Why did it Have to be Blood?

Alyssa Solomon
It's been a week or so since that Samhain night when Connor found his eyes opened to a new world and Alyssa found herself meeting with the exuberant new mage and a couple of ghosts.  (Okay, one ghost and one...maybe ghost?)  And in the time since, they've had a brief exchange over the phone thanks to the spirit sending of a Dreamspeaker.  Alyssa had said at the time--albeit in text-speak--You and I should chat more.  I've got some things you oughta know.  And thus, it would seem that the time has come.

The Hollow One works primarily out of her apartment, or more specifically she takes calls for her odd jobs and then goes out to meet them.  So the studio apartment is where she has him meet her.  The place is small, but small suits exactly what she needs; she neither requires nor wants fancy or luxurious.  Those take too much upkeep and if you have to move, you've lost a lot.  The place looks like it hasn't been lived in all that long; maybe a matter of months, certainly less than a year.  But the clutter is impressive for that amount of time, and she certainly hasn't organized the place in a matter for visitors.

A full bed is off to side of the room, far enough away from both the entryway and the screen door to the balcony that she can't be surprised by anyone coming in either.  (That might be a little paranoid, since she's on the third floor, but when you're a mage..)  The floor isn't carpeter but laminate; she chose the apartment specifically for that because it's easier to get your security deposit back if you don't have a lot of bleach spots dotting the floor.  Also, it lets her use spray paint and candles without the need for concern that it won't ever come up.  She does have a spot where there's a coffee table, a couch, an old worn easy chair and an old (CRT, not LCD) television, though the area is the least cluttered and thus probably doesn't get a lot of use.

Everywhere you look there are strange knick-knacks or piles of books.  Next to the bed is an assortment of old paperbacks with the covers worn thin or missing; next to her desk is a set of old tomes in Latin.  On the wall is a map of Denver with lines drawn this way and that, a bunch of color-headed pins stuck in.  Pictures of people are taped to the wall next to it.  The kitchenette are appears to be a place where she goes to microwave stuff or get drinks.  And there are more than a few ashtrays around.

Also, did we meantion all the seals drawn on the walls around the room?  Best not to guess what darkened, dripping ink was used to paint them.    Alyssa is currently at the desk in a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck, transcribing something from one of those books.  It looks like a pictogram of some sort.  She's concentrating to get everything just right, but paying attention for a doorbell knock.  This is one of those complexes that doesn't come with a buzzer system; Alyssa chose it because frankly, buzzers don't help against the kinds of people (and not-people) who are threats to their kind.

Connor Whitman
The Hollow One and the newbie Mage have something in common when it comes to their work.  Connor for the most part works off his cell phone, getting calls and taking orders before heading out to deal.  Sometimes he heads across town to the house he owns in the suburbs, waiting for the day when retail sale of marijuana begins in the new year and Connor can build up his own business.  But for now, downtown is primarily where he can be found, branching out only a little.

He had been delighted by the return message from Alyssa.  There are things he ought to know about this stuff beyond Don't Talk About the Special Fight Club, wow.  There is a whole new world, or rather a light cast on the world he thought he knew and now he gets to learn all about it.  Connor had never been terribly interested in studying, but since he shed the skin of his Sleeping life he's found he has a desire to devour knowledge.  He very nearly could not wait for the appointed time and place to meet with Alyssa again.  He's passed by her building several times in the past few days (turns out they don't live that far from each other), almost but never actually bringing himself to announce himself, no no, she said that other day, that other time!  Wait, be patient, watched pots and all that.

For all that Connor has been overly excited about the prospect of this meeting, they'd had to haggle the time.  Connor's clients know not to call him until well afternoon.  Today is just a touch early for him, but he managed it.  It only took about fifteen or so (he doesn't know, he slept through some of them) snoozes of his cell phone's alarm before he finally dragged his ass out of bed to perform the herculean feat of shoving food into his stomach, getting cleaned up, and trudging out the door.

And finally trudging up to Alyssa's.  He knocks, and she may be able to sense the light of his presence on the other side of the door.  It would not be hard to imagine given that one time she saw him that the young man is beaming already on the other side.  Except that he's not.  He is in the middle of a jawcracking yawn, the kind that makes the eyes water and stretches the skin of his cheeks to the point one might fear it'll tear at the corners of his mouth.

Alyssa Solomon
[[Per+Aware]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )

Connor Whitman
[just for fun, how attentive are you today, Connor?]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (4, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )

Alyssa Solomon
Connor is excited about this prospect, and wants to know so much about this greater and mysterious world in which he now lives.  Alyssa is more concerned with showing him the ropes so that he doesn't get himself killed.  But it all leads to the same thing, which is Connor at her doorstep at a specific time that the Hollower found surprisingly difficult to figure out/

She can sense it, that brilliant shining that you don't have to see to feel the need to squint in the vicinity of.  In Alyssa's case it's less of a squint than a narrowing of the eyes, and she's already stopped transcribing when she hears the door knock.  She gets up from the desk, stubs out a cigarette and crosses the length of the apartment to get to the entry way and the front door.

Connor can likely hear her footsteps as they come close, then a pause.  And then she's pulling the door open for him, giving him a quick once-over and then a little nod.  "Hey."  She smiles a little bit and steps back, gesturing inward.  "Come on in.  Mi casa, su casa...as long as the rules of su casa are 'try not to break or mess with anything.'"  She closes the door after him and starts to head out of the entry area into the main apartment.  "Get you something?  Drink, or...well, drink?"

Connor Whitman
The once over reveals Connor to be a little bit bedraggled.  His thick unruly dark hair is still a little damp, dangerous for his health considering the weather is turning and winter is coming.  He's wearing a large overcoat and jeans and Converse sneakers, and has a bookbag slung over one shoulder.  And his eyes are watering.  And he's just coming out of that yawn.

"Haaaawwwaye," he greets from behind a closed fist, one eye squinting shut before that fist uncurls and a long slender finger scrubs at his eye.  He blinks at her, and smiles sleepily.  Giving her a quick nod, the young man enters her abode, heads down the hall, at the end of which he stops

and stares

brows lifting

at her walls.

"Whoa," he says.  His bag is lowered to the floor next to where he was standing - 'was' because he's immediately striding toward one of the seals on the walls.  "What is," he starts, one hand reaching toward but stopping just shy of touching the "ink," and then, "Is that," before turning to her, dark eyes wide in his dark-skinned face, "Oh, no, I'm good thanks."

Alyssa Solomon
The young man's tired reaction draws a dark eyebrow upward.  "Long night?"  She says it with the sound of someone who's been there many a time herself.  "I can flip on the coffee maker if you need it.  I mostly use it for brewing other stuff, coffee doesn't sit well with me as a rule.  I think I have some instant around here somewhere..."

She's saying it as they head into the mean area, and then she stops when he says Whoa.  She turns around, watching him as he beelings toward the wall, reaches out.  Alyssa could stop him, could yell to remind him that she just said Don't mess with anything, but she doesn't.  Instead she crosses her arms over her chest, waits to see what he'll do.  And then he turns to her without quite touching the seal and the left corner of her mouth quirks up.

"Let's just say that I don't choose cheap apartments by accident and that I'm doing some serious cleaning of this room if I get the chance to do so before I move."  She shrugs.  "It's not someone else's, if that helps.  I don't lure newbies up here so I can refill my quill or anything like that."

Connor Whitman
"Nah, not a morning person," he says, even though it's not really morning anymore.

She did just say, which is the main reason he doesn't touch the wall.  The other is that one doesn't befriend the sorts of people Connor has befriended and not learn to recognize old dried blood.  It's gross and fascinating but he's more interested in the designs.  Until he blinks and remembers why it is that he was invited here, and why it is that he came.

Chuckling, mostly at himself, Connor reaches up and scratches behind his ear.  "Sorry, I get distracted real easy now."  He looks at the wall and the seal again, his arm dropping to his side.  Then he turns and looks around the rest of the room.  "I've never seen anyone do this stuff before.  Not for real.  It's for real, right?" his attention returns to her, all bright and sharp and attentive.  "Does it like block stuff or something?"

Alyssa Solomon
She nods a little bit when Connor says he gets distracted now.  It's not a surprise; and she explains why with her next words.  "Happens to most of us early on.  I mean, you did just suddenly develop a whole new sense.  It'll take a little while to get used to it."  She says it with a casualness; what amazes and fascinates him is old hat to her at this point, though she isn't begrudging him his own reactions to it.  They all had that moment of wonder, and she's fine with him holding onto it for a while.

"Yeah, it's for real."  She gestures to what passes for the living room area and moves to take a seat in the chair, leaving him the couch.  "And good guess on the blocking stuff.  They aren't constantly active, or you'd probably have been able to tell.  I put them up when I first got here, so if I ever need to throw some quick warding up I don't have to risk passing out from blood loss.  Just a little here and there in the right spots."

Connor Whitman
He nods back to her, yes yes, I did just develop a new sense.  Or in Connor's case he feels like he's shed a skin and now it's somewhere in his wake, dried and crackling away while he gets used to the new, vibrant colors of this new one.

"There world is so different now," he says, trailing in her wake over to the living area, or rather the sitting area.  Looking around, Connor can see where the living area is, and this is clearly not it.  "There's like layers to it.  And more things to talk to!"  It makes him feel high, or drunk, or disoriented, but the feeling is unlike any state he's attained through drugs.

She takes a chair, Connor shrugs out of his coat to reveal a graphic t-shirt over a long-sleeved shirt, drapes it over an arm of the couch, and then collapses back against the couch.  The way he sits here is much the same as she found him at the club, legs stretched and sprawling, arms loose at his side.  Comfortable, like this isn't a place he's never been to before but the home of a dear old friend he's visited a hundred, maybe a thousand times.  Already he's left a trail of his presence throughout, his bag over there, his coat over there.  He shifts, angling to face Alyssa a little more.  His expression is thoughtful.

"Blood, is that how it works?  I don't remember bleeding but I think I blacked out for a sec, so maybe."

Alyssa Solomon
If he's going to make himself comfortable, so is she.  Alysssa takes a lean into one corner of the padded chair, throwing a leg up over the opposite corner and settling back in.  She doesn't seem to mind that he's done so; it's her space but she's not incredibly territorial.  The declaration of don't mess was more for his protection than any sense of protectiveness over the place.  Again, that's why she chooses cheap apartments to rent.

"Blood's how it works for me," she says with a casual shrug.  "But that's sort of a long story.  We don't all do magic in the same way.  With me, it's a matter of ritual and occultism.  Seals of power, calling to spirits...that sort of thing.  Always blood though."  That last part is said with a sense of...not disdain, but resignation.  Like it's not her favorite part of working magic by a long shot, but one that she accepts.

She leans over and picks her pack of cigarettes up off the table, fishes one out.  She doesn't ask if Connor minds; while she's not territorial about the space, it is her space and she will do what she's comfortable with.  She's lucky she's not a nudist.  The pack is tossed back into its place and she goes into her jeans for a lighter as she continues.

"I've seen all different types do different things.  Herbs, prayer, drugs, sex magic.  Hell, there are whole factions of technomages who use computers or go the weird science route.  The point," she says as she flicks the Zippo into life and lights the end of the smoke, "is that we have the ability to sense the actual world and know how the laws of reality is more like guidelines.  And we have the strength to impose our will on reality, shape it and control it so that it bends to our desires."

Connor Whitman
Connor doesn't mind that Alyssa makes herself comfortable.  It's her place, he only wants to try to stay somewhere within any guidelines for guests.  He may slouch and make himself at home, but he doesn't make himself at hom like he would in his own apartment.  That would involve stripping down to boxers and socks and firing up some Call of Duty, and he doesn't think that Alyssa's a CoD fan.  Well, she could be, but he's pretty doubtful about it.

He keeps his pants on (doesn't even ask about it, that's not usually a question Connor asks the first time he's invited over to someone's place, though there have been exceptions) and she lights up a cigarette.  "Sex magic," he says, and he cannot help the immature grin that spreads across his face.  He shakes his head, but the smile doesn't diminish in the slightest.

"Well cool.  I don't know what my desires are.  Uh, well, beyond some career stuff, but that's already in the works.  How'd you figure out what worked for you?  And do you like keep vials of your blood at least?  In case you're like out and about or something, and you need it on the fly?  Or do you have, uh," he stumbles suddenly, thick dark brows bunching together both because he's realized he let his mouth get away from him, and what he's saying.  "Uh..."

Kalen Holliday
Kalen isn't exactly expected.  Technically, he's only invited in the broadest of senses, in the way that sometimes you try to invite one friend to dinner and that random guy standing next to them you've met like twice is suddenly coming too.  Shoshannah is hiding out in a warehouse, so he's decided to go meet these new Mages.

It has nothing to do at all with the fact that he thinks she'd care more if she shot them.  Or her idea of welcoming new Mages to Denver.  Certainly, it does not.

What?  He could just want a distraction!

Okay.  No.  This is totally business.

There are three sharp raps on Alyssa's door in rapid succession and then it goes quiet.

Kalen Holliday
[Gah.  Nightmares.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (1, 2, 7, 7, 10) ( success x 3 )

Connor Whitman
[awareness?]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )

Grace Evans
[Nightmares]
Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (2, 3, 4, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

Grace Evans
[Awareness!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 5, 7) ( success x 1 )

Alyssa Solomon
Connor's grin at mention of sex magic is neither unexpected nor met with disdain.  It's entirely possible that's why she said it; throw out a lot of methods of working magic and slip some things like drugs and sex in, see if any of them give him a reaction.  It's a good way to judge people, after all...they're more likely to show honest reactions to outlandish things than run-of-the-mill stuff.

And so she just chuckles and shakes her head at that.  When he asks if she keeps vials of blood around, there's a moment where her eyes narrow slightly.  It's a bit of paranoia; you don't generally ask mages if they keep their blood in containers because--well, because there is power in blood.  But his awkwardness when he continues and realizes he's stumbled into asking, basically, Are you a cutter? brings a bit of a smile back to her face.

"I don't keep vials around, because if people found them that could be dangerous for me.  There are times when I collect it in advance, but otherwise..."

And that's when three sharp knocks hit the door.  Alyssa's attention snaps there and she's up on her feet.  A bit more of that paranoia coming into play, though she isn't tensed or suspicious; more of a case of being ready.  You never know.  "Hey Connor, did anyone know you were coming here?"  It's not asked accusingly, though she doesn't look to him and wait for an answer before she crosses to her desk and opens it.  A .45 comes out and she makes her way over toward the entry hallway, looking through the peephole.
"Can I help you?" she calls through the door.  She's not hostile, but she's careful.

Alyssa Solomon
Grace and Kalen pick up on a definite sense of Resonance on the other side of the door...like being wrapped in feathery wings while the coppery tang of blood hits their nostrils and the tip of their tongue.

Connor Whitman
If Alyssa was looking for a reaction, the most promising ones, the thoughtful ones that is, were for drugs and herbs.  Sex magic seems so silly, though, but also kind of inviting.  Then again, Connor is a young man in his twenties.  He will probably always giggle when someone talks about sex.

They're talking about blood, though, and Connor is looking not so much uncomfortable as he is looking concerned.  He doesn't care for violence very much, and so far he really likes Alyssa even though she's a little scary and dark and acts about thirty years older than she looks.  He already considers her a friend, and he doesn't want her to be hurt.  His brows lift, interested in this turn of the conversation again, though, because he's learning and it's only when he's learning something that he feels a little bit at peace.  He doesn't know yet that it's not polite to go asking people how they work their magic, but that narrowing of Alyssa's eyes gets him to at least start thinking about it.  And thinking about how he has really got to control his mouth.

Just before there is a knock at the door, Connor gets a vague sense of an oncoming storm.  Rather than looking to the door, though, he cranes his head to look out the window.  His attention snaps back toward Alyssa, though, when she asks if someone knew he was coming here.  He frowns, his expression more serious than most people would think him capable.  He shakes his head, and when she goes to her desk to pull out a gun, Connor pushes up from the couch and crosses back over to his bag.  To retrieve a .45 of his own.  His body is tense, ready, when she goes to answer the door.  Connor stands at the end of the hall, only leaning his head forward a little.

He will protect Alyssa, he thinks.  He will make sure that she's okay.
Those on the other side of the door will get a sense of light, bright and glowing and illuminating.  Truths are laid bare in a light like that.

Grace Evans
Grace forced herself to get out today. It's getting a little easier to do that, but to tell the truth, she's not out to get some sun or pick up a meal, or anything so brazen (and yes, she now thinks that going out for no good reason is brazen). She's on her bike and regretting that decision. When did cars stop seeing people? Well, okay, since forever, but still. The close calls are close.

She's got a laptop bag slung across her chest, and wears a grey jacket with jeans and sneakers, trying to weave her way down the street when that resonance hits her, and she almost chokes on it. Fights the urge to vomit. Blood in her mouth, blood in her nose... But it's mixed with the storm whom she knows. Kalen.

There are mages here. New ones. Ones she hasn't met yet. And Kalen's here, so possibly it's safe?

She dismounts, locks up her bike, looks around... Notices Connor's head sticking out the window, and raises a brow. When she finds him, she clears her throat so that Kalen will definitely know she's there. "Hey. What's up?" Her voice is still raw and blank.

Kalen Holliday
"You sent a message," Kalen says.  "About making a greeting.  You left this address.  I would be happy to offer a more formal introduction somewhere other than in your hallway."

He glances at Grace.  "Stay behind me," he murmurs.  "If we go inside, let no one between you and the door.  Be ready to run the second I tell you."  He's already told her this.  Once before they even left.  Once in the parking lot.  He sounds so very serious.

[Let's do the awareness!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 7, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 4 )

Kalen Holliday
[Not in the parking lot!  This is what happens when I start posts too early!]

Alyssa Solomon
She raises an eyebrow when Connor's up to his feet and wielding a gun of his own.  The weapon doesn't seem to coincide all that much with the happy-go-lucky, exuberant nature he's shown so far and for a moment she looks impressed.  Granted, she might be amused again if she thought he had grand designs on protecting her, but that's not the point.  She puts up a hand, index finger raises a second as she listens for an answer.

She's alert enough to pick up on both Resonances on the other side; the motion of something shifting around her, and that rather strong storm.  She listens at the door, hears Kalen speak.  Her brows knit a moment before she remembers.  She shifts the gun to her other hand so it's behind the door and opens the door a little bit, looking out at the two of them appraisingly.  "Forgive me for saying so, but you don't sound like a Shoshannah to me," she notes with a touch of wryness to Kalen.  She glances back at Grace then.  "Unless she's Shoshannah and you're doing the talking, or you're transitioning one way or the other."

Grace Evans
[Stealthyness! +2 for Arcane]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 6 )

Alyssa Solomon
[[Delete all references to Grace, she's around a corner in the hallway.]]

Alyssa Solomon
[[In my post, rather]]

Connor Whitman
[wits+alert because reasons]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

Connor Whitman
It does seem strange, but as open as Connor is, as starry eyed as he is with the world and how it's changed, there are aspects of him that Alyssa doesn't know about.  She can probably guess from that look before that he doesn't like violence, but he's obviously no pacifist.  And when someone picks up a gun, he doesn't want to be standing around with his finger up his nose if things get serious.

When Alyssa shifts her gun to her other hand, Connor keeps his lowered, close to his groin and hidden with the rest of his body around the corner.  Kalen can see down the hall a dark face with a shock of thick black hair and maybe part of Connor's shoulder.  He gives him a surprisingly (though probably only to Alyssa if she happened to turn around and look) suspicious upward nod.  If there is someone else loitering in the hallway, Connor has no idea she even exists.  For all he knows, both strange resonances belong to the young man standing there.

His demeanor shifts a little, opening just a touch, at mention of Shoshannah.  He looks at Alyssa, but knows that for the moment at least, he needs to keep his big mouth shut.

Grace Evans
Her eyes widen, not really ready for this yet. But still, knocking on someone's apartment door can't be any more dangerous than breaking into a secret lab and blowing it up, eh? "I'll be... over there," she says to Kalen, quietly.

Still, she stays behind him in a sense. She hides, blending into the background, ducking around a corner. And the others may not even notice she's there at all.

A part of her wants to run still. But she stays. Something drives her on, even when she doesn't like the idea. She's heard about Shoshannah's 'problem' through Ginger, and if these people know something, well... She will know it too.

Alyssa Solomon
She glances back at Connor a moment, then forward again.  The young man is new to this whole game and he doesn't yet have a lot of skill at differentiating Resonances, but Alyssa's been in this game for a long time.  And she's had enough experiences to be a little paranoid, so she narrows her eyes a little.

"Seems like you brought a friend, Tall Dark And Stormy.  Let's all be nice and come out to play.  You came to my door, after all.  Not the reverse.  I'd be the one showing all my cards otherwise."

Kalen Holliday
"She's fine where she is for the moment.  And you may not have come to our door in this particular sense, but you certainly have in others.  I am perfectly happy to come in alone, make proper introductions, and then ask her to come in.  I do believe that your-"  He clears his throat.  "Shall we say...vibes spooked her, and I'd rather she be out of your reach.  Particularly while you're half hidden behind a door and I can't see both of your hands and your friend...."  He smiles.  "Well, I'm sure you understand."

"I am not Shoshannah.  Nor is my friend.  Your messenger came to deliver its news while I was around.  Shoshannah is not available at the moment, for reasons which should concern you and which are also best not discussed in your hallway."

He takes a slow breath, readying words to ward against...well, he isn't sure what.  But hidden hands and hidden bodies...they are hiding something.  He knows those tricks well enough.  Of course, anything from bullets, to magic, to blowdarts could be incoming.  He makes no assumption other than that he should be prepared for any of them.

Alyssa Solomon
The Hermetic sets his conditions for what will happen next, and Alyssa looks...distinctly unimpressed, would be the best explanation.  The deadpan look, the sideways slant of her lips, they all add up to You're kidding me, right?  One could forgive Kalen for assuming that the door is about to be shut in his face.  Possibly loudly.

Instead, the door goes in the opposite direction, as Alyssa steps back and nudges the door to swing open.  That of course reveals her whole body, including the gun in her hand.  She's non-chalant about it, taking a couple steps away.  "You can come into the entry way.  But you're going to excuse me if I'm not taking my metal friend Harry here away before some explanation comes through.  I gave my phone number and address specifically in response to a spirit from a Dreamspeaker I don't know, with my name and Tradition no less.  You're free to want a little credentials, but I don't know that you're not some Technocrat or worse that picked up on my spirit before it hit Shoshannah.  And if you know much about spirit magic, you know that's a possibility."

She's not raising it; in fact, she considers it a courtesy that she's shown it to him.  For her, this is an incredible level of trust to be extending at the moment.  And it's mostly because she's curious (and a bit overconfident, perhaps.)  She gestures for him to enter.

Connor Whitman
Connor is taking his cues from Alyssa, but unfortunately this isn't his first rodeo.  He may not know that it's impolite to ask about foci, and he certainly has no idea what kinds of feats these Magi who've been around the block a bit are capable of performing, but he knows it's majorly uncool for complete strangers to rock up the bluck fuck out of nowhere and claim to be someone else's friend.  He has no idea what sorts of threat that could possibly be, but Alyssa says pretty much what he's thinking, anyway.  This guy could have intercepted that spirit and gotten that information and followed it back here.  He might not know Shoshannah at all.

Alyssa invites the one in, though.  Connor relaxes, but only a little.  He even chuckles unexpectedly.  "You named it Harry?" he asks, before clearing his throat and pulling a serious business face back over his features.

He tips his chin upward again.  "I'm gonna stay here until your friend shows up, capisce?"  Fair's fair, after all.  If they can't see what kind of heat this spare party member is packing well they're not going to see what this one is, either.

So there.

Grace Evans
A voice echoes down the hallway, and it's Grace trying to put things right again. "Look, Shoshannah's my friend, and I'm worried about her too. I'm unarmed. I'll come out hands first, okay?"

She steps into the hallway, hands up, pale. Shadows Kalen like he's going to protect her. "Um. Hi."

And then, she gives the gun-toting people a little wave with one upstretched hand.

Kalen Holliday
"I rather wish you'd stuck with your first abrupt deviation from plan, Kit," Kalen says softly.  "I had hoped that this would be a friendly visit, but it turns out this is exactly the situation I was attempting to spare you."
He takes several careful steps into the apartment.  Enough that Alyssa can shut the door.  Once that's done, he does offer an introduction.  "Kalen Michael Elliot Dane Holliday, bani Flambeau.  My associate is Grace Evans, of no formal affiliation."

Alyssa Solomon
She can't help but cock a grin when Connor asks about the gun.  "Technically, no.  He's Harry the second.  I lost Harry the first in Saint Louis a few years back.  Long story."

But her attention shoots right back to the front when Grace comes out of the hallway.  She gives the woman an appraising look, and nods a little bit.  While Kalen seems less than pleased, Alyssa (unsurprisingly) is more happy that her demands have been met.  "Well, all right.  Now we're cooking with a grease fire.  See how easy that was?"

She takes her finger out of the triggerguard on the gun and draws that finger back to give it some distance, puts the hand up so that the weapon is at the level of her shoulder and pointing at the ceiling.  Kalen makes introduction, and there's something like a world-weary recognition that hits her eyes.  Not at Kalen specifically, but at the rest.

"Okay, now this all makes sense."  Connor's still got his gun and she shoots him a quick look, then reaches back to put hers away at her back.  "Alyssa Solomon, Hollow Ones.  Though I'm sure you already knew that."  A sigh.

"Well, that was exciting, wasn't it?  Come on in.  Let's chat.  Who needs a drink?"

Connor Whitman
Connor casts a quick look Alyssa's way, a light in his eyes.  He will be asking her about that story later.  But there are other matters to attend to, first.

As soon as Grace appears Connor tilts his head to look her over.  The look is not lascivious or admiring, but searching for the telltale bulge of weaponry of some sort.  Whatever he sees or doesn't see, he seems satisfied, because he leans forward a little more and holds out his right hand, which now has a Glock hanging upside down from his fingers.  He makes a show of clicking the safety back into place before slipping his arm back to tuck the weapon into the back waistband of his jeans.  It doesn't make him completely unarmed, but he folds his arms over his chest and comes out more fully into the entryway.  True to his word, it's one for one.  At least he's not terribly intimidating.  The others may get a sense of a strong physique, but Connor is about average height and a little on the wiry side.  He nods to Alyssa's look.

And then looks completely baffled.  If Kalen hadn't said "affiliation" Connor would have assumed those were professions of a sort, and he would have proudly given his own.  Instead, he casts a perplexed look at Alyssa before looking back at the other two.

"Connor Whitman.  I could go for a drink," he adds, perking up a bit, not at the thought of boozing it up after that little standoff, but because Alyssa seems happier now, more relaxed, less on the defense.  Turning, he heads toward the kitchen like he's been here a hundred times even though he's only been on the premesis maybe half an hour, probably less.  "Do you have beer or something?" he calls, even though he's just about to have that answer for himself.  "If not I can make a run.  Oh man, we should get pizza.  You guys like, pizza, right?  'Course you do, who doesn't like pizza."  That last is muttered, but loud and clear enough to be heard around the bend.

Grace Evans
"Well, yeah, probably should have just booked it..." she says to Kalen and sighs. "They didn't seem like bad people. Just scared people."

She knows fear, and what it can make one do. So she tried deescalating the situation instead of making it worse. If she'd run, they'd probably have just caught her, or gotten so worked up it would have turned into a firefight.

Connor runs for beer, and mentions pizza, and with the two of them putting away their guns, she relaxes a little. Not that she's going to eat, mind you. There's still the taste of blood at the tip of her tongue, and it... well, doesn't settle her stomach.

But she does step into the room, still staying behind Kalen, still ready to run if need be.

Kalen Holliday
Kalen's face, at Connor's pizza and beer suggestion, rearranges very briefly into an expression that indicates he can't believe that just happened.  But that expression is followed by a faint smile.  The guns are put away.  He had intended for this to be friendly.

"Okay.  Well, now that we can be civil, welcome to Denver."

He glances around, but then remains standing.  For now.  That probably won't last for long, but for now he'd rather already be on his feet.

"What brings you here?"

Alyssa Solomon
Connor goes from 'ready to shoot people' to asking about beer and pizza, and Alyssa can't help it; she smiles.  Even someone of the woman's jaded demeanor can't help but be amused by that; the young man is just so openly good-natured that it's oddly endearing.  "There's plenty of beer.  If you want pizza, order away.  I'll try not to point guns at the delivery guy."

Now that things have relaxed, she leads the two newcomers into the main part of the room, where the floor remains laminate and those seals in long-dried blood stain the walls.  Kalen might note, of some interest, that they are Enochian in nature.  There's also the large map of the city to the right of the sliding glass door, the piles of books, the strange nick-knacks.  "Gonna have to forgive the lack of good sitting space.  I don't have a lot of wild parties here.  You all make yourself comfy."  She moves to the desk to set her gun on top of it.

"As to what brings me here...the warm weather."  She smirks.  "I've been here since May.  Noticed there wasn't a really big presence of Awakened here, so I decided I should just keep my head down a bit, get my business up and running.  Looks like that presence part might have changed though, if people are starting to branch out and find others."

Connor Whitman
Not that Grace would know it (yet), but if she'd booked it Connor at least would have let her go.  Unless she took his money or his product without asking, the young man wasn't going to chase after anyone.  For one thing, there's a nine point nine repeating chance if he tried to chase her down the stairs he'd trip and end up breaking his neck, catching her with the rag doll slump of his body.  So not worth it.  For another he just...wouldn't.  When Connor meets new people he thinks of them as friends he hasn't made yet.  That will probably change, Denver has a terrible reputation of which he is completely, one hundred thousand percent oblivious.

Alyssa, on the other hand.  Well, Connor wouldn't know what she would do if Grace bolted like a scared cat.

For a few minutes he's not part of the conversation, having taken on the role of host for Alyssa's Apartment.  He moves from the fridge to where the others are, three long necks held between the fingers of one hand, his phone pressed to his ear.  The beers are held out without looking, his attention down and away, as if he's reading some invisible menu.  "Yeah," he says, walking away to either grab a fourth beer for himself, or simply take himself politely away from the others while they talk if one or two were left behind.  In the event someone does refuse, he smiles at them and that smile is warm, his teeth oh so white against the dark contrast of his skin.

While Alyssa and Kalen discuss the length of their time in Denver, Connor is on the other side of the room.  "I need a pistacchio, a toscana, and a Staten Island.  And four cannolis."  Clearly this is not Dominos that he's ordering for the lot of them.  "Yeah.  Nah, cash.  Okay, ready?" he asks, and lists off Alyssa's address because of course he's wandered by enough times before their official meeting to have it memorized.  Finally, he pockets his phone, drops into a crouch next to his bag so he can put his gun away, that's hardly something they need laying around now that Kalen and Grace have stopped acting so suspiciously and they're all trying to be buddy buddy.  Well, in Connor's case it's not an act at all.  Rising again, he finally rejoins them.

"What'd I miss?" he asks brightly, looking from face to face to face, putting one hand on his hip, the other lifting his beer for a good healthy swig.

Grace Evans
Grace eyes the blood stains on the wall, and whispers to Kalen, "Why did she have to have blood on her walls?" It turns her even paler, and for a moment she really does think she's going to lose her lunch.

Of course, she's used to bright red blood on the floor, on herself, in the toilet. But then, there was hallucinations of it splattered on the wall too. Dripping.

Just ignore the blood. Ignore ignore ignore. Her eyes flit around the room.

And then Conner puts a beer in her general direction, and she says, "I don't mean to be rude, but no thanks."

Kalen Holliday
Kalen eases into one of the chairs, a little stiffly.  He accepts a beer from Connor with a quick smile by way of thanks.

He leans toward Grace to answer, but is careful not to touch her.  "Because blood has powerful symbolism."  His eyes travel slowly over the symbols and he smiles.  "And she has very impressive skills, Kit.  Which are, I am no longer even surprised to note, of exactly the kind we need."

He sighs.  "Where did you learn Enochian?  That's just uncommon outside the Order?"

And then his eyes turn to Connor.  "And you.  As much as I do adore you for finding us pizza and beer, do tell us more about you."

Alyssa Solomon
Alyssa is not an inobservant person, and she looks over to the two mages as they look over her work.  She doesn't seem nervous or paranoid as they look at the seals; there's a confidence to her and her work.  She has complete trust in her abilities, and she seems more interested in what Kalen makes of it than anything else.

And then Kalen asks her where she learned Enochian, and she...not quite smirks.  It would be unfair to smirks if you associated this little quirk of her lips with them, because it doesn't have that level of curve to it, that feeling of emotion.  There is instead, a very faint amusement with the look.  "You're right, it's very uncommon outside the Order.  I've never met anyone who learned it outside."

She caught his assessment of her skills, and she shrugs a little bit as she walks over and takes a beer from Connor with an appreciative smile.  "I was trained to join the Order.  House Quaesitor.  But then the Reckoning happened, and it didn't quite work out that way.  So I went a...somewhat different way."  The lift and fall of her shoulders is distinctly casual.  "The lessons took though, for the most part.  I still remember every bit of the Hermetic Code, and when I bend one of them I still get a little voice in my head that tells me how much trouble I'm in."

She pauses there, then around to clarify.  "Metaphorical voice.  Not an actual voice.  There's only one of me up here."

She frowns a little when Kalen asks Connor to tell them more about him.  Alyssa doesn't even know much about the pizza-ordering man, but she's the guy who found him and there is a sense of responsibility here.  "He just woke up.  On Samhain, of all nights.  Ghosts were involved."

Connor Whitman
The beer that was meant for Grace is the beer that is in Connor's hands, so it was her that received that warm, friendly smile, not the slightest bit put off by her refusal.  He can tell that she's still nervous, and while it would be nice to say that he acts kindly to put her at ease, it's not an act.  Unless there's danger to his friends involved Connor knows no other way to be than friendly and open.

No one really tells him what he's missed, but that's probably for the best, since what he missed would fly right over his head, anyway.  He doesn't know what Enochian is, or the meaning of a Quaesiwhatsits, or what the Reckoning was (though he has a guess, he's not a total moron).

Kalen says, well, that he adores Connor for the beer and for ordering pizza and the young man ducks his head a little at that.  It might make them wonder about him.  He's so friendly and open and kind, and yet, he'd been hiding a gun, right?  He'd been standing just over there, watching Kalen and then Grace with a frigid suspicion.  And now here is all this warmth and light.

Alyssa looks out for the newbie Mage and tells them all that he just woke up and his grin broadens and his eyes widen.  It was only a week ago, but you'd think it happened just yesterday what with that minty fresh exuberance glowing from his eyes and beaming in his smile.  "Yeah!  Well to be honest there was a lot of light, too, but you missed that, but yeah.  It was at this club and wait," he stops abruptly, looking to Alyssa.  "Do we talk about that?  Am I supposed to talk about that stuff?"  She'd said not to talk about Fight Club with people outside the Fight Club, but Grace and Kalen are in it, right?  That's what those weirdly emanations around them are?

Grace Evans
She hears Alyssa say that Connor just woke up, and suddenly her eyes are just full of sadness. She was like that once. All wonder and smiles.

Nobody ever told her it would end up like it did.

Connor is that fragile state of newness, that brilliant trusting happiness that she used to be. It'll likely be over soon. It was for her.

It took the world four months to break her.

"You can talk about that stuff with us," she says to Connor. "I woke up in a power station out in the mountains. Got lost. Had to find my way. Suddenly I knew exactly where I was. Everywhere. It's been four months for me."

Her voice is dull, has been since she got there. There's the touch of tiredness and woe about her that won't go away. She wonders if it would be the right thing to warn him, or to let him have his happiness while he can.

Kalen Holliday
"Well," he says to Alyssa, only his eyes betraying that he is joking.  "Should you return to your senses, it is not too late."

Kalen smiles again, faint and a little tired, but Connor is a little bit impossible to scowl at.  Around.
"You can talk about that with us.  And, much as I once did with Grace, I would love to have the chance to have that conversation.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid that this conversation is probably best one that contains a warning.  I would like, for reasons that will soon be clear whatever your answer, to look for any effects currently active."

Alyssa Solomon
Connor asks whether they should be talking about this kind of thing and Grace and Kalen both speak up, assure him that it's all right.  It could be left at that probably; Alyssa could just move onto the next part of the topic and Connor could get the hint.  But she doesn't, because these are people who, even if she is willing to have a conversation with and Connor is willing to split pizza with (not to mention Alyssa sharing her cheap Corona beer), they just met.  And so she still looks at him and nods.  "Yeah, it's fine.  They're in Fight Club with us."

Grace talks about how she woke up four months ago, and she displays signs of emotional trauma.  Alyssa doesn't look callous, though sympathetic perhaps isn't the best way to explain it.  She just regards her brief story about her origins for a sexong before she looks to Kalen.

Should you return to your senses, it is not too late.  She snorts in amusement and shakes her head.  "Yeah, sorry.  That's not happening.  And truly, probably not surprising; Alyssa might have taken it as a joke even if he had been serious.  One would imagine it takes a lot to shift from being trained for the Order into becoming their diametric opposite in the Hollow Ones.  Reorienting would be a funny thought.

The amusement fades a little when Kalen asks to look for any effects.  Alyssa raises an eyebrow and frowns, but she also nods.  "Go ahead.  I keep a mind ward pretty consistently active and I've done a few Spirit effects in here over the past week, but those are all complete and outside of the ward I should be clean at the moment."

Connor Whitman
Kalen and Grace both speak up first to tell Connor that it's alright, he can talk about his Awakening and probably other things with them.  Grace proves it by talking about her own recent Awakening.  "That's-" Connor starts, intending to say amazing!, but the brightness of his tone dies  out immediately when he looks over at Grace.  Alyssa and Kalen talk about this stuff like, well, like it's normal.  But Grace sounds like she's at an AA meeting letting them know how many days sober she is.  Connor bites his lower lip.

He turns to look at her directly, offering her an encouraging smile.  He doesn't know her story, or what's made her so sad, or if maybe she's always been this way.  "That sounds like a really cool thing to have if you're high or something.  Never get lost, never wander down the wrong alleys.

"I talked to some spirits," he says more brightly, perking up a little.  He's really, really liked that part of being Awakened so far.  "I saw the one that Shoshannah sent.  I tried to send a message back but I'm pretty sure it didn't listen.  And I danced with this really cute girl on Halloween who died.  I mean who had died.  She was a ghost.  Alyssa even danced with her, too, didn't you, Alyssa?  Don't try to deny it, I was there," he says, tossing her a wink.

He looks at Kalen, all pointed interest and curiosity directed at the Hermetic and deliberately away from Grace.  "You're going to do what?"  He looks around the room, at the seals on the walls before looking at Alyssa.  "I thought these were supposed to protect you, people can tell they're there?"

Grace Evans
Grace looks at Connor at first like he's spouting gibberish, and then... just accepts it. Kalen's talked with her about spirits before. She never thought that the dead stick around, to dance.

She thinks in one split second, of Eric -- bloody, melting, choking Eric -- dancing. And her face twists up. No... not that. Don't go there.

"Sounds... ah... interesting," she says to Connor. And though she means it, it doesn't come out quite right. Not with that awful look on her face.

She looks over to Kalen, then to Alyssa, just as curious as Connor as to the answer to that question. She's not the newest Mage in the room, but she's still new.

Kalen Holliday
[Arete!  Prime Scan! - WP]
Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (6, 7) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Connor Whitman
[awareness!  do i sense a tingle in the air?]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 7) ( success x 1 )

Kalen Holliday
Kalen closes his eyes for a few seconds, murmuring in Enochian.  His expression is, for the first time, something like really unguarded.  When his eyes open, when he's looking at magic, his eyes practically seem to glow with wonder.

He blinks, then sighs.  "Kit, what I want you to remember when I tell you all this is that you shouldn't think of it as the world about to end.  Again.  But this is us totally about to save the world.  Again.  Because we're awesome."

"I'm going to tell you quickly, and then...then there will be a lot of questions.  There is a powerful Umbrood spirit Named Thakinyan.  It is attempting to force its way to this world to feed on madness and fear.  It is currently attempting to possess at least one of the Magi in this city.  Please do not attempt to scry on it.  Please do not try to form any kind of spiritual link with it.  That seems to be how it starts the attempt.  Please keep your mental shields up, those have been effective against it in the past.

"This thing is dangerous.  Extremely dangerous.  And working with, or we suspect strongly to be working with, a woman who is or was a Dreamspeaker.

"That's the short version.  I would actually like to go over some of my sources again with you, because trained as I may be, I am not actually gifted in the Ars Manes."  From pulled guns to beers and comparing magical notes.  Because...welcome to Denver?

Alyssa Solomon
Connor gets a look from Alyssa when he professes that she danced with a spirit.  It's not a bad look, really, just a look.  She has a impression of sorts to make after all, and that story doesn't quite hold with what she's looking for.  But she quickly turns it into a chuckle, because...well, look, it's Connor.  And because she has a response that works for her.

"Yeah well, what can I say?  I'm a sucker for a girl with glass stuck in her at all sorts of odd angles."  She shrugs a bit.  "She was a nice kid, honestly.  Way better than most ghosts I've met."  Yes, that does imply she's met quite a few.

And then the pot dealer asks about the wards, and she shakes her head.  "Not unless they're looking, really.  Like I said, I have my mind warded up, and you didn't pick up on it."  She taps her temple.  "But I'm sure Kalen here did just now.  You'll be able to sense when people do wards, the same way you can sense when anyone's actively working the Arts.  But for active wards, you generally have to actually look for it and it's sometimes tricky, especially if you try to make it stealthy."

She glances at Grace again now, brow furrowing.  The girl doesn't exactly look at her best, and she's sure there's a story there.  She's not going to pry now, though.

And then comes Kalen with the informational dump.  The Hollower listens, frowns when Kalen mentions saving the world, and powerful Umbrood and madness, fear, possession, all that nonsense.  She looks...not scared, concerned or nervous.  She looks irritated.

"A spirit is trying to possess its way into the world.  Well that's just ducky."  She sighs, scratches at a few light scabs on the back of her arm.  Connor isn't wrong when he worries about what she does to get her component for magic.  "Yeah, you need to compare notes, I'm in.  Last thing I need is my new hometown becoming taken over by insanity spirits.  I just got this apartment the way I like it."

Connor Whitman
Grace makes that face, and Connor doesn't take it personally.  Does he take anything personal, these people might begin to wonder maybe?  The short answer is yes.  But that face from that woman is not one of those things he'd take personally.  He didn't think ghosts stuck around to dance, either, until he asked.  He gives her that smile again, warm and encouraging.

And then kalen prepares a rather interesting information dump, but first.  Connor is a level 1 character, so fresh and new to this game he's still wearing his starter gear.  To be fair, it's pretty good starter gear, nice new quality clothing and a nice big comfy coat still folded over one of the couch's arms, and a book bag that was really nice when it was new but has since been around the block a few hundred times.

He has no damn clue what Kalen is saying.  Umbrood?  Possession?  Ars Mensa?  What the what now?  He senses that tingle in the air, though, the sense of a storm coming and he realizes that it's not the cause of the grey afternoon out over Alyssa's balcony.  It's coming from the Mage sitting right over there.  Connor's eyes widen, and at first when Alyssa explains to him the nature of wards he nods his head dumbly.

Then he blinks.  His head gives a little jerk as he reasserts his attention back to a woman who at least for the moment is standing in for a mentor to Connor.  He cannot help but laugh when Alyssa says she just got this apartment the way she likes it.  It is an odd sound, too happy, too light in the wake of words just spoken, but Connor is unabashed.

It dies off, though, because caustic comments aside, this seems to be a serious discussion that's happening here.  Questions?  He has so many questions he doesn't know where to begin.  So for now he remains quiet, listening thoughtfully and hoping that he'll retain some of this information later.

Grace Evans
Grace watches Kalen, the murmuring, the sudden change in his face. And then, he scares her.

She doesn't know what an Umbrood is, but she puts two and two together. The movie, the theater, how it tried to pry into people's heads and make them mad with fear.

"Shoshannah?" she asks Kalen. Was a Dreamspeaker? Now something else? Possessed by that thing? "She's just a kid." Grace's hand comes up to her mouth.

"I'm the one who brought up scrying at that stupid meeting. I'm so... stupid. She must have gotten the idea from me."

Kalen Holliday
"It is trying to possess her, yes.  It will fail.  Don't worry.  It wasn't a bad idea."  He smiles for Grace.  "But...also maybe don't talk about that quite yet.  I would rather deal with it before anyone panics too much.  At least one person in this apartment has skills that might have made that seem like a good idea.

"There is another Dreamspeaker.  Not one that you know.  I'll explain.  I promise."  He glances at Alyssa.  "I'll catch up my not-precisely-apprentice and you catch up yours?  And then we'll talk more."