Quicksilver
Hello, and welcome to tonight's scene! Here are your warnings and guidelines for the evening.
1: This is not a combat scene. So expect the danger level to be very low. And by low I mean nonexistent. Unless you guys decide you
want to start a fight. In which case, you know. That's on you.
2: I prefer that we stick to a posting order once it's established, though it's not quite so militantly important in this scene. If someone jumps the gun, I will probably just tease you good-naturedly.
3: Try to keep your focus on the scene and your posts timely, just so we don't stay up too late. Again, this is not a strict rule, just something I'd like us to keep in mind.
4: I may have lied slightly when I said this was a one-shot. I mean, it is a one-shot, but it will tie into later SL stuff. That said, there is no obligation to follow up beyond this one scene, and you don't really need to worry about your characters getting hooked into anything. When I'm ready to do more with this thing, I'll let people know.
5: That's really it. Have fun!
Quicksilver
The weather had cooled a little since the previous day. Not so much that it made hiking inhospitable, but enough so that Red Rocks Park wasn't as packed with visitors as it might have otherwise been. The sky was grey and cloudy, and a lazy wind occasionally gusted over the rocky scrubland. As the hour pressed on toward evening, many of the hikers filtered out of the park, leaving the winding trails empty. There was no concert booked tonight in the ampitheatre. A local folk band had been scheduled to play, but they'd canceled on account of one of their members having a baby. It meant that the park was quieter than usual, empty of the hum and echo of live music that could often be found here in the summer.
Perhaps they arrived separately, the three mages. Perhaps some or all of them came together. Regardless of how or when they arrived, the had a long stretch of the park all to themselves now.
Well, not entirely to themselves. There were the animals, of course. Up in the sky, a hawk soared lazily through the clouds, watching for prey. And a red fox sat atop one of the park's eponymous red stones, cleaning something out of its front paw. It was a few yards out from the main trail, but the shock of crimson fur made it noticeable amidst the sandy-copper and green hues of the landscape.
Grace
They're going on a wee trek today, into the wild. It's a place with poor cell phone reception, and that has Grace grumpy, but the promise of food and a bit of sun made that easier to deal with.
The folk band was canceled (oh,
woe) which, honestly, made Grace's day. It's just them and some sky and the red rocks.
She has her hands in her jean pockets as she walks along, happy at the return of green. It's better than snow. Red and green make such a nice combination, don't they? Stop and go. Danger and safety. Christmas... Wait, okay, maybe that last one's not so nice.
"This place must have a ton of iron. All that rust," she says, kicks a rock on the trail.
"I wonder what it looks like out here, spirity-wise?"
She remembers the time when Kiara did that thing with the incense. The circle. The great bear of the Node. It was neat.
Kiara
The tinny radio in the Verbena's car was rarely tuned to anything save Top 40. It was, however, less to do with Kiara's tastes (though she had a very strong appreciation for chart music) and far more to do with the fact her car stereo had few stations it prescribed to tuning in with any decency and KOSI 101 was one of them.
Still, folk music didn't
disagree with the brunette to the point that a night free of obligations and the casual offer of company out to the amphitheater wasn't taken up with appreciation.
Exactly who it was she wound up finding herself in company with, well - what was life without twists and turns, after all? It's cool enough to invite the jacket Kiara's wearing; a crimson red fitted thing with zips attached to the collar and sleeves; there's high black boots on the female's legs that dissolve into jeans at a point and a pair of sunglasses hold the thick waves of her hair back; save for the bangs that drift now and then into dark eyes and are impatiently tendered aside.
Her mouth matches her jacket. The synchronicity must appeal to her.
"It used to be a wonder of the world," this, from Kiara; her eyes set on the rocks far ahead; on the fox cleaning its fur. Her eyes slant toward Grace, twitch a touch as her boots leave dusty imprints in her wake. "Beautiful, I have no doubt."
[Awareness]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 10, 10) ( success x 2 )
Grace
[Awareness!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 9, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Kalen Holliday
Kalen has learned a number of things since arriving in Denver. Not the least among them that despite the tradition set by your first formal dancing instructor who felt that picnics should be formal dining events with wine and linen and china, it is possible to just buy some sandwiches and some chips and some brownies and some sodas and cal it a day. Of course, he's still not quite on the 'pick these things up at one place' space in his head, so there are sandwiches with ridiculous options, like truffle oil. Because if you are going to use ridiculous sunflower bread, clearly you need truffle oil. And roasted red peppers. Similarly, by chips we mean sea salt and olive oil baked chips of various kinds of vegetables, not just potatoes. And ridiculous sodas that involve words like 'small batch' and 'gourmet' and '{random herb} infusion.' At least the brownies are just brownies.
Look. At least there is no china. And a perfectly serviceable not linen blanket. For now all of the food is in a backpack. With a surprisingly well-kept first aid kit. And a map. And...look. You learn to prepare in the Order, okay.
"Are you going to go off learning to see other worlds on me?"
[Awareness ]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )
Quicksilver
The trio walked along the trail, admiring the stark beauty of the landscape. The concert had been canceled, but there was still a (more than adequate) picnic to be had, and let it not be said that the Enlightened of Denver did not know how to enjoy a Friday evening. Grace wondered, off-hand, what the spiritual reflection of the park might look like. Beautiful, Kiara had no doubt. (And it did. But they weren't looking at that side of the gauntlet right now.)
As they drew near the rocks, the fox glanced up from its paw and looked at them, dark ears pointed and alert. It's eyes were a very bright shade of gold.
Grace was the one who felt it first: the resonance coming from the fox. Perhaps because she'd felt it once before (though that was a long time ago now.) The sensation was one of quicksilver, swift and clever and ever-adapting. It felt the way one might imagine an ideal representation of a fox to feel. (As though this fox was not just
a fox but
all foxes.) The others felt it too, if a bit more muted.
The fox looked at them and tilted its head. Something about its eyes... they felt more intelligent than they ought to have. As though the creature were thinking; reasoning.
Off in the distance, someone exclaimed. "Oh
bother this ridiculous thing..."
The voice belonged to an older male, but wherever the man was, he wasn't presently in view.
Quicksilver
There is another feeling that Grace can pick up on. And this one, too, is distantly familiar (though she may or may not remember why.) The source is further away. But it feels
ardent and
imaginative.
Grace
"I know that fox," Grace says, stopping in her tracks. She waves at him, all smiles.
"I think. I mean, I'm not good with fox faces, but it feels like the fox that runs with this one Hermetic dude who gave us a book once."
She wanders up the trail a bit, toward the fox and the voice.
"Hello?" she asks, much louder. Maybe the disembodied voice can hear her now...
Kiara
It seems almost
criminal that all of Kalen's preparation stowed away in that backpack isn't going to be taken advantage of (Kalen who felt entirely
new and had drawn not a brief, considering stare from her at first sight [sense]) and it appeared that Kiara was scouting out a place along the trail where they might set up the perfectly serviceable blanket before - the fox, again. It's not the only creature worthy of attention out here, the proximity to so much natural beauty is intoxicating; at least for one like the creature in the blood red and midnight black but the fact that it feels - watchful.
Aware. Alert. It draws the hesitation; the parting of Kiara's lips as if she means to say something before Grace does. She knows that fox and waves at it. There's a voice and the Verbena is exchanging a glance with Kalen; a silent do-you-know-what-she's-talking-about look before moving after the Virtual Adept.
"It also feels like it's judging us." This, a wry commentary from the brunette; her fingers idly resting at her hips as if prepared in another era to draw a pistol if the situation turned ugly. "What kind of book are we talking about, here?"
Kalen Holliday
Kalen is expecting a Hermetic, at some point. But he is expecting, in his way, an inquisition. He is not expecting some Hermetic dude that hangs out with a fox and who once gave Grace a book. He might be more wary, but the fox is bright orange against the green of the grass and the red of the rocks and the blue of the sky and Kalen remembers a storm of colorful wings.
That and Grace is far more suspicious than he is. If she thinks this Hermetic is alright, perhaps it will not be terrible.
"Ah," he says quietly. "The one who left the mushrooms?" Kiara's inquiring look about the Hermetic and the book gets only a slight shake of his head. He remembers that there was a book, and a basket of tass mushrooms, and that is...mostly all he remembers. Maybe something about spiders. "Aren't we all?" Kalen murmurs, though he doesn't seem concerned about the fox judging.
His attention shifts toward the fox. "Hello, fox," he says quietly. As though he expects the fox can understand him. But then, why shouldn't it?
Kalen follows after them, wherever Grace is headed. Looking for an unknown Hermetic. Perhaps accompanied by a (perhaps judge-y) fox that feels like the essence of foxes. Fridays. Denver knows how to throw the best Fridays.
Quicksilver
It also feels like it's judging us.
The fox gave a delicate sneeze and looked at Kiara as though vaguely offended. "I was
trying to remember how I knew you. Or rather - her." He indicated Grace with a tip of his head, mouth parting with a flash of tiny, sharp teeth. It might have been a smile (or as close as a fox could get to one.) "I do believe we have guests, Henry." The fox gave a long stretch and hopped down from the rock, trotting over to meet them. He stopped a few feet away and looked up at Grace. "I'm sorry, I think I've forgotten your name."
Yes, the fox was speaking.
In the distance, a figure appeared from behind a slope of rock, dusting sand from a pair of old khakis. He was thin and grey-haired, and when he glanced over at them he smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. "Oh, hello my friends! Come, join me! I have a blanket."
He had a resonance too, this man. Warm and glittering with inspired possibility. (
Ardent and
Imaginative.)
"My name is Red, by the way," the fox offered to Kalen and Kiara. "A pleasure."
Grace
"It's Grace," she says, giving an oh-so-fake bow to the fox. Red seems like he might either take offense, not get the joke, or find it funny. Any way that goes, Grace doesn't care.
"I
thought it was you. Long time no see, eh?"
The last time they spoke, Grace was a person unused to the weirdness of talking foxes. This time? Well, reality is much stranger than talking foxes, and Grace knows it.
"We have a blanket too!" Grace says to the man off toward the rock.
Kiara
There were people (no fair few who had probably traversed these very trails en route to shows when twilight blanketed the rocky formations) who would have paid a handsome price for drugs that would offer what they were currently witnessing. A talking fox (one with attitude, no less) that is greeted; at least by Kiara when it casts her a look; with raised eyebrows and the edge of her mouth hooking into a lazy near-smirk.
It's a brief thing; encompassing so much before her dark eyes trace its movements away from the rock to greet someone. Henry.
The Verbena's hands emerge from her pockets; she observes the scene for a beat and then: "Henry.
Red." This, with a little quiggle of her mouth; the slightest dip of her chin. "I'm Kiara Woolfe." There's a flash of her teeth as she offers a smile with it; the delivery of her name and at the sight of those sharp white teeth it seems rather perfectly befitting her with those dark, playful eyes and that wild hair; her sunglasses reflecting the afternoon sunlight as she moves a little closer.
"What brings you out here. Other than the great acoustics."
Kalen Holliday
The fox speaks. Kalen has met mythical creatures and Sendings who became something part ghost and part angelic being. He has summoned forth a host of possibilities for the world he knows and watched them unfold like the petals of a lotus. Hundred-fold upon hundred-fold. Infinite. He has seen landscapes of the mind that were created and those that he created. He has fallen in love with a creature he once would have considered incapable of love. Still, for a second there is a little spark of wonder and delight and (even) surprise when Red speaks.
What does one do with a talking fox? They do not shake hands. Probably. Instead he drops into a crouch on the ground and extends a hand toward Red, palm up, the same way he offered to feral cats to sniff. Perhaps foxes are nothing like cats. He could have offered it a greeting more like that reserved for people, but Kalen might love feral cats more than people.
Truthfully, he loves them all with the same intensity. Expressions of God's Words manifest. How could he not love them.
"Kalen Michael Holliday," he says. "
Bani Flambeau." It is a formal introduction, abbreviated both because he has no love for ceremony in most cases and because he does not wish speak of his mentor any more than he wishes to claim his titles. Doing either of those things involves an acknowledgement that the man will not return.
Once Red has either accepted his offered hand or chosen to leave that offer be, Kalen rises and takes the last steps to join the others. He repeats his introduction to Henry, with a more conventional handshake offer in place of the substitution he gave Red. And, perhaps, just a hint more wariness.
Quicksilver
As it happened, Red took Grace's gesture in stride, whether or not he realized her less-than-formal intentions. One would imagine that a talking fox who traveled with an eccentric old Hermetic might be used to that sort of thing. She bowed, and he dipped his head in kind, and if there was a touch of playfulness in his return gesture, it was subtle enough not to be mocking. Kalen kneeled down and offered his hand in a manner similar to how he might greet a dog or a cat, though he offered his name by way of formal greeting. Red glanced at the hand, flicked his ears and said, "I do hope you're not expecting me to lick you. I'd at least expect dinner, first."
To Grace he said, "Indeed, it has been awhile. A year, I think. Thank the gods we got rid of those wretched spiders." The fox turned and led the way toward the rock formation where Henry stood, taking the mages off the beaten path and over rough patches of scrubgrass. Kiara asked what brought them out to Red Rocks.
"Oh, Henry loves this place. Says he used to bring his kids here. I have to admit, it does have its appeal."
And speaking of Henry, the old Hermetic stepped forward to greet them with a smile. The lines on his face were soft and weathered, but his eyes lit up with life when he smiled. "Henry Calliergi bani Jerbiton, at your service." His bow was breezy and embellished, and he took Kalen's offered hand warmly within his own. "I don't suppose any of you three are good at
puzzles?"
If they happened to walk past the man to see what he had hidden behind the rocks, they would find a large, soft blanket spread out over the ground. To the side of the blanket lay a large, open backpack, and spread out in a little pile at the center of the fabric were six intricately carved wooden spheres.
Grace
"Puzzles? Sure. I like puzzles. Here I was expecting you to have food..."
Grace trundles up to the blanket behind the rock like this is just no thing at all. Meeting a talking fox and his friend and being invited to puzzle-solving? Much better than the world ending any day.
"I'm Grace Evans bani... I don't care. The cypherpunks had their eye on me, but I didn't like it," Grace says, shrugs. "Virtual Adepts though, if you
care."
"Cypherpunks, by the way... love puzzles. I'm just saying. My initiation rites were -- well. Kalen can tell you how many books I filled up unraveling that particular knot."
Kiara
Kiara's footwear is suited for a rock concert; for city sidewalks. Out here, her heels sink down a little too readily into the dusty earth; she dislodges a cluster of pebbles and they scatter in little clouds of dust as she navigates a pathway through the scrub-land. For what it's worth though; she makes light work of it.
Those heels; her progress. Red mentions that the area has its appeal and there's a low noise from her; a hum of agreement, perhaps. Her eyes casting off into the distance for a beat. "That it does." Grace and Kalen offer their affiliations; of a sort; Kiara doesn't extend anything beyond her name but her interest
does stretch to the wooden spheres on top of the blanket.
Grace is already crossing over to examine the intricate carvings so the Verbena instead directs her attention to Henry; scouring his lined features; noting the liveliness that thrived if not in his weathered hands, than in his gaze; his voice. "Depends on the puzzle. I'm not half bad at Tetris." The edge of her mouth shifts; curls. She sobers; blinking hair from her eyes.
"Where did they come from?"
Kalen Holliday
"Why would I expect you to do that," Kalen asks Red quietly, though he seems not to really expect an answer.
Henry is warmth and alive and goes in for somewhat ridiculous bowing. There is a whisper of a memory of a different embellished warmth; similar and different. As foxes are similar to and entirely dissimilar from cats, Kalen wonders, for a second, which of them is older. But there is a steadiness in that memory, here the same way there was out on the ice and so Kalen smiles and the set of his shoulders eases a little.
"A pleasure to meet you both."
His eyes take in the wooden spheres. "Where are we again, Kit? We already have food, so of course they already have something else." He glances at Red. "And we will share. But I still don't see why you would lick me."
He sets his backpack down, though he doesn't take out any food just yet. There are puzzles and people asking about puzzles. He's...really only a passing familiarity with puzzles. But they sound enjoyable. So far.
Quicksilver
And there was Grace, completely unfazed by the scene they'd just walked into. Have to give the woman credit, she was adapting. Red didn't spare her much of a reaction upon mention of the Cypherpunks, other than to comment off-handedly, "Good. Maybe we can finally get these damn things open." He trotted over to the open backpack and stuck his head inside, grabbing a small plastic bag with his teeth. He carried it with him to a corner of the blanket and curled up there, holding the bag between his delicate paws as he ripped the top open. Inside, there were chunks of what looked and smelled like beef jerky.
"Yes," Henry smiled apologetically, gesturing towards the archaic-looking spheres. They were each about the size of a grapefruit, the wood old and stained in different shades. The designs carved onto them were a mish-mash of strange, chaotic symbols. Nothing that any of the mages here would find familiar (because they'd been invented by their creator.) "I'm afraid my mind isn't quite what it used to be."
Where did they come from?
"Ah," Henry smiled and put a finger to his lips. "That's a bit of a secret. They once belonged to a very old Bonisagus. He is, of course, long-dead. I may have liberated them from a secret stash." He winked knowingly. "One of them contains a map. I don't know which. The others will likely have objects of value, though given the length of time they've been preserved... we may wish to be careful about how we handle them."
Red snorted quietly, but didn't say whatever he was thinking. To Kalen, he looked up and regarded him with sharp amber eyes. "Perhaps I will like you after all." But he didn't answer Kalen's question, and he soon distracted himself by dipping his muzzle into the bag and tossing a piece of dried meat into his mouth. Henry, meanwhile, sat himself down slowly on the blanket. He picked up one of the spheres and eyed it shrewdly, before holding it up to the others. "Anyone want to give it a go?"
Quicksilver
[For Kiara: 1-2 = diff 7, 3-5 = diff 8, 6-8 = diff 9, 9-10 = diff 10]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (3) ( fail )
Quicksilver
[And for Grace]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (8) ( success x 1 )
Quicksilver
[And Kalen]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (8) ( success x 1 )
Grace
[Grace is totally going to try opening one -- WP because she doesn't want to break it!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN9 (4, 4, 6, 9) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Kiara
[For when I post, speak friend and enter. Or - open. Adding WP for this one because reasons.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (1, 4, 4, 10) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Kiara
[I open at the close. How many fantasy movies can I quote, that's the question. Wits + Enigmas again.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (1, 4, 5, 9) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Kalen Holliday
[Pre-rolling, per the status quo. | Mellon. | Also, WP, because reasons.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Grace
[Extending, because of course we don't give up! 2 WP spend]
Dice: 4 d10 TN9 (1, 4, 5, 8) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
Kiara
[Doo de doo]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (6, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Grace
[Again! 3 WP spend, 3 Successes so far!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN9 (1, 3, 3, 8) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
Kiara
[Onnnce more.]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (5, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Grace
[Again! :( 4 WP spend, 4 Successes so far!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN9 (4, 4, 5, 8) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
Grace
[AGAIN! 5 WP spend, 5 Successes so far!]
Grace
Dice: 4 d10 TN9 (4, 5, 9, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Grace
[6 WP spend, 8 Successes so far!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN9 (6, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Kalen Holliday
[You are really cool and all, puzzle. But I would like to know if you have any magical traps.]
Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (4, 5, 10) ( success x 3 )
Grace
Grace takes one of the spheres at random. She doesn't grab at it, but gives it a light touch (for the time being) just examining and trying to figure out not the meaning, but the layout of the symbols.
They seem to be reflected on the opposite side of the sphere, and as she's turning it over in her hand to see the whole thing, one of the symbols on the side starts to glow softly. Now, not open yet (although she does try to shake it loose a little) but it's a start.
The one thing about puzzles though, is that you cannot be careful when solving them. You have to try and try and try again, see what different configurations are possible and then attempt them. Glowing seems to be a sign of 'correct' and so... We start figuring out how to make the most glowy for the least touchy.
Kalen Holliday
[Time 2/Entropy 2/Mind 1: Find the most auspicious path | D=5 | WP]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (5, 6, 7) ( success x 3 )
Kalen Holliday
[Extending, now D=6 | 4/10 | WP]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 8) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Kiara
Secret stash. Maps. Long buried treasure. There's a booty joke in there somewhere, Kiara's certain of it. As it is, Henry winks at her in this roguish way that draws a smile from her; she may well wink back and move after him as he situates himself on the blanket; holds one of the spheres out.
If she were another sort of Awakened, if she were a believer in the symbology of it; the serpent and the apple might occur to her. The carvings, instead, do. She reaches out to gingerly take up one of them in her hands and moves to perch on a low set rock; smoothing her fingers over the hewn surface. There are rings on the pagan's fingers; silver for the most part; one with a small blue-green stone set into tiny claws; it gleams as she bends her head over the sphere; sliding her nails into the grooves in the wood; the perfect edges of the symbols.
Lifts it for a beat to look over at Henry; the breeze sending ropes of dark hair tangling around her neck. "Valuable is a relative term. Are you sure whatever is inside them should be opened?" Kiara's thumb grazes against a symbol; if it offers a subtle flare of light for it; she misses it momentarily. "Most stories involving long forgotten treasures also have their fail-safes."
She doesn't stop feeling over the edges of the sphere in her hands, the Verbena, but she does return to it with the quiet consideration a scientist may an uncertain and probable pathogen.
Kalen Holliday
[Extending, now D=6 | 6/10 | WP]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 8) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Kalen Holliday
[Extending, now D=6 | 8/10 | WP]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 8) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Kalen Holliday
[Ahem. Or instead of some of those rolls. | Wits+Enigmas | WP (with the right target number of suxx he's spent 3 going into this; so now 4)]
Dice: 4 d10 TN3 (1, 1, 8, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Kalen Holliday
[Extend]
Dice: 4 d10 TN3 (2, 3, 4, 10) ( success x 3 )
Kalen Holliday
[Extend]
Dice: 4 d10 TN3 (5, 7, 7, 10) ( success x 4 )
Quicksilver
"Oh, we are quite familiar with the dangers of opening forgotten treasures, I assure you," Red interjected, after having consumed his snack. His voice, high and pleasant and oddly articulate for a talking animal, sounded momentarily wearied. As though the two of them had been through a lifetime of adventures together. Indeed, perhaps they had. Certainly Grace would remember the mishap with the unstable tome they'd attempted to use in the woods last year.
Henry, of course, just smiled. As the others worked out the patterns on their own spheres, he played with the one in his hands, tapping at symbols here and there until he got one to glow. "I don't believe these will prove dangerous, but old magic does have a habit of being unstable, so care is never a bad thing. The map I'm after is... more than worth the risk."
Grace
Kalen is
cheating. That much she can tell. It's not so much a distraction, but it is an awareness of a spike in the Kalen-ness. He gets a little squinty-eyed look.
"Well,
I'm going to do mine
without, so
nyah," Grace says, totally joking. But, note, she does not go for the magic.
Call it playing on hard-mode. Or, just, she
wants to figure it out the hard way -- find out if there is a method to the symbols. Besides, it's kinda fun.
Instead, she keeps on going, the pattern seems to be: squiggly grasshopper, copper piece, weird-ass cloud thing... What's next?
Kiara
"Why do I get the impression, many a treasure-hunter has said the same," this, Kiara offers with some degree of humor; it's light; if on the drier side as she turns the sphere over in her hands.
Feels as much as looks up to confirm that Kalen is - otherwise engaged. There's a protracted glance at that; her eyes on him for a minute; mouth firming before she shoots this hooded glance Grace's way; the edge of her mouth retrieving its smile.
It takes time. There's a deliberation to it; a pattern to be unwound and memorized.
On the fifth - sixth - circuit of it in her hands; Kiara's offers a luminescence and she stills; curves her palm around it and rebuilds the calibration over and again. Makes some quiet noise at some point, the brunette; her long fingers roving over the sphere in her hands.
The flares of light begin to map and spider out with greater frequency. Whether its progress or not - it's hard to deduce but she keeps going.
Kalen Holliday
Kalen picks up one of the spheres and turns it over in his hands. Glowing symbols swim over its surface and he watches them. His eyes are a little wide, because glowing symbols on puzzles and talking foxes and if that band hadn't cancelled. But they did and here they are, on a soft blanket with a Hermetic only one of them has met before and a talking fox and these puzzles.
Soon enough there will be new twists of fate, new things that he must do because there are demand and there are promises and there is this incredibly beautiful world with puzzles and talking foxes and new friends. Who
wouldn't step between that world and monsters if they could?
The sphere does not easily give up its secrets and Kalen cradles it in his hands for a minute, murmuring softly in the tongue of angels. Words that shaped Creation. He reaches out to them, to their echoes like fading script. There is power here. Magic. But nothing that seems it will harm him. Or them.
Kalen reaches out with one hand, skims up a little bit of earth, and blows it over the sphere in hands. His eyes trace the ways the soil traces over the sphere, the way the cloud-shadows fall. He ignores Grace's taunting, though as he begins to murmur again in Enochian there is just the slightest trace of a smile for that, amused and fond, layered on the wonder and reverence. Because more than it is power to Kalen, magic is communion with the Divine.
And then he stops murmuring. He takes another breath. And this time when he starts to slide his fingertips over the surface of the sphere there is a different kind of awareness.
This time the sphere's symbols glow more readily.
Quicksilver
It took time, those spheres. Henry, for all his age and wisdom, seemed to be uncovering his slower than the others. Perhaps it was his eyes. Perhaps, as he'd said, his mind simply wasn't what it used to be. And he didn't have Kalen's trick for seeing into the threads of time and fate. (Or at least, if he did, it hadn't occurred to him to try. But one would imagine that if he could, it would have.) Perhaps they could break them. But that... seemed an inadvisable course of action. Or at least like tempting fate.
Red seemed content for awhile to feast on his bite-sized dinner, eviscerating tiny chunks of dried meat between his sharp teeth as he watched the others work.
Kiara would be the first to solve her puzzle. Already she was nearly there, finding patterns in the strange symbols. The marks briefly glowed with a soft silver light as she touched them in the right order. As she added more to the sequence, the glow brightened, shining through the pores in the wood until, finally...
A crack broke across the center of the sphere, and it fell open in her hands. Inside, it held a beautiful silver necklace with a large, natural ruby set into a pendant. The necklace didn't feel magic (it didn't resonate) but even so... the ruby alone had to be worth several thousand dollars.
"Oh how wonderful, you got one!" Henry exclaimed in a pleased tone.
Grace
Grr. It sucks being beaten, doesn't it? A little bit of friendly competition stokes the fire under Grace, as she looks up and finds Kiara finished.
"Ooo, nice. I'm going to beat Kalen though," she says, a smirk on her face, as she goes at it again.
Hairy eight. Wiggle-head. The-thing-with-a-tail. It all seems pretty close now, right? She keeps making mental notes, remembering the symbols by the strange names she gives them. She's even mumbling them out now...
"Weird-ass cloud thing... hairy eight..."
Kiara
When the sphere opens; Kiara sets it carefully on her knee and draws the necklace out; holding it up between her fingers so that the ruby winked and twisted slightly from the length of chain. It spurs Grace on and Kiara offers the briefest sound of amusement; gathering the broken halves of the casing in one hand and rising to offer the necklace to Henry.
To look at; to keep; any and all seem plausible.
"Good for fighting exhaustion, mental or otherwise," there's a touch of something thoughtful, perhaps even bemused to Kiara's voice as she adds softer: "They used to wear this stone to banish evil. Though mostly all it did was banish emotional injury and open their minds to things they were scared of.
It's also a healing stone." The Verbena rubs a thumb over it before she offers it out. "With the right intention."
Kalen Holliday
Kalen's fingers trail over the surface of the sphere. More and more of those glowing symbols begin to radiate from it. Kiara's sphere is open, but Kalen barely glances over. Grace is locked into a struggle with her sphere. They are in a race that is like racing the tide. The tide will ebb and flow up the shore, but it has no real stake in whether you finish your sandcastle before it reclaims that space. Smooths it into flat, wet sand. Kalen's sphere will open, and it will be before or after Grace opens hers. To that, he is as indifferent as the sea.
He is using magic, but that is only because magic is, as much as anything else, perhaps more than anything else, his. It is no less a part of who he is than his ability to reason or his memories or his heart. He cannot comprehend why, in a situation like this one, there is any reason to refrain from using magic.
There is a slight shift of his attention as he hears what Kiara says, but for now his attention is largely on the puzzle sphere. He can look at the ruby later. If he decides he wants to study a ruby, he can simply buy a ruby. Still, rubies sound...auspicious. Good. If he were not engaged in puzzle-solving, if they were not here with a new Hermetic and a talking, perhaps he would ask her about stones. They are not though, and there is a library at the chantry. There is a library he needs to buy more books for, too. There is-
Focus, Holliday. Focus.
The sphere. Its light. This moment.
Now.
Quicksilver
Kiara could have taken the necklace. She'd won it, after all. And surely an old man and a fox were not a terribly intimidating match for her, should they try to insist upon its return. Instead, she offered it to Henry, explaining the stone's symbolism. He gazed at the ruby with an admiring glint in his soft eyes, marveling at the way the sun struck the flaws buried deep in the stone. "You should keep it. I have enough treasures." He waved his hand toward her to indicate that she hold onto the necklace.
Kiara was first, but Grace and Kalen were not to be deterred. Kalen worked at his effect, and when it had shown him the answer, he set about recreating the pattern with his hands. Even knowing what to do, it was tricky business (so easy to touch the wrong mark by mistake, so easy to lose focus.) As it happened, Grace did beat him, but only barely.
Finally, after all her efforts, the puzzle came together. The symbols, in their proper order, glowed brightly and then...
crack. The sphere fell open, and into Grace's hands slid an ancient-looking glass vial filled with black liquid. It smelled... quite unpleasant. Like something rotten from the ocean.
Red made a face. "Oh that's awful. Don't open it."
Across from him, Henry laughed. "Yes, give it here. That'll be an old potion. They lose their magic after awhile."
Kiara found a ruby. Grace... found an expired potion. Apparently luck wasn't on her side today.
"I think I may have something for you, in exchange." Henry set down the sphere in his hands and moved to rustle about in his backpack.
And that... was when Kalen's sphere finally cracked open. It happened the same way, with that bright glow and then the sudden split.
And there inside was a small, rolled piece of parchment, sealed on one side with a spot of wax and an Enochian symbol.
Grace
Eww. "Expired potion? Not my day," Grace says, looking quite tired. Something about that just -- well, it's anticlimactic, you know?
"Well, hey. You know? It's not the destination, it's the journey, right?"
Right?
"At least I beat Kalen," she says, grins, looks over just in time to see his pop open with a piece of parchment.
Henry says he has something for her, in exchange, and she perks up a bit. "In exchange? For a rotten potion? Hah."
Kiara
She could have claimed it as her own without offering it first, it's true. Either it hadn't occurred to the pagan to try or offering it seemed - natural. The correct order for things. There was very old adages for one of Kiara's beliefs that what was given freely and without underhanded intention would be returned. If not in the clearest, most evident way - in other, more subtle workings.
It's less that she's innately honest, perhaps. A woman with a code more likely. An understanding and respect for the way things like discoveries and ownership worked. Should, work. She offers it - it's given back to her and after a pause; the Verbena accepts it back into her hands; unclasps it and carefully sets it around her neck; where it settles; lighter than it ought to feel for the size of the stone and cool against her skin.
The ruby matches her jacket; her lipstick. Synchronicity; serendipity.
(Did Kiara believe in fate?)
She resettles in time to witness Kalen and Grace crack their spheres, to crane forward and offer some brief quirk of sympathetic disappointment for the spoiled potion and a longer, far more intrigued look at what was housed inside Kalen's. Parchment. Very old. Sealed.
Reminiscent of a map.
"Is that it?" She registers Henry's expression. "The map?"
Kalen Holliday
Kalen doesn't look up, but he does laughs softly when he hears Grace's pronouncement that at least she beat him.
It's not the destination, it's the journey.
Kalen came into the Order under the wing of a man who meant to remake the world in practically the image of Camelot. Kalen had always assumed that Marcellus would succeed and then, naturally, would be the wise and just king. Perhaps he would take the position of councilor, more Merlin than Athur. Kalen...Kalen had expected that, in this analogy, he might get to be one of the knights if lived to see it at all.
There is only so long one can spend on a journey while refusing to acknowledge its destination. It would be a different world if that band had not cancelled and it would be a different world if the chantry outside Phoenix was not in ashes. They have only this world, and it is a world where one day Kalen will have to admit that either he walks away from his mentor's dream or he gives up on pretending that taking up that quest involves some mantle of responsibility.
His sphere opens, in the ways that fate revealed to him. The truths of its patterns, as meant for his fingers to trace as he was meant to be here to trace them. He smiles until he turns the little rolled paper over and reads the sigil.
Crown.
Kalen's eyes widen and his fingers go still. He was smiling (was just laughing, even) but now all of the expression ebbs out of his eyes, leaving them back at something colder and farther away. The map may be in his hand, but Kalen does not break the wax seal to find out. He does not look up from the sigil.
"What was the map to?" He asks, very softly.
Quicksilver
"For your help," Henry corrected. "Wouldn't do to let you go away empty handed. Where's the fun in that?" (He did seem to like giving gifts, Henry did.) After a moment, Henry seemed to find what he was looking for. "Aha!" He pulled a zippered black nylon pouch out of the bag. "Red pulled this off the body of a Technocrat in... oh, where was that..."
Henry suddenly stopped still, his eyes fixed on the rolled paper in Kalen's hands. The old Jerbiton inhaled a slow, awe-struck breath. "You found it." He crawled forward and set the pouch at Grace's feet, almost as an afterthought. Forgetting, of course, to explain to her what it was, or why he thought it might be useful to her. He reached out his hands toward Kalen, moving to take the map from him (if he allowed it.)
"An artifact," he admitted quietly. "Very old. Very powerful. Lost in the Umbra many lifetimes ago. Banished there by our own Order." Henry put his finger to his lips. "You must not tell. It's a risk I told you this much."
Grace
Technocratic tech? Grace has never been so lucky as to get her hands on any. But then, Henry is off, going on about the map. She peers into the pouch, looking to see what 'this' is exactly, until he says more things...
Banished by the Order.
You must not tell.
"Hmm. Yeah. Last time I heard of something that the Order wanted hid away and never actually
dealt with, it was an Umbral Lord summoning device. Guess what got loose, and we had to deal with? I'll give you three."
Kalen Holliday
[Find the most auspicious path | WP | 2Q for D=3]
Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (2, 5, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Kalen Holliday
[Extending | WP (for now 6 of 7) | 1Q for D=5]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (8, 10, 10) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
Kiara
The Verbena for her part watches this interplay silently; her expression shifting from open curiosity to something far harder to scrutinize. She sits and observes the open hunger and exhilaration that transforms the older man at the sight of the parchment.
Has the briefest inclination to shift her focus to Red; to take in what the clever fox makes of this latest development.
Lost in the Umbra many lifetimes ago has her fingers curl absently around the jewel now pressed over her heart.
It's wordless, her involvement in the moment; in the interplay between the two men but she watches it very closely; with an inherent stillness that betrays if nothing else; that she knows the degree that old, forgotten artifacts can change the course of things. That not every treasure was intended for discovery.
Kalen Holliday
Kalen takes a deep breath, his eyes still on the little roll of paper resting on his palm.
Henry moves toward him and Kalen's hand curls around the map. Gently enough.
Especially considering that the next thing he does is take one more breath and then practically bite through his tongue. His blood starts to drip from his mouth, falls in a pattern that is as random as the scattering of stars. Which is to say that the only randomness lies in an inability to see the entirety of the pattern, radiating outward from one moment of perfect intention.
Again, he begins to speak in the language of the angels, Words and blood spilling from his tongue. There was a different quality to his magic before, he was trying to figure out a puzzle, he was chasing the threads of fate but he was not consumed then by this same focus.
And then the last Words are spoken. Kalen's head drops forward a little as the last of those Words and the last of that breath are spent. There is a pause before he breathes in again. Lifts his head. Meets Henry's eyes with his.
His fingers uncurl from the map until it lies on his open palm.
Quicksilver
Inside the pouch in Grace's hands were five injection needles, capped and sealed and laid out in a neat row, and three small glass vials filled part-way with clear liquid. One was marked:
Speed. Another:
Strength. And finally:
Health. There was probably only enough in each vial for one injection a piece.
Kalen would not immediately allow Henry to take the map from him, and Henry, for his part, allowed Kalen his moment of hesitation. And surely he felt the push of Kalen's Will. Surely he recognized the words that Kalen was murmuring under his breath, even if he was not familiar with the rote itself. But to his credit, he trusted Kalen enough to let him do what he felt he needed to do. And he waited. And when Kalen opened his fingers and offered him the map, Henry smiled.
"Thank you."
He took the roll of parchment, but he didn't break the seal. Instead he placed it carefully with his things. Through it all, Red watched them, and his eyes on the map were as gleaming and fascinated as Henry's had been. For all that he may have been the more sensible of the pair, he was still a fox. And foxes were curious creatures.
"I have something for you as well." Henry looked through his belongings once more and pulled out a book. The old leather bindings did not carry a title, and if Kalen looked inside, he'd find the pages filled with an neat, flowing script. Handwritten and dotted here and there with ink-blotches. A journal of some kind? There were dates on the entries. And if he read into it, he'd find a collection of stories - real life accounts of a Flambeau's adventures from around the 1920's.
"Less useful, perhaps, but I found her stories made for a very nice bedtime tale."
It was getting late. Above them, the sun was dipping low in the sky, and no one had yet stopped to eat besides Red. Henry packed up his things, placing the unopened spheres and the old potion and the map (he was careful with the last two to make sure they would not touch each other) within his bag. Then he began to roll up the blanket.
"I'm afraid it grows late, and I must find a place to rest. I get tired early. But I will see you again. I have plans to stay in the city for a while. Perhaps, when I am ready, you might wish to accompany me on my quest. But until then... you have my immense gratitude for your assistance. And I bid you all a very good evening."
