You’ve changed

Kalen Holliday

[You want to start or shall I?]

Alex

[I don't mind starting]

Kalen Holliday

[Okay. I will let you do that then.]

Alex

Somewhere in Denver there is a warehouse-and-office complex. It’s a complex that has been there for a while, a place that doesn’t really stand out and anything special. Two buildings, surrounded by tall fencing, are secured by a gate that has, on closer inspection, a suspiciously advanced security system. These features are repeated, once you manage to get into the grounds and start trying to get through the doors. It’s not the easiest of places to get into, unless you’re expected, welcomed, or been introduced to the security system.

Appearances can be deceiving, though, and these buildings house more than might be expected from first glance. There’s the library, housing who knows what knowledge. (If we’re being pedantic, probably Kalen, as its caretaker, and Grace, through her work in digitizing the arcane information for the Awakened masses.) The offices, where the occupants work and Work.

Then there’s the firing range; because all warehouses have a firing range, equipped with a decent selection of weapons. All secured, all in their own little space. Well, until someone comes and breaks them free for a little while. That might be for when they’re to be used on the latest piece of unpleasantness to grace the city and its surroundings. Or it might be when they’re taken out, cleaned, tested, and returned.

And this is where we find Alexander on this warm and sunny afternoon. If his resonance seeping into the surroundings isn’t hint enough on its own that he’s around, the bike parked outside is another. He’s dressed in boots, black combat shorts and a plain red t-shirt, with a couple of smudged grease marks on his face. The pistol – something small, low calibre – is currently aimed at a paper target somewhere along the range. A phone sits on a table, sharing the space with various pieces of cleaning equipment. Something fairly ambient fills the silence, between the loud, sharp cracks of test shots.

Kalen Holliday

Kalen has been having the kind of month where he has to seriously consider whether or not he wants to approach Alexander while he is currently holding a weapon. In the end, he determines that if Alexander wanted to avoid him, he could have gone to use some other firing range. It is hardly as though Denver had a shortage of firing ranges and Alexander more than most of the Magi in town, has little reason not to be found in one.

And so, Kalen wanders out to the warehouse. He comes bearing gifts because Kalen likes to have gifts, though in this case the gifts are bottled water because neither snacks nor whiskey seemed appropriate to bring to the firing range. Tea..just seems incongruous. He does not come in through the door to the outside, instead coming in through one of the other warehouse doors and moving from there to the interior door. It's a longer walk, but Kalen is warier now than he was a few months ago. Warier and not nearly so inclined to trust in the glimpses of the best natures he sees in people.

He's not dressed up at all, jeans and a purple shirt so pale it seems nearly white (it was probably more notably purple once) that is soft and tight enough to cling to him. Kalen is still thin, but there is only the faintest trace of the outlines of his ribs now. There are hints of muscle now, for all that Kalen isn't concerned with that. If he is pleased with anything about his improved condition, it's his balance and not that he looks better in fitted clothing.

Once he reaches the doorway he stops, leans into the doorframe, and waits.

Alex

[Dex+Firearms, make the paper target suffer! Or botch and shoot Kalen?]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 4, 4, 5, 8) ( success x 1 )

Alex

[Ah, yeah, and that Awareness thing]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 6) ( success x 1 )

Alex

[*squints at the dice roller*]

Alex

Not so long ago, there had been an individual in the city surrounded by the sense of a storm. For over a year that presence had announced that person’s arrival, or their presence. It was something that Alex had just taken for granted, that it would always be there in one form or another.

That it had changed so completely? Hell, he hadn’t even known that could happen. He’d just assumed that resonance was something that was constant, consistent, around Awakened. Oh, something that could broaden and deepen and become more complex. He’d seen it happen a few times for some of the others, but there had always been a consistent flow from what it had been into what it became.

This new combination is, really, exactly that. New. And it’s getting closer, something that it takes a while for Alex to register. Maybe his mind is on other things – there’s never any shortage of other things to be thinking about – or maybe it’s just not his day for being overly perceptive. Either way, the presence is noted at the door and checked with a glance – it’s not, yet, familiar enough to be familiar and comfortable. Alex glances, and then returns to his aim. It’s a little off – not exactly central – but it still hits the black outline of a person on the paper target. The round fired, Alex ejects the magazine and checks the chamber – empty. He sets the pistol and empty magazine on the counter before turning to perch on the edge of it, looking at the man at the door.

“You’re looking well.” There’s a smile that goes along with the simple statement, something a little awkward.

Kalen Holliday

"Am I?" Kalen asks. It's reflexive and a little curious, because Kalen doesn't really know what to make of that. He shrugs a little. "I suppose you've never known me when I slept. I did look pretty awful for awhile. This is more like normal, I guess." There is a slight smile. "For awhile I was in great shape, actually, but I doubt I'm ever going to have that training schedule again."

He glances at the target and then looks back to Alexander. "Am I disturbing you? Because I can go." He has very rarely hidden from Alex, but for all he is practically posed in the doorframe he is hiding now. Cautious. Uncertain.

Alex

“I just assumed lousy sleep was normal for you, what with the whole dreaming what was going to happen to people thing.” He shrugs. “But it’s good that you’re sleeping better.” He smiles again, a little awkwardly again, offering just a little bit of teasing. “You really did look like crap at times.”

Am I disturbing you? Alex glances over his shoulder at the target, a little annoyed that the shot had gone a little wide. “I think I was disturbed about 18 months ago, I’m not entirely sure I’ve not been undisturbed since.” That awkwardness again. “No, it’s fine. He’s not going anywhere,” he points back up the range with a thumb, “and I could probably use the break.” Alex twists, picking up the pistol and the magazine, before returning to the table with the cleaning materials.

Kalen Holliday

Kalen listens and then nods and stays where he is. He would have come closer once, would have reached out and touched Alexander in greeting or because of empathy. For now he stays still. Distant.

"It does change the world for us," he says quietly. "It remains the same world, for all it doesn't seem that way for awhile. I think my introduction to this was, in some ways, easier than yours. Possibly not in the first few minutes, but the first few months after were...some of the best months I had ever had. They still are some of the best months I've ever had, really. And they were only possible because of my Awakening.

"It was, to me, entirely a good thing. And that...I did not realise at the time how lucky I was to experience it in the way that I did."

Alex

There’s the movement of tools, the twisting of something in Alex’s hands, and the pistol comes apart. It’s all easy, practiced movement, as is the threading of a cloth through the barrel after he sits on the edge of the table, feet resting on the top of a stool. “I’m pretty sure the wall isn’t going to fall down if you stop supporting it. You can make yourself comfortable, you know, it is your place after all.”

The movements are practiced, ingrained in muscle memory, so they don’t draw Alex’s attention away from Kalen as he talks. It’s an automatic thing, the cleaning, although maybe the breaking apart of the weapon wasn’t entirely thoughtless. Their previous meeting had been somewhat tense, Alex feeling threatened by sudden, unexpected strangeness in someone he knew.

Or thought he knew. But, then, things had been happening that he didn’t know anything about. Or, for that matter, the effect they’d had on Kalen. His friend. Hopefully, still his friend. “If there was anything to hand that isn’t likely to cause an injury, I should probably be throwing it at you about now.” There’s a brief smile, an attempt at humour, remembering possibly better times.

“You’ve changed. What’s happened?”

Kalen Holliday

"Ours," Kalen says absently. "This place has never been mine. I bought it. But it was never for me." At least Kalen, now that he's invited at least in some sense, comes over to lean on the table where Alexander is working. It's not quite the casual use of Alexander as furniture that has happened in the past, but Alexander is trying to accomplish something. The threat to throw things gets a little amused huff, very much like old times.

"I thought about calling, but then I thought you might need to do your detective thing. Figure out for yourself that I wasn't actually some creepy spy imposter. Somehow pestering you in an attempt to make you realise I was who I said I was seemed just a touch ill-advised. I assumed you'd call me me if I was due an interrogation." He doesn't sound angry, but he hasn't entirely let his guard down.

Kalen sighs. "I'm guessing you don't mean the new vibes? Since you probably found out about that, somewhere in the whole detective-ing."

Alex

The movement of the cloth through the barrel slows, almost to the point that it seem that it’s been forgotten about. It mostly has, given that it hadn’t really needed cleaning again. It was simply something to keep his hands occupied, something to try to distract him from his nerves and worrying about what could happen.

There’s a thoughtful pause, a pause during which Alex takes a look through the barrel for dirt. There’s none to be seen, but he carries on polishing anyway. “That was probably best. I’d apologise for what happened in the park, but I don’t know if it would be an honest thing to do. You probably know more than I do about how screwed up things can get in this life of ours, so having someone who looks like a friend but who feels completely different creeping up on me?” There’s a lopsided shrug. “I am sorry for hurting you, though.

“Grace explained a few things, but I didn’t really ask about the details of what actually happened. She said you’d had a Seeking and that it had changed you, or at least your whole vibe thing. Beyond that, I don’t really know what happened. And things started getting bad weird again, so...” There’s another shrug, this one with Alex looking a little sheepish. “I got tied up with other things, and it seemed like the best idea to talk to you about it when we next met. I know these things can be very personal, so it didn’t seem... right finding things out through the grapevine. I just didn’t expect it to take so damned long.”

Alex looks up from the cloth, meeting Kalen’s gaze. “Are you ok?”

Kalen Holliday

Kalen is quiet while Alexander speaks and he lets that first question pass. He assumes that it is rhetorical.

I'm sorry for hurting you, though. That gets a little blink, less because Kalen had largely pretended to be unbothered than because he just isn't used to apologies. Anyone who knew him, and Alexander certainly knew him, would have known better than to believe the way he'd wandered off as though he had no pressing interest in whether or not Alexander thought he was a clone.

Kalen doesn't really have much other visible, readable expression change until Alexander asks if he's okay. Then there are so many emotions they aren't really readable for a second. And then Kalen smiles.

And then he hugs Alexander with about as much warning as the first time. "You have no idea how fucking much I missed you."

Alex

The smile should have been warning that something was about to happen, but it registered just a little too late. Not that much would have changed, other than maybe putting down the barrel and the cloth before his arms got pinned to his side as Kalen wrapped his arms around him.

He does relax, though – Kalen will feel the tension dropping out of Alex’s shoulders. “Maybe just warn me next time something funky happens and it looks like you’ve been replaced? It was bad enough thinking you’d been body swapped, then weird spiritual crap started happening, and not it sounds like the Union are starting to sniff around.” Alex sighs. “I’ve missed you too, though. And you really have changed, haven’t you? I think this is the...best I’ve ever seen you.”

Once released, and now that there isn’t so much need to occupy his hands, Alex returns the cloth and barrel to the table before turning to perch on its edge. “So what did happen to you?”

Kalen

"Yes, the advisability of that course of action did occur to me later." Kalen says as he settles against the edge of the table next to Alexander.

He makes a soft protesting sound when Alexander mentions the Technocracy. "No. Stop. I have lost enough sleep over that lately. I demand at least two minutes to just have my best friend back before I have to think about all the ways everyone might die. Maybe three."

"What happened to me? I...fell in love with a vampire and realised that maybe if that was possible all the things I thought I knew about the world might not be so accurate. And then we had some philosophy discussions about that and...then my Avatar and I had a moment. And...I opened myself up to a lot of things I had shut myself off from.

"Which has probably been really good for me, but it drives me crazy actually experiencing emotions and the things causing those emotions at the same time." He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands and sighs again. "I fucking fell apart on Ian while he was trying to give me a tango lesson."

He turns to look at Alex and he smiles a little and his eyes drop a little bit and he makes a sound that is almost a laugh. "Feelings make me such a mess. I really am not sure having them was the best tactical decision."

Alex

“On the upside, you didn’t pick a time when I was armed to show up. I think drawing a gun on you might have freaked Lavinia out even more. Although seeing how she handles herself, maybe not all that much. Have you met her, by the way?”

Alex nudges Kalen with an elbow, nodding at the bottles of water that he’d carried down. “Fair enough, I’m pretty sure they’re not going anywhere. Take five.” Another nudge. “You’ve probably earned it by now.”

“You know, of all the people who shouldn’t assume that the world is what we think it is, it really shouldn’t be us. Awakened, that is. I mean, that whole Waking Up thing running over you and leaving you in a bloody heap on the sidewalk? Yeah, there’s a hell of a lesson. I just don’t get why your vibe thing changed so completely. I didn’t know that could be a thing. Grace said this happens every time you go through a Seeking, though?”

“It’ll get better? I’m guessing. I mean, maybe it’s just a practice thing and you won’t feel so swamped once you get used to it? Or drink until they go away. But that’s probably a bad plan.

“And screw tactics. If having them makes you happier, or more complete, or whatever, then keep on doing it. It’s not like you have to do everything on your own.” Alex gives Kalen a meaningful look. “Right?”

Kalen

"I have met her, though only ever briefly." That nudging gets a bit of a smile from Kalen. He reaches out to slide one water bottle closer to Alexander and then grabs the other one.

"Mmmmmmmhmmmmm," Kalen says, leaning a little into Alexander. "But, you see, we have these moments of such transcendent clarity. And at fist we throw ourselves wide to possibility and then we start to dissect all these new facets of the universe. We reach out to grasp something sacred and it turns into something lesser in our hands because it can only be to us what we can perceive.

"And then we take what we've found and we share it, and that goes fine for awhile, but the next thing you know we have Traditions and rules and we can't even really remember where we came from." He sighs and opens his water bottle.

"Well, I doubt you're willing to go with me on it being sacred, but something vast and unknowable at least." Kalen takes a drink.

"You were right, I think. Not to join the Order. You...you won't try to see it through anyone's eyes but your own and you're in a place where you still can have any of the resources most of us can."

"Seekings change everyone. Not always this completely. I'm...my last Seeking was right after the last chantry I belonged to was destroyed. I...I was very different then. I didn't...I couldn't look at the world like this then. I don't know that my next Seeking will lead to quite so dramatic a change. This...this is more like who I was before. Different, too." He smiles a little. "But I'll warn you next time."

Kalen laughs. "And yeah, I know. I knew you'd come back. I just...really missed you."

Alex

“She seems cool. Not that we talked an amazing amount before the others in the bar we bumped into each other in decided that it was much too quiet a night.” Alex runs a finger along his jaw, even though the bruising has long since faded.

Alex takes the bottle and twists the cap off, taking a slow sip as Kalen talks. “Because there are people who think that they are right, and they try to make other people see things their way? I’ve never been on for religion or anything like that, but a lot of it seems to work along the lines of the guys at the top telling you what to think and what to do. Do it another way and you’re just not doing it right and, hey, straight to hell you go. If you try to see things through someone else’s eyes, are you really going to be seeing the world as it is? It’s… like putting someone else’s glasses on, I guess?

“You most sound like you regret joining them.”

“I’m sure there’s some saying about the only consistent thing in the world being change. Or was it death and taxes? Either way, you’re still you. And I will still throw things at you if you try taking on the world by yourself.

“And I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”

Kalen

"No," Kalen says softly. "I do not regret joining them at all. I needed them. They're my family, Alce. Sometimes they make me crazy and sometimes I make them crazy, but they're my family. This...I've made this my home. And I may like being a little outside the range that sees their most frequent attention. But even so, I love them. Maybe sometimes I hate them too, but that changes nothing about love. It just makes it more complicated."

He sighs heavily. "Speaking of violent disagreements, one of them wants to make the vampires and the Technocrats fight and then finish off what's left. And most of you haven't really had to fight vampires or Technocrats, but I've done both. It won't be pretty. People will die.

"And...for all we go on about the Technocracy...maybe we fought a war we didn't have to fight there. They are by no means not dangerous and they are by no means our friends and I do not want to go hold their hands and sing kumbaya. They've killed friends of mine. I don't expect that we can have anything more than an uneasy peace.

"But I am so tired of everyone dying. I am especially tired of people dying for nothing more than that in the past other people died. And, honestly, I'm not sure how much of that war is still about anything else. If they were willing to just leave us alone, I was willing to just leave them alone."

Alex

“Well, that sounds like family alright. They drive you mad, but you wouldn’t want to live without them. And they’re there when you need them.”

There’s another sip of water. “Is that your watcher who wants to kick the hornet nests and hope to get out of the way before they explode? Or someone else who should stop trying to play power games and pay attention to the pieces?

“I really don’t like the idea of either of them, but I think you’re right. But I’d like to point out that you were the one who brought them up again, and it hasn’t been five minutes.” Alex nudges Kalen again, slipping the bottle back onto the table and picking up a couple of gun parts to start slotting them back together.

Kalen

"I'm really bad at not thinking about all the ways that people might die." Kalen sighs, then smiles faintly. "So...some things definitely haven't changed."

"I'm not thrilled about vampires or Technocrats in general, but on threats to the city at large...I'm pretty sure there are more deaths attributable to domestic violence annually than either of them. Hell, probably both of them combined. That doesn't absolve them of their sins, but...if I'm pick a fight I'd rather it be one for the most good. And in this case, I don't think that's what this would be.

"I felt differently, once. But then there were zombies. And...Ceth. I just-" There is a pause while Kalen takes a breath. "I'm not sure I really want to take out the people who are good at hunting monsters. I know they count us on their list of monsters. But there are a lot of other things on that list and a lot of them are really monsters.

"Oh. And something from that whole mess is back. Grace is investigating it." Kalen sighs heavily. "I'm just really glad you're back. Have you figured much out about those spirits? I'm no real help there for you, I'm afraid, but if you need me, I'm there anyway."

Alex

The pieces of gun slot together quickly, easily, and a few twists of a tool locks them all into place. “Sounds like some things really haven’t.” Alex nudges Kalen again before pushing up from the table, heading to the gun store to put the pistol back in its cage and lock it away.

“Come on, enough worrying about that stuff right now.” He pulls at Kalen’s shirt sleeve, pulling towards the exit. “There’s a new diner over on West 12th that’s supposed to do pretty good pie. And stop worrying about dying all the time, or I’ll stick you on the back of my bike, drive you there, and really give you something to worry about.”

Kalen

Kalen lets himself be tugged toward the exit. "Okay. We can worry about what kind of pie we want instead of all this. That sounds kind of perfect actually."

Spoken like a student of Entropy

Sasha Black

The weather in Morrison was summer-warm and breezy. Above the Chantry house, the sky stretched out in a blanket of veiled blue with just enough cloud-cover to block the worst of the early evening sun. Annie was in the kitchen working on something for dinner, while Leah lay stretched out on her bed with an open book. One could not really blame Alexander for feeling as though he might be intruding. It was, after all, their home (at least so long as they chose to remain.) The property had traces of their resonance in it, and anyone entering the long, winding driveway, would feel the touch of Sasha's protective Ban - the illusive whispering of her Will ghosting over the minds of all who entered the property. But Alex had nothing to fear from that protective measure. Hopefully, none of the mages ever would.

As for Sasha herself, she was sitting out back beside the node, eyes closed and legs folded into a lotus position. She was dressed in jeans and a pale blue button-down with rolled sleeves (the same clothes she'd worn to work,) but her feet were bare and her hair was left loose. The kind of work she did, one could understand the need for a bit of meditation at the end of the day.

Alexander Brandt

[Awareness?]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 6, 9) ( success x 3 )

Alexander Brandt

In truth, this is the first time that Alexander has really ventured up to the house since Annie, Sasha and Leah had arrived. He hadn’t known any of them from the time that some of them had been in the city before. Had there been any kind of history, then he’d have been much more likely to stop by. But it just seemed too awkard to randomly appear, unannounced, and say hi. Given the Awakened propensity to just randomly bump into each other, it hadn’t seemed like any great hardship in staying away. He certainly hadn’t missed the library. The fourth, always present, occupier of the land? Ok, maybe he’d missed watching her. Not that she’d ever shown much interest in return.

But back to the present. There had been an invitation extended and accepted. There were things to talk about, in places more suited to such conversations than a relatively open shooting range. Somewhere without CCTV coverage and the recently increased risk of someone watching. The peace of the evening is temporarily broken by the arrival of a motorbike. Something sporty, with a powerful engine, judging by the sound. It pulls up onto the driveway, parking to the side to let others in and out if they need to pass by. The engine sound dies away and a man, masked in leathers and helmet, swings a leg off. The helmet comes off quickly, as do the gloves, and the jacket is unzipped to reveal a tshirt underneath. It’s far too hot to stay wrapped up without the air flow of a fast ride to act as air conditioning.

Alexander is pretty sensitive to things this evening. Two unfamiliar resonances linger over the house, their sources inside. The one he’s encountered before, though, is around the back. Rather than passing through the house, he follows the side of the building round to the back. Finding Sasha occupied, he finishes shrugging out of his jacket, quietly setting it on the ground along with the helmet. He keeps his distance until she notices that he’s there. Others had found that he wasn’t always the best of people to sneak up on. He respects that Sasha may be another.

Sasha Black

[Awareness]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )

Sasha Black

[Alertness]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 4, 6, 7, 7) ( success x 3 )

Sasha Black

It took a few moments for Sasha to react to Alexander's presence. If either of the others noticed he'd arrived (likely they heard the sound of his bike,) they didn't appear to check on him. This place may have been their home, but in many ways it still belonged to everyone. There was the node; the library... resources that had been freely offered to all who needed them. More than that, they needed a safe place to call their own. Perhaps Annie would wander out later to say hello, but for now Alexander's presence seemed neither unwelcome or especially remarkable. People came and went, here. Sometimes they stopped to be sociable. Sometimes they didn't.

As Alex hovered in the periphery of her awareness, Sasha opened her eyes and turned to look at him. Her smile was a little tired, but no less genuine for that. Slowly, she unfolded her legs and got to her feet, pacing toward him through the grass. "I had a feeling you might come today. The wind was telling me not to fall asleep." There was an edge of wry humor to her voice, so perhaps she was joking - though it was difficult to tell.

Alexander Brandt

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I wasn’t sure when would be a good time to swing by.” Now that Alexander had been noticed and recognised – hopefully as something other than a threat, but then would a threat have passed through the defences of the house with as little attention as he’d garnered – he moves a little closer to Sasha and the node. “I guess all the small talk about the house is a bit redundant, given that I’d spent time here before you guys came back into town.” He smiles, hopefully adding a little humour and warmth into the statement. It was intended as a joke, if not a particularly good one.

Alexander cocked his head a little, trying to work out how serious Sasha was being about the wind. “You almost sound like a Dreamspeaker. Not that I have a massive amount of experience with them. Were you really listening to it?”

Sasha Black

Alexander's admission didn't seem to phase Sasha. She laughed at his question, though for more reasons than he would likely suspect. "In a way. Fate reveals itself through many mediums. But no... not the way that you mean. At least not today." Sasha stretched her arms up and ran her fingers back slowly through her hair, brushing it behind her ears.

"Not all Natives are Dreamspeakers. Occasionally one of us breaks ranks. Though I do respect them - spiritual connections are important. As for the house... I figured you had. But one works with what one has when trying to speak in code." Sasha smirked at that. "Here, let's sit." She gestured toward the patio chairs nearby, heading across the grass. When she reached her destination, she plopped down into one of the chairs and let out a long sigh. Looking out across the back yard, the land stretched out in a verdant blanket of grass and wildflowers and carefully tended gardens. In the middle of it all lay the spring, this calming beacon of rejuvenating energy. It really was a beautiful sight.

"I'm with the Chakravanti. More commonly know as the Euthanatos."

Alexander Brandt

“Oh, I didn’t mean... I wasn’t assuming that you were because of that. I meant that it’s not a common thing for people to talk about listening to the wind. Usually it’s just something to be ignored or put up with.” Alexander shrugs, smiling again. “Worship the kitchen mop as the ruler of all creation if you like. Although I might start backing away slowly if you do. There are limits before the weirdness starts getting a little too weird.”

Alexander joins Sasha, pulling a chair away from the table and angling it to look out at the land while keeping a reasonable angle with Sasha to maintain the conversation. He sits carefully, leaning back and relaxing into the chair. There’s a sigh as he starts to relax, the magic and the Magick of the location and the view weaving its effect.

He looks puzzled for a moment, when Sasha gives her allegiance to the Chakravanti. It’s not a name he’s familiar with. The puzzlement passes, though, as the more common name is given. “Ahh, I’ve heard of you. But I’ve spent even less time with your Tradition than I have with Dreamspeakers. There was one in town – Eleanor – that I only met once. It wasn’t exactly a great time for long introductions and explanations and handing out of pamphlets. I haven’t run into her again since. I don’t even know if she’s still in the city, to be honest. So many of us just fade away without much of a trace.” There’s a sadness in that last sentence. He’d often wondered what had happened to some of those who had passed through the city. Where they were now, whether or not they were ok.

Sasha Black

Alexander's rush to clarify his assumption (that it wasn't based on the color of her skin) resulted in a low, tumbling laugh from Sasha - though for what it was worth, she didn't seem offended.

There are limits before the weirdness starts getting a little too weird.

"Oh, I've seen far weirder things than that."

But whatever bizarre stories she might have buried in her memory, she seemed inclined to keep them to herself for now. The two of them watched the wind trace a path over the flower garden, bending stalks and rustling leaves. The bright orange blossom of a tiger lily bobbed back and forth in its wake.

When Alexander mentioned Eleanor, there didn't seem to be any flash of recognition in Sasha's eyes.

"Life gets easier when you learn how to let things go," Sasha offered, quietly. "People. Places. All things end. Doesn't make what you have with them any less meaningful. More, I would say." Her expression here was gentle - registering some measure of empathy. "You mentioned that the Traditions haven't appealed to you. Why is that?"

Alexander Brandt

Oh, I’ve seen weirder things than that.

There’s a quiet chuckle of agreement. “If we had any to hand, I’d drink to that. If you’d told me 18 months ago that I’d be dealing with half the stuff that’s come along since I woke up, I’d have thought you were insane.” He closes his eyes for a few moments as the breeze streams over them, enjoying the feeling of the warm air.

The smile returns to his lips, although tinged with wistfulness rather than humour. “Oh, I don’t pine for them or wish we were all back in the good old days. Assuming that there really are such things. I just wonder how they are and what they’re doing. I like to think of them happy and well, wherever they’ve ended up. We’ll meet again, some day. We all sleep in the same river in the end.” Warmth, and more certainty that might be expected from someone so new to the Awakened life, reinforce the last sentence. But when you’ve seen the river and the spirits sleeping in it, and those who tend to them? That tends to make you believe.

Why is that?

“Maybe I just haven’t met the right Tradition yet. Or the right member, anyway. I don’t get the way that the VA’s work. I couldn’t work out what the only Etherite I’ve met was saying most of the time. I don’t believe that we’re here because of an all-powerful being, or that anything remotely resembling God exists, so I think that pretty much rules out the Chorus. Despite Kalen’s efforts to persuade me that I’d fit in with his ideal image of the Order, I have no intention of being seen as something less than I am just because I woke up without them.” Alexander counts off the Traditions on his fingers as he runs through them. “I know there are other versions of Cultists than the drug-clouded junkies, but I’ve yet to meet one. I don’t think I’ve met an Akashic to speak to, which pretty much sums up my knowledge of the Euthanatos too. I don’t know enough about the Verbena either, but I think that might come back to not believing in deities.” He pauses, thinking. “Have I missed any?

So it’s not exactly that I’ve chosen not to sign up. More that I’m not doing too badly without signing up to something that doesn’t sit right, just for the sake of joining. It might happen one day. Or it might not.” There’s another shrug. “Whatever happens, happens.”

Sasha Black

Whatever happens, happens.

"Mm.." Sasha smiled. "Spoken like a student of Entropy."

She resettled a little in her chair, lengthening her spine as she shifted to give Alex her full attention. "The Verbena are an interesting bunch. There's more variation among them than I think most people realize. But I'll admit... I have a hard time picturing you dancing naked by firelight. Though I hardly know you, so perhaps you'll surprise me." She paused to consider something for a moment. "The Akashics and the Euthanatos are not exactly the best of friends, so I may not be the best source of unbiased opinion where they're concerned. But if you like discipline, reflection and asceticism... they have a lot to teach. If you're attuned to the spirit world, the Dreamspeakers might be a good fit. Personally I've... always found their outlook a bit too narrow. Does it really matter if this world is a dream? Life, Spirits, Old Gods, Technology..."

Sasha shrugged. "It's all true, in its way. And we're all part of something much bigger than we are. The Great Wheel doesn't distinguish between humans and spirits." She smiled. "I promise I'm not trying to convert you. My Tradition isn't for the faint of heart. You join if you're called to it. Anyone else... they wouldn't last."

Alexander Brandt

Spoken like a true student of Entropy.

“Funny you should say that. I think that was the first aspect of magic that I had the misfortune to meet. Unless you count a completely screwed up dream that might have been my Avatar making its presence known.” Alexander shifts in his own chair, sliding down a little more so that the back of his head rests on the top of the chair back. It may only be the second time that he’s met Sasha, and maybe the surroundings are having more of an effect on him than he realises, but he’s relaxing. It’s good to get to talk to someone else about these things, especially the ones where he just doesn’t know enough one way or another to decide.

There’s a laugh, uncontrolled for a moment, before he settles back again. “No. I don’t think I’ll be dancing around fires like that. Not unless heroic amounts of alcohol are involved first, and probably not even then. “ There’s another quiet chuckle before the humour fades. Alex settles again, looking out over the land behind the house. Idly wondering where Callisto is. Maybe later he’ll look. Not now, though.

“I don’t know. I don’t think this is a dream, but I think the Umbra and everything past it is just as real as the physical. But, then, I think that spirits and the living both deserve the same respect. I know that the Trads aren’t full of clones with the same beliefs, but does that push me away from fitting in with the ‘Speakers?

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were trying to get me to sign on. If anything, I am curious to know more about it so I can work out if it’s we’re likely to match up at all.”

You join if you’re called to it.

“Isn’t that why we carry the badge?”

Alexander turns his head a little to look at Sasha, considering her when he adds a question of his own. “Do you believe in fate?”

Sasha Black

Isn't that why we carry the badge?

Sasha tipped her head in acknowledgment. It was the kind of thing only another cop - a good one, anyway - would understand. When Alex asked her if she believed in fate, she laughed. The sound of it grew bright for a moment, almost exultant.

"Believe in it? I am fate's instrument."

Perhaps, in their way, the Chakravanti were not so different from the Chorus. Both believed they were in service of a vast cosmic force. But for Sasha, that force was no deity. No singular personified entity. It was the threads of time, chaos and destiny. The cycle of life, death and rebirth that powered all of existence.

"I suppose in its way, it's another kind of badge. You shouldn't call it misfortune - however your eyes were opened. Painful, perhaps. But here you are, Awake. It's who you were meant to be. That is not a misfortune." Sasha regarded Alex seriously for a moment, considering his request for further information.

"The Chakravanti are students of fate. We learn to listen to it, to see its threads and to help guide them. Death is a part of that. Sometimes for us, it's a big part. Too big, some might say. I do not entirely disagree with that. There comes a point where it takes its toll, no matter how strong you are. We are still alive, and too much death can turn the living into ghosts. But it's important work. It helps us understand the wheel, and our place on it. Are you afraid of death, Alexander?"

Alexander Brandt

“I don’t. Believe in fate, I mean. I don’t like the idea that there’s already some great cosmic plan for things. It just feels like that takes away any kind of meaningful choice. If something is fated to happen, does it really matter if someone tears the world apart to make sure it does or doesn’t happen? It’s seems like it’s giving up control, whether it’s because some god or other decided on it or because it’s just the way the universe happens to be headed.” There’s a sad smile, almost wistful. “Have I found another Tradition I don’t quite fit with, or are there others who don’t follow fate?”

Alex takes a breath, letting it out slowly. “I say misfortune, simply because the whole day was one massive run of Murphy’s Law. At least I think that’s the one that says if it can go wrong, it will do? Either way, I agree with some of what that. It is part of what got me here, and I wouldn’t wish any of my life away. The crap makes what we are just as much as the good.”

Are you afraid of death, Alexander?

This question gets a much longer pause than any of the others before there’s an answer. Time slices away, second by second, as he thinks. “There are so many ways to answer that one. I don’t fear the dead, I’ve seen more than enough bodies for that to be a problem. Do I fear dying? Honestly? I try not to think about it. I know it will come in the end, same as it does to everyone. But I don’t want to freeze up when it matters because I’m scared of it. I only hope that I'm fortunate enough for it to be quick and painless. Death, as in what happens after? That doesn’t scare me, but I know that I’ve got a lot to learn about what happens between the point of dying and the spirit finding its rest. I know that something of what we are carries on, though, so I guess I’m happier that death isn’t the end of everything.

“Does that answer your question at all?”

Sasha Black

"It does."

Sasha didn't seem disappointed (or offended) when Alexander voiced his opinions on fate. Perhaps he was right, and he had found another ideology that didn't quite fit.

"Not everyone calls it fate. It isn't quite so simple as a matter of predetermination. More of a principle of how the Tellurian functions. You say you don't believe in a cosmic plan... and yet you know you will die. Knowing that fate doesn't take away your ability to choose how you live." Sasha stood up from her chair, glancing back through the glass doors into the living room. Behind them, Annie was setting the table for dinner.

"Would you like to stay and eat with us?"

Alexander Brandt

“I know I will die, because even if nothing else happens my body will fail. We’re living longer than we used to, but in the end the body will wear out. Maybe this is getting into what we mean when we say the word, but that doesn’t strike me as fate. Sitting here, talking to you? I think that I’m here because of the choices I’ve made, because of the choices people around me made, and because of blind, random chance. I could have picked a time when you weren’t here, or I could have had a blow out, or the traffic could have held me up. I think there’s just so much... I dunno, chaos, I guess, that I’m not sure that I can see how ‘fated’ things ever come to happen. Or I may be getting too caught up on the idea that fate really is the same as predestination, but I’m having trouble separating the two.”

Would you like to stay and eat with us?

Alexander pushes up in the chair, sitting on it more properly than he was with his earlier slouching, and looks back through the glass of the doors to see Annie working. “I hadn’t realised that it was that late.” He considers, although it doesn’t take long. It still feels a little awkward, almost like intruding on a family. But he’d been invited, and it had been a long day.

“Does this kind of conversation sit up there with politics and religion for things never to talk about when there are spoons of vegetables that can be flung across the room?” He smiles as he speaks, not in any way seriously contemplating food fights. “Sure. If you can put up with an Orphan making the place look untidy, it’ll be good to meet the others.”

Sasha Black

"Oh, you can talk about whatever you like. We're not that waspy." Sasha grinned as she slid open the door, calling out to Annie. "I invited him in. I hope you made enough for four."

Annie seemed completely unphased by the information. "I made a stew. I think there's enough in there for eight." She glanced up and nodded to Alex, gesturing for the two of them to come inside. It wasn't long before Leah joined them, trotting down the stairs with a sleepy look in her eyes that melted away as soon as she looked at the food. Introductions were made all around, and the four of them sat down at the table to eat.

The evening passed, and Annie proved a generous host - if perhaps a bit rough around the edges. Her cooking was genuinely delicious, and there was both wine and beer for anyone who wanted them. Leah was mostly aloof through the conversation, occasionally injecting little barbs of opinion (as teenagers were wont to do.) All in all, it wasn't a bad way to spend an evening. Perhaps by the time Alex left, he might feel a little less awkward about returning.

I haven't seen you here before

Detective Black

[General info about this SL:

These introductory scenes are mostly about introducing little pieces of a broader scenario, so everyone's scene is going to be a bit different and it may or may not initially seem as though there's any connection between them. I'm not sure yet how fast this thing will progress, but don't feel as though there's anything in particular you're expected to do. However this thing develops (or doesn't develop) organically is fine.

About this scene in particular:

Threat level is low to nonexistent. (Unless Alex decides he wants to play target practice with other humans for some reason, in which case that's on you.)

No warnings of note.]

Detective Black

The Denver Police Department maintained a couple of indoor and outdoor firing ranges for the training of their officers. Even the lowest ranked among them were required to log a certain amount of practice hours with their weapon as a matter of general safety. This particular range was housed in the basement of one of the central offices. Perhaps Alexander was there out of duty, or perhaps he just liked to keep his shooting technique well-honed. Certainly an Awakened mage had more than enough reason to need that kind of skill.

When he arrived, there were a few other cops making use of the range. A couple of men were firing off rounds in the first two lanes, smiling and joking with each other about keeping score. Further down and all the way at the end, a woman in her late 20's was busy assembling a sleek chrome pistol. She was in plain clothes, with her hair tied back in a temporary ponytail. Had Alex been to the Chantry in recent months, he would have known Sasha by sight, but he hadn't, so her resonance (if he picked up on it) would be new to him.

Officer Brandt

[Awareness?]

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

Detective Black

The woman in the far lane - there was something almost ghost-like about her. She was beautiful, but easy to overlook. As though the eye wanted to slide past her. Her movements were silent and agile, even in the act of something as mundane as cleaning her firearm. The closer one approached her, the more it seemed as though she were trailing some kind of spectral echo: Illusive and Whispering.

Officer Brandt

For some, the requirement to practice is nothing more than an irrelevant drag. They can shoot, dammit, and it’s pointless bureaucracy that makes them scrape through on the minimum hours year after year. Mostly, they were the guys who had been around for years and were just sitting out their time until retirement. Also the guys that weren’t the pick of the crop when it came to being paired up.

Alex, though, did practice and not just here. He’d taken to maintaining the weapons kept out in a certain warehouse’s firing range, as well as practicing there. He didn’t often see others there, but if any of them did want guidance... No, he’s here because his shift had finished and he didn’t much feel like heading anywhere else just yet. There wasn’t anything much to go home to. He could find Kalen, but they just didn’t seem to be ending up in the same place since that encounter in the park. There’s the Chantry, but he knows that the original owner had moved back in and that made it feel... awkward.

No, it’s as good a time as any to get some practice in. It had always been the closest he’d come to meditating before being show how to do it. The need to clear the thoughts, feel the weapon, calm the breathing...

Alexander arrives in uniform, not having yet gone to shower and change after getting back to the station. Equipment still hooked onto his belt, cap carried under one arm. After smiling and greeting the pair in the first rows, he pauses as the first sensation of the woman washes over him. She’s unfamiliar. It’s not exactly unusual to see an unfamiliar face – people come and go for various reasons all the time – but to have a new face radiate a sensation of being Awake? That’s new.

He could turn and walk away, hopefully while she’s still distracted by cleaning and assembling her gun. But that wouldn’t really answer any of the questions that want to pull him towards her. Like who is she? Why is she here, beyond the obvious firearms practice? And... Is she a danger? In general, but to him in particular. Weren’t the Union supposed to be scattered all through the government organisations?

There’s a breath and then he walks on, taking a lane near to her but leaving a clear one between them. And then it’s Alexander’s turn to unholster his pistol, unpack the bullets, and get ready to practice.

Detective Black

[Awareness]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 4, 7, 9) ( success x 2 )

Detective Black

[doo be doo]

Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (4, 4, 8) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

Detective Black

[Dex+Firearms]

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

Detective Black

When Alexander took up his place two lanes over, the brunette glanced up from her pistol. There was a click as the chamber snapped into place, oddly noticeable in the brief beat of silence while the two officers at the end of the room reloaded. Then the room filled with the crack and echo of discharged rounds. The woman went still, watching Alexander while she waited for the sound in the room to die down again. If he glanced her way, perhaps he might notice the subtle movement of her lips - the whispered prayer or mantra that she used to focus her Will. Then she turned and sighted down the line of her weapon, firing off a shot at the paper target. It hit somewhere in the chest, near the heart.

A moment later, the two officers at the end of the room holstered their weapons and turned to leave. Once they were gone, the woman turned to Alex and spoke.

"I haven't seen you here before." She set her weapon down and approached Alex's side, reaching a hand out to offer a formal greeting. "Sasha Black. Homicide."

Officer Brandt

[Dex+Firearms, just the old fashioned way]

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

Officer Brandt

[And what the hell, it might change things a bit. Awareness for the effect.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )

Detective Black

Alex felt the push of Sasha's Will. It washed over and past him in a rush of delicate whispers, but whatever effect she'd cast, he wasn't the target. The men at the other end of the room were. Whatever the intention of the effect was, though, it was something he had no familiarity with.

Officer Brandt

Alexander doesn’t spend time cleaning and readying his pistol, that had been taken care of after the last time he’d used it. The last time he’d used it on a range. He glances over at the woman as she closes the chamber of her gun, watching her brace the pistol and take aim at the paper target some way down the range. But he doesn’t watch her fire – he knows what’s coming before the sound of exploding gunpowder resonates through the room. He raises his own pistol and lines up the sight against his own paper adversary. One breath, then hold... And hold a little longer as he feels something from Sasha, but nothing he can exactly put a finger on. She’d changed something. But what..?

And squeeze.

There’s a second shot as Alex places his own round in the target. This one isn’t as close to the centre as Sasha’s had been – if it had been a real person they wouldn’t be using one shoulder and they’d probably be having a lot of trouble breathing right now. Close enough, but could be better. It can always be better...

Round fired off, he glances over to the door where the two men were leaving. Suddenly it was the two of them, which did at least give them privacy. But it also pulled away any witnesses. Alex takes a breath, letting it out in a slow sigh.

I haven’t seen you here before. He’d been wondering how to break the ice –even whether to – but she’d beaten him to it. Flicking the safety back onto the pistol, he lowers it to the counter and turns to her. “Oh, I’ve been around. Transferred here last year.” Alexander reaches out to return the shake. “Alexander Brandt. So are you new in town? I don’t recall hearing your name around station.”

Detective Black

"That's probably a good thing, knowing how people talk." Sasha's mouth curled into a brief smile as she gripped Alexander's hand. "I moved here back in February." There was a pause as she dropped her hand back to her side, watching Alexander with this considering gaze. Finally she added, "With Annie."

They were alone now. And without the accompanying echo of gunfire, the long underground room felt a bit cavernous. There were security cameras installed in two corners of the ceiling, but perhaps these only provided video feed because a moment later Sasha turned to regard Alexander's target, as though analyzing his aim, and said, "You aren't a Technocrat, are you?"

The tone of her voice was light - almost playful. Reminiscent of the way drug dealers might ask a potential client whether or not they were a cop.

Officer Brandt

Alexander laughs. “It depends on what people are saying, and whether it’s anything they’ll say to your face.” Gossip networks are interesting things to watch. The good news spreads and sprouts and flowers for all to see. The bad stuff? That maybe spreads even faster, but takes a much more roundabout route. There’s always the worry that the target will find out, and that leads to awkward conversations. Of course, I don’t think that. I’m not sure who told me.

With Annie. Alexander pauses again, one eye squinting slightly as he places the name. It’s not a rare one, by any means, but seems to be one with some significance based on the way she drops it into the conversation. Again, not anybody he’s met, but Alex has at least heard of her. “Annie. Lives out Morrison way? I’d heard she’d moved back into town and had some friends with her.”

Sasha turns to check Alex’s aim, and Alex crouches to fetch the spent casing from his shot. You aren’t a Technocrat, are you? He’d been so close to setting the casing back on the counter, but the question was so unexpected that he fumbled it between his hands a couple of times before it fell back to the padded floor again. “What? Er, what’s that?” He straightens, sighing again before laughing a little to himself. Maybe there had been enough information dropped, enough hints that fit in with his knowledge of who has been coming and going, to make him relax a little. “Ah hell. No, I’m not Union, but I’m not exactly traditional either. You?”

Alex has no idea who or what Sasha might know about the other people in the city, but there is someone she’ll at least be aware of. A name he can offer in a way of offering confirmation of who he is – or isn’t – too. “How’s Callisto?”

Detective Black

[Not that she really needs it, but Per+Subterfuge]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 10, 10) ( success x 2 ) Re-rolls: 2

Detective Black

Annie. Lives out Morrison way?

Sasha nodded. For a moment she cast her eyes down to watch as Alexander fumbled with the shell casing, and if she found the sight of it amusing, she was at least polite enough to keep it to a light smile. She angled her face away from the cameras again when she responded.

"That's a tricky question to answer, considering what she is. She and I took a walk under the stars last week. I think she likes to watch the sky. And I'll tell you something, Alexander. If I'm in the Union, then you're pretty much screwed." Her tone stayed light, quietly wry in a way that felt a little incongruous to the seriousness of the subject matter. When she looked at him, she tilted her head lightly.

"Lucky for you, I'm not." She paused to consider what he'd said about Traditions. "You seem a bit old to be an Orphan. Surprised no one's snatched you up yet."

Officer Brandt

“Ah, crap.” Alexander turns to the range, leaning forward while resting both hands on the counter. “I’m still pretty new to all this, you know? I thought, because you knew...” Another sigh, no amusement lingering behind this one. More... resignation? There’s a shrug and he turns back, half-sitting on the counter which keeps his mouth conveniently out of sight of the closest camera. “And now do I take you at you word that you’re not, and spill all my secrets? Ah what the hell, I’m screwed either way if you are.”

Alexander rummages in a pocket and there’s there’s a split second, just a fraction of a moment, that seems to last longer than the one either side of it. A fragment of time where the air conditioning feels just a little more efficient than it did before.

“Tell me you’re not again.”

[Arete: Entropy 1, sensing lies (thanks Lavinia!). TN4]

Dice: 1 d10 TN4 (8) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Detective Black

[Awareness]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Detective Black

Sasha outranked him, in more ways than one. If she wished to withhold information, she probably could. But she didn't. And when Alex asked her again to tell him that she wasn't a technocrat, Sasha's expression grew calmly serious. There was weight to her words when she stepped forward, looked him in the eyes and said, "I am not with the Union."

Perhaps she knew what he was trying to do, but if so, she didn't try to hinder his effect. And the clarity of her words rang true in his head. Unless she had some hidden means of tricking his senses, she wasn't lying. Her eyes cast down to her hand, which she opened up for him to see. Tattooed onto her palm was an image of a spoked white wheel. "I have other affiliations." She dropped her hand back to her side.

"But you should know the reason why I asked. I saw one here about a week ago. Young. Maybe... twenty three. Male. Sandy hair. He was charming the hell out of the receptionist. I don't know why he was here, but they like to get their claws into law enforcement so... be careful who you trust."

Officer Brandt

Alexander meets her eyes. “Thank you. And I’m... sorry. I’m not very good at this.” No kidding. “I’ve been warned about them, but so far it’s all been very... theoretical. Hell, I’ve probably got more of an idea how to handle an unhappy spirit than I do the Union.”

The tattoo gets a glance, but it’s not particularly meaningful in itself. Oh, there had been other Mages in the city who the wheel would have had much more meaning for. He’d met one, once, but that hadn’t been a conversation to talk about such things. There had been an offer of help, but that had never been taken up. And now? Who knew where Eleanor was. It seems so many of them drift in and out of the city. “I don’t know what that means. I woke up last year. The guys in the city have been helping out some, but from the little I’ve seen of the Traditions? I’m not sure I fit in with them any better than they fit me.” There isn’t really any sadness or regret at that. It’s simply that he’s accepted that it’s the way things are. Others seem to do alright on their own. So why can’t he do the same?

He sinks a little more when Sasha tells him that she’d seen one. “Can they tell what we are? The same way we can spot each other? Do they feel... like things too?”

Detective Black

This wasn't really the place to have this sort of conversation. True, they had a reasonable degree of privacy at the moment, apart from the eyes of whoever happened to be manning the security booth (and let's face it, they were probably reading a magazine - not trying to read the lips of a couple of innocently chatting cops who had every right to be there.) But the knowledge of that surveillance was enough to make the place feel a little less than secure. And if someone - the Union, perhaps - did happen to want to spy on them, they certainly had their resources. Sasha didn't seem to think they were in danger at the moment, but it was enough to give her pause in answering Alexander's questions. She reached out and touched his arm lightly - a gesture of quiet reassurance. "You're doing fine. Better than most rookies I meet."

She paused a moment to mull over her answer. "They can. I'm not sure they're actually all that different from us, in some ways. It's more... what they believe. And what they do. The ones I've encountered have felt... very structured. But they're different from each other, the same way we are, so you can't ever really be sure. I wasn't sure at first, with the one I saw. It was more... how he was acting." She seemed as though she wanted to say something else, but she didn't. One would imagine that to be so sure, she had to have seen or sensed something more definitive, but whatever it was, she wasn't willing to talk about it here. After a moment's consideration, she fished her wallet out of her pocket, extracting a business card which she passed to Alex. It had her name and rank and department information on it, as well as a phone number for her desk.

"We should talk more. Why don't you come see me at Annie's place? In the meantime, if you need anything... call me." There was a beat before she added, "People like you... who don't feel they fit in with the Traditions. You're exactly the kind of person they like to recruit. That's why you need to be careful."

Officer Brandt

“Well I’m not dead yet, so I suppose that’s a start.” He snorts, but there’s a smile. “Not that there’s been a shortage of things trying to make that happen, but that’s another story for another time. Alex takes a deep breath, but he seems to inflate with it rather than it turning into another sigh. He may be out of his depth – again – and may have just completely screwed up if Sasha had been Union, but he was still here. And life and experience are, if nothing else, very effective teachers.

The card is taken, and one is offered in return. He considers scribbling one of the mobile numbers he has on the back, but he holds back just as he’s about to reach for a pen. He’s happy that she was telling the truth about not being Union – not unless she was able to mess with the effect, in which case he’s screwed anyway – but he still holds back. It’s something that ties back to him and, suddenly, it feels like he needs to ramp up the paranoia again. How the hell does anyone live like this? Maybe it’s why some drift away from the lives they had before waking up.

“I wasn’t sure about visiting once I heard you guys had moved in. It didn’t feel quite right, somehow. It’s your home. But... I will. Thank you.”

Alexander pushes back up from the counter, retrieving his gun. He moves his hand, examining the side without really paying attention to it. “Anything I can do to not be noticed if they come back? Other than not ramming my foot squarely in my mouth again.”

Detective Black

"There are ways of hiding, but it might be beyond your ability. In the meantime, I'd suggest avoiding strangers in suits who act like FBI and feel like one of us. Especially if they're wearing sunglasses." Shasha slipped Alexander's card into her wallet and returned it to the back pocket of her jeans. They'd been speaking of fairly serious matters, but if she had anything else to say, she saved it for another time (and a safer place.)

"Now, let's see how well you shoot, Officer Brandt." Sasha smiled and picked up her gun, stepping over to the lane beside Alexander's. She'd come her to practice, after all. And she wasn't going to let the thought of a nosy Technocrat deter her from the task.

Officer Brandt

There’s another snort of amusement. “Now there’s something I never get tired of hearing. One day.” One day, he might finally get the understanding that has been coming to several of the others. One day. If he lasts that long.

“Oh, shooting I can do.” Alex turns back to the range, checking his pistol again. “Best of three, winner makes coffee?” Safety flicked off, he takes aim again and starts to drown himself in the flow that comes with the practiced movements.

Do any of us really know anyone?

Alexander

[Arete, sensing Time. TN 4, taking time -1, target 2 successes]

Dice: 1 d10 TN3 (6) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Alexander

Washington Park: home to the beginnings, middles and ends of stories. Chance encounters and purposeful introductions sparking new friendships and relationships, or maybe bringing them to an end. People pass through on their way to other auspicious – or hopeless – places and people. Sometimes, though, it is simply a place to be.

Everyone needs to be somewhere, and Wash Park is where Alexander is once again found. The clear skies, bright sunshine and warmth have brought him outdoors again. Although, honestly, driving snow and wind isn’t all that likely to keep him cooped up indoors when he wants to get out. But this is a good day to relax, rather than throw himself against nature. He doesn’t have anywhere to be – no work today, no errands to run, no monsters to track down. Oh, there are things that need to be taken care of. But beyond putting what he’d managed to dig up at a certain campsite out on Ginger and seeing what help could be garnered from others in the city, he’s at a little bit of a loose end.

And so here he is, lying on the grass by a lake. Cargo shorts and a tshirt cover him, with boots and a shirt sat on the grass next time him. His lower legs are in the water, slight waves occasionally submerging the parts that aren’t already covered. He’s watching the sky. The afternoon sun is still high in the sky and it’ll be a few hours yet before it starts to get close to the horizon, replacing the vibrant blue of the sky with deeper oranges and reds. Time to pass. Time to feel. And he does feel. To those attuned to such things, Alex has created an effect that lets him do just that. Just like the water flowing and lapping at his legs, he’s feeling the flow of time as it passes by.

Ian

[Awareness]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 6, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )

Ian

There was a time in Ian's life when spending a Friday night alone in the park would have seemed... well, like a waste of a Friday. And maybe later he would find something (or someone) to occupy himself with, but right now he wasn't thinking about that. Not long ago, he'd been sitting on a bench near one of the flower gardens with his knee tucked up to his chest, just... watching. Listening. Feeling the warm breeze play against his skin. But then he felt a little stir of winter - subtle and prickling just at the edge of his awareness - and after a while he abandoned his bench in favor of the lake, making his way toward the shore at a slow, relaxed gait.

Inevitably, Alexander would find his solitary moment interrupted by the dawning awareness of a steadily encroaching animal. Ian came up behind him, paused a moment, then sat down in the grass at Alexander's side. He had boots on, so he folded his legs rather than trailing his feet into the water (for now.)

"The lake's pretty today," he observed quietly, gazing out across the rolling water at the sun's golden reflection.

Alexander

[Awareness?]

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

Alexander

[Alertness?]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 6, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 4 )

Alexander

Alexander isn’t lost in sensation today. That last time, with Kalen, hadn’t exactly ended well. Hell, he still needed to track down Kalen to work out what the hell had happened. And maybe to apologise to him. But wasn’t a little paranoia good for survival?

Either way, Alexander is aware of what’s going on around him. The approach of a certain resonance is a stealthy thing, prowling through the grass as it approaches the Frozen water near the lake. It’s there though, and it’s enough to tug at Alexander’s attention, though, and he looks around at his surroundings. The lake, with some ducks drifting by. A couple of people running along one of the tracks. Ian. He feels different – deeper and more complex, just like Grace and Kiara and Elijah and... Well, nearly all of the Awakened that he knows, really. They’ve all changed, gotten some kind of closer relationship with reality.

He can’t help wonder when his turn will be.

But it’s a passing thought, and he goes back to watching the water once he’s picked up on Ian’s approach. He doesn’t leap away, ready to protect himself, when Ian sits. Alexander stays, comfortable that there isn’t any immediate risk of strange occurrences.

Alex takes a deep breath, smiling a little, when Ian speaks. “It is a beautiful day.” He looks across at Ian, adding, “You’ve changed.”

Ian

Alexander could have meant that in any number of ways, and all of them would have been true. Though Ian was not so changed as to be unrecognizable. Unlike Kalen, he hadn't undergone any dramatic mystical transformation. He'd just sought out (and found) a deeper piece of himself. In more ways than one.

"People do that, it seems." Ian turned his eyes toward Alexander's face, squinting just a little against the glare of the sun. "I can leave, if you want me to." He left a beat of silence there, giving Alexander a chance to tell him if the company was unwelcome. "I saw the message you left on Ginger."

There was always something, wasn't there? Some threat or concern or new piece of business to be discussed. It almost felt like an insult to the beauty of their surroundings.

Alexander

“Up to you. If I’d wanted to be alone, I wouldn’t have picked a park to sit in. Especially not this park.” He smiles, adding the humour that lies behind the comment. “Although given how often we just ‘happen’ to run into each other, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised to have Kalen and Grace appear with a picnic if I was sat on the top of a mountain.”

The smile and the humour fade as Ian asks about the message on Ginger. “Yeah. Skye didn’t want to bother anyone with his problems, but I think he’s gotten to the point where he knows he needs help to sort things out with Claire.”

It could almost sound like any other regular conversation about a couple having relationship issues.

“And I still have no idea what created those animals. I don’t suppose the symbols meant anything to you?”

Ian

There was a brief smile when Alexander mentioned Grace and Kalen and the notion of a surprise picnic on a mountaintop. It faded though, more of an echo than a real smile. He sighed when Alex mentioned Skye - this soft, almost defeated sound - and looked away toward the water.

"No. Not really my area of expertise." Ian hesitated before asking his next question. "Was he okay? I tried to call him, but I just got his voicemail. Probably shitty reception."

Alexander

Alexander’s attention is back on the water – or maybe on something else fluid – as he sighs. “Worth a try. Maybe the others will find something.”

“He’s...” There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation. Maybe a search for the right words, the right way to put something. “Disconnected, I guess. He’s been beating himself up about what happened to Claire, blaming himself for it. I don’t think he’s had much to do with other people since she went missing.”

There’s another moment of consideration, but of Ian this time. Alexander watches him, curious. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d asked Ian about Skye and been told that he hadn’t seen him in a while. That he’d just been a guy that Ian had slept with. It might have been puzzling at the time, given what they’d gone through to find the guy, but Ian wasn’t easy to read. And Alexander and Ian weren’t exactly close, for that line of questioning to really carry on.

“Lousy reception, or a dead phone, or a changed number. I swapped numbers with him, if you want it. Just in case.”

[Per+Empathy – what’s going on with yooou?]

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

Ian

[Oh, are you trying to figure me out? Subterfuge]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 5 ) Re-rolls: 1

Ian

Sometimes there were things that Ian let slip through. He wasn't always cold; detached. Often there seemed this gossamer-thin slide of emotion that never fully manifested in his expression - enough to hint at some inner thoughts without giving away the truth of the story. Perhaps it was a defense-mechanism (too ingrained to really shed) or perhaps he was just naturally difficult to read. Either way, there were no answers in Ian's eyes when Alexander looked at him. Just this calm, murky darkness.

He looked over when Alexander offered Skye's number. After a moment, he nodded quietly.

"Yeah, I should make sure mine's still current." He slipped his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts to find Skye's number, offering it to Alexander to compare. As though they were talking about any ordinary contact who'd just gone off the grid for a while. As though their lives weren't mired in ghosts and corpses.

But then he said, "You probably think I'm an asshole. For Skye. For a lot of things. I guess you're not wrong."

Alexander

Alexander keeps studying Ian while he searches for his phone, but there’s just nothing slipping through Ian’s self control. Whatever Alex is going to find out is going to have to be offered by Ian. Alex unearths his own phone, though. The one that could easily be tossed into a fire, if it ever became necessary. The one that doesn’t get used for his mundane life. Finding the new contact entry for Skye (no surname listed), the numbers match up.

“As I said, he’s kinda disconnected from people at the moment. He thinks we all have enough of our own crap to deal with to help out with his, especially as we don’t know him and he doesn’t know us. He... thought that you’d already done enough to help him.” There’s another shrug, as if to say that he doesn’t know whether that’s true or not. Because he doesn’t. The conversation with Skye about Ian was even less detailed than the one he’d had with Ian about Skye.

The temptation to ask is sidetracked when Ian continues. Surprise crosses Alex’s face, at the bluntness of the statement. “I...”

It wasn’t a conversation he’d ever expected to have with Ian, so his thoughts took some time to order themselves enough to come to a response. His gaze returns to the water as he thinks. “I did, when we first met. I thought you were playing games with me, and I didn’t like that. I don’t know, but only because I don’t know you. Not really. I don’t know what happened between you and Skye. But who the hell am I to judge, anyway.”

Alexander turns to watch Ian again. A question rises and escapes, before Alex can decide if he should ask or not. “Does anyone really know you?”

Ian

Sera had said something similar to him once. She'd been more blunt. More confrontational.

Ian grew quiet at the question.

"Do any of us really know anyone?" It was a rather grim thing to say, and perhaps not the kind of thing that Alex would find comforting. Ian seemed about to say something else, but then he just looked away. Something changed in his eyes, this slow etching of expression. Tendrils of some abyssal sadness creeping in around the edges. It wasn't dramatic, but it was there. He unfolded his legs and brought his knees to his chest, draping an arm over them.

"I don't like it when people assume I owe them answers. But I was a dick that night, and for what it's worth I'm sorry." He let his gaze turn back, watching Alex in this reserved, careful way. "Do you want to know me?"

Alexander

Do any of us really know anyone?

It’s Alexander’s turn to grow quiet again, studying the water again. To feel the bite of second after second after second as he thinks of his answer, feeling the moments pass by to be caught up and frozen in time. He thinks of the people he knows here, of the people who know him. Hell, of the people he thought he knew so well a lifetime ago. Do they really know each other? Some know more, others know less. Nobody in his ordinary life – the beat cop, living out the clichéd ideal of serving the public – knows anything about his Awakened life. The Awakened that he knows, those he keeps his ordinary life away from – because it’s easier for them – for him – to do what needs to be done without worrying about what unAwakened justice would end in. What other attention would be attracted.

“No. I guess we don’t.” It suddenly didn’t feel quite so warm by the lake. The temperature hadn’t changed, but maybe there was more of a suggestion of a drop towards freezing that there had been just a few minutes earlier.

“I don’t think you owe me anything, least of all answers. Not unless what you do affects me, anyway. It’s your life. And it’s ok. That night, I mean. I gave up thinking it was anything personal a long time ago.”

Alex closes his eyes, legs still in the water of the lake and the wash of time ebbing and flowing over the rest of him. It seems that he’s spent more time recently pulling apart the pieces of the universe that are within his reach. Thinking about where they had all come from and where they were headed. Big questions, for sure. But... important ones? Maybe all that really mattered what where and when they were. This place, this moment.

He turns his head to Ian before his eyes open. There might have been ice there, coldness numbing him from what was around him. There had been before. There probably will be again. He’d been compared to a comet before. Perhaps this is the ice just starting to burn off.

“If you want to know me.”

Ian

Ian smiled a little, tipping his head in this way that felt contemplative. "I haven't decided yet." The tone of his voice was lower, softer and a little resonant. There was subtext to it, but if Alexander didn't notice it, he might at least notice the way that Ian's eyes lingered on him.

"There are different ways of knowing people, but I'm only really good at one of them."

He didn't make any move toward Alexander though. Perhaps he'd already decided that it wouldn't be welcome if he tried. Instead he said, "I suppose I could try and manage an actual conversation one of these days."

(They were having an actual conversation now.)

Ian's expression grew heavier for a moment. "I think I need to go talk to Skye. Can you tell me where you found him?"

Alexander

In some ways Alexander has hardened since his time in the city. Since he Woke Up with capital letters. Given what their kind are prone to running into and fighting against – monsters, people who are worse than the monsters – that’s hardly surprising. But he’s softened a little too. He doesn’t pull away from physical contact, even offers it when he thinks it’s needed. That doesn’t mean that he’s hugging strangers, but he’s not as distant with people he at least knows a little. Or maybe just knows will be there when things hit the fan. Some things, though, are a little too far. Things like Ian’s usual way of ‘getting to know’ people.

But he can at least joke about it, and his tone is lighter. “You are so not getting into my boxers. But conversation I can do. I think it was... Did you ever meet Alyssa? She had lots of useful advice. A lot was how to tell the more uptight members of the traditions about what it would be appropriate for them to sit on before rotating at speed. And something about alcohol being a good way to bond too.” He smiles, a warm memory in his mind. A memory that brings Sid to mind, a curiosity about where she might be. How she’s doing. “Do you sing?”

Alex lies back again on the grass, waving his feet gently in the water. Mud from the bottom is stirred up, drifting and settling back down again. “Reynolds Park, but I doubt you’ll find him there. He was too worried about the possibility of werewolves. That, and I’m not sure it was actually Claire he’d managed to track there anyway. Whatever had her feels like decay, this was more like... contamination.”

“You asked what I can do. That first night. Do you still want to know?”

Ian

"Boxers? Man, you really are straight." There was an equally teasing tone in Ian's response. "I've met Alyssa. We hit it off about as well as you and I did." Whatever had gone down between the two of them, though, it didn't seem he'd taken it personally.

Do you sing?

Ian raised his eyebrows at that, smirking quietly. "Once in a while." (This was a somewhat misleading answer, though not precisely untrue - at least not these days.)

Skye was worried about werewolves, and something about the mention of them made Ian's eyebrows draw tight. Made him remember that night he'd met Sabine by the fountain - though he would never think to describe her as wolfish. (No, she'd been rather a lot more like him.) "Well, I'll see if I can track him down. I suppose worst case scenario I can ask Grace to help."

Do you still want to know?

Ian was slower to answer that, less out of reluctance than because he felt the subject deserved a thoughtful response. That kind of sharing, whether through words or experience, was intimate to him. "Yes. But... I really can't stay. Another day, maybe?"

Alexander

“Hey, they’re comfortable! And lace chafes.” Alex laughs a little. “And, just to clarify, I have never worn lace underwear. Anyway, I was introduced to Karaoke not so long ago. I haven’t been...” Since Sid disappeared. “...in a while, but if you fancy it sometime..?”

He leaves the offer hanging. He doesn’t know if that’s really Ian’s idea of fun, but then he hadn’t thought it could be fun before he gave it a try. Never say never, right?

“If I bump into him again, I’ll tell him that you’re trying to get in touch. He was talking about going to California to get some help, but I think he’s happy to hang around for a bit longer to see what we can come up with. I was actually wondering if Grace would be able to help Skye track down Claire. He said that wasn’t really his thing – he was better at sorting things out once they had been found.”

The pause in the answer catches Alexander’s attention, and he wonders what’s up. Ian had already apologised for being a dick that night, was it an unwanted reminder? Was it something personal that he didn’t like to share? Was it..? Yes.

“Sure. Another day. And I would be interested to see yours too.“ Alex smiles. “Way of working, that is. I’m still figuring a lot of this out. Most of what I’ve seen from the more traditional guys doesn’t really resonate with me, so I’m curious how you see things. If you don’t mind sharing.” He’s asking, but there’s no expectation. Because it’s still not clear to him if this is something Ian is happy to share, especially with someone who’s barely more than a stranger. A stranger he fought beside – twice – to bring down monsters. But still a stranger.

Ian

Ian had shared his senses twice since coming to Denver. Once with Elijah just before they'd done something they could have gotten arrested for in a public park. And once with Kalen, because Kalen had asked to know how Ian practiced Life magick. The latter had arguably been one of the most intimate experiences he and Kalen had shared. The look on Ian's face when Alex suggested they try it was... complicated and difficult to gauge.

"We'll see how things go."

This was probably the closest Alexander was likely to get to a positive response on that subject (at least, at the moment.) Ian got to his feet, brushing a few stray bits of grass from his jeans. Before he turned to go, he suddenly stopped, as though remembering something. "Oh, I don't have your number." So he pulled out his phone again and went to add Alex into his contacts (assuming Alex was willing to give him that information.) "I usually have to be a little drunk to do karaoke, but it might be worth it to see you sing." He winked there, and maybe there was a bit of a challenge in it.

"It's good I ran into you. Have fun watching the sun set." Ian gave the picturesque landscape one final glance before turning and making his way back the direction he'd come, eventually disappearing down the trail.

And please don't shoot my friend

Grace

The Office is not an imposing structure, nor is the Warehouse that sits beside it. The Warehouse sports old, flaking paint on the outside that vaguely resembles the shape of a cow. Maybe this was an old dairy at some point in its lifespan? Call it camouflage. No defunct dairy would be protected with steel doors and biometric locks.

The invitation has been sent, multiple times. Samir, come to the Office. Samir, I have presents for you. At first glance, the place might be... dare we say it... disappointing?

Alexander

[Awareness?]

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

Samir

Sam has the uncanny ability to ignore his phone and his email inbox if the phone or email inbox require a response that would have him leaving the apartment to do anything other than collect money from someone to whom he was delivering illicit substances.

To be fair he has only been known to a few of the city's Awakened population for about a week now but in that week he has ignored shit knows how many invitations. It finally reached the point where he had to respond.

He didn't respond though. He just showed up. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Except for in order to rip off the Band-Aid he had to check the windows and the faucets and the stove x number of times and the less said about what he has to do to even walk through the door the better.

So he just showed up and now he has to find the entrance to this dungeon. He's already regretting this decision. And when Alexander shows up the first thing he feels is something piercing. Something piercing and Mind magic.

Grace

[Awareness Too!]

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

Samir

[ah fuck it. awareness.]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 7, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )

Alexander

Alexander isn’t a stranger to the Office or the Warehouse. He may not frequent the library as much as others, but he makes up for that with the time he spends in the firing range. Yes, there’s a firing range. And that’s not even the most impressive part about the complex.

He’s only just arriving, though, after some hesitation at the gates. He spends time reaching out for the awareness of who else might be around. There’s one that he’s looking for and another that he’s looking to avoid for the moment. Someone who has changed way too much in a very short period. There is someone else noted, though. Someone new. Always someone new.

The coast is clear, though, and Grace is in! So the sound of a motorbike idling a short distance away is replaced with the roar of an engine as he finishes his approach. A blue sports bike parks up close to the entrance to the office, and a helmeted figure in biker leathers gets off.

Samir

At the sound of the motorbike the newcomer stops what he's doing and turns to look.

Said newcomer stands of average height for a western male and is darkly complected. His hair is black and long enough that he can tie it into a knot at the nape of his neck and he has no other distinguishing features. He's handsome, maybe, but he also fades from memory so quickly that even the government doesn't have much in the way of memory of him.

In this moment though he feels like a needle in the second it stabs into a vein. That kind of sharpness. Like the gaze of an overly perceptive stranger.

And he looks like he wants to bolt when he hears the engine. The best way to describe his fashion sense is "punk-bohemian." A leather jacket overtop otherwise nondescript clothing. His hands are in his pockets. He has found the front door but he is holding off on announcing his presence until he sorts out who the fellow on the bike is.

Grace

Somebody's not expecting visitors. Here's the thing about Mages, right? They do as they like. And that includes showing up without warning. It's not much of a shock that neither Alex or Sam bothered to let anybody know they were dropping by, it just means Grace is woefully unprepared for the prospect of people.

Right at the moment, she only vaguely notices the presence of something cold, and this being almost Summer, that's enough to prick the ears and go 'huh?' at. The motorcycle arriving and stopping makes it more obvious who that is.

Fucking Hell, she thinks, looking down at her hands, covered in long yellow gloves. Somebody has to clean things, and in the spirit of mutual cooperation and shit, they have a rotation going on in the place. It's just fantastic to get visitors while you're scrubbing a toilet, no?

On the other hand, this is a good excuse to quit.

She gets up, stows away the brush, doffs the gloves in the sink. The bathroom is a mess of cleaning products, so hopefully nobody needs to take a piss.

Alex can just deal.

With that done, she goes to open the door. He probably doesn't need it -- hadn't Kalen made sure the door recognizes him? But just in case...

Alexander

Alexander has no illusions that he’s as close to the comings and goings of the Awakened in the city. Maybe it’s his efforts to retain his ‘normal’ life that pull him a touch further away from the usual storms of chance that pull them together and throw them apart again. There are some in the city that he just hasn’t really crossed paths with much. Maybe that will change. Maybe it won’t.

Either way, there’s a new face – and a new resonance to go with it – lurking outside one of their meeting places. It’s not obvious whether he’s here by invitation or chance or for some malicious intent. His helmeted head cocks to the side, the only display of puzzlement through the darkened visor, and a muffled voice says, “Hi.”

Alex, by the way, is not a small man. Tall, broad, dressed in biker gear and with his head masked, he may well come across as an imposing figure. And those who pay attention to such things might note the aura of cold around him. Something timeless, Frozen in the heart of the comet.

Samir

"Uh..."

This fellow in the bike helmet is if not One of Them then at least capable of tweaking the fabrics of the Tapestry. He may or may not be freaking out the newcomer but the newcomer doesn't have a stellar track record insofar as convincing other people that he isn't constantly freaked out goes. If this is a Fallen or a Marauder he'll figure it out sooner rather than later.

Sam points to an area somewhere near his temple. He isn't wearing a helmet so when he frowns Alexander can see it.

"I don't..." I can't see your face dude help me out here. And then he realizes he's not responding appropriately and puts his hand back in his pocket. "Hi."

Grace

Grace comes to save the day from awkward greetings by opening the door. Alex is there, as expected. Someone else is with him, who isn't.

"Alex, hey, what's up? Come in," she says, opening the door wider, and giving the other guy a quizzical look. "This a friend of yours?"

No, wait... That guy is familiar, isn't he?

"Oh, hey! You're that guy from the pho place! With the emails! I remember now."

Alexander

First encounters don’t always go smoothly. Sometimes it’s like old friends – who knows, even friends from past lives – reuniting and hitting it off like they had always known each other. This isn’t one of those times. This time, there’s caution. Distance. Barriers. Things that ward off connection, unless some way is found to breach them.

It’s either surprising or fitting that Grace is the one to start those connections forming. Given her choice of Tradition, it could possibly be considered poetic. Assuming any of them had a poetic heart to consider it.

Alexander hadn’t made any attempt to be overtly threatening, but he hadn’t done anything to lessen the threat that his size and presence and anonymity created. He noted the head-tapping but didn’t do anything about it. He’s about to ask something when the door opens – the visor turning to see who was emerging.

“You know this guy? He ok?” One interesting question would be who of the two of them would be best suited for taking care of an unwelcome visitor. They each have their own skills and approaches for dealing with problems.

Samir

Grace recognizes him after a time. He knew she would have trouble. He said so in the first email he ever wrote her. She remembered him in text but in person is a different fucking story. In person he would prefer not to exist. In person he is stuck inside his own head. In text the entire world is open to him.

That doesn't mean it doesn't jolt him when Alexander refers to him like he isn't standing right there. They can both see it jolt him. Excuse me? writes itself across his face though he doesn't voice it. He doesn't voice anything. He can actually understand where the man wearing the bike helmet is coming from. He waits for Grace to respond anyway.

Grace

"He's ok, yeah. Samir. I told him he could come by and meet the robots," she says, to Alex.

"Samir, this is Alex. He's a friend." And a cop. But also, unlikely enough, a friend.

"You guys want uh... coffee? There's also waffles. Listen, I don't want to sit here with the door hanging open because Pomegranate likes to bolt for the outside and then cries when she can't get back in."

Alexander

He’s a friend. There’s a one-shouldered shrug and the leathered figure moves to remove the helmet. Like the others present, he does have a slight tendency to slide from notice or memory. Maybe not as much as they do, but he does tend to blend in with a crowd more easily than most. When the helmet does come off, they might notice some bruising around his face. It doesn’t seem to be anything that’s bothering him, though.

“Sorry about that. Hi, Samir. Alexander.” Sorry Grace, that stick is still up his ass about that one. He pulls the glove off his right hand and offers it in greeting. “I wasn’t sure if you were meant to be here or not.”

Grace offers coffee. “I’d love some, but this is a bit of a flying visit. I wanted to ask you about that text message you sent.” Which one? The one about Kalen, who he’s deliberately not mentioning because he doesn’t know how much or little Samir know about the people in the city. “You’re sure he’s… Not a clone? Or anything else funky? Because that man I saw in the park really didn’t feel like him.”

Samir

Nothing overt in his desire not to shake Alexander's hand but there is hesitation. Like he has to gauge the social implications of not doing so and weigh it against his own discomfort and Samir can't lie for shit so they can both see he is uncomfortable for a second before forcing a smile and putting out his right hand to grasp the bigger man's.

"No problem," he says. Note the accent: he's Canadian. Or learned to speak English in Canada. "Sorry to show up unannounced."

And then the offer of coffee and the text message Grace sent and someone may or may not be a clone and Sam is frowning but not interrupting. Fidgeting a bit. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and tries to fight the urge to check his phone but fails the more Alexander talks. Okay. He's been here four minutes. Fuck.

Grace

Neither of them are getting the hint that Grace Evans is not a doorstop, so she steps outside and shuts the door behind her. She wasn't lying about the cat being catlike and indecisive about what constitutes her territory.

"Right," Grace says, looking at Alex. "I've told you about Seekings before. When I have had them, I change, but not everything. Kalen is different. The connection he has? His Avatar? It's a thing of changes. Metamorphosis. When he goes to find himself, he is another person each time. He told me that once, a long time ago. Now, when I first saw him after, you know, I thought the same as you. But he hasn't been not-Kalen, and his memories check out. You can stay away from him if you think it's wise, but personally, that would be kind of sad. You know?"

She keeps eye contact as she talks -- rare for Grace. But it can get uncomfortable, with how she can stare a hole into you. There's a sigh, and then she looks to Samir. "Don't worry about the unannouncing. I don't care. Gave me an excuse to stop cleaning the bathroom."

Samir

For what it's worth Sam did not go inside because Alexander did not go inside. Some sort of cultural thing or he's nervous or he thought he had more than a few seconds to decide whether he was going inside or fucking it and leaving.

"Why would you want to stop cleaning the bathroom?"

It sounds like he's joking. Maybe he is joking. Neither of them know him enough to say whether he's joking for real or joking in a self-depreciating way of joking or just not joking at all. It sounds like he's joking though. Nobody actually likes cleaning the bathroom.

Alexander

Alexander wasn’t planning on staying, so heading in seems rather pointless when he’s going to be leaving again in the next few minutes.

He does nod thoughtfully as Grace explains Seekings again. It wasn’t exactly that he was unfamiliar with people changing. He knows several people who have grown after Seekings. But it had always been the case that it was a growth – the way they felt deepened and became more complex. Kalen was the first who had completely replaced what he was with something else, regardless of whether he’d chosen it or it had happened to him.

“I won’t shoot him when I see him then.” Alex grins a little, but a little awkwardly. “Naah, I’ll talk to him. I think that maybe the circumstances weren’t the best for finding out that it had happened to him, you know?”

Alex looks to Samir, after almost forgetting that he was standing there. “Sorry to interrupt. If you’re here for the grand tour then I can leave you guys to get on with it. I still want to see mecha-Gamera, though, Grace. Next time, though.”

Grace

She rolls her eyes at Samir. "I know, right? Pinnacle of human endeavors, cleaning the bathroom. So pleasant and enjoyable. Wouldn't want to ever stop..."

"And please don't shoot my friend, Alex," Grace says, rubs her eyes. "I'd have to shoot you back, and the blood would get everywhere. Talking to him sounds like a great idea, yeah."

Okay, so, with Alex on his way out, this leaves Samir, and getting him through the door. Grace turns around, puts her finger on the print scanner and heaves the door open again with a crunch of machinery noise.

Samir

So much talk of shooting. Sam definitely looks uncomfortable now. Some combination of meeting people in the meatspace and this occurring outside of his already slim comfort zone and the helmet and fuck. He puts on a tight smile and lifts his hand to give a likewise tight farewell wave to Alexander and then there goes the print scanner.

"Nice to meet you," says the voice belonging to the man Alexander won't be able to recognize later.

Okay. Inside. Yes. Good.

Alexander

“Hey, I’d only shoot him for a really good reason! I’m happy to just throw stuff at him when he’s being his usual dense self. If you bump into him, tell him I’ll be in touch.”

To Samir, “Nice to meet you too. Sorry if I scared you and all. And… I really don’t go around shooting people.” Well, not unless they’re mad cannibalistic Adepts. Or spirit-possessed-and-corrupted human hosts. Or they shoot first. But those things don’t really need to be said. “Enjoy the tour!”

Alex throws them a wave before returning to his bike, to disappear to do whatever it is he needs to be doing. Probably not shooting people.

Samir

Vague hand gestures that indicate oh no you didn't scare me okay you did scare me I'm a shitty liar I'm pretending to be cool with this entire thing yeah okay great bye in the slow span of about three seconds before he plunges it back into his pocket and follows Grace inside. Harder to get shot if you're inside. Hypothetically. Statistically you're more likely to get shot inside than outside but Sam hasn't got much use for statistics.

Grace

Inside, Samir will find the place decorated to an eccentric Hermetic's taste. It looks different on the inside, with walls painted in jewel-hues, and expensive wooden furniture. There is a Bengal cat staring at the door, pissed off that it's closed again, and not at all concerned about the New Person. She flicks her tail and walks off in disgust, the way cats do when they've had their plans stymied.

"So yeah, this is the place. I work here, and only technically live in my apartment, you know? It's nice here. More secure than any apartment at least. Had a... bad experience at my actual living space with some witch-hunting pieces of shit, and this place has nice comfy couches. Speaking of which, you are welcome to crash here if you need a place that's safe."

Grace talks and talks, and also starts making her way up the stairs without paying much attention to Samir. He can follow, or he can wander around. You get the impression that basically anything goes with her.

"Kalen's my 'business partner', he works here, and his apprentice Elijah lives here. We get others from time to time too. We have a gun range in the Warehouse next door, a laser-tag arena, a library in dead tree and digital form, some servers because Kalen was certain we needed multiples of them so that they would have other machines to talk to when they got lonely... You met him right?"