2014.01.18: Meet the Neighbors – Or not.

Meet the Neighbors – Or not.
Cross and Leila come to the Magic Box to see if the shop is all it seems.
IC Date	January 11, 2014
IC Time	9:00 P.M.
Players	Cross, Leila and Bastion Beckett
Location	The Magic Box Prospect, CA
Prp/Tp	n/a
Spheres	Mortal, Mortal+, Mage, Wraith

The old street preacher known as Cross happens to run a homeless shelter just a block west of here. When he heard a new shop had opened up, of a rather occult nature. He was curious, as he always was. He opens the door to the establishment, and steps inside. He spends a moment just inside the doorway, looking around with interest. Clearly, the poor old man is a bit senile because he was holding the door open for an abnormally long time.

Leila starts to follow Cross into the shop, picking up speed to dart through the doorway, but she winds up rebounding on something with a cry as much of surprise as anything else. She takes a step back onto the sidewalk, holding her nose. Her corpus is still rippling a bit from the collision. "Ow. What... Sean, there's a thing on the door." In case he hadn't noticed.

Professor Beckett is a fixture around the place lately. Though he doesn't seem to hold any stake in the shop itself. It's said to be the Lennon family business, reopened recently by a daughter after her parents passed away. Car crash, nasty business. So, Beck sits on a stool near the counter, immersed in a book, while the lone employee, a college age girl named Marie, stocks some shelves. Hearing the door, Beckett glances over his reading material and nods casually to Cross.

The old man has a sort of... startled reaction at the door. One moment he is holding it open casually, the next he is jerking just faintly away from the door, turning to look with... something akin to concern on his face. And a moment after that? He is examining the door with a mixture of puzzlement and curiosity. The design of the door clearly is important as the old man mutters under his breath quietly just inside the door, even going so far as to kneel down and run a thumb lightly over the floor. He doesn't disturb anything, but he is sort of blocking the doorway. Fortunately he doesn't seem to be causing a lineup.

Leila senses "Cross murmurs, "What the hell..." He turns and kneels down, and when he brushes the floor he snorts. "... Its warded. They've warded it, love. Well. I guess that answers if they know about supernaturals."

Leila walks more carefully towards the door, her hand outstretched, to find the ward with something that isn't her face. She presses against it experimentally, but not with any particular force, testing, without breaking. "Guess it does," she agrees. "Now I know how people who want to follow their living friends into the shelter feel."

"Salt," Beckett offers as he sees Cross inspect the floor. The groove there, containing the component would be heir apparent to anyone looking closely. A while back Beckett might not have known the purpose, however now - now is a different story. "The owners doing," he says with a casual smile. He slides off his stool, gesturing to Marie that she isn't needed just yet. "She recently had some rather intense dealing with a vengeful spirit," he offers in a conversational tone. He just strolls over. If he weren't standing in an occult shop the topic might even sound unusual.

The old man glances up towards Beckett, and then there is a smile on his face. He looks outside, and this time with Beckett strolling over he'd actually be able to make out the old Irishman’s words. "That it does." He murmurs, "Can hardly blame her, given the circumstances." He looks to Beckett, and bows his head politely to the well dressed man, before offering a scarred palm to shake. "I am sorry to hear that it was needed." He says with a friendly smile. "Though it is nice to see that she was able to do something to protect herself. I am Father Cross, I run St. Benedicts just down the street."

Leila raps experimentally on the ward to see what kind of sound it makes (it sounds like she's knocking on very, very thick glass). She runs her hand over it to test the texture, and even looks, just for a moment, like she's thinking about licking it. "Sounds like I need to hang around outside a little more often," she remarks distractedly.

A hand slips from his pocket almost immediately when Cross offers his greeting. Hands are clasped briefly, if not very politely. He nods to him, listening with a smile on his lips. It sobers rather quickly with Cross's introduction. What replaces it is something akin to reverence or respect. "Pleased to meet you Father. I'm Bastian Beckett." Even the man's tone holds that same veneration. If not for the religion, then for the tile in and of itself. His hazel eyes fall from Cross to the salt filled groove, and then move back up again. He then lifts a brow. "Necessity."

The old man inclines his head. "Its a pleasure to meet ye, Mr. Beckett." His Irish brogue is thick and strong, but has been tempered enough over the years of immersion that its not impossible to decipher. He tips his head to Beckett, then glances outside briefly. "Mr. Beckett, would ye like to come outside for a moment? I've got a friend that is... unable to come in." He says with a soft chuckle, glancing down at the salt in the doorway. "Rest assured, I understand the necessity. My friend is the sort to handle vengeful spirits."

Leila can't help poking and prodding at the ward, like someone continually exploring the space where a lost tooth was with their tongue. "If he didn't make the ward, I don't think he can let me through it," she points out.

Beck lifts a brow, hazel gaze flicking from Cross to the street beyond and then back once more. The totality of the circumstance lend the claim credence, and Beckett is a believer. "Not at all Father," he says before looking back to Marie and calling, "I'll be back shortly if Darcy comes down." Then he casually steps over the ward towards the street beyond. Unconsciously, he'll glance around despite his inability to detect Cross's traveling companion. His years have taught him numerous lessons, chief among them: You don't have to see it to know it's real. Past the entrance, he shifts back to Cross, "She is dealing with it," meaning Darcy the owner. "Last we spoke she was putting together what she needed to determine its nature. From what she says it's a rather nasty entity." He skips a beat, looking around then adding, "No offense intended."

Leila gets out of the way before Beckett can walk through her, and watches how easily he, and then Cross, pass through the ward, with a cant of her head and a... difficult to read expression. That expression turns into a wry smile when Beckett speaks. "None taken. Most of us are."

The old man steps outside with Beckett, and bows his head politely. His hand motions just beside himself, when Beckett looks around, to where Leila has presumably taken up residence near him. The old man was leaning up against the building himself, out of the way of anyone that might be walking by. "No offense taken." He says with a smile, "She knows most o' them are." He says with a nod. "I'm glad that the owner is knowledgeable enough to take those precautions. Not everyone is. We-" He motions beside himself again, "-Had wondered if the people running this particular shop were aware o' the things that go bump in the night. Runnin' into that ward sort o' answered that."

"Darcy is young, but talented from what I gather. We met about a month ago shortly after I arrived in Prospect," Beckett replies. He gages his stance, and his positioning to speak to Cross, but to also pay the unseen apparition due regard. Last thing he wants to do is get Vengeful Spirit pissed. He's seen the aftermath of the damage their capable of. "She's third generation. So her parents had a strong influence on her knowledge base." He gestures towards Cross politely. "I'm sure you understand how that goes Father. Cultural inheritance sometimes gifts us with unimagined potential."

Leila glances at Cross, with another wry smile, because yeah, he totally knows all about that. She's been looking a little confused about the way that Beckett is moving, trying to work out what's going on.

Cross reaches up and rubs his hand through his hair. "Mmm. Yes." He says with a smile towards his mention of parents having a strong influence. "Gifts tend to be passed on. Ye seem pretty comfortable with the subject, and that o' spirits. Are ye learned in such things yourself, Mr. Beckett?" Cross asks with some interest, his hands idly folding together in front of him.

The professor purses his lips in a line, and nods his head cautiously. "Yes, and no. I grew up in Japan. There, and all over Asia the Kami.. Spirits as you would say.. Are widely accepted, and in most cases revered. I wouldn't say I was more knowledgeable than anyone else with that background until recently." He reaches, stroking the stubble of his beard, and then uses the same hand to indicate the Shop behind Cross. "Through Darcy I've learned a good deal more. Couple that with being a scholar or sorts, and you get me as a result." All said as a matter of fact, without boast or pride.

Leila settles into silence as the conversation progresses. She starts edging towards the door again, though, probably without realizing it, so that she can go back to poking the ward.

Cross watches something move towards the door, and there is a faintly amused expression on his face. He doesn't say anything though, as his attention heads back towards Beckett. "Mmm. I know o' spirits, and o' things I call Kami... They are closely related, but not quite the same thing." He explains, "But I've found that there are more lexicons on the subject then I'd care to count, and one persons words for somethin' could be entirely different then another, dependin' on who the teacher was." He says with a soft chuckle. "Darcy is the owner, ye say?" He muses. "Well, somethin' for ye both to consider... My shelter is similarly warded. So just in case somethin' ever comes to happen here, passing through the gates and into the Yard will stop anythin' that may be tryin' to hurt ye at the gate, so long as its not in this realm." He emphasizes this by tapping his boot on the ground.

"She is. Darcy Lennon," he answers, and adds, "Much appreciated Father. I'll pass that on to her, and keep it in mind myself." Beckett paid attention to Cross's mild distraction; however he says nothing about it. He simply lingers quietly until the man's attention returns. "She did mention the entity made itself whole for a short period of time. Enough time to damage her apartment. I don't believe though that she's seen it since." He cants his head slightly, lifting his shoulders then letting them fall. "Which could be the calm before the storm, or the window she needs to figure it all out." He gives a soft chuckle, and shakes his head. "Provided all the mundane troubles going on allow for it."

Leila catches herself prodding the ward and quickly clasps her hands together and turns back. "You should give them your number," she remarks to Cross. "If she's ever in danger, that would be a fast way to call me to come deal with it."

Cross glances towards the door, and nods his head as if towards some words. A hand slides inside his jacket, and after a moment of fishing he produces a card for St. Benedicts shelter. Aside from the usual contact number on the front, these ones have his phone number in back in pen. "Feel free to call us, anytime, if it comes back." He says gently. "Based on what little I've heard, it sounds like ye both might need some help. It might be tryin' to regain its strength before it tries again." He explains. "... Or could just be waitin' for a good time to strike." A faint smile, "Balancin' the mundane troubles and the supernatural is a tasking chore."

The card is accepted, scanned briefly, and then slipped in Beckett's pocket. "Again Father, the offer is much appreciated. I trust Darcy has the means necessary to deal with this thing, but I tend to hedge my bets." He pats his pocket and smiles, offering Cross a respectful nod of his head. "Don't be surprised if you do hear from one of us." His gaze shifts to the vacant space that the entity Cross seems to keep company with appears to occupy. "Perhaps Ms. Lennon might be able to adjust her wards in some way that we can all meet in the future? I do hate that that isn't currently the case." Oh, what's that? He tips his head in a decidedly polite bow to the emptiness. "Apologies." Must be those manners he grew up having to adhere to constantly? Or Cross is lying and enjoys making him look like a fool.

Leila glances back at Beckett. "I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't understand," she remarks, "given... the shelter." Then she has another thought, and adds: "If these wards are like the one that guy who grabbed me put up, I can probably get through them, or even just get right past them. But that seems like an awfully rude thing to do, without permission."

The old man nods his head quietly to Beckett, then smiles sideways. "She understands." He says with a chuckle, before answering Leila. "I think that’s exactly what they are. So ye probably can. Or if anyone spilled water, or disturbed the salt, it'd have the same effect." He explains. Cross didn't know the full extent of the wards, he hadn't been inside long enough to see the runes. He looks up towards Beckett, "Worst case, if Darcy cannot make it so Leila can enter, ye both can just come by my shelter."

"Something we should plan. I have no doubt that she'd love to pick your brain, and perhaps that of your companion on her current predicament," Beckett says to Cross after lifting his head again. "But, in the interest of favorable relations, I'll mention to her that her preemptive measures block all Kami. Both good and bad. Perhaps this can be changed?" He makes the statement as an educated guess only, and in the manner he makes it, it would show. This area isn't Beck's forte. That said, if Leila is the Spirit Cross claims her to be, then he's been taught a level of respect for the dead that surpasses other Americans.

Leila eyes Cross. "She must have put a lot of work into it," she points out. "It would be awful to just destroy it. I could probably use the Tempest to jump past it, or jump to your phone. That way it wouldn't be hurt." And then after a moment, she adds, more softly: "But it sounds like Darcy's had some really bad experiences with the dead. I don't want to invade her space unless she's comfortable with it."

The old man smiles softly towards something, and he bows his head. "If she'd like to pick our brains, by all means. I've gotten used to that, though my companion is by far the more knowledgeable o' us on the subject." He cants his head slightly, then nods. "She has, aye. And I think you are right." He says, these words clearly directed to his companion. He looks up towards Beckett. "Admittedly I'm not too sure if Darcy could make it not block out all sorts. I know I can admit certain people, but I used... different powers, to ward my grounds."

Beckett nods, thoughtful. His grasp on what is or isn't possible is tempered by a lack of knowledge in the area. "I see," he offers in a mild tone. He should really learn a little more about Magic - possibly before something nasty emerges that Darcy /can't/ deal with. "Maybe the backroom then? I'll ask her if such a thing is possible."

"The moment things get to talking about the -other- kind of spirits, you're the more knowledgeable one, though," Leila reminds Cross, absently tucking a stray strand of hair out of sight. "Or to talking about anything else, really. My expertise is pretty narrow." She's talking just a hair too fast, like she's trying to drag Cross away from the current topic of conversation.

Cross tips his head, "Or at my shelter, in the church." He says with a smile, "It would not be the first, nor last, time that my shelter has held such conversations. Ye can just ask for Father Cross, and anyone there can point the way." He says with a chuckle. He listens again, his head canting ever so slightly as he just nods a single time.