River
It is twenty-nine degrees outside. There is a light snow. There's a gentle breeze and it's starting to look a lot like an actual winter and not the kind of winter that people from southern California are accustomed to.
If winter is going to happen, they're going to do this right.
River's actually an old pro at setting things on fire in the most mundane of senses. She was the one who was in charge of the camp fire as a kid and she spent good chunks of her formative years burning various and sundry things outside in what she later determined was just what one did when you got cold and were bored and you didn't have an actual stove to cook dinner on. It's just a thing.
There's a ring of stones and pinecone-and-"you're late on the rent" notice kindling and whatever the fuck else one needs to start a fire. Text messages were sent out (recreating the Salem witch trials with marshmallows, want to come hang out?) and bags were set aside.
River took a hit off her flask and put it back in her gigantic purse. Exhales. Watches her breath take to the air. Tosses a sacrificial marshmallow on the pire to appease the camp fire gods.
Grace
Grace found out via Samir. Hanging out in the outside when it's below freezing isn't at the top of her list of great things to do, really. It's a good thing she likes Sam.
So she shows up, dressed in two pairs of jeans, her grey zip-up turtleneck on under her coat. Maybe overkill for 29 degrees, but you never know.
"Oh, nice. Fire's already started," she says, and rushes over, pulling her hands out of her pocket and warms herself at the fire.
"How's things?"
Sam Lakhani
Sam has been here for a few minutes by the time Grace arrives. That tendency of his to hemorrhage out of other folks' awareness is a pain in the ass sometimes. If he's going to be hanging out in the park when there's snow and it's colder than Hell then yes. Yes he did bring a bong inside of a backpack onto public transit.
The things he does for River.
He hasn't busted it out of his bag yet but it's sitting on a picnic table bench and unless he has a fully assembled clarinet in that thing there aren't a lot of objects that could drape the canvas like that.
"I told her we should wait until you got here to get it going," he says. Just because he's taken another step towards ascension doesn't mean he's going to stop busting Grace's balls.
Serafíne
Yeah, sure, alright, okay, thanks winter you fucking asshole, it is twenty-nine degrees outside and snowflakes are falling or not so much falling as drifting and drifting is okay too but: cold right? November and we've still forgotten how-to-be-in-the-cold, the things it does to us, body and breath, skin and blood and bone.
She must've forgotten. Little black dress that pretty much covers her ass and not-much-more. Long (the suggestion of length, the illusion of height) legs bare except for ripped fishnets and black heels wrapped in sharp metal studs, leather jacket framed in studs, zips, a marching line of oversized silver safety pins down the center of the back holds the damn coat together and suggests the elegant symmetry of a bare spine. So: not made for warmth any more than anything else she's wearing.
She doesn't seem to notice the cold though, or maybe each minute without shivering is another big fuck you to the cold front shivering flurries down over Denver at the moment.
--
Didn't get a text about a fire. Has: about a bazillion texts she has received and not returned but for god's sake her phone is working again which means every time it buzzes she can slip it out of her pocket and glance down at the screen and feel: alive, connected, earthbound, and strangely free.
--
And she's walking on the arm of a tall guy with blond hair and a trimmed blond beard and she's wearing those heels and he still has several inches on her, but there they are, walking together like old, old friends, this animated discussion back-and-forth between them. Coming from the city, circling the lake like it's a shortcut they know rather than a place-to-stroll.
Serafíne
(Awareness)
Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (2, 4, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8) ( success x 5 ) [Doubling Tens]
Serafíne
(Awareness -3)
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (2, 5, 9, 9) ( success x 3 ) [Doubling Tens]
Ihsan Ghali
Ihsan was sitting nearer to River than anywhere else, with a blanket spread out on the grass beneath them both. She was from Los Angeles-- Southern California. She had been experiencing heat waves and drought for most of the time that she'd been in this country, and she'd spent the majority of her life in Cairo before that.
Ihsan didn't like the flurries because they made her chilled. She'd traveled, she'd experienced cold before, of course. She would just probably never get used to it. So she was bundled up with wool socks under her calf-high black boots, in dark jeans and a black coat. She wore a hat on her head and her hair was out in curls (flat, curling ironed curls) beneath it. No scarf, at least. No gloves either. She was warming herself near the fire, waiting to be able to shed the hat and open the coat.
She was leaned forward, toward the flame, reading some document or another off the screen of her iPhone with an expression of content-but-mild-boredom on her face.
When Grace arrived, Ihsan looked up and smiled fleetingly for a greeting to her. "Hey there, Grace. How are you? Any more murders for me to investigate yet?"
Because who the hell was eavesdropping on them out here, after all?
Kiara
[Spidey senses roll.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 4, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )
Grace
Grace squints at Ihsan. "No. I heard, finally, that your 'investigation' turned out well in the end, though. Good for you." There's a bit of exasperation in her tone, but she really means that last sentence. It turned out all right, at least.
"Oh, Sam, there you are," she says to him, gives a little wave. Truth be told, she didn't notice his presence until he spoke. Samir is like that, the fucking ghost... She moves over toward him, sitting on the opposite side of the obvious bong. At least there will come some good out of communing with nature or whatever the hell it is they're doing.
Grace can commune with some nature in the form of weed...
Kiara
So, here's the thing.
Kiara Woolfe, daughter of nature and walking manifestation of Spring (or so her presence feels like, so much pulsing, writhing life) actually rather enjoyed the coming of the cooler months. Less for the stagnancy of them, the way the world felt as if it slowed, preparing to enter a chrysalis before re-emerging on the other side of the dripping frost but for the progression of them. It meant change was (should always have been) coming. It meant that despite whatever happenings in the greater scheme - nature was not fooled, or halted.
She would (had to) find a way to survive.
Pattern and purpose to the cycle. An evening like this, after everything she's recently endured, felt cleansing. The air was crisp and flakes of snow are drifting in the air like a promise - landing only to melt in the Verbena's wild dark hair, the waves of which are loose and curling around her shoulders; over the (faux) fur lining of her coat. Hands folded into pockets, dark jeans and boots and that mouth, as ever, painted a brilliant, stark red.
She must have been sent an invitation - or perhaps River simply conjured her with the fire and mention of her ilk via text. Kiara Woolfe, a lean apparition leaning her weight against a tree with her eyes on the fire.
"If you're going to be faithful to the trials, that fire needs to be twice as large." Her voice curls out after a beat. "I could speak in tongues, though." A waspish tease. "To get things rolling."
River
[I totally notice people and resonances. Per+aware]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
River
River has planted herself near Ihsan and, on occasion, gets up to poke the fire and check to make sure said sacrificial marshmallow knows it is in a place of honor- you must burn so that others after you may be delicious. Thus far, she's been pretty happy to just be around people, hair shoved under a hat and her coat isn't pretty but god damn it, it looks like the kind of thing that you would wear if you're going to go out and wander aimlessly through the wilderness.
Laughs when Sam pokes at Grace. Tries to laugh a little less at the bits of exasperation in her tone when Ihsan mentions wanting another murder investigation to paw through.
Then? Kiara is there- someone River hasn't seen in awhile and she waves- fingers uncovered but the rest of her hands seem pretty well shielded from the weather in what can only be described as mittens having an identity crisis.
"I tried to come up with something witty to say to that, but I've drawn a blank," she offers, laughs anyway, "nothing makes marshmallows tastier than the gross misappropriation of justice?"
And, with that, she offers Kiara a coat hanger.
Sam Lakhani
It's too cold for him to even think about sitting down. He may or may not have thermals on underneath his street clothes. He has swapped out the leather jacket for a peacoat and has a ski cap tugged over his hair. His fingerless gloves have a mitten-type option in the form of flaps. It's difficult to strike a lighter when you can't feel your fingers but it's even harder with wool covering your thumb.
"You should," he says to Kiara regarding using glossolalia. "Speaking in tongues is metal."
Ihsan Ghali
"Thank you," Ihsan answered Grace's congratulations in working with River and Mike to bring down the Nephandus that had been melding people into two and triggering a murdering spree from someone entirely different, in a surprise twist ending. She smiled and seemed pretty genuinely pleased with herself, then skewered a marshmallow and put it outside the reach of the fire to toast slowly.
Where this bundle of Mages sat must have felt like a goddamn magnet to other magical forces out there. That many rifts in the hard laws of "reality" would make some waves for sure. It was astounding that they hadn't brought trouble down upon their heads already (knock on wood).
Ihsan pulled her hat from her head and smoothed her hair with her palms, then unzipped her coat some to show the top of a charcoal colored shirt. The fire was warming her and the boots and wool socks were starting to feel pleasantly toasty.
Like the marshmallow.
River
"I thought I was speaking in tongues once, but then it turns out I apparently knew Sanskrit at one point," she said with a shrug, as though this is a completely... no, she knows this is not a normal thing for people but she passes it off like oh, yeah, sometimes you just remember crap from a past life and have no idea why you know how to do something. Just roll with it, NBD. Sigh. Chakravanti problems.
Grace
"I thought yelling while you're simultaneously trying to clear your throat was metal. The things I learn..."
Yes, this many Mages might be a goddamn magnet. If so, let them come. There must be a few more royally stupid things out there who'd like to shove shadows down her throat or something. They could have an actual burning. Fun for the whole family.
Well, okay. Maybe not fun.
She laughs at River, thinking that's a joke she just made. Who doesn't know jack shit about past lives? This Elite.
"Hey, Kiara."
Kiara
The Verbena is still standing off a ways when River holds out that coat hanger, her lip curled up at the edge in a smile that verged on a few things but her eyes: they seemed wholly honed in on her. Watching River with a sudden, total, focus as if by staring long enough she'd be able to tease loose a beat on the other female's mental state.
This is the first time Kiara Woolfe has seen her since news came of Farrah's demise.
It's there, somewhere, in that look and the slow, stretching beat of silence - on the tip of her tongue, to say something of it. A heavy awareness lingers as the brunette eventually kicks off her leaning point and moves into the gathering proper. Ihsan receives a lingering tick of Kiara's eyes as she makes progress and comes close enough to receive the coat hanger.
"Thanks." She accepts it with, and studies River's face again, the firelight drawing gold patterns over the Verbena's neck. The warmth melting snowflakes in her hair. Then there's Samir - and there's Grace and the latter gets a quick, bright smile, but the former -
The regard lingers there.
"I'll keep it mind for a party trick later." She looks at Samir for another moment, then drops down to her haunches and her eyes return to Ihsan. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure yet."
Kiara
[Ahem. "keep it in mind," tyvm typo.]
Sam Lakhani
Just about any other person looking at him the way Kiara looks at him would normally have him wondering what the hell she was staring at. But Kiara is Verbena and he knows what she's staring at besides. His resonance is noticeable now. He is more of a presence than he was the last time they saw each other.
Granted the fact that she is Verbena means she could be staring at a pissed-off spirit hovering behind him or a blight on his aura or something and he wouldn't know until she said something but Sam has a pretty good idea what has her attention.
He throws up a set of rock horns with the hand not holding onto the backpack and drops into a crouch by the Chakravanti as Ihsan and Kiara get themselves acquainted. Time to light this sucker.
Ihsan Ghali
"No," said the North African woman to Kiara. She'd watched the woman as people answered to speaking in tongues-- how it was metal and could be confused for Sanskrit. Ihsan was busy regarding the new dark-haired woman with the bright red lips. Watching her like a lion-- relaxed and assured but watchful none the less.
"I am Ihsan." She smiled and lifted her hand to show her palm in greeting. Hey, that kind of a wave said. Her accent was dense and interesting, different to an ear that's grown accustomed to the Western United States especially. Still, she spoke clearly and had a strong grasp of the English language. She wasn't that difficult to understand.
The marshmallow was brought back and tested with a squeeze of her fingers. It was a little underdone, but apparently that was how she liked them, for she plucked it with her fingers and popped it whole into her mouth. She then pulled her hat back on and zipped her coat back up and rose to her feet.
"I'm going back to make a run to the store for hot dogs and buns. Anyone wanna come with me?"
And whoever did or did not want to come with, so it would be. Ihsan was set on getting hot dogs and returning later with brats instead ("yes, hot dogs, right?").
[Sorry, but I need to roll out early. Bedtime comes quick when your alarm is set for 4:30am]
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