The Hunter

radiant

The colorful chalkboard outside dripdenver promises LOCAL ORGANIC IN HOUSE APPLE CIDER in addition to the daily brew: Mexican Chiapas, the offering on the aeropress and the chemex.

Outside, the sun is starting to set. One of those strangely lovely winter sunsets, not quite arctic but still somehow bright and sharp, such clear, clear colors, dampening into darkness. As if the sky were slowly bleeding out its light.

The streetlights have come on, it's dinnertime. The place isn't as crowded now.

Or, the crowd's smaller, changing, different. More first-dates, fewer first-scripts that sort of thing. The rich scent of coffee in the air, TV on the Radio on the soundsystem. Local art on the walls. That kind of vibe.

Ian

For some people, coffee houses were more of a rest stop than a destination unto themselves. Ian spent a lot of time downtown, which sometimes left him migrating between spaces while he waited for an event to start or for someone to come by and meet him. Denver Drip was a quintessentially Denver coffee joint. When he stepped inside, the air was full of the scent of coffee beans accented with notes of milk and spices. The place wasn't as full as it might be later (as it might have been earlier.) Which was fine, really, because it meant less noise and fewer distractions. He had a messenger bag slung over one shoulder, the strap pressed to his chest over his leather jacket. When he stepped up to the counter, he ignored the extensive drink menu and ordered a cup of black tea.

He probably ought to order something else. A danish or something (it would have been more polite,) but he didn't. He did, however, drop a pretty decent tip in the jar on the counter. And he smiled at the barista - relaxed and charming - before collecting his drink and migrating over to one of the empty tables. He picked one near the window, so that he could watch the sun set while he waited for time to pass, and once seated he pulled his tablet out of his bag.

radiant

(Awareness)

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )

Kalen Holliday

[How awake are we?]

Dice: 7 d10 TN7 (1, 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 2 )

Ian

[Oh, right, let's do this awareness thing]

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

radiant

Resonance in the air. Another mage is somehow - god, this is one of those moments when the sense of it is naggingly at the edge of his perception and therefore hard to pin down. Like a radio signal half-obscured by static. He has this sense of: strength, though it is hard to tell whether that is the intonation of the resonance (even an apprentice could feel: strong), or its depth. Or some combination of the two.

Kalen Holliday

[And how distracted by Resonance are we?]

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

Kalen Holliday

Kalen, as he often tends to be, has embarked on a quest for coffee. He's been getting his coffee in places with less colored light, but those are also less likely to be painstakingly brewed or crazily flavored. Unless you count 'scorched' as a flavor. Whether or not scorched qualifies as a flavor, it isn't the one Kalen wants at the moment. So, this lovely coffee shop it is.

This coffee shop also may have one of his favorite people in it. Against...the better judgment of a few people. But not his. Not even for a damned second his.

Ian gets a quick wave, but that is all, before Kalen surveys the drink menu. Despite reading through the entire thing, he orders black coffee. Plain. No frothed milk or whipped cream or raspberry hazelnut madness.

And then, after a glance to be sure that no one has materialized to join Ian, because people joining Ian seems like a thing that people would do, he starts in his direction.

radiant

Ian walks in. There's no line just now, just one tattooed barista behind the bar, rearranging the pastries in the case. Consolidating them from a number of half-empty platters to a few full platters. Late enough on a weekday that they are starting to mark down the remaining items that sell best in the morning hours.

The tea isn't slow-poured, but it is properly infused, loose-leaf tea. Ian has a choice of Darjeeling, Keemum, Assam and Lapsang Souchan tonight. He does not receive simply a mug, but a single pot, clear glass, the infuser in the center, filled with enough hot water for perhaps two servings.

The barista gives Ian a quick, sure smile through his rather full beard - acknowledging that tip with a "Thanks, man. Have a great night."

That sense that Ian has is present, but without focus here and now. Maybe it was a stranger passing through. Maybe someone on the street. Sometimes the world brushes up against you, oddly, passing and never again.

The clear pot is perfect. He doesn't need to pour out a soupcon to see when the tea is ready, just watch the color develop. The mug's already warm, too. The barista tempered the interior with a hot-water rinse so it would keep Ian's tea hotter, longer.

The couple at the next table are clearly on a first date. Rise together and share a bloody awkward goodbye right in front of the doors. He wants to hug her, she wants to shake hands. Bet they won't see each other again.

Upstairs, someone rises. Starts to descend.

Here is an impression: the first tread of boot visible on the open stairs. Handmade, handstitched leather if one has an eye for it. The finest sort of work. Custom made.

radiant

Kalen finds the coffee shop by Ian's resonance: Cunning, Elegant.

Even as he walks in, though, he is arrested by another sensation: up the stairs:

molten. potent.

- feels like a volcano, doesn't it?

Whoever it is, he or she is coming down the stairs.

Ian

There was a hint of something on the air. This edge of strength that whispered frustratingly at the edge of Ian's senses. He glanced up when he felt it, eyes traveling the room in search of the source. But whatever (whoever) it was, there were no immediate clues. And then... there was Kalen, whose presence was enough of a distraction to shift Ian's focus away from the space at large. Kalen waved. Ian smiled softly, a light quirk at one edge of his mouth. While Kalen ordered his coffee, Ian poured a careful serving of tea. The steam curling off of the Keemun had subtle notes of malt and chocolate. Ian lifted the mug and breathed it in while he waited for Kalen to join him (assuming he wished to.)

Someone was on the stairs. The tread of a boot caught Ian's attention, and he lifted his eyes, the tea in his hand and the tablet on the table momentarily ignored. His attention was a passing thing. A brief spot of curiosity (still searching for wherever that unknown resonance was coming from.)

Kalen Holliday

Kalen does come to join Ian. His eyes travel slowly over the room, but he has become somewhat accustomed to Denver being a place to encounter a new Resonance and merely assume that it is a day upon which the sun has risen. Or will rise, though mostly Kalen isn't out at those hours encountering other Magi these days. He sets his coffee down and settles across from Ian with a smile. And, even now, alert for a new and interesting companion or enemy, that smile is real.

His eyes track Ian's to that boot, linger a second, and then return to Ian. He leans across the table to murmur, "Company we know?" His eyes do ease back to the stairs, not just to the boots but to the source of that new Resonance. Unless someone, or something, comes melting through the floor, if they are to appear it will be from those stairs.

radiant

Down the steps: not precisely a run but with a clipped precision that feels both sure and swift although in truth he is moving no faster than any other man of his height and his general build. Tall, yes, though not towering. He is spare enough, lanky enough that from a distance he seems taller than he is, but as one of those two handmade boots touches the ground at the bottom of the stairs he resolves into a man of a height with Kalen and Ian.

Blond hair, this messy wave of it. Pale hazel eye beneath blond brows, a crisp hint of scruff, this bit of a goatee. Strong shoulders in a dark, collared coat right down to the knees. Button-down shirt, crisp and white beneath, unbuttoned at the collar, the thread of a tie or perhaps a cravat hinted at as well: and left, undone.

He pauses at the foot of the stairs, surveys the first floor of the cafe and it is clear that he is precise, and it is clear that he is taking his time.

And it is clear that he is seeking them out.

Because when his gaze settles on them, he walks directly towards them. Drops a hand, open on the table between them, leans over, this tension in the fine muscles framing his eyes, which reads as: intensity.

(For Ian, at last, that vague sensation of strength resolves itself into resonance then. The stranger is molten, and - more than that - he is potent.)

"Brothers. I require your assistance."

His voice is low. There is an urgency to it.

Ian

Ian shook his head - a subtle, distracted motion. "Don't think so. I can't really tell."

Kalen's senses were more open tonight, more acutely aware of whatever it was that Ian was looking for. He likely had a better sense of it, but if so, it didn't seem to phase him. Ian glanced away from the stairs to meet Kalen's eyes. Focusing on him for a moment. He took a sip of his tea, mindful of the hot water on his tongue.

"You look nice."

There was time enough for that brief flicker of warmth between them before... ah. There it was. Clearer now and hotly potent in its intensity. Ian set his tea down and swung his gaze back toward the man with the boots in time to watch him approach those last few steps. He was silent as he waited, but there was a slight shift in his posture. Dawning alertness. (Readiness, maybe, but if so he hid the tension well.)

The man flattened his palm on the table. Ian glanced at it briefly before returning to his eyes. "With what, exactly?"

Kalen Holliday

Ian captures his attention during one of those glances back. There is a flickering of something. Embers. Kalen can practically taste them, hot smoke and cedar and sage. He takes a breath, and it isn't until he is breathing out that he entirely registers that the sense of being engulfed in something searing and endless isn't just a response to that.

He looks away, toward the stranger.

Kalen does not rise, but the instinct to be on his feet is there. Of all of the Mages in Denver, it may be best that this stranger has set his hand between Kalen and Ian. Kalen trusts Ian not to need him. He's fought alongside Ian before - in event of rescuing, it is not generally Kalen doing it.

Ian speaks first. That is hardly occasion for comment between them. Kalen continues to regard the stranger curiously. Being greeted with 'brothers' catches his attention in entirely different ways than Ian had a moment before.

radiant

"I am looking for someone." The stranger flashes a quick smile: all heat, no depth. Behind his fine mouth, the teeth are perfect.

One imagines he tolerates nothing less.

"A girl, perhaps so - " and he leans back then, lifts a hand to some middling height. " - tall. Dark hair, dark eyes. A certain quickness to her. She would seem out of place, and you would feel her were you close to her.

"Like a door, opening.

"I don't suppose - "

Ian

[Subterfuge]

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

Ian

Perhaps in another world, the two of them (Ian and this man) would have been cut from similar cloth. All find tailored clothes and confident precision. Here though, Ian greeted the stranger's arrival not as though he were a friend (another Awakened soul in a sleeping world) but rather as an unknown entity - possibly deserving of suspicion.

The hand on the table did not earn him any favors.

Ian raised his eyebrows lightly, as though in interest, but shook his head. "Don't think I know her."

radiant

Perception + Subterfuge: Ian.

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 5, 5, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )

Kalen Holliday

The stranger is looking for a girl. His description reminds Kalen of a girl he meant to find again, but he does not know what she looked like behind her mask. He remembers the taste of quick spring rain and mist heavy with presence. Another girl, longer ago, drowned. The ghost of a drowned girl, also possessed of a certain quickness and dark hair and dark eyes.

So much memory. He could drown in it. He could burn in it. Molten. Of course. It is no less true for that.

"Start perhaps," he says quietly, "With who you are and why you're searching. We can move if we must. But if not-" Kalen waves lazily at a chair. "Sit."

radiant

Ian is too spare. The casual admission, no further questions: who is she. What is she to you. Nothing more. The stranger's pale eyes fix on Ian for a long moment, this attention that feels like rearing back and can be nothing more than a closely scrutinized assessment.

"Hmm."

Then, the sparest of smiles brings his attention right over to Kalen. A different kind of scrutiny: a different weight to it.

A certain flicker that strikes one as -

"Names are power and I'll not share mine with strangers of uncertain intent. Call me what you will and see if I answer. As for the girl, she is in danger, and I am her Guardian.

"If you find her, you should not approach. You should notify me. I presume you have the means.

"And if you do not, I am certain that I can find you."

Then, a glance at the empty chair.

"The invitation is appreciated, but I will take my leave. Goodnight, brothers."

And he turns.

And he walks out the door.

Kalen Holliday

[Perception+Empathy | WP because reasons]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

radiant

Rolling to you because I want the clash to be a mystery and just the RP stuff to come out. Manipulation + Subterfuge:

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

Ian

At Kalen's proposal, Ian eyed the space around them as though he felt it were... inadequate for the sort of conversation they were likely to have. And there was a brief glance thrown Kalen's way, cool and unreadable but nonetheless lingering.

As it happened, the stranger chose not to take them up on the invitation. Would not even leave his name. Only a request... and a warning. Ian watched him go, but did not attempt to slow his passage.

"Good luck," he offered, casually enough that it might have been sincere.

[Per+Subterfuge - what are you hiding, hmm?]

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

radiant

Kalen has a sense from the stranger of: urgency and concern. He does not seem to have any animosity to her. He seems to believe that: she is in danger, and he is her Guardian.

radiant

Kalen has a sense from the stranger of: urgency and concern. He does not seem to have any precise animosity towards her. He does absolutely see himself as a Guardian. Here is a supple, subtle shift though: she is a danger. His concern is not precisely for her so much as it is about her.

radiant

Make that Ian, not Kalen. Ian has a sense...