Sera leaves Alexander behind and makes her way up the stairs. Holds on to the railing against the wall because right now it is the only stable thing in her world and the walls have a way of sluicing sideways when she turns her head. It is not unpleasant. She can feel all the possibilities inside her, the wall the shells of things crack open, the way the yolk slides rich in its matrix of protein.
Here we are here we are here we are.
But,
there we were too.
And Sera knows the house like the back of her hands, like the weight of her breasts, like the taste of oblivion, or blood in the back of her throat; and also, she could find Pan with nothing but that interior sense of his: light light light, impeccable, implacable light.
So she follows that feeling as much as anything more, as much as anything else. Dining room, kitchen. Finds him at the counter, perhaps reaching up to retrieve the various boxes of various teas the various denizens of this variant place have left them. Finds him, wraps her arms around him from behind and just holds on
for a long and quiet moment that feels - attenuated, drawn out, lingering - perhaps because it is all these things.
Her arms around his ribs, her brow against his spine, as in an aspect of prayer.
The moment passes. She lets him go.
She does not know where to put her hands.
Pan EcheverríaThe moment passes as all moments will one day pass and he is oblivious to the anger of the apprentice or the continued conversation between the Hermetic and the Virtual Adept. Is not oblivious to the approach of a drunk Cultist.
All he remembers about the Hydra incident came from Sera when she found him at Katiana's cabin in the middle of nowhere. How she came out of the city and into the green to make sure he was still alive and they were both still alive but they were both so wasted. Pan so of his own doing. His own pride is the only thing that can ever really knock him down.
He's standing at the stove thinking about that incident. What the women must have gone through. What any of them can or ought to do to help. Any of them - him. He both feels an obligation and could just as soon walk away from it.
As a child Rafael hated him. Railed against him. Made him prove he could be a father by refusing to let him. They're better now. Rafael's grown now. But Pan still thinks he's a bad father. Parents have the ability to go their entire lives believing themselves lacking contrary to all possible evidence and this parent believes in the Immaculate Conception and the resurrection of Christ. Doesn't take much to remind him he's a shit parent too.
Breasts and elbows and breath at his back and Pan lets go the lungful he didn't know he'd been holding in. "Hey," he says but doesn't interrupt her. Not until she lets him go. Then he turns around and puts her into a proper hug. Like she has to need one after that. If she's going to go take care of Grace after this.
The water won't boil for another five minutes.
At some point Alexander comes in pointed in his anger to say goodbye to Sera but not say a word to Pan. That's fine. Everything's always fine around here.
Leonhard[[Hi there! Liz suggested I hopped the scene. Hope it's okay to barge in.]]
Pan Echeverría[Tag says 'open,' bro! Get in here.]
SerafínePan's thinking about that moment and Sera was not thinking about that moment and is still not thinking about that precise visit she made to a wasted man recovering from a stroke admist the green-green-green of a stranger's practice, all that verdance, the bright cleanliness of the herbs hung from the rafters and the living sense of a house that was full of the cycle Sera knows only by askance, and she was not thinking about any of it, she was thinking about lovely things and something about the stair down to the library made her think about Orpheus and Euridyce though the truth is that Sera never remembers their names, or at least not together. Just the taste of the myth in the back of her tongue.
So she was thinking of the poetry and the mystery of a descent to the underworld, and then there was Grace, screaming. And now she's here, and she's fine, with her brow against the rigid flexibility of a priest's spine, and she's fine when she lets him go, it is just her hands that seem wrong and superfluous to her body, and she's fine until he turns around and hugs her properly. This time she tucks her brow against his shoulder. His arms span all: the hot pink bustier, the flannel over it. Beneath he can feel the brief, hiccoughing hitch of her shoulders. The stubborn resistance to that need-to-cry too.
There are too many people.
This is not something she wishes to let loose tonight.
So, a surreal moment, a holding-on. Then a letting-go.
Sera dashing tears from her eyes. Lining them away with her thumb before they ruin her mascara, leaning back against the kitchen counter, slipping, now, out of her damned heels, as you do, in a place where the floor is warm and you are comfortable.
Sera gives Alexander a small, bleary smile as he storms through. Her nose is running a bit. Someone (Pan) hands her a tissue. She uses it. Pan makes tea. It's quiet.
She breathes, breathes, breathes.
That's okay too.
Serafíne(Absolutely. Barge barge barge!)
LeonhardIt's not the Quintessence. It's not the Tass. It's not the Resonance. It is the beauty, the lure of it and the lessons to be had within it. The beauty. The Node. Beauty in itself, and not beautiful in any comparison to others, it lured him... and so the Jerbiton returns to it. Traipsing from his wide-bellied Ford, he is - as ever - bedecked in denim with the moleskin jacket, this one three-quarter length and flapping a little as he begins to circle The House's periphery... and then he is there. He crouches, pleasured by the sight, one forearm cupped at his knee as he glances. The other knee upon the ground, not so far from the waters. But he doesn't enter them, or strip as if about to. He doesn't draw from that most eloquent of wells, no, no Quintessence passes to him and none is bidden, though his eyes close for a moment. A long moment, during which a hand strokes at the ground. He beams. He rises. He opens his eyes and turns back towards the chantry, the beauty at his back but deep in his thoughts as he approaches the building from its rear.
[[Per+Awariness]]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )
Pan Echeverría[per + aware: HARK A NEW PERSON]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10) ( success x 6 ) Re-rolls: 1
Pan EcheverríaThe entire Chantry felt like a searchlight for a while. Like something too bright to see through beating back against the sky like to blind anything that would try to look inside the walls at the people inside the place. But shields and wards don't last forever and neither do bans and Pan's light has been failing the place lately because he hasn't been by as much now that Thakinyan has lost his tethers and gone back into the Umbra for a time.
One day the demon will come back but Pan likes to think he'll be ready for it then. The spirit world isn't something he knows too much about but this side of things. The sliver of space between Heaven and Hell. He's pretty familiar with it.
And Leonhard can feel the source of that resonance in the kitchen stronger than usual because he's Working when the other man gets here. Magic meant to bring something out of nothing. Creation of a calm that wasn't there before. Just enchanting the water he's boiling for the tea he's making for the rest of them downstairs who are in need.
They haven't met yet. Pan can read every effect the other individual has thrown out into the aether lately before he even lands eyes on his face.
It's quiet when Leonhard walks through the back door.
Kalen HollidayKalen comes drifting slowly into the kitchen. Exhausted and perhaps only a few breaths away from unraveling. But there is Sera and she is...well, for the five seconds it will take to relay Grace's message, he can give her this.
He walks up to her, rests one hand lightly against her side, fingers curving along her ribs. All delicate bones, Sera. Like a bird. Like maybe she should eat. Like all of that light is devouring her from inside the bone.
And for a few seconds he's not even really there because his attention is on skeletons in the desert and drifting sand and the way light spins off of broken bottles and catches in the diamonds at someone's throat and he can't remember whose. If that moment has even happened yet. Brilliant and sparking and-
Sera.
"She needs you now," he says to her, very gently. As if the tone could somehow make up for the fact that she has to go do anything but stay here in the kitchen with Pan.
His attention slides to Pan then, and he hesitates. He isn't entirely sure what to do with Pan. Not because he's angry, at least there's no sign of that. Just...confusion and a little fluttering of wariness that doesn't really do more than struggle weakly and then sink back into nothingness. Even now, he trusts Pan too much to throw all that distance and all those masks and all those walls back into place.
Or maybe he's just too tired.
He settles for just watching Pan make tea until Pan says something. Does something. Or until the not knowing what the hell drives him mad and forces him to try something anyway.
LeonhardThe stressed air, the harried pulse of a fraught moment now passed... Perhaps that is what strikes the Jerbiton as he enters. There comes the new Resonance, the as-yet-unmet, yes, but also that of the more familiar, those he has met. He brings the door to a close behind himself, wondering wha... and there, a suggestion of Alexander? But Sera, too. But Kalen, too. But, somebody new, too, and Working...
"It's Leonhard. I, ah, just dropped by to... well, visit the Node. Just wanted to... you know... enjoy it," the accented voice offers, and quite pleasantly. "Not that I was just going to get a gawp and just run off, ah... Hello? Kalen?"
The voice carries smoothly from the dining room. Not so loudly as to be sharp, but loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. And it is towards the kitchen that he ambles, his hands finding homes in the back pockets of his jeans as he surveys the place. Signs of a group. Signs of some kind of convergence. None of his business, he muses, perhaps disinterested. Perhaps glibly. No, he muses this politely.
Pan Echeverría[perc + alert: this is just to see if he notices kalen being weirder than usual he's not going anywhere near an empathy roll r.n.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 5, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
SerafíneLeonhard has met Serafíne often enough to know the echo of her resonance, tangled with the unrivaled blast of Pan's searchlight brilliance. Hers is darker and not precisely softer. Call it merely, less harsh. Less brilliant; less uncompromising. Tonight she is more wrenching and less enthralling, more between, see. Corridors and gates and doorways, the long dark slide-of-things between definitions.
Drunk, and something else too. Strange the way a night can spine on its axis and turn into something-entirely-else in the time it takes to draw in a breath. She's leaning back, the heels of her hands braced against the countertop, a solid four and a half-inches shorter than she was when she entered the place. By the time Kalen comes up, Sera's tears are mostly gone. There's just the remnant bleariness in her gaze, a bit of smearing of her mascara, a used tissue tossed thoughtlessly on the counter. Lovely and stark in her way, and - yes - spare beneath leather and fishnets, more angular than curving, always somehow consumed and consuming.
Maybe that's a cycle too.
Sera leans into the bit of contact. Closes her eyes and gathers the strands-of-herself that are all loosed. Makes them unloosed, see, twines them all around her being and nods when Kalen tells Sera that Grace needs her now. Okay. So she breaks the contact, swings into motion on her stocking clad feet. Musters a smile for Leonhard as he is headed toward the kitchen, and she away from it; favors him a swing of her head back toward the priest.
"Hey. Pan's in the kitchen." That's the new resonance. Light light light light light.
Sera's shoulders are rather firmly set. She is dressed as absurdly as she always is.
Drunk, too, though tonight she doesn't have a bottle in hand as she passes him by, and heads down to the library. Down down down.
This time she does not think about Orpheus seeking, and Euridyce locked away in the dark, full of death. No. This time, that myth tastes of blood and decay, cuts far too close to the bone.
Or perhaps she does think about it.
Doesn't Sera always cut too close to the bone?
Pan EcheverríaSera comes and goes as Sera pleases and so long as she is not actively crying or screaming or trying to hit him with a full bottle of tequila Pan won't do a thing to try and sway her course. Not like it's three in the morning and she's let herself into the rectory because a Nephandus just tried to convince her to join them. Roused him out of bed so he's standing in the dark in basketball shorts carting around a baseball bat like he even needs a baseball bat to defend himself or anyone else.
That was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then. Pan still doesn't weigh what he weighed this summer. Probably won't get back to that size again but he's a large man anyway. Recovering. Addicts never call themselves completely recovered. Pan will be in the ground before he speaks of himself as anything other than constantly working.
Once you get yourself locked into thinking you're already going to Hell everything else in life gets a bit easier. There's some freedom in knowing you're fucked no matter what you do.
Anyway. Kalen looks at him. He hesitates. And he's answered by Pan lifting both his eyebrows as if to ask what's wrong. No more or less warmth in it than normal. There isn't much warmth in the magic he does.
The water hasn't started boiling yet. Pan rests his tailbone against the edge of the counter and plants his hands on either side of him and says amidst the voices in the other room, "You got something to say, Kalen, now's the time to say it."
Kalen HollidayKalen makes a soft huff at that comment from Pan, though he smiles too and there is warmth in that. "If I ever figure out which thing to say first, it will probably be the longest night of your life." That smile, on a slight delay, hits his eyes. It cannot really make him look less dead, but it's something.
"Or if I ever decide to come confess all my sins. That'll be a night too."
Maybe, maybe he would have followed that with something else, but instead he takes a slow breath and then calls back to Leonhard, "Kitchen."
But after that, after that he moves to settle against the counter beside Pan. He does not coil around him like Sera, but he still takes some comfort from proximity. If Pan isn't planning to start yelling, he's definitely in a mood to be near him.
Leonhard"Oh, hey..." He begins to greet the Ecstatic, a point in mind but quickly sidelined when he sees she's busying herself to some matter or other. He swivels as he does so, panning and bringing his hands from his pockets. He thinks of checking something with her, but checks himself as quickly. Still, his expression declares that he is pleased to see her and unobtrusively aware that, perhaps, at least some of the harried air is breathing from her... "Pan? Oh, right. Thanks."
He brings his feet to a halt perhaps a foot or so into the kitchen. Not so far in as to be overly bold in a new meeting (the man has the deeds) and certainly not so far as to be rude, but certainly... he picks the point to stop with a measure of politesse... at a good point that nobody need be troubled to turn themselves too far to note his entry. An accuracy of presence but one also of smooth politeness. Still the new boy and not the Fellow...
"Salve, Kalen," he says as greeting to the Flambeau. Light, but warm. Everybody looks drained, or perturbed'; it's not the time to be demanding of attention, but he does nonetheless appear to have a fondness for the moment. The Flambeau, in particular, is regarded with something close to (at least akin to) fondness.
"Pan. Hello," he offers quite unguardedly, pleasantly to the Chorister a-Working. "I'm sorry that we've not met sooner but, ah... Did Adam pass along my regards? Well, I hope he did. It's really very good to meet you."
A glance to Kalen. He's interrupting. The Chorister has presence. (The Chorister has the deeds.) The Chorister is perhaps an Adept, probably close if not. The glance to Kalen is... referential, or seeking reference. He's interrupting, and he clearly wishes he wasn't but... Well... It's not as if he's trying to inject himself at length into whatever business is between the Flambeau and the Chorister. No sense in doing anything to embarrass the Flambeau by Tradition association. Of course, the fact that he does seem pleased to meet the Chorister is clear in his manner. (And he does warm to Kalen's presence, notably.) Yet, the timing is something that he seems to wish had been... different.
Serafíne(You guys don't wait for me, since Sera's off tending to Grace. :) )
Pan EcheverríaIf Pan were a smaller man perhaps his resonance would not be so harsh. If he were a younger man. If he had learned humility at an earlier age. Leonhard comes into the kitchen and he can hear the steam working inside the kettle on the stove as the water starts to get agitated enough to kick into a boil. Can see Kalen resting near the Chorister and can tell that he is a Chorister just by looking at him. Between the resonance and the all-black clothing. The presence.
6'2" and still. Staring at the newcomer working his way from the dining room to the kitchen. That stare abates quickly because Pan has a mind that works quickly. Adam. Oh right. Wariness gives way to welcoming. He pushes himself off the counter and Kalen at least because Kalen was watching him so closely can see how his manner sublimates from quiet processing to active engagement with another person.
"You must be the Tradition mate who's in town."
The man speaks with a faint Puerto Rican accent. One of those speak softly carry a big stick types must be. His voice is husky. He uses it a lot and he smokes and he doesn't sound like he ever shouts. Kalen trusts him and already knows instinctive that he doesn't ever want to hear him raise his voice or lose his temper.
Pan offers his hand to the other man.
"Francisco Echeverría, hi. I'm sorry, Adam didn't pass along your name."
Kalen Holliday"Hey," Kalen says quietly to Leonhard. Settled against the countertop like he is shaves a few inches off his height and next to Pan, even a Pan who hasn't regained all the weight he lost, ghost-pale and exhausted with no fledgling Mages to protect from monsters or the fear of monsters...he might actually look fragile.
He lets the two men sort out their own introductions. There are nights he's orchestrated conversations, spun strands of connections between people to put futures he wants just that breath closer to being, but not tonight. Tonight he's content to...(what's the word he wants that isn't cower?)...he's content to do that at Pan's side and be quiet.
Leonhard"That'd be me, yes," beams the Jerbiton, welcoming the handshake with a practised firmness of grasp but not an ounce more in his grip. Level-handed, almost mild but certainly welcoming. "Leonhard Frick. A pity... about Adam, I mean. He, ah, said he would, but... anyway, a pleasure."
Releasing the handshake at just the right time, he continues, a little joculary, "Yes, in town and so it would seem you're all stuck with me. I'm grateful for the access to... well... this place. The Node is... quite the salve, really. Beautiful. Uhm...
He pauses, glances to Kalen. Back to Francisco Echeverra. "I had thought, perhaps, of offering a little help at your, ah, church. Nothing especially eclesiastical, no, not my line precisely, but I'd be lying if I didn't think I might be able to offer something of use to any of your flock who might be of an... ah... uhm... You know, maybe another time, eh? There's me, jumping in with stuff that's been simmering up here." He taps his head, his manner still smooth but also regretful. He's interrupting. He wishes he wasn't. And Kalen looks spent, fragile.
"I'm interrupting. I'll, ah..." The hand that had tapped his head sprouts a thumb that points back out from whence he came. "Leave you gentlemen to it. Oh! Would it be okay to pop down to the library? Speaking of Adam The UnNaming, I've promised to help him with some studies of Time and... I was rather hoping that a copy of Hillito's Codex of Lost Lies might be in the mix, or something that references it. It'd be bloody useful."
Pan EcheverríaHe doesn't always look it but in moments like this where he just stands still and lets the other person talk on as the other person wants to talk on Pan does have the aura of patience about him. Stands with his feet planted easy and his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. Kalen has his back so he cannot see his face but Leonhard can.
Even as he goes from one sentence to the next without pause and asks questions and makes offers he doesn't lose the other man's attention. And he has to be distracted. It's a big church and that jangling of Something Bad is still in the air even here but Pan's green eyes don't leave Leonhard's face as he speaks.
A flicker of a frown when he offers to help with the church and then a deeper negating frown at the notion that he's interrupted.
The kettle starts to give its warning keen. Seconds left before it starts to shriek.
"You got access?" he asks. Not accusatory. Friendly as his tone is there's an implication in it: if you got access you don't gotta ask.
Kalen HollidayKalen leans over to turn the stove off before the kettle can really set to shrieking, shifting his weight off the counter, onto his feet for a few seconds, and then partly on Pan as he leans into him while he reaches out for the stove knob. He slips back to where he was before once there is no danger of that sound attacking them.
And he listens. Help Pan's church non-ecclesiastically? What is Leonhard even talking about?
"You're fine to stay here. And...Sera and Grace could probably use a minute right now."
LeonhardThe Chorister's frown had been, in fairness, to be expected. But the offer, however cut short from explanation, had been delivered with a genuine respect. The Jerbiton thinks of another priest, if not a Chorister. He thinks of another time, but a similar endeavour to the benefit of others... and he even thinks of his parents. And he certainly does not press the offer, however genuine it remains. As he had said, another time, eh?
"Ah, no, no access as yet," he admits, going on to explain that he had been there before, courtesy of Shoshannah. "I didn't press for access. I'm still new, I suppose, and... Honestly, I'm not sure of the protocol here."
He looks again to Kalen. "You gave me the impression it was quite relaxed, Kalen, but I'm not fond of making a nuisance of myself. Like now. You look spent, Frere." The concern in his voice is the concern on his face is the concern on his mind. He's interrupting, but he returns to the topic, facing Kalen but the query clearly less exclusive in hoped-for audience: "Another time. I'd best leave you two be, sorry for barrelling in on you... but... Is it Grace I should talk to about access? Oh! Must talk to her about Ginger. Nearly had the chance last week. Waffling again, aren't I?"
He suddenly claps his hands together and raises them either side of a briefly-bowing head. "Greedy, aren't I? I'm sorry. Kalen. Father. I expect I can sort it later, can't I? Enjoy your, ah, less-interrupted conversation. I'm going to head back out to the Node. It's really... Very beautiful. I suppose I just can't get enough of just the sight of it. Would you be kind enough to let Grace know I'm trying to snag her help?"
He smiles. The Chorister and the Flambeau. He smiles.
SidDice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )
SerafíneThe non-vulgar thing. Difficulty: 5 (-1 resonance) (-1 focus).
Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (2, 3, 3) ( success x 2 )
SerafíneExtending the non-vulgar thing. Difficulty +1 (extending) -1 (taking time)
Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (2, 2, 5) ( success x 1 )
SerafíneOh screw this extending the non-vulgar thing again, same dif, plus WP.
Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (6, 9, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
SerafíneWell. Thank you, universe. Now for the vulgar thing that probably will not work but that doesn't mean a certain cultist won't try it anyway. mind/life/time. Difficulty: 7. I am going to make that 8 because it is a new/novel interplay for her. -1 for liminal/enthralling resonance. -1 for taking time. she will drop a quint and spend WP. Final difficulty: 5
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (2, 7, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
SidThe door opens down the hall of the second floor and a figure steps out, red hair mussed, one hand pressed up beneath a pair of black-rimmed glasses to dig the heel into her eyes. She was sleeping off the weariness of casting such a large effect as the one that now blankets the grounds around the Chantry when something woke her. Not Grace's screams, they didn't clearly pierce all the way up into the room claimed by the Verbena witch, but the commotion that followed perhaps. Or maybe her mind decided that a few hours was enough, now get up again.
Whatever the cause, she doesn't reach out with her senses to see who is in the house with her. She doesn't know where Sera is with Grace, or that Kalen and Pan and Leonhard are in the kitchen, at least not until she makes her way into there herself. Which she does, eventually, bare feet staggering a bit with weariness. She's in the living room when the sound of voices give her pause, make her freeze, hold her breath, is he in there? No. The voices she hears are familiar, two more than the third, but they aren't the one she knows in all its forms. Even so, Sid stops at the bar before making her way into the kitchen, finds herself the fullest bottle of bourbon she can find, and finally continues her journey toward the kitchen.
She is dressed in a t-shirt, dark rose and loose around her torso, and a pair of dark grey pajama pants with little grey skulls with crossbones all over it. And for those who are Aware to it, she feels like how it feels outside. Desperate, euphoric, empowered, verdant.
Sid spares a glance for the people in the kitchen before she makes her way to the cabinet with the mugs.
SerafíneExtending. Difficulty +1. Dropping another quint to keep it as low as possible.
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 10) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
Pan EcheverríaSometimes Pan has trouble keeping up with conversations. This wasn't much of a problem before the summer. He isn't any slower now than he was before. But a slow sort of amusement comes across his features as Leonhard keeps talking with no place to interrupt. It isn't in Pan's nature to interrupt.
Not to say that he won't interrupt. But he doesn't tend to. He could stand here all day until Leonhard gives him the chance to respond. That cut-off kettle wail doesn't hit him the way it hits the younger Mages.
"Yes," he says. "I'll do that. But, ah. If you wanna borrow that book now, I'll go down and get it for you. See about getting you access after we get a better chance to talk."
Sid. Bourbon. Coffee mug.
"Sid, hi," he says. "You met Leonhard Frick?"
SerafíneAnother extension. Why not burn out the WP?
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (7, 7, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
Leonhard"Oh, no rush, really. Besides," Leonhard notes with a bob of his eyes to the kettle, "I think you're wanted there."
Almost excitedly, the Jerbiton greets the Verbena, "Sid, great to see you. Great. Tell me if I'm wrong but I'm guessing that was your Working outside. Beautiful work. Exquisite, I thought, when I saw it. Quite the compliment to the Node, too. Good to see you again. I'm just, ah, going back out there. Gentlemen, Sid."
Kalen HollidayLeonhard's observation gets an amused little huff. Which buys time for Kalen to summon up enough energy to sound reassuring. Fledgling Mages and occasionally Disciples. "I always look like that. But if you want to go back to the Node, you can. You're not crashing into anything you shouldn't here though. Pan and I were just talking while he makes tea."
Kalen gives Sid a little wave. "Hey."
Pan EcheverríaPan and I were just talking while he makes tea.
"Don't lie to the man."
It's an easy sort of a joke but a joke with a ring of truth to it. Pan had said a sentence and then Kalen pulled his esquivo trick and didn't do what he wanted him to do. A little pushback now and then isn't a bad thing but the whole day's been one big game of Pushback. That tea is going to make anyone who drinks it feel calm. Not happy necessarily. But at least relieved of a hum of anxiety.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Frick." A parting handshake if he wants it. "Take it easy."
SidYou met Leonhard Frick?
Sid unscrews the cap on the bottle of Jim Beam, dark eyes shifting to take in the appearance of the Jerbiton, her face void of expression but otherwise looking tired. Looking rumpled.
"Yes. Shoshannah had him over for dinner."
Something in her face softens at the compliment to her Working, but she doesn't smile. The mug, something simple, with a plain glossy finish, gets filled nearly completely. Setting the bottle down, she turns to lean against that space of counter, both hands wrapped around the mug.
"Hey," she says over the mug's rim to Kalen before she takes a sip.
Leonhard"Here's hoping." Leonhard smiles again, welcoming the second handshake and responding thusly to the 'Take It Easy' of the Chorister.
"And, yes, there was cake, too," he notes warmly to Sid as he excuses himself. His hands once again find homes in his back pockets as he heads back out to the Node.
Leonhard[[Thanks for the fun play, folks. Going to loiter about on AIM but I think that's enough Leonhard IC for now. Cheers!]]
Kalen Holliday"We were just talking," Kalen murmurs to Pan. It's too gentle to be a real protest. "And since apparently everyone with eyes thinks I look like Hell, I rather doubt the lines of our conversation are going to shock anyone. You think I'll stop talking to you because one of my Traditionmates who refers to me as family and one of my cabalmates are here? They're not interrupting. They're just also here." Uh-huh? And what alien creature that doesn't hide from people is possessing you tonight, Kalen?
He waves to Leonhard and then looks back to Pan.
Pan EcheverríaNow Pan lifts his eyebrows at the other man. Glances over to Sid not because he's aware that they have an audience but because she also looks like Hell and he might be starting to suspect that they both look like Hell for the same reason and didn't they go through this already when they were working out how to fight Thakinyan? That was when Pan stopped lying about his headaches and the fact that he had an inconvenient habit of going into absence seizures sometimes because that's what happens when a body insists on continuing to march on when its brain is still bruised.
Pan at least is fine now. He doesn't look abnormally tired and isn't acting like he's not himself. He looks about as tired as any other priest does during Lent. A lot of sacrifice going on in the forty days between Ash Wednesday and Easter. A lot of suffering coming out of his people's minds.
"Well," he says. Puts pours the boiled water into the teapot where the leaves are waiting to awaken. Lets it steep. "If you wanna actually use words that I can understand so we can talk about what's chapping your ass today and not just talk, I'm standing right here."
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