Must be a lonely night

Alexander

Winter may be the time where things die down and hibernate in nature, but since when have people let themselves be led completely by what is considered natural. Many people do take the opportunity to stay home, warm and dry and out of the snow. For others, life carries on as it did before the nights got longer and the temperatures colder.

So Union Station is still doing a reasonable business at this small hour in the morning. Clubs are still open, theatres are still putting their shows on, and alcohol still flows in the places between. Which means that people still need to make their way home once their nights draw to an end. Maybe their nights end with an awkward kiss at the doorway, and the promise of more to come. Maybe it’s with an awkward handshake and the empty promise of calling each other.

Alexander, though, started the evening alone and is ending it alone. The club he’d been to tonight had been its usual escape, a chance to drown in the thumping rhythm and flashing lights and just get lost in the crowd. A chance to be normal, really. That’s still important to him. But it’s also what’s brought him here, to a bench near the light rail lines leading out of the station. He’s had too much to drink to want to drive home, so rail seems like the next best option. The indicator boards nearby show that the trains are delayed, so possibly not.

So here is Alexander, relaxed on a bench. Bright blue combats and black boots cover his bottom half, with a thick coat covering whatever he was wearing in the club earlier. He’s got a partly filled/partly emptied bottle of water in his hands, depending on your point of view. He’s passing it between his hands, watching the water flow. His attention appears to be elsewhere.

[Sensing time. Arete, TN4. -1 taking time, we’re not in any rush.]

Dice: 1 d10 TN3 (2) ( success x 1 ) [WP]

Arionna

[do I feeeeeeeeels you there?

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 6, 6, 10) ( success x 3 )

Arionna

It's the clothes that make the person, some say. A woman is only a prostitute, when she assumes the role, and that role involves a certain uniform. Same might be said for any profession; policeman, professor, waitress. When the clothes are off, people become something else. Arionna is a shadow. A creature that exists to remind humanity that they are not alone, that they are never truly safe. Two hundred years ago, she would have been called something different, but the meaning ends up the same. And when the clothes of her 'role' are removed, is she no longer a shadow? Is she no longer a dark witch? Would people treat her differently if she wore something brighter?

The black coat keeps the cold out, while accenting the form that makes her noticeably female. The fake black fur, flat and sleek, presses against her neck, warming it against the occasional wind; her hair did the rest. The skirt she wore, with it's light ruffle at the end, extended down to the ankle of her heeled boots, and if she had pulled her hair up off her neck, it would have made her seem more reminiscent of another time.

The question is, why was Arionna clacking her way along the platform now? Why was the cold coming in when it could easily have gone somewhere else? Her destination may be to return home, or perhaps there is another locale she'd like to visit before the time seeps away into nothing. There are reasons, so many reasons, that she could be lingering in a space generally occupied by social creatures. The reason being...irrelevant.

The fact remained that she, with her dark lips and darkly shaded eyes, was now there, bringing with her the freezing touch of winter. Ah but were they not similar? Certainly he didn't mind the sensation. And oh how easy it was for her to know that he, too, was there. Touched, perhaps, by the need to wander. Her steps slowed, the cold air filling her senses even more than it had before. The final state of her being. The end.

Arionna came to a stop, lifting her eyes and turning her form to begin again, only this time trying to find the exact source. Like attracts like, whether one wants it or not.

Alexander

[Awareness?]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 8) ( success x 1 )

Alexander

[Extending, because I'd really like this to last.]

Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (1) ( success x 1 ) [WP]

Alexander

[That's 2, we're good for the scene]

Alexander

They say that everyone has their own perception of the world. There are Sleepers who happily walk around with their eyes closed. Other Sleepers make use of drugs to alter their perception of time and space. There are others, those few Awakened, who can see so much more of the world than the Sleepers can even imagine. Seeing and sensing and feeling the flow of time and space and energy. The forces of creation and decay.

It’s this stream of time that Alexander had pulled into his awareness. He sits in its flow, unable to do more than look since that first day when... Well, he’d done more than sense. He feels as the relentless flow of seconds turns into minutes and hours and days, able to count each fraction off in his mind as precisely as the digital clock on the departure board. Constant. Relentless.

There is a part of his awareness that picks up on something else, though. Something different, but not entirely unknown now. Where he seems to feel like the sliver of time between one moment and the next, frozen in the heart of a comet, this new resonance isn’t as static. This feels more like the oncoming ice age. He looks up from the bottle, or the fluid flowing around in the bottle, and tries to place its location. It’s nearby, but maybe he’s distracted, or tired, or it’s just not that strong.

Alexander sees a figure, wrapped in black, nearby. He gives a nod in greeting if their gazes happen to meet.

Arionna

They meet. Easily. Arionna is watching him as she approaches; she is not one to shy from encounters. Taking your eyes off a potential hostile, well, that's just idiotic. The cougar never lets the hunter out of its sight, if it wants to live. Though perhaps that too harsh for someone like Alex, for people like Danny and Elijah. Kalen... on the other hand...

She sits on the bench near him, though not entirely right beside. Arionna has never been very comfortable with closeness, not since she was very small. But then, the hands of people were never very kind. The bag of hers that she takes everywhere is set on the ground, and a book, notably the one from the shop, is slipped out and opened in her lap. This is the way of things. It's comfortable to have a reason to escape if she needs to, and books were perfect for that. Ignoring someone was...expected.

"You're without your companion. Must be a lonely night."

Alexander

“Lonely? Not really. It’s nice to be alone now and again, though. Or at least escape from things for a bit.”

Alexander turns in the bench to face Arionna a little more squarely, holding the water bottle in one hand and resting his head on the other, arm propped on the back of the bench. “We didn’t quite get onto introductions last night before things turned strange. I’m Alexander.” He doesn’t offer a hand, not just yet.

“How’s the book?” He nods down at it.

Arionna

"Strange. The group of you seem in need of one another. Clingy, perhaps. Dependent. " Sometimes, lately, she's wondered if she is developing the same need.

Alex turns, Ari does not. She remains as she is, the book open, her eyes fixated on the words. "It wouldn't have mattered." Because she knows how it's going to end up afterwards. They'll know her name, know to avoid her. "Arionna."

Her eyes shift slowly to look at him from behind strands of dark hair. "Not as enlightening as I had wished. Still, it's worthy of reading, as many books are. You don't seem the scholarly type."

Alexander

Alexander shrugs, quiet for a few seconds while he considers his response. “We... try to look out for each other. The world isn’t a friendly place. Especially when you see more of it that most.” He takes a closer look at Arionna, trying to guess at her age. Her resonance seems fairly simple, much like his own, and he’d seen how they get more complex as people gain in experience. “How long have you been awake for?”

I wouldn’t have mattered? Now here’s a puzzle, someone assuming he’d be lonely while seeming to try to keep people at arm’s length. On the upside, at least she doesn’t appear to want to play games. “Nice to meet you. Certainly in better circumstances than the last time.”

Alex snorts in amusement. “What gave it away? The complete lack of interest in the contents of the store? Naah, I’m not one for reading about stuff. I’d rather do it. Or at least talk to people who have.”

Arionna

"No, it's not. The world would be annoying if it were friendly. I prefer it to be cold. Makes it far more interesting." She lifted her chin to look at him fully. "I guess that depends on how you define it. How long have I known I was different? Well, then since I was very young. How long have I been willing to truly practice the art of my blood? Last year.

"Is it?" Arionna, a girl in her college years, and thus young, watches him with a dark curiosity. "Better circumstances. Is it because of the lack of the man in the shop? Or the lack of Kalen? Or maybe you prefer train stations to book stores."

"An aversion to books is common. Fewer people read than is suspected. Some things can't be done anymore. All that is left are the words of those behind us. And even those...can be scarce. You should appreciate them."

Alexander

Before he continues, Alexander glances around them. The bench he’d picked was away from the main paths people tended to use on their way to and from the platforms, but it’s good to check that nobody’s going to overhear before getting into the meatier stuff.

“Annoying? I’m not talking about your neighbours being overly nice and a little too boring. I’m talking about being able to be what you are without worrying about being bundled into the back of a black limo and never seen again. About not being killed by others like us, or worse than killed. About not getting lost in other worlds completely, getting stranded until you eventually die centuries later.” The bottle of water gets lodged between his thighs, stopping it from rolling away, and he rests his hand on the arm supporting his head. “You have been warned about this stuff, right?”

Is it? Possibly not. “I don’t know if you’ve been told, but the city has an infestation of vampires at the moment. The guy who took an interest in you? I’m pretty sure that he was one. He was some sort of walking dead anyway. So, yeah. If you count not being something’s potential prey, then yes. Circumstances are better.”

Alexander shrugs, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ve never exactly been what you’d call academically minded. It’s just not my thing. But fair play to you if it’s yours.”

Arionna

The book is slowly closed. "Is it common for you to assume that anyone who is new must have lived some rosy life? Does it play well into the hero complex that has risen in so many of you? I know what fear is, contrary to what some believe. This place, is the first place I have felt as if I may be me, in all that I am, without fear. I would very much appreciate it, if all of you would cease assuming that I come from white suburbia. "

Arionna placed her palm on the top of her book, and slipped her other hand around the spine. "But. Despite the obvious miscalculation, I'll play. The only true information, if such exists, that I've received, has been others informing me that I am wrong. That I am something to be worried for. So. Do I expect that I will be carted away in some...limo as you put it? No. Do I feel concern that others might wish to have me dead? In a manner of speaking, and I care very little for it. Am I concerned about being...lost in some other world? No. If anything, I am quite puzzled as to the depths each of you go to in order to conceal your gifts."

Arionna looked towards the tracks momentarily. "That would explain a bit of him, though now I'm only more curious."

"If not books, then what?"

Alexander

Alexander closes his eyes, rubbing his forehead. “Is it common for you to immediately try to jump down the throat of anyone trying to help you out?” He sighs and opens his eyes to look at Arionna again. “I don’t know where you come from and I wouldn’t even try to guess. But if you’re assuming that we’re all here trying to fulfil this hero complex you seem to think that we have, well that’s your opinion. But that doesn’t mean that the Union doesn’t exist. Or the Fallen. Or any other manner of unpleasant things.

“And given that you don’t understand why it’s good to be subtle, I’m going to guess that nobody’s told you about them yet? Have you had the pleasure of Paradox yet?

“I somehow doubt you’ll take this advice, but don’t go looking for him. I’ve fought one of these things and they don’t go down easily. They’re stronger than us, faster than us, and they can make you think that going home alone with them is the best idea in the world. And then? Your spirit waits to pass onto the other side, because there’s no body left for it to inhabit.”

Arionna

Her lips tighten and Ari furrows her brows. It's not anger necessarily that slides over her features, though perhaps it lingers along the edges. It's more...surprise with a little puzzlement. "...Yes. All of you treat me like an infant without regards to the concept that I existed as a person prior to our meeting." Ari looks to her book for a moment. "If it isn't that, others have found it necessary to treat me as something unsuitable to exist. Help...is a nonoccurrence."

Slowly she shook her head. "No. My teachings are my own, and what little my Aunt has given me."

"A predator rarely seeks out the predator overtly. Instead, one stalks it. Learns of it, if only to know better when to avoid their competition. I want to know more. If my safety troubles you, then you are welcome to come along. Otherwise, I am content to do as I have always done, and pursue it on my own."

She took in a deep breath and then slowly let it out. "You didn't answer my question."

Alexander

“You know,” Alexander turns again on the bench, sliding down a little, so that he’s facing forwards with his head resting on the top of the backrest. There are people on the other side of the concourse drunkenly dancing to the music one is playing from their phone, and a smile passes over his face for a moment. “I’ve had nothing but help offered here when I’ve needed it. When I’ve asked for it.” He glances at Ari briefly before going back to watching the dancing. “What you do is your choice. But if I had people trying to warn me to be careful, I’d listen to why. Maybe even ask around, learn more, and then decide. Your own experience doesn’t discount their’s, and vice versa. But that’s all up to you to decide.

“There are a few of us working it out as we go along.” He shrugs. Maybe Ari had been lucky enough to have warning that the world was about to lurch sideways when she woke up, maybe not. She’s not the only one to have done it, though. Whether that makes her feel any less alone? Well, that’s up to her.

He turns his head again, giving her a longer look. “If you want to go poking a tiger, that’s your choice. You know it’s dangerous. If you want help, it’s there if you ask. If you want to help, I’m sure you’d be appreciated. If you choose to do it alone, well. Good luck. I hope chance treats you well.”

“What did you want to know about not books? How I learn? How I spend my free time? How I prop up the coffee table?”

Arionna

"It has been my experience, that when someone offers kindness, there is always a dagger behind their back. No one is ever really kind unless it suits them to be so. No one ever really offers help, unless there is a benefit for them. This is particularly true if one isn't the sort to conform. " She might have even said it gets lonely after awhile, but then she's always felt at least a little alone. But no, she'll keep that bit to herself. It would mean admitting vulnerability, and Ari isn't willing to let that out. Asking for help is much the same way. Admitting defeat; saying that she can't do it on her own. And why can't she?

"I have always found it strange that none of you seem to be practicing as I do. Well, Kiara is...similar I suppose, though watered down as it may be. It's a curious thing. Perhaps you're just better at hiding it."

"Sometimes, the most ecstatic feeling comes from 'poking a tiger.' When one has to rely on their own wit, test their own abilities. When you come out at the end, it only serves to show how much you can accomplish. Though, don't you want to know what an undead finds interesting? If something is to, by definition, defy natural law, are you not curious to know what defines their person?"

Arionna let out a sudden burst of laughter, then promptly extinguished it. "All three." Lifting her hand from her book to slip a strand of hair behind her ear, using the moment to let her fingers pull back down and press into the corner of her lips.

Alexander

Alexander turns his head again to look at Ari, although this time he doesn’t turn back to watch the dancers. Not yet, anyway. “Then you win on the shitty past stakes. Why do you think your Aunt helped you? Or why Wesley got Grayson away from you? What was in it for them? And what do you think I’m hoping to get out of you for offering you this advice?”

He shrugs when Ari says it’s strange nobody really works in the same way. “I just do what works for me.” He pauses for a second, lifts up the bottle of water in one hand, then tilts it side to side to get the water inside moving. He raises his other hand and taps on its end in perfect time with the seconds ticking away on the clocks in the concourse. The clocks he isn’t even looking at. “I guess it’s all to do with how you see the world. I see time as something fluid, so having something fluid to focus on makes it easier for me to see it. Your milage may very well vary.” He shrugs again, putting the bottle back down again. “I’m not trying to hide anything. It’s more that I can’t really do anything that is particularly obvious. I know some of the others could throw fire and lightning around, but reality doesn’t like that. And neither do the reality police. You might want to ask Grace about them, if you’ve bumped into her yet.”

“There’s testing your limitations, and there’s knowing what’s beyond them. At the moment, at least. I can’t stop the flow of time, but I know that I’ll be able to one day. I don’t know if I really care why they do what they do. I’ve seen some of the results of their feeding. They’re dangerous, they kill, and most people don’t even know that they exist, let alone have a chance of stopping them.”

The joke had had its intended effect, if briefly. He gives Ari a smile before turning back to watch the people on the concourse. “In no particular order: I do. I try things. I listen to others. And the coffee table stands fine on its own legs. I guess I’m not one for staying indoors much, so reading was never really a thing for me. I run, hike, climb, shoot, dance. And, on rare occasions, do karaoke. You?”

Arionna

"I'm certain that my aunt did it for herself. Something doesn't precisely feel right about everything with her. But there is little to be done. " She glanced to Alex again. "Well, if we assume that Wesley is in the know of Grayson, then perhaps he didn't wish to sully his store. Would be terrible if it acquired a terrible reputation. It's not often that motivations are obvious. If an individual truly wants to hide what they really believe, then they'll go to great lengths to do so. Effective strategies are rarely quick and blunt."

"And how was it that you learned? You've made it obvious you don't read, so you musn't have learned it from witches before you." Ari looked to the raila gian. "I have met Grace. We do not agree. Though I don't understand your use of 'reality' or the concept of 'reality police.' I suppose they are the equivalent of puritans, witch burners perhaps? Those that find magic to be...abhorrent?"

She shifted a little so that she could see him eithout turning her head completely to the side. "I enjoy the woods. Where I grew up, there were many behind my home. I could venture into them whenever I wanted. I enjoy watching birds, and other creatures. I've never danced, but I find ballroom dancing to be lovely." Arionna tilted her head a little. "Mostly I read, study. People watch. I suppose I'm not nearly as active as you are."

Alexander

“I guess that’s one possibility. But there’s bleach and canvas and plenty of reservoirs and caves where a body wouldn’t be found in a very long time. And that’s assuming that you didn’t suddenly think he was the most enthralling man in existence and want to slip away with him for a little light supper. If you really want to go down that line, then maybe I’m trying to help you because someone helped me. I’m paying off a debt. But, then, I’d do it again, and again, well beyond any debt has been paid off. Being awake and alone is a shitty place to be in. I’m not doing this because I want anything from you, beyond possibly you paying it on to someone else. I’m not trying to con you, here. I’m a lousy liar.

“I’m not exactly formally taught. I remember how things felt when I woke up and I found tools that fit in with how I see things. Sera and Kalen helped me out at the start, but other things I’ve worked out on my own.” He smiles at that, remembering really seeing the wind for the first time. “Much like you said, I’m prodding the universe and seeing what I can accomplish.”

“Reality. Ok, this might take a bit of explaining. You know the guy who said the world was round when everyone else was convinced it was flat? I mean, the ground is flat, maps are flat, they’d never gone all the way around it. So it must be flat. Right? Then this guy comes along saying, naaah – it’s round. That’s reality. Most people who haven’t woken up think the world works in a particular way, so that’s how the world behaves. Then we come along and say naaah, we should be able to throw a ball of fire clean across the platforms. We can, but everyone else doesn’t believe it. So it gets harder and the bit of reality we try to change fights back. And that’s where paradox comes in. Do something too showy, or just have a run of bad luck, and the universe will beat you with a big stick.

“The reality police... The Union? Technocracy? Any of that sound familiar? They don’t think that people should be allowed to mess about with magic and risk destroying reality. So they... Well, from what I’ve been told so far, they usually make people who try disappear. Grace had a friend who vanished. There’s someone else roaming around who’s father disappeared. They’re more your puritans. Most sleepers would struggle to believe in the first place.”

Alexander smiles again – they seem to be finding something in common, at least, and he does love the forests and the mountains. “You’ll love this place then. You need to travel a bit to get out of the city, but when you do... There’s just about everything you could ask for. Plains to the east, mountains to the west, and forests and rivers and lakes all over the place. Go check out Red Rocks, if you haven’t seen it.”

dust motes

.-*****

dust motes

[Sorry. Some cats just jumped on some keyboards.]

Arionna

Arionna is quiet, listening to his words and yes... he's right in some areas. If they assumed that this man was what he was, and that he was dangerous, certainly there would be methods... still her curiosity is there, and she would like to know more about something that...days ago, she didn't even know existed. Witches? Certainly. Undead? Not so much.

He asks her if any of the reality business is familiar and Ari gives a soft shake of her head. She's never heard of these people. She doesn't know about anyone who would be frightened by 'breaking reality.' The thought seems a bit obscene to her. If they believed magic would break it, then it made little sense as to why it existed in the first place. Gods were prone to magical fits. It was simply... normal to her. Ah but that was the point wasn't it?

Her chin dips and Ari gives him a small nod. "I've been to the mountain. My...understanding...awaking, at you call it, was there. That the concept of my humanness is really..a lie in the end. There is no difference between myself and what exists beyond the city. Unfortunately time is scarce as of late."

Alexander

“There’s other stuff that you should probably know about, if you don’t already. Not to make you scared, just so that you know that there are other things going bump in the night that are best avoided, run away from or, failing that, shot repeatedly.” Any humour in his voice falls cold at that last point. Maybe something he’s had experience of? He coughs, clearing his throat. “Either way, admitting that you don’t know things isn’t really a weakness is it. Not if knowledge and the ability to make a decision with it is a strength?”

Alexander glances up as one of the display boards finally changes from Delayed to showing an arrival time. “I’d tell you more, but I’m tired and it’s late and I need to get some sleep.” With that, he pushes himself up from the bench, turning to Ari before he disappears towards the platforms.

“Give the others a chance, you know? They’re a decent bunch, and we’ve helped each other out a few times over the past few months. Everyone has their own stories to tell, if you care to hear them. Most will be happy to talk over this stuff, if you want to. And if you want to tell you own stories? People will want to listen. If you don’t?” He shrugs again. “That’s your choice.”

Arionna

Arionna slides her gaze away from him and towards the ground. It wasn't the admitting she didn't know that was the trouble...it was asking for someone to teach her. Aunt Lil had forced it into her life, it was never asked for. Self sufficiency, to Arionna, was merely a fact of life. There hadn't been anyone else to rely on.

Late. It's late for him. Ari looks up slowly to see the time. Late for him, but perfect timing for her. A time of strength and power. He would sleep, and she would venture home to read a bit more, to try and tease out the way the gods preferred her magic. Appeasing such beings was never easy, it seemed. She leaned over to slide her book in her bag, reaching into a pocket for a pen. She reached out a hand slowly, pausing to reconsider the mere concept of what she was about to do, and then she reached for his hand and leaned in, carefully scrawling her number out in neat, careful writing. "Perhaps, when next you consider hiking, you might call. "

Arionna leaned back, lightly cradling one hand in the other momentarily, then slipped the pen back. "It isn't always what I am willing to do, but I will consider your words. That's all I can offer." He was leaving, and Ari...well, her train wouldn't be far behind. With the bag hoisted up and bag against her hip, she looked at him. "Should you give in and wish to try a book, well, I can lend some of my less complicated. I'm sure you'll enjoy Clifford." There's a small quirk of her lips into a smile, and then it fades.

Alexander

Alex catches the moment of contemplation before he was given Ari’s number. He’d considered doing the same, but wasn’t – quite – ready to offer that connection just yet. With the way the tides of chance push their kind together, it wouldn’t have been long before they met again. But this solves that issue, at least for the moment. He smiles, taking the paper and slipping it into a pocket. “I’ll give you a yell. It’s nice to have company. And some conversation.”

He smiles at the offer of the easier reading material. “Never heard of him. As I say, I’m not really one for reading for fun. But never say never, and all that.

“Nice talking with you, Arionna.” With that, he gives a half-bow and turns to find his train.

A short time later, Arionna's phone will buzz with a text message from Alex. She has his number - of his disposable, burner phone anyway.

Were you worried?

Kalen Holliday

[How awake are we?]

Dice: 7 d10 TN7 (2, 2, 4, 8, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )

Smoke and Mirrors

The Rules

1: I think by now most of you know that I like to stick to an established posting order. So please only post once per round (unless you have a correction or something that you need to add quickly – that kind of thing is fine.) If I have nothing to add, I’ll tell you to skip me.

2: Try to be efficient when you post. I’m not going to set time limits on this scene, but keep in mind that we’ll need to wrap up at a reasonable hour.

3: Keep track of your own tempers (WP, Quint, etc.)

4: Combat in this scene is unlikely. The focus will be more social. That said, there is certainly a degree of risk involved.

5: As always, if anything in the scene makes you uncomfortable, please let me know.

6: House Rule…

“The Kiss” – Normal VtM rules state that mortals cannot resist the effects of the vampiric kiss (feeding bite) unless they have a WP rating of 9+. I am going to handle things differently for mages. If your mage’s WP is higher than the WP of the vampire biting them and they have reason to be frightened/suspicious of what is happening, then they may roll WP at diff 8 to attempt to shake off the effects. Mind shields will also protect against the effects of the kiss. If your character has an active Mind shield, the vampire must roll their WP at diff 8, with the shield countering 2 successes for each level of strength (so a level 3 mind barrier would remove 6 successes.) If the vampire is potent enough to overcome the shield, the above resistance rules still apply.

Regardless of other factors, if a vampire consumes enough blood to endanger the mage (5 or more blood points,) the mage may always spend a point of WP to attempt to break free.

(I don't anticipate this actually coming up in this scene, but I'm posting it for general info since this is a vampire SL.)

7: If your character has any active effects going at the start of the scene, roll those now.

8: Have fun!

Kalen Holliday

[How distracted by Resonance are we?]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

Smoke and Mirrors

Ivy & Gold was one of those unexpected little gems of a used bookstore. Small and unassuming, it was located on the edge of a residential area on the West side of town (not far from Federal Blvd.) and sandwiched neatly between an ice cream parlor and one of those old-fashioned small-scale pharmacies. The heavy wooden door leading in to the place was painted in with a neat gold script indicating the name of the store followed by "rare and used books."

Perhaps the mages were there by chance - happened to wander by and spot the words written on the door. Or maybe they'd read one of the handful of glowing reviews online that mentioned that this was one of the best local stores to find rare or out of print books.

However they ended up there, the lights were on when they arrived, shining with a warm glow through the curtained windows. There were no hours listed on the door, but one of the reviews mentioned that they were open late.

Kalen Holliday

Kalen, having gotten something approaching a reasonable amount of sleep, is interested in exploring. And there is, in fact, a library that will not stock its own shelves. Somewhere halfway through sketching out a plan to create a library that will stock its own shelves, Kalen determines that a better use of his time, at least at this juncture, would be buying books. Naturally, he has decided to drag Alexander along. Based, apparently on his inclination to drag Alexander places and not all of the interest Alexander has certainly never shown in books.
Look. Kalen Holliday has been called many things. Undemanding is generally not among them.

There is gold script on the door and they are open late and Kalen is awake enough that even without coffee there is a bit of a bounce in his step. Excited. Expectant. Reminiscent of a younger and less haunted person that he was once. Even with more sleep, he's still ghost-pale; but, without the shadows to drown out the color in his eyes, they seem much brighter and greener. Coupled with the smudges of just-barely-shimmery charcoal eyeliner and his long black coat, his eyes seem luminous.

He sets, rather quickly, to exploring the shelves.

Alexander Brandt

Books and bookstores aren’t particularly high up Alexander’s list of exciting things to do. He’s not precisely against them – they definitely have their uses, and he has a couple of shelves of books tucked away at home: Some work-related procedural stuff, a few barely-thumbed novels randomly picked off some Best Seller list, and various guides to camping and hiking and climbing and the like. Reading and books aren’t, in themselves, something to be overly excited about for their own sake.

If it hadn’t been for Kalen, Alexander wouldn’t even be here. But Kalen had been dragged up into the mountains on several occasions – to get him out of the warehouse instead of brooding over the maps of strange events in the city, to join in with things Alexander enjoys doing. And so it only seems fair that he joins Kalen in something that he enjoys. You never know, he might enjoy it too.

Well, stranger things have happened.

His attention, though, is snagged more by the ice cream parlour that they walk past than the book store that Kalen somehow heard about. He spends a few moments scanning the menu visible through the window, making a mental note to drag Kalen in once the book shopping is over. The Salted Caramel looks particular nice...

But, for the moment, the ice cream goes uneaten in its fridge. Instead Alexander starts to mooch around the store, somewhat aimlessly. He spends a little while peering out of the window, watching the people and traffic pass by. Eventually he starts scanning the shelves for something that looks like it could be interesting.

Italian neoclassical literature? Moving on...

Arionna de la Babin

[awareness thingy ya]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )

Arionna de la Babin

The movement of the city can be exhausting. People come and go, the city always moving, always acting on some impulse, and that energy can be overwhelming to people who find greater pleasure in resting. Some people choose sleep as their form of rest, others delve into the world of gaming, and others find a greater pleasure in books. Sometimes it's the smell, sometimes it's the feel, but books, to a particular witch with a not-so-lovable attitude, are the cure-all of a hectic day.

One, of course, can never have too many books; not that she really requires a reason to bring any home. It's the script that catches her eye, and the coming winter pauses just outside the door. She too, has a fondness for the night, much like this store, and so it seems merely fate, that she should wander by it. Sometimes, the Gods give guidance. She steps in slowly, her boots pressing lightly, but firmly into the ground. She keeps a palm rested lightly against the top of her bag at her side, while using her finger to slowly move among the books, scanning the titles carefully. Sometimes beautiful things wind up in stores like this, thing that one might never have considered finding.

Her torso shifts just a little in the aisle, body turning enough to give her the clearance to glance behind her and perhaps...oh perhaps see someone of particular note. Someone she hasn't spoken to in some time. The other, of course, is new.

Smoke and Mirrors

Inside the store, the air had a distinct smell of old paper and binding glue. It was cleaner than some used bookstores (not a speck of dust in sight,) but everything in the place had an aged, antique feel. None of the books on the shelves had been published recently. Most of them were still in pretty good condition. The price tags were hand-written. Many of the books were in the range of what a college student might be able to afford. Many others were... significantly less affordable. The more collectible items were kept in locked display cases.

The store itself was small. Only one level. But the tall stacks made it easy to hide from view. There was a register off to one side, atop a solid wooden counter. No one seemed to be watching it. If there were any employees present (and surely there had to be) they were hiding somewhere.

Alexander Brandt

[Well, all the cool kids have done it. Awareness.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

Smoke and Mirrors

[Alexander can sense the other mages. Kalen (of course) and Arionna. But there doesn't seem to be anything else in the way of magical energy here.]

Kalen Holliday

Alexander might even convince Kalen that it is not too cold for ice cream. He might have his ice cream drowned in hot fudge and molten caramel to begin the assault on the cold before it has a chance to reach him at all, and he might insist on having coffee to go with it. But, since when is it difficult to get Kalen to do anything that involves coffee? He catches sight of Alexander's dismissal of Italian neoclassical literature out of the corner of his eye and smirks a little. But whatever playful jab he might have made is struck down by the sensation of a less welcome cold that seems to coil serpentine along the length of his spine. He reaches out with one hand, rest his fingertips on Alexander's arm, tries to fill his mind with columns of ice. The slowness and steadiness of glaciers.

Kalen's eyes, if nothing else, turn colder. His expression, all mischief and quicksilver a few seconds ago, stills into something distant and hidden, like a river flowing deep under ice. Oceans whose surface is locked into opaque glass.

He waves a hand in Arionna's direction without looking at her, indicative rather than a greeting. "Have you had the pleasure?" He asks Alexander quietly.

Smoke and Mirrors

[don't mind me, just rolling some mysterious dice]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )

Alexander Brandt

Alexander continues to look along the lines of books on the shelves. Or, rather, appears to. But he’s not really reading the titles – not that the ones about existentialism and ontology, whatever they are, would have attracted his attention anyway. Rather, he’s looking through and around the shelves for where the unfamiliar resonance – one that feels like the precursor to his own, the slowing descent to where heat and movement cease. He’s watchful, cautious, more than anything.

Kalen gets his attention with his touch and Alexander glances at him, taking in the change in his gaze from the excited, glowing to the cold and wary. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. Whisper quiet, in the quiet of the stacks, he says, “No. Should we go?” Whether the stacks of shelves and their varying positions allow, Alexander tries to keep the stranger in his peripheral vision.

Arionna de la Babin

The light touch of a finger on the spine of a book. The slight pull as the book tilts back and begins to slide into the curl of her hand. She knows they're there. Yet she pulls the book into her hands, separating the pages to the first part of the first chapter. If only she could curl in a corner and read for some time; quiet, peaceful, not bothered by the ridiculously shallow notions of humanity.

But ah yes, the other who Kalen speaks with. The other who is cold, yet not disliked for it. The one who feels almost...comfortable in such a way. Winter, and all that it brings, was always that way; comforting. The book is shut abruptly, slid back into the hole it lay in before, and Arionna presses on, closing the distance between the three of them.

Smoke and Mirrors

There was a door located on the back wall, mostly hidden by a line of tall shelves. As Kalen and Alexander regarded Arionna, they'd hear the slight creak of old hinges as that door opened. Then footsteps, light and unobtrusive on the carpeted floor. Soon a man appeared. Mid-30's, but with an ageless sort of appeal that made him seem younger. Large blue eyes. Soft brown curls. He was dressed in jeans and a dark green sweater over a white button-down.

"Evening," he greeted the three of them, eyes roaming from Kalen to Alexander to Arionna and... back to Kalen again, where his gaze hovered for a moment. He smiled, and the effect was... disarming, the way it lit up his eyes.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

Kalen Holliday

Kalen shakes his head, barely perceptibly, in response to Alexander's question. He lets his hand flatten out, braces lightly against Alexander's arm, and leans into his space so that he can respond even more quietly. He is ridiculously comfortable invading Alexander's space. “No,” he whispers. “It's not like that. We just...have a tendency to devolve into this point where she is offering commentary on my worshipping a false god and being absolutely unable to accept any viewpoint that varies from my own.” There is a more complicated answer, but the one he gives here, in this place, is true enough.

Kalen slips out of Alexander's space after a lingering pause, but he leaves his hand on Alexander's arm. He is about to make introductions, because regardless of whether or not Arionna enrages him on almost every occasion he speaks to her, they are both Mages and they should not be unable to work together. He is spared having to play any manner of immediate social games by the intervention of a bookseller.

So very helpful. So very attentive.

“Browsing, mostly,” he says. “I heard this was one of the best places in the city to find uncommon books and I was intrigued.” He's smiling a little now, because he does like attention. And rare books.

Alexander Brandt

Some of the tension slips away from Alexander as it seems that this new sensation doesn’t involve the kinds of trouble that involve weapons, flames and running around screaming. Well it might involve the latter, given a short version of a very long answer, but it’s not about to get physical. He nods, turning as he hears the door open and the footsteps make their way around the shelves.

Is there anything I can help you with? This was more Kalen’s shopping trip than his, so Alexander gives a brief smile and a shake of his head, stepping over towards the front desk. As he turns to pass Kalen, he rests a hand on the man’s shoulder.

He turns, leaning back on it. Alexander nods at Arionna in greeting before looking back to watch the others talk. His interest is more in the people than in the books.

Arionna de la Babin

Prey interrupts the trio, as it often does without knowing it, and Arionna pauses with her finger pressed against a spine, ready to pull it from the shelves to examine it. She twists to look at the three of them, still keeping her body partly facing away; no she's not all that into it, that's what her body tends to say. But then her hand slides down to her bag and she continues her turn enough that now she is three-quarters facing the three of them. Intrigued.

Kalen is just browsing. Arionna interjects. "Yes. Magic. History of, uses, superstitions, perceptions. Older sorts. Not neopagan." Her chin tucks a little as she regards the keeper, giving Alexander a glance as he bothers to nod to her, to give some sort of silent greeting. She sees it, she gives nothing in return except a long, studious look.

Smoke and Mirrors

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that people think so." There was a quiet modesty in the seller's tone that felt genuine. (Did he not read his own reviews?) "I have a few sources. If a book exists, I can probably hunt it down. I do quite a lot of special orders, so if you have any requests, let me know." There was that smile again. "My name is Wesley."

Alexander seemed fairly disinterested in the shop's inventory. Wesley seemed to pick up on this, so he let him be. Arionna, on the other hand, seemed to know precisely what she was after. At her request, Wesley's smile twitched lightly (this almost... knowing thing) and he moved to point the way toward a section of the store near the back. "Any particular culture or ideology? I just got in a fascinating text on Japanese shamanism."

Kalen Holliday

Wesley turns his attention, at least for the moment, to Arionna, and Kalen half listens. He studies the books near him, drifting along the shelf but not stepping out from where he can see Alexander. Willing to move out of arm's reach or not, he would rather be able to see him. He pulls a book on nautical history off of one of the shelves, cradles it so that one hand supports the spine, and glances over first the table of contents and then the index.

His eyes move, though he does not really tilt his head back up. First to Alexander, then to Arionna, then to Wesley, then to his page until the page is turned. And then this process of looking for where everyone is begins again. It's really only Wesley who is difficult to track, all cat-soft steps and not registering to any senses of Kalen's beyond the usual five. He did not ask about where the magic books were, but as Arionna seems about to get the tour, he does pay at least some attention.

Alexander Brandt

Alexander has a passing thought that, maybe, Kalen and this new person should compare libraries some time. It would appear to be something that they have in common. But whether that would ever be likely to happen is a completely other matter, and he doesn’t have nearly enough knowledge about the conversations between the two to even guess.

Arionna throws Alexander a look in response to his nod. It was a perfectly reasonable nod. There were conversations going on that he didn’t feel the need to interrupt, so... he nodded. The look? Is returned. A few moment in, Alexander’s head cocks to the side in slight puzzlement. And a few more moments later is followed by a shrug and he breaks eye contact. Uninterested in the hunt through the shelves, he pushes himself up to perch on the edge of the counter and picks up a random book from its surface. Some potential purchase that was left in preference to another. An autobiography of someone he’d never heard of. Sighing, bored, he opens the book to a random page and leaves the others to take care of themselves.

Arionna de la Babin

"Medieval, primary. Middle Irish, should you happen to have it." There's a slight tilt of her head in interest. "Japanese shamanism? I'd like to see it. " It's not exactly her brand of it, but then again, she's in the process of discovering the method of using her own, limited, gifts. One can't deny the possibility of some truth in another culture now can they?

She may be talking to Wesley, but that doesn't mean she's ignoring the others. Ari glances towards Kalen and his accomplice, who seems bored in a book store. How can someone be bored in a book store. There's a slight furrow of her brows and quickly, she's focusing on the keeper.

Smoke and Mirrors

"Ah, yes. I do have a few books on old Irish practices..." Wesley led Arionna back to the shelf in question, sliding his finger over the bindings until he found a title that looked promising. "This one details druidic rituals." He pulled it out and handed it to her. "I met the author once. A very interesting historian..."

The bell over the front door sounded with a soft chime as someone (a new customer?) entered. Kalen and Alexander had the better view of him: a tall, dark-haired man in jeans and a leather jacket. He glanced around the shop, surveying it with a slow, tracking gaze, before making his way to the counter, where he leaned casually and drummed his fingers once - this light but authoritative tap. At the sound, Wesley went still. Then his posture shifted, elongating his spine as he pulled fully upright. "Why don't you have a look at the books here, and let me know if you see anything that catches your eye." He reached up to grab a second title - the one about Japanese Shamanism - and placed it within easy reach should Arionna wish to look it over. Then he paced back to the front of the store where the man was waiting.

The two of them regarded each other silently for a long moment before Wesley greeted him. This time, he didn't smile. "Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Addario?"

"I heard you got my order in." The taller man (Mr. Addario) smiled, cutting and wolfish. "So here I am."

"I should think you would have sent an employee." There was something veiled beneath Wesley's voice. Subtly hostile beneath the layer of polite etiquette. "But yes, I have the book." He stepped back behind the counter, bending down to snag a set of keys from beneath the register.

Smoke and Mirrors

[The stranger feels... off. Cold and predatory. He feels like entropy. Like decay. The mages can catch a subtle sense of it at the edge of their awareness, prickling the hair on their arms and the backs of their necks.]

Kalen Holliday

Kalen drifts back toward Alexander, which puts him also closer to the newest arrival into the store. That is coincidental, really. He moves closer to Alexander, book still cradled in one hand so that the spine is supported because he spent years in a library of rare books and such a thing has become reflexive. He holds the open book out to Alexander.

“I think this is perfect. He'll love the detail on these carvings.” Who? What? Were there people in this store unprepared for this? Who isn't ready to pretend to be gift shopping for a nebulous person at the drop of a hat? Cops go undercover, right? Alexander must have practiced this.

He keeps his support of the book, leaves Alexander's hands free and leaves the book a bit to his side. And then he looks up, at the man drumming on the counter, looks him over quickly, and smiles a little.

[Perception+Alertness - What can I tell about you, Mr. Addario?]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 2, 4, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )

Alexander Brandt

Parts of the conversation going on towards the back of the store drift to the front, but it’s still nothing really grabbing at Alexander’s attention. Honestly, neither is the book that he’s flicking through. He’d opened it at the point where the author was writing – badly – about how bad their life had been as a child. Well, shit happens.

Alexander is just closing the book and returning it to its spot on the desk when the door opens and the newcomer arrives, moving to the desk. He gives the man a quick once-over – feet to head – as he realises that he’s probably not sat in the best of places given that the guy seems to have some business with the store. So he hops up and off the edge of the counter, giving the man and the – strangely wary – shopkeeper its space to do their dealings. Alexander gets an odd feeling from the man as he does. He glances back as he moves towards Kalen at the same time as Kalen drifts towards him. It suddenly feels like there might be some safety found in numbers.

Kalen passes a book towards Alexander and for a split second Alexander pauses. He had something else in mind. His right hand has found something in a pocket and has pulled it out, running it between his fingers. “Oh. Probably. You know what he likes better than I do.” Bored? Distracted? Uninterested? It should fit in with the attitude that the shopkeeper has seen of him so far. Alexander doesn’t take the book from Kalen, he wouldn’t want to drop it.

Behind the counter, the glass of the window reflects images of the inside of the bookshop and of the people inside it. There’s more to this guy than meets the eye. The sleeping eye, at least. But there are at least three pairs of Awakened eyes here. Alexander pushes against reality and hopes that it doesn’t feel the need to push back.

[Sensing stuff: Entropy and Spirit. TN 4]

Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (4) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Arionna de la Babin

Ari was content to take his recommendations to heart, to examine the books he had suggested, and leave the boys to their...whatever they were doing. She was content, except for the other who slipped in, bringing a sensation with him that even made her uncomfortable.

Arionna does not know that the world has many dangers. She is not versed in zombies, and entire realities shutting down. She knows only the small bits she has learned from others before her...or the other before her. All that she might wonder, is whether he too is another magi among the group. Her head lifts, one of Wesley's recommendations already opened in her hands, and oh...yes she watches. Kalen and Alex, they know the ropes it seems, know how to play it, but Ari...well...cubs learn through trial and error.

[Eh why not, Whatcha doin over there Mistah J?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

Smoke and Mirrors

[Alex opens up his senses, and what he finds is likely to back up any suspicions he may have had about the newcomer. The man's pattern was marked by entropy. (By death.) But it was arrested. Frozen. Like something had halted the natural cycle of decay. And further into the store... back in the office, where Wesley was. There was a similar sensation of entropy. Wesley hadn't resonated the way this man did, though. Whatever the explanation for that, it does seem as though they both carry the same affliction.

As for spirits... there are none here to find. No ghosts of the recently departed. Just these two men who are both dead and yet not dead.]

Smoke and Mirrors

"And miss out on seeing my favorite bookseller?" Mr. Addario raised an eyebrow knowingly. Behind the counter, Wesley offered a thin smile. When he retrieved the keys, he walked back to the office. There was a slight hesitance to the way he moved, a lingering glance thrown over his shoulder to Kalen and Alexander before he disappeared behind the bookshelves. A moment later, the office door clicked shut.

Which left the three of them alone in the shop with a man who felt like death.

Mr. Addario (he really looked too young to be called Mr. anything) surveyed Alexander and Kalen, watching them with cold, detached interest. After a few beats, he stepped away from the register and glanced down the aisle to where Arionna stood. His eyes settled on her for a long moment, meeting her gaze, before finally he began to move in her direction.

"Reading anything interesting?"

Kalen Holliday

Kalen glances after Mr. Addario as he heads for Arionna, but he does not move to intervene or to follow. He turns toward Alex, leans toward him again, and murmurs something that would be barely audible even to Alexander. Comprehensible, almost certainly to no one else in the shop. He remembers this feeling, this kind of creeping cold.

And so he looks for the Words that are the core of this Mr. Addario's being.

[Prime Scan - because Kalen thinks Prime solves everything, WP because reasons.]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (3, 6) ( success x 1 )

Alexander Brandt

Between Grace’s warning on a certain messaging system, discussions after one night clubbing a few months ago and what Alexander has just seen, it wouldn’t take an expert into the works of Bram Stoker to hazard a guess as to who – rather, what – just arrived at their little party.

Wesley walks past with a lingering glance, and it’s a glance that’s returned. Do they know each other’s dirty little secret now? Or is Wesley’s reaction to do with Mr Addario? Either way, this book shop probably isn’t the safest of places to be right now. Having the local Technocracy Recruiting Drive stop by now might actually make things a little safer.

If it had been just the two of them, Alexander would definitely be trying to guide Kalen out and away. It seems that Kalen’s picked up on the strangeness of the man too, but it’s not clear if he’s quite figured out everything. But that still leaves the new woman. It wouldn’t feel right leaving her alone with these... people. Especially as one seems to have taken an interest in her.

So Alexander turns to Kalen, looking him directly in the eye, and hopefully sounding suitably fed up with an extended shopping expedition. “We’ve been at this for hours. Can we go eat now, please? You promised steak.” With his back to Mr Addario, he then mouths to Kalen: get her out.

Arionna de la Babin

Despite her obvious interest in Elijah, she would normally enjoy the sort of individual who gave off that sort of...monstrous air. Oh certainly not the sort that would make Hannibal Lector envious, but enough to set the normal people at ill ease. Elijah was just an exception to her general interest. So Mr Addario is certainly an interesting sort, and hardly one to shake a stick at...except for the mustache. That just had to go. Though at least it wasn't a mountainman beard.

His question...now that receives a lift of her chin and her usual dry tone. "Ridiculous question. I'm not standing in a Barnes and Noble. " Ari lifts and holds the book to him. "Since you seem so interested. Hardly someone I'd take for an interest in magic and witchcraft."

Smoke and Mirrors

That... actually did get the man's attention (despite Arionna's assumptions.) Though perhaps not in the way she might have liked. Mr. Addario tilted his head and glanced at the title of the book in Arionna's hands. When he met her eyes again, he smiled faintly. "Is that a particular interest of yours. Magic and witchcraft?" There was a slightly sharp punctuation when he said those two words. Behind them, Kalen and Alexander feigned a discussion about wanting to leave, but Mr. Addario's attention was squarely on Arionna.

When Wesley reappeared from the office, he was carrying both a small book and a package wrapped in parchment, and his attention landed almost immediately on the place where Arionna and Mr. Addario converged. Wesley's energy was poised and still. He didn't have the sharp edge of intimidation that the other man possessed, but when he approached the pair he met Mr. Addario's eyes and held them for a long moment.

You could practically cut the tension with a knife.

"Shall I ring you up, Grayson?" Wesley canted his head toward the register. Apparently they were on a first name basis now. Arionna might catch the low flicker of irritation that passed across Mr. Addario's (Grayson's) eyes, but whatever his reaction, he didn't say anything. Finally he turned and allowed Wesley to lead him back to the counter.

"How much?"

"Two hundred and sixty five."

Grayson didn't seem especially surprised by the sum. He reached into his wallet to pull out a couple of large bills, which he dropped unceremoniously onto the counter. Wesley took them without comment, making change at the register. "Do you need a receipt?"

"No."

It was an almost excruciatingly mundane conversation. And yet... Grayson's eyes were hard and dark, and Wesley looked as though he was about three seconds away from throwing the man out the door. Grayson picked up the package and smiled.

"Have a nice evening."

He glanced back at Arionna.

Wesley cleared his throat.

Grayson left.

Wesley leaned over the counter and closed his eyes for a moment.

Kalen Holliday

There is a second, where Alexander wants him to save Arionna and Kalen's eyes go flat and cold. He is about to move, but only because he adores Alexander. He is spared having to go save Arionna by Wesley's re-arrival and he watches the exchange between them with some interest.

"Easy," Kalen says softly, and it really isn't for Alexander. He's looking at Wesley. "Relax. We'll get your steak." He closes the book gently, sets it down on the counter, and slides it toward Wesley.

There is a little worried crease between Kalen's eyebrows. There are huge gaps in what he understood of that, because he doesn't know their history or the peculiarities of that relationship. "He seems like a handful, he come here often?"

[Perception+ Empathy - This time on Wesley - Are you protecting us? From that? That merits my attention, because you clearly know this situation is dangerous as fuck. | Again, WP because reasons.]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 6 ) [WP]

Alexander Brandt

Alexander wouldn’t be Alexander without worrying about others getting hurt – especially those who don’t know, or can’t fight back, against what’s threatening them. But, equally, he knows that Kalen is a better man than Kalen things he is. Even without Alexander asking, he’s sure that Arionna wouldn’t have been left to the mercy of that thing.

Kalen approaches Wesley, setting the book on the counter to – presumably - pay and talk to him. Wesley might not have felt quite like Mr Addario, but there was still something of that freezing of chaos around him. So Alexander watches Wesley as he makes his own way over to Arionna. He certainly doesn’t trust the man, and if he tries something... It wouldn’t be the first undead he’s tackled.

“You ok?” He breaks his view of Wesley to look at her when he gets a little closer, checking whether how she appears matches up with whatever she replies.

Arionna de la Babin

One has to wonder what might have happened had Grayson stayed longer. Was his punctuation out of intense curiosity or suspicion? She canted her head just a little to watch him darkly, perhaps even prepared to answer him. Soon enough he has left to handle his affairs. Arionna, didn't stop watching the man who was at first uncomfortable, then appealing, and then somehow uncomfortable again. The more she lingers on the feeling...

She lifts the book as if to put it right back where she had found it, but is already reconsidering it. No, she'll return for it another night perhaps. When Alex approaches, Ari slips her hands down to the top of her bag and looks at him slowly. "Were you worried? "

It was the smile. It had to be the smile that set it off. Yeah, let's go with that. It makes sense. It was fine until the smile, right? "You were going to leave." The failings of having only part of the information. "Now you show concern? Fascinating. I wonder why." She's always cold, or at least she gives it off as such. Her brows even furrow the more she observes, and speaks with Alex. It wouldn't have surprised her if they had left.

Smoke and Mirrors

Outside, the sound of a motorcycle engine revved and sped down the street. Wesley opened his eyes and glanced at the door. Kalen was there at the counter with his book, and Wesley met his eyes for a long moment. Something about his focus felt... liquid. As though he were fighting to keep his attention on the present moment (on his shop and the man standing in front of him.)

"You should go," he said softly. His voice held a gentle sense of urgency. "I'm afraid I don't feel well. I think I'll need to close early for the night."

He picked up the book that Kalen set down and began to ring it up, placing it in a white paper bag. After a moment he glanced at the other book on the counter - the one he'd brought back from the office. "Oh, I was going to give this to you. I thought perhaps you might enjoy some of the poems." He slipped the book into the bag and handed it over to Kalen. While he waited for Kalen to pay for the first book, he glanced up at Arionna.

"Did you find anything you liked?"

Kalen Holliday

Kalen watches Wesley, with growing curiosity and growing concern. He knows moments where time turns into something fluid. Where the world everyone else knows to be present is drowned in other moments.

But he also knows what distance can be worth. And so when Wesley says he is not feeling well, Kalen does not press him. He just nods, gives him a faint smile, and murmurs, “Feel better.”

And he thinks that that will be all, but then there is talk of the book of poetry. His smile widens, just a little, but the intensity in his eyes nudges upward significantly higher. “Thank you. I do love poetry.”

He pauses only for a second when he finishes paying for the book. “Thank you,” he says again, very softly. Because predatory showdown or not, Wesley could have let that other thing that felt like a creeping cold oblivion have Arionna. But he did not.

And then he picks up the bag with both books, nods once, and heads for the door. “Come, Alce,” he says, quiet but insistent. “I promised you streak, afterall. You want it with whiskey or with wine?”

Alexander Brandt

It certainly wasn’t the reaction that Alexander was expecting. Maybe I’m fine. Or something about the tension of being that close to... Something. To what? His mind flashes back to another place, another time, with listless, lifeless spirits waiting out their existence until they just faded into oblivion. A fate where death isn’t the end.

“I didn’t want anything to happen to you.” He looks at Arionna while he talks, but keeps looking back over to Kalen and Wesley. “And you wouldn’t have been left alone.” Alexander nods at the book that has been set back on the shelf. “I don’t know if you take friendly advice, but here’s a piece for you. If you want that book, get it now and don’t come back.” He turns back towards the counter, moving back to Kalen. He looks at Wesley as he finishes speaking to Arionna.. “This place isn’t safe.”

Alexander moves towards the door but turns to look at Arionna, waiting to see what she does. If it looks like she’ll be leaving – with or without the book – he waits until she’s passed through the door. Otherwise he’ll follow Kalen through the door, leaving it open behind him.

Arionna de la Babin

"You didn't? The lot of you have an odd way of showing that." Alex's looks to the duo are not unnoticed. People flock to Kalen, that she's noticed. Elijah...Ian...Sera and Grace... all a family, it seems; running after one another when there might be a hint of discomfort. She's still teasing out the way they interact and the why of their importance. But the fact remains that Alex is talking to her and shifting his focus over to the others.

"No place is safe. Safety is an illusion." But the book, does she take it? Arionna reaches back to pull the book from the shelf, and yes, she pays for it exactly as expected (or hoped) by Alex. "I did." Ari says to Wesley at the counter, opting for the book on druidic magic. Paid, and stuffed in her bag, she gives the man one last glance. "You have a nice shop."

Out the door she slips, bag readjusted at her side, and a glance given towards the two magi.

Smoke and Mirrors

If it seemed a bit forward, or out of character, for a shopkeeper to give a complete stranger a book of poetry, Kalen at least seemed to take it in stride. Perhaps the two of them simply existed on some other, more whimsical plane. Feel better, Kalen said, and Wesley's eyes shone with something that might have been gratitude and might have been something more. But then his eyes started to unfocus, and his attention passed over Alex.

"You are as safe here as you are in any other bookstore. And at least I don't try to sell you a digital reading device when you walk in the door." A faint bit of humor, that. But he was fading fast. Kalen, familiar as he was with that particular affliction, knew the signs. And he and Alexander both knew when it was time to leave. Arionna was the last to go, paying for her book as Wesley nodded to her and offered a tired, distant smile.

After they left, the door locked behind them. A few moments later, the lights shut off.

He's a Verbena I used to know

Ian

The ambient temperature in Denver was just slightly above freezing. Cold enough to still feel like winter (or at least, the end of it,) but warm enough that the mass of dark clouds overhead was just as likely to mean rain as snow. When Ian arrived at Washington Park earlier in the evening, the air was still dry. But the threat of precipitation loomed over the city like a blanket. He was running, like he often did on this particular trail. It was becoming a habit.

The path took him on a loop around the park before he cut inward toward the lake, loping past a handful of slower runners on his way toward the gazebo (where the girl with the odd resonance had been two days earlier.) That, of course, was then the rain hit. Slow at first. Delicate pin-prick droplets that left specks of wetness on the ground. Soon it built into a light rain. When a drop of it managed to hit the back of his neck and crawl icily down his spine, he exhaled irritably and jogged into the cover of the open gazebo. Once there, he stopped to catch his breath, hands on his hips as he looked out at the darkened sky.

Light rain tended to come in sporadic shifts. Possibly, if he waited a few minutes, it might let up.

(Possibly he'd be running back to his car in the freezing rain.)

Alexander

[Because he's been trying stuff out, and because he had time to kill... Sensing heat, Arete 1. TN 4, -1 for taking time, 2 succs to last.]

Dice: 1 d10 TN3 (1) ( success x 1 ) [WP]

Alexander

[Extending,

Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (4) ( success x 1 )

Alexander

There were a lot of reasons why people were in the park, and a lot of them tended to be shared. To exercise, running along the trails through the park. To meet, the occasional couple walking closely together through the early evening light. To walk the dog. Or just to pass through.

One figure, sat near the lake, is waiting for a friend. There are no plans to meet, no exchange of text messages or voicemails or phone calls. It’s just that this is the spot where they had met twice before, and it seemed like the most likely place for it to happen again. It had been months since that last time with no signs of a certain scarecrow appearing again. But, then, there hadn’t been any warning before. So he comes and he watches and he waits for his friend.

As he waits, he plays with a lighter. It flicks open, lights, close. Flicks open, lights closes. At one point, Alexander stops to feel the heat radiating off the flame before the same cycle restarts. Only afterwards he’s looking at more than just the lake. His vision glows with the sensation of heat – or the lack of it. So he sees the slight cooling in the air just before the rain starts and it suddenly seems like a good time to find cover. The single drops multiply into rain and he runs to the nearby gazebo. He’s not as prepared for weather today as usual – rain hadn’t been on the forecast – and so a little cover while the rain (hopefully) blows itself out seems to be a good idea. There was that gazebo not so far away.

So head ducked down, he runs under cover. And then he notices that he’s not alone. “Oh! Ian. Hi.” Awkward? Quite possibly.

Ian

[Awareness]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 2, 6, 6) ( success x 2 )

Ian

How long had it been since the last time they'd seen each other? Not since that night when Ian had played Kiara on the basketball court. He hadn't spoken to Alex then - nothing beyond a brief greeting. The truth is, they'd seldom spoken to each other at all. At least not about anything that wasn't some immediate threat that they were in the process of eliminating. They'd played soccer once. There hadn't been a lot of conversation then either.

But that was probably just as well, as far as Alexander was concerned. They hadn't exactly started things off on the right foot.

Ian hadn't really expected to see him. But then, it was a public park. And with the rain, there were bound to be other people heading for shelter. He didn't notice Alex's resonance right away. At first it was just this quiet note of winter lingering in the background. But when he caught the sound of approaching footsteps, he glanced over his shoulder toward the sensation and matched it with Alex's face. It took slightly longer for Alex to notice that he wasn't alone. Ian's mouth twitched with amusement at the sudden greeting.

"Hey."

He'd clearly been out for a run, judging by his clothes. Drawstring sweats and a sleek black windbreaker. His hair was a bit damp from the rain. Absently he ran a hand through it, pushing the wet strands off his forehead.

"Enjoying the weather?"

Alexander

[Awareness too]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )

Serafíne

AWARENESS!

Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 6 )

Alexander

Alexander glances around the gazebo quickly, seeing if there was anyone else unexpected there, before returning his gaze to Ian. Their first meeting hadn’t been the best on record – Alexander coming away with an impression that he was being being played with in some kind of game that only Ian knew the rules to. But then there had been other times that they had encountered each other. Almost half of which involved fighting and shooting and, oh yes, someone getting decapitated.

It’s the little things that can make it hard to relate to someone, although the tide of chance had been remarkably reluctant in bringing the two of them together anyway. Who knows, maybe if they had gotten off on a better foot, maybe managed to be sociable a little more than the time stargazing outside the Chantry with Sera, maybe maybe maybe.

But that wasn’t the case, and Alexander still doesn’t quite get the other man. And so he steps back to lean against one of the rails running around the edge of the gazebo and crosses his arms across his chest. Maybe he’s cold? Or maybe it’s out of some unconscious statement of the barrier between them. But, then, our Alex isn’t all that metaphorical.

“It was better dryer. Cold I can handle. Wet when you’re not expecting it is just nasty. How about you? You don’t really look like you were expecting it either.”

He looks out into the darkening park, towards its closest edge, and nods in that direction. “Shame the sky isn’t clearer. The three of us could have looked tried to find those nuns on a carousel again.”

Ian

Ian made a low sound of agreement, following Alex's gaze across the landscape of the park. "I was hoping it'd be cold enough for snow."

Alex's posture was distant and protective. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the company. Either way, Ian let his eyes settle on him again, seemingly thoughtful for a moment. His own posture felt more relaxed, shoulders moving with the steady rise and fall of deep breaths. His pulse was still coming down from the run, beating a quick rhythm within his veins. He wet his lips as he settled next to Alex, leaning back against the railing with his palms propped up on either side. There was enough space left between them so as not to make Alex feel intruded upon.

He did smile though, tentatively, when Alex mentioned the night they'd spent stargazing.

"You left out the orgy." After a beat he asked, "How've you been?"

(Did he actually care, or was he just making conversation?)

Serafíne

The three of us?

Yeah, Sera's out there. She's not jogging in the park and she's not looking for the sending of a long-dead Archmage of the Celestial Chorus and she's not actually dashing to get in out of the rain and they can feel her: Alexander vaguely and Ian a little more sharply though neither can feel her as well as she can feel them. They are burning bright on the periphery of her senses, distinct enough that she shivers when her attention slips toward Alexander's chilly resonance, that the muscles flanking her spine tense when her heightened awareness slides to the sense of Ian in the air - bracing against the sensation of something - well, at the edge of the predatory.

--

See, ,there she is. Cresting this little knoll, which curves gently against the horizon, framing the view of the boathouse from the gazebo. The spare frame engulfed by a too-large leather jacket, cigarette a signal-flare in the gathering gloom, face turned up toward the sky as that light rain - that drove them both to seek shelter - continues to fall.

She's not really beelining in their direction, thought she is sort of wandering that way.

Alexander

“Maybe it will be, once the sun finishes setting.” Ahh, the weather. The nice, safe conversation topic used the whole world over when it’s not really clear what else should be discussed. Next up, so, any holidays planned this year?

Alex snorts, amused, when Ian reminds him about the missing orgy. “How could I have forgotten about the orgy? It would be a whole other constellation without that.” He looks Ian over, taking in the running gear and the slightly heavy breathing, and turns, still leaning on the railing but looking out – and up at the clouds and falling rain– instead of in. “I don’t think we’re going to be seeing any of that tonight though.”

How’ve you been? Now there’s a dangerous question. The answer starts, “I’ve been fine,” and is followed by a pause. Maybe a moment to consider whether to stick with that safe, stock phrase that lets the questioner gloss over things? He glances back to Ian, turning his head to do so. “I wasn’t. Now I’m ok. You?” His gaze returns to the park, looking to where a faint red glow – of the cigarette, or of Sera’s body heat – slowly comes into view.

“How’s Sky?”

Ian

I don’t think we’re going to be seeing any of that tonight though.

"Oh, speak for yourself." There was a wry lift to his tone, a cant of his head as he regarded Alex. And maybe he was being serious (it was Ian, after all - who the hell knew what he got up to on Friday evenings,) or maybe he was just playing to the obvious joke. He could feel the visceral pull of Sera's resonance moving steadily closer at his back, but he didn't turn to watch her approach. Waited instead for her to either pass them by or join them beneath the sheltering roof of the gazebo. For a moment the rain picked up, pattering more insistently against the wooden boards above their heads. It wasn't long before it lightened up again.

Alex answered his question with short, honest words. When he turned the question around by asking about Sky, Ian looked at him with what might have been surprise. He didn't immediately respond.

"I wouldn't know. Haven't seen him in a while."

(After all that? Interesting.)

"I'm doing fine though. Except when I'm not. I think that's true for all of us." After a beat he added, "Haven't had anyone try to kill me recently."

(Implied but not spoken: I haven't had to kill anyone either.)

Serafíne

I can intuit things about emotional states in this very gazebo!

Awareness-as-empathy?

Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (1, 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 4 )

Ian

[We shall see (subterfuge)]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) Re-rolls: 1

Serafíne

The rain is light enough that it never endangers her cigarette. The odd droplet hits the dark blue paper and the splashback is enough to make the cherry hiss sometimes, but never comes close to putting it out. Makes her smile, the sound, this smile that is somehow both contained and outflung, open-armed, tinged with -

- well, what the fuck would they know what it is tinged with, two dozen yards away in the gloomy, cloud-banked twilight.

--

By the time Sera reaches the gazebo, her face is wet. The scattered spatter of raindrops streaks down her sharply drawn features. The high cheekbones, angular nose, the fine jaw - even her elfin ears. And smiling like she's remembering someone or something she loves. Her hair is a damp, tangled mass of curls that she has pulled away from her face, twisted over her left shoulder. She's allowed some of the shaved fringe to grow in a bit - so the usual fine dark fringe has a bit more texture, the beginnings of a bit of a pincurl, which makes her look softer even though she isn't - ever - soft.

Sleeves of her leather jacket are pushed a bit up her forearms, revealing the leading edge of the tattoo on her right forearm - the angular crow's skull - and all the dark ink on her hands.

She smells (more than) a little bit like pot. Beneath the leather jacket, a damp white t-shirt clings to her torso - this hint of a black lace bra so clear beneath. She's paired that with a crushed red velvet micromini thigh-high lace stockings, seamed up the back, garters and combat boots, as you do.

Gives Alexander a little finger-wave and Ian a much more contained smile.

Doesn't interrupt. Does put out the cigarette before she joins them beneath the shelter of the gazebo.

She smells so fragrantly of cloves.

Alexander

The awkwardness that Alexander’s been feeling is still there, but it does seem to be less than it was a few minutes ago. So far he’s not feeling like something to be toyed with by the man with the air of the feline around him.

Alexander smiles and gives another amused snort, looking over to Ian again as he does. “Oh? You’re off to the planetarium later?” He knows what Ian was suggesting – and it wasn’t stargazing – but he tries to keep the joke going a little longer anyway.

The moments stretch out before Ian answers the question about Sky. Alex studies his face but can’t read anything more into the words than their own, simple meaning. “Oh. Ok.” The reaction – after the effort than Ian had gone through to find Sky, and to free him – was indeed interesting. “I got the impression you guys were close?” Their precise relationship had never been discussed – it hadn’t really been any of Alex’s business at the time anyway.

I think that’s true for all of us. Alex nods, looking back into the rain again. Then his smile fades as Ian adds on the part about nobody trying to kill him. There’s a moment followed by a breath. “I have. It wasn’t personal though. Just some bastard who thought he should have some peace to beat up his wife objecting to being interrupted.” There’s another snort, without the amusement behind it this time. “He’s learning the error of his ways.”

He turns, leaning back on the railing again, as Sera arrives. She gets a smile, warm if restrained. “Hey. We were wondering if we’d get to see nuns having orgies again tonight.”

Ian

"Closeness is a fluctuating state," Ian replied, somewhat cryptically. "He was just a guy I slept with a few times. I didn't want him to die, and I'm glad he didn't. But we have different lives." It was an honest, if overly simplistic explanation. Probably more than he would have given Alex (or Sera) a few months ago.

Had anyone ever mentioned to Ian that Alex was a cop? Surely someone did, at some point. Maybe he saw something. Recognized the gun that Alex carried. Maybe not. Alex himself had never mentioned it. As he related his story, Ian watched him - taking in the way that he spoke. The details of the circumstances. He made a soft sound in his throat. Ambiguous enough that it could have meant a lot of things.

"Lucky you were there."

(Lucky that the man didn't succeed.)

And there was Sera. Softer and quieter than Ian often saw her. His gaze turned to survey her for a while, returning her contained smile with one of his own. "Rain suits you."

And then, to Alex, "I'm pretty sure that's the title of at least one porn film."

Serafíne

Sera isn't precisely keyed in to the memory Alexander and Ian had been riffing on - the night stargazing, her one-off comment about nuns and orgies. Maybe she was high then. Maybe she's high now. Maybe she's always high,

always fucked up,

always celebrating something, somehow, somewhere, somewhen.

And she's wandered into the middle of a conversation to which she was not wholly privy, the details are lost in her current haze and that's okay. She's lets the cold drizzle and its dampening noise swallow them. The air feels close and strange.

"If someone's still a nun in this day and age she probably takes her vows pretty fucking serious. Or she had the world's shittiest home life." This near little shrug, strung through with the tension she forces into her shoulders to keep herself from shivering. "I could probably find you something, though. An approximation, at least. If all you wanna do is watch."

Then Ian tells her that rain suits her and she flashes him another glance. This one is rather more seeking than the last, and just as easily deflected. Sera smiles, to herself this time, and closes her eyes.

He's right. The rain does suit her. Paints a damp, gilded light over her sharp angles, folds her back into her skin. "I'm just stoned," she counters, or perhaps demures. Which is also true. She is just stoned. "I have another joint if you want some."

Alexander

“Tides.” Alex pushes himself up so that he’s say on the railing rather than leaning against it, leaning forwards so that his elbows are resting on his knees, before continuing his own rather cryptic statement. “We’re pushed together, then we’re drawn apart until we’re push together again.” He shrugs. “I’m glad he’s ok though. If you do happen to bump into him, tell him I said hi.”

Lucky you were there. Alex shrugs. “The neighbour called. Turns out the noise was drowning out America’s Next Top Model and they wanted it stopping. I get there with my partner, no answer at the door and the fight still going on. One broken door, one broken arm and a fair bit of bruising later and suddenly trying to assault officers doesn’t seem like such a great idea.” There’s another shrug and he meets Ian’s gaze. “Shit happens.”

But then he’s cringing at the thought of a porn movie about… “That has got to be the biggest turn-off ever. Or clowns. Are nun clowns a thing? Drifting around silently in their big shoes and red noses, just waiting to pounce on the sinners?”

He smiles, laughing quietly and looking at Sera after her offer of a joint. “You think I need a joint if I’m coming up with ideas like this?“

Ian

"Sure, if you're offering."

He probably shouldn't be smoking anything so soon after running. When his body was humming with endorphins and his lungs still pulled in breath at a slightly elevated rate. But it was Friday, and he didn't have anywhere to be except here. In a fucking gazebo at twilight in February with two people whose feelings about him were ambivalent at best.

It could have been romantic, in a slightly different set of circumstances. Instead it was cold and wet and a bit awkward. But that was alright. Sometimes cold and wet and a bit awkward wasn't the worst thing.

"You know I was on that once. Not as a contestant. Just... in the background. But I remember them shooting while I was doing a thing in Shanghai."

Apparently Alex found nuns to be about the opposite of attractive, and Ian glanced at him with a laugh. "I'd totally fuck a nun. If she was hot. Hell, I'd probably do it for the story alone."

(Of course he would.)

Serafíne

Sera gives Ian this lovely, vague smile when he accepts, if she's offering. Of course, she's offering, she's always offering, she has a bag slung beneath her leather jacket and over her t-shirt and slings that around and digs inside and pulls out a pack of Kreteks and finds within the kreteks a single joint, tightly and expertly rolled. Taps it out and offers Ian both: the joint and her lighter unearthed not from the little bag, but from the right pocket of her leather jacket.

Glances back at Alex as he cringes over the thought of a porn movie about... and gives him a neat little shrug. Sera doesn't really watch porn. It's way to impersonal.

Then Ian announces that he would fuck a nun. If she was hot. Or just for the story, and Sera gives him a sharper glance, sidelong. "That's a shitty thing to say. Is it true?"

Glances back at Alex, then. "Who's Sky?" Quietly, and still unexpected.

Alexander

Alex doesn’t make any move when the joint comes out and if it does happen to head in his direction he’ll just pass it on.

“A thing? A dancing thing?” He’s not really expecting much detail, even if there is an answer. It’s something to ask, something to talk about. Something to… if not draw them together, maybe not keep them apart.

Ian talks about sleeping with a nun for the story. Sera’s not sounding happy about it, and Alex? He stays quiet and looks back down at the floor of the gazebo. He agrees with Sera, but isn’t quite sure whether Ian is cracking a tasteless joke or not. The guy is pretty hard to read, after all. So he lets it slide and doesn’t comment.

Who’s Sky? Alex takes a breath and looks up at Ian, wondering who should answer. He can, at least, start the story. The short version, at least. He looks down at the ground again as he starts. “You remember the thing with the spirit down at the reservoir last year? Sky was caught up in the whole thing. We – and Alyssa – got him out.”

Alex looks back up at Sera – not even glancing at Ian now – as the last part goes unsaid. The first time I saw Ian behead someone.

Ian

"I've done worse things," he offered in reply to Sera, though to his credit, he didn't sound especially proud of it. He took the joint and the lighter from her hand, putting the latter to his lips. There was a low gust of wind that swept past, and he used his hands to shelter the small flame of the lighter. When he was done he handed it back to her, pulling in a slow, shallow drag of smoke. It'd been awhile since the last time he'd gotten even remotely high, and for a moment the taste of it distracted him.

"I probably wouldn't tell, if I did," he admitted. "At least, not like that." He didn't know if that was the part Sera was objecting to, but it was the part he personally found the most distasteful (the idea of violating someone's privacy.) "But would I sleep with a nun if she offered? Yes. Theoretically."

He let Alex relate the beginning of the story about Sky, going quiet for a while. He took another drag off the joint and offered it to first Alex (who passed,) then Sera, if she wanted it.

"He's a Verbena I used to know. Someone we helped once."

Ian

[Edit: putting the former to his lips. (Really, I know english.)]

Serafíne

"I don't remember that," Sera tells Alexander quietly, and it's true. She doesn't remember the thing with the spirit down a tthe reservoir last year. Maybe she wasn't involved. Maybe she was never told the story. Strange how the things that are absolutely central to our lives can be so peripheral to those we are close to or at least tied in to. She's watching Alexander when he looks back up at her, something significant beneath the weight of his gaze that she cannot quiet absorb, which makes her want to go and kiss him on the temple and murmur to him that yes, yes, he'll be okay, except that she does remember his reaction to her touch so she swallows down that impulse. It is just a momentary tension in her left temple: the urge and its erasure, or at least its burial.

Ian takes a drag of the joint and offers it to Alexander and then to Sera. By now she's leaning back agains the railing, one hand wrapped around its frame, head tipped back so she can see the leading edge of the twilight sky and she takes a hit from the joint and hands it back. Neither of them understand why she thinks that Ian was pretty awful just now, but that's okay. Sera hardly understands. It was just a reaction she had: visceral, gut-formed.

"What's worse?" she asks Ian. Some things, a person just needs to know.

Ian

"It was a modeling gig. The thing in Shanghai. I used to be a model."

Alexander

The joint moves and Alex just passes it between the other two, if it makes the movement easier. Drugs aren’t his thing – even this – so it’s all theirs.

At least, not like that. Alex watches Ian again at that point in his reply. Whether the privacy violation or the thought that the woman would be used simply for the amusement value of the story is worse isn’t quite clear in Alex’s mind, but does it really matter. In Sera’s words, both are particularly shitty things to do to a person. But then it seems that Ian may well have just been telling a particularly tasteless joke.

Alex meets Sera’s gaze for a few seconds. He’s not a particularly hard person to read most of the time. There was a time that he wasn’t ok. But then everything he’d been holding in had exploded when Grace and Eleanor had tried introducing him to the existence of Ginger. And didn’t that go well. But now? He is alright about what happened. “Not everyone survived.” He shrugged, water under the bridge. They had their peace now.

His gaze moves from Sera back to Ian again. “Thank you, by the way. For the advice.”

Next time, don’t hesitate. He hadn’t.

Ian

Ian's eyes cut to Alex when he thanked him for the advice. His eyes had a distant expression. Remembering, maybe. (Or maybe it was just the pot.) And then he made this soft sound, and for a moment he almost looked... pensive? Sad?

"It's a shitty lesson to have to learn. I didn't want you to die. I don't want any of us to die."

When his attention traveled back to Sera, his mouth quirked into a slight grin. There was an edge to it that didn't feel entirely humorous, though perhaps that was a holdover from the other parts of their conversation.

"Would you like a list? Because I think that would take all night." After a moment he slid down to sit with his back against the gazebo wall.

"I cheated on my first girlfriend with my foster sister. That's a pretty shitty one."

Serafíne

"Alexander," Sera murmurs, voice quiet, her body language still and contained but away. There is a rhythm to the way she smokes the joint, the puff, puff pass is familiar and meaningful if one impbues it with meaning, like communion. Believe giving gravity to the ordinary.

The thought passes through her stoned head like a zipper and makes her smile. Her eyes close and threads her fine fingers through the slats of the railing framing the gazebo, leaning back and back and back until the rain hits her face aain. Long coils of damp blonde hair spill backwards.

When Ian offers her a list she straightens - stands upright, the end the elegant curl of her arched spine - and looks at him, this damp and quiet flicker of her eyes, dark in the rainsoft evening.

"When did you decide monogamy wasn't for you?"

Alexander

“We didn’t.” It seems a little strange to Alex being the one telling someone else the equivalent of it’ll be ok, but it was true. If he’d hesitated, maybe Victoria would have been able to hurt or kill her hostage, or any of the others who had been there to stop her. Much like the unknown Hermetics who had made their attempt not so long before theirs. “We’re all alive.” Had they known each other better – had Alex known whether Ian would appreciate touch or not – Alex might have moved to make contact.

But they don’t, and he doesn’t, so it ends with the words.

Something there may have been more of, except for a buzzing coming from one of his pockets as his phone springs into life. Mouth open, just on the brink of speaking again, it closes again as he pulls the phone out and checks the screen. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” With that, he steps out of the gazebo – resting a hand on Sera’s shoulder for a moment in passing – and finds cover behind one of the supports of the gazebo, under the overhanging roof, where he would keep relatively dry.

[And fades into the dark, as it’s early and I think I need to sleep.]