtatious behavior.
Her charisma was potent enough that most found her sharp little looks and edged smiles engaging - but, not every time. There were more than a few individuals that had (or did) reside in the city that held less than positive reviews of one Kiara Woolfe.
She'd told Ian once she stopped caring about opinions a long time ago.
It wasn't entirely true but to some extent, it was an honesty. She pushed boundaries, the Lifeweaver; such was her faction's reputation and function - after all, somebody had to begin for progress to happen. So, her eyes do adopt a particular brand of bright amusement when Alexander admits more than one relationship had perished by the wayside due to his career (and the life he led): "It's a terrible world to attempt dating in, but you should keep trying.
After all, we need something to want to come back in one piece for, right?" There's a pause, while Alexander discusses the Traditions. Trying them on, finding nothing that quite fit who he was and how he found himself Working. "Some of the Verbena in my old Coven held that belief. That notion that there were set ways that things had to be. That to truly be one of us you had to adhere to a doctrine."
A tiny suggestion of a smile: "Suffice it to say there's a reason we had to adapt to survive as a Tradition. I wasn't born of a pagan bloodline, there are some who'd argue that makes me less of a Verbena than others who can trace ancestry back generations. Personally, I think it means I'm better suited to surviving.
Things do change. It's what should happen. Seasons. Us. You." Kiara's smile brightens a touch. "You changed." A pause, then. She wipes crumbs from her fingers. "About Ian, though. I'd like to tell Elijah-William, myself. He and Ian were close. It feels right that I be the one to do that.
Kalen," Kiara frowns. Thoughtful. "Maybe you can tell him. I'm not sure what I'd say."
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