Vriqiohr

Samir
[aw shit what is going down today]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (2) ( fail )

William
They made a pretty decent team when it came to Overwatch. William kept his damned mouth shut unless he needed an assist, he was a good listener, and he followed directions pretty damned well. Honestly, if he could be the kind of person he is when he's playing video games he would probably be an adept by now. But he is not, and he is not.

He is, however, very persuasive. This is how Samir usually ends up in trouble when he hangs out with William. William is like a goddamned duck when it comes to both paradox and trouble, and someday it's going to catch up with him but one could hope that, for once, the fact that all of his friends are Right And Proper Fucked won't catch up with them today.

The blond had conned Samir into coming out because William had requested assistance upgrading the hardware on his PC. Not his laptop, mind you. William had actually broken down and acquired a desktop and had been doing to awkward task of trying to get better at figuring out WTF is going on with it. He hadn't done a terrible job, but he had promised food and the opportunity to mock him mercilessly to Samir if he would help with this one thing.

They were going to meet at Union station and take the same train off to whatever store they were headed to. Save on parking and save on time. Also, William wouldn't have to rive or ride in a car.

Because fuck cars.

Samir
So much time has passed between the last time Sam saw Will and today that he had almost forgotten why he was mad at him in the first place. It isn't as if he has a physical scar, Kiara having healed him beyond what any mundane practitioner of medicine could have done for him. What he does have is the memory of losing yet another huge chunk of time to Quiet. Disappearing into the woods, staying disappeared thanks to Reality's poor job of solidifying him as a person in the world.

But he is a person, and as a person he had grown beyond tired of Will and his thoughtlessness and his appetite for danger. The ease with which he and danger found each other. It was better that the two of them only encountered each other in multiplayer game lounges, only heard from each other when one was giving instructions over the head set or cracking a joke.

He had very much not wanted to answer Will's invitation to meet him downtown and help with his computer ineptitude. He had asked him if Hermetics weren't supposed to be able to learn things in a hurry, why the fuck don't you use your Mind Sphere, dude you're fucking hopeless. But he came. He's here.

Sam steps off the train as one in a sea of dozens, easy to overlook because it is as if he is not there in the first place. It's a million fucking degrees and he's wearing a zip-up sweatshirt, unzipped, over a faded band t-shirt and jeans. Aside from having cut his hair and kept it trimmed, little has changed about him physically. Maybe he's a little taller. His voice sounds the same as he comes up behind Will.

"What's up, Asshole?"

William
"Phfft-fuck!"

He had been drinking a Sprite when Samir came up, didn't notice him when he came up because Samir is forgettable and the next thing he knew there was Sprite coming out of his nose and he was covering his mouth and turning around- "Don't touch me I'm disgusting."

Grant you, there was precisely fuck all of a chance of Samir touching him but it was warning enough that, yes, he was gross and probably didn't need to be touched because, y'know, Sprite and the fact that he was kind of sweaty and wearing shorts. He still looked the same, but maybe a little more tan.

To his credit, though, he felt different. Fearless, dauntless, unafraid to do what he needed to do even if it was terrifying.

Denver
The train station has the standard amount of people. There are couples coming to and fro. Commuters trying to hop back on the train to catch it in time to get back to the office before the boss eats their ass for being late from lunch for the third time in two weeks. You can tell who those people are by the look on their faces.

Oh, and Mormons.

There were a group of Mormons standing about ten yards away from William and Samir. They had pamphlets. Two men and two women.

Samir
That he feels different is not a startling development for Sam. He had progressed a few winters ago, and was happy to stay in his trailer with everything he needed to survive, peeling himself out of his chair a few times a day to inhale the air outside and walk around the warded bit of land he kept up with River. There is nothing he needs from the city or the people in the city, and yet he keeps making exceptions.

Never mind exceptions have almost gotten him killed before. More than once. The young man in front of him now the correlating variable in the two most recent incidents.

"Yes," he says, his hands still in his pockets. "You are."

He spares a glance for the Mormons, if only because holy shit there's like four of them since when do they let the women out of the compound.

Denver
[Mormon 1: Do I notice Sam? -4]

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

Denver
[Mormon 2: Do I notice Sam? -4]

Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (4, 7) ( success x 1 )

Denver
[Lady Mormon 1: What about me? -4]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (7, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 4 )

Denver
[Lady Mormon 2: I have to notice something. (Awareness) -4]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 6, 8) ( success x 3 )

Denver
[And alertness]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 10) ( success x 1 )

Denver
[aaaand awareness again]

Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 3 )

Denver
The first of them- a tall, lanky man with dark hair and the perpetual five o'clock shadow- pointed at the pair of mages standing nearby. There was the subtle nudge to the short redhead next to him but almost in unison the entire group of modestly dressed people swung their attention in their direction.

They were staring, whispered amongst themselves and wore expressions of almost awe before one of them- the small redheaded man, got nudged forward. He started his approach.

"Sir?" he said, quickened his approach and looked at Samir with a look that paralleled hero worship, "oh it is such a blessing to meet you."

Samir
Sam does not even hesitate before taking a deep breath and taking a long-legged step back to come as close to hiding behind Will as he can, considering the fact that Will could hide behind a fucking fence post. There is no hiding behind Will.

"I--heh!" Jesus what is going on. "Why's that?"

William
William has, during the course of their not-meeting-in-person, not puyt on any weight. He's tall, but he's never been a particularly physically imposing guy, but he was more than willing to put himself as far between Samir and Creepy Mormon Dude as he possibly could.

"Heyyy look, this is great and all, but we've already been to the motherland. Read the book, we're good," now please go away, the rest of that statement went.

Denver
The man didn't seem deterred by the fact that there was now a person between him and Samir, and he continued his approach only to stop right before he ran into William.

"You're him, He Who Speaks Midnight. The Scion of Beyond- Vriqiohr," he whispered, and the name coated with honey and all the flies trapped within it.

Samir
[int + occult: that's a mouthful. keen-edged mind spec GO.]

Dice: 5 d10 TN8 (1, 1, 3, 3, 5) ( botch x 2 ) [Doubling Tens]

William
[Int+occult: go go gadget Hermeticism?]

Dice: 6 d10 TN8 (1, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 1 )

William
Dude, Samir. He totally thinks you're the actor from that new web series... something about people acting out a dorky tabletop group's game? Something like that. Felt a little too much like Harmon Quest without the charm]

William
Be flattered, if you roll with this you might be able to get some free shit.

Samir
"... oh."

Given Sam has never heard of either the Scion of Beyond or whatever that new Youtube series that was like Drunk History if the History were Dorky TT Groups' Sessions and also not funny, he doesn't feel the acute need to get them the fuck away from him. They're just overenthusiastic fans dealing with a case of mistaken identity. That happens to people sometimes.

Not to him necessarily, but he's heard of it happening.

"Oh, I... yeah, I get that a lot."

William
William, however, does feel the need to leave right about now. He placed his hands out and began the careful extrication of himself from the man who was literally an inch away from being pressed against his chest. Hands out and caaaarefully moving him away from them.

"We've really got to be going, Mister Midnight talker has... uh... a really busy schedule, don't we?"

Denver
[Redbeard the Mormon: No touchy]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (4, 7, 7, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )

William
[Maybe dodge?]

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

Denver
[Just making sure we don't pop his shoulder out of place]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

William
[Oww?]

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

Denver
Clearly, the redhaired man was not too keen on being removed from Samir's space via the twiggy meat shield that was standing between them. The movement was efficient and brutal. William put his hands out and the man took a grip on his wrist and soon enough had the taller blond turned around his his left arm hiked up somewhere between his shoulder blades in a position that made the would-be bodyguard infinitely more manageable.

"So you've met the others?"


Samir
It isn't the efficiency with which the ginger puts Will into a secure hold that has Sam flinching but the speed. Now that his meat shield is gone Sam starts to step back, not attempting to be polite anymore. If he has to unleash something nasty to resolve this - aka, if he ends up in Quiet because of the idiot who doesn't know self defense or reverse holds even though he loves trouble so much - he doesn't want to be close enough for chunks of viscera to hit him.

"Hey, man," Sam says, his palms out of his pockets and presented to show he's unarmed, "it's cool, we're all cool, I... if you say I'm Vrikor, I'm Vrikor. But I'm not answering any more questions until you let him go."

William
That could have hurt a lot worse than it did, and he inhaled some sharp breath that broadcast the fact that this hurt.

"I got this," but with the sort of forcefulness that says fucking run without coming out and saying it. William knows something, he knows something that he can't come out and say because he's stuck in the kind of hold that would make Israeli special forces golf clap at its execution.



Denver
The grip didn't falter just yet, he didn't seem keen on letting go and at that juncture the rest of his creepy crew was headed their way. This was starting to look more and more like a problem. As though having someone in a police hold wasn't already a problem.

"And then you will come with us, meet the others, yes?"



Samir
[wp: just leave him there man it's what he wants]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 4, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Samir
For the three seconds it takes Samir to make a decision, he has a raging internal debate.

Though all Will can see is empathy and uncertainty, he knows the Virtual Adept. Sam is the sort of player who will allow his character to die if it means the team will gain more points, but has rarely been in that situation. He's an intelligent individual who can predict other people's behavior based on their previous actions. The fact that Will has made it this far behaving the way as he has been behaving ever since Sam first met him is astonishing.

It is not up to Sam to decide whether Will's time is up or not. Some part of him believes that the Hermetic can, in all seriousness, handle four people by himself. That he is in this situation to begin with is fucking bullshit, and plain old-fashioned bad luck. But Will, bless his stupid little heart, is willing to stay behind so Sam can get the hell out of there.

And then you will come with us, meet the others, yes?

"Nah," Sam says. "Fuck that."

And then he turns and books it down the platform.

Denver
[Because I can't find the mechanics of this damned pursuit thing in m20, I think I've figured something out.

Running speed is 5 x Dex = meters traveled on 1 success. You need 1 success to maintain speed and each success thereafter gives you 5 extra meters per turn.

Roll to run is dex+athletics, diff 6 (base, until you hit people and then difficulty will be modified)

example: Nora has Dex 3, so Nora moves 15 meters per round (provided she doesn't fail or botch). Nora rolled 3 successes on her Dex+athletics roll. So, this turn Nora moved 25 meters.

Jake has Dex 4, so he moves 20 meters per success. Jake rolled 3 successes so he moved 30 meters this round and is gaining on Nora.



So, uhhhhh, basically just roll Dex+athletics and I'll do the weird math and shit.



Denver
[Roll initiatives to start the chase!]

Samir
[lol sam is toast +5]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (7) ( success x 1 )

Denver
Tall Mormon: 5+1d10

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (4) ( fail )

Denver
Red: 6+1d10

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )

Denver
Chick: 5+1d10

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (1) ( botch x 1 )

Denver
Magical Girl Mormon: 7+1d10

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (10) ( success x 1 )

William
Aaaad will. Dex3+wits3+1d10

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (2) ( fail )

William
Chick: 
The lady, who wasn't terribly close at that moment, looked around awkwardly before kicking off her sensible heels and picking up her skirt and trying her level best to catch up with Samir-

"Wait!"
[action: begin pursuit, dex 2 +athletics 1]

William
"It's fucking stupid to incur Vriqiohr's wrath. Let. Him. Leave." fists clenched around something, something then muttered under his breath and tried to keep his head together.

[Mind 2: Inspire fear for MGM because she a boss-assed bitch who don't feel like everyone else.]

Tall
The taller man looked around confusedly and then started along with his pursuit.

[Pursuit started! Dex 3 + athletics 2]





Samir
[corr 3: Get Me the Fuck Out of Here. may need to extend this if the dice gods aren't pleased.]

William
Red
Quit. Fucking. Moving you goddamned blond.
[Action: apply pressure and reassert grapple?]

MGM
"I just need to talk, stay," she said and continued her calm pursuit.

[Mind 2: Suggestion "Stay"]




Denver
MGM: Arete 3- Stay the fuck put. Diff 3+ 2 (sphere) +1 (fastcast)

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

Denver
Red: strength 3 + brawl 3 = 6, diff 6

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 4, 4, 10) ( success x 1 )

Denver
[Ouchies?]

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

William
[Soak]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 6) ( success x 1 )

Samir
[corr 3: nyeeeh. base diff 8, modifiers are a pain in the dick. -1 for Quint, spending WP.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN7 (2, 3, 10) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Denver
[Tall guy: Maybe?]

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

William
[Will: fast casting! Mind 2. Diff 3 + sphere 2 + fast 1 - 2 quint= diff 4]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (1, 5, 5) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

William
[Short and Skirty: Dex 2+ athletics 1: Iiiiiii'm running!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 9) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

William
"I just need to talk, stay," she insisted, and there was a push against that shield and it was as though it just bounced off of him like a bullet into a brick wall. Not strong enough to break through but certainly enough to put a dint in the side of the foundation. This was, all the while, when Samir was being pursued by several of the modestly-dressed cultists. The taller one started his run, and was gaining on the stationary Virtual Adept while the woman in her bare feet and longer skirt was doing her best there. There was the effort put in, and written clear about her face that she wanted to be there. That she wanted to meet Him. The One. The glorious Vriqiohr.

The other man reaffirmed his grip on the younger man and reapplied pressure there, but not enough that it really seemed to make much of a difference. The other mage was stuck, but not stuck in such a fashion that he wasn't going to be able to really act or function. He didn't necessarily need to move.

"It's fucking stupid to incur Vriqiohr's wrath. Let. Him. Leave," William barked with the sort of firmness that only came when a Hermetic was dressing someone down, and if there was any doubt in his ability to do so, it was dashed when the other woman- with her red hair and soothing voice and serpentine feel about her- stopped and her expression turned to that of pause, then mortification, then fear. She stopped her pursuit, backing away slowly.

"I-" she stammered, shook her head and put her hands up, "oh, great one forgive me-" she told Samir, stopped in her tracks. The people around the scene seemed... mostly weirded out by all of this. The next train was departing already, and the station was clearing out.

William
It was unfortunate, of course, that they just weren't fast enough, because with little fanfare their glorious god-figure disappeared, leaving the cultists in awe and leaving the rest of the people in the station confused.

And then shrugging it off as though the man who disappeared had never even been there.

Samir
[Heather, you are a marvel. Thank you so much! <3]

William
[Thanks for having me! I had a blast, and thank you for playing!]

Friendship is Magic

Elijah
There was no getting rid of him now. Samir had revealed that he had a treehouse and Elijah, having always wanted for a tree house, was living his dream vicariously through Samir Lakhani (Lakhani? Lah-kah-nee? Fuck.) It was a tree house, as in a platform amidst the trees and he could see things without having to actually get into them.

He'd brought a case of beer, some pot lemon squares (because brownies are so last year), and a kaleidoscope.

Elijah wasn't sure what Samir would do with a kaleidoscope, but he'd given it to him anyway, wrapped (I swear to God I did not give you a dildo) and presented as a housewarming gift because he hadn't actually done so before. So, there he was, laying on his back and staring at the sky and-

"I have no fucking clue how to tie a tie," he admits, despite the fact that he is actually wearing a tie today.

Samir
He probably should have known this would be the end result if he told Elijah that he had a tree house. The kid about lost his shit over the fact that he could conjure a love seat out of thin air. At the rate they're going he might as well just move that love seat out of his apartment and into the platform up in the tree.

Beer and pot lemon squares and a kaleidoscope are acceptable housewarming gifts. He washes the ever-loving hell out of his hands after he unwraps the thing but at least he handles it without too much in the way of tooth-pulling.

This revelation about the tie makes Sam frown.

"So... is that a clip-on, or..."

Elijah
"Nah, I talked Jenn into doing it for some bullshit reason. I can usually con someone else into tying it," he tells Samir, "basically, I'm not-so-secretly hoping you know how to do this and can impart your wisdom before I have to break down and tell my dad that, despite having told me that one time, I still have no fucking clue how to do this. I'm kind of afraid he'll think he failed as a parent if his son plays the harp and can't tie a tie."

Ah, there is a reason now. He takes another bite of lemon square, sits up long enough to dust the crumbs off of himself and let them fall away onto the ground far, far below, and thinks briefly of the second Creepshow movie. Imagines a man eating oil slick beneath them and-

Ugh. He reminds himself that he is glad they are on land.

Samir
"... do you want me to find a Youtube video?"

If anyone looks as if he has less experience tying ties than Elijah does it's Samir. He wears t-shirts and leather jackets and calls it a day. The most tying he does is to lace up his Doc Martens and make sure the twist on baggies of weed are secure. That's a long shot compared to tying a tie.

Even if he did know how to tie a tie he wouldn't be able to show Elijah how to do it. That would involve. You know. Touching him.

"Hang on. They have videos for everything on Youtube."

They don't have a tie readily available either but that could change in a few moments.

Elijah
"Can you find out what the fuck a half windsor is? Like, is there a whole tie etiquette thing I'm missing?"

He leans over without having to actually me touching Sam, just presumes that he has his phone and that the tree house has wifi because what else would one do in a tree house but watch Youtube videos while you're kinda getting a little stoned?

A beat passes, then?

"Do they seriously have videos for everything on youtube?"

He is suddenly reminded that you can't google technocrats.

Samir
"Dude, do I look like I know shit about tying ties?"

For the time being Sam tolerates Elijah's sliding closer. They've already had the most awkward moment of their fledgling bromance. At this point the more Elijah invades his personal space and reminds him of the time he offered to give him a handjob the better he's going to get at tolerating it when complete strangers do it.

In theory. He hasn't ever seen behavioral therapy in action. There's probably a Youtube video for it though.

"They have videos for pretty much everything. Anything that violates copyright law or basic human decency tends to get taken down pretty fast. You have to go on Liveleak or other sites to find the nastier ones."

He's seen some shit on the Dark Web.

"Okay. Half Windsor." Full screen. Rotate. "Go."

Elijah
"The fuck is Liveleak? Is that where the Mister Hands shit originated?"

Oh Elijah, you have no idea what horrors lurk on the internet.

Samir
"I think 4chan is responsible for that one, actually. Liveleak wasn't around in 2005."

If Elijah doesn't know what 4chan is then Sam isn't going to be the one to tell him. He'd like to assume that Elijah knows what 4chan is because Elijah knows what the Dark Web is and also Elijah asked Google what the Technocracy is. But you know what happens when you assume.

Elijah
"Man, fucking 4chan," is all he has to say for that one.

In the mean time, he has carefully extricated himself from his tie, loosened it to the point that it came free and he looks a little warily at the screen, as though he is fairly certain that he has made a right and terrible decision and he could have gotten out of having to tie this until he came back from Boston.

"So, like, what kind of shit is on Liveleak?"

Samir
Sam has found a way to prop the phone up against the side of the railing so that Elijah can look at a somewhat steady screen instead of the shakiness of Sam's hands on top of the shakiness of the cameraman.

It also means he gets to light a cigarette and judge Elijah as he waits until the week before he goes on this Very Important Apprenticeship Trip to learn how to tie a fucking tie.

"Executions, mostly. A lot of political and war footage. Beheadings, a lot, lately. Sometimes people post videos of car versus pedestrian aftermath or, you know. Dead babies and shit. Nothing illegal."

Elijah
And he's going through the motions, and he's not... adept at this. He fumbles through, yes, but he does stop the video, looks down and undoes the knot and scoots the video back, just enough to start over again. This is a skill that he is going to have to practice... a lot. He's getting there, of course, because he can write the world into his whims so of course Elijah is going to fucking learn how to tie a tie.

"So... it's like the Faces of Death stuff they had on Rotten dot com awhile back?" he shakes his head, "I mean, when Rotten dot com was a thing. I'm kinda glad that... y'know... I have no idea how to find half this shit. I kinda want to know more? But, like, I really... really don't."

Samir
"You really really really don't."

Spoken like someone who lives on the Internet. He was the one who stayed up all night the night before the raid on the Artist's minions' home. He saw some shit that night that might have made him vomit if he hadn't seen awful things done to children on the Internet.

Granted the shit he saw that night was enough to make him never want to see another person naked ever again in his life but the only person who saw a fraction of what he saw was Grace. They could just leave what they saw between the two of them.

It did not cause him an undo amount of mental anguish to set that building on fire. That the person who had made them zombies or vampires or whatever the hell they were in the first place wasn't in the building didn't matter much. They were monsters in their own right. Too far gone for redemption even if they had been innocent before the Nephandus did whatever she did.

Sam shakes his head hard and blinks as if his mind had wandered. It had. It does that sometimes.

Elijah
He looks at Sam for a second, between trying to figure out this half Windsor thing (which he actually did manage to do, and he looks down as if he isn't entirely sure that he did this right, but we digress) and his attention turns to Sam. He doesn't know what is out there on the internet, or the dark web. Elijah grew up in an age where he'd never not had technology.

Then again, he'd been offline for most of his formative years. The seedy people he'd found he'd managed to find in person. Has no idea the number of close calls he has had in his life time, doesn't think of the countless other things that could have gone wrong. Elijah does a lot of things, but in his core there are just realities that he doesn't think about because he doesn't think to think about them. Thought that To Catch a Predator was just a thing that happened on Dateline and that it could get so much worse.

But, Sam blinks and shakes his head.

"Dude, did you just have a 'nam flashback?"

Samir
"Had a 'your mom' flashback."

It's worth mentioning that Sam did eat one of the pot lemon squares that Elijah made. He wants to believe that Elijah isn't the sort of person to change a dirty diaper or jerk off a subway-dwelling heroin addict and then prepare food without washing his hands first. Until he can work organic data arrays into his paradigm he just has to trust people.

Woe and agony.

Back in the present he frowns at the lack of progress Elijah is making with that tie.

"Jesus Christ, I thought white people had to know how tie a tie before their first confirmation. Let me see that."

He drags the phone closer to him so he can refresh it and see what Elijah is supposed to be doing.

Elijah
"I can't be Catholic if I can't tie a tie?!"

Nope. That's noose. Like a tiny, formal way of killing himself. He's got to be getting a little closer. He lets out a little sound, a sad whine, because he has had more than one lemon square.

"Aw, my grandma's gonna be so mad now..."

Samir
[mind 1: learn the shit out of this.]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (2, 7) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

Samir
All the Mercurial Elite appears to do is sit and watch a two-minute video in rapt silence. Takes him shushing Elijah at one point to really appear as if he is watching it. Even without sound he could watch what is happening and sort out what he's supposed to do.

"Alright," he says after about the halfway point.

Then he narrows his eyes in a sidelong glance at the Hermetic apprentice. Thinks about what he's doing before he does it.

"Just because I show you how to tie a tie doesn't mean we're getting married or anything, alright? I just... I can't watch you keep sucking at this, it's making my skin itch."

Elijah
[Dead serious! Manip+sub, +2 diff because I'm high as balls)

Dice: 7 d10 TN8 (1, 3, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 5 )

Samir
[perc + empathy: shit, dude!]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) [Doubling Tens] [WP]

Samir
[I didn't mean to spend WP. He only got three successes. YOU WIN THIS ONE, POIROT.]

Elijah
"No way, dude. If we tie a tie together, that's a thing. It's stupidly significant in the Order, it's like a tiny hand fasting. We've made a fucking pact."

Dead. Fucking. Serious.

Samir
At that he springs to his feet and holds up both his hands. Nope. Nope nope nope. More important than leaving his phone in the possession of a fellow crazy person is not tying a pact with said crazy person.

"You're on your own, man," he says as he backs towards the ladder.

Fucking pot lemon squares.

Elijah
It's too much. It's all too much, Sam springs up and Elijah falls over. Croons, crows, laughs hard enough that his ribs hurt and his face hurts and he forgets, for a second, that one of his friends is in mortal peril and is at home painting... uh... something. He didn't know what Jenn was painting, and at that moment he was too busy laughing his ass off.

"No, wait-" he can't stop. Can. Not. Stop. Laughing.

"Come baaaaaaaack I'm sharing my worldview with you, we need to be a- fuckin- cabal or something! You understaaaaaand meeeeee."

He had not stopped laughing, though, and probably about halfway down the ladder he responded with.

"Owww, get your phone."

Samir
I'm sharing my worldview with you--

Sam makes a noise like Elijah just flicked a booger at him and starts down the ladder. It is not a sincere sound. The fact that Elijah is laughing is kind of a giveaway that he just got got. He still screams like a little girl and continues along the escape sequence.

"Fuck my phone!" he calls up from the grass. "I'm gonna go take a shower and rethink my life!"

Elijah
"I'm totally not looking at porn while you're gone!"

He's totally going to look at porn while Sam is gone.

Samir
"Don't make me drop a couch on you!"

Friendship truly is magic.

Fuck yeah, Treehouse!

Samir
A few weeks have passed since Sam teleported the couch he so lovingly made for Elijah into the apartment over Floral and Hardy. Its piercing presence has really tied the living room together. The Mercurial Elite does not have strong resonance and it has started to fade but the fact that it still stabs people when they sit on it for the first time has been a source of boundless amusement for the Hermetic apprentice.

Or Sam can assume. He gets text messages sometimes. He hasn't told Elijah where his ass moved to yet. Elijah wants to hang out today though and Sam doesn't want to fuck around with public transportation on a Saturday so Elijah has the distinction of being the first person to see the Mercurial Elite's new digs.

He had the previous distinction of being the first person to see the Mercurial Elite's studio apartment. It was fucking depressing.

So: Sam is squatting out by Russellville Gulch. It's thirty-three miles outside of Denver and another forty-six miles to Colorado Springs. His Airstream sits next to Cherry Creek which is dry as fuck this time of year and a path of trees stands sentinel in the distance. The state park is about a mile or so south of his location. In order to get to it Elijah has to engage in some minor trespassing and then some minor hiking.

The Airstream does not have a deck. There are a couple of lawn chairs and a table with an umbrella where he can set his laptop. That piercing quality is everywhere. If Elijah weren't actively looking for him and invited on top of that it's likely he never would have found the fucking place.

Sam looks a bit grubby but not unwashed. More like he's been camping for three weeks straight. He hasn't shaved his face in a while and his already brown skin has grown darker from being outside so much. Of course he's wearing sunglasses. It's sunny and gorgeous outside today. A slight haze from the west but that's to be expected.

As Elijah approaches the plot the other man abandons whatever the fuck he was doing to tramp away from the creek and greet him.

"Sup," he says.

Elijah
And it is. It really, really is because it looks so comfortable, and it is comfortable, once you get over the fact that you are going to sit on the couch, get stabbed, and then settle into a false sense of security not knowing if it'll happen again. It's like sitting on a sedative that makes Elijah's living room actually look pretty nice. Samir has a good taste in sofas when he's randomly making things for Elijah to sit on.

He concludes that he likes where Samir lives, even before he's seen the place, namely because of the lengths it takes to actually get there. It involves hiking (which he enjoys) and tresspassing (which is an endless source of amusement for him). He hasn't illegally been on private property since he broke into Elitch Gardens. Jumped the fence and said it was all in the name of transcendence or whatever was going on with that ghost girl who fell over the railing a few years back.

He was actively looking for Samir and he still got lost, ended up standing in a field for awhile while he yelled "I give up, Saaaaaaaaam, come get meeeeeeeeee."

Eventually he did find it though.

A little dirty but he doesn't seem to care.

"You have a fucking creek!"

Samir
"I mean..."

Looks a bit strange standing there in his wine-colored shit-kicker boots and black jeans with all that nature behind him. At least he's not wearing a jacket for the first time that Elijah can recall. In a t-shirt that shows off his nerd physique he looks like a kid who's been dragged out here for rehabilitation on a court order and not someone who chose this for whatever fucked-up enlightenment purposes he's concocted.

Sam turns to look at the creek. In the springtime it may burble. Right now it's still.

"It's not really mine, I just kind of look at it." He turns back to Elijah and then hikes a thumb at the trailer like to portend his impending disappearance. "You want a drink?"

Elijah
Does he want a drink?
"Yeah, whatcha got? I'll go for anything carbonated or anything above forty proof," he tells Sam.

It's pretty weird, though. He looks at Sam again, then at the creek- which Elijah is actually pretty content to let it stay over there. He eyes it cautiously, like he's still trying to figure out how deep it is. Concludes that he probably won't drown in it unless Samir beats him over the head with something or if he gets really drunk and just passes out face down in still water.

All things considered, Elijah concludes that would be a shitty way for his story to end. Yep, the creek stays right over there.

He meanders to the trailer.

"You don't have a deck," he announces, like this is a travesty.


Samir
"Am I supposed to?"

The inside of the trailer appears to have been decorated by a housewife with too much time and money. It's bright and clean but the curtains are tacky and all of the appliances are older than both the young men put together. A queen-sized bed takes up the entirety of the space to the far end of the trailer but it's a step up from an air mattress. Books and electronic equipment occupies every inch of storage space the trailer offers and then spills into the area under the bed frame.

Though the trailer has a space for a shower that would involve having access to running water. Which he doesn't. Yet.

Sam rifles around in the mini fridge for a few moments and then pulls out a can of off-brand citrus-flavored caffeine explosion. No alcohol. That's going to require some reality hacking. He offers a can to Elijah and cracks open one of his own before herding him back outside.

Elijah
"Dude. It's a trailer. You live in the middle of nature. Having a deck is required," he says, "plus it makes you way less likely to step out and fall flat on your face. It's a thing."

He looks around, doesn't touch anything until he has the off-brand soda in his hand and something about that makes him grin with absolute delight. Takes a long drink and bites back the aftertaste of Not Mountain Dew.

Samir
Their seating options are limited to the two lawn chairs underneath the patio umbrella and the ground. Sam is pushing it even living out here in the first place. He does not choose to sit on the ground. He sits his ass down in the lawn chair and watches Elijah's reaction to the drink.

"There's no high-fructose corn syrup in this shit," he says offhand. "Hope you like Mexican sugar."

Back to the matter of the deck:

"Dude, I don't know shit about building shit. I could probably just write a deck into the trailer's code but I feel like that defeats the purpose of living in the middle of nature."

Elijah
Raises his can again- concludes that Samir does not fuck around when it comes to soda and, despite what the corn industry says, you can taste a difference between high fructose corn syrup and real sugar. He might have had a little too much too fast, and he covers his mouth for a second to mask what is a decidedly weak burp. Somewhere, someone taught him manners.

"My dad runs a construction company," Elijah starts, "and for awhile he'd figured working with him was cheaper than rehab. I actually have mad deck building skills... I can also put a roof on your house if you decide to build something that needs a freaking roof."

Because, you know, he could have had an office job and played it cool and probably slept with the girl who did all the accounting paperwork. Instead, Elijah spent a couple summers busting tail and getting high or drunk or whatever after work. So, it was like Elijah actually worked construction.

Samir
"Ugh. A house? I had enough trouble keeping that shithole apartment clean. This is a lot easier."

He says like he didn't spend half his time cleaning the place anyway. This may be the first time he's joked open about his illness in front of Elijah but then again there's a decent-sized difference between someone who cleans often because they are a type A personality and someone who cleans often out of compulsion.

Besides: Elijah has spent time on psych wards. He knows what nonfunctioning obsessives look like. Sam does not look like a nonfunctioning obsessive. He does however smell and sound a little bit like he's been doing bong rips all afternoon.

"Let me think about it."

Like if he acquiesces to Elijah helping him build a deck they might as well start picking out silverware sets.

Elijah
"You live in, like, a magical fucking woodland wonderland, Sam. Like a fucking boss."

Doesn't say a damned thing about the fact that the outdoors is freaking filthy because, yeah, they both definitely know that it's dirty. The fact that Sam, despite smelling like Elijah's early high school years, is living in the middle of a germ-filled mess of nature is pretty fucking impressive.

"Also, you can totally trade in my slave labor for other shit. You made me a couch, and it's been a fucking source of hours of entertainment."

Samir
Not only is it filthy but it's crawling with lifeforms that Sam has only ever encountered in wildlife documentaries and Wikipedia articles. It isn't anything that's ever interested him before now. Seeing the world that exists on the other side of the Gauntlet had an affect on his brain that he has been grappling with for a while.

Either that or going into Quiet really fucked him up. He did get attacked by the amalgam of two teenaged girls. He has been withdrawn since then but it's hard to tell whether he's more withdrawn than usual or if that's his typical state of being. For keeping each other alive as they had the two don't know each other very well. You need time for that.

"Really?" This about the couch. Something about that statement makes him laugh. "Well, shit. Glad I could be of service. Here's to the couch."

Toasting with green fizzie-drink cans. They are living the dream over here.

Elijah
Clinks the cans together and down the hatch it goes. Doesn't shotgun the thing because this is a soda that was made with actual sugar. You don't just guzzle this shit. Besides, Samir lives int he middle of the wilderness. Elijah didn't know what it was that Sam did in order to keep his trash consumption in check, but he's in Colorado. They have to keep this whole nature thing pristine or else he'll get deported.

Then it's back to swamplands and avoiding his parents. Thank you, no thank you.

"I've acquired this temporary-but-it's-looking-like-not-temporary room mate named Aidan? The apartment is full of fucking Katrina refugees, but anyway. Aidan. Dreamspeaker, or whatever the fuck they call themselves now-" Hermetic problems. Can't be fucked to figure out the tradition's new name "-spends a fucking hour investigating this thing because it doesn't behave like a normal couch. He sees things like a super animistic view of themselves, and apparently my loveseat broke his brain for, like, a day."

Samir
Okay. That's fucking funny. Sam doesn't exactly fall out of his chair laughing but it's clear that this guy doesn't encounter much that strikes him as novel anymore. He lives on the Internet. The fact that he hasn't checked Reddit in ten minutes is a bit of a stretch for him. But he does laugh at the mental image.

"Seriously?" Yes seriously. "That's awesome. Next time I come over I'll turn it into a sectional. He won't know what hit him."

Elijah
"Dude, we could finally retire the IKEA couch! Because, seriously, the next time some fucking Quaesitor comes and sits in my living room I want a mildly pokey couch as a fucking even playing field."

Samir
"The fuck did you have a Quaesitor in your living room for?"

Elijah
"My apprenticeship was fucked before I started studying with Henry. He and this other guy wanted to talk with me and see if I was actually worth the effort of fixing the whole fucked-up-ed-ness over."

Throws his hands out wide.

"I haven't failed out yet! But seriously, it was like having a job interview with someone who is judging your soul."

Samir
"Ah, Houston, that's a big fat nope."

He puts the drained can as far away from him as he can get without throwing it on the ground. Removes the compulsion to fuck with it. It's bad enough he's been tapping the inside of his right middle finger against the lawn chair's arm and counting how many times he tapped and berating himself for counting and then starting over because if he was gonna tap on the damned chair he was going to do it in multiples of 23. Just to be civilized.

"So... why the Order?"

Elijah
There are two lawn chairs. He could, conceivably, sit in a lawn chair like a normal fucking person but he doesn't. Puts a hand down and settles on the dirt like he doesn't mind because, well, he doesn't. Actually kinda likes it, could go on about the feeling one has about being grounded and aware of your surroundings when you have a connection to land. Or, it could just be that he liked sitting on the ground. Did it in his apartment when there weren't people he was talking to that might take it oddly that he's camped out on the carpet like a four-year-old waiting for circle time.

"Because of words," he says, "like... the Order has this view on language- that there's this whole power and beauty and strength and definition and a bunch of other shit in language. I thought that the idea was beautiful, that the idea of naming something gave it strength and made it real and giving it a name informed the definition and..."

He trails off, realizing that he's rambling.

"They have this whole view that there's a language that spoke the world into existence, that there was Truth in that and I fucking loved it. Still love it. I thought it was interesting that the universe might be this gigantic, complicated piece of poetry and we're picking through extended metaphors."

Samir
Sam considers this. Gets through three sets of finger-tapping in the amount of time Elijah talks about his paradigm and the paradigm of the Order of Hermes and that's all well and good but he doesn't want to just sit on three sets. Four is a better number. A better ward against death than any other number he's tried and he hasn't discovered the extent of the things that could kill him out here. He hears coyotes and gunshots sometimes. Not the same kind of gunshots the city provides. This is a more reasonable use of firearms but it still wakes him up at night.

"That is quite possibly the gayest thing I've ever heard in my life," he says.

Elijah
"Dude, I have literally asked to blow you before and that was the gayest thing you've heard in your life?"

Samir
He nods a vigorous nod and stops tapping the fucking lawn chair.

"Yup." That's enough male posturing for one day. He asks, "So... what language is it?"

Elijah
"Enochian, language of the angels and shit," he said, "I know, sounds really Supernatural-esque but I swear it's an actual fucking language and Sam and Dean can eat me. It's weird, but it's absolutely fucking gorgeous and there is not an analogous human language for it. It's kind of the language of high umbral beings."

Samir
Sam considers this. Doesn't appear to judge it right away even though it's about as far away from what he believes as is the Verbenae paradigm. High umbral beings. Alright.

"Right on," he says. "So... that's why you joined the Order and had a Quaesitor sitting in your living room."

Makes total sense.

Elijah
There is something that Elijah doesn't say, that he has a theory. That if the language that spoke creation into being is spoken by high umbral beings, is there an analogue for the forces that live in the deep umbra? Is it all just a derivative of the same language or does it actually divide? He'd been thinking about Descent, about how that even fucking works. Doesn't want to know except he really... really does. All thought exercises before he passes the fuck out and doesn't dream.

Small courtesies.

Anyway. Quaesitor. Living room.

"Yep. Dude, it was weird- I think that, after a point, people that have been doing this magic shit for too long forget how to interface with actual normal fucking people. The Order has a whole don't meddle in the affairs of sleepers thing, which I think is there to keep people from, like, mindfucking their way into the presidency? But some people take it to the point that they're like ladida I live in a fucking tower and the magical world is the only thing that exists like it's not part of the same fucking world-" a second, "-and it's not just Hermetics that do that. Like, am I tripping? Do you see people do that, too? Am I overgeneralizing?"

Samir
"I mean..."

He's talking to someone who may as well live in a fucking tower but reality hacking is a different breed of beast. Perhaps. Humans can convince themselves of just about anything and the Awakened human is no different.

"I don't get out much. So."

Elijah
"Eh," he shrugs.

A beat.

"Hey, what's your last name?"

Samir
Elijah just discovered the fastest way to make a hacker paranoid.

"... why?"

For fuck's sake Sam.

"It's Lakhani. L-A-K-H-A-N-I."

Elijah
"It just bugged me that I don't know your last name? Like, I met you. And you know I've been in a shit car accident and a whole bunch of other things, and I had to find out you had a first name from Grace. I was just like, Elijah, you seriously can not keep being friends with someone you call 'that one dude'... and Lakhani is a fucking cool name."

Samir
Now is not the time for Sam to tell Elijah that he Googled the shit out of him before he went to go sell him drugs and that he probably knows more about him than is appropriate.

The night of the fire they did talk about their parents a bit. How Elijah's middle name was a girl's and how Sam didn't have a middle name because his mother didn't disclose who his father was if she even knew.

"Yeah, it's alright."

A beat.

"So... are you staying the night?"

Elijah
"Can I stay the night?"

Samir
"If you keep your hands to yourself."

Elijah
"Totally respecting your virtue, Samir."

Samir
He considers this for a moment. Stone-faced and even more so because of the sunglasses concealing his eyes. Then he stands from the lawn chair and tugs down the hem of his t-shirt and gives a jerk of his head towards the tree line.

"C'mon," he says. "I wanna show you this fucking treehouse I found."

Elijah
[I am not fucking excited about this. Manip+sub]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Elijah
"... you have a treehouse?"

Dubious, like he wasn't sure he wanted to believe Samir. Like this might be some truth that he isn't completely ready to face and soon enough he was meandering along in the grass anyway because there was a treehouse he could go see and Elijah guessed that maybe he could go see it.

Dusts the dirt off his butt and follows

Samir
[you are too fucking excited about this don't be a fag]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 5 ) [Doubling Tens]

A terrible thought can have a terribly long career

Elijah
There is a moment of dawning horror that comes when Elijah realizes that his friends are going to burn two people alive in their home and act like this was not a big deal. Or, perhaps, it was a big deal. Perhaps they realizes precisely how important and how horrifying this is, but...

There's always a but. So, it was an evening full of distraction. Which, strangely enough, involved wanting to hang out with Samir. And pretend like nothing was weird. Nope, none of this is anything other than normal. Nothing about this is a complete nightmare that he's trying very hard not to think about. Nope. Tonight was fine.

To his credit, he hasn't started drinking yet, but he's got a backpack full of books and tequila and things that are built for forgetting. He's accustomed to doing this kind of thing. He's been hanging out in the floor, has already made his way through a book about the printing press and how fascinating that was.

The horror's part of the wonder.

Just keep telling yourself that.

"So, uh..." awkward smalltalk time, "what do you do here?"

In the sparse apartment that smells cleaner than any hospital he'd ever been to.

Samir
Elijah is not the first person to step foot inside Sam's apartment since he moved in. The landlord let himself in a few times before Sam managed to ward the place against either detection or intrusion. And Grace slept here last night while he stayed awake and watched the inside of the safehouse from his computer monitor.

Three computer monitors share two desks. None of the windows open. All of the blinds are drawn tight and the air conditioner drips into an old coffee can. A cactus lives on a bookcase made out of cinder blocks and two-by-fours. A television sits on a middle shelf but it is unplugged and turned around to face the wall. That's what it gets for telling him to kill himself. Asshole TV.

While the Hermetic apprentice studies the Mercurial Elite sits in his wheelie chair and alternates between typing away in the monitor responsible for his Tor connection and the monitor responsible for the same Civilization V game he's been running since his last Seeking and the monitor responsible for keeping an eye on Kalen.

Gandhi is an even bigger asshole than his TV.

Unless Elijah indicates that he would love some lighting all he has is the glow from the LED monitors.

So, uh...

Though Sam's eyebrows rise he doesn't turn around until the question hits him.

"What?"

Elijah
He leans over, pretty sure that if he touches anything it would break immediately. So, he's nervous, appalled, and awkward. This is just like the time that he and his mother visited his grandmother in Quebec. He remembers the house being strangely earthy and his mother looking like she wanted to go home immediately. There wasn't some mythic fairytale forest at the back of this propertty. No, there was a Chinese laundry service.

Well, laundry is kind of mysterious and terrifying. Maybe it's similar.

His eyes flicker to the screen, brows raise up and he starts the arduous climb to his feet. It's a slow thing, it's a purposeful thing, it's a lazy thing because he's still trying to make sense of what is going on in front of him and-

"Hey, is that Civ?" he starts to meander over once he's finally gotten on his feet, "do you have another chair? I wanna watch."

Samir
"Ah..."

Sam looks around as if he might have misplaced a second chair. He has an air mattress that is fully decked out to look like a proper bed with the exception that it's on the floor rather than up on a frame and box spring. That is it. It would appear as though he takes his meals standing up in the kitchen or sitting at his computer.

No second chair exists. He sighs and looks over at the closet.

"Hang on."

[lololol conjuring up a fucking chair. matter/prime 2. base diff 5 (SANCTUM FTW) -1 quint.]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (7, 9) ( success x 2 )

Samir
[extending +1]

Dice: 2 d10 TN5 (5, 6) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Elijah
Samir opens the closet, and there is a chair.

There is a fucking nice chair. His brows raised, his expression impressed and he started to head over to the closet to acquire said chair so Samir didn't have to, you know, move the chair. Not that he would really have to of course- it has the kind of wheels on it that make the thing move like an Olympic figure skater.

He blinks.

Blinks again.

"... do you wanna trade chairs? I feel really bad now, this is a really nice chair."

Clearly, he is on the edge of a breakdown. He's being entirely too timid about a fucking chair.

Samir
As of right now Sam is not distracted by what is going on on his middle monitor. He has a Bluetooth headset plugged into his right ear and he does keep looking back at the text scrolling alongside the video feed but he is not attending to it active and alert. His guest wanted a chair and it only requires a series of keystrokes in a terminal window on the same monitor for him to pull a new chair out of thin air.

When he gets up it looks as if he just happened to have one in storage. Elijah knows better. He's seen what the VA is capable of doing across distance and using bottles of cleaner and bottles of drugs.

One brow quirks when Elijah asks if he wants to trade.

"... it's a chair," he says. "Are you...?"

Fuck. He doesn't want to ask. He knows what Elijah's problem is. That's the danger of paying attention though.

[perc + empathy: i hate myself.]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 2, 5, 5, 7) ( success x 1 ) [Doubling Tens]

Elijah
[Willpower: IT IS ALL ABOUT THE CHAIR!]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )

Samir
[REROLL THAT'S BULLSHIT]

Dice: 7 d10 TN7 (3, 5, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 8 ) [Doubling Tens]

Elijah
[Manip+sub: I'm fine!]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 7, 7) ( success x 3 )

Elijah
He needs to find some way where his conscience can justify setting what he presumes to be human beings on fire in their own homes (which he also presumes to be a pretty gruesome and horrible death). What he saw of their foes was this- reprehensible people doing something that is reprehensible. The deed must be done, they can't continue to exist on this mortal plane and let reincarnation sort everything out. This is understandable and reasonable.

Burning to death is a horrible way to die. It's why he'd gone overkill on his particular rote dealing with the human amalgamation they'd dealt with. He didn't want it to suffer, he wanted it to end. Quick, painless, final. The act is done before you even begin to fathom what happened.

This, what Grace and Kalen are going to do (what Samir is assisting in and observing), is not quick. It is not painless. It is not merciful. It is torture- in the best of scenarios they would be smothered to death by the smoke and debris. Their lungs would burn and they would die struggling for air. Drown in smoke.

What he needs is to find something that makes it okay, that lets him come to terms with the fact that good people he knows and cares about are going to torture living beings (reprehensible monsters, he knows), until they are no longer alive.

He doesn't know if sex will make things better. He doesn't want to touch people, as strange as it seems. He wants to sit in a shower and boil until he feels clean. He wants anything that will make him forty thousand miles from here. He wouldn't mind having sex, but he makes no promises that he might not start crying or dissociating.

Sex might be nice. Sitting with a person who gets it might be nice, too.

Barring any of that, he'd settle for heroin and laying in the bathtub.

Samir
For those of you playing along at home: Samir Lakhani is not a bad-looking male specimen. Quite the opposite. He has two eyes and he owns mirrors in which he does not look because he spends an inordinate amount of time in a world where he cannot trust his own perception. But on the occasions he has looked in a mirror he has seen the face the rest of the world sees. He knows he looks good.

So when he stands still despite the distraction of keeping an eye on his friends - their, both of them, he and Elijah are remote while another of Samir's kind shields herself from invasion and Elijah's former mentor walks up to a building filled with slumbering evil things without heartbeats - he also locks his eyes warm and brown onto Elijah's cool blue ones and what he sees in them makes him feel for him.

Samir hates feeling for other people. He feels for the cashiers and the taxi drivers and the homeless he passes every day. He feels and he knows what it is they need in order to make it through the day and if it weren't for his own mental illness he could bleed himself dry to give it to them.

A sigh quiet and calm leaves his lungs. He is beginning to give a shit about Elijah. This is not a burden for him. It could be a distraction but Samir is capable of multitasking. It could be a distraction but Samir could pull anything Elijah needed out of thin air.

So he grabs hold of the wheelie chair and pulls it out of the closet. Knocks his own shittier one out of the way and positions it in front of his computer setup. Starts to type a command onto the keyboard.

"... hang on."

[matter 2: transmutating the really nice wheelie chair into a loveseat or something so elijah can play civ 5 while he does his shit. -1 practiced rote -1 unique focus.]

Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (1, 8) ( success x 1 )

Elijah
[Per+empathy- how close CAN I get to you before this is uncomfortable?

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )

Elijah
And, within a moment, he is done sitting in a chair and then it's a loveseat. A really comfy loveseat, come to think of it. He doesn't quite sink in, being damned near six feet tall. He doesn't often get to fall into couches unless they are particularly magnificent or they're spectacularly shitty. This is not the Taj Mahal of sofas, but it's certainly not comfortable.

Elijah scoots over, eyes flicker back to the screen and he looks a little distant. A little absent, but then there's Civ. His lips upturn.

"Man, why is Suleiman all up in your ass," he reaches forward to take control of Civ. Picks it up like it's not a big deal. He might not be fantastic with computers, but he sure as shit knows how to play video games. This was a nice distraction. Civ was not going to make Elijah start irrationally crying for reasons he believes are entirely natural.

"What're they doing now?"

He really doesn't want to know, but he really does.

Samir
So he drags Elijah and the wheelie chair from the closet to the computer. The wheelie chair morphs from a super awesome wheelie chair into a comfortable loveseat. When Sam sits down next to him he has to grab his wireless keyboard and balance it on his knees. He has one keyboard per monitor. Samir Lakhani is a busy man.

When the Hermetic apprentice asks about Suleiman he slides the appropriate keyboard in front of his guest and settles back on the couch.

"... I, ah... I have two gold mines. And all the coastal tiles on this portion of the map. And he's super fucking pissed."

Tap tap tap. Tap tap. If Elijah looks over at the middle monitor he may not be able to make much sense out of what he's seeing. That doesn't matter. It isn't as if he's a Sleeper.

What're they doing now.

"We're waiting on Kalen." A beat. Shit. He's read too much on Ginger. He knows Kalen and Elijah are close. He stifles a sigh and points at the monitor responsible for Civ. "If you want to start a new game that's cool. You're probably gonna get fucked in about seven turns."

Elijah
"Are you presuming I suck at Civ, or do you have the difficulty jacked all to Hell?" he's in the process of starting up a new game, saves where Samir is right now because it sin't fair to jack up someone's game irreparably and then run away. He has no idea that this game has had the longevity of most people's college boyfriends. This is a pretty long standing game, it looked developed.

His eyes flicker tot he screen, and he stays there for a minute. He isn't paying attention to the game, he's paying attention to the trainwreck and-

nope. Back to Civ. Back to the new game because why the Hell not?

He taps idly on the space bar. Doesn't push it down but he does tap. Doesn't know he's doing it, but probably realizes it's kind of annoying. Tap... tap... tap tap... taptaptap... taptaptaptaptap. Fibonacci numbers, exhales slow and long. This is just a part of awakened life, they're going to do atrocious things. Inhales. Exhales.

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.

Samir
They're waiting on Kalen and then Sam says:

"Yes, there are."

Elijah can't hear what precipitated that answer. He asks if he's presuming he sucks at Civ. That is the least of Sam's concerns right now but a razor-quick flick of an almost-grin tugs at the corner of his mouth anyway.

"... yeah, I've got it on fucking Deity Mode. Go ahead."

Elijah has no way of knowing the other young man forgot to turn off his mic before he answered his question or that Kalen and Grace both heard him as he said this. Or that Sam is too distracted by his newfound friend's at-bay nervous breakdown to care.

He isn't paying attention to the game. He may not make anything of it when Sam says into his mic:

"Right behind you, yo."

A few seconds later it becomes apparent that Sam is Working and Elijah is losing himself to a sort of number-based self-soothing with which the reality hacker is beyond intimate. Fibonacci and he go way back. He begins to type on his keyboard and the glow from the middle monitor becomes a bit sharper. Penetrating. It could get into Elijah's skin if that's what he wanted. Sam knows he needs that sort of distraction. Now is a bad time.

"... you okay?" Sam asks as his resonance begins to take over everything else at the desk.

Elijah
He's halfway to twenty oneby the time Samir asks if he's okay. To be fair, he eventually leaves the keyboard alone and turns his attentions toward tapping on the table so it's somehow less obnoxious. Seventeen in and he stops, purses his lips. Wants to lie, it's written across his features and his shoulders and it's on his countenance.

"I'll get there?" he says, "but right now, no. No, I am not okay."

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap. Twenty one.

Lays his palm flat on the table and stays there and he doesn't lean in, stays still for a long moment which feels wrong on so many levels. He does lean a little against Samir, that sort of guarantee that this is a person and not something he's making up. Elijah runs his hands through his hair, both of them, exhales hard again because he's trying to remember that he needs to breathe.

"... is it fucked up that I want to see what happened? So... like... context?"

Samir
No one can see how Sam stares straight ahead and convinces himself that he can tolerate the pressure and presence of another living breathing filth-beast against his arm. Even after that other living breathing filth-beast rests its head against his shoulder. He stares straight ahead and by this point he has passed the event horizon of what will agitate him to the point where he needs to stand up and clean the ever-loving fuck out of his apartment.

This apartment reeks of bleach and vinegar and verbena. It is not physically possible for the place to get any cleaner without obliterating all organic life within the four walls.

So Elijah is not okay right now and Sam accepts that because half the time he isn't okay either. It's a wonder he's okay right now. He was okay when they started. Some small feat of will. He is okay because he has to be.

Hands go through Elijah's hair and Sam clenches his teeth and inhales deep to let it go again like to remind Elijah hey buddy this is an important part of your metabolic function. He could speak if he had to but he focuses on the middle monitor. On the Code rushing by and morphing reality in the small window in the lower left corner of the monitor.

"No," Sam says. Not fucked up. "Kalen is going to start a fire and Grace and I are making sure it doesn't spread. Look."

Look. Like Elijah can make sense of the Code rushing by.

Elijah
He looks at the corner of the screen, the part that is going to give him some kind of view into what, precisely, is going on. See? They're doing things to make sure this doesn't hurt anyone else, just the people inside of that house. It somehow seems a little less like mass murder when they're trying very actively to just murder a finite number of people and not an abundance of them.

He just kind of awkwardly stays hung out on Samir's shoulder like a tired toddler who doesn't quite want to take a nap just yet. There isn't any shame in feeling the frailties of being human. There's no shame in being afraid, in being appalled (tells himself again that the horror of this all is not separate from the wonder. They are one in the same. In their own rights, there is something to be said sbout the artistry of what is happening here. Beautiful disaster.)

Drowning on land, he thinks. Tells himself. Like drowning on land, drowning's peaceful at the end. He knows this, once you stop fighting and accept it- the sinking is almost pleasant. Maybe it's like that, once the terror of everything passes, it will go easily. Maybe he underestimates Kalen, hopes the place goes up in an absurdly quick inferno, like spontaneous house combustion. Like the people would be ash before they realized what happened to them.

"What language are you coding in?" he asks, like he would know what that meant.

Samir
"... what?"

Like asking what language he's speaking when they're both speaking the same language. That wasn't a question he was expecting or prepared to answer. Not when a good part of his attention is on keeping a budding fire contained within a two-story building where four sentient creatures are currently taking a dirt nap.

And yet Sam has within him a teacher's spirit. He does like other people. Likes them from a distance but distance doesn't mean shit to a Virtual Adept.

"Oh." He gestures to the middle monitor with the hand not attached to the shoulder Elijah is leaning on. "I, ah... I knew a guy, once. He called it Reality Code. It's just... you know how DNA is? Makes a double helix and somehow that makes atoms and atoms make cells and cells make... whatever cells make? Tissue? Yeah. That's reality. And the Reality Code. Super small command chains you can change and make a, ah... an office chair into a sofa. Or whatever." A beat. He actually looks over at Elijah. "Since we hemmed the fire in, both of us, it'll... ah... consume faster. They're asleep, they won't suffer. It's almost over. Look."

Elijah still can't make sense of the Code. Can't even make sense of the cadence of it. He has to take Sam's word.

Elijah
[WP: don't equate creating a sofa to Downs Syndrome]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )

Elijah
He leans forward a little, actually gets himself off of Samir's shoulder in order to actually look at the screen and see what was going on. He looks at the code, peers like he genuinely wants to udnerstand but just can't. There was a time that maybe that was something that he could have factored into his world view but that time has long since passed.

"So it works... like... you're manipulating reality on a cellular level, a couple genes makes a big fuckin' impact," looks back to see if he understood what was going on there.

But, the heart of the matter was actually addressed, and soon enough his eyes go back to the screen, like it's a train wreck. Still looks like he might get sick. Still looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Still looks about like the bus dropped him off somewhere completely wrong and he has no idea how to get home but knows if he doesn't get home by five thirty his ass is getting beaten.

It's almost over, Samir tells him.

Silence.

"I seriously don't know if I want to blow you or drink a bottle of tequila and let today be yesterday when I come back around."

Samir
A couple genes makes a big fuckin' impact.

The Mercurial Elite nods his head but does not take his eyes off the screen in order to check on his charge. For now Elijah is okay even if he is Not Okay. For now Sam is focused on Kalen and Kalen's escape even if they all know Kalen is going to make it back to his vehicle without drawing attention to himself.

What Elijah overhears as Sam talks into the headset involves firetruck response times and whether or not 'man' is alright. Silence as he listens. Silence as the other two resolve their ends of the bargain and the three dissolve into their own ones again.

He knows it's over when Sam removes the earpiece from his head and sets it down on the desktop. Runs a hand over his own restrained hair and turns to look at Elijah. He heard him when Elijah said he didn't know whether to blow him or consume a bottle of tequila. Whatever he and Grace did drained him quite a bit but not as much as fighting back Quiet drained him. He is lucid when he speaks.

"... do you want me to make a bottle of tequila, or...?"

Elijah
"I'd kinda like to be cool on my liver, but if you're not cool with it, I'll totally just drink. Besides, you did a lot of hardcore, terrifying and upsetting shit, I kinda figure you deserve a blowjob or something."

Samir
The way they're angled on the loveseat Elijah and Sam can look sidelong at each other. Elijah may very well look straight ahead but Sam is aware of the weight of what Elijah says. He had the weight of the kid's former mentor's words in his ear. Weight he ought to have known a Hermetic to be capable of but had not experienced in a long time.

So Elijah indicates the binary of his options and then gives a strong preference for one over the other. It is not the option Sam would have preferred but to be quite honest Sam would have preferred not to have had another sentient being cross his threshold to begin with. They're already way beyond his comfort zone. His comfort zone is in another fucking galaxy.

There's that word 'deserve' again. Sam sighs quick and almost quiet and runs the hand closer to Elijah over his own hair again.

"... do you wanna smoke a joint first, or..."

Elijah
[1-5 good, 6-10 not good]

Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )

Elijah
Does he want to smoke a joint first? He doesn't really have tot hink about this, he laughs because... well... why not? They could smoke a joint, then could do whatever. He does have a preference, but his eyes drift back to the screen again. Where there had been a fire, where there had been a disaster. He exhales again.

Thinks about taking smoke into his lungs. Thinks about drowning on land.

Gets up and heads to the bathroom. Quickly.

He doesn't so much shut the door as he does pull it tight and lean against it. Doesn't even turn the light on, just retreats and retreats quickly because he needs to be somewhere that isn't here. Needs to think about something that isn't dying or whatever happened. He doesn't know they weren't people. Doesn't know what they were dealing with, doesn't know huge chunks of the details there, but that was all something that he presumed he could fill in if he wanted.

And right now, he wants to throw up, so he's knelt over the toilet in the dark. Just waits there.

Samir
Were not for the fact that Sam knows what it is to feel crazy on an ordinary day he might have looked up sharp from his monitors and followed Elijah to the bathroom. He knows what it is to feel like that and he knows what it is to lose control over his body when control is all he feels he has to hold onto. Before they went out in search of the fiends responsible for the monster in the park he had cracked a quip about vomiting. Sam is used to feeling crazy.

Watching others struggle with their own sanity isn't anything he's used to. He was the crazy one in his previous cabal. He was the one who would bolt out of a room without apparent provocation. The others all had their own flaws sure and they had their own mental cracks. Elijah has his own too.

Sam can respect that.

So the kid goes from talking blowjobs and tequila to leaping up and shutting himself in the bathroom. So Sam gives him until the slamming of the door to turn and watch the the door. To listen and make sure Elijah isn't in there retching or trying to hang himself with the shower curtain.

Elijah has about sixty seconds before Sam feels concern enough to get up and knock on the door. Sixty seconds is more than most people would give him.

The reality hacker exits out of the new game he started and pulls up the old one. Fuck Suleiman.

Elijah
There's a sort of catharsis that you have when you are doubled over a toilet breathing some sort of chlorinated air. There is a feeling where you sense the cold ceramic close to your skin but not quite and the tingle in your arms when you're leaning too hard on them and he's counting through his head item after item after item. Trying to think of some distraction, trying to think of something that will put this in perspective because he doesn't want to run off and dive into a goddamn bottle or do any number of things-

But he needs a break. He needs a push. Even Sherlock-fucking-Holmes had his vices and they sure as shit weren't all violins and fireside chats.

Breathes in again and the air is cold. Exhales and can feel the ripples on the water- thinks and wonders if it's Emmanuel or Raphael. Confuses fire and water, and knows which scares him more. No longer thinking of drowning when he stands up, turns on the water in the sink that's damned near too hot to put his hands in it, but he splashes his face anyway.

There's a knock on the door- "I'll be out in a figurative minute."

Washes his face. Washes his hands. Steals some of Samir's mouthwash and washes the taste of whatever the fuck out of his mouth. He comes back out and he's decidedly less panicked.

"Let's get stoned. And if it's weird, you can totally call me Renee."

Samir
Within a matter of seconds Sam's expression goes from confused to concerned to committed to not asking. If it's weird he can call the kid Renee. Sam does not speak French. He speaks Spanish and Arabic and is starting to get a grasp on Mandarin Chinese. He isn't a slouch. He just relies on his current location to dictate his linguistic needs.

One day he will be able to execute a program that will allow him to understand everything regardless of tongue. Today is not that day.

Today is however a day that he happens to have a joint rolled and stored in the top drawer of his desk. He doesn't have to conjure up the paper or the stash. He levels his gaze at his guest. No seduction or suggestion in it. Sex is not an escape for Sam. He is an attractive man and he is nice to Elijah and he is interested in what he has to say. Likes sitting and talking to him. Recognizes that he needs time and space to get his shit together. That his shit is not together right now.

So he removes the joint and a lighter from the drawer and stands to drag the loveseat back three paces from the computer desks. Give them some space. No point opening a window to air the place out when he can make the smoke and the smell disappear with a few keystrokes.

"I'm not gonna call you Renee," Sam says.

Elijah
"Cool," he says, plops down on the couch but doesn't actually invade Samir's space for some strange reason - strange because he had just espoused an interest in going down on the dude but not in getting into his space because... well, because. He rode a fine line between needing the comfort of another human being who knew what the fuck was going on and needing nobody to ever touch him ever again and to keep their goddamned hands to themselves.

Except, of course, he realizes that Samir is about to move the couch and the time mage has impeccably horrible timing and he rolls off and gets to his feet. Lets Sam do the moving because he is still getting his bearings from rolling off the couch.

"My middle name's Renee, by the way, it was supposed to be René, but my mom was doped all to Hell and the nurse didn't speak French," Elijah clarifies.

Samir
Elijah is not smooth. His rolling has Sam stopping what he's doing to ensure the other man isn't going to break his nose on the beat-to-shit hardwood floor. They settle after a moment. Moving the couch doesn't take much effort. Sam isn't going to sit down until his guest does.

"That's alright." This to the matter of Elijah's middle name. "My grandparents are from Gujarat. My middle name would've been my father's name, but my mother doesn't know who my father is, so... I don't have one."

He holds out the joint and the lighter. Guest gets first toke.

Elijah
[Gujarat? int+academics]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 8, 8) ( success x 2 )

Elijah
Truth be told, Elijah has no idea that his father is not his father. He has no idea that his mother had an affair with some slender blond thing that worked on a construction site and came home when her husband wouldn't. He had no idea about it, because it hadn't mattered to Charles Poirot. It didn't matter to him that his wife had cheated and strayed, Elijah was his son because fatherhood wasn't the same as being a sperm donor.

Elijah takes a seat on the couch, though, doesn't put his feet on it because it would be rude. Samir conjured a couch out of thin air for him. He would much rather be respectful of his space and just hang out. Takes the joint between his fingers, takes a long, steady hit and holds it like he's done this before- probably within the week, all things said. He's a young, attractive, cisgendered white male who came from an upper middle class family. He's set to do any number of things to press against the seams lest he have to think too hard about the privilege he's oblivious to.

And let's not mince words, he's privileged. Even in awakened society, he's privileged. Not everyone has someone to sit up with them when the more well-versed mages in town commit atrocities and you need a break to process.

Hands the joint over. Starts to think that, maybe, he doesn't want to have sex. Maybe he just wants to talk, feels pretty damn lucky for a second. Then two. Then three and five eightthirteentwentyonethirtyfour.

"Where's Gujarat? North or west part of India?"

Samir
As it happens Elijah is in the company of a person who can tell what other people need even if those needs don't coincide with needs he himself could claim to have or harbor. Their kind gravitate towards egocentric and antisocial tendencies but they are both young and they have not yet convinced themselves of their own godlike potential.

One of them is revered by the online community. He could have called up any number of faceless nameless persons to help him in his quest tonight but his quest tonight was not one he undertook on his own. Sam was not the only person who suffered an injustice in the park that night. When Elijah said he wanted adventure the reality hacker sighed and called him out on his bullshit but he did not tell him to go it on his own.

Grace and Kalen are eating udon and contemplating the weight of interring undead creatures to ash when they know at least one of their kind to be Not That Bad.

The word 'vampire' is not in Sam's vocabulary as anything other than a mythology to which some of his kind make reference. It may be a euphemism. So far as he can tell he and Grace helped Kalen torch some Fallen tonight. Doesn't make it easier to stomach. He sat up all night and watched them torture and kill several young people.

"It's, ah..." Sam drags hard on the joint the way smokers drag on cigarettes. It shuts down the part of his brain that won't shut up. He holds the smoke heavy and hot in his lungs and lets it out slow so he won't cough. Hands it back and finishes his thought once the burning in his bronchioles dissipates: "West. West India. Shares a border with Pakistan. They moved to Vancouver when my mom was a baby."

Elijah
"I've never been to Vancouver. I've been to Quebec, though- my mom's from there... are you from Canada or was there another big countrywide shift in the cards for you guys?"

Takes the joint back if it's passed, will take another hit until they are out. He's engaged, and there's something to be said about Elijah- he liked people. He really did like people, liked what they were capable of. Liked the things that made them who they were. Liked their drie and wants and needs and the little idiocyncratic pieces of bullshit that made human beings fantastic because they were.

He adjusts on the couch, takes a second to look at the other young man. The one who also did not think of himself as some godchild. No, they were just people. Two dudes sitting on a couch smokingpot.

Elijah adjusts.

"Dude, your couch is pokey as shit."

Which will be something he revisits as they get progressively more and more stoned. They'll talk, maybe Elijah will tell him stories or spout off poetry or ask him more about the code of Reality, even though he doesn't quite understand what it means because it's important to try and understand people. There's rules, there's protocols. There's shit you have to do when you're coding, that much he knew.

He might talk about poems, might tell Samir ghost stories that don't actually have scary points, they're just literal ghost stories. He's met and heard a lot of ghosts, some of them were interesting people. Probably keeps from talking about the dead, though. Probably just talks books or something and the marvels of how Samir can fucking will furniture into existence.

A terrible, terrible thought

Samir
And so they three go off into the early evening to investigate a football field.

Sam is not so much with riding in other people's cars. If the others are getting the impression he thinks of the outside world as a breeding ground for germs and disease and potential Quiet episodes then that just means they've had enough exposure to him to know how fucked up he gets when he fucks things up. But they have to go together and it's too far to walk so when he returns from the bathroom with the blood washed off his face and his big boy pants on they head off in Grace's car.

This time of year the football field is in use. Luck is on their side. There is no game tonight and if there is it's at another school. Only one light shines on the field. Its bulb is flickering.

The parking lot butts up against a chainlink fence that butts up against bleachers that stands over packed dirt and dirty cigarette filters and discarded cans of Natty Light. Crickets drone in the darkness. They three are alone.

"Fuck," Sam says as he reaches down and hauls his book bag onto his lap.

Grace
First things first, Grace has on her anti-bite jacket, zipped up to the neck. It might not stop anything from biting her face, but it's better than nothing. And jeans (honestly, does she wear anything else?)

She also has her phone out, to bend space and create a firewall from it, so that nobody can spy on them from afar.

Well, at least, that's the plan.

[Corr 2: Ward. -1 diff from taking time]

Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (4, 7, 8) ( success x 3 )

Elijah
And so, Samir knows the terrible not-so-not-obvious truth. Elijah was delighted at the prospect of actually getting to work. Grant you, last time that he saw something absolutely horrible he almost threw up, and pretty much presumed that he was going to throw up behind the bleachers of the stadium again, not unlike he was still in high school drinking Natty Lite and smoking pot. You start with the little stuff, moved on to the harder things pretty quick but the light stuff was fun. The light stuff had some pretty fond memories, namely because he could remember them. There were gaps, he minded them less now.

The light over the field is flickering and Elijah gets on out of the car, checks his pocketwatch like he didn't need it for something other than magical purposes. He could pretty well guess what time it was, didn't need to reach forward into things without a mention of how a watch that couldn't keep time was suddenly so perfect at noting things down to the second.

Circles upon circles. Spirals within a point that he didn't much care for, implied an end so he's tracing a circle along the face, over the crack in the glass where it broke on impact in a car accident. Just a crack, there's blood in the front of it, and he hasn't bothered to clean it off. Kinda likes it that way, but won't admit to it. Just says it's hard to get out.

"See, when you're, like, sixteen this isn't creepy," he said as he made his way to the fence. Kinda wants to jump the fence, but he knows it isn't strictly necessary. Suspects it might be but he's meandering that way anyway.

Samir
Sam frowns at the logic Elijah attempts to leave them with and scrambles out of the car to keep up with him. At once he fumbles the left strap of his book bag over his shoulder and hip-checks the door shut. If Grace hasn't got a wide area of effect going on her ward she may want to rethink her conservative strategy.

"No shit?" he asks sarcasm dripping thick as blood from his tone as he hurries after Elijah. Like he may have to haul him back from walking up to some unseen four-armed monstrosity and giving it a hug or whatever the fuck he was going to do the night Reality and Samir had their last tiff.

While Elijah is standing still for the five seconds he's liable to keep doing that Sam pulls out his handheld computer and taps a couple of buttons.

[corr/matter/mind scan: NO ONE IS SPYING ON US RIGHT? -1 diff for practiced rote.]

Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (3, 6) ( success x 2 )

Grace
[Extending!]

Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (2, 8, 10) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Grace
"Okay. I think we're good," Grace says, finally opens her door and steps out.

"Yeah, I think this is pretty nightmarish even without the nightmare things wandering around."

She heaves a sigh and walks up to the fence with Elijah. "Got wards up."

Elijah
[Doin' magic. Doobeedoo- looking at the past. Time 2. Diff 5- 1 (practiced) -1 (special focus [mothafuckin' pocketwatch])

Dice: 2 d10 TN3 (5, 6) ( success x 3 ) [WP]

Elijah
[and more?]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (1, 9) ( success x 1 )

Samir
No one else can see what Elijah sees. It does not play itself out in the face of its bloodied bruised watch. Nothing outwardly weird happens. As Grace climbs out of the car and Sam comes to stand beside him the sound of slamming doors and heaved sighs and unzipping book bag zippers all fall away.

The night the two teenaged girls became one they came not because of the beyond-beautiful man but because of the tall bruiser who came with him. It was the bruiser who tied the two threads together. Who acted as a gateway. Before they met the otherworldly creature they met the bruiser.

As time rewinds Elijah can see the girls walking through the parking lot one of them firing off a text on her phone while the other cups her hands and calls out a greeting that causes a girl who shares her honey-blond hair and heart-shaped face to stop her practicing and rush to the bleachers to greet them. Can spot him at the edges of the field watching not the cheerleaders practicing but the parking lot. Waiting for the two to arrive. His arriving some time before that. Expectant. They meant to meet here.

Before he came here he stepped out of a vehicle parked some distance away at the edges of the parking lot. Elijah can identify the make and model of the car and read the license plate number. The bruiser drove the car unaccompanied. Hard to tell from whence he came but if he's known to the bruiser it won't take much to find him. Not with two Mercurial Elites at his side.

Elijah
[Int3+technology2]

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

Elijah
"Jesus, guys, what was high school like for you?" he asks, the relatively liked blond stoner who (for his part) managed to not get caught doing drugs on campus or having sex on campus or any number of things on campus that he actually did because schools didn't really care so long as he wasn't dealing and besides, nobody cared that Megan was dealing.

We digress.

He's holding his watch, making a slow and purposeful walk towards the fence. He looks over his watch, has his thumb pinned to a point, stuck over the fifty three minute mark. He moved back just a tad. He stops walking, focuses his gaze on the face, cocks his head to the side before looking in the distance at the fence. Pins a place while his eyes flick to the face of the watch again.

Fifty one.

Looks back to the parking lot, then down at the watch.

"Q-U-E ... two fourteen. Green old sixty-something mustang. Door's got a rust stain on it, can't see the interior... Someone backed into it once and the paint's fucked on the passenger side, but they have motherfucking steel frames so who gives a shit who runs into it," he says. His voice isn't idle. Comes back to reality with his finger on the mark forty-seven.

"It looks, to me, like your regular joe guy knew our victims. The whole older guy in a car that could be cool when you're young and dumb kinda thing. "

Samir
While Elijah is looking through time to see what brought the two girls here Sam is unzipping his backpack to remove his laptop and balance it on the chainlink fence's top pole. He is not the most dextrous creature in the world so it is a precarious sort of balancing.

He comes back to the present and brings with him identifying information about a motor vehicle. The older kid's eyebrows fly up. This was more useful than anything he was expecting to come out of the Hermetic apprentice's glance back. Not that he doubts the apprentice! Elijah kept him from getting eaten by the girls after someone turned them into a sarlacc-mouthed monstrosity! But it is physical information that they can track.

Green old sixty-something Mustang. QUE214.

"Right on," Sam says before he starts typing.

[int + computers: LOL SAM DOESN'T KNOW ALEX IS A COP.]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 6, 8) ( success x 3 ) [Doubling Tens] [WP]

Grace
"Ahh, cool. I'll see if Alex can look up that plate. He's got like, cop privileges. Should be pretty simple," Grace says. Perhaps it cuts Sam's hacking attempts short, perhaps not.

In any case, she's got her phone out and letting Ginger know.

Elijah
"I'm totally useful," he said, meandered back to the car and slipped his pocketwatch into his pocket. "How am I doing with the whole Hermetic Hubris thing, Grace? I'm totally terrible at being full of myself."

Samir
His eyebrows go up again when he hears Alex is a cop. He might have picked up on that from trawling through old Ginger posts but it isn't until Grace says his name aloud that he actually remembers meeting the guy.

Oh shit, his eyes say.

Kind of want to see if I can actually hack the DMV, his fingers say.

So Elijah meanders back to the car. Sam stays at the fence a moment.

[YOLO. 3 dice in this pool bc of the initial hack thing.]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (4, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )

Grace
Grace is typing away at her phone while Elijah is talking to her. She barely hears him, but looks up with a bit of conusion as she puts what he said together.

"Hubris? Oh yeah," she says, gives Elijah a thumbs up. "Totally nailing the awesome cosmic power pride."

Elijah
They just keep going.

He looks at them. Sitting there, looking at the two Mercurial Elite typing away and doing whatever it was that they were doing and... huh. They were still typing. Elijah cocked his head to the side, watching people type was.. uh...

"Oh my god..." he says, after about seventeen minutes.

During that time, Elijah paced a good circuit around the car, back to the fence, and then to the place where he could almost see grass. Elijah then laid down and stared up at the sky. Pats himself down to look for a pack of cigarettes.

"I'm gonna go stare at the otherworldly beyond," he finally finds a cigarette... but no lighter.

"... does the lighter in the car work?"

Samir
"... you can use my lighter."

He says this without looking up from whatever the fuck it is that he's doing with his laptop balancing on the fence. If Elijah comes closer to accept the gift of the shitty Bic lighter then Sam keeps typing with his left hand and uses his right to reach into his pocket and extract the thing.

If Elijah glances at the screen he won't be able to decipher the mess of windows the reality hacker has going on his screen. That's probably for the best.

Grace
Grace's spiel on Ginger doesn't take long to write. It'll take longer to work though, and she slips her phone in her pocket and looks over at Samir.

Blinks a few times.

"Dude. There is a car you know. I can keep people from spying on us, but not if they walk by."

She then looks a bit harder. The DMV eh? Samir looks pretty into it, so she doesn't chide him about the fact that she's already on that. Sometimes, you just want to see if you can do a thing...

She can definitely decypher the mess of windows hes got on his screen. She prefers different tools, yeah. But now's not the time for a holy war. Instead, she just watches him work, occasionally coming out with a "Holy shit, look at that" or "Craaap, they have the 4.9 version, patched that gaping vulnerability..."

Does Samir like the fact that he has a back-seat-hacker? Heh.

Elijah
[Staring at the universe, doobeedoo- Spirit 1]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (3, 5) ( success x 1 )

Elijah
[No, seriously, unbridled cosmos.]

Dice: 2 d10 TN4 (3, 3) ( fail )

Elijah
[Motherfucker]

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

Elijah
So, he accepts the lighter. Lights up, takes a drag and gives the lighter back before going back to where the grass meets the pavement and he takes a long, purposeful drag. He takes a drag and he waits for the world to come around and become something fascinating but, it is really just a ball of frustration.

It takes half the damn cigarette until he finally feels the world coming apart. Coming between. He thinks about orders and hierarchies. He thinks about the mirror of how things work. Mostly, he lays back with his legs outstretched and stares at the stars.

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts..."

Shooting star, across his periphery between the worlds. He grins.

Samir
And that's how Elijah almost lost two of his friends on the Internet.

Were not for the fact that Grace has so thoroughly distracted Sam from the outside world that when he tries to pass back the lighter the reality hacker already has that wrist back to its place stabilizing the bottom-heavy laptop on the fence and is more aware of her presence at his left side because she is commenting on the same thing that has his attention already.

Behind them the world feels slightly like adventurous tumult but they aren't aware of it until one of their phones chimes with a notification and drags them back to the physical world. Right. Two grown people hanging around a football field fence while another lies in the grass and contemplates his place in the universe. Sam would have Internet access in Siberia. No reason to remain rooted in place for two fucking hours.

He taps a few more keys just to make sure the file he's looking for is actually uprooting itself and he mumbles something like acquiescence and then he's carrying the laptop towards the car cradled in the crook of his elbow. Grace is responsible for Elijah. She's meaner than Sam is.

Elijah
[Int+streetwise, diff 10. Do I know this chick?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN10 (1, 2, 6, 9, 9) ( botch x 1 )

Grace
Grace is responsible for Elijah. She walks up to his form lying on the grass, an imposing figure in the stuttering light.

"Hey. We're getting out of here."

Then, she turns and heads off to the car. It's almost as if -- he can come, or not. His choice. But they are leaving.

Elijah
He was laying on the grass. He had passed out after a good total of... uh... twelve minutes. He opens his eyes and the world floods back and there is GRace- a feeling of winged, keen-edged sharpness thanks to Samir being Samir, and he inhales sharply. Leans over to see if something is poking him in the ribs.

It's not his ribs, that's magic.

He grudgingly stands up.

"Hey, yay, we didn't need to get a posse today, win!"