After the chantry meeting: Dan tells Pen and Kalen that Sera will need some recovery time. They'll regroup in 24 to 36 hours, then? Here at the chantry.
An imprecise amount of time later, then, and what we know is that it is no longer morning full of new light, but evening. Lengthening shadows and all the strange, too-bright warmth of the early spring day all but gone.
Sera and Dan meet the others at the chantry. Sera is just-awake, sitting on the kitchen counter drinking whiskey-laced tea from a travel-mug. Slightly better than just-awake, because she has had a shower and her hair is a loose damp twist of curls swinging half-way down her back. She's wearing a metallic silver micro-mini dress beneath a cropped-and-altered tuxedo jacket, with her usual assortment of spikes and studs and safety pins bristling in her elfin ears, and a bicycle chain and intertwined with a long strand of golden south seas pearls wrapped around her neck. Earbuds in one ear wind beneath her ear to the right pocket of the tuxedo jacket and she's kinda moving a little bit with the music she hears. Mouthing the words while Dan packs a cooler and a re-useable shopping bag with supplies. Pours water from the just-boiled kettle into a thermos already prepped with a concoction of 'shrooms. The usual.
"We can take two cars, if you want?" Dan tells them. No need, really, for three. "Follow me."
---
It is a rather long drive from the chantry back towards Denver. Full night has fallen by the time the little caravan (if there is a caravan - Dan is happy to drive them all) is winding its way through a posh neighborhood in Cherry Hills. Here every house feels like it is trying to become an estate, and the it is not simply the communities that are gated, but each individual house.
Kalen has been here before. Only once.
Pen never has.
There are gates, the looming bulk of a largely dark and apparently and perhaps obviously uninhabited house. It has a century-old solidity to it, an impressive, comforting bulk, the details of which get lose entirely in the darkness. Lingering impression of wards that Sera will renew, and strongly, tonight before they start to cast.
If Pen and Kalen have followed rather than joined Sera and Dan in the third-degree of separation rental car he picked up sometime that afternoon, Dan opens the doors to the empty garage so that they, too, can park there. Out of sight-and-mind.
Inside, an impression of grandeur shrouded by shadows. High ceilings, empty corridors leading only into darkness. The lofty suggestion of an elegant stair rising rising rising. What little furniture remains is mostly covered by dust shrouds, which create odd, looming shadows all around.
PenelopeIn Morrison, Pen is:
on time in a silver coat the interior of which is an interlocking pattern of green leaves because as warm as it is it is still cool enough when the wind blows for such coats. The cuffs of it are sharp, pointed: frock-coat cuffs, rolled back with glamourous nonchalance. Her trousers are fitted, some durable fabric of another gray, only a touch of embroidery on the pockets, and her boots lace up almost to her knee, gape a little there with piratical [Wizardess] swagger. The kind of boot which holds a knife. The kind of sleeves which hold a wand. Or is that vice versa? Rings on every finger, some of them Hermetic in nature [Enochian carved against the bands, pressing into her skin, kiss of other languages: and so. She likes secret rings, the lady of the lake with her clear dark eyes and her hair as red and burnished as any devotional offering to Mars (this is the trick)], one of them most certainly not.
Pen: likes Serafíne's outfit. Asks what kind of tea Serafíne is drinking. Greets Dan and Serafíne with equal warmth, and when the topic of rides is discussed (briefly), the two Flambeau take one of Kalen's cars (Pen rocked up on a motorcycle. Kalen might need a ride home, afterward).
--
Out of sight and out of mind the economy car the Flambeau rode in on is parked.
Pen: regards this place - not with awe, precisely; but surprise. "Whose is this?" Because she has been to Serafíne's home before and so a querying glance for Kalen, here; is it his? Is this the compromised Library?
Pen is also: direct, and frank, says: "I will assist if and how I am able; direct me as you see fit." Her assistance will be that of a consor's, likely: make certain the mood isn't broken; get the lights.
Her assistance will be that of a soldier's, held in reserve: watchful, observant, just in case.
Penelopeooc: ahem. "Flambeaux rode in on." plural.
Kalen HollidayKalen arrives in well worn-in jeans, faded from a near-black to grey, and a thin dark red athletic hoodie with thumb-cuffs and a dandelion yellow lion rampant embroidered onto the side of one sleeve. There are magical tools on him; though, for Kalen, magical tools are things like the pack of cigarettes tucked into a pocket and the knotted hemp bracelets tucked beneath his sleeve. There are more things in the Jeep, but not things he expects to need until the day is closer to over.
He is quiet in the chantry. Quiet on the car ride. His greetings are subdued, though they are not cold. He is drawn inward enough though that he reached out to touch none of them. But then. He has always been reserved with contact with Dan. Has never really reached out for Pen.
"This," he says quietly when they arrive at the house. "This is Hawksley's." He glances over the abandoned house. "Was, perhaps. I never...." Knew what to make of Hawksley. Of the way he wanted to be close to the sense of Hawksley without the actual experience of talking to Hawksley which was never easy. "We were never close."
She puts herself at his disposal, Pen. And it makes him smile a little. "Of course. Thank you." There is a formality that echoes his training, but there is something in that thank you that is warmer than his training. A legacy of something else.
SerafíneKalen tells Pen that the house is Hawksley's. This perhaps: beneath the bulk, as they are winding through to the kitchen or the emptied-library, which soars, enormous, banks of windows on either side, open, open to the sky. And Kalen tells Pen that he and Hawksley were never close and maybe they are in the kitchen now, packing/unpacking items from the cooler, the 'shroom tea, all of it, and there is a studiously neutral glance from Dan and Sera gives a neat little twist of her shoulders, confirming what Kalen says. The house is Hawksley's. The house was Hawksley's, whichever the fuck it is.
She does not remark on whether they were ever close.
--
She just leads through the winding corridors, past the ballroom, maybe, or the indoor pool, the fucking theater whatever: and surely somewhere there is a corner of the abandoned library or some nook, some study or den with a fireplace and leather couch or two from which the dustcovers have been removed, where her own resonance is strongest, where some of her things are still littered, like oh hey! that pair of fuzzy cookie monster slippers tucked beneath the leather couch, whatever.
She would like a fire in the fireplace: something about the comfort, the warmth. Certainly one of the Flambeau will oblige and if not, hell. Dan has one of those easy-light logs he can lay in the grate. No she doesn't need it to cast, she just needs the 'shrooms and her own intentions, her memory and Kalen's too, and all of this will take some time. First there are wards to be cast and wards to be strengthened.
And then -
SerafíneMind Shield: Dif 4 -1 (using a surpassed instrument.)
Dice: 4 d10 TN3 (4, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
SerafíneHow about an extension!
Dice: 4 d10 TN4 (5, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )
SerafíneCorrespondence 2 / Mind 2 / Prime 2 (Warding against: scrying; resonance sensing; magick detection from without) Dif: 5 -1 (surpassed instrument) +1 the dampening bits are opposed to her resonance, -1 taking time.
Dice: 4 d10 TN4 (2, 2, 4, 9) ( success x 2 )
SerafíneExtension:
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (1, 2, 4, 5) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
SerafíneExtension: -1 quint.
Dice: 4 d10 TN4 (1, 2, 3, 5) ( success x 2 ) [WP]
SerafíneOne more extension,
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (1, 7, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )
SerafíneOne more time.
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (4, 4, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )
Serafíne(Ugh, you guys. Like an idiot I was typing my post in this window and lost it.)
Serafíne(Ugh, you guys. Like an idiot I was typing my post in this window and lost it.)
SerafíneIt takes Sera hours to cast those wards, visceral more than enthralling, gut-wrenching, a solid fuck-you-don't-see-me to the universe or at least the Technocrats. Liminal: too. Slipping definition, finding someplace between this world and some other world, that almost refuses to be seen, and that is hard for her. There is nothing hidden about her magick, but: fuck.
--
When she is done with the warding (which is boring to watch. No ritual: just urge, desire, demand, change), Sera has to go pee, and Dan insists she eat and drink something and she wants whiskey or tequila and he wants oj or gatorade so maybe instead there are cocktails and conversation in the shadows and then there are cigarettes to be smoked (she wants one: outside in the garden, the curling impression of cloves-and-spice in the air) and then she says: the scrying should be done from the garden. They should be beneath the stars. Everyone is beneath the stars, even Alexander, wherever he is right now. Time to start casting again. Sera is still hallucinating. She has surfaced from it and now she is ready to sink back into it. She reaches out a hand, to Kalen.
PenelopePenelope provides the fire, albeit via more mundane means than otherwise; she wishes to reserve her energies, just in case there is a breach of the castle wall; just in case she needs to conjure fire later and turn some far-flung, long-distance machine-man's metal bones into salt or the oil which lubricates their system into water or, fuck, the electricity which delicately connects muscle and synapse to fire. Penelope provides the fire and is not bored and there is conversation when there is opportunity for conversation and what ifs and hopes and there is quiet consideration of what might come and hope. There is hope, because Penelope does believe in the ability of human beings to transcend (ascend) expectations and Penelope believes that it is possible to forge an alliance with erstwhile foes and Penelope believes:
oh, Penelope believes in the human spirit; that through it the Golden Age will come again. Something. Out beneath the stars, the Adept of the Order of Hermes (which is only a Disciple, elsewhere), Penelope takes a deep breath:
readied, and steadying, and ardent.
Kalen HollidayKalen lets Pen tend to the fire and lets Sera put up Wards around them. He stays near the fire, watches the way shadows and warm light flicker and dance against the walls. Lets his awareness of what is real slip into something more immediate and something more present. Less present, too, maybe. Though his eyes drift now and again to Serafine. The way the light plays over her cheekbones and catches itself in her hair.
There was a closeness between them once. And once a distance. Kalen has been so many people since both of those things were true. It isn't the same way he watched her once, as though she were some divine thing he had no real hope of catching hold of. There is also no sign of whatever betrayal he had perceived on her part; that wariness and that distance is gone too. Light writhes against her skin and his skin and the skin of everyone else in the room and the skin of the world and Kalen watches it with fascination and no judgment.
And then they are out in the garden and he remembers starlight, remembers one of the first times that they spoke and remembers that she remembered enough of that to have Dan read to him about a lightbulb. He remembered it enough to buy her a Christmas present that he still hasn't given her months later, but he remembers that too, glittering and celestial. He does not get it now.
There is smoke drifting here. Cloud shadows drifting across stars.
Sera reaches out a hand and Kalen does not look away from her. Not now.
Still, his next words, softly spoken, are undeniably for Pen. "You can trust Dan," he says softly. "If there is anything of which you are unsure." Because Kalen might have appreciated what Pen offered. Might have accepted it. But his magic is too immediate and too intimate to involve someone from outside it. To involve someone who needs words or instructions.
Kalen reaches out and takes Sera's hand. Slowly closes the last distance that he had left to linger between them. And the physical distance, yes. That too.
And ,as he takes a breath to reach out to something divine and holy and golden, gazing into Sera's eyes, he smiles. And this might be about finding Alexander and their situation might be entirely fucked up, but this moment is magic and echoing with power and promise and for the first time in days he means it when he smiles.
SerafíneCorrespondence 2/ Mind 2 / Time 2 / Entropy 3 - Finding: a potential ally who will help them with Alexander (if such exists) and making it an auspicious / fortunate moment to approach sometime in the near-future. Difficulty - 3+4 (Vulgar w/out Witnesses). -1 sympathetic magick. -1 oracular ability. -1 personalized instrument.
Dice: 4 d10 TN4 (5, 6, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Serafíne(Threshold: 8 successes or more.)
Kalen Holliday[D=5 (7-1 oracular ability-1 personalised instrument)]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (3, 4, 4) ( fail )
Penelope[I think you get 2 suxx there for taking time?]
Kalen Holliday[Or, D=4 for sympathetic magic. So. Less fail.]
SerafíneExtending: +1 dif!
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (3, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
Kalen Holliday[Now D=5; WP this time because reasons (as if Sera doesn't already have it)]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (6, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
SerafíneOne more time: going for extra successes to find a moment when the person they seek is most disenchanted with the idea of kidnapping and confinement and most ready to help them.
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (1, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
Kalen Holliday[d=5; still WP because now would be a bad time to break a spell]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (2, 9, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
Penelope[Meanwhile, doo-de-doo, Prime Sight. I wanna see how this ritual is made! -1 for personal instrument, -1 for time taken.]
Dice: 3 d10 TN3 (5, 6, 8) ( success x 3 )
SerafíneWhat happens is: they are outside and they have something from Alexander. Some scrap of memory: for Sera it is the feather of an owl that once had a broken wing, for Kalen, perhaps it is something else. They join hands and Sera closes her eyes and somehow at once she is sinking and rising, falling and straining, opening, opening, opening. She imagines herself - no, she is - losing all but the most golden kernal of her consciousness into the ineffeable vastness of lakashim and also still absolutely, entirely within her skin. But:
she feels bright, pierced through, pulled apart, shattered and remade and open, open, open. She's breathing and she's hallucinating and half-dreaming, Alexander as she last saw him, near-dawn, exhausted, frustrated, frozen. Alexander as she first saw him: shattered and newly awake and alone on an empty mountain road. Alexander as he is wherever he is, where he does not belong, where she refuses to leave him, and and and - something else, some forward push, the strange and terrifyingly numinous threads of the future, all the worming possibilities, as infinite as any others:
and,
and,
and,
exhaustively mad hours later: a single resolving impression. Blonde hair and cats-eye glasses. Professional attire with a hint of the hipster: a peter pan collared cardigan over a polka-dot blouse. The gleaming scroll, unreadable, of a laptop open in front of her in as she sips a perfectly ordinary pour-over-coffee on a perfectly lovely afternoon three-days hence in a public square beneath a strange and warm spring sun. She's looking up, she sees some thing. She -
(Sera will share the details when she comes to. But look: see. They have an option. They have a choice.)
Kalen HollidayKalen is easily immersed in rituals. Easily falls into magic and connection and lets his power entwine and enmesh and entangle with others. Well, let us be honest, with some others. But he has always fallen into rituals with Serafine as easily as rain falls to the earth. As easily as snow and starlight.
It is no different now.
When the ritual is over and the echoes of their magic are fading he looks up at Penelope. He does not know what Serafine saw, but he knows that she saw something. He does not rise and he does not speak; though he seems to refrain from both of those things less because he cannot do them as because he simply does not chose to. Whatever this ritual took for him to cast, he is not close to beyond doing either of those things.
Instead, he offers Penelope only this: a brief, triumphant smile.
[Sorry. I was waiting on our post order, like an idjit.]
PenelopeHow interesting it is to watch other Mages Work together. Here is a Cultist of Ecstasy and here is a (?) Hermetic (with a great deal of Cultist Influence - or so the rumors have it). This is a complicated ritual with many moving parts. How does a Hermetic observe? A Hermetic observes with both eyes open; with an invocation, shaped from nothing, except the wand at ready (readied, always; be a weapon, Flambeau, hot-hearted) and a word, and: perhaps she could replicate this exact ritual later.
She will remember it; she will remember the way the bands of power fit together, anyway, the way they (unrestrainedly) reach out. Kalen's brief, triumphant smile finds a gleam in Penelope's eyes - dark under the starry sky, her red hair wild; and when Serafíne tells them what she saw, Pen is all poise and all frank directness.
How much time do they have until the auspicious moment? Pen will want to have plans; somebody who will not be there, but who will know what is happening: daring does not mean reckless. Pen will want to have plans;
but Pen is hopeful, see. And so are they all who are willing to reach out to an enemy, to find the chink in their armor, to believe beneath that armor there is something human and living and willing to give.
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