Táltos

id

Sid had asked Justin to a movie for the simplest of reasons.  The last time she saw him he seemed to be dealing with Things™.  She'd sat with him and told him she couldn't do anything but sit with him, and now she's making good on that sort of almost promise.  Even though it wasn't really a promise.  She wanted to check on him, see how he's doing, make sure he's okay even if he might not be great.  Maybe catch a sci-fi movie on the cheap.  There are many birds Sid was striking with this one stone.

They met at the theater, which is set inside a small sort of almost mall.  The shopping plaza that surrounds it has more to offer than what's inside that building.  Sid covered him, of course; she almost smiled, she came so close, because she actually could do that.  The movie itself was okay.  Fun.  Full of action and a little too much skin in one part, given the history of the franchise, but that part was whatever.

After the credits rolled, mages made their way out, back into the lobby and back into the mall, and finally out into the parking lot.  One of them suggested dinner, one of them pointed out the little ramen place at the far end of the strip, not much of a walk at all, but still a nice night for one.  They sky above is dark, and even here in the middle of the city they can see a small smattering of stars, almost whole constellations.  Sid, as they cut through the parking lot, she did that thing she does now with her friends, where she sort of brushes the back of her hand up against theirs and gives them this look.  That look is like, it goes Is this okay?  Are you okay with this?  And if it is she slips her hand in Justin's, fingers unlaced.  And if it's not, she keeps her hands to herself, unperterbed.

The ramen place, O-Shima is its name, is small and warm and cozy.  Most of the interior is taken up by the kitchen which has a counter lining all around it with bar stools for people who want to sit and watch the cooks and maybe attempt a conversation.  The owner, a stalward Japanese man with salt and pepper hair and a thick moustache, speaks a bit of English, but not many try to talk to him.  There are a few small tables along the right wall - which is covered in marker drawings and sayings and quotes from customers, and a few newspaper clippings about the restaurant or its sister establishment way over in Japan - that seat just two.  It's quiet at this time on a Monday evening, when the Awakened enter it's only the two of them and one woman seated at the counter.  Sid steps in first and then moves quickly to the side, looking over and up at Justin to see which seating he would prefer.

Justin

Justin wasn't what you would call a sci-fi purist.  He'd only seen a couple of episodes of the original Star Trek and barely remembered the films, so if he had any complaints, it wasn't to do with the reboot's departure from the original material.  As Sid would discover, he was a pretty polite movie-goer, content to sit back and remain (mostly) silent through the duration.  Though there was one point, during the aforementioned gratuitous partial nudity, where he leaned over and said, "This would have been better if Kirk was the one changing."

After the film though.  Afterwards, once they'd spilled out of the theater and made their way out into the warm summer night, he said something about how he wasn't sure why people kept giving Damon Lindelof money to write things when it clearly wasn't his strong suit.  Except, well, it was Justin, so he probably couched it in less intellectual terms before adding, "I'm still pissed at him for Prometheus."

He was acting more like himself that night.  Or at least, more like the version of himself that Sid had first encountered.  Friendly and laid-back.  It didn't necessarily mean that everything was okay, but at least Sid would be able to get some sense of reassurance there.  Justin was managing.  He was feeling better.  And he was obviously happy to be getting out and doing something normal.

It was Sid who pointed out the ramen place, but Justin was heavily in favor of the idea, so they cut across to the little restaurant and made their way inside.  And when Sid let her hand brush against Justin's, he didn't jump at the contact.  Instead he let his fingers twine with hers as though it was a completely natural and ordinary gesture.

They both knew that it wasn't, but he wasn't going to ruin it by making things awkward.

Inside O-Shima, Justin paused to cut a brief glance around the place, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings and the few other faces present.  When Sid gave him room to choose where he wanted to sit, he made a line for one of the tables by the wall.  He didn't pull out her chair for her, but he did wait for her to sit before he did so himself.

"You know I've never actually had real ramen."

Sid

It's of only a little importance to note that when Justin leaned over and Sid leaned a little closer automatically to hear him, that she'd let out a sudden short laugh, clapped her hand over her mouth, and nudged him very, very lightly with her elbow.  The talk of movies later, of a writer whose name she doesn't know but who she assumes wrote that movie and Prometheus, has her a little engaged.  It's easier to talk about things that don't really matter, particularly things that don't or can't really circle back in on her and become personal.

Even so, she's almost nothing like the person he first met.  She had cringed and come toward him grudgingly and then fled as soon as they were alone together.  And now they're out doing normal things.  Watching a movie, holding hands, having dinner.  They're pretending like everything is, well not fine.  But things are okay.  Justin is okay, or getting there.  That makes one of the people that Sid knows.  She gives his hand a squeeze, then releases it when he heads for the table.

Sid moves around him, around the table, to take the seat that lets her face the door because lets face it.  AS okay as she seems, there is still that paranoia, that worry and fear that keeps her on the alert.  If she didn't, she would be constantly fidgeting, trying to look over her shoulder, or distracted trying to keep her ears pricked for the sound of approach from behind.  Some things, some habits, they don't go away just because a few people are kind to her.

"Neither have I," she admits.  As empty as the place is, the owner's wife is on them in moments, handing out laminated menu cards and taking their drink orders.  Sid, head down but because she's looking at the menu more than she's nervous at the nearness of a stranger, asks for water.

Justin

When the older woman handed him his menu, Justin asked for a beer.  Whatever the best option happened to be - something light and summery, hopefully.  When they were left to figure out their orders, Justin furrowed his brows in that way he often did when he was considering something and ran his eyes slowly down the menu, taking in the descriptions of each item.  He tongued his lower lip before biting down on it thoughtfully.

"Is it bad that I kind of want the whole menu?"

Of course, people with Justin's lifestyle and metabolism could do things like that.  They could eat giant bowls of ramen after ten and still look perfectly fit.  So of course that was what he ordered when the owner's wife came back with their drinks.  Not the whole menu (obviously,) but the Super Oshima Ramen.  With extra meat and noodles.

When they were alone again, he leaned back a little in his chair and said, "I had fun tonight.  Thanks for inviting me.  I know I've been... I don't know.  Kind of off the radar lately."  After a beat he added, "How are you doing, by the way?"

Sid

When Justin asks if it's bad to kind of want the whole menu Sid's eyes lift briefly.  The corners of her mouth curve upward into a slight, hesitant smile and she looks down again, still debating.  "We could come back.  Try something different every time.  Until we tried everything."

It's hard to tell what sort of figure Sid is hiding beneath her oversized, ill-fitting clothes.  Justin found out when he wrapped his arms around her and tried to crush her with relief.  She's slimmer than she seems, sturdier, too.  Though she's older and her diet is usually the worst, she's kept herself as fit as she can.  That doesn't mean she can eat a giant bowl of ramen with extra meat and all the trappings, though.  She orders gyoza and the shoyu ramen, tripping and stumbling over the words because she couldn't decide if she should just screw it up with her American accent or at least try to pronounce it.  In the end it doesn't really matter.  The owner's wife gives her a sort of sympathetic smile as she collects their menus and leaves them.

Justin leans back, Sid sits up but still leans sort of forward, her hands in her lap, wedged between her knees.  Her dark eyes skim over him, face and posture and back up again when she says, "I'm glad," and she means it.  "That you had fun, I mean.  Me, too."  One hand is released from the grip of her knees to push her hair behind her ear, and her eyes drop away.  There's a frown in the slight tightening of her brows, but it's there and gone quickly, a sign of thoughtfulness because she has to consider his question.  And how to answer it.

"I'm," she hesitates, shrugs her shoulder, but she raises her eyes to look at him again.  "I'm...alright."  Her smile grows suddenly and her head ducks and she suddenly looks at least five years younger.  "I milked a cow today."

Justin

Sometimes you had to settle for 'alright.'  And truthfully, if pressed, Justin would have answered the same way.  So he took her answer and nodded - not dismissively, but with quiet understanding - and he didn't try to press for more information.  The bit about the cow, though, that made him grin.

"Kind of wish I'd been there for that.  Now you have to tell me about it."  Because he honestly couldn't imagine a scenario in which Sid would need to milk a cow, but then, he didn't actually know very much about her or her life.  Maybe she knew someone with a place in the country.  Maybe it was something she had to do for her job.

While he waited for her to talk, he twisted the cap off of his beer and took a lazy sip.  His legs were stretched out at an angle so as not to bump into her own, and he'd crossed his feet at the ankle.  it was probably the most relaxed she'd ever seen him, actually.

Sid

It is rather hard to imagine this woman sitting on a little stool, transferring milk directly from a cow into a pail.  Even she wouldn't have imagined it so many hours ago.

But there's so much about her that Justin doesn't know, and she about him.  He knows one of the most intimate details that she keeps closely guarded - the scars and the breaks and all that damage done - but he doesn't know what she does for work or for fun or anything.  But she's milked a cow.

Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth briefly, and she's caught in a sudden conflict.  Does she talk about herself and this thing she did?  She brought it up, though.  And it's Justin.  She glances up at him when she thinks it, brow tightening briefly before it relaxes.  And a little of the rest of her relaxes with it, just a little.

"I met someone, her name is Patience and she's," she stops, because she almost said weird but she doesn't want to say that about Patience.  Sid is weird.  They're all weird in their own way.  "Different.  Something happened to her a long time ago and now she talks differently and she's sort of...stuck.  In time.  She let me," she stops suddenly, about to go off track and say something that leads to a place she doesn't want to go, not yet.  "Let me go to her farm."  Nice recovery!  "She's, ah, she's studying how different things cows eat affect the nutrients in the milk.  Because, like, soon people might need more, right?  More nutrients and vitamins and maybe they could get it from the milk.  Or the meat, or, or whatever."

Justin

Sid hesitated, uncertain if she was willing to offer up this piece of her life.  And Justin waited, like he'd expected it, drinking his beer and glancing at the wall briefly so that she wouldn't feel like he was staring her down.

Then she started talking, and he set the bottle on the table and listened.  He'd never met Patience, and didn't know quite what to make of Sid's description, but at the least it sounded like she may have been one of them (Awake.)  At the mention of studying and cows and nutrients, his face shifted to something a little cryptic and unreadable, but he didn't comment.

That was when their food arrived, and Justin thanked the woman and cracked open a set of wooden chopsticks almost immediately, pulling a large heap of dripping noodles out of the bowl and shoveling them into his mouth.  A little bit of broth dripped down his chin, and he caught it quickly with a napkin and gave a slightly self-conscious smile.  "This is really good."

After a beat, and another swipe of the napkin over his lips, he said, "We used to have a couple of cows at my grandma's place, when I was a kid.  I kind of miss having fresh milk around."

Sid

[awareness-as-empathy?  what's wrong, friend?]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 6, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )

Justin

[Manip+Subterfuge - no no, I'm good, I'm not being judgmental]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 4, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )

Justin

Whatever Justin was thinking, it wasn't directed at her.  The hints of his expression seem quietly judgmental in a tired sort of way, like it was an old story to him.  But not of her, and not even of Patience.  Something broader - human society in general, maybe.  The constant need to tinker with things.  To play god.  And to commercialize the natural bounty of the earth.  (He was a Verbena, so a certain amount of this might be extrapolated, depending on how much Sid knew about their worldview.)

Sid

Their food arrives.  Sid uses it as an excuse to fall silent, and to avoid that gaze.  She slides the small tray of imperfectly wrapped gyoza so that it's more towards the middle of the table, meaning she ordered it to share.  There's a kind of bond that forms in the sharing of food.  Children know it instinctively.  Sid remembers it from years gone by, from the time before her Awakening.  It's a sign that she...sort of...maybealmosttrusts Justin.  She's held his hand, she's been alone with him in a darkened movie theater, she worries about him, but this is the greatest - and also smallest - sign of her acceptance of him.

Except for a few moments she busies herself with breaking apart her own pair of chopsticks, quickly ripping off the paper and then snapping them apart before rubbing them against each other to get rid of any splinters.  She feels awkward suddenly, self-conscious.  She doesn't know much about the Verbena other than they deal with Life and living things and it's no wonder he got that look when she talked about Patience's farm.  She could tell him that she checked over the cows in her own way, that that's why her resonance hangs a little heavier around her than it usually does, but she doesn't.

It's Justin who breaks the silence.  Sid looks up after he's wiped his chin, when he's wearing that self-conscious smile.  It causes a slighter one to echo on her face.  When she looks away this time it's only because she has to pay attention to what she's doing in order to eat.

"Mmh," she says, lowering her chopsticks and pausing to swallow a mouthful of noodles.  "Your grandma had a farm?"

Justin

"Not really a farm.  Just a bit of land.  Two cows, some chickens, that sort of thing.  I kind of grew up in the middle of nowhere.  Most everybody had a cow or two, just for the tax break."

Justin's eyes hovered over the gyoza with hopeful interest when she pushed the tray toward the center of the table.  "Sure you don't mind?" he asked, just to be certain.  And he waited for an affirmation before he took one, pinching it neatly between his chopsticks.  (And for all that he may not have been the world's most delicate eater, he did seem to have a pretty good handle on the chopsticks, which probably meant that he'd eaten at a lot of Asian-themed restaurants.  That fact didn't entirely jive with the idea of 'living in the middle of nowhere.')

"Thanks," he gave a warm, almost affectionate smile before popping it into his mouth.  And then, to return the gesture, he slid his bowl toward her and (once he'd finished chewing) said, "Feel free to take some of mine.  It's probably way more than I should be eating."

Sid

"How do you get a tax break for cows?" she asks, her head coming up suddenly, tilting back and openly incredulous to the very notion.  Evidently she didn't grow up in the sticks, or anywhere close to it.

It's in this way that she notices the way Justin's eyes are on the gyoza, and she can't help it, she smiles a little and nods once.  He's sliding his bowl closer to her when she's leaned forward, about to get another mouthful of her own ramen.  She stops, the chopsticks heavy with noodles still far from her face, and she looks at him with her brows lifted.

"Are you sure?"  Hopeful.  It's one thing to offer food to a friend, it's another to have the gesture returned.  They may not know a lot about each other.  Sid may not understand why a boy from the boonies can handle chopsticks, and he, well.  Let's be honest.  He probably has plenty of theories on why Sid is the way she is, but he doesn't know for certain about any of them.  But one thing is certain.  They are food friends, and that's a bond that's closer than most.

She doesn't shy away from trying some of Justin's ramen.  In fact she probably defeats the purpose of his sharing by sliding her own bowl forward so that everything becomes communal on that little table in that little ramen shop.

Justin

"Ranchers are taxed differently than regular property owners.  I don't remember the exact rules but... basically having livestock means you can save a little on property taxes."  He shrugged lightly to indicate that this wasn't really his area of expertise (finances, that is.)  Justin was a twenty five year old who worked for a landscaping company.  The room he lived in part-time at the chantry was by far the nicest place he'd ever occupied.  The intricacies of property laws weren't the kind of thing he'd ever really had to learn.

And it was funny, really - the way they were both so open and yet so tentative with each other.  Sharing freely but asking for permission all the same.  Funny and sweet and not at all unlike a scene from some quirky little indie film where two damaged people meet and make friends over bowls of ramen.

Food friends.  If she'd said that out loud, he'd have laughed and approved.

So they left their bowls within reach of each other, and Justin tried a bite of Sid's ramen and gave a little nod to let her know that he liked hers as much as he did his own.  And if he happened to drip a little broth on the table, well - it was that kind of meal.  When he went back to his own bowl, he took a large chunk of pork and bit into it.  "Have you been to the place out in the country?  I mean... you know.  The place."

Sid

Justin knows a little more about ranchers and their land taxes than Sid, but she has a quick mind.  Not as quick as some, she doesn't come to her conclusions at the drop of a hat.  It takes her through the savings bit, with her chewing thoughtfully - and not at all unlike Bessy the cow that she milked earlier today - to come to a conclusion that may or may not be even close to correct.

"I wonder if it's sort of like welfare, but for...cattle and stuff."

Their friendship sort of grows in bits and spurts and in a roundabout way.  Talking about things that aren't themselves, or miss each other by a hair or two.  Sid doesn't like to talk about herself, and yet sometimes, when people approach her in these gentle little roundabout ways, things come out.  Details slip.  Secrets reveal themselves.

Sid captures another piece of gyoza with her chopsticks when Justin asks her if she's been to the place in the country.  For a moment she stops, just as she did before, the food held a little ways yet from her mouth so that she can look up at him.  This time, though, the expression that starts of confused becomes bland.  She doesn't have much interest in the place.

"I picked up Shoshannah there the other day.  To go shopping.  We had lunch after and then I took her home."

Which isn't quite the whole story, but it's the important parts.

Táltos

The door to O-Shima opens and a man comes in.

He is tall.

He is the kind of man whose height is noticed first: that impression of towering, of length, emphasized by the sheer lankster-lank of him, the spindling shadow of him. There are different kinds of entrances for different kinds of people. Táltos's entrance is loud. Not the kind of loud that means doors slamming or yelling, a tumultous clatter: no, not that kind of loud. But he has a firm a firm presence. His pointed toe boots are loud -- he stomps, without realizing he's stomping, just because if you're going to walk, you walk! drum your presence so the earth drums back, joyful, joy! -- and some of the jewelry at his left wrist is musical. His teeshirt is pale yellow with some faded legend and an air of dust-bin or thrift-store salvage about it. The same air accompanies his jacket: a summer jacket, fatigue green with many pockets and some loose buckles, a patch on one elbow, another patch on the back. He has a fringed scarf of some vibrant pattern with a splash of poppy-crimson and burnt-cinnamon orange and ink-black, silk, trailing out've one of the pockets, earrings in both ears, and a remarkable wild-mane of hair, and an even more remarkable mustache, and he brings summer in with him, and …

He looks around, not in what would be characterized as a measuring way, per se, but more like he's just really ready to Be Here Right Now, sort-of jerking his head to flick some hair that was falling into his eyes away, smiling an engaging sort-of hello there smile if he catches Justin's or Sid's eye, whoever may be facing the door, the same engaging [expressive] smile for the owner's wife and the owner himself, (whatever cook's in the kitchen [near the counters]) even gets a resonant "Good evening!"

…Before he folds himself into one of the seats at one of the tables lining the wall. He chooses a seat that isn't facing the door, and then he sits sideways in it, stretching his legs out before him and resting his elbows on his knees, poet's long fingers folding, clasping, heart to heart, keep the cycle moving, and perhaps the next thing he does is eyeball the door.

Justin

[I'm just gonna roll this now.  Awareness!]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Sid

The door opens and in comes a man who is oh so tall, who stomps when he walks like he's drumming the floor to wake to take notice of his presence.  The bespectacled redhead seated with the young man at another table by the wall startles when he makes his entrance, her dark eyes going to him, taking in his strangeness, and instantly she is alert.  She is opening her awareness even as her eyes narrow, taking in his countenance and perhaps a little more.

[stranger-danger-awareness-roll!]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 5 ) Re-rolls: 2

Justin

[Also Per+Aware-as-Empathy on Sid: can he pick up how she feels about the chantry?]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Kat

With a sense of bother and inevitability, Kat parallels the old (rust bucket) truck into a space a little too short for it not far from the restaurant.  The bumper overhangs a bit, causing an awkward and imperfect sway in the line of parked cars far shinier and newer than hers.  There's dirt and remnants of PVC pipe in the flat bed, a few black bucket-bins for starting plants and six or seven layers of multi-variate rust scraped down in the abstract patterns of a life lived fully.  Driver's side door, slammed twice before it closes.  Boots, laced loosely, hit the pavement and she shrugs once, looking up at the Tech Center's sky.

Taltos.

A little birdy... No.  A stretched-tall, will o' wisp of a bird with the most ridiculous plumage, and a wobble when it warbled -- honestly, she thought it a wee bit drunk -- had informed her, summoned her, to noodles with the promise of worthwhile conversation. 

Taltos.

The door opens once more, and a woman enters, already scanning the room for her quarry.  She is neither too tall nor too short, well proportioned to her frame, vibrant without being showy for it.  A smile breaks across her features even as she shifts toward his table.

"Old friend," she says, in welcome and warning.  "Well met."  No hand offered, or hug.  Kat slides into the seat opposite his and takes up a mirroring posture.  Her jeans and plain grey shirt are not as colorful as his plumage.  (Now tell me about these noodles.)  After this, then, she glances about, taking in the lay of the land, keeping subtle watch on the doorway out of habit more than intent.

Kat

[Just noodles, you said? Ulterior motive check. Per (hidden thing) + Aware]

Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 6 ) Re-rolls: 1

Táltos

There is more resonant about this one than just his voice. There is a shard of star-brightness to Táltos, see? A sliver of something dynamic [creative, green fuse that lights], something Beguiling, though it doesn't take away, doesn't lead astray to diminish, just beguiling, coupled and twined with this sense of Lustiness, Lusty, like there's nothing he wouldn't fling himself all-hearted into, Live, Live, Live, and Taste It All, can't get enough...

....And then, of course, there's else. It is Else, it isn't His resonance, but it is attendant on him, localized, something cold, something Working On Him, something that is Harrowing [Malicious], that'll separate bone from blood, and enjoy it.

Táltos

[Uh. No, I'm - I'm totally without ulterior motives. Ha, ha. Manip + Subt, just for kicks.]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

Kat

Tonight there is the taste of metal-in-the-mouth to her, a turned thing, a Tarnished thing. Older than its seeming. Patina, one would say, in a kinder setting. A sort of grey-dark flush to the edge of something silver.  A vignetted photograph -- the word spelled out with all of its letters, here, is also significant. 

There is the touch of more to her. More, as they all are. More, as they all long to be. Unsleeping and alive.  Rising to be ever so much greater than she seems. Building towards Breaking.  A cycle within herself, like suntides or moonswells.  A clarion call rooted deep in her bones.

Her outward appearance belies little, but the taste and the swell and the all-over feel of it lives little to question.  She Works, but she is not Working now.  If she were, they would know it. They would know it in their bones, in a breathless sort of once-remembered way.

Táltos

There is more resonant about this one than just his voice. There is a shard of star-brightness to Táltos, see? A sliver of something dynamic [creative, green fuse that lights], something Beguiling, though it doesn't take away, doesn't lead astray to diminish, just beguiling, coupled and twined with this sense of Lustiness, Lusty, like there's nothing he wouldn't fling himself all-hearted into, Live, Live, Live, and Taste It All, can't get enough... There's no greed, just love. Just presence.

....And then, of course, there's else. It is Else, it isn't His resonance, but it is attendant on him, localized, something cold, something Working On Him, something that is Harrowing [Malicious], that'll separate bone from blood, and enjoy the design it has fashioned.

John

The problem with being new isn't always not knowing what you should be doing. Sometimes it's not knowing what you shouldn't be doing that is really the problem. He hadn't slept for two days because he wasn't sure where he would end up if he did. But that left him with far too much time on his hands. Sally wasn't speaking to him since he almost threw up on her heels and Rusty was starting to get on his nerves. So he got out and he wandered and he thought a lot about weird men with scars for eyes and teleportation. 

What he had experienced was inescapable, especially given the fact that every so often something else just a little strange would happen without his say-so. He would wait for a bus and know the exact time without checking a clock -- what's worse is he thought he knew what time the same bus had arrived the previous day as well. 'It's always 3 minutes late' he had told a woman before he realized what he was saying. He quickly shuffled off with his head down. 

Now, as the door of the O-shimi swung back and forth perhaps with chimes, perhaps without, John stood out on the pavement and stared through one of the windows. He needed a shave and probably a shower. A rumpled button up clung to him whispering woes of an iron-less existence. He stared because his head was doing that thing again where it made him aware of people he couldn't see, people who were blocked from view by walls or booths or both. He couldn't 'see' through the walls but he knew they were there regardless. He could tell someone was sitting on the toilet in the rest room and that there was someone out the back in the alley.

So although he stood at the window staring into the noodle house, he wasn't really looking at anyone. He was just sort of wide-eyed and pawing at the glass with both palms like a junkie.. or a zombie without the rot. A fresh zombie. 

[Perception + Awareness because what is weird stuff and why for?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 2, 4, 7) ( success x 1 )

Justin

Justin eyed Sid for a moment, as though trying to weigh her response in his head.  And he gave a little breath of amused laughter, short and quiet before offering the tiniest of nods, as though to say: fair enough.  "Well, if you ever feel like sticking around, there's some really nice hiking trails.  And I'm fixing up the stable."

...

And then suddenly... people.  

Wills.  Power.  Resonance.  Sid would be able to see the exact moment when Justin felt the others approaching.  When his relaxed posture coiled back in and he sat up straight and craned his head back over his shoulder in time to watch Taltos, and then Kat, walk through the door.  And there, see... Justin was alert - not frightened, but tuned in - like an animal keeping watch over its environment.

And this is what they would see: a twenty five year old man who looked closer to twenty three (he had one of those face - youthful and full of vitality,) and who was handsome in sort of a natural, honest way (nothing special really, but he did have a strong jaw and pretty eyelashes.)  Dark hair, hazel eyes - of the sort that were muddy and difficult to determine (sometimes brown, sometimes grey,) and dressed in entirely ordinary and nondescript jeans-and-a-white-t-shirt, with only a couple of thin leather bracelets and a small stone pendant as any kind of identifying accessory.

But none of these things were important really.  Not in comparison to the glow of enduring vitality they might sense coming off of him.  That thing that marked him, like them, as something more.  As something, in his case, touched by Life and Growth and Strength.

If they were aware, that is.

Justin offered the other table a nod of greeting, but didn't speak or approach.  Perhaps waiting to see what they would do.

Táltos

[Well, drat it, I want to roll Percept + Aware too.]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )

Táltos

There is more resonant about this one than just his voice. There is a shard of star-brightness to Táltos, see? A sliver of something dynamic [creative, green fuse that lights], something Beguiling, though it doesn't take away, doesn't lead astray to diminish, just beguiling, coupled and twined with this sense of Lustiness, Lusty, like there's nothing he wouldn't fling himself all-hearted into, Live, Live, Live, and Taste It All, can't get enough... There's no greed, just love. Just presence.

....And then, of course, there's else. It is Else, it isn't His resonance, but it is attendant on him, localized, something cold, something Working On Him, something that is Harrowing [Malicious], that'll separate bone from blood, and enjoy the design it has fashioned.

Kat

[Awareness as actual awareness, since magi tend to group in horribly indefensible locations like noodle shops]

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

Sid

Her brows come together and she tilts her head.  "There's a stable?"  It's the last time, at least for tonight, that Justin sees her so relaxed, so on the verge of amusement.

===

Sid would be able to see that moment, if she weren't already tensing up a moment, a breath before him.  She also sits a little straighter, coming to attention when the first of the strangers enters the ramen shop.  She's the one who's furthest back, though she and Justin are hardly back at the far wall.  Even if she were hidden in some far back corner, some out of sight room, they would feel her, those with the awareness to feel her.  They can feel, some more powerfully than the others, that clawing craving desperation, joyous and utterly euphoric, swirling all together in her pattern.  And then they see her.  Pretty in a way that's trying with all of her might not to be, long red hair falling all around her shoulders, clothing old and faded and too large, glasses black-rimmed and a little too large for her face.

The man sees her first because she's the one facing the door.  She's the one he smiles at, expressive and engaging.  And it's him that she watches closely.  It's him that her paranoia hones in on, that beguiling thread, that lustiness, that cold, dangerous Something Other.  It's different, that feeling, it's not a heat in the loins but something broader, more reaching, but the words come unbidden to her mind, anyway, the words of a horrifying man in a park, followed by his laughter, followed by screams.

A woman enters, greets the man like a friend, and that's when Sid jerks her head to the side, forcing herself to look away.

Táltos

His eyes light up when Kat enters as he sits down and heads over to the seat he left her. The seat that faces the door and the window. His eyes are actually a gray-blue, although in most lights they'll just give themselves to indeterminate dark. They're just deep-set, see, and when they're in shadow they do what lakes do, which is reflect. His eyes light up and he smiles this satisfied, not smug, smile, and the smile is punctuated with a nod, like he's at a concert and he's nodding because he's echoing the beat that's caught him (and Kat) up in its movement, and brought them here within the same pair of seconds, wasting nothing at all. He's also glad to see her; that's obvious.

Also obvious, what he doesn't want to reveal just yet. This cold, hard knot of frantic anxiety, this wintry fever, this resigning-itself shadow behind his eyes and the exhale of his breath and the flare of his nostrils, and this bone-weariness. He's tired, is Táltos, edging toward weary as a dish-rag used past its prime.

He's in his prime, is Táltos, but a closer examination shows tell-tale signs of significant weight-loss. His cheekbones, sharpening like an executioner's ax, those bags around his eyes, a certain candled pallor to his skin that doesn't quite allow one to look through him. He's got too much life for that, does Táltos, right? He looks a little older (tarnished, let's say, hm?), too, if you'd known him before.

Oh, right. Kat mirrors him, but he puts one hand, the right hand so he must reach across his body to do so, up and over the table, stretching it to make contact. He offers it palm up, fingers curled, like come on woman, Old Friend, don't be reserved.

"Well met. Tell me, will I be the seventh person today to tell you how ravishing you are? Because, damn it, I just won't do it if I'm not first or seventh. That's my new rule," and his smile now is to show her that he means the cheesy compliment with all of his considerable heart, although the rest is nonsense. His mustache twitches over his lip, and he looks for a second as if he's going to sneeze, rearing back so his spine hits the wall hard. He doesn't sneeze, though. He just twitches and sniffs. His features are very, very given to contortion; see how his eyebrows go way up, like the Devil's probably does? Sniff, sniff. His eyes water, and he finds his gaze skimming toward Sid and Justin, then beyond Sid and Justin to the young man at the window.

He gives them a second nod, a secret club house nod, but like Justin doesn't approach or speak, perhaps out of some respect for personal space (ha?).

Then stares at the man in the window again.

[Perc+Aware-as-Emp-on-Sid, are you scared of me, Staring Girl, or just a fan of the 'stache?]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (5, 6, 7, 7, 8) ( success x 4 )

Kat

Kat was fairly convinced that one of the unbreakable rules of the Universe was that otherwise smart individuals, otherwise paranoid individuals, otherwise perfectly sane and rationally self-interested individuals of the World Bending Variety would congregate in entirely indefensible locations -- like noodle shops -- utterly by coincidence.

It was a wonder that any of them had survived the War.

Even so, she was not entirely ready for the tangled sweep of magical tastes across her tongue, muddled as they were from close proximity.  She reached up to run the long fingers of one hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face and behind her by consequence.  She whetted her lower lip and gave Taltos a quizzical look before letting her gaze slide over him as if searching for something.  That look traveled onward, to the table where Sid and Justin were sitting.

He nodded.  Kat caught his gaze with hers, held it for a moment, then returned her interest to the odd man across the table from her.  Her hand finds his where it rests upon the table and covers it (comforts it).  Old friend.  She shifts her body to bring her feet under the table, to bring her body more upright and less relaxed.

"Perhaps the seventh," she concedes, but there's laughter at the corners of her cool (concerned) grey eyes.  Her fingers pull a little at his, tug, entreat, implore.  (You've a story to tell [not here, not now]).  The near miss of a sneeze draws her brows together.

"You need more than noodles," she says. It is firm, but not unkind.  Worried but not wary.  All manner of other things are layered beneath it: old promises, kindnesses, and secrets not yet betrayed.

Justin

Moments after that nod, after the brief span of eye contact, Justin's gaze swung back to the door and the glass pane where John was pressing his hands.  And Justin's eyebrows came together slightly, pinched with curiosity and concern.  "Hey, is he with you two?"

And well, maybe he would have said more.  Maybe he even would have stood up and walked over to greet them properly, but that was right about when he glanced back and caught Sid's tense posture in his field of vision.  And he just... went still.  Calm and quiet and rooted in place, like somehow he could stabilize her desperate energy simply by being near her.

"Hey," he said, all but a whisper.  "We can go, if you want to."

Sid

[I AM SCARED OF NOTHING: subterfuge diff +3 (shy (D: D:))]

Dice: 5 d10 TN9 (1, 3, 4, 5, 8) ( fail )

Sid

[Yes.  Yes she is scared.  She is scared of you, sir, and your world consuming desire to consume the, er, world.]

John

It was a fresh feeling, this resonance of his, an ache for a reason behind it all. It wasn't an intelligent or piercing sense of questing, hidden behind dark rimmed glasses, but blunt like a hammer. Break the egg to find out what was inside. The sort of seeking that would get a guy in trouble and it felt clean and bright enough that its owner probably lacked the experience to know it. 

He was using, that much was obvious to his superiors in the noodle house. Whether he knew he was using was another matter. He radiated it like a beacon. But the surprised look on his face when Táltos turned his head to glance at him gave the impression that he wasn't fully aware of it. His mouth hung open and he flickered blue eyes between Kat (who felt like something very old and dangerous) and the lanky man, then deeper into the noodle house, probing blindly and without regard for who might be on the other end of his attention. 

Again he looked at Táltos, when his blind seeking only lead him to confusion. He abruptly jolted back from the window, hands coming away from the glass. He could go inside, or he could run away. Until now he had been running away and all it had given him was headaches and a heightened sense of paranoia. Besides, they looked harmless enough. He didn't think the red-head one was going to whip out a police baton on him and break his knee-caps any time soon and the lanky tall one was big, but there was no meat to him. 

He pushed inside the noodle house. Be normal. Just order some noodles. He went to the counter to do that.

Sid

It is, in fact, Justin's quiet presence that keeps Sid from trying to bolt.  That and the fact that the strangers are all between her and the door, but maybe she could get around them easily.  Maybe.  Maybe maybe.  At least the walls haven't started caving in on her.

She jerked her head to the side, not able to hide her fear, the raw nervous tension she felt when she looked at the tall lanky one, a tension made all the worse by the press of so many foreign energies.

And the place had been so quiet a moment before, moments before.  They had been enjoying their dinner, getting along, becoming food friends.  And now Sid can feel her muscles threatening to cramp with a tension she hasn't felt since, since...

Justin rotates, his body still, turns to her and leans in close to whisper something to her.  Sid angles her head just enough that she can see him, see his face, the way he sits so still.  Like maybe he could be steady enough to share the burden of her fear, maybe ease it a little.

Without a word, Sid lowers her head a notch, then another and lifts it back up a little, the slightest of nods.  Yes.  Yes yes yes a thousand times yes.

Táltos

Kat's hand covers his; her fingers tug, as if to pull out a story. His back is against the wall now, and he is still sitting sideways; he is thin enough that this doesn't look uncomfortable, just ungainly, and see he has an elbow on the top of the chair. His expression changes, too, as he stares at John in the window, although it's not changing because of John at the window so much as it is changing because of [desperate (Euphoric)] girl who is in dread of him. He is conscious enough of a cold weight on his finger, and conscious, too, of reading in her expression, reading in the glance that took Sid and Justin in, that the cold weight is not what frightens her, and -- he can be brash -- it makes him want to chase it away. But he doesn't get up, launch himself at the second table of awakened magi, in order to try to do this in what would probably be an extremely clumsy way.

You need more than noodles, Kat says, and Táltos' mustache twitches again -- "But have you had the noodles?" -- this time because he has lifted her hand and, with a quick side-long glance of a laughing nature, brought it to his lips. Scratch, scratch, and a gentle pressure, "So," he says, "today you are ravishing, and as it's now firmly tonight, I'm also first…"

Then Táltos lets her hand go; his other hand is under the table, suspiciously out of sight, but not really out of sight should anyone look. He's just curling it in the shadows, resting it there instead of keeping it in the open to drum, letting it hang downwards.

Justin asks them if John belongs to Táltos and Kat, and Táltos, his gaze snagging again on Sid in a way that probably does not make that girl comfortable (not because it is particularly threatening, in and of itself, but because it is lingering at all), well -- Táltos shakes his head, and then John enters, playing it oh so obviously cool.

When John looks at Táltos, Táltos meets his eyes. That's what happens. It's an easy thing to have happen, isn't it?

He says to his companion, with a sudden and dramatic sigh: "But I do need to speak to you of things more interesting than cabbages and rings, or at least more damning. I suppose you've ferretted out that it's not just to see you get fat I lured you away from your horses."

Táltos

ooc: ahem, "I am the seventh to say today you are ravishing, and as it's now firmly tonight..."

Justin

That look - that was all he needed to know.

And lucky for Sid, he had cash in his wallet.  So Justin nodded and pulled it out and tossed enough to pay for their food and a decent tip (which was pretty much all he had on him) on the table before getting to his feet.  Poor John was spared one last, conflicted look - like maybe Justin knew someone ought to talk to him and wasn't entirely sure that the other two would bother.

But whatever concern he had for John's mental state, it wasn't enough to trump his concern for his friend's emotional well-being.  So as soon as Sid stood and made her way out, he followed in her wake, keeping his height (Justin was only an inch shorter than Taltos) and his weighty presence between Sid and the others.

So it was that quick - and in but a moment, they were gone.

[Sorry we have to run guys.  Sleep calls!  But thanks for the awesome and mysterious fly-by meeting!]

Kat

Of all of them, tonight Kat is calm.  She is vigilant, but she is not tense with the fear of it or heavy with its knowing.  She is languid. Her mind runs with the river. It runs fleetly, dodges impediments, swirls back to things worth knowing twice.

"I always thought it was cabbages and kings," she says, but the words are a half-thought, half-tongued and slightly sleepy sounding.  Thoughtful.  The thing, unnamed, that hangs between them is weighty and all the more distracting for their audience.

"Liath sends her regards."  The horses. Horse. Well, no, just Liath the Grey. She was a singular entity in Katiana's mind.

She is not immune to the tension at the other table. The hush of it. The intimacy and fear. Tangled and thorny as it was.  There is a passive compassion in her eyes when she looks to them, but that's all.  It's passing.  Fleeting.  Gone.

"And as to stories, this is not the place for telling..." She slides to the end of the booth and rises.  Her arm hand to him as much in command as offering.  When he takes it -- which he will, she knows him that well -- she'll lead him out to the truck (worse for wear), and let him bend her ear and spin his tales and embellish at will.  There's food at the farmhouse, and a spare bed or two.

On their way out, John gets more than a cursory glance.  There's a mixed reaction in Kat, concern and frustration and compassion glossed into one passing expression.  Another night, perhaps, she would have over-extended herself twice.

(Sorry to bail, but it's past my bed time... :(  )

Sid

[and since Sid would be a zoomin' on out, that's it for me, as well.  thanks for the scene!  but now sleep calls.]

John

Don't make eye-contact. He should have thought of that rule before he walked into the place. But it was too late for that, all he could do was hastily look away which put a serious strain on his attempt at appearing completely normal. Thankfully everyone had other places to be, which left John sitting at a table with a box of noodles and no stomach for them wondering if he weren't just imagining it all. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of one of the windows, his weathered appearance, his unshaven face, his red-rimmed eyes. 

Hell, if he caught himself staring at him through a shop window he would probably bail as well. He needed to get some sleep. One day he would wake up and this would all be one bad dream.

Táltos

Kat knows how to draw him away; it's a lot like drawing down the moon, isn't it? The euphoric [desperate] girl leaves with the vital [enduring] man; the woman who feels like an old and dangerous antique, like the sky after a storm, and the man who feels like the devil in love with life under a curse; they leave together, too, leave John and his seeking, his wondering, and it's funny that the Verbena both look at John with compassion (on a quest) before disappearing, isn't it? Funny strange, not funny ha ha, like there's something about that Tradition.

Táltos, however, as he is drawn out, offering an apologetic grimace to the owner and his wife…

"If you're looking for something, you could do worse than find me again. Try for a little finesse, huh?"

His tone is friendly enough, is just a teacher's tone. Kat no doubt has something to say, something about the advisability of saying such things to people [Awakened] who look as lost as John.

... But she says it elsewhere, most like.