Major Cast: Keene, Daisy, Pobble, Connelly, Hiro, Chase
Supporting Cast: Various passerby
*** *** ***
Rolling Fields
Contents:
Standingwater
Alyx
Connelly
Obvious exits:
Ruins
Alyx shakes her head, beginning to struggle to her feet. "I need to sleep," she sighs softly, the euphoric part of her drunkeness apparently over, giving way to a tired resentment of having ever gotten drunk in the first place. She sure metabolises quickly. "I'll be.....somewhere."
Connelly looks at Alyx,"OK...just...don't leave the Realm, though....
Standingwater just shrugs and minds his own business. What's he gonna do? No house here, nope.
Alyx twitches, visibly startled at something behind her. She drops to a crouch, looking wary, albeit still with a glaze to her eyes. Then she seems to shrug it off, wavering as she straightens again, beginning to wobble her way towards the ruined keep. "T- thanks, Janey, Jamaia."
Connelly looks at Alyx, and.....moves to go with her....keeping near her, like ready to help her up if she falls or something,"No problem, Alyx...I always help friends..."
Standingwater toys with his eagle feather. "Sure. Make me out to be the bad guy. Gotcha."
Connelly laughs.."No, Standingwater....you aren't a bad guy...just a grouchy guy..."
Standingwater sighs and slumps a little. "I wasn't always," he grumbles to himself.
"Remember, Jamaia. No camping on ants' nests," Alyx replies, in a startling display of clear speach. She gently shrugs Connelly away, insisting, "I'm fine."
Connelly smiles,"Maybe...but....I have seen people say they were fine after they broke their neck, then turned their heads and collapse dead pretty much instantly.....so...pardon me if I choose to stick with you till you get to where you are going, OK, hon?"
Standingwater remains seated there on the ground, grumbling quietly to himself. Cranky. Cranky cranky. Maybe he isn't getting the right pills.
Alyx turns. Or rather, her head does. "What are you on about? My neck isn't broken, and my head isn't falling off," the Euthanatos grumbles, Jane's explanation making little sense to her fuddled brain. "I swear I'm fine. I just...want to sleep. I'll be in the meditation room if I'm needed."
Connelly smiles,"OK...And..I said I will go with you until you get there...and I meant it."
Standingwater looks back at the cave. "Dammit. I left my pack in the Jeep."
Alyx exhales softly, sitting down rather abruptly. "Here is fine," she decides, closing her eyes, though remaining sat upright. Anyone with a hint of life or mind active can probably tell her hangover has begun early.
Connelly nods...and sits down as Alyx does, and frowns....."Want me to try and do something to help you, hon?"
Standingwater peers moodily off toward the cave. Probably debating whether he should go back for his pack or not.
Alyx shakes her head. "No....no I think...sleep and company on it's own is fine," she sighs, keeling over onto her side and curling up snug.
Connelly nods, and watches Alyx for a moment, then reaches a hand up to lightly brush through her hair,"And..that is why I never drink until I get drunk...
"Jamaia....come and help me talk some sense into this girl..." Alyx requests, frowning a touch. "Janey, did you have /any/ idea what was going on at the rooftop, earlier?"
Connelly ums..."Not really...I thought someone had taken you out for a drink, and....you were just tired...Though...the bugs all around that one table did seem a little odd...."
Standingwater drags himself to his feet and wanders over. "Sense? You want me to talk sense into her? Can't be done. Nobody wants to have sense talked into them. That's why I'm so unpopular."
Alyx smiles faintly. "It was more than just bugs, Jane....if you'd drunk the drink you were offered, it could easily have been everything David denied. And more. The only reason I met up with him was to confirm my suspicions....and much as we Chakravanti like to pretend we have no fear, his ilk do inspire a dread in me."
Connelly frowns.."Ok..what was going on up there, then?"
Standingwater draws a stone knife from his boot and busily cleans under his fingernails.
Alyx shakes her head slightly. "I cannot tell you all of it, my friend," she murmurs regretfully. "All I can say is this; they fear not garlic nor holy symbols."
Connelly frowns a little, curiously,"Um....OK...." She sounds really confused.......
Standingwater certainly looks clueless. But at least he's happy doing his personal hygine thing.
Alyx smiles weakly. "Trust me, Janey. Any more, and you're learning too much. Just....stay away from David, and the others he was with? Please?"
Connelly nods..."OK...if you advise it...I will...I trust you..."
Standingwater gives his knife a toss and slips it back into his boot. "I'm curious now, of course. But then I don't know the guy."
Daisy wanders up the hill to the peak, from the cave beyond.
Daisy has arrived.
PROPERTY OF HOLLIDAY INN, the television says. RETURN IF FOUND.
The television is in Daisy's arms, the VCR is on top of it, and God knows where she's going to find an electrical outlet. She's also knee deep in the stream, wading out of the cave and into the Realm proper, and cursing out the 'fucking goddamn savages' for not building a walkway in the 'only fucking entrance'.
Alyx grins wanly to Standingwater. "If it helps clarify anything, I don't think your war arrow would do any good."
Standingwater removes one of those arrows from his quiver. "Sadly, they're not much good against anything these days. Modern medicine, as soulless as it is, is too fast and effective."
Connelly turns and looks at Standingwater and scowls a little at him,"Sorry about that....though...you know if you hit the right places, there is not much any doctor can do...
Alyx snortgiggles, a remnant of her former inebriety surfacing at some comment. "Medicine won't help these....they use magic all their own to fix their ills."
Keene has been in the general vicnity for some time. He just happens to be good at not drawing attention to himself. In fact, he seems about ready to leave; coming out from the ruins to follow the well-trod path to the exit, he is only stopped in his quest to escape unnoticed by Daisy. On hearing her `melodious' voice, and noticing the stolen goods, he pauses. By now, he's learned not to ask. Instead, he reaches into his coat, produces his flask, and downs a bolt of whiskey before capping off the flask and moving to investigate.
Standingwater gives the arrow a twirl and slips it back into the quiver. "Ah. Medicine has to work fast these days, what with the new and interesting ways people are finding to kill themselves."
"What?", Daisy asks, sloshing toward the entrance to the ruins. "What, it's better to die with supernatural than to take some fucking penicillin?"
Thump. Crash. Daisy sets the TV down, she sets the VCR on top of it, and straightens the cords out behind it. For a moment, she just stares at it proudly, thin lips quirked into a grin.
Keene makes his way to the landing point of the (more than likely stolen) TV, standing next to it. He looks over the television set and the VCR with a cool, insurance-appraiser's gaze, making American to Canada dollar conversions in his mind. He's probably trying to figure out if he could argue this down to petty theft in a court of law.
He puts his flask back into his jacket, producing a cigarette from his breast pocket. Keene lights up with a cheap plastic lighter he bought at Cracker Barrel, taking a few puffs on the coffin nail, while considering this new wrinkle in the situation.
Alyx rumples her hair up and curls up properly in the grass. "It's better to die, period. These guys don't."
Standingwater grumbles quietly to himself and takes a seat on the ground once more.
To that, Daisy can only half-shrug. One defers to the Euthanatos when talking about death. In the meantime, she unshoulders her backpack, pulls out a willow stick the length of her forearm, and begins to scrape a circle in the grass.
It's less than an inch wide, and has an odd, three-pronged symbol in the middle, rather like an electrical outlet.
Connelly blinks at Daisy,"What are you about to do?"
"That answers my question," says Keene, figuring out quickly what Daisy is doing. "We're supposed to be attached to the Forces realm, after all, so there should be enough oomph for that."
He looks at the VCR. "Did you get a movie, or will we be watching snow?"
Standingwater glances briefly at the electrical gear. "I'm wondering how she got through the conservatory without attracting attention."
Alyx seems to have almost entirely dozed off in the grass, her pair of dice still clutched against her chest.
"Don't s'spect as how the reception's very good here," the young punk comments off-handedly. Then, briefly, she looks up, expression quickly sinking. "Dolley. Tarp. They're back in the cave, on account of I couldn't move them through the fucking water, which itself is on account of no one wants to take the time to magick up a sidewalk."
She rolls her shoulders in an easy shrug as she reaches to stab the plug into the dirt.
"No one asks questions if it looks like you're moving something official. Dunno. Someone might've seen me, but it ain't like we haven't tipped off the gardeners, coming an' going at all hours. Oh. By the way: hey, Keene."
//.etro: Daisy rolls "arete" at diff 5
For a total of 0 success(es).
Connelly looks at Daisy."You know..here is a question...do *YOU* know how to make a side-walk in here? Without getting the realm angry at you?
Standingwater begins talking to himself in one of the many languages he has at his command. The grass before him changes from short field grass to... well... short river cane. Grinning, he tosses the cane at Alyx. One at a time. Someone's bored.
Connelly blinks at Standingwater,"How did you do that?"
Alyx nnnghs? groggily as things are thrown at her. "He-....oi-....hey!" she complains, lifting her hands to shield herself rather patheticly.
Connelly ums.."Let me rephrase that...was that direct manipulation of the realm....or just use of Life?"
Standingwater blinks at Connelly, "I told the grass what I wanted. Sure it would have been easier to gather some twigs to toss, but that wold have taken time."
Keene turns his head to seemingly look at something else away from Daisy and Connelly -- rolling his eyes at Connelly's comments. It's not hard to imagine why: the standpoint of most Hermetics is that nature, like anything else, is to be smacked into submission rather than coexisted with. He /does/ manage to keep the most direct way of saying this to himself for the sake of propriety. For a few seconds.
He looks back at Daisy, keeping his expression neutral. "Perhaps the Realm needs to be informed who controls it," he says, idly. "Unless, for some reason, it is capable of keeping Quintessence funneled to it by itself."
Standingwater shrugs, "Use of Life. You've seen the grove, right? That's my contribution. I figured someone around here could use it. It isn't my style, though. I just make use of the garden."
Connelly nods.."Yes..I sort of like the grove...feels like...home..."
Standingwater flicks another reed at Alyx. "The realm is perfectly capable of taking care of itself. One of our Cultists learned that the hard way lately. I'd love to know how she got that spider in here, though."
Alyx grunts at the next reed, the woman exhaling and apparently too worn-out to do much more.
"Seems pretty fuckin' amenable to the giant airship over there," Daisy comments sourly, gesturing toward Team Ether's research station in the far distance. "If it's sentient, and I ain't talking about Tweedledum and Tweedledee the guardian spirits, then I can't imagine it would mind us not getting our feet wet. And if it does, then fuck it, 'cause these boots cost me sixty whole bucks and I'll be damned if I'm buying new ones just to traipse around in Fairyland."
As though to make her point, Daisy stabs the plug at the dirt a second time. This only provokes a shower of sparks punctuated by short bolts of violet electricity. She swears incoherently at the ground, kicking at the smouldering bits of grass and leaf kicked up by the discharge.
"Motherfucking shit eating god damn ...", she begins, then breaks off. "... oi, Keene. Is the Frozen North run on 110 or 220 volts?"
"110," says Keene. "220 is Europe. You can tell because they have funny-looking plugs."
Standingwater mumbles something about needing a blowgun and waves a hand dismissivly. The reeds revert back to grass. "Things are slowing down. Maybe someone should go sit in the chair."
"If it'll afford me some kind of /rest/, then fuck yeah," Alyx mumbles, in response to Standingwater's comment.
Connelly laughs,"I don't think anyone is *THAT* bored, Standingwater..."
//.etro: Daisy rolls "arete" at diff 5
For a total of 3 success(es).
Standingwater unlings the bow from his back and stretches out on the ground. "Well, I'm not doing it again. It sucked last time."
Alyx nnghs. "Anyone got paper 'n a pen?" she inquires, sitting up groggily. "Something I need t'do before I collapse. I'll forget otherwise."
Connelly ums..."I don't, sorry....
Above the outlet, in block script, Daisy writes: 1 1 0. The sympathetic magick appears to actually work this time: when she plugs in the television, it springs to vibrant Technicolor life, painting the faces of the onlookers pale grey.
"Fuckin' A," she says proudly, hitting the 'play' button on the VCR. "It works."
The screen goes blue.
Standingwater rests the bow across his chest. "Can't help you. I left my pack in the Jeep. Too busy herding you safely here to remember to pick it up."
Kasui exits from the forest, wandering up the hill and joining you in the fields.
Kasui has arrived.
Connelly looks up and waves to Kasui!
"Hurray," monotones Keene, moving over to sit down on the cold, grass-covered Earth to watch whatever tape Daisy has decided to play.
As Kasui crests the hill, Daisy, Keene, Connelly, Standingwater, and Alyx are gathered around a television plugged into the grass. The television is turned on.
You're fairly sure there was no outlet there last time you checked.
In any case, a faint, blurry image springs up seconds after she turns it on. Toronto natives will recognize it as the downtown financial center. Hiro and Daisy -- or, rather, Hiro and Daisy shaped blurs -- are gathered around a junction box next to a traffic light. They appear to be mumbling to each other, but the microphone only picks up static and distant honking.
Standingwater grumbles about the damned machines destroying the art of storytelling. Yeesh. Lighten up.
Like a memory set adrift like bit of wood upon a stream, memories of a time long ago yet seemingly just beyond reach, Kasui flows into view clad like somone straight from the Meiji. Her voluminous oceanic blue hakama sway like waves about her legs as her zori-sandaled feet barely make a whisper upon the grass. The long topknot of a samurai flows down her back in an almost noble fasion as those midnight tresses ripple like liquid midnight. Left hand resting lightly upon th epommel of her clansword she pauses at the sight ahead of her and tilts he rhead to the side in abject curiosity...
Alyx flops down against the grass once more. Pen and paper be damned, she's sleeping now that Jamaia has quit throwing things at her.
Connelly blinks at Kasui, and smiles......
Keene rather blandly watches TV. Very slightly, as the minutes pass, his expression moves from neutral to a sense of impending doom.
Time passes. After a bit, Daisy hits fast-forward.
Daisy-in-the-video smokes one cigarette, and then another, and then another. She sits down on her toolbox, then she stands up. She throws something in the garbage. She spraypaints something on the ground, then disappears with Hiro -- who has completed whatever electronic work he was doing inside the junction box -- out of the frame.
The camera turns off.
Apparently several minutes later, Daisy reappears, half out of frame, eating a McDonalds cheeseburger in the back of a moving van. The camera is focused out the window. Time passes. All hell breaks loose.
There's cheering from inside the van -- Daisy screaming an incoherent and staticky 'fuck yeah!', Hiro giving a peace sign to the camera -- and at first it's not obvious what's happened. Then the camera focuses: two Cadilacs have T-boned in the middle of the intersection. Other cars are desperately trying to get around them. Most end up on the sidewalk. In the distance, outside the car, tinny techno music plays.
The music is playing in time with the blinking of the streetlights, which have altogether abandoned their appointed function and now simply provide a light show.
Keene stares in numb horror at the screen as Hiro and Daisy bring about several traffic accidents and general carnage. He knows enough about their modus operandi to know what they did, and how. He groans, putting his head in his hands, yet continues to smoke. He does this a lot.
Standingwater pulls the flute out of his hat band and plays along as best he can with the music on the tape. Not a bad effort.
Daisy-in-the-Realm and Daisy-in-the-video simultaneously proclaim, "That shit was rad," but Daisy-in-the-Realm adds, "for being totally wasted out of my mind. Shit. Just wanted to see what I did this morning."
She tilts her head, looks sidelong at Keene, and rubs at the stubble underneath her bob. She lets out a short burst of nervous laughter.
"Lookit that," she says to Standingwater, stabbing the tip of her wand in his direction. "Lookit that. Fuckin' technology in action, man. Try to get two moose to crash into each other at thirty miles per hour using less than ten dollars in equipment. Impossible, that's what it is."
Connelly laughs,"Daisy...Jamaia gould probably do that with less amount of equipment....
Standingwater sets down his flute and cranes his head back so he can look at Daisy, "Actually, I can do it without equipment. Just crank up their hormones to mating season levels."
Sandled feet whisper about the edges of the gathering as Kasui unobtrusively takes a few fluid paces forwards. Pausing again, she focuses upon the screen for a few moments and shakes her head noncommittaly.
Connelly smirks,"Now..please explain something to me Daisy....what purpose does that serve other than injuring sleepers, the very people we are trying to protect? How does that turn back the technocracy, bring wonder back to just one or two more people?"
Standingwater sets down his flute and cranes his head back so he can look at Daisy, "Actually, I can do it without equipment. Just crank up their hormones to mating season levels."
Alyx sleeps. Ever-so quietly....she dosen't snore, fidget, twitch or talk. Sleeping like a baby.
Keene smokes, head in his hands. It takes him a while to reconstruct his thought patterns to address this new self-inflicted disaster. He lifts his head, ashing his cigarette, and looks at Daisy flatly. "So," he says. "Why?"
Daisy fixes Connelly in an are-you-a-fucking-idiot stare. The corners of her mouth twitch with irritation. A lesser version of the same glare is reserved for Keene.
"I'm sorry. I guess you didn't get the part where we ruined a shitload of mass-produced cars, exposed a bunch of idiot suits to some badass beats and general wonder, disrupted the financial heart of Canada for, hell, I dunno, four hours, and generally made it harder for people to go about their jobs making the world more boring?" She grins. On the sharp features of her face, it only makes her look like a rat. "Do you want me to rewind to that part?"
All Keene wanted was a rationale. He is remarkably permissive of this kind of behavior just so long as some sort of justification is given for it. Wonton, rampant destruction for its own sake is intolerable; wonton, rampant destruction for some Fight Club-style end is slightly more acceptable.
"Yeah, run it back," the suited Hermetic says. "Hopefully Chase comes by; I think this is up his alley."
Connelly sighs,"No, Daisy Incrutable, I do not think you understand..." She looks straight at the woman,"Yes..you ruined a bunch of cars...and did allt hat stuff....but...by doing so, you *HARMED* sleepers. I did not say make the world more interesting..I mean..have you ever looked into a child's eyes as he or she watched a street magician? Before you awoke, did you ever see something that made you feel a sort of sense of awe at the vastness of things?"
Kasui's sad eyes settle for a moment on Daisy, a strange intensity within her gaze, before she simply shakes her head again and wanders onwards. She does not speak her opinion on the matter, she does not speak at all. She, simly, gives Connelly a brief nod and walks away thoughtfully.
Kasui begins down the hill and toward the Ruins.
Kasui has left.
Standingwater pinches the bridge of his sizable nose. "No point in preaching at her, Jane. She's the type to do it again just to spite you. And though I don't approve of the method, I do applaude the fact that she got out and actually did something. Unlike most of the worthless sacks of shit around here who are too busy fucking or whining to be bothered with accomplishing something."
Pobble has connected.
"Unless you got some kind of magic wand that shoots rainbows and fairytales, I figure this is the best way to deal with them," Daisy comments, scratching behind her ear. Just in case, she taps the rewind button with the point of her toe. The crash runs by again in slow motion. "This affects everyone. This makes it just a little bit harder to do the dirty work of fucking over everything that matters. This ain't 'a child's eyes'. These are cold, stupid old men with hearts made of ashes and dust. They're the same cold, stupid old men that run the Hermetic Order --"
She turns her gaze toward Keene, shooting him a poisonous gaze. Shut up, it says. Don't argue with me.
"-- and they're the same cold, stupid old men that run the Chorus. And they're the same cold, stupid old men that run the Union and keep anyone, everyone, from getting getting that connection. Well, fuck children. /Fuck/ children, you stupid mick bitch. They're getting stomped out faster in every generation, and the fucking old men will win no matter how hard you try, because they're smarter than any of us -- smarter than anyone who still cares."
Connelly frowns,"Terrorism doesn't work...."
Somewhere on the plain, a box was left. The box was cold, silent and still.
Now it rumbles, and.. well, it seems to belch. There's scrabbling against the inside of the top and then it pops open, spewing out the suited monkey and dress wearing doctor. From the looks of him, he doesn't look like its been an uncomfortable few hours in the box. He looks well rested, with a crusty coating of blood over his features. Reaching back into the box he pulls a cigarette from within, and looks across the grass for anyone nearby.
"Got you sheepfuckers a country, now din't it," Daisy snaps at Connelly.
Connelly points to Pobble,"Heck...ask him how much terrorism made him sympathize with the cause of an Ireland free from british rule."
Connelly shakes her head,"Yes, it got us a country..but it did not get us a nation...we are still fragmented, and...we are still at each others throats because of the terrorism used to force the brits to yield even a slight bit back to the people who should have always had it.
Pointed at already. Typical.
He looks to the source of the accent being levelled at him, and heads across after leaning down to light the monkey's fresh cigar.
"I don't give a flying fuck about British Rule to be honest.." Pobble looks a little confused, "Don't really mind terrorism either, as long as its directed the right way. ie. Away from me." He stops again, lighting his own cigarette. "I just find Irish people abrasive. Scrounging bastards." He pauses, adding "Bless their hearts." as if this makes it all okay.
Keene and some other people are around a stolen Holiday Inn TV with a VCR on top of it. Keene is sitting in front of it, smoking a cigarette, while Daisy confronts Connelly in no uncertain terms verbally. Keene himself has his usual neutral demeanor, a practiced, even calm that only the best pharmacuticals can give you. However, as Pobble approaches and starts talking smack along with Daisy, the suited man thinks it wise to get to his feet; not to confront anyone, or to get in the way of any of his comrades, but probably so he can quickly get out of the way if things escalate.
"Bless their hearts," Daisy agrees.
Dave the Monkey says, "I'm Irish, you prick.". He throws a monkey fist at Pobble's leg as he says this. The Doctor stops and looks down at the monkey.
"No you ain't you twat." is the reply, and the blue haired, dress wearing, bloody faced tranny flicks ash at the suited cigar smoking monkey.
Keene glances across Pobble's features once he gets to his feet, noticing the blood. In an easy movement, he offers him three Wet Naps he snagged from some restaraunt from a back pocket. He says nothing, thinking now would be a good time not to draw too much attention to himself.
Pobble flashes a big fat grin at Keene and accepts the offering, "Cheers mucka." He hands one off to Dave who looks at it, and then throws it over his shoulder. "Wotcha?" he asks, presumably to Keene.
Connelly sighs, and stands up,"Well....I see you are young, still motivated by anger rather understanding...Tell, Miss Incrutable, do you have any family you care about? For your sake, I hope the answer is no...because...I have seen first hand what it is like to lose and almost lose someone you care about to terrorism.....
"Same old story," says Keene to Pobble in reply. He's just going to stay out of the crossfire between Connelly and Daisy. "Daisy and Hiro caused several car accidents today. They have it on tape." He gestures at the TV. "It's caused something of a stir. It's not nearly so bad as that /one/ time." What that may be remains a mystery.
A dark look begins to gather on Pobble's features. The blue haired freakish boy's sunny demeanor slowly sinking into darker looks.
"Yeah, I saw. They taped it from the Hummer." he murmers at Keene, still staring at Connelly.
"The thing you forget, is that you're talking about religeon. Poxy religeon and occupation. That's nothing.. it means nothing. We're talking about war on a greater metaphysical scale. Ascension isn't a dream, it's a fucking struggle that many people seem to have forgotten."
Dave the Monkey nods solemnly, then takes a big toke on the cigar. "Oi, Pobs you freak. Take this a mo." Dr Steve takes the cigar, and the monkey runs back to the cardboard box, diving inside and rumaging.
"Actually, I don't fuckin' know who I lost or for what reason," Daisy says offhandedly, jamming her hands into the central pocket of her hoodie. Her poisonous glare turns back to Connelly. "You lost someone you care about. I'm sheddin' a single tear for you right now, honey. We all lose people."
Her sneer has turned into something virtually feral, and her hands ball into tight fists inside her jacket.
"It don't turn all of us into cowards."
Connelly shakes her head,"It is a struggle for the hearts and minds of the Sleepers, though...the way you two are fighting the war...we might as well just kill all sleepers....Try something different...try working with sleepers instead of doing things to harm them..it may not be completed in our life time...but...neither did the Technocracy's getting the strangle hold it has....
Connelly sighs.."In fact, The technocracy started by working the same way, I do believe..."
"And now we ain't living in hovels, slaving away for the Church and the State, now are we?", Daisy snaps.
From within the box, just a little way away there is a snorting sound. A long drawn out snorting. Then another. And a third.
This is followed by some sniffling, and Dave Monkey jumps back out of the box, running merrily back to the gathering, where he leaps to grab the cigar and hops down in front of the telly.
Pobble quirks a brow at Connelly. "Joe Public don't want us to work with them, they want to sit back watch cable, read their email and veg out with techno-easy living.."
Pobble falls backwards, as if he's just fainted. He lands on the ground, flat on his back with a slight 'Ow'.
Keene finishes off his cigarette as Pobble talks. He doesn't so much as flinch as Pobble falls down; this is pretty normal by Keene's standards. The suited man does, however, walk over and offer his hand to Pobble to help the dress-wearing gentleman back to his feet. "I kind of like indoor plumbing, myself."
Connelly nods..."Unfortunately, that is true...that is why the Virtual Adepts and Etherites are two of the most important traditions...because they are able to clowly counter the work of science from the Technocracy, with the same subtley the Technocrats used against us. You should not be trying to tear things down...you should be trying to find away to show to the sleepers that live *CAN* be better, more fulfilling by stepping beyond their technological conveniences...
Pobble is lying flat on his back. His face is smeared with dried crusty blood, from a big gash/scratch across his forehead. He ignores Keene's hand, reaching instead for a pill box attached to his skirt by safety pin.
"They ain't countering science, they use it. They'd be as fucked without it as the Union fucks. So.. what've you done lately to stop the calcification?" he sounds a little dazed and warble-esq. That last batch of pain killers were probably One Strength Level Too High. OSLTH (tm).
Connelly looks at Daisy,"And...what are the Sleepers slaving for now? The fact that there are sleepers now who try things like seances, that one can go to a book store anf find steadily increasing new-age sections, and the fact that the old, pre-christian religions that were targeted by both the technocracy's pogrom and Chorister apathy are slowly returning...
Dyne wanders up the hill to the peak, from the cave beyond.
Dyne has arrived.
"Walkways," Daisy comments, jerking a thumb toward the cave. "Always did like walkways. Concrete ones. So we're not stepping in the water and whatnot. A cure for the plague for everyone? I like that. I'm pretty fuckin' big on democracy. Aqueducts, too, 'cept for the lead thing. When's the last time you heard of anyone getting eaten by a dragon? They're almost extinct, and a damn good thing, too."
She pulls her hands out of her pockets, one out of each. One has a lighter, the other a cigarette. The former lights the latter, and she takes a good long drag.
"Everything that's wrong with the Traditions is in the Republic," she comments, stabbing the point of her cigarette at Connelly. "I'm fuckin' convinced Plato was a Hermetic. Maybe the first Hermetic. Everyone's ruled by philosopher-kings, who can do whatever the fuck they want, and everyone relies on the philosopher-kings for everything. The plebes till the fields and mine gold and do whatever the enlightened -- the Awakened -- tell them to. Aristotle, on the other hand; Aristotle lays it out straight. Aristotle tells you exactly what you have to do to patch up your wounds, to make a steam engine, to balance your humours. You can do it at home by yourself. I figure once the Traditions finish carving up the Technocracy, they'll tear right into each other to decide who rules. It's a marriage of convenience."
Connelly looks at Pobble,"What have I done? Sir...I heard you were a doctor...I do not see how you keep your medical license like you do...but...I work in the emergency for my face to sleepers...and...you ever spend time there...you know that every life you save puts something back..even if it just means that a mother doesn't have to grieve over the loss of her son...and, by not keeping my own religious beliefs hidden like most of the medical professionals do...I have had times already where someone asked me to explain it...which may not have any fruits immediately, but..oneday it will...
Dyne pops out of the hole, a small flat black box of some sort in his left hand and in his right hand a lit cigarette. He glances at the box then, then starts to walk towards the tree line of the forest with a brisk pace, the glowing ember giving away his location as he moves.
Keene makes the offer, as that's the polite thing to do. When Pobble chooses not to take his hand, Keene retracts it and straightens up, smoothing his lapels. While he can ignore Daisy -- he usually does -- Connelly's statements are too discordant with his beliefs to ignore. He looks intently at Connelly as she decides to go ad hominem on him, and for the first time in recent memory his eyes thin. Keene has finally reached his extremely high BCM threshold. Yet, he remains diplomatic. Politely, with an even tone, he offers his counterpoint.
"I believe your minority faith has blinded you to the objective facts of our situation. Do you really think the Technocracy actually went to the trouble of hunting down non-Christian religions? For that matter, do you think the Technocracy has /any/ religion? They deal with pure science and reason, not faith: and faith exists within science, as the old ways manifest within the new machines. The symbols have always been there, and will always /be/ there. It's just a matter of adapting to what people believe is magical."
"The time of dragons and the stone tower on the hill has passed, Doctor. The past cannot be made again; not only do the Sleepers not want any such thing, but ultimately neither do we."
Dyne wanders off toward the forest in the distance, eventually disappearing into the trees.
Dyne has left.
Dave the Monkey, perhaps empathically picking up on Pobble's thinking mutters 'Blah blah blah blah..'. This at Connelly's statement.
Pobble takes his new pain killer. Or maybe its an anti-pain killer. He phbts. "I'm not an MD, I'm a PhD innit." he sighs, pulling an amusing face as the blue pill dissolves in his mouth. "Treating the facking sick doesn't count as fighting the war love." The man sighs, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "Healing the sick doesn't diminish the Union's stranglehold on Reality. Just keeps those fuckers alive to propogate the technocratic paradigm."
Connelly smiles at Daisy.."You may very well be right...if the traditions stay at eachothers throats the way they have been over the years, it is probably what is going to happen..." She looks at Keene,"I think you miss the point..when the technocracy first started up, it used the Catholic church, an insitution already set up and ruling most of the world, to unify under one religion. Once everything is unified under one belief structure, then it is easier to tear that belief in something beyond the normal down...And..personally, I do not want to see the old periods returned...I would love to see something greater, where one can walk the streets and feel joy at life...not have to worry about who might be in the darkened alley...for me, deep down, the core of the matter is hope...faith, regardless of the religion, will give people hope....but...finding other things is not that easy..." She looks at Pobble,"And...that is why I am an ER Doctor...By moving among those who are near death, I can give people just a little bit more hope than they had before...
"S'far as I'm concerned," Daisy snaps bitterly, "a priestess is just another sort of priest, and the only thing priests are good for is makin' intestines for strangling kings with."
Abel wanders up the hill to the peak, from the cave beyond.
Abel has arrived.
Pobble says, "Eh. When did the Catholic church rule most of the world?" Pobble finally sits back up, shaking his head a little. That cigarette he's been clutching since waking up is finally lit and inhaled. "Giving people hope is all well and good, but your every fackin day joe normal gives people hope, doesn't help any on the grander scale does it..""
Abel walks out of the Hole in the hill, carrying his Guitar. He seems to have a bounce to his step and a rather dopey, thoughtful smile on his face.
Pobble is sitting on the ground, legs out in front of him.
Dave Monkey sits nearby, staring at a stolen TV playing video footage of a traffic nightmare.
Connelly sighs and shakes her head,"Daisy...One day, you will have to learn patience....I had heard you were a dreamspeaker.....I feel sorry for your mentor..." She shakes her head, and looks at Pobble,"Nothing any of us does individually has any effect on the grander scale..in fact..in the granderscale, anything we do in this city...will have no real effect...what is needed is to do something truly coordinated worldwide....."
Keene waits for Daisy and Pobble to have their say, and gives Connelly a chance to talk, before continuing:
"If such a thing were possible, I would be against it. I will explain that momentarily."
"First, Doctor," says Keene to Connelly, "let's go back to an earlier point you brought up. I think the mundanes had more of a hand in burning heretics and torturing unbelievers than the Technocracy. The Technocracy is not all-consuming and all-powerful, and surely wasn't a fraction of what it is now in the early days of this Ascension War. I won't give humanity a free pass, Doctor, by saying the Technocratic Devil made them do it. I know a great deal about human nature, both academically and from practical experience ... and violence is hard-wired into us. It takes a great deal to overcome, and even then it often pops up in the most surprising places and times."
He looks to Daisy evenly, then back to Connelly. "Humanity will fail you. People -- more specifically, an individual -- may not, because a person can be intelligent, while people are generally ignorant -- by their own choice. I don't believe in a mass Ascension for that reason; the vast majority of the inhabitants of this planet are simply not intended to be anything more than ordinary human beings who prefer to dwell in ignorance than have the responsibility that knowledge and power brings. They are happier, and better off, being led."
He puts a fresh cigarette between his lips. "Now, the matter of who gets to lead, well, I know I don't want to be in charge. It's easier for me to exist on the edge of this technopoly and use the same patterns and symbols that have repeated throughout human civilization to advance my own understanding of what it is to be Awakened. That, in the end, is a more fruitful and *far* less frustrating task than trying to get the great mass of fools in this world to think."
"Because, Doctor, they are happier not thinking at all, as we see today."
Abel sees the group and walks up toward them. "Hey everybody. Peace be with you." He goes quiet though as Keene speaks and listens to him, to see what kind of talk he has come into.
Pobble only just manages to not laugh at Connelly's last statement. "That is such a facking cop-out. I ain't never heard nothing so lame and defeatist." This is all he really has to add at this point, glancing to Daisy to let her pour on some more scorn and bitterness. He takes a long drag on the smoke and waggles some fingers at Abel.
Dave Monkey snuffles, rubbing his nose which is constantly in need of blowing all of a sudden.
"You don't even know who we're fighting, do you," Daisy says. Her tone is as bitter as dust. Leaving her stolen television, she walks walks off toward the ruins.
Daisy begins down the hill and toward the Ruins.
Daisy has left.
Connelly shakes her head,"Wouldn't you? Ignorance is bliss...if you do not believe there is a mugger out there, then you will not fear him...personally...nothing would make me happier for the Techocracy and Traditions to stop, take a look around, and work towards a common goal of bettering humanity...but..that is not going to happen..Unless that happens, we *ARE* hunted by the technocrats...we cannot do the will-working that would bring about a world where people can at least feel safe in their own homes without making up stories of how 'that cannot happen to me'...because the technocrats forced the belief in things like 'miracles' from the Concensus....and there is why hope is the Core of the War...if you create hope, then, you can make the people open for more things, and thus, slowly weaken Paradox until we have a world where we can guide the sleepers..not rule them...but guide them
Abel nods to Pobble and blinks at the Monkey. Then he sits and just listen to the argument at hand.
"What the fuck?" says Dave Monkey. He doesn't seem to realize he's spoken however, looking about at Pobble and shooting him an evil gaze. "Keep your thinking to yourself fuckface." it mutters.
Pobble looks at Connelly in disbelief, ignoring the monkey. "What'n the hell.. this all isn't about making the world better, and making the world a safer place to live. Shit. If we left it to the Union the world would be a fabulous place to live in your estimation. Safe, productive and efficient. I'd get up, and go to work looking forward to doing my job the best I could, and then the joy of comming home to my single perfect genofixed child. Woo fucking hoo." he shakes his head, taking an angry draw on the cigaretty. "What the fuck are you talking about woman?". That last pill seems to have given him a bit of clarity, and when he's thinking clearly it seems his accent drops away a bit, making him a little more comprehensible.
Keene is considerably less hostile than Pobble. Openly, anyway.
"Guide them, heh," says Keene, lighting up with his cheap plastic lighter while giving a Queen Wave briefly to Abel. "I saw this on a t-shirt, once: if you're not the lead dog, the view doesn't change very often. The person who made that t-shirt had a great insight into the workings of the world."
He takes a long drag, blowing a plume of smoke directly overhead before continuing. "You say to create hope, because that will allow magick back into the world. I don't follow. If we create hope, something happens that makes people's beliefs broaden? Some of the most hopeful people out there are people who cling desperately to something and blot everything else out but what they believe in. Hope by itself won't do it. The only way to make people accept other points of view -- or the existence of a consensual reality -- is with knowledge. Knowledge, gnosis, wisdom, whatever you would call it: that is what opens minds."
Dave the Monkey mutters, "Heptessence."
Abel blinks when he hears the Monkey curse, not having expected it to talk, let alone swear.
Connelly sighs,"I said safe...I did not say set in stone....there is a difference...the world the technocrats want is one where..you cannot walk out, look at the sky, and dream of flying..." She looks to Keen,"And...Hope..I am talking real hope, is believing in the impossible...in essence...when we work magic, we are imposing out own hopes onto reality...not our desires, not our whims, but our hopes.."
Dave the Monkey looks across at Abel, not having noticed him before. He blinks back, looking the man over as if suprised by something.
Abel waves to the Monkey a little, though still confused looking, still keeping half an ear on the argument, but still refraining from getting involved just yet.
Pobble says, "That again there is a boatload of crap. If I want some shit to happen, I dont hope it comes about. Gee, I hope I facking with the lottery. No, I do the math. I drop the reality breaking acid and break the world so that it becomes what I facking want it to." he shakes his head, "I dont rub my magic johnson and hope my dreams come true. What complete and utter bullshit." He clambers to his feet, sucking on the cigarette as if it's filter were bricked up.
He reaches into his little baggy, hidden under his dress and pulls out a syringe. It seems to be loaded with a thick goo. He crouches back down and forces the stuff out onto an oversized blade of grass."
//.etro: Pobble rolls "arete" at diff 6
For a total of 0 success(es).
Keene puts things a bit more politely, once again.
"You may hope," says Keene, actual passion entering his countanence as the conversation draws nearer to his core beliefs, "but I *Will*. There is no hope in what I do, only resolve, knowledge and mystic strength. Reality bends to me because I Will it to change, because I have the power in me to demand it to come to heel."
He takes his cigarette out of his mouth and gestures with it, ash trickling off the end. "If I were to only wish my desires onto the world, I would be destroyed from the inertia of reality alone, and rightfully so. A timid Hermetic is one that was poorly raised. Virtue for lack of strength is not virtue: it is only when you have the power, the Will to do good or ill that virtue can be seen."
Pobble switches syringes, pulling a smaller one from his baggie and adding a much lighter fluid to the mix. He waggles this about with his finger, massaging the blade of grass between his fingers..
//.etro: Pobble rolls "arete" at diff 6
For a total of 0 success(es).
//.etro: Pobble rolls "arete" at diff 7
For a total of 1 success(es) including 1 ten(s).
Connelly nods..."Perhaps that is how you see it...I do not see it like that...it is hard for me to put into words....it is more...I hope...my Avatar guides me, and reality shapes to my desire...that is how I see it...I do not see it as beating reality to do what I want.."
Abel watches Pobble but continues to Listen to Keene and Connelly.
Pobble continues to mix the chemicals, and leans down further to add some god honest saliva to the mix. This seems to do the trick, and the blade of grass begins to grow as if suddenly emerged in a boatload of ubermagickal manure. Which in a way it has been.
The experience doesn't seem to go to well for the good Doctor however, and he winces and offers a slight grunt. Looking up to Dave he says, "Oi, fucker. Come 'ere."
"That was whim."
"And you said it wasn't desire, and now you say it is." says Pobble.
Keene has difficulty parsing Connelly's methodology, which he doesn't bother to conceal. He seems honestly perplexed that somebody could actually do what Connelly is saying and get anything done.
"So," says Keene, trying to put the concept together, "your Avatar decides whether or not you should do something, and then if the two of you -agree- you wish /really/ hard and it just *happens*?"
Connelly wells..."Yes...is that now it works for everyone? Both you and your Avatar have to agree...." She frowns,"We all saw what happened when my Avatar and I disagreed with Jess.....I could have saved her...but...my Avatar essentially...said no..."
This revelation actually puts Keene at a loss for words. He stands there, with this blank look of non-comprehension on his face, and stares at Connelly in silence for several seconds.
Dave the Monkey gets up from tv and proffers his cigar to Pobble. The Doctor takes the cigar and has a puff, but also breathes out through the cigar. He quickly passes the thing back to the monkey, as if it were on fire. Dave grabs it and takes a quick draw, and to those unfamiliar with the act its as if someone had shot the little critter full of heroin. He falls back with a quiet 'Wheeee..'
Pobble seems relieved, but stares at Connelly blankly. "That is fucked."
Connelly blinks at the...confused reactions around her.....looking confused herself....
Abel's face suddenly goes blank with a look of pain in his eyes at the mention of Jess and her death, and his grey eyes grow distant, remembering.
Pobble shakes his head, looking somewhere between confused and disgusted and confused. Stubbing out his cigarette he picks up the Monkey, who is in some euphoric state of consciousness. He looks at Keene, going to say something but just shrugs. At a loss. He points at the box. "I'll be asleep.".
The man heads over to the box, and climbs in, with his monkey. The top closes up, and that's the last of that.
It takes Keene a second or two to create a cogent reply to the information presented, but he eventually comes up with something.
"So that girl, the one who tried to sit on the Tenth Chair ... you couldn't save her, because your Avatar told you that you could not."
He waves distractedly at Pobble, keeping his attention on Connelly. "Why didn't your Avatar let you?"
Abel shakes his head to clear it and stands. "Like I think I need to go and do some thinking about what you guys are talking about."
Connelly frowns,"It just would not let me...perhaps it knew the action would be futile...."
Connelly shakes her head,"That is one thing...my Avatar...does not like wasting effort....if she thinks long run, the action would be....futile...she will tell me...."
"Futile," says Keene, like one would say a foreign word.
Abel shakes his head. "Doesn't sound hopeful to me," he says quietly, then He picks up his guitar and heads toward the forest.
Abel wanders off toward the forest in the distance, eventually disappearing into the trees.
Abel has left.
Connelly shakes her head,"That is why I am here...I temper my Avatar's practicality with my idealism...sometimes, I do not agree with my Avatar..."
"So you're just going to let your Avatar say when and when you can't act, is that it?" asks Keene, ashing his cigarette again. "You'll just sit there and take it, even when you want to act, because your Avatar -- a part of /you/, something that is ultimately /your/ spirit -- says to do this or not do that."
He puts his cigarette in his mouth, puffing on it like a chimney. "Well, Doctor, if you can live with that, fine. That's not how I run my affairs. I will not bend knee to my truculent Avatar, for it is not it that makes magick. It is *I*, and my Will, that makes magick. And if my Avatar told me not to act to save one of my friends from a horrible fate, I would tell him to fuck off."
The screaming in his mind grows louder. Keene chooses to ignore it. "*I* am the magus, *it* is my spirit. We are one, but it is *I* who is the master. For all of its power, it is my slave, and will do my Will. I can live no other way."
Connelly shakes her head,"You avatar is your guide, and your partner...not a slave..."
"Partners don't stop you from doing what needs to be done, Doctor."
Connelly frowns,"I have seen it done...when there is nothing that can be done to save a patient, one doctor has had to tell another that it was futile...because it was just not within the abilities of either to do that...and....Jess...I could have saved her that time, perhaps....but...she would have tried again...."
Hiro wanders up the hill to the peak, from the cave beyond.
Hiro has arrived.
Hands wedged in his labcoat's pockets -- wedged jurrasic-deep; deep enough to be covered in a layer of limestone -- Hiro comes strolling up over the crest of a hill, bobbing his head wordlessly to an externally inaudible beat. A fat spliff jutts out from one corner of his mouth, glowing bright orange-red in the Realm's eternal dusk.
Keene is standing by a stolen television set with a VCR on top of it. The screen is inexplicably glowing blue, probably because the tape has fully rewound and is not playing. A short distance away is Pobble's cardboard box, which is closed up snugly.
Nearby Keene is Connelly, who is talking to Keene. Keene is smoking, and has a particularly grim look on his face. Then he speaks.
"If that's how you deal with it, that's how you deal with it. I didn't know Jess, so I'm not one to say if she wouldn't have done the same thing again if somebody had acted. But I will say this."
He takes a long drag on his cigarette. "I will say this, Doctor. Your Avatar doesn't always know what the right thing to do is. It is just as finite as you are. You have to trust your /own/ wisdom, control your /own/ Will, if you're ever going to get anywhere in this world. Don't let your Avatar or anybody else tell you what you should or should not do. Be your own person. Stand on your own two feet, and declare to the universe that you Are, and there's not a damned thing anybody can do about it."
"That, to me, is what being Awakened is."
Connelly shrugs,"Then again...is not the nature of being Awakened also to stress the fact that, when all is said and done, we are all individuals, and, we all have different relationships with our Avatars.....Maybe the Technocrats all have the same identical belief's for their avatars...but...at least we *CAN* disagree....
"I won't try to change your mind," says Keene. "I don't believe I have a monopoly on universal Truth. But I know people, Doctor Connelly. I know what human nature is, and I believe the only way to get anywhere is to be your own man."
He smooths his lapels with the sides of his thumbs, cigarette locked between his lips. "You are your own person. You are not your Avatar, you are not your Tradition. You *are* yourself. That's the only person you're accountable to."
Cruising to a stop to form a third point in the Connelly-Keene faceoff, Hiro extracts a hand from his pocket; plucking the spliff from between his lips. He scrutinizes the tip wordlessly, exhaling a long, narrow stream of smoke. No commentary for the argument, aside from a faint snort.
Connelly shakes her head,"No....we are all acountable to more than just ourselves....it is just that many times, we do not see that until it is too late....."
Keene smiles thinly, glancing at Hiro and giving him a sideways head-bob in greeting. Then he looks back to Connelly.
"We all may have to /answer/ to different people or institutions, but there's a difference between answering to someone and being /accountable/ to them. I have to answer to any of the Masters in my House, or any of them in the Order: but I do this because of their power and station more so than any fundamental moral authority they may have over me. /That/ basic accountability rests only in my mind, because I am the one who ultimately benefits or loses from what I do."
Connelly nods..."As do any innocents who may get caught in the crossfire, or helped in the beneficial fall out of your actions...as an Awakened...we are accountable to the Sleepers we harm or help, and to Paradox...."
A slow, head bobbing nod in response. Hiro is -- most definitely -- stoned out of his gourd. In the habit of all humankind observing tennis matches and ethical debates, he lets his wobbly-eyed gaze flicker back and forth between the two verbal combatants. A fresh drag on his blunt, a lungful and a half of smoke held in.
"I am not accountable to the great mass of humanity," says Keene. "Nor do I truly answer to any of them. Their law is not the Code of Hermes. Their ignorance does not excuse them from trying to obstruct my quest for knowledge. I do not seek to harm them, but I will do what I must to continue my quest for understanding."
"Paradox, similarly, is a power to be answered to. But I am not accountable to it. It is a universal force like gravity or inertia that must be reckoned with, but it has no moral authority. I respect its power to do me harm and avoid incurring its wrath, but it has no intrinsic right to limit me or make me act in any particular way."
Connelly nods..."As you choose...."
"As I Will," says Keene.
Exhale: a swirling cone of sicky-sweet ganja smoke, streaming from between Hiro's pursed lips. He idly scratches at the nape of his neck, sniffs once at Keene's comment, and promptly settles into 'ignore Keene's rant' mode. Instead, he heads over to examine the contents of Pobble's cardboard box, sticking first his nose, and then an arm into the thing's depths.
A primate screech, followed shortly by "Get your hand outta there, bugger" from the box; not, notably, Pobble's voice. Hiro stumbles backwards, nearly dropping his spliff, and stares sullenly at the cardboard palace, rubbing at his apparently injured hand. "Fucking chimp," he mutters in the box's direction.
Keene looks over towards Hiro and the incident. He snorts, grey-white smoke leaving his nose from his burning cancer stick, and returns his attention to Connelly. "It's been real," he comments, "but I should probably get my friend over there somewhere to have a nice lie-down before he hurts himself."
Connelly nods,"Perhaps you should..and..." She holds out her hand,"Jane, of the Verbena.."
It's a fluid, practiced motion, like an Akashic Zen-driven kata; Keene somehow produces a business card from up his sleeve while he puts out his hand to shake, giving the Verbena a handshake and leaving the card in her hand. "Steve Keene," he says. "Invisible College. It was a pleasure to engage in some critical debate." He then turns, moving over to try to intercept Hiro and lead him off somewhere. "Good evening."
"Huh?" asks Hiro, the first words he's mumbled since his untimely arrival. He stares blankly in Keene's direction, as if trying to puzzle out his demeanor, and thereby gain insight on the garbled combination of syllables he's distantly managed to make out. "You want some, or summat?" he asks, waving the spliff vaguely as he falls into step -- automatically -- beside the teflon-skinned PR flak.
Connelly smiles,"You handle debates better than Daisy..um..that is her name, right?"
"Daisy," says Keene. "Daisy Inscrutable, that's what she calls herself. For a craft name, it's not so bad. At least it's not something Goddamn ridiculous, like Penny Dreadful." As Hiro obediently falls in line, he begins leading him back up the waterway to the exit. "Be well, Doctor."
Connelly smiles,"I will..."
Hiro waves the spliff under Keene's nose for several more moments, mumbling, before taking another heavy drag. "Streetlight rave," he mumbles. "Deejay cheat inna house. thump thump thump...," before he gets even more incoherent, he stumbles off down the hill.
>> Hiro and I go outside to smoke reefer.
Allan Gardens - Tropical Conservatory
Obvious exits:
Entrance
Hiro appears from the door behind the two pillars, and slips out from between them.
Hiro has arrived.
Keene walks out of the Realm, not too soggy for his efforts. He looks somewhat mentally drained from the endeavor. He heads over to a bench and sits down, gesturing for the spliff to come his way once he's settled in.
Wordlessly, Hiro slumps down onto the bench beside Keene, drawing himself up into a self-protective ball -- heels propped on the bench's edge, arms folded across his knees. He passes the spliff across to the other Hermetic, mumbling, "And people wonder why we have no respect for the 'Benas."
"They do?" asks Keene, taking a ginger toke on the spliff. He pauses to savor it before slowly releasing the smoke, passing it back. "Isn't it fucking self-evident?"
"I mean, I've willfully demolished the majority of my higher mental functions with a multicolored universe of mind-altering chemicals," Hiro continues, accepting the spliff -- which, by this point, is little more than a thumb-length stub. "And I ain't like that."
Keene chuckles vaguely, taking his ever-present flask out of his jacket and unscrewing the lid. "Do you know how she thinks magick works?" he asks. "I got it out of her today while we were talking."
"Willin t'bet s'somethin' vaginal. Or she like eats magic pac-man shit-pellets of avatar dookie from the astral plane." Hiro's still coasting on this side of coherent, although just barely. He takes another languid hit from the blunt, puffing leisurely before filling his lungs.
Keene snorts back a giggling fit, willing the unbidden laughter down so he can take a swig from his flask. He doesn't offer it to Hiro until /after/ he says: "Achem, achem, quote. When we work magic, we are imposing our hopes onto reality. Not desires, not whims, not even Will, but hopes. I fucking shit you not, she said this."
Chase steps into the conservatory from the front entrance.
Chase has arrived.
"Whereupon," Hiro drones, digging through an inside pocket of his labcoat to produce a cheap bic, "I suppose some kind of hope-fairy moulds these -- with the aid of eidelon-dooie -- into beautiful shit-sculptures of awazzawakenned weeul." He's hard to hear at any kind of distance; the words are a mumbled garble. He applies the flame to the tip of the blunt, puffing on it as he does so. Apparently, it isn't burning evenly enough for his liking.
Keene is sitting on a bench next to Hiro. They are apparently talking smack about somebody by the character of their voices and their expressions. Keene, when Hiro doesn't capitalize on his offer of the flask, takes a swig, caps it and puts it away. "No, no, it gets better," he says. "Not only does she just /hope/ to make things happen, but she's gotta play a game of Mother May I with her God damned Avatar."
Not the time one would expect to find a crowded tropical conservatory. Never the less, walking through the flora and fauna, Chase comes a stomping about. Hands occupied by a small beaker filled with some brown sludge and a hint of blue liquid, the punk wonders into this area with a preoccupied frown. Like a moth to the flame, his acute sense of smell registers the faint scent of weed. *sniff sniff* "Eh? What's this then..."
"Che, my man," Hiro's voice raises perhaps half a decibel, and he waves the dwindling blunt in Chase's direction. He's hunched down beside Keene, knees drawn up to his chest, one arm across his knees. "I bet the pig could kick her avatar's ass," he ammends, helpfully.
"The monkey could do it, drunk," says Keene, looking over at the approaching Chase. Keene sits comfortably on the bench with an easy, confident posture, feet on the floor, head back, shoulders relaxed. "Hello Chase."
"'Sup niggers." Somehow that sounds rather lame coming out of some whiteboy's mouth, especially because Chase didn't pepper it with some hip hop flavor. His heavy boots step up, hands raising the beaker to the light for a close inspection before slipping it into a pocket. A callused hand reaches out for the offered smoke, the thick man drags like pro. Chase stands for a moment in silence, his chest expanded with his hit. He speaks some more, weed leaks from between his stained teeth. "You talkin' some drunk monkeys over here?"
"Keene ran afoul'f that stupid Verbena ho," Hiro offers, helpfully. He scratches at the back of his neck again, frowning; the monkey probably gave him fleas.
"Not afoul," says Keene, quickly. "Daisy ran afoul of her, then Pob came in and made things more foul. I just wanted to see what her deal was."
Of course, Chase instinctively looks over his shoulder as Hiro speaks. Ever watchful, ever the paranoid one. "Which ho's this? There's so many of 'm." He hands the joint over to Keene.
"The stupid one." This, perhaps, actually manages to be less helpful than the first statement. Hiro's too high to be very watchful; he's presently scrutinizing his cheap plastic bic, trying to work a thumbnail under the metal childproof guard.
Chase says, "Cally?"
Keene accepts the joint graciously, takes another ginger toke from it, and passes it to Hiro afterward, slowly exhaling. Fortunately, Keene remembers her name. "Jane Connelly, Medicine Woman," he says, and thinks he's pretty damned clever at that. "She objected to the adventure my colleague here and his filthy assistant undertook today."
Teehee. Hiro giggles as his wacky adventure is mentioned, carefully retrieving the spliff's butt from between Keene's fingers. "Shit," is all he has to offer, chortling over the event in question. "Goddamn," comes the insightful ammendment. "Holy goddamn shit." The laughter takes a swerve towards cackling.
A cloud of weed is finally expelled from Chase, it builds above his head in a hallo of smoke. "'Aven't met 'r yet, think i know who yer talkin bout though." The punk shrugs, adjusting something in his pocket and he looks back down to Hiro. "'What's with the 'adventure', Mr. Gigglesworth?" He smiles crookedly in response to the clubber's fit.
Keene lets Hiro explain. This is /all/ him.
Hiro waves the joint frantically -- well, as frantically as his current state allows. "Dig this shit," he chortles, flicking a fat wad of ash off to the side. "Me'n Daze, we went and got these -- like, these, orange jumpsuits. And hardhats. And we go downtown. Financial district, dig." He takes a perfunctory hit on the spliff, his story curtly interrupted, before handing it over to Chase. He's had way too much, anyway. "And we -- I, yeah. You know those little drumkits? I wired a set of 'gator clips to the beat indicators, dropped it on breakbeats, and hooked up a kitchen timer -- and we wired the fucker to the streetlights' switching box at the intersection. And dropped a walkman 'n a breakbeats mix with some old speakers we dug up into the trash. At 'zactly Two-fifteen, it was rush hour rave, man."
That get's a chuckle, Chase reaches out and snatches up the blunt to take it's final puff. A slow drag, he'll make it last, and spark a new one from behind an ear. At one point, he's got two lit joint in his thin lips, then the older one falls to the floor and dies under his boot. Weed back to Keene. "Tits."
"Neh," acknowledges Hiro, his free hand wrapping back around the bicep opposite. "Some people got no 'preciation for art."
Keene accepts the joint and takes a long toke. As he exhales, he speaks. "Well, she didn't like that in the least, so a verbal confrontation broke out. Unfortunately, Daisy has little knowledge of practical rhetoric, and Pobble ... well, the man is a genius in the laboratory, but he too does not debate."
"Eh, well. There's always some twat with 'r panties in a knot." Fucker's starting to rhyme. "Lookit all the people that bitch at me..." Chase shrugs it off. "Whatever." A sniffle, he palms the back of his stubbled scalp. "Far as i'm concerned, shit like that's a deft decoy for the man. Keeps Union eyes off 'a real threats, 'n occupodo with some random hijinx. 'S long as you niggers deal with the heat, I say... up with Anarchy, up with bullshit."
"Such a ringing endorsement," says Keene.
As for Hiro? Hiro is smug. Stoned, but smug. "Union? Shit. From what I hear, locals don't know their ass from their elbow. We pulled off crazier shit in the Bay, and those assholes actually knew what they were doing." He cracks a yawn, blinking repeatedly. "'sides, shit. If we worried about the Man, you think we'd be in our business?"
The punk smiles in return, Chase doesn't do enthusiasm much it seems. "I'm all about you guys doin' whatever it is you guys do." But he manages to sound sincere when he says that. "'N no, i don' expect you to worry bout the man, cuase it's mostly my job. But fuck, give me a haller next time you do some wacki crap so i can move some product." Heh.
"Speaking of product," says Keene. "We should sit down and discuss the trade in private sometime. After all, we want to have a mutually beneficial business relationship." He smiles brightly.
"We didn' stick around much. Don't think you woulda slung a lot of coke t'the traffic cops what showed up," Hiro mumbles, eyes slowly drifting to half-mast. "Got some wicked visuals on m'camcorder. We'll have to throw that shit up on the video-wall at th'next party."
Eyes narrow on Keene minutely, Chase turns most of his attention to him. "You guys 'r slingin' then, eh? Mmmmm, there's some things you should know bout the trade up here. Toronto... 's an odd place. There's one big fish, 'n i been riding the coat tails."
Keene's lips purse. "We'll want to stay out of that guy's way, then. Who's the main operator?"
"Gideon Browne," Hiro coughs, wetly, and spits out a fat chunk of lung-butter on some enormously expensive fauna. A cigarette materializes, and he fits it between his lips: sparking it to life with his bic. "Thas my guess, 'tleast. We're meetin' him next week. Forgot t'mention. He wants me to rig a light setup for some titty club."
"Pffftf. Not that monkey." Chase looks down to Hiro, threatening to break back into a smile. "Naw, not at all." Absently, he rubbs his nose. "Course this conversation doesn't leave this place, eh?" The punk makes it a point to look at Keene and Hiro square in the eye, and directs his first finger at the ground.
"Yeah, 'course," Hiro answers automatically.
"Right then." Chase starts by slumping stiffly onto the bench, fingering out a piece of neon green chewing gum as he does. "The Yaks. Fuckin' ninja clan, they moved into town 'n a big fat way. Took over the China White market, which, at the time, was mine..." His square jaw begins to dig into the watermelon flavored gum. "So I made things 'tough' on 'm, 'n they cut me in 'cuase they recognized my skills. But... I dunno." A small bubble is blown and *popped*. "Dudes took out most of the Triads in one single night without a trace. Their grand pooba, 's trippy fuck." Callused fingers wave in gesture about the punk's bloodshot eyes. "There's nothin' inside his skull. 'S like, his soul's on vacation. No aura. Zero. Less than zero, even..."
"Dammit," says Keene. "It's the fucking magic ninjas."
Chase says, ".... magic ninjas."
Hiro stares blankly at Chase for a long moment. Then, to Keene -- his lips twist up at the edges, threatening to break into a grin. "Um, dude," he answers, shifting his attention back to Che. "You sayin' we gotta deal with some kinda fucked up soulless nephandus motherfucker?"
Keene nods once. "The ones that got talked about in the meeting. It's totally them." He can say this with a straight face. He /is/ Reynard the Fox.
Chase says, "I dunno what ta tell ya bout this dude." And truly, the punk seems to have been mystified by the magic ninjas, and their proper dubbing as such. *pop* "It's them, 'n i been makin' money by workin' under their umbrella. I wouldn't recommend you deal with this fucker at all, man. I never met anyone that didn't have an aura, and -wasn't- a 'bot'. I can't figure out what his game plan is yet, alls i know is these slants moved in like gangbusters."
"S'stupid iff'n you ask me. This ain' iron monkey. You can't just destroy the enemy clans and move in to become The Lightning Grandmaster with the feared Steel Wangshaw technique." Hiro drags on his cigarette moodily; all this talk of magic ninjas seems to have gotten him down. "See, if we had shit for a Union in this town, they'd already have taken care of those fuckers for us."
"....And, since we don't, i don't think we cin make an enemy outta these cock-suckers. This typea headache requires manpower, not a council of cackling hens. Totally a job for the man..." Chase concludes, *pop*.
"Dunno. Think Cally should take them on with her Gundam suit." Snide? Hiro's got snideness in surplus. He takes a killing drag on his cigarette, before leaning sideways to crush it out on the bench.
Keene thins his lips. Now he's serious, or putting on the act thereof. "So what do they specialize in?"
"Right, watch 'm pull out their vorpal can-openners..." The punk retorts while shifting. A great many things under his long coat cause it to fold oddly against his squat frame. "Anyways, i'm tellin' you guys... ya'll should keep it low key. Don't step on boyo's toes, less yer a gamblin man like me."
Chase shifts his attention back to Keene, "They move alot of tar, they eat a lot of fish, and kill people real silent like. Other than that, the usual ninja Yakuza stuff i suppose."
Keene looks to Hiro. "Well, I suppose our club drugs probably won't get /too/ much attention..."
"I doubt Sum Phewl Kapow," strange to hear Hiro make racially derogatory language of the breed -- he's at least part slant. Then again, beyond a certain diffusive point, racial identity pretty much ceases to mean anything. "...cares much if we're doping candy kids up on cat tranquilizers."
"Question not the ways of the magic ninja, Hiro," says Keene.
A laugh and *pop*, Chase stands slowly wipping his hands on his pants for some reason. "Ya, you donkies'll prolly be under ninja radar if ya stick to dance halls. Course, i move product in some of those venues myself. But i'm sure we can come to some agreement. Buy me outta clubs you wanna work or somethin'..."
"Mmmngh," offers Hiro, slowly unfolding himself, and rising -- unsteadily -- to his feet. He sways back and forth for a long moment, attempting to employ Chase as a visual level. "We usually stay outta clubs," he answers. "Too much heat. Safer to just move at our parties. 'nyway, I've gotta go do some video editing. We gonna hook up t'morrow, Che? You were gonna help me with my chem homework." A flash of teeth.
"Day after tomorrow. Call me if ya got any more questions, Steve...." Chase says to Hiro and Keene respectively, still rubbing his nose. "Via con dios." Seems the punk was about to leave as well, he flashes the duo the metal sign as his heavy boots take him towards the line of columns.
