Shoshannah's 'kosher' is not entirely so, these days - there's only one sink in the kitchen, only one oven, only one set of pots and pans, and so on. However, all her ingredients are and she doesn't mix dairy with meat, nor does she drink grape juice that hasn't been prepared in the proper way (and marked with the appropriate seal - one imagines this would extend to wine as well if she were to start imbibing). To the girls credit, she's a better than mediocre cook - not great, no, with no cause to be so, but she was well taught at some point. The spread! Amongst her teaching, it seems, was not how to temper one's meals to the size of one's audience. There will be leftovers for days, even if she can convince her guests to take some home.
Upon entering the house, the senses are assaulted; there's music from the living room there, to the right and down a step or three, turned into a common, true living room with its television, game console, couches and beanbags, bar. In the dining room, the table is set and a buffet along one wall is set with appetizers - a trio of dips (tehina, hummus, baba ganouj) and an array of crackers and flatbreads to go with them, a fatoosh salad, falafel, tabouli. And from the kitchen? Such smells! Freshly baked bread (challah, as they'll all find out soon enough), herbs and spices, everything. This girl, ill tempered as she is, apparently has learned how to entertain somewhere along her journey. There, though, she's singing along with the music that plays in the living room, just loud enough to be heard (or maybe is ported through a fancy speaker system in this fancy house, who knows?) as she puts the finishing touches on various dishes so she can be ready for her guests.
(And Sid, who isn't really a guest at all.)
Outside, though, that's first. The house is difficult to find even when one is provided with an address, as far back as it is, as much as it blends into the countryside around it, but once one sees it! It's a gorgeous modern-classic affair, all wood and glass and metal ranch-lodge, lots of windows, lots of space. There's a large field in front, and an arc of a driveway that allows people to park all along it and not have to mess around with backing up and all that. There's a door. And a bell. And all those house things . . .
And when said bell rings, there's Shoshannah. Her feet are bare, and she wears some sort of pretty-conservative (as in of good aesthetic, not an addendum meaning 'very') skirt and blouse outfit. It really is a party, to her. Even knowing that she invited these people here, and who (or what, or both) they are? She's wary, defensive. Her eyes are heavy and sharp, and while her voice is sweet? Her tone never is.
"Hi. Come in - there's food."
Alyssa SolomonIt isn't a particularly common sight to see Alyssa Solomon at the Chantry. Denver's most prevalent (and perhaps only) Hollow One isn't one for communal houses so far; she's told others that she has bad luck with them (meaning that they have a tendency to get blown up or burned down). Still, she has been by before and a recent conversation with Sid had revealed that the place isn't exactly the center of most of the mages' universe. That intrigued her, and so she makes a decision to stop by and get yet another lay of the land. She isn't here for a party, it absolutely MUST be pointed out. She just
The woman's car can be heard before it's seen. The red 1989 Acura Legend Coupe isn't the flashiest or most stylish of cars, and it's nearly as old as she is. It runs loud and some might wonder of the battered old vehicle is about to break down, but it's reliable and runs without problems. Still, it's announcing her presence with a barely muffled engine roaring along as she pulls up into the driveway of the building. She kills the engine and slips out of the car. Her style of dress is casual, with a black tee that sports a raven in a cage on the front. Her leather jacket has a print of blood-spattered angel wings on the back...her own little joke, since it fits perfectly with the Resonance that travels with her (the coppery taste of blood at the back of your tongue and the rustling of feathered wings on the edge of your hearing). A pair of black jeans and steel-toed boots complete her clothing, with a spiked bracelet on one wrist. Makeup today consists of a purple theme, around the lips and dusted into the eyeshadow. There's a bit of intricate black lattice work on the corner of her eye. And of course, she never goes anywhere unarmed if she doesn't have to.
She pauses as she stands outside her car, looking the place over. She's been here before, and she has met with Callisto. She was regarded by the bear Guardian spirit, then given leave as most are. She runs a hand through her midback-length hair and then makes her way toward the front door, knocking before she enters. It's just polite, after all.
And then Shoshannah opens the door, and says Hi. Come in - there's food. The Hollower blinks at that, and raises an eyebrow. "Wow. A girl could get used to that greeting. Did some little spirit spy say I was coming or something?"
Alyssa Solomon[[Addendum to last sentence in first paragraph: "She just happened to come by at the right time."]]
Leonhard/Proclus"Well then," says the Jerbiton, and nothing more, dropping the keys on the dashboard.
The heavy-set Ford had pulled up with a polite pace, delivering the two magi with a firm pull of the handbrake. Noting the large window, Leonhard had killed the truck's lights during the final yards of their approach, all the better for anybody inside to see them clearly and without dazzle. They park around a space or two from the Loupe and any other Fellows' cars.
Exiting the driver's side, the dark-haired magus delves into the rear door briefly, retrieving a tan leather drawstring pouch. From his handling of it and its dimensions, yes, that would be the bottle he promised. He smooths himself briefly, looking to The House for a wistful moment, and then to Adam.
"Colorado Camelot," he ruminates, referencing their conversation and taking in the sight as he makes to move towards the place.
Alyssa Solomon[[Oh, and just because! Magedar! Per+Aware]]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (4, 6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )
Adam[Also Mage-dar! Pre-post, take that!]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
AdamHis basic mysteriousness is touch-and-go with other willworkers but just in case and for now he remembers to suppress it when he climbs out've the passenger side of Leonhard's truck. He is still: a not impressive figure, gangling young man with a dark tousle of hair, which was, prior to a long drive, somewhat tamed (relative to usual) but is now sticking up more on the left side than the right. He could've modelled for Gaiman's Dream of the Endless with that hair. Or possibly been shown by an up-and-coming bird realtor to just-starting-out bird newlyweds trying to beat the spring rush for housing as a 'cozy fixer-upper.' He's wearing a warm woollen coat of some indeterminate but dark gray, a scarf also of grays, maybe he went wild and threw in a black, and he's pale with cold when he's getting out of the truck, reaches into the back of said truck in order to grab one of those little gift-bags you get at a grocery store on your way out. We do mean little: it's tiny, not much longer than hand-sized. He did not bring booze, but Leonhard already swore to bring some amazing wine (does grey wine count as kosher wine?), and that's Adam. He trimmed his beard so it's a dark lick of a thing, perfect for blackguards, although: he does not give off the impression of a blackguard, does he? Too soft. Too slouch-y, that bookreader's hunch like he'd be the illuminated manuscript illumination for 'C' in any Magi of Denver Alphabet Book for Novices. He tried to be presentable. He didn't do terribly.
And so. Adam has not been here before. He is as a matter of fact shamelessly hopskotching over Kalen's promise to take him. He looks at the House and its surroundings with curiousity, of course, because he truly does not know what to expect of it.
It's an adventure.
A quest.
Adam likes adventures and quests quite as much as any Peter Pan ever did, and so: there's Alyssa at the door, there's Shoshannah opening the door to invite Alyssa in, and here's a brace of Hermetics (slouching towards Bethlehem? Adam is slouching, anyway), the younger of the pair cocking his head at the Hollower's back and resonance and he recognizes her but doesn't yell her name or Shoshannah's name or anything that might approach jubilance or rudeness or holy shit some guy is yelling behind me --
Adam is also quiet
-- but when they're near enough he says, "Hello again!"
Leonhard/Proclus[[More incidental than active: Mage-dar]]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Shoshannah"Oh!" The girl says when she opens the door and it's Alyssa rather than someone she'd expected, invited - she's not bothered by this at all, obviously (except that she is for reasons that have little to do with the woman herself and more to do with the resonance that sets everything about Shoshannah to nervous, on edge), but rather surprised to find the Hollow One rather than someone else entirely. "No. I . . . Some people are coming over. For dinner."
It takes her a moment to realize how harsh and inhospitable that sounds, and to attempt to recover.
"There's plenty, if you're hungry. Adam, Lenny," she is capable of nicknames!, "and Sid are coming. And I cooked . . . well, a lot of things."
And then, not far behind Alyssa, the aforementioned Hermetics have arrived. It's Adam who speaks, all greeting, and him she smiles at first, not-quite-shyly, heart breakingly. "Hello. This is Alyssa. And hors d'ouvres are out."
Alyssa SolomonShe's always keeping her senses alert. The occultist has known since before she even had her supernatural sixth sense that you should always keep an eye out for Resonances; the result of a good Hermetic education. And so she feels Adam and Leonhard before she sees them. One of the two she knows--and she is far better at placing names to Resonance than she is names to faces, anyway. Faces can be changed. Resonance...that's not as easy to fake.
Leonard's helpful, supporting inspiration is new to her though, and it causes her to turn her head and snap those intricately made-up eyes to him. There's nothing suggesting wariness in her stance or posture; her muscles don't tense up. She just quirks that painted eyebrow again, head tilting to the right. "Well, lucky me. I stop by and get to meet someone new." She quirks a little half-grin and raises a hand, wiggling her fingers to the two before she nods to Shoshannah and steps inside. Introductions can wait until they're at least not all standing on the porch.
Leonhard/Proclus"Snap," quirks Leonhard (Lenny...) in response to the half-grinned greeting from Alyssa, his accent in full evidence but his tone quite pleasant, even jovial for a second. His eyes quickly shift from the building at to hers as he says it.
He brandishes the bottle-bag for Shoshannah's benefit, this magus of three-quarter-lenght moleskin and denim and even a smile. Yes, as promised, within must be Marcusio's grey.
"Shoshannah," comes the warm nod as he enters, pulling off his scarf with the spare hand.
AdamA woman without a reflection and a resonance of blood-drenched wings, a man without a shadow who feels valiant and relentless, a man who's a criminal served-his-time but has a magical signature like he's inspiring like he's supportive like he's somebody's Muse: of course, in Denver, they'd be hosted by an angry [defensive (riled)] girl who feels like creepy midnight ghosts running their fleshless bone-needle fingers in a tender caress up the back of your neck (witch, witch, witch). Ladies and gentlemen: The Principal Players.
In they go! It's cold outside! Adam looks cold. Adam, who is cold, wants to get inside, so there's no lingering, Alyssa then Leonhard then Adam, all inside now! And of course, Shoshannah's not-quite-shy smile is returned with smile of his own, having forgotten all about his little gift-bag. Skin around his eyes crinkles.
"Lucky us, you stop by and I get to see my prospective partner-in-crime less smoke and brimstone. Work treating you all right, Alyssa?"
"Shoshannah, erm," Adam, reach into your history, think about what you would have said if this were one of your mother's friends, "I'm faint with hunger, so lead the way. I implore you."
"Er! Proclus Vaduz bani Jerbiton, meet Alyssa Solomon bani... I do not know. Oh." The 'oh' is him mentally going 'whoops,' because Shoshannah's the hostess and he probably should've let her start the introduction ball go rolling. The 'whoops' is a muscle memory spasm of politeness.
Adamooc: WITHOUT THE SOLOMON
Adamooc: Because I don't think he knows that *grin*
Alyssa Solomon[[No worries! Yeah, he doesn't have the last name yet. They didn't hit the "last name" stage of their relationship yet. =D ]]
Shoshannah"Alyssa bani Hollower, isn't it?" Shoshannah squints a bit, sure she'd heard it at some point - the summer evening they first met, perhaps, or the fall afternoon she'd appeared at the Chantry for the first time. Or maybe it's just a good guess based on stereotypes and assumptions, who knows? Either way, this 'bani' stuff is a lot for the tall, thin, witch-ghost (or ghost-witch, except she's not dead . . . just Death's handmaiden) to remember and keep straight. Some types of formality come easily, naturally, but that isn't one of them. And she doesn't seem put out by Adam performing introductions in the slightest - it's fine, it means she doesn't have too.
And so, to the [sinister] left, into the dining room, they go; there, she indicates the buffet and names the dishes she's prepared. "Tehina, hummus, baba ganouj, tabouli, falafel, and fatoosh salad." The breads and crackers, she feels, are self explanatory. "I have a chicken matzoh ball soup, some Lokshen Kugel, some zucchini pritti. A challah loaf. Fig and cheese blintzes." She shrugs, as if to indicate 'no big deal'. "Sid's bringing cake, when she gets here."
Now, that series of pleasantries seen too, the girl is a bit awkward, uncertain. "You know each other, then?" She means Alyssa and Adam, obviously.
Alyssa SolomonIt's introduction time now, and Adam introduces Leonhard. The goth woman shows some recognition in the mention of the Liechtensteinian's House, and she seems a little surprised. "Jerbitron? Jesus, I haven't heard of many Jerbitrons this side of the Atlantic." She gives him a nod; there's no offered hand, though she will take a hand of one is offered to her. "Alyssa Solomon, bani Hollow Ones. Occultist by trade. Private Investigator to pay the majority of the bills, though."
Her attention turns to Adam now, her arms crossing over her chest. "We'll get to how work's treating me in a second. First, though...if we're doing bani this and what I have to assume is a Craft Name and such, what do I get to call you outside of just 'Adam?'" It's said with a little sparkle of tease in her eye, though the rest of her has the facade of You think you can get away with not introducing yourself, hmm? to it.
Shoshannah asks if they know each other, and Alyssa gives a little shrug as she follows along to the dining room. "We had a brief dalliance, I guess you could say. Not enough that I got more than a first name, but hey...that's the way it those strangers in the night things go sometimes, right?" There's no way she can't be unaware of the innuendo, but it's all part and parcel to the tease for not yet introducing himself.
Leonhard/ProclusIt is not Caer Moelis. There is no cell awaiting him. It is not Valnastium. It is not a burnt wreck in memory. It is not Cad Gadu. It is not Camelot. It is, however, pleasant enough, and it is certainly warmer by far than the truck.Hollower. He thinks of Gustav, wherever he is trudging, hopefully in the cold, and certainly better there than here. Ruining things...He pulls the bottle from its home. So often over the past years, he had taken it out. Held it to the light, watched it as if it might sing or perform. But, no, it is not Magick as such, simply different. Near extinction, rare. Unconsciously, he again holds up a little it to the light in the dining room, examining it, as if he hadn't done so earlier that evening before leaving. It is a splendid bottle, indeed, the work of the craftsmen of Trinite, but Mundane. Mere glass and the beautiful sweat that went into blowing it. Blown with the air of Concordia, a remnant in itself. Textured like an orange, it is the rival of Earth's best, but the work of consors, the Aware perhaps, but not a Master.That distinction lies within its clear skin. A grey wine beneath the textured glass and the label. Marcusio, 1976. Plain writing, plain message, surly Master. No doubt, it was written by one of his many suffering vineyard peasants. Marcusio, for all his divinity in matters grape and grain, was a bastard well known... but his wines... almost gone from this world, or any other... his wines!
His muted reverie at the sight of the wine is shunted from him by manners. He turns back from the bottle, though it remains aloft for the others to see.
"Oh, I expect, then, you've met about all of us in me, Alyssa," he smiles, more pleased than curious that somebody knows what a Jerbiton is. Meditate later, ask later, speak now. "Occultist. I'm more a... well, I suppose you could say I'm a professional interferer in the aesthetic Arts, but it's not so far removed, is it? It's very good to meet you and, Shoshannah, that certainly looks a filling feast. It looks lovely. If I wasn't hungry before, which I in fact was beginning to be, then I certainly would be now."
He passes the bottle to Adam, whether the Bonisagan expected it or not. Here, seems to be the message of passing it, enjoy this for yourself for a moment, Frere.
AdamHe has awkward moments. (We're about to witness one.) But he is far too self-possessed (or - proud? [arrogant?]) to feel awkward in social situations. Thus: Shoshannah's not quite sure what to do next. Adam knows what to do - or isn't worrying about it. He's looking at the table with rather wide eyes, and remembering that his stomach does exist and that he hasn't been feeding it as often as it would like. Were it a snake, it'd break through the glass and devour some hapless house-pet (like Ruse). Thankfully it is not a snake. It is a stomach. And it is not sentient. It is just growly.
First: he grins when Alyssa calls him out. It's coupled with a heh, the presentiment of one've his little inward slouch-shoulder laugh, animated by it, but his eyes are all for the food now, looking over the spread with polite (ravenous) interest, a cypher for his keen interest at the conjuring up of the Fake Tradition. Still. What do I get to call you outside of just 'Adam'?
"I do prefer," wait. He starts to look a little absent-minded, cocking his head to the side, just so, brow a-furrow, or the shadow of a furrow-to-come, and - wait. Did she - ? He - er. He drags his eyes away from the food and over to Alyssa - and he scruffs one hand through his hair, ruining the eastern view for any bird's looking to nest. He's a serious young man, Adam, in spite of the occasional banter. "…er…" yes, prefer became prefer---er--
"--prefer Adam. But it's Dominic Adam Julian Gallowglass bani Bonisagus, Initiate Exemptus, at all manner of service."
Brief self-reflective eye-squint there, too. Did that? No. There was no innuendo there. Damn you, ears. You better not be pink.
"We in Federal near the tarot reader Sibyl's shop." Yes. That saved it. Good job, serious Hermetic. He clears his thr--hey look, a bottle of wine. "Oh, er, did I seem to be needing this? Thank you, Proclus."
Adamooc: ahem, met in Federal. god damn, the typos and words.
ShoshannahShoshannah is just Shoshannah, at least as far as anyone knows - anything else is shoved down, back, inside somewhere behind those prickles and walls, behind that temper and aggressiveness - and so this talk of multiple names and fanciness is an amusement to her. It tinkles like wine glasses and chandeliers, like masques and laughter, and so the Dreamspeaker listens, watches, but doesn't participate. While she fully knows how to assert herself in most situations, this is not one and so she lets them banter around her.
Adam eyes the food, though, and so she gently nudges him (and her hand feels like the grave whether it touches cloth or skin - it seeps through, sucks away) towards the small plates she's set out for the appetizer spread. The touch is brief, but there, and only reinforces that general death-chill she puts out - unwittingly, for the most part. Certainly unwillingly.
"Eat. I'll bring out the soup in a little bit, if that's okay - what kind of wine is that, Proclus? My grandparents and mother are connoisseurs with extensive collections, but I've not seen that sort of bottle."
Alyssa SolomonShe can't lie (well, she can, but she can't at this moment): Alyssa is enjoying Adam's being flustered. It's a fairly good-natured mirth on the Hollower's part at this point; she's not taking it to a malicious level. There's just something about setting the Bonisagus on his heels that seemed like a fun thing to do at the moment, and it makes for a good ice breaker in her estimation to boot. Not many would use the false implication of Yeah, we totally boned in opening introductions as an ice breaker. Alyssa is one of those rare few. Poor Adam.
But he weathered through it well, or at least as well as can be expected. So she chuckles a little and nods, to confirm what Adam said instead of saying Oh, is that what Hermetics call it these days?. "It was a brief meeting, but an interesting one. Adam was trying to be subtle, as you do when sitting down to enjoy some good pho and have the ability for said subtlety."
Proclus says he's a professional interferer in the aesthetic Arts, and Alyssa's lips quirk in amusement at that, and the suggestion that it's similar to Occultist. "I suppose that depends there, Proclus. That's an impressive wording for a job description but doesn't say a lot about what exactly it is." It's not said with an intentional rudeness, though of course it may be taken that way. "After all, I could intepret that to imagine you get paid to do things like run up to peopple doing sculpture and break the work with a lead pipe, then run off. Or paint over graffiti art. Or stop people who try to use Mentis on others to their own gain."
The food certainly does catch her attention and she is impressed by the amount and specifics of it. She's not a connoisseur of food though; any chance she may have had to become such was cut off early in her youth. "Damn, Shoshannah. That's a lot of food." Of course, Shoshannah isn't just Shoshannah. She's a Dreamspeaker. Alyssa knows that much. That she doesn't use bani or her last name doesn't mean she's just her first name.
Leonhard/ProclusHe thinks, Adam, that would be its own answer. Oh, oh, no, don't blush; I met your Mater, and there stand Shoshannah, otherworldly in beauty. You're surely more used to women than that! The thirty-something elder Hermetic almost winks at his fellow guest, his manner towards him clearly (to the others) akin to that of a friendly cousin, but refrains. There is, after all, the drive back for any ribbing. (As well as the rest.) He does, however, smile to Alyssa. A "see what you've done" smile, a quiet smile, almost a wink in itself. Nothing sustained, nothing so much as aloof, but there, gentle, friendly.
Bonisagans. All genius, no caress. All work, and the wrong play. He imagines that, at a push, the Pointy Hat could name the grape but not the taste...
"That, Adam, ladies, is one of the very last bottles of Marcusio '76 in existence. At least, it was ten years ago so it may be the last. I have been saving it for... something like tonight, I suppose."
"I have burnt the odd canvas," he says in response to Alyssa's talk of smashing a sculpture, "But mostly my own. Fair point, that, though. I help others find their better intention, as artists. As souls, perhaps. Certainly, it's... Rewarding. Or, at least, can be. Finding those occluded invitations to the Muse that they might otherwise miss in themselves. The Occult, explored, shared."
He is quite happy to be told to eat, even clapping his hands and rubbing them agreeably. Helplessly drifting towards the food, he smoothly explains that the vineyard (and Master Marcusio bani Verditius) were, of course, lost along with the rest of Horizon, that the bottle had been a gift upon reaching the Fifth Degree (some time back before the Crimean War, he jokes, pinching at himself in words) and something that shall taste like a song. Although, he concludes, it is not Marcusio's '78 which could bring about temporary synaesthesia and literally taste like a song, "I expect it will taste quite, quite sublime. Marcusio was a... well, he was an oaf, a sour old shit by all recollections, who disdained red-with-meat, white-with-fish snobbery as he called it, so he created the grey to suit almost any meal. (Allegedly, the mauve he started with gave him the most appalling rash, so he went with the grey.) I'll miss it, but it has to be drunk sometime, doesn't it?"
Although he talks at some length, it is a smooth address, an inclusive cascade of words. An effusive sharing of things beyond himself with those around him. Shoshannah. Alyssa. Adam. They are all included in the enthusiasm with which he delivers his words of the wine. His words of pleasant company. Shoshannah certainly has her answer but he adds, "So, long to the short, grey wine, bit odd, good with this."
AdamGrave-touch, warmth-leeching, la belle dame sans merci cold. That'll get Adam's attention sharped up. See? Any hint or danger of blush there-by fades (thank you), and there's a curious flick of a look for the Dreamspeaker. Natural response to a gentle arm-touch: attention drawn up. Makes some 'of course bringing the soup out later is fine' gesture.
Adam, being the current keeper of the wine, being bid to eat again, searches among the plates for a wine-bottle opener, but if and when he finds one hands it off to Proclus with an:
"The honor of opening this should be yours; it's your gift, and thank you." Even, that: even and steady and with an edge of curiousity again, sublimated, and subtle. Read it in the way he looks at the seal.
But there is also: heaping a plate full of food, and picking a seat at the table, and taking it for his own. Let's say it's right by the head or the foot, whichever's nearest the food. The little gift-bag of whatever has been abandoned next to the baba ghanouj.
ShoshannahIt does her good to see people eating - perhaps there's some truth to the stereotype about Jewish folk feeding people, though she's made no reference to Judaism beyond the fact that she keeps Kosher. She doesn't ask for prayer, or dress as an orthodox Jew might, no. And there is, indeed, a wine opener on the sideboard, along with a bottle of wine that may have been brought by Kalen, or Sera, or Hawksley, or Sid, or . . . well, by anyone, really, other than the girl who doesn't leave all that often, now, and isn't old enough to buy even if she did. There are also glasses of the generic sort - white or red or anything in between.
"Thanks for bringing it, My grandfather was insistent on red-wine-red-meat, but Nona always said life was too short to stand on such ridiculous ceremony. She'd be fascinated by this, I think, something that wasn't either and also wasn't that sacrilege called a blush or a rose." She says the last with audible quotations; it's clearly something she's heard many times before, and it amuses her.
"Can I get anything for anyone? There's a water pitcher there, on the table, and there's quite the selection of beers and sodas in the refrigerator. I need to stir and check, but can bring things back with me, if you'd like."
Alyssa SolomonThe discussion of the bottle of wine is heard, but disregarded. If she has any knowledge of fine vintages, she doesn't show it nor interest. There are more important and interesting things in the world than that. The important part is that it's the last. But then, it's not the only last of its kind here at the house today, so it isn't even unique in that, to Alyssa's mind.
"Ahh, musing." She nods a little bit to Leonard. "I guess that makes sense with your House. There are certainly worse things to do in this world, I suppose." It's a part of the world that Alyssa is aware of, but doesn't do much work in. Generally the only time she needs to go investigate the artistic side of the world is when a painting is cursed or a sculpture is haunted by its owner. Or, a little more commonly, someone stole a favorite art piece of book from their ex-spouse in a divorce and they need proof in order to sue.
"To be honest, I'm not hugely hungry, but thanks Shoshannah. I'll definitely hang and share some wine though. I'm good otherwise."
She makes a move to sit down somewhere near where the others are, taking the jacket off and settling it along the back of the chair just before she does. The others may take note of some things as she does so; first and foremost is the Smith & Wesson .45 ACP pistol toward the back of her beltline, on the right-hand side. It's a dark polish, kept in pristine condition in a clip holster. The other thing--which Shoshannah and Adam already know, but which may be noticed by Proclus among the reflections of the silverware, perhaps the window or other mirrored surfaces--is that she doesn't cast a reflection. Everyone else is there of course, but not her. The chair pulls itself out in that reflection, for no one to sit in even when Alyssa is there. And the last is the small collection of light scars and one or two still-healing scabs along her arms. One could accuse her of being a cutter--one of those emo teens who hurts themselves in order feel something--but it's different for her. She certainly doesn't seem like the morose, emo type at least.
Leonhard/ProclusHe aims himself to sits in clear view of (or, rather, for) Shoshannah. She of the Defensive resonance, but moreso she who invited them. Getting comfortable, he pauses, something catching his eye. Or not. Yes, he stalls for a moment, but it is the thinnest of moments. The glass. The silverware. Nowhere is Alyssa to be found but in the looking at her. Yet, it is to Adam that he glances, animated again as quickly as his stalling had hit him. Adam. He of no shadow. Alyssa. She of no reflection. Perhaps that's a hint of pleasure in his eye as it carefully oversees the opening of the possibly-probably last Marcusio '76. A pleasure. So long away from such company as have no shadows, no reflections, no Sleep in them...
However, shortly after sitting and receiving the bottle back from Adam, he gets up again and with bodily grace stands to deliver the first glass of the wine to the side of the Dreamspeaker. Hostess. Chef. Mage. Invitation. Chantry. Thankyou.
"I won't tell the police if you don't," he says spryly, returning to his seat and passing a glass to the others before pouring a fourth, almost the last the bottle will allow, for his own glass.
He smells the wine. Diligently, delighted. Transported, his eyes closed. Something on par with a sensory serenity sweeps across him.
"If I may, a toast..." he says, sharply adopting a pomposity and stiffness quite at odds with his previous manner. He raises his glass as if in the presence of monarchs and generals. But it doesn't last. He smiles. Grins, even, relaxed. His manner almost immediately loosens again, and the smile goes to Shoshannah. A warmth; an absolute lack of prim pomposity. "To Nona."
AdamCan I get anything for anyone? I need to stir and check, etcetera, gets by way of reply from Gallowglass: "This is enough. Except for... You. Sit down, when the stove's not demanding." It's a gentle enough request, not jovial, not, hah hah, sit down, sit down, just: sit down. We're here for the company too, eh? That could be the subtext. "Or if you want help..."
He can stir. That thread's left dangling to be taken up and made into something, if Shoshannah wants. And onward. Scars and two healing scabs. Were she Verbena, he wouldn't wonder for a moment. His gaze wouldn't grow meditative, catching those signs of blood-letting, or not so deeply.
Leonhard's glance is met, of course; and Adam's response is a minicsule lift of an eyebrow, and then let that moment pass on. Adam's still meditative. Takes a bite of something delicious (tabbouleh, maybe), while wine's being poured, then gets up a half-a-beat after Leonhard in order to join in the toast.
"To Nona."
Shoshannah"To Nona," she says with a sparkling smile that's genuine and startling all the same; it's not often people see her this way, see, all pleased and shimmering in her role as hostess, as chef du jour. Most often, when people are here, she's tucked into a corner of the Library, or her room, or the office, our outside somewhere, or generally out of the way. It's not that she minds being around the others terribly or anything, just that . . .
Well. We'll blame it all on stunted social growth, which is changing - slowly, though. These things take time.
"Oh, most things are done. It's just maintenance now, until we're ready to eat the meal. It starts with soup, you know? Then there's the main dish, then salad, then Sid's cake for dessert." And, if the amount of appetizers she's made is indication, the meal itself? Will be enough filling enough to keep them sated for a week, at least. "I can turn everything off, now, and it'll keep warm enough long enough. But it needs that last little bit of attention, and . . ." Here, it's her turn to blush a bit, flustered. Clearly, she's not accustomed to this much interaction, or this sort thereof. "You can help. If you'd like. It will only take a moment."
Leonhard/Proclus[[Hi there. Good to 'see you' IC again. Maybe you've already got it sorted for bringing Serafine into the scene but... I think it's Alyssa next post before me but I'd be more than happy to hang back until after you bring Sera in if you'd like.]]
Serafíne(hee, it is good to see you again too! and aww, thank you! I am working on a post / working out how she needs to react to alyssa's resonance and I appreciate the welcome and offer. (grins))
Leonhard/Proclus[[Superb! Shall go after you, then.]]
Shoshannah[And this is the point where Shoshannah deals with things in the kitchen for an hour and a half-ish of real time because I have choir. Back after that!]
Alyssa SolomonAlyssa has no problem with the toast, and she raises her glass when she gets it. "To Nona, indeed." She titls her head a little to the side, watching Leonhard curiously when he interacts with Shoshannah. There's a slight raised eyebrow, but she doesn't say anything, just takes a drink of her wine.
"So, Proclus. What's a Jerbitron doing in Denver? Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad thing by any remote stretch. I'm just curious, it's not the place I would expect to find one." She sits back in her chair, smiling a bit to the Dreamspeaker as she heads off her own way and then looking back to the two Hermetics she remains in the dining room with. There's something curious and slightly amused to her about the three of them being in each other's company right now.
AdamYou can help. If you'd like. It will only take a moment.
This is what happens, then.
Adam, standing for the toast, takes a quaff of that rich and sweet wine out've some old Lord Dunsany tale, salt-sea wine, maybe, and he blinks in surprise. Mm.
"Don't forget," he tells Alyssa. "Your work stories. I think you said something about we'll leave how work is doing for now, and now's long, erm, since passed, and you seem to have such good stories..."
He has very little shame. Adam Gallowglass.
And then, as Alyssa asks Leonhard the question which will (perhaps? To a Hollower? Hmf) bring up the old story, he excuses himself and follows Shoshannah to help.
He reappears very, very shortly after, while the din and clamor kitchenwards becomes somewhat frantic, shrugging. Perhaps Proclus is still replying to Alyssa's question as he slips back into his seat, and perhaps he'll explain the kitchenward disaster afterward, but perhaps not.
SerafíneThe door leading from the garage into the kitchen swings open and that's the noise that heralds Sera's arrival. The door-opening noise and the door-swinging back too fast because of the force of its outward swing and the girl-kicking-it-further-open-with-her-mad-heels-to-keep-it-open-for-the-dude-coming-up-behind-her noise. That noise, those noises. The echo of a conversation begun outside at the liftgate of an old conversion van and brought inside along with a few brown paper bags' worth of booze-and-beer. Sera does not come bearing the possibly-probably last Marcusio '76; just Stranahan's and Kanon vodka and maybe some 4 Copas Tequila Esposado and a case or two or three or god-knows-what of various microbrews.
There's no real conversation between them; they're actually pretty quiet for a Sera-and-Dan entering the chantry. The rattle of bottles and rustle of boxes and paperbags, yeah. Dan inhales deeply and probably comments on all the food, all, someone's having a dinner party and Sera is all yeah? and wouldn't know enough to notice because she does nothing cooking-related in the kitchen except occasionally wake up and wonder how she got there, hung the fuck over and stirring the strangest things.
Shoshannah disappears into the kitchen to find that the kitchen table and one of the counters are piled-high with bottles of booze and two tattooed musicians are having a rather close conversation. Dan's hand on Sera's shoulder, his mouth against the shaved fringe of her hair, right over her right ear.
Sera is remarkably drunk to look so sober but there it is. Something in the air tonight, you know? Dan apologizes to Shoshannah for the mess, tells her he'll clear off the kitchen table if she needs it for staging, and she must wave him off or maybe there's enough counterspace because both Dan and Sera appear in the door between the kitchen and the dining room, following Adam. Sera doesn't sit down quite yet and Dan still has a hand on her shoulder, warm and familiar.
Somewhere in there she'll slip in another introduction, probably after Leonhard has responded to Alyssa's question. What she'll say after that, to Dan, is "This is the other dude from the bookstore," and to Leonhard, "This is Dan, he's cool," and to Alyssa, or maybe at first more Dan than Alyssa, "We haven't met," and then more to Alyssa than anyone else,
a smilem but a spare one. Names et cetera will come later. Sera is a little bit sobered by the sensation of blood in the back of her throat, but she joins the party then and probably doesn't slip into an empty seat so much as decide to perch her ridiculous ass right on the table, at the head or foot, as if she belonged there.
Adam[let's see. IS adam percept-y? i will say he is anyway if this is somehow a botch but i wanna see how much otherwise! which is kind of cheating, blah.]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 6, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) Re-rolls: 1
Leonhard/Proclus"Precisely why I wound up here," the Hermetic explains, though without yet explaining. "To be honest, Boulder interests me perhaps more than Denver. Still, I'm glad to hear your, ah, professional thought there. I chose Colorado as a place to hide."
He finishes a mouthful. Enjoying it. Not avoiding the topic, but certainly not avoiding a good feed, either. Finished with the mouthful that had punctuated the reply, though only as conversation over a meal might in any other circumstance, he sips from the wine again. (Oh, that is bloody wonderful..!)
Adam's departure might have provided an opportunity to tread a different path, but no. Open secrets and public knowledge... There is a dry look after Adam as the Bonisagan heads out. A mechanical look, a political look...
"Sorry. Not trying to avoid this," he presages with a direct look to Alyssa. "You see, since 2004, I was.... Actually, you know what? You seem familiar with the Order; I'll use... Oh." Interrupted mid-sentence by the arrival of the woman he nearly spike-danced with so recently, he flicks a polite glance at Alyssa. He's not avoiding the telling of some story or other but clearly it would be even more rude to bulldozer through with it after Serafine's entry.His soup finished, his wine in hand, yes, it's the other dude from the bookstore. "Hello. I see you found somebody to dance with now you don't have those spikes." It's warm, breezy, but a little surprised. Ah. Ecstatic, surely. Surprised and pleased.
Alyssa SolomonAdam tries to hold her to her promise to tell her work stories, and the goth girl gives a little grin and a shrug, as if to say We'll see. She turns her attention back to Leonhard then, ready to listen to his tale. The tale, as it turns out, takes a few moments to come and her interest doesn't perk up anymore than it already is (which, to be fair, is at a certain measurable level--she did ask, after all) until he stars to talk about trying to avoid things and her familiarity with the Order.
That's when Serafine and Dan come in, and the Hollower turns to give the two a curious look. Sera gets that feeling off of Alyssa of the taste of sticky copper at the back of her tongue and the rustling of feathered wings in her ear; the latter matches the back of her leather jacket and the former matches the marks on her arm. Alyssa, for her part, is drawn in by that compelling nature of the Ecstatics, at least to a degree. Sera introduces Dan and herself; the Hollower gives them both a nod. There's definitely some curiosity there, and some presumptions being made. Alyssa has been around the Awakened longer than her twenty-eight years might expect, and she never makes her assumptions to a point of certainty but there are assumptions that can be made for sure.
"We haven't." She reaches up and wiggles her fingers, then reaches over to offer the hand to Serafine. "I'm Alyssa Solomon, bani Hollow Ones." She looks at the Consor and throws him a smile. "Nice to meet you Dan."
SerafíneDan - Sera's consor - is a tall, rather lean hipster with a full blond beard wearing black skinny jeans and a blue-and-purple check-striped button-down flannel shirt. He wears glasses, sometimes, and knit beanies and his button-down shirt is rolled up to his elbows revealing a plethora of tattoos, colorwork mostly, in contrast to Sera's visible ink, which is all black and gray, and he stands beside her, or really, sort of behind her where she sits at the table's end.
"Leichtenstein, right?" This is Dan to Leonhard. See, he heard the story. He also saw a text about gerbal tron but he doesn't say a goddamned thing about that. Favors Leonhard with a flash of a grin, over the crown of Sera's head, white teeth framed by his beard. He gives her shoulders a squeeze.
A small wiggle of her feet, just for Leonhard. He's right: no spikes tonight. Just a pair of battered Doc Martens, wrapped 'round with leather straps secured with tarnishing silver buckles. Still, Sera avers, "He doesn't fucking dance. He sort of bobs mechanically to the rhythm. Sometimes he does the robot and doesn't mean to, you know? But he's a kick-ass guitarist."
Then a flash back up to Alyssa; Sera plants the flat of her left palm on the dining room table as ballast and reaches across all the delicious hors d'ouevres and shakes Alyssa's hand. She's wearing a beaten gold ring on her right index finger, and a larger ring on her left, covering the ring and middle fingers both, with an iron spike in the middle. Truthfully it is hard for Sera to look at Alyssa. It's probably just as hard for her to shake Alyssa's hand, but she does.
"Serafíne. Call me Sera."
AdamAdam is: hungry. The wine is: good. He slips back into position like the shadow he does not have might; quietly, absorbant, ready for cues on what he missed. Serafíne and Dan's arrival just-after-him probably gives Alyssa and Leonhard an idea of what Shoshannah is doing now. Do you see? He is there when Leonhard says 'a certain familiarty with the Order'; he is there to give Alyssa a reflective look, while - er - he is young and hungry and starving and not in danger of losing his temper over somebody sitting on the table. Thankfully, it isn't his desk. Serafine. And Sid. Perhaps it is something in the letter S. S for sitting.
Dan is a kick-ass guitarist. "Were those monster-shoes for some kind of 'rock' , 'concert', then?"
There is a certain deliberate invoking of the archaic ingenue there - not quite a deadpan. An archaic ingenue. He did make the finger quotations, and then he swallowed some wine. Swallow. Ahh.
"Bet you'd have liked them, Alyssa."
The monster-shoes.
Leonhard/Proclus"Not enough lately but, yes, Liechtenstein," he says to Dan, standing up. Ecstatics. It would appear that Alyssa is not the only one with an interest in that Tradition, and he offers his glass towards Sera and Dan. It's what he brought the wine for, after all. "You've got to try this. It's from the other side of the Gauntlet. Horizon. Here."Yes, the glass is offered forward to the ass-perched Ecstatic and Cool Consor Dan. The lack of the monster-shoes is... politely welcome. It's safe to move near Serafine tonight, he thinks, not that he's getting too close. Only close enough to offer the glass. "Guitar. Always liked guitar," he mentions kindly to Dan. He doesn't dance, but he does nod at the Martens. Almost seeming to miss that Adam is, indeed, enjoying the wine himself. Good. Good.
Leonhard/Proclus[[Well... the formerly ass-perched Sera, that is. :) ]]
Leonhard/Proclus[[Oh, hey, just in case you thought I missed it... loving the Gerbal Tron.]]
Alyssa SolomonDan has heard the story, and Alyssa knows the lore. They're both missing each other's pieces of knowledge, but it gets to the same place. But that's happening as Serafine reaches over and takes the Hollow One's hand. She isn't immune to noting the Ecstatic's lack of comfort around her. She may even guess at it.
"Sera, okay. I've heard your name mentioned a few times. Nice to finally have a face to put to it." She's not gentle or nuturing, but she also has no need to throw Sera's discomfort back in her face. So she makes the handshake brief and pulls back. "Surprised it's taken this long for us to come into contact."
She listens to Sera describe Dan's guitar skill, and Adam say she would have liked the shoes, and chuckles. "I am a bit of a monster shoe connoisseur. Not so much that I'm obsessive about it, though."
And then she's completing the circle, looking back to Leonhard who has so tantalizingly stumbled over trying to explain why he's in Denver but has now stopped discussing it. The look on the goth's face suggests that she's not letting it yet, as she gives him an expectant look.
SerafíneAdam says 'rock' and 'concert' in quotes and Dan gives him a bit of smirk over Sera's head, but not enough of a smirk to erase the warmth behind his eyes or in his voice. "Naw," the man is saying, in the cross-talk. "Those were coming-to-visit-your-shop shoes. Here's a secret, they hurt her feet too much for her to get through an hour or two on stage in them."
That earns Dan a impolite-in-the-ribs from one Sera, as she is drawing back from that brief handshake with Alyssa. Who has heard Sera's name and is surprised they haven't met before.
"I'm not surprised," Sera to Alyssa, as she reaches for the wine Leonhard offers her, "I haven't been out much lately," which has been on the other side of the gauntlet and which is enough to release Sera from whatever passing and spare melancholy darkens her eyes just then.
To Leonhard, "Shit really?" - and brief ghost of a grin. Sera's too young; she's a new-made Disciple and she does not know the War except in stories. She's what's left: after. "I know I've never had anything like that. That's fucking amazing. Where the hell did you get it?
"They have alot of that shit in Liechtenstein? Also, Dan's a fucking liar. Those shoes do not hurt my feet."
And she takes it; and she sips, and she holds it back to Dan to taste, too, and he untangles a hand from her hand and accepts the glass and unlike Sera, he savors the wine properly. Swirling the glass and breathing it in before drinking.
Leonhard/ProclusThe Jerbiton imagines his own Consor-of-sorts getting something in his ribs...
"Those shoes would've hurt mine," he smiles. Either wearing them or getting too close to them, it's all much the same. "But, no, I don't think there's a lot of it left anywhere. Finish it. I'm... Honestly? If I finish it myself, I think I'll only think it a sin to have done so."
And, so, he leaves the glass with the Ecstatic. An inch of regret in not finishing it himself but a foot of... relief... in it finding a home that thinks it fucking amazing. Not that Marcusio would think anything of the sort. He would probably have slapped him for giving it away, or at least for passing it after starting it, but he's dead with his vineyards and new vineyards are needed.
"Oh, oh, yes, Alyssa," the Jerbiton reminds himself, finding something to eat. "I was Interdicted. And Ostracised from the Council for good measure. Ten years. Time served. Here I am. So, nothing so malignant as would require Requital; Consorting with the Interdicted, though for mitigating reasons. The tribunal... these are really good, aren't they?" He picks up something else to eat
"The tribunal noted that those I consorted with where framed by the Janissaries. Which, since they were consorted with... recruited, to put a word on it... by me to help resist those bastards' treason, well... Rather difficult killing me, but the politics were a bit... heightened. So. Interdiction."
Straightforward enough. Better out than in, Proclus.
Adam[I'm calling it now, ooc, by the by. There is no order! *grin* Adam is quiet until he jumps in, and so on and so forth. Food in his face.]
Sid[*dips in toe* is it okay to join?]
Alyssa Solomon[[Yes!]]
Adam[The Facts, ma'am, and Nothing But:
Sera and Dan at table-head.
Shoshannah fixing things in the kitchen.
Adam and Lenny sitting, like polite well-behaved boys.
Alyssa, also polite and well-behaved, but less boy-like.]
Sid[awareness because what the hay]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )
Alyssa SolomonSera comments on the wine, and that is an area where she has apparently much more interest than Alyssa. The girl is the one who horrified Connor by having Corona in her fridge and claiming that she actually preferred that to other, higher-end beers. There was a time, perhaps, but not any more. Her attention is looking more toward Leonhard and his explanation, which does in fact come.
She listens. And she sits up a tiny bit when he explains that he was Interdicted. She's familiar with all the terms that he uses, and her eyes narrow a bit. "Wait, so let me see if I have this bullshit right. They got you on consorting, but didn't stop to consider the fact that inaction could have endangered the Order? Or did that part of the code not matter to them at that point in favor of fuckin' technicalities?"
She snorts. The sarcasm is dripping in that last sentence. "Not to mention that you say they were framed by the fucking Janissaries, of all people? Which would suggest that their Interdictions were bullshit anyway? What kind of Tribunal jargon bullshit did they use to justify that crap?"
She's not exactly angry on Leonhard's behalf, it must be noted. She just hates Tribunals not doing their job right.
Sid[and just for funsies: dex+crafts]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
SidThere was meant to be another joining tonight's little dinner party. She'd been there the day it was suggested and she'd said that she would come, she would bake something, she would be there.
Truth is, though, Sid is late. Food's on the table, the guests are taking refreshment, and the hostess is in the kitchen fixing things. It's around this time that the door to the garage opens and in comes a sweep of fresh, cool evening air and on that air comes a whiff of blissful happiness mixed round and round with a sense of frantic desperation, the whole twist supported by a quiet, steady [static] sense that whoever is walking through that door is empowered.
Of course the first person to notice this swirl of magical imprint is also the first one to see Sid enter the house. Shoshannah's in the kitchen still, fixing things. Sid pauses to look around the room before she closes the door behind her. She's carrying a cloth bag that sags heavily but somewhat evenly, the contents of which are revealed when she sets the thing down on an empty counter with a quiet thmpmp bmp and lets the fabric fall. There are two circular pans inside and a small container. Before Sid does anything more with these things, however, she goes into the office to put her bag and remove her jacket. Then it's back into the kitchen.
She shares some words with Shoshannah, voices quiet and low and private, lost beneath the sound of water flowing from the faucet as Sid washes her hands. There's an offer to help Shoshannah with what she's doing, but isn't pressed if the teen declines it. Sid has something else to do, anyway, and that something is this: finalize the preparations of a cake. She finds a serving plate from the cupboard and a knife and spatula from the drawers. One of the pans is dumped onto the platter, where Sid leans over it and carefully shaves off the top so that its surface is flat. The small container proves to be full of homemade icing, which she slathers on some frosting. She asks Shoshannah who's in there even though she knows. She sensed them all before she entered the garage let alone the house itself. But it's conversation while she carefully sets the cake from the other pan atop the first and begins covering all of it with frosting. The recipe? Carrot, organic and gluten free and low in sugar and so on and so forth, covered with buttercream frosting that probably completely negates all the steps she took to lessen the cake's impact.
"Should I leave this in here?" she asks when finally she's finished with her little contribution to the dinner. She's not a pro or anything, but the presentation is better than decent. At least it's not crooked, and the icing is fairly evenly distributed.
Leonhard/Proclus"They got me on Consorting and I'm not gibbet-meat," Proclus offers as summary. Alyssa's reaction does elicit his sharpest attention, but he offers no more. Instead, he picks up the empty bottle from beyond the Cataclysm and, stubbing the cork back in, replaces it in the bag it hadn't really left for ten years...
Serafíne
Sera, loose, shares that amazing fucking wine with Dan. The back and forth about the shoes passes but she keeps rolling her ankles a bit and admiring the movement of light across the buckles on the leather straps. Nevermind the cold Sera's legs are still mostly-bare. She's wearing some high-low skirt that would seem more modest than most of her get-ups on first blush but on second blush it is see-through so, not so much with the modesty. She has on lingerie beneath it and a leather jacket over it, so. Yes: Ecstatic, though she has never so introduced herself. Somewhere in the middle of Leonard's story about his Interdiction, Dan rests a skinny hip against the dining table and a tattooed hand on Sera's shoulder and as Leonhard remarks on how delicious one of the little savories is Sera reaches over and takes one-two and shares that with her consor and gives Leonhard this edge of a spare smile.
She understands less than a fucking quarter of what he's saying but she's watching him more than she's listening to him. Brows drawn together, her eyes - dark in this light - tracing his profile.
"Hey," to Leonhard, and it is quiet but there's no ignoring it. When Sera wants her voice to carry, it carries, compelling, right? There's compassion there; the living sort. She still has that glass of wine - from Horizon, the other side of the gauntlet - in hand, back from Dan, and she lifts in a wordless toast to Leonhard. "That sounds like a long fucking time. Welcome back, yeah?"
AdamThe Hollower's reaction also drags Adam's gaze across the whettstone and sharps it right up. The eyes themselves don't change, of course, and there is a certain distance - just: water, shadows-on-water, that sort've stillness. His regard is questing, and light, and as often seems to be the case, Adam looks as if his thoughts are turned inward (like he is: abstracted [distracted]) when he is at his most attentive. He even rests his elbow on the table (whoops), rests his chin on his first (get your head out of the clouds, boy), like the posture of contemplation knows no boundaries.
Hmmm.
He chooses to say: "Yes. Welcome back. I'd toast again, but alas, we're out of the special stuff." Faint hint of a smile, followed by the realization his elbow is on the table. He does not take it off yet.
"Did you," and he sounds: perplexed, maybe, "want once to be a lawyer, Alyssa?"
ShoshannahAnd, look, there's Shoshannah with soup. She'd heard new people arrive, maybe poked her head out to nod solemn greeting to Serafine and Dan when Adam went out to join everyone, but mostly she's been making herself busy in the kitchen for the last however-long. But there's soup. And a moment later, after a trip back to the kitchen, a loaf of challah bread to go with it, as well as extra dishes for Sera and Dan if they haven't already been provided.
"It's chicken matzoh ball," she says for those who didn't get the menu listed to them earlier, and perhaps it's noted that she's more uptight now, that she's on less solid footing, until her eyes light on Sid and she lights up again. "Oh, good. Hi. Cake can go there by the appetizers for now, if you'd like."
The outfit, a modest-but-reasonably-fashionable, pretty and fine, skirt-and-blouse thing, the feet bare, the dark maybe-black-maybe-deep-brown hair caught back just enough to not cause trouble in the cooking and serving. The eyes, as ever, are heavy, sharp, and a crystalline, piercing blue. The skin is winter pale, as may be expected, but shows hints of olive underneath. And the accent is a mish mash of herethereeverywhere that's a bit more heavy on the middle eastern and southern American than anything else.
Except that she falls quiet again now, watching as the tureen travels around the table, or doesn't. As the case may be - there's conversation, after all, and as well as that goes with food? Not everyone necessarily thinks the same way.
Leonhard/ProclusShoshannah returns as his voice cracks, breaks, he coughs, "Thankyou," to the toast. It isn't the toast. It isn't the phrase welcome back. It is, of course, the Empathy, and he thinks of the little he knows of the Cult's Sacred Passions.
Although there remains something compelling about Sera (as well, he expects, Dan can attest), it is to Adam that he finds himself looking. Briefly. "I'm sure we can find something to replace it, Adam."
Alyssa SolomonProclus defends the ruling, and the Hollow One isn't exactly pacified. "Yeah, fuck that. Just like any set of laws, the Code isn't a map but a globe. With mountains and valleys and some places that are just more important than others."
While Alyssa burns over Leonhard's story, Sera focuses on the important part...welcoming him back. It snaps her attention back for a moment but she's not able to snap herself out of her self-righteous anger. It's a definite fault in the Hollow One, her certainty of right and wrong in certain things. But it's not an uncommon fault, especially under those who can alter reality. Hubris has caused many a fall, and being certain of things is the first step to hubris.
Adam asks his question, and Alyssa looks at him. She regards the question a moment, as if she's not sure how to answer. It's that area between I don't want to make this about me and I don't want to stop being angry. She's talked about it before, but somehow this feels a bit different, because her outburst means that it's turned attention on her in a way that she didn't intend, as opposed to her talking on her own terms. "Is it so wrong to want Quaesitors to be able to do their job right?" is what she finally settles on.
Adam[>.> A subterfuge roll.]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )
Shoshannah[[Pfft, Per + Awarepathy -3 cos Arcane? Is that still a thing?]]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
Alyssa Solomon[[Arcane doesn't help against Empathy rolls or the like. Just FYI.]]
Alyssa Solomon[[Awarepathy, rather.]]
Shoshannah[[Well then, for good measure, here's the other three dice!]]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5) ( fail )
SidSid leaves the cake wherever makes sense for a cake to be left before finally walking over to the door that leads into the formal dining room. She pauses just inside of it, pushing the rolled up cuff of her shirt a little higher on her forearm. The shirt is white with blue watercolored flowers and butterflies all over it. The fabric is sheer, but it looks like she's wearing a camisole beneath it. Her jeans are dark-washed and slim-fitting and tucked into a pair of knee-high dark brown boots. Her long red hair has been pulled gently back in a loose braid that wraps around the curve of her skull. Those with a clear view of her standing just inside the dining room, taking in the atmosphere and also looking for the likeliest place to sit, can see a long straight scar on the outside of her left forearm.
If anyone greets her she responds with a wordless nod. Otherwise, she is weighing her options. Shoshannah is playing hostess and so may not get to sit for long periods of time. Between those remaining she would rather not sit next to Leonhard who she's only just met, or Adam who is also still fairly new (but so sweet, if the only place left is by him it wouldn't be a hardship). As it so happens, the closest empty chair puts her next to Alyssa, so that's where Sid goes.
Just in time, apparently, for Adam to ask the Hollower a question and receive a reply. She has no idea what they're talking about, but she looks to Adam because the only place to look between volleys is from one social tennis player to the other.
[and I just got here but what's that Adam? Are you trying to be subterfugey??: awarepathy]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
SerafíneTruthfully in this moment, neither Sera nor Shoshannah receive much of Sera's attention. Dan turns and looks and maybe gives Shoshannah a hand with the soup tureen and the new brush of Sid's resonance against her senses is enough to make Sera lift her chin vaguely in Sid's direction. Adam receives an actual glance, which is rather spare and thoughtful for someone so instinct driven or perhaps that edge of reserve is instinct tonight.
Maybe it is just the new resonance about Sera. Which Shoshannah and Sid will know to be new-and-not-old, that sense of hallways; of thresholds, of windows and doors - liminal. No longer what-was, not yet what-will be.
"We brought booze," to Leonhard, or Adam, or Leonhard and Adam. They can find something to replace it, right? "Colorado whiskey, really great vodka and tequila and how much beer?"
" - two cases," Dan supplies. And Sera's already slipping from her perch and tugging him along behind her to find something to replace that brilliant vintage.
"Any preferences?"
Mostly to Leonhard. He is, after all, the man being welcomed back.
Alyssa Solomon[[Ah what the fuck? Per+Subterfuge]]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )
Leonhard/Proclus"Oh, I'm driving," Leonhard explains quietly to Sera with his hands up as if in surrender, a little playfully but more regretfully. "But maybe I'll take you up on one of those beers, Dan, when I've had something to soak it up."He tucks in, with a warm nod to Sid, clearly pleased that she has joined them.
AdamHe will, later, absolutely blame the wine for being rather easy to read in spite of -- an effort. Let's call it 'an effort,' for it is not his best. Enter, Sid, who gets a nod and the faint suggestion of a smile he might remember to do when he isn't quite so distracted. Like this:
He looks to the side, eyebrows raised. He takes a last sip of his wine. The look to the side could have been constrewed as considering, but it isn't considering really; it's simply poised, simply, I shan't say anything bad about that House you just mentioned, even though I am thinking it.
"Suppose it isn't," he says, and then both forearms on the dining room table, a bright-eyed smile for Sera and Dan, then Shoshannah and Sid, who've come out with food foooood more foooood see how he breathes in the smell of that soup, thin chest expanding, sitting up again. "Guess we're saving that toast for later," to Sera, when Proclus demures on choosing.
"This does all smell really good Shoshannah. Hi, Sid! If I'd known you were going to make this much, I would've brought, erm, something more than what I did. How often do people eat big dinners here at The House? I mean, erm, are there rules I should be aware of, since here I am in its belly?"
Serafíne"I never drive," Sera informs Leonhard, in an equal aside as he declines her whiskey and her vodka and her tequila and likely any and all of the other intoxicants she is likely to have on her person at any giving time. A jerk of her left thumb at Dan, though her fingers are drawn together in a way that mostly obscures the tattoo on her palm, the shark's tale does extend down to her wrist. "That's what he's for.
"You should get yourself a Dan. Or a Collins."
--
Then poof, Sera has not yet finished her wine but is determined to retrieve something. Beers all around and maybe a bottle of Stranahan's of her very own, or what the hell ever. "Hey Sid," in passing, and an echo of Adam's compliment to Shoshannah, " - fucking delicious, man." Not that Sera ate more than a morsel. Not that she looks like she ever eats more than a morsel. But hey, she's been harrowed, hasn't she?
And then Adam asks about the rules and Sera, like a goddamned anarchist hears him from the kitchen and shouts back, "Rules? there are no fucking rules. Don't be an asshole! That's the fucking rule."
ShoshannahSera pays no attention to newcomers in the room (except Shoshannah isn't new, not really - see, that's her barely-touched half-glass of wine there, her place setting, her spread of food, her decorations. There are many people in and out of the house, some who spend significant amounts of time there, or are only there sporadically, but Shoshannah's the one who lives there. It feels like her, this place, like it's curved its homey, modern classic bones around her to keep her well and warm.), and Shoshannah notes this; her eyes land on the Cultist briefly, her expression shifts, but then there's a nearly realized shrug and her own attention shifts to the other guests.
Two can pay no mind to each other, you see.
"There . . . aren't really big formal dinners or anything. I cook when I feel like it, and leave notes on things about when they were made and what's available for leftovers. And Kalen takes things to shelters and soup kitchens and places like that if people don't eat it fast enough." Then there's Sera shouting and Shoshannah doesn't even bother to try to ignore that; her face twists in distaste and disagreement, but she doesn't counter. Each to their own, different strokes. Look. Duck's back, no more water. "Sometimes we do things for solstices or equinoxes or holidays. There was going to be a Halloween thing, but then there was craziness going on and it got sidelined."
SidSo, a nod for Adam and a nod for Leonhard, and a nod and slight but warm smile for Sera, and then Sid is settling into her seat next to the Hollow One.
Sid entered the conversation late enough that she's missed the story that causes Alyssa to burn so much, or explain why Adam is suggesting toasts.
Presumably she has a plate before her, and she fills it with a little bit of a few of the things that she can reach, whatever they happen to be. Anything out that she hasn't had before she goes for first, but just a little. Her appetite is not hardy, but she's not peckish, either, and not finicky about her food options. Once, when she reaches to her left, she exposes her own marks of black inked forever into the skin. Sera has sharkscissors that trail into her palm. Sid has words and a couple of circles.
"What are we toasting?" she asks, her voice quiet but her expression interested, first to Adam, then a brief shift of her eyes toward Leonhard before she turns toward Alyssa. These people are the ones still in the room at the moment, they're the ones who know what's going on.
Rules, Leonhard asks, and before Sid can answer (not that she was planning to, but she couldn't even if she'd wanted) Sera and Shoshannah supply him. There is a moment's pause between Sid lifting her hand and that hand resting on a fork when the Dreamspeaker mentions Halloween, but it's only a momentary thing.
Alyssa SolomonAlyssa does pick up that specific neutrality from Adam and it makes her brow raise a little. The curiosity is enough to calm her down...that and the fact that the conversation appears to have been moved on. She frowns a little bit, the usually-confident and easy-going girl now looking and giving off a sense that is more similar to Shoshannah than the snarky, sometimes abrasive occult investigator that she usually projects.
There's shouting about rules and there's talk about the quality of food and the drinks available and more. These aren't things Alyssa has anything to contribute to, and she stands up, grabbing her jacket to throw back on. The wings on the back of the jacket settle against her back and smooth into place. "Going out for a cigarette." She says it with a bit of an affected smile, before she heads for the door.
Leonhard/Proclus"Oh, dear, Adam," come the words between mouthfuls. "A laxity of rules at a Traditionalist Chantry. We'll clearly never fit in. You being so damnably stuffy and me being a... oh, this is lovely... Euro-trash."
Adam"I am stuffy," Adam says, quite seriously, and without missing a beat. There may be a hint of a smile, one of those just-beneath-the-surface things, but that does nothing to the gravity of his answer.
"We were going to toast Proclus's return to civilization - Awakened, that is. Ta, Alyssa," when she gets up and heads out to smoke. He watches her until she's gone, thoughtful, or - well, perhaps he's thinking about something else. He begins to look vague, again, rubs the back of his neck, and then realizes he is still wearing his coat.
Adam, Adam.
"Anything on, erm, planned, for the next holiday?"
Serafíne"Adam? He's not stuffy." This when Sera's back in the room; she misses Shoshannah's expression over her declaration that there are no rules, and maybe overhears Shoshannah's statement of the rules, about meals or something, about leaving notes on things, and deliberate or otherwise misses the lacuna around the idea of Halloween. Halloween was Denver's loss, really. The things Serafíne would've worn. She has three bottles of various microbrews caught between the fingers of her right hand and a bottle of whiskey she will be claming for herself in the left.
"Lured me upstairs the first day we met. Cheeky fucker."
Maybe she's needling him, assuredly she's needling him and she starts setting out bottles and Dan follows her back in with another handful.
"Pan has the deed to the place. You might wanna say hi to him. He didn't judge me for asking him to make-out in his confessional the first day we met, so I bet he'll keep his opinions on Euro-trash to himself, too. You can find him at the Church of the Good Shepherd, usually. Off Federal."
SidAlyssa is rising, leaving almost as soon as Sid sits. Some might wonder what they'd done to cause such offense (does Sid smell? does Alyssa not like the feel of empowered euphoric desperation? does she somehow sense the healthy choices Sid made when baking that cake and is leaving in disgust before it can be presented to her?) Sid only watches her go.
And then she's looking back at the Hermetics. They're toasting Proclus and for a moment Sid looks confused before she remembers. That's Leonhard's weird other name. The confusion returns, though, because Adam? Stuffy? That must be a joke, but Leonhard, Eurotrash? That has to be a joke, but Sid has obviously missed something there.
"What?"
Leonhard/Proclus"Apparently," Leonhard... Proclus... whatever-the-hell says to Sid, amused, a napkin dabbed at his lip, "Adam isn't stuffy at all and I might get away with being from Europe. Not that you'll find me complaining."He smirks openly at Adam, if softly, before continuing to eat. "He is a cheeky fucker, though."
Shoshannah"You're from Europe. I'm from Israel," she says with a smirk, and for some it's the first they've heard it, others know, she's lost track at this point who's in which camp. "I'll bring out the rest of the food, if we're done with soup. Ready?"
And, assuming answer in the affirmative, she does so - there are the fig-and-cheese blintzes, the whatever-she'd-called-it with the Yiddish name that turns out to be a sort of . . . pudding-souffle-casserole-thing with wide noodles and more cheese and raisins and eggs, and there's a different kind of salad than the tabbouleh and fatoosh that had been out with the appetizers. She wasn't kidding when she said she cooks a lot when she cooks.
From then on, for the most part, she's quietly observant. This isn't to say she doesn't answer questions she's asked, but it is to say she doesn't volunteer. Or butt in. She's very clearly there, but reserved and both in her element and completely out of it.
Shoshannah[[Thanks for the scene, guys - sorry for the abrupt exit. Those of you who may want me in the future know how to find me! =D ]]
Leonhard/ProclusSabra. Prickly. Sweet. He smiles at Shoshannah, continuing, "And so am I, sitting here scoffing and not helping."He rises, bowing to Adam, demurely, and gently insists on helping Shoshannah. As he heads to do so, he pinches two fingers together as if holding a thought. "Thanks, Sera. I'll be down that way soon for some supplies. I'll be sure to introduce myself."
Serafíne"Cool," Sera remarks quietly to Leonhard, as the full load of beer-and-sundries is distributed and the creature sort of leans back instead of reclaiming her corner of the dining room table, smiling up at Dan. "I get away with a helluva lot more than being from Europe. And Pan's fucking amazing." She does have an unrequited crush, doesn't she.
Tapping two fingers against her mouth to indicate that she wants a cigarette. The consor glances up in the direction that Alyssa took, his glance a kind of question, but Sera jerks her head a bit the other way.
She needs the burn of the cigarette to get the taste of blood out of her mouth.
"Ciao."
