Puzzles

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."

Arionna Strikes Again

Ian
The day was pleasantly warm, if a bit cloudy. Above the trees, the sky was soft and grey. Only a week ago, there'd been blood splattered in the grass by the tennis courts, but it had long-since been washed away. Today there were no monsters hiding in the bushes. There was just the interwoven threads of urban and natural life that always existed here.

Ian wasn't by the tennis courts today. He was sitting lotus-style in the grass near Grasmere Lake underneath the overhanging branches of an oak tree. Above him, the leaves whispered softly in the wind, and he could smell the cool alkaline of the lake water. At present his eyes were closed; his body relaxed in its meditative pose. The grass tickled gently at his bare feet.

He was aware, of course, of the presence of other bodies. People walking, talking, playing. They passed him by on the trail or ran through the grass at his back. He let the presence of their patterns exist within his awareness without needing to look at them.

Grace
[Awareness!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 5, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Serafíne
Also: awareness.

Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 8 ) Re-rolls: 2

Grace
[ lol ]

Serafíne
Ian: meditating, lotus-posed, aware but also closed-off.  Remote, see.

Strangers divert themselves around them, drag blankets through the grass for a late-week picnic, change their choice of frisbee-lawn, come running after any toddlers who appear to be on a collision course.  We live with certain rules of behavior.  Among these: don't bug people who are doing yoga or whatever that shit is in the park.

Someone else here, not far away really, not so meditative either.  Still, there are similarities.   She is aware of every-fucking-thing and also sits with her legs crossed.  Not lotus-style though, plain old criss-cross applesauce.

Green smoothie on the worn wooden planks of the picnic table she inhabits, plastic cup sweating in the heat.  Leather journal laid open on her bare thighs, elbow digging into what meat remains, cheek cradled in the heel of her palm, an ink pen in the other hand, the shadow of the nib neat where it hovers above the page.

Caught between: between things, between places, between thoughts.

There.

Grace
Every now and then, Grace rides her bike. It's good to keep in shape, and apparently it's also good to throw at horrible dog monsters, in Jo's opinion. Grace won't be resorting to the bike-as-a-weapon principle any time soon, but hey, it's a great form of a getaway.

She seems to dodge people and things along the path without having to pay much attention, and perhaps people wonder -- if not that, what is she paying attention to?

Today, it's the weird.

Vampires, dog monsters -- this park has gone insane.

But it's not anything horrible she picks up on. It's Sera, sitting at a picnic table. Of course she pedals over. It's been a while. And the last time -- it wasn't a time for talking.

When she arrives, she tilts her head, as if trying to figure something out about the Cultist, and then: "Hi. What's up? Besides clouds."

Ian
[Awareness]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 4, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )

Serafíne
Sera knows Grace is coming, has to know Grace is coming, always seems to know where everyone is, and there is a strange and rather precise sort of awareness livid in the air around her as the bike gets - closer and closer.  Climbs off the path and onto the grass - trampled here because so many people come to picnic.

Maybe Grace reaches out and balances herself against the frame with a spare hand on the picnic table.  More likely, she drops her legs from the pedals to the ground, sliding ever-so-slightly off the seat, straddling.

Creature that she is, Sera does not look up until Grace greets her, and then - she does look up.  Somehow she is already oriented in that direction, something about the cant of her chin, the angle of her neck.

Smiles: quiet, compressed, spreading, slow.

Lovely.

Which angles into a rather private smirk when Grace says besides clouds.  That joke doesn't seem to match Sera's particular brand of humor.  Neither does it surprise her from Grace.

"Hey Grace.  Writing a song, planning a trip, letting the world in.  How are you?"

Ian
He'd been in the park for a while now. Probably close to an hour, though in his current state time seemed to pass differently. Fast, slow, standing still. There is a nexus at which all things intertwine. Ian wasn't so much not thinking about the time as he was not thinking at all.

But he wasn't asleep, for all that he might have looked it. (No, his posture was too straight.) And there were familiar notes of resonance dancing in the background, alongside the voices of playing children.

His coming out of the trance was gradual. First a slow roll of his neck, then he lay back in the grass and unfolded his legs. Then he opened his eyes and looked up at the sky.

After a while he rolled up to his feet and walked over to the picnic table where Grace and Sera sat, talking. He didn't say anything when he sat down on the opposite side, but he cupped his jaw in his palm and leaned an elbow on the table, smiling quietly. Watching them, as though he found their actions interesting.

Grace
"Building a robot and playing with my office plant," she responds, as if those two had anything to do with one another.

"That doesn't exactly explain how I'm doing, more the what... I'm really good though."

She steps off the bike, lets it crash to the ground. Whatever -- it's a bike. If it weren't built to be used, Grace wouldn't have bought it.

Ian's getting closer, a thing she notes by the resonant feral sensation. She doesn't quite turn to greet him yet though, lets him sit at the table first. And what he is doing to her, she does right back. She looks at him, little quizzical smile on her face, cupping her jaw in her palm (though there's nothing to rest her arm on).

Serafíne
"Mmm." The noise Sera makes is: warm, and quiet, and affectionate and just a little bit removed.  As if she were both here but elsewhere.  Floating  in the middle of the lake, perhaps, the sun warming her face, the world both expanded and constricted to the boundaries of water and sky, dampened, insulated, lapping - gently.

"I'm glad you're well."

That same reaction as the bike crashes, though it is sharpened.  Maybe surprised.  This bright-edged hook that darts to one spinning wheel then rises to bank off Ian's smile.

This flash of dark script, a rather chaotic hand, tangled with doodles ornate enough to be a match for the many dark tattooes framing Sera's hand as she drops the pen into the center of the spine and closes the journal around it.

There's Ian - looking and Grace being kind of weird and looking too, monkey-see, monkey-do style.

Sera: who is golden, sunbronzed, sweating faintly, sharper now - leaner see?  Huffs out this low laugh.

"Fucking hell.  You two know each other, right?  Or did you contract some brain-eating disease and lose all memories of each other and now need a new introduction?"

Elijah
[oooh, people? I'm not looking for them, but if I notice!]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )

Elijah
One of the benefits of being blind was that Arionna didn't have to actually look at some of the things that Elijah eats, because let's face it- Elijah ate garbage. Delicious, chili covered garbage, but chili dogs had no nutritional value and despite the fact that he'd seen a documentary on what went into hot dogs he didn't seem to actually care. The thing about Denver was that it lulled you into a false sense of security that things might be of a higher quality than they actually were. They were not, in fact, of a higher quality. They were just a dollar more expensive than the dogs in New York City.

Not that he was aware of this. He'd never been to the big apple.

But he was, in fact, out with a friend and enjoying the fact that today wasn't completely crappy. He had a recital coming still, so it was nice to spend some time completely away from a harp. And darling dear, Arionna had likely learned her fill of what was interesting about harps (very little) versus what is pretty straight forward (most of it.) But? He was talkative. Always talkative. Clad in jeans and a V neck and a pullover sweater. Pocketwatch in the kangaroo pocket (because pockets). But, there he is, making his way down the nearest path when he feels…

Something.

It's enough that it makes him pause. Makes the blond a little confused as to whether or not he's noticing something magical or he's got indigestion.

Ian
"I'd like to see that. The robot."

He was wearing a white v-necked t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. Fairly standard casual clothes. Likely, he'd been walking through and stopped to meditate on a whim. (And point in fact, his hat and shoes were currently taking up residence inside the crook of a tree root.)

To Sera, he offered a lofted brow. Then to Grace (playing along) he said, "I'm not sure. What's your name again?"

Grace
"He started it!" Grace exclaims, in mock-defense.

"Okay, Ian," she says, emphasizing his name because she does know him. "How are you today? I heard the last time you were here, you patched up some people? Good thing you were there."

Arionna de la Babin
[awareness]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (6, 7, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 5 )

Arionna de la Babin
[Alertness]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )

Grace
"You can come see my robots any time." Robots. Plural. "And you know where."

"And, I am not telling you my name, you will have to guess."

Arionna de la Babin
She can smell it though. She wouldn't consider herself much of a snob when it came to food, but hotdogs were not exactly a food she found enjoyable. She had eaten plenty of them in her time, and if anything, she'd rather keep her distance. Except with Elijah is eating them of course, and she's walking along beside him.

Her hair had been cut to make it easier to handle now, and her eyes ventured off into the distance, looking through people instead of at them. Unlike those with some etiquette and care for others, Arionnna didn't bother to wear glasses to hide her lack of vision; she just expected people to handle it on their own.

When Elijah pauses, Ari stops a moment after, his footsteps having faded, and she tilts her head a little in his direction. "If you are sensing what I am, there are familiar people nearby." Because she just felt it, more powerfully than she could smell or hear right now. All of them just washed over her. Though even she recognized something different...something new.

Arionna simply felt colder. Sometimes, even her skin felt colder. She put a hand on Elijah's arm, sliding the red tip of her cane in the rough direction of where the sensation seemed the strongest. "That way, I think."

Ian
"Chastity, right? It's something biblical like that." His lips widened into a grin, but he dropped the act quickly. Apparently Jo had spoken to Grace about the creature they'd encountered last week, and Ian's subsequent assistance. He pressed his lips together and made a soft sound. Serious and thoughtful.

"I think they would have been okay, regardless. Jo was in bad shape though. I guess it was lucky I was nearby."

(Not so lucky for him, really. He'd ruined half of a very expensive suit.)

Serafíne
Something somewhere in there makes Sera breathe out sharply, this quiet, self-contained little huff.  Whatever is going on, bouncing back and forth between Grace and Ian makes her skin prickle in a way she would struggle to define if you asked her to define it.  She doesn't like it though.  Gives them both a sharp line-of-a-look and reaches for her green smoothie and untucks her legs from her not-quite-lotus position.  Drops her feet to the bench seat in front of her.

Gladiator sandals in silver-trimmed leather criss-cross her calves right up to the middle of her thighs.

--

This: shifts, though slightly, when Ian's mien and demeanor change.  Softens, really - a note of passing concern that comes and then goes, rather without awareness or context.  Sera takes a sip of her smoothie, and reaches for her little leather book.

Elijah
[Who am I looking at?]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )

Grace
Grace flips Ian off. With a huge grin on her face, because that's how she does. "Yup. That's me. Chastity."

Although, let's be honest -- when's the last time she was unchaste? Long ago. Still, much like her real name, it doesn't quite fit.

"It was lucky. I think that was Jo's first taste of weirdness. She'd argued with me before about how some things just can't exist..."

Ian
[Per+Empathy on Sera (Did I say something wrong?)]

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

Elijah
There is a moment of redirection. He chooses to rely on what it is that Arionna is telling him, and also takes the opportunity to peer into the distance. There were people and when he finally squinted and tilted his head a little to the side he noticed that there was a Grace-shaped person, an Ian shaped person, and Serafine. He could recognize Sera anywhere because she just drew attentions. She was distinct. She was most assuredly herself.

He shot Arionna a glance, a smile that was heard more than seen and he used the corner of his sleeve to make sure he was presentable. Or at least not covered in chili.

"It's Ian and Sera and Grace?" he is already headed that way, "let's go be social."

And so, he walks. Perhaps a little slower than he normally would, but mostly because her legs were shorter than his. He continued on, called out and offered a wave, "was there, like, a meeting nobody told me about?"

A beat.

"Okay, that was lame, hey!" and he bridged the gap his voice didn't quite cover.

Arionna de la Babin
"Seems to be the presence I sensed. Seems entirely like them." Though she was more familiar with Ian's because she had seen him lately. Her lips tightened, but Ari kept her hand on his arm as he walked, at least for the time being. Adjustments took time.

"Incredibly. If there were a meeting, I'd suspect you'd be the first to know. Is there anyone in Denver that you aren't friends with?" He always seemed to know people, or were at least, friendly enough to seem as if he knew them.  She was not, on the other hand, and knew it quite well, just as everyone else did.

"I'm not certain being social is an activity I generally engage in, you understand?"

Ian
"She seemed like she handled it fairly well, all things considered."

Jo could have run, after all. Many people would have. She could have curled up into a ball and gone catatonic (no one would have blamed her, really.) But she didn't do either of those things. And Ian didn't say: I hope she's alright, because he already suspected that she was.

Instead he glanced at Sera and tilted his head a bit - this alert, animal expression. He wasn't as adept as she was at this sort of thing (at seeing into people,) but the look didn't escape him. Nor did her body language.

And again, he did not say: are you alright? Instead his eyes softened a little and he got up to walk around to her side of the picnic table. There he sat down beside her on the table, letting the warmth and weight of his presence say what he was not saying out loud. If she didn't like the proximity, he'd slide away a moment later. Otherwise, he set his hand lightly on her lower back.

"Hey guys." This, of course, was for Elijah and Arionna.

Grace
"I heard she threw a bicycle at a dog-thing," Grace says, nods.

It feels... chilly. And this is not the season. So Grace sighs, at the 'hey guys,' and goes to look-see. It could be Alex, right?

But no, no such luck.

The ease with which she was handling the previous social interactions just goes flying out the door now that Arionna has arrived.

"Yeah, hi Elijah. I better, uh... I need to get back, actually."

With that, she goes to right her bicycle again.

Serafíne
Something about what she's doing: reaching for her battered journal, holding her long-neglected kale-and-pineapple smoothie suggests that she is gathering herself.  Then Ian is circling the picnic table to take a seat beside her.  She doesn't tense; there's no physical objection to his proximity, just a minute, curious flash of her dark blue eyes at his profile.  The frame of it against the park's impressionistic blur beyond.

Her lower back is warm on his palm.  The sharp little articulations of her spine evident beneath her skin.  You'd think she would have a tattoo there, something dark and curled given the tattoos all over her hands and arms, flashing even from her palm when she reaches for something with her left hand but no: merely skin.  A sun-born, sun-worshippers remarkably undamaged skin, but she's only 25, and she's magic.  Maybe she'll never grow old.

--

Elijah and Arionna arrive and Ian greets them and Sera gives them this spare, ghosting, half-framed kind of smile that stands-in for a greeting.

Then Grace goes from garrulous to, well, not.  Sera glances at her.  That glance lingers and sharpens, because really, she cannot help herself.

(Per + Empathy: WTF Grace?)

Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )

Elijah
[Per+empathy: WTF just happened? Grace?]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 2 )

Arionna de la Babin
[perc+emp - all the cool kids are doing it...and I totally suspect....]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 6, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )

Elijah
[Manip+sub: don't worry, Grace, I got your back. This is totally normal.]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 5, 5, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

Elijah
"Hey," he does catch that something is up, that something feels up, but for once he resides fairly firmly in his realm as a young man in his early twenties. He is a beast that can be observant when he doesn't put his mind to it (and it is true, Elijah can't seem to risk paying attention to something. He notices things when hey aren't screaming at him.) All he notices is this: Grace is in a hurry to leave.

He does, however, catch enough to know that he needs to step up his game.

"Yeah," he says, tone convivial and like he had just remembered something, "oh yeah, you're doing, like, robot things." Even half warbles because Elijah… well… doesn't understand what it is Grace does in a magical sense. "That did seem pretty important, I'm surprised you took the breather as it is."

Arionna de la Babin
Arionna can hear it. Tones have shifted. Before she might not have heard it, might not have noticed. But now she must, and she does. Grace isn't just in a hurry to leave, she's in a hurry leave because of Ari. They never really got along, and they most certainly don't now, but she never truly picked up on such a....deep tone of dislike. There's a twitch of her lips, a lip of a corner. It's amusement, almost, though whether at Grace's reaction or at the little details she's picking up...

Ari pulls her hand away from Elijah's arm. "That won't be necessary, Grace." Because Grace may not acknowledge her, but she will acknowledge the woman. Ari lifts her hand to blindly pat at Elijah's shoulder. "It is, after all, your circle. Hardly seems appropriate for an outside to barge in when all the pleasant conversation was just starting."

"I'll get a cab." She turned, sliding the red tip of ehr cane in front of her lightly, careful of her steps on the way back. Though she does pause to tilt her head and body towards the group. "By the way. Ian. I appreciate the help you provided the other day. " That's really all she needs to say to him. It's a round about way of saying 'Thank You,' but it's how Ari does things.

Ian
"I wasn't there for that part." (The bicycle-throwing.) Ian noted Grace's reaction to Elijah and Arionna's arrival with a look that might have been some combination of questioning and skeptical. He remembered, of course, how Grace and Arionna felt about each other. But he didn't call her out on it. Instead he said, "If you're still at the warehouse, I might come by sometime." Because he genuinely was curious about Grace's robots.

Sera was gathering herself. Perhaps she had somewhere to be or perhaps she was not happy with where she was or perhaps she simply liked to be on the move. Regardless, Ian stayed beside her for as long as she remained. Sat there and touched her in this way that was quietly and casually intimate. Like the way that cats will sometimes sit quietly in a person's space just to be there. (That's what it felt like, too. Like sitting next to a very docile tiger.) Her skin was warm under his palm. Just once, he slid the spread fingers of his hand slowly up and down her spine. Then he let the contact fall away.

"You don't need to go, Arionna." Neither of them did, but Grace hadn't left her departure as open to debate. "We're just hanging out. I like your hair, by the way."

Grace
"Oh, yeah," she says, to Ian. "Come by. I'll make tea or something. We can play laser tag in the arena too, if you like."

Still no response to Ari, but she gives Elijah a nervous smile, and steps back up on her bike, walking it out, and feeling out the pedals first before hitting her stride.

She doesn't even look at Ari. Not once did she even notice that something was off, that she'd cut her hair or enjoys staring through people nowadays. It's as though she's making a clear effort to ignore the fuck out of the woman.

Serafíne
"See you guys."

With all the arrivals and departures and offers of departure, Sera's is pretty low-key.  A supple arch of her spine, the bracing of her feet on the seat of the picnic table.  Then she's rising up-up-up and jumping (perhaps gracefully?) down-down-down, flatflooted tonight.  Green sludge sloshes around her in plastic cup but (clever girl) she keeps it lidded so it doesn't spill.

Another kind of magic.

Seems to include everyone in that see-you-guys though there is a different sort of awareness of Ian than the rest. Subtle, supple.  Another glance at Grace then, lashed and quietly banked, empathetic.  Love, see, even when Grace is being weird.

Hey, we're all entitled.

Sera lifts her cup by way of farewell as she saunters off.

Who the hell knows where she's going except: away.  Away from here.

Serafíne
(Graceful jump?  Dex + Ath)

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )

Serafíne
ish.  night y'all!

Elijah
"You don't have to go," he says, he assures but she's walking and he doesn't reach out, doesn't impede Arionna's flight if only because he isn't sure if she's terribly aware of what her surroundings or where she was going. He runs his hands through his hair. Mouth quirked to the side, "I mean, it's not- you're not unwelcome."

He assures, he assures because he believes it.

Arionna de la Babin
She hadn't seen Sera's greet, and if she meant to say farewell to Ari, she hadn't picked up on that either.

Ian and Elijah, they try. They do. She's grateful, even if she doesn't say it. She stops enough, at least to begin with, to respond, if only because neither seem to get it. "It's goo to know that it hasn't been made into a mess. She reached up a little to touch at the strands. "Though I do miss it."

"Grace is not pleased by my presence. If anything, she seems rather disliking of it. I don't see a reason to break up your merry group. I can function quite well without others. She seems far more a social animal, regardless of her quirks."

"But to say that I am not unwelcome is not entirely true, though one can forgive you for thinking so."

Ian
The truth was, Ian had about as much training with guns (laser or otherwise) as Grace did with swords. But despite this, and despite the fact that he'd once told Kalen that laser tag was decidedly not his thing, he laughed and said, "Sure."

Maybe he was getting soft. Maybe he was just getting more competitive.

Sera hopped down from the picnic table, and Ian regarded her as she turned that subtle gaze his way. He didn't say goodnight, but he watched her go for a few moments before letting the conversation pull his attention back.

"If either of you want to go, you can go. If you want to stay, you should stay. You're adults. It's your choice. I'm going to sit here and enjoy the last of the daylight." And with that, Ian lay back across the picnic table and folded his arms under his head, eyes turned up to the clouds. His bare feet rested lightly on the bench beneath him, and the edge of his t-shirt hiked up over the lower part of his stomach.

Elijah
He inhaled. It was slow and it was deep and it was like pushing on a bruise but this was Elijah we're talking about. He either lacks a self-preservation instinct or he is accustomed to pushing on bruises to see if they're still there, push past something that's intense and intent to remind him he's alive but this is a little different. Only a little. He grew to accept things about his friendship with Arionna. The first, of course, being that she was going to hurt him. The second being that he was going to deal with it.

That little reminder, that little note that she'd never be accepted no matter how vehemently someone accepts her (or does he accept her? Does he really? Or does he just pretend that there are truths about Ms. de la Babin that aren't really there?) it isn't ever going to be true. Exhales, eyes and attention wander and there is a slight grin on his face because he is shameless, heavens is he shameless because having a remarkably attractive person lounging in the last rays of sun being that close is enough to make a man's imagination wander.

And oh heavens does Elijah have an active imagination.

He contemplates, takes a look at Ian with a grin and then takes a seat in the grass.

"Sprawling in the grass, Ari… about… fuck… I don't know, seven? Eight feet to your right?"

A beat.

"Also, I've decided I'm going to finally start writing that shit Elijah does because he's bored blog. So, uh, pretty soon I'm gonna start rock climbing, because I will have run out of interesting drinking stories."

Kiara
It's the raised voices that probably alert them, first. A jogger becoming ensnared in an excited dog's leash and the tumble of limbs and paws and the high whine of a startled; injured animal punctuated with startled yelling and a flurry of spontaneous activity.

It's down from them; the distant catch on the late afternoon breeze; carried over. Somewhere close to it though; knitted through with the agitated cries of control your damn dog and if you looked where you were going is a heartbeat - no, not quite a heartbeat but something close. A skittering pulse and then, stronger, the prickling; soothing wash of rejuvenating energy.

Kiara was nearby.

She was appearing around the source of raised voices and agitation down the way; her dark hair sailing out behind her like a curling; heavy banner; dressed in black and navy; a hoodie tied around her lean waist; a set of earphones plugged in and her attention skirting the dilemmas of fellow runners with a private; chin-tucked-low smile. This ghosting glimmer that appears and vanishes as all Kiara's smiles seemed of a notion to do.

The dog; a golden retriever; untangled from its foe watches the Verbena's passing with great solemnity; nose lifted to the air as if it could scent her. A brief tensing of muscles; the stirrings of a growl but then - she's too far; too distant to be the threat she momentarily seemed to be.

Further on; the brunette's momentum slows; dawdles as she catches sight of familiar figures; feels the sense and surety of them. It slows her to a walk; the afternoon sun behind her; outlining the suggestion of flushed cheeks; the lean strength of her arms; the slope of her shoulders.

[Belated thingy!]

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

Arionna de la Babin
If there is one thing she can appreciate about Ian, it's his attitude. Most of the time. Sometimes even they don't get along. But the point is that his attitude almost makes her smile. Almost. He doesn't sway to one side or the other, doesn't beg or plead, and she can appreciate that quality in someone. Only prey beg.

Grace has gone. She can't feel her presence anymore, and Sera has vanished as well. Since the other has vanished, Ari sees no reason to leave. "Seven feet." She says to herself, turning her body to the right (though she doesn't know how far exactly) and beginning slow steps towards him. She waits until she can feel the bump of the cane tip against his shoulder.Ari waits, just in case she's hit someone else.

The other newcomer gets a lift of her chin and a slide turn of her head. Tonight she's attuned, though tomorrow she'll feel as lost as ever. Adjustments...take time. "Someone ...else?" Because she can't see Kiara. She doesn't know she's there other than what she can hear, smell, and sense.

"Are you ever bored Elijah? When is there time for your boredom?"

Ian
If it was possible to create a circumstance in which Ian might be inclined to beg for something, no one in Denver had yet discovered it. Though he might argue that Arionna's understanding of predator and prey was rather lacking in nuance.

Not that he was thinking about that right now. In fact, he was thinking mostly about the shapes in the clouds, and the way the boards in the picnic table felt against his back: hard and rough and warm from the sun. The lingering effects of his meditation was still present, which perhaps explained his relaxed demeanor (though he often appeared relaxed, even when he wasn't.) If he noticed the way that Elijah looked at him (at the exposed V of his transverse abdominal muscle,) he didn't say anything. Didn't even catch his eyes, at first.

Then Elijah sprawled out in the grass, and Ian turned his head to regard the pair of younger mages as they got settled. At least, until he heard the distant sounds of an argument and felt the drawing presence of Kiara's resonance. Then he turned his head the other way, craning it slightly to get a good look at her as she jogged over. His eyes traced the length of her arms, the cut of her collar bones, the slope of her neck.

Finally he sat up.

"Busy evening," he commented. And when Kiara was within greeting range, he said, "Hey."

Elijah
"I do get bored, that's the problem-" he said, looked up at Ari as she poked him. He tapped her cane back, just to make sure that she felt the vibration and didn't feel the need to poke any further lest he get a little red tip in the face. He had to make sure that he didn't get too terribly damaged, or even more damaged than just grass-stained. "I told Grace and Kalen once that I wanted to be Indiana Jones, but then I just figured I could settle for being a lifestyle writer. you know, fight the whole fear of missing out and going out and doing things. Good, bad, whatever."

He is still looking at people upside down, smile brightens and he has to resist the urge to look like a complete dork and wave while he's looking at Kiara upside down. It was a nice angle to see her from. There was a different feeling, yes, something that catches up with him once she does come up. It's more renewing, more living breathing renewing flushed skin lean strength lines and-

He can see why Jenn does things like this. People are different from a different perspective, or at least more themselves.

"Hey Kiara, what's up?"

Kiara
With Arionna's senses being what they are now, she can likely feel, when she realizes who has drawn close; the sense of the Verbena. There's Kiara's resonance of course; altered now from what it once was. The sense of caustic; inevitable deconstruction has gone from her presence; there's a not entirely unpleasant hum to her now; underlining that rejuvenative energy which has grown stronger since she'd encountered her last; a gentle thrum like that of the earth; as if her pattern were reassuring and reasserting its place in the bigger picture.

She smells like sweat and sunshine and tangled within in; something sweeter.

"Hey, yourself." It's a familiar enough echo to his greeting; Ian's; there's a way she meets his eyes as she tugs her earphones out; threads them around her neck; a dimpled smile that sharpens as she notes Elijah's repose in the grass and mellows, somewhat - adopts a briefly contemplative; concentrated interest in Arionna.

The study feels like something, no doubt. Surprise. Scrutiny. Something between both and yet - not without some degree of warmth; some persistence to break that glacier. "Hey, Arionna." She doesn't hesitate to step up onto the picnic table beside Ian; to nudge him over with this over-the-shoulder glance and settle down beside him; her skin warm everywhere it brushes against him.

"Oh, you know Elijah. Breaking hearts. Starting fights." There's the briefest cant of her head; the hook of slight breathless teasing embedded in there somewhere for him. "The usual."

Arionna de la Babin
"That's who that is. I thought it was familiar." Ari lifted the cane, giving it a light toss to move it further in her hand so that she can sit. She crouches, sliding her hand out in front of her until it felt the grass, and bringing herself down onto it.

"Hello." She finally mirrors. They have both changed it seem, and she was quite alright with that. Denver felt like it was in flux. People were growing, building, changing...and she was starting to attune to it. "How do you get bored? There's plenty to do in the world. There are books, art, playgrounds, amusement parks, movie theatres, plays, dance recitals, live music, television, and of course the ever so stimulating conversations of your fellows. You could always take a moment to listen, you know. Nothing is ever boring then."

Elijah
[Per+empathy- are you insinuating that I don't listen?]

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

Arionna de la Babin
man+sub

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

Ian
If Kiara had not yet noticed the slim cane that Arionna carried with her, or the way her eyes refused to focus when she looked at things, she would likely figure it out soon. They'd all gone through changes these past months. Perhaps that was part of what it was to be alive in spring.

Kiara sat beside Ian on the table, and he looked down at the grass with this subtle little smile, leaning forward with his hands wrapped around the edge of the wooden plank. The outer part of his leg pressed against hers - contact that felt warm and a little bit electric. When he looked at her, he let his gaze linger for a long moment.

Then he looked away, and he rolled his lower lip between his teeth.

"If you're really that bored, Elijah, I'm sure I can think of something for you to do."

Arionna de la Babin
[>.> What are you insinuating there Ian? perc+emp]

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

Elijah
"However do you manage," he turns up the southern, grin widening and there he is comfortable and amused and ever-so-pleased, as if being in her presence, however lightly teasing that may be, "I've hit the level of vain that I'm writing an autobiographical travel blog. You wanna take part in the escapades? I still haven't eaten Korean food so I figure that's a good place to start."

But there was the question, as Arionna sits and levels herself into the grass and he looks from Kiara to the other woman to the clouds and he peers at them. They told stories, and even when you weren't looking at things from the other side they were expressive. He looked at the clouds and sthe spaces between into a beautiful, shining, fading blue ombre to something pale and chipper at the horizon during the day or perhaps it was coming close to yielding itself to orange now.  Or maybe it would be gray. It would do as it was.

"Listening would imply that I ever stop talking, Ari, and I'm pretty sure that we've already established I never really shut up," she can hear the grin on his face, the light poke. The complete lack of hurt feelings. He tossed his attention- butterfly fleeting fluttering little thing- to Ian. It was enough to make him sit up, to shake the grass out of his hair. Brows raised, expression somewhere between playful and amused and ever-so-pleased.

If you're really that bored, Elijah, I'm sure I can think of something for you to do.
"You promise?"a poke, a prod, the tiniest bits of joy at rising to a challenge of some variety.


Kiara
She does perceive it. There's a certain stillness when she does; a way she resettles her attention so wholly on Arionna with the faintest line between her brows. The change in the other girl's presence; the way she seems to draw the warmth from the day more potently now; the alteration to her hair; the unseeing; unfocused way she looks out - change was and ever should be, inevitable.

Kiara knew it; understood it powerfully but as much as she respected the progression of nature; the change of season and the cycle of life; sometimes; the cost seemed almost cruel. She doesn't ask why Arionna no longer has the use of her eyes; perhaps she knows, in some way, what the answer to that will be.

Perhaps, in her own way, it's a sign of respect. Who knew.

Still, she looks for a moment and then the stillness shifts back and perhaps only Ian, close enough to feel that nuanced shift will know she'd been made awareness; could cut a glance at Kiara's profile and see the registering of it in dark eyes; the tiny, protracted shift of facial muscles in sympathy. In consideration before she's returned; before she's smiling down at Elijah with something akin to bemusement; offered flirtation that feels unadorned; teasing for the simplicity of the gesture.

"You had me at vanity, kid. I'm in."

She pauses, then. "Arionna's right, though. You know sometimes turning down the excess and listening can be the best form of entertainment. Hell, in the right place, with the right company - " She feels, but doesn't look, directly at the man beside her. She feels his attention though, when it returns to her. " - doing nothing but listening can be downright erotic."

Kiara
[*made aware, I can type ya'll.]

Danny Returns

Danny
*He had returned, he'd set down gifts for people and then just simply stood there with his eyes closed and soaked in the relaxation.  Slowly he made his way to the kitchen, checking things as he went. One hand opened the fridge to see the contents and he pursed his lips slightly in thought. "Hmmm...."

He was dressed properly. The weather wasn't good enough to go out and do anything with really and it was chilly.  So he'd turned up in his leather jacket, jeans and boots, a hoody under the jacket and gloves, when he'd gotten inside he removed the gloves and jacket, hanging them up. So now he was walking around in socks and a hoodie, Examining the contents of the fridge.

Grace
Somebody said there were presents. Grace wondered if Danny had brought her another puzzle box or some Pocky maybe, but this? There's a box with her name on it, full of other people's names.

Names of robot manufacturers and tool makers and contacts in the computing industry. Which, hey -- it's much better than Pocky.

Danny would find the place different than the last time he stepped foot here. There were wards which spoke of new people keeping the place. And the permanent presence of a trio of witches has begun to make itself known, if not by resonance then by their habits.

Grace, also, is different, though that's not something she broadcasts by look alone. No, Danny will find her dressed same as ever, in jeans and grey turtleneck -- if he finds her at all.

"Hey! Are you really here!?" comes a voice from the living room. Well, okay, that should make her a lot easier to find.

Danny
He nearly jumped out of his skin hearing a voice, distracted by the new presences and newer sensations. With a chuckle he closed the fridge door, then made his way through to Grace. As he passed her he bent his head to kiss hers on top gently. Then went and found a place to sit down near her.

"I am really back, yes. This leg of the tour has been done, there's talk of maybe doing a bit of Europe over a few months maybe later in the year but we'll see. How are things?"

He sits casually, leaning back on the couch and smiling as ever. His hair unbound and free to hang down his back and shoulders again. On his wrist is the latest of the new gadget watches.

Grace
She lets him kiss her. The Grace he knew before wouldn't have let him do that, but she accepts it without so much as a missed beat. She's holding her box of names, and lofts it up.

"Thanks. I'll see what I can get out of this."

Damn. An iWatchThingy. She really really wants to go into her rant about Apple products right now, but hell. There is a time and place for everything right? Later.

Danny
"Well I'm hoping you have fun finding things out and making new contacts. You never know, you could perhaps one day do something life changing for billions of people. Its all about the first contact though." He smiled, then took a long deep sigh and relaxed further into the couch.

"So what's new?"

Grace
There's a lot of things Grace Evans could do with a list of names and numbers. She could, for example, 'arrange' things such that these people stumble upon the breakthroughs of their lives, it's true. She could also arrange things such that they form the strangest impromptu flash mob ever, and then make their phones moo. However funny the last bit might be... Probably not worth it.

It still makes her smile.

"New? Apparently, it's vampires and dog monsters in Washington Park. We dealt with the vampires though."

Danny
"Kalen told me about the Vampire, he's going to meet someone who's going to assess the threat level or something. He told me." Danny leaned forwards again though and smiled at Grace.

"Things are different here.  What's going on?"

Grace
"We have some new people. Or, rather, old people. Not old, like, they're 80 or something, just... The old owner of the place came back from Texas."

She takes up a spot on the couch -- the other end of it.

"And oh really? Kalen told you about the vampire? I'm not too pleased about the vampire myself. But Kalen does what he wants. I just hope he keeps his mind shields up."

Danny
"Well, I've never really had anything to do with them myself either. Or at least I hope not!" He chuckled a bit, then smiled once more as he leaned back.

"So what's this dog thing?"

Grace
"It attacked some of ours -- Jo and Lavinia? I don't know if you've met them yet? But it did a lot of damage. And then Lavinia killed it," Grace says, like she's talking about the weather.

"I don't really know specifics, just 'twisted dog thing'."

Danny
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That is fucked up!" He shook his head slightly in disbelief.

"This world never ceases to amaze me, so was it like one of those movie were wolves?"

Grace
"I do not even know. You should talk to Jo, she could probably give you about 50 movie references. They're okay now, luckily Ian was there to patch them up."

This is their world, yes? Where werewolves are a thing that might just attack them in a park and need to be put down?

"It was okay. Definitely not something too terrible."

And that, too, is telling.

Danny
His eyebrows relaxed slowly as he folds his arms across his chest and studies Grace for a while, then slowly he leans forwards. "So, what change did you go through? I've spoken to Kalen, remember? Something has changed in you. What is it? What new revelations have you yet to reveal to us?"

None of his tone was mocking, Grace could do things he hadn't even dreamed possible, but hearing things in Tokyo when some of the techs didn't think he could hear them spoke about some of their studies with various things in the 'mirror'. His eyes remained on her and he relaxed his arms as well.

"So, go on, spill."

Grace
"I learned some things that might only apply to myself, really. Nothing more earth-shattering than the idea that my enemies are afraid of me, and to battle them, I cannot be afraid in return.

"Also, I learned what it feels like to fly around on falcon wings -- not bad! Totally cool, that!"

And she kept those wings, Danny. She feels... different, like that.

Danny
The smile grew, hitting his eyes and lifting them from that deep mahogany to a joyful earthy colour. He nodded and chuckled again.

"I dunno, I go away and everything changes on me!  Oh and some of those cards are from New York as well, so hell, you can have a field day looking at their stuff and figuring out new ideas.  Is it a good present?"

Grace
"Yeah. Yeah it is. Jo and I were going to build battle robots together, to see who would win in a fight -- Gamera or Godzilla? I have my leg up now," Grace says, and grins.

"Everything changes, always. It is the way of things. Also! Speaking of, you should totally come play laser tag sometime. The room's all set up."

Danny
"I would love to. Set me up with the armour and rifle and I'll find a snipe point," He grinned, "too many hours of Call of Duty on tour.  You should have seen it Grace." His hands move to start air sketching high story scrapes, towers of glass and the lights, then he began to tell her about a moonlight night flight over the city in a helicopter and how incredible it all was.

Grace
"Ohh, you might be the sniper, but I'm the sneaky spy. You'll never see me coming," Grace says, and her tone is joking -- but isn't that the way of Grace? Her enemies should be afraid of her.

"Tell me all about it! How was Japan?"

Danny
"It was crazy!" He laughs. "But I love the Japanese now, I got to hang out with Harajuku girls, I got to go shopping with them, I got to hang out... " He shrugs and laughs.

"The crowds there were incredible too, they knew every damned song! I've made a dent on the Japanese circuit, which is cool. But, I am damned glad I'm home now and able to chill out. I slept for the best part of a day when we turned our trucks for home." He leans back into the couch again and spreads his arms out lazily.

"I just slept for nearly the entire flight and then the rides across country from time to time. I've officially been to Hawaaii, but I have no idea what goes on there, I was awake for bout half an hour mebe, then I crashed in the lounge, then it was off to another plane."

Grace
"Damn. I like that though -- the always moving, always something different. It would be nice to get out of here for a while, see something else. Maybe meet that priest Kalen has in Chile."

Because Kalen has a priest in Chile, of course...

"I suppose it wouldn't be too different, though. Every place has its share of dog monsters."

Danny
"Yeah, remind me not to go sitting out there with my six string for a while..." He held one index finger up in the air lazily and smiled again.

"I met Ari, did you know she's gone blind?"

Grace
Grace's eyes widen a touch at the new info about Arionna, or 'Ari' as Danny calls her. "No. I didn't. Then again, I try to stay as far away from her as possible, lest we annihilate each other."

Danny
He nods. "Yeah, she uh, said she made some sort of a pact or something?" His eyes narrow a bit in thinking about it and he frowns with a grimace, then sighs heavily.

"She of course then proceeded to berate me for a long assed time about my just up and vanishing and doing my job."

Grace
"A pact with what? The Devil?"

Wouldn't put it past her...

Grace sighs, looks at a wall. It's easier to deal with.

"Also -- so you up and vanish. Is it her business?"

Danny
"Not that I'm aware of." He kept on smiling, Grace always helped put things into perspective.  The smile soon crept back into place by simply being in her company and he waved off the ghost of Arionna as he rose to get up out of the couch.

"I've got some supplies in my car, wanna help me get them in? I can make this great Japanese dish that I had. I harrassed the guy at the stall into writing it down then got our liaison to translate it for me. It's going to be good."

Grace
"Yes! Japanese food is awesome!" Grace leaps off the couch to go help haul the food -- pretty much the only thing she should be allowed to help with, really.

"I suck at cooking, but I can maybe chop things?"

Yes. Someone who feels like the very essence of sliding blades might be able to chop things...

Danny
He was caught out by her enthusiasm but he nodded at it and grinned. "Sure, why not?" He tossed the keys into the air reaching instinctively for the sense of where she was likely to be when the down arc began, then began to head to the kitchen to go start hunting down spices and herbs, filtering through things that weren't necessary. Grabbing pots and pans and other utensils and setting them out in groups, by the time Grace was back and done, there were tools, and Danny had tied his hair up out the way at the nape of his neck in a loose knot of itself.  He was washing his hands.

Turning he nodded to the sideboard. "Okay, well, most of this is flash fried in a hot pan, so we're good on most of it.  It's the prep work that can be an ass though.  First, lets get the rice on so it goes nice and sticky."

Grace
Never let it be said that Grace isn't industrious. She hauls rice bags and veggie bags like a champion, or at least somebody who knows her own strength. There may be multiple trips, but they are all fueled by the excitement of good food, so it gets done pretty fast. And then, she's waiting in the kitchen, somewhat third-wheel-like (Danny and the food being the other two wheels) waiting for something else to do.

"Do you know how to make the rice sticky? Because I don't. Are you supposed to do something to it?"

Grace buys her rice pre-stickied. It's a good thing, really. She could burn water if she tried.

Danny
He grins and sets up the pans and scales. Then sets the rice into a bowl of water, leaving it to soak while he unpacks some more items. "This is the vegetable stuff, we need slices, not too thin, about .5 millimetres?" He shows her with a couple of slices, then steps back after setting the knife down.

"Your turn."

Grace
[Dex + Crafts = Slicing perfection?]

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

Grace
"Right, right..."

She steps up to the cutting board and veggies, lofts the knife up into the air. This might look a little scary -- if so, just smile and nod, Danny.

"Choppy choppy choppy...."

Those slices may not be up to Japanese perfection standards of exactly a half-millimeter, but Grace is giving it a solid effort. And quickly, too.

Danny
Nodding his approval, Danny begins to figure out what else he's got and starts dicing up chicken, begins to simmer up a light soup to start and from time to time he kept an eye on Grace while she got her hands on cooking. Supervision but not quite supervision. After all, if the girl could dance rings about her robotic things, then reason led him to believe she could probably cook too. As he worked he hummed lightly to himself. Then pipped up a little bit later.

"Do you want something to drink by the way Grace? I can put some tea on?"

Grace
"Yes, tea. Good," she says, still chopping. And maybe it's that that makes her words so clipped? She's focusing on that half-millimeter thing.

Danny
He nodded and kept an eye, not intervening nor interfering as she went about her work. He was busy putting the things she'd started on in one by one with a light hand and a hotly oiled pan.  Pretty soon the heady smells of good home cooked food was filling the air.

He turned a short while later and set the up and a tea pot beside her for her to help herself to while he himself held his mug on handed and with the other was stirring the vegetables.

Grace
"You are so good at this," Grace says, and goes for a mug. Surely the pile of veggies she's made will be enough, yes? Time to enjoy the fruits of labor?

And tea?

She fills her mug, content to let somebody else handle the intricacies of food-making, and goes to sit at the kitchen table, to blow on her tea.

Danny
He continues to cook, tasting things. Turning things down and checking things.  Eventually things are turned off and there's the frantic serving up that goes on.  But he comes out finally with the food, bowls for the soup and more bowls for the main course, a platter with sticky rice wrapped in seaweed, a japanese version of perhaps another land, but it was worth it.

He sat and wiped his hands on the cloth he'd casually tucked into the back of his jeans pocket and grinned.

"Enjoy." There was the easy gesture, chopsticks had been set out and a spoon for those who might prefer it.  Danny himself just picked up the chop sticks with practised ease.

Grace
Grace also goes for chopsticks first. With as much Asian food as she eats, it would be hard not to learn.

"It's so much work. I mean, thanks."

There's a smile, and then she starts shuttling various things over to her bowl with the chopsticks. She might not eat it exactly Japanese style, but she doesn't much care for the traditions or manners of any culture, including her own.

Danny
He grins watching her eat, then starts on his own food. "I've got footage and a few videos in the pipeline, it'll be good. Things are heating up."

He comments. "So, next time give me a shopping list of things you really really want from where ever I am in the world, I will try to give you what you need."

Grace
"Are you always going to be on the move like this? It might make it hard to keep in touch with people," Grace says, offhand, like she's not saying anything of any importance.

She might, also, be able to do something about that...

Correspondence can be a wonderful thing, can't it?

Danny
He shrugs slightly, then sighs heavily. "It's going to be hard, honestly from time to time I got real homesick, like I'd lost my tribe or something. I mean I love being on tour, I love playing on the game consoles, I love the creative process that comes with it.... " He shrugs again. Then lifts his eyes to look at Grace. '

"Why? I've got email, I've got skype, I've got an insane schedule to blight the both of them. That's one big issue with it, no privacy nearly. Fame can be great, it can be amazing, but there's the other side to it as well."

Grace
"Ahh. So it's just the time involved? I can do nothing to give you more time. Closer space? Sure..."

She picks up a seaweed-wrapped sticky rice ball, and shoves it in her mouth with her chopsticks. Mmm.

"I guess you'll just have to try that much harder to connect to your 'tribe' when you can, huh?"

Danny
He nods. "Yes, and that means you all got to call me or something from time to time. It gets maddening, it's like this merry go round life that just, constantly keeps going. Does that make sense?  A complete whirlwind.

I mean I can..." Then he frowns hearing her words. "What do you mean by closer space?"

Grace
"I mean lots of things. I could hook you up with some VR, make it almost real. I could give you, I don't know... an enchanted lock of hair perhaps? So I Could follow you wherever you go. I can do that literally, now. There's things I could do."

And then, she's eating again, slurping down hot soup.

Danny
"Ahhh, the art of bending reality in a subtle format." he nods with same smile, eating between talking.

"So how does that work for you anyhow?"

Grace
"I know I see the world in a very different way from most. But I see us as living in a simulation of a universe. A computer program, right? So, we appear to be 'living' in three 'dimensions' but that's not really the case. It's all data that's being read and understood as such by our individual processing unit brains, but it's data, right? Numbers. Bits. There's nothing physically real about space."

Grace talks a lot, but she also does so while eating. Might not be the most pretty thing to look at.

"I can explain how that data is laid out, how its organized, but that's not really the point. The point is that all 'things' are one thing -- data -- and every 'thing' is connected through this. It's holistic -- a holographic display. There is nothing discrete, but rather all events, all matter, all 'things' are enmeshed everywhere at once.

"When you realize this, you can see the connections, and even travel along them, by modifying the underlying data."

Danny
He blinked listening to her, staring with the chopsticks paused halfway between the bowl and his semi open mouth. "The extra dimension? Worm tunnel?

Grace
"No. The 'no' dimension. They don't really exist," Grace says, chews, goes for more tea.

Danny
"Hmm..." He thought about it and then got up from his seat, then got a piece of paper and sat back down as he thought about it. Then he took another bite of the sea weed wrapped ball, munched it and spoke again.

"Okay, space. Or at least how I see it is that fibres of the paper are the different layers." He bends the paper and then drives a chopstick through it. "This is how I see it working. It creates a warp in the weave allowing for two sides to bend and morph close to each other, each of these random spikes or warps can be bridged.  Therefore, making correspondence a workable principal. Or at least that's how I see it." He grins.

Grace
Grace smiles at his depiction of space as a bent piece of paper with a chopstick through it. "That's not bad. It's something kind of similar, I guess, with me. Only I see the paper and the chopstick as ideas, not really existing in a physical sense."

Chew chew chew.

"If that makes sense."

Danny
"It kinda does?" He hedges slightly. "I mean who hasn't seen Matrix? With your idea, there is no way out."

Grace
She giggles at him. He has no idea. "No way out? Why wouldn't there be?"

Danny
Both hands come up gently and he chuckles.

"Its okay, right, explain it to me, but do it slowly and remember that I'm not tech savvy."

Grace
Grace sits up in her chair, says, very slowly: "I have been to another universe."

Danny
His jaw literally drops as he stares at her.  Attention fixed as he stares at her, here, a stunning musician was captivated by talk of other worlds.

He whispered as if afraid of sudden noises for a moment, enrapt with the conversation twist as he was. "Tell me.."

Grace
"I've told you this before, haven't I? Bastion? The thing that Kalen was sucked into, and I tried to rescue him from?"

Kalen would be horrified to hear it referenced as such. A 'rescue' operation. For him. But that's almost what it was.

"It's a specialty of the Virtual Adepts -- creating new universes. Or at least, attempting to. Bastion succeeded, but it drew the ire of the Technocracy, and the makers got killed off one by one, leaving the new, untested Bastion damaged and without any tech support. Fantastic idea, there, Technofucks."

Danny
He nods. "Yeah, you've both told me snippets, but the problem is, I need it in laymans terms."

Grace
"Think of it like this. It was a baby universe, created within our own. Like our universe gave birth, right? And it kept trying to feed off of its mother, until we told it 'no'. We fixed its boo boos and weaned it, and let it go free."

Layman's terms. Weird-ass layman's terms. That's as good as she can get.

Danny
Now that he could get his head around and grinned. "Originally, while it was feeding it would be getting it's own heat and energy? Then some sort of catechism event happened, would this be where you and Kalen got involved?"

Grace
"People's minds were the milk. That was the problem. It needed... I don't know... mental energy? Something like that?"

Danny
He nods. "Absolutely, it's what binary stars do off each other. One feeds the other, usually it ends up with the "mother" or the elder twin star from binary star system leeches power and heat and this makes it flash, the younger ones flash slower than the older ones. As the star gets more energy from it's unfortunate sibling, it spins faster and faster and faster, finally when it's got all the energy it can from the dead star..." He shrugs.

Grace
"If we hadn't fixed it, it might have drawn more attention, and then... either it would have died or we would have. Awful to consider, either way."

Grace picks up her bowl of soup and upends it, trying to get the very last bits. Homecooked meals are so awesome, aren't they?

Danny
"But in the meantime, there's this mirror world to us then?" He leaned on the table with his elbow resting on it and his hand held up to cup his chin as they talked to each other. "I still think something like Correspondence would be nice though, cheaper than phone calls."

Grace
"It can be... tricky. Sometimes, I find the best thing is to make the phone call. It's better than leaving your foot behind."

Danny
"Mmm.." He nods in agreement, "The oldies are still the best, what about wifi though? What I get fascinated from time to time by is how to bond something to something else, you know? So you can get a read of the person you've got the bonded item to.. I'm not too sure about the idea behind it all though. Not sure I like the ethics too much either."

Grace
"Mmm. Binding an item to a person so that they can be tracked? Kalen just ups and leaves sometimes. But he gave me a little stuffed lion once, just so that I could track him if need be. He's like that.

"And ethics? Well. I've tracked vampires before. If they attack you, I consider that to be fair game. I'm just saying."

Danny
"I'll talk to Kalen about it then." He smiled and then shrugged. "I think Vampires should be avoided at all costs thank you. I'm not your Van Helsing type thing. I'm the one that runs round screaming. Utterly useless in conflict. But I'm learning."

Welcome to Ginger, Lavinia

Grace
Hey. I have seen you around. I'm Grace. I got your number from Kalen. You want to get in on some things?

The text comes in on a Friday afternoon, the day after Lavinia faced down a horrible dog thing. She might indeed be wanting in on some things. Grace has yet to find out about the incident. Perhaps this invitation comes a little too late?

But whatever. It comes.

Lavinia
There was a text that came back. It wasn't immediate, of course. There were moments of good downtime, maybe fifteen minutes of whatever it was that Lavinia happened to be doing for the time being, and frankly who knew what it was that she did in the times that things. Maybe Lavinia was sleeping, and oddly enough that seemed to make sense. There were odd typos in her reply.

Sue, i want to di Thigs.

And then, shortly thereafter.

Fuck, blindtexting. I would love to do things. Location?

Lavinia rolled off the bed, stumbling to her dresser to grab some tights. Time to be presentable.

Grace
Come to Auraria Student Lofts, apartment 314. I'll meet you there. Bring your phone/computer/whatever.

Maybe a little cryptic, that? Okay. But it's Grace, right? Has Lavinia paid any attention to her? If so, it might make a bit of sense.

Grace arrives at her own apartment, and unlocks it for the first time in days. It's a bare-bones thing, not like her office. Nice to get away to sometimes, when she needs the blankness and solitude, or needs to pick up some clothes, but that's rare. And so, it sits empty the vast majority of the time.

There's a small table with a chair, and a bed in a little alcove. There's a tiny kitchen, too, off in a corner of the one big room. The only other rooms in this place are the closet and bathroom, which are only barely big enough to be called rooms.

It speaks the language of college student (or, perhaps, ascetic monk with bad taste in mismatched plastic furniture).

When Lavinia arrives, Grace will be set up with her laptop (bright, shiny, new and sleek, a sharp contrast to everything else around) at that little table, sitting on a box.

Lavinia
It was a little cryptic, and for that Lavinia was.. intrigued. Pleased, to say the least, but there was a sort of joy in finding someone who was going to be covert about things. She looked at her phone again, and got onward and outward to where she needed to be.

Lavinia showed up with tights on. Tights and a skirt that was short beyond measure, hammering in the fact that she is taller than the average man. She even has a couple inches on Kalen, and today she hasn't deigned to wear heels. There are combat boots. Legitimate, honest-to-God combat boots. Her constant companions.

It's into the apartment, not at all with a bit of judgment. Actually appraising, actually pleased with the surroundings. She drops a purse by the door. Phone comes out of her back pocket.

"What's the rent on this place like?"

Grace
"Cheap, but you could probably find cheaper farther from campus. I used to go to school here, so it made more sense," Grace says, and then swivels her her head over to get a better look.

Ahh. Much better. Not a suit this time. There's a bit of a relief, eh?

"So, welcome to Denver, eh? Have you been here long?"

Grace is clad in her usual jeans and t-shirt. The t-shirt is black, and has a penguin on the front, waving a red and black flag with the anarchy symbol on it. There's some text too, but unless you're of a certain persuasion, the jargon may as well be another language.

> kill -9 state

> rm -rf

/system/capitalism

# apt-get install anarchy

[t-shirt reference: http://www.wired.com/wp-content/uploads/blogs/wiredenterprise/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/capitalism.jpg]

Lavinia
"I came a few months back, work took my partner and me out of town. He settled down, I came back," she told Grace. She rolled her shoulders back and stood a tad hip-shot. There was a sort of early punk. The skirt wasn't short because she liked mini skirts, it was just because she was ungodly tall. The tights had holes. The shirt was torn up.

There was something about that, though. On first glance it's carefully cultivated disheveled mess. On second glance, the holes seem to be genuine and dressed up to be workable. The holes in her shirt? More than a couple looks like it survived a fight instead of just being cut up to look cute. She had a sports bra on, but Lavinia didn't have much to hold up.

"So I've been back for about a month? Did Jo tell you about what happened?"

Grace
Blink. Blink. Something happened? With Jo?

"No. Could you elaborate on that a bit?"

Grace looks around, seemingly at a wall.

"Oh yeah, and please do come in. Get comfortable. Mi casa es tu casa and all that shit."

Lavinia
"Basically," this isn't good. Nothing good ever happens when someone starts their sentence with basically, "we were in the park and there was a dog-that-wasn't-a-dog- twisted warped once-a-dog-but-corrupted-and-no-longer kind of thing. Comes at us, Jo keeps me from getting completely mauled, takes some damage. Thing dies, Ian comes and patches us up-"

a beat.

"Jo kept a corrupted physical monster from attacking by basically insulting it and throwing a bicycle at it. She means well, but that generally doesn't actually end well. I'm grateful? But seriously, don't throw bicycles."

She plops down in a nearby plastic chair.

Grace
"Ohh, geez," Grace says, rubs her eyes. Jo. "Well, I'm glad she's okay. She is okay, right?"

There's okay physically, and then then there's okay mentally. Ian patched them up? So don't worry about the one. The other?

"I'm going to have to teach her better techniques. I guess now, she knows why."

Lavinia
"Yeah," she said, "Ian made sure she was patched up, she's got a spine so that's... that's a pretty damn big deal. You can't teach someone that. She also asked for me to feed her ice cream in an apron. And I have no clue what a waifu is."

Grace
Grace snerks while staring at a spot just behind Lavinia's head. It really sounds like that, too. Snerk.

"Well, yeah, okay. That answers that question. Spine gets her props too. Just, you know, as you said, a bicycle is not really the appropriate weapon to wield when taking on a dog monster."

Oh, the strange things that come out of one's mouth when one is a Mage...

"A waifu, by the way, is another word for the target of your obsessive love for an anime character."

Okay. Adjust. Look at the person you're talking to, okay? Okay.

"Right. So, I did invite you here for a reason. You're a Traddie, right? Or at least not all hostile with us?"

Lavinia
"I'm a Disciple of the Celestial Chorus," she said. Unashamed, unabashed, proud even- and why shouldn't she be? "I'm with the Sisters of Gabrielle, we're an order charged with keeping care of the physical- actually, if you don't care, just say so. I won't keep you up with the details. Long story short, we're a martial order."

Grace
Oh, yay. A Chorister. But then, Pan wasn't too much of a little shit, and Kalen's a member of the Pretentious Little Shit's Club, yet he manages to stay sane. The labels people choose often don't come with every single piece of baggage.

Lavinia gets smiled at.

The t-shirt, by the way, was a test. A Technocrat would have been nonplussed, almost assuredly.

"I'm a Grand Hooptydoo of the Virtual Adepts. I'm an informational order. Speaking of which -- I have some for you. Chantry location, and a shit-ton of other goodies, should you wish for them."

Lavinia
[Perception+empathy- do I catch the Grace emotions?]

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

Lavinia
"Hunting demons alone is a shitty hobby," she told Grace, "I'll take what I can get, I want someone to know to look for me if I die."

Chipper, but... not at all being anything other than serious. She wasn't being dramatic, over the top, in fact she was almost flippant- but there is an understanding there. A hope that someone really would notice if she died, just in case it is an unpleasant occasion.

Grace
[Manipulation + Subterfuge = nope, there was not just a slight disappointment that Lavinia is a Chorister...]

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

Grace
[She seems genuinely pleased, genuinely playful. She's rather unafraid of Lavinia, despite having felt her rather strong resonance before, so there's not a lot of watching her tongue or deferential respect there. Her needling, joking statements are how she speaks to friends and equals.

However, yes, there was a bit of a microexpression there -- a frown at the mention of the Chorus that could only mean a split second of disappointment, before she put her face back in order.]

Lavinia
She grinned, the expression pleased, "don't worry, I totally got over my convert all the things phase years ago."

Grace
"You sound just like Kalen. He's a Flambeau," she says, as though that should explain everything.

"And, I think you just found out that Denver is a happening place for hunting evil corrupted nasty things. We have a kind of underground communication system for that. Runs off of a hacked phone sex line, which I hope you're okay with. It's a place where nobody would look, right? But, it'll show up on your phone records that you enjoy dirty conversation.

"There is no actual porny stuff on the hacked version," Grace says, and is she blushing a little? Yup. "It's just our message drop stuff."

Lavinia
"Aw, no actual porny stuff? Well that kills half the fun of having a secret conversational line," her lips upturn and she's got a grin on her face, eyes dark like the space between the stars and bright and shining like torches. She's getting a bit of a tan, coming close to bronze or getting there. It seems to suit her, what with her golden halo of hair and a voice like a herald.

"It's a burner phone, if someone is checking my phone records I've done something wrong," she says as she produces her phone, "I think. And would it be weird to ask your friend to come hunt demons with me? Is that a thing? Or do I have to take people out to coffee first, normally someone else set up my war party play dates."

Grace
"I'm sure he would be thrilled. He likes investigating tunnels and abandoned places? And I'm pretty sure it's just so he can run into stuff that needs killed?"

She takes Lavinia's phone, looks it over for data ports, and rummages around in her laptop bag for the appropriate cord. "I do... have to install a piece of encryption software. I'm also not going to guarantee complete and utter safety. This setup has been designed to avoid people being able to easily track down the entire network of users, through various means. Encryption, obscurity, the fact that the hub never calls out, we are only calling it? But if somebody were truly truly relentless and skilled at Magicking it out... It could happen. Then again, dog-monsters could happen. Anything could, right? Right."

After finding the right cord, she pauses before connecting it to Lavinia's phone. After the safety spiel is done, Lavinia has to consent to the terms and conditions.

Lavinia
"Well, first off, abandoned places are gorgeous, and secondly things tend to pool there and there's this feeling of- well, it depends on why it's been abandoned. Anyway, totally loved checking out abandoned places with a posse," she watches as the other woman takes her phone. Listens to the spiel and waits. She does turn so that Grace is on her left side, so that she's where Lavinia can keep her full attention on her.

"So, more secure than most things, but not completely secure, use with caution and care. I agree that I won't do anything stupid intentionally."

Grace
"Well, that's the best policy, I find..."

Grace plugs in Lavinia's phone, and then gets to work. It's not a long, drawn-out endeavor, here. The process of installation has been streamlined and smoothed out so that hiccups can be avoided. She's had to do this a lot.

"Then, we'll uh... have to... explain how to get to the Chantry..."

And we're all done. Lavinia's phone gets unplugged, and Grace hands it back.

"It's out in Morrison. I wish there was someplace closer, but no such luck."

Lavinia
"Do you think I could crash there?" she asked a little more quickly than she realized she was asking. She cleared her throat, "generally when I blow into town, I crash at a chantry because I'm not staying but I'm staying this time and I'm kinda sick of living in a no tell motel."

Grace
"Oh, absolutely. I mean, you'd probably want to ask Annie first, but I'd be pissed if she said no," Grace says. "It's a really big house, there's lots of rooms. And a Node, and a library. It's pretty chill, if you don't mind the country living."

The address is discussed, as are the important landmarks. The mailbox. Thing is, the Chantry can be hard to find. All good Chantries are hard to find, of course. It makes sense.

Lavinia
"I wouldn't mind country living. Who knows, if I stick around for too long I might actually get to get my books out of the damn trunks," she informs Grace, "but whatever the case, if I'm staying I don't want to be in people's hair for too long. It's been a long time since I've sene a node."

Not true. It's been a long time that she's seen a node that wasn't attached to someone she had no desire to speak to, who she said in no uncertain terms that she never wanted to see him again. (Lies, all lies. Ezekiel or Eric or whatever she wanted to call him, Palmer. Whatever his name he wasPalmer and she was something that defied human lips and-

It was complicated. Suffice to say, she never wanted to see that person again, and therefore cut herself off from a pretty nice node in the northwest.

"Oh," she says, brows raised, smile lights up and there is a moment as if she finally remembered something, "I actually acquired a student, I don't know if you know her- Arionna?" No statement about how she is or how she interacts with people, "if she does anything that gets her into hot water, let me know?"

Grace
Grace's eyes pop open wide at the mention of Arionna. What. The. Fuck. That girl has a teacher? Does Lavinia have her chained up in the basement or something, and is calling that a mentorship?

"Really? Her? Uhh... Well, that's... Yeah. You're a saint, I think. If she does anything that gets her into hot water, it'll be on Ginger. Just so you know. If she becomes a threat to people, they have a right to know. Unless it's, you know, not that serious. Then, sure. Yeah. I'll just call you."

Lavinia
"Yeah," she says, matter of fact and completely unabashed. It was as if there was no question, as if there was nothing that was to say. She said it, solid and sound. She said it, like this wasn't something that she should shy away from and shudder and act embarrassed about. No, it's said with the same way that she said she was a member of the Chorus.

"And with anyone, if they become a threat to people then everyone does have a right to know. And if anyone becomes a threat to anyone else, I will be there to make sure that the problem is taken care of."

This isn't lip service.
This is the kind of taken care of that one only thought Chakravanti dealt in.

"I assumed that was just customary behaviors of where you are." No, Lavinia, having the guaranty that someone will kill you if you become a threat to the community at large on account of walking some unpleasant path is not normal.


Grace
"That's actually the best news I've ever heard about Arionna. I'm glad you're going to be there for her, in whatever capacity."

Because, you know, cleaning up after fallen Mages is not a fun and pleasant task. It never has been. And if Lavinia can keep it from happening entirely? Even better.

"It's not something I could do. Don't have the patience. That's for damn sure."

Lavinia
"I was a shit when I was an apprentice," she said matter-of-factly, "I definitely got more chances than I should have courtesy of good ol' fashioned nepotism. If I can have faith in an intangible, unknowable divine, then I can have faith in a tangible, knowable piece of it."

Grace
Grace has no faith in any divine. And yet, others do. And they're able to hack with that, and so be it. Still, she gets it -- Arionna bends the universe with her will, and that is not something that you should just throw to the winds. One could conceive of their skills as being a tangible, knowable piece of the divine, even if one does not believe in divinity. Gods, perhaps, for certain definitions of the term...

"Well, good luck with that. I'm extremely surprised she let anyone teach her anything. But yeah, go you. Major props."

Lavinia
"I feel bad for her," she laughed, "because I? Have never had a student until now. She has the unfortunate honor of being my guinea pig."

she crossed her legs and drew her attention to the ceiling. Stretched because she needed to stretch, "so... is there anything else I need? Sending you thank you texts? Loaning you library keys? Something?"

Grace
"Library keys?" Yeah, Lavinia mentioned books... "Actually, if you don't mind, I would like to get a look at your books. My partner and I have a digital library project going. We take books and scan them for the sake of sharing through a distributed network. So far, we have... uh... our books. And a few others. But we'd love to grow it."

Lavinia
"I've got it all packed up into a nice, viable format. Are you working primarily in English or does the language actually matter? A fair bit of it is in Greek as of the current. Greek and Latin and a little Arabic. The arabic is for personal purposes." Lavinia muses, "but once you want it let me know how long you'll have it."

Grace
"Language doesn't matter. It's for sharing. I'm sure some of the people who would eventually look through it would know Latin and Greek and Arabic. And I can always hook it up to a translation dealie, but those are never quite as good as you'd hope they'd be...

"I'll have to show you where we work sometime. Aside from the various projects, we also have a gun range, a bunch of nonperishable foodstuffs, thick doors, and a combat training arena, because some people like to be prepared."

Grace grins. Lavinia seems to be the kind of person who would not consider her crazy for such a statement, but would understand. Life's tough out here sometimes.

Lavinia
"You know the worst part of traveling?" she said, and it was a non question, because Lavinia was no doubt going to tell her the worst part about traveling, "the worst part about traveling is that you don't have people to practice with. It's being the perpetual army brat, from what I understand. Everything I've read says this is what other people who travel a lot do."

A beat.

"I'd show you where I work, but it consists of a car, a motel room, and my sister's attic. I'm lucky I have that. "

Grace
"Well, now you have our place too. If you ever need a safe place to crash that's closer than Morrison, or just need a lot of guns or backup fast? Well, we're usually around. And if I'm not around, I can be around -- quickly."

It's the welcome wagon, Lavinia. Here's your gift basket of ammo...