Margot Travers
In the past week a wash of premature springtime warmth had descended upon the city of Denver, and virtually every student at the University was taking gleeful advantage. From men and women who donned shorts and sandals (but still hugged sweaters to them in the frosted mornings) to the limited space left in outdoor spaces to study. Tables were claimed by groups who were content to either chat or work, and much of the grass was taken up as well.
The only place that seemed to have green space left was around a tree planted alongside the sciences building. It was claimed solely by a little student who screamed Freshman! just by the look of her. Her brown hair was cut at her shoulders and hanging around her face, and she was sitting with her back to the tree and her knees tucked up. She wore a pair of jeans with a hole starting to form in one knee and the cuffs folded up a few times to adjust to short legs, and she was soaking up the sun with her gray hoodie on the ground beside her, arms bare in the white T-shirt she was wearing.
She was incredibly involved in a book. A small book, though, with a dark and worn looking cover-- not a textbook at all. Involved to the point of grasping the cover with either hand and holding the pages near to her nose. Her eyes, barely visible peeking over the cover, were moving visibly from left to right as she consumed line after line.
Most people didn't quite know why they were leaving her alone. She just seemed weird.
One student in particular this morning, though, would sense something more: he could See, and he could Feel, and he could Sense. He recognized that the weirdness was more refined than that-- he knew it was because there were echoes of murder in the air. It was as though he were breathing steam from hot blood just spilled on the ground. In the occasional small breeze on an otherwise still warm day, he could nearly hear the bone charms rattling in the branches of the tree that surrounded her.
This student was so much more than just the Weird Girl. And the kind of resonance she gave could be worrisome indeed.
William Holmes
What do you do when you are mentally preparing for a war?
If you are William, it means that you start making friends. You go to parties, put yourself in situations where you might meet people who might be allies, and you build connections. Simply put: you campaign. Hard. While people may be wary of the Order of Hermes, one has to admit that they have a lot of experience getting the job done; he might be a new addition but that doesn't stop the young man from being willing to pound pavement. Probably never met someone he couldn't inevitably presume he would be cordial with. Someone called him a sunflower once; it was hard to tell if Arionna was being flattering or derisive. They haven't talked in months; William was fine with that.
He was not a freshman. Didn't give the freshman vibe. Very much the upper classman because he seemed to navigate the campus (any campus, really) like he knew precisely where he was going even if he wasn't actually <i>going</i> anywhere.
The world that this young man lived in was very, very loud. Campus was no different. There were things talking, people buzzing around, someone opening a sandwich down the way and he could hear all of it. He could see anything that wasn't clear in front of his face and every blessed inch of the world was too busy waving its hands trying to get his attention that he might not have been able to focus on the world in front of him. His world, at the current, consisted of a cell phone and the desire to become omniscient. And then there was the <i>feeling</i>.
He stopped, put the text message away and directed himself in the direction of <i>Freshman!</i>
Plopped down nearby. Something overwhelming and lingering, like a car wreck (Margot) is met with the devastation of nature. The feeling of a man's heart before a revolution and trying ever-so-hard to make it a reality. Khakis, button down shirt, vest. Messenger bag full of papers and books and colors and chalk; the universe will make an artist out of him yet. It'll settle for a hipster, though. Blond hair, green eyes, and a grin that says he's down for anything.
Again: very upper classman. Very <i>I'm not going to graduate on time. </i>
"Bhagavad gita?" he asks.
Margot Travers
This girl didn't only scream Freshman (as well as murder scene, on a deeper level that clung to the air sticky and sick), but she screamed Bookworm Loner as well. It was there in her posture, how she was curled forward so much that she looked like she could rock herself forward only slightly and fall directly into those pages. She looked like somebody so accustomed to being alone that her body language spoke of a buffer against approach. She just didn't want to be disturbed.
But a disturbance was exactly what William sought to cause-- he called it campaigning, getting to know people, but not everyone would see eye to eye with him on that. So immersed in that book was she, Margot didn't realize that William was there until he was bending his limbs to join her in the grass. The girl startled and snapped the book closed, tucked it hastily between denim-clad knees so that the cover was obscured (if he had a quick eye, or if he was looking before she noticed him, he'd find the cover decorated with an ink-scratch illustration of a bare tree and moon and a figure standing beneath them, the title reading <i>Wicca Rituals and Practices of Old</i>). She stared over at him like a startled deer, with wide hazel-colored eyes and heavy eyebrows that rode high on her forehead.
She stared at him for a second, blinked twice, then inquired in a small voice:
"Excuse me?"
William Holmes
"I thought you were reading the Bhagavad Gita," he said, "Hindu text. It is a dialogue between a prince and Krishna- talks about liberation, uniting with the spiritual aspect of the world, A lot about Dharma."
It is disturbance that he seeks, can't help but come and be a bit of chaos and let the pieces fall back together so something better can be made. That is what creation is, that is what he is- some enemy of stasis who decided to join the ranks of some monolith. (how would he survive the Order? a creature so set on change for its own sake? Anyone who knows the Order would understand, of course- there are some who seek discord and Erisian mysteries.)
"It's one of my favorites, but my Sanskrit is still shit so I can't get the untranslated bits-" he realizes he's rambling and stops. Butterfly. Sunflower. Ping pong ball. Bored Holmes. "What <i>are</i> you reading, if you don't mind my asking?"
Margot Travers
"Oh."
Margot looked curiously at the young man while he explained himself and what he thought she'd been reading. When he inquired about what she was reading she blushed, just a little bit (a bright pink on the apples of her cheeks and edges of ears, visible for how her hair was tucked behind them). The book was tucked further between her knees and she hunched her shoulders just a little bit. If only there were a turtle shell to sink into.
"I mean, I kind of mind... It's... uh, not related to school or anything but--..."
She blushed a little harder, coughed, and leaned forward to grab her backpack and haul it toward her. Clearly intent on packing her things up now that her vacant space was less so.
"Can I help you, guy?"
William Holnes
"You seemed cool," he says, doesn't laugh at it either. If this were a movie, this is usually where he invites her to prom and then <i><b>painfully</b></i> dashes those expectations once she gets there. Not with pig's blood or anything, though. Margot has lived through being the forgotten one and this young man doesn't seem like the type of person that has ever been on the periphery of anything. Appearances are deceiving.
"You've kinda got this whole CSI vibe going on, so I was like <i>cool, person</i>," William tells her. He doesn't seem shocked about much of anything, truth be told. Budding diplomat, trying to figure out how to say that he knows something, notices something, wonders if she'll call him out before he calls her out. Doesn't take the chance; tries to beat her to the punch, "very crime scene to my natural disaster, you know?"
Margot Travers
Margot narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious of the stressing on his words. When eh said she had a CSI vibe she looked confused, but then he changed the phrasing and referred to her as a crime scene, called himself a natural disaster, and her eyes widened with realization.
There it was. <i>There.</i> How did she miss it before? He may as well be standing in the middle of a typhoon, in a hurricane out to sea grasping firm to something solid and <i>striving</i> for something just out of reach in the waters while trying not to fall in himself.
She stared for a few moments, and he can see a million thoughts a minute flashing behind her eyes. Realization, excitement, apprehension, consideration, reservations. All quick and mashed together upon her face, before she cleared her throat and went about tucking her book quickly into her bag and jamming her sweater away as well-- it was too warm to worry about donning it today.
"I see. I'm, ah, sorry. I'm a bit new to this whole thing still is all. I haven't really run into many people before, so it's-- I don't know about etiquette or..." She gathered her bag up, slung the strap over her shoulder, and rose to her feet. Apparently still intent on fleeing. His revealing what he was seemed to have arose interest, yes, but worry as well. Somebody probably told her to avoid strange magicians wanting to talk to her. They may try and entrance her and lead her down some path that she didn't want. Impressionable young thing, wasn't she though?
"Sorry. My name's Margot. You are?"
William Holmes
(how bold ARE we? WP)
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (3, 8, 9, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
William Holmes
He's observant, this one. He's observant when he doesn't need to be, when he doesn't want to be, when he can't get anything really going for him except for the fact that the world is screaming so loud that it almost makes him drop whatever it is thgat he is doing so he can cover his ears and Margot? The grisly bloodied visceral gut-wrenching that she is has to keep his attention and has to keep his full attention. She would be too much otherwise. Keeps his eyes on her face, though.
Realization. Excitement. Apprehension. Reservations.
Those are all normal and she's clearing her throat and she apologizes. Makes him wave a hand, because it's a careless gesture and surely he must be careless because he walked up to a stranger and started to prod them about magickal leanings and weirdness and asked about... well... something terribly intimate.
What she's reading being that intimate question- there is no better way to know someone quickly than to ask what they are reading. No better way to overstep a boundary than to peruse their lbriaries. "The etiquette part is weird as shit, I don't think anyone actually gets it," he tells Margot, "but nobody here's wearing a robe or has a pointie hat so there's no real consequence or point to it."
Apologizes to him, twice. Says she's sorry and he shakes his head, "don't worry about it, I'm William."
"And I'd like to take you out to lunch."
A beat.
"I would say dinner, but that's presumptuous as fuck."
Margot Travers
"People do that?" This blurted out with curiously blinking eyes when he talked about robes and pointy hats. Like Merlin? Like actual wizards? Visions of blue robes with stars, followed close behind by the comparison to men in white robes and pointed hoods and burning crosses.
She shook her head quickly at herself. Inappropriate question, she knew. In the world of the Awakened, anything and everything went. She was a Witch learning from a Mad Scientist after all. With her book tucked away, Margot pulled the backpack strap over one shoulder and threaded her sweater through it-- too warm to wear it now.
Though she'd still been busying herself with getting ready to flee him, pause was given when he said he wanted to take her out. She stared at him like she misheard him. Clearly this wasn't a girl who was asked out often.
"Uh. Why?"
Wow Margot, tell us about your self esteem.
William Holmes
"People actually do that," says the Hermetic to the Margot, because of course he would be an expert on pointie hats and wands and wizardry.
There are many things that William does, and wearing a pointie hat is not one of them but damned if he won't put on a nice suit and try to work magic because there are Things One Does when performing a ritual and it makes perfect sense to him in the fact that it's all the intention that matters and-
Exhale. We aren't here to go talk about the finer points of applied Hermeticism. He's here to ask a girl to lunch.
She asks why, and he replies-
"Because literacy is sexy as fuck and I'm enjoying our conversation?"
Margot Travers
"I, ah... Um..."
Margot blushed, blooming magenta on her cheeks and ears both. She looked nervous, glanced around as though to make sure nobody was going to sneak up behind her to complete a prank. She clearly didn't quite know how to respond to being invited out on a date, let alone accused of sexiness.
She cleared her throat and grasped her backpack strap with both hands.
"I'm flattered." Clearly. "And.... suspicious. Is it because of my Resonance? This is a college. Everyone is reading."
William Holmes
"In theory, everyone is reading in college in theory, but more often than not people are pressed into reading, like they've been shanghaied into it. It's the difference between reading Catch 22 because you like it and the reading Catch 22 because someone is going to subtly rate your worth as an academic by your ability to parrot back what your professor thinks you should know about Catch 22- college is a very rare place to find people reading because they want to read."
Ah, spoken like a philosophy major with a C average.
"And yeah, part of it is the resonance. It's the guarantee that I don't have to self-censor. And part of it's your hair color- and another part of it is that people who are travel sized are appealing."
Margot Travers
William started talking about the difference between having to read and wanting to read and Margot relaxed just a little bit as he did. The focus had shifted off her and him and the idea of going out on a date-- like a real grown up date with somebody she just met today, not some kid she'd gone to high school with since kindergarten whose mom she knew by first name.
Then it was back on her. He liked that she was a Witch, so he could open up. Liked her hair and her height.
She made a face like she was fighting a conflicted smile and cleared her throat.
"Okay, alright, just stop, we'll have lunch." It was worth talking to other Mages most of the time anyways. Plus if she stopped waffling then maybe he'd stop being so forward. Shiny change of subject? Shiny change of subject.
"Do you, uh, have a Tradition, William?"
Steel
[Getting the Nightmares roll out of the way.]
Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7) ( success x 2 )
Steel
[And the Awareness one]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )
Margot Travers
When Steel passed over the grassy knoll housing a tree beside the sciences building, she'd certainly sense something coming from William Holmes (tall, blonde, handsome) and Margot Travers (small, brunette, stammering).
From Margot Travers, at least, there was a gruesome sense to the air. Like tasting copper in your mouth, an unexpected nosebleed. Like walking into a room and finding the crusted red-brown stains of bloodied hands on the wall in one of the smaller rooms in the back. Like bones under brush in the forest. Grisly.
Steel
It isn’t study or self-improvement that brings Steel here. It isn’t the desire to learn about what has gone before, in the naive hope that she’ll find some way to make the world a better place. On the other hand, it isn’t her line of work that brings her here either. Although this would be a good place to disappear in, if she should need to. What’s one more goth amongst all the goths and emos and jocks and assorted other cliques and misfits?
No, it was company that had brought her here initially. Some young thing that she’d bumped into the previous day (or was it that morning?), where there had been enough mutual attraction to at least get together for right now. Neither of them had any illusions that it would last any longer, and there had been none of the awkward questions about their respective pasts or futures. So she had slipped out of his dorm room while he slept, leaving nothing behind apart from vague memories of this girl who... had tattoos? but taking with her a pair of his underwear (now worn), and a packet of Cheetos.
But a girl can’t live on Cheetos alone, so Steel is wandering around the campus in search of somewhere that looks likes to serve something more substantial when something catches her notice. Two somethings, actually. One unfamiliar, and not particularly pleasant. The other, though, is familiar and tied to someone who she’d spent an evening drinking away a bottle of whiskey with. If Margot had been alone, Steel might have watched for a while and ultimately left her alone. Instead her walking steers slowly in their direction.
William Holmes
[Per+aware,, -3. I TOTALLY notice you are there... maybe?]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 8, 10) ( success x 3 ) [Doubling Tens]
Margot Travers
[There is no possible way for Margot to notice Steel with a single die in her pool.]
William Holmes
[what about alertness?]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 10) ( success x 2 ) [Doubling Tens]
William Holmes
He's off in lala land. Or, rather, he ntoices all sorts of things that are not Steel. The color on Margot's ears, the sound of someone twenty yards over trying to buy last year's final exam for BioChem. The sound of the wind that didn't belong on this plane and the rattle of something that didn't really deserve his attentions but got it anyway because for William the barrier between what is here and what is elsewhere is... fluid. At best.
He seems distracted, but he's always distracted.
Does he have a tradition? It makes him grin. "I do," and the way that he says it, it sounds like he either likes it or this is new enough that he likes to talk about it. He likes to talk about a lot of things, truth be told. He takes a second, because he seems to think better of it, because even if they are out in the open it doesn't necessarily mean that he wants people to overhear.
"I'm a card carrying, pointie hat wearing member of the Order of Hermes," he tells her, "house Jerbiton- which is their little internal group of diplomatic social butterfly artist people. We're kind of insufferably awesome."
A beat.
"Or just insufferable. Depends on who you ask. Most people just say insufferable."
Margot Travers
Margot was what we like to call a baby mage. An Apprentice. She simply wasn't developed enough when it came to sensing magick and wielding it to be able to break through Steel's enchantment to make her almost impossible to sense by even the experienced. The Arcane was a powerful force to battle as well, and though her being Awakened gave her an edge the fact that she was actually being hit on and not just howled at obnoxiously by drunk people on frat house balconies or bar patios had her very distracted.
He was delighted to inform her that he was a member of the Order of Hermes, house Jerbiton, which was diplomatic and aristocratic to boot she would presume, given by how he was self-described as insufferable. At least it made a little more sense why he felt it fit and appropriate to walk right up and ask a stranger to lunch (because dinner would be much too presumptuous). She did look curious about this, though. Interested. There was a particular light in her big hazel eyes that spoke of sharp intellect and driving curiosity.
"The jury's out until after lunch, I think." She grinned a little, testing humor. Then, after a moment of thought and on an entirely different note.
"What do you think about House Flambeau?"
Steel
A woman closes on the pair, sat near the tree. A woman who the eye tends to skitter over as something unremarkable unless there’s something more to draw attention. A woman who does, for the most part, seem to fit firmly in the category of ‘goth’. The black (worn) jeans and black (worn) boots, the black (worn) hoodie with the hood pulled up to mask her a little more from unwanted attention. A (worn) leather jacket tops things off. But this is a woman who, for immediate notice, is nothing more than human.
She picks up on the conversation as she gets close and butts in. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Before you know it, you’ll be trying to persuade everyone that they’re doing it all wrong and you’ll never be able to get your head out of your arse again.” She leans against the tree, crossing one leg in front of the other and resting the toe on the ground. “You still owe me a drink,” she says to Elijah before cocking her head and considering the young woman. Because, to her, it is still Elijah. She doesn’t know any better. The voice is somewhere around Soprano, and the accent somewhere between England and the US.
[And the Arcane fades away as she joins them.]
William Holmes
"The fact that you're giving me until after lunch to turn you off on Hermetics for life is really generous," he says, and Steel butts in and he beams- absolutely beams like he's happy to see her, like when he has been given the opportunity to remember her that he does remember her. "And if youare right all the time, there's no reason to persuade people that you are right. It implies that there's room for doubt- no doubt! Only unrelenting rightness and a fuck ton of yoga, because having your head up your ass requires a lot of flexibility."
He grins at Steel- the goth chick with the world's best accent. Playful, amused. Delightfully irreverent and not at all ruffled. There's a reason that the socially flexible ones are tasked with being forward-facing, just like there's a reason that William belongs to a minor house.
Margot tests humor and it seems like he does, in fact, have a sense of humor. Grins a little, laughs at the edges.
"And, to answer your question, House Flambeau is actually pretty fuckin' badass. There's a lot of adventure and sallying forth and getting shit done in that house. But also a lotta fuck being subtle because explosions. If you meet a dude that is, like, seventy and has been in House Flambeau since he awakened?"
"Do. Not. Fuck. With. Him. Or her. Because that person has lived through poking multiple figurative and literal dragons with multiple pointie sticks and has lived to tell the tale."
Margot Travers
Steel showed up after she'd asked about House Flambeau and Margot startled like a firecracker had gone off unexpectedly by her ear-- jumped hard with her shoulders hitching up and her hands white-knuckling onto her bag strap. She'd been standing, and whirled around to see who was speaking-- spying a woman with an ambiguous accent, lots of dark clothes, and an ambiguous complexion as well.
A moment or two of stutter-panicked heartbeats passed and Margot's wide eyed surprise passed. She huffed out a breath slow and deliberate and pressed her lips together tight while the woman and man had a quick back and forth about the house he chose. He laughed and joked back, then continued to talk and explain House Flambeau in all its badassery to her, indicating that Steel was in the know. Margot eyed her again-- she didn't seem to be giving off any kind of a resonance. Were there normal unawakened mortals who knew about them? She was incredibly curious, and it showed in how she was watching the new woman openly (cautiously, to an extent, too).
"Good to know," she said to William in regard to what he had to share. "And that makes a lot of sense, considering the person I met. She seems to be a lot of sallying forth and bold knightlyhood."
Then, to Steel, with a pointed look to William (introductions much?): "Uh, I'm Margot. Hi."
Steel
Steel smirks a little at Margot’s reaction to her sudden appearance. Oh, there’s a touch of sympathy – she’s not a fan of being surprised or snuck up on – but it’s been a while since she met someone who seemed quite so new. She’s part way through lowering her hood when Elijah makes his comment about being right all the time, and it makes her shoulder slump in resignation and her eyes roll. “I see someone’s on the advanced class already.” There’s a flash of a smile, though. “How’ve you been , Elijah?”
There’s still something odd about how the details of Steel’s face don’t seem to last for long in memory, but that doesn’t seem to affect Margot’s ability to make out details when this woman is stood right in front of her. (Dyed) black hair is messy, pulled back and tied in a rough ponytail. Dark eyes look back, with a mixture of curiosity and amusement still. And to the right of her jaw, just above the neck of the hoodie, maybe the line of a scar.
“You see, so self-absorbed already that he doesn’t think to introduce us.” She throws him a glance, the edge of smile on her lips again. “Are you planning on keeping her for your nefarious ends?”
But, to Margot, she does offer what is, presumably, a name. “Steel.” There’s somewhat less drawing out of the details this time around, simply because Elijah seems to trust this Margot and – for now – there’s no reason to believe that Elijah is going to screw her over.
William Holmes
There is a dawning moment of oh fuck, right that came with the unexpected addition. Now, there was the question of what to do- do you keep going? Do you continue hitting on Margot? Do you recover from this when the landing has been mildly off. Unwilling to settle for the bronze-
"sorry for the lack of introduction- it's-" he looks at Margot, smiles apologetically, "Steel is, like, absurdly private with her personal information so I wasn't sure if I should go throw it out there and risk her obscenely forgettable wrath."
Right back into the swing of things, to the lady with the tattoos and the accent, "and it's William now! I'm not an apprentice anymore, got the shiny new-" hmmn, now this is going to get complicated really quickly. He looks back at Margot and Steel and the two of them.
"Explaining the name thing is actually going to end up being part of how Hermetics kinda work and why Names are a thing is actually going to be complicated, if you're down to hear the rant I am one hundred percent on board with having it, but we're gonna need some sound proofing."
Which, given the way he was talking, was completely possible for him to do.
Margot Travers
Steel. The name got a raised eyebrow, but she had to be accustomed to that by now. No hands were offered to be shaken-- this was a college campus, not a retirement party after all. Plus it looked like it might take some serious work to try and get Margot's hands unpried from her backpack strap.
William then swooped in to recover, perhaps even defend the accusation about using her for his nefarious deeds. Or to miss it entirely (maybe on purpose? maybe his deeds were nefarious?) and instead recover from not introducing the two ladies. He explained that his name was William, it had changed, and names were really important to Hermetics and he could explain it to them but he'd have to put up a--
"No, by the sound of it I don't have the time." Margot interjected here, shaking her head quickly. "But perhaps another time. Here."
Rumage rumage in the bag, and out come a pen that's held in her teeth. Next, a notebook, which she flipped open and used its own pages and covers as a firm space on which to scrawl a number. Didn't have 555 in it, but it did have an out-of-state area code. She wrote 'Margot' and nothing more. Tore it from her notebook and handed it over to William.
"I'll see you around. You too, uh... Steel."
What a name.
Steel
[Per+Emp at William - did I just ruin your smooth moves?]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 5, 5, 5) ( fail )
Steel
[That would be - Nope!]
Steel
Something passes through William’s mind, but either there’s little sign of it to notice or Steel’s attention is just elsewhere. Perhaps on Margot. There’s a shrug, though; a throwing up of the shoulder that isn’t pressed against the trunk of the tree, when Elij... When William explains her reluctance to share much about herself. “Call it... self preservation. The less people know about you, the harder it is for people to work out who you are and where you’ve been or where you’re going.” There isn’t any explanation on why that might be an issue, though, leaving it to speculation and the imaginations of the other two Awakened.
“But William, fair enough.”
Steel is about to say more, but Margot suddenly decides that she needs to be elsewhere. She digs around for a pen and paper, but Steel has no illusions that she’s about to be given any method of contacting the girl. Although, honestly, it would have been a disappointment if she had been offered a similar note; concerning, at the very least, that nobody had thought to explain the risks of their existence. But Steel makes no move to offer a way for Margot to contact her, either. So far, two of the Mages in the city have anything approaching a reliable way to find her. Two Mages whose homes she knows where to find, if she ever needs to contact them.
When Margot says her goodbye, Steel simply holds up an open hand in brief farewell – a tattoo of an open eye staring back at Margot from the palm.
William Holmes
[Manip+Sub: I AM TWENTY ONE AND INDESTRUCTIBLE]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )
William Holmes
There is a paper handed by, and he looks over it quickly to commit it to memory and to make sure that it looks like a real number and not like something he was being given to just humor him. The paper gets folded and nicely, neatly, goes into an inside pocket to rest with his pocket watch.
It makes him smile, less bravado and more pleased than anything. Exhales and straightens himself out. "See ya 'round, Margot."
Back tot he be-tattooed lady he is talking to, the one who happens to know where he lives and has had the illustrious honor of snooping around in his things before.
"Wanna eat pub food and get shithoused?" he asks her.
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