Lena's apartment is what could charitably be called "messy." It's not that it's unsanitary; Lena just has a philosophy that life is too short to spend it all cleaning. And when you're addicted to caffeine, you're up way too damned much and too active to keep things particularly clean. It mostly consists of Rockstar and Monster cans on counters and in a pile around her laptop workstation where she cuts her remixes, or evidence that she could probably stand to eat a little better.
Oh, and don't check the drain in the shower. That could use some Drano.
To her credit, she's picked up a little bit since she expects people over. The mess is largely cleared out of the way. She doesn't use a ton of traditional furniture; there are bean bag chairs and a futon organized around a low table that could count as a coffee table, but this seems to be Lena's organization than anything by her choice. Most everything in terms of her activity in the studio apartment is focused around the corner where her bed is; the TV, the clothes on the ground, the cans, et cetera.
She's dressed casually, in an old tour T-Shirt from New York where she saw Portishead, along with a part of shorts. She walks around her apartment barefoot as a rule, and she hasn't changed that because people are coming over. She's got her hair back, just because it's being unruly today and she doesn't have the patience for it.
SidMonday night Sid put the word out to her Ecstatic friends, those she knows have a vested interest in the blue Charms that have gone out into the city. Sera she heard from first, so her house was her first and only stop before heading over to Lena's place downtown. She's dressed in her work clothes, which are also casual, and also not the same as they usually are. For one thing, they fit. For another they look newer. For the first time perhaps ever in the time Sera's known her she can see how slender the Orphan really is, now that she's not hiding inside oversized, falling apart rags. Her build is more athletic. She also sits a little taller behind the wheel, and stands a little taller when they make their way to Lena's door.
Sid has brought drinks, a four pack of whatever the last energy drink she saw Lena drinking. She doesn't expect to drink any, and from the looks of things Sera might not, either. All of it will go to their host, as thanks for inviting her into her home, and also as thanks for supplying Sid with caffeine that time they spent all night studying the residue of that first bottle of PCP.
At the door Sid locates Lena's apartment using the digital interface of the call box, or she knocks, or she calls, or whatever it is she needs to do to let the woman know that they have arrived.
SerafíneSo yeah: Sid gets a text back and picks Sera up at her pretty house in a quiet street in Cap Hill.
There's a unicycle on the lawn. These things happen to the best of people.
In the truck, Sera takes in Sid's clothing with a sideglance but here's the thing: she doesn't give the expected compliment, that Sid looks good, that Sid looks better than she did in oversized falling-apart clothes. But she does note the change in a quiet way that has her humming quietly beneath her breath as she climbs into the passenger's seat of the truck with: a lidded drink of some sort in one hand and a fifth of Stranahan's in the other. Sid brings energy drinks.
Sera brings the hard stuff.
She is: never dressed casually, or is perhaps dressed with such a particular excess of casualness that no one can really tell the difference. Tonight, that costume consists of thoroughly ripped black tights, heavy black ankle boots with platforms and heels that combined bring her up to 5'9" tall, tiny denim cut-offs slung low on her hips, cinched with a wide black leather belt studded with silver studs, and a rather pretty little pink... yes that is a bra. It cannot even be called bustier, not even by the most charitable. To be fair, she has topped this with a pink-and-purple long-sleeved plaid... uh, flannel shirt or something, though the flannel is left open and unbuttoned so yes, Sera is definitely (once-again) wearing inner wear as outer wear.
There's an ugly cut on her left palm, the edges scabbed and crusting over, though movement crackes them open again: because hands move. They were meant to move.
She glances up and up and up at the building, and stands with this hipslung posture not far from Sid, waiting to be buzzed up.
SerafínePer + Awareness-as-Empathy: dear Sid do you LIKE those clothes or long for the old ones?
Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (2, 4, 5, 9, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
Lena ReillyThe DJ's head pops up from checking her email when the buzzer sounds, and she stubs out her cigarette and rises. She pads across the carpet to the intercom and lets them in, then opens the door for them. She pauses, and then in an afterthought she moves to open a window. She doesn't expect them to have a problem with a tobacco smell (yes, it is just tobacco), but she is trying to be polite.
See, she's not quite a troglodyte when it comes to being a hostess. She even has some tea made. And then she heads back to the door to greet them.
JimWhen the door that buzzes them up is swinging toward shut behind them Jim's hand manages to grab it just before the latch clicks home. Pull it open. Follow them in with a happily chimed, "Funny seeing you here," and a smile to punctuate it.
The smell of bread, meat and toppings comes from the strained plastic Jimmy John's bag dangling at his side, a hefty helping and assortment for any taste excepting vegan (even vegetarian, but not vegan).
The Cultist continues to carry himself with the kind of clarity that has characterized this swing of the pendulum away from binge and excess. His gaze mindful and creative, staid if fleeting, almost canine in its movement and wonderment. Its interest in the small things like stairs or buttons on the elevator that take them up, the chime of the display that says which floor their on, or perhaps the placard if they walk.
Wonderment that then centers on Sid's wardrobe.
"You look great," he says, as they make their way deeper into the building and toward Lena's apartment.
Jim is dressed in a pair of sun-weathered jean shorts. Short shorts, as per usual, cut frayed to come maybe three inches above his knee, and one of the dozen or so v-necks they've all seen him wear at one time or another. This one is a plain white that is as unstained and pristine as his sobriety.
Hugs, not passing or casual things, but instead firm and heartfelt embraces that wrap their receivers up in his tanned arms, are given all around to those that will accept them.
SidThe shirt, for the record, is apple green with the iconic Cheers logo in yellow and purposely faded. The jeans are not so long as the ones she had before, the hems dragging and shredding with every step she took. The sneakers are still old, her long hair is still mostly unkempt, falling in ragged waves over her shoulders, her glasses are still large and black and utterly unstylish - or hipster completely on accident.
When Jim appears behind them she looks back over her shoulder at him and offers him a small but warm smile of greeting, a smile that grows a little more at the compliment.
One of them leads the way, and maybe it's her. Up stairs or to an elevator at least, before they reach Lena's open door. There she hesitates, but only briefly, because there's Lena, coming to greet them. Sid holds out her offering of drinks. "For you," she says by way of greeting, and, well since Lena's feet are bare, Sid toes off her sneakers but keeps on her socks - for now. Then she moves through the apartment, looking at everything with a furtive, yet curious gaze. The cans, the clothes, the smell of smoke that has yet to fully dissipate. She doesn't mind these things.
Serafíne"You do," - Sera echoes on the heels of Jim's compliment to Sid, a rather quiet glance between the two of them, which ends with the brief curl of a narrow shrug at the end and a certain wry twist of her mobile mouth. " - but I always thought you did anyway. Least when you didn't know anyone was looking at you."
But there's something about the way her attention catches on the edge of Sid's jaw, the contrast between her dark red hair and her fine, pale skin that sets alight a filament of memory from a night she remembers only in patchy and surreal frames, in sensations rather than visions and has her catching her lower lip between her teeth as she puzzles through the thought. Which she holds to herself for the moment.
So they're climbing the stairs and Sera's on Sid's heels and is inhaling the scent of fucking Jimmy John's because Sera is not only: sober, and sober for a week, and and and returning Jim's warm hug with a tight one of her own but she's also drinking fucking green stuff from a capped reuseable plastic cup that may be a protein drink of the most disagreeable variety or may be some sort of juice fast. Up close, her hair smells like patchouli and sunlight and pretty much nothing else.
Already thin, lean and boyish in her frame and athleticism, she's starting to look hollowed out.
Soon as they're upstairs and inside, Sera's crowding in, after Sid and Jim, holding out the bottle of Stranahan's by the neck once Sid has given up her offering of energy drinks. Sera holds on to the gross green protein drink, because no one wants that, and walks, claiming a beanbag chair for herself with a quiet, sighing rush of air as her weight collapses onto it.
Sera leaves her boots on. There are buckles and straps and they take more than heel-toe movement to get off.
Once she's settled, Sera flexes her injured hand, frowning thoughtfully at the visible cut. There are more on her left forearm, though these are mostly concealed by the arm of her oversized flannel.
"I'm not sure how much Sid told you about what we found out the other night, but I can recap whatever you need." This to both Jim and Lena.
SidAddendum: Sid accepts the hug that Jim offers, wrapping her free arm around his waist and sort of sinking in against his shoulder before releasing him.
Lena ReillyLena is the kind of person who is very comfortable around people and will talk to them like she's known them for years in their first conversation; she'll joke and speak with familiarity, and she will extend courtesies and offers of aid as if they were childhood friends. However, that doesn't extend to physical contact. She's not gunshy necessarily about it, there's just...it's not really her thing. So there are no hugs from Lena, just friendsly smiles and waves and invitations in.
She makes a few clumsy attempts to be a hostess...offers something to drink, apologizes for the state of the place. Dumps the ashtray last-second in case anyone wants to use it. And then once everyone is seated and she's made all the offers and they've been accepted or denied, she takes a seat on one of the beanbag chairs, popping open one of the bigger twenty-four ounce Rockstars. The green label, for the record.
"I'm still a little in the dark here, so a recap of everything would be nice." She says it to Serafina, smiliung gratefully.
SerafíneAnd, a small exclamation, sudden as a Eureka moment - "Oh, fuck, Jim. Did I tell you I met a chick who Awakened like, Wednesday? Something about power stations and shit. Ones and zeroes. Remind me to give you her number before we leave, alright?
"Pan's still fucking around in Mexico." Burying parishioners or whatever: but hell. Sera is: a. sober and b. found a baby mage so c. he should probably get his ass back her tout suite.
Serafíne(BRB!)
JimJim smiles a nod to Serafine, agreeing with Lena's request, as he begins unloading the back. One wad of wrapped sandwich-and-filling after the other, they come, marked with their contents on a little patch of white butcher's tape.
He stops in his tracks, two sandwiches, one in each hand, as Serafine pipes up with that last quick remembrance. "Please, yeah," to the offer of her number, refocused and still smiling. "I think we should all try and make her feel welcome. We're... Kind of it, us and our friends, when it comes to the Awakened society of Denver."
And then he continues, looking down at the new keep of wrapped sandwiches. "Food enough for everyone, I hope," his own stomach rumbling a bit at the smell.
SerafíneLena says that she's still a little bit in the dark and Sera breathes out in a quiet rush. Peaked and a bit drawn and something about the edges of her is still unsettled or perhaps merely: unsettling. Her dark eyes find Lena's profile as she says she's a little bit in the dark and Sera's mouth seams and her brow narrows a bit because: she meant what she said. Has no idea what Lena knows and does not know.
"You know about the PCP, right?" A glance at Jim, here, Sera breathing out all at once as Lena confirms that she does indeed know about the PCP. So, Sera steps back just the one step but see: she does so with a glance away from all of them, down at the floor, with a creasing of her dark brows over her dark eyes.
"This guy named Byron took ten hits to a dealer named Dick Fairchild, right? I managed to get two of them. You guys found one vial. So that leaves seven hits floating around out there. Well, six if you don't count whatever's in Kelsey.
"Hawksley scryed out the locations of the other hits - at least where they were last week - and also found the maker of the drug in this cabin south of the city. We went out there a few days ago.
"Her name's Lydia. I didn't - I didn't actually talk to her, right? She was only doing it in their heads and I was keeping her out of mine, but I don't think she was really interested in our help. And I couldn't piece together what she was telling them so I started looking back, yeah?"
A wry glance at her hand, thoughtless this. A little bit of flexion as she watches the open edges of the wound move without thinking about it. She's still a little bit worn-down from it, Sera.
Sid"Hawksley gave someone my number," Sid adds, accepting one of the sandwiches from Jim. With permission from Lena, she takes one of the newer energy drinks even though it's Monday night and she has work in the morning because why not. "Grace. We're meeting on Wednesday."
She does not yet know that Grace thinks that she is a he. Won't that be a surprise for her on Wednesday, though hopefully not a great one.
Once she has food and a drink, Sid glances around for the best place to park herself. She ends up on one end of the futon, drink resting on the coffee table - on a coaster if it's available, directly on the surface if it's not - sandwich unwrapped and resting on her knee.
"Justin and I ran into a couple others. We...didn't stick around to get names," she says, and for the first time all night there's that familiar trace of worry in her brow, in the tight set of her lips, a sign that it probably didn't go so well.
Then Sera begins the summary. Sid doesn't offer much. She lets the talkative one get out most of the details. Though, when she says I don't think she was really interested in our help Sid lets out a sudden, slightly irritated huff.
Lena ReillyLena absorbs the information, waving off the sandwich from Jim with an appreciative smile. She folds one leg undernath her, the other resting across the first's ankle as she focuses her attention entirely on Sera. She takes in names...Lydia, Byron, Dick, even Hawkesley, who she very briefly met once but doesn't know much about. Her lower lip catches in her teeth absently as she takes it all in.
And, of course, she nods at mention of the PCP. She knows all about that.
She looks over at Sid when it's her turn. Justin...another name to take in. Other people, whose names none of them know.
"When you say that this Lydia was 'only doing it in their heads'...doing what, exactly?" She frowns a little at that. She doesn't like people who mess around in other peoples' heads.
Serafíne"Talking." To Lena. "She wouldn't speak aloud. She was using telepathy to speak to us. Didn't want to open the door, but she also had a bad wound on her throat, so maybe she was still healing and couldn't actually speak.
"Anyway, Lydia made the charms, right? She never intended them for Sleepers, just for the Awakened. Expansion of consciousness or whatever, I really couldn't see her motivation in the past. And I guess she told Sid and Hawksley that she meant them to help people, but for fuck's sake, her partner, Stav, Stavros, right? He got addicted to them and she - well, he got addicted to the charms she was making and became convinced that he could Awaken everyone if he just ... "
A brief pause, a faint shrug. Sera's no longer looking at any of them, and if there was a haunted edge to her drawn features when she began the story, that edge is sharpening as it continues, as she breathes it back into her body, as it unfolds itself again in her mind. Not quite breathless, not quite undone, but -
"Found a way to get it out into the world.
"So he went a little nuts, Stavros. Broke in and stole a bunch of her charms - not just the ten hits we've found, those are all just from one fucking batch. I mean, she made more. A shitload more, right? Gave them to this asshole, Byron. Who took his sampler platter of ten hits to Dick, tossed out a few to Kelsey and maybe some other folks, but is still sitting on a stash of some sort.
"Lydia tried to go back in time to stop Stavros from stealing the drugs, but he knew her magic the way you know the taste of a lover's skin and sensed her presence, her Work. He was fucked up - she feels like she's just striking off chains, Jim, you know? - and they fought.
"And she killed him.
"She says that there's nothing to be done for Kelsey or any other sleepers who've taken the drug, and then there's Byron out there. With god knows how much more.
"We have to find him," a sharp glance upward, arching toward Jim. " - and soon. Before he offloads more of that shit, right?
"Then there's Kelsey, though. She's been fucked up for weeks, just wandering around the fucking city, carrying these effects with her. Then for the last week and a half she's been unconscious, barely rousable. I don't believe that there's nothing that can be done for her, but - " a narrow little shrug. "I have no idea what. The drug can apparently open you up, make it possible for you to do things you can't normally do, right?"
Sid"Hawksley said it can be used to borrow higher levels of magic. Correspondance and Time and Mind. Lydia said she'd seen it used to help people, but, it's..." she trails. Dangerous, she could say. It's fucking PCP. Coupled with magic that would open the mind and open...everything. No wonder Stav got hooked.
She looks at Sera, standing across the way, having to tell this to them all over again. Sid looks at her and nods her head a little, like Come here with a question in the lift of her red brows. Sera might not see it, looking away from all of them as she is, but there's room over by Sid if she wants it.
If she doesn't, though, Sid leans forward to grab her can and take a drink before leaning back again.
Lena ReillyLena frowns. "Right, because PCP is the perfect drug to awaken if you're trying to help people, as opposed to, oh, make them unbelievably unstable and the equivalent of walking nuclear bombs..."
She lets it go though, and listens more. She frowns...of course it all went wrong. Really wrong. Death apparently, and drugs out loose in the world with the potential to be incredibly traumatic for Sleepers.
"Jesus." She stands up and starts walking. Lena thinks better when she's up and moving. It's a beat thing, a movement. Dance, walk...it's all motion. It gets her blood flowing, gets her brain active. Calms her.
She scowls at the insinuation that there's nothing to be done. "Well, I had an idea about using the drug to track its resonance to the maker...we could still do that, kind of. It'll be more complex, but if I can follow the line of resonance through the Lakashim back to its creation and I lock onto the resonance of Lydia when she made it, I could then follow it forward until it converges with Byron. And then follow him to the present."
She chews on her lip again, this time a bit more anxiously. "It'll be tricky, but if I can find the right beats it could definitely make for a followable trail. Sort of a connect the dots jaunt through space and time, you know?" It isn't lost on her how Doctor Who-ish that sounds. But now's not the time for digging out her bowtie or fez.
"But Kelsey first. I don't think that can be right...there's got to be something that can be done."
JimHis own brow is furrowing deeper and deeper as she'd spoken. He'd even lost his smile when she relays the charmcrafter's suspicion that sleepers like Kelsey who'd taken her creations are lost. He'd nodded when she'd said they needed to track down those now-stray hits. Jim's finger comes out, hooked, like he wants to say something.
"Some minds rest best asleep. Stir not those who would not awaken otherwise," he says, finally circling to take a seat with his own sandwich on his lap, though it's mostly...
Forgotten.
Who could eat after contemplating all these things.
"He needs to see what he's doing. What future he's creating, doing this, threatening to spread that stuff citywide. We have a way to do that, our Tradition. To show what ends your actions leave, what scars they leave on others."
But first Kelsey. And now Jim nods to this, looking to Lena with a hopeful smile.
"You're right. She can't be right. Or at least I hope she's as wrong as she was thinking making these things was a good idea," he says. "We can all try to help her. Try to heal what's left of her mind. Salvage her."
SerafíneSera catches the edge of Sid's glance; that thread of invitation toward the end. Gives the older woman the edge of a spare and bracing smile, rises from the beanbag she'd claimed when they first walked in, circles the small studio to bend down and kiss the crown of Sid's head, her hands on the edge of the chair behind Sid rather than on her shoulders. But she does not take the invitation, nor does she pace as Lena does.
She just - rises, right and stands with her arms crossed and her attention indirect. Now that she's standing it is past Jim and Lena and Sid, on their reflections in the windows overlooking the street.
"That sounds," a brief, curving edge to Sera's smile. Spare as the rest of her, and the supple lift of her eyes from the window to Lena. "complicated. But I think we can find him without taking it. Jim and I talked about it last week," and goddamnit, there better be a reason Sera's been sober for 8 days. She does give a supple little shrug, with the insertion of a nod to Jim's suggestion about how to handle Byron. " - anyway, I knew the guy once, right?
"But if taking the drug lets you expand your mind magic, your pattern-working, all of that, maybe it would give you a shot at healing her. Heading back into her lead to lead her back to - consciousness or safety or whatever. Give you a chance to unweave the threads of the work that have her pulled out of time, right? So that she could heal.
"I don't know. That was my thought, anyway. You might do some research, though. The library at the chantry?
"Y'all are the smart ones." Her mouth curves, wry here. "Me, I just like to party.
"You guys talk about it. I'm gonna get some air."
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