South of Denver is a place called Morrison. It's got the quaintness to it that easily transcribes it back into the day of black and white photography, of Western movies and times when making your fortune wasn't half as difficult as it seemed in today's age if you had a will, a way and a pistol in your holster. A railroad town by design, the touches of that past are still visible as a small red car navigates its way through the downtown region; tracing along Bear Creek, the lifeblood to the town; the same river that trickled through to Denver itself.
In truth Kiara had never ventured this far south of Denver, Colorado as much as it was her adopted state of residence, was still in large part a mystery to the woman. Though the lure of the Chantry property, the glimpses she'd heard through others was enough to prompt her to ask a favor of Grace.
Feel like a road trip? She'd texted, a few days shy of the New Year. Arriving to collect the Virtual Adept in a car that was, to put it kindly, well loved. Kiara's car was a small hatchback, decidedly not built for the mountainous regions of Colorado but it managed to zip along the highways, to weave along snow spotted streets and rumble, eventually, with the aid of Grace's navigation, to the base of the hill where the ranch house sat; windows dark in the overcast afternoon light; a light snow dusting the windshield as the Verbena cut her engine and peered over the steering wheel out at the impressive sight.
"This place is huge. And nobody is staying here?"
Her expression was some mixture of incredulity and surprise; it pulled her red mouth into a twist; remaining so as she unbuckled herself and stepped, with the soft crunching of freshly falling snow underfoot, out of the car; carefully slamming the door and standing with a hand raised over her hood; taking in the shape of the hill surrounding the chantry; the cobbled path leading away, curving around to the doors.
She took in a breath, the pagan and on the release, it misted in front of her.
Grace
"It's a bit far from the city. I guess people don't stay here because they'd have to drive a long way to get anywhere else. There's been times I've crashed here before, though," Grace says as she steps out of the car.
Grace's own mode of transportation is similarly well loved. She could always get something better, but what works works. Best not to improve on what isn't broken. So she seems totally content and at home with Kiara's car status.
The Chantry, however, gets no such kindness.
"Yep, too big, too ranchy, too out of the way. But I guess you can't choose where the Node is, eh?"
Grace is bundled up in her red coat. Kiara will remember it as the distraction-filled lightshow coat that she apparently wears whenever it gets the slightest bit cold outside. It's not just slightly cold right now, which has her making a shuffling beeline straight for the door. Someone is not from a chilly climate.
When Kiara gets there, she'll notice the Christmas decorations are still up. Kalen's doing -- and Kalen's presents still lounging beneath the tree.
Kalen Holliday
[For when we finally do post - how awake are we?]
Dice: 7 d10 TN8 (2, 3, 3, 5, 7, 7, 8) ( success x 1 )
Kiara
"It's perfect, though." This, said with a smile. A breath as much as a declaration. Kiara was a child of nature, after all. One supposed that for a Verbena, a witch of the natural world, being surrounded by rock and snow and trees was her notion of heaven -- or whatever passed for it, at the very least. She stood for another moment, Kiara and then took a few steps, dropped to her haunches and pried a glove off with her teeth; digging into the snow and lifting a small pile of it.
Whatever she was doing, she took some level of enjoyment in it.
Standing again after a moment and dusting off her jeans. Kiara's attire was suited for the climate; black coat; a hood half drawn up over her features; white scarf and soft leather gloves to protect her fingers. If anything about what she wore raised an eyebrow, it was perhaps her insistence on those high boots; laced up and with heels that sunk a few inches into the snow-packed earth. Grace heads for the door and Kiara, tracing her fingertips across the walls, follows at a more leisurely pace.
There's a sense of course, with the Node so near, of that hum of activity. Power and connection. It's heady, even the barest sense of it and the brunette is smiling even as she stamps her boots by the door; lowers her hood and allows her eyes to adjust to the indoors; sliding gloves off and unzipping her heavier outerwear. "My coven in New York, we gathered at a small place outside of the city, I used to think that was impressive but this place - " Kiara shrugs her coat off; she's wearing a knitted cardigan beneath; earthy tones of brown over a white blouse; that ever present silver jewellery around her neck.
"It might just be cooler." A gleam in Grace's direction. She takes note of the decorations, then. The tree. The symbols of the holiday season. "Santa's been visiting. Security breach." Teasing, that, as she drifts to take a closer look.
Grace
"Oh, Santa's one of us. Really? Hangs out with elves, has enchanted livestock... although the whole knowing who's been bad and good thing is pretty creepy, I have to say."
Grace kicks at the floor to release snow from her tennis shoes (no fancy boots for her) and hangs up her coat before heading further inside. Under the red coat is a green t-shirt with lemons printed on the front. It reads: 'If life gives you lemons, keep them. Because, hey, free lemons.'
"This is Kalen's doing. I'm sure if he could, flying reindeer would totally be on his list though."
She ambles on over to the tree, with Grace-like ungracefulness. There's a pile of presents still sitting there, some of which she helped wrap. None of which she helped pick out.
Kiara
There's a laugh at that, a thin eyebrow wings upward as the Verbena pulls her hair over a shoulder; bending low to read over the tags on the gifts strewn under the pine tree. "Touché, I guess if I had to pin the guy to a master of anything, it'd be Entropy. All that fate and prediction and guess work about naughty or nice." There's a flicker of surprise when Kiara's fingers slide over a green package with her name on it. A twist of something shy of pleasure as she picks up the gold tied gift and turns it over in her hands.
"You know there's a legend in pagan lore, predating the Christian idea of him, called the Holly King." Kiara settles on the arm of a sofa; her clever fingers making easy work of the gold ribbon. She unties it with a particular sort of care; setting it aside and tendering apart the wrapping with a deliberation no excited child on Christmas morning could ever have boasted. "He does battle with his brother, the Oak King and depending on the season, one prevails and the other goes into hiding."
There's a smile that twitches the edge of her mouth when she pulls out a small stuffed panther; tilting it up to eye level before turning it on Grace with that edged smile. "Cute. Is this suggesting I have plans to devour everyone?" The scarf invokes a quiet noise of appreciation; she winds it around a wrist; admiring the catch and play of the threads of color weaved throughout it.
"I don't usually get gifts around this time of year." She seems thoughtful, the brunette, one might have said touched. "That's sweet of him. Kalen."
Grace
Grace picks out her own presents, the ones she was not allowed to help wrap. Kalen has some sense of tradition, and, she suspects, would not have let her peek.
"He always gets everyone a stuffed animal. Mine was a lion, so apparently I am in the same boat there. Let's see what I got..."
She's not nearly as nice to the wrapping paper and ribbon as Kiara was. The first tear starts, and she finishes it, ripping through hologrammed snowflakes. And inside the first box is...
Another scarf. This one fading from white to gold to copper and back again. It's almost unbearably soft. Cashmere perhaps? In any case, it is warm, and that's really what Grace cares about.
"Neat. I got one too."
Kiara
Kiara folds up the wrapping into a neat square and sets the panther on top of it; absently scratching at the faux creature's head as if it were capable of registering the sensation. She draws her legs up; crossing one over the other and leans her weight against the spine of the sofa, watching Grace's progress with her own wrapping paper.
Kiara's scarf finds its way around her neck; the black thread with its tri-colored highlights settling and sparkling in the light. It suits her, which may say much for Kalen's eye for selecting such things. Grace's is greeted with pleasure too and Kiara's hand finds a way into her dark hair; she reclines on an elbow and observes the other female. Lounging as she is, there's an unnoticed likeness to the feline she's been gifted with; all that ease and confidence.
Ownership of her place, even as a newcomer to the Chantry's midst. "It suits you," she attests and then shifts awareness back to the tree; the decorations. "So does Kalen take care of the house? I'm going to assume it's protected by more than just jolly Saint Nick, right?"
Grace
There's a cubish box next, wrapped in geometric patterned wrapping paper, and she goes at it -- but not without first wrapping the scarf around her neck several times as if to try it on.
Just under the surface of the wrapping paper is another geometric pattern -- a box of lacquered wood. Unfortunately, this one doesn't seem to have a lid.
"Huh."
Grace flips it this way and that before realizing that there are panels on the sides that slide out. It's a puzzle box. Something Kalen knew she'd tinker with and try to figure out. She smirks at the thought.
"Kalen sometimes, yes. I think Pan still comes back and checks in on it from time to time. And just, you know, anyone. I come by every now and then and make sure it hasn't blown up. It could happen."
Kiara
There's a deliberation, of course, to the why of Kiara peppering Grace with questions. To why she asked to be taken out to the property in Morrison; to be given the chance to get familiar with the property; to fall into sync with its energies and, most likely, engage with the great bear spirit that protected its Node. If Kiara were the sort, one might have wondered at her intentions in inching her way into closer proximity to something that sacred to the Awakened Tradition Mages of Denver.
"Pan?" Another unknown name; Kiara's brow wrinkles with it. She sits up; slides off the sofa in favor of beginning a short examination of the living room; touching her fingers to the surfaces as if to read memories from the very surface of them. There's a fascination and curiosity to the brunette's movements; to the way Kiara's dark eyes take in every small detail, commits it to memory.
"I think I might have a look around." She calls from the doorway to the hall; leaning out into it. "There aren't any hidden doors around here, right? A trap door leading to the mysteries of the universe, perhaps?" Kiara's boots fall heavy on the floorboards as she creaks over into the dining room; skimming her fingers over the table; sliding them over the backs of the chairs.
Grace
"There's a locked door leading to the mysteries of the universe. I can open it for you. You'll have to talk to Pan for actual access though," Grace says. "Pan's an okay guy. He has a church in town. Usually I can't stand the moral majority, but he's not all preachy. And he tries."
Tries not to be overbearing. Tries not to come across as the patriarch he really is. Tries because he knows he has no claim to leadership.
"Other than that, nothing hidden. That I've found. And I have looked."
Kalen Holliday
[How distracted by Resonance are we?]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )
Kalen Holliday
It is, perhaps, because Pan has never tried that he gets to command Kalen. That and that Pan reminds him of another man, who did a lot more to earn Kalen's obedience. And, right now, Kalen is exhausted. He would have liked nothing more than to find Pan here tonight. Where Pan is, after all, Kalen worries less about what will happen if monsters come out of the ether to attack them; not him, but them. In a crisis, Kalen trusts Pan to save everyone he cannot. And he tries not to think about the fact that Pan isn't likely not to consider him one of the people to be saved, for the same reasons that he tries not to remember the man that Pan reminds him of.
He remembers, tonight. He cannot help it. He has been dreaming. He remembers everything. The things that have happened. All of the possible futures for them he has glimpsed.
All of the ways in which they die.
He is quiet as he comes in, quiet as he hangs up his coat. He knows that Grace is here. That Kiara is here. But he does not head immediately for them. Instead, he heads for the kitchen and starts making coffee. None of that drip coffee, either. This is like a grinding hand-roasted beans for a French press kind of coffee making.
Grace
[Resonances?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 5, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )
Kiara
"He has a church." Kiara says it more to herself than Grace, though with the acoustics in the dining room being what they are, it's highly probable her voice carries. There's some unknown expression on the Verbena's face as she looks out over the patio. Some measure of wearied acknowledgement. "Of course he does." It's a private struggle, that. The sentiment of it, the reasoning. The why Kiara's eyes will always betray some element of mistrust to those of the established church.
It's tempered, always. She's not a creature to broadcast her feelings, but to cage and observe them; it; any situation. Smother it in smiles and measured looks. The quiet contemplation of a woman whose guidance is in the wind and rain; the elements converging. There's the catch of the door; a sense of another; Kiara turns a look over a shoulder and then opens a door and slips out into the back yard, her breath misting in front of her.
She's weaving a path down into the yard by the time Kalen begins the task of preparing coffee.
[Resonances and stuff.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 4) ( botch x 1 )
Kiara
[D:]
Kiara
[EVERYONE IS A TECHNOCRAT, RUN.]
Grace
There's the sudden sensation of static electricity -- not such an uncommon occurrence in winter. But Grace places the feeling just before the door opens. Kalen.
"Thanks for the box!" she yells, in the general direction of the door. "And the scarf is so warm!"
Kiara
Only the sense of another - is a lie. The wash of isolation drapes over the brunette's shoulders and she shivers; not merely for the chill in the air. The isolation is pressure and it's not simply that there's nobody close, for the moment, Kiara feels utterly alone. She wades further down into the yard; her progress cut into the packed snow; the scarf Kalen gifted her trailing after her like a black marker until she is blotted from clear sight by the incline of the hill; the trees and stones that line the Node itself.
Her resonance though; that cyclic pattern of hers, edged with something darker; base and visceral, its still felt.
Kalen Holliday
"Have you solved it yet," Kalen calls from the kitchen. Water is heating. Now he sets to taking out the other things. Mugs. He sets one of the rock candy stirrers in Grace's mug. She sleeps now, yes, but she has not yet turned down coffee.
He knows this kitchen almost as well as the kitchen at the office, though things here are slightly more likely to be somewhere unexpected. Even so, not much changes. Mugs, coffee, tea kettle. Everything is familiar. As familiar as it was in his dreams. As familiar as it was when he was pulled into a Mindscape. As familiar as it will be when-
No. We must not think about that now.
Kalen pours cream into a tiny pitcher. He is almost as pale as the cream. It makes the shadows under his eyes all the more evident. There is, as there almost always is, reason enough Kalen is rarely without coffee.
Grace
"I just unwrapped it, dude!"
Right as she says that, her fingers are still working at the thing, trying to find the right combination of sliding panels to get it open all the way. And, with a click and a slide...
"Oh wait. Yes, I have. At least one of the sides. I think there's two."
She wanders into the kitchen after him, carrying her box, the scarf still wrapped around her neck. "Kiara's here, if you want to make her a coffee too. She wanted to see the Chantry. Though it seems more like she wanted to go outside and play in the snow..."
Kiara
She's visible as she re-appears from the kitchen window; Kiara, her dark hair snow-dusted; tracing a path back through the ankle high snow; hands around her body, tucked in low beneath her arms to keep them from the cold. There's an expression of mingled appreciation and uncertainty as she reaches the patio. Canting a sharp look over her shoulder as if she can't quite re-align herself with her location.
The door slides open; heavy boots sound on the floor and for a long moment; there's silence. Then: "There's a bear sleeping by the Node." The Verbena appears in the kitchen doorway, looks utterly startled for a moment by the appearance of Kalen; the smell of freshly brewed coffee; Grace at his side. As if she'd been perfectly alone, speaking to herself and then found the house descended on by unknown guests.
"Hey," offered when she recovers, the corner of her mouth drawn up in a smile; though the shadow of unease felt outside lingers in the pallor of her skin, even Kiara's mouth looks a little less vibrant for that foreboding sense to the world right now. She plucks the edge of the scarf.
"You shouldn't have." The snow is melting in her hair, she looks as nature-touched as you might expect.
Kalen Holliday
"Already on that," Kalen says to Grace. He glances at the box in her hands. "I was going to put something in it, like an extra surprise, but I couldn't open it." Wait. What? Couldn't he- "Without cheating. Using magic on the box seemed like cheating. Though, now that I think about it, also excellent practice. I should get some more of them."
"Oh," Kalen says quietly. "Next year perhaps I will just get everyone a copy of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Or, perhaps, coal.
"And, yes. Her name is Callisto." His eyes widen, just a little, even now. There is pretty much nothing that can completely dampen his wonder about Callisto. "You can see her? I can't usually see her. Sometimes people show her to me."
Grace
"The guard-bear. I've heard of that, but I've never seen it," Grace says, her fingers working at getting her puzzle box closed again. Little strips of lacquered wood on the side of the box slide slowly back and forth as she goes, making little clicking sounds.
"Kalen always does Christmas gifts," Grace says to Kiara, with a shrug, as if to explain that the sky is blue, the grass is green, and Kalen is Kalen. "You get used to it. It's his thing, giving stuff to people."
Kiara
Kiara leans more fully into the doorway. "I mean that in an entirely 'thank you, I love it' sort of way, for the record." Her dark eyes are brighter, in the moment. Her smile accompanies the easy gratitude and she slides into the kitchen proper with a rattle of heavy jewellery. Moving to hop up on the counter and help herself to a piece of fruit; rolling an apple between her hands.
"I can if I peek across, " Kiara rubs a thumb over a blemish on the fruit. The bruise of impact where it had been jostled at some point from tree to factory to bowl of fruit. "It's a little easier here, the energy out there, the trees. The earth. Callisto," the dark eyed pagan turns the apple over in her palms. "I'm guessing mentioning Zeus around her wouldn't make a girl popular." There's a twist of Kiara's mouth; humor banking there and gone before her expression smooths into something a little more sober.
"I could probably show you, if you want to see. She was watching what I was doing out there. I got a sense I was being scrutinized."
Kalen Holliday
"She does that, at first," Kalen says. "I'm not sure where her name comes from in that regard. And...maybe. I'm not sure if falling asleep watching her is on my list of things to do again. It wasn't, precisely, the first time." There is a soft huff. "I blame Alexander."
He pours coffee over the rock candy stirrer waiting in the mug, slides that mug and the cream across the counter toward Grace. He could, by now, just fix it for her entirely, but he does not. He pours another mug and holds this one out to Kiara. If she takes it, he pours another for himself. Whichever way he takes a sip of his coffee before he adds anything to it.
"And you are, of course, welcome. I'm glad you like it. You're one of the people I was less sure of." He looks over at Grace, and there is, for a second, a touch of something mischievous in those pale green eyes of his.
"But we all have skills, no?" His smile widens a touch. "And considering the company I've been keeping, I have so few opportunities to practice."
Grace
Ooh, coffee. With a rock-candy stirrer like she likes, and the cream like she likes. She pours some cream in, and stirs it with the stirrer, then sticks the stirrer in her mouth like a lollipop. Coffee flavored sugar -- the best, right?
"Oh whatever. You get me things all the time. You get everybody things all the time."
She turns to Kiara. "Really? You could do that?"
Kiara
She takes the coffee, setting the fruit back down and instead drawing one leg over the other; those boots of hers a complicated affair of laces and leather; tied up beneath her knee. One of Kiara's feet moves a little; a tiny betraying motion. Unsettled, perhaps. A lingering uneasiness she's dragged back from her brief foray outside.
"Alexander. I met him, I think. Quiet guy, sort of intense." She muses on it; on him; holds on to mentioning what else he gave her an impression of. They all had their demons, after all and Kiara Woolfe is hardly without her own. It reads there, for a beat, in the subtle change and shift in her mouth, the supple shape of it reforming into some schism of understanding when Kalen mentions being unsure of what to gift her with.
She cups the coffee in both hands; warming them around it. She leaves it black, Kiara. No sweeteners or cream. Perhaps she savors the bitterness to it; the strength imbued in the purity of the coffee blend, or something along those lines. "That doesn't surprise me," she admits with an expression opening into something curling and bright.
"Most people take longer to get a handle on what impression I'm making." Dark eyes shift to Grace, Kiara's teeth flash before her smile vanishes beneath a sip of coffee. She sets it aside; slides off the counter with a careless sort of grace; one that spoke of confidence, if not certainty in landing on her feet. "Sure I could. Have you ever seen the other side before? It's better, the first time, out here. You can see things easier. The city is a wonder but - " Kiara looks thoughtful as she turns her gaze out the windows. Into the snowy afternoon.
" - she talks better to me out here."
Kalen Holliday
"You've met Alexander," Kalen says quietly. And he does, from time to time, forget who has met who. But Kiara and Alexander...there are reasons he remembers that. "He can be quiet, yes. And intense. He is not always, but-" You remind him of this cannibal cult, Kiara. Of the woman neither he nor I could save. You taste, in part, like their endless hunger. "Sometimes he takes a moment to warm up to people."
"It is," Kalen says quietly, "Much nicer here." So many memories to haunt people. Kalen...Kalen is familiar with that kind of haunting, if no other. And so he remembers the things that they cannot forget, the weight of their memory and his memory mingling to strike a balance with his futures and their futures. Dizzying. Precise. Delicate.
He really does wish that Pan were here.
"And Callisto is magnificent." He takes another sip of his coffee, then adds whiskey. Two raw sugar cubes.
Grace
There are things Grace understands, certainly. Space, matter, the Code. The realm of spirits is not one of those things. She's been there, across the Gauntlet, and yet still doesn't know exactly what Kiara means by the 'other side'.
"Er. I've seen some things. I don't think I've seen the other side. Unless you mean like, other worlds?"
The rock candy stirrer is still hanging out the side of her mouth.
Kiara
She should know, of course. What her resonance might mean to some. She'd been there, after all. That night in the park. Felt the agony of a spirit processing precisely how he'd died. What horror had been visited upon him. He'd been searching for his dog and then Kiara - the dark eyed pagan with that sensation that feeds under your skin - and she'd stood there and been a witness to it.
Solemn and quiet and in the aftermath - she'd removed herself from the moment.
But right now - she simply looks at Kalen and the composition of his quiet response and feels - what - something, some semblance of things that aren't spoken out loud. Kiara listens to what she's told and it strikes some recognition in her the way her mouth firms; not cruelly; into a line. The way she studies Kalen's face with this unrelenting intentness for a beat. It's hard, that. Being scrutinized by the woman who reminds you of things you'd rather forget.
Her eyes tick away eventually, her smile doesn't quite ebb but she returns it to Grace and tilts her head; that dark hair slipping free like waves of dark water over her shoulders. "I suppose that depends on your definition of other worlds. I just mean - seen across, to the place where Callisto lives. My - we tend to think of it in other terms but I guess - the Umbra." She says it slowly, Kiara, there's a sense of great respect to it; the way the devoted might murmur their Gods names to invoke them.
"C'mon, I'll show you something."
She collects her coffee, inclines her head. "Kalen, you're welcome to tag along if you fancy."
Kalen Holliday
Kalen permits Kiara to stare into his eyes. He never felt the hunger that she and Alexander did; that particular threat he never faced in person. And he waits, patient and still, until she is finished her study. That stillness is broken not by turning from her but by sipping his coffee.
"There are a number of treatises on that subject, no few conflicting," he says, probably more for Grace than for Kiara, because as he continues something warmer threads through his tone. "Shall I make a formal request for them? Have you learned yet to read Latin?
"The summation of such as concerns your inquiry being whether the metaphorical ether the spirits inhabit is of a greater whole with ours or set apart can be rather a matter of interpretation. What I believe offered at moment should be a great deal more familiar than our last excursion. She is lovely, Callisto. I would suggest that you take the chance to see her."
Grace
"I'm sure I can make my computer read Latin for me," Grace says, "If you think it would help. I don't know though, I don't have a great track record at learning from your books."
Especially if they are written in Latin. Good grief, how old those books must be?
She takes a sip from her coffee and looks up at Kiara from the mug's brim. Of course she'll go with. Of course she'll be shown this thing. What seeker of the new wouldn't? So she slips away from the table.
"Like I would pass up such an offer, eh?"
Kiara
The snow has stopped falling outside. It sets the world into a pristine white kingdom; snow dusted treetops and melting (deadly) frost on the patio as Kiara slips back outside; zipping her coat back over her clothing. She's reclaimed her bag en route and wound Kalen's scarf tighter around her neck; the ends neatly folded and tucked into her outer layers.
The coffee is drunk and left on the ledge in favor of better balance as the Verbena weaves a path through the newly-fallen snow to toward the rocky outcropping that doubles as a ledge for the Node. Kiara moves to the left, then. Toward the overgrown fountain; crumbling stone thriving with tall weeds; they're dotted with snow too, though there's less in this corner where the tall shrubs have provided some scant protection against the weather.
She turns a small circuit, the brunette and then drops her bag down; squatting and tilting a smile up at Grace. "The way I do this will probably seem a little strange, but just - go with it." The smile widens for a beat before Kiara rises to her feet holding a small packet of what looks (and after a moment smells) like sandalwood and sage, mixed with something vaguely spicy. She moves in a circle; carefully setting four long sticks into the earth and flicking a lighter extricated from her bag. Rising, she motions to Grace (and, if he's so inclined, Kalen).
"Make yourself comfortable inside the circle. It helps when I'm invoking." Kiara draws back her sleeves, then and settles down on her knees; palms flat on her knees. There's silence as she faces the direction of the meditation pool. Nothing but the sound of the pagan's breathing and then a quiet chanting. Kiara saying something softly, under her breath.
Apparently, she's calling to the elements.
Kalen Holliday
Kalen follows them outside. He watches, curious, as Kiara begins her preparations. The Order advises caution in dealing with spirits, so much caution and so much preparation and so much ceremony. And Kalen knows that that caution and preparation and ceremony need not be exclusive of familiarity and affection, but in this he knows that he is advised to be so.
It is hardly the first point upon which he has deviated from the advised and the expected. His fascination with Callisto would certainly be enough to give some who once taught him pause. That he would, if pressed to name what The Message is call him friend...? There is a reason he has not requested those treatises in Latin, and it is much the same as the reason that he studies Kiara's preparation so closely.
And he does, quietly and calmly, step into the circle when she gestures.
Grace
Grace goes to get her coat. Apparently this is a thing that cannot be done from the inside, like normal people would. And she is not braving the snow in a t-shirt. At least she has a new scarf and everything, right? Her neck's going to be the warmest part of her. In fact, she pulls the scarf up over her nose and mouth before stepping through the door, coffee still in hand.
She rolls her eyes at this 'little strange' that Kiara speaks of. It's a shame that scarf is covering up her smirk. Something about that amuses her. She goes inside the circle, but apparently doesn't want to make herself comfortable. Sit down? In the snow? Be comfortable? In the cold? She puts her free hand in her pocket and drinks coffee with the other.
But she does watch. The habits of others when doing their thing can be so interesting. It's strange how it works. There's the thought of what Kiara thinks she's doing, and what Grace thinks she's really doing. And then, a thought of who's right? Probably both.
Kiara
[Open the Doorway, Spirit 1, let's take a peek across. -1 Practised, -3 Node, we might extend this too]
Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (1, 9) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Kiara
[Once more! I think we'll go for at least 4 suxx.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (2, 3) ( fail )
Kiara
[Ouch! Screw you paradox. -1 WP.]
Kiara
[Let's keep going.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN5 (3, 3) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
Kiara
[One last time.]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (6, 8) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Kiara
[The universe is mean.]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )
Kiara
[Ouch.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (6, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 4 )
Kiara
It takes work.
There's a moment, after she begins that Kiara's will begins to crumble and she visibly tenses; the building energy surrounding the circle the trio are within seems to waver and ripple before, with a harsh breath and push of her will exerted -- that sudden sharp tugging at the Tapestry, the air itself being devoured, as if all the oxygen were sucked out of their circle -- before the sense ebbs and is replaced with -- wonder. Like a layer peeled back from the world in front of them; drawing in and over and the world seems -- brighter.
The trees are luminescent; the earth isn't simply snow covered but glittering; vibrant with life. Some skitter at the sight of them; others fluctuate as they stop and observe and then skim right out of reach and there, across the Node; her great coat gleaming as if rich with the stars themselves sits the great Callisto, the bear spirit who guards their source of greatest energy and renewal. She's a massive sight, the spirit, even at her ease. Over 7 feet of snowy white fur and a presence that seems almost transcendent; unfocused; as if some cosmic tuning where taking place.
She distorts then reforms; sits back on enormous paws and regards the Awakened as they behold her.
The world is the world but the doorway, as Kiara would deem it; opened. The outer layer shed and a deeper opened. There's a quality, to the other side, that their side lacks. A gleaming, unearthly presence. The world beyond the one they walk. The Verbena's chanting has stopped; though she remains as she is; eyes focused on the sight before her.
Her hold on the casting has been tenuous and Kiara seems intent on maintaining it long enough for Grace and Kalen to look across and take stock of the guardian where she sits; omnipresent in her domain.
Kalen Holliday
Kalen's curious study gives way to wonder when his perceptions shift. Shimmer. Gossamer threads and coccoons and-
No. Focus.
There is Callisto. He turns his eyes toward the great spirit-bear, wide and alight with wonder. He can still remember when he first met her. More than a year ago now, but the memory has remained sharp. Full of the taste of crisp, cool starlight and celestial heights and something he has never been able to Name.
Kalen smiles, and watches her. He can feel butterflies walking over his skin, the memories of them, the symbols of the them. They remind him that he needs to find time to study with Alyssa. That he needs to bring Trent his present. Should he bring Grace? I was partly her-
Grace.
He turns from Callisto to look at Grace looking at Callisto.
Grace
When the invocation to the elements ends, when the chanting ceases and the world stands before Grace, certain veils of perception removed, there's only one thing she can say: "Oh, shit."
Her eyes are wide and smiling as she looks out at Callisto, at the trees, at the Node which looks somehow even more watery than it used to. Everything looks so much more real than it truly is, which of course makes it all seem unreal. Grace doesn't just stare at the bear. It's as if she wants to catalog everything. When Kalen looks at her, she's looking at the stars peeking out from behind clouds.
And then, to the snow -- itself alive with the flow of energy. Then, to the bear now taking notice of all this magic going on.
"It's beautiful."
Kiara
Everything has a silvery sheen to it, looking across.
It's as if Kiara has worked to temporarily wipe condescension from the window between the Umbral planes and their side. The Gauntlet is thinner here, by the Node. The working, to stretch and encompass not merely her own perceptions but those of all within the circle has exhausted her. Her skin feels stretched tight; the whiplash of reality drawing back and pushing against her attempts to rework it.
She's paler than when she began; not simply for the chill to the air where they are. Still - her mouth parts in a smile as she takes in the sight of the bear spirit; listens to Grace's astonishment. Feels the vibration of her excitement near her. It feels like magic, in the moment, the subtle aroma of Kiara's incense burning around them; spirals of smoke rising in their respective corners; the ripple and roll of the edges to her casting.
The Verbena makes a noise of assent when Grace calls it beautiful.
"Yeah, it is. So is she." Kiara's eyes are on Callisto. The great bear is scenting the air much like a real bear would; a black nose twitching as she makes a low grunting and swings her weight around; prowling a little along the other side of the Node. The posturing is that of wary supervision. Kiara cants a look over her shoulder. "You can move around a little, if you want. Just don't break the circle." She takes a breath; discreetly wiping her hands along her jeans.
Kiara
[Condensation, not condescension, freaking auto correct.]
Kalen Holliday
Kalen remains mostly still. His head turns, his eyes sweep across the umbral landscape, but he does not really seem interested in movement within the confines of the circle.
His attention settles back, soon enough, on Callisto. He seems, for once, oblivious to the cold.
Grace
There should be more stars out tonight, Grace thinks. It's just not fair. Callisto looks like she belongs with stars.
Subconsciously, Grace begins to teeter her way back, away from the bear. Something about being suddenly presented with a very large polar bear like being seems to have struck a lizard-brain response in her.
Just don't break the circle
Right, okay. So maybe keep those shifting feet away from the edge. Grace doesn't know what will happen if the 'circle' is 'broken,' so. She stays. Her coffee gets sipped, without thought.
"How does that work?" she asks, as though Kiara might be able to explain in a way she'd understand. Probably not. But it does no good to never ask.
Kiara
"When you invoke the elements, you create a space." Kiara sits back, turning a little to face the others. They can see the strain the casting has had on her face, like this. She looks pale against the black of her coat; the dark waves of her hair standing out in greater contrast because of it. She seems alert, though. Her eyes don't seem dulled for the weariness working has had on her.
"I've drawn a - " The Verbena pauses; trying to frame the way her casting works. Translate it the way another might understand it. Especially one of Grace's ilk. " - it's like running a program inside a system that isn't native to it. In here," Kiara gestures around them. "It understands what I've asked it to do, out there - " She nods toward the edge, where the spirals of smoke still curl, burning down slowly. " - I haven't extended it to know. Once they burn out, or we step outside - " Kiara twists a little, looking back across at where Callisto is now resting; idly keeping watch on their small gathering; decided perhaps; that they pose no direct threat and resuming her respite.
" - It closes the door. It's easier, to close the circle from within."
Kalen Holliday
Kalen lets them discuss magic. He listens, certainly. But this time, for all he knows enough of cosmology to keep up with this discussion, he stays silent. He has seen the Umbra here, but not since he was in that Mindscape. He can remember this place, all too well, as empty and barren.
The Node gone, Callisto gone, everything coated in dust. How far had they all come? How far had he and Sid driven each other away? What had it cost them all?
And so, he watches Callisto. Tries to impress this memory over the others. Tries to bind this one with falling asleep with Alexander on the lounges in the rain, with Shoshannah brushing something over his closed eyelids. This world. Here. Perhaps not entirely now, but here and unruined.
Grace
"Hah! So like running a virtual machine? You're translating it for us inside. Cool," Grace says, grins over to Kalen. Kalen who is so distant right now. She smiles at him.
"I like her," she whispers, leans in so as to make it conspiratorial -- or to try to drag a smile out of him.
"This is so cool, Kiara. It's like another world, but it's really here too."
Kiara
For all that Sid and Kiara shared a commonality; shared aspects of the same understanding of the world; the way they perceived the World Tree and the quest to protect and nurture back the threads; they were very different creatures housed beneath the branches of their Tradition. Had they ever met, this might have seemed even more pronounced. For as much as Ms Woolfe carried a great reverence for the craft, for the working and protection of what the Verbena held dear -- she opposed just as much of it.
Boundaries laid down by generations before needed, in her own presumption of them, to be broken down; not rebuilt. There was so much, as they saw now, so much more to be known. The old ways were thus for good reason and it was the modern age; the adopted, brought under the re-imagined Verbena's wings, that helped them prosper after the Burning Times. Her mentor's people; her former coven, would not have approved Kiara's translating for another not of their midst.
But then, the Dreamweavers had always gone their own way. Pushed the acceptable into new dimensions. It's there, in the curling of her lip; the gleam in her eye before she winks at Grace that solidifies she's doing just that -- making her own path. Etching into the earth Kiara Woolfe's variation on what it meant -- connection.
Kalen is quiet; lost to memory and the moment and Kiara lets him be; lets the Umbra speak to him as it will. She carefully gets to her feet, brushing herself down. "It's always here. It's just -- " She tilts her head, the corner of her mouth giving into some expression of pleasure. " -- learning how to see it." She looks over, taking in Callisto, the softly shaking treetops; the glimmer of the water; the hazy glow of the Umbral reflection. "There's so much there, though. So many things we can't see. Half of them I only know about in theory," Kiara's brows knit. There's a wistfulness, a yearning to her voice for a moment.
"I think if we could still walk there the way we used to be able to, we'd see things differently. But - " She shakes it off; shrugs thin shoulders. " - times change."
Kalen Holliday
"Has any of us ever told you about The Message?" Kalen asks. "And by extension, our adventures in the Umbra?" His eyes stay on Callisto. "Perhaps not, those were not, as such, the best of times. But The Message is rather remarkable."
Grace
"Yes, we've been to the Umbra before. But it didn't look like this. It didn't look like our world at all," Grace says, and there a memory sparks. Kalen was there. He told her, 'welcome to the Umbra'. He still couldn't walk right back then. And she was still so new.
"It sort of... hurt a bit. But we all managed. Maybe if we ever see him again, we could ask him how he does it."
She ventures a look above, into clouds that do not merely obscure the sky, but seem to roil like you'd expect clouds to -- like they were fluid living things.
Kiara
Kiara tilts her head; breath misting a little as she does toward Kalen. "Grace might have mentioned it once, I think." There's an edging smile there, directed the Virtual Adept's way, as Kiara's hands find sanctuary from the bite in the afternoon air in her pockets. The sun is dipping lower now, late afternoon drawing out hues of orange and gold into the horizon, soon enough -- though perhaps not quite quickly enough for them to glimpse them through Umbral skies -- the stars will be out, winking through the cloud cover.
"I wish I'd been there to see it."
It's honest, that. For all that Grace mentions it had hurt, crossing the Gauntlet; being pressed and pulled apart on the journey. Kiara's heard stories from others, about the things that can go wrong, the ways an avatar can be torn apart trying to cross over. Folklore, some of it, probably. Truth to much of it, undoubtedly. The Verbena tenders hair behind her ear as she moves to carefully drop down into a squat beside one of the burners. The ash has scattered around the base and the amber glows faintly as it nears the end of its life.
"It's nearly time," she offers quietly and glances toward the other side of the Node; where Callisto's great eye is open; regarding them. Her enormous side rising and falling in her recumbency. Kiara's lips move, she mouths something and the air around them seems to shimmer -- it holds, for a moment, the casting, the Umbral reflection around them and then, slowly, it begins to recede; the silvery glow; Callisto; the otherworldly tinge to everything begins to fade as if a literal curtain were dropping.
The incense burns itself out; snuffing into a whirl of smoke on four sides and Kiara's soft chanting tapers out likewise. She pushes herself to her feet. Looking across to where there's now just empty snow-touched earth, but where altered perception tells Grace and Kalen Callisto remains, watching them from the other side.
Kalen Holliday
"The first place we were was actually rather beautiful. Dangerous, perhaps, but incredible. Mountains and a glorious sky. And The Message is...he is not an Angel, but he is angelic. It was a little sad, the way that he died, except that he didn't, exactly. Just transformed and became what he is. Which is...like but unlike a ghost? I don't know. I don't think there is another like him.
"Granted, Nephandic cemeteries were a little creepy, and I'm not fond of bodies of water than puddles in general, so even after that thing was no longer in control of that place the river of souls still unnerved me a bit, but...when it was the land of the dead as the land of the dead is meant to be it was rather peaceful.
"He's something, though. The Message. Hopefully you'll have a chance to meet him one day."
Grace
Grace is still staring at everything as the scenery changes, and the curtains drop again. She washes away the disappointment that it's all over with a sip from her mug.
"Callisto was pretty. I'm glad I got to see her finally. Thanks."
Kiara
She stands; a collection of burned offerings in hand as Kalen speaks; pushing the fall of her hair aside; looking across at him with an expression that was a mixture of interest and uncertainty. Some hint of bemusement when he mentions Nephandic cemeteries being unsettling. "I'd have guessed they wouldn't be a thrill," this, with a twisting smile; a glance around as she collects her bag and carefully zips it up; slings its weight over a shoulder and casts Grace a brief little expression -- contained acknowledgement; understanding.
"Anytime. It's great out here." She lifts her chin, the Verbena; the profile she offers is appealing; the cut of her jaw; the slope of her nose. She's an odd juxtaposition at times, the brunette. Seemingly delicate but with a thread of something harder; harsher; inside. A curling, contrary nature. She breathes in carefully, looks out over the Node and then nods back toward the illuminated house behind them.
"Coffee?"
Kalen Holliday
"Sure." Kalen turns and heads back toward the House. The coffee he made will be cold by now, but they can make more. "Alexander is translating the journal he kept, the Archmage whose last spell consumed the last of his life and then merged with shards of the Avatar storm and became The Message. If there are parts about the places he's been in the Umbra, I will see that you have the chance to see them."
Grace
Kalen speaks of The Message, explains how the being came to exist. It sounds so academic when he says it like that. But then, he can be academic when he wants to be.
Snow is beginning to creep in under her shoes. She's just now aware of that, after the wonder of Kiara's vision.
"Yes. We'll make sure. I made a promise that I'd share that book with everyone. Not that I needed to, but still," Grace says, heading to the door with quick but shuffling steps.
Kiara
"I'd like that," Kiara collects her empty coffee cup as they reach the patio; stamping snow off the edges of her boots where its gathered beneath her heels. "Thank you," she unzips her jacket as they shuffle back inside; warmth curling into their bones; it's a little startling; it prickles, after a length exposed to the winter's air outside.
Kiara shakes her hair loose of snow; plucking her gloves off and stowing them into the pockets of her coat as she hangs it up. "I was thinking I might stay out here a night or two every now and then. Get to know the area a little better." The edge of the Verbena's mouth draws up as she cuts a look back out the way they'd come.
"Maybe even commune with Callisto a little, if she's willing to."
There's a beat; Kiara's gaze slips between Kalen and Grace. "Assuming that would be okay, of course. I don't want to step on any toes."
Kalen Holliday
"No. You're welcome. People have lived here. Shoshannah did. Sid kept a room here. Pan stayed here for a couple months. I spent a week here after I escaped the hospital once. It's...actually kind of empty-seeming now that no one is living here.
"There's...food and alcohol and pretty much everything you'd need. I really should get around to picking up more things for when people crash here less expectedly.
"And, if you need anything, or get bored, Grace and I have our office not far from here. We technically have other homes, but we're not so often in them. So, one or both of us are generally close by."
Grace
"Yeah, nobody's going to care if you decide to stay. This is like, an everybody thing."
Grace decides that most things are everybody things, but that is Grace. She has a tendency to decide that other people's things are everybody things too sometimes.
"I lived here for a while. We were hiding from Thakky, and it was safer."
Kiara
More names for faces she's never known. Two she's at least heard before, one earlier today as a matter of fact, the other, the first Kalen mentions is unknown to the brunette. Kiara heads for the kitchen, sets her cup down in the sink and rinses it out with a meticulousness born more of consideration of what Kalen says than anything.
Turns and leans her weight against it, hands bracing the sink. The afternoon light is cutting in behind her; casting a strange halo over the crown of the Verbena's head, sinking the hollows of her eyes into shadow. The dip of her shoulders. "I don't really mind the solitude so much, being closer to nature is good for me, anyway, besides - " Here she lifts her face, Kiara, cants her head toward the empty rooms behind them.
"It's probably not the world's worst idea to have someone here. Just in case." She quirks an eyebrow. "I promise not to go through anyone's underwear drawer."
Kalen Holliday
Kalen turns to Grace. "And this is why there are still Easter eggs somewhere in this house. No one is committed to opening everything."
He turns back to Kiara. "It isn't bad, I'm just used to someone living here. It seems odd because I never expect it to seem unlived in. If it had always been empty, I don't think I'd really notice it was empty."
Kalen starts water boiling on the stove again. For yet more coffee.
Grace
"Oh, Kalen. Those candies will rot, you know. Am I going to have to run a scan on the place for egg-shaped plastic objects? For real?"
She knows he's probably joking. But probably is different from certainly.
She also knows there is a puzzle box on the table that's only halfway solved. And now that she's figured out part of the pattern, it should be simple, right? She sits at the table with it, keeping Kalen silent company as he makes coffee, her coat still on (because somebody wants to warm up after their little stint outside).
Kiara
There are questions Kiara wants to ask. They're there, on the tip of her tongue as she watches Kalen go about the process of brewing fresh coffee. Where these people were, that had once lived here but did no longer. Were they lost, were they still in the city, had they, like she had once, run away from something haunting their footsteps and dogging them, even in their dreams.
She doesn't, at least, not today.
Not as the afternoon light wears down into dusk; as they settle with refilled cups and the Verbena, at least, recuperates after her casting by the Node. Little by little; hour by hour, color will return to her cheeks, the shadows under her eyes will lessen. She'll take to exploring, Kiara, to venturing up the stairs and into bedrooms heavy with dust and disuse. She may, at some point, pick one as a potential bedroom on the nights she does stay over.
Not tonight, that being said. There's still a Virtual Adept to return home. Kiara has obligations to keep but it's a start. A beginning and she's not unaware that the wind that had been swirling and howling outside her apartment all the morning before she left for Grace's now seems silent.
Satiated, at least briefly. Onward and onward, Woolfe.
