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.
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]
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
Ian 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.
Kalen Holliday
Kalen watches the stranger leave. His attention rests on the door a few seconds, then returns to Ian.
"Psychic
messenger pigeons?" He mutters. "Damn." And then a smile, real if
perhaps a bit more distracted than the one Ian got by way of greeting.
"Tuesdays in Denver, no?"
Ian
Ian smirked
and shook his head, but there was a lingering trace of heaviness about
it. Some nagging suspicion that wouldn't quite let him relax. He waited a
few seconds, sipping his tea in silence (perhaps to give the stranger
further time to put distance between them.)
"I think his
concern is genuine. Less sure about his motives though." There was
another pause before he continued, dropping his voice to a softer
register. "If you see him again, tell me?"
Kalen Holliday
Kalen nods. "His concern, yes," he says quietly. "But who they are...." He shakes his head slightly. "I could not say."
Ian's
softened tone gets another smile, amused but also warm. "Of course."
Kalen takes a sip of his coffee and settles a little. They are in
public and they just met most likely another Mage, he doesn't really
relax so much as drops to a minimal guard.
"Thank you, for all
that that moment has passed." Judging by the tone he probably means
the moment that just got interrupted, rather than some broader allusion
to anything they may once have been. Have almost been.
Ian
Ian
had nearly forgotten he'd said it, in truth. Nearly, but not quite. The
juxtaposition was a little surreal. Between the blond stranger and his
dire urgency and that passing moment of flirtation? admiration?
friendship? Whatever it was, between himself and Kalen. He smiled a
little over the lip of his mug.
"How've you been?"
Kalen Holliday
"A
bit tired maybe, but alright." There is an easy dismissal of his general
state of exhaustion, but, at least right now, Ian still seems to get
real answers from him. Of course, he's hardly asking difficult
questions. "But I have coffee now, so that's already better.
"You?"
Ian
"Mm...
debatable, I guess. Mostly alright. I keep feeling like spring is
coming early." For most people, a comment like that might sound hopeful.
Like a light at the end of a frozen wasteland. The way Ian said it, it
sounded more ambiguous. Like an upset in the natural order of things.
(Or maybe he just didn't like spring.) "But then I look up and realize
it's still February."
(Not for much longer.)
Ian
took a few more sips of his tea. The last was deeper, as though he meant
to consume a reasonable portion before he abandoned it. Finally he
gathered up his things, sliding the unused tablet back into his bag.
"Want to take a walk with me? I don't really feel like staying here."
Kalen Holliday
Kalen nods and takes a real drink of his coffee. "Yeah. That sounds good."
